The Strawberry that Broke the Camel’s Back

That’s right. Eily is allergic to strawberries.

Take away my soymilk, my pizza, my chinese food. Get rid of yogurt, bagels and tofutti cream cheese, and other delicious snacks! Begone fresh pasta and real butter! Get thee behind me Dairy Queen treats – or any other ice-cream for that matter. So long most crackers, breads, rolls, muffins, cakes, and pies.

Gladly I have done this. Gotten rid of dairy, egg, soy, and rice.

But what I had left was a nightly snack of strawberries and blueberries to satisfy a craving for the sweet and wholesome– and now it’s gone.

To explain: Eily had strawberries for a snack the other evening and stopped eating them after about three bites. She soon had hives on her chest and was “splotchy” (that’s a fancy allergy term) in the bathtub later.

Damn and double damn.

That’s why I don’t blog anymore, friends. Because I’m hungry. I’m hungry and tired – and now I gots no strawberries for comfort.

Feel free to send dairy-free, soy-free, egg-free, peanut-free, tree nut-free snacks in an effort to revive this blog.

My Questions Now

One of my favorite quotes:

I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer...

Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903

So, in the spirit of Rilke (ha ha!), here are the questions I’ve been asking myself recently – some profound some silly:

1. What should I boldly say “yes” – and courageously say “no” – to right now?

2. What do my children need from me at this moment?

3. How come Zane never has enough socks? We’re forever doing laundry…

4. Why is hemp milk so expensive? Why does oat milk suck when you heat it? When will I be able return to the joy ‘o soymilk?

5. How can I hold my family so that we move into this next chapter gracefully and with courage?

6. How do I parent two children gracefully?

7. What’s my preoccupation with being graceful? Life is messy.

8. How do I let others help me? What help do I need?

9. How can two children of the same parents be so different?

10. Has ZZ’s cancer returned? (Thankfully - the answer is “no” to this one.)

11. What will SRH’s next job be? What is his is Work?

12. Will it be in Columbus, Ohio?

13. Am I pulling my weight?

14. What can I have to eat?

15. How will I tell the story of this part of my life in 5 years? 10 years? 20 years?

16. Which is the right school for Zane?

17. Okay, we’ve found it…the right school. Will Zane get into this school?

18. Who do Scott and/or I have to sleep with to get Zane into this school?

19. What’s next for us? (Besides sleeping with school administrators…)

20. How come having a water fight in the kitchen at the end of the night makes everything okay?

Okay, so there are some of my questions. I’d ask for the answers, but if I’m to believe the quote above, I must live my way into the answers. So that’s what I’m doing...living into the answers, y’all.

What are some of your questions?

The Same River Twice...

Zane’s (known) allergies at 4 months: Dairy, Egg, Soy

Eily’s (known) allergies at 4 months: Dairy, Egg, Soy

My reaction to Zane’s allergies at 4 months: Crying, gnashing of teeth, feelings of complete and abysmal failure as a mother

Physical State: skinny and hungry

My reaction to Eily’s allergies at 4 months: WTF?!! I’m a good mother, yo. This m%6$f%&in bites!

Physical State: not-so-skinny, oh-so-hungry

So…I guess it’s not exactly the same river… :)

Oh, Happy Day

Yesterday, I got a completely unexpected present. It was like my birthday. No, it was better than my birthday. It was like Christmas. Except, wait. It was even better. It was better than Christmas and my birthday – both at the same time.

What happened, you ask? (Well, you don’t ask if you read SRH’s blog, he’s all into stealing my thunder). But if you were to ask I would tell you that…

Zane’s peanut allergy is getting “significantly” better!!!!!!!!

What? Shut up. Can that even happen?

Well, apparently it can.

The doctor said that not only is Zane’s peanut allergy improving, he may be one of the “lucky 10%” who actually outgrow their allergy.

Huh? Shut up. That cannot happen. I’m quite sure of it. People who have peanut allergies have it for their entire lives. They have to be hyper-vigilant because peanut is the most common food allergy causing anaphylaxis and death. And it never goes away.

Or so I thought. But according to this and this and this, it is possible for a child to outgrow a peanut allergy -especially if the child has outgrown other allergies.

Did I mention that the doctor said that Zane’s dairy and egg allergies are also improving?

I know. I am in food allergic mama heaven. Just the thought of decreasing (let alone getting grid of) any of Zane’s life-threatening food allergies is enough to send me into bliss.

Also, what the doctor was most pleased about was that Zane hasn’t developed any new allergies. Which, sure, I’m happy about that. But did you hear that his peanut allergy is actually improving?

Somebody pinch me now.

Anyway, as the doctor is dictating the letter to Zane’s pediatrician, he says into the microphone, “No new allergies shown for Zane. He continues to test positive for allergies to dairy, egg, cats, grass, peanuts, and tree nuts – including almonds, walnuts, and hazelnuts. Blah, blah, blah”

I will admit that my brow wrinkled slightly at that. Prior to yesterday, I had no idea that Zane was allergic to grass, and the hazelnuts thing was totally out of left field.

Whatever. The delight I experienced upon learning that there may be some light at the end of this food allergy tunnel was akin to getting free Dairy Queen for a year.

Ee gads, it’s a good day to be Zane’s mama.

Edit: I can't help myself, I have to add the video that Riley linked in her comment on this post. It just cracks me up.

A Proud Mommy Moment

I think I’m a pretty good mama. I love my kid, and I let him know it everyday. It’s true that I didn’t receive my copy of The Handbook, but I manage to muddle though most days and feel okay about the job I’ve done.

And before you rush to my defense and point out how I starved myself for 15 months while I was nursing due to his food allergies or how SRH and I have done stretches of 20 consecutive days of breathing treatments in the middle of the night, I should point out that I think that those things do not constitute good parenting. They are more, well, necessary parenting.

But there are a few activities where I feel like I shine as a parent.

And baking is one of them.

Zane and I bake our little hearts out. We bake pumpkin muffins. We bake banana muffins (Of course, we stopped doing that quite as often as bananas seem to make Zane itchy). We make cupcakes, and we make cookies. We make pumpkin bars, and on the odd occasion, we’ll bake up some cinnamon rolls.

And sometimes, Zane will actually eat what we’ve baked.

You see, Zane seems to enjoy the process of baking, but not so much the outcomes.

I have consistently made him “faux” treats for birthday parties, preschool events, and holidays. He has, just as consistently, not given a fig for my hard work and effort. Lifting his nose against the assault of egg-free cupcakes and turning away from dairy free cookies, he has been quite clear that while he likes to bake, he could care less about eating our efforts.

But finally, the toil and sweat (and flour encrusted clothing) of our endeavors has paid off.

Behold, the vegan cut out cookie:

This amazing cookie fits the Holy Trinity of Baking-for-Zane Requirements: It’s fun to make. It’s allergen-free, and it’s delicious to eat. Yay!

And imagine my glee when Zane not only asked to make these cookies, but then pestered me to lick the beaters and eat the dough as I was trying to roll it out. (He also asks to have them every morning for breakfast, but my maternal pride has some limits.)

And just when I was feeling flush with this good feeling – my kid adores something allergen-free that I baked especially for him! – he gave me another proud mommy moment:

While pooping on the potty today and simultaneously picking his nose, Zane promptly took a boogie and wiped it on the bathroom wall.

Kids will always keep you humble.

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.

Zany Mama Hypothesis #4: There IS a mothering handbook.

Ever since Zane was born, I have had a sneaking suspicion that there is a mothering handbook somewhere – and I didn’t get a copy of it. Oh, I’m not denying that I’ve read books on parenting. I’m simply saying that I wasn’t passed that special (spiral bound?) notebook that tells every mother the real deal when it comes to raising your child.

My Argument: There are ways to get around the “no costumes” rule at your preschool.

When I got the information that was sent home to parents about Halloween, I will admit to being a little relieved. Our particular preschool has a “no costume” policy and doesn’t do candy parties. Before you begin to think that I’m a bah-humbug Halloweener, I should explain that my dread of the holiday was mostly based on the fact that Zane cannot eat the vast majority of Halloween candy. (Go figure. Almost every bit of candy has dairy, egg, peanut, or tree nut in it.)

Adding to my dread, were memories of our attempt to get Zane in an Elmo costume last year. My poor child screamed like we were asking him to pay Wesley Snipes back taxes when we zipped the suit on him, and he’s had an aversion to putting on anything red and furry since.

Last Year's Halloween Fiasco

All this to say that I was pretty pleased that Tuesday was supposed to be a fairly typical day at preschool.

So imagine my discomfiture when we walked into a preschool class full of children dressed up for Halloween. True, none of them were dressed in “costume” but they were all – every single last one of them - dressed up wearing some combination of orange and black. (The really natty ones had on outfits with orange and black stripes). Some wore cute little shirts that said boo! or had ghosts on their turtlenecks. Others had skirts or pants decorated with pumpkins or black cats.

My kid had on grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

Apparently, the handbook tells mothers how to circumvent those pesky preschool rules that are designed to kill a child’s sugar-induced holiday buzz.

Fortunately, Zane didn’t seem to care. I think I have a few more months before he starts to get embarrassed by his mother’s gaffes and amateurish attempts at child-rearing.

He seems happy, though, so I’m just going to go with that.

Please feel free to share your own parenting gaffes or your own parent's gaffes in an effort to make me feel better. I'm not beyond feeling being buoyed up by the incompetence of others.

Sick Day Time Line

I’m beginning to believe that this Fall may go down in our family annals as The Autumn that Zany Mama Caught Every Virus, Bug, and/or Infection that was present in Central Ohio. Seriously, I have been sick more in the past six weeks than in the past three years combined.

Case in point, I was really sick - and Zane was mildly sick – yesterday. Having little other blog fodder, I thought it might be sort of fun to give an overview of the ridiculous day we spent together. (Disclaimer: This post was conceptualized in my fevered brain yesterday and may contain many tangents, irrelevancies, and outright lies.)

7:03am
Zane wakes me up by hovering over my face and saying “Good morning, Mama!” with his freshest morning breath. It’s at this moment that I realize we have a problem. My sore throat from the night before has progressed to a screaming pain throughout my nose, throat, and ears and it was accompanied by body aches that have even my toes hurting.

I convince Zane to go back to sleep in my arms for a while so that I can get a few more minutes of sleep.

7:32am
Sleeping party is over. Zane wants to get up for the day NOW, NOW, NOW. I unhappily oblige.

On top of the soreness, my throat feels like it’s coated in peanut butter and jelly – a goober if you will. Although it’s highly unlikely that anything resembling peanut butter and jelly has been in my gullet for the past three years because 1) Zane is violently allergic to peanuts, so we don’t have any peanut products in the house and 2) I haven’t been able to find a good jelly in forever.

(I am, unsurprisingly, quite picky when it comes to jellies. I only really like cherry jelly or jam – I’m not a big fan of preserves or marmalades – and it’s hard to find one that isn’t overly sweet. The moment I find one that is satisfactory, the company stops making it. My attention is the death knell for all good cherry jellies everywhere).

8:05am
My brilliant partner, SRH, finds a stash of Hall’s Cough Drops for me.

8:45am
The aforementioned brilliant partner leaves for work. I have a moment of panic as I realize that my barely conscious self is responsible for the care of a sick preschooler for the rest of the day.

(This is not unlike the panic I felt when we brought Zane home from the hospital. I just couldn’t believe that they thought we were nearly responsible enough to have the care and upkeep of an obviously vulnerable young child. Today, however, I feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of keeping us both alive. Have I mentioned that I felt like dying at this point?)

8:47am
Zane realizes that he has misplaced the “coal” that goes in one of the freight cars on his train. I look for it everywhere amidst cries of, Where coal? Where coal? He’s crying, and I’m about to cry as I drag my poor body all over the house looking for a 1x3 inch piece of black plastic. (After looking off and on all day, I never do find it.)

9:03am
I settle onto a heating pad to combat the chills and body aches. Soft, defeated cries of Where Coal continue in the background for the next 54 minutes.

It occurs to me that perhaps the extreme pain in my joints is akin to having been tortured on the rack. I mean, I really don’t know having never uttered such heresies as the earth revolves around the sun or other such nonsense in the presence of English clerics, but I think the pain might be similar.

9:44am
Second breakfast: Zane sits on my tummy and eats cold Wendy’s chili.

10:15am
I call my mother to beg for relief. I believe I actually said on her machine, I think I’m dying. That is, if a sore throat and body aches can kill you. Because if it can, I’m definitely dying. Can you come over for lunch please?

10:48am
Mom calls me back and says that she’ll be over at lunch to help me out.

(As I was very sick as a young child – with a condition which was remedied by surgery when I was 3- my mother is a bit over-the-top when I’m even slightly ill. I can hear the anxiety in her voice and I retract my comments about being on death’s door. It’s cool to be dramatic, but you don’t want to worry your mother unnecessarily.)

Mom promises to be at the house with lunch for Zane at 11:30. I start counting the minutes until she gets here.

11:42am
Mom shows up – apparently, she’s not as worried about me as I’d hoped…um…I mean…thought.

11:44am
I take a shower in water at the hottest level I can tolerate. It does help the body aches and chills, but I keep bumping up against the shower curtain which feels like cold pitchforks against my skin in my fevered state.

(At this point, I’m wishing that I’d thought to bring a stool in with me so that I can sit down for a while. This, of course, reminds me of when I came home after Zane was born and I couldn’t walk – yes, I know that old story again. But what I was really referring to was how SRH would turn over a bucket and put a towel on it so that I could sit down in the shower so that he wouldn’t have to go in with me and hold me up. A few weeks later we graduated to a Rubbermaid stool – which was ever so much more dignified.)

12pm
I’m done. Mom watches Zane as I head to bed for a nap.

1:04pm
Zane joins me for a nap as my mom heads back to work.

2:07pm
Zane wakes up. I longingly remember the 2-3 hour naps of days gone by. I beg, plead, and cajole, but Zane’s not interested in watching a video in bed so that I can sleep some more, so we head downstairs.

2:23pm
Zane is interested in watching a video now. I can’t take back my offer, and truthfully, I’m inordinately grateful to the TV for taking the heat off me for a few minutes. (Shameful, I know. But what is a blog, if not a place for unabashed self-confession?)

3:37pm
I’m strangely disappointed when Zane decides to turn off Stuart Little 2 before the big airplane finale. Cue up more train videos.

3:42pm
I call SRH and try to keep the desperation out of my voice as I request that he be home as close to 5pm as possible.

4:15pm
Hey, what do you know? I can actually sit up now for 5 minutes at a time without horrific pain in my hips and back. I begin to believe that I might actually make it out to the other side of this illness.

4:42pm
SRH gets home – what a dear, dear man.

5:12pm
I go to take another blazing hot shower. This time, I am not proud. I ask SRH to bring me the stool – which has inexplicably disappeared from our bathroom. He can’t find it either, so he pinch hits with this:

I’m a little uneasy because I seem to remember that there is a weight limit of 90 pounds for this particular chair. And while I’m not a big person, I don’t think I’ve been that weight since the 6^th grade. But hey, I haven’t eaten anything all day – which means I’m closer to 90 pounds than I was yesterday – plus my judgment is clearly clouded by fatigue and discomfort, so I go ahead and sit down.

Thankfully, no drama results.

6:09pm
I head to bed for the night.

(I do manage to get up for about an hour around 9:30pm – you know, to make sure things are set for the next day and to check my blog and stuff. I have priorities.)

So there it is – my thrilling sick day. More information about someone else's day of illness than you ever wanted to know.

For the record, I’m feeling much better today. but Zane seems to be feeling a little worse – probably due to the abject neglect he experienced yesterday.

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.