The Best Laid Plans

I apologize that I haven’t been a good bloggy friend to many of you recently– i.e. haven’t stopped by to read your posts, left very few comments to let others know I am alive, and ee gads, my own posting has been sparse of late – but we have had a hectic few weeks, and this week has been particularly crazy. I’ve been working a bunch, SRH has been working even more, and Zane has been consistently demanding things like food and water.

Fortunately, Zane seems to be continuing on this track of good health. Well, except at night. For the past 4 nights in a row, Zane has woken up a little after midnight coughing like crazy and really congested. We give him a breathing treatment and some cough syrup (because we can’t really tell if it’s asthma) and then after about an hour, we all get back to sleep.

And in the morning, Zane is JUST FINE. No symptoms, no problems, he feels great.

So last night, SRH and I went to bed really early because we’re both exhausted from the long work hours and interrupted nights, and we figured that even if we had to be up for an hour in the middle of the night, we’d still get in 8 good hours of sleep.

Yeah.

So after midnight, the coughing/snottiness starts and we do the breathing treatment and cough syrup routine. But the cough won’t go away. And then:

Me: Uh-Oh. Did you just hear that?

SRH: (grunt, grunt, groggy, groggy)

Me: SRH, did you hear that?

SRH: Wha-?

Zane: (puke)

Me: That.

We added puking to the coughing-snot mix. The child coughed so hard, he puked. And sure it was gross, but Zane really didn’t seem much bothered by it. We changed his clothes and proceeded to stay up with him for TWO MORE HOURS while he coughed and talked rolled around the bed, generally working hard to make sure neither of us got a full night’s sleep.

And while I was the one who held him throughout the breathing treatment, the cough syrup, the puking, and the incessant gabbing, when he was finally ready to settle down, the Little Judas wanted SRH to cuddle with him. And once he was done giving lovings, he came over to me so that he could fall asleep with his little vomitous breath on my face.

So that was nice.

Then this morning, Zane was just fine. Completely fine. Totally fine. So weird.

And there’s been no change in his bedroom environment. Nothing that would explain that this strange nightly coughing fit. I am left to simply believe that I am in some type of hell reserved for people do not deserve a good night’s sleep. Probably the hell for folks who are not good bloggy friends.

And don’t you go and make this about Zane. I know it’s his coughing, but it’s my lack of sleep, and that’s gotta count for something. Plus, he’s fine the next morning. Totally fine. Whereas, I am a sleep-deprived mad woman who goes to work disheveled and bitter.

(I have noticed that my posts recently have been very Zane-specific. And more particularly, Zane-and-illness-specific. If you’re wondering, I’m kind of sick of it, too. This is how deep winter is for my family, lots of energy and attention given to Zane’s health. Which is completely fine and appropriate, so I’ll blog about it. But I, too, am longing for a future where I blog about Lionel Richie, crazy yoga classes, and anything other than asthma and food allergies. Maybe I’ll tell you about the time I dated a guy who kept a gun in his backseat – and I shot a man for snorin’ too loud.)

The Pharmacy is Now Open

Zane's current daily medication regime. *

Zane is sick. He’s doing a bit better – maybe. You’ll notice that I say this without much confidence. We had to take him to the urgent care last night and back to the doctor today.

It appears that he has some sort of infection (probably sinus), and his asthma is flaring up quite a bit. He’s on a ton of meds, including the dreaded Orapred– but at least we feel that we have a clear course of action.

We’ll see how it goes.

As I was sitting in the Urgent Care last night, it came to me that there is a predictable course that the doctor-mama relationship follows every time we seek urgent/emergency treatment.

Stage 1 – Sizing Each Other Up
The doc and I spend a few minutes getting each other’s measure. I’m looking at things like how does s/he interact with my child, how competently s/he does the exam, and if they seem to “get” asthma. The doc watches me for signs that I’m using the urgent/emergency care as primary care for my child (I’m not) and also looks for “hysterical mama” syndrome.

(I’ve yet to figure out how to navigate this line well. When you’re kid is having trouble breathing, you want to seem appropriately concerned but not kooky. It’s a tightrope, really.)

Okay, we're getting a feel for each other here, let’s move on to…

Stage 2 – Fact Gathering
The doc asks me multiple questions about Zane’s asthma. Some of them will be insulting – i.e. Did you give him his prescribed asthma medicine today? But at some point s/he becomes suitably impressed with all the meds Zane is on and gets that we’re dealing with the Real Deal Holyfield Type of Asthma.

I’m watching to make sure that the doc doesn’t say anything egregiously wrong, like But I don’t hear him wheezing, after I’ve already explained that Zane doesn’t typically wheeze, he coughs. He has cough asthma. It’s a tricky little variant, but it's not unheard of.

I also look for a very thorough exam, and if we’re in the ER, I expect them to order a chest x-ray to rule out pneumonia. If they don’t bother to tell me how well he’s moving air or skip asking me about allergen exposure, I mention the allergen information and ask about the air.

Most days, this leads us to…

Stage 3 – I’m Competent. You’re Competent.
The doc and I start to feel pretty good about each other. I know that they are taking Zane’s asthma and allergies seriously, and they acknowledge that I’m a parent with a pretty thorough understanding of my son’s health issues.

We both relax a bit, and get cracking on taming the asthma beast, moving into…

Stage 4 – True Partnership
This is where it really works. I can ask I’ve-always-wanted-to-know questions like, Why does the breathing treatment seem to work so much better here than at home? (Answer: because they’re pushing oxygen at the same time.)

The doc asks things like, Do you usually push a double-dose of the steroid at the outset? (Answer: Sometimes).

If we’re really in a state of synergy, the doc will call Zane’s allergist for a consult – and he may drop by to our Abolish Zane’s Asthma Party.

It’s all rainbows and marshmallows and good feelings, and we’re all satisfied with the process. (Except Zane who is most likely still having some breathing issues.) We acknowledge that none of us has all the answers, but we work together to get Zane’s breathing back under control.

Ah, bliss. Bliss induced by a medical crisis, but bliss nonetheless.

When it works, there is minimal hassle. My kid gets good care, and I feel respected. The doc usually lets us take Zane home as long as I agree to do whatever s/he tells me to do. (Within reason, I suppose. They’ve never asked me to sacrifice a duck to the Lung God to get my boy back to health. I might balk at that. I mean, the Lung God clearly has it out for my kid. I refuse to abase myself and appeal to this cold deity of retraction and cyanosis).

Last night, however, we got stuck in Stage 2, and I became adversarial. It wasn’t pretty, and I’m not proud of myself. (I was right, but that's really not the point - or at least not all of it.)

Fortunately, my inability to form any type of working relationship with the medical staff didn’t have any ill effects for Zane. Of course, it didn’t help him either. We had to take him to his pediatrician today to figure out that he has an accompanying infection, etc.

Therefore, I hereby vow to get to third base – uh, I mean stage 3 – with any and all doctors that I interact with on Zane’s behalf.

Unless they piss me off. In which case, I’ll just do my best.

*If you feel the need to comment on the amount of medication that Zane is on, please, please say something supportive like, Wow! That’s a lot to handle. Hang in there! Please do not say, You shouldn’t be putting all those chemicals into his little body. Have you thought about the side effects? I have, and I do. All the time. We’re a little desperate in our household these days, and we’re doing the best we can.
- See, the preceding is just a wee taste of the defensiveness and attitude that I took with me to the urgent care last evening. I’m working on that.

Monday Musings

Here’s some of what flitted through my mind today – in no particular order.

Baby Names
Today a friend sent me a website of baby names – or rather it was a website making fun of some people’s choices in baby names. And I thought to myself, I bet my blog reading public doesn’t know my obsession with baby names. I have left three very important people out in the cold about this essential facet of my character.

It’s true. I love baby names and any discussion surrounding them. I have read most baby name books on the market, and at any given time, I am reading one. As you might guess, there aren’t a bunch of these books on the market so I’ve had to read several of them multiple times.

Maybe it’s because I have such a unique name. Or maybe it’s in my blood – my father has children named Briar, Maurice, Shamiko, Steven, Shawn, Brianna, Mark (2), Michelle, Marissa, Ashley, Corey, etc.

(Another minor revelation, my father has a lot of children).

Anyhoo…I love the baby names. Except when I’m pregnant. Then, I can barely stand to discuss them. I like baby names when it’s all “what if” and “that’d be fun” not when I’m actually naming a child. Case in point, SRH named Zane. We had the field narrowed down to two options, and after 3.5 hours of pushing, I told SRH that I didn’t care what we named the baby. Good thing he made the right choice.

If you’re interested, my favorite book is this one, and I’m currently partial to Sorrel for a girl and Ezra for a boy. (But these are always – at any moment – subject to change).

Preschool
Zane is at the right preschool. I knew this, and I got confirmation last week when I spoke to a colleague who runs the childcare center at my job. (There are 300 slots for 20,000 employees, so not a lot of people get to have their kids in that particular center).

So this childcare expert encouraged me to keep Zane where he is through all this childcare madness. Whew!

But I got extra confirmation today when I took a friend’s chatty daughter to her preschool. (As an aside, the chattiness was delightful. Zane actually chatted back to her, which was a really neat thing to hear. Of course, she talked about a number of topics and Zane responded by bringing the conversation back to trains at all times, but I’m just pleased the boy is gabbing.)

So, the other preschool was a lovely place. We did consider it for Zane, actually, but had heard that their dealing with food allergies left something to be desired.

True dat. We walked in, and there was a table of kids making armpit fudge 2.0. Now, it’s actually a clever little project for the kids, and I cracked up to see the teacher mashing it around in her underarm, but alas the recipe is full of dairy. (As you may recall, Zane is allergic to dairy.) There was cream cheese and butter all over the tables and chairs, and the children were gleefully squishing them through their fingers and toes before putting into plastic bags destined for their armpits.

Such a fun scene – but I couldn’t help but think that Zane wouldn’t be able to participate in it, and no amount of keeping him from the “work” area would make it safe for him to be in that class.

So, we’re at the right place. Validation is a good thing.

New Bookstore
Zane and I discovered a new bookstore today – Cover to Cover. (There would be a link but it doesn’t have an internet site).

Cover to Cover is a locally-owned children’s bookstore, and it’s completely delightful. Zane and I spent over an hour in there reading every train book ever published. Did you know that “K” is for kitten?

Ultra-Sonic Nebulizer
On Friday, I had to replace the nebulizer that, just last month, it took me 18 steps to procure.

The directions said that if the water in the nebulizer was above 86 degrees, the nebulizing would happen faster. After giving Zane 6-8 breathing treatments a day at 30 minutes a pop over the weekend, I decided to speed up the process today by heating the water. (I am full of brilliance).

It cut the treatment time in half, but I knew I may have been a bit overzealous when Zane’s face became bright red mid-way through the treatment.

Lesson learned there.

Limericks for the New Year

Happy First Day of the New Year! I hope everyone had a great time ringing in the new year last night – even if a “great time” means that you went didn’t drink a thing and went to bed early.

I was pondering writing a year-end type post yesterday but realized that I was actually feeling a little bummed out and overwhelmed as my gallbladder is acting wonky, and I return to work tomorrow. Since I didn’t want a post full of
“whine, whine, snark, whine, whine”, I decided to hold off posting until today.

In my best former-psychotherapist tradition, I have written a series of limericks to show how I was feeling yesterday, and how I have reframed those same events into new verses today. (Reframing is one of those old counseling “mind game” techniques that are actually quite effective).

So, again the old ditties illustrate my perspective yesterday, and the new ones reflect a heart brimming with sunshine, kittens, and flowers for the New Year.

Gallbladder - Old
My gallbladder’s gone on the fritz,
Which makes eating normally the pits.
I’ve cut out all fat.
I may chew my hat.
This menu is giving me fits.

Gallbladder – New
This is really a good opportunity.
I’ve been eating with wild, abandoned impunity.
I will surely lose weight.
Eating healthy is great.
Soon I’ll join the “hot mama” community.

Childcare – Old
I must find another child care provider.
Although the grandparents make Zane politer,
Grandma fell off her chair in a faint.
Safe for Zane any longer, it ain’t.
Feeling pressed under a load that’s no lighter.

Childcare –New
Zane is such a wonderful boy-
New childcare will find him a joy.
Big decisions to make,
For our baby boy’s sake,
Do I stay home or stay in employ?

Zane’s Asthma – Old
Midway through Zane’s asthma season
His coughing flares up for no reason.
Massive amount of meds-
A fact that fills me with dread.
A mama with a sick boy, there’s no pleasin’.

Zane’s Asthma – New
Zane’s asthma is better than last year,
When we lived in constant ER-fear,
Lots of meds, oh sure,
And we can’t hope for a cure,
But at least our course of action is clear.

Food allergies - Old
If I felt overwhelmed by dairy and soy,
Adding eggs, peanuts, tree nuts to the list was no joy,
Now we increase by two,
Oranges and bananas are through,
What, I ask, will fuel my growing boy?

Food allergies – New
Four of eight major allergens on our “don’t eat” list,
Oranges and bananas add barely a twist,
Easy to evade,
Of few foods they are made.
Those two measly fruits won’t be missed.

So, that’s it: my best Suzie Sunshine outlook for moving into the New Year. My mother would be so proud.

No I Won't Back Down

On Thursday night, we were giving Zane a rescue breathing treatment in the middle of the night when there was a “clunk” from the nebulizer (the machine which administers the breathing treatment). Then the motor of the nebulizer seemed to grind a bit for the rest of the treatment.

No problem, I told SRH. I’ll call tomorrow and get a new one. It was about time for this one to wear out. The last one stuck around for about a year, and this has made it a bit beyond that. I’ll make sure to call the place tomorrow and get a new one. I bet that they are ruing the day that they gave the RH family a nebulizer – we always have to get it replaced before the warranty runs out. We’re a losing proposition for that company.

Do you hear the blitheness in my tone? The confidence in my voice? The supreme indifference with which I agreed to take care of things?

Famous last words.

Of course, had it been just so easy, I wouldn’t be writing this particular post. So come with me on the “getting a new nebulizer” journey that I embarked on Friday.

We start our journey here:

Step 1: I called the number on the cover of the nebulizer – which happens to be a national number. After entering my zip code numerous times and talking to two different people, I get referred to the local supplier number.

Step 2: I called the local supplier and have an argument with the operator who insists that the problem is the filter of the nebulizer. I insist that this is not so, since we had the same problem with Zane’s last nebulizer, and we were told that it was not possible for it to be the filter. After arguing for a few moments, the woman-whose-salary-must-be-determined-by-the-number-of-
nebulizers-she-keeps-in-the-warehouse agrees to “look it over” if I will bring it in.

(I puzzle over this for a few minutes feeling frustrated and powerless as I’m sure that I’ll take it all the way across town, they will replace the filter and send me home with a non-working nebulizer. None of which would be a huge big deal except that it’s Friday afternoon, and Zane CANNOT be without a nebulizer for an entire weekend.)

Step 3: I determine to get a new nebulizer. A ha and Eureka! I figure out that the last one was paid for by our previous insurance company, so I haven’t used the “nebulizer benefit” with the new company. Therefore, I can get an entirely new nebulizer without hassle from the insurance company or having to fight with the last stingy nebulizer supplier.

Step 4: I call Zane’s pediatrician to get a prescription for the new nebulizer.

Well, crud. The doctor’s office is closed because they are moving. Yep, the one time they move the office in 15 years, and it’s the day we need a new nebulizer.

Step 5: I am not beaten. Zane has another doctor – one of the hidden benefits of having a child with multiple health issues is the relationship with a variety of doctors. So I call the allergist’s office and get them to write a new script. The nurse offers to send it in the mail, but I tell her that I’ll come and pick it up since we need a new one by the end of the day.

Step 6: I call our local mom and pop pharmacy to make sure that they are covered by our insurance. The very helpful pharmacist says that they are indeed covered. So great, I ask her to make sure that they have nebulizers in stock. But wait, while drugs are covered by my insurance, durable medical goods at that particular pharmacy are not.

So now I have to find a pharmacy which sells durable medical goods AND is covered by our insurance.

Step 7: Call the insurance company to find said pharmacy. After explaining my need to two different people, I am told to call another line for the information.

Step 8: Call the other number –which happens to be an automated line. So while I can find out which pharmacies are covered, it can’t tell me which ones have durable medical goods.

Step 9: Call my insurance company back. I re-explain the exact information that I need. They are very apologetic about sending me to the wrong number – and promptly send me to a website for information.

Step 10: Get the list of durable medical good pharmacies – there are only eight in the entire city – and find the one closest to us.

Step 11: Call the durable medical goods pharmacy to make sure they have nebulizers in stock and check their turnaround time. (I am determined to have that nebulizer by 5pm. A weekend without a nebulizer, when we are doing at least two rescue treatments in addition to his two regular treatments a day, is not inconvenient, it’s dangerous.)

The pharmacist assures me that they have nebulizers, pediatric nebulizer cups and masks, and that they can fill the prescription immediately upon receiving it.

Well, fuck yeah.

Step 12: Get Zane up from his nap so that we can get to the allergist’s and then to the pharmacy before the close of business.

Step 13: Drive across town to the allergist to pick up the script.

(Zane gets distracted by the video of Cars playing at the doctor’s office and refuses to leave).

Step 14: Promise Zane that we can rent Cars tonight and have a family movie night if he will only leave the doctor’s office already.

Step 15: Drive back across town to pick up the nebulizer at the durable medical goods pharmacy.

From this day forth, there are two types of pharmacies in my head: those rare, gem-like pharmacies where one gets nebulizers, walkers, and elevated toilet seats and those that merely supply the life-saving medications that we use daily.

Step 16: Oh, blessed relief. Get the nebulizer from the pharmacy.

We end our journey here:

It only took 4+ hours to get this all done. Just in time to give Zane another breathing treatment.

Sometimes Zane’s health concerns give rise to acute crisis situations that must be dealt with swiftly and decisively. Other times, a mama just needs a goodly supply of perseverance and determination – and hardheadedness to get it done.

In summation, sixteen simple steps and 1/6 of a day will get you a new nebulizer – but only if you really want one.

Yes, I'm Leaving On a Jet Plane

Written yesterday…

I am ashamed to say that this blog is the way that some of my friends keep up with my life. I feel this shame not because I don’t appreciate that they see the blog as a place for friendly facts and updates and the occasional story about how I flash unsuspecting papas at the swimming pool. But rather, I’m ashamed because I really should pick up the phone every now and again or update people in person. I’m also a bit chagrined because sometimes when I relate a story to my friends a quick flash of Didn’t you read my blog? goes through mind.

(As an aside here, SRH had a blog for almost a full year before I started reading it regularly. How weird is that? Who doesn’t read their partner’s blog? Now that I also blog, I think my past behavior could only be labeled as utter lunacy).

But back to my point: I kind of stink at the whole keeping in touch thing.

So yet again I’m going to use this blog as an announcement space for those of you who are wondering why I didn’t call you today to tell you how Zane’s hearing evaluation went.

In short, it didn’t. We didn’t have it. In other words, it went fine for an appointment we didn’t keep.

I haven’t mentioned it, but Zane has been sick all week. Monday morning he woke up with a cough. By Monday afternoon, he had a fever. By Monday night the fever was 104.3 degrees. It came down pretty quickly, and he’s been hovering between 100-101 degrees for the rest of the week. Not the best scenario, but we were pleased that his breathing, while aggravated, was not really progressing to troublesome.

So I took off work all this week, and Zane and I hung out at home – making messes and watching train videos.

He had been getting progressively better until last night. He was up a good part of the night coughing, and we had to give him several breathing treatments.

By this morning, he was coughing non-stop so I figured that I’d better cancel the hearing test and see what the doctor had to say.

The doctor had to this to say, Hey, I bet you’re just glad you don’t have to take him to the ER this time.

Yep, I am glad. Good point, really. Not having to go to the ER is always a positive thing, but what I’m less glad about is that Zane’s back on Orapred – an evil, vile, madness-inducing drug that happens to save his life a few times a year.

It sucks really. And while I hate to rip off my partner’s blog, SRH has the best description of what Zane is like on that particular medication. (See Insane Little Man)

I can’t say it better than those pictures.

A second not so good thing is that I’m writing this particular post while flying to Boulder, CO for a conference. Oh, there’s nothing like leaving a sick child. Unless it’s leaving the sick child on a powerful steroid, which will cause a frenzy of uncomfortable and unmanageable symptoms but will hopefully keep him out of the hospital.

Mother of the Year? Anyone? Anyone?

In summary, Zane really is okay. He’s on a crazy dose of medication that has done us well in the past, and it will start to take care of his breathing within the next 6 hours or so.

In another summary, the hearing test that he didn’t have today was inconclusive so we’ll have to do it in another week or so.

Written this morning…

Do you notice how positive the above post is? Oh sure, I was worried a bit about Zane, but he was on the right medication, and his doctor assured me that my traveling was not going to be a big deal. I hated leaving him, but I was feeling confident that by the time I touched down, he was going to be well on the road to recovery.

You see where this is going right?

To avoid an overly involved explanation, Zane ended up in the ER last night, as he just wasn’t getting better. As you might guess, I have never felt more worried or guilty. This was made no better by the fact that I soon got out of cell phone range, and I couldn’t find any place with wireless access so that I could check out flights home. I got lost several times on the way to the resort – which I knew had wireless access and phones so I was desperate to get there, and I couldn’t find out what was going on with my child. It was a terrible, terrible night.

About midnight in Colorado (3am in Columbus), SRH and I finally got a hold of each other, and he let me know that Zane was starting to do better.

We talked again this morning, and Zane is doing great. (Oh, sweet relief!) The Orapred has finally kicked in, and his breathing is managed. SRH assures me that there is no reason to come home, and in fact has warned me against it as we have a little boy who is sky-high on steroids right now, and it ain’t a pretty sight.

So here are the lessons learned for me:

1. Never schedule a trip where I have to take a plane during the months of October through March. Yes, this might seem extreme, but it just isn’t worth all that we went through last night. I should have been home. I wanted to be home, and there was no way to make that happen.
2. I should always carry a pre-paid calling card. I knew the resort was in a secluded area, but the word “remote” doesn’t even begin to describe where I am right now. We are truly a far piece from any town, and it is truly a miracle that there is internet access.
3. This whole mothering and working outside the home thing is challenging, and sometimes I’m going to make the wrong decisions based on what seems like really good info at the time.

In yet another summary, Zane really is fine. He truly, truly is. I’m starting to be fine, and SRH is stuck at home with a maniac.

Preschool Makes Me Panic

Quick disclaimer for all you non-parentals: This is an oh-my-gosh-my-baby-is-going-to-preschool-and-I’m-freaking-out post.

By way of a more appropriate introduction, Zane starts preschool tomorrow.

Until this morning, I thought I was really cool with it. He’s so ready to hang out with other kids, and the place comes highly recommended. They seem to take my concerns about his food allergies seriously. He loved the rooms when we went to visit earlier in the summer – they have trains! – and potty training is moving right along.

I first got an inkling that I wasn’t “cool” last Thursday when I forgot about the preschool open house. I had reminded SRH all week that we needed to be there at 6pm. Thursday morning, I referenced it at work. Thursday afternoon at 5:20pm, SRH calls me to ask, When are you getting home? I, with some vigor in my voice I’m sure, said I’m picking some scripts up at the grocery store. I’m just going to pick up a few things, and then I’ll be home. SRH said, We have to be at the preschool at 6pm don’t we?

It took me a few moments to respond.

Because, you see, I had totally forgotten about the open house. Not like it slipped my mind forgot, but completely like-SRH-was-talking-a-foreign-language forgot. Huh? I finally responded. (Because I’m super eloquent when I’m confused)

SRH reiterated what he said, and I beat feet and headed home.

The open house went fine. Zane had a great time and didn’t want to leave. I, however, continued on my great rampage of forgetfulness and didn’t bother to put the next two preschool dates – parents are supposed to attend – on my calendar. Instead I scheduled a meeting and a conference call for those dates and had to cancel them, much to my embarrassment.

But really, I still didn’t think that preschool was bothering me too much. SRH called it active avoidance, repression, and denial. I just said I was busy.

But this morning, I woke up with such a sense of anxiety that I can no longer deny it: Preschool freaks me out.

And to be sure, there are the normal mama pangs of seeing my boy growing up, but my particular panic is of a more immediate nature. Most of my concerns are purely neurotic, and I’ll probably post about them later, but I’m losing it about one thing in particular.

Oh Nuts!

I’ve been a little slow to catch on to the hysteria inherent in sending my peanut and tree nut-allergic child to preschool. I’m a member of a group for parents of kids with food allergies, and believe me, some of the other parents have been preparing for the send off to preschool/kindergarten with a vengeance for at least the past year. (I’m not kidding about this.)

This morning, I finally got what they were talking about. It is tremendously scary to put your child into the care of others when he has life-threatening allergies. Up to now, I have been very rational about it all. I’ve talked with the school’s director. The school is nut-free, and I’m training Zane’s teachers on the use of the Epi-Pen tomorrow morning after class. I’ll be supplying all of Zane’s snacks, and I have given the school an emergency action plan should Zane have accidental exposure.

So I’m very surprised to find myself huddled over my computer crying as I write this post. Why? Because there are just too many factors I can’t control. Other parents might not heed the “no nuts” rule. Kids might come to school with peanut butter on their hands, or there might be hidden nuts in a snack that Zane gets a hold of. Zane is particularly prone to a severe reaction because of his asthma, and I don’t know how to help others “get it”.

And even if they get it, have I prepared everyone enough to know how to respond? I’m not worried about exposure to milk and eggs. Benadryl will take care of that, but it’s not easy to plunge a needle into a little boy’s thigh - even if he’s dying. Because that’s the crux of it: Zane could die if he’s exposed. And I’m worried that I haven’t done enough to keep him safe. Even though, logically, I think I’ve done everything that I can, and a few months of school will probably convince me that these fears are unfounded.

I’m just really, really scared about it all.

And so there it is. I’m freaking out today, but I’ll take him tomorrow with a smile and hope – and prepare - for the best. This is one of the really hard parts of being a parent of a food allergic kid, but I won’t ever stand in his way because of my fears.

He gets to be just like the other little people going to school tomorrow: excited, unsure, and just fine.

With You All The Way

On the eve of our first-ever child-free vacation since Zane was born, I have two very different things on my mind:

1. The vacation
2. New Edition

So, I guess that our impending vacation being on my mind is no surprise. We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon for Traverse City, and I am so looking forward to it, that I really could just pee my pants. But of course, there are a million things to do before we leave and peeing my pants would result in more laundry, so…

I’ve got to get a list of all of Zane’s allergies, medications, and doctor’s numbers for my mom. I need to make sure that we’ve got plenty of food pre-made so that my mom doesn’t take Zane out for fast food at every meal. In her defense, with all his food allergies Zane is very hard to feed, except for at McDonald’s, Burger King, and Taco Bell. Those bastions of healthy food have a virtual plethora of menu items that my kid can have. If you’re not up for fast food, you can’t just throw something together because most likely Zane will eat it and die. Okay, not really, but that is the way it feels a great deal of the time.

So, we’ve made the effort to get all his prescriptions filled, all his clothes washed, and any and all snacks that he’s ever been willing to eat are in the house. So now I need to move on to making the list of medications, dosages, and schedule for those medications. I also had to make up a sheet about what to look for to take him to the doctor, emergency room, etc.

It’s hard to leave a kid with health issues!

On the other hand, I must go…

…Because I’m starting to resent things like, say, oh, giving him breathing treatments that last 30 minutes each 4 times a day or telling him to Stay in Bed! 18 times before he finally falls asleep.

…Because I need some time alone with my husband even though he resisted this vacation with everything he had.

SRH is truly and terrifyingly worried about leaving the boy without one of his parents should something happen with his asthma. I keep telling him that Zane’s asthma season really begins in earnest in September. That’s like two whole weeks away. But, irrationally, he doesn’t seem reassured.

It’s not that I’m not concerned or particularly want to be away from Zane for 4 days. I just know that I’m going to be a much better mama when I get back. I deserve this vacation. SRH deserves this vacation, and Zane deserves us to come back refreshed and relaxed. So I will drag SRH up to Michigan tomorrow and we WILL have a good time.

On to my new obsession with New Edition. Or rather, it’s an old obsession which has been re-awakened.

The most amazing thing happened last night. I got to see Behind the Music: New Edition. I had no idea that Behind the Music had done a New Edition episode, but apparently, a group of loyal fans (see this petition) was determined to see it happen. So last year VH-1 finally caved, and the delightfulness of this group was brought back to the mainstream.

(It’s just a fact of mamahood that you can feel excited about a special that was released last year that you had no idea about until yesterday. Sometimes it takes me a while to catch up on what’s happening outside of my four walls).

Perhaps I should explain – although I may not need to at this point – that I was a HUGE New Edition fan from age 9 (when Candy Girl was released) throughout my college years.

I won’t bore you with the details, but I will tell you that when SRH came downstairs last night, I shushed him and then told him during the commercial that he was not to talk or ask dumb questions while the show was on. Also, he was not to snicker behind his hand as I sat on the couch leaning forward expectantly with my hand over my heart whenever my favorite boy, Ralph Tresvant – oh my gosh, we’re both Tauruses!, came on the screen.

And you know what? It was just uncomplicatedly fun to watch them and hear the songs that I grew up with. It made me a little giddy, like I was 13 years old again. It was total fun.

So what makes you giddy? A music group, a gadget, or something else? Please share, and I’ll respond when I get back from vacation.

Burping Babies, Etc., Etc.

Burping Babies

One of Zane’s friends got him these babies for his birthday:

I was especially thrilled because Zane doesn’t have any other baby dolls and he’s obsessed with babies right now. (See this post). I wasn’t quite sure, however, whether he’d play with the babies or not.

You see, Zane has a one track mind. And like many three year olds, his mind is on trains. Oh sure, he talks about babies all the time, but he’s usually playing with a train when he does it. It might go something like, Baby crying, mama. Chug chug. Baby sad, mama. Choo choo. Baby laughing, mama. Look train went over the hill! Baby in stroller, mama. Oh! What happened Thomas?

So imagine my delight when Zane started playing with the babies, a few days ago. He strolled them around the living room. He took off their caps and pretended they were crying. With some gentle redirection, even he started putting their bottles in the mouths, not their ears. He played with them off and on all morning.

(As an aside, I had the following very smug inner dialogue going the entire time, Oh, good. He’s playing with babies. I was hoping he’d like this gift and not just use the baby stroller as a graveyard for old trains. How sweet, he’s feeding the baby. I may just raise a kind man yet. What a sweet, loving, gentle boy I’m raising.)

You might see where I was getting myself into trouble here.

So a natural extension of feeding the babies is, of course, burping the babies. I put one of the babies on my lap and gently burped her to show him how to do it. Well, that was all it took to really take the baby love to a whole new level for Zane.

He started giggling maniacally, pounding the baby on its back and letting our big, loud, “UUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHH!” burpy sounds over and over and over. That was the rest of our day. Charming.

It also describes the only way he’s willing to play with the babies right now. My sweet, loving, gentle boy is also a loud, burping, baby-walloping mass of madness.

Zane twirling the baby til she burps!

I am so proud.

Etcetera

We have officially entered the Asthma Pre-Season at our house. (The season itself lasts from Sept – Mar.) Zane caught a bug, and we’re doing rescue breathing treatments every four hours today. It’s a little stressful, but it’s all very manageable right now. Send us good energy.

Etcetera

Zane’s cardiologist appointment has been scheduled for September 18. (Discussed in this post) Since his pediatrician forgot to write it into Zane’s chart, the nurse didn’t get it scheduled until I called to remind them on Monday. While that’s a bit annoying, it also says to me that Dr. M is not overly concerned that my child has a huge, gaping hole in his heart, so it was also a bit reassuring. I will ask for you to send positive energy to us re: the appointment closer to the date. For now, all your positive energy should be directed towards Zane’s breathing! :)