Oh, for fuck's sake...

When I was pregnant, there were certain things I wanted my child to get from me. Every mom-to-be does this, any that deny it are lying or already on the good drugs. When I thought about my boy to be, I was hoping he'd get my squinty, slanty, Indian eyes. Check. My chin (his father has none)...check. My brains, I'd like to think so. My allergies? FUCK NO.

I didn't get my wish. This poor kid, starting yesterday, has been nothing but a burbling snot fountain. His eyes are so red-rimmed I've dubbed him The Strawberry Raccoon. When he talks, he's about as easy to understand as a congested platypus.

I give him Benedryl, it works, kinda, for about 2 hours tops. He is, of course, a zombie, but a fairly less snotty one. Today I'm trying Claritin. It's what I take (of course I don't get the yummy grape kind, dammit) so here's hopin' it'll help him. These are the kinds of things they just didn't have when I was his age and suffering, and dear Lord did I suffer. At Trader Joe's today the checker and I were swapping stories about growing up with fucktastic allergies. Apparently I wasn't the only kid with their own box of Puffs Plus on their desk. I also wasn't the only kid who loathed tests because they got glared at every time they sneezed and broke some poor kids' concentration.

As I grew up my allergies got much easier to manage, but that didn't come until I was well into and on my way out of puberty. I love the parents that get all Granola Holier (Granolier?) Than Thou and talk about antibodies and histamine reactions and the healthy immune responses of children like they're all God's Own Allergists. Fuck them. When it comes to drugs I'm definitely in the "kids don't need drugs, their parents do" camp, but for allergies? Pass the antihistamines. Pass the decongestants, and not the cutesy PE shit, the real meth-makin motherfuckers! Do you know how hard it is to sleep, eat, function at all normally with a head full of snot? An adult can understand and persevere. A child, especially a toddler, knows only two things- 1. They don't feel good, and 2. Mommy isn't fixing it. Well, THIS mommy ain't gonna try and explain the whys and wherefores of it. She's gonna set up shots of grape flavored magic until she finds one that works (following the directions on the packages of course) and if they don't she's hittin' up the doctor for something better. This is 2010, and there is NO reason on God's Green (and ragweed filled) EARTH that my son should have to sound like Elmer Fudd and feel like shit for 3/4 of the year. You hear me Faux-hippie motherfuckers?! Put that in your goddamn free-trade, organic mud, hand-spun, recycled glass embellished, Grateful Dead bear shaped pipe and smoke it.