So Far, So Good.

I am pretty sure that I am totally tempting fate by even thinking about the fact that Aaron’s first day of kindergarten went so well yesterday, let alone dedicating an entire post on the subject for all to see. But I had to tell you just how fantastic of a day he seemed to have, and how uncontrollably excited he has been to go back. I think that it has more to do with riding the bus than anything else because the bus was almost all that he could talk about when he got home. He is also back with some of his best friends from last year which seems to have put him right at ease.


Mike and I stood in our driveway for almost an hour waiting for the bus to bring our little kindergarten student back home. School was out at 3:00 PM, but we had no real idea when the bus would come through. Being the on-time psychopath that I am whose biggest fear in life is being late, I went outside to wait around 2:50 PM. Sure, I knew that school didn’t end until three, but what if Aaron’s bus runs early, and I am not out there when it comes through. Since Aaron is a new bus student, the driver might forget that that is his stop and will just keep on driving. He will make all of his stops and finally Aaron will be the last one on the bus, little lip quivering, a running commentary in his head about how Mommy must not love him, and an entire lifetime of therapy sessions staring him in the face. I couldn’t let that happen to my little guy. So out the door I went at ten till three.

There was one false alarm when a different bus came through, but finally around a quarter till four, Aaron’s bus pulled in and a smiling little boy bounded down the bus steps. We were absolutely petrified that he would step off of the bus and burst into tears, but instead he got right to telling us about his day and demanding snacks.

All evening he kept saying how excited he was to get back on the bus and he also told me that he did NOT want me to start taking him to school because he always wants to ride the bus. About forty-five minutes ago I watch him get back on the bus for his second day. He gave me a big smile, a quick wave, and hopped right on; disappearing into a sea of other students. I know that it is early, and there is still plenty of time for things to go down hill, but for now I am thoroughly enjoying the fact that he seems to be having so much fun, and I can’t wait to hear the stories that he will bring home today.

The First Day of Kindergarten

Today is Aaron’s first day of kindergarten.

When exactly did he get to be so big? As I am sitting here sipping some coffee and looking at the pictures that we took this morning, I am blown away by the little man staring back at me. He was just two years old talking about how one day he would be a big kid and would ride the bus to school. At the time I thought that it would take forever to get to this point, but thinking back now over the last five and a half years, I feel like someone must have accidentally pushed the fast forward button.

This is the first year that he is able to ride the bus and it has been all that he has been able to talk about. One of the first things that he said this morning was, “Can you believe I get to ride the bus today?” No, Sweetie, I can’t.

I hope you have an absolutely wonderful first day of kindergarten Aaron. I am so proud of the little guy that you are growing up to be, and I can’t wait to hear all about your day when you get home.

Yep, It's a Pug

Yet another knitting project.  This guy is for Elyse.  She has loved him since he was just a doggie head in my knitting basket.

Addict

Sometimes, after a long day of playing and dealing with the drama of life with an older brother, one pacifier just isn’t enough.

Some Questions are Hard to Answer…Especially When They are About an Elephant.

So we’re in the van yesterday on our way to my parents house when Aaron asks, “Mom, if I was feeding an elephant, and he was eating peanuts, you wouldn’t let me do it would you?” Before you say, “Um, come again,” Aaron has a peanut allergy and it seems to really be on his mind a lot lately because he keeps coming up with these insane ways to bring peanuts into the conversation. I told him that no, if he wanted to feed an elephant peanuts, I would have to say that he could not partake in the pachyderm peanut-feeding process. Then he went on to say how much he wishes that he didn’t have a peanut allergy and I tried to explain to him that he might not always have it. There’s a new study out where doctors are giving children with peanut allergies very small doses of peanuts and after time, they begin to build up a tolerance and viola, no more allergy. “Well, do they shoot it into you,” Aaron asked. Yeah Honey, they load up a pistol with a peanut, stand across the room, and ready, aim, fire there’s your peanut dose for the week.


The night before the elephant conversation, I was putting him to bed and he started saying how much he wished he wasn’t allergic to peanuts and then he asked what I was allergic to when I was a kid. When I told him that I wasn’t allergic to anything, he looked absolutely shocked and with his eyes about as wide as I’ve ever seen them he asked, “So Grandma gave you peanuts when you were a kid?” “Yes,” I said. Then he was like, “Did she even make you peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?” “Yes, Honey, she did,” I said. He sat there in his bed for a long while trying to absorb this new information like I had just told him that I was the Tooth Fairy.

The fact that this seems to be weighing on him so much absolutely breaks my heart. I’m sure that at five years old it makes no sense that there is this food that he can’t eat, but it seems like everyone else around him can. When he is at school, the teachers always make sure that he sits in a group with kids who don’t have peanut butter for lunch and while he has never said anything about it before, I wonder if that bothers him or if it makes him feel out of place. Although it’s really not an option; he just can’t sit with kids that bring it for lunch. One time this year when I went to pick him up from school, he had just finished gym class and was walking down the hallway toward Elyse and me. His face was beet red, but I didn’t think anything about it because he is always red when he gets overheated. Then, as he got closer, I realized that his face was covered in welts and they were starting to form down his neck and back. Apparently a kid from the other pre-K class had peanut butter on his hands after lunch, played at gym, and then Aaron came in and played with that same toy, and bam…instant peanut reaction.

I have to hand it to him though, Aaron is very aware of the peanut thing and is super cautious in situations where he isn’t sure that he should be eating something. We were at a birthday party for one of his best buddies a few weeks ago and along with the cake, the kids were allowed to make ice cream sundaes. When it was Aaron’s turn, the first thing that he asked the guy dishing out the toppings was whether or not the stuff was peanut safe.

When I was pregnant with Aaron I remember briefly skimming over the parts in the baby books that talked about the precautions you should take when eating certain foods if there’s an allergy that runs in your family, but no one is allergic to anything and I didn’t pay a whole lot of attention to that stuff. I was very careful to not give him any questionable foods until he was well passed his first birthday; no strawberries, no cow’s milk, no peanut butter. Then, when he was around fifteen months old, I was eating a peanut butter sandwich and he wanted a bite. He took a tiny little nibble and went on his way. A little while later I noticed his face looked a little splotchy, but it didn’t seem to bother him and he was otherwise fine. It went away pretty quick and so I didn’t give it much thought. Then, when he was about eighteen months old, I had been eating apple slices with peanut butter and there was a small amount left in the bowl. He had gotten a hold of the bowl and put it up to his face and a tiny bit of peanut butter got on his eyebrow. I wiped it off and then took him to change his diaper for nap time. I changed him and then looked at his face and he looked like someone had just punched him in the eye; it was huge, red, and swollen. I immediately called the doctor who said to give him Benadryll and then he wanted to schedule an appointment to test for a peanut allergy. Sure enough, the blood work came back showing that Aaron was definitely allergic to peanuts and we had to start carrying Benadryll and an Epi-pen everywhere we went.

When he was three and a half, his pediatrician decided that he should be seen by an allergist to determine if he was allergic to anything else. I remember he was such a trooper the day that we took him for the testing. These two nurses walked into the room each carrying a plastic square thing with spikes all over them. Each spike had been dipped into a specific allergen. Then, the squares were pressed into his back for a few seconds and then removed. We had to wait for a half an hour to see which ones reacted. His back looked awful. It was bright, bright red and just about everywhere that there had been a spike, he had a welt. He was really itchy, but he hung in until the nurse came back to read the results. In the end, the only things that reacted were of course peanut, but also shellfish and a certain type of grass. They wiped him down with Benadryll wipes and sent us on our way.

Since we have known about the peanut allergy he has only had a handful of reactions and thank God those reactions have only been welts. He has never had an anaphylactic reaction which required the Epi-pen, but we never leave the house without it. We still don’t know if Elyse has a peanut allergy or not because she can’t be tested until she is three, but I am pretty confident that she does not have it.

I wish that I could make this go away for him. Can you imagine living your whole life without ever experiencing a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup, or peanut butter crackers, or good Lord peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? I am hopeful that because he is still so young that there will come a day in the near future where there is a cure for this and he will be able to start freely enjoying things like Halloween, or eating with whoever he wants a lunch time, or good Lord peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Can you tell I love me some peanut butter and jelly? But until that day comes, I’m afraid that he will just have to steer clear of any peanut-eating elephants, no matter how much fun it would be to feed them.

Yes, I Had a Real Job Before I Wiped Your Butt.

Over the weekend I took Aaron to one of those Build and Grow clinics that is offered at Lowes. This week’s project was a UFO and he did a fantastic job. While we were there, I ran into one of the pathologists that I used to work for when I was a histology technician back before I had Aaron. He was probably one of my favorite docs to work with and seeing him brought back so many memories of my old job and the four and a half years that I spent with some of the most amazing people that I have ever had the pleasure of calling my friends.


It was the summer of 2000 and I had just wrapped up my second year of college, but I was absolutely miserable. I don’t know what it was, but I hated just about everything about college life which was surprising because I had always done pretty well in school before. I had made good grades and I genuinely enjoyed learning. Maybe it was being away from home, or the pressure of the increase in responsibility, or the fact that I was engaged to an absolute ass who kept me on a very short leash and prevented me from truly experiencing college and all of the fun that it had to offer. What ever the reason, college and I clashed and I soon began contemplating quitting altogether.

After a few weeks, I decided that college wasn’t for me and I started trying to find a job. I would consider that the worst mistake of my life except that that decision led me to a job that I absolutely adored and to friends that I cherish to this day. You see, the gigantic ass that I was engaged to at the time worked at a local hospital and one day he brought me a list of job openings. I looked over the list and immediately stopped when I saw the words Anatomical Pathology. I was intrigued. The job listing described a position where the applicant would assist in the processing of microscope slides, assist a pathologist with the gross dissection of surgical specimens, and occasionally assist with autopsies. I knew that I HAD to have that job. I had always loved science and the things described in that job listing sounded like the most fascinating position ever created. I’m sure most people would have seen the word autopsy, fought off a wave of chills and the urge to vomit, and then moved on to the next listing. For me, it only made me want it more. I’m sick like that I guess.

Anyway, I sent in my application and started harassing the woman doing the interviews for a chance at this job. I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but she eventually contacted me and just told me to come in and start working. No interview, just come on in and work. It was kind of on a trial basis and if things worked out, I would get a full-time position. I practically ran out to buy some scrubs and I very anxiously went in to work the very next day.

At first my job was pretty simple. I did whatever everyone else needed me to do. I would cover slip the slides as they came out of the stainer. I’d set up the counter of specimens for dissection by the pathologist. I made trips to the OR to collect specimens. I basically did the odd jobs for the ones who were busy doing the real work. And I loved every single second of it.

As time went by though, Tim, Karen, and Connie started teaching me more about what was being done and started training me to do some of the things that they were doing every day. I started assisting the pathologist with the gross dissection every afternoon. I learned how to embed the processed tissue into paraffin wax to prepare it to be cut and mounted on the slides. I learned how to cut the tissue on a special machine called a microtome and then mount that tissue on a slide. I did special stains and eventually Karen even taught me how to use the immuno stainer which was her precious baby and only allowed a handful of people to breath around it let alone run it. By the time I left, I was able to do just about everything that I had marveled at during my first few weeks there.

When I started that job I was twenty years old, had just quit school, and as I have already mentioned, was engaged to an idiot. In the four and a half years that I spent there I dropped the idiot and met my knight in shining armor, Mike. Mike and I got engaged and Tim, Karen and Connie along with Lance and Lori attended our wedding. I took and passed the tests to become an officially certified Histology Technician by the American Society of Clinical Pathology. And of course, I got pregnant with my firstborn, Aaron.

Getting pregnant with Aaron changed everything. Everyone knew that Mike and I were planning on having a family and when that day came, I was planning to quit so that I could be a stay-at-home mom. The night before my last day in Histology, I sat on the floor in the nursery, eight months pregnant, and sobbed to Mike about how much I was going to miss this job and the people that I had come to love. I was so conflicted because I was just a month away from giving birth to my first child and becoming a stay-at-home mother which was the job that I had been dreaming of for my entire life, but starting that job meant leaving this one behind and that hurt so much more than I had anticipated.

Everything about my last day made me want to cry. Everything that I did I noted that it would be the last time. I had stepped out for a minute and when I got back I saw that Mike had sent me flowers. I still have the card that came with them. It said, “Thinking of you on your last day of work.” That did it, and I started crying again. I cried off and on for the rest of the day until it was time to leave. I said my goodbyes and stopped in Tim’s office for the last time. He had this thing that he always said whenever any of us were leaving for the day which was, “Thanks for coming in, being here, and making a difference.” He said that to me and I just had to leave. Karen walked me out and we decided that we weren’t going to say goodbye because (A) It was just too hard, and (B) My baby shower was that weekend and so why go through the agony of goodbyes when we were going to see each other in just a few days. Good call Karen.

I got in my car and sobbed the whole way home.

Being a Histology Technician meant more to me than I could ever begin to explain. Even now writing this I am getting all chocked up because that job was so much more than just a job for me. When I walked in every day I felt like I was there to do something important and when I left each day I left truly feeling like I had made a difference. The work that we did in that department mattered. The quality of our work could mean life or death for our patients, and we took that responsibility seriously. I was good at what I did and I was extremely proud of it.

Of course I know that being a mother is the most wonderful and important job on Earth. I get that, but it can also, at times, be a very thankless job in which more than once I have questioned whether I was really cut out for it. Deep down I know that I am a good mom, but I am constantly plagued with doubts. I knew for certain that I was a good histology technician. I am not saying that I don’t love being a mom. There’s truly nothing like it, but it’s hard to see the significance in what you are doing when most of what you do everyday seems so trivial; changing diapers, preparing meals, keeping up with the laundry, etc.

Maybe some day if I’m lucky, when the kids are old enough to take care of themselves, I’ll be able to go back to that job as I have been told many times that the door is always open. But until then I hold the memories of those four and a half years in my heart and when the difficulties of being a mom get overwhelming, I think back to those years and it always makes me smile.

The Italian Festival

Every summer around the fourth weekend in July, our town holds its annual Italian Festival. One entire street for about five blocks is closed off and vendors of all kinds line the streets peddling their wares. There are so many food stands, not all Italian foods mind you, that even if you went all three days you couldn’t sample from all of them. There is live entertainment, and on Saturday night there is a fireworks display. I have been going to the Italian Festival since I was a kid and it is something that was always a highlight of my summer. Last night, for the first time, I got to take my kids for their first ever Italian Festival experience.


We hadn’t really anticipated taking them just yet because although it is a good time, it is hot and crowded and not something that we thought they would get much enjoyment out of at this age. However, a few nights ago, Aaron heard Mike and I talking about it and asked, “So, what is the Italian Festival? Is it something that I can go to?” He seemed so interested that we decided to throw caution to the wind and take them on Friday night.

Now, we are currently experiencing a bit of a heat wave. The Weather Channel said that it was about 98 degrees out, but I know that when we passed the bank it was registering 1000. It felt like we were standing on the sun, but did that stop us? Hell no! It’s the Italian Festival for cryin out loud. I dressed the kids as cool as possible, double checked with Mike that going naked was probably in poor taste, and hoped for the best.

We somehow managed to steer the kids away from the giant blow-up bouncy ovens of heat exhaustion, and went about finding something to eat. As seems to be the norm lately, Aaron gobbled up a slice of pizza, but Elyse refused to eat. I think she was having some belly issues because in the van on the way down she informed me that her belly was full. When I asked her if she felt sick, she told me with a giggle, “My belly full…in my butt.” That’s 100% pure two year old wisdom right there people.

Not much later we decided to grab some Italian ice for the kids to try and cool them off, but while Aaron sat perfectly still, devouring his, Elyse decided that running around and rolling in the grass was more fun. Shortly thereafter, Mike decided to take Princess home and my Mom, Aaron and I stayed to pick out a souvenir and soak up a little more people watching. Possibly one of the greatest things about the Italian Festival is the people watching. I have seen some pretty incredible sights over the years, but the highlight of last night was the girl who was wearing jean shorts and white spiked heels that laced all the way up her leg past her knee. You just don’t get that everyday.

Mom, Aaron, and I walked around a little longer and then Aaron declared that, “He HAD to go home.” On the way out he grabbed another Italian ice and then savored the air conditioning on the ride home.

All in all I think that they had a good time for their first Italian Festival experience. Aaron already asked if he could go back tonight when Mike and I go with Angie and Derek, and Mal and Matt. Um, sorry Sweetie, tonight is the beer portion of the Italian Festival and after Mommy has a couple of drinks, I probably won’t be able to chase after you in my white, lace-up spiked heels.