It started out okay- did my carpool, came home and played with the baby and three year old, cleaned a little, put the baby down, and then bribed the 3 year old with promises of making a cake together if he would just let me sit for a moment and catch up on my blogs. Said 3 year old (surprisingly) complied and after my time on the computer, we moved it to the kitchen where we donned aprons and began making a spice cake.
Before I write further, let me give you a little background on my son J- he spent his entire first year of life completely miserable with allergy related eczema. Without boring you with all the details, I'll just say that it took a homeopathic doctor, lots of trials, lots of errors, and lots of trips to the whole foods market for us to find out that he was allergic to eggs, soy, nuts, and shellfish. We've since gotten his skin under control (calling him Lizard Boy no longer applies, thankfully). He's even mostly outgrown the egg and soy allergy, which makes life suh-weet cuz it means I can bake cakes, pies, cookies, and breads for my entire family once again. It'll take more than allergies to rid this mama of her extreme carb addiction.
Anyway, here's how my Stupid Mommy Moment of the Week happened: I knew he couldn't have peanuts. But at a party recently someone had accidentally given him a cookie with walnuts in it and surprise, surprise- no reaction! So yesterday when I was bringing out the ingredients for the Spice Cake, I paused with the bag of walnuts in my hand and thought to myself "This may not be a good idea." However, there was another voice in my head that said "Aw, what's a Spice Cake without nuts? He was fine before. He'll be fine now." And unfortunately, it was that voice that I decided to go ahead and listen to.
We had fun mixing the batter and when we were done J asked to lick the beater, which I let him do (cuz that's practically a kids' right after helping to make a cake).
I had my back to him doing dishes. As soon as I turned off the faucet I knew something was wrong because I heard him making gagging sounds. I turned around and saw him sticking his fingers down his throat, as if trying to itch his mouth from the inside. His ENTIRE face was broken out in tiny little blisters- they were even on his eyelids. I grabbed the beater away and started wiping the batter that covered his face with a washcloth. And everytime I wiped something off, I uncovered skin that was swollen and puffy. Thankfully, he could breathe and talk okay. He kept telling me that he was itchy. I keep Benadryl in the pantry specifically for his allergic reactions- so I whirled and got some, measured out the recommended amount for his weight, pushed his head back, and threw it down his throat. Unfortunately, I was in such a rush that I hadn't prepared him at all for this, and the poor guy spit most of it out. So now I had a quandry- I didn't know how much he ingested, and I was sure he needed more, but how much more?
Sooooooo, long story short I took him to Urgent Care (as suggested by my neighbor who happens to be an ER nurse and who also happened to be in his driveway-THANK YOU GOD- when I was frantically trying to load a baby and my now-vomiting son into my car).
So when we got to Urgent Care, I rushed to the window and practically shouted "My son is having an allergic reaction!" The lady behind the window bent to take a look at J who I was surprised to see performing a lively rendition of "If Your Happy and You Know It" for his baby sister. I hadn't noticed that the little turkey was feeling better. Don't get me wrong, I was glad for it, but really, would it have been so awful for him to act the part a tiny bit longer so that my dramatic entrance wouldn't seem so... well, dramatic? It all felt a little anti-climatic. The receptionist handed me a clipboard with a gazillion papers on it to fill out and asked me to have a seat.
Half an hour later, we had yet to even pay our co-pay. J's hives were almost completely gone and he was loosing patience with having to sit quietly in a chair. So I went up to the window and sheepishly asked if it would be okay if we just left. She handed me back the paperwork and said if we needed to come back to bring the paperwork and we'd be admitted right away. So we left.
The rest of the day we continued our plans as normal with me just keeping a close eye on him, but I was in a total funk. I was so angry at myself for taking a risk like that. I should've listened to that voice in my head that told me not to let him eat the walnuts. Everyone knows you're supposed to listen to that voice! Oprah always says to listen to that voice! Why didn't I?
And yeah, everything turned out okay, but I couldn't stop berating myself for being so careless. It wasn't until I was putting Princess G down for bed that I had a little moment that lifted me up.
We were in her bead reading the daily bible devotions that her Sunday School sends home every week. In the back of the Bible is a map of the land of Canaan. Princess G took a look at it and asked me "What's that? A map for how to get to Heaven?"
I got a good giggle out of that. It wasn't until later that I thought if only it WERE a map for how to get to heaven. I'd get on that road tonight and ask God directly if he's completely sure that I have it in me to take proper care of 3 children and 1 stepson? Cuz it's days like yesterday that make me take a look at these funny, creative and loud little souls and wonder if it's a fluke that I got to be blessed with them.
Oh my gosh! How scary Tacy. Glad the little monkey is o.k. You get blessed to be Jakes mama because you CAN handle these things. I would have been a wreck and would have needed medical help for myself. You are a GREAT mom!
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