If you were a fly on the wall in our house...

...you'd likely hear something along these lines:

Me: Hey, do we have any Diet Coke?

Hubby: Nope!

Me: (bats eyelashes in an exaggerated manner)

Hubby: Fine! (grabs car keys and heads to store)


Hubby: Hon, this cheesecake is delicious.

It's dense, but not too rich.

Me: Hmmmm, kinda like you.

Hubby: (beat) Good one!

Me: I aim to please.


Hubby: Have I seen the staple gun recently?

Me: I have no idea, I still don't have access to your retinas. (taps foot)

Hubby: Oh, yeah...I'll work on that.


Me: Why did I ever marry you, you prick?***

***Okay, I didn't say that one. In fact, my husband suggested I include it here.


Location, location, location!

The Past:

Last year, at this time, I was lamenting the impending sale of my dream home.

Last year, at this time, I was freaking out...trying to keep the world together for my kids while simultaneously dismantling it. I didn't know where we were going to live. I feared being homeless.

Last year, I was scared and angry that I was facing one of my worst fears. Financial instability. And not thrilled with the pity.


The Present:

This year, I am loving the new home we moved into last month. Still renting...but as much in love with it as we are the "dream home" we sold.

This year, I learned that location doesn't matter...what matters is, we are a family that loves and laughs together. Location, location, location...irrelevant.

This year, I realized what I knew all along...money isn't what is important.


I didn't need this financial kick in the ass to remind me of this...as I said, I knew it all along.

But I'm here to tell you that living it brings it all home.


Not a Post-Modernish Post

So, yeah, I haven't posted in DAYS.

I could give you my host of reasons, but really...you know them all.

A glimpse into my internal dialogue:

I've been moving...the unpacking seems endless (YAWN, again with the move. Your readers are OVER that. YOU are over that!).

It's a new school year, our schedules are whack (Yeah, ummmm...it's, fall!).

I don't have my own laptop (AGAIN, YAWN. You are sick of that excuse, how about your readers?)!

How about a throw-away post...you know, one to let them know I'm-thinking-of-you-but-I-am-oh-so-busy. (They will hate you. You will hate you. That isn't you.).

THEN, I thought, I could write that post (which I just did, see above), and then reference it, which would make the post cool, because it would be all post-modern and shit.

But, I wonder, NOW, that I've acknowledged that it's post-modern, how cool am I? Or, not? Does my acknowledging my post-modernism make be uber-post-modern, like how Woody Allen would pull it off, or is it just lame and self-congratulatory?

All I know is I have to hit publish, because my lappy battery is dying.


More from the Peanut Gallery (or, Peanut Allergies Suck)

When my daughter was eighteen months old, I left her with a friend while I ran a couple of errands (had to pick up my eyeglasses, and zip to the local running shop to buy some paraphernalia for my upcoming half marathon). It was the first time I was leaving her with someone other than a family member, and I was ridiculously nervous.

My friend, whose daughter was (and still is) bestest friends with mine assured me that she'd hover over my girl as much as she does hers. I thought to myself, It's only thirty minutes, she'll be fine.

Twenty-five minutes later, as I hopped into my minivan, heaving a sigh of relief because I was headed towards my girl and could scoop her into my arms in mere minutes, my cell phone rang.

It was my friend, "Does your daughter have a peanut allergy?" she asked.

"I don't think so; we've never let her have peanuts. Why?" I answered.

"Just wondering. I have some granola bars here that have peanuts in them. Wanted to know if I could let her have one."

"No, please don't. I am keeping her away from peanuts until she is three. I have food allergies; I am super paranoid!"

At this point I was nearing her house, so we hung up.

When I got inside, the rest of the story was made clear to me.

My friend, who loves my daughter dearly, asked me, "Does her lip look swollen?"

Sure enough, my daughter's lower lip was swollen, just on the right side. My friend had given the girls a granola bar to share; as soon as my daughter put a bite to her mouth, her lip swelled up.

Thankfully my friend was savvy enough to know what was going on. She confiscated the bars, and watched my daughter with a hawk's eye. She's CPR trained, was at one time a First Responder, so she knew what she was doing, and what was going on. Her call to me was as much about finding out my location and how soon I'd be arriving as anything.

We watched my girl for hours; I called the pediatrician and followed their instructions. Later that week a trip to the allergist confirmed that not only did my daughter have a peanut allergy, but a severe one.

How could that have happened? An allergic reaction never happens on the first exposure to a substance. It takes at least one prior exposure for the body to build an immune response...the first time is always a gimmee. I had never given my daughter peanut butter, or any peanut product in the past.

Or had I?

Peanut oil is widely used in a variety of products, and machinery that processes peanuts also processes other products that don't have peanut ingredients. Clearly my sweet girl had been exposed to peanuts at least once prior.

Labelling has come a long way. Now companies are required to inform consumers if their product has peanuts in them; many go beyond that requirement and add if the product shares equipment with peanut products, or if the facility processes peanuts. I am eternally grateful for that; reading labels has become FIRST nature to me.

I understand that peanut butter is a staple in most US households. It's a great source of protein, most kids love it, it's convenient and inexpensive. I'd urge you, however, to hold off on serving it to your young children until they reach an age where you are certain they won't develop a sensitivity to it.

What is that age? It's unclear...I'd say six is a fairly safe bet. Not for sure, but probably fine.

The problem with a peanut allergy is, one time the child might have symptoms that are so mild they go unnoticed. The same for the next ten times. Or forever.

Or, they might get a swollen lip. The same for the next ten times. Or forever.

But...they might get a swollen lip, and then the next time go into anaphylactic shock, be unable to breath and suffer other serious system failures.

And die.

There is just no telling.

Peanut allergies are notorious for being totally unpredictable. They can come out of seemingly nowhere, and there is no way to know what will happen with the next exposure. Might be fine. Might not.

Next year my daughter is supposed to start Kindergarten. I don't know what I will do...frankly, with a life threatening allergy, I can't say I'm all too keen on the idea of assuming that she'll be fine.

The last time I did that, we discovered her allergy. She was in good, loving, capable hands.

What if the next time, she's not?


Bow Chicka Bow Wow!

Best joke EVAH:

What do you get when you cross a brown chicken with a brown cow?

What? (Cue cheesey pornish soundtrack.)


Yeah, try to get that out of your head.

Carry on.


Where oh where have I been?

Besides searching for butter beans and moving (AGAIN!)(more on that later)(I'll just say that I LOOOOOVE my new house so much, and man, it feels good to like where you live), I've been up to me knees in the Blissfully Domestic relaunch. And the relaunch boxes are getting all confused with our house moving boxes, and it is confusing me. So I consume coffee, Diet Coke, and vodka. And I feel better.

Come on over and see my Healthy Living Channel at Blissfully Domestic. Be careful not to trip on the boxes there; like I said, we're still moving in. And if you see any of my personal boxes there, will you please send them my way?

Oh, and sorry...these aren't linky pics below. Me too tired. But they are in my sidebar! Cuz that was easy.