Raising a Nutty Kid

Maxwell’s Peanut Forehead Kiss

So I read a very interesting article that half intrigued me and half annoyed me the other day talking about allergies being a “Yuppie” invention. No, actually, it’s an interesting article and worth the read. But I’m going to travel off of his path a bit. Stay with me.

You know—I hear all the time how allergies in kids aren’t as prevalent in 3^rd world countries. I cannot account for why that is so. I do not know. I also don’t know how well documented health cases are in foreign countries nor how varied food is for the children in those countries. When my husband was recently in Zambia, they ate a lot of rice. And I believe that they eat a lot of corn cakes. And other food items such as roots that they would grind up and make into a flour-like substance (this is not in the big cities, this is when he was across the Zambezi River in very isolated villages). And a lot of beans.

Everyone has their theories but no one has the “Laws”. And most are still largely misunderstood and require more studies.

But, let me be honest, before I had Maxwell…

Before I had Maxwell, I was so annoyed by all of those allergy kids. And I internally scoffed at such madness (aka—their parents). And all of the label reading and all of the “Can eat this-Can’t eat that” nonsense.

Yep. That’s the way I roll. Sometimes I am a scoffing, unkind person. Not very Christ-like, eh? Poor Christ. Blame it on me, folks, not my awesome Savior.

Anyhow—I totally pooh-poohed (in my head-never out loud) all of THOSE parents and kids.

And then I had one.

One that started to welt one day after a bite of ice cream.

And then I accidentally dropped a smidgen of my whipped cream on his bald scalp and his entire scalp puffed up and turned red at 5 months of age.

And then I force-fed him creamy mashed potatoes stuffed with milk and butter…and he vomited for the rest of the evening. You’d think I would have gotten a clue by now???!!!

And then his little girlfriend gave him a peanut kiss on the forehead and we almost called 9-1-1 from the simple act of a forehead smooch. (Um, just FYI, my brother, the paramedic, scolded me for NOT calling 9-1-1. He said, you can’t SEE if his throat is swelling shut. True that. Oops. To be fair on my side, I have seen my son completely stop breathing on two different occasions of his life—one where he entered heaven completely and one where he was bagged for about 10 minutes. So, I do know what he does look like without oxygen and I figured he wasn’t there…yet. All in all, still pretty bad parenting.)

One of the latest-vigilant label reading 3xs over and then feeding. And, still, swollen head, wheezing, eyes swelling shut, welts on body.

Oh my. What was it this time? Bathe, bathe, Benadryl, Benadryl, Asthma inhaler, inhaler, inhaler…Go back and read the ingredients again.

Still stunned and curious. Can’t figure this one out—but won’t be giving him those kosher hot dogs ever again.

Raising a nutty kid…

Let’s just say, God has given me a very special kid that teaches me a lot about mercy and miracles. And this same kid teaches me a lot about my former contempt for the “annoyance” of those parents…because now I am one of those parents.

And I have the kid that can’t eat this or touch that. And, please, serve Cheerios instead of Goldfish (yes, please completely reroute your entire routine for my son).

And, “Do you know how to work an Epi Pen?”

And, “Oh—have you washed your hands and face after eating peanut butter? Okay. You can touch my son.”

And…

You get the idea.

He wears a medical alert bracelet. His backpack is PACKED with all sorts of life-saving stuff.

And he misses out on eating a lot of ice cream and PB&Js with his sister and cousins.

And I probably drive everyone batty when I’m around.

Poor family. Poor friends. Poor strangers.

I am that mom. The one that drove me batty. So, I totally understand if you are, under your breath or in your mind, pooh-poohing me.

I deserve it!

I know I do.

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