Screw a Peanut Allergy

I love peanut butter, I absolutely freakin’ love it but not the chunky kind. That’s made by a bunch of lazy folks. I mean, is it really “butter” if it has chunks in it? Creamy peanut butter all the way.

You know what’s not cool? Being married to a chunky lover. I’m glad he likes me that way but peanut butter doesn’t have any business being chunky. Mmhmm. Am I right or am I right? I’m right. I’m always right, ask my husband.

I’ll never forget the first time I served chunky peanut butter to Jaelyn. He was watching me make the sandwich and when I got it out of the pantry, he was like, “Whoa, that’s not peanut butter, what is that?”

I explained how chunky peanut butter meant it had chunks of peanuts in it. I tried my hardest to make it sound appealing but I was really trying to pawn the nasty crap off and keep the creamy goodness all to myself. It’s such a tasty treat, can you blame me?

Jaelyn flipped out saying, “I can’t eat that, it has peanuts in it, I’M ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS!”

Very dramatic especially considering he isn’t allergic to peanuts, AT ALL. Screw a peanut allergy in this family. They better drink some Robitussin and get over it real quick.

Jenna hates peanut butter. I have no idea where it manifested but it’s a travesty. What kind of kid doesn’t like peanut butter? A princess. Jenna doesn’t know I licked peanut butter off her silver spoon before she was born. That’s right, I did it. Don’t judge me, the struggle was and still is REAL.

Just the other day I was craving a PB&J. After many lazy hours, I finally got up to make one and discovered there wasn’t any peanut butter. I was devastated.

So I busted out in my best Sheryl Crow impersonation, “I ain’t seen the sun shine in three damn days!”

Jenna came running into the kitchen. She asked what I was singing about. I told her we were out of peanut butter. Her response? “Get a grip, I don’t even like peanut butter.”

IT ISN’T ALL ABOUT YOU JENNA. It’s about me and peanut butter. Don’t ever forget that, kid. There’s no shame in my peanut butter game. Creamy peanut butter for life.



Nearly 24 hours into motherhood I was unknowingly and inevitably thrown into the Mommy Wars.

I understand breast is best but it’s not what was best for my kids. My body never produced milk. Does that mean God wanted my kids to starve? Absolutely not.

It meant I needed to do what was best for my kid. So, I popped a bottle in his mouth and watched him go. He moaned and grunted at the feeling of food in his empty belly. For the first time in his 2 day-long life, he did what newborns do- he ate, burped and slept.

Bottlefeeding wasn’t part of my plan. I had a business card in my purse with the law stating I could breastfeed my child anywhere anybody else was allowed to eat. I was ready for the breastfeeding war, I just wasn’t ready to be on this side of it.

At my sons first pediatrician appointment I was frowned on for not “sticking with it.” At his first WIC (Women, Infants and Children) appointment I was scolded for not trying harder. They even lowered the amount of formula I was allotted in hopes of “encouraging the breast.”

It wasn’t my son’s fault and it wasn’t my fault. He latched on and sucked like a trooper but there wasn’t anything coming out. I could pump for 30 minutes and not one drop of milk would be produced.

I reached out to breastfeeding forums but that was the worst idea ever. They met my “help me” attitude the same way his pediatrician and WIC doctors did; I was lazy. I wasn’t trying hard enough. That particular forum was a virtual, new age stoning.

One lady sent me a private message with a sure way to prompt lactation; I needed to wait for a full moon, fry up 1 pound of bacon, go outside naked, howl at the moon three times, return inside and rub hot bacon grease on my nipples. (Because that’s what prompts lactation?) I don’t know if she was serious or not but I do know I never wrote back to find out. That isn’t the kind of support I needed.

My OBGYN understood nothing was working for my body, nothing was helping my milk come in. I broke down in her office one day. She rubbed my back and consoled me. She reminded me that nothing ever goes according to the plan. This is the first of many things that may not go my way but I needed to remember to do what’s best for the baby.

She said, “as long as every decision you make is made with love, they aren’t really decisions.”

I have often thought back to the words she spoke 7 years ago. They have helped me more than she may realize, in a lot of situations.

As parents we need to stop worrying about the parenting world around us. What one parent is doing in their home, has nothing to do with what is going on in your home. We must remember no 2 children are alike because no 2 parents are alike. If we were all raised with the same belief system this world would lack the diversity it needs to thrive.

In our home there’s no one right way to do any given task. I show my children how I do something and then allow them to modify my way to better fit themselves or come up with their own method.

As parents we need to stop trying to raise our children to fit a specific mold we have preconceived in our own minds. We need to worry more about our family and raising children with self awareness and the know how to make viable decisions with the best outcome based on their lives.

When I see a mother breastfeeding my heart smiles because her body cooperated. I can’t wait for the day to experience the visual with my daughter, who thinks all babies are fed with a bottle. I look forward to teaching her the lesson of how other Mothers feed their children. I look forward to sharing my story with her.

I especially look forward to witnessing the decisions she makes as a mother. All I can do is show her the many ways of the world and know the choices she makes are what’s best for her family. I just hope when it’s her turn to make parenting decisions, the Mommy War is dead and gone.

That’s why I signed the

Mommitment petition,

You can find the face behind the movement to end Mommy Wars


If we won’t stop for ourselves, we need to stop for our daughters. Do we want our daughters to feel lost and worthless in a community where they could seek refuge and guidance?

First and foremost we are all mothers and that is enough for me. I value everyone’s beliefs, we learn through diversity. This isn’t about pushing your thoughts onto someone else, this is about embracing all beliefs while staying true to your own.



My Buddy

I remember it like it happened yesterday, even though it was actually 23 years agoI was shopping with my mom, my grandma and my aunt, we were standing in line at the registers. The family in front of us had a little girl around my age. 

The little girl looked at my Aunt Lisa,  turned to her mom and said, “she looks funny. What’s wrong with her?”

I looked up at my mom, I think she heard the little girl, but she wasn’t acknowledging her. My grandma was examining items in her cart, I don’t think she heard her. I looked at Lisa, she was smiling and looking around. She was in her own peaceful world. Then I looked at the little girl and said, “shes special.”

I didn’t know the medical term for what Lisa was born with (Down Syndrome) but I knew she was special. Lisa was my buddy, it made me sad to hear the little girl say such a mean thing about her.

That was the day I asked my mom more about Lisa’s condition. That was also the day I loved Lisa more than before.

Lisa and I have always been best buddies. We played card games, board games and we would color for hours at a time. It never felt like she was 27 years old, it always felt like she was my age. (8)

Today my Aunt Lisa is coming to live with us. I’m very excited. I feel like her and I share an unspoken bond. I don’t know how long she’ll be with us or if she’ll even be happy here. I just know that we need to give it a shot because she’s still my buddy.