Peter!

We can officially begin the holiday season because I have finally seen THE quintessential Christmas commercial. Here's the scene: It is early on a snowy Christmas morning. A car pulls up to the classic East Coast home. The front door opens and in pops the rugged college student who is greeted by his younger sister with glee. College student and sister hug, then they are off to the kitchen to put on a fresh pot of coffee. The luscious aroma of the hot liquid brings Mom and Dad downstairs, where Mom says in a shocked voice, "Peter." Yes, this is the Folgers Coffee commercial circa 1982. I get so excited every year when it runs and I always exclaim, "Peter!" After marrying me, Tobe has come to know many of my oddities and this one just causes him to look at me in wonder (not good wonder, but more like "I thought you were more intelligent than this" wonder) and shake his head. Despite the fact that this commercial is at the very least twenty years old and that the young girl is most likely my age (22) and that Peter is likely a 40+ bald actor doing community theater in Northern Kansas, it still brings Christmas cheer into my heart. (I also saw the Campbell's soup commercial where the snowman comes in from outside and melts into a little boy as he enjoys a tasty bowl of Chicken Noodle. This is my second favorite holiday commercial, in case you were wondering)

However, the highlight of today was not seeing the "Peter" commercial. Today was Isaac's four month check-up. For those of you keeping precise details of his growth (I hope someone is because I keep forgetting to write things in his baby book), he now weighs 15 lbs exactly and is 26 3/4 inches long. He is in the 50th percentile for weight and the 95th percentile for height (swim team here we come!). We were glad to get to see his regular pediatrician, as she has been out on maternity leave. (side note: I noticed today that the pediatrician was wearing the red Kabbalah bracelet. I really wanted to ask her if she followed this religion and if she went to church with Madonna. I figured this was not appropriate and kept my mouth shut.) This appointment was also Isaac's second round of vaccinations. I know there is a lot of controversy on vaccinating children and I have done extensive research on this topic. I taught children with autism for four years and am aware of the hype between the supposed link of vaccinations and autism. I don't see this as much more than hype, but I do see the connection between the preservative thermesol (found in some vaccines) and rates of autism. But this connection gets very technical because you start looking at amounts of mercury in the child pre- and post- vaccination. I don't want to bore you with the details. I spent four years as a special ed teacher telling my students' parents that I did not believe in a direct connection between vaccinations and autism. I still don't believe that, but put me in the exam room with my own child and a nurse holding a vaccination and I suddenly have a million questions. I had already talked to our pediatrician and the nurse on separate occasions verifying that they do not use vaccines with thermosol. I had been reassured that they do not (most places do not anymore, with the exception of rural areas), but I still questioned the nurse today. How easy it is to take a stand on something, until that stand impacts the well being of your child.

Isaac did have his three shots today and took them like a champ. We believe that he has my pain threshold (He too can one day slice his knee open to the bone and calmly tell his spouse that a band-aid won't do and a trip to the ER is necessary). He did scream at the initial poke, then just cried out of anger and a sense of injustice after that. I always feel embarrassed when Isaac cries in public and have this overwhelming need to apologize to anyone within twenty feet of us. The exception to this is at the doctor's office, because I usually hear at least three other babies crying as well. Isaac was fine after a few swigs on his bottle, some infant Tylenol, and a nap.

Tomorrow is visiting Santa on Main Street, which can only be better than last weeks Santa (who does appear to have a black eye as Alison pointed out on a previous post) and then spend the night at Nana and Poppa's house so Tobe and I can have a conversation that does not involve discussing poop or formula intake. Tobe is running in the White Rock Half-Marathon on Sunday, in preparation for running a full marathon in the spring. I pointed out to him this afternoon that Channel 8 is doing coverage of the last hour of the marathon beginning at 9:30 am. The marathon starts at 8am, which means the competitive people are finishing with times in the two hour mark. I find that quite unbelievable considering my younger brother who is in excellent physical condition just ran a marathon last weekend and was happy with finishing in under five hours. (The interesting thing about a marathon is that along with water stations they also have food stations along the path. He was telling the family that some of those food stations were Krispy Kreme Donuts and pizza. I cannot imagine running 26 miles at all, but I especially can't imagine running 26 miles while eating a Krispy Kreme). So if you don't happen to be at church yet on Sunday morning and live in our area, flip the TV to Channel 8. Perhaps you will see Tobe jogging by the camera, possibly eating a donut.