Friday, April 29, 2011

Allergies and Mommy Guilt




As some of you might guess, I am pretty good at following rules. I'm like a Boy Scout that way. When I was pregnant with Jack and Anna, I kept myself informed. I read the recommended books, I ate healthy foods, I exercised regularly. None of this kept me from going into labor at 30 weeks (and giving birth at 35). None of it kept Anna out of the NICU. I spent a lot of time thinking about what I could have done better to prevent that preterm labor. Jack came home with us when he was 2 days old. Anna had to wait a little bit longer. But, it seemed as though we escaped unscathed from the perils of prematurity.

Fast forward six months to the introduction of solid foods. All seemed to go well until we got to the one-year mark when the experts, upon whom I heavily relied, said I could introduce eggs. That did not go well. We were at Cracker Barrel when I decided that they could try a bite of my eggs. Jack immediately broke out in a red, hivy rash around his month. It was so bright that people literally stopped eating and started staring when we walked past. We got in the car, thinking we should take him to the hospital. But, he wasn't having any trouble breathing and didn't appear to be in any distress. After about 15 minutes the rash cleared-up.

The doctor told us not to worry. Egg allergy was common and he would most likely outgrow it. After all, no one else on either side of the family had any type of food allergies. At 18-months I let him have a bite of a peanut butter cookie. He broke out in hives all over his body. It was terrifying. I drove him to the emergency room. They gave him benadryl, kept an eye on him, and sent us home a few hours later.

So, why the title of this post? Because I felt like I had failed him. I had terrible morning sickness for the first 20 weeks of pregnancy. One of the few things I could keep down was peanut butter crackers. I ate a lot of them. Clearly, that was why he was now allergic. I had done this to him. Because of me, he was doomed to a life without chocolate or cupcakes or cookies. A life at the peanut-free table.

I was not yet familiar with what products contained peanuts. I had become more informed about food allergies after the diagnosis of the egg allergy, but that one was not likely to cause anaphylactic shock. I was careful about egg, but terrified of accidental peanut consumption. That was 2 years ago. I am not terrified any more. I am ashamed now that I cried so much over an allergy. My children are healthy. I am fortunate.

I am thankful for the Food Allergy Labeling and Consumer Protection Act. And, I am frustrated by people who think parents blow allergies out of proportion, just because when they were small there were no peanut-free classrooms or sections at the ballpark. I hate to admit it, but I was once one of them. I had always felt that we live in a democracy and majority rules and if you can't fall in line with that, then too bad for you. But, it is not that simple. In all my knowledge, I was ignorant. I thought I was compassionate, but in reality, his allergy diagnosis changed my perspective beyond the question of what a parent should be allowed to send in for a school holiday party.

I no longer believe I caused his allergy (well, mostly believe). And, of course I'm sorry he has it. But, it certainly was nothing to cry about.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Root of All Evil?

The answer to the title of this blog? Television. What are my kids doing right now? Take a wild guess. Yeah, that.

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends no television for children under 2 years old. We adhered strictly to this policy in our home when the twins were small. However, they spent the first 16 months of life at a home daycare where there was not strict compliance. This difference of opinion lead to quite a nasty e-mail exchange, where studies by experts were exchanged and parenting techniques were belittled. We lost the battle, but kept fighting the war.
Today, our self-proclaimed policy is one hour a day max. Exceptions are allowed when children (or parents) are sick, it is raining, or for a weekly movie night where the max is increased to 90 minutes (and, if I'm being honest, for whatever other reason we can justify). Today, it is raining. We took baths. We spent two and a half hours in our playroom. We sang songs, read books, built towers, and put together puzzles. Then, we hit a wall. Tempers grew short (theirs), patience dissipated (mine). It was 11:15am. So, up the stairs we came. On the television went. They are watching Dora. When I asked my two year old to count for me today, she stated, "uno, dos, tres, quatro..." The influence of Dora and Diego.

They look forward to their one-hour of t.v. They take turns picking which shows to watch. Some shows have been banned in our house. Max and Ruby is no longer mentioned. Jack had decided Max was a good role-model and began to speak only one word at a time. It. Drove. Me. Crazy.

We make the decisions for what is best for our children. We will live with the consequences of those decision. This is true of television and every other minute decision we make on a daily basis. Today it is television. Tomorrow, it gets harder. Or maybe just different.

The decision for this minute is lunch. The request is quesadillas. I think I can handle that.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Day 1



For a while, I have contemplated getting on the blogging bandwagon. After all, I used to enjoy writing. My mom thought I was good at it. And, if your own mother says you have a talent, aren't you obligated to foster it? Besides, it will be a good memorialization of this point in time. Perhaps one day my children will appreciate it. Just like I am sure they will appreciate all the sacrifices I have made for them. Body, career, identity outside of mommydom. You know, the usual.

I think I will have a lot of material to work with. I stopped "working" in October. Six long months ago. We moved halfway across the county. My husband started a new job. There have been a lot of adjustments. I think it was easier for the kids than the adults. They like their new house and their new yard and their new friends. I wish I could make "best friends" like my three-year old daughter, Anna. She loves everyone and everyone loves her.

As an introduction to the other two: Kara is 2 years and 2 months; she will no longer let me call her baby. She has instructed that she will only answer to Kara or pumpkin. I am glad she is letting me hold on to pumpkin. Jack recently put vaseline on the cat. He is a very energetic three-year old boy.

So here I sit in our new (to us) house. The kids are napping (or at least in their rooms). The husband is at work. It is still novel to me to sit on the couch in the middle of the day and watch t.v. or use the computer. A definite perk to the job.

Overall, life is good. In fact, life is very good.