There are a million and one opinions online about the H1N1 vaccine, and I of course have mine.  I’ve had people ask if I will be getting the kids vaccinated, and the answer is a resounding “yes”.  By now, many of you have seen me posting links to (hopefully) helpful articles regarding the vaccine, so I think my stance is pretty clear.  Now we will see how supply lasts and who actually is able to be vaccinated in what looks to be a developing shortfall (update from Globe and Mail here).  But I will be in line with my kids first thing Monday morning, and am hoping for the best.

But of course, a two minute conversation or 140 characters on Twitter doesn’t give me a chance to explain why.  So here’s how I came to my decision.  Can I guarantee my kids won’t have a reaction to the shot?  No.  But when health authorities the world over tell me there could be a serious risk to my kids, and that they have come up with a vaccine to prevent it, I’m there.  I am casting my vote with the WHO, the Canadian Pediatric Society, plenty of family docs, my kids’ pediatrician and an emergency pediatrican I know and trust who is online as The Virtual Pediatrician.  (Links provided below, check them out.)

Do I believe everything everyone tells me?  Of course not.  But in this case, mainstream health authorities that I have come to know and trust are recommending getting the shot.  If I get the chance to get it, I will, as will my husband.  If I can prevent us from getting sick, I can make sure we are there to look after our little ones.  If I can get them vaccinated and not panic every time a cold, fever or touch of some other virus strikes our household this winter, all the better.  I don’t want to watch my baby and wonder if she’s having trouble breathing and guess if it’s H1N1.  I don’t want to put my son to bed and then lose sleep wondering if I should be checking him through the night.  I don’t want to wonder if we’ll be a family who will be a little under the weather for a few days or a family sitting in the emergency department at 3 a.m.  There are families who are sitting in hospitals as we speak, or who have already lost family members. 

I just checked the Public Health Agency of Canada online (link below) and it says 95 have died in Canada so far as a result of H1N1.  Some would say that that is a small number, and that it doesn’t warrant the reaction it’s getting.  All I have to say is this:  95 sounds like a large number to me.  I have 2 children.  4 in our family.  95 sounds very large indeed.  Am I panicking?  No.  I’m vaccinating.  There’s a difference.

So this is my opinion, and my decision.  You may share it or not.  I typically wouldn’t weigh in on what other families should do…breastfeed, not breastfeed, co-sleep, crib sleep, baby-wearing or not…anything that affects your family is your choice.  Make your decision and enjoy the family dynamic that you create and that is yours to decide.  But some decisions affect others.  If you think that no one should tell you how to keep your kids safe, then let me ask you this.  Do you follow the seatbelt laws?  Put your kids in carseats?  Keep your speed within safe limits when on the road?  Send your kids to school?  These are examples of ways society tells us how to protect and do well by our kids…and when valuable, official, tested information is presented to us, I firmly believe it is our job to listen.  Not because it’s a conspiracy that I can’t see through or because some big brother wants to control us, but because the risks of the virus far surpass those of the vaccine.  Get shot, get your families shot. 

When it comes to vaccination, please remember it is not just about you.  We have to realize that what we do affects others.  Part of why I believe so strongly in vaccination is a little thing we call community.   In each of our neighbourhoods, our cities, our country there are communities of people, that, whether we like it or not, depend on each other from time to time.  We share schools, shopping, public services and hospitals.  It goes like this:  maybe if I vaccinate my kid, and you vaccinate yours and the kid down the street gets the shot as well, maybe we keep one of those kids from passing it to a baby under 6 months who can’t get vaccinated.   Maybe if we all do it and get as many people as we can to do it, we can stop the spread before someone coughs on that person on the bus who is already sick and dealing with a chronic or terminal illness and can’t fight off a virus.  Maybe I get the shot, and when I’m exposed to the virus, I don’t pass it between my son’s schools.  Maybe my whole family and yours and someone else’s don’t end up in the hospital with dozens or hundreds of others, taking up beds that could be used for other reasons.  Maybe we stop the spread before our schools, or necessary services that we all need or enjoy, have to shut down temporarily.  I’ve already received notices from my son’s schools noting that they have plans prepared, and how they will handle it if they need to close.  It’s so unsettling.  I can’t control a virus, and I can’t control the rest of the world.  But I can vaccinate, and I will.

Get information from a doc or health authority you trust, and consider the source of the other information you are reading or hearing.  Here are a few links that helped me decide.  Happy reading, happy Halloween and I hope happy vaccinating!

http://bit.ly/3le1Mx  Canadian Pediatric Society – H1N1: Information for parents about the virus and the vaccine

http://bit.ly/2t278E  Article in the Ottawa Citizen re: WHO - World Health Body says H1N1 vaccines safe, effective

http://bit.ly/CculA  The Virtual Pediatrician – Taming the Hog:  Immunization or not for Swine flu

http://bit.ly/3NAdiT  The Virtual Pediatrician- Pandemic Panic:  How to sleep soundly this week

http://bit.ly/2Rofdy  The Public Health Agency of Canada – FAQ: H1N1 Flu Virus

http://bit.ly/zFVvo  The Public Health Agency of Canada – Surveillance:  H1N1 Flu Virus

It’s nothing new to find both accurate accountings and flat out fiction online, and usually I’m pretty good at measuring things up at first glance.  However, truth and fiction seemed to swirl together more quickly than usual on the internet the last two weeks.  Two stories in particular caught my eye…two instances a few days apart where I felt a tug at my heartstrings.  And twice, just as swiftly as the stories pulled me in, they were proved to be mostly or completely unfounded.

I felt like I’d been had.  Like I had forgotten my better judgement for a time and had been played the fool.  It’s not a good feeling and it took me awhile to admit it.  I’m usually a skeptic, and it’s rare for me to jump on a random bandwagon in any of my social media channels.  I’ve thought about this for a week or so now, watched the chips fall and seen the opinions overflow.  I’ve seen what happens when people feel misled and misinformed, how they react in anger and bitterness.  I’ve seen that whether you mislead people deliberately or unintentionally, the reactions can be startlingly similar.

And I have finally come to a place of peace.  I finally realized what bothered me most about it all.  Not that I’d been let down by these people I didn’t even know, or that I’d had some important belief shaken.  No, that wasn’t my biggest concern.  What made me most unsettled was the next obvious thought:  is there ANY truth on the internet?  I have met some amazing people online the last six months, have enjoyed conversations, ideas, suggestions, laughter and running jokes.  Yes, some things are kept private, but many thoughts are shared and there are many truths exchanged on a day to day or weekly basis.  Some of these people I meet online have become great friends, others are an entertaining and enjoyable circle of support, common ground or fresh thinking.  Many are meeting in real life and I’m looking forward to the day I get to meet them face to face.  Can I trust that these conversations are real?

Where is the truth online?

It’s right here.

I’m writing it – and maybe you are too.  I realized that the simplest way to reconcile it is to realize that all we can ever do is offer out into the universe that which we hope to get back.  Yet again, another life lesson that teaches us to act as we would have others act.  To first do, then look for others to do for us.  Every day that I am honest with someone online, is a day that they might trust me enough to be honest in return.  Every time I show my authentic self to someone I have gotten to know, I have a chance to see their true mind and heart as well.  And I’ve decided:  it’s a chance I’m willing to take.  I will always keep some things private, and that’s only prudent.  Others do the same.  But every time I offer something genuine, I almost always get it back.  Connections are made, and more truths told.  And so we build.  I’m not the only one out there who’s looking for the real thing.

Where is the truth online?

We’re building it, one honest conversation at a time.

Today is my son’s birthday.  This won’t be a long post, because as much as I love to steal a few moments to write, the birthday boy is waiting and he’s only got one fifth birthday. 

How is it possible that I have a FIVE year old?  I remember being pregnant with him and bringing him home so vividly.  (Except, you know, any useful details from around that time.  Those are long gone.  But memories of my boy…all still with me.  I’m a mom, that’s how we roll.)

Perhaps you read a little about him in a previous post of mine.  You can find it by clicking here.  I will be reading it to him for the first time today.

Okay, it’s time for me to go hang out with him before this day slips by.  But here’s a peek at the sweet life I call my own. 

G and his daddy, taken summer 2009

crisp fresh air
last few flowers blooming
morning frost
baby blinking at the cold
sun warming the afternoons
leaves rustling in the wind
swaths of colour
scarlet gold bronze crimson
geese flying overhead
warming hands on your coffee
swirling port or red wine
betting on first snows
buying pumpkins
costume modelling
raking leaves
hot chocolate and marshmallows
the smell of roast turkey filling the house
dark mornings
snuggling under extra blankets
sneaking Baileys into coffee
first fluffy snowflakes twirling
lazy pajama Sundays
fuzzy slippers shuffling
catching snowflakes on your tongue
making giant pots of soup
disappearing candy
babies like starfish in puffy snowsuits
bidding farewall to fall

“Every one of us is called upon, probably many times, to start a new life.  A frightening diagnosis, a marriage, a move, loss of a job…

And onward full tilt we go, pitched and wrecked and absurdly resolute, driven in spite of everything to make good on a new shore.

To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another - that is surely the basic instinct….Crying out:  High tide!

Time to move out into the glorious debris.

Time to take this life for what it is.” 

~from High Tide in Tucson by Barbara Kingsolver

I am always most thankful for people.

I feel very fortunate to have the life I do.  We have a warm, comfortable home that we are able to fill with nice things.  We are able to provide the basics, and much more for our children.  Our fridge is full of food, and I can’t even keep track of what is stored in our freezers.  We work hard for what we have, but I don’t worry about paying the bills.

But every year, when Thanksgiving comes around, all I can think about are people.  The stuff comes and goes, but it’s the people that make or break my day, every time.

My wonderful and wonder-filled children.  It’s laughable to me that there was a time in my life where I was unsure if I would want children.  Today I hold them and try to comprehend the miracle that is motherhood.  How did I go from not having kids to having these two little people right in my arms?  They are giggles and dimples,  kisses and sunshine, and I adore them.  What a privilege it is to be their mom. 

My husband.  We’re coming up on 15 years together and we’re still best friends.  We talk and tell stories and still make each other laugh.  Even when things seem stressful and we have no shortage of things to bicker about, somehow we both know that we are better together than apart.  We have created something special and we still have so many places to go together, figuratively and literally.  Plus, he still makes me French toast with whipped cream on weekends, and brings home chocolate by the armload.  Someday I’ll tell you how we went from zero to living together in 24 hours, but that’s a post for another day.

My family and friends.  I cannot even separate these two because some days it’s hard to tell them apart.  I have family who have become friends and I have friends who feel like long lost relations.  Some are old friends who have watched me evolve and change over the years, and some are new friends who are in sync with who I am right now.  Some I see or talk to almost every day, some share mostly memories and some I’ve never even met face to face.  All are important in their own way, and all of them together create a network of support that keeps me going when the days feel long or the chaos overwhelms me.

You may not even know it, but you might be on this list.  Maybe you stayed in touch, or maybe you have always been worth staying in touch with.  Maybe you offered help when I needed it, or maybe you let me help when I wanted to feel useful.  Maybe you made me giggle, or maybe you let me make you laugh.  Maybe you cheered me on, or maybe you confided in me so I could do the same for you.

I treasure you all, and I am thankful for you all.

It happened so slowly that I didn’t see it coming.   He always ate well as a baby and accepted new foods eagerly.  I beamed.  I bragged.  I congratulated myself.

Fast forward three years.  I distractedly prepared my four year old’s dinner and caught myself rinsing off his chicken so he wouldn’t notice the sauce.  It dawned on me how plain a diet he was eating.  I was so concerned with him eating healthfully that I had missed the forest for the raw broccoli.  He had managed to hoodwink us; a twinkle in his eye as he ate his red peppers.

I took action.  I went shopping: a collection of new treats, a notebook, and a few new foods.  I went home, decorated a cardboard box and made room for it in the pantry.  I waited.  “What’s THIS!?!?” I heard his voice trill when he found it.  His eyes were wide.  

I laid it on thick.  

I told him I loved how he was so adventurous in trying new things.  I explained how every time he decided to be adventurous and try a new healthy food at lunch or dinner, his dessert that day could be something from the Dessert Box.  He didn’t have to try the new items, or finish them.  He didn’t even have to like them.  The point was just to be adventurous and try.   Three bites would be enough.  And if he didn’t like the new food, he could still eat a healthy dinner from the other items on his plate and choose something out of the box for dessert.   We would write any of the ones he did like in his new notebook.  He loved it.

We started slowly.  I wanted some easy wins.  Scrambled eggs, tomatoes, glazed carrots.    He started asking if we would be trying a new food for dinner. 

Crab, portobello mushrooms, manicotti.  He asked us to write down extras – things he wanted to try that wouldn’t earn him a dessert but showed his adventurous side:  sunflower seeds, limes, parmesan cheese.  We were on a roll.

That’s not to say we didn’t have our hiccups.  There were times when I ran out of creativity and new foods.  But it was working.  I remember one day when he didn’t like the new food I’d served…his face crumpled.  “Can I try a different new food instead?” 

Fast forward another six months.   He has tried perhaps a hundred new foods so far, and likes about 70. The spirit of adventure remains.  We enjoy dinners more.  I can try new recipes.  I don’t hear “…but I don’t like that!” every time I dare to mention a new food or dish.  When I serve him something new I often hear “Yum.  I LOVE it.”  I beam.  I brag.  And then I congratulate him.

*Parent tip:  I chose new things that were exciting but still reasonably inoffensive for the Dessert Box.  I knew if it worked, he might be choosing from the box twice a day!

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  It’s a true resource for moms:  articles, blogs, contests and ways to connect with other yummy mummies! 

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/children_and_dessert_jen_taylor

“We’re taking some time apart.  We need to remember who we were before we were together. We still love each other.”

Two weeks ago I wrote these words to someone on Twitter and had immediate reactions from other friends who happened to come in mid-thread.  They responded, thinking a once rewarding relationship had suddenly turned sour.  They were right.

I quickly posted a correction:   “Hello, rumour mill? I’d like to set the record straight – although hubs drives me crazy, I love him. CHOCOLATE and I are taking a break.”

Laugh all you want, but of all the complicated relationships I juggle, my relationship to food has to be one of the most frustrating.  Why?  Because of all the people I like to boss around in an average day, I happen to be one of the unruliest.  I know how to eat healthfully.  I ration sugar all day long.  I buy skim milk, whole grain bread and tempting produce. I read labels like a woman possessed.  Yet…

I have an alter ego.  Little Miss Mocha.  She shows up when no one is watching, or when the kids are asleep.  She leads me to do shameful things behind closed doors.  Prior to my self-staged chocolate intervention, I started every morning with coffee and a chocolate bar. Yes, at 6 a.m.  There have been days when I look at the clock and realize it is 5pm and I haven’t consumed anything that didn’t contain chocolate or coffee.  I used to rotate my trips to stores so the cashiers wouldn’t think I was a glutton.  I have bought so much of my favourite chocolate over a two week period that my huge neighbourhood department store actually sold out.  Huge.  Department store.  I discovered that leaving my stash on a running dryer creates chocolate heaven.  My favourite chocolate has 675 calories per small box.  Shamefully, I know the following: 675 x 2, 675 x 3, and (head hanging) 675 x 4.  I was sometimes happy to wake up because I could start over and didn’t have to worry if it was too much chocolate in one day.

Even though we refer to stretching the truth as “fudging it”, I promise there is no fudge above.  Pudge, maybe.  Hey, I told you we’re taking time apart, would you leave a torrid affair for anything less than a good (cough, 8 lbs, cough) reason?  

(psst…hey chocolate…call me…)

This piece was originally published by The Yummy Mummy Club, a great website created by Erica Ehm.  It’s a true resource for moms:  articles, blogs, contests and ways to connect with other yummy mummies! 

http://www.yummymummyclub.ca/chocolafession_miss_mocha_jen_taylor

I’m sure you all have heard, but just in case I figured it was high time I get on here and explain just where the heck I went.  I know what you’re thinking:  Oh, sure.  Start a new blog.  Tell us how much you’re going to enjoy writing it.  Check back often!  The cheque’s in the mail!  Love your work!   

Actually, I’ve been a little under the weather the last few weeks.  Here’s the short version:  I got the flu, then the flu got me.  Ha ha.  A little flu humour for you there. 

The longer version?  I did actually have the flu.  Then the flu morphed into myositis, something that is like a flu getting into your muscles, lots of stiffness and aches.  Fine.  I know where the Motrin bottle lives.  But somehow the inflammation triggered an undiagnosed case of carpal tunnel syndrome and ta da!   Pain and burning in my hands and arms up to the elbows.  Imagine a world where you smash your funny bone….and then it happens again.  And again.  For days.  I will never make carpal tunnel jokes again.  This sucks, people. 

Enter the wrist splints.  They were originally just for sleeping but by day two as things got worse I started wearing them all the time.  That’s right, I get to be just this hot morning, noon, and night.  Take my word for it, they are VERY rock and roll.  Blech.  At least someone could make me some snazzy red and orange ones!  Or maybe chocolate brown?

I had so little use of my hands in the first few days that it was really difficult to look after my kids, which killed me.  And I was worried after that how I would manage to type (of course it didn’t occur to me how I might bathe, eat, scratch my…um, my nose.  Right.  How would I scratch my nose?  Who cares as long as I can work, tweet, email and blog?) 

Sigh.  Priorities.  I’ve cobbled together a reasonable facsimile of what I used to do.  The kids are doing okay, I got checked out by the doc to rule out anything more serious, and now all I can do is wait.  And take Motrin.  I’m keeping up with the most important things, and slowly adding other items back to the list.  I’m learning what I can and can’t do.  Hubs is pitching in around the house, not that he doesn’t usually, but he’s doing more.  And I found the right dosage for the ibuprofen.  I’m definitely doing better than I was last week. 

In the meantime, I’m starting to have some fun with it.  Today on Twitter we came up with some great fake stories to explain away my splints should people ask.  (I had gotten the “Did you fall?” question just a few too many times.)  People suggested everything from bowling injuries, covering my web spinners, punting injuries from Venice, fighting with ninjas over caramel lattes, double burns from a chocolate fondue to cow milking.  I am now much better prepared should anyone ask what happened.

Have no fear.  I’ll be back, with bells on.  Ooh!  Red and orange splints with bells on them!  Now that would be awesome.  Just kidding.  I’ll settle for having it all fade away over the next week or two.  Cross your fingers for me, okay?  Because I really can’t do that yet.  ; )