To jab or not... just freaking jab.

There are outspoken members of society declaring childhood vaccinations nothing more than a farce, snake oil and a conspiracy.

Unfortunately, the bi-product has been an online saturation of misleading information. Anti-vaccination groups have begun to win ground scaring some parents away from vaccination with naught more than propaganda, antiquated data and anecdotal figures, rather than heeding the advice of government authorities and those with years of University education and experience.


Such is the concern that on April 11 this year, Mr Steve Hambleton from the Australian Medical Association (AMA) made comment that it should be made difficult for unvaccinated children to attend school and sent home in the event of a disease outbreak. Further, Mr Hambleton has suggested that ‘there should be some sanction for spreading misinformation’.

The ‘misinformation’ that Mr Hambleton was speaking of includes claims that vaccines are harmful because they are full of mercury, formaldehyde and cause autism. 

New South Wales has just passed a ‘no jab, no play’ piece of legislation that requires children attending childcare to be immunised or provide proof of conscientious objection exemption signed off by a medical officer.

The concerns;

Vaccines are full of heavy metals like mercury and toxic chemicals such as formaldehyde.

The truth is mercury in pure form is not found in Australian vaccines. Even though clinically insignificant amounts are used in the preservative form (thiomersal) in a few adult vaccines, there hasn’t been any included in any childhood vaccines since 2000.

As for formaldehyde, you’ll find more in a single pear than any scheduled jab.

Vaccines cause autism.

Autism? There appears to be a stronger link in the age vaccines are offered and the age of diagnosis rather than the vaccine actually causing the disorder.

It’s probable that the misinformation gained momentum when A.J. Wakefield linked the measles, mumps and rubella vaccination and autism in The Lancet in 1998. (A paper later discredited, retracted by the journal and proven to be fraudulent).

Vaccines lower your immunity to other viruses.

This concern is wrong on so many levels. Vaccines do the very opposite.

What is true is that we are born with an immature immune system. The thymus educates your white blood cells from the day you are born and tapers off from around the age of fourteen. Hence, you get sick more while you are young, and why vaccinations are given at a young age.  As you become exposed to viral antigens, the body goes about making antibodies (cells that fight foreign bodies) in order to extinguish the attack/illness. After the illness symptoms are gone, your body is left with an antibody ‘memory’.  The next time you come into contact with the same antigens/virus, the attack is mounted quicker and the symptoms are less severe. 

Vaccinated individuals are given a head start on attacking these viral antigens as their immune system is given an artificial dose of antibodies needed without having to catch the actual illness. We are giving the body a cheat sheet/memory if you like. So then, just for example, when that child becomes infected with the pertussis virus (whooping cough), if he or she presents with any symptoms at all, then she/he will be able to overcome the illness better than a child who has not been vaccinated. Indeed, possibly saving their life. 

Immunisations are just a money grab from big pharmaceutical companies and the government is paid off.  You can avoid or cure any of these issues with clean water, good hygiene, great nutrition and alternative medicine.

The government spends millions on childhood immunisation schedules to lessen the burden and risk to public health. Big pharmacy stands to lose money by way of lessening the need for long term medications. Think polio. Thousands of baby boomers still require Prednisone to this day. Letting us be ill from preventable diseases would be a great investment in actual fact. So let’s disregard that concern!

Secondly, do you know what we call alternative medicine that has been proved to work? Medicine. We just call it medicine! And to go on to say that these companies do not make money from peddling their wares is outrageously biased. In 2008 America spent $34 billion on alternative medicine, and whilst I couldn't find the figures for Australia – I’m sure it’s no cheaper here!  So why then do we need to vilify those companies who spend millions to billions of dollars providing academically approved literature to show the benefits of their medicines – a ridiculous over inflation of the tall poppy syndrome? 

Whilst clean water, good hygiene and great nutrition play a vital part in every beings health status, it will not completely eliminate the risk of contracting viruses.  Having said this, since antibodies are primarily protein based, if you are lining up for your next flu jab, try keeping your protein intake up the weeks before and two weeks after. You’ll be doing your body a great service, and should notice minimal side effects. You can’t live on French fries and Coke and think that your body will receive medicine well!

I’ll just treat the illnesses as they come.

Good luck with that. Vaccination is most effective because we have very limited resources to treat a lot of these illnesses. Remember, antibiotics do not work on viruses. Anti-viral medications given after the show of any symptoms are often too late and some of these diseases are now so rare, but still a risk, that most clinical triage teams are not of use to seeing their presentation. Do you know how to treat or recognise Diphtheria? No? 

Immunisation is a matter of public health. We need 93% of the population to be vaccinated in order to prevent disease outbreak. It’s easy to forget how serious some of these illnesses have been in the past and why we try to lessen the severity of an infection, or prevent it all together.  We do it to protect ourselves and our more vulnerable members of the community.

We are all entitled to our own choice, but make it an informed choice based on real data.  Your information should come from credible sources, not from the first page of a Google search. Start with your doctor or nurse, and if you’re still not sure, try the government’s well referenced and current documentation at http://www.immunise.health.gov.au/.  

The Man in Red

SIX SLEEPS!    There are just six sleeps until children around the world start waking up their parents at unpleasant times of the night, or if you’re lucky, frightfully early times of the morning.

Master Four is determined to catch the man in red landing on our roof this year. I’m not sure his stamina will allow for such a sighting and I shall be thankful of this.

Coincidentally, I have it on good authority that after Miss 6’s uncharacteristic night time wandering last year that this year’s presents won’t be arriving until Santa is quite sure that the children are in deep R.E.M. sleep. He won’t be having any surprises foiled by wandering children this year! 

Miss Six already smells a rat in the ranks after the local Children’s Centre Christmas party anyway. We need to be extra careful with this child now, she's duly suspicious! 

 After meeting Father Christmas, who arrived on a motorbike only minutes after the children had sighted a much skinnier man in red wearing no helmet, hat or beard on a bike similar, she did turn to Nan and say, ‘Santa smells like Uncle Marc’. Then, after sitting on his lap and enduring an amusing sham Santa voice, she suspiciously remarked, ‘Santa sounds like Uncle Marc too’.

 It’s not to say she wasn't fond of this man in red, I mean who wouldn't like a Father Christmas who smells of ham and fritz?

Lucky for us, I've had plenty of practice making up cover stories from my rebellious high school days, and the magic is still alive in Miss Six. I’m happy to say she is still a believer.  However, I’m not sure how Santa fared with the kindy staff after that visit though; gossip has it that they may have put him on their naughty list!

I guess when people talk about the magic of Christmas they could be talking about random acts of kindness, small gestures of giving that mean the world to another, or something like this. For us, it’s keeping the excitement and joy of believing alive in our child for at least another year. Another, sweet, magical year.

 Have a merry and safe Christmas everyone! 

family gatherings

I love Christmas. I love family gatherings and traditions and the opportunity to spread a little cheer. I’m not so much a fan of organising such events though.

My maternal family is somewhat dysfunctional at times. Organising anything is akin to embarking on a journey of impossible obstacles and challenges in order to reach a semi amicable result. The biggest disagreements come about organising gatherings, but once we’re all together things are often quite lovely, fun and memorable.

However, dysfunction isn't necessarily a bad word. This isn’t a public rant about family, but an observation of how we are educated.

 In life we’re often faced with groups of people we’d rather feed to the lions than reach agreeable terms with, so it might seem that family negotiations are fantastic practice for life. Not that I’d like to feed my family to the lions, well not normally, but sometimes the fusion of diverse personalities does provide an opportunity to learn.

Holding your tongue when Aunty Betty moans and gripes about things from six years ago, or artfully guiding the conversation back to point when Uncle Bert starts pointing out that Betty could do with a shave and a good root is all didactic really. It’s not just table manners and morals that family impart upon us, but the abilities we need to interact within society.

 At this rate, I should be a shoe-in for the role of human resources manager at the United Nations!

Alas, I’m not known for having a lot of tact (or keeping my mouth shut to start with). It’s something that I’ve had to learn and I’m continuing to learn. I mean really, sometimes it’s all too hard to keep it shut for the sake of honesty, but on the whole it’s hardly helpful.

While a few witty remarks can make heated exchanges more interesting, I’ve finally realised it doesn’t always bring tempers down to a simmer. Which is a pity really. I’ve amassed a few good retorts in my arsenal of late.

This year I’m asking Father Christmas for more tact, more patience, and the ability to see things from another person’s point of view. I’m asking that family just gets on with being just that, family, and I wish you all happy gatherings!

Cats

The thing about cats is, the more you dislike them, the more they are attracted to you. You give them the cold shoulder; they rub up against your pants. Usually you’ll be wearing dark ones, showing up the hair they've left all over you. God I love that... not. 

We have no ‘official’ pets at the May household, however, recently we've become the adopted home of a very clever Tom cat whom the kids have named ‘Gordon’.

Gordon is also known as Mars at his original home, and ‘That Cat!’ at another house down the road. He has been quite successful at soliciting ear scratches and a lap to claw from each of the families, and doesn't seem the least bit bothered by noisy Master Four and his many wheeled objects which often come at him at great speeds!

Gordon the cat has been a great source of entertainment for the kids.   That’s as useful as he is though. He’s not motivated enough to run after rodents. You will however see him run towards his house… for store brought food!

Another thing, cats and humans apparently use the same region of the brain for emotions, which is why I suspect they are so effectively calculating at getting humans to do just exactly as they please.

It’s true. Gordon’s soft little paws flicking under the closed sun room door appeal to my sensitive side, making me feel positively mean for not allowing him to join us.  Oh, and you think the resident farmer is immune? Nope. Cats purr at the same frequency as the diesel engine of a tractor at idle. Coincidence? I think not.

But you know what happens when you let a cat in? They take over everything. It's all about them. They're mini drama queens wrapped up in soft fur and cute little noses.  Trying to type? They’ll sit on the keyboard. Trying to read? They’ll sit on the newspaper.  Oh, and patting is on their terms only, and boy do they tell you when they've had enough! Who the hell thought it was a good idea to give them such sharp claws anyway?

I have decided these traits are all part of a cunning feline master plan, set to secure their domesticated popularity and remain in our homes despite their very obvious lack of interest in actual humans.  It’s a cat conspiracy! 

Beauty products gone bad

When I think of the Balaklava Cup I think of diverse fashion and beauty. Where else but at a horse racing event can you see high street fashion and champagne glasses standing right next to singlets, football shorts and beer cans?  In the past I’ve gone to some crazy lengths to look my best on Balaklava’s busiest day; and so it got me thinking about beauty products.

One thing I won’t try again is sanding my legs. I’m not kidding guys.  Some bright spark folded a piece of low grit sandpaper up into the shape of a glove, whacked a pink package around it and marketed it as something like ‘velvety legs’ or some such other gimmicky name. It promised to smooth my skin painlessly. I think we can all predict that this cunningly disguised hardware sundry promoted as a hair removal tool did indeed ‘smooth’ my skin. And by smooth, I mean scrape the epidermis from my limb and leave it looking a rather frightful sight.  

You can understand that the offending glove was tossed out with other failures such as the lip gloss that didn’t last eight hours, the mascara that did last 48 hours (even after trying to remove it) and of course, the fake tan in a can which was the most remarkable shade of orange.

There are items I’m terribly thankful for though. I was blessed with hair as coarse as a scourer, and with all the condition of discarded wool frib. Enter my new best friend, the hair straightener. In minutes my boof was tamed to a manageable mass of brunette hair. Indeed so effective that I went down a hat size!

So what will I try next?  Well, given that I have my Italian father’s generous brow line, I might try ‘threading’. Have you heard of threading? It’s one of the more recent trends to hit Western culture, possibly started in India. Harder to explain than to do, it’s a hair removal technique that involves cotton thread anchored in the therapist’s mouth, and another two pieces of cotton which slide against the groomee’s hair like a guillotine. You can watch a youtube video of it here.  Women’s eyebrows and the beards and hairlines of men are the common targets.  Quick, relatively painless (they always say that!) and very accurate. Anyway, I’m feeling brave. Watch this space. Or face…

Spring

This morning I was woken by birds I’ve not heard since warmer weather was last here, and when I finally rose I was met with yet another foggy morning and dewy lawns.  The pear trees in our drive are blossoming and I’m certain I heard a fly yesterday. The days are getting longer and the sun, between the showers, is gaining warmth.

The cereal crops are standing glossy and tall, dancing in the wind while the canola is illuminating the roadsides with its pungent, bright yellow flowers. Gardens in the towns are starting to get more colourful and the lawns are starting to grow again. It’s like the land is awakening. As much as a farmer’s wife knows we need a cold, wet winter, I also know we need the spring. If seasons had emotions, spring would be a happy one.

It won’t be long and the kids will be swapping footballs and hockey sticks for basketballs and cricket bats. Winter sports start to get to the serious end of their competitions and farmers begin to ready for canola cutting, hay season and the ensuing grain harvest. The real estate market begins to bloom with the flowers and people start finding the inspiration to exercise just that little bit more. Long pants will make way for shorts and dresses, and Ugg boots for thongs and sandals. The horses will have their big days and so to the carnival folk. Spring is the time for action.

I’ll be enjoying the sunny afternoons with the windows and doors of the house open, eating my lunch in the warm spring sun and cherishing the cool nights practically designed for the most perfect sleep.  We’ll take the kids to the local show and navigate it at a pace much slower than Miss Six would like as we stop to catch up with friendly faces we’ve not seen in a while. We’ll make the most of bonfire season; eating eucalyptus tainted toasted marshmallows from a stick and sausages from the hotplate. The kids will play outside longer. Master Four will find bugs to collect and Miss Six will probably chase more butterflies and pick any bloom daring to show in our garden.  

Lastly, with any luck, the cold and flu season will finally slow right down (and be replaced with hay fever season I suppose!). Yes, spring is nearly here and I am ready to enjoy it. 

Fancy Food

Fancy food has become the norm these days hasn't it? It’s much publicised in the media and we love it.  Shows like Masterchef, My Kitchen Rules and Heston's Feasts have us believing that we need to aim higher with the family meals. Bangas and mash has been elevated to ‘gourmet herb and mince casings served with delicate arrangements of milk saturated whipped Desiree potato and butter’, all garnished with a hint of pompous! The May household has not been spared.

Miss Five graduated to ‘Miss Six’, two birthday cakes were in order. One cake for the maternal family dinner, and another one for the paternal family luncheon.  

According to Daddy Cool, this was cause for competition.  A cake off! Battle lines were drawn. The contest for the best kiddy cake was on!

Gone are the days where a little bit of sponge mix popped in the oven will suffice. No. Thanks to all these television shows and glossy cook books, kids think anything is possible. Some cake designs call for all the skill of an architect and sculptor.

So just how far would this competition go? Comprehensive internet searches for the perfect accessories and methods were conducted. Whole day outings were spent foraging for the perfect ingredients, serving boards and recipes to compliment the cake design.

Much ado was made about cake choice, design, flavour and size. Miss Six didn’t give me much choice. I protest that the selection she made for me was very ‘brown’. An echidna with chocolate sticks for spikes. You can’t do much with that.

Daddy Cool on the other hand, carefully coerced the birthday girl into a more aesthetically pleasing choice. All of the kid’s cake books were placed in front of her with plenty of ‘gentle suggestions’ made. Finally a ladybug design was settled on. Both cute and symmetrically pleasing to the eye with bold vivid colours. Daddy Cool had the upper hand this year.

But who really won this battle of the cakes? Whilst Daddy Cool has long since staked his claim to victory and run a mile with it, it was Miss Six that really won. Two cakes – that’s a great day for any six year old!

The winning cake - owners of the Women's Weekly Kid's Cakes book will recognise this one. But maybe not my phallic looking losing cake...