Wheaty Wheaty Winky

Yesterday R and I had a big date day. We've had very few hours of alone time since Buckaroo was born last April and Obo came to live with us in July. We do love our children, and sometimes we need to take a little break from them so that we may love them more.

Buckaroo has been easier without me (his primary food source) around for longer periods of time, so we asked our friend Fay to watch all three of our children, so we could loll around and do pretty much nothing for four whole hours, and she agreed! Bless her soul, as my Nana Ivy used to say.

Off we sent the brood to Fay's house for a long afternoon. It was lovely. The loveliest lolling ever, and later we even went out for Thai food, and, despite my better judgement, I drank a Thai iced tea (I'm not supposed to have dairy or caffeine or wheat for Buckaroo's sake, but sometimes a girl has to live life on the edge). It was delicious, and the food was tasty, too.

It's when we arrived back at Fay's house that disaster struck (sorry, Fay, if you're reading this; I have to go for the drama). While we were away, in the frenzy of taking care of not only our three children, but three others as well as two of her own-- angelic woman-- Fay gave Buckaroo a single cracker, and all hell broke loose.

Buckaroo is allergic to wheat. We'd thought as much because he gets a rash from wheat in my breastmilk, but we'd never tested out the theory with the real deal, and now there's no need for testing. Buckaroo woke up from his nap when we arrived, and his eyes swelled nearly shut, which would have made him look kind of cute, as if he were winking at us, except that he had a flood of mucus running from his nose which wasn't at all cute, and he was screaming hysterically.

R took him outside while I tried to call the doctor. The advice nurse said to call 911, which seemed a bit extreme to me until she said that his airway could close, and then he'd stop breathing, so that's what I did. A whole houseful of paramedics arrived, and I had a dagnabbed time trying to explain how I knew Buckaroo was allergic to wheat when he'd never actually eaten wheat before. When that was all sorted out, they told us to take Buckaroo to the hospital.

Meanwhile, poor Fay cried in the kitchen.

All the time I kept thinking "Really? 911? The hospital? For a cracker? Are you sure?" Yes, they were sure. So, Buckaroo had his first visit to the emergency room.

He's fine, obviously, or I couldn't be so flip. He still looks a bit winky in the right eye, but it's almost gone now. Obo and Sweet Potato were miserable, and Sweet Potato gave us a long lecture in the car on the way home about how important it is to warn the other children that the paramedics are about to arrive. When we went inside we all had a long family hug.

R and I were hoping the Buckaroo would outgrow this whole wheat and dairy allergy stuff, but now we're not so certain that's going to happen. It's a bleak little food future for the wee sprout, but I guess he doesn't know that. In fact, today I gave him a sip of my green lemonade (made with lettuce, kale, apples, lemon and ginger), and he loved it. He even got a green foam mustache.

Oh, and Fay babysat Buckaroo for us again today, and they got along fabulously-- no tears for either party as far as I know!