Midweek Photo Update

Because Wednesday is a great day for baby pictures.

Really, isn’t any day a great day for baby pictures?

 

This is a hat, right?

Reading on the subway
Great-grandma!

 
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Mmmm...sorbet!

 

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A Great Read, Even If You’re Not Allergic to Anything

After renewing it from the library six times, I finally made time to read Don’t Kill the Birthday Girl: Tales from and Allergic Life by Sandra Beasley. My review comes down to one word: phenomenal, but I’ll expound more all the same.

 

Beasley is thirty-one years old and has had a slew of food allergies all her life. The book is a combination of her experiences growing up in a world that has her reaching for a dose or two of Benadryl at least once a week, the history of allergy research and food labeling laws, and a taste (pun intended) of up-and-coming treatments and research in the field.

 

The book reads very easily. Beasley fluidly intertwines her memoir-of-sorts with the bigger picture. For the most part, the pacing keeps the dryer material from seeming that way, but it ultimately doesn’t feel like a book just about her.

 

I wish I had read this earlier on in our allergy saga. I probably could have avoided at least some of my anxiety about feeding Jacob, both at home and in public. Even now, I learned a lot. Without hesitation, I have recommended this book to other moms who are dealing with their children’s allergies. Beasley does an excellent job of synthesizing the tons and tons of information out there, bringing the relevant—and often surprising—parts to the fore. Her experiences are not necessarily those of others, and there would be more research for an individual to do after reading this. It’s a great starting point.
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What struck me most, and what Beasley often emphasizes, is how much her allergies required of her parents, especially her mother. Beasley’s first appointment with her lifelong allergist was on her first birthday. When she was growing up, there were not the food labeling laws, restaurant guidelines, and school awareness that there is today. Her mother had to blaze a trail for them at home, at school, and while traveling.

 

Jacob’s allergies are a bummer, and learning to live with them has been a tremendous challenge. But like Beasley, I need to give credit to her mother. She figured out what needed to be done, did it, and then taught her daughter what she needed to know to take care of herself.

A year ago, I didn’t really understand the big deal about food allergies. In movies, they are often the traits of pale, skinny, geeky kids who are inappropriately attached to their mothers. Now, as the mother of a food-allergic child, I see why. The truth is, there is a lot in the world that can hurt my little boy: cheese crackers on the playground, another child’s bottle of milk at a play date, a seemingly innocuous peanut butter and jelly sandwich at lunch. But like Beasley’s mother, I hope I don’t hold Jacob back from what the world has to offer him—and what he has to offer the world—because of his allergies. Rather, I hope I can give him the knowledge and the tools to become everything he is meant to be.

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Life on a Project-by-Project Basis, or What My Babies Have Taught Me About Lent, Part II

To me, one of the most fascinating aspects of human nature is our ability to do more for others than we would for ourselves—whether it’s for the needy, our children, our loved ones, or not even a person, maybe a company, a race, an organization we believe in. In a way, this is great, because it is good to come out of ourselves and apply the skills and talents we have to benefit others. On the other hand, it often means we don’t value ourselves enough simply for who we are.

 

When I think in terms of Lent, I think of how I am able to give up sweets for forty days, without batting an eye. When I think of my family, I think of the many ways I’ve had to adjust my diet over the last few years: for pregnancy, nursing, nursing an allergic baby, then pregnancy again, and now transitioning back to eating for only one. My ability to physically give of myself in honor of another is a good thing, because it teaches me humility and charity.

In terms of grief, this mentality spirals in the other direction. It means I need projects going at all times so that I continue to feel useful. I realize my value as a wife and mother haven’t changed, but a bigger part of me is shaken. That’s why I am knit-knit-knitting and write-write-writing pretty much all the time, even if you guys don’t see much of either.

 

A few weeks ago, my freelance workload lightened. After I finished my current projects, I wasn’t planning to take much more on. Yet when I reached the point I was consciously striving for, I quickly lost a sense of purpose. I bid on a couple of other jobs but lost them, and in a matter of hours, I was seriously stressing myself out over nothing, really.

 
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I realize that as I grieve, my emotions and my actions are more extreme than they normally are, and that’s okay. But as I consider this and a couple of other articles I’ve recently read on motherhood, I realize I do not value my vocation enough. I know to my family it is enough that I serve them as a wife and a mother. But to me, it is not, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.

I often ask myself why I freelance. Is it because I love the work? Yes. Is it because I like contributing financially to our family? Yes again. This is a piece of a larger discussion going on with moms all over. But today, for me, it is an interior discussion, and one I think most of us—parents or not—need to consider. Is who I am enough? Or is what I do more important? And where is the line between who I am and what I do drawn?

 

I spend a lot of time thinking about ways I can let Jacob know that he is loved for who he is, now and always. I love him for his giggles, his squeals, his hugs, his playfulness, but really I love him simply because he is. Because he exists, because he is mine.

I know that’s how God feels about me, about all of us, too. And—wait for it, I’m going to get sentimental here—I think if more of us accepted that, our hearts, our homes, and our world would be happier places.

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