They Call Me Tater…

I’ve been very reluctant to blog about Tayce’s health for many reasons.  First because I blogged so much about it during the beginning of the year when we were trying to figure out why he couldn’t do small tasks like breathing and second because I didn’t want to risk jinxing the unbelievable amounts of breathing he’s been able to do since having his tonsils removed.  But now I must do a health post because if it ain’t one thing with this kid – it’s ginormous welts that pop up out of the blue.

Sunday evening he complained that his foot hurt and upon inspection we found a huge bump on the arch of his foot about two inches in diameter.  It was raised and hard and he didn’t want to walk on it.  We discussed several things it could be and pretty much let it go because he’s a boy and bumps happen.  Plus it was gone the next day so all was well.

Until last night when he came out of the bathroom before pulling up his chonies (a regular occurrence) and Dick noticed another one of those bumps on his left hip.  This one was more than three inches in diameter, accompanied by a much smaller but matching one on the right hip but they didn’t seem to bother him at all.  However they did bother me so I called his doctor’s office to speak to the on-call physician but when the recording told me that the urgent care clinic was open till 6:00, I knew I could make it.  It was only 5:50.

We had to barrel down the poor sweet receptionist who was trying to lock the doors (four minutes early!) but we made it.  As we sat waiting for the doctor we read about Pooh’s first doctor visit and how he had to get a shot to protect him from mumps and measels – which Pooh called bumps and weasels.  Tater intelligently pointed out that he had bumps but no weasels so he wouldn’t be needing a shot today thanks. 

The doctor finally came in and took a looksie and proceeded to ask me a million and one questions about “new” things in his environment.  Any new foods, drinks, clothes, detergents, softeners, heavy metals, pets, construction, air quality, flood waters, hurricanes, someone breathing on him differently?  No, no, no, no, and no were my answers so the diagnosis was some type of allergic reaction to an unknown allergen.  Awesome.

I could give him Benadryl the doctor said but we don’t do medication anymore at our house unless something is literally falling off his body and since he didn’t seem to care at all about the bumps I really don’t want to make him high for no reason.  It’s not like he’s Dick.  The doc also suggested allergy testing and offered to speak to the allergist about how young they would do that.  Again – he’s not in pain (and I hear allergy tests are less than comfortable) and they don’t itch and we’d never even have know they were there had he not been a little exhibitionist last night.  What part of no unnecessary tests or medication does this doctor not understand?

So the $20 co-pay pretty much just paid for my peace of mind.  It’s good to know it’s not MRSA or mumps or some flesh-eating bacteria.  But what the hell is it?

Tater got a new bed!  Yesterday after the Seahawks beat the Eagles (ugly win but a win just the same!) we went to Walmart and bought Tater a Captain’s Bed frame with a bookshelf headboard and then to one of the 15 furniture stores in this county for the mattress.  This adventure took no more than a half-hour because we had been researching this bed for months now and we knew what we wanted.

The assembly of the bed took a little more than a half-hour.  There are two situations where you can put money on the fact that Dick and I will have a fight – one is when we move and the other is when we attempt to assemble particle-board furniture.  It’s inevitable, one of us will think the other is doing something wrong and yell and the other will get their feelings hurt and yell back and then those little screws and drawer stop pins will be flung across the room and someone will lose an eye.  Yesterday was no different, the fighting started with whether or not the bed and the frame would fit in the Explorer.   I was wrong, it did fit.

Then Dick decided he didn’t need any help putting it together and told me and Tater to just go downstairs and he’d let me know if he needed my assistance.  Yes sir, right away sir - shall I put on my apron and make you a sandwich too?  Well, I ended up helping him anyways and we bickered our way through the entire process.  Our efforts were rewarded though because the bed came together nicely. 

We didn’t buy a twin bedding set to go along with it because frankly the bed and the mattress were not cheap – even from Walmart.  I bought a mattress pad and a fitted sheet because Tater doesn’t even know what a top sheet is and he doesn’t too much like comforters because they aren’t his “blankie”.  When I finished making the bed Tater jumped up on it and I quickly went to find the camera.  As I pointed the camera at the bed and looked at my three-year-old through it, visions of him at 6-feet tall hanging off the bed with posters of half-naked girls on his walls, dirty clothes on his floor, who knows what hidden in the drawers of that lovely bed and him yelling at me to GET OUT OF HIS ROOM flashed through my mind.  Sobbing, I begged Dick to take it away and put the toddler bed back. 

I wasn’t ready for the hugeness of that moment and I don’t think any other milestone has slapped me that hard right in the face. 

Note:  And since I know at least two of you will inquire about the pictures – I will put them up but I don’t really want to look at them again just yet.  Stay tuned.