My darling little 8 year old had a severe allergic reaction to penicillin this week. Most parents would have been terrified (I was, deep inside); Most parents would have rushed to grab the Benedryl (I did, eventually); Most parents would have comforted their kid (I did, after I grabbed the camera). I am not most parents. I am a wannabe cheesemaker. So the only thing that popped into my twisted head was “I wonder if she can still eat Blue Cheese?”.
This got me thinking about food allergies and how difficult it must be for parents with kids who have them. Peanuts? Wheat? Corn? Soy? The list is endless and the dangers are real. I have kids with chronic health issues but I am not sure I could successfully manage food allergies. Kudos to those of you doing it!
I lost it yesterday. Do not get me wrong, As a mom with three young kids, I pretty much lose it every single day. But, yesterday I lost it worse than usual. Part of it is that I have been sick with a flu that made me miss Thanksgiving and seems to be coming back as a hacking cough, earache and possible bronchitis. Part of it is that my kids are often a real pain in the neck and seem to only get worse when I am not 100%. Part of it is that my adorable, loving, handsome husband does not worry about the same things that I think are important after all these years. He is my laid back, fun loving, Yin to my stressed out, uptight, Yang.
So, I lost it and yelled at him. In front of the kids. I feel terrible. Especially because he didn’t really do anything wrong. He just did it differently than I would have. And his way was just fine. In fact, better than fine. Besides, he works crazy hours everyday and then comes home every night and puts the kids to bed so I can veg on the couch. When he finishes with the kids he brings me ice cream and rubs my feet. He also does all of our laundry, deals with anything related to Legos, and is not afraid to paint my girls’ (and his own) toes with pink polish.
Sometimes when I am angry at him I go back and read the journals he has given me over the years. I have one from the first home we bought together with sketches of how we were going to decorate it (of course we never did), I have one from our honeymoon with watercolor sketches of our adventures. The one he wrote the first time I had a miscarriage makes me sob. He wrote a journal entry everyday on the train to work during my pregnancy and then when it was all over he printed it for me in a little book with a ribbon tie. I like the tie. Somehow it made it less accessible and allowed me to read it when I was ready (10 years later and I still can’t really get through it).
So, he is a good guy who has the right to do things his way (sometimes). He deserves an apology and a break. I deserve another sick day.