Quick Starbucks and Halloween candy update!

So, we went to Starbucks for our Vanilla Bean steamer with protein powder (great way to get it in little ones who haven't quite caught onto eating meat or protein packed veggies) and Gibgerbread latte...NO PECANS!! Best part?!?! The line had 15 people in it and the barista handed me EVERY item that was listed to make a Praline Latte AND the surrounding items to double check! She didn't care that all of those people were waiting.  She smiled, was concerned, helpful and friendly! She will never truly know how relaxed she made me.  The cashier was a bit impatient, but the Barista made sure that even she knew that this was important. Phew! And Joses Halloween candy was Tree Nut free! Well, his tree nuts free! Best part?! Every piece of chocolate he went to eat, he showed me, made me read the label again, and memorized the logo for future reference...two more months to go!  Oh! I want to give a VERY SPECIAL SHOUTOUT to my "daycare friend" Cassie! She has repeatedly thrown parties for her daughter Brennan and ensured that they're all nut free! I want to take the time to remind people that food label reading for ingredients is more than an arduous task and she did it freely out of love for my baby! Not only was I able to have a fun, great relaxing time because of that, Jose got to eat to his hearts content! Mommy did too! So here's to the princess and the pirate! THANK YOU CASSIE!!

The scariest three to four months are here...

It's fall, and with fall comes all of the accompanying foods.  Before Jose I would look forward to all of them, but since Jose I am wary of them and have mainly focused on pumpkin themed foods.  Safe for us both, and it's my favorite.  This means Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte abound! For the last few weeks I've been able to easily avoid all tree nut items...until I got an email.  Starbucks is offering a Praline Caramel Coffee.  Typically I'd be willing to try a new Starbucks drink, but this time I couldn't.  I was temporarily frozen with fear.  Pralines are made with pecans.  I called to inquire about it and the corporate office didn't know, and the directed me to the individual stores to see what's in the Praline topping.  Now, it's not the Starbucks that bothers me, I suddenly realized that as he grows older his risk exposure rate drastically increases.  My brothers girlfriend graciously offered to have us at her family Thanskgiving dinner, and even took care of the nut contamination bit, and there's the Teal Pumpkin project for food allergy safe halloween, but unless I'm doing it myself, there's no guarantee of safety.  The even scarier part?  I have to learn to relinquish some of this food control, or we'd always eat only at home or just hot dogs.  Thanksgiving dinner will be safe, as her family loves Jose and wants him to be safe, and I can go through his Halloween candy, but as he grows I can't be with him 24/7 to keep allergens at bay.  What's even worse? Jose's is more manageable than other food allergy kids, where theirs is daily and not seasonal.  So the next four months I have to be super, hyper vigilant and make Jose feel/participate as normaly as non-allergy kids.  Pray for us both, and pray for my nerves...it's going to be a tense four months.

It will look like independence one day, right?

So, for those that KNOW Jose, you know that he is quite stubborn.  It's part OCD, and part he's so strong willed! Ugh!  Every day (ok, maybe like two weeks out of four months...ok, three weeks out of four months...) is a show down.  I feel like I'm in a John Wayne western.  It's high clean up time, we square up on either side of the completely disassembled train table, I tell him to please clean up, he narrows his eyes, puts his hands on his hips, and very stubbornly says, "No, I don't wanna clean up!"  UGH! WHHHHHHHHHHHHYYYYYYYYYYY!  It doesn't matter what it is, he only wants to do what he wants to do.  And no amount of punishment, bribery, time-outs, etc. work.  Every day is a show down, a battle of the wills, and it is exhausting!  All I can do is keep getting, "You can do it!" from his sitter, support from my BFF Tasha (yes, her name is just Tasha),  and give my Mom the satisfaction of knowing that I am getting my pay back for being the same child.  I can look 10 years down the road and see how this attribute will pay off.  He will only do what makes him happy, he won't be a follower, he will stand up for himself, and he will be a great man for it.  Right now?  Right NOW?!  It's driving me crazy!  I just need him to listen and do what is asked of him!  Wait...that doesn't happen does it?  Nope...sigh...I guess all I can do is what my mom did.   Keep on keeping on, stay the firm course, love the heck out of him, and wait for him to get his pay back.  That'll be hilarious coming from the other side.  I know, my mom laughs at me all the time. :-)

Irritating Habits of Non-Food Allergy Sufferers

As the mom of a food allergy parent, there's a lot I've become accustomed to.  Reading labels, pointing out "yucky nut" products for Jose to recognize as dangerous, informing every person he doesn't know, who will be giving him food, about his allergy.  But there are a few issues that make me want to scream (wait...I did...) and pull my hair out.  Please, pay attention...

1) Do NOT argue with me about the prescription!

     Per the national food allergy guidelines, an anaphylactic person must have TWO epi pens with them at ALL TIMES!  Why? you ask...well, each Epi has a dose that lasts 10 minutes.  I'm not an emergency services dispatcher, so I'm not aware of the local response time during that particular day of an anaphylactic attack.  They try their best to get there ASAP, but I'm not taking chances with my child's life. Also, each person my child is with, needs their own set of Epis.  I'm human, I may forget to leave his diaper bag (which I have) with the Epis.  Each person having their own set alleviates the panic that comes with forgetting.  So, instead of arguing with me about my prescription, telling me that I don't need them, there are too many, why do I need them, isn't going to work with me.  If the randomly chosen, behind the counter cashier, high school diploma holding, pretend pharm tech (because they are pretend, I have a friend who is a REAL one, trained in school!) thinks that a high school bio class makes them more qualified than my CHKD allergy SPECIALIST and my months of research and my scary experience of holding down my baby as doctors worked to save his life....well, THEY'RE WRONG!  Fill. The. Prescription.

2). I AM the nut nazi.

      When José was 10 mo old, he had an anaphylactic reaction.  It wasn't on the list of ingredients, and no one understand why.  I'm still confused about it, but what sticks clearly is pinning his body down with mine as he was slowly dying.  Begging, pleading, screaming in my head for the doctors to save my baby who has barely begun to live.  I kept it together on the outside, and didn't "lose it" until a week later I went to go check in on him, while he was sleeping. I saw him, kissed his cheek, went to my room and bawled the ugly cry.  That is not an experience I would wish on my worse enemy.  My kid is 3.  THREE.  Until he can read the complicated food labels by himself, I will continue to be the nut nazi.

3). "Ooooooooh! Invisible food allergens!"

       We all have taken some level of science in high school.  We all know what microscopic means, right?  As in, it can only be seen through a MICROSCOPE! Well, cross contamination occurs when those MICROSCOPIC allergens come into contact with food.  Until these allergens start to carry large neon signs identifying themselves, they ARE invisible.

4). Stop correcting my kid!

     When grocery shopping, I take it as an opportunity to point out what he CAN'T eat, so if he sees it, he KNOWS.  I refer to them as "yucky nuts", so he further understands they're bad.  I understand you want to point out the health benefits of nuts, but in his case it's a death guarantee.  Please listen to what I, the parent, am telling my child before you interrupt me.  You're doing more harm.

5). Do not tell me Mac & Cheese doesn't have nuts.  I know...

      I spent from the age of 16-29 working in restaurants.  I know Mac & Cheese doesn't have nuts, but those gloves you wear to prep nut carrying menu items does.  They contain invisible allergens (remember number three?).  Please change them.  Oh! While we're at it, don't tell me that you'll let the cool know and it's up to him to change his gloves of he "feels" like it, or "wants" to.  Actually, it's not,  for all major chains, it's company policy to, and if you don't my kid will die.  Plain and simple.  Do YOU want to be RESPONSIBLE for a child's DEATH over gloves?

6) Food allergies and seasonal allergies are NOT the same thing.

    For whatever reason, you say food allergy and people think the reaction is going to be itchy, watery, eyes, sneezing, coughing that can be solved with a Zyrtec or some Benadryl.  It. Is. Not.  Anaphylaxis is your body's reaction to the allergen.  And not just any reaction, but a quick systematic shutdown of your body.  You cannot breathe, but you can feel your body die.  You can think about you dying as you die.  Semi scared/nervous while reading this? Good.  Be the person this happens to.

7)  No, I don't know how this happened to my son, and no I don't feel responsible.

     There are massive amounts of research and studies that are happening as we speak at this very moment.  There are some hypothesis out there, but nothing definite.  The Stanford Alliance for Food Allergy Research (SAFAR), and several other institutions are leading the way on figuring it out...just no answers.  So, it just happens.  It's a biological mutation of some sort (great, José is going to think he's an X-Men now) and we live with it.  The only part I feel responsible for is his safety and care, just like any other parent.

I know that there are a lot of people out there that will say, "If you don't want him to get sick, don't take him out."  Well, you're stupid if you think that.  S-T-U-P-I-D.  That is not the reality of the world.  If I could keep my child in a bubble and protect him, I would.  In fact, I even bet that if I had this bubble, you'd be knocking down my door to get one for your kid.  Reality is, well...reality.  I can't and shouldn't have to.  If I have to deal with the world as a non-food allergy sufferer, then my son needs to as well.  All I'm asking for is a lot of common sense and a little bit of sensitivity.  After all, at the rate food allergies are going, you're family could be next.

"Why are you trying to 'off' yourself?"

This week has been pretty interesting with Jose. Well, the last THREE weeks, Jose has been on a "suicide" mission. All of you parents know these missions well. I myself was a master at them in my day...wait-a-minute! Damn...realization...So, "suicide missions" are the ones that all little kids go on from walking to the end of adolescents. Boys apparently don't grow out of them... These are the missions that result in kids thinking they are made of teflonkevlarrubber (note to self: ask DuPont if such chemical exists and if it's safe to apply generously and often to children). The ones where you climb the highest tree in the neighborhood, lean too far out to see your house and meet the ground in a violent manner resulting in breaking your arm. OR making a slip-n-slide out of trash bags and rusty nails AND USING IT! (Yes, I do know someone who did this, I watched and waited for the impending blood) There's playing chicken with a car by running across the street right before it hits you...the whole neighborhood did this, I would like to add. Jumping off the roof of the car Super Man style (another note to self: buying Jose shirts with capes on them may be perpetuating this concept), because you think you can fly. Or jumping off of the roof of the house because....well, because. This is a small (and trust me, I do mean very small...my medical record was 3 inches thick by the time I was 13! Not exaggerating) example of "suicide missions" that I myself am acquainted with. You all have your own, and you know them well. They were awesome at the time, and you knew that after that first 30-45 seconds of pure awesomeness, there was going to be some type of consequence injury. You did it any ways, and after the tears was a hero, the neighborhood legend for the day/week (depending on how many other kids accepted missions on a regular basis). Well, as a parent these "suicide missions" are "anxietyriddenheartattack moments". (Mom, I am so sorry! You were always great fun in the emergency room though!). Jose has been determined to go on one everyday for the last three weeks! At the sitters, he's climbing to the top of EVERYTHING and trying to jump off! She has saved his small butt at least on the average of 6 times per day. I now get a count of times he's tried to "complete" his mission along with my other daily parent updates. I swear if there was a legal and safe way to keep Jose on firm soil, Malinda would do it! Well, this week was almost a success. On Tuesday I kept Jose home, trying to figure out if he was sick or had a sinus infection (and we'll take sinus infection in the state of Virginia for $1,000 Alex). We went to Home Depot to buy paint for the bathroom, and he got buckled into the race car cart. At Home Depot, the race car replaces the seat and there is a two tiered "basket" for your items. As I placed him in it, I looked at the icon that shows a kid not being buckled getting hurt. As always, I thought "that'd be Jose", and I strap him in. In we go, I'm staring at paint, he's racing a car...and then he gets quiet. Oh Crap! (Quiet was my moms indicator that she was about to make a trip with me to the emergency room.) I turned just in time to see finish slipping out of the straps (Chinese contortionist Latino boy!), and mid balance himself in the lower tiered cart. Just as I reach for him, he starts to fall, realizes he's about to crack his skull, turns to break his fall by catching himself with his arms (thank you gymnastics!!), and hits himself on the head right above his left eye. Sigh...it was one of those parenting moments where it's happening in a split second, but your parental fear has it and you going in slow motion. I scoop him off the ground, check his head (no swelling and no bruising!) and sit on the floor and rock him. He's crying and telling me he's ok (so brave), yet I'm freaked out because Home Depots floor is so damn hard! After talking to my mom and an EMT friend of mine, I schedule a visit with his pediatrician for two hours. They give me the list of what to be on the look out for until then. I wasn't going to Langley, as they're not very kid friendly, and the last time I was there, they tried to tell me Jose's simple (yet horrible) sinus infection was some crazy respiratory virus. I asked for another doctors opinion, but because of military ranking, the second doctor could not override the opinion of the first one (and I was RIGHT!) So, no Langley ER. Sentara? $200 co-pay! All of it has to go back to his pediatrician, as well as Jose himself, they know him best, off to Suffolk we go! I'm cautiously watching him play, AND HE TRIES TO CLIMB ONTO THE PLAY TABLE! Smh... We make it to the back and the doctor walks in with a big smile on her face, walks up to Jose and says "Why are you trying to off yourself?" EXACTLY!! That's my question!!!! I felt so relieved that she understood what he was doing and she was trying to calm my nerves from this scare. She checked him, he did all of his "magic tricks" and she declared him: "perfectly fine, the most adorable boy she's ever seen and highly intelligent!" (He spelled the word 'experiment' for her on his Endless ABC app). RELIEF! As she walks out of the door, she starts to chuckle, turns to me and says, "You have a textbook perfect example of a boy. Don't worry, I'm sure we'll see you in here a lot for reasons like this. It's normal and you'll get the hang of dealing with it." I just started laughing. She's right. I gave my mom HELL (3 inch medical record)! She was a pro at the ER, and learned to expect it. She's told me she was scared at first, but understood that I was adventurous, daring, bold, brave and just a bit naive enough to think it was going to work. She also said by "letting" me do those things, that I learned to go for what I want, suffer the consequences and rebuild from it all to keep going. Awesome. And I am that way, which has lead me to success. So, Jose is going to keep trying to "off himself" on "suicide missions" and I'm going to try to minimize the great risk, let him take some scrapes (but I NEVER want to do the Home Depot fiasco again!), get acquainted with all area hospital routes and let him be. Let him challenge, grow, learn, try again, try again again, fail, succeed, scrape by unscathed, get hurt, learn from consequences and mistakes, and allow him to become a wonderful, well adjusted person with great childhood stories to tell. In the meantime, does the daily regimen of Bayer aspirin really reduce the risk of heart attack? Lol!


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The Great Boobie Scare

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am a HUGE supporter of breast feeding! (Have an issue? Yo I'll solve it.) Breast feeding, for me, was one of the most miraculous and rewarding experiences ever! I sustained Jose's health, gave him antibodies and created a bond with him so tight, I'm still feeling the residual effects... "Residual effects?" you may ask? Yes! About 6 weeks ago, a lump was found (I didn't find it and ill let y'all infer as to who did 😊). I froze and became petrified. It was so overwhelmingly scary that I refused to think about it for three weeks. Re-FUSED! I know you're wondering why I would do such a horrible thing when I know (by simply being a woman) how important it is to get it checked out. It's simple...my family has a HORRIBLE line of breast cancer. All lines are maternal. From what I can gather from my mother, I have a great aunt who found it at 60 (she did a radical mastectomy when it was still unheard of! Man my family can lead the way...that's another post...) my Aunt Ester died from it at 52. It wasn't a simple death, as the tumor grew so large, it ruptured. For that to happen, she had lived with it for a very long time. My Tia Maria had issues in her left, and today had to have her right biopsied. There are other types of cancer as well (both of my sisters have precancerous cells that need to be removed before they become cancerous and a cousin who has been battling brain cancer since one. That's 31 years to date). All of them are scary...breast is inherited, hereditary...a part of the family tree and therefore more likely to occur. My brain first ran into extreme scare mode: cut them off! Especially after Angelina did it. I applaud her, as her body and breasts took a backseat to being around for her children. Once again, a mommy sacrificing herself for her children. So, I told Jeff that if it's a real lump, they're coming off and he'll have to appreciate the benefits of saline. Then I went from that extreme, to the other: pretending. So for three weeks I pretended (and quite successfully) that it and my family's horrible history with bresat cancer didn't exist. Finally, Jeff asked me about it again and encouraged me to get it checked out. I looked at him, the boys being power rangers, toys everywhere, the dog laying on a pile of cars (that HAS to be uncomfortable), the cat trying to be a Russian assassin (yet another post), and said ok. I made the appointment, took the day off of work (as mid afternoon was the earliest) and showed up to my appoint 2 hours early. I was so nervous I decided to be there instead of calming my nerves at the nearest Target. I would feel better at Target, but then I would arrive at my appointment and my bank account would've taken a Target hit for nothing. Luckily, someone cancelled, they bumped me up and I got in within 10 minutes of getting there. The doctor told me that he thinks its a result of having mastitis. For those that haven't had it: women, beat one (or both) of your boobs until you want to rip it from your body with your own two hands; men, take two swift, firm kicks to the scrotum. That may touch mastitis, and then add on that the only way to fix it is to breast feed and the baby knows there's something wrong with it, so he won't. With that said, is breast feed again at the drop of a hat, because it truly is that amazing of an experience. So leftover infection (as antibiotics are a no-no when feeding) or scar tissue made sense. Jeff had that idea to begin with, but I was skeptical as he doesn't have boobs. (Note to self: Jeff is ALWAYS right.) So the doctor scheduled me for an ultrasound and mammogram. That was today. I'm OK! Apparently I have some really dense (more than normal) breast tissue in one particular spot. It tends to swell, and I have a feeling of letting down whenever I have a hormone surge. This is typical for most women (ask them how their boobs feel the week before their cycle...sore!) and I seem to be having extra hormones. It's from having to be sensitive to Jose due to his food allergies. In other words, breast feeding made a bond so special, my body is still producing those hormones so that I'm on the alert for him. Amazing huh? I think it's kind of cool that my body is reacting to his body's reaction. So it's not residual mastitis, but in a way close enough. They did find calcium deposits, but the doctor said 99.992% of women (yes, that was her number) have them. Mine are nice and round with no blurry edges. But due to my family history, she wants me to have an ultrasound/mammogram every 6 months for two years to make sure they stay just deposits. The it's a mammogram every year until I die. I'm good with that! Lessons learned: A) it's ok to be scared and to take a LITTLE bit of time to wrap your head around it before you deal with it, B) breast feedings benefits still amaze me!!!, C) knowing your body and performing self exams (or your significant other helping you out 😉) is still the biggest life saver for women.


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It's Powder Ranger time!

José has discovered "Powder" Rangers. Now his obsessions include Yo Gabba Gabba, cars, trains AND Thomas the Train, and now Power Rangers. Now I have a 33 1/2 inch "ninja" attacking me at every turn! He picked up a golf club, declared it to be Megasword, and hacked at me! If you have had any small child attack you with a stick/club/light saber/ etc., you're SCARED! Why? He's only 33 1/2 inches...of child who has no true concept of inflicting pain on others AND has no idea of power and force! As you're trying to get him to stop he's attacking you and yelling at the top of his lungs "Powder Rangers mommy! Hiiii-yaaaaa!" All you can think is, if I walk away from this with only a few bruises, no concussion and not broken objects, I'll place a check under the "win" column. He's such a BOY! Bugs, fighting, vehicles of any kind, sweaty, sticky, and sports obsessed! (He made me watch the draft! I tried to turn it but he launched into a super sonic scream O_o ) I knew he was a boy, but I had NO IDEA he was the perfect, textbook version! But under the violent attack that is reminiscent of guerrilla soldier, he's so cute imitating their moves. I have my hands full now, lord help me as he grows! :-)

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