Punky and I went home for the holiday weekend. Aside from the usual summer heat, picnic food, and fireworks, the weekend was rather uneventful but a few lessons were learned...
My sister had a cookout on Sunday. It was the first time I ever intentionally let Punky skip her daily nap. She slept until almost 9:30 that morning, which meant she wouldn't have been ready for a nap until around 3:00...a bit late in the day anyway. I figured it would be a real struggle to get her to fall asleep at my sister's but I was prepared to try...until my nephew decided it was time to go swimming right then.
Punky saw what had been hiding under the tarp in the yard. A pool. Water. Her absolute favorite thing ever. Shit. Even though she'd been rubbing her eyes and yawning, there was no way in hell I was getting her to sleep at that point. So, I chose to let her swim rather than sleep.
Lesson one: Don't ever do that again. Ever. No matter what's happening. No matter where we are at the time. Find a place to nap. Period.
She's definitely not ready for the no-nap scene. She was okay until about six, then the whining started. By seven she would burst into tears at any little thing that didn't go exactly how she planned it. By eight, mama couldn't leave her sight for three seconds without a full-fledged screaming fit. By nine, she was crying unconsolably. Mama was worthless at that point. And my nerves were shot. And I seriously wanted to gouge my own eyes out with a soup spoon.
Alright, maybe I wouldn't go that far, but seriously...it was awful. I really wanted her to get to see some fireworks though because I knew she's love the light and pretty colors this year. Last year she wasn't impressed. I sat on the porch swing and rocked her through her cries. She put her head down and fell asleep. For ten minutes. The bang of M-80's next door woke her.
Lesson two: A ten minute power nap can work wonders in an eighteen month old.
She was a totally different girl...at least for another hour or so before the crying started again. But it was long enough for her to see the fireworks. She really loved them so it was worth it. She told me the colors as they exploded in the sky above us. She giggled and pointed at the small ones the neighbors were lighting in the street. And she let me know when she had enough and needed to go to bed.
On Monday we stopped at my mom's for about an hour before heading back home. I don't generally spend much time there since she has a dog and my allergies and asthma go crazy. It seems like it's gotten worse now that I'm never around dogs at all. When I lived there and visited often, I used to last longer.
Anyway, the last two times we visited, Punky broke out in a red, blotchy rash. The first time, I had no clue what triggered it. The second time, the rash was so itchy by the time we left that she was crying hysterically and I had to pull the car over and wipe her down from head to toe. Afterwards, she did quiet down and fall asleep. Both times the rash was about gone by the time we arrived home two and a half hours later, but after the second time I really began to wonder...
Lesson three: I think my little girl is allergic to dogs. The third time was the charm.
Once again she broke out in the red, blotchy rash and was scratching all over so I know it was itchy. It probably didn't help much that she curled up in the dog bed, splashed in her water bowl, and hugged her several times while we were there. I washed her down before we left to avoid another episode in the car and it seemed to help. While she slept on the ride, my heart ached for her.
You have no idea how much I hoped she wouldn't inherit my allergies, especially to animals. I live that life, and it's not fun. It's amazing just how limiting it is.
Every time I'm invited to anyone's home, the first question I ask is if they have pets. Whether I go depends on what type, how many, and the season of the year. One little dog, spring thru fall, and I can probably commit to an hour visit. In nice weather I can escape outdoors for a few minutes intermittently to ease the situation. In the dead of winter, I don't like going anywhere there are animals. And cats. Just forget it. The season and number are irrelevant. I can't do cats at all. Well, I can, but I don't last thirty minutes and usually pay for it with a full blown asthma attack in the middle of the night.
Now that I'm an adult, I understand my issues and the consequences, but as a child all I felt was isolated. I missed many sleep overs, skipped out early from birthday parties, and spent many a holiday freezing outside at relatives houses while everyone else was inside having a good time. Saying it sucked is an understatement.
I cringe at the thought that my beautiful baby may have to go through the same heartache I did. However, if it turns out that she is in fact allergic I can guarantee she will never be outside wheezing and freezing alone. If there are animals there, we simply won't go. Period. Not being able to breath is an terrible feeling and I will not subject her to it if the situation can be avoided.
I guess I need to move this concern to the top of my list for the next doctor visit. I know she's too young to be diagnosed officially, but I want to have her tested as soon as she's old enough. Between this reaction at my mom's, the eczema probably triggered by a food allergy, and my history, I'm afraid at what they will find. And I dread the day she is old enough to eat peanuts.
Maybe I'll bring a PB&J sandwich to a doctor visit and let her eat it there. Seriously. Just in case.
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