The Reality of Being an Allergy Parent

A little over two years ago, Will had a bite of peanut butter toast that would change our parenting with him for what likely will be the rest of his life. In that moment, we became the parents of a food allergy kid and the most common and comforting of foods would become the most dangerous.

You don't know what you don't know. And you don't know what everyone else doesn't know until you suddenly become in the know. And it's amazing how that perspective of knowledge versus lack of knowledge and lack of understanding changes you into someone you never thought you would be.

This fall has brought Will into the world of what I will call the official preschooler. He's in a one-day-per-week cooperative preschool, he goes to a playgroup once a week while I go to my moms' group, and he has speech therapy twice a week where he interacts with other kids as well. He's getting invitations to birthday parties for friends, we go to parks and playdates, we go out to dinner and lunch and he has opinions and wants and desires and an imagination that he can clearly express.

His bright blue eyes and his wide, gapped-tooth grin and giggle melt my heart and his small, giant hugs could comfort the largest beast. The deep expression on his face when he takes his quiet time, snuggling his Monkey close to his face is just so peaceful I could watch him sit like that for hours.

I understand I'm biased... but my son really is an amazing kid.

As his parents, we live in a scary reality where a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich at a playdate or dripped maple walnut ice cream on a park bench can put our son's life at risk. We've been told to continue to give him the one nut that's been safe, and every time he coughs after he's had some I worry his body is rejecting that too. When we're out, everything gets wiped down at a table before we eat just incase someone came before us that had something with an allergen or brought their own food that may contaminate our son's meal.

You don't know what you don't know until you have to know. And then...you wish you didn't have to know.

I turned around 20 minutes into an hour-and-a-half trip to turn around and retrieve a forgotten Epi-pen. I've had to stop a little girl waving a peanut butter sandwich around a train at an amusement park from sitting near our family - to the exasperated reaction from her grandmother and an annoyed but sort of understanding reaction from her mom. I've had to ask another mom not to put her breakfast that included huge, exposed walnuts down in front of him. I've had to research and explain label reading to the other moms in our preschool cooperative. I've spent a good chunk of time texting with another mom to make sure that the birthday party he'll be attending at their house will be safe (and screened the pizza place they'll be ordering from too). I've had to ask a friend to double check the ingredients to the stuffing she'd be serving at her house for dinner when we came just to make sure it wasn't cross-contaminated with anything that might pose a danger. I debated whether or not to leave a change of clothes in the basement to change into after going out to dinner with friends just incase we got suspect nuts on our clothing during the meal.

And that... that's just in the last week.

And our little guy *only* has two allergies. There are people who have far more that have far more dietary concerns and social situations to watch out for. There are kids whose parents MUST carry around a "safe snack" back to birthday parties and outings to amusement parks because their allergies are so extensive that bringing their own foods are the only way they can guarantee their child's safety. We have friends whose son has milk allergies so severe that he's "allergic to the whole cow" - he cannot have beef either - among other food allergies both with him and other family members as well. Another friend has a daughter whose food allergies made her so food averse as a baby that it has taken years for them to get her to try new foods because she trusts none of them.

There's a reality that you have to live in as an allergy parent that is hard for those who don't live it themselves to really grasp. I say this as a person who attempted to empathize and understand what it was like to live with allergy concerns for years... you just don't know what you don't know until you have to know.

You don't know that exposure to an allergen can cause an immediate extreme reaction that Benedryl won't help.

You don't know an immediate extreme reaction needs an Epi-pen hit within seconds.

You don't know that a hit with an Epi-pen requires that 911 be called immediately and that a trip to the hospital in an ambulance is a requirement.

You don't know that even after an Epi-pen hit, an ambulance ride, and treatment in emergency/acute care that your child could still have what's called a biphasic reaction later on... when you least expect it... including in their sleep. You don't know that this reaction could cause the cycle to start all over again.

Until you live with the reality of a potentially anaphylactic reaction causing food allergy, you may intellectually understand the ramifications of exposure to an allergen... but you don't really feel what those ramifications can mean.

If I tell you that my son could die with exposure to peanuts or certain treenuts... I'm not exaggerating.

Yes, I have his Epi-pen. Yes, we know how to use it and we have a crash plan in the event of exposure. And yes - I am fully aware of how annoying I sound when I start asking questions about ingredients in what you're eating or how psychotic I seem when I dive at your kid when they come at mine with a peanut butter chocolate chip granola bar.

I didn't know what I didn't know until I wondered if I was going to be seconds away from an anaphylactic reaction in a house with no Epi-pen, no Benedryl, and no idea how to help my 17-month-old son make his eyes stop watering or the hives go away. I didn't know what I didn't know until I sat in an allergist's office and watched the bumps of a skin-prick test rise up on my baby's back.

I had a new perspective on what hope is when I sat on the phone with the same allergist and went over the results of my son's blood test last spring and asked for translations of the numbers he was reading off to me... and was told that his numbers were "low enough" to indicate that he will very likely be eligible for an in-office food challenge in a few years if they stay this low.

To think that there's a chance that what most of the world considers normal could kill my son... and that maybe, just maybe the world could be normal for him someday too. Hope.

When Will was 9 months old, he had a severe case of croup. It was bad enough that while on the phone at midnight with our pediatrician to find out what to do, she heard his barking cough and told us we shouldn't bring him to the ER ourselves - we needed an ambulance to help us to keep the carseat propped up safely to keep his airways open.

Sitting in the back of the ambulance with my baby boy, watching the headlights of my husband's car behind us, staring at the face of this helpless, sad little one clinging to his taggie blanket with his giant blue eyes... it was the hardest experience I've ever had as a parent so far.

I never want to sit in the back of an ambulance worrying about my child's breathing again.

And now he has gotten to the age that we have to train him how to protect himself too. We have to remind him every time we go anywhere that he can't share snacks with other kids and that he can only have things that safe people tell him that he can eat. He has basic knowledge of how to work an Epi-pen and has helped me show people how to use it.

It is our job to help him understand the seriousness of his allergies.We had to tell our 3-and-a-half-year-old that peanuts and treenuts could make him sick. Really really sick. So sick that he would go to the hospital in an ambulance and he could possibly die. It is a hard thing to try to explain to a toddler on the verge of kidhood, but it's one of the most important things that we need to have him understand.

That's the reality of being an allergy parent.

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For more information on food allerges and how you can be a support to those in your life that have them, please check out FARE's website.

Also, this Halloween consider taking part in the Teal Pumpkin Project and help make the night fun for everyone.

The Question

The questions are endless with a 3-year-old.

"Why did those people hit our mailbox? Can we say sorry to them? Did they hit their own mailbox?"

"Where does God have His penis?"

"Why does my boo-boo go away?"

"Why do we poop?" 

"Do you have a 'calm space', Mommy?"

"When we go to Florida, will Mary Poppins play 'guys' with me?"

I try to come up with simple answers, ones that make sense and are accurate but also that my little 3-year-old inquisitor will understand. 

My favorite question (that he asks that has also become the greatest challenge to give a simple answer to) is this short, beautiful, wonderful question:

"Can God pick me up, Mommy?"

My answer to this has varied every time because there are so many answers to this question. The question that my affectionate, cuddly, sweet little boy wants an answer to because he loves to be picked up and snuggled.

"Can God pick me up, Mommy?"

Oh Sweet Boy...

God always picks you up. 

Today when you were on the porch and that little ant you've been desperately trying to pick up for the last week finally crawled up your arm and even got the gumption to work its way up to your face, tickling you and making you squirm - God was picking you up. He was showing you that He's present in all of His creatures. 

When we were on the porch watching the storm the other day and the wind blew down the hill, picking up the rain and spraying us in the face - God was picking you up. He knew exactly what would make you laugh with glee in the midst of a torrential thunderstorm. 

The times that you flop down on the driveway and look up to the sky, looking at the blue and the clouds and you take a deep breath - God is picking you up. He is warming you with the sun and embracing you with the breeze, filling you with good feelings as you sigh and declare that it's "a nice day". 

If you have a bad dream in the middle of the night and you don't wake up all the way to come into Mommy and Daddy's room - God picks you up. We ask Him every night to protect us from bad dreams and help us to rest easily, and He does. 

When you are sad and crying and life is crazy and Mommy can't physically get to you and your crying sister and your dinner that's cooking on the stove all at the same time and I bounce between all of the things so everyone gets some part of attention - God picks you up. He tells you where your Monkey is and helps you find a place to snuggle with him while He holds you. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if you look at your Monkey long enough, you'll see God's loving face in that embroidered smile. 

There are so many ways that God picks you up, sweet child. 

God has asked Mommy and Daddy to be your parents. He has filled us with love for both you and your sister. When God brought us together and created you, He opened a door in our hearts to be a direct line of communication from Him to You. When we need Him to help us help you - He is there. Every time you are sad, mad, lonely, or just need to know that you are loved your heart draws you to Mommy or Daddy and you ask us, "Can you please pick me up?"

You ask us with your big blue eyes, and your soft quiet voice, and your little hand reaching up to us (usually your other hand has Monkey in it). 

Please know that every time Mommy or Daddy picks you up and squeezes you tightly that God is behind us squeezing tightly too. When we pick you up, God is right there with us picking you up too. 

"Can God pick me up, Mommy?"

I kiss his forehead, say a silent prayer that someday he will understand what I mean by all of the things that I want to say and tell him and instead answer him as simply as I can.

"Sweetie, close your eyes and take a deep breath. Then look at me - Buddy, God ALWAYS picks you up. Every time you ask. I love you sooooo much, and God loves you more than that. God ALWAYS picks you up." 

DIY Epi-Pen Case

Credit for photo of my son Will - RLPhoto (Rachael Lescarbeau)

Ah, the Epi-pen. That little dual-tube of security and terror that folks with anaphlactic allergies (and their parents) carry around with them; an insurance policy in the event of an exposure to a sneaky allergen, ready to protect at the moment of accidental ingestion and subsequent life-harming reactions. 

The Epi-Pen: the Athanas Family security blanket for the last 2 years. It has given us a bit of reassurance at restaurants, on trips, and even just on day trips or cookouts with friends.

And for the last 2 years I have been on the hunt for the "perfect" carry bag. Something that would allow me to have his vital information, basic - but clear and important - symptoms to look for, and clear instructions for how to use the injector in the event of an emergency. Something that wouldn't be just an Epi-Pen at the bottom of a bag with all the regular pens alongside... somewhere... I think?... a printed and folded allergy plan.

Something simple. Something that a childcare worker or Sunday school teacher can just grab, have instructions, have the Epi, and be able to react fast.

I couldn't find one that I liked. I certainly couldn't find one that wouldn't have cost me more money than I thought something like that should cost. And I can't sew. Actually, let me rephrase that: I don't like sewing by hand - I'm not very good at it - and I have no idea how to use a sewing machine. So sewing an epi-bag was out... which meant that I have not had a carry case that I liked.

Until today.

Did you know that it's "Back to School" time? Oh, Target shoppers... guess what?

They have a plastic pencil case right now for a mere $0.69 that fits an Epi-Pen per.fect.ly. 

Like a glove.

I spent some time in MS Publisher creating basic instructions and included a 4-step graphic on how to inject the epinephrine in the event of an emergency (I got that off the internet someplace). 

I spent a little more time creating a front cover that included a picture of Will, his allergens, and who to call after calling 911.

I cut out both and attached them with packing tape (though "contact paper" would be just as good I would imagine). 

I made one for my bag and one for my husband's bag (we keep one in each) to give us a consolidated, grab-and-go tool. It's simple, it took very little time, and you don't need to be crafty to get it done. I feel so much better that this is a shape that can easily be felt in any bag and that his allergy plan/information is right there and visible.

Especially since I am giving you the .pdf file to fill in with your own (or your child's) information.



There.

Now you too can have an insanely inexpensive, easily found and simple Epi-Pen case.

May it never come in handy.

The Wednesday, The Mom Guilt, The Husband, and God

We call the day my daughter was born "The Thursday".

Every so often, I think about the day that will always be stamped in my heart as "The Wednesday". That is the last day that I had with just Will and I before I was blessed with his baby sister.

It was a gorgeous April day, the kind of day that I wasn't wearing any jacket at all and I was comfortable just throwing a little vest on Will to go outside and play. I wasn't feeling too terrible even though I was a week or so away from my scheduled c-section date to welcome Evie into the world. I felt puffy, large, and pregnant - but I still felt fairly mobile.

We went outside that afternoon after his nap and took advantage of the gorgeous weather. Winters in New England are always hard, so when those first few 50-60 degree days start to appear you learn to take advantage of them. Will had asked me in his cute little almost-two-year-old way to go outside when he woke up from his nap that afternoon, so we did.

He climbed on rocks in our garden. He wandered around the driveway and drove his little truck. We walked together up and down the sidewalk as he looked at ants and picked up sticks and examined the grass. We enjoyed the weather, we enjoyed each other.

Will's last day flying solo with Mommy - April 2014.

Then I went to bed. I got up. We did our hectic day. We had Evie by dinner.

The arrival of Evie grew our family in size, in heart, and exploded our capacity for love even further. She's sweet, she's energetic, she's bold, she's hilarious. I don't think that Steve, Will, or I can imagine her NOT being a part of our lives. She's seriously an amazing kid.

Sometimes Steve and I will split duty with the kids, either because he's got a day off from work or he's home for the weekend. Usually either he will sit with both of the kids while I do errands without needing to juggle extra people or we will split the kids up and take them for some one-on-one time with Mommy or Daddy. For their own reasons, both of these arrangements are wonderful and I've come to appreciate them. We have found that the significance of these times is not lost on any one of us, and we love when we all come back together.

I've never really thought twice about our little upgrade from 3 to 4. Having Evie and Will together all day was just a life change that I accepted and welcomed with open arms. I had never pined for the days of only one child, maybe because I grew up in a family with 4 (sometimes 5) children and never thought about the bond my parents had with each of us individually. I never asked my mom about her feelings as we continued to expand, just knew that she loved each one of us together and separately.

Me and the kiddos - May 2015

Last week, Steve got Friday off to "observe" the Fourth of July holiday. We decided to do our split-duty and I took Will to his speech therapy appointment. We chatted on the car ride up, he excitedly gave me the tour of the therapy center's new digs after the session, then he took my hand as we walked up the sidewalk back to my car to leave. He had his little hand in mine as we paused to check for moving cars in the parking lot before proceeding. Our shadows extended in front of us, and as I looked down at them I caught my breath.

I suddenly longed for that last day before Evie was born. Those days when it was just Will and I and there wasn't as much chaos and I could just watch in wonder as he discovered the world. The days when I could just snuggle with him without worrying about his sister trying to shove him off my lap for her turn or he could pick out a book without anyone quibbling about whose book was going to be read first. My heart had a brief moment of ache and want for those days of only having one child.

Then the dreaded Mom Guilt came over me like a tsunami crashing on the shore.

Image via SeizingHopeDotCom

Later as I was emptying the dishwasher, Steve could tell something was bothering me. So I confessed my horridness as a parent to him, defending myself that I don't want to NOT have Evie, I just miss those days of just Will. That I love Evie with all of my Evie love, but sometimes I just wish I could cuddle Will without them pummeling each other and whining about Mommy's lap.

I cried. I told him I felt horrible, and guilty, because Evie is amazing and I felt like I was betraying the love I have for her in a way.

Steve just laughed at me.

Not in that way, guys.

He gently took the dishes from my hand as he laughed and told me to stop feeling guilty. "Dee, just stop it. Seriously. You should not feel guilty right now."

He took me by the shoulders and just spoke the words that I needed to hear, that he needed me to hear, that God needed me to hear.

I don't remember the exact words, but the sentiment was this: I love Evie. I love Will. I love them with all of the heart that God gave me for each of them. God loves us individually and wants a relationship with each of us individually. And just as He loves us and wants a relationship with us individually, so has he designed parenting for us to love our children and have relationships with them individually.

As his words sunk into my heart, Steve continued to encourage me. "Honey, it is totally normal and OK for you to want to spend time with JUST WILL, and it's OK for you to want to spend time with JUST EVIE, and it's OK for me to want the same things. In fact, we probably should do a better job at making sure we spend time with JUST WILL and JUST EVIE individually."

We have an awesome family, and we need to work on our bonds together and apart. We need to love each other as a whole and as our parts.

Image credit to RLPhoto

I have often said that God created us in His image, and the closest thing that we will ever experience to what it's like to be Him as Our Father is to be a parent. To know what it's like to be willing to do anything for your children, to long for them to have the best, to want to protect them yet know that you have to let the go and let them grow. To be willing to lay your life on the line for them.

To want a relationship with them as individuals. To want them to look at you and say "I Love You" and mean it from their hearts, not because they feel an obligation to say so.

What my husband did as he spoke to me that day is remind me of this; he reminded me of this dynamic we have as parents to want to love and encourage and be with our kids individually. In The 5 Love Languages of Children, the authors write "If you have several children, you need to look for times when you can be alone with each one... The key to quality time is found in its values and priorities you as parents determine to cherish and implement in your home."

I should not feel guilty - that was the reminder my husband continued to give me for the remainder of the day. I love my children. I want my children to love God and have a relationship with Him.

They matter to me individually. The best way for me to know how to serve them and raise them and know what is best is to spend time with them one-on-one as well as together. The best way to know how they need me to love them is to spend time with them one-on-one as well as together.

I no longer feel guilty on this one.

I'll save my Mommy Guilt for the next time I lose my patience and temper.

Potty Training By the Seat of My Pants

I gave up on the concept of letting books dictate my parenting style right around the time that Steve read something in a book that told him our kid should be stacking blocks at 9 months old.
OK... now if you're an experienced parent you're probably laughing. If you're a new parent you might be worrying, wondering what I'm going to say next about it. If you're not a parent who knows what you're thinking... so I'll just continue.

I'll wait for the experience parents to finish laughing and telling stories about what things parenting books told them that were ridiculous too before I continue. Are you good now? Okay. I'll go on.

That night I took the book from him, closed it, and told him he was done because NONE of Will's 9-month-old playmates were stacking blocks. And in all honesty I haven't opened up a parenting technique book since despite recommendations on books about sleep methods and separation issues and whatever. I am currently about two chapters into "The Five Love Languages for Children" and have really only read books about how to make sure you don't go off the rails as a parent. I read devotionals and books about how to understand my kids and relate to them, but I don't generally speaking read specific parenting books that include milestones to look for.

Actual screenshot from today of my "Goodreads" app.
I won't tell you how long it took me to get to 17% read.
The other book you can't see from the screenshot? Schindler's List.
I won't tell you how long it took me to get to 50%, or how long it's been collecting dust.

I don't have room in my life for that kind of stress. I just don't.

As such, when I decided that it was time to begin potty training Will - I didn't even ask for recommendations. I just decided it was time. I brought Will to pick out underwear. I bought a small potty. I bought a seat insert for the big potty.

No books, no searching for advice. Just some anecdotal information from other moms who talked about it and a general knowledge of my kid and how he operates.

We are four-and-a-half days into the experience, and so far it's been... interesting. I've mentioned before that I think that moms sharing their experiences can be wonderfully beneficial, so I figured I'd share a few of the things that I've learned and experienced with you.

1. Poop is scary. Over the winter, Will had a "naked phase" during which time I moved the potty into the kitchen. He peed on the floor but pooped in the potty during these 4 hours, so I assumed (foolishly) that pooping would be the easier thing for him to experience. This is not the case. The moment he started to make that scrunched up face indicating that a load was about to be dropped out of his behind, I picked him up and brought him into the potty. Crying, wailing, and near-tooth-gnashing ensued. "NO I DON'T WANNA POOP ON THE POTTY!!!" echoed off the walls and probably was heard by my neighbors. Ten minutes later he pooped. I did the whole positive encouragement thing and reassured him that it was great. I've been bringing him with me in when I poop so he can see that it's really not a big deal - everyone poops. You know... maybe I should just get him that book, come to think of it...

Anyways, he's genuinely scared of pooping in the potty. We've gotta work on that. I refuse to rub his back and hold his hand in his college dorm bathroom. 

Available for purchase on Amazon! 

2. Bribery... I mean... rewards... are awesome. Is it really bribery if I give him chocolate chips after he uses the potty? I read or heard somewhere on some website or blog or something that you shouldn't reward kids for things that they should just do as part of life. Among these things are putting their clothes in the laundry, making their beds, helping with the dishes, and using the bathroom. I don't know about that. It seems to work when you reinforce the behavior and then phase it out as time goes on once it's just rote behavior.  There's something to be said for conditioning practices, and for crying out loud it makes me feel like I'm putting that BA in Psychology to good use. I don't have my son throwing a temper tantrum when he doesn't get his single chocolate chip for peeing right before bedtime, and he's certainly not getting one for peeing in the bathroom at Target. But so far it seems to be working and helping him to pay more attention to what his body is doing so he can make it to the bathroom. This is enough for me to continue to feed my kid a chocolate chip when he pees and 2 if he poops. No accidents all day? Kid, you're getting a mini-Hershey's.

One for one and two for two - get it? I'm so clever...

3. Fun for the whole family! Our almost 15-month old daughter has been getting in on the fun. Every time Will needs to use the potty, she's running in right behind us. If he's on the big potty, she'll plop on the small one and start tearing off tiny pieces of toilet paper to drop between her legs into the pot. I've been told that the second child will often want to train early because the first one is using the toilet, so I have (for the most part) been allowing her to follow us in there. What I have noticed is that she can be distracting for Will sometimes, so I have to meter it and sometimes she doesn't get to come in (see number one above about number twos). This, of course, lends to a meltdown because the potty is just so darned exciting! Either way, she's getting involved in the process and has gotten a few new words out of it (bathroom - bah-ruhm, chocolate - chot-tit, and hands - han). And let's not forget the high-fives from everyone when Will is successful in the bathroom-going endeavors. Most necessary. 

4. Kids say (and do) the darndest things. Today while I was waiting the requisite 3 minutes (arbitrary amount of time I wait for Will to try and pee), I noticed that Will was flexing his pelvic muscles to make his little tiny penis bounce. This... this didn't start at home. This started in the bathroom at Target. So I asked him, "Will, whatcha doing?" to which he said "Making my penis bounce."

Of course.

This bouncing led to him giving himself a tiny person erection (which he didn't question). I drew no attention to any of what he was doing other than asking and let it go. When he was done with his 3 minutes (he didn't go, presumably because he was doing the aforementioned) we pulled his pants back on, washed his hands, and went on our way.

The next time he saw his penis, the tiny person erection had of course passed. This led to him screaming from our bathroom "OH NO!! Mommy! My penis fell down!!!"

It's times like these that I am sad that we can't laugh at more things as parents so as to not discourage our children or make them think they are strange. I assured him he was completely fine. He felt better. And then we went into the "poop is scary" phase (see number one about number twos above... again).

Note: I share this story with you because kids are ridiculous, and if no one warns you then your kid will do something like this and it will freak you out. No one warned me about certain things... so... you're welcome for this story. 

Because these two are ridiculous... never a dull moment.

5. They WILL figure it out. Today after breakfast, I was cleaning up the kitchen when I noticed Will standing perfectly still pinching at the crotch of his pants with a strange look on his face. "Will," I said, "I think you need to pee, Buddy." He scrunched his face up all concerned and said "Yeah I do", so we rushed to the bathroom and missed an accident by the narrowest of margins. After he was done and his hands were washed, I explained to him that if he felt that again where he thought he had to pinch himself that he should let me know. "Will, make sure you say 'Mommy! I need to go to the bathroom right away!' and we'll get you there super duper fast... OK?" Sure enough, within minutes of being home from the store he got a concerned look on his face again and said "Mommy INeedToGoPeeRightAwaaaaaaay!!!". We jumped up, ran to the bathroom, and missed an accident by an even narrower of margins than the narrowest. I've been watching as he's been paying more and more attention, and it's been pretty cool to see him discover what his body does and how to handle it.

The war zone. I even got a stool to reach the sink.

So I didn't read a book on this and I'm totally flying by the seat of my pants to teach my kid how to use the potty, but it seems to be working out OK. It might take me longer than a day or a weekend or a night or even a week like some books will say - and some people have used those methods with great success - but I'm all right with that. To quote so many parents that I've talked to about it - very few children go to kindergarten without being relatively potty trained. 

And also to quote so many parents I've talked to and a mantra we tend to stand by: You have to do what works best for you and your family. Take all the advice, cull it and tailor it for your needs, make your own story.

That's what works best for us. 

That and chocolate chips. 

Our Allergy Story

I had always been vaguely aware of the potential fatal factor of food allergies. Growing up I had a cousin who was allergic to peanuts (he was one of the small percentage that outgrow them) and when we ran the youth group at our church I made it a policy that peanuts would not be allowed in the snack pool. I was trained in how to use an Epi-pen when we got our CPR certification and had a rough idea of what to look for in an anaphalactic reaction. 

When I became pregnant with our son, we prayed that he would not be allergic to any foods.

Will turned one and we began to introduce the various allergens that he hadn't been previously exposed to. For the first few months, he didn't seem to have any reactions; he loved eggs, he loved things with almonds in them, seemed to like fish, and never seemed to have any issues with milk, wheat, or soy. 

Whenever we gave him a peanut product of any kind, however, he turned his nose up at it. He didn't have a reaction that we could see, so we kept exposing him to peanut products in the hopes that we would avoid the allergic reaction. 

Will at 16 months - roughly when he was diagnosed with food allergies. 

Early that September, my teething toddler did not want to eat anything for breakfast. I tried all his favorites - eggs, oatmeal, raisin bran - nothing was capturing his interest. In a last-ditch effort, I made him a piece of toast with a very thin layer of peanut butter and jelly on it. 

He took a bite and then rubbed his eyes and face. Within seconds and before swallowing, he had three hives on the side of his face, a runny nose, and his eyes were getting puffy.

I reacted quickly because I knew what could potentially come next. I swept the toast out of his mouth and took the rest of it out of his hands and off the high chair. I wiped his eyes, his tongue, his face, and his hands three times. It was a Saturday, so I placed a call to the pediatrician's paging service and woke up my husband while I waited for the call-back as to what we should do. 

When we got the call, we were advised to give him a half-teaspoon of Benedryl and monitor him closely to make sure there would continue to be no issues breathing. Of course we had no Benedryl in the house because at less than 18 months, I didn't think Will was old enough or big enough to be able to take any yet. I drove as fast as I could to the pharmacy while Steve sat with Will and the phone on stand-by to call 911 if he needed to.

By the time I got back with the Benedryl, the reaction had mostly passed and was limited to just a runny nose. I gave him the dosage and waited with my husband to watch and make sure that our son, our small baby boy, was all right. 

That Monday we brought him in to see our pediatrician who advised that we should wait a couple of weeks and then introduce to peanut butter again in a small amount to see if there was a reaction. At that point, he said, we would pursue an allergist. This was an answer that didn't seem right to us, so we made an appointment with an allergist that came highly recommended to us while we waited and continued to avoid peanut products. 

A prick test showed that our little Will is allergic to peanuts and walnuts. We went home with a prescription for an Epi-pen Junior and an allergy action plan. 

Panera with peanut & treenut allergies? Tough one with a little one...

I'm a lover of peanut butter and walnuts. 

I was sad as I threw away jars of peanut butter and bags of walnuts. I silently mourned at the ice cream stand when I couldn't order maple walnut ice cream and got jealous the first time my husband came home and stripped in the basement to wash his clothes because he'd had a peanut butter cookie at work. I stomped my feet internally when we realized we couldn't go to our favorite sandwich shop anymore because they had maple walnut scones in the wide open on their sample table. That first Christmas when the Reeses peanut butter trees came out and I couldn't have my annual indulgence because Will was always with me. 

Then one day, my heart changed. Because really, when you realize that these seemingly harmless foods could mean potential death to your child - it has to.

I realized that I could become an advocate for my son and for others with potentially fatal food allergies. I could use my influence with our family and friends to raise awareness of what it's like to manage food allergies and how they could help keep my son and others like him safe. 

15 million Americans manage and live with food allergies. I say "manage and live with" and not "suffer" because anyone who knows Will knows he is far from a suffering child. In fact, everyone I've ever met with a food allergy is not exactly someone that I would say is "suffering". They live happy lives, they play, they laugh, they enjoy lots and lots of different and delicious foods. 

It is a scary reality that food allergic people and their caretakers live with, however, that a bite of the wrong food could close their throat, constrict their breathing, and send them to the emergency room in an ambulance - something that happens every 6 minutes in the US. It makes beach outings, dinners out, birthday parties, playgrounds - all things that are normal - a nerve-wracking experience sometimes. 

Growing up and learning how to manage his allergy.
He always reminds me "Mom, no peanuts or treenuts!" when we go out to eat.

I have become the mom that asks the other moms to make sure their kids don't have peanut butter sandwiches at playdates.

I have become the mom that carries an Epi-pen everywhere - even when I have the non-allergic child - just incase. 

I have become the mom that dives at other people's kids at playgrounds when they eat a granola bar and come near my son. 

I have become the mom that prays for treatment that can desensitize people from food allergies. 

I have become the mom that writes blogs to help raise awareness of what it's like to live with food allergies and how others can be a support and a help.

And there are, by the way, simple things that you can do to help those with food allergies.

Does your kid have a peanut butter for snack or lunch at the playground? Make sure they sit still while they eat it. Wipe their hands and face thoroughly before releasing them to play again, and wipe down the table where they were sitting. 

Does your kid go to school or daycare? Help them understand the importance of hand washing. Help them to understand the importance of staying in one spot while they have their lunch to make sure that allergens don't spread. Make sure the teachers are creating an environment that's safe for everyone - even if your child doesn't have food allergies themselves. 

Help to raise awareness by sharing blog posts like this one or other posts about food allergies. Talk to moms of kids with food allergies to learn what it's like and how you can help. 

Learn how to use an Epi-pen incase a friend's child has a reaction while they have stepped away to the bathroom or to care for another child.

Protect your own allergic children by working to educate them, make sure you bring safe foods with you everywhere you go, and become their strongest advocate.

They say it takes a village to raise a child, and I say it takes a village to protect them as well. Learn what you can about food allergies and become a part of the village.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Other posts I've written about food allergies include...

Will's First Made Up Super-Hero - A story about when Will protected me from peanuts & treenuts

Cookie Recipe - A recipe for "I Can't Believe It's Not Peanut Butter" cookies; they use sunbutter and are delicious!

Food Allergies & Walt Disney World - Our experience at Walt Disney World resort dealing with food allergies. A MUST READ if you or someone you know with allergies are heading to Disney!

Allergy Party Guide for the Non-Allergy Crowd - How you can work to put together a party that will keep those with allergies safe. Includes helpful tips for buffet setting and how to keep little ones safe from potential allergens.

I Can't Wait... But I'll Surely Miss...

It was one of those nights last night that left all four members of my family at a lower-level of cope this morning.

The baby woke up at 2:00 AM for a diaper change and looking for a nursing. Then again at 5:00 AM, ready for the day.

The toddler woke up at 2:00 AM-ish, presumably due to a bad dream. He did not go back to sleep until after 4:00 AM.

This meant that Mom & Dad also slept terribly after staying awake until after 11:00 PM just enjoying each other's company. 

Of course the first thing I thought this morning as I made breakfast in a sleepy haze was that I couldn't wait until they were old enough to get through a bad dream by themselves, get themselves to the bathroom and back to sleep, find their own glass of water, and let Mommy sleep. 

Sweet, luscious, delicious, wonderful sleep. I haven't seen a full 8-hours since I got pregnant with our son almost 4 years ago. 

Then it hit me that for every "I can't wait until..." 

there's a "...but I'll surely miss" right behind it. 

I can't wait until Evie has finished nursing... but I'll surely miss those daily moments of bonding with my sweet baby girl. 

I can't wait until Will can sooth himself back to sleep after a scary dream... but I'll surely miss his small, timid voice calling for his Mom and Dad in the middle of the night, looking for comfort. 

I look forward to the day that I can get a full night of solid sleep again... but I'll surely miss those quiet moments of cuddling with my kids while they're still so small. 

I am excited to see them start school so I can have more productive days... but I'll surely miss tickle mornings, silly dancing, and little hands "helping" me with dishes. 

I can't wait to only have to cook one dish for a meal... but I'll surely miss the toddler-speak uttering the words "I don't die dis, peas I have some maca-oh-nee?". 

I can't wait to be able to leave my kids in child care without a meltdown long enough to get in a workout at a gym/sit through a church service... but I'll surely miss the big hugs I get from those little arms when I appear to "rescue" them, reminding me that they need me. 

I can't wait for Evie to walk as her primary mode of transport... but I'll surely miss watching her smile that wide smile as she power-crawls around the room, wiggling her little diaper bum. 

I can't wait for my kids to start to get into reading chapter books so I can share with them some of my all-time favorites... but I'll surely miss their little bodies cuddled on my nap as I read them some of their current ones. 

I will breathe a small sigh of relief when my primary soundtrack isn't loaded with kids' music... but I will miss the excitement my kids get when "We Are the Dinosaurs" or "The Elmo Slide" come on the play list.

It will be so nice to be able to have my kids get themselves in or out of a car and into a store... but I'll miss the containment that having carseats and my double stroller currently provide. 

I will be so glad when I don't have to say "No, don't do that" all the time... but I'll miss the giggles that they have when they dump the box of cereal all over the floor and start playing in the mess together. 

I'm excited as my kids learn more and more words and I'm able to better communicate with them... but I miss Will's adorable pointing, and I know I'll miss Evie's expressions and one-baby-word sentences. 

I can't wait to hear my kids say their nightly prayers without thanking God for a cartoon character... but I'll definitely miss their quiet little voices also thanking Him for Mom, Dad, and each other. 

Someday the robins will fly into the yard and Will won't give them a second glance.

Someday climbing up on the "lego box" to look out the window won't be such an accomplishment that Evie grins and gets excited every time she does it. 

Someday I'll long for the days where they took afternoon naps. 

Someday they're going to take their bikes out of the driveway and go to the corner store for pizza and soda on their own. 

Someday they're going to go to a play-date without me staying there with them.

Someday they're going to drive themselves to school, to work, to their friends' house. 

Someday they're going to grow up and I'll miss so much about now. I know this. I'm already living through it with each passing month.

But as much as there is a list of things that I'll miss, 

I cannot deny that there is so much that I'm also so excited for 

what's coming up for these kids as they grow.

You know what?

I won't miss poop in the tub though. 

When the Arrival is Different

It seems that there's a month, a day, or a week for everything these days. National Siblings Day, National Hot Dog Day, Talk Like a Pirate Day, Wear Green Underwear Day... well, that last one I made up.

Maybe it exists though.

A friend of mine recently posted on Facebook that April is National C-Section Awareness month, and while I'm not usually one to really line up in solidarity or support or whatever of these sort of things - this one is very near and dear to my heart. 

Both of my children were born via c-section.

Me pregnant with Will, 3 years ago yesterday, just about 38-39 weeks.

Even though I've said that out loud dozens of times, somehow typing it in the context of this post just made me pause and choke up a little bit. 

When we were pregnant with my son (and yes, I said "we" - my husband suffered through the pregnancy and don't kid yourself ladies, your spouse suffered too), I remember distinctly having this feeling on my heart that it was going to end in a c-section. God knows the whole story, the whole picture, and even though I sat through birthing classes and took notes and practiced breathing and did all my kegels... He was emotionally preparing me for what the end was really going to look like. 

At my 39 week appointment, I found out that the swelling I had been experiencing was due to a sudden spike in my blood pressure. I didn't have pre-eclampsia, but it was still alarming; I had put on 25-30 pounds in 3ish weeks, all water weight. After two non-stress tests and an overnight urine collection (that was fun), we were induced on our due date. 

I wasn't even a little dilated. The word my OB used was "pristine" to describe my cervix. 

24 hours passed and I still hadn't started contracting. I was barely dilated. The pitocin drip was started. After several more hours my water still hadn't broken; it wasn't until my OB threatened to force the issue that my water broke on its own around hour 36. An hour later I had my epidural. By hour 48 I was still only 4-5 cm dilated and it had been about 8 hours since Will's heart rate was recovering post-contraction they way that it should have been. 

50.5 hours later, Will received his official eviction notice. 

I was wheeled into the OR and I was scared. I had never had a major surgery before and even though God had been preparing my heart for this since the first time I had heard my son's heartbeat - I was still scared. I'm not sure if it was the chill of the OR, the anesthesia/morphine mix, or my nerves that had me shaking so badly on the table... probably all three. 

My husband just kept whispering Joshua 1:9 in my ear while squeezing my hand, a quiet and calming reminder from my teammate: "Be strong and courageous, God is with you... be strong and courageous, God is with you..." 

At 11:08 AM that day, Will was born.

In the recovery room with my little man Will.

I didn't get to push. He wasn't placed on my chest for immediate skin to skin and he didn't get his first milk against my bosom until about an hour later in our recovery room. 

I wasn't the first non-medical person to hold him. The first glance I got of my son was two nurses holding him towards me while they rushed him to get cleaned and warm and washed up. And while I am SO glad that Steve got the opportunity to be in the room while he was getting prepped and washed and got to help the nurses and give them his name...

...for about two years, there was a part of me that always mourned my textbook, perfect birthing momma moment that never happened. 

In my story and in every story I've heard of a first c-section, no one ever says that they wanted it to be that way. Even though God prepared my heart and I knew in my gut that it would be my story, a part of me was really looking forward to pushing, to having that moment of messy baby on my chest right out of the birthing canal. To have Steve cuddle into us and put his arm around me and our son and to have that be our story.

Instead my story was a cuddle on my net-covered head while I awkwardly held my son on the OR table for a brief moment until I was ready to be moved. 

A new baby and my first major surgery all in one day.

I couldn't stand up and change those first meconium diapers of grossness that they tell you about. Steve got the pleasure of changing those. It was almost 2 days before I was able to stand up over Will's crib and 3 days before I had the confidence to pick him up out of it myself without dropping him. Walking to the bathroom and showering were pains worse than the contractions before I got my epidural. 

Daddy and his firstborn son snuggled up in the hospital.

Two years of mourning what wasn't. My friends were having their babies and coming home and while they were sore, they weren't under the same doctors orders I was of no lifting and not being able to drive. They didn't come home with scripts for narcotic pain killers. They didn't have scars across their abdomens, a reminder of those moments I had yearned for and missed out on. 

It didn't matter that God had prepared my heart. I wanted normal. I forgot for a minute that my son was a miracle that wasn't supposed to happen, and mourned the loss of my textbook delivery that I knew wasn't to be.

When I was pregnant with Evie, even though our doctor said I could be a good candidate for a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-Section), we decided that the blood pressure and induction process were too great a risk and that we would opt for the c-section again. 

I'm glad we did. My blood pressure spiked again, this time a week earlier at just about 38 weeks and with proteins indicative of early pre-eclampsia. One week and one day before our scheduled surgery date, we found ourselves scrambling to get a place for Will and mentally prepare ourselves for the arrival of our daughter a bit sooner than we thought. There as no deliberating about whether or not we should induce; because I had already chosen surgery - surgery was the answer.

It was as my doctor and I made the decision for Evie to come early that I finally found the peace from the guilt and sadness I had been carrying with me from Will's delivery. In that OR as Evie was delivered, I wasn't scared anymore and I wasn't upset as I heard her cries, watched her get cleaned and wrapped, and that first awkward hold with those bright eyes was my beautiful moment instead of a guilt-filled one.

Welcoming baby Evangeline to the world... chubby cheeks and all!

This was to be my story. God had prepared my heart for it, and it's OK that this is my story. 

My children were born healthy. I survived the deliveries. I am not convinced that would have been the story of my first pregnancy if it had played out "naturally". 

My friend that wrote her post acknowledging C-Section Awareness month and sharing her story noted that c-section mommas are - among other things she said - brave. 

Brave. 

I never really thought of it that way. But I guess it's true. Brave people look at a situation that could be full of fear and they conquer it. 

When I think back to that first surgery with Will, lying in the OR... I can tell you that the last thing I felt in those moments was bravery and courage. I didn't feel strong. I felt exhausted, I felt scared.

My husband was the brave one that day. He found himself in an OR with his wife on the table praying that his unborn son would be okay and healthy after 8-10 hours of his heart rate not recovering properly. He had to hold himself together while I had my eyes closed just praying that God let my son be OK and trying not to lose my mind. 

He was the brave one. 

I had no courage. I had to have God give it to me. And He did. But it wasn't mine, it was His courage and bravery I had that first delivery. 

With Evie, I was much more confident. I was much more "Let's conquer this thing, bad blood pressure will not win!" and determined. I wasn't scared that day. That day I could argue I was brave. 

"Be strong and courageous, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go."

Will meeting his baby sister for the first time. 

It's the 27th of the month and it's taken me this long to be able to write this post. There are so many emotions that come up when I think through the births of my children, as is the case with so many moms out there. Everything I've read about the reasons for this month existing is to bring awareness to the rising rates and how we can avoid them and head towards a target c-section rate... and I think that looking at it in such a sterile way bypasses the hearts of the women who have had c-sections and are thankful for the surgery.

I am grateful for the doctors and their expertise and judgment. While they never said that we were in a life-threatening situation, I know it wasn't an ideal one and I know other moms who most certainly WERE in life-threatening situations that they - and their babies - would not have made it without having emergency c-sections.

I would say that I am sufficiently aware, and I hope that most other people are too. I am glad there is a time to highlight this though, and I hope that others feel the freedom that I now feel almost 3 years after the birth of my son.

My scar is no longer something that I look at with sadness or guilt. When I see my scar now, I see the pathway my beautiful children took to get into this world. I see the wisdom and skill of doctors who think of the best interest of women and babies day in and day out.

I see the bravery of my husband, I see the growth of bravery in myself.

I see our family.

I see love.

I see God.

Our little family - January 2015

Will's First Made-up Super Hero

I am amazed daily at the mind of my (just about) 3-year-old son.

I should note here that Will is a little guy. He's only in the 3rd percentile for his height & weight - which isn't that surprising if you know his parents. The kid's just not destined to be an NBA all-star, let's be serious.  

But it's OK that his stature is on the smaller side, because the size of his heart makes up for it. We have had friends comment on how incredibly empathetic he is for his age. As he's gotten older and gotten more language this has become more and more adorable (if he hears a bang from another room, he'll run in and get close to you to ask "Are you OK? You need something? You need a bandaid?" and give you a hug). The other day I took made Evie give him back his smoothie cup that she attempted to usurp, and when she started crying about it he put his arm around her until she calmed down. He snuggles with her in the Costco carts, he hugs Mom & Dad big giant hugs every day, and tries to help when he can.

Will comforting his baby sister... he's so sweet.

And his imagination... oh boy...

That, my friends, is growing every day. And let me tell you - the kid imagines big.

His favorite thing to pretend to be right now is a dinosaur. My little Will hunches over, puts up his dinosaur claws, and in his biggest voice will ROAR! He will stomp around, declare himself a T-Rex, and be the cutest little big dinosaur he can be. There are, of course, times that I need to remind him that it's time for him to be a Library-o-saurus with an "Indoor Roar" rather than a boisterous T-Rex. But it's adorable.

Then there are the times he declares that he is a Football player like Tom Brady. He's going to run to the Super Bowl, be on TV, and then - guess what? Tom Brady is going to wear HIS shirt!! I don't ever tell him that the odds of him breaking 5'6" and becoming an all-time-greatest QB are slim to none. Instead I let him throw on his play football helmet and throw his little football around the house. I flop on the floor and let him tackle me, I help him practice his catching and watch as he figures out how to throw in straight lines.

Every day is a new super hero day here. Some days he's Superman; one day he was Superman and he flew around the kitchen with his cape several times before grabbing my leg to "save me". "I'm saving you! I'm Superman, and I save you! YOU ARE SUPERMOM!".

Okay, I especially liked that one for selfish reasons.

Yesterday, he read me a story about Batman and on the last page said "And Batman flies - LIKE ME!"

I decided that Batman certainly should fly with the power of a 3-year-old's imagination.

Yesterday, however, I met a super hero that a lot of moms probably don't ever meet.

Yesterday I met "Super Peanut Treenut Man" who saved me from the bad guys Peanuts and Treenuts. No, just Peanuts and Walnuts.

I was picking up some potholders and towels that the kids had strewn about the kitchen while I was making breakfast and getting ready to go to my moms' group when Will came barreling around the corner with a little wooden tree from his train set. "MOM!" he cried, "I SAVING YOU! I'M SUPER PEANUTTREENUT MAN!" and he jabbed me in the chest with his wooden tree.

"You're saving me, Buddy?"

"Yes! This is my epi-pen and I'm saving you from bad guys! NO PEANUTS OR TREENUTS! I AM SAVING YOU!!!"

This went on for a few minutes and as he ran away to go save more innocent victims with his tree-epi, I experienced this bizarre dichotomy of emotions. On the one hand, Will is now coming up with his own superheroes and not just emulating the ones that already exist. This is awesome in terms of imagination development, and it's pretty darned cool to see it happen. It makes me feel even more blessed that I get to stay home and watch these guys grow full time. I was excited to see this imagination milestone occur.

On the other hand... my son's world is one in which peanuts and walnuts are "bad guys" that can really hurt him. He doesn't understand that they don't hurt everyone; in fact, when I was getting him out of the car the other day, he reminded me that I can't eat peanuts and treenuts because I can get sick. Every time he throws up, he blames it on peanuts and treenuts because he doesn't understand that "sick" in that instance means "can't breathe, get ambulance ride, go to hospital" and not just throwing up a little. And because this is the world he lives in, when this was the first super hero he came up with on his own... my heart broke a little bit.

I can remember praying with my husband over the health of Will when he was a baby, and praying specifically about food allergies.

Sometimes God says "No" to our prayers, and I know He has His reasons why. God has plans for Will, plans with hope and for good and not disaster. I know this because scripture tell us so in Jeremiah 29:11, and it's a scripture I have always held dear to my heart. I believe in its promise, and I trust in the God that made it.

So while my heart breaks that this is the world that Will lives in, I take comfort in knowing that God has plans for our little guy. I know they are big plans, big plans with his big heart and his big creative imagination.

Who knows... maybe "Super Peanut-Treenut Man" becomes a real, tangible thing someday with Will as the starring role.

Wouldn't that be something?

First Year Mommy Lessons

It's amazing how quickly a year will fly by when you're not paying a truckload of attention. A little over a year ago, I had started to need to take sick time leading up to Will's birth due to various end-of-pregnancy ailments - not the least of which was a good case of double carpal tunnel and a sudden spike in blood pressure before my due date (5/4/12). A year ago tomorrow I spent the better part of 24 hours collecting my urine in a jug (weird things people need to keep in their fridge sometimes...) so that the lab could determine if the high blood pressure was affecting various things. Not that the collection mattered since they induced on my due date anyways and our awesome son Will was born 2 days later.

Sure I'm biased... but ain't he cute?

May 6, 2012? Best. Day. Ever.

At any rate, my first year as a mom has been quite the emotional learning experience. I was reflecting on some of these things this morning while Will was napping and I thought I would share them with you here. These are in no particular order and certainly not the only things I've learned... just some I thought worth sharing.

You'll Find Creative Ways to Say "No"

As Will started to become more mobile and get into more and more things, I found myself saying the words "No, Will, please" more... and more... and more often. Right around the time this was starting to become my default statement it seemed like, I read something that while you're trying to help your child shape his world that you should come up with various new ways to redirect them to other things. So sure, I still say "No", but I've also found ways to get my point across in other ways. Words like "Please don't grab at your penis" (during diaper changes) and "Down, baby, poop is yucky" (when he's pulling up on the diaper pail) and "Move! Hot! Ouchies!" (obvious here) in firm tones have started to enter into my daily routine as well. I'm also starting to get great at saying "yes" instead of "no"; when Will's heading for something that's a "no", I'll find a "yes" then pick him up, move him over to it, and start getting excited about how great it is. ("Down, baby, poop is yucky... but look! It's a pan lid! It makes NOISE! AWESOME!")

Moving on...

Shopping Takes Longer

Going to the grocery store, for me, used to be a stress reliever. Seriously. I LOVE going to the grocery store. With Will, I still love going out to the stores to get errands done but I have found that it does take longer - and he's not even walking yet. I get stopped by old ladies and store clerks who want to goo-goo over my kid (I'm past the "don't touch him" phase, but I still wash his hands... still weird... I don't touch them randomly...). Random people who have kids and grandkids will ask what milestone he's at and then convey some story about their now adult children and when they did things. Sometimes a diaper change will need to take place in order to keep the Peanut happy. The reasons vary, but the truth of the matter is that I need to plan to add at least a 15-20 minute buffer any time I go out shopping now. I don't mind it, I still enjoy shopping, but it's just different now.

Dinner is an Olympic Sport

I love cooking. I love to get in the kitchen, take my time, create a meal with the ingredients in my fridge & pantry, and present the end results for consumption. These days, however, dinner needs to be planned out, paced out, and rarely has the time or space for creativity. I have a 60-90 minute window from the time that Steve gets home and we start Will's bedtime routine to get dinner on the table, feed Will (which can sometimes be an event in and of itself), get dinner off the table, and clean the kitchen. Oh, and sometimes I even get to hang out with the boys for a few minutes. I am blessed in that I have a husband who has recognized that dinner time has now become an Olympic event and has jumped into the process to help it run a bit smoother (he'll often clean up most of the kitchen while I finish feeding Will), but man oh man... Monday-Friday dinner is C-R-A-Z-Y most days.

That Kids' Song? You Have a Favorite Version...

I never realized that there was more than one version of some of the old kids' songs I sang in elementary school. Songs like "The Wheels on the Bus", "Down By the Bay", and even "The Alphabet Song". I have a Pandora account, and when I found out I was pregnant I set up a kids' station and started to shape it with various songs like the ones I just mentioned. Working full-time, I didn't pay a truckload of attention to it because really... when you're selling airplane parts it doesn't matter that when Mother Duck quacked that no little ducks came waddling back. However, now that I'm home I pay a lot more attention to the songs that come on while I sing along to them with - or I guess for at this point - Will. So yes, I am here to say that I have a favorite version of most kids' songs right now. I especially have a favorite version of "Five Little Monkeys" called "No More Monkeys" by Asheba. It's great. Seriously.

Now you can have it in your head for days! I love this version. Seriously. 

Being a Parent is Seriously Like Nothing Else Ever

If you're pregnant with your first child and you're reading this, you need to know that everyone who finds out you're pregnant is going to tell you that it is the best thing that will ever happen to you. They'll stress "No, seriously, it's awesome" like you don't believe them. I can assure you that it's not that they think that you don't believe them. The reason, I've discovered, for this additional emphasis on the awesomeness of being a parent is because it's virtually impossible to put into words how awesome it really is. Sure, there are days that can be incredibly frustrating and moments when you just want to crawl and hide. What I've learned, however, is that watching as this person - who did NOT EXIST before and that YOU NURTURED INSIDE YOUR BODY - grows and becomes more and more independent, more and more autonomous, and more and more a person unto themselves is the most rewarding, unspeakably amazing experience I've ever had. Being Will's Mommy has single-handedly clouded over most other experiences I've had. Being a parent alongside Steve while we raise this little person into - eventually, and faster than I'd prefer - into a little man is the single biggest blessing we've ever received.

There really is nothing else like it in the world.

I am wrapping this up as I hear his babbles come over the monitor as he wakes up from his second nap on the day. I'm going to go get him and spend some time with him like I do every afternoon when he wakes up. These are moments to cherish... I don't want to miss any.