Can someone volunteer to let me punch them?

Just kidding, that's what I married B for!

Ahhh, Saul. He had another allergic reaction yesterday. To what, I don't know. But his face swelled up, paramedics were almost involved, and there will be blood drawing and tests and a sadly limited diet for my little shortypants. I really hate this. Of course I hate it for Saul, because he is miserable and can't eat yummy things like scrambled eggs. But I am having a pity party for myself too, because I don't want to be that kind of mom. I like to think of my parenting style as relaxed. I'm not much into schedules, until now I haven't worried too much about what he eats (aside from making sure it's real food and not from the Gerber Industrial Complex), and I have a hard time getting worked up about germs and dirt. I have never sterilized anything he owns, and his legs tend to turn black after crawling around on my hardwood floors for long enough. So I don't know if I can be the kind of person who has to police things so closely. But I guess I don't have any choice. So we've got another appointment with another specialist on Friday. Until then, he goes everywhere with a big bottle of Benadryl and his diet is mostly milk and Cheerios.

Actually, that's not too bad. I could probably live quite happily on milk and Cheerios. In fact, I think I did for a portion of my pregnancy. But I digress.

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