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This boy is somebody’s baby

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The Meister
My heart.

My baby.

He’s the only child I’ve given birth to and the only one I ever will.  You know how I feel right?  Your kids are born and you finally know love.  Your heart explodes with joy.  You would do anything for them.

I think people tend to forget that other people’s kids are somebody’s baby. They roll their eyes, sigh, and generally act annoyed when a child causes an inconvenience to them.  They throw a fit in the theater, they pee in the play place at McDonalds, they are those kids in the restaurant.  Whatever their behavior they are still somebodies baby.

My child causes an inconvenience to a lot of parents on a daily basis.  He has severe food allergies, specifically peanuts and tree nuts.  He’s the reason you can’t bring peanut butter cookies for treats at school.  He’s the kid with the mom who will ask a million and one questions about the food you are serving your birthday party and then ask “hey are you comfortable with me leaving this life saving device that you may or may not need to inject him with all the while calling 911 as he’s trying not to die on your living room floor?”  He’s my baby.  I need him to be safe.  I need him to live through your birthday party.  Extreme?  Not really.  Have you seen your child turn blue while their throat closes shut?  Have you slammed an Epi-Pen into your child’s thigh all the while praying they don’t die?  I have.  I never ever want to do it again.

I have had people roll their eyes at me when I ask to check the ingredients in the birthday cupcakes.  I have had them tell me, “Oh just one bite won’t hurt him.”  His own grandmother once said “if you give him a little bit each day he’ll grow out of it.”  Um, no he won’t.  He’ll die thankyouverymuch.

Thankfully those assholes are few and far between. I have encountered some wonderful wonderful people out there.  They are so understanding. So willing to comply with my crazy requests.  They get it.  They know.  He’s my baby.  Even when he looks like this…


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