Israel Polio Scare II

After much deliberation, listening to the official Ministry of Health explanations and filtering out the useful information, I have come to understand that only children who have already had the dead (inactive) polio vaccine will be given the weakened live polio vaccine.  The live vaccine stays active for up to six weeks.

Before Raphaela's surgery around the age of two, I felt her immune system was too weak to handle the slew of vaccines regularly offered to children, and I did not finish the series.  Raphaela is, as someone said to me yesterday, "one of the unwashed masses for whom this hysteria has been initiated," so it appears that my daughter will be receiving the regular (IPV) vaccine instead.  I must protect her as best I can before she starts school and may be exposed to the live virus through contact with other children in the new Gan.

The weekend newspapers said that we Jerusalemites were terrible terrible people, with a compliance rate of only 2%.  They reported that all the nurses specifically hired to deliver the vaccine were sitting around, twiddling their thumbs in boredom.  The Ministry of Health threatened than any child not properly protected against the disease would not be allowed in school (which starts this Tuesday) for six weeks.  The New York Times featured a page two story about the spread of polio in third world countries, where politicians/dictators deny their population the vaccine.

Sufficiently frightened, I decided that I would take her to Tipat Chalav [the municipal Israeli Well-Baby Clinic system] on Sunday. After a brief work day, Raphaela and I drove to the nearest center, only to be greeted by parents and children overflowing into the street, numbers being assigned and the warning of at least a two hour wait.  We received number 484, and they were only in the mid 430's, and so we settled-in on the floor with my iPad and played games.

At a certain point a whole group of children were gathered around our iPad, and one of the mothers offered to exchange a food run for baby sitting, since I had completely neglected to bring any food for the long wait; I happily agreed to the deal.

Two and a half hours later, I explained to the nurse that my daughter (for reasons I did not wish to explain) actually needed to start the regular IPV series, rather than receive the live polio drops.  The nurse offered me a three for one bargain, she would consider putting in Hep A and Hep B at the same time, and I very firmly refused.  Research has shown that bundled vaccinations cause more damage than a stand-alone version.

All morning long, my amazing and intuitive child  had been asking me, "What is the doctor going to do to me?"  And I had dodged artfully.  Now she understood that she really wasn't going to enjoy this doctor's visit, and she started sobbing and running away, and hid in a corner of the room.  It took five minutes for me to immobilize her, and once the nurse injected the vaccine, I then allowed myself to cry with her.  Frankly, I am surprised you all didn't hear her screaming.

The nurse assured me that it will be "this craziness in Israel" for the next three months, and then invited me to come back after the Jewish holidays for her second dose.  The nurse suggested that maybe I should bring my husband next time, or an extra pair of hands for help.  (And presumably, my husband would not cry like I did?)    I was barely listening, just trying to get us both out of there so I could comfort Raphaela in private, and not scare the other children.

Then we went to the store and I got Raphaela a fantastic treat; as most parents will agree, bribery works.  But when I offered her a Chiropractic adjustment, something I regularly recommend to my clients after their children get vaccinated, she refused.

Raphaela woke me up in the middle of the night, asking where I had put her sunglasses.  When I asked her why she needed them, she explained, "I'm thirsty and I want to get my water from the fridge, but it is too bright for me."

Huh! Makes sense to me...

Five Year Record

For the record, Raphaela has been on official vacation for less than a week, and school starts again next Tuesday.  And also for the record, I have not had a single vacation day all summer, between working and watching my daughter.

That makes at least five years that I have not enjoyed a relaxing adult actual vacation, or had some sort of back-up system so I could take care of myself, without any other responsibilities.  A dubious achievement like this could make a person go mad.

Today, apropos of nothing, Raphaela decided that she was "big enough to take a shower like Mommy," instead of her usual bath.

Summer Vacation II

With our planned play date at the Jerusalem Botanical Gardens canceled at the last minute, I needed to find a stimulating activity for Raphaela this afternoon.  After reading one of our favorite books about musical instruments, Raphaela and I turned every possible item in our kitchen and the rest of the house into an orchestra. 

Pots and pans and boxes and jars joined the few instruments we have in our music box, and I wish I had filmed the result.  Both of us started banging and shaking our makeshift instruments, singing and dancing, in between the deep-throated laughter that comes with connecting to something primal and joyous.

I have always known that my daughter exhibits huge potential in the area of music, though I can't particularly attest to our rhythm or harmony today.  Luckily, the closest neighbors downstairs left Jerusalem on vacation this morning.

Summer Vacation I

Less than one day into Raphaela's official summer vacation (all two weeks of it...) and she appears to be bored.  Today she spent much of the time making noise and dumping toys on the floor, the more chaos the better.

Frustrated, I asked her, "Is that really the best way to get my attention?"
She answered with a simple and straightforward, "Yes!"

When I made an unhappy face, she continued, "It's working, isn't it?"

Rock On, Mom!

Last night, for the first time in at least four years, I stayed out past midnight, leaving Raphaela with our Summer sitter and attending the annual Jerusalem arts fair and an Ivri Leeder concert with friends.  I walked into the house close to midnight, charged up and totally awake after an amazing triple encore, and so watched a little television until after one am.

Perhaps I got four hours of sleep last night, and as a result, forgot several minor events this morning while preparing to take Raphaela to camp:  we both did not brush our teeth, Raphaela did not apply her lip gloss, and I neglected to saturate any of my daughter's exposed skin with sun screen.

This would be almost acceptable.

Around nine am, in the middle of work, the camp teacher called me at the clinic and explained that apparently Raphaela's underwear had gone missing, though she was fully dressed in every other way.  Too embarrassed to explain that I was suffering from rock concert jet lag, I asked her to perhaps find a suitable substitute until I could get there.

The teacher assured me that this happens all the time, and that she keeps a supply of clean underwear and leggings just in case.

In between the enjoyment of having had an adults night out and the feeling of being a terrible mother, I was able to laugh at myself.

Later, I asked Raphaela why she had refused to put on leggings, and she reminded me of the iron-clad rules of her universe:

1.  When she is not a magical Baby Unicorn, she is a princess
2.  Only princesses have the true gift of dance
3.  Neither a princess nor a commoner can dance properly if they are wearing pants or leggings