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Mr. Peanut

In the back of my mind, I always wondered.  I had issues with allergies throughout my entire childhood, including a peanut "sensitivity" that caused me to break out in mild hives and basically want to claw my own neck off.  We don't eat a lot of peanut products in our home as it is. Marcus used to be a triple-decker peanut butter and jelly enthusiast, but has replaced that sandwich with a salami one.  I hate peanut butter mixed with anything, preferring to eat it straight off a spoon, if at all.  I hate it in my baked goods, don't care for it in my candy (unless you've got some Reeses's Pieces, in which case, bring them ON!), and could take or leave a PB and J.  I have to watch my sodium intake, so I rarely eat roasted peanuts, as they are usually so salty. 

So, what I'm saying, is peanuts are not a big deal in our house. 

Until now.

On Sunday, Dean asked (several times) for a peanut butter and jelly "on bread."  I looked at Marcus, puzzled, and asked, "Have YOU ever made him a PB and J?" He said he hadn't and I knew I hadn't.  I asked Dean where he'd eaten one. He said, "We have them at school for snack. ALL THE TIME, MAMA. I want strawberry jelly."  I wasn't sure if they fed them these or not, but it fit in with the "heavy" snack they usually serve in the morning, which is sometimes toast and jelly or the like.  So I made him a fold-over PB and J and he gobbled up every crumb.

We went outside to swing.  About 10 minutes later, Dean said, "My tummy hurts. I need to go to the doctor."  I suggested the bathroom instead, so he went there.  We came back outside, started playing again, then he suddenly bent over and threw up.  He looked up and said, "Mama, I sorry I barfed in the yard. Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech."  He got it all over him, which freaked him OUT (he doesn't barf often), so he screamed, "I NEED A BATH!"  By the time we got him upstairs and undressed, his torso was covered in bumpy hives.  We threw some clean clothes and socks on him and tossed him in the car, me in the back with him holding onto a bottle of Benadryl for dear life. Dean was very troubled by my being in the backseat. "Mama," he said between small wheezes, "get in your chair. UP THERE."

We arrived at the ER and were immediately taken to triage.  Dean introduced himself and retold the barf in the yard story numerous times before we got to our treatment room.  They tried to give him oral steroids, but he flat-out REFUSED to drink them.  The nurse kept telling him that if he didn't drink the medicine, he'd have to have 2 shots.  He didn't seem to care.  After 5 minutes (hives spreading the whole time), I told them to just give him the shots.  So they did. One in each cheek.  We were left alone for about 15 minutes, during which time Dean fell asleep on me. The doctor finally came in, though for the good he did, he may as well have just sent the nurse back. He seemed genuinely afraid of Dean (because he was a kid) and didn't really answer our questions.   The hives had gotten worse, covering Dean from scalp to toes.  FINALLY someoene came in with an epinephrine shot (not  an epi-pen--fortunately we never experienced breathing difficulties) and some Zantac.  Dean cooperated and took the Zantac orally and was pretty brave about the shot.  Within 10 minutes, the hives began to fade and Dean was ready to go.

When we got home, he said, "Let's have some juice and watch Jimmy Neutron now." And so we did.  We followed up with our doctor on Monday and he's scheduled for some more allergy testing in April.  Until then, no more peanuts anymore ever.  We've been coaching him on what to say if he's offered peanut butter or peanuts. "No, thank you, it makes me sick." He likes to add, "And then I barf in the yard. Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh."

Bleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, indeed, buddy.

Dean at 4

Dean is 50 months old today. That's a lot of months.  He is the most fascinating person I've ever met, filled with an astounding amount of energy, a beautiful sense of wonder, he best sense of humor, and a whole lot of love.  Mix in a healthy dose of stubbornness, a little attitude and the messiness of a dozen tornadoes, and you've got a pretty good idea of what our guy's all about.

Dean has a huge imagination, just like me.  When I was little, my toys were my best friends and I spent countless hours creating intricate storylines between my Barbies, Strawberry Shortcake, and a handfull of imaginary pals.  My boy, it seems, inherited that from me.  Each day is a new adventure with Buzz and Woody, the Ben Ten guys, our couple of Transformers, and various super heroes.  Sometimes, toys without defined personalities (random fish toys, for instance) take on different personas. Last week, a beluga whale spent the entire day as the Joker.  We all are assigned 1-2 characters and asked to supply our vocal talents.  If anyone talks in what Dean considers a "mean" voice, he'll say, in the sweetest falsetto, "Can you talk nice, please?"

His current obsession is Thanksgiving. We have no idea why. My mother in law has theorized that it's because I was so happy about Thanksgiving this year. (She may be right.)  Dean hosts Thanksgiving dinner for his toys (and sometimes his parents) at least once a day.  Last week at the grocery store, we found turkey cutlets, so I asked Dean if he'd like Thanksgiving dinner that evening.  He was SO excited to pick out the cranberry sauce, potatoes and stuffing ingredients.  We made a big deal over it and told Dean he could wear his Thanksgiving shirt and invite whichever "friends" he liked.  So our table was surrounded by various "guys" as he calls them, all of whom raved about the stuffing. (They are very polite.)  On Sunday, we decided to make a Play-Doh Thanksgiving feast.  I think it turned out pretty good.

Clockwise, From top left ear:  Pumpkin pie with whipped cream, peas, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes with gravy (my favorite), cranberry sauce, stuffing, and a turkey leg.

He has quite a bit of attitude, which we try very hard to keep in check so it doesn't get out of hand.  Just tonight, he ordered me in a very bossy tone to go get his penguin guy.  I said, "Dean, please ask nicely." He said, "GO, MAMA!" I said, "HEY! I'm not your maid!" He said, "Yes, you are my maid!" (insert Marcus's hysterical laughter from the other room here) I said, "Child. I have a terminal master's degree. Get your own penguin guy."  And he did. He didn't seem impressed with the terminal master's degree, though.  Go figure.

He's not much into tv these days, which is both awesome and slightly frazzling, especially when you're like DUDE. Just watch 20 minutes of Diego so I can start dinner!  He gets a movie or a show at night before his bath, and lately, that's all he wants.  Morning cartoons at "wake up time" have been replaced by his Samurai castle and Batmobile races.  He follows me around the house, helping with chores. He's great at holding the laundry bag while I unload the dryer and has learned to set and start the washer all by himself.  He can recite the list of ingredients for a handfull of our favorite recipes and knows how to operate "Ruby," our Kitchenaid mixer. 

I'm constantly amazed by his ability to memorize things.  He can recite the entire opening scene of Toy Story and can quote several of his story books.  He'll reenact situations and conversations over and over again.  We've started working on writing letters and counting higher and higher. He'd still rather build something with blocks, sticks, sugar packets, whatever he can get his hands on, than color a picture.  Painting is fine, as long as it can be messy.

He's very forth-coming with the "I love you's" these days and nothing makes my heart soar more than hearing, "Mama, we're friends."  He's changed so much in just the two short months since his birthday, and he gets more fun every day.  I'm so glad he lives at my house.

Working on a masterpiece.

The finished product complete with dinosaur in the house, making mac and cheese. (Note the stick for stirring.)

Four

Four years ago, the world became so much brighter, so much happier, and full of a love I had no idea existed before 2:40pm on that very day.  Dean is exactly the child I always wanted and life with him gets better every day.  I miss the little baby he once was, but today I celebrate the very cool little boy he has become.  I'm so glad he's mine.

Happy birthday, my big boy.  

 

Dean's Birthday Observed

Dean's birthday is actually Thursday, but Marcus and I both had today off and the weather was nice, so we decided to observe his birthday today.  He woke up in a great mood and we had a nice, lazy morning around the house.  We played with his samurai castle, ate a lot of fruit, made a swimming pool out of blankets and pillows (yeah, I don't get it either) and played with Chutey. Around lunchtime, we headed to the store where we restocked the fruit, and let Dean pick out lunch. He went for a "chicken piece" from the deli, potato wedges and carrots.  He picked out his annual birthday balloon, going with Winnie the Pooh this year.  His choice shocked me--I was sure we'd get a super hero of some sort. Guess there is a tiny drop of baby left in him after all.

After lunch, we played in his tent, then he went down for a luxurious 2-hour nap, which allowed me to work on his video montage for his actual birthday, write for Food Lush, chat with my pal Andrea, and make some balsamic ravioli salad.  When he got up, we headed to Build A Bear Workshop. It was our first trip and Dean was mesmerized by the choices.

He finally chose Alivn the Chipmunk, then patiently waited for his turn to stuff him. 

When we got to the machine, the worker asked if we wanted Alvin to be soft or fluffy, then had us pick out a heart to put inside.  You take your heart and do a little routine:  rub it between your hands so your animal will stay warm, rub it on your head so he'll be smart, rub it on your tummy so he won't go hungry, rub it on your feet so his won't be stinky, put it on your nose and make a wish (Dean wished for Batman), then put it inside before they seal him up.

Once we'd made our Alvin, we shopped for his outfit. While we were in line, Dean kept picking up this pair of sparkly high heels. Marcus glared at him, but I said, "If he wants to make a cross-dressing chipmunk, that's fine. IT'S HIS BIRTHDAY."  Instead he wandered over to the costume section. They had Spiderman, which I figured would win, Buzz Lightyear and Woody, among others.

Alvin as Woody, complete with cowboy boots and spurs. 

I should mention that Dean went "WOOOOOOOOOOW!" when we walked out of Sears and into the mall. It's the Galleria, so it is big, and I think the last time we were in there was 2 years ago to see Santa, but it was like the kid had never seen anything so wonderful.  Perhaps we should take him to the mall more often. Then again, maybe not. We had to do some creative distracting so he wouldn't spot the brand new Lego store right across from Build-A-Bear.  Had he seen it, we'd have been there til they closed.

After the mall, we headed to Johnny Rockets for a milkshake and dinner. Dean loved getting his ketchup squirted in the shape of a happy face. Alvin was quite well-behaved while we ate.

Dean went to bed happy, snuggled up with Stu the monkey, his friend of nearly 4 years.  Even though the calendar says January 2 instead of the 5th, I think he'll remember today as his 4th birthday.

Despite the poopy look on his face in that picture, he was really happy. He was asking if Alvin could eat with us when I snapped the picture.

Tough Call

We switched pediatricians today.  Our former doctor was great. She is a very no-nonsense, but friendly, type who was in and out of the room very matter-of-factly.  I loved that she talked to me mom-to-mom as well as doctor-to-mom.  I never felt rushed by her and I thought she did a good job taking care of Dean.

Then we met one of her partners.

Last spring, Dean had a bad eczema breakout and our usual steroid cream wasn't cutting it.  We called for an appointment, but our regular doctor was out with a sick child of her own.  The receptionist asked if we'd like to see a partner and we said that would be fine.  The doctor we saw that day is wonderful .  In fact, he reminds me of my own childhood doctor, a great man whom I still remember very fondly.  He has a gentle, quiet voice and he smiles a lot.  Most importantly?  Dean LOVES him.  He talked about him for DAYS after we saw him. 

By chance, we the same doctor again over the summer and Dean was on the best behavior he'd ever been on at the doctor.  More importantly, Marcus and I were extremely happy with the slightly more aggressive treatment he recommended for Dean's asthma, a treatment that has made a world of difference in his day-to-day comfort.  Again, Dean talked about the doctor for days after the visit. Any time we mentioned a doctor, he asked if he got to see THIS doctor. 

For a while, I've wondered when the time might come that Dean would prefer a male doctor.  I, personally, have a female OBGYN and a female Internal Medicine doctor who take care of me.  I really like them both.  I like that they can relate to me as a woman and there's a lot less awkwardness during those pesky visits where you're required to shed some clothing.  I'm not sure exactly when modesty will kick in with Dean, who currently still strips at random times, despite whomever may or may not be in the room with him, but I don't want him to be embarrassed.  We've never talked to him about it because, frankly, I don't think he's old enough to get what we're saying and I don't want to give him a complex about his body.  However, I would like to establish a relationship with a doctor he trusts before these issues present themselves.

I wasn't quite sure how to bring up the subject of switching doctors.  Should I write our former doctor a letter explaining the situation and thanking her for her years of care?  Should I just mention it to the receptionist?  Do I owe an explanation?  Marcus constantly reminds me that the medicine is a service industry, so it is our right as the consumer to choose which doctor we want to treat our child.  (Also, thank you health insurance that gives us that choice.)  The decision was made when Dean got sick last night and was wheezy this morning. Marcus said, "You're taking him to the guy doctor, right? He likes him."  So I called for an appointment.  When they asked who his doctor was, I asked if it would be possible to switch to the preferred doctor. Without hesitation, they answered, "Sure, no problem. He's great." 

And he is great.

His exam room has pictures of sleeping babies and angels on the walls and Dean gave him a high-five when he came in to examine him.  Our choice was justified when, for the first time since Dean's original diagnosis of asthma last year, the doctor ordered a pulse ox test.  He even took a moment to explain in "kid terms" why Dean's ribs are sore today. (from coughing last night)

I left the office feeling like I'd done the right thing by switching doctors and Dean left with 2 Scooby Doo stickers and a pretty big crush on the new doctor's nurse.

Maybe it wasn't such a tough call after all.

The Very Best

Today's NaBloPoMo writing prompt:  What has been the best moment o fyour life thus far?

Heh. That's an easy one.

It's About Time

Look who FINALLY looks just a tiny bit like his mom:

It's In His Blood

Dean's preschool class toured the theatre where Marcus works/teaches today.  They crashed his acting class and got to go up onto the big stage, then backstage to see the costume shop.  After that, we headed down to the small studio theatre where they performed their very own play, The Gingerbread Man.

The set.

Dean portrayed one of several eagles. Here he is in costume:

Each group of animals tried to eat the Gingerbread Man, but could not catch him. It was a great show.

I love seeing Dean interact with his little friends and I adore his teachers.  He doesn't usually go to school on Mondays, but his teachers INSISTED we come for this special tour of the theatre and surprise performance.  I'm so glad we did.

Sometimes...

You just need to plop down in a pile of leaves.

Dean loves to play outside, something Marcus and I encourage with every fiber of our beings.  We both love the outdoors and want Dean to be inetersted in fishing, long walks and just enjoying a nice day. 
Lately, the ground is covered in fallen leaves and one of our favorite things to do after preschool is grab a juice box and lie on our backs under our favorite tree, known as the Bug Tree. (It was invaded by cicadas earlier this year.) 

At night, we all "step outside"as Dean calls it to see how big the moon is and to make a wish on the first star we see.  Dean always wishes for Spiderman.

Sometimes, the only cure for a preschooler's temper tantrum is a breath of fresh air, so I haul a little screaming body outside and let him breathe until he feels better. 

The great outdoors can work miracles, it seems.

Don't forget to participate in our game--see yesterday's post!

Tis Better To Give

I'm worried I've created a monster of sorts. You see, the Target toy catalog showed up in our mailbox last week, complete with boxes next to each item so that you can check off the ones you want Santa to bring you.  Dean has not put it down in 4 days.  He walks around with the catalog and a ball-point pen, then sits down and makes check marks next to the items he wants.

And he wants EVERYTHING.

I'm excited to buy him Christmas gifts and Santa presents.  I'm THRILLED that he's finally old enough to ask for what he wants, rather than leaving us guessing.  His birthday is ten days after Christmas, so it feels like a full month of Dean around here with a party every day. 

This year, something else needs to take center stage for a while.

At my mom and dad's church this weekend, I was reminded of Operation Christmas Child, which collects shoeboxes full of toys, prizes and necessities (think soap, socks, and undergarments) to send to kids who might not get any gifts otherwise.  This year, the boxes go to Haiti. There is a drop-off location less than five miles from our house.  Dean and I will be shopping tomorrow for items to fill a shoebox or two.  It is vital that he learn now that the holidays are about lots more than shiny decorations, gingerbread houses and presents.

We've already been planning what to give friends and family as gifts. Dean has said he would like to make something for one of his teachers and bake cookies for the other one.  Mommy and Daddy will likely throw in a gift card for them, since they are so dreamy.  I'd like to do some personalized ornaments for his little friends, mostly because some of the ones I got when I was his age still hang on my mom's tree and I like the idea of them having something that will remind them of this time in their lives.

How do you teach your kids the true meaning of Christmas?