When will it stop?

Bubba had another allergic reaction tonight. I have no idea what he reacted to as I made sure he wasn't exposed to nutmeg at all, but there it was. I was giving him a bath and all over his tiny little body was a rash. I don't know what caused it. I scoured ingredient lists, I tried to think of anything environmental that it could be.

I don't know.

And I feel like the shittiest parent because of it.

You know what's hard about food allergies? You know that until you're able to get your child into an allergist, you should make sure they avoid anything that could be an allergen. He should have fresh, organic fruits, veggies and meats. But that's not always achievable. For instance, I'm super broke and can't afford to buy him fresh, organic fruits and veggies and meat. Instead, we eat the boxed crap in the house, keep his epipen close by, and hope that we don't have to use it.

People whose kids don't have food allergies don't understand what this is like. It's been a month since I discovered bubba's food allergy and at least once a day I hear at least one of the following:

"Aren't you being a bit dramatic?"

"You're being kind of crazy about this."

"You're overreacting."

"You should be glad he doesn't have, like, a REAL allergy."

"I think it's fine if he eats (something, without checking labels)"

"Hasn't he had this before with no reaction?"

"Are you sure he's really allergic?"

And I just want to cry. These are real things that have really been said to me. No, I'm not being crazy or dramatic or overreacting. It is a real allergy. No, he's not okay to eat something unless I've made sure it's okay. Maybe he has had it before, food allergies can take multiple exposures to develop. But he probably hasn't. And yes, I'm sure he's really allergic. His doctor didn't prescribe him an epipen for no reason.

So it's been another great week. My kid had pink eye in both eyes, a double ear infection, he threw up, and then he had another allergic reaction. And it's only Tuesday. Excuse me while I go cry in to a lot of ice cream.

I hate you, nutmeg.

Today while I was on my lunch break I decided to search, again, for any information on nutmeg allergies. After sifting through the pages of results for tree nut allergies, which come up because nutmeg has the word "nut" in it, I finally found a very brief blog post about it. Someone basically just put that their son was allergic to nutmeg, on top of other food allergies, and that was it.

But the comments were wonderful.

The comments were full of responses from people who had nutmeg allergies. They listed other things that nutmeg is in that I hadn't even thought of. Did you know that nutmeg can be used to make oil and butter? Did you know that nutmeg is used in cosmetics, in medicines, in drinks, in food, in basically everything? NUTMEG IS IN COCA COLA! Nutmeg is in everything.

This allergy has me terrified. My son is so allergic that if he ingests it, he breaks out in hives in less than five minutes. And that was just the first reaction. It's said to get worse every time. Right now, it's not severe enough that he'll break out if he comes into contact with it, or with someone who has come into contact with it. But what if it gets that bad?

I'm already scouring ingredient lists on everything, but now I have to look out for makeup and medicines too? Any time he has a medicine, I'll have to ask. I'm going to contact the companies whose makeup I use and ask if nutmeg is in their products. I'm freaked out because companies don't have to label it in anything.

Let's change that. I need help, I need support, I need voices. I need people to stand up with me and say that just because the allergies that affect us are rare doesn't make them any less important. My son isn't old enough to have a voice for this. I need to be his voice. I need others who loves someone with allergies to stand with me. Let's make a change.

(here are the links to the only things I've found about nutmeg allergies: http://www.phadia.com/ko/3/11/ImmunoCAP-Allergens/Food-of-Plant-Origin/Spices/Nutmeg/

http://www.livestrong.com/article/411019-what-are-allergy-symptoms-from-nutmeg/

http://multiplefoodallergyhelp.com/less-common-allergens/nutmeg-allergy/

end blog)

Oh, fall.

I've always loved fall. Fall is my favorite season. It's not too hot, or too cold, but I can still wear big floppy sweaters and hats and eat everything in sight. This year though... This year I'm nervous about fall. Why be nervous about a season? I know, it sounds stupid.

But who wants to guess how many things have nutmeg in them? Anyone? I'll give you a hint. It's basically everything, at least in fall. Anything pumpkin flavored, everything at Thanksgiving... Too much stuff to name. I love all of this stuff. Pumpkin chocolate chip cookies may literally be my favorite thing in the food world. I can eat my weight in food at Thanksgiving. Except not this year. This year, I can't eat anything that could've come close to nutmeg. Why?

My kid is allergic. My one year old is so allergic to nutmeg that after one reaction, his pediatrician prescribed him an epipen that I have to have with me at all times. My child could come into contact with nutmeg, go into anaphylactic shock, and possibly die. Isn't that terrifying?

The season I used to so love has become a season of terror. Did you know that companies don't even have to list nutmeg as an ingredient? It's just written as "spices" in the ingredient list because it's generally a smorgasbord of different spices. But it's always nutmeg. It's such a small amount that it's inconsequential to everyone else. Not to me though. That small amount makes the difference between breathing and not. Literally between life and death.

It's been about a month since I discovered the allergy. I decided to make bubba a breakfast that I saw on Pinterest. You fry bananas on the stove and sprinkle a mixture of sugar, cinnamon, and a pinch of nutmeg on top. Within seconds of him eating it, he had a rash everywhere it had touched. I figured it was just a contact allergy, that he would outgrow it. That happened with garlic when he was little. But no. I continued our day as normal, but by the time we got to school, my son was covered in hives. I was terrified. I have no experience with food allergies. I just wanted to cry. I still want to cry every time I think about it.

So now I have to be vigilant. I can't let him eat anything at all that has not been thoroughly inspected by me personally. I've learned how to read labels. I've tried to do research on nutmeg allergies but everything I can find just says "an allergy to nutmeg is extremely rare". Well, that doesn't help me at all. That doesn't help anyone. So I've decided to.

This blog is an outlet for many things. I will always preach support for sufferers of mental illness, of eating disorders. I will always support single parents. And now, I hope to show people who have, or whose children have, rare food allergies that they are not alone. We all deserve support. We all deserve to be taken seriously. And damn it, we deserve for food to have to be labeled with EVERY ingredient. That's what I'm here for.

Let me know in the comments if you or someone you know has a "weird" allergy. I would love to hear about it and learn more about it.

I think I'm ready to talk.

When you have depression and anxiety, it's hard to talk about the things going on in your life. You worry that people will think you're making it up for attention, or that they won't care after you open yourself up because they have their own things going on. At least, that's how it is for me, and I've pushed things down for far too long. I think I'm ready to talk. You can listen if you want to. I don't really care. I just need to get out the things that have been trapped inside me for too damn long.

My anxiety isn't a secret, but maybe the fact that I can have an anxiety attack over literally nothing is. I have anxiety attacks because of fake conversations played in my head, because of worries of how other people will react to something I say. I have anxiety attacks over absolutely nothing. My mom told me she was cleaning the house yesterday and told me the upstairs hallway was a mess and I felt that too-familiar tightness in my chest. I wasn't even there. We were on the phone. I was in my car. I felt that too-familiar tightness whilst switching lanes in rush hour traffic today. Anxiety attacks can literally be triggered by anything for me.

Would any of you have guessed that my depression is currently hitting me so hard that I almost don't make it out of bed every morning? The only reason I get up is because I have to provide for bubba. I am the person who keeps him clothed and fed. If I give up, it means he doesn't get what he needs, and that is unacceptable. My child has been my saving grace.

I have an eating disorder. There, I said it. I've struggled with eating disorders for as long as I can remember. Anorexia first, then bulimia. Now? Binge-eating. I've just started owning up to it and realizing that, yes, I have a problem. I go through phases of it where I eat everything in sight, all the time, for a week or so. Then I won't eat for another week or so. Enough to survive, maybe. But no more than that. My body is so well trained for this, it's been happening so long, that because I ate more than once by mid-day, my body figured that we are binging now and I feel hungry all the time. I've eaten three meals and a small snack today, and I'm keeping a food diary to hold myself accountable. I'm putting an end to this. It's been at least ten years, and that is too long.

Last but never least, I was sexually abused as a child. I was six years old. This is something that still affects my every day life and even as I'm typing this, my brain is replaying the memory of him winking at me as I left my daycare center. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. I am thankful for that every day. But it was enough.

These are all things that are a part of me, that have made me who I am. But you'd better believe that they do not define me. It's been 16 years since I was molested. I've struggled with depression and anxiety for 14 years, including 9 years of self-harm (3+ years clean, woot woot!). I've struggled with eating disorders about as long as I've struggled with depression. But I'm done. No more. I'm getting better, for me.

And it's about damn time.

Spawn's First Haircut.

My spawn got his first haircut today. He's always had a ton of hair. Before the cut, when it was wet, it was a quarter of the way down his back. When it was dry, it hung in perfect, tight ringlets that didn't go past the nape of his neck. It was long enough that I could easily, and frequently, put it in a baby man bun. I always told him that I wouldn't cut his hair unless he asked for it. Once he could tell me that he wanted his hair cut, I would get it cut. So today I was joking about needing to cut his bangs again, and he grabbed a fistful of his hair and said "cut?" Then he started signing and saying please and thank you, which is what he knows he has to do if he wants something. I asked to double check, and he really wanted his hair cut. I told him we would do it after school, and he spent the next half hour we were there trying to convince me to leave. He was so excited. I texted his dad and my mom and they were both there. He was pointing to pictures in the salon of kids getting their hair cut and he was just stoked. I pointed to my hair (pixie cut) and asked if he wanted his hair short. And he said yes. So I found a style on Pinterest and went with it. And he was wonderful the whole time. He was playing and laughing with his dad, playing with the curls falling from his head as they were cut off. He didn't even start to fuss, not once. I, however, cried. I didn't want my baby to have his hair cut. I wanted to keep his hair long until at least his second birthday. Longer, if I could get away with it. So I cried. There went all his previous baby curls. His face looks so grown up now. He doesn't look like my tiny baby anymore. He looks like this tiny, wonderful little person that I created, and that I love more than life.

It may sound crazy that I cut his hair when I didn't want to. Most parents wouldn't have. But I told him he could cut it when he could ask. And he asked. I want my son to know that his body and all its parts, hair included, are his to decide what to do with. I wouldn't want someone telling me what to do with my body. I have no right to tell him what to do with his. It's his. He has limits, of course. No tattoos or piercings or weird stuff until he's over 18. But he can decide how he wants to dress and how he wants to wear his hair. Even if it makes his mommy cry.

No one is meaner than me.

No one is meaner to me than myself.

Today, I saw a cute boy. Okay, to be totally honest, it's not the first time I've seen him. I've actually had a crush on him for a while but I was always in a relationship so conversation was kept to a minimum because I like shiny things but I actually wanted my relationship to work. But now I'm single.

Instead of, you know, acting like an adult and striking up a conversation and maybe asking him to dinner or something, I hid. I don't mean figuratively. I mean I literally hid until he wasn't around anymore while obsessively texting my best friend about how much of a loser I am for not talking to him because damn, he is handsome. Being the supportive best friend that she is, she told me I should just go for it.

And instead of even texting her back, I started compiling a mental list of all the reasons he couldn't possibly like me back. Or know I exist.

Things like: my hair isn't long enough for me to be conventionally attractive. I have horrible anxiety and that isn't exactly a secret. I make $10 an hour. I'm a young single mom. I have a big pimple on my chin right now. My glasses are kind of funky. I breathe through my mouth. I have two hairs on my big toes. Shit like that. And then I hid until he left.

Sitting in bed hours later, I'm kicking myself. Why couldn't I have been an adult and held a conversation? But it's also made me realize something. While it's true that society has put certain pressures on women to look certain ways, there are things about me that are unconventional that I didn't even add to the list. Like that I hardly ever shave my legs and I'd been wearing the same yoga pants for two days. We are meaner to ourselves than anyone else will be, including the rest of society. I've decided to change that for myself. Next time I see a cute guy, I'm going to strike up a conversation rather than decide that person couldn't like me because of things I don't like about myself. They'll probably not like me because I'm a loudmouth and I can be bossy and I am having an affair with Netflix. I'm going to be nicer to myself, and I'm going to try to go into things assuming that everyone doesn't already hate me.

Because when it comes down to it, you need to love yourself first. And that's what I'm working on.

I'm back.

The past two weeks have been a special sort of hell for me. I had four anxiety attacks, got dumped, then couldn't really muster up the strength to get out of bed. Then yesterday, I had the actual literal worst day of my life. No break up, break down, or even my miscarriage could compare. I thought I was going to lose my job. That may not seem like a big deal, but to me it is. I love my job. I love the people I work with, I love the children I take care of, and I love what I do.

But then I made a mistake. I'm not going to go into details. No one was hurt. But I upset the parents of one of my babies. When I told them what happened, I really should have phrased it differently. I think that was what caused the most panic. As a parent, I understand completely. My bosses called me into their office yesterday morning and recounted everything. After hearing what I had to say, my boss told me that my job wasn't safe. I had been calm and collected through the entire meeting, but when she said that, I couldn't hold it anymore. The floodgates opened and the tears came freely. I went back to my room and cried, hard. Then I decided to resign, thinking that was what was best for the school. I gathered myself, ready to go do the thing that I absolutely did not want to. I would never see any of those kids again. It's horrible and wonderful being a caregiver because you get so attached to the kids and there's always a time you have to say goodbye. Whether they outgrow your class or move, they take a small piece of you with them. So I was getting ready to walk away from so many kids who all held a  tiny piece of my heart. I marched right into my boss' office and told her I was resigning. She told me to hold off on my resignation and sent me to my lunch. When I got back, my best friend M was coming out of their office. They pulled me in, hugged me, told me that I'm family and I'm not going anywhere. I wanted to break down crying all over again.

Because of my mistake, I did have to leave my babies. Right now I'm upstairs with the big kids, but I'll be back down with some of my babies as soon as my new room opens up when school starts. But because of my mistake, I also realized that I'm in the exact place that I should be. Not only am I in the right career path, I'm at the right place. No matter how much I beat myself up, I know that I love these kids and would never do anything to upset them or their parents on purpose. Accidents happen. Maybe the fact that I work at a religious institution saved me. Maybe it's because they preach forgiveness, and practice what they preach. Or maybe it's because they know as well as I do that I love those kids, and will always be extra vigilant in making sure that I don't ever make a mistake again.

So yesterday was the worst day of my life. But it was also one of the best. It's easy to feel unappreciated and undervalued in my line of work. But yesterday showed me that no one there is unappreciated or undervalued.

Also the older kids are hilarious. Over Christmas break last year, I watched one of the little boys in my class and his older sister one day. It happened to be her birthday. So today she told me that she wanted to have her birthday at my house again. Then she poked my belly and said "fat tummy" because five year olds have no filter. Then later, the middle daughter of one of my fellow teachers was staring at me (she's six) and just blurted out "why are you always so pretty?" which made me want to cry all over again. Because little kids are always honest when just blurting out stuff like that. So that was the best compliment I've ever received in my entire life.