Come September, Please Remember....

What this world needs is a new kind of army — the army of the kind. ~C. Amory

The first day of school is a momentous one for most parents and children alike. The excitement and expectations of a new year with friends. The anxiety and trepidation of a different school or an unknown teacher. Many kids, mine included, spend time picking out a special outfit, packing their new book bag, and prepping their new lunch box for another year. And I'm sure the school or the teacher have supplied a checklist of things to add to your own pile of necessary items with which to arm your child to conquer the coming year.

None of this is different for a parent with food allergies. What is different is the emails that are also sent the night before to the child's teacher, so they're aware of the allergy. My necessary items list varies because it has the ever important additions of Benadryl and EpiPens that I make sure are packed along with Scootch's new pencil and folder. That flood of school paperwork starts before school even begins because I'm filling out a step by step protocol of what to do if my child is having an allergy reaction, or possibly dying, and trying to not imagine those scenarios in my head. And instead of telling my kid to have fun and make new friends while I walk him to the bus tomorrow, I'll be going over with him the food rules; no sharing, no stealing, and no eating anything we didn't pack for him unless someone checks the label and can tell him it is safe. I have to remind him that he can't hold hands or kiss his friends on the cheek because he doesn't know for sure who had peanut butter in their lunch and who didn't.

I also know that on Back to School Night I'll pipe up that I'm the parent with the kid everyone doesn't want to have in their class. The one that makes the class parties so difficult because the food needs to come from an approved list, and stresses that the teacher makes the class wash their hands with soap and water after lunch period. The one that makes other parents get defensive because life would be so much easier if their picky eater could just eat his peanut butter sandwich in peace because that's the only thing besides waffles he'll eat on a consistent basis. And that Scootch's peers will tell my kid he's missing out because he's never eaten a Snickers, and can't get a cone off the ice cream truck, regardless of the fact that even if he did, it would make his mouth burn and he'd throw up and possibly stop breathing instead of enjoying it.

Could every one of you do me a favor? When you kiss your child goodbye before sending them off to school this September, please, just ask them to be kind. We know it isn't easy for everyone else to deal with, because it isn't easy for us, either.The fine line we walk on between freedom and safety is a hard one to manage at the best of times, but it really can mean the difference between a good day at school and a trip to the hospital. Scootch endures scratch tests, blood tests, and visit after visit to the doctor, so he definitely doesn't need anyone else to point out how weird or different he is from everyone else. He's well aware that most people don't have three different primary doctors. The fact that he won't eat what you're offering him doesn't mean he doesn't want to be friends, it just means he knows that it could make him sick. And he doesn't want to throw up on your brand new school shoes. But, most importantly, please just wash your hands after you snack on your Nutty Bar. We're not asking to annoy you, and no, I'm not proposing a nut ban on school premises (although that really would make Scootch's life easier!) I truly do know how hard it is to keep a picky eater on the right side of the weight curve. It really is just the simple fact that the friendliest hand, for Scootch, is a clean one.

Hoping we all have a safe and wonderful year!

Testing, Testing, 1 2 3

The test of courage comes when we are in the minority. The test of tolerance comes when we are in the majority. ~R. W. Sockman

Scootch not impressed during his allergy testing

Growing up hurts. I think its an evil system that most parents are hardwired to do anything to relieve their kids' suffering, but true growth involves your children surviving pain.

We've been so lucky this year so far with the food allergy issues (knock on wood). I am was petrified every day Scootch headed off to school to the big scary world of Kindergarten. Fortunately, I think we were blessed with a very empathetic teacher for him this year. She wasn't scared to grow and learn along with us. There have been plenty of near misses involved with the school snacks and food projects, but she has never hesitated to act, or pick up the phone to call me whenever she has a question. I am happy to say the Epi Pen has not made its debut as of yet.

But the necessary evil of growing older for Scootch is the allergy testing. And re-testing. And testing some more. His allergist and I discussed his falling IgE scores on his last blood test and decided that his egg allergies seemed to be down low enough to warrant a scratch test on his skin to see if there still was a reaction. Just hearing that made my head spin off in the direction of baking with real ingredients again. Instead of visions of sugarplums, it was more like visions of leavened cakes, fluffy pancakes, and cookies that didn't resemble chocolate chip crepes. But before I could get ahead of myself (again), we needed to actually accomplish the test.

We trudged in today in full force. Daddy even took off early from work, because I wasn't sure if easygoing Scootch would morph into the full fledged kicking demon he sometimes impersonates in the doctor's office, and if so I needed all the extra arms I could get. But it turned out only mildly difficult. After hanging out in the waiting room making friends with an 11 month old, we were called back to start the skin test. Scootch only needed a little bit of encouragement and restraint as the nurse marked the numbers on his skin and applied the allergens with the scratch applicator. (I think he really thought the pen was a needle, he was screaming so loud). Then we got to watch a Thomas the Tank video for 20 minutes while we waited for the results.

In number order, they show the 1. histamine control to represent what an allergic reaction would look like, 4. egg white protein, 5. egg yolk protein, and 8. saline control. The egg yolk shows almost no difference to the saline, so as far as the allergist is concerned, he's not considered allergic to egg yolk anymore! The egg whites show a very mild reaction, so the consensus is that for now, he is allowed to have egg products if they're baked for an extended period of time. His allergist feels that the small amounts of proteins present in foods that are baked would be low enough to boost his tolerance without triggering a reaction. But still no omelettes or hard boiled eggs for Scootch just yet.

However, I'm extremely hopeful that I can enjoy some homemade pound cake for dessert in my near future!

The Children’s Garden

You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. ~J. Rohn

I still cannot believe Scootch has grown this fast. I remember the summer after he was born, when my anxiety was still an immobilizing disorder. I remember that fear of going outside, the rush of uneasiness if I even thought about doing something that involved taking my baby out of the house. Thankfully, its been a long time since those days. But, I must admit that there is still fear of the unknown present, that little rush of discomfort, every morning as Scootch steps out of the house to meet the bus.

Scootch has been coached and prepped about his allergies and the food at school. Sit at the special table for lunch, don’t share food with your friends, always ask a grownup if you’re not sure about something, always ask if you’re given something we didn’t pack for you….he’s heard them all. He’s repeated them to me. We’ve practiced what to do if he feels like he’s having a reaction. I’ve tried to prepare him for any possibility he might encounter. And still, after all that, he could not wait to go to school. To conquer the great grown-up wonderland of changing classes, new teachers, riding the bus, having recess, and eating in the cafeteria. No fear for him. No reservations. I guess I must be doing something right that he isn’t terrified of leaving the safe sanctuary of home. Like I was. Sometimes I still am.

I find it ironic that I suffered through the worst anxiety disorder of my life after giving birth to the boy who now makes me worry the most. I sometimes wonder if that was my initiation period to becoming his mother. If you can conquer agoraphobia, night terrors, and anxiety attacks, this food allergy thing on a daily basis should be a walk in the park, right? It still doesn’t get any easier to let him go face the great big world alone without me. At least I knew my fears were in my mind. There really weren’t people waiting to run me down in the parking lot, or break into my house and steal my kids. Scootch’s allergies are real, and his reactions are even more terrifying. But being a parent means doing what’s best for your kids, and its in Scootch’s best interest to know how to take on the world by himself, a little bit at a time. Kindergarten means one small step for Scootch, but one giant leap for Mommy’s piece of mind.

Only 171 days left.

Camo Cake

(Otherwise known as the obligatory after-party baking post) ;-)
I've become addicted fallen in love with Pinterest. (Its the same thing, right?) Anyways, I saw this great idea for camouflage cake that one mother made for her son's birthday. Scootch saw it and was over the moon excited. So I figured I'd give it a go for his bowling party.
It was actually easier than I expected. I have scratch recipes for cakes that are allergy friendly for him, and they only yield a dozen cupcakes, so I made a whole batch of vanilla, and a half batch of chocolate. The batch of vanilla I separated and made one portion green so I could get the three colors.

Then it was just a matter of dribbling the colored cake batter into the cupcake liners, and voila!

Bake

Ice

Eat!

Happy Birthday Boy enjoying a second cupcake! 

Sweet success!

Flying Colors

A watched child never learns. ~Robert Brault

Scootch is largely sheltered since I've been sent home from the workforce. After Little Bear was born, I went from working almost 30 hours a week to only a mere 7, so putting Scootch back into daycare with his friends was not a feasible option. I've tried to join story time at the library, and other play groups like that to keep him with peers, but the truth is that he is a solitary soul. He will sometimes play with others when others are available, but, for the most part he likes to just run around and observe everybody else. He really enjoys just holing up in the playroom and making elaborate train layouts and complicated arrangements of Matchbox cars. In addition to this situation making me worry about his social development, it also doesn't give me many opportunities to see how Scootch handles himself with others regarding his allergies.

Our church has a Coffee and Fellowship hour following services on Sunday morning. People in the congregation take turns hosting it every week, usually supplying homemade baked goods or some bagels arranged on a push cart to supplement the available coffee, tea, and juice. The kids in the congregation, ours included, like to sit under a few tables that are against the wall in the lobby and hide out while they eat the available snacks. Some congregation members are aware of Scootch's allergies and try to be accomodating, but we usually bring a packet of cookies or fruit snacks as a substitute for Scootch so we can be assured he has something to snack on as well. It has proved to be a valuable time to teach him about food awareness. I've told him repeatedly that he's not allowed to have anything off the cart unless Mommy or Daddy or MeMa gets it for him. And that if anyone hands him something, he needs to ask for permission before he eats it. But truthfully, I always wonder if these teachings fall on deaf ears. He is, after all, only three and a half. He barely remembers instructions I give him in the time he runs from the kitchen to the playroom. Today hubby told me he witnessed our little lessons rubbing off on Scootch at the Fellowship hour after service this morning. And I couldn't be more proud of him.

I had been busy helping Monkey dole out her Girl Scout cookie orders to the right owners, and Scootch was sitting alone under the tables, patiently awaiting the arrival of his sister and friends. Today's offering was homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a woman noticed Scootch was without one. She bent down to look under the tables and ask him if he wanted a cookie and offered him one from the trolley. Scootch replied to her, "No, my mom has my cookie. I can't have those." By that time, Daddy had gotten the packet of safe treats we brought from home and set him up with snacks and a napkin. So when I was finally settling Monkey next to him with her own treats, he was already munching away happily and paying me no mind.

Relief. Pride. Happiness. All the best feelings to have as a parent. And I got to feel them today. He passed another test with flying colors.

Fully Loaded

How tired God must be of guilt and loneliness, for that is all we ever bring to Him. ~Mignon McLaughlin

Its my own fault, and I will forever self-flagellate myself for breaking my own rules and bringing it into the house. I bought a package of Ghirardelli Peppermint Bark for myself to enjoy after Christmas. I don't enjoy candy canes, but the way they mix the peppermint with the sweet chocolate is a major weakness of mine. The bag is clearly marked "May contain traces of peanuts and tree nuts" but I was hoping if I hid it well enough, Scootch would never be the wiser. What I didn't count on was my ingenious Monkey finding the last square and insisting on eating it after lunch. And then being spontaneously into the spirit of giving that comes with the season and offering her brother a piece. I can now tell you what happens when Scootch puts something into his mouth that he's allergic to. He tells me his mouth feels funny, and then he throws up. This was days after I shared a picture from Allergic Living's message board about how sharing food with a "May contain" label is like pointing a gun at someone with an allergy and not knowing whether its loaded or not. Mother's guilt is a big ugly thing to have to share your space with, but that's just what I'm doing. Thank goodness his body knew better than I did, and kept him from fully ingesting the stuff.

Thankfully vomiting is as far as it went today, but I never even want that to happen again. Not on my watch. At least giving up the peppermint bark might help keep off all that after-Christmas weight every year.

If its not Scottish, it's crap!

If you want to be happy, be. ~Leo Tolstoy

I've come to the point where its the simple things that make my heart happy. Making my child smile is one of them. Especially at the time of year where the spirit of giving brings forbidden things at every turn. Nothing is ever so difficult to me as to see Scootch's eyes round as saucers as he's gifted a chocolate pop or sees the pile of cookies at the church coffee reception, only to have his hopes dashed when the treat is inedible because of ingredients or cross contamination. Every time his tiny shoulders slump in defeat it feels like a little piece of my heart is chipped off too. I think most parents want to give their child everything in the world, and for me, that simple young pleasure of enjoying treats on special occasions is one that I seem to value the most with Scootch.

So when he accompanied me in the morning to finish up the Christmas shopping at Marshalls, and saw a little girl enjoying a snack, I immediately felt guilty when he asked me if he could have what she was having. I had to tell him the truth; "Probably not, sweetie." Imagine my surprise and his delight when a little while later he discovered the Scottish shortbread cookies on another shelf. The egg-free-not-made-in-a-contaminated-compromised-nut-handling-facility, Scottish shortbread cookies. So, I did what almost everyone does in Marshalls and tossed them in the cart as an impulse buy. Its amazing the smiles a little cookie can put on the face of a three year old.

And of course his smile gives me one, too. :-)

Delusions of Grandeur

"Denial ain't just a river in Eqypt" ~ Mark Twain

Scootch enjoying his lollipop after having his blood drawn

It has been one heck of a month. September felt like I was just riding things out, but October...October feels more like a perfect storm. Besides Monkey's birthday, her fractured ankle, and Little Bear being sick, plus the regular stress of everything that has been going on at home, today was the day we got the results to Scootch's large scale allergy bloodwork.

Let's go back and refresh if anyone doesn't remember. At Scootch's one year appointment he still was suffering from horrible eczema. So bad that he would scratch himself until he was bleeding. The pediatrician had given us prescription cream after prescription for it since he was about four months old, but it never seemed to go away completely. And I had already noticed he suffered mood changes after nursing when I had ingested certain foods from about 6 months of age. So I basically told them I think it was something inside that was bothering him, and wanted some allergy testing done. The did an infant scale RAST test that tests for the 5 common allergies in babies, and Scootch came back positive for egg white, egg yolk, and peanut. The RAST test measures the concentration of antibodies the body has created against a particular food allergen. The concentration results are scaled in severity from Class 0 - which indicates negative reaction (i.e. not allergic) to Class 6 - which indicates a 100% chance of reacting if exposed to the allergen. On his initial test scores, Scootch scored as a Class 2 and Class 3 for egg yolk and egg white, and a Class 4 for peanuts.

When we were referred to this allergist, he tried explaining how allergies like egg and milk are actually very common in small children, but that kids tend to grow out of them between ages 3 and 5. He indicated that since Scootch's reactions were so low on the scale, it was highly likely he could outgrow it. I might have latched onto that statement a bit harder than I realized. Of Scootch's two allergies, the egg allergy is the one that I have a severe loathing against. If you haven't already noticed from all my dejected whiny posts about my baking issues from being egg free, I also have indulgent fantasies about going out to breakfast almost daily. Fluffy pancakes, Belgian waffles, hot corn cakes, eggs over easy with bacon on the side. The list is endless. When someone asked me where I would go out to dinner if I had the option, IHOP was actually my first answer. I'm a cheap date, what can I say? The bigger underlying issue is that I've been in denial. My whole mentality through the last two years was that this was just a short endurance race. If we just wait it out for two years, Scootch will outgrow his egg allergy and we can go back to having a real breakfast, and baking marathons with repeated successes instead of repetitive failure. Imagine how crushed I was when we got Scootch's in depth RAST results back at today's appointment.

This time around, we opted to test for 13 different allergens; egg white, egg yolk, whole egg, peanut, walnut, pecan, cashew, pistachio, almond, lobster, crab, shrimp, and clam. We knew he was allergic to the eggs and peanuts, but we had been avoiding tree nuts and shellfish as a general precaution, so we figured we should check to see if he did in fact have these other allergies while we were at it. The test indicated he was allergic to everything except the almonds and all the shellfish (the former of which I was hopeful about after we experienced this). The fact that he tested positive for the tree nuts didn't surprise me after the reaction he suffered over New Years (his walnut and cashew results are both in the Class 4 category). His peanut allergy tested even higher than the last test, and takes first place as the sole Class 5 reaction. But the biggest bummer was that his Class 3 egg white allergy had merely dropped to a Class 2 to join the egg yolk, which had stayed the same. And just like that, my hopes of jumping over to sample IHOP's Trick or Treat All You Can Eat Pancake Special after his appointment were whipped out the window. Le sigh.

Scootch's allergist recommends him being re-tested in another two years, when he turns 5. He was very optimistic that since the levels were already falling it was a good indication that this is an allergy he could outgrow with time. At this point though, I think I need to adjust my way of thinking. We are an egg free family. For the comfort, health, and happiness of our Scootch, I need to whole-heartedly embrace this assignment. And maybe enroll Scootch in preschool and have a late brunch by myself at IHOP every couple of months. Just to take the edge off.

A Hairy Situation

If one way be better than another, that you may be sure is Nature's way. ~Aristotle

Ever notice how the littlest things seem to send you down the most altering paths? I got fed up with my hair around my birthday. I've always fought with it, so the feeling was nothing new. It's curly, and temperamental, and likes to give me greif. I had a pretty good system for taming my hair that worked for awhile, but ever since having kids I've felt like it could look better. I dyed it on a whim, and that became a disaster. I ended up re-dying it, then using Color Oops to get the leftover green tint out of it. Soon after that I just decided to lop it all off, so I had hubby cut it for me as a long chin bob. This look really required straigtening for it to look its best, but lets be real. Its summertime in the Northern East Coast, where the humidity level frequently exceeds the temperature. My hair grows like a ChiaPet in concurrence with the rise in moisture in the air. So I decided I should try to go back to curly. Except everything I normally did to style it wasn't working out with the same results. And to top it off, it felt like all the products I were using were leaving a greasy coating on my hair. So I decided to check in with the Google gods for some advice or direction. Enter the world of Curly Girl by Lorraine Massey.

Basically the philosophy is this; curly hair is more prone to over-drying than normal straight hair, and therefore, most of the harsh chemicals used in many commercial brands of hair products strip the hair and make it misbehave. So Lorraine suggests a different approach of using more natural products to cleanse, condition, and style the hair. I figured what the heck. It's worth a shot. And I'm not going to go into the specifics since the majority of you don't have my hair problems, but I find myself laughing at, well, myself on an almost daily basis now. People always arch their eyebrows when they learn we cloth diaper(ed) our kids. The forays into organic, vegan, and natural substitutions for Scootch's allergies have led me to become acquainted with many health food stores, co-ops, and on mailing lists for many forward thinking newsletters. I love to craft and sew which ultimately translates into making the occasional clothes, or quilt, or draperies. My husband and I were recently discussing how great it would be to install solar panels to offset the cost of the electricity we're using to cool the house. And now I'm in the kitchen making my own hair gel from flax seeds and boiling water using a recipe adopted from a hair care handbook.

I feel like my house is thisclose to becoming a hippie commune.

Improv Night

improvise: im-pro-vise (v) - to make or fabricate out of what is conveniently on hand. Merriam-Webster

i.e. having the staff at Red Robin make your 3 year old, tantrum throwing, nut allergic son, the pizza dinner which is not on the approved allergy menu, but which he absolutely HAS TO HAVE, with ketchup instead of their potentially cross-contaminated red sauce.

Red Robin! YUMMMMMMM!

Simple. Effective. Advertising.

Is it bad that I want to distribute this to every person I know?

Add It To The List

So, a month after the news that Scott's Miracle Grow Potting Soil could potentially kill your gardening loving nut allergic child by omitting the fact that it contains tree nuts or peanuts in its composted ingredients, I stopped in the hair product aisle of the supermarket because I needed more hair serum to tame my mane. And apparently, Scootch needs to be aware of what his future girlfriend uses on her hair, too. The label of Organix's Coconut Milk Anti-Breakage Serum reads as follows; "Indulge your senses with this exclusive blend of organic coconut milk to nourish your hair, while ultra whipped egg white proteins add strength and elasticity, along with weightless coconut oils to add hydration and balance."

Well, thank goodness I use John Freida. Could you imagine the poor boy running his fingers through his crush's hair and then breaking out in a red itchy rash all over his hands? Maybe it will be like a litmus test for true love. If you're allergic to her, she's not right for you.

Age of Awareness

Humor is perhaps a sense of intellectual perspective: an awareness that some things are really important, others not; and that the two kinds are most oddly jumbled in everyday affairs. ~Christopher Morley


Since Scootch's diagnosis, I can't even begin to tell you how much reading I have done. Knowledge is power, right? I should be able to supply energy to the entire neighborhood with how much power I've accumulated. And yet, I still feel like I'm learning something new everyday.

I recently joined another website community for help regarding Scootch. They lured me in with a feature on managing anxiety associated with food allergies. (I think they just should have named it, "We're Doing This Feature For You!") The entire presentation was helpful, validating, and enlightening, but there was one point in particular that has been worrying me incessantly. They talked a little bit about empowering your own child by letting him/her become their own advocate, and most of the mothers listed how well their children do asking for permission to eat things, and knowing to tell strangers that they have allergies. One mother even said her son has known his food limitations by 2 1/2.

Huh. Scootch is almost 3. And I have never taught him to say he's allergic to eggs and nuts. Why this never occurred to me I can't say. Somehow in reading to him, teaching him his colors, numbers, alphabet, and how to go potty, I never have actually sat down with him and explained TO HIM that he has food allergies. He's always been present when they were discussed, I've told him he can't have certain things because they will make him itchy, but I've never actually filled him in on it. I found myself unsure of how much he actually knew and comprehended about his condition. Until last Saturday.

Last Saturday was Easter Eve. And Easter Eve in our house involves dying Easter Eggs. I actually remembered to buy the contraband eggs the night before while I was out at the grocery store (and then promptly forgot to buy the egg dye), and hard boiled them in the morning to prepare them. So by afternoon, after lunch, I had everything set up and announced we were going to dye eggs for Easter, and Scootch told me he couldn't. "I no do eggs, Mom. I don't wanna be itchy." Dumbfounded. That was my reaction. It became blatantly obvious that Scootch had grasped a great deal of his condition by himself, even though I didn't have a whole sit down talk with him. He obviously remembered how horrible he felt back on New Years Day when he was exposed to nuts and broke out in hives. He obviously has been listening when his sister has been integrating mini lectures about his food allergies into their play kitchen sessions. And he obviously is old enough to comprehend and internalize the stuff I have been talking over his head to others for the past 2 years. A big "DUH" to Mommy for not thinking he would simply absorb this information just like he's picked up everything else in his short life.

To tell you the truth, I think the whole reason I haven't had the food allergy talk with him is that I didn't think he was that self-aware yet. My first clue should have been that he has grasped the awareness concept of potty training, but I think in some respects, I've been short changing him a bit by thinking he is still pretty much a helpless baby. In actuality, he'll be 3 in less than two months, and is as opinionated and bright as the Monkey was at that age. He confounds me again and again, day to day, with the observations and queries that come out of his mouth with no provocation. As much as I can sit here and rationalize that I didn't do it because I wanted him to still be a carefree little boy, I'm now kicking myself in the head and feeling guilty for insulting his intelligence by not thinking he could handle the information sooner. He obviously has some knowledge about his food limitations, and it hasn't dampened his carefree attitude one bit. So instead of sitting here worrying how much information is too much information, I'm going to start giving him the basics to go on for now. Hopefully by the time we get to his 3rd birthday, he'll know his full name, his address, and his food allergies.

The Luck of the Draw

"Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered." ~William Shakespeare

Sometimes I wonder why my husband agreed to have kids with me. Its obvious I have defective genes. Although my wonderfully recessive traits allow for beautiful strawberry blond children, they also allow for all kinds of havoc in the immunity department. Monkey and Little Bear resemble each other the most in looks and coloring. Both have that pale roses complexion with the ruddiness lying just below the surface of their cheeks, and that beautiful reddish blond hair like their Daddy. Scootch resembles my coloring more, with the obvious cool complexion palette and invisible platinum blond locks I sported as a baby. But all three have inherited my allergy problems. Lucky them.

Monkey scared the crap out of us at 3 months old. New parents, new baby, and we were taking all those cold winter precautions about not taking your baby out in public since the mall and grocery store is such a blatant place for epidemics to spread. But she still got the sniffles. So when what we thought was just our little Monkey battling a cold landed us in the ER at the hospital with breathing problems, I immediately fell down a hole of guilt and self blame. Her Daddy didn't have any problems with his lungs, but Mommy and half of her family sure did. I was diagnosed with asthma at 8 years old when I passed out cold on the marble floor of a church from lack of oxygen. And as they hooked up my little Monkey to a face mask and started the nebulizer treatment, I sat through the flashbacks reeling in the back of my mind of breathing exercises, steriod pills, oxygen tents, and that bitter, bitter, taste of the asthma medication that bites the tip of your tongue with every use.

With Scootch, we never went down that road. He's had coughs from time to time, and a leaky nose since forever, but nothing the good old Vicks Humidifier couldn't cure. Of course, we got slammed with food allergies instead. Which, if you think about it in a morbid way is still a breathing issue, since anaphalaxsis causes your throat to swell shut. But his infancy was a whole 'nother ball of wax between his skin condition that would never heal, his swallowing issues that made him constantly gag on food and sent me through the trials of Early Intervention, Swallowing Specialists, and an ENT. Oh, and that whole Immobilizing Anxiety Disorder I was battling because I thought that if I left the house alone with my kids we were all going to die in some terrible accident. Goodtimes.

So now we're onto poor Little Bear. I have been watching him like a hawk for any indications of food allergies, like the eczema Scootch endured, or the discomfort after I binge on certain types of food. He did have a bit of a rash on his elbows I was freaking out about, and a problem with spitting up that I was afraid was turning into a reflux issue, but thankfully the skin was cured by a simple change in lotion, and the spitting up lessened with time. Then last Friday he started off with a little cough and some sniffles. And over the weekend, it was increasing to him having small coughing fits and lots of sneezing. Monday he was just irritable and altogether miserable, and his cough was sounding worse. The common cold. At least that's what I kept hoping. And praying. But then when he woke up at 4:30 in the afternoon screaming and inconsolable and his breathing sounded like there was something fluttering in his airways, I was slapping myself for not taking him into the doctor's in the morning. Thankfully the doctor's office has evening hours on Mondays. I scored a 6:30 appointment after waffling back and forth and finally calling the hubby at work to see what he thought of me taking Little Bear in. Of course, it meant picking up Monkey from school with her brothers in tow and shuffling all three of them with me to the doctor's office until Daddy could meet me there after work and take them home for dinner and bedtime. And then waiting the usual hour after my scheduled appointment time to be seen. But score two points for Mommy when the doctor took one listen to his chest and clucked her tongue in pity. Bronchiolitis. The kind that would definitly have landed us in the ER at 3am if I hadn't brought him in for an appointment. So we had our first nebulizer treatment right there in the office. Little Bear was true to form and did not like the breathing mask, but I got to show off my non-squirm headlock skills to the nurse (who was very impressed.) The bad news is him having lung issues this early clearly points to him developing asthma later in life, just like his sister.

And am I a bad Mother for thinking he'd be lucky to have this and not allergy issues with food?

The Man Bag

"A father carries pictures where his money used to be." ~Author Unknown

I don't profess to be a girly-girl. Feminine, yes. I definitely have skirts and heels and can doll up with the best of them for special occasions. But as for the glitter and ruffles on an everyday basis, I'll let Monkey keep those bases covered. I'd much rather possess something functional and durable, even if it only comes in pea green. So I've never been too worried when it came to baby accessories that my husband would ever be embarrased to be seen with a sling or a diaper bag, because I've never owned one in pink or flower print, or any other potentially emasculating color. We've come to this crossroads for a different matter entirely. My husband requires a small bag of essentials while he's out with Scootch, not because he'd be embarrassed to carry the ones we currently own, but because big boy Scootch is now potty trained, and we no longer have the need to schlep an entire bag everywhere we go for his diaper changes. So what essentials, exactly, does he need? Scootch's emergency supplies, of course.

Now that we are a family of 5, we tend to divvy up the kids when one of us goes out. Usually the errand-running parent takes one kid, and the one staying home will have the other two. Its not a problem for me, since I carry an Epi-pen and Benadryl in my purse. But the temperature requirements for Scootch's medicine prevent it from being something that could be housed in a glove compartment of a car, and my husband doesn't carry any type of pouch with him. So on the occasions Scootch goes with his father solo, Daddy has nowhere to stash an Epi-Pen and some Benadryl unless he wants to have it stick awkwardly out of his back pocket. My husband brought this up with me the other day, and we discussed it, and I came up with a solution any good wife would - I bought him a makeup bag. ;-)

As you can see from the picture, its a perfectly masculine looking makeup bag. But still, just the right size for an Epi-Pen and some Benadryl Perfect Measures. And it fits right on the windowsill next to the front door, so Daddy can grab it in the way out. So now Daddy has some portable peace of mind for himself, and for me, so I don't have to stress that they're out there unprepared.

Premonition

My husband has a theory about Deja Vu, and the easiest way to sum it up is to use a line a character said in one of the shows my husband follows. "Deja Vu is just fate letting you know you're on the right path."

Well, my premonition about Scootch having a food allergy issue around Christmas came true today. Not the same as Deja Vu, since I would have actually known what to expect, but I'm starting to think it works along the same lines.

I don't know if you can tell from the above picture, but that is Scootch with his eyes swollen from an allergy attack. He looked much worse before the picture, and the case of hives that he had on his hands looked even more worse than that. His Grandmother ate some walnuts while we were visiting today and then put her hands on Scootch. I'm not sure whether she helped him with his coat, or if they came in contact when she was saying goodbye to him, but while I was walking him out to the car he was scratching his wrists like crazy. So I pulled up his coat sleeves to take a look and his wrists and hands were covered in hives. I quickly had hubby give him one of the Benadryl Perfect Measures I carry on me, and then I wiped his hands with a baby wipe. Apparently the baby wipe didn't do enough, though, because he rubbed his eyes and by the time we got home he was crying that his eyes hurt and the left one was halfway swollen shut.

More hand scrubbing followed by nail trimming (in case any residue was still under his nails) followed by cold compresses and we had ourselves one unhappy (but somewhat healing) little boy. But now that its hours later and I'm having time to reflect, I can feel the panic rattling under the lid I have clamped down on my anxiety. I mean, I don't even want to imagine what his reaction would be to ingesting a walnut if this is what happens if he merely touches one. After him having no reaction when exposed to almonds, I was actually feeling a little optimistic about his food allergy. Now I'm back to being completely terrified and feeling entirely helpless and vulnerable.

And the hardest part is that Scootch really isn't old enough to understand. He didn't understand why he kept itching, had no clue why he had to take medicine, or why his eyes were "hurting" after he had rubbed them. And meanwhile, Monkey is asking me if I have to use the needles on Scootch, or if he has to go to the hospital. Not exactly the right thoughts to be putting in my head at the moment, but it floored me a little that she was so astute of the situation. Even while she was telling Scootch that she knows he's sick from food he shouldn't have because he has the "polka dots" on his hands.

Walnuts: 1, Kel: 0

"The world accomodating my child is the only sensible option"

Mompetition is one of the best blogs ever! Unless you don't like satire. Then don't bother clicking on the video below.



Sometimes its more fun to make fun of yourself.

Candyland

Its during the months of October through December that my husband and I rehash our plan of relocating to Canada. It always comes up in passing, but we actually semi-seriously consider it at this point in the year.

Why would we consider defecting to another country you ask? Easy. Besides knowing some great people there, Canada also has great food allergy policies for making their candy in facilities free of cross contamination. Just look at the back of this Canadian Kit Kat.


Besides the ingredient translation in French instead of Spanish, do you notice that there is no warning about the item being made in a facility that processes peanuts or tree nuts? That's because they aren't. They're made in a dedicated nut free facility. What a shame the US doesn't have more of those!

So any candy that comes into our house gets divided into piles of the following; pure evil, okay for consumption by family members, and Scootch safe.


Pure evil means it contains nuts or peanut butter, and noone can eat it around Scootch. Even if they're willing to abide by the 5 hour rule of avoiding contact with Scootch and any of his eating utensils and glasses until the aforementioned time limit is passed to be assured the nut traces can't be transferred, there is still the risk of dropped nut pieces, or the danger of him coming in contact with the wrapper, etc. Just too much to worry about, so its easier to just plain ban it from the house. The second category of candy is free from nut ingredients, but is usually processed in a facility that has a problem with cross contamination. That means Scootch shouldn't eat it, but if other family members do, he shouldn't be in danger of accidentally being exposed to any allergens. The third category of candy is my favorite. This is the stuff we can leave out and not freak about when he decides to sneak out of bed in the morning and pilfer it from the pantry himself. Unfortuantely almost all of it has to be shipped to the house since noone carries Canadian Nestle or Vermont Nut Free chocolate in their stores. I mean, only one Shoprite out of the 4 in our area carry Sunbutter on their shelves. I think it would take a miracle to get allergy-free candy mainstreamed into the consumer marketplace.

So back to our relocation discussion. I go to bed and dream of living in a country where nut and egg free baked goods are sold in the bakery section of the supermarket. Where you can pick up a candy bar in the checkout aisle and it be free of cross contamination. Where allergy friendly ice cream cakes are available everywhere instead of just the local ice cream shop. I dream of all that happening here since I know we probably will never find the guts or the money to make such a move happen.

Who knows. Maybe Scootch will grow up and make it happen here.

House Arrest

Hubby and I went out twice for the first time in a long time this month. The first time we ran away for 3 hours in the afternoon to catch a movie, and the last time was a wonderful dinner out with friends followed by cards, dessert, and drinks, back at their house. It catches me off guard how insulated we are, though, when we do happen to venture out. People talk of movies they've seen and events they've attended, and the only things I have to contribute are that I just scored a $10 off coupon to the newest Tinkerbell movie for the Monkey, and we went to see a life sized Thomas the Tank.

Between keeping the kids on schedule and the money tightrope we're walking at the moment, I understand its probably going to be a couple more years before we can go back to planning twice monthly get-togethers with friends again, but my other biggest hurdle is myself. Particularly my issues with entrusting my kids with other people.

I wonder if it would be so bad if Scootch didn't have such bad food allergies. This week alone I almost had a nervous breakdown filling out his Allergy Action Form for his new term at school. You think you've prepared yourself for the worst that could happen, but when the symptoms are listed in checkbox form ranging from "if child has ingested a food trigger and experiences no symptoms" to "if child has ingested a food trigger and experiences thready pulse, low blood pressure, fainting, pale, or blueness" and its up to you to tick off the box that tells them what to do in order to save him, believe me, the vision starts to swim and you start wondering if your lunch is going to end up back on your desk for an encore appearance.

And truthfully, I think its hard to gauge the perfect balance needed in a caregiver for a kid with food allergies. You want someone who is great with your children, compassionate, and loving, but ballsy enough to stick your kid in the leg with a 1-inch needle if the need arises, no questions asked. So we've basically stuck with family members when we've needed a sitter. Not that they're all at the same caliber, but for some reason I feel like if they're related, the more vested they are in the interest of Scootch, and the better job they might try to do at keeping him alive for the 5 hours I'm gone. Second to that, they're usually left in the company of adults versus the great high school kids we used to employ. I know there are some mature high school students out there, but I still feel that life experience is a better qualifier in my case (see the point about the one inch needle insertion above).

I try to reason with myself that its rare that Scootch will have a reaction. And I try to repeat to myself that we always surround our children with loving, well-meaning people who aren't afraid to take a little extra care to ensure the safety of our kids. But then hubby turns on an old episode of Freaks and Geeks so we can see vintage John Francis Daly, and it turns out to be the Chokin' and Tokin' episode where Bill is hospitalized after the kids in school stick peanuts in his sandwich as a prank.



So now my new hobby is researching home-schooling......

But seriously, I'm trying to take the time now and re-evaluate myself and my reactions to Scootch's allergies. I don't want to obsess and over-evaluate who to leave our kids with so much that our kids pick up on my nervousness. I don't want Monkey over-burdened with the task of being a food allergy enforcer when there aren't family members present. I don't want Scootch to fear going to the ice cream shop with his little league team after a game, or dread lunchtime at the school cafeteria. Maybe he'll get laughed at for always having hand wipes on him to wipe down his spot at the table and refusing to kiss the girl he likes behind the bleachers without asking her if she ate a Snickers bar in the past 5 hours, but I'm hoping those kinds of quirks will earn him a loyal following, even if it isn't a large one to get him through his childhood years. And I think that's the most important. I want him to have a childhood. A happy one. And that means Mommy and Daddy will need to get away from time to time.

The key to success

My new confidence booster.

Thanks to this and a FANTASTIC eggless pancake recipe I want to stay in the kitchen all day and do nothing but bake, bake, bake. (Might have something to do with my other compulsion to do nothing but eat, eat, eat, but I digress.)

I have successfully made the vanilla cupcakes, and hopefully will be moving onto the Blueberry Boy Bait which I think would be right up Scootch's alley (considering he ate more blueberries than he kept in his bucket when I took them berry picking last month.)

I will try to be better and take pictures of my successes before letting the family at them in the future. ;-)

"My list of ingredients for success is divided into four basic groups: Inward, Outward, Upward and Onward." - David Thomas