16 months old

Happy 16 months, little boy. You are my sunshine.

I haven't written in a while. My head has been full, cloudy, sometimes dark. There have been days where nothing at all went wrong, yet at the end of it I feel as if I had a bad day. Every negative thing around me -- news stories, other people's blogs, political rhetoric, a world full of propaganda, other drivers, the way the sun hits my eyes -- every small thing that shouldn't bother me is a heavy weight. I want to shut everything out sometimes, but don't know how or why or what to say. It makes me quiet.

Some days, I think the only reason I speak is to encourage Fletcher to say words, something he continues to have no interest in. It makes it hard to know how to respond to his poor behavior. How do you teach someone who has no verbal communication? Do I have to go all Helen Keller on this boy?

Fortunately for him, he's very cute.

See? I can't really get mad at that face. And when he turns those big eyes on me?

This boy is going to break hearts.

Our only news item is he did finally get his blood drawn and we have his allergy results -- he's badly allergic to peanuts, and mildly allergic to wheat and egg white. How exactly do you keep a toddler away from wheat and egg? How exactly do people pay for things like allergists and epi pens? Screw you, allergies.

 

allergy

The things that I type into Google no longer surprise me. What does interest me is how predictable I've become to Google, when everything I search is correctly guessed by the auto-fill-in EVERY TIME.

Type in a color and it assumes I'm searching baby poop. It knows my life is measured in bowel movements.

This baffles me because this is the first time we've had a peanut butter scare. Someone (*cough*Andy*cough*) forgot that peanut butter is number one on the list of what you don't give a baby. Fletch turned red and splotchy from head to toe. At first I was sure it was some kind of heat rash because it was worse in the "hot" spots. Then Andy remembered the tiny bit of peanut butter sandwich that was passed to Fletch while they were waiting for the bottle to warm.

He's better today, still with some blotches, but not the scary kind. I can now add "baby eats tablespoon of peanut butter and dies" to my list of things that terrify me.

Eczema! Allergies! You're welcome, Fletch!