Tirade

In the grand scheme of things, the moment was trivial. Compared to the horrors being experienced by those in Mumbai and even ordinary folk struggling to live their lives anywhere on the globe, it was not even close to being a truly stressful situation; however, since I can only experience my own life (although I do empathize with others), I found myself baffled at how completely my 4-year-old could make me feel paralyzed and inept in front of countless witnesses. What a joy to behold perhaps but definitely not one to experience.

Before describing this special moment with my child, I'll preface it with a little history. The reason it was just he and I and not the whole family was due to two factors: money and maintaining our sanity. It already cost us $1000 to fly just the 2 of us so it would have been ridiculous for 5. Plus, who is seriously insane enough to fly with 3 kids 4 and under?

My son hadn't flown since he was 6 months old. He might as well never have as far as his memory was concerned. I was entering the realm of new and unknown experiences with my child which, in the past, hadn't always produced the best results. Being the "smart" parent, I thought of ways to prepare him for the trip. I made one big mistake. Thinking that going through security might be frightening for him, I thought it might be helpful for him to watch a video I found on the TSA's website regarding flying with children. It shows children happily going through security. It shows how they might use the wand to check for metals but it's all happy go lucky. No problemo.

Yeah, well. You can guess where this is heading. We get to security and he starts to panic. I manage to get his shoes off and his coat and put them in the buckets. I get his luggage up and mine. I pick up the now screaming child and walk through the metal detector. No beeps. Whew. Ok, the worst is over. . . except he runs off and down toward the guard at the end of the security area who tries to stop him which makes him even more scared so he turns back and runs BEHIND the security area where about 10 guards are standing completely baffled as this frantic, panicking, insane little 4-year old literally weaves in and out of the guards desperately trying to escape this frighteningly scary place while yelling, "no metal!"

So proud. So very proud.

Obviously, we get him out of there and we move along. We gave the guards a little something to chuckle about. It took a few minutes for my blood pressure to go down and to remind myself that patience is actually a virtue and that it is sort of in my grasp if I would stop feeling the need to strangle the little rascal.

This same child, who wove in and out of trained security guards screaming like a banshee, then boarded the plane and entertained (in a good way) the passengers nearby with his cute ways such as asking a nearby 12-year-old what he was thankful for. It was probably good that he didn't ask me that shortly after his tirade but, in the true spirit of a parent who understands the depth of a parents love, I'm thankful for that little rascal even if he can embarrass me like no other.

Ill prepared

How many times had I insisted that we have the Epi-pen handy even for the twins who may not have severe allergies? Despite my diligence, I panicked today as I looked for one of the many I thought I had around the house. One was supposed to be in my purse, one in the diaper bag but where the hell was it? The extra diaper bag. Why the hell do I have an extra one?

Where the hell are my keys? I just had them. Toys at my feet and babies crying in the car, what the hell did I do with my keys? He was getting worse.

Epi-pen found. Keys found. Unhesitatingly, yet recoiling emotionally, I plunged the Epi-pen into my darling son's leg despite his protests.

Which hospital to go to? The one that I took Dylan when he fell or the new, fancy one near the house? I'm not from these parts - which one is good? Thank you, Lord, my mother-in-law answered the phone. Going to the close hospital and she's meeting me there.

Husband informed and trying to not panic him as I speed to the ER.

Peanuts. Peanut butter on a cracker at a school he'd only been to 4 times. "Severe peanut allergy" listed on his applications. Epi-pen provided but I'm confusion about how well I had informed them of that and wondering why they didn't take it more seriously. How mad should I be that someone handed out the crackers provided by some parent with a child who obviously doesn't have a severe peanut allergy. Obviously.

Swollen, red and angry hives all over his little body. Bloody scratches from his itching. Crying because he's scared. Juggling three babies at the ER until my sweet mother-in-law arrives and takes the little ones - one of whom is missing a shoe because it wasn't important. Nothing was important except getting Neil to the ER.

Doctors, nurses, medicines, shots. Cries, giggles eventually and redness abating. He's going to be ok. Daddy comes and helps with the giggles and snuggles. My darling boy charming the nurses and amusing the doctors.

Instructions, relief and disbelief that everything is going to be ok. My little darling survived it and I can only humbly fall to my knees in thanks for everyone who helped my son survive the life-threatening exposure to the most innocent-seeming, childhood food of peanut butter.