The Little Pack

I promise to love you and keep you safe and shepherd you through this crazy life as best as I know how until it is time for you to spread your wings and fly. I promise to do my best to keep your unbelievably spirited nature intact as I teach you to be a polite, productive citizen. And I promise to never talk about you in front of you as though you aren’t there. Although I know I will fail at times, I promise that I will always give you my very best.

Tick Checks. Back when I was a camp counselor in northern New York, we were strongly encouraged to do daily tick checks. They went so far as to recommend finding a buddy to help you look in hard to see places. This of course sparked the ultimate pick up line of the summer: “Hey baby, need a tick check?” Years later I delighted in Brad Paisley’s song, Ticks, as it brought back memories of an idyllic summer spent holding onto my youth just a little longer. Back when I rolled my eyes at the suggestion of a tick check and refused to be scared into submission by the threat of these mini vampires. I admit it, I thought of them as these mythical pests that everyone liked to complain about about but didn’t exist nearly on the scale that “grown ups” liked to warn us about. Oh I heard about them in vague terms but saw maybe one my whole life. Until. This summer. When they officially became the bane of my existence. Suddenly they were, quite literally, everywhere. We found them on the dogs everyday, I found them in the house, had them crawl on us, and even found one in our bed. I barely let the dogs outside to pee, it was so horrific. We applied Frontline Plus, we combed the dogs every single time they came inside,we sprayed the yard as best as we could and yet there was no escape. I have learned more about ticks, their life cycle and mating habits then I ever wanted to know. I assume that this is just karma for my ignorance. I keep reading how tick season lasts all summer and into the fall but the vets tell me it should end soon. Then flea season begins. Of course I have also always regarded fleas the same as ticks: you know, someone else’s problem. Heaven help us now.

I have never written about this before but my son is dairy and soy sensitive. This means that I have had to eliminate all dairy and soy from my diet as I breastfeed. My son was especially sensitive to soy, and I was shocked to discover all the things that I could not eat. Some say soy oil and soy lecithin should not trigger a reaction, but I can say with confidence that it did, in fact, affect my son. I also found out that my calcium supplements and prenatal vitamins had soy as he would react each time I took them. This greatly impacted my feelings about breastfeeding but in the end I am so glad that we persevered. That’s a post for another time though. I recently put together a list of dairy and soy free foods for another mom going through this and then I realized I should post it here. The following is pretty much what I lived on until just recently when baby boy finally began to outgrow these sensitivities. All foods are dairy and soy free, including soy oil and soy lecithin. This list is meant as a starting point, recipes change all the time, please check the labels for yourself.

Food for Life Ezekiel 7 sprouted grains bread (refrigerator section, most other varieties of their bread have sprouted soybeans)
Earth balance dairy/soy free butter–it honestly tastes like the real thing
Earth balance peanut butter. I’m not a fan of the kind of PB you have to stir. This has palm fruit oil and is sweetened with agave.
Enjoy Life foods: my faves: rice milk chocolate bar, and their cookies. Not a fan of the bagels, granola bars are ok but at least there ate options.
Purely Decadent coconut milk ice cream–most flavors are soy free and clearly marked when they are. Delish.
Crispy Wheat Back to Nature crackers
Hellmans canola oil mayo
Panko bread crumbs do not have soy
Pacifica broth
Applegate farms sausages
Kraft Italian extra virgin olive oil dressing
Solgar vegetarian vitamins are soy,dairy, and wheat free

There are moments holding my little boy that bring tears to my eyes and I want to last forever. I close my eyes and hold on tight, willing everything I am hearing and touching and sensing and feeling to imprint upon my memory permanently.

I am sitting here stunned, still in disbelief about the sequence of events that just occurred. First, Baby Boy had a diaper blow-out. Not so unusual. Slightly stressful as I had to deal with it myself and these days it takes 2 to change a diaper. One to keep him in position and keep limbs contained and the other to do the dirty work. So there was rolling in it and little hands in places they shouldn’t be but somehow I wrangled him into a diaper and put him in the pack and play while I could wash my hands and rinse his jammies. Which I did in the kitchen sink. With the sprayer. While he was crying in his pack and play. Suddenly it felt as though my hand slipped and then water was in my face and everywhere. The hose took on a life of its own as it began whirling around, and in the back of my mind as I was desperately trying to catch the hose and turn off the water, I couldn’t help but think, does this really happen in real life? I turned off the water and surveyed my surroundings trying to ascertain what had just happened. Somehow the sprayer nozzle had come off the hose and water was everywhere. I mean everywhere–all over the window, the counters, the island, the kitchen table, the floor. Me. Obviously. By now Baby Boy had lost it, and started screaming bloody murder. I can’t say I stayed exactly calm. Neither of my tactics to soothe him were successful. One was, “Hey, hey, hey, you have to get it together,” and then other was some sort of hysterical (not as in funny, as in maniacal) version of 10 little Indians where I substituted Baby Boy’s name for “Indian.” Meanwhile the dogs were hiding, I was panicing and repeating this is funny, this is funny, this is funny… over and over  to myself.

So now most of the water has been cleaned up, Baby Boy has been comforted and I am wearing a dry shirt. None of us are worse for the wear. Time for a few deep breaths and a laugh. Oh, and to look for the sprayer nozzle which still hasn’t been found.