Spring Fever: The Tale of the Mutant Frog

This past weekend was the first warm bout of weather we've had after a seemingly endless winter in upstate New York. My daughters, along with a small cadre of other children, armed with buckets and nets spent both days capturing and releasing bullfrogs, leopard frogs, assorted tadpoles, painted turtles and blandings turtles. At one point, after hearing frantic shrieking, I made a mad dash to the pond to release a snapping turtle that had been inadvertently netted.

Unlike most of the nearby moms, I love watching the kids knee-deep in muck. No doubt my love of nature was inherited from my father and nurtured by growing up in a rural area and watching Hodge Podge Lodge on PBS until I was bleary-eyed.

Known to my immediate neighbors as "The Environmentalist", I am the mom who will pick up a snake, wade in the creek to catch crayfish, compare and contrast the characteristics of toads and frogs, and will explain to the children that the giant bird they spotted by the edge of the creek was a great blue heron, not a crane.

Needless to say, when I heard cries of "mutant frog" coming from the creek I was concerned. If there were frogs in the creek displaying genetic mutations I wanted to know about it for obvious reasons. Bordering on hysteria, the children ran up to me speaking over one another about the frog they'd seen with two heads. Urging me to hurry, they grabbed my hand eager to show me the spot where the beast had last been seen.

On our way a mom called out to ask me if the kids were showing me the mutated frog. She shuddered as she described a frog with a head that appeared to have grown another head above it. With growing horror I began to wonder what toxins the kids had been exposed to during their explorations of the creek and adjacent pond. I began to mentally review the list of authorities who would need to be contacted in order to determine how contaminated our previously pristine creek water had become.

We quickly reached the spot and the children pointed at a large rock inhabited by what appeared to be a two-headed toad, not frog. Jumping across the creek boulders, I knelt to examine the creature. It appeared that rather than having two heads, it was as if two toads had been melded together. As I picked it up the children gave shouts of horrified disgust. I turned the toad over and began gently moving its legs. Sure enough, I found small feet tightly gripping underneath the leg joints of the bottom toad. I smiled and carefully placed the breeding pair back onto their boulder. After assuring the kids that the toads were not mutated but were instead making baby toads, I began to walk home.

On the way back I passed by the mom I'd seen a few minutes earlier. She called out to ask if I'd seen the mutated monstrosity. "Yep", I answered. " My guess is that it was caused by spring fever. It'll be just fine if it gets a bottle of wine, a bit of privacy, and a heart-shaped bed in the Poconos."



Ethel

Biological Warfare

Last evening, two of my three sons began complaining of various maladies. My oldest had a slight cough and a headache, my youngest an “extremely” sore throat. Sunday nights are often plagued by mysteriously rapid onset complaints, usually caused by the impending doom of school on Monday. I did the usual. Checked temperatures: Oldest: 100°, youngest normal. Looked at throats: red. I distributed Tylenol and sent all to bed.

At about 2:00am, my youngest woke with what he described as a “horrible” sore throat. I guess that trumps his earlier “extremely” sore one. I gave him some sore throat strips and sent him packing.

Bright and early this morning, I wielded my thermometer to find out who would win the “Sick or Not Sick” game. My oldest turned out to be the winner with a 101.9°. The youngest was now sniffling and hoarse, but without a fever. I figured it was better to be safe and kept him home as well.

So now I am shut in the house with two sniffling, coughing, feverish children. Jealous? The youngest, between coughs, informs me he feels much better, especially if I planned to take him to the doctor for a throat culture. He has Math 24 Game after school and doesn’t want to miss it. The oldest is moaning quietly on the couch. Both have begun the tentative “I’m bored” complaints in preparation for lobbying for video games and text messaging. (Electronic gaming and messaging is a no-no when you are home sick from school.)

I have dosed myself with Zicam and Vitamin C and washed my hands raw. Everything they touch is being meticulously cleaned with Clorox wipes. Lysol is my friend. I am the germ police. Despite all of this, I suppose I am doomed.

What’s that? I think I hear someone changing the channel on the TV. I had better go sterilize the remote.

Pray for me....

Lucy

The HPV Vaccine-- What They Don't Want You To Know

Before I begin, let me first say that I am not a doctor, nor am I an employee of a rival pharmaceutical company. I’m a mom to two young girls, determined to do whatever I can to ensure their safety. When it comes to Big Pharma I am an admitted cynic. With the push (temporarily abandoned) to mandate the Gardasil vaccine, I felt it was my duty to my kids to check out the claims concerning the new HPV – human papilloma virus- vaccine. The following represents a portion of what I found with just a bit of research.

There are, depending upon the source, anywhere between 120 and 300 strains of HPV. Of these, there are 15 strains of the cancer causing type. Merck’s vaccine, Gardasil, targets 4 strains of HPV, two that are the cancer causing type—HPV types 16 and 18, and two targeted strains that cause genital warts. So out of the 15 strains that can cause cancer, the vaccine only protects against two… does that seem like good odds to you?

I then moved on to read the patient insert which is available through the FDA and Merck websites. In its own literature Merck states, “Cervical cancer prevention focuses on routine screening and early intervention. This strategy has reduced cervical cancer rates by 75% in compliant individuals by monitoring and removing pre-malignant dysplastic lesions.” Okay Merck, why then do we need to buy this vaccine if our daughters can avoid cervical cancer by getting yearly pap smears and having any abnormal cells frozen off?

The theory behind mandated vaccination is to prevent highly communicable and potentially fatal diseases like diphtheria, whooping cough, measles and small pox from decimating the population, or at the very least, from reaching pandemic proportions. HPV is a sexually transmitted disease. It is not airborne. It cannot be transmitted through casual contact. If a young woman is sexually active, why not just advocate the use of a condom which would protect her from STD’s as well as unwanted pregnancy?

Additionally, Gardasil, much like the varicella vaccine given for chicken pox, only provides peak protection for approximately 5 years before it begins to lose its effectiveness. It typically takes 10 to 15 years for HPV to develop into cancer with most women developing cervical cancer in their 40’s. Remember, the girls in the targeted range for this vaccine are 9-12 year olds. A nine year old receiving this vaccine would be effectively shielded for five years, until the age of fourteen. If that girl is then exposed to the virus, say at the age of seventeen, when she is most at risk of contracting a sexually transmitted disease, the vaccine will be beyond peak protection and offer little, if any, shield against the virus. Will this young girl, operating under a false sense of security, be less likely to have the yearly Pap smear that could detect abnormal cell growth?

And then, consider this—the HPV vaccine is the first vaccine to use a genetically modified live cancer virus. Making matters worse, this drug, tested on 20,000 16-26 year old women, was never tested for efficacy in individuals within the targeted age range of 9-12 year olds. Added to this is the fact that this 20,000 person test group was about half the size of the test groups used to demonstrate safety of other vaccines, like Prevnar, the vaccine used to prevent ear infections.

And then there are the side effects. Since being introduced in June 2006 there have been 385 side effects serious enough to be reported to VAERS (the federal Vaccine Adverse Reporting System). There are experts who estimate that fewer than 10% of adverse events occurring after the use of a prescription drug or vaccine are ever reported to this governmental reporting system. You do the math. If only 10% were reported there could have been as many as 3,800 adverse reactions within the first six months of use that were never reported. Of the 385 adverse events, two-thirds required additional medical care with one-third in children 16 and under. The Center for Disease Control is reporting side-effects involving massive auto-immune responses. Medical News Today quotes NVIC ( National Vaccine Information Center, a vaccine watch-dog group) President Barbara Loe Fisher, “ Because Merck only studied Gardasil in fewer than 1,200 girls under the age of 16… it is critical that doctors and parents be made aware of the nature of the initial adverse events reports… There are twice as many children collapsing and four times as many children experience tingling and numbness [as those receiving the DTaP]. There have been reports of facial paralysis and Guillain-Barre Syndrome. Any doctors who give Gardasil in combination with other vaccines (other than Hepatitis B) are basically conducting experiments on their young patients…”

Fainting episodes are so common that doctors are now being advised to inoculate their patients while they are lying down. “About 4 reports per day were filed with VAERS in December 2006 for the HPV vaccine,” said NVIC Health Policy Analyst Vicky Debold R.N. PhD, as quoted in Medical News Today. “Some of these girls are getting injured when they collapse after receiving the vaccine and others are complaining of neurological symptoms that should not be ignored… To avoid unnecessary injuries, teenage girls should be vaccinated lying down, not be left unattended, and probably should not walk or drive themselves home from the doctor’s office after they get vaccinated. “

Medical News Today also reports that in a May 18, 2006 report, the FDA staff stated that Merck clinical trial data indicated “…a potential for Gardasil to enhance cervical disease in subjects who had evidence of persistent infection with relevant HPV types prior to vaccination.” Young girls and women now receiving the vaccine are not tested for active HPV infection before vaccination thereby leaving them vulnerable to the vaccine actually causing them to develop cancer.

Barbara Loe Fisher articulates the concerns regarding this vaccine, “How many girls are really having short-term health problems associated with this vaccine that could turn into long-term neurological or immune system disorders? And how many will go on to develop fertility problems, cancer, or damage to their genes, all of which Merck admits in its product insert that it has not studied at all? We just don’t know enough to be mandating Gardasil for anyone, much less 11 to 12 year old girls entering puberty.”

So let’s review, Gardasil doesn’t offer long-term cervical cancer protection, it doesn’t protect against all the cancer causing HPV strains, it has potentially serious side-effects, it could actually increase the incidence of cervical cancer in certain instances, and no one knows whether there will be long-term neurological or genetic damage as a result of being vaccinated.

If all of that doesn’t make you think twice, do a Google search of the bill Senator Bill Frist sponsored, nick-named “Bioshield Two”, that effectively stripped the public of its right to sue the manufacturer of a mandated vaccine. If you knew that a car manufacturer could never be sued for allowing serious safety defects would you purchase one of their cars? Will you let a pharmaceutical company convince you to inject your daughters with a genetically modified live cancer virus knowing that the company has little legal incentive, if the vaccine becomes mandated, to guarantee the safety of your child??? For me, the answer is easy…

Other sources of interest:

Cancer Virus Vaccine Targets Wrong Age Group - Washington Times

Merck's Gardasil Vaccine Not Proven Safe For Little Girls

Merck and FDA "Not Completely Honest"

E

It Was Supposed to Be a Little Scary

I took the family to our dentist for our semi-annual check-up and cleaning. I thought we would be in and out with gleaming smiles and an appointment card for June. We have gone to the same dentist for years. My kids love him and trust him. None of us is apprehensive about a visit to Dr. Gary.

My first clue that all was not going as planned was when I passed my middle son (age13) in the hall and he didn't smile... he just grunted. I continued to the exam room and assumed it was just a particularly nasty attack with the tartar hook until Gary sat down and said, "He has 3 cavities." According to my youngest, who was having his cleaning in the next cubicle, I gasped in a loud, shocked, horrified manner. I was stunned. We are generally very conscientious about oral hygiene so this was really a surprise.

Gary went on to explain that I would need to make two appointments for the filling of these cavities. Since this was my son's first experience with this sort of procedure, Gary wanted it to be minimally traumatic. He promised to give the boy some laughing gas and Novocain and to be very gentle. Considering my son's intense fear of needles and pain, I was dreading all of this.

It took about a week to get the first appointment. It felt like an eternity. I met the initial complaints and expressions of fear with great compassion and calming words. By the time the appointment rolled around I was getting tired of him complaining and trying to avoid admitting that this happened because of his lax brushing habits. 'Oh, honey, don't worry, it will be fine' nearly turned into 'Suck it up and brush your teeth better so we don't have to go through this again.’

The silent ride to the office was heartbreaking. I wished I could relieve his anxiety, but nothing I said calmed him. With great trepidation, I watched Dr. Gary walk my son down the hall with his arm around his shoulders. Thirty long minutes later my son emerged with a loopy grin plastered on his face. Dr. Gary told us that he had done fine and two of the three cavities had been filled. So that this didn’t become a harrowing ordeal, we were to schedule another appointment so the job could be finished.

In the van on the way home, I told him that it would all be over in a few weeks and then he could move on. I gave a short, yet eloquent, speech on the importance of oral hygiene and the avoidance of the dentist’s drill. As I paused, ready to commend him on his bravery, he interrupted. “Mom, I liiiiike that gas stuff,” he giggled.

So the following weeks were not worrisome. Today he had his last cavity filled and again enjoyed a lovely high courtesy of Dr. Gary. Herein lies the rub. He really did like the gas. A lot. In fact I overheard him telling his brothers that the whole “cavity thing” wasn’t a big deal at all.

As empathetic as Dr. Gary is, I wished he had managed to be just slightly more menacing; just a little scare to be filed away in association with tooth decay in my son’s memory. Instead, the boy has no fear of further dental work.

In other words, the whole experience was so much fun he may never brush his teeth again. So, Gary thanks for your kindness. You meant well. But maybe next time, could you throw in an evil laugh or something?






L

The Dance

I am not a perfect parent. I’ve made many mistakes, but due to the amazing resilience of children my daughters seem no worse for the wear. And every once in a while something wonderful will happen, like finding a rose blooming beneath a blanket of snow, that makes the trials and tribulations of parenthood all worthwhile.

As she's gotten older, my pre-teen daughter has begun navigating that age-old peer group dance where one small misstep and the consequences can be devastating. The most recent disruption in this choreographed production involved a young girl my daughter has known for 6 years. After an incredibly rocky beginning, the girls made peace and developed a genuine bond. My daughter, even at that tender age, stood by her friend as best she could through her parents’ volatile divorce and ensuing drama. Things have not been easy for this little girl and, due to this, she has not always made it easy for my daughter to be her friend.

Recently, I thought the situation had reached the point of no return. This little girl lashed out and accused my daughter of carrying out an act completely uncharacteristic of her… an act of pure malice. My daughter was angry and incredibly hurt. She felt that anyone who truly knew her would know that she was incapable of carrying out such an act. The armed camps lasted for weeks and both girls were miserable, but equally stubborn in their positions.

A few days ago it appeared that a truce had been reached as the two girls chatted happily on the phone. When they hung up I quipped, “So she decided to forgive you?” And then my 12 year old daughter turned toward me, a solemn expression on her beautiful face, “Actually Mom, I‘ve been thinking about how she brags an awful lot, and how sometimes she’ll exaggerate to make herself sound cool to the other kids… and then I started thinking about how lucky I am to have my family. I know I can always depend on you and Dad…I can trust you. And then I thought about how her dad says really mean things to her and how she can’t trust him, and how she has to deal with having to move so much…She didn’t decide to forgive me Mom, I decided to forgive her.”

It’s in moments like those that I close my eyes in gratitude, thankful for the knowledge that although I’m not a perfect parent, I must’ve gotten at least a few things right.









E

Pets On The Verge: Part Two

After my initial fish episode, one would think I had learned my lesson...

About seven years ago, my husband was traveling out of the country a lot for work and it always threw the kids into a tailspin. This particular trip's goodbye evoked hysteria and running down the street behind his car in tears. The usual medicine, a movie with a huge popcorn covered in butteroid with sugary soda, did nothing to assuage the pain. On the way home, the tears started again, accompanied by the whimpered pleas for a pet.

I had resisted for years, knowing that I just don't have time for walking, feeding, poop scooping, and whatever else. I already had 5 people's needs to meet and adding a pet just didn't do it for me. But... we stopped at the pet store. One small bowl and two goldfish later, we came home. Note that I wasn't going for a full tank and tropical-potentially-cannibal fish this time.

As you can imagine, Gumby and Pokey were the highlight of the house... for about a week. But hey, they don't require a lot of care and how long do goldfish live, anyway? Yeah. The fish are still here.

In their too small bowl with rocks and a replica of the Parthenon, they continue to swim in circles. It's my fault. I let the bowl deteriorate until it resembles Lake Ontario before I clean it. I think I have boosted their resistance. Gumby has cataracts and Pokey is no longer gold - apparently even goldfish go gray in old age, but they continue to be quite spry, splashing constantly.

One morning recently, my husband discovered Gumby on the floor. He had made an escape attempt! Once deposited back into "the Lake" he was fine, but we have to keep the bowl covered with the sandbox sand strainer to deter any more jailbreaks. Was it a "Finding Nemo" moment or a suicide attempt? I'm not sure, but I cleaned the bowl and replaced the Parthenon with the Rocky Mountains. Hey, even I get crazy when I need a vacation...

L

Snow Daze

In case you don’t live in the northeast portion of the United States, it’s RI-DIC-U-LOUSLY cold here! How cold you ask? So cold that the only happy residents of our fair land are the polar bears at the local zoo, even the penguins are hiding deep within their rookery… they’re from Africa. So cold that not one of the entire fleet of busses our school district uses could be started yesterday… hence, every child’s dream… and the scourge of all parents… the dreaded SNOW DAY!

First, let me make myself perfectly clear. I love my daughters and thoroughly enjoy having them home. Weekends are a happy blur of activity, and I’m probably the only mother on the planet who actually looks forward to summer vacation. Why then does the thought of this extra opportunity for family togetherness make me cringe?

Personally, I think that snow days have a magical connotation for most kids similar to that of Christmas… only without the tree and presents… maybe even better because you never really know when, or if, it will come. This rare gem courtesy of snow and ice has a high price tag though. Normally well-behaved children act like crazed lunatics on a sugar high. What’s a mother to do? You can’t send them outside when the wind chill brings the temperature to a frigid 20 below zero… it’s too hard thawing out kid-sicles.

But the thing that really strikes horror into this mother’s soul is what usually happens sometime between late morning and early afternoon… the plaintive cry of, ”There’s nothing to do, we’re BORED!” When gently reminded of the mountain of Christmas booty- board games, science experiments, crafts, and kits galore- a veritable Everest waiting to be conquered, they wrinkle their noses responding with, “Yeah, but we want to do something FUN!” If you’ve ever been in this situation, you’ll know that nothing short of a trip on the space shuttle will fulfill their desire for “fun”.

It’s at times like these when I need to remind myself that snow days are a gift not meant to be squandered on the mundane. So while I wait for the snow to stop, I’ll put on my crash helmet and snow pants and try to weather out the storm.



E

Parenting on the Verge

I was in the midst of the final fifteen minutes of my morning countdown until the time I needed to drive my youngest daughter to the bus-stop. As I was brushing through her night-time tangles, my dimple-cheeked cherub looked up at me in wide-eyed innocence and asked, “Mom, what’s a ‘har’?” Barely breaking with my rhythmic brush-strokes, I responded, “Har? Well, that’s one of the words I use when I meditate during yoga.”

I could see the frustration flash across her face. In addition to her dyslexia, she also has some central auditory processing issues that prevent her brain from catching the subtle differences of sounds within a word. Squinting her eyes and wrinkling her nose, she vigorously shook her head. “No, no, not ‘har’… I mean ‘whore’.”

Rule #1 of parenting: Never let them see you sweat.

My mind raced as I quickly took a moment to catch my breath. “Where’d you hear that?” I casually asked.

She rushed to assure me, “It’s not a swear word, mom”.

I assured her that while I understood it didn’t strictly fall within the category of a swear word, it still wasn’t a particularly nice word to use either.

Apparently, a third grade boy at her school had felt it necessary to announce that “whores are bad”. My daughter’s voracious appetite for information compelled her to ask one of the other students what precisely a whore was. The child she chose was a veritable fount of information. She shared with my daughter that “a whore is someone who wears really short skirts, shirts that show their belly-button, and they always wear their hair up”.

Still mindful of the minutes ticking by, it was at this moment that I innocently asked if she’d like her hair in a French braid. The rolled eyes, and the fact that her working definition of the word “whore” would include a high percentage of the female population during the summer months clued me in that I’d need to quickly come up with a definition I deemed appropriate, and that she would feel was acceptable.

My eye on the clock, I explained that a whore was someone who typically didn’t feel very good about herself and, as a result, would engage in negative behaviors to try to attract male attention. I knew I was giving a very broad definition, but it was 6:45 in the morning and how explicit do you really want to get with a precocious nine year old?

I was relieved to see an expression of understanding dawn on her face as she began to slowly nod her head. “Oh, I get it… you mean like a stripper?”

Rule #2 of parenting: When in doubt…PASS!!

I did the only thing I could…I said, “We’ve got to go… you can ask your dad later…”

E