Melancholy-ish

Jelly Bean is being really cute lately. (You know, aside from thinking our bed is a good place to spend the night and screaming holy-bloody-murder when it is bedtime.)

I am particularly enjoying how he asks me if things have peanuts in them. We have a book that talks about food allergies that we read together a lot. I feel this line of conversation/discussion is important because I want him to feel comfortable talking about his allergy and I want him to talk to other people about his allergy. I like how he asks, "Do pears have peanuts? Do crocodiles have peanuts?" He probably hears me ask restaurants, bakeries, grocery store folks all the time about whether things have nuts in them.

We did have a close situation where we were at an open market and they had some cookies for sale on the counter. I like to support small local businesses and the cookies looked yummy, so I asked the clerk (since there was no labeling) whether the cookies contained nuts. She said no and I bought some. We got in the car and I handed a cookie to Honey and to myself first. We bit into them and at first glance, no nuts. So I gave Brother and Jelly both a cookie. Brother bit into his and yelled. It was full of walnuts. So I hurriedly snatched Jelly's cookie away and they all went in the trash.

I felt a little foolish, but we are still learning how to deal with this thing, how strict we have to be. Apparently, stricter than we are. But Jelly was fine and very proud of himself that he didn't bite the cookie. Thinking back, I am so relieved. At best, it would have landed us in the Emergency Room had things turned out differently. I won't lie. Recent research published on FAAN has shown that some kids (around 20%) with peanut allergies grow out of them. I feel like this is a long shot, but I do hold onto a thread of hope.

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Brother is growing up. He is so tall. It seems like the past 9 years have flew by so quickly. Now it is spelling tests, scooter rides, and Lego's. In another 9 years? College, friends, adulthood. God, now isn't that enough to bring you to your knees? The fleetness of life.

But 9 is not too old still. I leaned over him and gave him a hug this morning while he was drinking milk and eating mini powdered donuts before getting on the bus. I asked him if he felt like I hugged him enough. I had been worried the night before that I hadn't been paying him enough attention with feeling sick and taking care of things that can't be put off until I feel better. But he said yes, that I hug him enough. I tell him that he is special. Because before Honey, before Jelly, it was Brother and me. We were the beginning of our family, long before marriage and daddies and little brothers. I want him to feel the specialness of that and to save it up for times when he feels strange because he might look different from his siblings because of his skin tone and dark hair; because of the hints of Asia that are in his face, while Jelly looks just like Honey with a mop of blond hair.

Whenever either of the children want something that I am not willing to give: time, loss of comfort, action, I remember this: there is a limited number of times he will ask me to read to him. There is a limited number of times I will get to make the dinner he wants. There are only so many nights in our precious lives to tuck him in.

So, I just try to remember.