A much needed parenting win

I'm not the parent I want to be right now. This whole PND malarkey is kicking my butt in terms of patience and acceptance of kids being kids. I have to keep reminding myself that Tricky is only three, because he just seems so much older now that Bobbin is here and he has a booklist I have to buy for kindy next year. KINDY!

Tricks has had some major adjustments over the last few months; his aunty leaving to live overseas, losing his bedroom, his backyard, and then the lounge room where he would play, gaining a sister, his beloved day care teacher leaving and of course having a mother who is not as bubbly and fun as she once was. It is so much in such a small boy's life and understandably he's pushing boundaries and figuring out where he fits.

Last week he had conjunctivitis. Have you ever tried to put eyedrops in to a stubborn three and a half year old child's eyes? One who doesn't like anything done to his head at all? OH it is glorious fun. The highlight of my day and just the thing to reduce me to tears because IF YOU JUST SAT STILL IT WOULD TAKE TWO SECONDS NOT TEN MINUTES!!!

My usual negotiating and firmness has been replaced with bargaining, bribery and, I'm ashamed to say, threats. I even pulled the biggest threat of all on him... that Santa would not come. As soon as I said it, I regretted it. Because the behaviour wasn't "naughty" and therefore in need of consequences. He was scared. Absolutely petrified it was going to hurt. If I tell him off for telling me how he feels, what sort of message is that sending him?

I felt awful and his little frown broke my heart. I swore there and then I wouldn't let this bastard PND screw up my kids. I would have to get my creative parenting mojo back.

And today, I did.

Right now, his eczema is flaring. I've tried countless techniques to get cream on him but he hates it, again based on fear after one extortionately expensive cream stung him terribly. So, after refusing cream and being unable to even force it on him, he wakes up screaming and scratching until he bleeds. Every goddamn night. Something needed to be done.

I went to the shops and bought a new tube of cream and grabbed a $2 sheet of Lighting McQueen stickers and wrapped the former in the latter. I raced outside to show Tricks our tube of 'Rust-eze' and his whole face lit up. It was magical. I told him that this was the same type of Rust-eze that Lightning McQueen used and it would make him run, scoot and ride faster. Yep, I lied. And I'm damn proud of myself.

For the first time ever, he let me put cream on him without crying and begging (from either of us). Then, with the biggest smile ever, he ran around to see if it was working already. We whooped and hollered at how unbelievably fast he was going, and he was pleased as punch.

It might sound pathetic that I'm so proud of this, but if you knew what a fight it was every time he needs this cream, you'd be fist bumping and air punching too. And I feel that maybe, just maybe, a little bit of my mojo is on its way back.

Bypass the slippers this Mother’s Day. Please.

This is a S1 post

For full details please see my disclosure policy

 
I love these el-cheapo slippers you bought at 4:55pm yesterday. Said no mother ever on Mother's Day morning.

There are definitely a few yawn worthy Mother’s Day gifts promoted in the catalogues that are starting to breed in my letterbox. Think crappy beige slippers, a box of choccies that expired in 2010, a dressing gown with cats embroided on it and those foot spas that you have to wash with acid lest some weird fungus moves in and starts growing on your feet (please note handmade stuff is never on the yawn list. Ever. I die of the cute even when my first thought is “um, what is it?” rather than “oh I love it!”).

Until relatively recently, top of my list would have been flowers. As someone who used to spend from September to October sneezing and sucking back on antihistamines like they were Tic Tacs, anything that reminded me of spring would make me cringe. Flowers, baby bunnies, lambs frolicking in a meadow, AFL grand finals etc.

Map Guy knew this when we met and has never, ever bought me flowers.

But then I went all fancy pants and got “desensitized to spring”. A series of weekly injections for six months and, well, everything changed. Now that my face no longer swells for three months every year I have learned to appreciate the blooms, the bunnies and the little lambies. I’m still working on the AFL, but these things take time and desensitization isn't a miracle cure after all.

I am still very new to flowers and from someone who used to avoid them at all costs I now catch myself liking all the pretty bunches on Instagram (were they always so pretty?) and looking up what different flowers are called because my knowledge base is limited to roses and gerberas thanks mainly to TV commercials.

But I am coming around to the point where recently I put a small posy of flowers on the table when we had visitors and in the past month have gone to TWO gardening shows so I could learn more. ME! Choosing to spend a day surrounded by gorgeous flowers! Can you believe it?

This week I’ve learned that Lilies are symbols of fertility (hint hint: for the mama to be) and that pink roses are a not only a classic for Mother’s Day but are one of the better flowers for people with the sneezles because the tight petals keep most of the pollen trapped well and good.

My only issue now with flowers is that Map Guy was so good at the art of not getting me any that I will now have to do some serious hinting to let him know it is now more than OK *coughtuplipspleasecough*.

If you’d like to spoil your mum, grandmother, step-mum, mother-in-law or even a girlfriend who has lost a child or isn’t able to have one (it can be a really tough day for them) with $100 to spend at Roses Only, use the entry form below to tell me the best quality a mum should have. And fear not, despite the name they do have other types of flowers plus champers, chocolates, beauty products, fruit boxes and all that stuff that smells good, so if your mama is spring-phobic like I used to be, there is still something there for her. Remember that Roses Only do deliver Australia wide on Mother's Day so even if you're miles apart your pressie will get to her on the day.

Head over to Roses Only for some great non yawn worthy Mother’s Day gift ideas. But don’t forget to give her a sleep in and a handmade card, too – that’s free and very much appreciated. 
 

The B&B Bee

When Aunty Penny and I went on our mini-break to Northam to go Hot Air Ballooning we stayed in a cute little B&B right on the Avon river. It had everything you would expect from a B&B - a comfy bed, a clean bathroom, tea and coffee facilities (aka a kettle and a couple cups), and a TV that got My Kitchen Rules. Turns out it also had a free added extra in the form of a stow-away bee that came in on my jeans.

Walking around the town we'd seen bees bloody everywhere. Every tree we walked past was buzzing and we kept doing the I've-just-been-dive-bombed-by-a-bee ninja dance. The thing is no one else sees the bee so it just looked like we were both spontaneously break dancing. Badly. It was very attractive.

I have been stung by bees more times than I care to remember (a result of embracing my inner-feral and refusing to keep my shoes on as a child) and every time I would swell up like a balloon and be rushed off to get some antihistamines. Nothing life threatening, just a temporary case of what looked rather like elephantitis.

The last time I was stung was the day of the end of school concert when I was in year one. I was two weeks away from the huge milestone of turning six (requires TWO HANDS to display = major milestone) and as I sat cross legged in the sun rehearsing "The Daisies In The Meadow" a bee landed just above my ankle, no doubt attracted by a group of children with oversize daisies on their heads.

For the first time in my whole life I did not panic. My mum had flicked away bees with her fingernail so many times and I was sure I could do the same. I would be a hero. I would go home and tell her proudly that I had done what she had always tried to get me to do. There would be NO STING on concert day. I calmly went to flick the bee away, just like I had seen her do... only I hadn't paid too much attention and flicked so hard down the bee IMPLANTED IN MY FUCKING LEG!

There was much crying and flailing as my teacher dug out not only the sting but a few legs and a wing. The swelling started straight away and my parents were called to pick me up. I spent the rest of the day with my leg raised, sucking down antihistamines and begging to be allowed to perform on stage at the concert. I hadn't put all that effort in to my ice-cream bucket hat with petals attached for nothing, ya know?

Image Credit via CC: Treesha Duncan

A pair of tights were sought and the show went on. The ultimate performer with a flower hat and one leg twice the size of the other all the way from my toes to my hip. For the record, me and my fat leg completely rocked out and I still remember the words to that song. No doubt the trauma of the day has imprinted it in my brain for eternity.

So anyway, back to Northam! Aunty Penny and I were getting ready for bed at the Nanna time of 8:00pm when the bee dropped from my jeans on to my foot between my toes and, deciding that his lack of grip on denim was in fact my fault, stung me immediately.

I graduated from bee avoidance ninja dance to holy-fuck-I-don't-remember-it-hurting-so-damn-much cha cha followed by the desperate flamenco of someone thinking they're about to have an allergic reaction.

It had been 25 long years since my last sting and in those years I was always told to assume the allergy remained and rather than subject myself to a sting to test the theory I just went with it. So after scraping the sting from between my toes with my fingernails I put my foot up and so began the "Great Toe Stare of 2013". For someone who hates feet, this was almost as painful as the sting itself.

As we watched to see if my whole leg would swell I started Googling things like "outgrow sting allergy" "bee sting allergy pregnant" and "why me?". Meanwhile Map Guy informed me that if I did have a reaction I'd have to go to hospital since extended trading hours is a concept still quite foreign to that tiny town. Great.

The area started to puff up a little and a red line started to streak down my foot. Oh fuck, here it comes, I thought. But then the most lovely thing happened... nothing. The anti-climax to beat all anti-climaxes! I am officially no longer allergic to bees!

Despite this fabulous news I am still going to be ninja dancing my way around them though because DAMN it bloody hurt.

How long since you've been stung by a bee? Are you a ninja dancer?

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Ahhh, nuts!! {plus giveaway}

Alternatively titled: I was RIGHT, bitches!!

Every time I write about Tricky's anaphylaxis to cashews I feel like the biggest bloody drama queen and I'm practically incapable of using my go-to coping method to deal with it: making a joke out of it. Because it's not funny. Not at all. Whilst it might have seemed overly dramatized to those of you with no experience with anaphylaxis, everything I wrote here about it was and remains true for allergy parents. The fear, the uncertainty, the endless anxiety. The constant vigilance leaves you weary and feeling like the biggest helicopter parent in the world the minute food is around.

If life occurred in the safe little bubble of your own home then you could avoid allergens quite easily, but we all need to go out. To the shops, day care, school, friends' houses, events, on holiday. The moment you leave your house (or someone visits) the chopper blades start spinning.

Tricky's allergy testing was inconclusive - he presented twice to emergency with 'atypical anaphylaxis' then had a negative skin prick test and positive RAST test. I had four emergency doctors and three immunologists tell me that if he had even minute traces of cashews that it would be life threatening.

The results didn't add up for me. I had a mama gut feeling that my little man was in fact not allergic but perhaps just sensitive to cashews (or something else entirely, like sulphur), and that both episodes had been severe, no warning asthma attacks just like the one he had a week later that required an ambulance. One immunologist agreed with me and said we could go straight to an oral challenge and not wait until he was five.

I figured knowing either way has to be better than this limbo. Two and half years of anxiety when it might all have been a mistake? No thanks. I wasn't at all nervous in the lead up to it, in fact I was quite giddy with excitement so sure was I that everything would be fine. But then when I woke up yesterday morning to the sad news that a 16 year old boy had died at a Sydney school after a cooking class used nuts in a cookie recipe, and it filled me with dread. Was I really about to take my kid to the hospital to possibly induce the same anaphylaxis based on a hunch? I was ready to hand myself in to authorities as the worst mother ever.

We headed to Princess Margaret Hospital and "checked in". It's just like checking in at a hotel except that you get tagged with bright red arm bands and there is sadly no swim up bar. Base line obs were taken and all seemed well so we moved on to a new skin prick test. As I watched, an angry red welt appeared on his arm and I thought it was all over. What the fuck!? Dude, your one previously negative test came back positive before we even started the challenge?! I don't even know how it is possible but the result put him firmly in to the allergic basket. Shit.

After a consult with the registrar and the fellow (jolly good fellow?) it was decided that we'd persevere to the next stage - rubbing a cashew on his gums and see what happened with epi pen at the ready. I didn't breathe for the next fifteen minutes but Tricky did. With ease. So we continued.

Each time he was given more and more cashew nut and observed. He absolutely loved them and would ask "more p'ease" without fail... then the alarm went off to signal his blood pressure was dropping. He was otherwise fine - smiling, playing with the iPad, telling me about all the cars in his game - and he quickly picked back up again. Again the word atypical was thrown around. I kinda like my kid to be typical.

Yet another consult with the big wigs and they gave another dose but watched him much more closely. After his second last dose two welts developed on his chin and he started to cough. If I'd been wearing the heart monitor, it would have been beeping like mad right about then. The doctors came, much more quickly this time, but his lungs sounded good and all his vital signs were fine. Atypical. Sigh.

His final dose was given and he drifted off to sleep safe in my arms for the mandatory two hour wait. While he slept they continued to monitor him. I could tell you now about how when he woke up he started coughing and scratching and everyone freaked out, but really, it's more of the same atypical stuff and this post is already way too long.

The final all clear won't be given until later today because you can have a delayed anaphylaxis reaction, but right now it is looking absolutely bloody brilliant. He has a mild allergy to cashews but it's something he is likely to outgrow with continued exposure. I have a RSI from constant jazz hands and feel like bursting in to tears I'm so happy.

Chicken cashew nut is now back on the menu and I can now actually buy foods without checking the packet to see if they are manufactured on the same lines as tree nuts. Hooray! Last week Kellogg's and Be Natural asked if I'd like to do a giveaway and were very understanding when I replied "Maybe. I'll let you know on Tuesday". To help me celebrate this momentous occasion they have come to the party and given me some awesome prizes to give away that contain NUTS and TRACES OF NUTS! HUZZAH! To top it off they're sending Tricky some too.

To enter click here to go to the Facebook App. If you're not on Facebook, and really, I can't blame you, you can enter below by commenting (just let me know it's an entry).

I've walked the shoes of an anaphylaxis parent for six months. A blink of an eye compared to what other 'ana' parents do. As awful as it was, I'm grateful for the perspective it has given me and particularly thankful for the support of this community and the outreach of certain bloggers (Bianca from Big Words, Grace from With Some Grace), and readers who helped me navigate this path and feel less alone.

For the foreseeable future I'll be dancing in the streets and screaming to anyone who will listen that my kid doesn't have anaphylaxis and that I still can't believe my hunch was right. 

Now, who wants some nuts?
This is not a sponsored post

When a city girl goes to the country

I was really looking forward to our holiday. I was practically frothing at the mouth with excitement because, hello, wineries. Oh and all that family bonding time away from social media and whatnot.

Map Guy planned it all and if the whole cartography thing ever falls through I'm sure he could rock it as a travel agent or tour guide. Apart from the infographic, we had daily maps and directions with a list of activities to do every day. It wasn't a "you must do this", more an idea of what was available. We ended up doing most of his suggestions because they were bloody good and involved a lot of trains for the short train-obsessed blond kid in our group.

He also booked all the accommodation. First up was a gorgeous farm stay in Harvey overlooking the valley and the dam, where Tricky and I got to feed all the animals. Serious father brownie points for that one.

This was also the time when we went to a local winery to find wine that was two weeks past it's use by date (really, they have use by dates?) being sold at $1 a litre. That is not a typo, friends. I was in wine heaven and bought a dozen to divvy up.

Then we got to the next location, our base for the next four days, and it was amazing. A 1950s mill town turned in to a holiday village, with kangaroos and emus all around. They were kinda cute until we realized they were incredibly used to humans and would hunt you down for food.

We bought the special kangaroo mix to feed them with... turns out not only do they have insanely sharp claws but they remember who had the food. Those bastards followed me around trying to get in to my bag for the rest of the trip and completely ignored MG and Tricks. Twice they got in the back door while I was getting firewood (because I'm an idiot and left the door open).

And don't get me started on the emus. There were about four or five all together and amongst them were two males that were walking around with eight chicks between them. Talk about your overprotective dads! A few times they had a go at the kangaroos around us and they'd come towards me quite menacingly - given that emus look pretty menacing most of the time this didn't surprise me. They scare the crap out of me in a "haven't-forgotten-they're-related-to-dinosaurs" way.

Map Guy will tell you differently. He will tell you they ignored him completely so I can only assume that they somehow knew I'd eaten emu before, could smell my fear or had a personal vendetta against me. One of the bastards even tried to get in to our cottage. Remember that scene in Jurassic Park where the raptors learn to open doors? THAT! That is what I'm afraid of!

On a side note, do you know what you do when a kangaroo and an emu try to get in your cottage and you're freaking out? Take a blurry photo then run like fuck screaming for your husband.

Nestled in to the middle of nowhere, the old houses were so quaint with all the original features including an ancient wood stove. There was also an electric stove in the corner for city folk like me which was great or we'd have been eating cereal and fruit the whole time. There was no TV, a handful of streetlights, a dozen other people in the whole village and our nights were spent sitting by the fire, drinking wine and spelling out corny things playing scrabble (I won four out of five matches). It was bliss and we were in bed most nights by 10:00pm. Ragers.

The cottage also had it's original plumbing meaning a solid ancient bathtub and outhouse. Yes. Outhouse. At first I thought "oh how quaint" and then the reality of wild animals and redback spiders hit me and I nearly died.

I know, I can hear you all telling this princess to toughen up. But I'd like to remind you that despite the fact that it was spring, when you're that deep in the forest, it dips below freezing over night, and, oh that's right THERE WERE FUCKING DOOR OPENING EMUS AFTER ME.

I'm not ashamed to say I invented my own outhouse rules. If it's after dark, freezing cold, there are emus after you and you're incredibly pissed on $1 wine, then you're allowed to pee in the bath.

On one of our day trips out from the cottage we went to a Lavender and Berry farm because we'd heard they have awesome pancakes (they do) and some animals that Tricks could feed.

Well, the little dude was more interested in their playground (we did ten playgrounds in eight days - more daddy brownie points there!) so I attempted to. I went to feed the alpaca and freaked out it's insane devil eyes. Did you know alpacas have rectangular pupils? Apparently it took offense at me saying that, because this happened:


That was also how I found out I'm allergic to alpaca saliva. Who'd of thunk it?

We couldn't not stop by the Donnybrook Apple Fun Park - the largest free entry playground in the country. Of course Tricky didn't want to go on the normal sized slides and instead embraced his inner dare devil and climbed to the top of the three story slide (with poor Map Guy following after). Normal slides are for pussies.

A visit to the Valley of the Giants saw acrophobic Map Guy impress us all by doing the treetop walk and even attempting the Bicentennial Tree... as did Tricky who cracked the shits, his cries echoing through the whole forest, when we wouldn't let him go any higher than the fourth rung. Did I mention dare devil?

We wrapped up the holiday in comfort at the in-laws' in Albany. We ate doughnuts, saw whales but best of all the child was constantly entertained, our meals were cooked, our washing was done and there was, above all else, an inside loo.

Do you have outhouse rules? Ever been chased by a wild animal? Allergic to anything weird?

Hope is the only thing more powerful than fear

My boy has been making his doctors scratch their heads of late. He's a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma... and I'm kinda excited because I HAVE A THEORY! You can call me Dr Glow.

A few months ago, we rushed Tricky to the hospital when he was struggling to breath and scratching at his body. They told us Tricks had an anaphylaxis reaction to something, more than likely cashew nuts (we'd just had chicken cashew nut).

He's been seeing the allergists at the hospital and has undergone a shed load of tests. OK so it's not really a shed load, it's only a few. But when you're using your full body weight to pin your screaming toddler down while someone pokes twelve needles in to him you tend to think all that effort was surely for more than a handful of bloody tests.

The results of these tests just aren't adding up and I have a theory. I've gone all CSI or Lorenzo's Oil or whatever and I'm hunting down this bastard that put my kid in hospital.

His skin prick test came back negative and it was declared a false negative. So a RAST test was ordered.

His RAST test ( radioallergosorbent test - big words!) came back with a high number for cashews (meaning anaphylaxis) and Allergist A told us to avoid not only the nut but traces of it and incidental contact. It meant having to ask my mothers group not to bring any "may contain" products in case any residue transferred from their children's hands to a toy, to Tricky to his mouth. Until he was old enough to know not to put anything in his mouth, or even touch his mouth without first washing his hands, this was how it was going to be. I was rather pissed off with the world, thinking he could end up in hospital just from learning how to share.

Then yesterday we got a very low RAST score. One that made Allergist B battle to try and not use the words "What the fuck?!".There are antibodies in his blood that react to cashew... but in theory, not enough for it to land him in hospital.

My brain has been going one million miles per hour since hearing this and has come up with an idea.

I'm wondering if maybe, just maybe, Tricky doesn't have a food allergy.

Writing those words makes my heart race and brings tears to my eyes. Because I could be right. And because I could be really wrong. I don't care that I could look like a dickhead, all I care about is my boy.

I think his first reaction, his "atypical anaphylaxis", might have been a serious asthma attack. He was given adrenaline in the emergency room - adrenaline reduces bronchial spasms and was the go-to treatment for asthma before Ventolin came on the scene. We went home after twelve hours and for the rest of the week he had a raspy cough and a minimal wheeze that we were told was to be expected after his throat swelling. We were back within the week with his first proper "asthma admission".

I think his second reaction, which was quite mild and was put down to a suspected trace exposure, was an asthma attack, too. It was just over a week after he'd had a major asthma attack - so major it required an ambulance. 

I think both attacks could have been brought on by something in the food, not necessarily cashews (a preservative? a colour?). I always need Ventolin after having anything with sulphur, including wine - which is why when I'm laughing after a few drinks I often end up having a coughing fit. I'm not allergic to it, I'm sensitive to it. I'm totally a sensitive gal, you see?

Image Credit

And I even think the itching could have been an asthma related eczema flare and swelling due to him scratching so much. Every time I have asthma my neck and my back itch so badly I feel the need to ask complete strangers to help me scratch my back. My mum and my cousins have the same thing.

I want to believe this so much. SO MUCH. Part of me thinks I'm stupid and clutching at straws. Could two lots of emergency doctors have got it wrong? Could two allergists have gotten it wrong? They were going by what I said - that he'd eaten and then a short time later, couldn't breathe, was itchy and puffy. It looks like anaphylaxis... but what if it's not?

I don't want to spend the next two to three years before the standard food challenge test freaking out over every single thing he puts in his mouth if I don't have to. Allergist B agrees and Tricky will be admitted to hospital soon for a challenge where they'll feed him small amounts of cashews and watch him, with adrenaline and oxygen at the ready. Then we'll know for sure.

We've only walked this allergy path for a few months now and it might seem melodramatic but it's been really hard. Trying to marry the two worlds of the laid back "he'll be right" mama and becoming a helicopter parent the minute that food is around has been tough. I don't know how to be that person and I feel like I'm failing miserably. 

I know it's much more likely that it's me that has it wrong than an emergency room full of doctors and allergy specialists... but I can hope. And as they say, hope is the only thing more powerful than fear.

The day I stabbed Orwell

The other day Tricky's EpiPen, that we were given at the hospital after his first anaphylaxis reaction, expired.

This is a brilliant thing for two reasons:

1 - If it expires it obviously means we didn't have to use it - HOORAY!

2 - I get to stab me an orange! BOOYAH!

I'm not scared of needles, I even had weekly injections for six months to desensitize myself to some allergens, but giving one to someone else is a little bit different to receiving them. There is nothing quite like stabbing fruit to get some pent up aggression out of the system practice, ya know? I decided to give him a name and a backstory because, well, it's me and I do stupid things like project feelings on to food.

I christened him Orwell the Orange. Orwell is allergic to Kiwi fruit and had been in the fruit bowl right next to one. If he'd had lips and eyes, they would have been swelling. I could have drawn them on but that would have been ridiculous, and only highly disturbed people would do that.

It became immediately obvious that the swelling was affecting Orwell's airway too, so I sprang in to action and grabbed the EpiPen, jammed it in his thigh and held it for the required 10 seconds.

That is one big bloody needle

I can only assume Orwell was so busy trying to not die that he didn't feel the giant needle going in, because he didn't even make a peep. Or a squelch. Or whatever noise it is that oranges make. Orwell is one tough cookie orange.

We can now all rest assured, safe in the knowledge that little Orwell is OK and that I'm confident to use a real EpiPen not just our training one.

Oh look, I'm disturbed after all

Are you needle phobic? Do you make oranges in to anthropomorphic test subjects?

Healthy Dairy Free Toddler Snacks

So we all know I'm kinda a bit of a food nazi when it comes to Tricky, right?

I figure that I have a really limited amount of time to set him up with good eating habits so I'm doing everything I can. He doesn't get junk food, he gets very little processed food, instead, I make most of his meals from scratch.

For a snack, I sometimes make pikelets - they're quick, easy, have very little sugar and best of all they don't drop crumbs bloody everywhere! One of the munchkins in my mothers' group has an allergy to dairy, so, in order to make some food that all the kids could enjoy I started experimenting and came up with these babies.

Dairy Free Fruit Pikelets

Ingredients:

• 1 cup flour 
• 1 egg 
• 1/2 cup poached and pureed fruit - or, cheat a little bit and put in a pouch of baby food!
• 1/2 cup water

Method:

• Sift flour in to a medium sized mixing bowl
• Add egg, fruit puree and water
• Whisk until well combined
• Place a spoonfulls of mixture in to a hot pan (greased lightly if you wish)
• Flip over when small bubbles form or the top loses it's shine
• Cook on the other side until golden brown

I serve these without any toppings because the mild fruit flavour is enough. We've experiemented with a lot of the baby food pouches because I got tired cooking up all the fruit. My favourite would have to be apple, pear and cinnamon!

They store really well in an airtight container for a few days, but I tend to make a huge batch and freeze some for the days I'm not in a cooking mood.

Things I know about allergy testing and anaphylaxis

Don't panic, I'm not going to bore you with allergy crap all the time, I promise this won't become an allergy blog, just like it didn't become a Craniosynostosis blog or a breastfeeding blog or a food blog. It will remain a dribble shit blog bit of everything blog.

But, as a new 'allergy parent' I'm doing my bit for Food Allergy Awareness Week and linking up with Things I Know.

Tricky's recent trip to hospital with an anaphylaxis reaction to cashews got me thinking how little I really know about food allergies and testing, and how much I thought I knew after very poor education by the people in charge of his tests.

These are the Things I Know:

I know that allergy testing is bullshit if the child hasn't been exposed to the allergen previously.

I know that a negative result on an allergy test does not mean your child will not develop an allergy at some point.

I know that when the immunologist in charge of an entire allergy study tells you "No cashew or peanut allergy, so no need to worry" they mean "no need to worry right at this very moment, if your child eats a cashew in a year they may nearly die, sucks to be you".

I know that some medical professionals assume your knowledge base is the same as theirs and don't explain things as well as they should.

I know that if your child has a positive reaction to one nut, but has been eating other nuts without issue, you're meant to continue feeding it to them to reduce the likelihood of an allergy developing.

I know that going from a relaxed, free range parent with a "he'll be fine" attitude to a severe allergy parent is a very steep learning curve and will involve moments of "umm, did you check what's in that?" after you've fed it to your kid.

I know that when your child rubs his eyes and they look a teeny tiny bit puffy you will freak out and make a mental list of everything they've eaten then watch him like a hawk, EpiPen at the ready, only to realize he's actually just tired because it's bed time.

I know that when your partner doesn't take the bag with the Epi Pen in it when he goes out that you will get very, very angry, then realize you're both learning and it isn't second nature yet and feel bad that you got upset.

I know that the moment you become an allergy parent it consumes every waking hour while you research and try not to get overwhelmed by it all and become that boring as bat shit person who can only talk about her kid's damn allergy.

I know that I'm bored of me talking about allergies already.

What do you know?

Homemade Nut Free Muesli Bars

I've jumped on the nut free wagon since Tricky's anaphylaxis reaction. Whilst he can handle peanuts I wanted to try my hand at some nut free muesli bars for two reasons:

Firstly to see if they tasted as awful and bland as they looked... they did.

And secondly so I could give them to him to take to his little nut allergy parties where all the anaphylaxis kids get together and compare EpiPen carriers or some shit.

So, as always, I threw out the different recipes I'd seen and decided to take what I'd learned to create my own... and they're pretty damn tasty if I do say so myself. The Wonder Couple have declared them "better than the shop bought muesli bars". High praise indeed!

Nut Free Muesli Bars

Ingredients

• 120g of margarine
• 1/2 cup of honey
• 1/4 cup of firmly packed brown sugar
• 3 cups of oats
• 1 cup of crushed cornflakes 
• 1 1/2 cups of mixed dried fruit* - this is the important bit so make sure you have a variety, I use a combination of currants, sultanas, cranberries, blueberries, cherries, apricots and even a little peel. This is where the total nom factor comes from! If you just use sultanas it is BOR-ING!
• 1/4 cup sesame seeds

Method

• In a big bowl combine all your dry ingredients and the super awesome selection of dried fruit
• Combine margarine, honey and sugar in a saucepan and melt together, bring to the boil for 3-4 minutes stirring continuously - it will froth and thicken slightly
• Pour the contents of the saucepan in to the bowl and stir until the whole mix is wet and sticky
• Dump the mix in to a lined slice tray, push down as firmly as you can and bake at 180C for 15-20 minutes
• Remove from the oven and allow to cool (whack it in the fridge to speed it up) then cut to size - bars or squares, I ain't fussy

It is slightly crumbly so make sure you wait until it's completely firmed in the fridge before cutting - if you get impatient because it looks so amazing then you'll end up with crumbs everywhere. If it happens though, scrape them all together form little balls - the honey means they'll still stick together. Muesli balls FTW!

Happy baking!

*I go to the local bulk food store and get a little scoop of all the dried fruits I want so I don't have to pay for giant packets of dried fruit that will take forever to get eaten

The genetic trifecta

The Trickster and I don't look anything alike. When my blonde haired, blue eyed boy was born it appeared he must have actually been a clone of Map Guy and received no genetic material from me at all... this past week we've discovered that he shares more in common with me than we thought. Which means it's been a pretty shit week. 

It started on Tuesday (well the week didn't start on Tuesday, the shit did) in the form of Tricky having an anaphylaxis reaction to cashew nuts and needing a trip to the emergency room for adrenaline and a night in the observation ward.

It finished with a trip back to that same emergency room and a weekend stay on the ward, when Tricky couldn't breathe on Friday night.

Breaking my heart

He was a little bit sniffley through the day but it wasn't until night time when he really started to become unwell - he was clingy, pale, couldn't sleep, threw up some rather toxic looking green bile and struggled with his breathing. He was working so hard to breathe, with his little tummy sucking right in, that he couldn't do anything else and sat motionless in my arms as we entered the emergency room.

On arrival we again went straight through although this time he was triaged as a level two (emergency - could become life threatening), not a level one (life threatening) like it was on Tuesday... and in my unparalleled ability to clutch at straws I'm chalking that up as a win. I took my child to hospital before he died, yay me!

He needed nebulizers every twenty minutes for the first two hours, and since it takes fifteen minutes to have it, it meant he was off the drugs for only five minutes before needing more, and in those five minutes he was on oxygen or his saturation would plummet to the mid 70s. Scary, scary stuff.

I'm not sure if it was because of the toxic green vomit, which could have been a sign of an infection, or just because there was space, but we got our own isolation room which meant a private bathroom, enough room for a fold-a-bed, and a door to close and block out the cries of the rest of the poor sick kids on our ward.

New jimjams are a perquisite for hospital stays

He was the perfect patient. He let them poke and prod, he left the mask on his face and the pulseoximeter on his toe. Well, he did... until it was almost 9pm when he'd finally gone to sleep and his oxygen levels kept crashing. Putting the mask on him woke not only him but the entire bloody ward.

The nurses resorted to nasal prongs and bandaging his hands to stop him pulling them off. Thanks to crappy medical dramas, I always associate nasal prongs with people who are dying, so it's safe to say I went pretty emo around then.

I was sure nothing could perk me up until an awesome friend organized a delivery of snacks for us. It's amazing just how much a kind gesture can buoy your spirits, especially when that gesture involves chips and Coke. But even full sugar soft drink can't keep you happy when your little boy is laying in hospital.

I settled in to my bed, which almost collapsed every time I breathed, and tried to get a little bit of sleep because I knew it was going to be a long night... and I wasn't wrong.

Overnight, he needed medication every two hours, and every two hours he would scream and violently thrash around... so every two hours I would hold him down as he protested and sing to him through my tears as my heart shattered in to a thousand pieces.

Then, like magic, as soon as the sun rose and he had a breastfeed he was back to being a model patient. I suppose I can't blame him - I don't like to be woken up either.

Feeling much happier

Normally the powers that be don't give a diagnosis of asthma for a first attack... because there is no way of knowing if it will happen again. When he was discharged on Sunday, the doctors took one look at his Tuesday admission, his eczema and the fact that I was hospitalized a dozen times or so with asthma as a kid and chalked him up as asthmatic immediately.

Snuggles at home

So it turns out he did get some genes from me. The allergy, eczema and asthma genes - a rather shitty genetic trifecta.

What did your kids inherit from you that you wish they hadn't?

Of anaphylaxis, ignored instincts and guilt

As far as mistakes go, I've made a lot. But none quite as grave and life threatening as this one.

I'm standing in the kitchen cooking up my favourite dish, chicken and cashew nut. From nowhere I get this gnawing feeling in my stomach that I shouldn't give it to Tricky despite him having been declared "not allergic" to cashews at a previous allergy test*.

But I don't listen to that internal voice. I push down my gut instinct and, with a haughty (and completely judgmental) "I'm not one of those paranoid parents", carry on.

We sit down as a family to eat. I love these moments, the three of us together, talking about our day and reconnecting. Tricky eats one cashew nut and looks unsure of it's texture. We laugh at the funny face he pulls and watch him enthusiastically spoon mound after mound of rice in to his gob. After a pretty standard bedtime routine, I put Tricky to bed without any fuss.

An hour passes and he cries out so I go in to check on him. He is scratching at his knees and elbows furiously - now someone else might have seen that first sign and known straight away something was wrong, but I've lost count of the number of nights Tricky has woken crying and clawing at his eczema so I don't think anything of it.

Instead, I sit with him in the dark, singing and massaging a soothing salve in to his inflamed skin, just as I always do, then leave the room telling him to go back to sleep. He coughs once or twice then falls back to sleep.

A short while later he wakes again, comes out to me wanting cuddles. Because I am still in "get him back to sleep" mode I don't turn a light on... if I had, I would have seen his face was swelling up and his body breaking out in hives. So we cuddle in the dark on the couch and after a few more coughs and being so clingy I decide that he is probably coming down with a cold. 

He coughs more. And more.

Less than five minutes pass.

He starts wheezing.

And it all starts clicking in my head. The scratching, the crying, the coughing, the wheezing. This isn't the beginning of a cold, this is an allergic reaction.

We consider calling an ambulance but think that since the allergy test has shown he isn't meant to be allergic, that this must only be a mild reaction, I'll drive him myself. So I do, picking up my parents on the way for support.

I feel like an idiot, but I'm not too concerned. A quick trip to the hospital and a dose of antihistamines, I think.

On the way there, Tricky gets itchier and he scratches his skin off parts of his arms and neck. What was once a faint hiss of a wheeze becomes louder and louder, clearly audible from the front seat.

Fuck. This is so much worse than I thought.

Triage takes all of two minutes before we are whisked through to a bed with a "we'll get your details in a minute" rush, and straight on to a monitor that showed his oxygen saturation at 89% and his blood pressure very low. What the hell is happening? My little boy is shutting down.

What have I done?

I hold him down while they jab the biggest needle in the world in to his tiny thigh. His scream pierces my soul and I squeeze him even tighter, smothering him with kisses in the vain hope that they'll help. I am barely holding it together when I look up and see my Mum starting to cry. It tips me over the edge and tears spring from my eyes. But they're not sad tears. They're angry tears. Embarrassed tears. Guilty tears.

How could I be so stupid? Why did I ignore that gut instinct? For a moment I let my thoughts run wild. What if he didn't get itchy? He wouldn't have cried and come out for cuddles... his airway would have just closed. Silently, without us knowing. What if, what if, what if?

My blood runs cold.

We're moved to the observation ward to stay the night. I sing and pat Tricky in an attempt to get him to settle, but he is, quite literally, full of adrenaline and isn't having a bar of it.

It's not until much later, in the early hours of the morning when he finally dozes off. He's still attached to the monitor and it alarms every hour or so as his oxygen levels fluctuate. They tell me he's fine, that it's just his sleep cycle, but I cannot look away from it, this machine that goes ping.

I manage to get about an hour of sleep before Tricky decides it is time to start the day.

I'm ladled with information on anaphylaxis and the use of an EpiPen. I'm given brochures and a DVD that I watch on a portable player as Tricky drives toy cars up and down the railings, unaware of how serious the situation is. We're given our EpiPen that he'll have to have with him at all times, a referral to an immunologist and we're told to never have cashews in the house again and avoid anything that contains tree nuts.

They bring us each breakfast. I read the label. May contain traces of tree nuts. Fuck you, world.

Got any allergy advice for us? I could really use some.
*I was told yesterday that initial allergy tests on children who haven't been exposed to an allergen aren't worth the paper they're printed on. The body doesn't always react on the first exposure, as was the case with Tricky, so it was the second exposure that caused anaphylaxis.

Walking on Egg Shells

Today Tricky had an “egg challenge”.

No, it wasn’t an egg and spoon race for tiny tots, much to Aunty Penny’s disappointment; it was part of the allergy study he is participating in.

Since he started solids, Tricky has had one teaspoon of powdered egg in his food, once a day. Well it might be powered egg. It might just be powered rice. It’s a double blind study so we’ll only find out when it’s all over some time next year.

To be in the study he had to meet certain criteria; the child has eczema, a parent has eczema or asthma or allergies. We tick all those boxes. I’m asthmatic and am allergic to everything (even after weekly needles for six months) and Map Guy has eczema. Tricky got a bit of a raw deal.

So today he had to eat one and half teaspoons of hard boiled egg.

No bacon or sausages with it. Just egg. 

Didn't steal this image, I had fun with a marker

They were surprised he ate it so quickly… Really? It’s less than two teaspoons, which is about two mouth fulls.

Next was the questionnaire asking how many eggs does the whole family eat a month and in what form, then they went on to ask about Tricky’s food:

“How many teaspoons of food does [Tricky] eat at each meal?”

“Teaspoons? Hah!”

“Oh so a few tablespoons then?”

“Um, a couple of cups maybe?”

The look on their faces was one of absolute shock and quite possibly horror - I'm not sure because I looked away, embarrassed. Apparently eight month old babies don’t normally eat this much.

At which point I start wondering why is Tricky so different? Am I feeding him too much? I was told to feed until he turns away and refuses… he’s never actually done that. He’ll turn away to look around – at Map Guy or at Sprocket or even just at the piece of food on the floor that’s left over from the previous meal… but he always turns back for more. I’ve just stopped feeding him when I’ve run out of food.

He currently has four breastfeeds a day and three meals a day. For breakfast he has two weetbix while for lunch and dinner he’ll have a cup of mixed vegies/meat/pasta/rice plus half a cup of yoghurt, and sometimes a small plum/nectarine/half a banana.

If we’re going by those height and weight charts he’s just under the 25^th percentile for weight… but over the 95^th percentile for height. He’s long and skinny. A Map Guy clone.

I realize it takes a lot of energy to grow up and crawl like lightening and coast around furniture like he does, but my mother-doubt is creeping in…

So I open it up to you – did your eight month old eat this much?

{On a side note, if you Google “Egg on your face” to try and steal images for your blog, the fifth result is a picture of Fifi Box. Weird.}

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Meet Glowless at the Aussie Bloggers Conference thanks to

HealthyChart and Baby Goes Retro and Simply Colors