...if I only have five years, five years is all I need.

I'll never forget one of my high school teachers who sat me down for a serious conversation and honestly asked, "Do you even have thoughts? Do you use your head, ever?" This was after I decided for my semester project that I would create fake "student IDs," download programming to create the format, and would sell them… I "sold" four before that conversation, one for $6 dollars, two for a bag of Otis Spunkmeyer cookies, and one for an essay that I needed written. I wasn't in it for the money… I was in it for the purpose. They told me I couldn't, I knew I could. 

My poor parents had it rough, they had perfectly healthy, law abiding, respectful, well behaved children and then I joined the family photo and I definitely think their whole world was flipped upside down, shaken up, and changed forever. I often wonder how I even survived past childhood… 

There was another time, around senior year, when I decided I didn't want to have to use my locker on the third floor, as that was too many steps… so I bullied freshmen into letting me "buy" stock at the bottom of their lockers in exchange for signed tardy passes. I wasn't forging anything, I typically signed, "Tedi" and put a few extra scribbles around it and most were accepted without any question. I should have been an entrepreneur or a business owner… I was always thinking up my next scheme. 

By the age of fifteen, I was a self acclaimed badass and knew what I wanted. I wanted the most out of life. I wanted to make my own rules, live by whatever means necessary, and to escape the tiny town that was much too small for me. 

Once, I asked my school principal to allow me to "sell" elevator passes to the staff at my high school. Within the first hour of passing out letters on official letterhead, I sold four… convinced three teachers they could buy them after lunch, pissed one off so badly that she stormed out of her classroom and right into the principals office to throw a fit, and I gave a custodian a good discount since he bought two. They eventually made me return the money and issue an apology. I did it with my head held high, a smile on my face, and an attitude that I could do anything I put my mind to. 

I wanted to change the world, to bring more laughter. 

The days of wrecking havoc in the halls of my high school have been long over for a few years now, but I often wonder if people remember me and laugh… or shake their heads… or say a bunch of curse words under their breath. To be honest, it's probably a combination of all of the above for every single person I've crossed paths with, I have not been an easy person to deal with. Honestly though, with all practical jokes aside, I hope and pray that if something terrible was to happen to me, that people would remember the good. 

Five years is not a long time, that''s my point. High school seems like yesterday. I have spent the last five years in college up to this point, I have skipped classes for the mall, sat in bars with professors, ate more pizza than I ever have in my life, and watched Netflix for days, never having to leave my house. I found my place in this huge world on this great big campus and I settled in perfectly in a town that was small, but where I could still go to the store and not recognize a single person. Growing up in the town that I did, trust me, not being recognized is a luxury that many will never appreciate. 

If I have learned anything in the last week, it's that sometimes life falls a part… dreams come undone… and the entire world comes crumbling down around you. I've learned that sadness can be overwhelming, that joy is contagious, and that hope is the only thing that truly changes anyone. I've learned that it is impossible to control everything… but I have learned that roadblocks are nothing more than obstacles and with the same determination I had when I was was sixteen, selling those ridiculous fake IDs just because no one believed I could in the first place, I am not afraid to fight for what I want, to create new dreams, and to live in the present. I don't know the future, I could die tomorrow because life isn't guaranteed and I have been living my life like the next twenty years were set in stone… I don't know if I have twenty years, but I do have today… and today, I am choosing to fight back. 

Somewhere between high school and college, I became afraid of the world and more importantly, living. I let the fear of failure control every move I've made…  and I don't want to live like that anymore.

… but when I'm gone and this life I've made is over, I don't want anyone to remember the things I've said out of anger, or hurt, or fear. I don't want to be remembered for the punches I threw, for the names I called, or the stone cold glares I gave. My only hope is that somehow I would have lived my life up to this point with such love and laughter and joy and hope that my legacy would be filled with memories like the ones above. I want to be remembered as someone who is witty, and creative, who can always make people smile and laugh, who never heard, "No," who loves with her whole heart and shows kindness whenever the opportunity presents itself. I want people to laugh at the jokes I pulled or the things I said… I want to be remembered for the times I showed up late to class with tubs of ice cream for everyone, for the moments I fell down the stairs ungracefully, for the stupid questions I asked, and for the screenshots I cluelessly took. I want to be remembered for the moments where I stood alone, determined to make this world a better place. 

As I sit alone on my bed in the quietness of the middle of the night, listening to the buzz of the ceiling fan and the ticking of the clock, I am painfully aware of how good life is. The stars off my deck, off in the distance give me hope, they remind me that there is so much life out there waiting to be discovered. 

I don't know what five years will bring… hell, I don't even know where I'll be in six months, but that's where the beauty lies. I think I have finally come to a place where I can grasp that and learn to be okay with the unknown. I am trying to not let the fear control me… but rather to embrace it, use it for fuel to actually make my life worth something. 

There is so much life to be lived when you choose to fight back against the storm. 

That aunt swag

***cheesy, emotional post starting now***

I got some time off work this past weekend so I rushed home to spend some much needed time with my family… when I first became an aunt, I never imagined how much those little people would mean to me, but truthfully they are my favorite people in this entire world. There's no greater feeling than to hear tiny voices scream, "Tedi! Tedi's here!" as they run into my parent's house… nothing compares to their smiles and giggles and their thousand hugs and kisses.

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Here's a list of reasons as to why I love those tiny people:

1. I get to answer questions that I never imagined having to answer, like "Did you see my teddy bear jump off that table?" or "Can we watch Necklace (Netflix)?" or "Can you take me for a walk without the dogs?" or "Why can't I be a marshmallow instead of an ice cream cone?" They teach me how to be silly while being completely innocent… and while they are growing up and learning all about this world, they are teaching me how to be a lifelong member within the world of childhood. 

2. There are no such things as quick goodbyes. The days of picking up the keys and walking out the door are long gone for my brother and sisters, their new normal consists of asking those little people to put on their shoes a hundred times, to gather their toys and to grab their coats… it means chasing them around, dealing with their cries of refusal and "I need 10 more minutes." It means once they have their shoes on and they're out the door and strapped into carseats, they'll probably have to go potty and the whole process starts all over again. When they leave me or my house, this process is no different… it just also includes a hug and a kiss, an "I'll miss you," and a "When are you coming back?" But it also means I get to respond "After while, crocodile," after a little voice says, "See you later, alligator." They make goodbyes so much harder and sweeter at the same exact time… but more importantly, they make coming home one of my favorite things. 

3. Normal everyday things like putting on makeup and doing my hair consists of a learning process where a thousand more questions are asked, they marvel at simplicity and routine… and remind me how easily I take everything for granted. When I heard my recently potty trained three year old nephew proudly yell, "I washed my hands! I did it all by myself!" as he ran through the house this weekend, my heart melted. I've watched this little boy grow from a newborn child to this little guy who can now do things all by himself. Where did the time go? Their excitement is contagious. They are eager to learn. They love with their whole being. They wear their feelings on their sleeves. They are sassy and sweet, tough and bold, and full of energy… When they do something great, the beam with pride and want the whole world to know. 

4. They want to do everything I do… which makes me want to do everything better. I've never considered myself a role model, ever… but when my niece giggles, "Papa said shit," I quickly realize that every word I say is being soaked up and they are learning, even when I don't pay attention. I know I'm not their parents, but I want to live better, do good, and be the best person I could ever be for them to imitate. My niece already told me, "I'm going to go to Mizzou just like you… and I'll live at your house with you and Macey." I have a duty to encourage future tigers, even if her concept of mizzou only consists of tigers, bounce houses, and pizza places. I want to be someone they can proudly call their aunt. 

5. They are brutally honest. My six year old niece recently asked me how old I was… and when I said I was 23, she asked without even a stutter, "Why aren't you married?" I told her I needed to find someone to love me first and she said, "but I might get too old to be your flower girl by then…" Even she is aware of how painfully sad my love life is… and without fear, she shares her feelings. Through her honesty, she is learning and processing and asking questions, and even if those moments are awkward for people she's calling out, she is taking a stand for her place in the world. Those moments make me proud… especially when she giggles and says, "I'm happy you're not married because then you wouldn't play with me anymore."

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I never knew how much my heart could love until I became an aunt, but I pray I stay their "Aunt Tedi" for as long as possible. I pray I never get too old or too married to sit down and play with these little people… they make goodbyes terribly difficult, sweet weekends not long enough, and the life of homework and college much more depressing. My reality is hard when I live two hours away from them, so because Facebook can't even handle their adorable faces and antics, here's pictures from this weekend.

Selfie game strong.

Snapchat stories are all the rage. 

...because tossing cheeseits in your nieces mouth is better than catching grapes. 

There's always time for chutes and ladders…

it's never too early for painting projects…

Why does my kid have to pay the price for your kid's comfort?

I read an article recently about a parent group trying to overturn the "No Peanut" decision in the public school system where their children attend. The article quoted a parent who said, "I had to tell my daughter who loves peanut butter and jelly that she no longer could enjoy her favorite snack just because of another child's problems. Why does my kid have to pay the price for your kid's comfort?"

As a person who has had a peanut allergy all her life, my question to you is, "Why does your kid's 'comfort' trump my life?"



I posted this picture to my Facebook page last week about running into a store, grabbing a candy bar without paying attention only to get home and realize it was a new addition, "peanut butter twix."As a joke to downplay the allergy, I posted this caption, "Another case of Tedi forgot to pay attention happened again. Oh, how I wished I lived in a peanut free world, where peanut contaminated candy didn't disguise itself to look like normal everyday candy."


Yes, it is obviously printed on the package that it contains peanuts… and thankfully, I am old enough to read it and understand that it isn't something that I can eat… when I actually pay attention. I've lived my whole life with this allergy and am accustomed to carrying Epipens, asking for ingredients in restaurants, reading labels on foods, and avoiding anything that is questionable… to put it simply, I have learned to be extremely cautious. 

Does it always matter? No. 

As a child in an elementary school nearly two decades ago, concerns like mine were not taken seriously. I remember trading lunches with another girl in the first grade only to find out I couldn't eat hers, I remember being surrounded by peanut butter sandwiches at lunch, worried about being touched by another student with peanut butter fingers, and choosing not to raise my hand to answer questions when I knew the reward would be chocolate candy bars that may contain traces of peanuts. There was a time around the third grade when I was told I had to sit at a different table for lunch, away from my friends and classmates, simply because it was the only way I could be guaranteed safety. I learned to hate my allergy, try to hide it from the world, and to be careless in order to fit in… simply because I didn't want to feel like an outcast.

Did being that cautious even matter? No.

I have had countless trips to Emergency Rooms, I have spent many weeks in ICU rooms, I have used Epipens more times than I can count, and I have been exposed accidentally to my allergen because of someone else not being careful. Sometimes it has been my fault for being willing to take the risk, but other times my life has been placed in jeopardy because of someone else's carelessness and refusal to understand the life threatening nature of living with a peanut allergy. 

For me, what I eat and what my food contains is a matter of life and death. I do support taking peanuts out of schools because while I know what to look for on food labels now, children do not. Children want to fit it. Children don't want to be segregated from their friends and have to sit at special lunch tables without their peers. Children touch everything and put their hands in their mouths, which could be a deadly decision. At 23, I still have a hard time choosing foods without peanuts, how do we expect a 5 year old child to always make the right choice? It isn't realistic… especially when we have the choice as adults to make a healthy and safe environment for everyone. 

The article I read made the argument that, "those kids can just carry Epipens…" News flash, world… here's what you don't know about Epinephrine. It is scary. I have laid in hospital beds and ambulances as I could literally feel my heart beating inside my chest. My blood pressure has been dangerously over 250 more times than I can count. Epinephrine is a high dose of pure, man-made adrenaline which causes the body to either fight or shut down. Depending on the allergic reaction, I have experienced both… both extremely painful. It can also cause severe bleeding, lack of clotting, and muscle weakness. Imagine trying to breathe with a swollen throat while your heart is beating so quickly… it may only last a couple minutes, but it feels like an eternity of suffocation. Anyone who has ever had an allergic reaction and has needed an Epipen would tell you that while usually the side effects are minimal, no one would willingly choose that… especially for a child. Your argument is not only invalid, it is bordering on child abuse. 

I do carry an Epipen, several actually... and while yes, they have saved my life countless times… they have also not worked or they have required several doses just to counteract the reaction. Why would we make a child go through that pain if it can be prevented? Anaphylaxis is painful. For me, my throat swells, my chest tightens, my muscles stiffen, breathing is hard, and I can't swallow… there have been times when my lungs stop moving air and my throat has nearly closed completely. Most of the time, it's within minutes of eating an allergen. I've had tubes put down my throat, through my nose, shots in my side, legs, and arms, and oxygen tubes trying to keep my lungs from collapsing. That isn't even including the pain of the shots, IVs, medicines, side effects, and the disruption of normalcy. Is all of that worth it just so your child can eat peanuts?

Let your daughter eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when she gets home… teaching her that her comfort matters more than another child's life is setting her up to fail. Teach her about compassion, empathy, and sensitivity instead. I'm not telling you to stop feeding your child peanut butter sandwiches because I can't eat them, I am simply saying, let her eat them at home where my life won't be at risk if I come in contact with her. 

Just in case you are not convinced that this is a real issue, here's some statistics I found:

• Every 3 minutes, a food allergy reaction sends someone to the emergency department – that is more than 200,000 emergency department visits per year. 
• This potentially deadly disease affects 1 in every 13 children (under 18 years of age) in the U.S. That’s roughly two in every classroom.
• Teenagers and young adults with food allergies are at the highest risk of fatal food-induced anaphylaxis.
• Eight foods account for 90 percent of all reactions: milk, eggs, peanuts, tree nuts, soy, wheat, fish and shellfish. Even trace amounts of a food allergen can cause a reaction. Peanuts and tree nuts are the only allergen known to be airborne, which is identified as not needing to be ingested in order to cause a reaction.
• Somewhere around 150 to 200 people die in the U.S. each year because of food allergies. It is estimated that around 50 percent to 62 percent of those fatal cases of anaphylaxis were caused by peanut allergies. Around 75 percent of those fatalities are under the age of 18. 

How many more kids have to die before this is something we actually take seriously? To put it nicely, why does my kid have to pay the price for your kid's comfort?

I'm at a place now where I can joke about my allergy and take silly pictures when I'm sitting in a hospital bed with oxygen on my face and IVs in my arm… I've learned to live life with my allergy and to be cautious on days when I don't want to. I have learned to live with this, to react quickly, and to take it seriously…to occasionally make peanut jokes and to laugh when my dad asks if I want a peanut butter and jelly or rubs his favorite chair down in peanuts just so I'll sit somewhere else. In the process of dealing with this, I have learned to not take myself so seriously, that not everything can be avoided and to laugh when you have to have five different nurses during one night shift just because they accidentally ate something with nuts. But I have learned all of this because I had adults in my life fighting to keep me alive before I even knew what a peanut allergy was… every kid deserves that same voice and a chance to feel safe in their own school, sitting at their lunch table.