How a Rational, Educated, non-celebrity Chose Not to Vaccinate

There’s been a lot of vitriol aimed at the “anti-vaxxers” lately, blaming non-vaccinators for recent outbreaks of measles, whooping cough, and whatever else rears its head. Some people have written posts calling parents who choose not to vaccinate “ignorant” and “selfish.”

Well, I am here to defend these parents, and I am not afraid to state right up front that I am one. It’s been nearly 25 years since I made this decision for my babies, but I think time gives me a substantial level of objectivity, since I’m no longer personally insulted by the hatred, nor am I afraid that people will think I’m some sort of bad mother—my children have all turned out to be very healthy, intelligent, and worthy human beings who have yet to spread anything worse than a cold.

I realize that people don’t like their long-held beliefs challenged, and this certainly applies to vaccinations. It is far easier to simply yell louder that vaccines are essential than it is to actually do the research. But look at all the ways the medical community has changed its mind about tests and treatments it once considered perfectly safe. Overuse of antiobiotics led to the rise of super bacteria that are resistant to the available antibiotics. Another example: for decades now, they’ve been telling women they must have mammograms. Now, science is starting to realize that this strategy has resulted in many women being treated unnecessarily, as well as other women feeling reassured when fast-growing cancers that would kill them in a few months were not detected by a mammogram.

I did not make the choice not to vaccinate my children lightly, by any means. I did not simply decry it as a government conspiracy or a medical waste of time. I initially thought like a lot of you, that vaccines were the way to go, so I wasn’t on board right away. A couple of acquaintances suggested I check out the information on both sides of the issue—a strategy that has served me well throughout parenthood.

So I researched. I read dozens of books. I looked at questions that had been asked about vaccines that the medical community did not have answers to. If I had found satisfactory answers to my questions, I might have chosen to vaccinate. But I did not. The research on long-term side effects of vaccines just did not exist. The research on short-term effects was not very convincing, either.

I probably read more about vaccines—both pro and con—than the average pediatrician/MD. I know that the medical practitioner is often influenced by several factors, such as the pharma reps who visit their offices regularly, not to mention the reluctance to buck the system. I read books by several physicians who had bucked the system, and they were basically shunned by the medical community, even though they had been previously well-respected.

At this point, if you’re reading this, I urge you to read extensively on both sides of the issue, and please avoid rash judgments on the intelligence and parental responsibility of the person who chooses not to vaccinate. If you want to have a respectful discussion of the actual science (or non-science, as the case may be), I welcome that, but unless you have read extensively on both sides of the issue, it can’t be a true discussion.

I made the decision not to vaccinate because the evidence in favor of it did not seem complete enough to me. One common reason given to me in favor of vaccines was the obvious “fact” that many diseases had been eradicated because of immunizations. Nothing proves this, however. In most of Europe, there was never a mandated immunization program as there was in the U.S., and they experienced the same decline in diseases at the same time. What I learned was that the incidence of most contagious diseases ebbs and flows. So, simply the correlation of mass immunizations in the U.S. and the decrease in diseases does not prove causality. I could just as easily correlate vaccinations with increases in childhood obesity, auto immune diseases, cancers, ADHD, depression, etc. (I believe this type of correlation is what makes some people claim that immunizations cause autism. I don’t buy that. I know non-vaccinated children with autism.) If vaccines truly worked the way we are told they do, then no one would feel threatened by my unvaccinated family, because supposedly you are immune to the disease and therefore cannot get it. In addition, if the disease can be carried by people who aren’t immune, then it can be carried by both the unvaccinated and the vaccinated, since obviously there are some who have been vaccinated who are not fully immune.

In addition, I learned that there are numerous ways to increase the strength and effectiveness of an immune system. An MD won’t tell you about these, because big pharma doesn’t knock on their doors once a week promoting it. (I realize my bias is showing.) Many of these methods are hundreds of years old and easily achieved.

The first and easiest way to promote a baby’s immune system is by breastfeeding. I will not go into much depth here, because there is a ton of information to back this up. In fact, the evidence supporting a myriad of breastfeeding’s benefits is overwhelming. Even the medical community (which, incidentally, was not always so pro-breastfeeding) now recommends breastfeeding as the best form of infant nutrition. Among all the many benefits is the mother’s antibodies are passed to the baby through her milk, which is the perfect way to help the baby fight diseases specific to the environment where the mother lives.

Giving mass doses of vaccines at the vulnerable age of infancy can put more stress on the immature immune system. Which is why some parents take a middle road approach of delaying vaccines until the baby is older, and then spacing out the vaccines instead of administering them all at once. There is some reason to believe this might be a good compromise. This way, if there is a reaction, it is clear which vaccine was at fault. People often cite the bad side effects of the diseases in question. I have seen first-hand equally devastating effects after vaccines.

But most of the information I read indicated it was best to avoid all vaccines until children were much older.

Some other ways to promote the health of the immune system are things you read about a lot these days. Herbs and vitamins are useful. Less processed food, low sugar intake, and the like help. Good gut bacteria (which is supported by breastfeeding).

Also low intake of antibiotics. My children rarely received antibiotics. And they really didn’t need to—because they had really strong immune systems that had been allowed to develop at a natural pace through breastfeeding, healthy food, and by fighting off diseases with a supported immune system. Interestingly, it was once considered a no-brainer to just pump kids with antibiotics “just in case,” and we now realize that this causes resistance to antibiotics as the formation of super-bacteria. What will a couple of decades teach us about the long-term problems with vaccines?

Let me address just a couple of diseases specifically. Let’s talk whooping cough, as this is one of the illnesses that always gets the pro-vaxxers up in arms. The fact of the matter is that whooping cough vaccine is one of the least effective vaccines given to kids, so the fact that lots of incidents crop up should come as no surprise, and should not be blamed on the kids who aren’t vaccinated.

Right now, it seems measles is a big issue in New York City and more recently in LA. According to what I’ve seen in news reports, many of those who are getting sick have been vaccinated. Again, if the vaccine worked, they wouldn’t be getting sick.

I am not entirely against vaccines. When people are older and the vaccine serves a specific need, then I see some good reasons to administer them. Foreign travel, for example. Our bodies are not used to the viruses, bacteria, and illnesses of unfamiliar parts of the world, so an older teen or adult being vaccinated prior to travel seems prudent. Exposure is perhaps another reason. If you work in a hospital, which is rampant with all kinds of nasty stuff, it might be wise to be vaccinated. But this is when our immune systems are much more developed and able to handle a big influx of vaccines.

For some people, the risks of living are scary, and that includes the risk of childhood diseases. A generation ago, before vaccinations were the norm, these same childhood diseases were the norm, and nobody thought twice about the possibility of getting measles, for example. In fact, you were the strange one if you hadn’t had the disease. A couple of things I learned through my research were that these illnesses are normal childhood illnesses that are less dangerous in young children than they are in older children or adults. I can attest to this from personal experience. I never had chicken pox as a child, so I got it at age 30 when my children had it. I was extremely sick, dangerously so. My children were hardly even uncomfortable. The other thing to note is that having a disease like measles confers lifelong immunity, a much better risk avoidance technique than an unsure roll of the dice with vaccines. Because people frequently forget to have boosters, there are more incidents of these illnesses in young adults, which can have even worse side effects than having the illness as a kid.

I do not judge those who choose to vaccinate. There are reasons in favor of it, and I know that every parent makes the best choices we can at any given time. But as I said before, I have read more on both sides of the issue than probably most parents, doctors, and the general populace. I made my decision based on information and rational thought. So please refrain from calling me ignorant or selfish. I made the best choice for my children—not selfish, just what any parent would do. 

Happy Birthday Peter

On the night of September 26, 1996, there was a lunar eclipse. I sat outside with my 40 week pregnant belly and wondered when this baby would appear. Melissa came 1 week early. Emily came 10 days late.

My midwife had assured me that this baby wasn't that big. He sure felt big. We didn't do ultrasounds or know the gender, because we were doing a home birth with a midwife.

I went to bed that night hoping it would be soon. I was getting tired of carrying this little one inside.

True to his compliant nature, Peter arrived the next afternoon at 1:01. He was 10 lb. 10 oz. Yes, you read that right. It is not a typo. He was a big baby after all. We joked that he was two months old at birth. Amazingly, I had no drugs and no tearing. He was a little hard to push out, but that was more because of his sort of sideways position than his size.

At any rate, he arrived on his due date, and made me really happy to have a boy. He was a pretty mellow baby, lovingly attended by his big sisters. Melissa especially like to be a little mommy and sing Peter to sleep. Emily became his best playmate as he grew.

On September 27, 2011, this baby turns 15. Whoa. He is now almost as tall as David, wears a size 11 shoe (still growing, it seems), and sings bass in choir.

It's kind of hard to describe my relationship to this really cool son of mine. When he was little, he loved to have me play with him. We did puzzles, played with his Barney figures, his Buzz Lightyear figures, and his dinosaurs. He liked to ride his tricycle around and around the block. He grew up with dogs and rats and hamsters and guinea pigs all around, and his special dog is Ginger, the one who showed up on our doorstep five years ago with Peter.

Peter was my cuddly boy. Even as old as 11 or 12, we would sit together before he went to bed. We'd talk, play games, read. I remember many a hilarious game of hangman. (Mary Poppins, Peter.)

Once Peter got "too old" for that, I felt a little lost. How does a mother connect with her adolescent son? But we soon found other things that connect us. We love to watch comedians together, and we have a few favorite TV shows, like our latest: "How I Met Your Mother." He's trying to bring me into his world by getting me into Dr. Who. Mmmm, not sure I'm quite there yet.

I love many things about my son. One is his sort of off-beat, weird sense of humor. Or the way he loves to tell me about whatever his passion of the moment is. As a little tyke, it was dinosaurs, then Pokemon, Digimon, Bakugan. Now it's Dr. Who, Munchkin, and computer coding. I often have no idea what he's saying to me, but I'm glad to hear his enthusiasm and joy over stuff. I also love that Peter loves music. It's almost a requirement in this house, but he has a genuine love of percussion. He has excellent musical skills, which I'm sure are partly genetic, but also hugely due to the constant stream of music happening in our house all the time. I am so glad at least one of my children is still in band and wants to do band in high school.

One of the most awesome things about Peter is that he is totally okay with himself, unafraid to be weird or geeky or even creepy. He likes "nerdy" things like chess, computers, band, scouts. He learned how to make creme brulee and homemade bagels. He took a gardening class and tells me what I should plant with what. A teenager with this kind of self-assuredness is a delight to be with.

Peter has the messiest room I've ever seen. His sisters will back me up on that statement. We call it the black hole. But he is happy with it for now, so we just shut the door and agree not to take it too seriously. Peter's personality is that of a leader, someone who likes to take charge, be on the top of the heap, and help others coming up behind him. He is smart like his sisters, outdoorsy like his parents, a pyromaniac like his dad, and sleeps and eats like any teenage boy.

I truly enjoy my son. Oh sure, he can be annoying at times. Like when he is "Mister Literal." That's when he takes everything you say literally. He has been known to write up contracts in order to make sure we all agree on something. He is also not so keen on doing chores or working on anything unless he wants to. He drinks far too much soda. But, you know, overall, the kid's okay. He is one of the good ones. Someone we can count on. Someone who works and plays and relaxes in equal measure. He's respectful when he should be and kind to others. In short, someone I like hanging out with. And he seems to like hanging out with me, too. I guess that says a lot more about our relationship than anything else I have written. So I'll stop there.

Happy Birthday to my favorite son, Peter Christian Jensen

Random Musings (or: Heat Gets in My Brain)

It's July. Where did that come from? What happened to the happily middle ground of heat and cold called June? It was cold, rainy, miserable. And now it is unbearably hot. Really? Come on. If you don't believe in climate change, let me just invite you to peruse our spring weather here in the "desert" of Idaho.

My brain tends to go in random directions. So if you're not in a rambling mood, please desist immediately.

It occurred to me yesterday that we spend more of our lives as parents of adults than we do as parents of children. Granted, childhood seems very, very long when you are the befuddled parent of three small children. but now that I've been parenting for almost 22 years, I am really enjoying parenthood more and more. Because the hard part (I hope) is done. They are transitioning into adulthood and doing well at it. They like to hang out with me (mostly because they get free food/laundry/gas if they do, I'm not naive), and I like to hang out with them. So it seems to me that fostering a close and pleasing relationship with our children is the most important thing we can do as parents. Yes, yes, we want to instill in them strong values, a good work ethic, and a drug free lifestyle, but really most of those things are a result of living by our own values. You can't beat that stuff into your children. And no matter what kind of grades they get, if they drink before they turn 21, if they hang out with the wrong crowd, if they don't share your religious or political beliefs--none of that matters in terms of parenting. What matters is can you talk with them as equals? Can you find common interests. Can you stand each other? I can happily answer yes to all these questions. So the future of parenting for me is looking good so far. That makes me feel great. After all, they're the ones who have to take care of me in another 40 or so years.

On a related note, living in a house with a pre-menopausal woman and a nearly 15 year old boy is not always congenial. I have determined that I think 15 is the worst of the teenage years. My son Peter will turn 15 in a couple of months. He is often surly, grouchy, hungry, tired, unmotivated, and irritated by everything. I've been through this twice before, so I don't take it personally, but I'm older now. I'm also tired, irritated by everything, etc. You get the picture. However, at least I have the experience to know that engaging in arguing or pointing fingers does no good. I usually just wait until a better mood finds its way into Peter's psyche. Usually when he's talking about Dr. Who, has been watching comedians, has just had a large caffeinated beverage, or I'm taking him to Burger King. Then I can broach the subject of the pile of crap he needs to do. Nevertheless, we do have a close, similar-interests kind of relationship mentioned above. We both like comedians, camping, and other stuff. So I think we'll make it. Until the hot flashes hit. Then it's every male for himself.

Speaking of males, tomorrow is my oldest brother, Mike's, birthday. He's a LOT older than me, just to clarify. (No offense, I just want to emphasize what's left of my own young years.) So, since I've profiled my mom and dad recently, I think I shall briefly comment on Mike. Mike was always kind of removed from my life as a kid, since he graduated and left home when I was in 4th grade. I do remember his hippie years fondly. How my grandma Ruth commented, upon seeing his long, long curly hair when he returned from Spain, that he looked like a girl. High five, grandma. I remember how he hitchhiked to and from college. My mom worried like crazy. Our family liked to play games like Monopoly, hearts, and Risk. It seemed to me that he always won. He was kind of a ruthless competitor.(Okay, not "kind of." He was a mean ruthless competitor.) Being the little sister, I often finished out these games in tears. He liked to argue. (Who of the McClanahans doesn't like a good argument?) Again, being younger and not as world-wise, I usually ended up in tears. As we got older and I became more liberal in my politics and religious views than Mike, we had a frequently contentious relationship. Even so, he has always been my big brother and I looked up to him. Even if he did royally piss me off. Several years ago, though, Mike made a move to forge a closer brother/sister bond. He reached out to me and began calling once a week. We talk on the phone now more than we ever talked in many years. We still don't agree on quite a few things, but we can manage to talk and share of our lives together. Happy birthday, big brother.

I think that's all my brain power for now. The heat has zapped what else I might have had.

Benign Neglect as a Parenting Strategy

I realize there are as many parenting styles as there are parents. And of course, we usually think ours is the best approach. I can definitely say as the parent of three kids that one method does not necessarily work for every child. My three children are all cut from their own cloth and respond to things quite differently.

Overall, I think I've been a pretty good parent. Some probably think I'm way too lenient. I think they're way to strict. Some think I let my kids run all over me. I think I listen to them. In the end, the measure I use is this: as my children move into adulthood, do I like them? Do I want to hang out with them? Are they the kind of people I respect? Are they good, compassionate, helpful, kind? And here's the other piece: they all seem to want to hang out with me. Now, I'm not stupid. I realize that this is in part because they need money. But it's more than that. We have forged a relationship that holds meaning beyond the parent-child spectrum. We genuinely like one another. (Most of the time.)

I have often described my parenting style as one of benign neglect. Or laziness. Benign neglect sounds better. But here's the thing. It basically boils down to letting the kids deal with whatever consequences arise, unless I think they are putting themselves or someone else in serious danger. (Which has never happened yet.)

So when my child wants to stay up all night, I merely ask that they keep it quiet so I can sleep. They will discover tomorrow that they are tired, don't feel well, can't stay awake in class--whatever. And they almost always learn they don't enjoy that. Same with drinking a gallon of soda. I don't lecture them on nutrition. They've heard all that before. But when they don't feel good the next day--they know why. I've never censored television, books, movies, music, or anything else. They have proven that they have enough sense to self-regulate. I mean, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that most of tv is just trash and not mentally satisfying in any way. So they give up watching it.

I know friends who think I'm a wuss. Who think I'm not willing to stand up and be a real parent. Who think that I should learn that I can't be their friend. But here's what I notice. They are the ones struggling with their children. They are the ones whose kids continually go down the path their parents don't want. They are the ones who can't get their kids to talk to them.

My main goal as a parent of teenagers is to be the kind of parent who is approachable, who they can talk to about anything without being afraid they are going to get into big trouble. I would rather know where they are and who they are with and what they're doing so that I can help if things get to the point where someone is in danger: drugs, alcohol, sex, whatever. If they won't talk to me, they could get into big trouble that is difficult to find your way out of. Those things are way bigger than if they stay up too late at night or get a bad grade in a class.

My children know the expectations, though. They know that if they commit to something, we expect them to honor that commitment. They know we expect them to take school seriously--but not too seriously. Peter, our 14 year old, has some pretty awful grades right now. Instead of grounding him or lecturing him, we talk to him about it. He already felt bad, already made a plan to bring up the grades. We knew they were mostly a result of missed assignments, and that it will all come out in the wash by the end of the quarter. Peter knew he wouldn't get in trouble, so he knew there was no reason to hide his grades from us. He knew we expected better, and what's more important--HE expected better of himself.

That's really why I find my benign neglect strategy to be the best one for us. Our kids learn to think, plan, make mistakes, redo, and try again. They don't respond well to lectures or punitive actions. And I thinks that shows that they already know if they messed up, they already figured out what to do about it, and they know that for the really big mess ups in life, we are here to help them out.

I'm not putting this out there to say my way is better than yours. I'm just saying that I'd rather make sure my kid, say, uses birth control than have her be afraid to ever talk to me because she's worried I'll just ground her or something. I'd rather have my kid talk to me about drugs than to find him shooting up in the alley because he's worried I'll kick him out (for example).

And it seems to be working. None of my kids hesitates to talk to me about all manner of things. And none of them engages in dangerous behaviors. Why? I think because they only have to look around at their friends' lives to see how messed up drugs make you, or what crappy jobs their non-college-degreed friends are stuck in. They've mostly learned to think for themselves, rather than doing only what they know won't get them in trouble. I value that very highly.

Bullying

With all the different suicides in the news lately, mostly gay teens who have been treated horribly, the subject of bullying is on everyone's mind, and rightly so. Our newspaper ran an article on how to protect your kids from cyberbullying.

And here's my response:

Why not run an article on how to know if your kid is one of the bullies. Nobody wants to think about that, do they? We all assume that we are the good ones, the ones who don't bully, would never treat someone that way, would never shun, spread rumors, out someone online, etc. And certainly our kids would never do that.

Oftentimes, when bullying takes place, the very people to whom one turns for help--teachers, principles, councilors, parents--do not believe the kid being bullied. "How could Janie be bullying you? She's a very nice girl. You must be misinterpreting her intentions."

Uh, no. Very often, it's the "nice" kids who are the worst bullies. They achieve their bullying in very subtle, but pervasive ways. They spread rumors, they shun you, they give you evil stares, they treat you like a nobody. And when you complain, they act like abusive spouses act in front of the authorities: they are all nice and pleasant. And so the victim is the one who ends up being blamed.

Look to the board in your own eye first. Do not be in denial that your kids are the "good ones" who would never treat someone this way. They probably do on more than one occasion. Yes, they've probably also been on the receiving end as well, but that just means they know how it all works, and are just as happy to dish it out when the chance presents itself.

In other words, we are all capable and culpable. We all have the capacity to treat others as lesser than ourselves.

We need to teach and learn empathy. And we need to face the ugly in ourselves. This is the only way episodes will stop. Parents and teachers especially need to make ourselves familiar with the ways "nice kids" bully, and let them know it is completely unacceptable. Teach them how to do better, be better.

To learn more about this subject, I recommend the book Odd Girl Out: The Hidden Culture of Aggression in Girls by Rachel Simmons. It is a fabulous study in the way girls bully.

Obviously, this is a big issue, and one that has multiple solutions and actions we can take. My first action is to look inward and to my own children to make sure we are not contributing to the problem.

Ah, Children and Their Choices

As parents, I think one of the things we wish for is to spare our children from making poor choices. I mean, we've made many of our own poor choices, right? So we know what to avoid. Right? So if we could just convince our children that they should avoid making all the dumb mistakes we've made, their lives would be much better, right?

Alas, one of my most important ideals of parenting has been to let my children make their own choices. Even when they were 2 1/2 years old and wanted to dress in horrendous outfits, I let them. When they chose friends who were obviously not good for them, I didn't say anything. When they want to drop three classes, spend four months sitting around, go out with a jerk, or quit baseball, I don't say anything. (Well, so maybe I say something, but I don't judge.)

It's a dichotomy of ideals. I want them to be themselves. But I want to let them learn from my mistakes. But they really have to learn from their mistakes. And really, most of those things they choose aren't mistakes, to be accurate. They're just choices that maybe didn't work out so well. Some of them actually do work out pretty well. But it's really hard to sit back and watch while the turning out happens, because as a parent, you have no idea it the final outcome will be good or not so good.

So what brings all this philosophizing on? Daughter number two, Emily, was all scheduled to spend the coming school year in Belgium on an exchange program. That was actually a pretty recent decision. I think she announced it in March or so that she'd like to take a year and do something besides head right off to college. (She just graduated from Boise High School, top 20% of her class, 4.1 something GPA, AP scholar, thank you.) You see, several years ago, Emily skipped 8th grade, so she has this sort of "free" year she can use and still come out at the end of college at the same age as her peers.

But now, Emily informs us she's changed her mind. Doesn't want to go away after all. Still doesn't want to go right off to college, either. (For the record, she is very excited about her chosen college: New Mexico Tech, where she plans to study astrophysics.) What she wants to do this coming year is finish her pilot's license, which she has been working on. Plus she wants to do some other things she's always wanted to try but never had time for, like learning to draw. She plans to get a job--thank goodness. Probably still take more piano lessons--yay. Probably write five or six novels while she's at it. I'm sure she'll keep busy. And I have no problem with this choice. I don't think it's a mistake.

But, come on. Giving up a year in Belgium? Would you? I told her the story she's heard before. (All parental stories must be retold several hundred times before a child reaches 18. It's in the Parenting Handbook.) When I was in college, I had an opportunity to go to a program in London and attend dozens of theatre performances while otherwise partying with my friends. And get credit for it. What was I thinking? Why did I not go? It's one of the great regrets of my life. What I wouldn't give to spend ten weeks in London studying theatre..... Sigh. But even after a moving rendition of that story, she still chose to spend her year her way.

It's taken me a few days to adjust. I think the main thing was I had emotionally prepared for both my daughters to be out of the house in a couple of months. Not that I'm in a big hurry, mind you, but you prepare yourself for these things. Now she will still be here. Frodo, her dog, is most happy, I think. He would sorely miss Emily, and he still will when she goes to college. In the meantime, he has another year. Peter was not so happy at the news. He wanted the Xbox to himself. Somehow he got the crazy idea that I was going to let him have it in his room. Right.

Well, this post was supposed to be about choices. Emily's graduation speakers talked about following your dreams, not necessarily doing the expected thing. I guess Emily took that to heart, because flying is one of her loves, and she hopes the possession of a pilot's license will be one step toward her ultimate dream of becoming an astronaut. Gotta love those independent thinkers. That's how I raised 'em.

Teenagers X 3

So today my youngest child became a teenager. I was relieved to find him very much the same as always. I've been freaking out over this milestone. I mean, Peter has always been my baby, my little boy, the one who likes to cuddle before bed, the little brother. This year he started junior high, and now he's a teenager. But you know what, now that the moment has arrived, I'm good with it.

Like any good teenage boy, most of Peter's presents were of the electronic genre. And I'm good with that too. I limited my children's electronics in their early lives. I did allow TV, and educational computer games. But I wouldn't allow televisions in their rooms, or computers. They recently got computers, rationalized as "for school," which is like saying the TV is for work. As the years have gone on, I've allowed more electronics, and they seem to handle limiting themselves pretty well. They still do plenty of reading, writing, and a host of other things.

I find it really fascinating, in fact, the variety of interests my children have. But there are two basic similarities: music and books. Melissa is a choir nut, including bell choir. Emily loves piano and frequently composes pieces for piano. Peter is a drummer and is also in a boys choir. As for books, their tastes vary hugely, but they all love books. And they all love to write.

Okay, movies would be another common interest, although it gets a little tricky finding a movie everyone wants to go see together. So we tend to go in pairs or three of us at most.

This is turning into a rather rambling post. But I meant it to reflect how I feel about my children growing up. They have turned out to be people I very much like to hang out with. That has always been my hope, that they would grow up to be the sort of people I would want to be friends with. They have taught me an infinite load of wisdom that I desperately needed to learn. They have made me a better person. It sounds so cliche, but it really is true. I owe them so much of who I am. I hope I can continue to be blessed to learn from them for many, many more years.

This does not preclude moments when I want to throttle them senseless. But the fact that I haven't (yet) indicates just how much they have taught me. Patience, for starters. My poor mother tried to teach me patience all during my formative years. She'd say, "Patience dear." I hated that. I didn't learn real patience until these three challenging persons entered my life. They've taught me, too, about true acceptance. I have had to force myself, even in those times when I so vehemently didn't want to, to allow my children to be their own persons, to acknowledge their ownership of their own lives. I suppose deep down most of us somewhere inside of ourselves wish our children would be little clones of ourselves. Wouldn't that be so affirming? I suppose it would also be tremendously boring. I accept each one of them for who they are and what they want for themselves. It's going to be exciting and probably quite entertaining to watch as they enter adulthood and try those things on.

Thirteen years ago, at this hour of the evening, I held my baby boy and rested in my bed at home. I felt so strong and capable--he was 10 lb., 10 oz. at birth. We joked that he was two months old at birth. He is now a delightful young man who loves band, chess, boy scouts, backugan (don't ask), baseball, school, grossing out his sisters, building and tearing apart things, cooking, riding his bike, playing with his dogs, and playing games on his new Nintendo DSi, the Wii, and his computer. Happy Birthday, Peter.

Describing Our Life: Not Organized

Today I took Emily to the chiropractor. She's been going there for about six months or so. I really like these folks. They figured out quite early on that we are a forgetful group, and they seem to have other clients like this, because they have it set up to send an email reminder the day before the next appointment. I said that is great, and Emily interjected that yes, we would call our lives unorganized.

I bring that up because with the beginning of a new school year, you always see those articles in the newspaper and parenting magazines on "how to organize your kids, all their papers they bring home, and all the shoes, jackets, backpacks, and other junk." As if we can't figure this out for ourselves. Come on. Write something we can really use like "Ten Ways to Avoid Making Lunches." Or "The Lazy Mom's Guide to Alarm Clocks."

I mean, really. I read an article last week about how you should make school lunches the night before to avoid the mad rush in the morning. Wow--that's news to me! No one's ever written about THAT before. Sheesh. How original. (Okay, did I mention, sarcasm is my second language?)

My main point about this--well really I have two main points. First, don't these writers realize that evenings have their own set of chaotic issues, so it's not really less harried to make a lunch at night than in the morning? Do they HAVE kids? Really.

Second, and more importantly in my mind, kids should be making their own lunches--or learn to eat the school lunch.

The reason I say this is that I'm the laziest mom in the world. I'm pretty sure of that, although I'm too lazy to do any research to verify it. My kids have eaten school lunch since early on--mostly because they don't really feel like making their own lame sandwiches. I'm not about to get up and make lame sandwiches for them, so it's up to them. They haven't starved even one day in their lives. (Granted, school lunches are a lot better than when I was growing up.)

And I resent the idea that if I'm not organized or don't make lunches for my kids that I somehow don't measure up. My kids are the smartest ones in their classes. (Okay, I haven't researched that either, but let's just go with it.) They grow, they have energy, they have friends. Very important: they don't get in trouble with drugs, alcohol, or other stuff we don't want them to do. I won't go into details. You know what I mean.

And why is that? Even though I'm the laziest mom in the world, I am by far the most approachable and a great listener. My children can--and do--talk to me about anything. ANYTHING. And they know it.

But really, the way I look at it, I'm the best mom in the world. My hands-off approach has worked well. My kids all do their own laundry and have since about age 9 or so. They can manage to feed themselves if they don't like what I prepare for dinner--which I only do because I want dinner. They never like what I make, so I learned long ago not to sweat it--they can make their own.

I'm raising self-sufficient beings who can manage on their own. They won't be the ones at college who have never seen the working end of a washing machine or who can't make it to class on time unless their mom texts them a wake-up call. Melissa's freshman year roommate's mom, on the other hand, just told her to send all her clothes to the dry cleaners so she didn't have to worry about washing them. As if tuition isn't expensive enough!

So this is just to say that our life is not organized. We, or at least I, tend to go with the flow. Work with what I've got.

That means if you visit us at home, there might still be boxes stacked in the dining room that were there several months ago because we haven't gotten around to putting them away yet. Or that there might be as much dog hair on the floor as on the dogs. (Sorry--here's the lint roller.) Or the luggage from our last trip is still sitting in the hall. On the other hand, we're probably having a grand rousing game of Trivial Pursuit, reading a book, or writing one of several books. It may be unorganized, but you know--chaos is the natural state of the universe.