"Epi Pen"

Sound cool?

Try this one: "Suspected peanut allergy."

Or this one: "Anaphylactic shock."

Or my favourite: "Call 911 IMMEDIATELY"

I took The Boy to the doctor today for an immunization (a nightmare in itself - he started screaming when we walked in the door and the physican's assistant had to bring in back-up) and to discuss last week's accidental peanut butter ingestion episode.

We were treated to the distinctly unpleasant recitation of all of the words above and more fantastic ones like "throat swelling" and "struggling to breathe." The doctor can't confirm an allergy one way or another, but gave us the name of an allergist for a skin test and, in the meantime, a prescription for Epi Pens and instructions on how to use them.

And now I get to join the ranks of The Frightened Parents. The ones who get to worry about more than just the standard bumps and scrapes. The ones who must explain at every new daycare, classroom, playdate, supper invitation etc. etc. that The Boy must be kept away from peanuts, cashews and all other treenuts. The ones who comb through Hallowe'en candy, who hear ambulance sirens every time they see the ol' PB & J, and who have to be vigilant readers of all things label-ish.

It's very disconcerting. I'm reminded of when we first diagnosed his asthma; with no clear sense of what would set it off, it felt like closed airways and hospital visits lurked around every corner, ready to attack us when we least expected them.

Like then, I have more questions than I have answers. Is it really an allergy? How much would it take to set it off? How will I ever remember to carry an Epi-Pen with me everywhere I go? Will his daycare/school be aware enough (his daycare is still in the Dark Ages and they actually have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on the school lunch menu of all things) and will they act swiftly if necessary? What if I slip up and don't ask the hostess about the cookies again?

I'm trying to look at the positives. He's unquestionably ingested food in the "processed in a facility that also processes peanuts" category and been none the worse for it, so he's not ultra-sensitive (at least, not yet). He is old enough to remember to ask about the presence of peanuts in foreign baked goods. He has a natural aversion to them and runs for the hills at the mere scent, so it's not an issue of denying him a beloved foodstuff. And, although we'll undoubtedly be paying for it as we're using the American healthcare system, we nonetheless have access to fantastic allergists who probably won't make us wait six months to get in (or whatever the going waiting list time is in Canada these days).

I know that this could be much worse, and that after the initial shock wears off and we figure out exactly what's going on, we'll develop a management plan and it will become as much a part of our routine as his nightly inhaler dose.

But I suspect I'll still shed a couple of tears and be angry for awhile at having to deal with another condition that brings those heart-battering words:

"Potentially life-threatening."

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Late Again

Surprisingly enough, I find it difficult to get up and ready in time to catch the 5:30 am bus in to work. Can't imagine why. But the silver lining of the cloud that is my lateness is a blog post while I await the 6:00 bus, so it's not all bad.

The big news around here is that the kids started their new summer program yesterday. It was a definite success - The Girl has a friend from her school class who attends the same program, and The Boy has already found some new cronies (and another girl who is "5 and she's byootiful" - he loves the ladies, that one).

I'm not entirely excited about lunch-making. We were so spoiled during the year with a half-decent lunch program. It was a special menu (for the spoiley private school, I guess) and the kids ate rather delicous-sounding things like couscous, fish, and mangoes. Not all at once, of course.

Here, the options are things like Chef Boy-R-Dee (oh yes, they actually write that right on the menu. At least they're not trying to hide it), PB&J (an *awesome* option for the boy with the newly-discovered peanut allergy) and other convenience foods. So we bought lunch bags and thermoses (thermosi? thermi?) and we'll see how we go.

We also signed our new lease on Saturday, so The Move has begun. I find the thought of moving yet again quite wearying, but the dishwasher on the other end is definitely helping. If I haven't mentioned it, the reason we're moving is because our current house - as much as we love it - is two streets over into the wrong side of the tracks, i.e. outside of the school district for the immersion school we want to get the kids into. We also love their current school, but the tuition is substantial. As in "GDP of a small African nation" substantial. As in "worth moving for the sixth summer in a row in order to try to get the kids enrolled for September 2009" substantial. So let the box packing begin!

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No More Teachers' Dirty Looks

Feels like just yesterday I came screeching into the parking lot, cursing under my breath that we were late, and then went to deliver my daughter into the dreadful unknown of A New School. I cried a bit that day - seeing her scared little face and her incomprehension in the face of a classroom filled with a language with which she had only a slight association made my heart ache.

Three months (but what feels like about two seconds) later, I did the same thing with my son. We were on time that day, but he had even less preparation than The Girl, coming as he was from a steady diet of "At Home with Mommy." Wincing at the pleading eyes that begged me not to leave him there, I walked out of the building with a heavy heart and misty eyes.

Yesterday my eyes were misty, but for entirely different reasons. It was my first "last day of school" that included both of my children. Watching them hug (over and over and over again) all their little friends with declarations of "I love you!" and "Bonne Vacances!" reminded me of how grateful I am that my children make friends quickly. And although I haven't made any BFFs, I still had my own share of bright "see you next year!"s for other parents.

This has been an amazing year for my little scholars. The Girl has gone from a timid, bewildered struggling student to a lively, chattering repository of knowledge. Her teacher loves her and has inspired her in ways we couldn't have dreamed. She can read both French and English, writes in cursive, and can add two two-digit numbers in her head. These are probably pretty typical first grade achievements, but my buttons are fairly bursting with pride.

The Boy has also learned a substantial amount - mostly about how to interact with others in a school setting. He has a good linguistic foundation (he's just recently started to try out his new French vocabulary at home), but more than that, he has made great strides in learning how to "do school."

I know there's a lot of controversy about how we destroy children's imaginations and free spirits when we feed them into the individuality-squashing-machine that is The School System at earlier and earlier ages. And I can't say I didn't worry a bit that putting him into a formal all-day pre-Kindergarten would constrict his creativity in favour of a uniformed automaton.

But I have watched him be consistently encouraged to explore his gifts while also learning to do so in responsible ways. He doesn't follow the rules as readily as his sister, and we've had to have a few conversations with his teachers that begin with "The Boy is a very sweet child but...." Yet we've always managed to find a solution, and he is the better for it.

The official request to celebrate the end of the school year is McDonald's, so I suspect that Kids' Meals will be on the menu today. On Monday, the kids head to their summer daycare - we visited this past week and they're pumped about the onsite pool, field trip schedule, and rooms filled with brand new toys.

And, before I know it, September will be here, and we'll be starting all over again. Hopefully we won't be late this time.

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Tethered Swimming

Sorry for yet another delay in frequent posting! Feels a bit like I'm swimming against the tide these days with no real progress being made. (But staying in one spot is better than being swept away, yes?) Unfortunately, this will have to be just a quick update before I dive back in.

Work is settling back down to a low simmer for me. Well, more of a brisk bubbling, but at least it's not the rolling boil of the past few weeks. It's been a rough go for the ol' equilibrium, so I'm trying to be quite deliberate about copious amounts of self-soothing.

School is winding down for the kids which means the end-of-year activities are ramping up. Yesterday was the fashion show, today was the carnival, and tomorrow is...something, I'm sure. (Oh yes, my stellar parenting skills have taken a bit of a beating of late as well.)

Other things keeping me hopping are a phone call from the principal to discuss an "incident" with one of my children, an allergic reaction to a peanut butter cookie at our pastor's house tonight (resulting in a very barfed-upon couch and a fair amount of concern on our parts that this is not just an "aversion"), and that exciting annual event - The Move.

Yup, these nomads will be changing addresses yet again. I think this is the eighth move in as many years. It's a summer tradition! We broke the news to our current landlord tonight. He and I have gotten pretty tight over the past year (we dish about organic food, universal healthcare, Democrats, and how much we love this neighbourhood) and he is one of the many things I will miss deeply about this house.

Sigh. Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!

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And Gladly Wolde He Lerne, And Gladly Teche

The English language and I have always been pretty good pals. I remember the heady rush of being the only one in class allowed to take out school library books that weren't from the Easy Read section. I remember reading 35 extra books in Grade 9 for bonus marks. (Surprisingly enough, *not* my geekiest moment - I believe that would be the model Globe Theatre I constructed lovingly out of cardboard, complete with trapdoor for Banquo's ghost.) I remember ditching my long-crafted public school teacher plans and jumping aboard the life raft of an Arts degree.

The various manifestations of my professional life have directly involved the English language. The only tattoo I've ever wanted has been a piece of punctuation. Basically, I can't imagine a world in which I wasn't swimming in English all day long.

Of course, a world not filled with serial commas and correct uses of "i.e." *does* exist, and I find myself very uncomfortable when I take a wrong turn and end up there. I hate that part of family gatherings where someone tosses in a Low German phrase and I am Left Out of the Joke. I felt naked and exposed in Paris - out of my element and stripped of my facility with communication.

I'm equally uncomfortable around others who struggle with English. Not the use-"myself"-erroneously-as-an-object type of struggle (stop it people - it's a reflexive pronoun!), but those whose experience with English is so small - or even non-existent - that rudimentary communication requires tremendous effort and elicits wrenching frustration on both of our parts.

So I'm being very, very selfish. I just came back from my first class teaching English as a second language. This might seem like a very Helpful Thing To Do, and I definitely see this as my very small contribution to an ailing world. But, full disclosure here - I'm also doing it so I can get past the squirmy feeling I get when I speak with someone who struggles to speak English.

I have the utmost respect for people who leave behind family and friends and move to a foreign country. (Yes, I say, it's d*mn hard some days!) But to leave behind language - that's not something I think I could do. And then to go to an ESL class and check my pride at the door and look pleadingly into the eyes of my not-understanding instructor while knowing *exactly* what I want to say in my own language because I have a Master's of Chemistry, for goodness sake...I do not possess that level of courage.

Yet somehow, I get uncomfortable. I know these students are probably 18 times smarter than I am, yet I can't get my voice to sound any less condescending. I know it's respectful to speak slowly, but I can't stop feeling like I'm being patronizing. I know that willingness to admit that I don't know much about their home countries is being honest, but I can't help feeling like a total ignorant boor.

So I've signed up, and there's going to be some serious learning going on every Monday night. And hopefully my students get something out of it, too.

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From Snow to Sand

In all the craziness last week, I forgot to talk about the rather un-June-like weather we've been having lately. Last weekend was hot and sunny - until the wind blew in a freak hailstorm:

Then this past week has been "scattered thundershowers," which translates into "we have no idea what's going to happen, so we'll call for everything at once and be right *and* wrong all the time."

There was a severe weather warning on Thursday night and The Husband had to head to the basement at work with all his coworkers until the sirens stopped. I work in a downtown high-rise and we could hear the building creaking as it swayed in the gale-force wind all day Friday.

But we managed to dodge the weird weather this weekend and were able to head to a couple of beaches yesterday and today. The kids collected seaweed and built sandcastles and The Boy walked around happily clutching a dead fish until we figured out what was making him smile so much.

Of course, the one thing we *didn't* take a picture of was the European family beside us who decided swimwear was optional. No nudity, but the white see-through-when-wet Incredible Hulk underwear left little to the imagination. Unfortunately, this penchant for swimming in Superhero unmentionables was not restricted to the young son and so we were also forced to avert our eyes from his similarly-unclad father.

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