Is Gluten Free really Healthier?

The new "fad diet"; Gluten free! Is it really healthier?

There seems to be a lot of confusion. Whole foods offers healthy options. Whole foods offers organic produce. Whole foods offers eco friendly products. Whole Foods also offers Gluten Free goodies. Therefore; gluten free is healthy for everyone, right?

Well, maybe. But simply eating gluten free products isn't necessarily healthy for anyone (Celiac patients included!)

As we've covered before, gluten is the protein found in wheat, rye, barley and sometimes oats. For people with Celiac Disease, it causes an immune response which damages the intestines. This is serious...without the little villi in your intestinal walls, you don't digest your food properly. Which means, you can get malnourished.

Some people are simple sensitive to gluten. And with all the research going on, some people wonder if gluten is good for anyone. Others are concerned because a gluten free diet appears limiting. Could it possibly be safe to give up wheat?

The thing is, our society relies too heavily on grains. It's not unusual for the typical American to eat a bowl of wheat cereal with some toast, snack on a bagel, eat a sandwich for lunch, some pizza and salad with croutons for dinner, wash it down with a handful of cookies and call it a relatively rounded diet. In fact, they just ate several days' worth of gluten (and corn) with a bit of veggie and meat thrown in for flavor.

If you eat the typical American fare, and simply substitute your bread for a gluten free variety your pocketbook is going to take a serious hit. Your body won't thank you much, either. Gluten free baking relies on a variety of starches and sugars to create an acceptable mouthfeel, and please our tastebuds. In some ways, a slice of gluten free white bread isn't nearly as healthy as a slice of whole grain wheat. (Unless you have Celiac Disease, of course, in which case the whole grain wheat is equivalent to eating arsenic. Don't do it.)

However, a healthy diet can be gluten free. Vegetables are gluten free. Potatoes, meats, eggs and fruit are gluten free. You can eat a varied diet, a rainbow of nutrients, without touching a grain of gluten. A gluten free diet that involves a variety of nutrients, from a plethora of sources, is perfectly healthy.

However, like most diets, its easy to follow an unhealthy version. And too many people look for the easy way out. Eating gluten free convenience items, which have been altered to be gluten free, is no different than eating regular convenience foods all the time. Except that most gluten free foods aren't enriched with synthetic vitamins to make them look a little healthier.

In other words, turning a dish gluten free doesn't "healthy it up". Leaving an ingredient out of a meal does not improve it's health content in and of itself. But there are a myriad of healthy, whole food menus that don't include gluten (Or dairy, or corn. At least, in their natural state). Since grains are a relatively recent addition to the human diet, real food can naturally be gluten free. And tasty too.

I know my diet is far from ideal. My goal is simply healthIER. Not genuinely healthy. In this society, it would be pretty difficult to reach that lofty ambition.

Surviving, with no regrets.

I think we're going to make it.

After 6 days of fever (the first 3 spent entirely in bed) for one, 2 days of very high fever for another, and Mommy trying to lose count of her own fever daze; I think we're on the mend. Mr. Violets is still managing to pick up the household chores, and going to work, too. (3 cheers!)

I also have no regrets about not getting the H1N1 vaccine.

Sure, I felt awful. And watching my kids suffer only increased this feeling of guilt. What if I could have stopped it? Good heavens, if I can suffer instead I will. (Especially as my baby girl just laid there with a fever of 104 that wouldn't budge, sipping at water and occasionally asking if I thought she'd be better in time to do her timeline at school. What could I say? "Not today, kiddo." Checked with the dr. No breathing difficulty, I wasn't really concerned about anything other than the heat that radiated from her tiny body. And the occasional tremors that started whenever she'd start to cool off, her body's way of increasing heat to bring her core temperature up to it's desired temp. 104. I've learned from her sister that 107 is now considered the "not compatible with survival" red flag. But most people stick with 104 since it makes you feel rotten enough to look scary and as far as germs are concerned there's not much difference between a 101 fever and a 106 one. Both will kill off invaders.)

What's wrong with me? Has the fever cooked my brains? (Maybe, I was having some pretty interesting dreams about Percy Jackson...But only because the final book finally came in at the library, just in time for flu season.) A simple shot, a pinprick, a magic bullet could have prevented the past week's suffering.

No, seriously. We had it. We're on the mend. We missed a week of school, for which I feel bad. I know that the school desperately needs the money it loses each day a student stays home, whether it's due to illness, funerals, vacations, lice, spinning to fast on the playground, or a bee sting. I know the that each day is important to academic success. I know that the routine of going to school daily is vital for the kids to learn, and respect, and accept.

I also know that the flu happens. It's mother nature. It's life. It's a long lived cycle. Illnesses, epidemics, occur repeatedly throughout history. In fighting the flu, I felt like we were fighting a known enemy. Maybe the pathogen was more difficult to recognize. Maybe our powers of prediction were tested in this particular case. But in the end, it was us versus a virus. It felt like a fair fight.

Vaccines carry a lot of risks. Maybe it's just because I personally experienced a potentially life threatening reaction of partial paralysis (considered to be only a theoretical risk) but I'm wary of using medical science to try and outsmart nature. I feel like when we accept a vaccine, we're still playing a part in a massive double blind study.

They are predicting that the risk of serious adverse reactions are less than 1 per 100,000. That means that if everyone in the US were to stick their arms out for a vaccine, 30,000 would theoretically be damaged. Sacrificed for the good of the rest of the population.

Out of over 300 million people, 30 thousand really doesn't sound like so many. However, if you are the one in 100,000 your opinion will probably change significantly. The CDC admits that the vaccine was rushed. The multi-dose vials do contain thimerosol (an additive that's been linked to all sorts of nasty side effects.) For those who the vaccine takes effectiveness in (It's not 100% effective) it can take 10 days for immunity to take hold. Kids require 2 vaccines, spread 2 weeks apart. And vaccine clinics are just starting.

Quite frankly, this is early in flu season. Even if we'd jumped on the bandwagon, odds are that we'd have been hit anyways.

I'm not saying that vaccines are bad. They are one of many important tools we can use to protect those who are particularly susceptible. Infants, people with immune disorders, the elderly. (Although, the elderly seem to be pretty resilient against the current threat) I am saying that I felt much more at ease fighting off an infection using my own defenses than I'd feel watching my children rally against a reaction to an unknown agent. Is it a preservative allergy? A reaction to the vaccine itself? A different virus? Will there be permanent damage? And of course the haunting questions yet to come...Did I cause, or even contribute to, this (insert medical condition here) by pinning down my baby to inject her with something, just because everybody else was doing it?

It's NOT just in your head...

For years doctors have claimed that the vast majority of gut complaints are the direct result of emotional stability. Stress. Anxiety. Control issues.

Elaine Gottschal watched a diet prescribed by Dr. Haas heal her daughter. She went on to write a book, now published as "Breaking the Viscious Cycle," which embraced the theory that gut bacteria were intrinsically linked to whole health. Especially gastrointestinal health.

Elaine went on to explain that the bad bugs crave sugar...in essence causing the human host to crave sugar. (Try and explain this to the typical MD, and he'll try very hard not to laugh directly at you.) She also explained how obesity can be caused by starvation...the bad bugs "stealing" all those yummy carbs and sugars.

After only 60 years or so, medical science has begun to wake up and agree. Those carb cravings may not be just in our heads (and tastebuds). Neither are they a product of our genes. Nope, studies have proven that people who eat chocolate have different intestinal bacteria than people who do not eat chocolate, leading to a difference in various metabolic byproducts in the blood and urine of test subjects.

Studies have also proven that intestinal flora changes after a change in weight.

Scientists feel this is exciting because if we can find ways to manipulate the bacteria, we can nudge it in the right direction for people trying to meet specific goals.

I wonder what far reaching research could lead to? They're already experimenting with certain parasites to treat Crohns disease, acknowledging that probiotics are vital for intestinal health, and begrudgingly admitting that natural vitamins might serve humans better than synthetic ones. What can gut bacteria teach us about allergies and autoimmune disorders?

What else is "all in our head", but really tied to the gut?

Out of the mouths of...well, kids and tweens?

I love chatting with my kids. They say the funniest things. They may not be toddlers still exploring their world, but as big kids they still are learning, discovering, and discovering their own identities. This means they can say some really amusing things. And I like to share my stories. A blog seems like the ideal spot to do that. Here are a few favorites from this week:

--Penguin explained that they were talking about flying cars earlier. And she thought it would be funny in the future when they thought that those weird things on wheels in the museum were labeled "Cars" pronouncing it "Sarz", because of the C. Even more confusing because it's short for Automobile.
Wait. That really doesn't make sense. Huh. Why do they call cars, 'cars'?
I don't know.

--(After a rough afternoon) Me "Hey, we don't kick even if we are mad at someone."
Bumblebee: "I wasn't kicking. I was putting my feet on you HARD."

--Penguin (While shopping earlier this week) "Oh, look, they're building something! I hope they don't take down that really old pretty dead tree. It's so pretty! But I think it's dead. It looks dead. It's pretty, though."

--Bumblebee "I wonder why we give out candy for Halloween. The real spirit of Halloween is to remember dead people and scare away bad spirits. What does that have to do with dressing like Hannah Montana?"

--Bumblebee, on hearing her sister has a fever the morning of Halloween: "Why does Penguin have to be sick on holidays? It's not fun to be sick on Holidays. Except Christmas. Because on Christmas you still can have fun even when you're sick. You just give people their presents late."

Give that girl a gold star

"What?!? I don't get it," Bumblebee was snuggled up in my lap and is now scrunching up her eyebrows at my book.
Don't worry, it's an adult book, but not adult content! I'm reading "The Hundred Year Lie" and have hit the chapter on vitamins. I think I need to refrain from commenting out loud and reading random passages to my husband, at least in the hearing of little ears.

"At the level of molecules seen under an electron microscope, synthetic and natural vitamins may look similar to some chemists, but they don't assimilate the same way in the human body."

The above sentence is a direct quote from the page she's scratching her head over.

"What do they mean?" Bumblebee asks again. Hmm. How do I put that in seven year old speak?

"Well," I try, looking over the preceding paragraphs for guidance, "they take cornstarch and corn sugar and mix it up with chemicals until it looks like vitamin c under the microscope. And that's called synthetic, or fake, vitamin c. They did a study that says even though some synthetic, or fake, vitamins look the same under a microscope, they don't work the way vitamins in our food work."

She sits and thinks for awhile.
"So, they use a bunch of chemicals and make things that look like vitamins and smell like vitamins and taste like vitamins and feel like vitamins and sound like vitamins?"
"Um, yeah, essentially."
"And then they are surprised that they don't work like vitamins?"
"Yup, that's pretty much what that page is saying."
"But don't they know they're still chemicals? They aren't vitamins!"
"I know, but they look like vitamins under a microscope. So the scientists thought they'd be close enough."
"But they aren't."
"No," I acknowledge, "No, they aren't."
"I knew that," she says, "They're still chemicals. Only our food has real vitamins."
I agree with her.
"I'm seven and I'm smarter than a scientist," she ponders, "Maybe I can be a scientist when I grow up."
"That'd be nice," I tell her.
"And I'll draw my studies," she says, as if suddenly a problem is solved and everything has fallen into place.
"Okay," I smile at her. It is her life's ambition to be a "kid" artist so she won't have to grow up.
"Because an artist," she explains, "Is so busy all the time. Everyone wants pictures. Of themselves, and of pretty things. For like their windows, and their fridge, and everything! That's a lot of work. If I'm a scientist, I can still draw fun things and just maybe sell them for money."
Okay. This is priceless.
"And I can just do scientist stuff the rest of the time. Because no one wants anything from scientists. So, they aren't very busy. They just like, write books about their study and stuff. And maybe I'll draw pictures, because I'm good at drawing pictures."

I think that's a great idea.
I tell her that I hope she also remembers to think things through.

"Well, duh. I'm not going to forget that chemicals are NOT vitamins, even if I make them look like vitamins in a microscope." She tells me disparagingly.

That's my girl.
If anyone can take on the world and win, it's Bumblebee in righteous whirlwind mode.

((There was more to the conversation, and I may have gotten some of the wording slightly wrong. But I guarantee the heart of the matter is captured here.))

Scene from the bedroom...

Penguin's at rehearsal. Bumblebee is quietly coloring in her room. Occasionally I hear her low voice, speaking quietly to our next door neighbor through the window.

I'm folding laundry.

Suddenly I hear a thunk, a screech, and a wild cry that does not belong to my child. I pause.
Bumblebees voice shouts "I'm sorry, okay,"
Another voice screeches "You hit me, you hit me, you hit me, it hurts!"

I drop the laundry.

Bumblebee is sitting wide eyed on her bed.
Neighbor child is standing outside the window, clutching her head with both hands and screeching "Bumblebee hit me, it hurts, it hurts!"

The window is intact.

So is the screen.
A quick investigation reveals no way for me to quickly or effectively reach injured neighbor child.

I look from one to the other, raise an eyebrow, sit back on my heels and ask Bumblebee what exactly happened.

"The stepstool I was coloring on flipped over and hit the window," she says, looking me right in the eye, "Apparently it hit Ms neighbor."

I look at the still-keening neighbor child.
"Um, Neighbor, Hon? Are you okay?" I ask through the screen.

"No, I was just sitting here playing and she hit me on purpose! It hurts so bad!" she wails.
"Okay," I say, still studying the intact screen and window frame, "Whose in charge today? Your sister? Do you need us to bring you an ice pack, or do you have one in the fridge?"

Suddenly the sobs stop. Her hands slowly drop away from her head. Wheels turn behind those eyes, but I have no idea what she's thinking.
"Um, I'm okay," she says, sniffing back the remnants of tears.

I study her for a moment.
"If you just got hit in the head with a stepstool, we should tell another adult about it," I tell her, imagining goose egg lumps and concussions. The stepstool is a nice, sturdy wooden one. "Do you need me to come explain what happened to whoever's in charge?"

The child is 6. I've seen the tag teams trade places. I hear voices speak to her on a regular basis. I know there's an adult over there somewhere.

Eyes widen. Head shakes quickly.

"No, that's okay. I'm okay. She did hit me, but um, I'm okay now. It didn't really hurt."

I give both girls another Look. Neighbor girl forces a nervous laugh. There are tear stains on her cheeks.

"How did she hit you in the head with a step stool without breaking the window?" I ask in exasperation.
"I don't know!" Bumblebee wails, "Stop yelling at me!"
"On purpose!" neighbor girl says, and flounces off.

Bumblebee flops down on the pillows and sobs broken heartedly.
Okay.

Those two are up to something. I just can't figure out what, exactly.
But I'm buying Bumblebee a cheap plastic lapdesk, just in case.

Getting creative

Well, trying to get creative, anyways.

I have figured out my problem. The real trouble is quite simply the vast number of intolerances I'm juggling. Lets see...The sum total of everyone's current avoidances?

Gluten
Corn (and all of it's derivatives)
Dairy
Squash/gourds (Includes cucumber and melon)
Citrus
Cruciferous vegetables (broccolli etc)
Soy (lecithin okay)
Potatoes
Yeast
Refined sugar
pecans (and possibly other nuts)
Artificial dyes and preservatives
sesame (including oil)
kidney beans
asparagus
beef
pork
shellfish
Olives (including oil)
green beans
lentils

It seems like I'm forgetting something...Hmmm...

Plus all foods need to be carefully washed, peeled, and thoroughly cooked. Even fruit.
Avocados are the exception. Maybe overly ripe bananas.
Still crunchy onion in scrambled egg? Yum, but bad. Stuffing with nice, thick chunks of celery for crunch? Delish, but bad.
And there are foods that are good, but only in moderation. Sauteed spinach. Guar gum/xanthan gum (not good on any of our tummies) Quinoa. Beans. Artichokes. Sweet potatoes.
And foods that we're supposed to try under controlled conditions. Nuts/nut butters, tomatoes, anything "new".

And then there's the whole clueless-when-it-comes-to-meat issue.
It's hard to find food we all can eat!
Then you have to take into account food preferences. Bumblebee won't touch beans. Or chicken. Or sweet potatoes. Or...well, she's picky. It's better if her foods don't touch too much. And if they aren't soup. Or saucy. And if she can dip them in parmesan.
Penguin will experiment a bit. But she draws the line at fish. And you can never second guess her. Serve eggs at the wrong moment, and you hear for an hour about how they're "okay, except that they are just disgusting."
And if she doesn't eat, she gets a migraine and misses 2 days of school. (I'm not exaggerating. I can send her, but they send her right back.)

Tonight I was pondering the options. Penguin requested spaghetti (Tinkyada rice pasta) and I was obliging. Since I was craving beans and cheese, I made that on the side for dh and I.
It occurred to me that it wouldn't seem like spaghetti every day, if I could do more with it.

Perhaps stir in some tomato sauce. No, wait.
Maybe just veggies and cheese for a nice...no, wait.
Hmmm.
Well, I could do chow mein for all, sautee onions, garlic, peppers and scramble in some eggs. Drizzle with soy...oh, wait.

Dh and I like the soy-less chow mein. But Penguin prefers the soy cooked in. That takes an extra pot.
We'd like any of the cheese creations, too. But they're blends, so bumblebee will only look. And Penguin can't touch. 2 pots, again.
And Penguin and dh would enjoy the tomato bake, especially with olives. But me? Um, I'd like the taste. Tomorrow I'd regret it. And the next day. And the next. Maybe even next week.

We get back into the question of "what will I serve the rest of us?"

*sigh*
Roasted sweet potatoes and eggs for 3
Spagghetti with a variety of toppings feeds all
Rice feeds 3 (we can add beans, or fry it sans soy)
Chicken (with leftover starchy foods) feeds 2-3 of us
3 can eat dinner salads (or side salads made dinner size for those not partaking of the full meal) But the pots and stress of preventing cross contamination drive me batty.

I want to make the kitchen safe for all.

First, I need more options to play with...

Keep your fingers crossed that we pass the wasabi test this weekend. (hopefully this weekend, I reserve the right to back out at any moment.)
I'm not sure it will increase our options any, but man...do I want something spicy!

Emotional Impact

I've now been gluten free for 4 years. And corn free for 6. Active in the food allergy cyber world for a little longer, as I began to delve into the world of food mediated reactions. After all, it takes a lot of courage to admit that something as benign and emotionally charged as food (especially so-called 'health food') could possibly be the root of physical pain. Especially when people are telling you the real problem is located a wee bit above the digestive organs.
In this time, I've seen plenty of other patients come and go along the food avoidance forums. And they all seem to share distinct traits, in shock, indignation, anger and feelings of being overwhelmed. There appears to be a cycle of grief involved in the process of food allergy diagnosis.
To that end, I've put together the following based solely on my observations as someome with no medical training, just a patient who reads and thinks. :-)

They say that there are 7 stages of grief that one must go through whenever they experience a loss. Usually this is discussed in terms of death or divorce. The process is often applied to people who live through disasters, such as fire or severe floods.
Food allergies don't exactly compare to fire, famine, or the loss of a loved one.
But they do constitute a major life change.
When you are diagnosed with food allergies or intolerances past infancy, they become a learning process. Life as you know it has changed, and favorite comfort foods may be lost. There is a grieving process to be gone through.
Few studies have been undertaken to truly study this process. And most professionals are still struggling to separate the emotional complications of medically restricted diets from those of eating disorders. Although the fundamental fear of food is the same, one side has a rational reason and the other (theoretically) has a somewhat irrational fear.
A few publications have dared to publish the deepest, darkest fears of food allergy sufferers. Most stick to the safe surface area. Wow, what do you eat? Wow, how would you survive? And of course, the heartfelt "Hurray, my life is different but it rocks, just the same."
But support groups know the truth. Newbies join online forums and dare to ask, in the safety of anonymity, 'Is this normal?'

Yes.

The stages of grief, as identified by grief counselors are as follows:

1. Shock and Denial. In the world of food allergies, this may mean not wanting to admit that the identified food really is the cause of reactions. Or that the reactions aren't "that bad". Or "Oh, well, at least I can take tomorrow off," and then take a risk. After all they "aren't as bad as some have it..."

2. Pain and Guilt. When the reality of a new style of eating starts to set in, there is a moment (or repeated moments) of panic. We think of pizza, ice cream, coffee creamer, doughnuts and other treats as necessities. How will we live without our favorite comfort foods? What will we do when we "have to" eat out?
For parents, the guilt sets in. What did we do wrong? Surely we should have been able to protect our beloved kids from the pain of exclusion. They deserve a "normal" life. At this stage, we aren't ready to reevaluate the meaning of normal. That process comes with acceptance.

3. Anger and Bargaining. We get angry at ourselves, our doctors, our bodies, even mother nature. Why should we have to suffer? Maybe we make bargains with ourselves. "If we let ourselves/our child cheat just this once, next time we'll be good." The consequences are usually enough to keep that phase from lasting very long. But if allergies are lie threatening, it can be a dangerous phase. And when it overlaps with the denial phase, or different caregivers hit different phases at the same time, it can be dangerous.

Some parents and siblings may also feel anger towards a child whose restrictions make a major impact on family life. While these feelings are normal, they should be short lived and should not cause any backlash against the child. Spouses, likewise, may feel anger towards the afflicted spouse. Again, the feelings are normal, but if they cause any retalliation against the afflicted one, outside help is needed.

4. Depression/loneliness. This phase tends to represent acceptance of the restrictions. It can be overwhelming. This is the phase where a patient, or an allergy patient's family, may withdraw. Its easier. It's safer. It's also when they need the most support.

5. The Upward Turn. At this point, there is some small success. A cake that tastes good, a compliment on some potluck dish, or the end of a successful evening out. I'll list it as separate, although it often is looped with the next two phases, and for many the first 5 appear to be relived repeatedly.

6. Reconstructing and Working Through: Depending on the food restriction,

7. Acceptance and Hope. This phase never ends. Although there will be backsliding, and occasional slips back to stages 3 and 4, on occasion as far as 2 or even back to denial (especially after feeling really well for a long period of time), once one has reached a point of acceptance, reachieving this stage seems easier and quicker each time.


Using and accepting these phases is vital to reaching a healthy balance in living with food restrictions, not just for the person affected by the restriction personally but for their close family members. There are separations and even incidents of divorce when one family member has trouble getting past feelings of denial or anger. Of course, this can increase feelings of guilt (especially for children) and depression or isolation (especially for parents dealing with nontraditional allergies and delayed reactions). A support system is vital.

Symptoms are not caused by stress. And simply eliminating a single offending food or group of foods is not always enough to alleviate all symptoms. There are remaining physical ailments (from digestive damage and malnutrion caused by years of eating the wrong foods) and there will be a variety of emotional stages. Acknowledging the grieving process is part of the road to complete healing. A wide variety of emotional feelings are normal in the course of diagnosis and learning to live with an allergy. And setbacks are normal, too.

Beauty is...

Every year, our school participates in the National PTA contest called "Reflections". Each child is encouraged to create a work of art; literary, visual, or photographic; share it with their classroom and submit it for judging.
We're always on the lookout for inspiration and excuses to get creative. So we eagerly anticipate the theme's unveiling, and then we spend September brainstorming ideas.
This year, we started working as soon as the signs proclaiming "Beauty is..." went up at the school. And by we, I mean that Ms. Bumblebee sat down to color and I tried not to complain about the crayons left on the floor, or the scraps of paper strewn across the living room for a week.

Then she said she wanted to take a picture.
Wonderful, I said, and took her to a park.
She frowned and said she meant a picture of the sign at the gas station.

Not just the sign, the hinge that holds the sign.

It makes a letter, she told me, it's awesome.
My thoughts were along the lines of a rusty hinge not being the epitome of beauty. However, out loud I told her that was fine. But, maybe we could just look around the park and see if maybe there was something beautiful there.
You might be inspired. You don't even have to plan it, I told her. Play with the camera settings, lets see if you can do black and white, or that cool color swap thing. Penguin wished out loud that her school was participating.
Bumblebee just rolled her eyes at me. And then she found an "R" hidden in tree roots.
Okay. I want to be encouraging, tree roots are definitely a step up from a rusty hinge. Penguin pointed out a knot hole "o". I mentioned that the gorgeous fountains formed an "i".
She took a picture of a crack in the sidewalk.
And a single, fallen leaf.
That was laying on a litter-strewn ground.
With a piece torn off.
Beauty is?
"We need to go to the gas station," she grumbled.
Shall we say I was a bit disconcerted and more than a bit frustrated?

But this was her project. So I encouraged her to keep snapping pictures. I didn't let her see me shudder when she tried a close up of our trash can. "The theme is 'beauty is'" I reminded her.
"I know," she calmly stated, playing with the focus as she trained the camera on the bricks of our fireplace.
"Um, at least use an uncracked brick," I said unhelpfully. She just shook her head then cocked it to the side, grinned and clicked the button.
I quietly thanked the powers that be for digital cameras and (almost) limitless exposures.

Dutifully, I helped her hook up the camera to the computer and upload (download?) photos. I opened adobe for her. I helped her figure out how to open whichever picture she wanted to for editing. And then I stepped back and tried not to think about the trash can photo.

At any rate, I consoled myself, it's unique.

She carefully edited each photo, playing with tools I didn't know we had. She smudged up backgrounds until I could hardly recognize them. She used funky cutters to trim the photos down and focus on the letter she saw.

Her vision began to manifest.In the end, she had an alphabet of hidden letters. Including the rusty hinge of the local gas station sign, her friend's leg in flamingo-pose, a variety of rocks and tree branches and bushes. Not to mention that sidewalk crack. All lovely, viewed in the right perspective.

I discovered that beauty isn't confined to the big picture. Beauty is letting go. It's a 7 year old creating her personal vision. Beauty is listening to laughter and plotting and 'Yes!' as she discovers a letter hidden in an unexpected place. Beauty isn't simply found in the things poets write of. It isn't bigger or better. Sometimes its smaller, subtler. (Sometimes, much subtler.)

As Bumblebee said as we filled out the paperwork together, "With your imagination you can see anything, anywhere."

As I look at the images she created from the bits of real life most of us overlook, either intentionally or unintentionally, I also realize that like the old adage says, beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder.
Beauty is everywhere, if you look through a child's eyes.

Lessons from corn

Although I'd like to say that corn is pure evil, my sensible side keeps intervening.
It isn't corn that's inherently evil. It's what we're doing with corn, nature and everything else.

To paraphrase St. someone: The love of money is the root of all evil. And hence, the quest for money is at the root of all corn. That's what it all boils down to. Money talks.
Right now, money appears to grow in cornfields across the United States.

I've learned more than I wanted to about our food system. I've discovered that the FDA is a business, much like any other. And it's run by humans.

FAAN may have made a difference for thousands, but with all their knowledge and power, they still have an awful lot to learn. I'm only one of many learning from their mistakes.

Safety nets are often made of red tape.

I've learned that there are things I don't want to know or learn. Food was supposed to be easy. You browse the grocery store, you choose new items. It doesn't bite back. You don't worry about what it's doing to your child's hormones or brain development. That's what the FDA is there for...right? Right? RIGHT???

I've learned that experts have tunnel vision. Not only do they have tunnel vision, but it's rewarded with money. And they want to stay in the dark as desperately as I do.

I've learned that women are slightly more prone to food intolerance...or maybe they just admit it more readily than men do.

And I've learned how easy, and satisfying, it is to live outside the box.

As Halloween approaches, a reason to be Thankful...

Halloween is always tough around here.
For oldest, no dye, no dairy, no gluten. Not much sense in trick or treating!
For youngest, it used to be no nuts, but this year it's no dye (and she passed the peanut challenge! Yay! Although she claims they still smell disgusting.)
Really, there aren't all THAT many options out there.

Of course, the kids made do. And adore our yearly ritual of sorting out the candy into safe piles, and then into piles by type. Then we trade in the junk for safe candy and cheap part favors. This year, they even want to use it in experiments. (As in, how long does it take a skittle to dissolve? An M&M? Jolly Rancher?)

We even have a yearly outing to a local zoo, where various local businesses set up stations and give out non-candy items. (Flower seeds are always a big hit, and they actively seek out the Apple Juice booth. No candy, please, just the juice!)

Anyways, despite the fun it's still hard to go to school and see kids gorge on multicolored confections on the beloved sugar fest we call "Halloween". We know in our heads that junk food tastes good to your tongue, and real food tastes good to your tummy, but in practice, it's hard to pass up sprinkles and gummies and frosting. (even if you have your own delicious treat waiting.)

My oldest even watched a woman bribing her son with skittles in the library, "Just be good. Here, what color? Any color. Good boy. Now be good. Fine, another color. Any color. Come on, yummy. Choose a color. Now be good, stay with...No, come back, fine. Look. Candy! Yummy!" And thanked me for not being that kind of mom. (Thankfully, not many of us are. The kid wasn't even misbehaving, just looking at the books on the shelf.)

But when 'everyone else' is eating something that looks good, smells good, and you know tastes good; and they keep tempting you to just take a tiny taste; it's hard to say no. And it's hard to watch your kids struggle with that self control. Self control that many adults have failed to master. (Just ask anyone whose ever tried a fad diet how often they cheated.)

However, there is a reason to be grateful for forced moderation. British studies show that kids who eat an excess of sugar in their formative years actually may be at increased risk for arrest due to violent crimes. Of course, the next question is why those kids ate so many sweets to begin with. Was it a parenting issue? A chemical imbalance? Were the sweets a cause or a symptom? And was it sugar itself or the rise in the use of petrochemicals in sweets over the past 20 or 30 years? (This is purely my speculation, but clearly an avenue investigators will have to explore further, as you can see in the article.)

At any rate, maybe it will be easier to ignore those naysayers who 'tsk, tsk" and tell me that my poor kids are so terribly deprived. Not only are they missing out on sugar highs, migraines, stomach aches and mood swings, their risk of acquiring a violent criminal record is dropping.

Maybe we should celebrate.
Candy, anyone?

Sick (?) Kids

The day started out like any other. The kids grumbling after staying up late reading and giggling. Mom and Dad grumbling because we stayed up late saying "Okay, girls, get some rest."
Penguin has missed a few days of school, and was feeling better. The plan was to push her to just give it a try. She hasn't been running a fever, which is the gold standard, you're-a-bad-parent-who-is-spreading-pandemic-flu criteria for staying home.
"I know, I can make it, I think I'm okay. I just don't really feel good."
"Fine. We can take your temperature,"
"That sounds fair,"
"...and then you are getting up from under that blanket, brushing your hair and putting socks on. Got it? Good."
3 minutes later, I'm staring a silver line that hits 102*
"Really? Really? But I don't feel that...but I'm so cold!"
Right. Cold. Fever. Go back to bed, kiddo. And Bumblebee, get UP! You're going to be late!
"Why is my sister laying down? Isn't she going to be late?"
She's running a fever. Now for the last time, get up! Get dressed! No more dilly dallying, how many times did I have to come in and tell you to settle down and sleep last night?
"But, she doesn't have to go to school? That's not fair! She always stays home. My head hurts, my throat hurts a lot and I still have to go to school this week. It's not fair!"
I hesitate, blanket still in my hand. She did mention a headache yesterday. And her eyes are a little glassy.
"Um, wait a second. Your head still hurts? Your throat hurts?"
She's getting dressed, now.
"Yes, and you still make me go to school! You don't love me, you only love Penguin!"
I have a sinking feeling something isn't quite right here.
"Should we take your temperature?"
Pause.
"Okay." Shrug. "But it won't be a fever and you're still going to make me go to school and it isn't fair!" She flops resignedly on the bed, dramatically throwing an arm over her eyes as she waits for the thermometer to do it's stuff.
A few minutes later I'm wondering if there's something wrong with our thermometer. It reads 100*
"Really? Really, really? I have a fever?" She takes a moment to process. Then breaks out in a huge grin.
And sits straight up in bed. "No school!" she squeals.

"Hey, hon," dh says from the doorway, as he tries to hide a smile, "I think I'm going to go ahead and just head in to work now. Um, have fun." Thanks.
He better not be working too late tonight.

2 hours later, both kids are up, and I hear the violin being practiced for the first time in...oh, ages. A year, I think. It probably needs to be tuned. And I don't even want to know what they did to all the stuff that used to be piled on top of it. (Wasn't it at the back of the hall closet?) But for now, I'm going back to bed. I've got a bit of a cold.
I just hope the house is still here when I wake up.

Pot of Gold...the Leprechauns can Keep it!

Here's a pot of gold that I'd rather skip.
http://www.ontariocorn.org/classroom/potgold.html

But it does give a good picture of what we're up against. Those of us who are uncorny by choice, or necessity. Can it really be safe to depend on one crop for such a diversity of things? Sure, it's great that we *can* use it for a variety of options. But really, there needs to be a variety of sources. And they need to be disclosed.

No wonder the dietician took a look at my list, and told me to give up. Some days I'm tempted, but I have 2 amazing kids to raise. And I just can't do it from bed, nor do I want anyone else doing it. There's already too much that I forgo for the sake of the damage corn and gluten have wreaked on my body.

"Life is Like a Box of Chocolates". Full of corn.

Luckily, I'm selective with my chocolates. :P

Overheard from the yard:

"I'm tired of playing at your house. We can only play outside. Your mom spies on us. The snails crawl on us. The sun shines on us. I want to play at my house. Where we can go anywhere and do anything we want. And nobody will even care."

Any guesses as to why they're in MY yard?

Penguin: "Mommy, where's the Taj Mahal?"
Me "Um, India, I'm pretty sure."
Penguin: "Yeah, that sounds right. It's where they bury people, right?"
Me "I thought it was more of a Cathedral."
Penguin: "Whatever. It's one of those grave thingys."

Apparently she was trying to describe the Sistene Chapel to her sister. It's like the Taj Mahal. You know, a Grave Thingy.

We don't get out enough.

Go Judge White!

Yeah!
This article came through my inbox. And I must say, I'm proud of my native San Francisco Bay Area heritage today, as apparently it is in the SF BA that common sense regarding genetically modified seeds seems to be actually happening.

I don't want GM sugar beets. Or alfalfa.
And I don't think anyone else does either. Remember that beets can be used to make white sugar. Which, although my husband is currently avoiding, is a very tasty part of our otherwise limited diet.

Genetic modifications have been linked to the rise in corn allergies in the 80's. (Think Starlink scandal.) It hasn't been mainstream long enough for true long term affects to be documented and studied. However, we do know that once it's out there, it's impossible to withdraw due to drift and pollination issues. Now that GM plants have been introduced to the world, they are infiltrating the rest of the crops.

It's like a bad science fiction movie. Except we're actually living the intro.

Dishwashing

It's something you take for granted.
You know, especially when you have a working dishwasher. Sure, it's a pain. But, you rinse off the worst of those dishes, fill up the little cache, and close the door. Push the econo setting, and you're good to go. By the time you're done with the days errands, or have a good night's sleep, the dishwasher will be full of clean shiny dishes.
And all of them will be safe for you to eat off of.

They won't make you sick.

Unless you have a corn allergy.

If you do have a corn allergy (or other unique situation), that steam that erupts from a freshly finished dishwasher when the door is opened is misleading. Sure, the dishes are sterile. But a fine residue remains. This residue leaves the dishes spotless, without little water marks. Makes them easier to clean later. Is perfectly harmless to humans.

Unless, of course, you happen to have the aforementioned corn allergy.

I had found a safe dishwashing detergent. I'd argued my way through a few manufacturers, with that whole "Well, you aren't supposed to eat it..." discussion, and settled on Kirkland signature powdered dishwasher detergent. The Costco guy was very helpful. Very kind. He called and checked on everything, taking a list of suspect ingredients.

And then, 2 years later, they simply stopped making it. And the new "Environmentally friendly" version lists citric acid as a key ingredient. Citric Acid, as many of you know, is notoriously connected to corn allergy reactions (regardless of whether or not any protein remains.)

I don't know about you, but eating is enough of a gamble for me. I don't need to be afraid of the soap I stick in my dishwasher, too.

So I'm off to seek a safer alternative. Especially since we're now completely out of the "old" detergent. And the friendly Costco guy has yet to respond to me emails about the new stuff...
Hey, maybe it is "Just Stress". Stressing about coming in contact with surprise corn (and the subsequent surprise 6 week recovery period) certainly doesn't help.

Life with a corn allergy has opened my eyes to a lot of things in this world. I knew that the food supply was less than perfect, and that the Standard American Diet really was a bit SAD. However, I thought it was "normal". There were government agencies in place to take care of us.

In the end, it really couldn't be that bad.

But now...Well, now I wonder. There's corn in this, and that, and yes, even that. Eggs, still in the shell, aren't even safe if they've been washed in a corny solution or if the chickens they came from were fed xanthophylls. And yet the FAAN still says that they are not advocating for the corn allergic community because the FDA does not consider corn a true allergen.

My daughter's migraines have introduced me to the world of petrochemicals...an area I'd like to keep my head in the sand regarding. The doctors caution that there aren't a lot of studies to back up what they, and I, are seeing. But there's no doubt that blue dye makes my daughter pale, pained and nausous. And there's no doubt in my mind that artificial coloring may play a part in the increased 4 A epidemics.

Anyways, while I've always known there were problems in the world, now I'm forced to do something about them. And I thought I'd make a list for those who have it in the back of their mind that they'd like to do the ubiquitous something, they just feel too overwhelmed to know where to start.

Of course the most important step is to simply make a choice. Where are your values? What do you want to change? The second is to look at where your money goes.

The fact of the matter is, if you agree that there is too much corn in our food supply, the only way that it's going to change is if you stop buying corn. You don't have to do it like I do. You don't have to be corn Kosher. But you can choose the bread without high fructose corn syrup, or corn starch, or cornmeal.

Avoiding petrochemicals is even easier, and you won't run into a corn growers association's PSA trying to convince you that petrochemicals are not only safe, but actually nourishing. Most people will be on your side. They either find food colorings to be harmless but probably not good, or they think they're a necessary evil. Something you can't do anything about.

But we can do something. In Europe, parents refused to buy food for their kids that had been colored with questionable additives. And guess what? Companies like Walmart and Kraft did something. They took the additives out of the food.

If they can do it for European kids, they can do it for Americans.
If they can do it for petrochemicals, they can do it for corn. (It might take a little bit more work, and a bit more economic adjustment, though. There's a dietary revolution coming, whether we like it or not. For our grandparents, the revolution took society into the world of "clean" processed, industrialized canned food. For our children or grandchildren, it will be a return to gardening and local farming. There's just no way that our world can survive if we continue this lopsided industrial farming approach.)

So, choose the better brand even when it costs a small amount more. And write to your favorite brands to tell them why you did or didn't choose to buy them. They will probably respond with a form letter and coupons (Which is a good enough reason to write, sometimes) but if they get enough feedback asking for change, they'll change.

There you go. Two semi painless steps. Buy what you, the consumer, want to have available. Merchandisers follow Darwin's laws...Use it (buy it) or lose it.

What do I think is the most important goal?
Full disclosure. I want to know what's in everything I put in my body, from farm fresh produce to the excipients used in blood pressure medication. Chemical breakdowns are nice, but they don't tell me sources and they don't give the American people the info they need to make informed choices. In a world where we can't logistically each farm our own land, slaughter our own meats, and grind our own grain, I don't think knowing whats in the products we buy is too much to ask.

It appears I'm not the only one who feels overwhelmed by the concept of cooking from scratch, preparing meals (namely meat) and planning around ingredients.
It's a cultural thing.
Americans have slowly allowed the "cooking culture" to die out. Through a generation (or two) of Cathy comics (I made my favorite thing for dinner, Reservations!) and latchkey kids with TV dinners and microwave meals, Julia Child has become a household legend...and fallen from the ranks of female empowerment to the unachievable Martha Stewart or Donna Reed.
According to this article by Michael Pollan (who first revealed the corn controversy to the masses in Omnivore's Nation) We, as a nation, don't cook anymore.
The 8 pages are a lot to wade through on screen, however, it's an interesting read.
I still think my meat eating husband could give the vegetarian a hand in planning meals that involve flesh foods (and their leftovers) But I also think that much of the country is in the same boat we are.
Although, I must say...it seems like it would be easier if I didn't have to worry so much about corn in every new potential ingredient.

New Rule: No more diets!

Seriously. New restrictions for new people is getting old.
My dear husband was bemoaning his inability to lose weight. His knowledge of the need to diet, but not knowing where to start. He craves carbs like a fiend. He gets migraines, he feels fatigued. And hungry. He joked about tapeworms.
I bantered along, and then I went and threw out an ominous single word.
"Candida".
Ooops.
He wanted more info. I directed him to the infamous spit test. (Which I always seem to pass, though many people I know have failed and I've read claims that it's impossible to pass. More proof that I'm weird?)
The next morning he began his morning routine before I was up. Then he slunk back to bed and pulled the covers over his head.
"I'm hungry," came a muffled voice.
"Mmmm," I groggily replied, thinking I'd just gone to the store and the shelves and fridge are bursting at the seams.
"I don't know what to eat," his voice was very low.
I tried to pull myself free from the last dregs of sleep to put these pieces together. Oh. "You tried the spit test?" Uh, huh. "You fail?" Uh, huh. "And now you want to go yeast free?" Uh, huh. Help me?

Of course, I said yes. I told him to choose a plan of attack. There's "Feast without Yeast" (Potato heavy, otherwise similar to the famous Anti Candida Diet), "Anti Candida Diet" originally devised by William Crook, or the SCD. His eyes grew wide.
Okay. We'll just sort of do what most people do in the beginning, and focus on cutting out refined sugar and trying to eat real food.
So we sat down to make up a list of safe meals. Eggs. Sauteed veggies. Salads. Brown rice, potatoes, sweet potatoes and grains in moderation, nut butters in moderation. What about meats?
Shrug.
Okay, hon. You're the meat eater. I don't know what all is out there. Chicken?
Sure.
Um, beef?
Sounds good.
What kind?
Huh?
Well, what are we going to do with it?
Whatever you want.

Now we don't fight often. We may disagree, we each take walks (or drives) alone and we wait until the kids are in bed to discuss bigger issues. However, this response produced a small argument. Which I feel bad about.
I wanted to know what kind of meat he'd like, and how to prepare it. He doesn't know. I tried to be patient, and asked for dishes he liked, maybe they were safe or we could make them sugar free/gluten free. He didn't know. I asked him to describe how to prepare the meat, at least.
He told me that was my department.

I'm the vegetarian of the household! I'm second generation vegetarian, in fact. Third, if you count my great grandma, but my grandma (her daughter) ate plenty of flesh foods. Just not really on my day to visit. Since I was vegetarian and all. (Do you get that I was raised vegetarian?) I was even spared turkey prep at Thanksgiving time. (I helped with the rest of the meal.) Not only do I not eat it, I was never around others preparing it to learn from osmosis.

I have an idea that there are giblets stuffed inside a store bought turkey. I know that these should be removed before preparing. And that you need to thoroughly scrub everything raw meat touches. (and cooked meat, for that matter) He claims this is more than he knows, or knew before meeting me.
I don't know what it's supposed to look like! (Raw or cooked. "Good," he says, "When it looks good you know it's done." I've never seen anyone eat beef that looked appealing. Even in our dating days when it was presented on a lovely platter by trained chefs.) I don't know what you're supposed to do with it, or if there are more bits and pieces to trim off before preparing.

And he shrugs and says "I guess we'll find out."

I just hope I don't hurt him in the process. (accidentally, of course)

Avoiding GMOs

Handy trick I just learned from America's Test Kitchen : To find out how fresh produce was grown look at the sticker. The one that has little numbers on it (Penguin likes to decorate her lunchbox with them) It also happens to have a secret code.

In brief: 4 digits indicate conventional produce and usually start with a 3 or a 4. 5 letter digits beginning with a 9 are the sought after "organically grown" fruits and veggies. And 5 letter digits beginning with the number 8 should be avoided at all costs, since they stand for genetically modified organisms.

I suppose you can purchase number 8 if you like...but personally I find the concept of designer DNA disturbing. I'll stick to organics, thank you. Or conventional. Even if there is the very real potential of "drift" from GMO fields. I want my money to say NO to GMO. And support the farmers who are struggling to agree.

Lunch time woes

Back to school time is fast approaching. We're squeezing in the last few activities of summer, picking up back to school shopping lists and trying to create a lunchtime plan. The one child who can eat hot lunch, won't. And Mr. Violets needs a bag lunch, too.

Luckily, this time of year there is no shortage of articles available for inspiration. I found in my inbox earlier an ezine from Family Fun that included the recipe for a cream cheese and strawberry sandwich. I described it to my picky Bumblebee, asking if she thought it might be something worth trying. (She said Maybe. Yay!)

Penguin piped up with "I'd rather have cream cheese and tomato roll up."
"Oh," I asked, mentally making a note, "Would you eat that in a lunch?"
"No," she answered, "I tried it once and it tasted horrible."

"Well, it sounds good..." she said in response to my look, "I should have liked it."

After a particularly hard morning, Bumblebee is curled up in my lap.
"I'm never going to have kids," she says with a sniffle.
Oh?
"I don't like listening to crying," she explains, "I just want to go and turn the TV on when people are crying or being too silly."
I see. Does she expect her kids to cry a lot?
"Uh, huh. I cry when you make me do things I don't want to do, and my kids will have to do even more things."
Oh. Okay...
I just can't let it go, though. Sorry, kid, I really need more info here...What things????
Eyes roll.
"Like chores. I don't like doing chores so I cry."
Yes. I've noticed. But what does that have to do with your kids?
"They're going to cry because I make them do all the chores! So I'm not going to have any kids!"

She's not in my lap anymore. I'm clearly clueless.
But she relents when I repeat what she just said back to me. She doesn't like picking up after herself, and it makes her cry when I tell her to. So she can't have kids because she'll have to listen to them cry when they have to pick up after themselves.
"Yes. And the other stuff."
Other stuff?
Shrug. "You know, like the laundry. I don't want to do laundry. It's too hard."
Oh. So your kids will have to do all your chores, too?
"Uh huh!" she brightens. I get it.
And that will make them cry, so you can't have kids, ever?
She nods and snuggles back into my side.
Okay.

So, hon, who is going to do the chores when you grow up?
"Huh? Hmmm..." She taps her cheek thoughtfully.
"Mommy, can I live with you forever?"
You'll still have to do your chores.

She thinks some more.
"I know! I can live with you, and you can hug my kids when they cry!"

The child worries me. But man, do I ever love her!

Slow Food

There was a time prior to the allergy diagnosis when we ate "normal" processed foods, and yearned for something more. A return to "old" cooking. I quickly learned that this meant different things to my husband and I.

One year, I wanted to do something special for his birthday. I was still trying to wrack my brain when he commented idly how much he missed butterscotch pudding.

Pudding?

Yes, pudding. But not just any pudding. Not the little plastic cups that you get at the store, and not the instant boxes. Real pudding. Old fashioned pudding. His eyes closed as he broke into a fond reminiscence...He conjured for me an image of his mother, with a frilly apron, slaving for hours over a hot stove, stirring a pot full of bubbling butterscotch pudding. She'd always have to make a double batch, and there were never leftovers.

The next time I saw his mom I asked about her recipe. She was vague. Pudding is pudding. She suggested I just buy some and tell him it was homemade.

Undaunted, I called her. I asked again, seeking specifics. Again, she was vague. It was a long time ago, she said, you don't want to go through all that trouble. Its all the same anyways.

But the trouble was going to be part of the gift. This confirmed to me it was real, old fashioned pudding she used to make. The good stuff I'd read about pioneer day books. I perused cookbooks. I looked online. Finally, I found something that looked promising. I carefully gauged the grocery bill that week to allow for real butter and actual cream. I measured, poured, and pot-watched. I stirred until my shoulders screamed for mercy. I entreated the toddler to entertain the baby. I almost cried when bits of scrambled egg appeared, but quickly grabbed a sieve and scooped most of them out.

At last, we proudly, albeit nervously, presented the concoction to my surprised husband. Who took a bite, and tried to conceal his disappointment. Shrugged and while I can't remember everything he said, I do remember one sentence. "Maybe she used a different brand. We could call her and ask."

Brand? Brand? Brand of what? Vanilla? Did she use real scotch? (I'd opted against that recipe) This had become a vendetta for me. I wanted to get it right. Was it the bit of egg that scrambled? WHAT?!?

He gave me a funny look.
Later his mom confirmed that "old fashioned" pudding was the famous J-brand...it comes in a box. (Eventually the enormity of my cooking fiasco was also made clear to my beloved husband, and he apologized for not being more grateful. He'd never fathomed the possibility that one could make pudding out of brown sugar, eggs and cream; let alone that it could take any more time or effort than baking muffins, which I did regularly.)

I think of this story with a chuckle whenever the concept of cooking from scratch is brought up. Because it seems that every generation over the past 100 years has it's own new idea of fast food, and it's own brand of nostalgic "from scratch" cooking. First those lucky town ladies who could waltz into the corner butcher shop for steak, or veal or chicken parts rather than keeping and slaughtering their own. Then the canned soup revelution. As soon as freezers became a household staple, there were TV dinners. And we've progressed.

My daughter pleaded for a cookbook at the last school bookfair, and when I leafed through it we found that not one of the recipes called for any fresh ingredients. They were all branded products. A woman at a Girl Scout meeting asked about our food allergies, and mentioned that while it seems hard for kids it also doesn't seem like a very big lifestyle change. She makes everything from scratch.

Of course I was interested...But very quickly learned that "from scratch" means using prepackaged ingredients along with some fresh herbs and prepackaged spice mixes to create a new dish. My vision was fresh baked bread, dicing veggies, and canning fruit. I suppose the dicing veggie part was accurate. She was offended that I consider sliced bread "packaged". Let alone her canned tomatoes.

Scratch cooking is a lost art. People don't know what a rhubarb is, much less what to do with one. Do you cook radishes? Are onions supposed to be this papery? How do you carve a Turkey? And what is this weird packet inside it? The term "cooking from scratch" has come a long way in the past hundred years ago. In fact, a hundred years ago, I doubt the term even existed.

There was a point in time when cooking a meal meant beginning with the decision of which chicken was next to slaughter. Meal planning was automatic. You went to your pantry, you put together what was there. There were signature dishes, of course, but as authors who try to create period style recipe books tell us, the expected results may vary significantly from today's standards.

My peers look with trepidation at an artichoke. My husband asks if he can toss the parsnips, assuming some carrots have gone bad. A woman in the store complains about the dirt left clinging to a potato, which makes me laugh. With a corn allergy, I look for dirt on my produce. Dirt means it's real. It's fresh. It hasn't been polished with corn derived wax, or rinsed with special germ fighting corny solution. Corn allergy has resurrected an understanding of "scratch".

It's also brought about an appreciation of simple food. Pasta with oil and a few veggies is delicious, elegant, and easy. Bread is a luxury, not a daily right. Rice is versatile. It goes well with beans, or eggs, or veggies or soup. And it's easy...rinse, glance through for stones (Which are hard on the teeth, but gluten, corn and casein free) and cook. Eggs are the ultimate fast food. If you want to enhance a vegetable, roast it with onions. The scent of caramelized onion will improve any meal and spark almost anyone's appetite.

I'm still struggling to come to terms with using meat, too. I can see the beauty in the simplicity. A roast chicken, a vegetable, a starch and you're done. However, there's a huge hole in my meal planning history that never included meat to begin with. I was raised vegetarian in the Seven Talents post-seventies granola era. Grains were high priority, although our doctors encouraged a heavy hand with the cheese. Until recently, we were encouraged to simply combine grains well. Eat a variety of supermarket and restaurant offerings. Too much thinking is discouraged. Look for an explosion of flavors, pour mixes and boxes together. Voila! A taste sensation.

Even the medical community, who is supposed to be supporting the slow food revolution, is slow to accept the movement. "And try to cut back on the fast food," the pediatrician always admonishes as we leave the office. I give him a withering look, but our lifestyle, our real, honest to goodness eating at home every night lifestyle, is beyond comprehension.

However, I'm still struggling to master the art of June Cleaver style cooking, and balance the pyramid.

Corny Lessons

My mom used to have a little magnet up that read "You can never be too rich or too thin". I saw that phrase quoted in a lot of places while growing up in the 80's.

It's come to mind a lot lately. And I think that the corn industry has proved it wrong, on both counts. Although many people theorize that corn is one of the primary causes of the expanding waistbands of Americans in general, for those with severe intolerance it can have the opposite affect. You see, in order to form fat cells, food has to sit around in the body long enough to be absorbed and digested. Some forms of intolerance cause the body to attempt to rapidly rid itself of identified attackers...including corn.

The guru of genetic engineering, mastermind of maize has proven that one can be too rich, at least as part of a corporation. It boggles my mind how one corporation can grow large enough to dominate the food supply. Sometimes it seems that there are connections, interwoven webs with Monsanto and Corn vital strands. Genetic modification still seems very arrogant to me. How can we presume to know enough about DNA and intricate workings of nature to manipulate the gene pool of the food we rely upon to nourish us? With the knowledge that releasing these genes into the open air, they become impossible to contain should come the responsibility to hold on to that particular technology. There are too many questions left unanswered. Why would anyone gamble our future, our children's health and world, on an arrogant science when better options exist? It boils down to money. There's money in new products, new techniques, new patents. Old ways can't be patented, they can't earn residual income.
Where are the people who are supposed to look out for us? Who's in charge? Well, it looks like the guy who convinced the FDA to treat genetically modified food as "substantially equal" to naturally grown food is now a Senior Adviser to the FDA. And the choice for Under Secretary of Agriculture doesn't trust the American public to make our own decisions about what we do or don't want in products labeled "milk". Otherwise why would he have fought to make it illegal for companies that refuse to use rBGH to label their products rBGH free? (And isn't it a violation of our constitutional right to free speech to forbid a company to advertise the truth about their own product? They weren't bad mouthing rBGH. Just stating that their product was hormone free.)

I suppose since our household is predominantly dairy free, I shouldn't stress too much. But I want to know what's in my food. I think that the American people have a right to know. And I don't think that monetary compensation should have anything to do with what we can and can't know about our food.
The truth is that people don't want extra hormones. They don't trust pesticides or genetic modification. They know that general health has been declining over the past 100 years, even if life spans might increase and treatments for disease improve the odds. Our general health and well being has been steadily going downhill. And we know, instinctively, that it's in our diet and lifestyle.
We aren't suffering from a deficit in gym memberships. We aren't suffering from a deficit in food, nor are we GMO deficient and we certainly don't suffer from lack of rBGH in our dairy products (which we faithfully chug thanks to the dairy boards "Got Milk" campaign). There's something wrong with the packaged food lifestyle, and modifying crops to increase yield, decrease variety and monopolize the food chain is not the answer.
We want simplicity. We want truth. And we want to be trusted with the truth. Unless the government trusts us, how can we trust them?

It's not easy feeling bleh

I think we're dealing with a stomach bug, here.
Of course, on top of 2 months of my feeling like a truck managed to yank out my intestines, run over them a few times, and shove them back in, I'm a little concerned. Is it a bug? Is it something they ate as in food poisoning? Is it something they ate as in allergy? Is it something else? Maybe it's just stress? (I'll stress myself into an attack if I keep this up.) At least it means the floors and laundry are being forcibly kept up with.

Luckily Penguin seems to be doing better. But Bumblebee isn't feeling so hot today. And she was supposed to go to a very important birthday party.

She tells me it isn't fair. I agree.
She wants to know why she always gets sick. I tell her she's my healthy one.
She says she's never going to tell me when she throws up again. I say that's fine, except that she still probably wouldn't have fun at the party.
She thinks they shouldn't have planned it for today. "Didn't they KNOW I'd be sick?"

Sorry hon. We just aren't psychic.
She feels bleh. She's not hungry. And when she does eat, she feels bleh some more.
I tell her there are good things about being sick. Getting snuggles. (She gets those anyways.) Lazing around the house. (We do that when Penguin has a migraine. Duh.) You can watch as much TV as you want. (She doesn't want to.) Er, you can play Peggle, or WII. (She doesn't want to.) Board games? (No, that's not a party.) And you can have as many popsicles as you want. (Really? Really, really?)

For a moment, I think I've struck the silver lining. Her face shines. She's happy. I start to get up and go about my business. A little arm stops me.

Her face is grouchy again.

"That's not fun," I'm informed.
Why?
"It means I'm sick!!!"
Oh, right. Sorry!

Why is it so hard?

I frequent several online communities or bulletin boards specializing in dietary restrictions of some sort. Recently, there have been a few friendly polls asking what we miss the most, what we wish we'd known, how things would have been easier. It left me thinking about the different attitudes portrayed.

Some people are given a diagnosis of food allergies, and they embrace the new lifestyle. They actively seek out alternatives and find themselves determined to meet and beat the challenge. Others fight the change with everything they have, determined to go out kicking. They settle for a few symptoms, and appear angry that doctors can't "cure" this named malady. And others curl up in a closet, limiting their diet to the few foods they'd previously enjoyed that remain free of their allergens. Most fall between the extremes, and many bandy about, depending on their level of grief, acceptance and research.

I couldn't help but wonder what makes the transition so hard, so frightening for some. I look back on my journey and see that I've hit various levels of extreme. I've also thrown caution to the wind, and suffered the cosequences. I've fought, and cried, and been accused of eating disorders until the mere mention of one makes my hackles raise. I've embraced, and experimented, and tried whole heartedly to overcome the obstacles growing in front of me.

But somewhere along the way, I stopped trusting food. It became quite an enemy, something that I fear rather than relish. I can remember walking the aisles of a grocery store and being tempted by new treats and delicacies. I can remember enjoying taste tests and can even empathize with those who claim to "eat their way through Costco" on a sunday afternoon. But no longer. Now, I find a new brand of chocolate chips, and instead of trying them out for a special treat, I save them until there's nothing going on for a few days and nothing urgent for at least a week, just in case they bite back.

I yearn for broccoli, or mayo or salad dressing. I long for a simple quick fix meal that is new, unique. Forget the candy and the baked goods, I want a casserole!

But I don't trust it.

I think that's the hardest thing, the thing I miss the most. I don't trust food anymore. It's supposed to nourish, to sustain us. No one ever said it could bite back, destroy the lining of our small intestines, sprinkle our body with itchy red spots and wreak havoc with our digestive track. Not if you treat it with respect, anyways. Food is supposed to enhance the social experience, drawing people together in a shared caloric pleasure. What you see is supposed to be what you eat, not a variety of re-designed, corn derived pseudo-foods that are supposed to enhance the experience. Fun colors and flavors are supposed to be innocuous, but all those rainbow fish and brilliant gummies I used to treat the kids with put my child in bed, pale, sweating and miserable. And me? I think I'm broken. While I desire the quick, the fast, the easy...while I mourn for the past, I wouldn't trust it if it were offered.

Mother nature, or the FDA, broke that trust a long time ago. And it's a hard road back, filled with the painful reminder of indigestion and more questions than answers. With intolerances, there are no firm lines. And there is no FAAN or other organized group at your back, offering knowledge, studies and expertise. Just the knowledge that you aren't alone, and the grass root support of those who are muddling through alongside of you, just as lost but determined as you are.

What we DO eat

Sometimes it seems as if we get caught up in the complicated labrynth of foods. We focus on what we CAN'T eat. Pizza. Ice cream. Corn chips. Those big chocolate chip cookies from Trader Joes. Frozen dinners. Nothing like a trip to a crowded grocery store to make one wish to wallow in self pity.

It's time to take a moment and count our food blessings.

Top 10 foods that I (and the rest of my family) can eat in moderation without regrets.

10. Baked Apples: And who doesn't like a brown sugar and cinnamon topped baked apple? Just because I rarely get around to making them...well, that just makes them all the more special.

9. Trader Joe's applesauce: No one in my family will actually eat this out of the jar (except on latkes, where applesauce belongs) But, it's corn free. Which means that when I want to bake anything that needs a little extra acid, or fruity flavor, or a touch less fat, I don't have to start by peeling apples to simmer for a homemade version. You can imagine how giddy the storebought variety made me the first time I realized this freedom!

8. Onions: Yeah, I know. Not raw, not by themselves. But just about any dish that begins with a few onions, lightly sauteed in grapeseed oil, makes mouths water. :-)

7. Ginger: Candied ginger to be exact. Baked into muffins, cookies or eaten out of hand, it settles the stomach and satisfies my sweet tooth. (okay, fine, so the kids aren't overly fond of it. But, technically, they can eat it. And I love it.)

6. Peas. Yes, I know, kids are supposed to hate peas. But they're green, I can eat them, and the kids love to smother them in margarine. Once they're on their own plate, that corny junk won't hurt me. I can eat them plain, and they satisfy that "not rice" craving. And it feels good to serve veggies to ALL of us. At one time. With only one pot to wash.

5. Dagoba Chocolate bars: Okay, so different members of the family need to eat different varieties. The point is...it's candy. And it's sinful. And it doesn't hurt (well, it pinches the checkbook a bit)

4. Sweet Potatoes: Roasted or fried, a special treat I'm simply forced to indulge in, since I can't eat prepackaged fries, oven potatoes or even chips.

3. Chebe Bread: The garlic and onion variety is to die for, even if you CAN eat gluten.

2. Tinkyada Spaghetti: Just like real s'getti. But better.

And number one, the best, most wonderful food that we have on our collective plate: Homemade Chocolate Chip cookies. Enjoy Life chocolate chips and ener-G rice flour sure do make up for a lot.

And now I'm off to pre-heat the oven...

Of course, it's just stress.

I have, again, been diagnosed with...Stress.

I went into the doctor with abdominal and menstrual complaints. I couldn't decide if I needed a gynecologist for the constant period or a GI for the ensuing stomach issues. I settled on my PCP when I broke out in a rash on top of it all.

And, after taking enough blood to twice collapse my vein (although the phlebotomist was awesome and I didn't even pass out this time) and doing a pelvic ultrasound to examine the female organs (during which I *did* pass out, oddly. Something about drinking too much water on a hot day...) The nurse called with good news.

I'm perfectly healthy.

Which, I guess, explains why I'm so tired and nauseous.

Now what?

Dyes Must Die

She's been at it again. My friend, the one who kept prodding me to go gluten free. Whose whisper haunted me until I decided to just do it and prove once and for all, to myself, the doctors and her that it was NOT the gluten. (And of course, it was)

This time it's dye. My youngest has some, well, issues. She's unique. She's wonderful. She's aggravating. At one point we were advised to have her tested for autism. But, since she was cuddly, bubbly, bright and happy to interact when there weren't strangers around, we never followed up on that. Now, she has few if any of the hallmarks. However, some days I can't decide whether I should fall down laughing or curl up and cry at her antics. She's usually doing both. She finds our buttons, and not just pushes but POUNDS on them. And then she pulls them out, just for the sake of doing it again.

The thing is, she doesn't seem to want to be acting up. She gets in a state and can't seem to control herself. And the bigger she gets, the harder it is to help her gain control. It's one thing to pick up a screaming 4 year old and deposit her in her bedroom. It's quite another thing to disentangle a 7 year old who weighs almost half what you do (granted, I'm way too skinny for my own good) from on top of her sister, gently manhandle her down the obstacle course of a hallway and keep her in her bedroom for the duration of a time out. Especially when she realizes that acting like dead weight until she sees a hand hold will definitely slow you down, and might even grant her a 3 minute reprieve. During which she can strip and run screaming through the house "Mommy hates me, Mommy hates me, Mommy hates me!"

(Why does shethink I hate her? Because I'm sitting there, gently prying her hands away, and taking away privileges while I try to get her to the quiet area that she can simmer down in. When the problem is obviously her sister's lack of malleability. She won't give up her share of a treat [at least, not all of it] or abandon her game in the middle without whining or just let Bumblebee win if they're playing against one another. It's what you'd expect in a 4 year old. But she's 7.)

She's not always this way. But when she is, I'm tempted to sell her to the gypsies. Or maybe just run away and join the circus, myself. (Wait, they sell popcorn there, don't they? Nevermind.)

The school called in a counselor when they tired of prying her sobbing arms off of me as I slipped away as quickly as I could, then slunk back to sneak peaks through the window, trying to reassure myself she'd recovered. The counselor seems as baffled as we are. Is it anxiety? PDD? SID? Is there something physical we're missing? Something else entirely? Best not to label, just wait and see. (But stop peaking through windows, its spooking out the kids and some of the parents.)

My friend has patiently listened to my frustrations. At each outburst she covers the same bases. "Now, Penguin has issues with dye...have you thought about that?" "Could it be some sort of food dye?" "Do you think she's reacting to something in her diet? Artificial dyes?"

Like an ostrich, I've stuffed my head in the sand. Reassuring her, and anyone else, that Ms. Bumblebee does not seem to have any issues with food dyes at all. She doesn't get headaches from them. No vomiting. She's my healthy kid.
Except when she has these outbursts. And then, she's still healthy. Just in danger of being disowned.

It's not the food dye. There wasn't much in my house. Occasional fruit "snacks" for only her, some medecines, valentine and Halloween candy. Our staples are dye free (And if you think yours are, check the ingredients on marshmallows, pickles and tooth paste.)

But after reading "The Unhealthy Truth", I resolved to stop spending money on artificial food colorings. I don't want that gunk in my kids, even if it is only the blue that hurts Penguin. I don't want to support the industry that pours chemical concoctions into the bodies and brains of growing kids, but only in the USA. (Many international countries already use natural food dyes in products found in other countries)

So, I sat the kids down and we replaced the occassional cheap fruit snacks with the occasional, not-terribly-expensive Florida's naturals and the not-so-cheap Annie's gummies. Things improved, but of course, it wasn't JUST that we've been dye free. Besides, we did still have melt downs, and occassionally my friend would gently point out correlations. "I did see her eating a popsicle with her class..." "Do you think it's related to that bright blue tongue?" No. No I didn't. Well, I did, but I didn't want to.

And then we had VBS. The kids had a phenomenol time on the "Boomerang Express"; singing, crafting, playing games and earning...starbursts? That's okay. I didn't think twice.

Until Wednesday. We were putting on our shoes, gathering our handpicked canned goods to donate and heading out the door when Bumblebee burst into tears. "Pick me up early!" she entreated.

Huh? The entire day lasted maybe 3 hours. She'd been having so much fun she hadn't been ready to leave all week. "You don't love me! I'm scared. If you loved me, you'd pick me up early!"

This was sounding very familiar. Very after-a-birthday-party-ish. Very I-don't-want-to-go-to-school-ish.
And she'd earned at least 3 starbursts the day before.

During another tantrum that afternoon, I sat down and talked with her. (This isn't easy when a child is screaming that you hate them so they hate you.) I told her that I was worried about the tantrums. And that I noticed that she might be feeling a little more cranky than normal (Fighting fire with fire just gives us both sore throats, so I thought I'd treat her matter of factly, and play down the screaming.) and I wondered if she thought it might have anything to do with what she'd been eating, like the starbursts.

To my surprise, she turned on me and said "NO! I was watching too and guess what? When I eat candy with dye in it you get REALLY REALLY MEAN!!! Even when I don't even tell you that I ate it! You just start hating me for no good reason!"

Wow.

After the storm had blown out she agreed that "everything and everyone is meaner" after she eats dye. She won't agree that it makes HER more upset. But she did say that she might, maybe, sort of, kind of be willing to give it up. She doesn't like crying.

I'm not certain that it is the dye. Like most parents, I'm tempted to blame the excitement of the day, and the weather, and say she's coming down with something. Food should be fun. I don't want to place unnecessary restrictions.

But, echoes of my friend's voice are haunting me. And *shaking sand from my ostrich feathers* I think it's time to say...It just might be the dye.

A Vegetarian Waivers

I've always been vegetarian.

No, that's not true. My commitment began when I was around 6. I'd just wheedled my vegetarian-leaning mom into buying me a hamburger instead of a fish sandwich at a fast food place. My brother was contentedly staring out the window, munching away. I'd just taken a bite when he asked, wide eyed and innocent, if the field outside was where they kept the cows before "bashing their brains out and chopping them up into hamburgers".

Of course I freaked out.

And when my mom managed to calm me down, and yet assure me that the hamburger I'd begged, bargained and pleaded for was, indeed, derived from a cow, I resolved to go hungry that day. (Well, I ate the fries) And never, ever eat meat again.

When my conscience finally connected chicken and turkey with the critters that run around flapping their wings and pecking the ground, they left my diet as well. And I finally fished fish out in an attempt to feel better. Literature in the 90's claimed that vegetarians had healthier lifestyles than meat eaters. I didn't know why, but I didn't feel good. And I was all to happy to blame meat.

By high school, I needed more than "meat is gross", and I explored all the real reasons for my vegetarian choices. Animal cruelty was one, but it was easily compensated for by free range, organic options that were hitting the market. Certainly my goal wasn't to save a cow, the excessive number that are raised are harming our environment as it is.

The concept that one vegetarian can survive for a lifetime on the land it requires to feed one meat eater for one year really disturbed me. Environmental and political concerns, coupled with the idea that our bodies were not originally designed to digest meat (Our teeth simply sharp enough) strengthened my resolve.

But looking back, I wasn't "well". I just hid it well.

I later dabbled with various dietary measures, noting that on days I didn't have time to eat I felt great. With the IBS diagnosis, I went vegan on a doctor's advice. I dabbled in macrobiotics. I've since read up on paleo diets, blood type diets and the Specific Carb Diet, not to mention several versions of the Candida diet.

I've come to the conclusion that there is no one diet that fits everyone. Many facets of cure-all dietary approaches are similar, but address different causes for symptoms. I don't believe that humans were originally designed to eat meat. But in the grand scheme of things, we've been doing it for much longer than we've been eating gluten grains.

I've also come to the conclusion that I can't survive on rice, eggs, applesauce and a few well cooked veggies. Especially when I flare and those well cooked veggies don't settle down and get digested. I don't know that animal foods will help, but since I'm trying to put my trust in G-d, I've turned to prayer for an answer. And it occurred to me that if I AM going to use meat, I should do it kosher, to the best of my ability.

The fact that any food that is truly kosher for passover is also corn free is a bonus.

I also can't bring myself to consume red meat. No bashed up cows for me :-) But Chicken Soup is the Jewish Penicillin...so; I'll take solace in the thought that Mary probably cooked up something similar for her son. What was good enough for Him can't be too bad for me. Can it?

In which the world becomes a better place...

I swear, the way to a mom's heart is through her kids.
Yesterday brought Penguin's elementary school years to a close. Of course there were tears. (I was a bit surprised, even a few boys were hauling tissues around.) But what touched me most wasn't the slideshow, or the farewell song, or the little "graduation ceremony".

Yesterday morning a PTA mom approached me with a box of popsicles and asked me to double check it. They were, indeed, free from artficial dyes, dairy and gluten. She was happy and went to give Penguin her treat (which made me happy, of course) and after school, Penguin catapulted herself towards me with eyes shining and said "Mommy, Mommy, I got a popsicle! They brought me a popsicle with everyone else! And it was my favorite flavor! It was soooo good!"

She went on to tell about the popsicle party, but what stood out in the story was how safe, and included she felt. That's when my eyes welled up with tears. I hugged her tight.

She's a good kid, and she's good about dealing with her allergies. But it's hard to be different, and she vents that at home sometimes. Earlier this week she was pleasantly surprised to find a safe sorbet on the 5th grade ice cream table, and her girl scout leader thoughtfully provided safe treats for the last meeting of the year. But it was this last touch, a popsicle that looked like everyone else's and was provided with everyone else's without much ado that really made her day.

Things are changing. Yay!!!!

Freedom?

They say we live in the land of the free. But I'm not so sure that our society truly embraces the ideals of freedom.

Sure, we promote free speech. When it suits our purposes, we flaunt it.

But there's more to freedom than simple speech. For every action we take, there is a result for better or worse. And nothing highlights this more than recent headlines.

In Australia, a young couple has been imprisoned because of their parenting choice. There appears to be no evidence that they were abusive or literally neglectful of their young daughter. They simply chose to treat her eczema with homeopathic remedies. Which might have worked. Unfortunately, this time it didn't. She developed secondary infections, and eventually succumbed, after the couple sought treatment in a hospital setting.

Of course, I'm appalled that the child suffered. I'm mortified that something like eczema was the cause of death. But, even more, I'm concerned that there are people who condemn these parents as "bad" simply because they made a choice. They did NOT expect the choice to cost them their daughter. They, like most of us, wanted what was best for her and if their experience with western medicine was anything like ours has been, they were probably frustrated with the "system" and sought their own answers.

While I believe that life should be valued, and respected, I also don't think that when a life is lost it automatically means someone has failed. There is a fine line for us to walk as protectors of the innocents. While authorities should certainly intervene to protect children who are too young and helpless to protect themselves from abuse or true neglect, they also need to respect a parent's decisions when it comes to their children.

From the accounts I've read, this child was fed, clothed and loved. She was receiving alternate care. Yes she was still suffering. But her parents suffered alongside of her. And who's to say that Western medicine would have definitively fared better? There may be more to the story that a jury heard and acted on, but the public response that condemns these parents as "bad" simply because they are left grieving leads me to believe that we, as a society, do not value freedom as much as we claim to.

Parents are human. Everyone is human. The people running the court systems are only human, for crying out loud. How can they expect any more from their clientele? We all make mistakes and some of those mistakes prove to have greater consequences than others. But if they're made in good faith, they're still honest mistakes. The more harshly we hold people accountable for their mistakes, the more distrust people will have of authority in general. And the less likely they are to admit mistakes before they prove fatal.

The Australian couple has stirred up the vaccination debate in some circles. Is failure to vaccinate equivalent to abuse? Neglect? Or educated choice? Why should parents have to worry that not only are they making the "wrong" choice, but that they will go to jail or lose their children if something happens? Vaccines are a calculated risk. That knowledge doesn't help when your child is the sacrifice.

For me, it brings to mind the many "alternate" choices families make every day. Breast or bottle, formula or milk, alternative or cows? What to feed your children, and when. What they wear, what they watch, when they are permitted to stay home or in the car alone. We each make difficult parenting decisions every day, some of them heftier than others. Some are more wrought with emotion.

No one knows my kids like I do. I don't know other people's children the way that they can. I don't presume I can parent better than anyone. But, I know I am the one best situated to take care of my own kids. And I support everyone else's rights to best take care of their own kids...as long as they don't interfere with my right to parent mine.

That Mom

I always dreamed of being "That Mom". The one who was on the ball, all together, the one who was there for everything.
The one who was the back up, fall upon mom.
The one with cookies, or brownies, or muffins fresh from the oven.

And then reality struck. When I did volunteer, I ended up ditching them for the ER or a doctors visit. I find myself running late half the time for digestive issues, and I'm always ready to run when my stomach informs me of it's disinclination towards my last meal. (Please note that food allergies/intolerances are not the only thing I struggle with personally, there are definitely MORE digestive conditions going on than simple allergies. People with allergies feel fine when they eat safe food.)

Discovering food allergies allows us a certain freedom. It's certainly much less of a struggle when there are days when I know what good is. It's amazing to see my daughter blossom now that offending foods are out of her diet, it feels so refreshing to be able to send her to a friend's house and know that there's only a slight chance she'll come home sick. As long as I send food, of course.

But the darker side of food allergies (and other health conditions) brought a heightened awareness of what we, as a society, are eating. Reading ingredient list after ingredient list, and having to shake my head at Penguin time and time again sends chills down my spine. If it weren't for the allergies I wouldn't really think about these additives and preservatives. I've always tended towards "healthy" foods, but, when it came to "fun", well...fun is fun. I didn't worry about it, too much.

Now, I see party after party at the school and it just doesn't settle right with me. I see hundreds of pounds of sugar coursing through those tiny developing veins, and then the questionable additives, the Genetically Modified Organisms, and the bright neon colors that stain tongues, teeth and fingers. I feel sad, not because we're left out, but because society has placed a value on food. And that value is in the sharing of what we all agree is junk. Superfluous candy, cupcakes and ice cream complete our lives.

No wonder there's a tendency towards obesity, heart disease and type 2 diabetes.

As I look at the list of class parties for the next week, and shudder at the amount of kitchen duty (and cash) it means for us, as I smile under the questioning look of other mothers and field questions about our diets, as I am accidentally cc'd in the mass brownie e-mail, I discover something else.

I've become "THAT mom". Not the one I wanted to be, for sure, but certainly distinct. I'm the seventies era granola, free love, tree hugging hippy food tofu mom. (Except for the tofu part...there's corn in that, too.) People who haven't tried our treats assume them to be the tasteless grapenut-concoction from after-school special nightmares sequences. They shudder and truly feel sorry for our pizza deprived, ice cream deficient home. I'm "That Mom". (The one you don't want in charge of snacks for the brownies meeting.)

And I'm proud of it. (Well, all except the part about Brownies.)