Why We Painted Our Pumpkin Teal

If memory serves me correctly, we started feeding Mila finger foods at ten months old. As recommended by our pediatrician, we were slow to introduce each food and would wait 2 to 3 days before trying something new.

Tyson had a slight egg allergy when he was younger, so, we were cognizant of the need to monitor for food allergies. We watched for the standard signs-diarrhea, rash or vomiting and saw no immediate reactions as we continued to introduce food after food after food.

Around her first birthday, Mila had her first eczema flare up. Tyson had eczema when he was younger, but his would quickly go away with an oatmeal bath and repeated applications of Eucerin. Mila's, however, didn't go away as easily.

At her one year check up, Mila's doctor prescribed a steroid cream which provided some relief. The eczema cleared, but flared up again a week later. A return trip to the doctor resulted in yet another steroid cream which, again, provided only short term relief. Rinse and repeat for the next six months.

At it's best Mila's eczema would be gone for three to four weeks at a time.

At it's worst, it progressed to impetigo and resulted in a painful and feverish little babe.

For a little over a year of Mila's life, we watched helplessly as our baby screamed when bath water hit her face, cringed when friends would ask what was wrong with her and struggled to find the answers to help her.

She had no other symptoms. We never noticed swelling inside her mouth, she never had diarrhea and never vomited.

We invested way more than I care to admit in lotions and potions and creams and bath salts. We visited her pediatrician 8 times between her first birthday and her second. We cut out gluten and then milk and then soy, but still no relief. We even (shudder) tried bathing her in a doctor recommended bleach bath.

During this time, we did visit an allergist. Through a blood test, we had her tested for dairy, soy, wheat, peanut, eggs and pet dander. Her results showed a "slight"peanut allergy, however, her allergist indicated that based on his opinion the allergy was so minimal that it wouldn't be necessary for us to eliminate them from her diet.

So, following the advice of our allergist, we allowed her to continue to eat peanuts and peanut butter.

And the eczema continued to flare on and off until last Christmas.

On Christmas Day, during a family celebration, Mila ate a homemade Chex Mix with almonds and peanuts. She also ate cashews and possibly even a few pecans.

Within ten minutes of dinner, I noticed a rash around her mouth and dismissed it as yet ANOTHER eczema flare. As I changed her diaper a few minutes later, I saw the rash was also on her stomach. And arms. And back. Panicked, we attempted to give her a dose of Benadryl only to see that her lips had also started to swell.

We rushed her to the emergency room of the nearest hospital and watched horrified and in tears as she suffered an anaphylactic reaction to tree nuts and peanuts.

I cannot describe the fear and panic I felt that day as I watched the nurses yell for another steroid injection. And the blame that floated around in my head as I heard them discuss calling an ambulance to transfer her to Children's. I could have prevented this. I should have prevented this. Unknowingly, I allowed my daughter to eat foods that could have killed her.

We now know that Mila is allergic to tree nuts. Eating hazelnuts or pistachios or cashews or pecans or walnuts can kill her. She still has a slight allergy to peanuts and we have now been advised to avoid them as well. Since cutting out all tree nuts and peanuts from her diet, we no longer have eczema flare ups. Mila will be blood tested and skin tested after she turns 4 to determine if any of her allergies have changed. Until then, I will carry my EpiPen and panic with me everywhere I go.

This will be our first Halloween since her reaction. I have sweaty palms thinking about. Mila is going as a kitty - a pink, fluffy and adorable kitty who cannot eat peanuts or tree nuts. We are hoping to keep her trick or treating experience as normal as possible and planning to go through her candy after we tuck her safely into bed that night.

As she gets older, it will become more difficult to monitor what she eats, but hopefully she will become more knowledgeable about her food allergies. In an attempt to help her and other kids with food allergies, we spent the morning painting a pumpkin teal.

This Halloween, FARE (Food Allergy Research and Education) is encouraging families to place a teal pumpkin on your porch as a sign to other families that you have non-food treats available at your home. We plan on handing out Sixlets (nut free and processed in a nut free facility) and stickers. Additional information about the Teal Pumpkin Project can be found on FARE's blog
(www.blog.foodallergy.org)

Here's wishing EVERYONE a safe and happy Halloween!

Still.

He's almost five. He can buckle his own seat belt but still waits for my hand to walk across a parking lot. He mixes his own macaroni and cheese and writes own name,  but he looks so small when I drop him off at school. He can read some words on his own, but his head still fits snugly on my chest during story time.  He brushes his own teeth and washes his own face, but still waits for me to tuck him in each night. He still talks quietly and cries loudly. He still likes me to sing him a lullaby. I can still rub his forehead lightly to ease him to sleep.

Most days he's almost 5, but some days, if I glance at him just right I can still picture the way his eyelashes used to flutter before he drifted of to sleep in my arms.

She's two and a half. She can count to fifty and sing her ABCs, but my favorite word out of her mouth is still, "Mama." Her hair fits with ease into a pony tail, but she still has the wispy curls I used to run my fingers through as I rocked her to sleep. She's still content and happy and independent. She can pull on her own PJ pants, but her little legs still fit perfectly around my body when I carry her off to bed. She no longer cries out for me in the middle of the night, but she still babbles my name as she drifts off to sleep.

Most days she's two and a half, but some days, if I hold her just right, I can still feel the way she fit in my arms as I nursed her to sleep.

He's almost five, she's two and a half. Neither of them are still babies, but they'll always be mine.

How To Potty Train Your Stubborn Two Year Old

This blogging hiatus brought to you in part by the strong willed, determined and feisty two year old shown below.

 

She looks cute, no?

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to stare at that adorable face for approximately 10 hours per day. Which would be entirely enjoyable if those 10 hours staring weren't spent on the cold and uncomfortable bathroom floor begging her to put her pee-pee in the potty.

Because someday (a long, LONG time from now) little Mimi will undoubtedly have her own cute, strong willed little offspring that will require potty training I have decided to document the steps that worked for her. Mimi- you can call me to thank me thirty years from now from your own bathroom floor.

STEP 1: Gather the supplies.

I scrounged up at least 20 pairs of underpants, a variety of juices, milk and water to offer constantly, a doll that would be "potty trained" at the same time, skittles for a reward, and a plethora of cleaning wipes.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Wine, though not pictured, is perhaps the most essential supply.

STEP 2: Strip the pants and be prepared to spend all the hours in your bathroom.

For two days straight, we went no where and I let you run the house in underpants only. Using the doll, we taught you the difference between wet underpants and dry underpants and periodically would ask you if you were wet or dry. Drinks were offered constantly and I brought you to the bathroom every hour even when you insisted (read: screamed and cried) you didn't have to go.

IMPORTANT TO NOTE: Accidents were frequent, time spent in the bathroom was exponential and wine, though not pictured, may have been was consumed on the cold and uncomfortable floor.


STEP 3: Don't give up. Day 3 brought an hour clocked in the bathroom and two accidents before 9 AM. Coincidentally it also brought tears from me and you. As much as I love hanging out in the bathroom, I was DONE. And you were too. Rather than throwing in the towel, I decided to put the training in your hands on Day 3. After your second accident, I explained it was now up to you to let me know when you had to use the potty.

Crazy, right?

BUT this harebrained idea actually worked. After 9 AM, you had NO more accidents on Day 3. NONE. And leaving the training up to you resulted in way less hours on the bathroom floor. I was able to drink my wine on the couch like the civilized mother I am.

STEP 4: Drink a bottle of wine with your husband to celebrate. Make it an expensive bottle of wine-you no longer have to buy diapers, right ?

Mila- I am so, so proud of you Peanut! You did it! Someday ( a long LONG time from now) I'll look back on the two days I spent locked in a bathroom with you and miss it so much.

...........................................I now return you to your regular blogging schedule already in progress.

Tyson's Last First Day of Preschool

Dear Tyson,

Today is your third first day of preschool. It's hard to believe it's been two years since we first said watched you walk into the doors of Little Angels.  My, how you've changed!

Two years when we dropped you off, you were so, so tiny-standing a full three chain links below the preschool sign. You were timid, shy and nervous. On the first day, you cried and held tight to my leg, so, I cried and held tight to my heart.

 

Your first year of preschool taught you to listen to a teacher.  It taught you to share with your friends and follow the rules. You learned about circle time and walking in a line and a life without Mommy or Daddy there.

Last year, you had grown-your tiny head stood just below the sign. You wore a brave smile and confidently led me to your classroom. I proudly left you there with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face.

Last year in preschool you learned how to be a leader. You met new friends that you invited over for playdates. You brought home art projects and new songs and stories about Jesus. You learned how to cut and perfected writing you name.

Today you stood tall-your head slightly above the sign. You practically ditched me at the door and ran into your classroom. I smiled and waved goodbye. No tears were shed until I sat down to write this note and had time to reflect on the confident, happy and smart little boy I had left behind.

School will be a little different this year-new teachers, new classroom, more friends to play with-but you're ready. You're ready for routine and learning and change and growth. You've got this, buddy.

And, coincidentally,  I've got approximately 365 days to deal with accepting the fact that you will head off to Kindergarten next year.

Best of luck to both of us.

Love you and so, so proud of you,

Momma

Off To The Races

I decided to run my first 5K nine days before the actual race. When I arrived at the starting line, I had only ran 3.1 miles consecutively on three other occasions. I was intimidated and nervous. My running shoes were at least 5 years old, I had no idea where to pin on my racing bib (is it called a bib?), and I planned on running with my iPhone in my hand.

26 minutes and 49 seconds later, I crossed the finish line while simultaneously crossing an item off my bucket list.

Tyson decided to run his first tot trot less than 24 hours before the actual race. He didn't train at all, ran with a shark painted on his cheek, a smile plastered across his face and blue hair spray in his hair.

35 seconds later, he crossed the finish line.

26 minutes and 49 seconds was fast enough to claim 5th place in my age group, 21st place for women, and 66th place overall. While I found these stats brag-worthy, Tyson just wanted to know why I was fast enough to get a medal or a ribbon.

35 seconds was fast enough to claim 1st place in the tot trot. And a ribbon.

Touche.

We are currently considering signing up for our second race at the end of October where I have lofty ambitions to win a ribbon or a medal. Game on, Buddy.

Mimi's First Day of Preschool

My Little Mimi,

Tomorrow morning you start preschool. You are hesitant and scared and I know you will shed body convulsing tears when I leave you behind.

 

Want to know a little secret, Peanut? I'm scared too. And even though you'll only see the reassuring smile I have plastered to my face, I'll be crying as I pull out of the parking lot and leave you behind. Maybe not body convulsing tears, but crying nonetheless.

We need to be brave tomorrow, Mimi. Drop off will be difficult and scary, but it will be worth it, I promise. School will be worth it.

At school you will meet new friends and learn from a new teacher. You will paint and color and play with playdough-all things you love doing at home, but now you'll do them at school. You'll sing songs-some that you already know and others that you will learn. You'll play "Ring Around the Rosie" and dance to new music. You'll play at a new playground-the slides look awesome! You'll gain self confidence. You'll learn how to share. You'll play with new toys, read new books and play new games.

You'll be good, Mimi. School will be good.

Your teachers will love your manners and your humor and your incredibly large for your age vocabulary. Your friends will love the songs that you can make up on the spot, your hugs and your  undying love for babies.

So, tomorrow, lets be scared AND brave. Let's cry body convulsing tears because we'll miss each other, but smile room brightening smiles for all the new things you'll get to see and do and learn

I'm excited for you, baby. Go, learn, be brave, and have fun.

I'll be there waiting to hear all about it when school is done.

Love,

Momma

Mila 2.5

Little Mimi,

Today you are two and a half.

I know! I KNOW! I'd bore you with the details about how it feels like we just brought you home yesterday, but you only sit still for so long these days.

Two and a half is hard, Mimi. For both of us. You are sassy, spunky, strong-willed, determined and every other adjective one can think of to politely say you are deep in the throws of the terrible twos.

A spitfire, I tell ya. And a cute one to boot-the worst combination.

It's hard and some days I feel like pulling my hair out, but just when I think I can't muster up the energy to calmly handle another tantrum I hear you quietly singing in the living room-a made up song with a chorus that repeats, " I love Mommy! I love Mommy! I LOVE YOU MOMMA!"

And my heart melts.

You are, unfailingly, a Mommy's girl at two and a half-it's the redeeming quality that accompanies your terrible twos. It's my name you yell out each morning when you wake. If anyone were to ask you what you dreamt about the night before you will always reply, "Momma." You beg me to "cawwy you" wherever we go, you seek me out in a crowd for reassurance and it's my name you chant as you drift off to sleep.

I hope you are a Mommy's girl at age five, too. And at age fifteen and at age thirty. And so on and so on.

Separation anxiety is currently kicking both of our butts. You are terrified of being left some place without Mommy by your side. We both (barely) survived your first go at summer school.  You're not a fan of strangers talking to you. Or smiling at you. Or, heck, even looking at you. You'll start a pre-preschool program at a local church in a few weeks and I'm sure there will be tears from both of us on drop off day. I'm hoping and praying mine won't fall until I'm safely out of your sight.

You are officially a "girly" girl -you love high heels and dresses and skirts and babies. You adore your brother and have taken to calling Daddy, "DAN!" You are smart-you can count to twenty two, sing the ABCs and spell your name with ease. You like to dance and sing. You have the vocabulary of a six year old. You love to play doctor and school. You are terrified of tubing behind the boat and hand dryers in public restrooms. You beg me to rub your back every night before bed. You love cuddling and Maisy books. You could live on cherry tomatoes and cheese sticks.

 

 

 

You are charming and energetic, fun and a little crazy. You make our lives happier, wilder and fuller. Each morning when you call my name, I am so happy to come in and see your sweet face again.

Happy 2.5, peanut!

Love you,

Momma