"This picture book biography, written with great love and insight by his oldest daughter, writer Meghan McCain, shows us the public John McCain and the personal John McCain in a way we’ve never seen before — making this American hero come to life before young eyes. "
There’s a children’s book about Barack Obama, too, but it’s not written by his daughter(s).
The pediatrician says Asher is developing beautifully. His weight percentile is back down to 60; it seems all this walking is slimming him down.
I decided to spare both Asher and myself the two shots today. To my great surprise, his immunizations are up to date, except for MMR and Varicella. I’ve decided to delay those two for another 5 to 6 months at least. MMR (Measles, Mumps, Rubella) is the prime suspect for those who believe passionately in vaccine injuries and vaccines as the "cause" of autism. There is a great deal of anecdotal and emotionally-based "evidence" that children are damaged by this particular immunization and were otherwise developing "normally" until the time they received the MMR shot. I do not believe MMR is the cause of autism, but as I have two more years to get Asher those two shots, I don’t feel rushed to do it now while his immune system, language, and social skills are still developing.
This vaccine issue is so weird. There are evangelists on both sides. It’s a matter of choosing between emotional appeals versus logical appeals, and when it’s your baby it’s hard not to let emotional appeals get to you. I, for one, am glad that Western medicine has tackled and largely eliminated dozens of horrendous childhood diseases. (Now if only our genius scientists could do the same with HIV, Malaria, and Tuberculosis! … Hepatitis, HPV, Herpes … Yes?)
I still say, and firmly believe, that if our precious monsters children are going to be in a school environment in which not every child is fully vaccinated (and some not at all), then we had damned well better be vaccinated! Should a (previously wiped-out but newly resurging) plague ever strike Fair Oaks, we should be safe!
My morning began at 6:15 a.m. with a series of NPR stories about 9/11 memorials and remembering those who died horribly seven years ago. By 6:25 a.m., I was in tears, clutching my boys and wishing my husband were home with us. Not my favorite way to start the day. Honestly, I tried hard not to replay that day in my mind. Little flashes of memory arose, despite my efforts at avoidance. Sometimes this world is so fucked up.
It’s hard, but things are going pretty well even though Ian’s not here. The mundane, rhythmical household stuff is getting done, for the most part. Yesterday evening I even cooked a nice meal of pasta with green beans, walnuts, and feta cheese. I got everyone up this morning, fed well, dressed, and off to carpool and the babysitters’. Then I worked and did more taxes stuff. Picked Lucas up from Ryan’s house at 4 and drove the kids over to see RoRo and Nana. A whole parade of people arrived while we were there: Julie, Ro’s PT, us, Bob, Mike, and finally Dad.
(RoRo is grumpy and stubborn. We learned from my aunt that Ro had eaten nothing but candy since Dad brought her breakfast. We tried to cheer her up, and cheered for her while she did her PT with her therapist. He’s making her get up out of her chair, having her practice the movements necessary to do so unaided. Her balance stinks and she seems to have forgotten the body mechanics she has used all her life to move around. She doesn’t want to try, to work for it. She won’t do anything for herself. If she’s not very careful, she’ll lose her ability to walk altogether.)
I took Lucas and Asher out to Rubios for dinner. I just couldn’t face cooking and cleaning everything tonight. All Asher wants to eat is rice. All Lucas wants to eat are bean and cheese burritos and churros. Fine. Whatever. "No, we can’t have ice cream, too. But nice try."
They’re both asleep as of 8:15, which is good. I’m really glad Asher isn’t pulling one of his stay-up-late stunts. We’re out of vodka, damn it.
Tomorrow will be another busy morning, with Dad coming to take Lucas to school and me and Asher braving the pediatrician’s office and another wicked round of shots. (Must remember to dose him with ibuprofen before we leave.) Later, though, we’ll be having dinner with my parents, who are well aware that I’ll probably be totally pooped and out of my gourd by then. It’s great that they’re so involved and helpful in my life. Some days I don’t know what I’d do without them.
Ian, come home. I miss you.
Today is day 2 of trying to deal with 2007 taxes. (We filed an extension and have until October 15 to file.) Luckily, I don’t have to do all the nitty-gritty shit myself. I have Brilliant CPA, who does all that for me. I don’t have to figure out IRS instructions, forms, jargon. I just have to make sure Brilliant CPA gets all the info she needs to do her magic.
I thought I was done yesterday. But then I realized, Wait! Wasn’t 2007 that fucked-up year when I got so deathly sick? Wasn’t that the year we (cheerfully) bled money to pay for medical treatments, drugs, hospitalizations that ultimately made it all better? Wasn’t that the year of well-baby checkups galore and expensive immunizations? YEP. That was 2007.
So, now I’m trying to figure out if we paid enough out of pocket to be able to deduct some of it. Brilliant CPA says,
"You can itemize medical deductions if the expenses total in excess of 7% of your Adjusted Gross Income. For example, if your AGI is $XX,000, if your medical expenses exceed $Y,Y00, then you can deduct the amount over $Y,Y00. Medical expenses include your co-pays, dental, vision, prescription drugs, medical insurance, etc."
(Brilliant CPA speaks in green, the color of money.)
Where are all those receipts? Those bills? Well, it looks like I have all the bills. But probably not all the drug receipts and stuff like that. We’ve never before spent this kind of dough out of pocket, so I don’t usually keep that little stuff.
Damn. Maybe someday I’ll have all this shit figured out. Sometimes being a grown-up is hard.
Ian is driving south on I-5 about now, heading for a two-day conference on autism therapy in Santa Barbara that begins tomorrow morning. I’m feeling a little sorry for myself that he’s not going to be around to take care of us. I’ll miss him terribly while he’s gone because he’s my best friend in the universe and I want him by my side all the time. Even though he snores.
Drive safely, Bascha. And come home in one piece. Our sons and I will miss you. We’ll keep a candle burning for you.
Halfway haircut, sucking on spray bottle. Garden zucchini.
Speed Racer. So thirsty.
New hat from Australia.
Playing pretend video games.
"Brothers Together, Friends Forever!"
The superhero.
The engineer.
Cute, but gross.
Borrowed headband.
The balancing grapes game.
He takes up half the bed now.
All these adorable Robeez shoes are now too small for Asher. They are all in decent shape—worn but wearable—so we’ll be finding new feet for them. I’m a little sad to see them go.
[P.S. If anybody knows how to size photos in LJ, please let me know. I remember at some point I elected "medium" size uploads, but I want "large" now. I've tried many times to find those settings again to no avail. Please help.]
In the dark this morning, I slowly woke and realized I was itching in several spots. Then I heard the buzz of my nighttime visitor: a mosquito. I got up to inspect my wounds. Sure enough, five bites. It was 4:50 a.m. I figured I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep for fear of being nibbled more, so I got up and tackled some Pokémon corrections on my borrowed Mac.
Early mornings are usually not my cup of sweet, beige coffee. Strangely, getting up so early today felt like just the right thing to do. I worked for an hour and a half, in the pre-dawn dark before any of my family stirred. When they woke up, I was able to greet them cheerfully, instead of in my usual half-asleep, crabby way. Our morning routine rolled without a hitch. We even had enough time to read Horton Hears a Who! together. Lucas was out the door with Grandma in plenty of time to make it to school. Ian drove away with Asher, heading for the babysitters’ house, just moments after 8 a.m. And then, I was on my own until noon! I managed to drive to my client’s office this morning, deliver the deliverables, schmooze, and negotiate for a potential new type of freelance work. Might be a once-in-a-while kind of thing, could become regular. Fortunately, the client seems to get where I’m coming from.
It’s 3-ish now. I nearly fell asleep when putting Asher down for his nap, but managed to drag myself back to consciousness to work some more. I feel good, if a little tired. I wonder if I should try to adjust my circadian rhythms enough to make early mornings a good thing? Early to bed tonight, I think.
I'm a busy freelance editor and writer, wife to Ian, and mother to two precious boys. I am living each day to the fullest and with as much grace, creativity, and patience as I can muster.
"Love doesn't just sit there like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new." —Ursula K. LeGuinn
