An Allergic Mom and the Hungry Boy

The other night I took my kids out to the local library for an evening of music.  Little Miss had a blast dancing and doing actions while her older brother sat back and waited for everything to end.  SO not his thing.

There were complimentary drinks and desserts for everyone, and I had to remind my kids about the rules of foreign sweets.  They both asked at separate times if they could try one of the delicious goodies on the counter and each conversation was quite different:

Little Miss:

"Mom, can I have one of those things there on the counter?"
"No, hon, there might be peanuts in it.  But you could have a juice box."
She jumps up. "Get one for your brother, too." I say as she runs excitedly to the counter.  I can hear her explain everything to the librarian just in case she does not understand about juice, sharing, or brothers.
She runs back, "It costs no cents, Mom, no cents!!"
She is extremely excited about everything, and the treats are forgotten.

Little Monster:

"Mom, can I have one of those cookies over there?" Sipping his juice box.
"No, hon, there might be peanuts in it." He slumps in his chair and says, "Humph."
"I'll go over and check just to make sure," I say.  I want him to start having a good time, and he didn't have much supper.
Sure enough, three platters are arranged beautifully with mixed cookies, tarts and other home-baked goodness.  Definitely a nightmare for me and my allergy.
"Sorry, bud.  It's a no go."
He pouts some more, complains how hungry he is, and his eyes water.
Suddenly, Little Miss arrives with a tennis ball that she won for her extreme dance moves, and he is distracted.  Phew!

But as I sit there beside him, I think, what would be the harm in him having something?  What are the chances that I would react?  If something is a peanut-butter cookie, or contains M&Ms, then it is definitely not an option.  But what if there was nothing there with allergens?  I could go through all of the pre-bought packages and choose something from there.  Even if it said "may contain," I probably wouldn't react if he ate it.  But at the age of seven, can he distinguish one from the other?

At some point, he is going to lash out at me, rebel, and eat something I can't.  My sister did the same thing, only to be shamed by my mother.  So when and where do I let him go?  Little Miss has NEVER had peanuts.  She's had her allergies tested, but she has never had an opportunity away from me.

The "boys" have a weekend away every fall and gorge themselves on peanut butter, Reece's peanut butter cups, and the like.  They eat it Friday night, wash up, clean everything short of burning their clothes, and return home two days later.  Little Miss doesn't get that.  It broke my heart the day they came home and she asked her brother what peanut butter tasted like.

Near the end of the evening, my son again complained of hunger and eyed the goodies being packed away.  Our friendly librarian suddenly remembered our predicament and found a box of Dare cookies that had not been put out on the trays.

Little Miss loudly asked, "Are they peanut-free?" My heart burst.

Little Monster shyly took some cookies, looked at me with those big, thankful, bright eyes and ran after his sister onto the dance floor.  I smiled as she began her extreme dance moves again, and he happily hopped on one foot, leading the younger boys in a new, cool dance move.

There won't always be a friendly librarian, and he won't always be distracted by a tennis ball, but for now I could let my worries rest until another day.

Super Sonic Hearing

About a year ago I asked a few moms, "If you could have one super power, what would it be?" Disappointingly, they couldn't answer. What? No ideas? I knew what I'd want. Super Speed. Get everything done fast, fast, fast. And drag my kids along with me. Get dressed! Clean your rooms! Pick up that stuff! Fast, fast, fast!

 Okay, so maybe I wouldn't be such a great mom with my super speed, but think of all the things I'd get done!

Unfortunately,  I have instead received the power of super irritability. Words like "seething" or "grating" or "grinding" sum up the feeling in my head most mornings. My son's homework this week was to find words that start with "cr".  Cranky, crusty, crappy and cracked all came to mind. And then I said "butt crack" and we both burst out laughing and he spit out his spaghetti.

 My mother thinks it might be a reaction to my medication. "Maybe it's causing my clothes to shrink, too!" I said to Mr. Man. He looked at me, and then turned back to his laptop. No comment. 

I realized this week that one of the triggers of my new super irritability is super sonic hearing. I hear everything.  I hear every cupboard door opening, every crumb dropped on the floor, and I hear every time the dog wags his tail, licks his paws, or makes the tick-tick-tick of his nails on the linoleum.  And I can hear the sounds of my children at night.  When they were infants, or if they are sick, then I would be relieved to have heard their cries.  But not when it's the sound of the song Staying Alive with the wrong lyrics.

Most of my girlfriends know my seven-year-old son sings himself to sleep.  There have been several women's nights at our house when we pause, look at the ceiling, and listen to his rendition of some rock song made over by Veggie Tales.  Unfortunately, this continues again in the early morning when he wakes up, but wants to go back to sleep.  At 5:30 in the morning.

So with my super sonic hearing triggering my super irritability, perhaps you can imagine how my morning could start.

But instead, Mr. Man bought me a humidifier.  The soft purring of that humidifier, while softening my palate and moistening the air of our room, blocks out the sound of a certain someone singing at five thirty in the morning, thereby saving his life from my jumped up super nerves, [er, powers].  AND I DON'T EVEN HEAR THE DOG!

So tonight as I tuck my sing-songy boy into bed and skip down the steps to my couch, the dog runs for it to his basement crate, and the cat sails away through her cat door.  It is quiet time for mommy.  I hear the soundtrack of the Scooby-Doo movie being sung from upstairs, but I curl up on the couch, reach for my book, and sigh.  With a quick twist of a button, all I can hear are the turning of novel pages, the sipping of tea and the gentle whirring of my humidifier.

NOW DON'T ANYBODY CALL!

How I Injected Myself With An Epi-Pen

I was just forwarded this link, and thought I'd pass it on.  You can see how I replied in the comments section.  This mom, although in a silly predicament, has the ability to tell people what it feels like to give yourself the epi-pen.  I have given it to myself once, in a very scary situation, but she seems to have stayed calm, without the added fear of death attached to the drug surging through her veins.

In my unprofessional opinion, this blog post gets two-thumbs up, three stars and a half-dose of epinephrine :)

Mrs. Google

My Mom is Mrs. Google. At least that's what her friends call her. A wealth of random facts, she is constantly spouting information on birds, flowers, ailments, treatments, vitamins, housewares, kids, painting, and of course, husbands. She almost always has the answer.

Yet she is careful with her information. She admits when she is incorrect, a possible wikipedia error of sorts. She thinks before she speaks, and may not speak at all if it does not benefit.

On many of our nature walks on her property, she points to berries, vines, birds, or animals tracks, and teaches my kids as much as she can. "That stone wall was made in 1882." "See the red berries left for the birds to eat?" "Look at the moss growing up that tree trunk!" The kids listen intently as she points out everything.

Mr. Man sometimes joins in. "Look!" he says pointing down, "deer poop!"

While the kids gather round excitedly at the sight, Mrs. Google whispers in my ear, politely, "Actually that's coyote poop. You can tell by the hairs in it..."

As much as I smile and love her, it does make me think she would be the perfect "mom" candidate for one of Marion Keyes' novels.  You know the funny character who always lightens the mood after a heavy chapter?  She always makes me laugh.

"...it's also long, whereas a deer's is round. Or at least that's what I've been told. Oh, look! Our little bridge. It's made of oak, you know, so it won't rot."

Love you Mom!

Pizza Hut and the Peanut Allergy

When I was in teacher's college at Queen's U. there were several of us that did our practicum at the same school (my high school, actually).  Although we spent many weeks together I did not really get to know the others that well.  But we still celebrated our teaching accomplishments together, and went out to dinner one night after "work".

Pizza Hut was the only thing available in town (other than MacD's), and we couldn't have afforded much else anyway.  I'd eaten there before, so I did not worry about my peanut allergy and, therefore, did not tell the others about it.

At the pizza bar they always put out dessert pizzas.  I went over by myself to check it out, knowing that I probably wouldn't have any on account of the "traces of peanuts/nuts" that almost all restaurants claim.  Yet everything seemed harmless so I went for it.  There was a young employee beside me, refilling topping containers and I mentioned to him about my allergy.

"I have an allergy to peanuts.  Do you think I can eat any of this?"

"NO!" he exclaimed, "You shouldn't eat ANYTHING!" He then took me by the wrist and shook the chocolate chips out of my hand.  And then took my dessert plate away from me.

I sheepishly walked back empty handed to where my fellow students were sitting, silent, and staring at me.  "Did you KNOW that guy?" one of them asked.

"No." I said.  I was too embarrassed to explain.  They looked at each other and went back to eating.  I wonder if they thought I was in trouble.

Secretly I was pleased that someone knew how serious a food allergy can be, and had the gumption to do something about it. I certainly have more confidence now then I did then in sharing my situation.  If that young man had not been there, perhaps nothing would've happened, but it could've.  And I didn't have a plan.

A few of my allergic clients will order a birthday cake from me, take it to the restaurant, and have the staff bring it out to their child during dessert time.  I know of a mom who would bake a small nut-free cake in the similar colours of the dessert, and would secretly pretend it was part of it.  The allergic child would probably never know the difference.

It is moments like these that we allergy sufferers cherish.  We typically do not have the confidence to speak up for ourselves, or use our epi-pens.  Who wants to wreck the party with a drive to the hospital?  But when we do choose you to hold our secret, please take it seriously.  We love our rescuers - even if it takes a little wrist handling!

A Lamp Post and a Tongue

During a dinner with friends, a show of hands proved that although we were all told NOT to stick our tongues on a lamp post in winter, I was the only one who actually had.

I'd like to think I was testing science, or maybe my mother.

But in remembering the feeling of pulling off part of my tongue in trying to catch the school bus, I knew my mother was right. At least this time.

Honey, I Shrunk My Pyjamas

I hate clothes. One in twenty outfits actually fit my 5' 3/4" curvy frame, and within those are the ones that shrink, fade, unravel or pill. Most of my pants are rolled once or twice (I am either a poor seamstress or very lazy - Okay, both) because they are too long.

And the dog chewed my favourite shoes.

Of course I still wear them - if you look closely, you'll see a large bite mark out of the leather on my right heel.

Who remembers trying to shrink their jeans in hot water? Or pinning the bottoms to look like skinny jeans? Now I want them loose, flared to the extreme, and in some magic material that does not change it's colour or shape.

I rue the day I need elastic band waists (gasp).

So this morning at 11:30am, as I scarfed a DELICIOUS blueberry fritter in the Tim Horton's parking lot, I secretly apologized to my 3:30am self who'd lain awake, frustrated at the pyjama bottoms that had shrunk, yet again, in the wash.

Darn dryer.

Allergic Girl, by Sloane Miller

After spending a blissful, kid-free hour and a half at Chapters bookstore yesterday, I have to tell you about a book I read.

Obviously I wasn't able to read all of Ms. Miller's book, but within the chapters I delved, there was a bravery I have never had. With her severe allergies to nuts and fish, she remains steady in eating out in NYC's restaurants, speaking up for herself and her "requirements", and even allowing friends to eat these allergens in her home.

The closest I ever got to this were my daily breakfasts in first-year University, where my best -friend ate peanut butter on his bagels across from me at the table. I always considered myself foolish in my choice of morning camaraderie over safety, but never regretted it. In Allergic Girl, Adventures in Living Well with Food Allergies, Sloane Miller encourages allergy sufferers to be brave, yet cautious, and to not be afraid of trying out these situations. She promotes the need to have fun, and enjoy your life, with the emphasis on being smart, having a game plan, and speaking up.

I was never in the dating scene long, and living in a small city, expensive restaurants were not an option. Miller talks of several of her dates with great humour, and pride in her ability to handle "the kiss." I was asked about this topic once, and honestly couldn't answer it. I wish I'd had the chapter to pass on. This chapter, in fact, sells the whole book for me.

If Mr. and I ever decide to go back to NYC, Ms. Miller's list of nut-friendly restaurants will be stuck to the inside front cover of my tourist map. No more dingy fast-food places on Fifth Avenue for us!

So, at this point in my post, if I were an actual book critic, had any credentials, and serious followers, I would loudly give Allergic Girl two thumbs up, five stars, and an epi-pen.

My Peanut-Free Blog

So today I thought I'd google "peanut-free blogs". Whoa, it was crazy! Blogs filled with outrage, desperation, and an infinite number of people looking for any possible allergy solutions. Most sites were mom-related, while I was looking for any adult allergy sufferers. The only blog that really got my attention was a guy, The Militant Ginger, looking to stir things up. The amount of comments that were flying! It was fiery! Check it out and be horrified! lol

Among the mom-related blogs, I found a few useful ones that I may look back on. Here are a few:

1. Allergy Moms

2. Peanut Allergy Kid

3. The Nut-Free Mom Blog

4. Peanut Free Mama

Some advertise peanut-free products (mostly from the states), and other sites are great just to read the comments from others.

My entire life I have tried my best to pretend I don't have an allergy, much to the chagrin of my mother, and as of today really never had the desire to look around at helpful information. There are a lot of scared moms and dads out there, let me tell you!

I tend to look back on everything with humour, again much to the chagrin of my mother, so I have a feeling most allergy moms would balk at what I have to say in my allergy posts. Perhaps a warning label is needed? For the not-so-sensitive allergy sufferer? Peanut-Free with Bite?

I guess I'll just say that if any of these moms happen upon my blog, I hope someday, like me and my family, your son/daughter's peanut allergy will no longer consume and overtake your life as it does now. There is rest in your future, or at least a fair amount :)

My List of 2011

It's taken me three days to absorb the idea that we are in a new year. Life has continued in it's busyness, and although we celebrated thoroughly, I woke up this morning, three days late, ready to start afresh, and look at my future with a new plan.

When I was younger I used to keep a diary. I've looked back on them recently and laughed at all the "important" things in my life at the time. Dreamy boys mostly. LOL. Times have changed, certainly, but the one thing I always did on New Year's Eve, and on each birthday, was recount the special things I had gone through leading up to that date.

Many blogs I have been following list the crafts they've done, or the posts with the most "hits". Fun, certainly, but lacking substance in my opinion. Even in my teenage lists, it was friendships, accomplishments in my education, and places I'd travelled that were most memorable. As well as the significant moments in my family's life.

I won't bore you with my list, as I'm sure most people will actually click to the next blog to look at the furniture that's been weathered, or the best handmade cards made in 2011. Just know that on my personal list, you'd see things like my children's accomplishments, family losses, and personal goals achieved.

Of course, perhaps in my next post I will list 'The Best Coffee I Drank' or 'Things the Dog Ate' in 2011. That would definitely bring on the post "hits"!