Hive Ho, Hive Ho...

Today marks the 9th day of Ben's hives adventure.  It's been a long road for the big little guy.  And even though I'm cognizant of the fact that his hives adventure is not nearly as stressful/interesting for any of you as it is for me, I'm sharing a few things that this experience has taught me.

1.  This little boy is a trooper. 

It's not that I didn't already know this, but Ben has been so amazing throughout the ordeal.  I know that he's itchy.  The Benadryl is upsetting his stomach.  He's totally freaked out when he looks in the mirror.  His friends at school are relentlessly curious about his affliction.  Despite all of that, he has not complained one time.  He's been so chill, that he's truly taught *me* to not be such a whiny butt over every little sniffle, ache, and pain.  Good job, kid.

2.  Roid rage is real.

On Monday night, he took his first dose of steroids to combat the hives breakout.  The doctor warned us that the medicine may cause "excitability".  Apparently, the effects of the Benadryl counteracted that, and he was in a state of drug-induced normalcy.  (As opposed to the zombie-like demeanor caused by only taking Benadryl.)  Or so we thought.  I've always heard about the "roid rage", but didn't quite believe it until I witnessed it in my usually-docile-exceedingly-patient-with-his-little-sister six year old.

Here's the deal:

Abby asked me where Ben was.  I told her he was in his room.  She walked in there and said, "Hey Ben!"  He immediately shouted at her, "ABBY!  WHY ARE YOU *DISTURBING* ME?!"  She just kind of shrugged it off and said, "I don't know."  To which he replied, "THAT IS *NOT* A REAL REASON!!!  GIVE ME A *REAL* REASON WHY YOU'RE IN HERE."  With that, she left, luckily unphased, and went on to play with her babies.  You have to understand how patient he is with Abby [the bulldozer] on a day to day basis to understand the enormity of this exchange.  

It happened again this morning on the way to school (about an hour after another dose):

Ben asked how many days until he was off for Thanksgiving.  I told him he had seven school days.  He screamed back at me, "I DON'T WANT IT TO BE SEVEN MORE DAYS!!!!"  Abby felt the need to choose this sensitive moment to play parrot and chimed in, "Seven more days, Ben!"  He retorted with an enraged, "ABBY, YOU THINK YOU KNOW *EVERYTHING*!!!!"

So yeah, 'roid rage is real, friends.

3.  Kids are not nearly as cruel as I thought.

At least not in kindergarten.  Yet.  I fretted over sending Ben to school the day after the outbreak, knowing full well (accolades to www.google.com) that hives are not contagious, could last for weeks, and were more of a nuisance than a true health concern.  The reason I fretted was because I was so scared he was going to be teased.  I know, I know.  Kids get teased.  Their skin gets tougher.  They grow as people.  But he's six.  And that makes me sad.  I'm not a coddling mom, but the thought of him being teased for a rash over which he has absolutely no control was heartbreaking to me.  It was especially alarming when it spread to his face.  I visited him in his classroom a couple of days later, and the kids were awesome.  Fascinated?  Sure.  Grossed out and mean?  Not even one tiny bit.  That'll teach me to be so cynical.

And for the looky-loos who want to see the hives (not for the faint of heart).  Here you are.  And another.  And just one more.

We still don't know what caused them in the first place.  We're guessing that the decorations (aka giant hay bales) in the lunch room for the highly anticipated Mother-Son hoe down taking place this Friday evening are preventing him from getting over the hives, as he flairs up every day after lunch.  Ben has weighed the pros and cons, and apparently opts for hay-induced hives over missing the hoe-down.  What can I say?  I'm flattered. 

I just hope they go away before first grade.  I hear those kids are brutal.