peanuts, shellfish and eggs, oh my

I finally bit the bullet and took Magnus to get allergy tested. For a year I've had a sneaking suspicion that he is allergic to nuts and shellfish. On the two occasions that he came into contact with shrimp, small red welts developed on his chin and upper lip. Not a great look. He also had a small taste of peanut butter while visitng my parents and promptly threw up on their rug. Definitely not a great look.

The allergist suggested that we do blood work vs the skin prick test, based on the reactions I described. Drawing blood from the arm of a three year old is no easy task, but we managed to get it done and I'm pretty sure there won't be long-term damage.

While the lab was analyzing the results, we proceeded to take our annual end-of-summer vacation to Coronado Island. We visited Legoland, watched the dolphins at Sea World and ate far too many sweets at Disneyland. I was sitting on a bench in Frontierland consuming said sweet when I noticed a message on my cell phone. "This is Dr. XXX's office. We have some important information from Magnus's tests that we need to share with you immediately."

I threw up a bit in my mouth while dialing the office. The receptionist put me right through. Dr. XXX came on the line in her thick German accent and said, "Magnus is allergic to several foods. Definitely eggs. He also has a severe allergy to peanuts and shellfish. I am going to order you a prescription for an Epi-Pen. You need to have zis close by at all times. You vill have to exert extreme caution moving forward as zis allergy can sometimes be a life-sreatening condition."

I felt my heart break into little pieces and scatter into the wind. No peanut butter sandwich, ever? No shrimp tempura? An Epi-Pen? Would my darling son be relegated to wearing an unsightly medic bracelet and eating at the no-nuts table by himself at school?

After we put Mags to bed that night I broke down to J. I had food allergies as a kid, as did J, but was it feasible we could produce a child with a severe peanut allergy, the type that could cause anaphylactic shock? Didn't thousands of people die every year from accidentally ingesting something that contained the enemy peanut? What about the girl that kissed her boyfriend, who had just consumed a peanut butter sandwich, and died two hours later?

The ride home to LA was horrible as a series of doomsday scenarios filled my brain. What if the Epi Pen expired and Mags had an episode? What if some asshole bully at school tries to force feed Mags a nut? (Note to self: need to enroll him in self defense classes early).

The small but rationale side of my brain decided to make an appearance and told the neurotic side of my brain to piss off, what I really needed to do was research. I should become more informed, first-hand, about the reality of food allergies. So I went to the Food Allergy and Anaphylaxis (FAAN) website, read medical journals, perused the CDC Web site and visited probably 100 web sites dedicated to food allergies. What I found made me nuts.

The FAAN, a lobbying group, says 150-200 people die annually as a result of a food allergy. This statistic is also touted in news articles and on numerous food allergy websites. But according to the CDC, only 11 people die annually. Food allergy deaths are recorded and reported by the CDC, not any other organization. So how did the 150-200 number come about?

The math is a little fuzzy but apparently FAAN cites a 1999 journal study about anaphylaxis among residents in Olmstead County. Olmstead County? Yeah, apparently, there are few to zero epidemiological studies available on this topic. Interestingly, if you dig further into the study, none of the 133 county residents who had reported allergic reactions actually died from a food allergy.

What about the infamous story about the peanut butter kiss of death? According to reporter Meredith Broussard, one of the few journalists who is actually investigating food allergy stats and not simply parroting them, the girl, who suffered from asthma, had been smoking at a party previously. She died, not as a result of trace amounts of the peanut butter sandwich her boyfriend had consumed, but as the result of an asthma attack. Apparently few media outlets reported on the coroner's findings but most of them ran with the story of how an innocent kiss could kill a person with a food allergy.

I'm not under any illusions that our life, moving forward, won't be challenging. We have to read food labels, talk to Magnus's teachers and friends about protecting him, and carry an Epi-Pen for events when food is served...so basically, everything. I accept that. I won't accept the culture of fear and paranoia that tells me not to even open a bag of peanuts around him, when there is simply no scientific evidence that this sort of measure actually does any good. I've ranted on this blog about being too neurotic, the last thing I want is to turn Bubba into a fearful hypochondriac.

Anyone have experience with food allergies and care to sound off?

spending the night with the GOP

Whelp, I did it. You'll be proud, faithful readers. I sat through 20 minutes of last night's GOP debate, and no barfing. I think the party should nominate Herman Cain - the man dressed better, talked better, and he used to run Godfather's Pizza, after all.

It was interesting to watch the crowd respond to some of the baseless crap the candidates were spewing. I can't remember who starting bitching about Obamacare and how its unconstitutional. A white guy, I think. Anyway, his comments were met with furious applause. Please. Health care is commerce. Congress has the right to regulate commerce. And it can do so by whatever means it feels is necessary. How is that unconstitutional? Heck, even a conservative law professor who was solicitor general under Reagan thinks its constitutional.

At some point Michele Bachmann started pontificating and J pointed out how she looked like one of the animated characters from that cartoon Team America, at which point I started laughing and needed to pee. That proved an opportune time to switch channels and watch something more interesting, like an Iron Chef episode we'd already seen 20 times.

Let's see how this mudslinging love fest unfolds.

i so proud

Yesterday we had our first playdate at Magnus's preschool. I was actually excited to go, having put aside my issues about meeting other moms and having those awful platonic conversations about sippy cups and bowel movements.

Magnus did REALLY well, detaching himself from J almost immediately and flinging himself onto the small jungle gym. He proudly pointed to his name tag and declared, "I'm Magnus Alt" to anyone who would listen. At one point I turned around and he was sitting in the middle of the seasaw, grinning, surrounded by five little blonde girls.

Yep, I think he's adjusting just fine.

At the end of the playdate his teacher came up to me and said, "Magnus has the most amazing vocabulary! He is so eloquent for three. It's rare." I did the bashful curtsy while seriously fighting the urge to say, "Fuck yea, he's eloquent! Who you think you talkin to?"

We left the school hand-in-hand, me jabbering on and on to J about how brilliant our child was. "She complimented him after only ONE hour. Did she signal out any other kids? I didn't see her do that. Maybe she did, but she talked to us FIRST. He's gifted, I think."

"Of course he is," J said, although I couldn't tell if he was being sincere or agreeable, since I'm five months pregnant and majorly hormonal.

We will return to preschool today and I'm thinking I can sneak in some astronomy lessons on the ride over, just to give Mags the extra edge.

Not that I'm competitive, or anything.

i can hear you!!

I'm on the phone but I can hear you outside my office, talking like I'm not even there.

"This is Roya. She oversees public affairs. She's actually pregnant with twins."

"Really? You can't even tell."

Snarky laugh. "Actually, she's small to begin with. But about three weeks ago, BOOM! She just popped. You can't see it behind the desk, but wait til she stands up."

"Eeeuw, really?"

"She's going to get much bigger. I think she's only five months now, but just wait."

Gaggle of laughter ensues.

I can't turn around fast enough to give them both the stink eye, so I'll just continue eating my bagel, talking on the phone and reveling in my girth.

we need a vacation from you

Dear Boss,

I hope this note finds you well. Just wanted you to know, since I am sure you are thinking about it, that everything is fine. There are no crises threatening to derail our nearly 100-year old institution. Employees are showing up to work and even staying until late afternoon. Work is being completed on time and we are diligently handling all questions/requests in your absence.

So why the need to check email and call every day from your family vacation in Hawaii? Do you have any idea how ANNOYING and UNNECESSARY that is? Do you realize you are creating more work by forcing us to respond to you, plus also handle your work? You went on vacation last year and did the same thing, and the same thing before that. If I were your wife, I would have divorced you by now. You said you were going on vacation. Stay on vacation. Our team needs a vacation from you, too.

Love,
R

oh brother(s)

We had an ultrasound today and I couldn't bear the suspense anymore. While Dr. T (who J and I lovingly call Dr. Personality in honor of his penchant for not speaking) stared at the monitor, I blurted out, "Will we know the sex today?"

"Sure," he said. Then he continued to stare at the screen, make some notes and generally ignore me. After a few minutes he wiped my midsection and said, "Everything is good."

"So do we know?" I asked him, mildly hyper.

"We don't know," he replied. "But I know."

OMG, really? "So, Dr. T, what do you know?"

"What do you want?" he said.

Oh, we're playing that game. Okay. "A boy and a girl would be nice," I replied.

He shook his head. "This is out of the question."

Wha, what?? "Uh...is it...two girls?" I said, feeling my hands start to sweat. I'm a feminist and all but raising two girls, especially two teenage girls, might make me join the Taliban.

"Do you want two girls?"

I get what I want in this scenario? Well, well. "My husband wants a basketball team," I replied, "so two boys would be nice."

"Okay," he said, pretending to look down a list. "The preference is boy and girl, two boys, and last preference is two girls."

"Right!"

He nodded and said, "Your husband will have a basketball team. See you in two weeks."

"Are you KIDDING? TWO boys?"

"I'm not kidding. Make sure you get your glucose screen next week." And with that, Dr. Personality shook my hand and vacated the room.

There you have it. Cut and Paste, their working names, are two boys. I will share a house with four dudes. Magnus will have two little brothers to play with or beat up. I won't know the experience of raising a daughter. But I'm okay. I'm more than okay. I'm a mamma to three BOYS!

how much regressing is good?

Last week I had the great fortune of meeting Dr. Murad (THAT Dr. Murad, of the famed Murad skin care line). Our company is doing a cause marketing partnership with Murad in support of women's cancers research. The meeting was designed to immerse our team in the Murad philosophy of inclusive health.

But I digress.

Dr. Murad was kind enough to give us a tour of Murad's sprawling complex, show us his office and laboratory spaces, feed us fruit and then talk to us about his world view. All good until he discussed children and how we could all benefit from being more child-like.

Uhhhhhhhhh.....

I've heard this argument before but I decided to give it more consideration after our meeting. I fully believe that most adults are consumed by the mundane realities of life: the mortgage, car insurance, office politics, job stresses, etc. We don't laugh as much as we could or take the time to find pleasure in small things.

However, I am at a loss as to how I could become more child-like while still earning a living, raising a family and keeping my husband attracted to me. Baby talk is completely out of the question. I suppose I could stop cooking dinner and when Magnus and J look to me with hunger in their eyes, I could point to the backyard and yell, "Slide!" Or, when my boss gives me my budget and asks why I'm spending money on certain things, I could place my hand beneath my armpit and emit fart noises. Something along those lines?

I do try to make an effort as much as possible to reflect on the many positives of my life and find humor instead of looking at the negative, but that's as far as I can go without completely regressing and soiling my pants. I wonder, is Dr. Murad, who runs a multimillion dollar empire, really child-like in his views? I can't imagine the pressures of product development, research, marketing, fulfillment and customer service allowing for him to be whimsical, open and trusting.

But perhaps I'm just a battered, cynical old soul who is beyond help?