The Alpine Slide

Remember how I said I was going to get the kids to the mountains this summer if it was the last thing I did? Well, we made it, and it went about how you'd expect it to go.

There were the meltdowns and freak outs that come with any change in routine, and, like usual, Stow was ready to head home after 72 hours away. Still, I had a chance to hike and canoe and breathe mountain air with the kids, and that was pretty amazing.

Canoeing on Grand Lake

We landed in Denver and picked up a rental car that all three kids disliked because when they sat in the back their bodies touched. "Why didn't you get one of those big SUVs?" one asked. "This is a vacation," chimed in another. "Why do you have to be so cheap?" Three minutes into our drive from the airport, Sky wanted to know exactly when we would see our first mountains, and Stow wanted to know when we'd be stopping for lunch.  Fortunately, once we hit more mountainous terrain, all got distracted by trying to determine the types of rocks and outcroppings they were seeing (score one for just enough geology knowledge to keep them occupied!).

We spent our first night in Estes Park in a tiny motel with magnificent views and a place to build our own campfire (which went ok until Stow became increasingly brazen in his efforts to show us how well he could snuff out the tiny side fires he kept lighting). Sky fell in love with the mountains around Estes Park and the shirt he bought as a souvenir there (this last piece of information may seem random, but it will make more sense in a minute--I promise), and he was sad when we headed into the park and across Trail Ridge Road to our second destination.

Stop along Trail Ridge Road

Since Ren couldn't really hike, I was pleasantly surprised by all we could see and do as we made our way across Trail Ridge Road. The short hikes we could take from various stops and the wildlife we saw along the way thrilled the kids, even as I knew that a younger more mobile version of myself would have ridiculed people like us for being such lazy tourists.

We spent the bulk of our vacation in Grand Lake, the small town where I worked for a summer as a college kid. Sky didn't like it because it wasn't Estes Park, and Stow didn't want to leave our rental cabin because it had a bunk bed and cable, and we'd been away from home for 72 hours so clearly this was our new home. (Have you ever tried explaining the difference between being on a trip and being "homeless"? Because, it's not as easy or as obvious as it sounds.)

Grand Lake and Stow

On the fourth day, we drove to Winter Park where we bought ridiculously expensive day passes so we could enjoy the gondola, alpine slide, putt-putt golf and other activities. Day four is where the trip really started to take a Moe Family turn. We went to Winter Park so the kids could ride the alpine slide (described as Colorado's longest alpine slide with "over 3,000 feet of heart-pounding track"), but the alpine slide requires a ski lift ride, and a ski lift ride for three children, two of whom are on the spectrum, requires, at least at first, two adults.

See the conundrum?

The guy selling the day passes told me that Ren couldn't ride the lift up unless he was willing to take the slide down. He also told me that Ren's spine issues wouldn't prevent him from riding the slide. When I conveyed this information to Ren, he decided it was a perfectly cogent idea for him to take the lift up with Stow and to ride down on the slow track.

On this first trip, Sky led the way followed by Pink. I took the middle with Stow behind me and Ren bringing up the rear. Everyone made it down safely, though I think I probably triggered an adrenaline rush for Pink when I nearly rear-ended her. And, I am sure the group of teenagers who came behind Ren weren't thrilled by his snail's pace.

Alpine Slide

Yay! We made it down safely and the kids had fun!

The logical next step would have been to walk away from the alpine slide. But, our passes were for limitless rides, and we're nothing if not passionate about getting the most for our money. So, I told Ren I'd take the kids on the slide again.

"I'll come, too," he said.

When you live with someone who has a life-altering and painful physical disability, you learn not to tell them how you think they should live with that disability. So, even though I really wanted to tell Ren to quit while he was ahead, I didn't want to stop him from something he felt like he was capable of doing.

My second ride down the mountain was faster and more exhilarating than the first. As each family member arrived safely at the bottom, I felt buoyed by the fact that we were doing something so....well....so normal. But, then Pink came in with Ren close behind, and before she could tell me about his spill, the attendant at the bottom of the slide was explaining how to get to first aid.

Do you know what's hard to do if you have a titanium rod from neck to tailbone? Bend. Bending is impossible and also completely necessary if you get going to fast on the alpine slide and need regain your balance. Since Ren can't bend, when he started to tip, he couldn't recover without relying on contact between his arm and the side of the slide. Today, three months later, he still has slide burns--they're healed, but the scars look like no other injury we've seen.

When we got to the first aid tent, my biggest worry was that the open wound on his arm would prevent him from being able to have surgery. The nurse gave us some petroleum jelly and some bandages and told us how to keep the wound clean and moist for quicker healing, and after a few gondola rides and a round of putt-putt golf, the kids decided they were ready to take on the alpine slide on their own.

On your second visit to the first aid tent, you know it's time to walk away from the alpine slide. While Ren managed to get a shallow slide burn that covered most of his forearm, Sky got a small deep one on his shoulder that closely resembled a golf divot. The Japanese last name I gave the nurse when we arrived at the tent the second time made her raise her eyebrows, "I thought you looked familiar," she said to me. Armed with more petroleum jelly and clean bandages, Sky and I found the rest of the family, and we all agreed it was time to head home.

"I can't believe how unlucky I am," moaned Sky, who was distraught about the hole in his new t-shirt, and whose day had been ruined by that last ill-fated alpine slide run.

Ill-fated shirt

"Look," I said. "Don't let that one moment ruin a really good day. I mean, it WAS a pretty great day, right?" Reluctantly, he agreed.

I suppose our trip to Colorado taught us all that every day is full of a lot of good and a little bit of bad and we that can choose which of those things will be our focus--

--which isn't to say that I didn't have to spend a chunk of the last few days of our vacation looking for a shirt to replace the one with the hole, because I totally did.

Down(,) on the Farm

Back in May, before I left all three kids home with Ren for 25 days, I promised each of them we’d do something special together once I got back. They jumped at the idea.

“I want to go to farmer’s market and eat Mexican ice, pet animals at the pet store, and then go read at Starbucks!” announced Pink.

“I want to stay up late with you and watch Star Wars,” said Sky.

“Let’s buy candy!” exclaimed Stow.

First of all, awwww.

And, second of all, geez, they have low expectations! When I told them I was thinking about doing something more substantial, they each just kept adding to the list of things we already do, somehow making me feel bad that we’ve worn them down to the point of expecting not much at all. 

In fact, we do take them to do some pretty great things, but it’s probably also true that they couldn’t fathom what I meant because I’d never been able to imagine going away alone with one of them before now. After all, until this year, taking one of them while Ren stayed home with the other two seemed impossible. Ren’s back has stabilized some, though, so I decided to try it. 

When they realized I would take each kid somewhere special for a night, Pink wanted to go to a farm, Sky wanted to go to Chicago, and Stow just wanted to go to a "ho-tower" (his word for hotel)--it didn't seem to matter where. To his credit, Ren agreed to this plan even though I hadn't consulted with him in advance. Thank goodness Ren's cool like that!

Last night marked step one in this new experiment; Pink and I stayed at a farm B and B. The B and B is a place I'd visited it as part of preliminary research for a student project, and since the farm has cows, sheep, goats, chickens, pigs, dogs, and cats, I immediately decided Pink P would love it there.

Helping look for eggs.

The two of us arrived at the farm just after lunch time. By dinner Pink had located and named all seven of the farm cats, found a bunch of chicken and duck eggs, fed the calves, and helped corral a particularly skittish sheep. For dinner, we managed to find a pizza place that had a gluten-free option. Sure her pepperoni pizza with no cheese cost $18, but apparently that's the cost of quality time away when your kid has food allergies! Over dinner, we laughed harder than I’ve laughed in long, long time as we talked about all the crazy things Stow has done lately, so I guess that pizza was worth it. 

Giant dogs soon became Pink's BFFs.

When we got back to the farm after dinner, there was a fire going in the fire pit, so we stayed up late roasting marshmallows and making new friends. 

S'more fire.

In the morning, after helping with chores and eating an allergy-friendly fresh farm breakfast, we headed back to "civilization." When it was time to go, Pink cried. She was going to miss the animals and the alone time with me.....but mostly the animals. We both were going to miss the reprieve from daily life with two brothers on the spectrum. 

Pink's anxieties about going home were well-founded; within five minutes of stepping into the house, Stow had a massive meltdown and pulled Pink’s hair hard enough to get a fistful of it. In fact, he's been out of sorts every since we left--it's funny (and really, really hard) how the slightest changes impact him so. The immediacy of Stow's meltdown served as a stark reminder of the limits to what I can do for my kids, but it also reinforced for me the importance of giving each kid time to decompress away from the fray.

Farm bedroom

Morning on the farm.

In general, I’ve come out on the other side of the severe depression. But, I’m still not sleeping all that well, and I'm still struggling to keep my head above water. While being at the farm with Pink made her tremendously happy, it also helped me see I still have work to do until I am back to where I was a couple of months ago. So, you know, one step at a time. In the meantime, I'll keep looking at these pictures of sunrise and sunset on the farm and listening to good music and getting up in the morning and facing the new day with as much resolve as I can muster. For now, I guess that'll have to be good enough.

How Not to Make a Kids' Movie

The new Peter Rabbit movie opened recently and has drawn a lot of criticism for its depiction of a group of rabbits attacking their nemesis with his known allergen. Using a slingshot, the rabbits shoot a blackberry into Tom McGregor's mouth causing him to have a severe allergic reaction and forcing him to his use his epipen. This is not actually the first time Sony Pictures has depicted severe food allergy reactions in kids' movies. Similarly harrowing scenes occur in Smurfs 2 and Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.

Just a week or so before, in response to a news story out of Pennsylvania in which three teenagers were charged with a crime after one of them spread pineapple juice on her hand and then tried to touch a severely allergic classmate, I pointed out that this kind of thing happens a lot more than people think and that I don't expect things to change until there is some kind of shift in the way we think about allergies. Severe food allergies continue to be used as a source of laughs. If it's funny to portray people who swell up and struggle to breathe after exposure to an allergen, is it also funny to depict a child getting knocked out of a wheelchair or dying from a disease? People argue that we should all just loosen up a bit, but really?

Allergy-friendly homemade pizzas!

Every time anaphylaxis becomes the butt of a joke or a twist in the story line, and every time it's depicted unrealistically, it becomes that much harder to overcome the various stigmas and misconceptions still associated with food allergies. And, as a result, the risk to our kids gets graver.

When Pink was in second grade, another kid on the bus shoved a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in her face. Several other peers have joked about doing the same thing. I get it; most kids have no idea of the kind of injury they can cause by exposing a kid with allergies to something they're severely allergic to, but can you imagine never knowing whether or not someone will threaten to try to kill you today?

Kids with food allergies are often described as weaklings or snowflakes. Their parents are accused of being overprotective and enabling. I can't help but think that at least part of the reason for these risky behaviors and negative attitudes toward kids with allergies is the fact that allergies continue to be a joke.

Another of the hundreds of lunches Ren and I have prepared over the years.

Children like Pink are fierce. They encounter serious risk on a daily basis and take it in stride. They learn earlier than most how to advocate for themselves (by reading labels and making sure they have their epipens handy, for example); they quickly figure out how to deal with being excluded or treated differently from their peers; and they become pretty adept at finding alternatives and workarounds. Plus, learning these tough lessons over and over again teaches them empathy and compassion that will serve them well for life.

So, how about this? What if we lived in a world that accommodated kids with allergies like we accommodate all other kinds of difference? What if schools spent as much time on allergy education and awareness as they do about other kinds of disabilities? Pink has had classmates tell her that they didn't invite her to their party because of her allergies. Others have admitted that they haven't had her over because their parents are worried about possible exposure. I find it hard to believe that she would experience these kinds of things if allergies were more widely accepted and understood.

As my bento post earlier this week illustrates, most parents and kids living with allergies work hard to live a normal life. We figure out how to prepare safe alternatives of our kids favorite foods. Though, we carry an epipen wherever we go, we also seek to make sure that our children live not in fear but in courage. Day after day, we do the work.

After much pressure, Sony Entertainment apologized (way too late) for the tasteless scene in Peter Rabbit, but wouldn't it be great it Sony and others who have larger platforms than our kids (who often fight this fight alone) followed our kids examples and showed a little empathy and compassion without having to be coerced into it?

What Do You Do with So Much Awesome?

Recently, I've started to suspect that I am losing my mind. And, if not, that I have less patience than I should. At a certain point each evening (usually about 3 hours after I've gotten home from a long, busy day at work), I find myself yelling at someone or the other. And, I can't figure out if I am just tired and grumpy, or if something has driven me to it. So, yesterday, I decided to keep an informal and completely unscientific list of the conversations I was engaged in between the hours of 6 and 9 p.m. Note: this list is not comprehensive but it IS true (in that these conversations ALL happened). Looking at it, I've decided that maybe there is just a little too much awesome happening at my house, and I clearly don't have what it takes to keep up with all of these conversations.

(Just for fun, see if you can guess who said what.)

1. "Mom, look at this book I got from the library. (Holds up The Essential Research: A Complete. Up-to-Date, One-Volume Sourcebook for Journalists, Writers, Students and Everyone Who Needs Facts Fast).  Do you want to know how many people died in traffic accidents in 1990 in Vermont? It's a surprisingly low number. Can you believe I am the first person to ever check this book out of the school library?"

2. "Oh, yeah. I forgot to tell you that my left leg went numb this afternoon, and I couldn't walk. It's a like a tingling shock, but it's so strong and unexpected that I can't move my leg." 

3. "Mom, look. When I shriek loud enough, the Anpanman Christmas toy turns on all by itself." (Shriek followed by Anpanman rocking and playing Jingle Bells in a slightly flat electronic frenzy. Followed by another kid testing his shriek to see if it has the same effect. It does)."

4. "I'm going to shake this tree hard enough that all of the ornaments fall off." 

5. "Tomorrow I am going to try to hook up the DJGKESM. If it doesn't work, you need to call and tell them SKEWMG AKTJES and KGWJETASDGO. Ok? Are you listening?" 

6. "Brennan sits at the allergy table everyday because he likes Annabelle. He likes girls who are smart and pretty because he wants them to do his homework for him. I think he's stupid and should leave us alone. I like playing with Annabelle because she is nice and smart and doesn't care how she looks just like me." 

7. "I think there is something wrong with the nerve here (points vaguely to lower back). It feels really funny. (Me: Shoudn't I call the doctor?) Not, yet. Maybe it will get better besides they can't do anything about it." 

8.  "I think Momo really likes it when I _____________ (insert ridiculously cat-unfriendly behavior here). All of my friends think I am saying Mom when I say Momo, but I don't think Momo and Mama sound alike at all. Isn't that weird?" 

9. "Why don't you make the kind of gratin that Big Sissy makes with the macaroni in it? I don't like this rice one. I think you put in too much rice." 

10. "How come you never watch ______________ (insert TV program title) anymore?" 

11. "Oops. I forgot to put on underwear again." 

12. "I think the surgery failed. That's the only explanation for _____________ (insert pain description)."

13. "I'm going back upstairs. It's too loud down here. I can't eat when it's this loud and you told me to not to yell at everyone." 

14. "Can I turn on the outside lights and ride my bike in the dark?"

15. "Are you sure you love me?" 

16. "Can I use your computer to look up KGMTKSEMKG?" 

17. "Mom, why don't you exercise like Jimmy's mom. She exercises all the time." (Me: Because I use up all my free time asking you guys to do the same thing over and over again.) "That's probably better, anyway. If you had time to exercise, you'd probably start drinking Diet Coke again and watch too much TV." 

18. "Do you want to smell my bottom?" 

19. "Mom, the dinosaur's head fell off again."

20. "Why does he have more ornaments than me?" (Me: Because he's older than you). "I knew it. You don't love me. You wish I was never born."

21. "Can I use your computer to look up FLEKWGSJP?" 

22.  "It's not true that 9 year-olds are supposed to go to bed by 8:30. You're just using that stupid chart to prove that you're right."  

23. "I think I have figured out why that video game is so expensive. It's new and it's popular so lots of people want to buy it, so that's why it's expensive. That or maybe the graphics are some kind of special new technology."

24. "Can I use your computer to check my homework?"

25. "Can I play Wii?" (Me: No. It's a school night.)

26. (20 minutes later) "Why can't I play Wii?"  

ANSWER KEY:

1. Pink
2. Ren
3. Sky (and then Stow)
4. Stow
5. Ren
6. Pink
7. Ren
8. Pink
9. Sky
10. Sky
11. Stow
12. Ren
13. Sky
14. Stow
15. Pink
16. Sky
17. Pink
18. Stow
19. All three.
10. Stow
21. Sky
22. Pink
23. Sky
24. Sky
25. Sky
26. Sky

The Best Laid Plans...

Last night Pink went to her first sleepover. In the small town where we live, sleepovers among the elementary school set are fairly common, so the invitation wasn't unexpected. Pink has played with the friend who invited her since kindergarten, and I know her mom well. Still, when she invited Pink over after gymnastics class on Tuesday, I hesitated. Pink may have been ready for a sleepover, but I wasn't sure I was.

Still, I said yes. I said yes because it's summer. And because Pink is ready. And because I don't want my fears about her asthma and allergies to become her fears. As soon as I'd said yes, though, I knew I needed to pass on some vital information to the other mom. I also knew the information might trigger a panic in the woman. That's the thing about life-threatening allergies and severe asthma--as chill as we try to be about Pink's issues, whenever I start to tell someone else the basics of keeping Pink safe, I am reminded of just how many dangers lurk out there.

*****

"She's allergic to a lot of foods," I start. "I'll send the full list, but peanuts and nuts are the big ones."

The other mom nods. Asks me to just tell her a couple of easy things Pink can eat. How do you define easy? Pizza? Spaghetti? Macaroni and cheese? I'm stumped.

"Fruit?" I suggest. "Fresh veggies?"

The other mom looks as me as if I don't understand the meaning of the words "easy meal." Eventually, I suggest Pink will do fine with hot dogs and hamburgers as long as she doesn't have cheese...or a bun.

I run through a couple of other food suggestions before moving on to the next topic.

"So, do you know how to use an epipen?" I ask as casually as possible.

When she tells me she doesn't, I discretely pull the one I always carry out of my purse so I can show her while the girls are distracted by the vending machine.

"Take off the blue, plunge the orange into the fattest part of the thigh, count to ten, and call 911," I say quickly, matter-of-factly. But, I don't want the mom to panic, so I add, "We've never had to use it, so if you're careful, it should be fine." Before I can slip the epipen back into my bag, Pink's friend spies it and wide-eyed exclaims, "Is that a SHOT?!"

We're in the parking lot now, about the go our separate ways, so I hurriedly mention the emergency inhaler and the Benadryl. I try to keep it casual but by now, I imagine the other mom is screaming "Mayday! Mayday!" in her head.

When we get to the car, Pink is ecstatic. Giddy. She can't wait for the sleepover and vows to pack the moment we get home. I'm spent, and nervous in the way I always get when I walk someone through Pink's safety protocols. When I don't think about it all, I'm cool, but when I re-live it by explaining the precautions to someone else, I'm reminded of how terrified I should be to ever let Pink out of my sight.

Three hours before the sleepover, Pink starts carrying her backpack full of stuff around. Inside, she's packed her swimsuit, pajamas, her stuffed dog, a change of clothes, and Sky's old watch. We have to go home twice before managing to get to her friend's house--once for a hair brush and a toothbrush, and once because I realized the emergency medicine pouch is low on Benadryl. On the drive over, I remind Pink to read labels if she's not sure about food. I tell her to be polite and ask her what she will do if she sees a gun or if someone makes her feel uncomfortable. It's a short drive, so my refresher course on how to stay safe is abbreviated. She asks if she can call me, and I tell her she can in an emergency but that she'll probably be having too much fun to think about it.

When we get to the house, I tell the other mom about the maintenance inhaler and remind her to take the epipen with them wherever they go. The family has a dog and two cats, so I feel like I can see animal fur floating in the air. I imagine stray peanuts on the floor.

"Bye, Pink. Have fun," I say, but she's already gone, her giggles fading in the distance.

I make it until 8:30 p.m. before I check in on her. My biggest worry is the pet dander. I've seen her eyes swell so much that the whites around the pupil seem to bulge, and I'm worried the long-term exposure will trigger an asthma episode. When I text, they are watching a movie in the park, playing with friends from school.

The next day, when I pick her up at noon, Pink has just gotten out of the pool. The other mom tells me she did great, gives me a rundown of all the girls did, starts to tell me about the dog wanting to sleep in the same room as them. In my head, I am finishing this story in a very different way. In my head, the girls start to sleep with the dog, but then Pink's allergies flare, and they have to put the dog in the basement. But, this isn't what the mom is saying, and I don't really register it, until Pink comes over and unzips her backpack. The mom starts to talk about Pink's stuffed animal, and I assume she's going to tell me to wash it because the dog climbed on the bed and slept on it. But then Pink shows me this...

A dog with a hole.

...and starts to cry.

At first, I think it's just this hole, but then I realize the eyes have been gouged out as well. So, I, of course, do what I always do in a difficult situation. I laugh inappropriately.  As I am trying to stifle my laughter (after all, Pink is weeping beside me), I realize that the mom is telling me that their crazy dog has a button fetish. Pink is weeping, and I just want get out of the house before my inappropriate laughter takes over. As I turn to go, however, the mom says, "Oh, are the eyes gone? Bella, go look under your bed and see if you can find them."



I'm simultaneously repulsed and fascinated by this suggestion. Why does the dog chew off the buttons if not to swallow them? And, do I really want to take home half-chewed plastic eyeballs? Before I can resolve any of these questions, Bella shouts, "I found them!" and runs out and places the eyes in my hands.

Dog eyes.

It's hard to get Pink to the car because she is still sobbing convulsively. "That was my FAVORITE stuffed animal!" she exclaims.

"I though Fluffy was your favorite," I reason.

"They're ALL my favorite!" she insists.

Sky, who has waited in the car this whole time, can't decide if he should freak out about the dog cannibalism and the chewed-up eyes or if he should reprimand Pink for insisting on her love for dogs even when a dog has done her so wrong. Pink can't find it in herself to dislike the real dog who ate her stuffed dog, and this lack of logic is too much for Sky. The more animated Sky gets about what he perceives as her irrational love of dogs, the harder Pink cries.

I drive home in silence, not sure what lesson any of us should take away from this experience of Pink's first sleepover. I'm pretty sure Pink will forget about the stuffed animal that fell victim to this attack, and I am also pretty sure she will get invited to sleepovers again. That's what we hope for her, after all, a life of friends and freedom from health worries. I guess the takeaway for both of us, then, is that we can overcome even the biggest unexpected challenges as we seek to make that happen.

Peanut-free or Not Peanut-free, Part 3 (One Year Later)

Just about this time last year, Pink had a close-encounter with a peanut butter sandwich on the bus on her way home from school (link). Based on the response I got to a letter I sent to the principal, I wrote a second letter to the superintendent (link). In both I argued that while I understood the district's reasons for not claiming to be peanut free, I also though they should be pushing for a safer environment for all children. In particular, I argued that the sack lunches the school provided for field trips should NOT include peanut butter sandwiches. Given the fact that kids like Pink had to choose between not going on the trip or living in fear because they were at heightened risk of allergic reaction given the sheer number of kids eating peanut butter together, I figured that my request was not an unreasonable one.

Following my message to the superintendent, I found myself in a lengthy exchange with her about our hopes and expectations and her very real limitations (apparently it's hard to police 800+ lunches to make sure no one sneaks in a little contraband). In the end, we agreed that the district would revisit their field trip sack lunch policy. The superintendent asked me for suggestions for peanut butter alternatives (to which I gave her a list about a mile long), and I didn't hear anything about it again.

Then, a month or so ago, Pink brought this home:

"The sack lunch includes: strawberry GoGurt, string cheese, 4 oz. applesauce cup, baby carrots, Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, Curious George fruit snack, and choice of beverage..."

Sure, this isn't really a "lunch." And, Pink still can't eat it, but, at least there is no peanut butter. Pink couldn't believe it when she saw the sack lunch menu. "Now I don't have to worry anymore!" she said with such a sense of relief that it that would break your heart.

*****

Yesterday, Pink's class visited a 19th-century living museum with her classmates. Despite the overcast weather, she had a great time exploring with her friends. She touched animal furs, tried her hand at being a blacksmith, and had a lesson in a one-room school house. 

Pink and her friends at the print shop.

The best part of all, though, is that on this field trip, she didn't have to worry about what everyone else was eating for lunch. Sometimes change can take a long time, and it isn't always perfect. Still, I'm reminded to never give up!

In Which We Discover I May Not Be Losing My Mind After All

After I wrote the post about the near-miss with peanuts (link), I was a little worried that I was starting to lose my mind. With three kids and a recuperating spouse, I can occasionally overlook some of the details. So, I thought that maybe we'd somehow bought a different brand of curry than usual. I mean, a manufacturer doesn't just suddenly change the ingredients of a widely-sold item to include an unnecessary but deadly allergen, right? Right?!?!!

The life-threatening box of curry paste.

I actually dug this out of the trash to prove to myself that the ingredients did indeed include peanuts. Then, I carried this box around with me for a week, as if it was an invaluable piece of evidence that I couldn't let go.

Close-up: See? Peanuts!?!!

Despite what I wrote in the blog, I spent most the last three weeks worrying that we'd simply made a big, almost catastrophic mistake, and I was having trouble getting over it. Living with severe food allergies makes it hard not to beat yourself up and/or be riddled by paranoia, especially after you realize how easily you could have harmed or killed your child with food YOU helped prepare for dinner.

For obvious reasons, I just couldn't let it go. So, Saturday, when we visited our favorite Japanese grocery store, I felt compelled to go down the curry aisle and double check the ingredients of ALL the curry being sold there. 

I don’t know what I expected to find, but I certainly DIDN’T think I’d find THIS. 

It's the same brand and flavor of curry, but look!

No peanuts!!

What the heck?!?!! It’s the SAME brand and flavor of curry as the one that had peanuts in it, BUT, there are no peanuts now! The peanuts somehow magically disappeared. That means that, more than likely, they WEREN'T there when we bought the same product previously.
Which means that just maybe I am not losing my mind after all! 

Phew.

The whole experience has made Ren and me pretty apprehensive about using pre-made curry paste. So, on our last visit to the Japanese grocery store, we bought a can of Japanese curry powder instead. 

I guess you can imagine how the kids responded to Ren's first attempt at homemade allergy-friendly curry...

Homemade GFDF peanut-free curry with Easter egg garnish.

Sky and Stow loved it. Pink? Not so much...

Verbose and largely unnecessary postscript: Yes, from now on, I still plan to read labels religiously, even of things we've bought many times before. But, at least I feel a little better knowing it wasn't just my imagination. Something fishy WAS going on with the curry. And, yes, the curry paste has a little bit of dairy and wheat in it. It's one of the few things we continued to eat post-dietary changes because we weren't able to find a decent substitute, and more importantly, because the kids hadn't had a negative reaction to it-- at least, not until the peanut incident.

The Great Easter Incident of 2016

Pink P tends to cry. A lot. She cries when she's sad. She cries when she's happy. She cries when she's mad. She cries if someone jumps out and scares her. She cries when her brothers hurt her, or even if she's only received the slightest of nudges. She cries about new food she doesn't like. She cries when I leave. She cries when I come back. She even cries in anticipation, upset about what might have happened even though it didn't.

Pink P's crying used to bug me, but I've come to understand that she cries because she's a deep feeler of feelings, and crying is her way of managing all those feels. The problem, though, is that when you have a kid who cries a lot, it can be difficult to ascertain whether or not something serious has happened. We've read the story about the boy who cried wolf to Pink more than once. And, we've gone to great lengths to explain the importance of not overreacting, but our recent eggplant-curry episode demonstrates how hard these lessons are for her to grasp (link).

That's what made the The Great Easter Incident of 2016 such a conundrum. I mean, I still don't quite understand what happened, and I've had a few days to think about it. The Great Easter Incident of 2016 was preceded by the Great Easter Basket Hunt of 2016 and the Great Dig Through Your Easter Loot Moment of 2016. A lot of planning and purchasing and hiding of eggs led up to that moment on Easter morning when the kids were quietly checking out their baskets, and I figured I'd earned a few minutes of down time.

The instant I sat down to drink my cup of tea, however, Pink gave an almost imperceptible grunt, stood up, and went into the bathroom. It happened so quickly and quietly, I probably wouldn't have even noticed if Stow hadn't announced that Pink had hurt herself.

Stow is prone to exaggeration and the occasional lie, though. He also tends to get his descriptors mixed up, so I wasn't convinced anything was wrong. After all, Pink wasn't crying, and she wasn't calling for my help. These are two things she does ALL. THE. TIME. so I figured she was fine.

 Still, just to be sure, I asked Sky to look in on her.

He peeked around the corner into the guest bathroom and said very matter of factly, "She's bleeding."

At this point, I figured something must be up, but I didn't think it was too serious (see the paragraph above about Pink's lack of tears and drama). I asked Ren to check on Pink anyway. Ren is EMT-trained and ALWAYS handles the kids' injuries better than I do. When someone is bleeding, Ren's your guy. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, accidents or injuries are so minor that Ren determines they don't even merit the use of a band-aid. And, given that Pink wasn't crying or panicking, I figured the odds were even higher that whatever was going on with her probably wasn't serious.

But, then I heard Ren say, "Wow. You cut it really good!"

His Ren's voice had an odd combination of shock and admiration for how thoroughly Pink had managed to cut herself. Now I was paying attention.

"Do we need to go to the hospital?" I asked, trying hard to match the nonchalance of everyone else.

"Yes," came his reply. "This isn't going to stop bleeding."

Crap.

It was 7:10 on Easter morning. We were all in our pajamas. And, if I know anything at all about Ren, I know that he's right when he says a person needs to go to the hospital. So I got dressed and then helped Pink get dressed (since she was applying pressure to the cut on one hand with her other hand) and drove her to the ER (together with my mom who was visiting for the holiday).

Three stitches and a mini panic attack (mine) later, when we were back in the car and headed home, I asked Pink why she didn't cry when she cut her finger.

"I was trying to be brave," she said. Of course. The one time she should have cried, she didn't.

Thinking about it afterwards, I couldn't help but be amazed by just how calmly everyone handled The Great Easter Incident of 2016. In a house where eating a bowl of cereal elicits something akin to pandemonium, the fact that not one child batted an eyelash when Pink put a deep inch-long scissor cut into her finger reminds me that I can never EVER rest in the knowledge that I actually know anything about parenting these childrren.

Dropping All the Balls

I'm not sure how to break this to you, so I think I'll let this slightly modified transcript of an IM exchange I had with a friend tell my story for me:

ME: At this point, I feel like I'm dropping balls all over the place. I didn't get nearly as much done during break as I wanted. Plus, we almost killed Pink with peanuts. 

(She's fine). 

FRIEND: Oh geez! Peanuts that is. Plenty of time for the other stuff. What happened? 

ME: I preface by saying that Pink ALWAYS complains about dinner and almost always says stuff she doesn't like makes her feel funny. Add to that the fact that Ren has just recently started cooking again, so she's getting a lot of healthy food she doesn't like. And, she never hesitates to tell Ren she doesn't like his cooking. THIS is an ongoing battle with Pink. 

Yesterday, Ren put zucchini in the curry. She said it made her feel funny and refused to eat it. Happens All. The. Time. 

Then she said it stung her throat. Something about the way she described it made me check the ingredients list on the box. The curry we always use seems to have a new formula that now includes PEANUT BUTTER!!! 

For the love of God. Because now Ren's upset because Pink's constant complaining is impossible to read, and he's terrified that he's just done something that hurt her. 

And, we don't know whether to use the epipen or not because she's not really showing any signs of reaction, and she says she's feeling much better now that she knows she doesn't have to eat the zucchini. So, I give her Benadryl, grab her epipen, and put her in the car to go to the immediate care clinic (EDITOR'S NOTE: The immediate care clinic is 5-minutes away and is an ER-level walk-in clinic that is 20 minutes closer to our house than the nearest ER. Calling an ambulance would have taken A LOT longer). 

At the clinic, the nurse said Pink didn't look like she was having an allergic reaction but that I should keep an eye on her through the night because everyone metabolizes differently. So, I slept with her all night to make sure she was ok. 

She was. 

I hate food allergies. 

FRIEND: Geez. Maybe just use curry powder from now on. Holy hell.

*****

Yeah, so, apparently Ren and I inadvertently gave Pink peanut butter just TWO days after our annual visit to the allergist who said we should be especially careful about her peanut allergy since her test results indicate a very severe allergy (despite the fact we've never seen a severe reaction--THANK GOODNESS). My friend was kind enough to say that we shouldn't be too hard on ourselves, but I have struggle with that. I don't think we could've forgiven ourselves if failure to double-check ingredients had caused Pink a serious reaction. It never even occurred to me that something we always eat could suddenly become dangerous.

We still don't really know whether she had a reaction to the curry or not, but we are sure we need to work even harder to help Pink see the importance of not being so hyperbolic. I mean, when a kid has asthma and severe food allergies, we need tom help her figure out other ways to talk about things she doesn't like without saying they make her feel funny. Yesterday, as soon as I told her she didn't have to eat dinner, Pink said she felt all better, even though I hadn't given her the Benadryl, yet. But, when I pressed her, she also said her throat felt like a combination of itchy and bruised (which sounds a lot like an allergic reaction to me). 

So, yeah, I feel like I learned nothing from this day in the life of a kid with food allergies. I mean, I don't know whether Pink ingested peanut butter or not. I don't know whether she had a reaction. I don't know whether I should've used the epi-pen "just to be safe," and I don't quite know how to interpret her hypochondriacal responses to foods she thinks she might not like. 

I do know, however, that I will be reading ingredient lists every dang time from now on.

Mosey Along Little Mosley

Back in January, we had Ren's post-op follow-up appointment. It's funny that every time we go for the post-op appointment I'm surprised when the doctor gives us bad news. Because, he always does. And still, I am always surprised. Always. This time, the bad news came in the form of his decision to extend Ren's restrictions for EIGHT more weeks. EIGHT WEEKS!

We are now five weeks into our EIGHT-week recovery extension. I suppose you're all a bit tired of hearing about the back and the surgeries and the recoveries, so I'll give you a quick run down: Ren still can't cook, do laundry, make lunches, clean, drive, or vacuum (this one is particularly hard for him). He has also only been out of the house four times in the past 9 weeks. Over the last three weeks, everyone (but me) ALSO took turns sharing a high-fever-hacking-cough-body-aches kinda love called the flu.

Working and managing the house while Ren's still down and out means things have been less like well-oiled machine and more like three-ring circus. LUCKILY, friends have taken pity on us and brought food from time to time (thank you guys!!!!!!). And, I guess you could say I've also become a bit of a logistics Houdini.

Only, not really because it turns out there's a limit to what I can manage, and THIS put me over the edge.

"What is this?" you ask. This, this is Mosley. Mosley came home from Pink's second-grade class last Tuesday along with a big-a** bag full of things to do and a travel journal. Apparently Mosley likes to travel and write about his adventures.

Since Mosley has been at our house, he has run up and down the banister, tumbled in the washer and dryer, danced, practiced using chopsticks, ridden in the car, watched Pink do gymnastics, played a few games, and drawn a few pictures. He has also been kidnapped approximately one thousand times by a mischievous Stow who seems to pretty consistently forget where he's hidden Mosley.

It has been loads of fun (not!) taking pictures and searching frantically multiple times a day for this stuffed animal that doesn't belong to us and that needs to be returned so the next kid in line has a chance. I mean, I can't think of anything better than spending one of the busiest weeks of my semester looking for the same darn stuffed monster over and over and over and over again. Imma really miss ol' Mosley when he's gone (hahahahaha, yeah, right). Now if I could just get my printer to work, Pink could post these pictures in the travel journal and send Mosley on his way!

Why I Hate Childhood Asthma Reason #17873

Why I Hate Childhood Asthma Reason #17873: This overnight bag Pink packs with a stuffed animal, some books, and a blanket every time she gets a cold.

Sometimes it sits like this next to my dresser for a few days as we wait and watch and wonder if we will need to take a very-late-night/very-early-morning trip to the ER. And, sometimes she even gets to unpack it without needing to use it.

But, other times...

Other times, she ends up down in the red zone so deep and so fast that we find ourselves rushing to pack it so she has something to comfort her during the seemingly endless ER waits.

One day we will get this asthma back under control, but for now, I think I'll go on hating the uncertainty it causes and the fact it makes this sweet girl automatically pack up an overnight bag "just in case."

Letters from the Edge (November 2015 Version)

Dear People Who Burn Leaves Instead of Bagging Them,

Stop. Just stop. The air has been hazy with smoke for weeks now. I know there's a legal burning season, and that this is it, but, why not just pay a couple of bucks for the lawn bags at Ace Hardware,  fill them, and put them on the curb? The yard waste collection service here is pretty efficient, and you'll be surprised at how much those bags hold! And, heck, given the money we'd save by avoiding the ER and asthma-related hospitalizations, I'll even buy the bags for you.

Sincerely,

Your neighbor

I contemplated enlarging this and hanging copies of it all over town, but then I decided it would be too mortifying for my kids and we don't want to move again any time soon.

**************************************

Dear Local Church with Your Stupid Bonfire (Alternate title: How Can You Have "Life" in Your Name When You Tried to Kill My Sister?),

As your close neighbors to the east, my family and I have appreciated the many different ways you've engaged with our community. The various events you host each year seem intent out reaching out to a wide audience, and as a fellow Christian and church-goer, I appreciate your church's clear commitment to making a positive difference.

Today I write to ask that you reconsider your use of bonfires during your various fall events given the church's close proximity to a residential neighborhood. The bonfire you had on Sunday filled our yard, and even our garage, with a thick layer of smoke that triggered an asthmatic reaction in my 7 year-old daughter that will most likely result in an ER visit and possibly a hospital stay. I get that bonfires are exciting and fun, not to mention warm on a cold fall evening, but they also make it nearly impossible for children like my daughter to breathe. In the future, we hope that you will think about foregoing the bonfire or at least holding in on the opposite side of your campus so that houses like ours aren't so heavily impacted by the smoke.

Thank you for your consideration,

Moe

This one, I actually did send, last Monday, when Pink was starting to look like she might be on the downhill slide. I haven't heard back from them. I hope they respond because Sky just can't abide by the irony that a Christian organization would do something to harm people in its community, and I'm getting tired of hearing about it.

**************************************

Dear Second Grade Teacher,

I think it's great that your class will be singing for an all school assembly for Veteran's Day, I really do! But, I wonder if you might be able to send a note home about this next time? In it, I'd love it if you could tell me ahead of time that my daughter will need to wear something that is red, white, and blue, AND that has pockets. When I get a text about this at 8 p.m. the night before, I'm kind of stuck, especially in November when it's hard to buy patriotic cold weather wear. I mean, we have a couple of great red, white, and blue sundresses left over from the Fourth of July holiday that still kind of fit, and one of them even has stars on it. They don't have pockets, though, and apparently that's a deal breaker since Pink needs to be able to pull out a streamer and wave it at the end. When you put me on the spot like this, our options are limited: I could send Pink to school in her blue and red Japanese national soccer team jersey (though I don't know how the WWII veterans will feel about the Japanese flag placed prominently on the front of it). Or, I could send her in this (spoiler alert--I DID send her in this):

You could argue that a patriotic Hello Kitty isn't much better than the national soccer jersey for a former war enemy, but at least I didn't send her in hot pink as a close approximation to red (like we debated doing). Hopefully in the future, school-home communication won't depend on those last-minute mass text messages!

Oh, and I do love patriotic music, but it creeps me out every time I hear my little girl sing--

If tomorrow all the things were gone
I worked for all my life
And I had to start again
With just my children and my wife

--especially when she dips down into the low register and holds out the word wiiiiiiiiiiiiife. Thanks, by the way, for getting that song stuck in my head for days! It turns out there are all kinds of awkward moments in which you can find yourself humming it at work. Maybe next year you could just go with "God Bless America" instead.

Sincerely,

Moe

I actually really love the kids' school, so I didn't send this letter. Given the stress of the past month or so, though, I couldn't resist writing it in my head (and then feeling compelled to put it on the blog).

Remember October 2015

And suddenly it’s November 1st. The kids have been up and asking questions since 5 a.m. because, you know, Daylight Savings Time (All those people thrilled to “gain” an hour at the end of Daylight Savings Time, probably didn’t get to enjoy an extra pre-dawn hour of kids playing loudly and asking about Halloween candy every five minutes). Still, I'm glad to be to November!

The good news, I guess, is that I am learning to roll with the punches after a very hairy month of October. It started in late September, actually, when Ren was suddenly hospitalized for a week. He’s okay now: meaning, he’s out of the hospital. The less-than-good news is that the ongoing health issues related primarily to the spine problems are really no closer to being resolved. To say it’s frustrating doesn’t even come close conveying how our lives are impacted by all of this, and since I haven’t figured out a way to put a positive spin on it, most times I choose not to write anything (one reason for some extended silences—sorry!).

Six days after Ren came out of the hospital, I left for a 10-day trip to Japan. I love going to Japan and taking students on field excursions and meeting with folks at our exchange partners, and it IS getting easier for Ren to manage the kids while I am away. Still, ten days is a long time to single parent. And, with the added variables of bad back, food allergies, and sensory issues, ten days can seem like eternity.

Sky carving his first pumpkin.

Into this mix came Halloween. Halloween has traditionally been the beginning of the behavioral downhill slide that leads to the new year. Kids with sensory processing and social skills issues don’t handle change in routine well, and nothing kills routine like Halloween, birthday, Thanksgiving, birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s at 2-week (or less) intervals. I’ve come to dread Halloween and what it represents in terms of the falling-apartness of our lives. 

Besides the disruption to routine, there are also the food allergies. Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas are not terribly conducive for kids who are gluten, dairy, nut, and everything else free, and the end result tends to be a lot more cooking/food buying by me. This year, for example, for class Halloween parties,  I sent separate bags of allergy-friendly candy to each class so none of the kids felt left out. I don't mind doing this, but the logistics can be hard as I have to communicate with each teacher in advance, buy enough of the right kinds of candy, and get it to each school and classroom on time. I also have to remind each teacher that each kid has his/her own candy AND, in the case of Stow anyway, go to the class during the party to make sure that all of the other parents have some of his candy to give especially to him.

Halloween also offers the added challenge of costumes--costumes that go on bodies that may or may not be able to handle the extra sensory input or the uncertainty of so many people not looking like themselves. Last year, Sky had a very public meltdown about the fact that he’d forgotten the gloves to his costume, and when he ran back to the house to look for them, he was too panicked to be able to find them. Worse, the rest of the group (which consisted of about every kid in the neighborhood) had continued trick-or-treating without him, and he was a) too nervous to go to the houses he’d missed alone, and b) unwilling to miss those houses. That year, he had to quit after three houses. Two years ago, I paid $30+ for a cardboard Minecraft head and pixelated sword only to have Sky refuse to wear all of it, and when I saw him at the school Halloween parade (which I’d left work early and parked about a mile away and walked to see), he skulked behind his classmates with his hands jammed into his pockets and his eyes to the ground. Halloween can be really hard, you guys.

This year, miraculously, everyone wore their costumes and made it all the way up and down the street before agreeing that they had gotten more than enough candy. Sure, there were hiccups. Even though I explained that we could do a candy swap once we were home, for example, Stow had a hard time not announcing to every house that, “We can’t eat that. We’re allergic to peanuts and chocolate!” And, he struggled a lot with impulse control once he had a bucket-full of candy. All things considered, though, this year went MUCH better than any year previous.

Personal victory: I managed to put two buns into Pink's hair making her look like a pretty convincing Princess Leia (I mean, if you don't count the fact she's wearing cowgirl boots).

In other words, October turned out okay. The hospitalization, the trip to Japan, and even Halloween, everything went fine. Maybe this is a sign that the rest of the November-December gauntlet will be okay, too. I don’t know, but  I’m working on chilling out and accepting that some parts of our life probably aren’t going to get any easier but other parts may well surprise me and be amazing.

Peanut-free or Not Peanut-free, Part 2

A new school year is about to begin here, so I am in full advocacy mode again! Here's a follow up to the peanut issues from spring:

Dear Superintendent Brown,

In the spring, Mr. E forwarded a message we sent regarding an incident with a peanut butter sandwich on the bus. I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to follow up then (I spent several weeks of the summer in China and Japan and got a bit behind on my “to do” list), but I am writing now as we are set to begin a new school year.

Our daughter Pink has a life-threatening peanut allergy, which we have managed by teaching her self-advocacy and how to interact safely with her peers when food is involved. She is aware of her allergies and proactive in protecting herself.

What we can’t control, unfortunately, is the behavior of other students. The incident on the bus on at the end of the spring semester highlights for us just how unsafe the world beyond the walls of our house and of her peanut-free classroom can be.  As if to punctuate this for us, the day after the incident on the bus, when the topic of peanut allergies came up at a club meeting, one of our older son’s classmates laughingly told me how “a bunch of kids at our school rub peanut butter in the faces of the kids with peanut allergies.”

I know it will sound like an exaggeration, but when Pink faces a child who has peanuts or peanut butter, it’s akin to her encountering someone who is wielding a knife. The risks of injury and/or death are no different between the two. As her parents, we understand that our goal is to teach her to be safe and to live her life without fear (to the greatest extent possible), but we also believe it is extremely important to educate others about the real risks of severe nut allergies. Children of all ages need to understand just how dangerous something seemingly innocuous like peanut butter can be for their friends.

We understand that this is an "allergen aware" district. We also understand the logistical challenges to becoming a peanut-free district. Our hope is that serious discussion would happen around the pros and cons of going peanut-free, particularly with thoughts about free and appropriate public education in mind. If the district won’t or can’t go peanut- free, we hope there will be sincere discussion (and hopefully then action) in the area of student education and awareness. We ask that concentrated effort be paid toward educating students in all buildings about the risks of allergies and the importance of promoting safety and respect. We also ask that that school-provided lunches and snacks be free of peanuts. In particular, we ask that lunches provided for field trips NOT be peanut butter sandwiches. Pink describes field trips as being extremely scary and her teachers these past two years agree that the entire experience is nerve-wracking for them as well. Because Pink's peanut allergy seems to have worsened, her allergist is suggesting that perhaps she should no longer attend the school field trips. With plenty of alternative sandwich options (sunbutter, wowbutter, ham, cheese, jelly, and, in the case there are no children with severe tree nut allergies, also almond butter and cashew butter), we sincerely hope the district is able to move toward a different alternative for the sack lunches provided on field trips, so that we won’t have to decide between keeping Pink safe and sending her to school so she can enjoy the same learning experiences as her classmates.

Though Pink's allergies don’t impact her ability to make friends and perform well academically, they do cause her to experience fear and alienation when at school. We will continue to teach her to self-advocate, but we ask for your help in educating other students and in making the school environment one that feels like a safe and welcoming space for all students.

Sincerely,

Moe and Ren 

Peanut-free or Not Peanut-free

Well, it's been awhile since I posted a letter, but here's one I wrote to Pink's principal this morning. Interesting timing especially given my last post about food allergies (link). Also, apparently May is National Asthma and Allergy Awareness Month (so now you know!). I think this e-mail letter speaks for itself, but what do you think?

Dear Principal Edwards,

We write to let you know about a frightening incident that occurred on the bus on the way home yesterday. Pink tells us that the girl sitting in front of her was eating a peanut butter sandwich on the bus and when Pink informed the girl of her peanut allergy, the girl shoved her sandwich in Pink's face. Luckily, the peanut butter did not touch Pink, but since smelling it, she has had a tight chest and asthma-like symptoms. Only this morning did Pink think to tell us about this as she was preparing to ride the bus and reminded of what happened.

Recent allergy testing has re-confirmed for us that Pink's peanut allergy is at the severest level, and exposure to peanuts in any form constitutes a high risk. Given the severity of Pink's peanut allergy, this behavior by the other little girl on the bus is similar to a life-threatening assault. It is particularly concerning since Pink does not have an epi-pen with her on the bus ride due to the fact that the bus has been assumed to be an allergen-free space.

We'd like to request several things happen as a result of this incident. First, we'd like to ask that the child who did this to Pink is educated so she fully grasps the implications and potential outcomes of her behavior. We'd like to be sure that the child understands she shouldn’t do something like that again.

Second, we'd like broader education for students regarding severe food allergies. We are sure that no parent would like their child to be the cause of another child's serious illness or death and believe it's important to educate children about these risks and to promote better awareness.

Third, we'd like to ask that the district re-examine its policies regarding peanut/nut allergies. While we understand that there are many different kinds of food allergies (indeed, Pink has many other food allergies herself), peanuts are a special issue because they are more easily spread (from oil left on children's hands and through dust particles) than eggs, soy, or shellfish, particularly in the school environment. While it's not the most common allergy, it’s potentially very deadly with a very small amount of the allergen. 

While Pink's teacher is aware of these risks and we have epi-pens available at school, we remain unconvinced that Pink is safe in her current environment, particularly in light of yesterday's events. Pink's teacher has been very good about maintaining a peanut-free classroom. We are less sure that Pink is safe in the cafeteria or on the playground or in the hallways or on the bus. A severe peanut allergy like Pink has is classified as a disability and therefore is subject to FAPE. We would like to explore ways to ensure that Pink is safe and healthy at school and that she is not unfairly limited by her allergy. We understand this request is coming near the end of the school year, but we think it's important to address this issue for her future placements particularly in light of the district-wide policies regarding life-threatening food allergies.

Sincerely,

Moe and Ren