Thanks for all your sweet suggestions and advice regarding yesterday’s post. You guys are the bestest.

We think we know what caused the eye-popping allergic reaction: wasp spray. As in, the poison that you spray to kill wasps (not poison that wasps spray to kill humans—that’s silly) and then somehow (?!?) get on the tricycle and then the little tyke rides the trike and everything goes downhill from there.

It was the big kids that actually figured it out (and we’re still not for certain—it’s our best guess, though). After yesterday’s allergic reaction (which was very mild and not at all alarming because I knew what it was—knowledge does wonders for fear reduction), the big kids went outside to do some sleuthing and then recalled the Sunday evening wasp-spraying session. I was not a part of the event, unlike the other adult member of the house, and if I was feeling at all underhanded I would say things like, like—well, never mind.

Hey, IT’S FREAKIN’ STUPID TO SPRAY POISON AROUND KIDDY TOYS, YOU NUMBSKULL!

Oops, sorry. That just slipped out.

Anyway, the kids washed the trike and were getting ready to scrub down the porch with the pressure washer but I stopped them because, dude, it’s a pressure washer. I didn’t want to run the risk of anyone getting their eyes blasted out of their head.

Nickel has been fine since then, so I’m hoping it was the spray and not something seasonal, herbal, or animal.

In other news…

*The child who kicks doctors had a FABULOUS dentist appointment yesterday. She sported her sunglasses and nitrous mask with serene aloofness, permitted them to yank her loose tooth, and didn’t even flinch when they jabbed a needle into her gums three different times.

I do believe the kid is growing up, hallelujah.

*Two days after our neighbors’ horse had a baby, they called us up to come see her.

She was fuzzy as a baby chick and skittish.

The kids loved on her so heavy that by the end she was nuzzling them. So sweet.

*We have a new nook.

After relocating the two bookcases (one is leaving the house completely), John moved in a table and chairs, hung a light, and stuck a board on the wall and called it a shelf. I tacked a map to the wall (crookedly, my One True Love informed me), and filled the shelf with art supplies and obscene piles of scrap paper.

The kids love their new spot. Heck, I love their new spot. Now they can be in the same room as me and do their artsy-fartsy stuff without getting all up in my business. I think this is what is called a win-win situation.

*The rest of the house looks like a couple of obsessed-with-getting-rid-of-things people tore through it, piled everything that was on the shelves onto the floors, and then up and left.

Which is pretty much what happened, though we didn’t actually leave.

We’re in the middle of rearranging a couple bedrooms, getting rid of as many books as possible, installing shelves, putting in window screens, and sorting papers. It’s hairy and scary and I can’t wait till we’re done.

*I made soup.

I know now’s not the time to talk about soup what with it being sunny and hot and all (at least in my corner of the world), but seeing as this weather’s been rather crazy, I’m assuming we’ll all get a few more cold snaps before true armpit soaker weather hits.

When that chilly weather whistles at your door, make this. It’ll do you good.

Roasted Carrot and Red Lentil Soup
Adapted from Luisa of The Wednesday Chef

I used about 1/4 teaspoon of chipotle powder and it was too spicy for the kids. If serving it to sensitive palates, adjust accordingly.

1 ½ pounds carrots, peeled
5 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 teaspoon salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 onion, thinly sliced
1/8 – 1/4 chipotle powder (or cayenne)
1/8 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 cup red lentils, rinsed
4 cups chicken broth

Arrange the carrots on a baking sheet, toss with three tablespoons of the oil and sprinkle with the salt a couple grinds of black pepper. Roast the carrots at 400 degrees for 20 minutes, stirring once. Add the onions slices and roast another 15 minutes. The vegetables should be fork tender and flecked with black.

Once the carrots have cooled a little, chop into bite-sized pieces. Put the remaining 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a soup pot, add the vegetables and chipotle powder and paprika and saute for a minute or two. Add the lentils and chicken broth and bring the mixture to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer till the lentils are soft, about 25 minutes. Taste to correct seasonings before serving.

This same time, years previous: me and you, and the radishes, the perils of homemade chicken broth, the Monday rambles, creamed asparagus on toast (this is GOOD), sticking my neck out, and shoofly pie

My word, people. This child of mine is making me age prematurely.

Or else he has a secret plan to collect all the ER’s stuffed animals in the shortest amount of time possible.

Yesterday I had, quite possibly, the most adrenaline-pumping car ride of my life. I exceeded the speed limit. I laid on the horn and zipped through a just-turned-red stoplight. I passed in the right lane. I picked up my husband (who was standing curbside) so fast that, if I had been driving a windowless black van, it could’ve been a scene straight out of a Jackie Chan movie.

Don’t look at me like that. I wasn’t trying to careless. In fact, there’s a good chance I was a better-than-normal driver, level-headed, focused, and attentive. (The tears and snot streaming down my face, the raspy breathing and repeated pummeling of the steering wheel—because cars were going so dang slow—were just for dramatic affect.)

Besides, I bet you’d go through the same little song and dance if your five-year-old’s eyeball turned all squishy yellow and swelled up so huge that it looked like it would fall out of its socket at any minute.

Seriously. I’ve NEVER seen anything like it.

We still don’t know what caused it. I was working outside, planting annuals and perennials, picking asparagus and rhubarb, potting plants, and trying to cajole the kids into helping me. Nickel was hanging out, playing in the yard and on the porch, doing his best to not help me. He got a little fussy. Said his eye hurt, that something was in it. He didn’t cry, didn’t yell. Just sat there fussing. So of course I ignored him.

About ten minutes later I went in the house to get lunch ready. I washed my hands and then said to Mr. Fussy, “Okay. Let me see your eye.”

I took one look—the whole outside edge of the white part of his left eye was bulging—and grabbed the kid under his armpits, raced him to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, realized water wasn’t good enough, and ran in circles around the kitchen, arms a-flapping, searching for the phone.

“Meet me at the ER,” I barked at my husband.

I called my sister-in-law. “We’re going to the ER,” I informed her. “I’m dropping the kids off.”

By the time I hung up the phone, all of the white part of his eye was spongy, yellow, and bulging in a way that no eye should ever bulge.

“GET TO THE CAR!” I screamed at the kids, wetting a hanky with cold water and slapping it on the eye as I raced out the door. The kids were already huddled out by the car. (Sweetsie was so traumatized by the grossness factor that she refused to sit in her regular seat beside her brother.)

After a drive-by drop-off at my sis-in-law’s house (and getting flagged down by my sis-in-law who was on the phone with my husband who was asking if I could pick him up on such-and-such a road), I passed a woman out walking her dog and pulled over, “Do you have medical training?” She shook her head no and I sped off.

By this point, Nickel’s whole eye was bubbling and bulging with wild abandon. The skin under his eye was pushed out so far it seemed like it no longer possessed any eyeball restraining power whatsoever. (To steady my racing brain I focused on the fact that there’s an awful lot of networking behind the eye that keeps it in place.)

“My eye feels like it’s cracking,” Nickel whimpered.

Suddenly the 20-mile drive to the hospital seemed impossibly long. Our friend, a nursing professor and a long-time overseas missionary in Central America , lived several miles down the road. Surely she would have a clue as to what in the world was going on. When I zipped around the curve in front of her house, she was sitting outside on her porch—I jerked the car over and backed into her drive. I called to her and right away she knew this was no regular neighborly visit I was paying. She jumped up from her rocker, ran to the car, took one look at Nickel’s eye, made like she was going to jump into the car with us, changed her mind and flew into the house for ice and a cloth, and off we sped. (Our friend was so worried about his eye—she had never seen anything like it, either—that she eventually drove the whole way to the hospital to find out how we were, but we had already been discharged.)

I already told you about the rest of the drive, minus the part when Nickel said, “My throat hurts,” and John said, “Just drive.” (I figured if a cop pulled me over, all the better. I’d just show him the eye and get myself a personal escort service.)

By the time we got to the hospital, the swelling was going down and we were beginning to realize that this was an allergic reaction. They put us straight through to a room, but then it took the doctor awhile to come in so we had a chance to regain our composure. Clearly, his eyeball wasn’t going to fall out. He would be fine. We relaxed.

The doctor confirmed our suspicions. Nickel had had an allergic reaction. To what, we don’t know. We now have drops to put in his eye if it happens again. If his lips swell up, he needs more than the drops (but it was the pharmacist who told me that—the doctor didn’t seem concerned about that).

I still have tons of questions. Like, do we even need the drops if a cold compress did so much to bring the swelling down? Like, was the slightly swollen eye that I noticed last week (the left eye, too) a precursor to this? It is likely this will happen again and will it be worse next time? Is this a condition he’ll have during a particular season for the rest of this life?

The internet was reluctant to cough up very much information on this condition. I looked for images and this one (the second picture) most closely resembles my baby’s eye (though his was more yellow than red and the skin under the eye was bulging out much further). I wish now I had taken pictures—it was so incredibly incredible-looking—but I don’t think of photos when I’m in the middle of being traumatized. Sorry.

In any case, Nickel now has a new stuffed animal and I know that I have the potential to be an ambulance driver if I ever get the urge.

P.S. Whaddaya know, he had another reaction as I was posting this.

So here you can see what his eye looked like in the very beginning stages, lucky you.

Oh yeah, and in all the drama of the last ten minutes, I burnt the bread, too.

1. It’s raining. But it’s April so everything is as it should be.

2. My mom and dad stopped by this morning. They are buying ten acres two miles from our house and came down (up, whatever) to get the survey done. In the rain.

3. A friend and her three wee ones paid us a visit.

The four-week-old baby was the hit of the show. My oldest son laid on the sofa, the babe asleep on his chest, and would’ve stayed there the whole time if I’d-a let him. But I was hungering for my baby fix so I up and booted him from the room.

4. Another friend and her granddaughter are coming to visit this afternoon. I need to rid the house of 273 flies before they get here.

5. The kids and I are doing a little skit at church this evening. The Baby Nickel has a dual role: first a servant boy and then a rooster. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

6. Rhubarb’s up.

This is my standard rhubarb dessert. It’s a perfect way to star the tart stalks. Half of the crumbs make up a crunchy bottom crust and the other half makes a crunchy topping, thus the name Rhubarb Crunch. It could not be more appropriately named.

This last time I used half sour cherries and half rhubarb—it made for a right pretty (and delicious) crunch.

Rhubarb Crunch

3/4 cup flour
1 cup oats, either rolled or quick
1 cup brown sugar
½ cup butter
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ cup sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
½ cup water (or fruit juice)
½ teaspoon vanilla
4 cups diced rhubarb

Combine the flour, oats, brown sugar, and cinnamon in a bowl. Rub in the butter with your fingers to make crumbs. Press half of the crumbs in the bottom of a greased 9 x 9 glass pan. Reserve the remaining crumbs for the topping.

In a small kettle, stir together the sugar and cornstarch. Add the water (or fruit juice) and vanilla. Bring it to a boil, stirring steadily, till thick and smooth. Remove the kettle from the heat and add the rhubarb, stirring to coat. Pour the saucy fruit on the crust and top the fruit with the remaining crumbs. Bake the crunch at 350 degrees for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the juices are bubbly and the crumbs—both top and bottom—are golden brown.

Serve warm, with milk or vanilla ice cream.

This same time, years previous: bacon-wrapped jalapenos, honey-baked chicken