Not thinking about peanut butter

I’m still nervous with the peanut butter. I can’t help it. I let her have a bit more than usual this morning before we walked down to daycare – that is, she actually had enough to taste and savor rather than the usual trace amount that is probably attached to the chocolate shell of her Easter candy. It may have been as much as half a teaspoon. And I spent the next half hour watching her for signs of a reaction. Swelling? Problems breathing? Does that yawn mean anything? Is her nose red for a reason? Is her face red because she’s warm, is she having a reaction, and why didn’t I take note of it before I gave her the peanut butter? Then I begin thinking morbid thoughts as I see her little face watching me leave daycare, and I wonder what I’ve just done to my daughter.

I am almost certain she’s fine. But this is our little girl. I love her. She is everything to us. Nothing can happen to her. If anything does, it’ll be my fault because I’m the one who gave her peanut butter. And once we’re through with peanuts, it’s on to tree nuts. I hate this. Why can’t they test for the probability of nut allergies when they perform all those other tests during their first 18 months? It would set new parents’ mind to rest so nicely.

Okay, in an effort to distract myself from this line of thought, we’ll discuss some the amazing way Kathleen has demonstrated a new ability: she’s beginning to make connections. We notice it mostly when we’re reading. If she sees a picture of the mommy or daddy in her picture/words book, she’ll say mama or dada and point to the person in question. The same thing happens when she sees a cat or a dog, except she calls them “bow”. Ditto with balls ("baw-l").She knows what the hug is in her picture/word book. Every time she sees it, she says “awwwwwww”, and she even once hugged herself. I’ve also learned that I can no longer read her Planes book at bed time. When we reach the page that reads “Here is a plane writing a message: drink milk…”, she signs “milk” and toddles out to the kitchen in her SleepSack for a drink. Connections. And it’s only really become noticeable to us this weekend. Pretty amazing.

(Not thinking about peanut butter. Not thinking about peanut butter. Nothing thinking about peanut butter. Not thinking about . . . )

We took her to church again yesterday morning – 9:30 mass. She was pretty good just as she was last week, but also just as last week, before mass was halfway over she was giving us signals she was tired. She couldn’t get comfortable, she was playing with my hair, she wouldn’t stop shifting, and her eyes looked glazed. I’m surprised it hits her at that time. She doesn’t get a nap at daycare until about 11:30. (Not thinking about peanut butter). Maybe it’s her reaction to anything resembling a meeting. If so, she got that one from me.

She helped me garden yesterday. It wasn’t really gardening. We happened to be outside in the area of the side garden beneath the drive way. I thought I'd yank a few weeds while we were there. Kathleen sat on the ground playing with the dirt and the rocks. (Not thinking about peanut butter.) Then she had me help her back to the top of the hill so she could play in the ceramic pot sitting near the spigot. I yanked a few more weeds while she scattered the seed papers I’d put in there in hopes of starting a wildflower pot. A movement flashed in the corner of my eye. I finished pulling another weed, glanced over, and then glanced back. Kathleen was lying flat on her back halfway down the hill with her neck slightly cocked and just looking completely surprised at what had happened. I ran down to pick her up fearing, as usual, the worst (did she break her neck?!). She seemed none the worse for wear aside from a bit of damp dirt embedded in her newly cleaned jacket (just out of the dryer the night before) and her hand-wash-only hat with the peony flower that’s supposed to stay dry. Right. What am I going to do with that girl?

(Still not thinking about peanut butter.)

(Huge sigh.) I want my baby.