A Momentous Occasion (Or Two!)

When I became pregnant with Rhys just nine months after James was born, everyone I knew reminded me that I would soon have two babies in diapers.  Yes, that was true for quite a long time, but I'm thrilled to report that those days are over!

Though he will probably hate me one day for announcing this to the world, James is now 100% potty trained, and life could not be better!  To be completely honest, he's been using his training potty successfully for months, but simply refused to sit upon the "big boy" toilet.  This past week, something clicked (there might have been a small bribe involved), and our days of dumping out and wiping up the plastic potty basin are a thing of the past, at least for a little while.

To mark this wonderful milestone, we celebrated in true boy fashion, with a new truck and a power tool.  What could be more exciting!

(James enjoying the fruits of his, um, triumph.)

Next up on my To-Do List: getting this little guy to follow in his big brother's footsteps.

But before I embark on that journey, there's something new I'm undertaking that you need to know about.  This Wednesday, August 1st, I'm moving over to my own, self-hosted blog here!

It's been a long time coming, and though I've been intimidated by the idea, I finally decided to take the plunge.  Or, to be totally honest, I was pushed off the edge by Ryan, when he purchased my own site without my knowledge, as a birthday surprise.  That little nudge was enough to set the wheels in motion, and I truly hope that you will follow me on this next part of my blogging journey.

I won't be moving posts over from this site, but will continue to write in the same style, about the same topics.  I'm also working to make sure things look and feel as familiar as possible, and I will be linking back to posts here for reference, especially in the early days.

You will be able to follow me via all the standard avenues, so don't forget to update your subscriptions on Wednesday.  I'm also learning as I go, so please feel free to offer suggestions and advice.  Goodness knows I can use them.

I'm so excited about this big move and I hope you will join me at my new address on Wednesday.

See you over there!

Happy Birthday, Baby Boy!

Ryan took this photo of Rhys enjoying his ice cream sandwich after dinner.

You turn two today, sweet Rhys, and I can't believe how much time has passed since we welcomed you into our family on a hot summer's day in 2010.  You were so precious and tiny, and you filled our home with so much happiness and joy.  Daddy, James, and I have loved watching you grow into a sweet-natured, loving, little boy who likes Elmo and pop-up books.  You have such a gentle spirit, and everyone who meets you falls in love instantly.

James loves you as his playmate and best friend, and Daddy and I love your cuddly kisses and how snuggly you are all the time.  I know that you will soon leave your baby ways behind, my precious boy, but please don't be in such a hurry, because you are Mommy's last little one, and I treasure the moments that we spend together, just you and me.

I wish you a wonderful day, full of happiness and laughter, and maybe a new truck or two.  On Sunday, we will celebrate your birthday with everyone who loves you, and lots of Elmo cake, just like you asked.

When we were preparing for your birth, I made a list of songs for us to listen to, and I always think of the words to this one by Sarah McLachlan.  You were our second baby, the third grandson on one side, another boy.  Yet something as ordinary as that became such a wonderful miracle when we saw you, little one, and though I say this frequently, you are the icing on our cake and the period at the end of our sentence.  We love you, Rhys Racer, and we are so blessed to have you.

And though James is named after our Papa, you are the one who most resembles him.  When people ask where my blond baby came from, I just tell them you look like your grandfather, because the resemblance is striking, don't you think?

Papa (right) and his older brother.

 Happy birthday, my sweet, precious boy.  I love you with all my heart.

Baby Girl

There's a woman in our neighborhood who runs a small, in-home daycare, and she sometimes brings her children to the park near our house.  I was pushing the boys on the swings when I heard her group approaching.  As they ran through the trees to the playscape, a tiny little girl, who seemed less than two, saw me, cried, "Mommy!" and ran to give me a hug.  I was a bit taken aback at first, but she was so sweet that I just had to reach down and hug her back.  Her teacher explained that she is really friendly and loves to give hugs to everyone.

Later, the little girl bumped heads with another child, and while her teacher was comforting her, she saw me again, jumped off the teacher's lap, and ran to me with her arms outstretched, once more calling, "Mommy!"  This time, I immediately reached for the little girl and tried to soothe her as I returned her to the teacher's lap.  We laughed about how cuddly she is, and I kissed her chubby cheek before passing her back to the safety of her teacher's arms.

Then I watched my boys, who are no longer babies, climb the playscape and run alongside the older children in the class.  My boys who are growing up before my eyes, and who no longer need me like they did as babies.  James is three going on 30, and he is becoming more independent every day.  Rhys will be two next month, and while he will always be my youngest baby, he is asserting his own identity more with each passing minute.

Of course my little guys still need me, and I am the center of their world, for now.  But just then, if only for a moment, it felt so wonderful to hold a tiny little girl, and hear her call me "Mommy."  Even though she did not know me, she recognized something in me and knew that it was true.

My Whole World

Since I'm changing things up around here, I decided to switch to a more personal header photo that captures a bit of my personality.  I love this picture more for what it represents than what it actually shows, and it was taken back in 2010 by Ryan while we were at Emma Long Park for his company picnic.

The scenery, with the flowing river, lush trees and grass, and hidden house, is lovely, and I really like how small James and I appear in the midst of it all.  He is so tiny, in his little hat, and I am leading him along as we gaze at the view together.  It's a sweet glimpse at a quiet moment between a mother and a son, and if you were there that day, you would have seen this, too.

That unmistakable bump is Rhys, who made his appearance two months later and completed our little family of four, in many wonderful ways.  Recently, we went back to this same location for another picnic, and it was fun to reflect on how much our lives have changed in just two short years.  And so I treasure the picture in the header, of my two sweet boys and me, taken by Ryan, since it represents my family and the promise of our future together.

What Works For Me: Solvere Acne Clearing Products

I've always had oily skin, but it didn't truly become acne-prone until I was trying to conceive my first baby.  And since I've been either breastfeeding or pregnant since 2008, I've had to be extremely careful with the types of acne products I can safely use.  Prescription-strength azelaic acid works fairly well and is safe while pregnant and breastfeeding, but it doesn't completely eliminate my hormonal breakouts.  Since my dermatologist told me to come back when I'm not nursing and she'll prescribe something stronger, I've been on the search for a cleanser that will help prevent breakouts while not irritating my sensitive skin.

I've tried my fair share of acne cleansers over the years, from mail-order clubs to department store brands, and everything in between.  Dermatologists recommend using only a mild cleanser or bar, but I've found that I need something stronger to stay acne-free.  I can't remember how I ran across it, but Solvere Acne Clearing Cleanser has solved most of the issues I had with other cleansers.  It contains 2% salicylic acid, the amount considered most helpful when treating acne, and since I just put it on and rinse right away, there's no residue settling into my skin, so it's safe while breastfeeding.  (Large amounts of salicylic acid, in the topical form like a peel or taken orally, are not recommended during pregnancy.)

Solvere's cleanser is extremely thick, almost the consistency of shampoo, so a little goes a long way.  I also find that, because of the acid, I only need to use it at night, and then I just wash my face with a much gentler cleanser like Cetaphil in the morning.  I'm also a fan of Solvere's Fortified Moisturizer, which is rich and creamy without blocking pores.  Both products help to prevent breakouts and I'm really thrilled with their performance.  Plus, they are comparable in price to drugstore brands and come in large quantities, so they are very easy on your wallet.

It took me a long time to find the right products for my skin and my current state of motherhood, but these really work for me, and I hope they might help you, too.

Revisions

My youngest sister just finished her requirements to earn her teaching certificate (Congrats to her!), and I realized that it was almost time to renew my own teaching certificate.  I haven't taught in a school district since 2003, and I haven't taught in a classroom setting since 2008, when James was born.  So, when I logged onto the state education site, I wasn't surprised to see that I'm not eligible to renew my certificate without 150 clock hours of continuing education classes.  Since Bradley classes and online webinars probably don't count, I have to let go of my teaching certificate, which I always thought of as a little cushion.  It was in the background, not being used at the moment, but there just in case I might need it.

And then I realized that I have now been a mother longer than I ever taught, and that struck me as so appropriate.  I am doing exactly what I always planned, hoped for, and dreamed about.  While I always knew I wanted to teach, in some form or another, I took a very roundabout approach to finding my niche in life.  But with becoming a mother, it was just something I knew I would do.  And I have, and I love it.

Sure, I'm in a bit of a tight spot these days as my sweet little babies turn into rough and tumble boys before my eyes.  I'm learning how to navigate the ropes of being a boys' mom when I am such a quiet girly-girl.  But, day by day, I'm doing it.  As they grow and mature, I'm growing alongside them, and I'm really working hard at taking care of myself, too, in different ways.

Since I can't, or don't, really think of myself as a teacher these days (besides teaching my little guys how to become respectable human beings), maybe I'll focus more on writing and this blog.  It's become such an outlet for me, and I've always written, in some form or another.  This summer, I'm challenging myself a bit with an online class that, hopefully, will help jump start my creative juices.  More on that later.

So, I'm tweaking things here and there, adding and subtracting this and that.  If things look weird or different on this site, just be patient with me and know it won't last forever.  Or maybe it will.

When I was in college, one of my English professors really believed in revision as the ability to "see again" with fresh eyes, and I always tried to impart that wisdom to my own students.  I'm definitely in a state of revision right now, working hard on the final draft.

In TIME for Mother's Day

This is the cover of TIME Magazine, which is on newsstands tomorrow.  It's obviously going to cause controversy just as everyone in the country is taking their mother out to lunch at a crowded restaurant Sunday afternoon.  And, honestly, who cares?

I'm not going to write a post about the joys of extended breastfeeding, but let's just say I've done that.  And this.  And I'm still doing this.  And it works for my family and me.  But it's definitely not for everyone, and I most definitely respect that.

I just wish it wasn't meant to shock, and that these moms would not be judged so harshly, especially as we celebrate motherhood this weekend.  Like I've said before and will say again, they are doing what's best for their children and themselves, and you can't find fault in that.

But they are not better than other moms, though the article's title might imply that.  Motherhood is not a competition, even if it sometimes feels that way, and there is no gold medal to be won.  Just children to love and time to spend together on a special day. 

And on a lighter note, look what James made me for Mother's Day, with a little help from his teachers.  I am most impressed. 

Happy Mother's Day!  I hope it is a wonderful one for you.

It's Hard Out There For a Mom

Today was one of those days where things just didn't click, and I was feeling pretty down about myself and motherhood in general.  One of those days where the boys fought too much, there were too many tears, not enough toys, and I turned the television on just to pacify everyone for a bit.  I was feeling down.  And then I read a particular blog post from a well-known mommy/crafter, and it made me feel terrible.  I'm sure that was not the intent at all, but man, if it didn't sting.  And it doesn't matter what the post was or where it came from, because I'm sure we've all read something like that before, that really got under our skin and stayed with us, long after it was supposed to.

As Mother's Day approaches, I've been thinking a lot about motherhood, and what it truly means to be a mom these days.  This isn't so much about having and raising children, but about assuming the role of mother and what that looks like in 2012.  And the truth is, it's really hard.  And long.  And, dare I say it, boring.

And before anyone doubts my love for my children, let me just say that I love them with all my heart and would gladly give up my life for them in an instant.  But that does not make me perfect or lessen the tedium that comes with rearing young children.  I'm at the point now where our family is complete, and I know without a doubt that I do not want more children.  For me, one child was easy and I joyfully jumped into becoming a full-time, stay-at-home, cloth-diapering, breastfeeding mom with both feet.  But two, well, to be perfectly honest, having two children is kicking my butt more than just a little, and I think it's okay for me to admit that.

As if juggling two little boys and their separate demands isn't enough, I've also had a taste of the infamous Mommy Wars, which is not a game I like to play.  Not long ago, I attempted to join a local Mom's group, and as I filled out the questionnaire, I was asked if I had a college degree, if so in what, and from what school.  Seriously, what does this have to do with getting our children together for a playdate?  And I know someone who was warned, when she moved to a new neighborhood, to avoid her park at a specific time and day, because that's when a certain parenting group had their playtime, and they had a reputation for being, umm, difficult.

I've also sat and listened as mothers were slammed for returning to work, for hiring a sitter two days in one week, for having a second baby too close to the first, for deciding not to have a second baby, Et cetera, Et cetera, Et cetera.  What this tells me is that, first, we can't win for losing, and second, we should all just give up and stop judging one another for doing what works for us.  As cliche as it sounds, parenthood really is about doing what's best for you and your child, and nobody else gets to have an opinion, period.

In the era of Facebook, blogs, and Pinterest, it's easy to fall into the trap of oversharing, and with that comes the need to always put your best foot forward.  I know I do it, and it's so tempting to paint a perfect picture while you're the one crafting the details of your life, when, in reality, nothing is perfect.  We all know this, but sometimes it's nice to get a reminder.

Like I said, I love my boys with every fiber of my being, but sometimes, or often these days, they get on my last nerve.  It's hard to constantly put your needs behind those of others, especially when doing so involves things you don't normally like to do.  I'm the first to admit that I'm a homebody, and my idea of a perfect day involves lots of lying on the couch reading, watching movies, and taking a nap.  There's not much time for that with two active boys, and they spend much of their day outside, playing at the park, riding bikes up and down the sidewalk, running around the yard, digging in dirt, swimming in their pool, taking nature walks, and just milling around in the grass.  It doesn't come easy for me to even be outside, especially as the temperature is rising, so it takes everything I have to do this, knowing that it's best for them.  Come naptime, I am so mentally exhausted that I normally crash upon the couch while they sleep in their rooms, and their calls upon waking act as my alarm clock.

Sometimes, I'm so brain-dead by 5:00 pm that dinner consists of popcorn while the boys watch a kid-friendly show or takeout from a fast food restaurant.  To stay sane, I often employ a sitter to watch Rhys while James is at school, and this is when I do one of three things: go to the doctor, get a massage, or get my hair done.  I used to feel guilty about the massage and the hair, but they make me feel so good that, now, I don't even think twice, and schedule my massages once a month and my hair appointment every six weeks (boy, do my roots need it!).  And this summer, when James is out of school and we've got hours and hours of unstructured playtime looming before us, I'm hiring my sitter twice a week for a few hours, just to give us all a change of pace.  I'm also putting Rhys in school two days a week next fall, if he will agree to it, and I'm planning to make the most of those quiet hours.  It's what works for me, and I refuse to feel guilty for that. I realize that I'm incredibly blessed to have the financial stability to stay home with my boys, and I'm grateful for this opportunity, but I have to take care of myself, too.

There's a famous saying that is often used when a new mother gives birth, "A happy mom equals a happy baby," and I believe that little piece of wisdom most definitely applies as your children grow older.  If working, whether full or part-time, gives you a sense of worth, then go for it.  If crafting gets you excited, so you can face the day in a better mood, then that's awesome, too.  I say, find what works for you and do it.  You will be happy and so will your children, and that's what mothering is really about.

And besides, who cares what Miss Hotsy Totsy did on her blog?  You are doing what you love, for those you love, and that is all that really matters.

On Courage

While I was at the salon today, I overheard several women of different ages sharing their birth stories with a young stylist, who is newly pregnant, and some of her co-workers.  I wasn't part of this conversation, but it was impossible for me to ignore their discussion, and it reminded me yet again how very important birth is in all of our lives.

There are those that will say it doesn't matter how a baby enters this world, but ask any new mother and she will agree that birth changes you.  It's important, and it does matter.  How could a group of women sit with foil-wrapped hair and share their stories, some in painstaking detail, with complete strangers if it did not?

April is Cesarean Awareness Month and I'm reposting this piece because it is so beautifully written and meaningful.  I cannot read it without tears.

My sister is in the midst of her own defining birth story, one that will likely play out over the course of the next few weeks and months, and she and her unborn baby can truly use your prayers.  She is the very essence of courage, and I admire her so much.

A Huge Weight Off My Shoulders

Last summer, I received a letter in the mail notifying me that I was being considered for jury duty in Federal Court.  This is different from being called to Municipal Court, in that Federal Court jury duty lasts for a period of two months.  Yes, you heard that right.  At the time, I completed my questionnaire and was sure to describe my occupation as a "nursing, stay-at-home mother," since there was no way to request an exemption.  I returned the form, heard nothing back, and forgot about the whole mess, thinking I was off the hook.

Boy was I wrong.

Saturday evening, as I was enjoying the last weekend of Spring Break, Ryan checked the mail and brought me another official letter.  This time, it was the real deal.  I was officially summoned to appear as a juror in District Court, beginning April 30th and ending July 6th.  On the Friday and Sunday before my first court appearance, I was instructed to call the hotline number to verify that my presence in court would indeed be needed the following Monday, and then I was to be on call each week, repeating the instructions each weekend, since juries are selected on Monday mornings.  At 7:45 am.  In downtown Austin.  I get sick to my stomach just thinking about it.

This time, there was an excuse form included, so I politely explained my current situation as the mother and primary caregiver to two young children, with a husband who works long hours and is preparing for a trip to China later this year.  I mentioned that I do sometimes use a sitter, though she is a college student and only available on Tuesday and Thursday mornings until 1 pm.  All completely true statements.

I didn't hold much hope in being excused though, because I've heard horror stories of judges throwing airline tickets for previously booked trips in the faces of potential jurors, and even of a mother held in contempt of court for bringing her children to jury duty when a sitter could not be found.  When I was in college, my Linguistics professor was assigned to a Federal grand jury, and missed part of an entire semester while her husband, also a Linguistics professor, filled in for her.  Things did not bode well for me and I've spent the past week planning acceptable outfits, researching bus routes, and recruiting possible caretakers for the boys.  Not to mention losing sleep over the prospect of taking on what amounts to a part-time job paying five dollars an hour on top of my full-time job as a mother to James and Rhys.

But things changed today, when I received a recorded message notifying me that my excuse has been granted, and I am off the hook.  For real this time. As my father-in-law says, "Hallelujah!  Praise the Lord!  Amen!"

I'm a responsible member of society, respect the legal system, and understand the need to fulfill my civic duties, but I'm also responsible for the lives of two little boys on a daily basis, and I have to put them first.  Thankfully, the clerk understood this from the beginning and granted my excuse request. 

And to tie this all together, when I received the phone call, I didn't answer because I was busy getting fitted for new bras at Petticoat Fair, an amazing local bra boutique.  I haven't been properly fitted since I was pregnant with James, and I've literally lived in nursing bras since December of 2008, so I was well overdue for a proper fitting and some gorgeous new bras.

And before you ask, yes, I'm still breastfeeding, though Rhys usually nurses in the morning, before nap, and before bed, which are all times when we're at home.  I don't need a nursing bra to make it through the day now, and I treated myself to some pretty pieces that make me feel like a new woman.  In fact, when I got ready to leave, I realized that I just could not put my nursing bra back on after feeling a properly-fitted bra, so I wore a new one home.  I'm pretty sure I walked out of there feeling taller and lighter than I have in a long time.  It truly is amazing how a good bra can make such a difference in the way you feel.

A couple of hours later, when I went to get James from school, a friend saw me and said, "You look like you are getting smaller."  I just laughed and told her about my day.

On Science and Technology

I ran across this article on ICAN's Yahoo list today, and I found it quite fascinating, for my own personal reasons.  I'm a huge advocate for natural birth, and while my own experiences were quite different than the writer's, as I've discussed in great detail in the past, I agree with her point of view completely.  Please consider the article on its own, separate from the vitriol in the comment section, and form your own opinion.

She Did It Again!

My mom always says that a lady should only be written about three times in her lifetime: when she is born, when she marries, and when she dies.

But what about when she literally spews hilarity from her lips (and the keyboard) on a regular basis?

Without further ado, here she is, once again.

Operation Elmo Rescue

Spring Break is next week, and to celebrate, James is spending a few days with his Nana and Papa in San Antonio.  Since Rhys isn't quite ready for overnight trips away from us yet, I wanted him to have a treat, too.  He's quite an Elmo fan these days, so I found a stuffed version of the little monster on Amazon, and best of all, it doesn't require batteries.

Elmo arrived tonight, and I was shocked to find him in such a state when I opened the box.

I'm no photographer, as I've mentioned before, but you can see from the picture that his eyes are blindfolded, his hands are wrapped behind his back, and he's literally gasping for air inside that plastic bag, which had the usual warning printed on it.

I'm thinking that, for less than $15 and free shipping, I might need to rescue some more innocent plush dolls.

My Birthday Boy

Tomorrow is your third birthday, sweet James, and I am constantly amazed at how much you've grown.  No longer that tiny baby we brought home on a cold winter day, you have become a big boy full of endless curiosity, loads of energy, and wisdom beyond your years.

You are such a joy to experience, little one, and though your dad and I may struggle at times with your desire for independence and your insistence that things go exactly your way all the time, we love you from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, and on and on and on forever.

Happy Birthday, my sweet James.  I wish you a wonderful day!

(Photo by Mary-Beth Archer)

Stay Golden

Raising two boys has opened my eyes to things I once ignored.  That's why this is such a powerful reminder.

ICAN CBAC Week

My friend, Melek, is the official blogger for ICAN's website, and she designated this past week as CBAC (Cesarean Birth after Cesarean) Week.  I'm so thrilled that she chose to focus on this issue, because it's important for CBAC moms, like both Melek and me, to feel supported in our decisions, especially when our plans for a VBAC change.

You can read the week's worth of stories here.

Park Days

Now that the weather is finally cooler, Ryan and I like to take the boys to San Gabriel Park in Georgetown, a few miles up the road from our house.  The park runs alongside a river, and it's not unusual to encounter ducks, geese, and even horses, accompanied by riders, of course.  There are different playgrounds scattered throughout the park, and James and Ryan run from place to place while I push Rhys in his stroller and try not to panic when James gets too close to the river's edge.

Usually, we see lots of children and families like ourselves.  On our last visit, we saw a girl in a purple gown having her quinceanera pictures taken and a group of little boys dressed from head to toe in cowboy gear, riding horseback through the park with their parents.  It's a change of scenery from our neighborhood, and the boys have a wonderful time.

Today, we met Hope.  I first saw her as she jumped too quickly from a running van, and the elderly man driving it screamed at her to wait.  She ran to the playground ahead of him, and he took his time getting out of his vehicle, walking around it several times before heading over to where she played.  Hope was friendly and soon found a playmate in James, climbing the playscape and riding the tire swing alongside him.  I noticed the dirty knees of her pants and her dry, cracked lips, and my heart broke for her a bit.

Hope played with our boys for a long time, laughing as Ryan spun her "too fast" on the tire swing and quietly asking James, "Who's your mom's boyfriend?"  Her grandpa made a bit of small talk and easily left her with us to walk down by the river, before she ran off after him.  He smoked a few cigarettes while she played, and I heard him call her a "silly girl" over and over again, once saying that he would tell her grandmother how silly she was.

Oh, thank God, there is a grandmother. 

He told me she was the third oldest of his great-grandchildren, that she would be five in March, and you could hear the pride in his voice.  We left shortly after that, and Hope seemed sad to see us go.  Maybe we'll see her again on one of our park visits, and I'll pray that she is safe and warm tonight.

I don't know what her little life is like, and I know it's wrong to assume too much, but she has a grandfather who takes her to the park on a Sunday afternoon, and that has to count for something.

Lucky Girl

Look who brought me flowers tonight!

 (That scratch on his face is from tripping over a baseball bat and falling on the patio, poor little guy.)

The Flu Blues

This isn't meant to be controversial, but my husband and I aren't big believers in the flu shot.  I don't get one and neither does he, so now that James is in pre-school and around many children on a regular basis, we really thought long and hard about vaccinating our boys against the seasonal flu. 

I totally understand how vaccines work, and I believe in them completely.  I've also had the flu several times and lived to tell about it, and I've experienced the miraculous healing powers of Tamiflu.  Seriously, one yucky day in bed and then you are good as new.  I even had a doctor tell me one year that he never gets the flu shot, choosing instead to take Tamiflu at the first sign of symptoms.  But that's easier said than done these days.

Anyway, when Rhys had his 15-month checkup this week, we discussed this issue with our doctor and decided to vaccinate both boys for the first time.  According to him, Tamiflu isn't as effective for babies, and James was eligible for the nasal mist instead of the shot.  That seemed easy enough, and it felt like the right thing to do.

Until both boys got sick with fever, chills, and lots of yucky diapers, all of which are possible side effects of the flu vaccines.  Watching James lying on our cold tile floor after attempting to eat lunch, I realized that I didn't think this decision through carefully.  I have that awful mother guilt in the pit of my stomach, and while I chose to vaccinate them to protect them, I feel so guilty for making them sick.

Parenthood, while a shared occupation among so many of us, is really a lonely road to walk.  We all have to do what's right for our children and ourselves, and in this case, I honestly feel like I dropped the ball a little bit.  Plus, I'm supposed to drag both boys back to the doctor in a month's time for their second dose of the vaccine.  Just so they can get sick again.

I realize this is supposed to be for their own good, and to protect them from getting really sick; but let's face it, the seasonal flu is not the same as, say, Diptheria or Polio, and it will never, as I understand it, be eradicated.  So, is all this pain and suffering, just to avoid another short illness, really worth it in the end?

I think we're going to think just as long and hard about this issue next year, and maybe make a different decision.  Again, this is just my personal take on the matter and is not meant to stir up controversy.

Age of Innocence?

As with most things these days, I'm late to discover this article about later in life motherhood, but it is truly fascinating.  The pictures are lovely, too.