Raising a Child with Anxiety

They say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and over again, while expecting a different result.
Sometimes I wonder what it means when you do the same thing every morning and always experience a different result.  That's what it's like parenting a child with Anxiety.
We never know what will set her off.  Some days are perfectly fine.  Other days?  Other days the wrong person woke her up.  Or I sat on her right side instead of her left.  Or...or we don't know because she can't talk.  She can only gasp for breathe between hysterical sobs and refuses to let me touch her.
She's doing well now.  "What are you doing differently?" her doctor asks.
"Nothing," I tell them, with a helpless shrug.
"There must be something," they tell me.  I think they're trying to be reassuring.  It isn't working.
The best I can tell, there is a cycle to anxiety.  I don't know how it works, exactly.  I'm not sure anyone does.  But as far as I understand she views the world in black and white, there's right and wrong.  She envisions a scenario, works out the kinks and plays it out.  She can adapt some days, when she feels quick on her feet.  And other days?
Other days, she hides under the pillows.
It's enough to drive a parent crazy.  And the worst part?  The worst part is asking for help.  Because there is still a stigma.  You must be doing something wrong.  We go over and over every moment of the day, every reaction, every pitfall.  We stress about every problem in our household.  (Although we realize there is nothing we can do to change the fact that she needs to share her room, or our financial standing, or choices we've made in the past, somehow it doesn't change the guilt) We talk about rewards and punishments, which only work when she decides they will and only bring us all to tears when she's too far gone to care.  (But consistency is key, they tell me.) 
On second thought, the worst part is the toll it takes on the family. Our other child can't help but feel the stress and act out.  I can recognize that she's acting out, but it's hard to convince her of that.
Raising a child with Anxiety isn't for the faint hearted.  It's not about reassurance or being patient.  It's about being ready for anything.  One day I say "Time for shoes," and she laughingly waves her be-shoed feet in the air, proud to have beat me to the punch.  Another day I say "Time for shoes," and she hides under a table.
But there are rewards too.  The snuggles and sweet whispers, the whispered stories, the innocent indignation.  She'll surprise us by washing her own dishes (but only her own, that's only fair) when the dishwasher goes out.  Or put hours of work into a surprise.  
We're proud of who she is, even when we're struggling to help her learn how to function in society.

Dropping the Donkey

Aesop has a fable about a miller and his son who take a donkey to the market.  Along the way, they receive repeated criticism and advice for their handling of the donkey.  In the end, the donkey falls into a river and floats away. 
Some days I can really relate to that miller. 
With the food allergies and the migraines, I kept circling back to square one, but at least I felt in charge.  We were solving a puzzle.  Most of the pieces fell into place under the headings of either "corn" or "gluten". 

I still deal with the whole donkey-in-the-river scenario sometimes.  I feel like I need to use mind over matter to deal with symptoms rather than the simple (and sometimes not so simple) act of avoidance.  It's not entirely rational, but I spent a long time working with professionals on the premise that my symptoms were just stress related.  Just because they aren't doesn't undo that work.  

You'd think I'd have learned. 
The trouble is, when you are in over your head, you turn to others for advice.  Sometimes, you get lucky and stumble into people who know the best next steps.  And sometimes, you don't. 
This is what seems to have happened to us with Bumblebee. 
We've spent 4 years working with professionals who felt that labels hurt kids.  That anxiety is rational.  That we, as a family, were doing something wrong. That we needed to really think about it.  That we should analyze our actions. 
We've been told to and tried rationalizing, bribing, and taking away priviliges.  We've tried encouragement and sticker charts and good-will offerings.  We've tried starving her into verbalizing if she won't touch dinner, and we've tried being a family of short order cooks.  We've stood firm.  We've given in.  All on the advice of others because what we were doing wasn't working. 
It turns out that rather than getting advice on how to TREAT anxiety, I should have been learning about how, exactly, Anxiety Disorders work.  (And it is worthy of those capitals, believe me)  Because the current belief is that they aren't rational, by any stretch of the imagination.  There isn't control over her feelings and since those feelings are overwhelming, she didn't have control over where they led her. 
By treating her like she did have control, or bending over backward to 'compromise' and then being frustrated at her refusal to cooperate; we've got a child who's no longer in tears.  She's angry, she's sullen, she doesn't want to treat us with respect because she doesn't feel respected.  She put up with food allergies, and dietary mayhem for years.  And us?  When she felt 'sick' we dragged her off and abandoned her at school, where she was overwhelmed and didn't have the tools she needed to deal with those feelings.  It doesn't matter that I was dying inside each day I left her, or that everyone told me it was the right thing to do.  To her, what matters is that she felt alone and overwhelmed.  And then once in awhile, she is terrified and needs us again...and at the same time, she hates us for being needed. 
Rather than getting her through with our own problem solving techniques, we asked for advice.  And based on the results, I feel like I'm watching my daughter floating down the river on Aesop's donkey. 

The good news is, we're no longer looking for what's wrong with us.  We aren't hunting in the dark for a magic cure.  There isn't one.  We just need to fish that donkey out of the river, dry her off, and set off again.  And maybe this time, we'll make it to market unscathed. 

Cuts hurt Kids

This week, I've heard several people say "They keep talking about budget cuts, but I don't see any affect.  Not really.  Do you?"
I've cited a few things, and been brushed off.  I think they just want to justify things to themselves, and hide in the sand.  But I just got back from Back to School night.  So here's the low down on how, exactly, cuts are hurting the elementary school crowd.  (Middle school BTS isn't for awhile yet)

•  Art Teacher -- Gone.  I know art is a fluff subject to some.  But creativity is important.  Experimenting with new ways to express yourself is an important part of taking care of the whole child.  And art in particular is a relevant class to a variety of rising job markets, maybe not oil and canvass painters but graphic design and the like are an important part of digital communities and marketing.  But art will now be left up to the teachers and their limited supply of materials and time.  (While the official Art Teacher had an Art Curriculum; exploring impressionists and various techniques; regular teachers need to also prepare curriculum for reading, writing, mathematics and geography.)  
• Supplies are limited.  Parents are requested to supply the classroom with pencils, lined paper and copy paper in addition to their own student's desk-supplies.  And of course, donations of tissue and hand sanitizer if you want them available.  Forget allergy friendly accommodations...Whatever parents bring, they're grateful for. 
• Music Program -- Gone.  There are still band classes in the middle and high school levels.  But the elementary program has been eliminated.  Although not all kids took advantage of the option, those who did tended to have higher test scores and fare better over all during their teen years.  Learning music as a kid is completely different from learning it as an adult.  And it does build connections in the brain that otherwise will not be formed.  
• Support Aides -- Depending on the level of support, they have been reduced or eliminated.  What does that mean for actual kids?  It simply means that instead of being in a group with kids who are at a similar reading level, they will have to either keep up with the middle of the roaders, or pace themselves to put up with the middle of the roaders.  It means there will be more awareness of ability levels inside the classroom.  It means that the teacher will not have as much time to dedicate to kids who aren't getting it, and that she won't have any time to challenge those who already get it and are getting bored.  
• Classroom sizes -- Even though they are cutting support aides, they are increasing classroom sizes.  In a nutshell, it means more kids per adult.  Most adults know what that means.  And if you don't, why don't you offer to stand in for an afternoon?  
• Custodial service -- reduced.  This doesn't just mean they won't take out the trash every day.  It means less vacuuming, less bathroom touch up, and will make an impact on the overall environment of the school.  And no, parents can't offer to help out.  It's illegal to have a volunteer take over for a position once filled by a salaried employee.  
• Field trips -- Although visiting local historical sites and nature preserves have long been an integral part of the curriculum, budget cuts have eradicated them.  We're down to one.  It will be both fun and educational, but we'll be supplementing with home trips.  Assuming our own budget can handle it.  
• Library time -- This is where it really hurts.  The library is the access point for books read for pleasure, for book reports, for research projects.  In the past, students have been taught how to use the library to look up various topics and led through the process of research and writing a report.  Skills they will use throughout their school years.  But, instead of having a full time media specialist and regular access to the library, there will be one librarian on campus.  Long enough for each class to spend twenty minutes in the library.  Every other week.  So instead of a story and browsing time, they need to file in, choose a book and check out.  And although in the past parents were encouraged to come in and help students choose age appropriate titles...since the district laid off so many media specialists, not only are our librarian's hours limited, she no longer is able to accept volunteer support.  It's just her and a teacher.  Just enough adults to actually check books out.  
• There are cuts in other areas too.  Kindergarten days have been shortened, scheduling has become creative to try and preserve teacher tenure and benefits.  They need medical care as much as you or I, and they have families to feed.

Usually Back to School night is a happy event for us.  We talk about what to look forward to.  But this year, on top of Bumblebee's issues, we're left feeling unsettled.  Is it going to be a great year?  Sure.  But only if we really work at it.  And yes, the Budget Cuts show.  Maybe the one good thing is that tomorrow's voters are the ones learning from experience how important their education is, and how easily it can be affected by little things like budget issues. 

When I was a kid, vegetarianism was the dreaded dietary trend of teens and tweens.  It was a right of passage that half of us experimented with after reading Charlotte's Web, and probably a quarter of us actually continued with.  It's still a phase discussed in numerous books and magazine articles.  But the newest dietary trend (the kind that isn't for weight loss) seems to revolve around organic choices.
When my daughter came to me and said she was considering cutting out corn and soy (on top of the gluten and dairy she already avoids) I was a little worried that she wasn't feeling well.  No, no, she was quick to assure me, it's just that corn and soy are usually GMO in the US.  And she doesn't want to eat genetically modified organisms.
She reassured me that it wasn't my reading choices that made her think.  It was an article about how good GMOs are that convinced her.  She disagreed with the article, and their evidence that most corn and soy grown in the USA are GMO and 'not hurting anyone' really concern her.  People have cancer, heart disease, diabetes, and increased incidents of food allergy and intolerance.  We don't know why, but diagnosis like chronic fatigue and various depression issues appear to be on the rise as well.
I was impressed by her argument, and we discussed how we can focus on organics but I don't want her to obsess over small amounts of corn or soy or conventional fruits and veggies.  It's more important to have a varied diet than to avoid specific farming practices.  Besides, as a family, we have enough to worry about when it comes to what goes into our bodies! In fact, I figured that our own dietary awareness was what set her off. 
But I've been listening in check out lanes.  And at playgrounds.  Not to mention while waiting for classes to let out.
It seems that my teenager isn't the only young lady concerned with the safety of genetically modified foods, and corn syrup.  Michael Pollan's "Omnivore's Dillemma" was published in a kid friendly format (which I need to look up) and has been making the middle and high school rounds.  Parents are commenting that their kid's sudden interest in ingredient lists, and desires to avoid high fructose corn syrup or soy are taking parents by surprise.  Some are asking to shop at Whole Foods, or refusing to eat anything not labeled organic.  Their parents aren't sure what to think.  Or how far to support the cause.
After all, teenagers are famous for changing their minds.  Like the parents of the 70's who were tempted to sneak ground chicken into the tofu, today's parents wonder if they should hide the corn syrup laden foods.  And how exactly to do that.
I had to laugh at the conversation about hiding conventional foods.  After all, there is nothing inherently nutritious about corn syrup.  Even the most ambitious propaganda from the corn refiner's association doesn't go so far as to suggest that corn syrup laden food is anything more than equivalent to cane sugar laden food.  The point has always been to convince the public that food is food regardless of how much processing or chemical processes they put it through. 
The concern, which no one seems able to voice properly, is that corn is so entrenched in our food supply that totally eradicating it does cause potential problems.  It doesn't mean that corn is inherently good.  It just means that total avoidance is to today's diet as a vegetarian diet was to the meat and potatoes fare our parents were raised on.  Maybe worse, since there can be corn derivatives used to wash meat or eggs, used in the waxing of fresh fruits, even in the fortification of vitamins.
The answer isn't to do a better job hiding it.  The Corn Refiners association and the FDA seem to be doing a good enough job, if the experience of the Delphi Avoiding Corn forum is any example.  The answer is to look, really take a good, hard, critical look at our dietary staples.  Ask about sources.  Make preferences known, and look for variety as well as organic symbols.  Support local farmers (if you don't avoid corn, include the ones who grow it organic, the on-the-cob variety) and eat close to the source.
The next generation knows they want to make a change.  They know there is something inherently wrong with genetically manipulating plant DNA.  They don't have the words or experience to explain or defend their objections, but that doesn't invalidate them.
The next generation may need guidance in defining their objections.  They need help modifying their choice of diet, whether it is vegetarian or organic or paleo, into something nutritious and balanced.  But they don't need adults to circumvent or override their decisions.  Just as the vegetarians in my day were objecting to the rise of factory farms, today's organic activists just want to make a change.  They want to be proactive.  And like any change in this world, the best place to start is at home.  I hope today's youth is more successful at avoiding corn than my generation was at eradicating factory farming.  But since it's easier to make a statement with a choice to buy organic, to put dollars toward local pesticide free produce rather than processed calories, maybe they'll have a chance. 
I support the cause.  It's not just about corn.  It's about health, for my kids and their future. 

Just one more thing to worry about with allergies

According to a recent study, children with Celiac Disease, like those with any chronic illness, are more at risk for emotional and behavior problems than their peers. 
I don't think it's a huge leap to say any food allergy would work similarly. 
And I can't help but wonder if this is what plays a part in my kid's anxiety issues.  Is it related to trichotillomania?  Or the anxiety driven tantrums? 
I don't know.  But I can't change the way our family's dietary restrictions work without hurting us.  So I can only hope that we can continue to reassure, that the interventions we've chosen are helpful, and that as a society we become more supportive of food restrictions for any reason. 
Why would kids with dietary restrictions be more at risk for emotional problems?  To my way of thinking it's understandable when they are required to go to school, but school personnel and their peers don't always 'get' allergies.  When other parents are busy fighting for their children's right to eat peanut butter, the food allergy kid is hearing "you're ruining things for everyone".  When pizza is served to 19 out of 20 kids and the food allergy child gets to grab their own personal lunch from their backpack, they get the message that they aren't as special as the rest of the class.  They have to put up a wall to remind themselves to say no, to be polite, to be different. 
I don't know what the answer is.  But awareness helps.  And hopefully therapists will learn a bit about food allergy; and the difference between medically restricted diets and eating disorders. 

Real life is like Webkinz

Last night, Penguin and I used the online grade book to look up her grades.  She told me how much she hates grades, because they don't help anything.  They just feel like a punishment, when they aren't good, and normal when they are. 
So we looked at the percentages.  And what happened when a paper didn't get turned in (or at least recorded yet)  And then I told her that all I care about is that she does her best work. 

It wasn't reassuring for her.  So I tried a different tact.  When you see that you have an A+ in Social studies, but you only have a B- in English, it means when you have extra credit from both classes, to do the extra credit in English first.  And it means you might be in a hurry to do homework...but you need to take a little more time with English, to double check spelling and stuff. 
Suddenly a light bulb went on. 
"It's just like webkinz world!" 
Webkinz World?  (For those who don't know, it's an online virtual pet community, accessed by an "adoption" code you obtain by purchasing a plush Webkinz toy.  it's full of games and several once a day activities.) 
"Yep, webkinz.  Like when I'm doing the acadamy and having trouble in one class, I keep working on it so I can level it up." 
And she went on in more detail about how this improves her pet's performance. 
But I thought it worthy of blogging. 
Real life is like webkinz.  You need to work on the areas you're weaker in, so that you get caught up to your strong areas.  And then it's all around more fun. 
Who says we don't learn anything from computer games? 

Note to self: do not move to Chicago. 
Or, if it's ever necessary, plan to homeschool. 
No, it's not the academic values, or the teacher quality, or the test scores.  It's nothing to do with the lovely folk who live there.  My problem with Chicago? 
Some schools have a mandatory "purchase lunch here" policy.  Of course, there is the standard "medical conditions are exempt" caveat. 
My questions:  How must the medical conditions be documented?  And what constitutes a worthy medical excuse?  Diabetes, food allergies, Celiac Disease...migraines?  IBS?  Lactose intolerance?  Kosher requirements?  Vegetarian or vegan choices?  Behavior issues?  Autism? 
If they require a simple doctor's note, they usually require it every single year.  And sometimes a new one midyear when some policy or another changes.  It sounds reasonable to get your medical professional to write out a note for you.  But doctors seem to HATE this policy.  They have better things to do than take a 15 minute appointment to write a note stating that a medical condition has not been outgrown and that the parents, not the school administrators who have never met your child, should decide what, exactly, can and can not pass your child's teeth. 
And then there's the simple fact that some medical conditions, like IBS, don't require one specific diet.  It's an ongoing balancing act...and one day's requirements may be completely counter to another day's.  Control over diet is critical to the overall health of someone with severe IBS or chronic digestive issues...and I guarantee that by High School; digestive concerns are the last thing any child wants to discuss over lunch. 
Which brings up my next concern.  If bagged lunches are banned, then anyone who brings a bagged lunch will be under scrutiny.  The third degree can come about whether they are the best of friends, mortal enemies or complete strangers.  Why did you bring a lunch?  Why are you exempt from the hard and fast rules?  What are you eating...Why are you different? 
It's hard enough to be different.  To be unique.  And now some schools insist that the unique individuals get a doctor to document their needs and then go around in obvious defiance of the school rule because they are exempt?  This sends the wrong message. 
I don't know about other kids with food allergies.  But mine wants to slip just under the radar.  She wants to bring enough chocolate chip cookies to share so that she isn't 'different'.  She wants to donate a normal fruit platter, or be in charge of the crackers, or offer safe snacks that taste and appear 'normal' to her friends and schoolmates.  She wants to be safe and cocooned in her food world...but she doesn't want anyone else to question it or tease her about it. 

I'm sure there are kids who don't really care where their lunch comes from, or what's in it, as long as it tastes good.  And parents who are happy to let the school make good decisions.  There are plenty of families not paying any attention to the ratio of doughnuts and chips and cookies to fresh produce consumed in the household.  But taking control by removing choice from consumers (You must purchase lunch here, no outside food in a school where children are required by a court of law to attend) doesn't solve anything. 

I say ban soda if you have to ban something (it makes a sticky mess when spilled, and the way it sprays after being shaken up in a backpack all day can make a custodian cry), provide plenty of healthy options at the school...and turn a blind eye to the 'junk food' as long as it isn't consumed during class hours.  Continue encouraging and teaching about good choices, start a garden (They won't be interested the first year, so give it 5 years) and eventually kids will start to make better and better choices.  They have to be the ones to choose in the long run, we have to trust them with their own health.  Which means, we start by trusting them with their own lunch. 

I used to see kids melt down in public.  Full blown screaming tantrums, and parents in various states of disarray, hair in disarray, bags falling out of arms, flailing limbs, red faces. 
I'd shake my head with everyone else.  And tell myself I wasn't judging. 
But I lied. 

I admit this now, to myself, after being 'that mom'.  With the screaming, stomping, "I hate you!  I wish I was never born!  Why don't you love me?" kid.  The one trying to unlock the car door while preventing flailing arms and legs from pummeling any other children (namely the sister who unexpectedly triggered the attack)  The one telling her barely-over-12 year old to get in the **front** seat, and stuffing the breath-holding stiff-as-a-board child into the back. 
I admit it because in between blocking kicks and steering kids through a well-populated area, I glimpsed a sea of faces.  Most carefully averting their eyes, and a few too fascinated by the spectacle to be ashamed at watching.  I remember thinking it wouldn't ever happen to me.  My kids wouldn't...  I'd cut it off early, never give in, never let it start.  In retrospect, while I never really held it against them, I held myself apart from them.  And now I've become that mom.  With that kid. 

The one who ate sprinkles yesterday and can't keep herself under control today. 
I wish I could just pin a sign on her shirt that says "I'm not responsible for my actions if you feed me artificial food colorings"  but I'm not sure anyone would pay attention.  I wish I'd video taped todays performance, if not for FDA hearings on whether or not food dye is evil, then for a dr to help evaluate her...because she's usually an angel for strangers.  I think the adrenaline of 'different' caretakers helps her keep control.  But it's just a theory. 

I don't pretend that eliminating food dyes from her diet would solve the problem.  Even when she is dye free, which is most of the time, she has her moments.  There is definitely something there that lies just outside the realm of norm.  But, artificial colorings exacerbate it.  They tip whatever scale it is inside of her that helps to maintain control and propriety. 

And I don't mean to make excuses for her.  She needs to keep herself from losing control.  We're trying to find all the tools she needs to do it.  I will say she's made progress.  She was still "there" during this tantrum, and didn't have to cry herself to sleep to get out of it.  And honestly...I've never given in to her tantrums.  She's never once earned herself a new toy, an extra cookie, or a second trip around the merry go round.  If her goal is to get me to leave the store, the closest she gets is sitting in the car or on a curb until she's calm and then heads back in.  I'd wondered why she bothered throwing them until I read "The Explosive Child" and started pining after one of those dreaded labels.  Now I try, hard, to take them in stride.  Although, days like today, I'm not sure that's really working.  (She's better...but she's nine.  Shouldn't she be past this?) 

Which reminds me that stress may not be the root of my digestive disorders, but it really doesn't help them any.  Ugh. 

Back away from the Jellybeans!

Those lovely assorted iconic Easter candies may just have to go this year.  At least the traditional ones. 
Although they are on shelves, and nothing in their standard artificial ingredient list has changed, the FDA is beginning to look closer at the questions raised by consumers. 
They are catching up to European questions. 

Although the evidence is still weak, the fact is that artificial food colorings and sodium benzoate in combination appear to increase the hyperactivity of the average 3-8 year old.  The trouble is that activity is subjective.  It can't be scientifically measured. 
And, while we can note observations that are consistently raised after consumption of suspect foods, it's symptoms we witness occasionally when only safe foods are eaten as well. 
The question is whether the colorings themselves are the cause. 
I think the answer is obviously that they are one potential cause.  And with the lack of testing (foodcolorings slipped under the radar and into our food supply, with slowly increasing amounts.  Currently, the average child ingests about 121 milligrams of dye a day.  It's a big number in small increments, but it's more than the amount of magnesium a 3 year old should be ingesting, and about a quarter of the calcium.  Compared to vitamins...that's a lot of synthetic, non-essential junk.  Especially when you factor in the picky eating that is common at that age...and the fact that preschoolers and school age children are still growing and forming.  Anything that is going to affect health will have a greater affect on them just because they are at a more vulnerable stage of development than an adult. 

Hyperactivity isn't the only health concern associated with artificial dyes and preservatives, it's only the one that gets the most press because of Dr. Feingold's work.  Even cancer may be associated with certain colorings, but studies are still in the works. 

Meanwhile, I don't think making bland food look brighter is worth the risk.  So, this year, the Easter Bunny is searching out safer treats...resorting to beets and turmeric and black carrot juice to color Surf Sweet or Yummy Earth candies with, and maybe he'll splurge on Annie's Homegrown gummy bunnies. 
It won't cost a fortune, because kids don't need a lot of sweet.  My kids, anyways, will find plenty of non-edibles in their Easter baskets, and the plastic eggs he hides around the house.  You don't need old fashioned jelly beans to have fun.  And carrot cake can be just as exciting without multicolored springtime sprinkles. 

Parenting and Holland

Like most people, I had a vague idea of what sort of parent I hoped to be.  I formed an image in my mind of our family, of how I would handle different situations.
When I got pregnant sooner than anticipated, I knew that those images were changing, just by virtue of the situation.  I continued to form ideas, but I kept them vague.  General.
I quickly learned that the only way to parent my wayward babies with my wavering health was to take things as they came, without judgment.

I like the Holland metaphor.
Some days, I feel as if I've embarked on a journey.  I embraced the excitement.  I packed a small bag of just the essentials (patience, respect, and creativity) and set out.  I said "I'm going to Italy!"  I was so excited, I only glanced at the guidebooks.  I didn't bother to learn the language, I just accepted that I'd learn as I went.

I climbed on the train and looked out the window.  I saw tulips.  I bought quaint little clogs.  I gushed over the waterfront and windmills. I explored the shops, learning to speak Dutch through immersion.  But somewhere along the way, as I contact friends to tell them of my experiences in "Italy", I started to suspect that it wasn't Italy.  It's only in retrospect that I was given a label for the things I've observed, experienced.
And it's not Italy.
Maybe it's vacation.  It's a voyage, an adventure.  But there's no gelato, or Venice, Rome, Florence.  And there's no Colosseum hiding around the bend .
And in retrospect, I see that the times I traversed flooding railway tracks were not necessarily "normal" inconveniences.  But at the time, they were a problem...and I simply pressed through the best I could.  I've reassessed my expectations of this adventure.  But, I'm no longer certain it's Italy. 

I'm not sure if the labels I find will ever work.  After all, I still had the time of my life, and there's no going back.  No matter what I do, there will be no Colosseum, no Italian vineyards to explore.  Even if I were to miraculously manage a transfer, I'd be comparing the two visits and wondering what I was missing from the trip I first embarked on. 

I didn't really realize that there was anything all that out of the ordinary until I started hearing others gush about their Italian vacations and realized that my experience, while valid and wonderful, just doesn't quite compare.  It doesn't mean I don't enjoy my journey.  I do.  But this is where a label comes in handy.
When I complain about the pea soup, or mention the coffee hour, if I knew I was in Holland a lightbulb would go on.  But if I'm talking of Italy, the image just doesn't jive with the pasta and gelato they experienced. When I talk about the quaint cottages I stayed at, and they recall brick vineyards...well, it's hard to relate. 

We didn't all visit Italy.  I was in Holland, but I don't know the word for it, even though I learned to communicate with the people I met. 

Just like this fictional vacation; I'm raising my kids with limited labels.  I have a few...I know Penguin's a trichotillomaniac with ADD tendencies and Bumblebee...well; I know there is a label for her.  But I still don't know what it is, or if it's worth pursuing.

And then there's the food. 

The food is kind of like that elusive Colosseum.  I had a vague idea of my plans, an image of what I wanted to see.  I keep thinking it's just around the corner.  And then I remember I'm not in Italy.  And there is no Colosseum here.  But there are beautiful flowers, lovely people, and amazing views.  I'll always wonder about that Colosseum.  But I wouldn't trade these views for the Roman Empire. 

Sometimes it really is just stress

At the beginning of the school year, we noticed something really...odd...about Penguin's appearance.
Her eyes.  There was something...different.  The lashes were disappearing.
She admitted to pulling them out during a tense part of a book she was reading.  She agreed to stop, and began wearing gloves to bed to help herself remember not to pluck.
Then there were no eyelashes left.  And her eyebrows started to disappear.
That's when she said she needed help.  She was stressed out abuot school.  She was stressed out about her sister (who insists on living life as intensely as she can).  She was embarrassed about her vanishing hair.
I called the doctor, and then the school to find someone to talk to her.
I was assured that it was a parenting issue, and that I should handle it at home. 
I looked it up online and found that, undoubtedly, she had developed something called "trichotillomania", or the compulsive desire to pull out her own hair.  She described the urges just the way the websites do.  It's essentially a cross between OCD and a nervous habit.  When she's bored or stressed out, she develops an overwhelming urge to remove hair.  If she doesn't comply, she has a panic attack.  I repeatedly tell her she's not in any trouble at all, but I'd like her to try and wait just a little longer before giving in.  (Preferably forever, but I *think* that will come in time) 
Eventually we managed to get in to see a psychologist.  She was very nice, very reassuring, but she says she can't help.
Although the Mayo Clinic does indicate that imbalances of dopamine and seratonin (which, interestingly enough, can also effect migraines) can play a part in trichotillomania, she disagrees.  It's stress.  We just need to destress her life.  Which I'm happy to do, and reluctant to try meds even if they are indicated.

I just thought it was ironic.  After all these years of pulling out MY hair (figuratively speaking) while working with doctors to slowly discover that in truth..,it's not "just stress" that makes me miserable; sometimes...well, sometimes it really IS just stress.
Trichotillomania just happens to be one of those times.

Once upon a time, I was a vegetarian.  A strict vegetarian. 
I didn't eat red meat, or "white meat", or poultry or fish.  I even swore off eggs and honey and dairy products for a time, in honor of "a cruelty free lifestyle". 
I wasn't judgemental of others choices, or at least...I didn't mean to be.  I thought I accepted them and that any of our teasing was in good natured fun.  But I was proud of my choices, and my ability to wield my choice proudly.  I looked forward to passing this dietary discretion on to my children.  The whole "we choose what we eat, we choose what impact we make on the world, and we choose respect through nutrients" thing that I hadn't completely worked out in my still-maturing mind was important to me; and at one time I identified my conscientious eating as a vegetarian lifestyle. 
I may not have always had an ideal vegetarian lifestyle, and I now realize that pasta roni meals simply aren't nearly as environmentally sound as a few conscientiously harvested scrambled eggs with locally grown veggies.  But I tried. 
Although I still think that cruelty free eating is important, and I'm still on an ethical eating kick...I'm no longer focused on flesh free food.  I'm too busy avoiding gluten, and corn derivatives, and a myriad of other dangers.  When you're corn derivative free...well, your options are remarkably confined.  Add in gluten and dairy to the restrictions and your available proteins are left at...eggs.  Beans.  Nuts.  Throw in digestive disorders...and you start to rethink the whole ethical eating idea. 
As I've stated before, my personal tipping of the scales came when I paused and asked myself "What would Jesus have eaten?"  (I'm not trying to be all high and mighty there, my religious beliefs are certainly convoluted and confusing...but I hang steadfastly to the belief that for me, personally, they are right.  Just as yours are right for you.)  And the answer came to me, quietly but assuredly "Mary made Chicken soup.  'Jewish pennicilin'"  (Again, no offense intended to those websurfers who manage to stumble onto this post from some random web search.)  And so, I sought out safe chicken. 
This has left my family reeling.  I began raising my kids with the "it's better to avoid flesh foods; but we all make our own decisions and we WILL respect others choices" mantra.  They told people they were vegetarian, making their own choices.  And then...then I dropped a landslide as I began sliding into a carnivorous world.  (No, I'm still not eating red meat.  And I'm still keeping it kosher style to the best of my ability.  My half jewish husband isn't very helpful.  His household wasn't kosher.) 
I'm still in the "You choose what you believe" mind set for my kids though; whether we are discussing Santa Clause, the religion they most closely identify with or what to eat for dinner. 
"Meat is bad," my youngest tells me, "You shouldn't eat dead things.  I think it makes them sad.  Would you want someone to eat YOU?" 
And then she glares at me reproachfully.  I try to simply remind her that there is a circle of life on the planet.  And that some animals do get eaten.  Even the Bible condones it, to a degree.  The main thing is to eat anything you choose to eat respectfully.  To choose healthy produce, and whole grains and protein sources. 
She munches on her cheese crackers and continues to glare. 
But my husband, being who he is, purchased bacon.  It's not kosher by any stretch of the imagination.  (except maybe St. Paul) and it's probably not terribly healthy.  Although the bacon purchased is nitrite free. 
He offered some to the kids.  Who eventually accepted. 
I'm not complaining, mind you.  As said...I'm still in the "everyone chooses what to believe" mindset.  And everyone makes their own peace with their choices, so it's fine if the kids want to eat bacon.  I doubt it would be safe for me, even if I could justify consuming pig.  They eat bacon, and I'll even prepare it for them. 
But what boggles my mind is last night's exchange. 
Bumblebee not only wanted bacon...but she didn't want to let Daddy cook it. 
Mommy's bacon is better. 
Now how on earth did an ex vegetarian who still can't bring herself to consume meat from a 4 legged animal ever become the "better" bacon cooker? 
I always say the hardest thing about cooking for food allergies is not getting to taste things to see how they're coming along. 
But apparently, my easy-cheating style of cooking has produced not just an edible bacon...but one that my picky daughter prefers over my (also picky) bacon eating husband's. 
Weird. 

Watching Movies

Having 2 girls who don't like gore, swearing, or too much action and adventure in a movie...and who still think kissing is gross...makes the whole "snuggle up for a movie" bonding experience that much more difficult.  We ditched the cable in favor of grocery money long, long ago.  (And we don't miss it)  Digitized broadcast channels are often scrambled, and we've found that there's even less on TV for tweens than there was when i was one.
Between this ongoing issue, and the fact that Penguin didn't recognize a Monty Python reference or the phrase "Wax on, Wax off"; we realized that what we really needed to do was reintroduce the kids to some classic movies.  80's style.
The films we were dying to see 20 years ago.
For the most part, Penguin enjoys them more than Bumblebee.  Bumblebee prefers Barbie and Disney classics, and we do pepper our screen time with 12 Dancing Princesses and Bambi and Mickey Mouse.  But one cannot live on animation alone, and there are only so many times one can watch "National Treasure".
However, as much as Penguin enjoys the movies, she can't always remember the names when she wants to watch them again.  Or the names we throw out there simply don't ring a bell and we have to describe a story line. 
"Star Wars" is still as popular as it ever was.  "Monty Python" is unique enough to etch it's title into memory.  But the quirkier, quieter movies are enjoyable...and their titles, not on billboards or previews or commercials to stir the memory, seem to escape her mind.
It's truly enlightening to learn what scenes made a distinct impression on her.  So, a list for your reading pleasure.  In quiz format, in case you want to test your own film savvy.  (unfortunately, the list is restricted to movies we've actually thought about exposing her to in the past few years and the films that made enough of an impression to get discussed)  To find the answers, highlight the area after the '='
a) "The movie about the applesauce" = Baby Boom.  She views it, rightly, as a comedy.  Her memory surrounding the making of the applesauce because the protagonist was bored. 
b)"The funny one about the guy riding a bicycle" = Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.  Maybe not 80's.  But I'm glad it was the bicycle scene and not the lengthy discussion about why Sundance was pointing a gun at Etta in her bedroom that made the impression on her.  And if you haven't seen the movie, Sundance IS a good outlaw.) 
c)"The one where the man and the boy are friends and they play in his awesome room" = Big.  Less suitable for kids than I remembered.  But still fun.  And the man is a boy, remember, he turns back at the end?  "Oh, yeah!" (If she says "No, no, no, the other one!" she's thinking of Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium.  Which we own.  And is a really good movie that came out relatively recently) 
d)"The really sad one where the man has to pretend he's a girl and everyone gets mad" = Tootsie.  I'd have thought Tootsie was funny and Butch Cassidy sad, but go figure. 
e)"The one where the man talks to the little girl in Dutch."  You mean Santa Clause?= Miracle on 34th Street.  The original, of course.  
f)"The one where the guy runs through the house, but the house is all torn up but he's worried about the baby and he has to find her before he worries about his stuff." = 3 Men and a Baby.  Okay, so she kind of got that one. 
g)That weird guy sings rock and throws a baby in the air = Labyrinth.  Although I had to point out that they zoom WAY out so you can't see the baby in the air. 
h)The one where there are people walking and they're like playing in a corn field and then they all die or maybe they're angels= Field of Dreams.  (She obviously didn't "get" it.)  Bumblebee listened to her try and describe this movie and said "Penguin, you mean like Mommy?" 
i)The one with the kid who changes his dad's bank account so he has like a million dollars in there= D.A.R.Y.L.  It took awhile to figure that one out.  It wasn't until she remembered that he and his dad played baseball that I could ask the right question "Was he a robot?"  YES!  Oh.  Now I get it. 

Anyways...The perspective is interesting.  And I have to wonder about what other kids get out of these memories.  I find that I, myself, remember movies differently than I view them now.  Both my husband and I are much more aware of sexual content and rough language even when our kids aren't in the room.  We find ourselves saying "I don't remember the language being quite so bad the first time around." 

I thought you'd enjoy the slice of humor from our lives. 

Sometimes, it's nice to give in

Some parenting resources claim the tween years (the tumultuous time between childhood and teen years) begin as early as age 8.  Which means that at the moment, I'm living with a child at both ends of the tween spectrum.
And being typical kids, there are moments they each revel in the ability to reduce their beloved sister to tears.  Or break their mother's heart.  And press buttons.
They press buttons my husband and I didn't even know we had, and once they find those buttons...well, some days they're worse than a toddler going after a remote.

Most days, it's a battle to stay calm and focused.  Our mornings are full of "I'm not going to go to school, and you can't make me!"  And various reasons why...generally PE related and involving yelling, collapsing, going to jail for not running fast enough and other hyperbole.  (We've learned it's best not to laugh.  Much better to sive a sympathetic hug, a sincere "I'm sorry you don't want to go," and hand them their shoes.)

But today...today Bumblebee poked her head out of her cocoon, batted her lovely caterpillar eyes at me, and asked to please stay home.  She complained she hurt all over.  Her throat was scratchy.  She was so tired.
I told her I was tired, too.  After all, who gets up every 20 minutes to break up a fight that escalates from soft whispers to reverbrating "I hate you"s that friends 3 blocks away can probably hear?  That's right.  Mom.  And sometimes dad.
I've dragged her crying from the sheets every morning this week.  Dressed her like baby doll, ordered her to the restroom, prepared a breakfast she lay her head down next to and sobbed and then drove her to school.

She wasn't crying.  (yet).
I looked at her for a long time.  I thought about my to do list.  I sighed.
And then I gave in.

I know I shouldn't have.  She wasn't running a fever.  But, we've had some rough mornings.  Some long afternoons.  And lets not even discuss the evenings.  
So, to sum up today...Bumblebee went back to bed with a smile.  She helped me put groceries away.  She finished her big report.  We snuggled up together and read a book.  We chatted about...well, nothing.  And everything.  We watched Seventh Heaven.  We took a nap. 
And when her sister came home, there was no fighting. 
Maybe the only thing I knocked off my intended "To do" list was the grocery store...but I feel as if I got so much more by spending the day with my daughter. 
I know, we can't take days off "just because" and it's irresponsible to keep kids out of school unless they are contagious or about to collapse from exhaustion...but sometimes, once in a very long while, it's nice to give in and spend the day just reconnecting.  Monday, she's back to the old routine. 

Hassle free Holiday

This year, as you may have already guessed from my last post, was rather quiet.  I wasn't up for nearly as much energetic running around as my heart wanted me to be...and I turned most of the preparations over to the overly-excited Penguin and Bumblebee. 
They did an amazing job.  They planned and picked out the perfect gift for everyone (or so we hope...everyone seemed happy enough with their choices); they raided the wrapping stash and decorated each present with bows, ribbons and carefully chosen tags.  They created crafts to round things out, and give themselves the opportunity to give something "JUST" from them. 
We managed our annual gluten free baking experiment...a pastry crust, requested by Bumblebee, and although it wasn't what dh and I look for in a pastry crust, the kids were very happy with the resultant apple pie.  With french/dutch topping (brown sugar and cinnamon!)  We served Santa applesauce fritters (which dh was kind enough to fry up) and chocolate chip cookies. 
We skimped on the fun healthy foods, I'm afraid. 
Christmas Eve, we spent mostly at home.  My parents dropped by to drop off gifts; but we agreed to wait on opening most gifts until Christmas morning.  I just felt totally wiped out, it's hard to be social and nauseous at the same time. 
My kids were wonderful hosts, and eagerly stacked up the gifts to go; politely requesting that the "really important" ones get opened in front of them...and received the 'ooohs' and 'ahhs' that were due. 
After dark, we all bundled up and tumbled into the car to tour the highlighted Christmas light displays in our local vicinity.  We only went out for about 20 minutes, and only got out of the car once, but it was a nice way to settle in for the evening. 
The kids did stay up WAY too late.  I'm surprised Santa managed to come at all.  When I got up for a drink of water at midnight, Bumblebee startled me in the kitchen...convinced she was about to face the big guy himself! 
Somehow, though, he managed...because early Christmas morning, Penguin gently shook me awake and asked if it was time...and once she'd convinced Bumblebee and Mr. Violets to awaken as well, we slipped out to the living room to find our stockings filled with goodies, the cookies half eaten, and two brand new scooters.  Bumblebee examined hers to find it decorated with a fairy and a reference to her beloved WF.  (WF stands for Weird Fairies.  A comic strip she has created specifically to help counter the uber-popular Disney fairies.  She loves Tinkerbell...and hates that everyone else likes her to.  Bumblebee and her friends do NOT want to get lost in the crowd.)  "Santa is Awesome!" she declared. 
Of course, there followed the requisite first ride...still in pajamas!  :-)  And a few pictures for the scrapbook...although I'm not posting pj pics of my kids online.  Sorry. 
We had a very nice, laid back morning...although I did follow it with a nap...and managed to get to my in laws for a small gift exchange in the early afternoon.  Again, the kids were proud to distribute their chosen presents...and excited to hear that they'd made great choices. 
I slipped out and went back home for another nap soon after the last of the wrapping paper was stuffed into the recycle bin.  I'm not sure why I want to nap so much, but I sleep like the dead so I must be needing it. 
As I tucked the kids into bed that night, they were happy and smiley.  Although they did have one regret...Thank you notes might be a little more difficult this year, because instead of being focused on what they got from who, they were so excited about giving and worried about what their recipients thought of the wrapping and the present inside that they completely forgot to get wrapped up in the 'getting' part. 
Penguin felt that she was gifted some of the best toys EVER.  (And the amount of time she's spent actually playing with toys the past 2 days seems to support that theory)  But, she also confessed that she forgot to pay as much attention to who they were from. 
"Do you think there's something wrong with me?" she asked with a worried frown, "It's like I was more interested in giving than in what I was in getting." 
I told her that meant there was something very right. 

A Haunting Good Time

Halloween weekend was full of fun festivities for our family. 
We held our breath throughout the week when Bumblebee developed a fever and took to bed for a few days, not out of undue concern for her health (we were certain she'd recover fairly quickly, especially if she'd consent to taking just a little dye free motrin to bring it down) but because it was so close to Halloween.  What if she missed all the fun?  :P 
Thankfully, Friday morning she bounced (well, rolled and stumbled, really) out of bed and double checked her costume one last time before leaving for school.  She had settled on a Graduation Girl in honor of Junie B Jones, but couldn't quite bear to spill grape juice "splotchies" or "Polka dottie" all over the beautiful white graduation gown I found stuffed unceremoniously in the back of the closet.  I made a new mortar board for her, tacked on a tassle, and we quickly rolled up a diploma for her to proudly carry around the schoolyard for the parade. 
Penguin, the mature middle schooler, was allowed to wear her costume to school and glowed with the reviews.  Thankfully, I had no last minute baking to do since middle school skips the official class parties and what not.  There was a cookie in her lunch.  She had a perfect costume (Minnie Mouse, with a skirt long enough to remove the black leggings if the California weather got too hot)  She was happy. 

The elementary school hosted a parade where Bumblebee proudly marched around the blacktop with her class.  Nothing special.  But it's fun for the kids, and I went to support her and snap pictures. 
Afterwards was the class party.  I must say it was surreal to not have to provide anythign or fuss over my kid.  I opted to stay for awhile when I overheard the teacher warning the other moms to cook the separate pancake mix first so it didn't get cross contaminated with any wheat at all. 
Oh.  Celiac?  Curiosity and this weird innate sense of protection for unknown children got the better of me.   
They did a wonderful job at ensuring that one child in the classroom stayed safe (there was another food allergy child as well, but his mom was there so I removed him from my warning radar) and were extremely discreet about the allergies.  The children know about the child who has life threatening nut allergies because there is an epi pen in the classroom and because they aren't supposed to bring peanut products during rainy day lunch, as we learned before.  They didn't know about the child with Celiac, they didn't need to.  They still have no idea.  I wouldn't know if I hadn't picked up on the food policing and offered to help. 
I turned down the request for help flipping pancakes.  Not that I didn't want to help, but I was concerned about the safety of spraying Pam.  I know it's an issue for other uncornies, and coupled with the proximity of the whipped cream can (and the way the flecks of whipped cream kept hitting one mom in the face) I felt it was a little safer to stand elsewhere.  
I was then asked to go around with the milk. 
Blank stare. 
I'm afraid I had to ask them to repeat themselves several times before it occurred to me that "Oh, right!  Some people drink milk!" 
I felt like an idiot.  But, I learned that another family doesn't keep milk or milk products in their home.  They don't like to be different or make a scene, so they let the kids have milk products when out and about...it's a "happy compromise" and they don't seem to react too much.  I really wanted to say something more about our experience...how we thought Penguin was fine and dandy with a little milk baked into goodies, a bit of cheese or yoghurt with dinner, an occasional serving of real ice cream.  That she didn't know that the nausea and abdominal pain she felt were abnormal.  She never thought to complain, only occasionally comment.  But this really didn't seem like the place or the time to get into those details, so I simply said something about how we used to think the same thing, but my oldest can't tolerate any at all now and asked the first table if anyone wanted milk. 
I felt like a bit of a hypocrite pouring this white poison into their little glasses...thinking of what it would do to my poor daughter.  But then the other half of my brain snapped in and said "You idiot, as long as they aren't allergic to it, it's better than soda!"  And I kept pouring with a smile. 
One girl asked "Is this real milk or fake milk?" And I snatched the cup out of her hand almost before she'd finished speaking. 
"This is cow's milk, what do you usually drink at home?"  I asked suspiciously. 
"Whole milk with vitamin D," she proudly stated and I handed the cup back to her. 
When we ran out I looked at the next jug thoughtfully, and asked myself if you shake cow's milk.  Tried to discreetly hold it up to the light, but it didn't look separated so I decided to stick with a gentle swish just to make myself feel better before I opened it. After all, Rice Dream needs a good shake, but that gallon jug was awfully heavy and awkward. 
Bumblebee was ecstatic.  The main highlight of the party were favor sized card games which the children were given time to play, and little plastic "knock the ball into the cup" type games.  The food was relatively healthy, and colored like real, normal food.  She drank water instead of milk, although I'm not sure she's ever tasted cow's milk.  They had lots of fruit ("Yum!") and pumpkin pancakes. She says her teacher makes "good choices"; which is a wonderful way to wrap up Red Ribbon Week, too. 

After school was the elementary school carnival.  We played games to our hearts content, and won plenty more than candy.  In fact, there was only one piece of candy that was brought home total.  I told them to throw it in the trick or treat bowl and we'd pretend the rest had been taken already.  :P 

All in all...a great start to the weekend. 

Halloween Horrors

It's that time of year, again.  My sewing machine has been singing, cloth snippets sprinkle the floor, and everyone checks clothes piles for pins before snatching them off the sofa or lounging over them.  (A nasty habit I discourage, growl about, snap over yet never quite manage to eradicate) 
Costumes have taken shape.  Plans are made to decorate the front yard (although I'm not so sure the cobwebs will make it out...) and the excitement surrounding trick or treating is beginning to build.
School parties are also being planned, and the buzz on all the parenting with food allergy boards centers on the challenge of preparing appealing treats that the kids will enjoy.

Unfortunately, although we've all read and raved over "The Unhealthy Truth", I see that it just hasn't been taken to heart by many.
In the face of adversity...and potential tears or disappointment...the worst in us comes out.  Parents who spring for organic milk, hormone free meat, and all natural juice are stocking their cupboards with vibrant sprinkles, frighteningly neon chewy candies, bright lollipops and other chemical experiments. Favorite ghoul goodies of the year include crispy rice treats, made with marshmallows (corn syrup, blue dye and powdered sugar), crisped rice cereal, margarine and lots of sugar, colored with bottled coloring or decorated with canned frosting (more corn syrup and several preservatives and artificial flavoring compounds) and food coloring gels; clear cups filled with artificially vibrant colors of gelatin decorated to look like monster heads, and of course homemade cookies and cupcakes with monstrous amounts of tinted icing.
These goodies can be made without gluten, or dairy, or nuts.  They are free of the top 8 allergens and sometimes even a few more.  They can delight kids who eat the evil eight on a daily basis, while allowing our own necessarily deprived kids feel like one of the bunch.
It's lonely having allergies that preclude even those decorations.  Although, I'm happy for the excited parents and the smiling recipients.  
Unfortunately, I can't help but wonder what the long term trade off is.
Artificial colors trigger major migraines in my oldest.  Studies show that they cause hyperactive activity in children not diagnosed with ADHD.  They are a neurological stimulant.  And certain ones are linked to cancer in laboratory animals. 
And they don't even have any redeeming nutritional flavor.  And, as petrochemicals derived from coal tar, they're bad for the environment to boot. 

Halloween isn't just a once a year, rare treat excuse for a food fest.  It's the gateway to 3 months full of food related activities.  As we finish off the Trick or Treat leftovers, we'll start in on Friendship Feasts, winter wonderlands, and ending with Valentines.  Then a short break before spring and summer parties.  More sugar, more food coloring to cover the absence of allergens.
As we drift farther into the year away from 'candy day' we tell ourselves that we're cutting back.  But in reality, Halloween is the setback day.  We make an allowance for this one "special day" of sugar and sweet poisons, then we simply spend the next several months making less bad choices, remembering how much junk we sent coursing through our brains and intestines to celebrate the spirits...and congratulate ourselves on comparative restraint.
My kids know that food colorings aren't a special treat.  They'll be not only content, but giddy over a few chocolate bars and some Yummy Earth Lollipops, supplemented with silly bandz. 
Of course, they are blessed with an immediate reaction.  They can look at a confection and weigh it's tantalizing taste with tonight's pain, and although I recognize the maturity involved it breaks my heart to see them struggle.  
Unfortunately, this is the time of year when dye triggered reactions or 'allergies' are the loneliest.  As I bond with other food allergy moms, I'm still the odd man out...but even if I COULD give my kids that stuff, I like to think I wouldn't want to.  I realize that it would be a slippery slope, one I'm glad not to have to navigate. 
Meanwhile, we'll enjoy the finer points of Halloween.  The harvest festivals, the scarecrows and pumpkin carving, the costumes and spooky decorations.  We'll bake cookies, and squash, and put away the air conditioner.  We'll turn on the porch light and sip cocoa.  And the kids will tumble into bed, having survived the toughest food allergy holiday of the year. 

There is nothing in our society more emotional than the subject of food.  Just ask any mother to be...the battle between breast and bottle usurps more conversations and internet boards than any other newborn topic.  Then there is the question of when to introduce solids (You're a bad mom if you intro too early.  An even worse one if you starve your poor darling by introducing 'too late'.  And the standards keep changing.)  Then there are religious dietary restrictions.  Health nuts.  Food allergies.  Food intolerances.  Behavior disorders responding to dietary intervention.  Pesticides, salicylates, MSG, preservatives, sugar and transfats.
However...although many of these may bring about a spike in blood pressure, or a bona fide shouting match...the most explosive issue in PTA meetings across America can be the issue surrounding a simple Peanut Butter sandwich.
It's simple.  It's easy.  It's tasty.  It's deadly to a select few.
And that's what adults can't even wrap their brains around.
It scares me to think what kids can do.  That even at their most malicious, the elementary school kids who pick up on their parents' annoyance with a potential peanut butter ban or their classmates obvious avoidance of anything peanut related, won't realize the potential cost of exposure.  They may think they're being funny by shoving a granola bar under an allergy sufferer's nose, or smearing peanut butter on someone's arm.  They may know it's mean.  But teasing, in their brains, is designed to demonstrate the futility of an irrational fear.  There's no room in their for the possibility that a fear of food could possibly be rational.
What really scares me are the potential consequences.  Not just for the victim, but the attacker.
Imagine that you're 8 years old.  You hate pink.  You passionately hate pink.  Your friend's favorite color is pink, and she happens to wear a pink baseball cap to school one day.  "Wear it!" she says, and you shake your head.
This evolves into a battle of wills, and at some point she jumps up and pops it on your head...you brush it off, glare at her, the teacher tells you both to knock it off, she giggles uncomfortably and you later make up.
Now imagine you're the "bully" with the pink cap.  And your friend says she doesn't want to wear it.  After insisting that it's pretty, it'll look nice, it won't clash with her iron-red hair, you pop it on her head...and she knocks it off, falls down and starts gasping for breath.  An ambulance arrives and she's rushed to the hospital, unconscious.
Obviously, you're at fault for forcing the cap over her head.  You knew she didn't like pink, didn't want to wear the cap, and you refused to accept her wishes.  But you didn't comprehend that putting a cap on her head could kill her.
It's the same thing with food allergies.  For the vast majority of kids, food is simply an aesthetic experience.  They may not like certain textures or temperatures, or flavors.  But they express their unique opinions and that's that.  Most adults experience childhood opinions simply as an extension of their sense of selves...kids express opinions and in their limited lifespan sense that whether they get a red or green lollipop is a matter of life and death; they want to live...they want a red one like their best friend or they'll be doomed to dorky green forever.  (This is what spawned the infamous "Get what you get and don't throw a fit" saying)
Unfortunately, food allergic kids get lumped in the same category as the doomed dorks...the ones who are picky, won't eat crusts or colors or soggy crackers.  The ones who recoil from plantlike objects on their plate.

It's a hard situation.  No one can fault the tuna fish lover for sticking their tongue out at the picky eater or waving their odorous sandwich under the nose of someone who's pretending to gag.  As long as both parties are having relative fun, it's relatively harmless.
But what about a kid who is fearful of peanut butter sandwiches...because they have an epi pen sequestered in their belt?  Or because they've recently tested positive for peanuts as an allergen and their parents are in the process of ascertaining how serious the allergy is?  Their fear is real, based on symptomatic consequences, not aesthetics.
How is a yard duty to know the difference between one kid screaming "No, keep that sandwich away!" because it's gross and they make people laugh by reacting, and another screaming "No, keep it away" out of real fear?  The fact is they can't.  At this point in time, the severity and far reaching implications of food allergy are just too abstract for most people.   
Food allergies shouldn't relegate a kid to a lifelong bubble.  A child with food restrictions is still a child, first and foremost.  They deserve to live life to the fullest of their ability, and even the ADA protects that right.  
Which is why the new trend of Food Bullies is so disturbing.  Neither the bully nor the victim are sure how to define it.  Even witnesses might not process, immediately, the dangers of what's going on.  But, it impacts a child's sense of safety.  It threatens certain children's safety, and perhaps their lives. 
My kids are lucky.  If faced with a food bully, they will be annoyed.  Frustrated, their feelings possibly hurt.  Penguin assures me that the worst bullies she sees are substitute teachers, who tell her that milk is important and she will get very sick if she keeps refusing to drink it.  I'm not sure if this makes me pleased, or sad.  Since the behavior is obviously judgemental, but not necessarily bullying.  And there's not much I can do (other than calling the office each time it happens to express my displeasure.  Which I do.  I don't think it's happened in awhile, it's just made a deep impact.)  Anyways...my kids will survive food bullies.
But not every parent can literally say the same.
Not every bully is intentional, and that thought is just as scary.
I will continue to teach my kids the importance of tolerance, and accepting that something specific might be important to one person for reasons that we simply can't comprehend but should respect.  

Time in a bottle

Some days I wish I could simply bottle. 
It's Labor Day weekend.  We should be going to a park, or the zoo, or cleaning out the garage.  We probably should be barbequing.  Or shopping.
Instead, I'm sitting at the computer, listening to the chatter of two voices and the clink of their toys as they create a wonderland in the livingroom.  There are corrals set up around the fireplace.  Toy bins have been upended to make either traps or houses, it's hard to tell which.  Molded plastic horses, and kitens, and dogs and jungle animals are carefully laid out in intricate interactions across the floor.  There are strings draped from chair rungs to plastic hooves, and bits of paper shredded and piled as 'winter preperations'.  There's giggling, and I catch bits and pieces of phrases like "Oh, wait...no, I have it...they should..." and "That's a great idea!  And then..." 
I let the moments wrap around me, holding my breath when I slip into the room, watching their heads bowed together over a cheap plastic saddle, and slipping out again, careful not to diturb their game. 
We don't get full blown games like this very often anymore. 
There was a time when any item, any moment, every day was filled with fantasy worlds and magical moments.  But at 8 and 12, we're straddling the lines between child and teenager.  Family or friends.  Toys and gadgets.  Games and gossip. 
Today, I'm listening to the blossom of creativity as they dream.  Anything could happen. 
Earlier, Penguin asked for pizza bread, expressing a desire for some savory baked item.  We went online, then whipped together a cup of brown rice flour, an egg, some salt, oil and just over half a cup of water. 
Her tummy is filled with this concoction dipped in pasta sauce.  (her sister spread jam on it...Bumblebee believes anything baked should be sweet)  And I feel like it is a good day.  A successful day.  A fulfilling day. 
Even if there are dishes to do and no path cutting across the living room. 
There's laundry to fold, and shelves that need dusting...but just now, I'm going to close my eyes and listen to kids being kids.  Because today won't last.  And a camera couldn't hope to capture it. 

Assembly

My husband is on the floor, with an open box and a variety of parts and pieces carefully spread out around him. 
"Can I help?" Bumblebee asks.
"Sure," he says, while carefully looking at a packet of screws. 
"I found a paper!  Hey, these are the directions!"
"Awesome, but we don't need the directions." 
She looks at him suspiciously and he defends himself by claiming he's a boy and boys don't usually need directions. 
She perks up and grins.  "I'm a girl!  I could read them for you!" 

Problem solved.