I have Arachibutyrophobia. Okay, I don't really because that's the fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. What I really have is a fear of peanuts. It's a relatively new fear. In fact, it just developed over the last few weeks. Right around the time that Ben broke out in to hives when I gave him a peanut butter cookie. What followed was a panicked night of Benadryl and frequent checks to make sure he was still breathing through the night. Then a hurried call to the doctor to schedule a blood test for allergies.
Last week it was confirmed - my Tot has a peanut allergy. And I have a lovely new accessory in my purse in the form of an Epi Pen. This sounds odd to say, but I was devastated. I adore peanut butter. I like nothing better than a big scoop of peanut butter slathered on a banana. Or peanut butter and honey on toast. And my very favorite ice cream is Peanut Butter Cup Perfection from Cold Stone. It goes without saying that peanut butter cups are my favorite candy of all time. So, I was sad to know that my son may not ever be able to enjoy something so yummy. Not to mention, I also am already a fairly overprotective parent. Suffice it to say, the last thing I needed was encouragement to inspect every edible thing that goes in to my son's mouth. Now I find myself reading every label and scouring menus. My husband is even more attentive than I, and remembers to inform wait staff everywhere we go about allergies.
On the positive side, it's not a life threatening condition - just a moderate allergy. Unfortunately, I am told that each subsequent reaction will be more severe and so it could become life threatening. I am also told that 20% of children grow out of a peanut allergy. So, there is some hope that my kid could one day enjoy the deliciousness that is a PB&J with a cold glass of milk. In the meanwhile, I will be here - inspecting labels and interrogating waitresses.