Why Baby #3 is the Most Enjoyable

A few days ago, I learned that a friend of ours is going to have baby #3.  This baby is definitely one of those "surprise!" babies - and her older children are 7 and 9 already.  But today I sent her a note of encouragement, because in my opinion, the third time is truly the charm when it comes to kids.

From the title of this post, it's pretty clear that I think #3 rocks.  But let's get something straight (lest my older children, upon reading this someday, accuse me of something that's not true).  Saying #3 is the most enjoyable DOES NOT MEAN THE FOLLOWING:

• #3 is my favorite (He's not.  I don't have a general favorite. I might have a favorite of the moment - and that's usually the one who sees an opportunity to gain some brownie points by exhibiting exceptionally good behavior when the other two are falling apart.  But I don't have a favorite.)
• I love #3 the most.  See above.  
• #3 is the easiest.  Sometimes - but not always.  

So why do I think #3 is the most enjoyable?  Here's why:

• I know it truly will end.  I remember sitting in the rocking chair, nursing #1 for what seemed like forever.  In the deep, dark recesses of my heart, I feared that I would die as an 80-something year old woman with a 60-something year old man attached to my breast, still sucking the life force out of me.  I was often alone (I'm lucky to be a SAHM, but sometimes it's a lonely job) and I didn't have older kids to keep me busy. I thought that the first year should be renamed The Never-Ending Story Year.
• I'm more relaxed. Hey - I've done this all before.  You want to throw a fit in the sporting goods store while I'm trying to get the other two outfitted for their fall sports?  Be my guest.  As long as I can still hear you, I know you haven't managed to escape the store and you're still alive.  I'm good with that.  You peed in the tub?  You'll live.  No need to totally drain the tub and start over.  A few germs are good for you anyway. Needless to say, I was not like this with the first two.
• I have help.  Okay, so it's not the help I had in Shanghai (oh, how I miss that!), but the older two can do a lot to help out - and the best part is that THEY FIGHT TO BE THE ONE TO HELP.  That's right.  This isn't like taking out the garbage - we're not fighting over who HAS to do it.  We're fighting over who GETS to do it.  Rock on.  They dress him, they get his shoes on, they get him up in the morning, they play with him.  He's happier having them around than me anyhow, so it's a win-win.
• He wants to be big, so he does things earlier and more willingly than the other two did.  He already takes his plate over to the sink after he's done eating, says "Please" and "Thank You" without prompts - he even said, "Bless you, Mommy" the other day after I sneezed! He's a monkey-see, monkey-do kind of boy and if the big two are doing it, then it must be the thing to do.
• #3s tend to be mellow, and mine is no exception.  He never got doted on the way #1 did (by me) and #2 did (by our ayi and our driver in Shanghai), so he gets it that sometimes he just has to chill.  He gets dragged to baseball games, DI practices, soccer games, piano lessons, school drop-off and pick-up, breakfast with my friends, etc.  He's been dragged to those things since hew was 6 weeks old, so he doesn't know any other way.  He just goes with the flow.

All of these things (and a myriad of smaller, less significant things) combine to make the experience of #3 a lot of fun.  With #1, I was so bored and anxious that I really just wanted to get through each phase and on to the next, lest I get trapped in some alternate universe from which I could never escape to a real life again.  When #2 came along a bit more than two years later, the experience was so exhausting that I don't really remember much at all.  I remember being tired. I remember thinking there was a reason why both my grandmas waited 5 years to have #3, after having had #s 1 and 2 two years apart, like me.  Aside from that - I don't remember much else.

But #3 - what fun!  I enter the "dark phases" (the reoccurrence of night-waking at 18 months, after months of sleeping through the night, the battle over wearing a bib, etc.) with the confidence of a battle-hardened warrior.  I can DO THIS, and I know deep, deep down in my soul, that every challenging phase REALLY WILL END.  I look at #1, and remember him as a baby, a toddler, a pre-schooler, and realize that it was no so long ago that he WAS those things...and that the time will go fast. I look at #2 - not so far behind #1 - and try to cherish the moments of his childhood more than I did with his older brother, because I want to enjoy them without the sadness that comes with knowing (as it is with #3) that it's the last time I'll experience that moment.  And I look at #3 and smile and laugh - at his funny words, at his toddler run, at his giggles.  I smile and laugh because, for the first time as a mom, I'm truly enjoying the process.

So if you find yourself thinking "Should I have #3?" or you find yourself expecting an unexpected #3, relax.  It's time to enjoy one for yourself.

Tomb Sweeping Day - April 6, 2009

Tomb Sweeping Day - April 6, 2009

Today is Tomb Sweeping Day in China. I have no idea what that means. I imagine it has to do with sweeping tombs and showing respect for the dead, but it's one of the many things I need to google about China. Anyhow, the great thing about Tomb Sweeping Day is that it's also a public holiday. This means no work and no school, or - as we say in the U.S. - a 3 Day Weekend!!!

Michael and I decided that we should do something fun with the boys today, since it's not often that we have an extra Monday to ourselves. So we loaded ourselves into Mr. Lu's van and headed down to the Shanghai Ocean Aquarium (www.sh-soa.com). Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.

You would think we would be smarter than this by now. We're living in a country with 1.3 billion people - that's more than 4 times the population of the U.S. - and they ALL have the day off today. (Except poor Mr. Lu, who gets stuck driving us any day of the year that we want. But we try to make sure he has 1-2 days per week where he doesn't drive at all or drives a very limited amount of time.) You would think that we would know by now that some portion of those 1.3 billion people would also want to be at the aquarium on their day off. But no. We just assumed it would be like the States, where even on a busy day you can move in an aquarium or a museum.

Everything seemed okay when we first arrived. We decided to buy an annual family pass, so we had the typical China delays associated with anything that requires paperwork. But after 20 minutes or so, we had our family pass (which included Mr. Lu and Lily - we could have up to 4 adults on the pass). We went through the entry way, down the escalator, around the corner and ran right into the ocean - of people. Every tank had people 3-4 thick in front of it. We pushed and nudged our way to the front, only to have Peter lose patience and want to go to a different tank as soon as we got close to one. M--- was happy to watch the fish, but he's not used to the pushing and shoving that goes on here, and he was soon unnerved by all the people trying to push him aside to see the fish for themselves.

We managed to hang back a bit from that particular crowd and fall in with a slightly smaller one, but the damage had been done. Within 40 minutes, we were all ready to go. P--- was crying, M--- was asking to leave, Mommy was close to crying and Daddy was doing his best to keep us all in good spirits. We headed for the exits, but even that took another 10 minutes of pushing and shoving to get out of the place! Never again. My hope is that by writing this down, I will burn this memory into my brain and the next time we think, "let's go to a major public attraction on a public holiday" my mind will quote 'Drowning Mona' and tell me (to quote the movie here - pardon the profanity), "That's a really ******* bad idea!!!!!" That's the plan, anyhow. Let's just hope my post-two-babies brain can handle it and save us from ourselves next time.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Today M---and I woke up anticipating a trip to the strawberry farm with M---'s school. I had arranged for P--- to stay with our ayi, so I could go on the school bus with M--- and take part in the field trip. But I should have known better. After all, this is China.

We arrived at school (dressed in M---'s school uniform, as directed) to find a class full of kids NOT in uniform. Hmmm...I asked Teacher Geoff what was going on. As luck (or, lack thereof) would have it, another school went to the strawberry farm yesterday and cleaned them out. There were no ripe, red strawberries to be had today. This was devastating news to M---, who was counting on a morning with Mom (and who resists changes to his plans only slightly less than his change-averse mother). But after tears, more tears and still more tears, I found myself in an unusual position - I was child-free for 2 1/2 hours!!! What to do with myself for that time?

After contemplating a number of impractical alternatives (heading to Taikang Lu, which is an hour's drive from the school, getting yet another massage, running away with the circus) I decided to ask Mr. Lu to take me back to the plant/flower market about 2 miles from our apartment. We have 3 balconies, all of which are barren desert balconies right now. Michael and I have been planning to get some plants for the balconies, and what better time to browse than without children?

We arrived at the plant market and Mr. Lu, as is customary, accompanied me inside to ensure that: 1) I don't get lost (it's happened) and 2) I don't get ripped off (this has also happened more than I care to admit). I began to wander and browse, without hesitation, as I am now accustomed to having someone accompany me everywhere. I saw an escalator and decided to explore. Oddly, the second floor of the plant market was filled with a random assortment of home furnishings and decorations. There were a number of traditional Chinese wooden furniture stores (with the fancy, carved wooden furniture). There were fake flower-arrangement shops (whose poor quality surpassed even my low expectations of Chinese fakes), frame shops, shops with fake porcelain vases and shops with fake carved Jade pieces. There was even a store selling fake antique phones that you can actually dial!! But the find of the day was at one of the furniture shops, where I stumbled across a woman knitting a sleeve for a child's sweater.

Using my 3-year-old level Chinese, I asked her where she got her yarn. This was difficult, considering I had no idea how to say yarn. Finally, she understood and started telling me where the store was. Great. I should know by now not to ask these questions until Mr. Lu is by my side, because the chance that I will actually understand the answer and be able to repeat it accurately is somewhere between the chances of someone naming a star for me and my winning the lottery. So...I found Mr. Lu in a nearby shop, brought him to the store and asked again where the yarn shop was. The lady told him, and he told me it was on Dongfang Lu- the same road on which M---'s school is located. Interesting...I thought. But I wasn't there for yarn, I was there for plants.

We headed back downstairs and began looking in earnest for plants. I found some at one vendor, but they were too expensive. Mr. Lu gave me his subtle head shake and whispered, "Tai gui le." Got it. On to the next vendor. Here, I found some beautiful plants - 3 huge ones with lovely ceramic pots for 700 RMB. (The pots alone would cost me that at Bordine's.) I had planned to bring Michael back on the weekend to help with the final decorating decision (he has an affinity for decorating that I find surprising given his very strong affinity for heterosexual sex...). But when the vendor stepped away, Mr. Lu looked at me and said, "I think this is very good price." Hmmm...I nodded and said, "Okay. Let's do it."

Now for the classic Mr. Lu move. As his son told me, "Everything is on sale every day for my father." Mr. Lu looked at the woman when she returned and asked if she could reduce the price a little bit. No. Oh, he says, too expensive. No. He asks for 500. She offers 650. I shake my head and make a motion to leave. Mr. Lu tells her this is still too expensive. 550. No. Okay, we will leave. Then, as usual - the magic price appears. 600 RMB for all three, plus free delivery. We're in! Frankly, I hadn't expected her to budge at all, since the last time we were at this market none of the vendors would negotiate. But the prospect of a big sale on a Wednesday (with no other customers in sight) was apparently enough to bring down the great wall around the price. And, as promised, my plants showed up promptly at 3:00.

Having found unexpected balcony beautification project success, I asked Mr. Lu if we could try to find the yarn shop. Sure, no problem. Well...maybe. No problem to try, but maybe a problem to actually find it. You see, we soon discovered that the shop was on one of those little "Chinese" streets that is lined with tiny shops selling everything from cheap mops to children's clothes to toilets. These stores don't cater to "Weiguorens" (aka, foreigners). They often have no signs. They can be tucked inside the driveways to apartment complexes. They probably have a bunch of stuff in front of them - stuff that is completely unrelated to the wares inside. So we drove and looked. We did a U-turn. We drove and looked. We joked that we needed to find a little old lady and ask her (very loudly, Mr. Lu reminded me, since she would probably be hard-of-hearing) where the store was. Just as I was preparing to give up, Mr. Lu exclaimed, "Ahhh...zai nali!!!" And there it was, indeed. I NEVER would have spotted this - in fact, I might have missed it if I were walking past it. So we did another U-turn, parked the van, and headed inside.

As you can imagine, the shop was tiny. And it's no exaggeration to say that when I walked in, the women in the store (there were 6 of them crammed in there, all standing up knitting something) stopped talking and stared, as only the Chinese can. Apparently they don't get many Americans in there. But I didn't care. I jumped up and down (literally - I did - you can ask Mr. Lu) and said, "Oh, this is so cool!!! I don't have to go all the way over to Fuxing Lu for yarn now!!" This startled them back to life and one laughed and said, with a thick Chinese accent, "Cool!!!" The rest of them laughed and they went back to knitting. I browsed at my leisure and looked at the sweaters hanging on the walls. To be honest, with the exception of the size of the store and the amount of dust on the bags of yarn (it was the standard amount of Chinese filth that I've come to expect everywhere here), the store wasn't much different than the yarn shops in the States. The walls were lined, floor to ceiling, with shelves of yarn. Cottons, wools, blends, etc. There were needles for sale, and a number of items on the wall that they would teach you how to make.

Then one of them approached me with a beautiful shawl (I think she had knitted it) and asked me how much I would have to pay for it if I bought it in the States. I told her probably $100 (it was large, well-made, hand-made and strikingly lovely). "Oh," she said, "I sell to you for 300 RMB." 300 RMB = $40. I responded (in Chinese) that I didn't want to buy it, but I would love to learn how to make it, since it appeared to be made using a number of pieces that were knit in the round and then sewn together somehow. Well, this was just too much for them. They beamed and asked me when I would come and knit with them - they would be happy to teach me how. And, if I bought the yarn there, they would teach me for free (a slightly better deal than at home, where I have to pay for yarn AND lessons). The store owner (a young gal, probably about my age, who spoke English quite well) was almost endearing because she was so excited by the prospect of my coming to knit with them. Of course, once I improve my Chinese and start gabbing at them nonstop like I do at home, they'll probably be less excited to have me there. But while I'm just good PR, they love me!

Anyhow, I bought some yarn with which I am going to make a scarf. It's a yarn unlike any I've seen at home - much of what they had was similar to what I find at home, and while there is nothing wrong with that (and I much prefer the Chinese prices), I always like to get something unique if I can. But I do plan to return next week during nap times to try and learn how to knit that shawl. Odds are, my Chinese will improve by being there, too. No better way to learn a new language than to immerse yourself in a situation where no ones speaks your native tongue.

Oh, and speaking of my Chinese, I had a breakthrough today at the plant market. For the first time since I began attempting to speak Chinese, I was able to understand the shopkeepers' responses when I asked how much something cost. Typically, I ask, they reply and then Mr. Lu translates into English. But today, I knew what he was going to say before he said it. Hooray!!! It's a small step, but it felt good, nonetheless. Maybe my goal of fluency isn't such a stretch goal after all...

Just another day in Shanghai

Just another day in Shanghai

Yesterday was Labour Day here in China - a national holiday. Michael had the day off, so we decided to head to Puxi for some Persian rug shopping. I had seen an ad in the "That's Shanghai" magazine and wanted to check out their inventory. The bottom line? You can find a lot of good deals on a ton of stuff in China - but not on Persian rugs. A rug that costs $10,000 in the U.S. costs ~70,000 RMB in Shanghai - for a grand discount of...drum roll please...nothing. Same price. Our conclusion? Maybe we'll skip the rugs while we're here and focus on other stuff (read: stuff that's actually a bargain). Shanghai is so filthy, too, that any nice rug we buy is bound to be black before we get it home - even if it wasn't to begin with.

So after determining that a new rug is not in our immediate future, we decided to focus on something that was: lunch. I had also read about a little restaurant on the same street as the rug gallery that was supposed to have the best Chicago style pizza in the city. Maybe they do, maybe they don't. We wouldn't know, because when we arrived at 1636 Beijing Xi Lu (West Beijing Street), all we saw was a noodle joint. Bummer. We had to "settle" for a New York Style pizza on Taikang Lu (a little pedestrian area filled with all kinds of shops selling all kinds of goods - mostly to western tourists - at high prices). I say "settle" because I'm not a fan of thin crust pizza at all. To me, pizza needs to have a thick, chewy crust with lots of sauce and lots of cheese. New York Style pizza has a thin crust, sparingly little sauce and even less cheese. Please. That's like eating sugar-free chocolate - what's the point? But Michael and the boys liked it and it was fun to wander around the shops, so it was a success.

Speaking of shops, one of the shops next to the pizza place sells hand-made childrens' sweaters - and guess how much they cost? ~200 RMB, or just over $30. Wow. They're made of beautiful wools, cashmere blends and creamy cottons - perfect for special occasions. Unfortunately, they only run up to about a 24 month size, so I couldn't find any for MJ. But Peter and Kate are going to be getting sweaters for Christmas, as will new baby Wahl. I worry that David may already be getting too big, since he's a sturdier boy than Peter and the Chinese kids (who most likely serve as the models for these sweaters).

Last night we went with three other couples and their children from our compound to a restaurant called "Latina" in the underground market. It's the oddest thing - it's in the underground market, but it's outside. I can't explain it because I'm not quite sure how it works - everything around us was inside, but we could see the moon and the smog from our table, so I know we were truly outside. Anyhow, it was a great place - they had a kids' play area that the kids enjoyed, and Fridays are half-price night for ladies. Except, of course, last night didn't count, because even though it was Friday it was also a holiday - of course...classic China. Or maybe it was because we were all a bunch of foreigners and they didn't think we'd fight them on it (which we didn't). It's always tough to tell when something doesn't seem quite right if it's not quite right because it's just a China thing or if it's not quite right because you're a foreigner. Ahhh...the joys of living in a place where the way you look at speak makes it clear you don't entirely belong.

So that's it. On to today...

Saturday, May 2nd

FRIDAY, MAY 1, 2009

Saturday, May 2nd

Today is day 2 of our lovely, stay-at-home long weekend. We are having a bunch of people over for a barbecue tonight, so Michael and Mr. Lu took the boys to the new City Shop (a grocery store full of over-priced imported items that everyone pays for anyhow because they're so desperate for a taste of home). I had a chance to spend an hour or so on my own, and I decided I would go pick up the professional photos of Peter I had taken about a month ago. They told me the photos would be ready on 5/2, and I was excited to see them.

But, I should have known better. After all, as I've said before (and will probably say again many, many, many times) this is China. I walked into the studio and was greeted excitedly by a pretty Chinese gal, "Oh!!! You Peter Mommy!" Yes, I Peter Mommy. I want Peter photos. No problem, sit down, sit down. I gave her my receipt (ALWAYS necessary - they will NEVER find your stuff if you don't provide the paperwork - no such thing as alphabetical order in a place without an alphabet!!!). She looked for the photos. Nothing. Made a call on her cell phone. Of course...the photos aren't here yet! (Why should they be? It's only been two weeks since I placed the final order. Clearly that wasn't enough time to print them and actually deliver them to the studio.) Just like my experiences at the fabric market. So they tell me to sit down, the photos are in transit and will be here soon. How soon? I ask them. Hmmmm....maybe they will call me when the photos arrive.

So I headed home and had just sat down to write this post (my first chance to write in quite awhile, as you can probably tell by the dearth of new posts on my blogs) when what happens? My cell phone rings. I picked it up and heard, "Peter Mommy??" Yes, Peter Mommy here. Fasli agoijh adkj weithcghu cmeishat. Or something like that. I couldn't understand her because she was speaking far too quickly for my elementary Chinese knowledge. But I am pretty sure that the photos are at the studio now. I guess I'll have to walk down there again and find out...and who knows what adventure I'll have this time? Odds are there will be something not quite right!

Back to the barbecue, though. I have never lived in a place like this before, where there were so many people living in the same apartment complex. When we first moved here, we were most likely to run into people in the elevator lobby or in the children's play rooms. Meetings didn't happen very often, and when they did, no one stopped to chat for long.

Not anymore. It turns out that some things are universal. Just like in Rochester, good weather brings everyone outdoors...and we've been seeing a lot more of our neighbors. Everyone wants to get together and walk somewhere for dinner, or barbecue, or take the kids to the park, or just hang out down by the sand pit. It's wonderful. I was getting quite lonely for awhile because even though I have made friends here, seeing them was always a result of an organized event. Spontaneous meetings (the kind that make you feel as though you're not alone here) didn't happen often. Now, they happen all the time and everyone is happy to stop and chat. Spring comes and people, not just plants, bloom to catch the new warmth of the sun.

This is an example of how I am continuously surprised by how similar things are here to home. The longer we're here, the more I think that the only things that are truly different are the spoken language and the physical location. Other than that, people are people!

Will let you know about the photos...here's hoping!

Our First Shanghai Barbecue

Our First Shanghai Barbecue

So on Saturday, May 2, we invited four other couples and their children over for a barbecue. It was a nice mix of people - we had 4 Australians, 3 Americans, 2 Brits and 1 New Zealander-turned-Canadian-turned American. Interestingly, the Brits aren't married to each other (they're both men). Turns out it's quite common for Australians to marry Brits and vice versa. So we had two married Australians present, but no married Brits. The only reason I mention it is that this seems to be a particularly common mixed-nationality western nation pairing. If you meet a German woman, odds are good that her husband is German, too. Same for the French, the Spaniards, etc. But all bets are off when you meet someone from the U.K. - I've found here that they have a 50/50 chance of being married to someone from Australia. Not an earth-shattering observation, but interesting to me, nonetheless.

So anyhow, we had a barbecue it. It was a huge success - Michael's fantastic grill skills deserve the credit. But I think everyone enjoyed a true, western-style meal. Just like at home, everyone brought a dish to pass and we had a good mix of pasta salad, veggie salad, potatoes, burgers, kebabs, corn on the cob, etc. Lots of fun.

It's interesting, though, when you get people together here. At home, if I were to invite some new friends over for dinner, I would get out our good serving platters and nice wine glasses - even if I didn't bust out the China. But here - no one brought their good stuff. Without fail, we all packed that stuff up in boxes and stored it somewhere in our home country. We were all told that it would get broken here - either in transit (likely) or by our ayis (probably not so likely - Lily and most of the others I've met are very careful with everything). So here we are, a bunch of people who all have "proper" entertaining-ware at home, eating off of whatever we can find. With 17 people total (including kids) and only 8 place settings provided by our apartment complex, we found ourselves eating off some very tiny plates at times. But that's the beauty of expatriate life. We are all in this together, and we all understand exactly why the nice dip is being served in a plastic Nemo bowl from Carrefour. We all understand why wine is being served in a plastic Mickey Mouse glass, or in a coffee cup. And the best part is, no one cares.

I understand that in so many ways our lifestyle here does not even begin to compare to the pared-down lifestyle our parents and grandparents lived when they were just starting out. Expat packages are known for their generosity - no one here suffers from a shortage of funds. But here's the thing - people who are up for an expat assignment in a place like China are usually into traveling. So all that extra money goes toward trips to the places we want to see - not toward new serving platters or wine glasses. As a result, we end up living (in a few ways) a more basic lifestyle from a material goods perspective. And as I'm sure you can all predict - we're happier for it. Drinking wine from a Mickey Mouse glass makes for a much funnier story than drinking wine from a fancy wine glass. We all laughed, no one worried about dropping their glass and the kids all picked up on the relaxed atmosphere and enjoyed themselves, too.

I'm sure we'll have many more instances where we're at our house or a friend's house and end up eating food off of a plate we wouldn't dream of using with "company" at home - and we'll have a good time doing it. How relaxed we all are without our "special" things - and how much happier. The trick will be maintaining that when we return to the U.S. and have all that "stuff" again.

MJ's first school "sick" day

MONDAY, MAY 4, 2009

MJ's first school "sick" day

Well, today MJ had to stay home from school. Why? He was "sick" according to the school nurse.

A little background, first. Every day when the kids enter the school, they all have to line up to see the school nurse. She looks in their eyes and their mouths. Then she gives them a squirt of hand sanitizer and tells them to wash their hands. Finally (if they pass inspection) she gives them a little red plastic rectangle (approximately 1" X 2") to take to their classroom. Outside each classroom is a board with a bunch of pockets where they are supposed to stick their little red plastic "I'm okay" thing-y in a little slot below their name and picture. MJ's classroom has a board with a school-bus drawn on it, and rows of pictures above the pockets. This would be fantastic, if the pictures and names were up to date. However, MJ has been going to school there since early February and neither his picture nor his name are anywhere on the "bus". So he just picks a pocket, slides his "I'm healthy" indicator into it and goes into the classroom. At some point in the day, someone comes around and removes all the red plastic things and takes them back downstairs to repeat the process the next day. It's ridiculous, because there is absolutely no way to trace who put their red thing where, but it's how things are done here.

So, today MJ has a canker-sore on the inside of his lower lip. When we arrive at school and reach the school nurse, she peers inside his mouth and declares that he cannot come in, he must go home and (preferably, in her opinion), he should be taken to the hospital. Excuse me??? I'm sorry, but there is NO WAY I'm taking my child to the hospital for a canker sore. First of all, it's a canker sore. Second of all, health care in China is a very bureaucratic business, so a trip to the hospital is not going to be a quick jaunt. Third of all, any time my children set foot inside a hospital/clinic, they end up with something worse (health-wise) than what they originally went to see the doctor about in the first place.

To be fair, there have been outbreaks of hand, foot and mouth disease at a number of kindergartens in Shanghai, so I appreciate their concern. However, the sores associated with HFM are distinct - and do not look like canker sores at all. In addition, if there is so much concern for communicable diseases, why do they allow kids with hacking swine-flu-like coughs to stay at school as long as they carry a white surgical face mask? I'm sure there aren't any little virus-cells escaping from those oh-so-air-tight, high-Chinese-quality surgical masks. And I'm sure there are absolutely none on the kids hands...(please note my liberal use of sarcasm, both when speaking and writing).

So yes, my child missed school today for a canker sore. I'm pleased to report that after a day of observation (as the school nurse requested), his canker sore has not resulted in a deadly fever of any kind. Whew. I was worried for a minute. In addition, MJ has not experienced any fainting or dizzy spells, any shortness of breath, any loss of appetite, or any other adverse side effects as a result of his canker sore. Rest easy, concerned family members. I think he will live. (Whether he's allowed into school on Wednesday is a whole separate issue, though!)