Seattle Mama Doc

Asking friends about guns is like asking about their underwear. Not in the pediatric office, but at home, on the street, and in the neighborhood. Hear me out…

My next-door-neighbor (NDN) is a stay at home dad (SAHD). On most days, he runs his household and wrangles 8 and 6 year-old boys until his wife joins him after work. The three (or four) of them seem to weave and pedal through life, on and off their bikes. I can see them coming and going throughout the day; it’s my crystal ball of sorts as to what life with 2 boys may look like about 5 years from now…

Last Friday, NDN approached me from his porch. We often talk, porch-to-porch, about life, the trees, our favorite noodle shop, or the weather. Last Friday, it was different. He said, “You should write a post about gun violence.” I said, “Yah, I know, I should write about 2 million posts…”

But then he framed the issue for me. And I knew he was right.
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Out for a Sunday drive. Just two little boys and the open road…

O has added some syllables to his vocabulary over the last 10 days. And they are simply delightful. Precious, really.

Warning: this post sounds like it’s written by his mom.

O has been embellishing his sentences with a little “eeeee” at the end of words. The Popsicle is now “cold-eeee” when he grabs it. The stove is “hot-eeee.” And when “Momm-eee” and “Dad-eee” walk in the door, it’s, “Hi-eeee!”

I love it. The error, the innocence, and the experimenting. It’s as if he’s trying English on and adding accessories. A belt here, an extra bracelet there. He’s learning how to use his language rather than just repeat it and mix it up. When people say, “Gosh O looks like you,” or “O looks just like _____,” I usually say, “To me, he looks like O.” Because that’s how I see it. But now he sounds like O, too. A pattern and change that are all his own. Just like when F used to say, “kokay.”

It’s one of those delectable little things your toddler says in error that you hold on to for dear life. I know that like grasping at time or holding onto air, it’s senseless. Too soon, the “eeeee” is going to vanish. So for now, I’m holding on as tightly as I can while trapeeeeezing through time.

Two teenagers died in New York yesterday. Not from a gun shot, a car crash, or suicides. Rather, they drowned in a popular swimming hole in the Bronx river on a hot summer day. I hate stories like that. Hate hearing it, hate seeing the headline. A total failure for prevention efforts.

I talk about drowning in clinic every day I see patients. I should probably talk about it more often. As I said in my earlier post outlining the new AAP Prevention of Drowning guidelines (& swimming lessons between age 1-4 yrs), drowning is the second leading cause of injury related death in children 1 to 19 years of age. And most drownings in the US happen this time of year. When it’s hot outside, the lake, stream, or pool can look really gooood. Even to those who don’t know how to swim.

I talk about drowning mostly with the parents of toddlers. But I should spend more time talking with adolescents. I get distracted by all the drugs, sex, and rock-and-roll stuff I talk about. Today, I am reminded of the importance of talking with teens about drowning, because of those teens but also this perspective about drowning.

See drowning isn’t what you think it is. It’s not loud and splashy and outrageous. It’s not like it looks in the movies… Read full post »

I’ve been caught in a recurring cloud this week even though the sky has been essentially spotless. It’s been one of those weeks where I find myself spinning around to grab the cup of milk or the steering wheel, muttering, “What am I doing?”

I am back perseverating on how to do this right. Life, I mean.

The issue of balance between work and parenting while trying to contribute to the world and use my skills (read: loaded issue) bubbles up at times. I never quite know what will trip me up, triggering a re-evaluation. But it comes up. Quarterly, let’s say, like state taxes…

There are days I am astonished by my opportunities and the children I get to take care of. And days where I am so delighted by my kids, I cry when I leave for work. And days I question if I have the stamina to endure. Last night by the end of clinic, I was so tired and my eyes so bloodshot (no idea why), that my medical assistant took my temperature. It was normal. But, point is, it happens; I do get really tired.

The real trouble is this: I liked my day in clinic yesterday and the things I discovered: the broken bone I found in a 2 week old, the teenager I helped with depression, the 20+ check ups I completed. But tired and missing my boys, yes. See, this would be far easier if I was only pulled in one direction. It’s not how it works for me; I have tugs on each limb. Read full post »