An Extra Dose...

I have a friend named Ali. We write each other emails multiple times a week, it is our own private, 2 member support group. We each have sons who have anaphylactic allergies and sons with chronic medical conditions. So we understand each other. We can talk to each other freely about our fears, our concerns for the future (teenage boys...) and offer support when the other is feeling particularly overwhelmed. We keep each other updated on medical appointments and are uniquely invested in the others children, we swap resources and recipes and vent when we need to. I am so grateful for her.

Last week I was updating her on Ben's dismal results from his updated allergy test he had done. During a skin prick test a tiny amount of the protein is put under the skin. The inflammation level is measured where the allergen was placed. The scale ranges from 1-5 meaning a 5 mm round welt would indicate a serious allergy. Ben's welt to peanuts measured 16 mm. To say he has a serious allergy then is an understatement.
He also remains allergic to eggs and all tree nuts as well as dogs and cats. Dairy was cleared for allergens but after introducing it to his diet were cleaning up diarrhea all week so that excitement was short lived.

I received true sympathy from my friend as she knows exactly how I feel. And we were so hopeful that these tests would show positive changes.

Every Mother worries about her children. Car accidents, chocking, falling out of trees...but everyone around children knows these are dangers. In thinking of a comparable analogy I thought it would be like cyanide. Of course no one gives this deadly poison to their children. It could be lethal in minutes. But what if one day it wasn't dangerous anymore, in fact it was delicious and desirable and it was everywhere. All the kids were eating in in chocolate, granola bars, sandwiches...the children were all fine with consuming this now. Except your child. It remained just as poisonous as ever to your child...but now you are all on your own...trying to keep your child away from it. It is, a lonely and frightening place to be.

This fear is something we talk about frequently. As LDS and Islamic women we are both very devoted, through different faiths to God. We wonder together often... as we both tend to worry more than average anyhow why God thought it best to give us children who needed an extra dose of that worry. I am still unsure. I hope I am the best choice for Ben's Mother. I am certainly grateful for him, and He knows the degree to which I love him. But I am all out of Worry. Because then their is Jacob.

Jacob has a genetic disease (I don't even like writing that...it sounds so ominous). called Von Willebrand disease. He was diagnosed at a few months of age after the pediatrician wanted further tests done for the size of the hemotoma's on his head after he was born.

(Von Willebrand disease (VWD) is a bleeding disorder. It affects your blood's ability to clot. If your blood doesn't clot, you can have heavy, hard-to-stop bleeding after an injury.

In VWD, you either have low levels of a certain protein in your blood, or the protein doesn't work the way it should. The protein is called von Willebrand factor, and it helps the blood clot, when this is absent or not working properly then it effects the bodies ability to stop bleeding".

Jacob usually has purple marks on him, evidence of the small bumps that react dramatically in exaggerated bruising. A bruise large enough for someone to say "oh my, what happened to his poor forehead" was nothing more then bumping himself on the table. I don't think about it very much because there is nothing that I wouldn't be already doing to prevent it, short of putting him in a helmet and a bubble.

Then he fell down the stairs.

The stairs are always my fear. The are steep and end in hard ceramic. I hate them.
Then my baby fell down them because I thought the gate was closed, so did he...
He pushed on it to tell me he wanted down and head first he went. The gate was closed, but not latched shut all the way.

My heart was in my throat as I flew to the top of the stairs. Everything I had read about VWD came barreling into my thoughts. Could he hemorrhage, what if there was internal bleeding that I didn't know about, had he broken something? At the top of the stairs I stopped short. He was laying on a track of soft diaper packages that Ben had put together of too small diapers that I had left by the door to return to the store. Relief isn't even close to what I felt as I imagined the impact the solid stone floor would have had. He cried for a few minutes, demanded more then a few kisses and he was off again.

I wrote what I have finally learned, to Ali after that incident. Really we are quite fortunate because as God sent us children who needed an extra dose of our worry, He sent an extra dose of his angels as well.

"Mommy"

I love being a "Mommy".


When I hear my children call me "Mommy" (or "mama...")my heart swells just a little each time. It is the sweetest of words. In two small syllables I am reminded of purpose. Joy. Blessings. I feel I am all of me when little arms wrap themselves around my legs and I hear a tiny voice utter that word. Anyone else who is graced with small children in their life and privileged enough to be their "Mommy" know the warmth and unique love that small children carry in this word.

This Mother's day I received breakfast in bed, dandelions for my hair (pre taped...so they wouldn't fall out!)cards and visits with two other special "Mommy's" in our life (who make equally wonderful grandmothers!) I was reminded a little bit extra how Mother's, the becoming and the having... are such a blessing.

Popcicles

It is "almost" the season of frozen treats! I don't give the kids nutritionally empty stor bought versions of popsicles. Rather I use their inherent love of all things rocket shaped to sneak in a serving (or 6) of fruit and veggies...

Chcocicles

one avacodo
one banana
1 TBS flax meal
1 squirt Agave nectar
2 dates
1.5 TBS cocoa powder
2 TBS vanilla rice milk (or regular)

blend and pour into molds


Tropical fruitcicles

one fresh pineapple
one kiwi
one banana
one mango
one handful of berries (raspberries are so good!)
one handful of frozen greens (spinach, kale etc)
one can coconut milk
one splash of orange juice or water

blend, pour into molds.

We usually have a bowl as "ice cream" before pouring in the molds. You can add hemp or chia seeds to the top as sprinkles.

***I really just make them up as I go along. Whatever I have with some banana, pineapple, and coconut milk (this makes them really creamy! and is SO good for you...full or minerals and vitamins, good fats and electrolytes to stay hydrated in weather warmer then this).

Boy Genius

At 15 months old Jake doesn't say a whole lot yet; "all done, more, moooo, mama, da, beeeee (Ben) and a lot of variations of AH". He will also reluctantly sign a few things too. He sure understands everything though as he loves to follow directions and get little jobs like "go get Mommy's shoes" "get a book" "throw this in the garbage". Yes, a bright little fellow and pretty easy on the eyes too.

Recently we had a bit of a Helen Keller breakthrough though in terms of how badly he wants to communicate and how creative he can be to get you to understand.
Jake was banging on the garage door. Not a place where I let them play I took him up the stairs and watched him have a mini fit. Since it was a definite "no" on the garage play I held firm and watched him get up, brush himself off and march his little self over to the book basket. He went through them with purpose until he found the one he was looking for...flipped to the page of choice and marched back over to bang it on the gate and yell at me.
I went over and picked up the book...there was the picture...and there was his fat little finger pointing furiously at...the bubble.
I asked him if he wanted to get the bubbles from the garage and he squirmed, squealed, grinned and waved his arms.
Yes. It was very much what he wanted:)

Couragous Parenting

When I am doing for my children what I know is right, often there is judgment from those who are not doing the same. Often there is difficulty in enforcing the things I know are best (not easier) and sometimes...those very children, that I am working so hard for...resist.

This is when the courage comes in.

Ben is almost four. He knows what he wants. He has ALWAYS known what he wants but now he has the vocabulary to express exactly how right he is in all things and how very much I suck.

I really don't like this part.

I like the part where he cuddles up to me on the couch with a stack of books, rubs my hand as I turn the pages and stops me to say "I love you so much Mommy, you are my BEST girl".

I really love that part.

What I don't like...loath, really, is when that same sweet, big minded (and mouthed) boy decides that his will and mine are not the same. He lowers his head, clenches his fists and gets that "just try to make me" look (that I admit may have been inherited from a certain someone not appreciating it in this moment). He will stare me down and say in his last chance voice "I will not."

Then I have to decide. IS he going up to his bedroom after pinching his brother because I didn't let him have a forth popcicle?

I meet him eye to eye.

"I am counting to 3 (oh the dreaded words...) if you don't come with me on your own then I will have to help you."
(I am really hoping for the first option...)

His voice is low and firm.

"I WILL not".


If I drag him out from under the table where he is glaring at me I will also have to lug him up the stairs while he shrieks at decibels only known to mother's of willful three and a half year olds and likely he will slap me and kick my thighs all the way there.

I will have to round up every bit of patience humanly possible to CALMLY carry him up the stairs, and in my robotic I-MEAN-BUSINESS voice tell him "you are in your bedroom because you are hurting people. When you can make good choices and be gentle you can come out". Then I will shut the door, to the ever present wailing and shrieking and wait for the dagger...

"I DON'T LIKE YOU ANYMORE! YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND...OR my best girl"!

Then he will sob and I will have to stay firm in my discipline choice. I will have to not go in that room and pick up my big boy with dangly limbs and emotions too big for his body and hold him in my lap. He will always, no matter how mad he is let me hold him. Even when I think he will surely push me away, he never does. I have to will myself not to cuddle this little boy as he is discovers the power of his words. I would say, "what do I have to do for you to like me again? To be your best girl? I will do anything! Ice cream...toy stores? A puppy? A tiger cub? I can't bare for you to be angry with me! I will never ever make you do anything that displeases you again!I will take you to the park 3 times a day for a month and let you eat chocolate chips for breakfast!"

No that would be too easy. To raise strong men, they must learn as boys. Self control, discipline, consequence and unconditional love...(and that slapping your mother is among the top 10 worst things that you could POSSIBLY do!) It is hard to make the less popular choices, it is hard to expect excellent behavior, manners, respect and obedience, it is hard to set and enforce limits, it is hard to be unpopular and be the brunt of anger. It is hard to set the example when I feel like throwing the blocks and screaming too. It is hard to say no. But if it wasn't hard I wouldn't be doing it right.

I would much rather go to the toy store and eat chocolate then have to set curfews, block internet sites, censor music files, take away driving privileges, confiscate cell phones, demand social networking passowords and insist on group dating. I would rather buy take out then make green smoothies, let them quit their lesson rather then force them to see it through and watch them struggle with a new skill until they succeed. I would rather chose the popular way, the mom is awesome way, the easy way.

It is hard to be the parent sometimes.

So I pray for courage.

...And then I tiptoe hesitantly up to his bedroom door.

"Ben?"

He swings it open, grinning.

"Oh hi Mommy! I got the back of my plane to open and that is where the suitcases can go, see this cord? That is the gas station, it fills up the-"

"Hey Ben? why were you in your room?"

"Oh, um because I didn't make a good choice and I hit"

"That's right? What do you need to do now?"

I get a bear squeeze, Jacob gets a turn and we all get a lesson in airline travel playmobil style as though nothing happened at all.

"Hey Ben...um. If you had a favorite girl...who would that be?"

"Ohhhhh Mommy! That is so silly! Of course I do AND it's YOU!".

Whew.

Spring...so far.

So, they say it is spring.

According to the hail, rain, snow and cold that has been outside our house for the last month I would deduct that THEY are big fat liars of the worst kind. (I don't pretend that this sort of thing doesn't put me in a bit of a foul mood...).

There has been a few teases here and there. We wake up to thrust open the windows and lay in the dusty pools of light on carpet. We put on sharky boots (and by we, I mean "they") and head to the park. Never mind that my hands are so cold I can barely push the stroller...this is the best we've got. We will go with it.

***Jacob strips off his clothes in protest and waits wistfully for a wading pool....

Happy Easter

Isaiah 1:18 Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord: though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.


***Ben, putting a picture of Jesus on the fridge that he found in his bedroom after hearing the Easter story.