Allergy Testing, Renegade Mothering, and a Confession

Every year around Easter, Peeps start showing up in stores and everyone is like, “OMG they are so nasty!” and you realize that nobody over the age of 12 enjoys them. I always laugh and say, “Oh yeah, I can eat like one a year. Same for Cadbury Cream Eggs!”

I’m a fucking liar.

I would eat a Peep inside a Cadbury Cream Egg if that was a thing. I literally just shoved two Peeps in my mouth at the same time. And then went back for a third. I’m going to buy some Peeps just to put in between two of the 1.5 fucktons of S’mores Girl Scout cookies that I’m on the hook for and make the ultimate s’more.

You know when you’re a teenager and everyone suddenly decides they hate your favorite band and you’re like, “Yeah, they’re so lame now. Totally sold out. I mean, I guess that one song is sort of ok,” and then you go home and listen to the entire cassette on repeat in your sweet dual cassette player, but you put something cool in the other one because that way you can switch really fast if someone comes over?

It’s like that.

Ok. Glad to get that off my chest.

Do you guys follow Janelle Hanchett over at Renegade Mothering? Because you should. I think she and Jenny Lawson are the only two bloggers I’ve spent therapy time discussing. I could have been using my time to discuss big deep feelings but instead, I used it to talk about how much I love their writing, and that says something. Possibly it just says that sometimes I avoid talking about big deep feelings, but whatever.

Some number of years ago I turned my friend Jessamyn onto Renegade Mothering. And then a year and a half ago she was at a fall festival hayride type of thing and she saw her and acted like the crazy person she is and introduced herself and then they became friends on Facebook. A couple of weeks ago Janelle asked her if she would like to be part of the launch team for her new book. On the spot where it asks if you have anybody you’d like to refer to also be part, Jess put me. So I get an advance copy of the book and I’m going to read it and tell you what I think. There’s little danger here, as I feel 99.999% sure I’m going to love it. Maybe I’ll make a YouTube video of me opening the package, interspersed with my kids opening illegal KinderEggs, so that people will actually watch. Probably, I’ll just take a photo. Maybe I’ll add a cool filter.

Janelle has a writing workshop called Write Anyway and the description immediately made me want to take it. She says it’s for the writer who:

• has a nagging question or persistent feeling of “You should write this,” but isn’t;
  can’t decide what to write about;
• constantly hears the “you suck why are you even trying?” voice when she sits down to write
• is too afraid to write what they’re really feeling/thinking/experiencing;
• is agonizing over what people will think;
• is obsessing over perfection; and/or
• getting bent out of shape for 3 days over assholes on the internet criticizing in ways that hurt (and somehow they always hit where it hurts). Throwing shade. Insulting intelligence. Name-calling. Making fun. Crafting Reddit threads against you.

Iknowright? Alas, there was no way I could afford it. That’s what I talked to my therapist about. But maybe someday, I figured.

Then I sort of stopped writing so much, except for the stuff I write for Pregnant Chicken and the occasional blog post. There were a lot of reasons. I burned out a little. I felt like I was saying the same thing repeatedly, like none of it really matters, like I had said all I could. And of course, the general impostery feeling that I suck, and eventually someone is going to realize I suck, etc. That all successes are flukes and the rejections matter more than all the Washington Post essays in the world.

Then I got an email blast from Janelle about her workshops for this summer, and for Write Anyway, she mentioned she had two 50% scholarships available. So, I did what I always do, and leaped before I looked and was like, “OH ME! I TALKED ABOUT YOU IN THERAPY ONCE!”

And so this summer I get to do her online writing workshop. Which means I’ll have to write. Anyway.

Hopefully, she’ll tell me how the hell to transition between subjects. Because allergy testing. Also, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so many Peeps at one time.

Lorelei has had this recurring cough, especially at night. She wakes up sounding like my grandpa. Her eyes are itchy and her nose is snorgly. I mentioned that allergy testing was a thing and she was super excited and wanted me to make her an appointment for that afternoon. Six weeks later and she finally had her appointment yesterday. I made one for Rowan, too, so we could see what all might be triggering his Asthma.

We’ve spent a lot of time discussing the testing and how nervous she was. She psyched herself into terror about the whole thing and then wanted to talk about that. She has surpassed my own helpful coping tips by cutting me off with, “I know you’re just going to say it’s ok to be scared.” Well shit, that is exactly what I was going to say, maybe you should start giving me advice?

We got called back pretty quickly, and the nurse took Rowan’s vitals first. Rowan, being a pro at all things medical, was completely whatever about the whole ordeal. Blood pressure cuff? Pulse ox? He’s been doing this his whole life. Lorelei, on the other hand, started crying “it hurts, it hurts!” about the blood pressure cuff. Rowan was trying to comfort her, saying, “It’s ok worwie! It’s ok” and “Worwie, get a the mommy snuggle! Get a the mommy nuggle!”

Then he got tired of her bullshit and said, “Worwie, no crying in here, worwie.”

via GIPHY

I explained that she could cry if she needed to — but when they got us into a room and she was still crying about the freaking blood pressure cuff, I was getting pretty nervous about what the next 30 minutes was going to look like.

Lorelei hid under a chair and said Rowan had to go first.

He thought it was funny when the nurse wrote all over his back. He thought the actual poky feelings were less fun, and cried, “Dat hurts!” and then as soon as she was done he was totally fine and wanted to color.

Lorelei started hyperventilating before I even lugged her out from under the chair and across the room. She tried to hold her shirt down so the nurse couldn’t get to her back. Then when she started with the poking Lorelei started screaming. As the nurse finished she let out an ear-piercing screech. Rowan was like, “da fuq?”

Then we had to sit there for 15 minutes while Lorelei acted like she was being bitten by 92405893405 mosquitoes at one time. The nurse brought me a clipboard to fan her back with.

Finally, the nurse came to read them. Lorelei was allergic to dust mites, and that’s it. Of course, she would be allergic to something that means I should clean more.

Rowan was allergic to…

Absolutely nothing.

I know. That was not what I expected, either. I guess his asthma flairs really are virus related.

The one big weal on his back is the histamine control, which got ginormous. A family med doctor friend said that’s probably why he goes from 0 to 60 so fast when it comes to his asthma. His body is super angry. #hulksmash

Lorelei is already upset that she has to go for a follow up in six months, and is a little mad at Rowan for not being allergic to anything. I’m kinda thinking he weighed three pounds when he was born had tubes threaded up towards his heart, feeding tubes, and daily blood draws — so… maybe we should give him a pass.