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When Worlds Collide part # 1738
I’ll make it quick. I’m in Wales teaching trauma. Only this time I have a little Eva strapped to my back. It’s a classic example of how parenting can sometimes interfere with one’s professional self. But also an example of how really wonderful colleagues can make all the difference. Or maybe just an example of how you should only associate with people who have children.
You all know I like to come up here and spend a few days being “Dr. Zibners,” not “Mommy.” But this time I realized that not only had I just left them, but our regular babysitter is on vacation. I’ve got a few other great girls that know the girls but none had spent full days with them both awake. So I made a few phone calls and the decision was made that it was better for me to be here with one kid than miss the opportunity. And Divide and Conquer seemed the best option. So we packed our bags and drove up last night.
And it’s been great. Eva played with a skeleton for an hour. She’s been strapped to a chair in her Wiggle Wrapper for cervical spine lectures. And she actually let the course director take her for a walk while I helped a demonstration. On the other hand, she fussed and cried through chest x-rays, screamed when I tried to leave her in the office with the secretaries and crumbled a raisin cake into the carpet of the conference room. In other words, if it weren’t for the understanding and kindness of both my fellow teachers and the students, I couldn’t make this work. And of course, like all working Mommies, I feel guilty. But this time not for leaving her but for needing my colleagues to understand that I may not be 100% the professional this time. Thank God she’s cute. 4 teeth and an serious interest in C-spine immobilization go a long, long way when your Mom is straddling two worlds. If only all working mothers could be so lucky.
My other girls
I made it home! And the girls are fine. They weren’t traumatized by my return, as I feared. They seemed to know exactly who I was and weren’t angry at all. Probably because they just spent 10 days without a routine or a bedtime. It was a party. Given Eva’s reactions the last two times I went away for a couple nights to teach trauma (first tears, then ignoring me), I had a little bottle of Dulce de Leche in my bag, ready to bribe her onto my lap with a finger dipped in caramel. But it wasn’t necessary. What a relief! And now that I know my baby girls are okay, I spent this morning making sure my other “girls” were also okay. So now that I’ve done it, what’s your excuse?
Of course I’m talking mammograms. You might remember that a dear friend of mine is currently fighting the Big C and that prompted me to finally schedule the appointment I’d been putting off for 4 years. There is a lot of controversy about when a woman should have her first mammogram. The old guidelines said 35 was time. However, because there are so many “false positives,” (meaning a spot shows up that looks funny and requires further testing but turns out to be nothing) some are now advocating that it is better to wait until after age 40 or even 45 for women without a family history of breast cancer and without any suspicious lumps on exam. That’s all fine, but I’m paranoid and I wanted my scan. So I demanded and today I got.
And I’ve gotta tell you, all those horror stories about how painful and miserable it is are nonsense. Unless I have remarkably tough breasts. It didn’t tickle but it certainly wasn’t torture. Almost like an extra tight hug for a boob. 2 minutes later it was all over. No big deal.
I know I’m a pediatrician and not a Boobologist but I still think that Mommies need to make sure they are taken care of too. So if you are over 35, or you have a family history of ovarian or breast cancer, it’s worth thinking about. At least mention to your doctor at your next visit. By the way, you need to have finished breast feeding at least 6 months before your scan and can’t be pregnant. (Fertility treatments and induced lactation were my 4 year excuse. What’s yours?) And I dedicate today’s post to Jen, who is one brave lady.
It’s NOT a Cheerio
Despite my refusal to allow my children to change or grow in any way, shape or form while I’m on holiday, apparently Eva has had the gall to sprout 2 more teeth while I’ve been gone. No big tears, just some teeth. The kid doesn’t really seem to mind “teething” as a rite of passage. Which just reinforces what I’ve been saying for years: Teething causes teeth. Not diarrhea, fevers or wheezing. It’s so easy for parents to blame a runny nose on a possible bony eruption but it’s more likely your kid licked the floor at Baby Gym and has a cold. Plenty of studies back me up on this.
That said, I have no doubt that it is probably a little uncomfortable, having a tooth rip through your gum tissue. So, irritability, chewing on everything (including your sister) and trouble sleeping might be attributed to teething. My mother was concerned, so she’s been giving some ibuprofen in my absence. Today she checked that it was okay (3 days later) and I said it was fine, especially since she’d under-dosed her by 600%. Homeopathic pain medicine can’t hurt. Can’t help. But can’t hurt. ANYWAY.
What this all means in the end is that Zoe remains “at risk.” We’ve already talked about toddlers biting. It’s just a slightly different game when the attacker is 10 months old. She doesn’t really understand, “No!” In the same way that she doesn’t seem to get that Zoe’s belly button is not a Cheerio that she can pick up and eat. (Despite daily, multiple, attempts)
On the other hand, Zoe has reportedly started hair pulling. Makes sense since she’s both bald and edentulous. If I understand correctly, Eva is not pleased. But that’s what happens when you have thick, luscious hair and you try to eat someone’s belly button. In other words, kids have a way of working these things out. It’s just up to us to let them figure it out while we make sure they don’t cause any permanent damage to anyone. Diplomatic Advisor. One of the many jobs that compromises the title, “Parent.”
The kids are fine
Greetings from Buenos Aires. It’s hard to believe that we’ve already been gone 5 nights. The good news is, we’re all surviving. The girls are thriving. And I’m doing okay too, stimulating the South American economy in an attempt to distract myself. But there’s still this nagging suspicion that I’m missing some terribly important stuff up north. Like teeth and new tricks. Before I left, I told the girls and their grandparents that they were welcome to have a good time but there were to be no developmental milestones reached while I was gone. None.
My mother said, “What do I do? Tie them to a chair?” I said, “Yep. A chair sounds good.” My general rule is: If Mommy didn’t see it, it didn’t happen.” I can’t tell you exactly what day the girls each sat up or held their own cookie, because it didn’t count unless I was there. Seems fair to me. There is a wickedly wide window for every developmental step and no one will be the wiser if I fudge it a few days. Like when we were at Gymboree and a very tall infant with a full set of teeth walked (walked!) over and I asked how old she was. “10 Months!” said her Mom and I thought, as I looked at my very short, enamel-challenged, barely crawling 10 month-old, “Yeah, right. Or so you told your husband. ” Normal is probably normal for your kid, nothing doing what the neighbor’s tot is doing. It is a well-known fact that a formal developmental assessment in the pediatrician’s office can’t hold a candle to the simple question: Does your kid seem to be keeping up with her peers? As long as her peers aren’t just a big troupe of freakish giants with huge teeth, it’s a good way to judge.
So that said, I’m still not too keen on my little girls growing up unless I’m there to see it. If my parents were paying attention, my kids are probably having their new teeth filed down the gum line as I write this. With any luck, my father has strapped newspapers to their legs to prevent new methods of mobility. Mommy’s babies will be just as she left them.
Babies? What babies?
Well, I did it. Got on that plane. Yesterday was spent packing hurriedly since up until the night before I honestly didn’t believe we’d be going. I felt so sick to my stomach that I couldn’t eat the entire day. Finally, preparing to say our final “Later Gators,” I made a piece of toast with cheese, put Eva on my lap and started to weep. She looked up at me, not with concern or sadness, but with hunger. A few grunts and my lunch was in her mouth, Eva happily grinning from behind a massive piece of crust. And that sums it up, doesn’t it?
I know that going away is good for all of us but it didn’t make it any easier on me. The kids clearly weren’t bothered. Part of what got me out the door was knowing how valuable this time was for the grandparents. The chance to enjoy these gorgeous girls without their Sleep Freak, Baby-Handbook Authoring, Routine-Addicted (but only because there is 2 of them. One baby could probably do as she likes. Two require direction) Mommy telling them what to do. Even though I know it won’t be exactly like when Mommy is there, I’m quite confident that they will all survive.
So, sitting here in Ipanema, sipping a caipirhina, I’m trying to forget that I just called home, where it’s 5pm, to hear that both babies “are asleep.” Really?! That’s fabulous. I’m sure bedtime is going to go really well. Sigh. And in the same theme, may I direct you to a wonderful, and timely, article by Melanie Rosen that appeared on Parenting Magazine’s website this week, featuring 23 pages of my wisdom? Grandma’s Way v. Your Way.
http://www.parenting.com/gallery/Mom/grandmas-way-vs-your-way/1/
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"WHAT I LIKED: This book is written in a funny, down to earth way that doesn't make you feel like an idiot. I really would have appreciated something like this when my kids were really little and I freaked out over everything they put in their mouths. It has a scenario/question and answer format, with clear answers on when not to panic and when to call 911."
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