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.)

Skinny

I'm skinny. I'm slender, thin, twiggy, emaciated.

Other women seem to think the best way to "bond" is to walk up and chat up diet and excercize, to say things like "Oh, I hate women like you. You have so much self control."

Ha. Talk to my husband, who is almost horrified by the amount of chocolate and sweet potatoes I can consume (not together).

And I hate that the corn allergy thing is lumped with my figure. No, I'm not anorexic because there's nothing left to eat. The corn may have played a significant part in causing intestinal damage that prevents me from gaining weight well, the celiac certainly did. But there are foods that I should be able to eat. If it were a matter of allergy, I'd function within the confines of my diet. Corn allergy (etc) certainly complicates things, but there's more. And no one seems to know what it is.

Even more, I worry about raising two girls in a society that places deep value in calorie counts, pounds, and the size on a clothing tag.

People tell me they're so busy between work and parenting they can't find time to "lose weight". People with perfectly acceptable, natural, healthy looking curves tell me this. And I can't find the words to say I wish I had the energy to be that busy.

Happy Mother's Day

My mother's day weekend didn't get off to much of a start.

Yesterday morning the kids woke me with a battle about whether or not I should open gifts on Saturday. There was a lot of high pitched screaming as one or the other attempted to protect their secrets from being spilled, thankfully it was resolved before I decided to simply call off the entire holiday.
Then came the news that a beloved childhood pet passed on late Friday night.
We agreed to stay in and mope.

However, this morning managed to pull into a lovely start. My oldest fondly recalls making soap together when she was little, and dh found someone to help her make (hopefully) safe soap for me. My youngest made a lovely coupon book, and instead of filling it with things like "good for one night free from washing dishes" she filled it with wishes that make me grin. I thought I'd share a few here. :-)

*I love my Mother. There's (almost) no one who loves you more than me.
*I'll clean the Earth for you.
* I wish you would lose all your allergies. [This one made me cry]
*I wish I could plant flowers for you and make them grow overnight.

I'll treasure it always.

The Swine Flu

I'm not panicking.

Maybe there's something wrong with me?
The schools have repeatedly reassured me that there's no reason to panic. My Mother in law sent an email to my husband letting him know it was nothing to be too concerned about yet.

And all I can think is...well, obviously.

So far, the biggest concern is that the CDC doesn't "know" everything they want to know about the "new flu". It's breaking out in May, which is new as far as I can remember (Spring and summer are the end of the illness routine. Everyone tells me that when the kids invariably come down with something this time of year.) The vast majority of people who are sick have recovered without the use of antiviral drugs.

As far as I can see, it's just the flu; taking a different path than the one predicted by scientists.

Now, I don't mean to be callous. I hate being sick as much as the next guy. I'll whine, maybe not quite as loudly as my husband, but I'll certainly commiserate. But the recommendations are...wash hands frequently. Don't come to work or school when you're running a fever. And cough into your sleeve.

Isn't that normal? Its always been my pet peeve that people drag themselves to work or school with fevers and sit there hacking up a lung. It's rude, and dangerous to those with compromised immune systems. And it doesn't matter if we know what the virus (or bacteria) is or not, if the wrong person contracts it, that illness can be fatal.

I'm much more concerned about food allergies. Which are rising steadily, or were at the last time they were studied, at a rate of about 20% a year. And food allergy mortality is unknown because the CDC does not consider it a reportable event. The figure appears to fall between 1 and 200 confirmed deaths a year (with a suspected 50% of cases being misdiagnosed)

If your throat swells shut because you swallow some soy lecithin, the CDC could care less. (Especially since doctors repeatedly tell us that lecithin has NO protein left and therefore will not cause anaphylaxis despite occasional evidence to the contrary. Note that I'm carefully avoiding the subject of corn.) But, report some body aches with a fever over 100* caused by an unusual strain of influenza (which seems to pass quickly albeit uncomfortably) and they will call a national emergency.

Wonder how many petrochemicals are in the recommended treatment? Rehydration therapies are generally loaded with colorful ingredients and flavorings; at least the pediatric versions. And from the rainbow of meds I've seen on store shelves while seeking safe pain killers, I'd bet any drugs they offer are just as colorful.

Getting Greener...

It's Earth Day. (Or was when I first started and forgot to post this entry)

The sun is shining (Thankfully not quite so hot as it was yesterday, or the day before); the garden is growing, and Bumblebee chose today to debut her brand new stainless steel bottle tote.

It's a work in progress. She says it hurt her shoulder, so the next proto-type will include a shoulder pad. We'll get there, and we'll grow greener doing it.

I'm still a bit skeptical about our garden. Although I'm elated to see green sprouts popping out of the ground, stretching their leaves to the sky, I have to remind myself that it's only taken them twice the germination time cited on the seed package.

Is it the weather, which clouded over and rained for a week as soon as we gently tucked them in the warm, dark earth? Is it the seeds, which were purchased on sale from another season's guaranteed to grow crop (seeds are seeds, and they ought to last if they didn't get wet or otherwise damaged) ? Or is my brown thumb rearing it's ugly head?

Maybe it's just stress...since the raised bed does not get a LOT of sun. None of the yard does.

However, the few nasturtiums that returned from last year seem happy, and I have a stunted looking rose that bolted into something resembling a tree in it's quest for light, and the fairy house looks pretty wild in the back nook. The yard is still, well, not tidy or anywhere resembling something that can be shown off. But it's green. And it gets us outdoors and excited.

(until Penguin sees a snail and runs for cover, anyways.)

Stress? Or endocrine disruption?

Newsflash. A common herbicide, atrazine, has been linked with endocrine disorders among some amphibians. Namely, it chemically castrates adult male frogs. (Among other things) And, it takes a very small level of exposure to do so.
How small? Well, according to Tyrone Hayes in this article, the amount required to cause damage is equivalent to the weight of 5 grains of salt divided by five thousand. And atrazine used in crops (mostly corn) not only contaminates the crops themselves, but the soil and groundwater around them. Runoff reaches rivers, streams and lakes which means that many aquatic ecospheres are affected. (Not to mention human drinking water.)
The problem was brought to light in 2002. Now, in 2009, the EPA has decided to take action and require...not that atrazine be banned, but that 67 chemicals contained in pesticides and herbicides be tested for their impact on the endocrine system and their potential harm to humans. Eventually, all chemicals will be required to undergo testing.

Theoretically, the next step would be to phase out the harmful chemicals, and replace them with...less harmful ones. And, at some point, clean up the mess left behind.

I wonder how long it will take them to look at the pervasive nature of corn in our current society, and examine it's relationship with endocrine and hormonal disorders among us? In February of 2002, researchers released information that corncob bedding inhibited the mating activity of lab rats, and caused problems with hormonal imbalance. The chemicals these problems were traced to are present in fresh corn and tortillas as well as the cobs...in other words; humans are exposed as well. And I haven't found any good studies showing the affect of corn on our endocrine systems.

Perhaps the public will become more concerned if they trace the increased need for viagra to their corn stuffed mattress and super soft ingeo pillows? I suppose that's another symptom the professionals like to blame on stress...

Maybe we're all crazy...

I'm seeing a disturbing trend on message boards I frequent.

It's laughed about on the Avoiding Corn forum. It's subtly hinted at on Celiac listserves. It's vented over in special diet groups. And it's pondered, rhetorically, in various self-help corners of the world wide web.

"Maybe I'm wrong..."

"I must be crazy..."

"Except, that what I know just doesn't correlate to what I see..." (The words are different, but the gist is the same)

Why do we so easily doubt ourselves when what we witness just doesn't fit in with the world as we believe (or want) it to be?

Parents watch their children melt down after neon-colored cupcakes, candy and medicine...but tell themselves that it has to be...um, the excitement. Right? It's not the additives. Except (They anonymously vent inner doubts online) the child only really loses it when they have artificial coloring. And, well, it sounds crazy...but they've read a few things that made them wonder...It's probably a coincidence, right?

Adults note that certain foods cause bloating, and abdominal discomfort...digestive distress. But it isn't an allergy. It isn't an intolerance...it's, well, it's...um...something else.

People with intolerances start noting reactions and trace them to the "impossible" (like a banana) and tell themselves that they're crazy. Only to learn that their cereal is being recalled for contamination, or the bananas are sprayed with corn ethanol, or that their favorite potato chips now have a healthier oil (that just doesn't agree with that particular consumer.)

People who have Celiac and don't respond quickly to the diet are encouraged to wait it out, their questions about whether it could be something MORE are brushed aside like annoying spiderwebs. But, like those spiderwebs, they return until the problem is dealt with. Or, we learn to deal with symptoms and leave the doctor alone.

Concerned parents recite generic symptoms that doctors brush off, knowing that "chronic" isn't often serious. They play statistics, and statistically...parents stop complaining either because things DO get better or, more likely, they become normal. The warnings on the package say to consult a doctor if the condition doesn't go away. And most doctors run a few labs, shrug, and call it normal. Eventually, it is. Or abnormal becomes normal and we move on, with the suspicion that we're missing a piece of the puzzle.

At what point do we decide that Drs know more about everything than us?

As I tell my daughter, doctors know more about the human body and how to fix it than we do. However...we know our bodies. And it's our job to take care of them, and report problems to the doctor so that he can look for answers.

Unfortunately, it seems that many (if not most) doctors are so bent on brushing off their patients they forget that they can learn from them. Doctors DON'T know it all. They're human. Their skill is found in being a tool, only one tool that we the consumer utilize in our quest for health.

Sometimes, eventually some come back and say that not only were they NOT crazy...they have living, breathing proof (in a healthier body) accompanied by black and white test results that showed they had a physical cause for the "stress" or "over anxiety" (about their kids) all along.

Why did they waste time doubting themselves?

Just as actors are a tool in the art of entertainment, and editors are a tool in the world of publishing; the doctor is one of many tools we the consumer should use in our quest for health.

We need to educate ourselves about the food supply, about our medications and nutritional supplements, our water. We need to question doctors and other authority figures. Why are we taking this course of action? Why are my observances invalid? What makes these concerns invalid? And how many others have you successfully treated? Are any still your patient? (Okay, so I'm not quite brave enough to ask these questions. But they need to be asked.)

We need to question food companies, and pharmaceutical companies. We need to hold them responsible for the truth...and accountable for lies (but not necessarily honest mistakes). And we need to learn to trust ourselves. Another trait that has been victimized from society...sheep are rewarded, the inquisitive left behind or punished. We want to be normal. But I don't think there is a normal anymore.

Maybe there never was.

What Uncornies wish Food Manufacturers knew

What we wish the food manufacturers knew is simple.

Food intolerances come in many shapes and sizes. They can be big, scary, blatant reactions that scream "Immediate IgE mediated reaction to this substance". They can be mild, annoying nuisances. They can slowly build to a series of non-life threatening, but disabling symptoms that are delayed and difficult to track down. They can fall anywhere in between. And they aren't always easy to diagnose, even by a doctor.

Doctors aren't G-d. They don't know it all, and they don't have time to research the dietary options of every single patient. Nor do they have the patience to call someone who has a "proprietary formula" in order to determine whether or not that was, indeed, the cause of a latest reaction. Life's short, and it's in the hands of it's owner.

Everything counts. Citric acid doesn't intrinsically lose it's citric-ness when it turns from fruit sugar to Citric Acid. Nor does it lose it's corn origin, or it's beet sugar origin, or any other origin. It wasn't always Citric Acid, and as a food intolerant individual, I may need to know where it originally came from.

Proteins aren't the only component of foods a person can react to, although they may cause the most spectacular reactions. So, just because you use pure fructose syrup in your product does not mean it is safe for me. Just as some people with soy allergies react to soy lecithin, and some people with Celiac disease can not tolerate wheat starch that tests free from gluten; I can't tolerate corn products that shouldn't contain proteins.

Just a little bit can hurt. Packaging materials, vitamin enrichments, stablizing ingredients, and anti-caking agents in ingredients of ingredients can be enough to set my body over the edge.

I don't always have a lot of other choices. Once I've scrutinized every label, and narrowed my options down, there aren't a lot of products left. Every one counts, and if your product appears to meet my needs, I want to know if it's safe. It doesn't seem like too much to ask when I call the number you provide and request information about the ingredients used in your product.

Reactions hurt. And I'm tired of hurting. GI reactions are especially embarrassing and can impact not only my quality of life, but my ability to function in society. After tracking down the cause of pain, or even continuous discomfort, I don't want to take any chances. I need you to be honest and up front about what you are doing to the food supply.

I have to eat. And in this society, it just isn't feasible, or even possible, to grow all my own food. I still need to make a living, I need to care for the kids, I need to have a life. Even if I had enough land to raise animals and harvest enough produce to keep my family fed through the year, I don't have the time or energy to do it all. I don't have the know how to grow specialty products, or access to mills. I have to rely on corporations to provide many of my basic meals...and I deserve a chance to enjoy shortcuts as much as the rest of the United States.

My needs matter. Even if they don't make a significant difference in your personal pocketbook, my dietary needs do matter. Trust me to know my own needs, and how sensitive my body is. Respect my request for information, and offer it freely without judgement because I wouldn't bother calling if it didn't matter for some reason. Let me trust you, so I don't need to call in the first place.

And finally...it isn't just me. Variety is important for everyone. Knowledge is important for everyone. And anyone, anywhere, deserves the right to know what exactly is in their food. And they deserve the right to avoid certain ingredients for any reason they choose, whether it's anaphylaxis, gas pains, migraines, religious beliefs or personal choice. Reliance on one crop for too many different purposes is not healthy for our bodies, for our society, or for our economy.

Penguin "gets" it; and she's only 11.

Often, parents of food allergic kids lament the fact that no one "gets it".

True food allergies are scary, serious scenarios. In fact, anaphylactic reactions can be deadly. (No, I'm not being dramatic, the chances may be slim in the general public, but when you are talking about people with a history of anaphylactic reactions, the odds of a severe reaction increase with each exposure.)

However, others don't always get it. The adults in charge often don't "get it". They are in automatic mode, they aren't well trained, they have too many kids to take care of to think of just one kid's increased risk. There are too many variables and reasons for food restrictions (Anaphylaxis? Religion? Picky eater? Paranoid parent? I feel the last one is a moot point, since parents have the final say on their children's bodies, but I digress.) Speaking of digression, let me get back on topic...

Yesterday, we had an unexpected rainstorm. It's been sunny for days, hot in fact. We'd shed our winter coats and sprung out the shorts. And then...clouds. A sudden downpour.

I didn't really think much of it. Not many people did, I'm sure, other than to regret their outfit choices or lament the umbrella left home, in the back of a closet. I did have a momentary thought to rainy day recess at the school, but since Penguin isn't anaphylactic and we've been told that Bumblebee can challenge nuts whenever she feels confident enough to risk it, I didn't think twice about lunchtime.

When Penguin came home she announced that she didn't eat lunch.

Okay, first I was frustrated. Why? Why on earth would the child skip lunch when she knows it will trigger a migraine? When she knows it makes her sick? When Bumble bee has a singing show in a few hours that none of us want to miss? When she knows that the following day is a long one, with two extracurricular activities?

With wide eyes she explained that it was rainy day recess. She was sent to moniter the first grade classrooms. And she knew that there was a kid in there who has an epi pen for nuts.

Normally, for rainy day lunches, we pack nut free meals. But, I wasn't expecting an indoor meal. Daddy had packed a peanut butter sandwich on gf bread. And her snack was a bar full of protein rich nuts. Lunches have been frustrating since she went gluten free on top of the casein free; we send the danger foods to school, where she can consume healthy (for her) items without endangering her sister.

Apparently the school wasn't prepared for rainy weather either.

Normally, nuts are banned from any epi room class. If it will be used for a meeting, the child's desk is covered in butcher paper and a "Nut free zone" sign is erected. But it was raining, and there wasn't time to screen lunchboxes or segregate kids. During winter it happens so matter of factly that no one notices it happening. But this time...Penguin's take was that every precaution was falling through the cracks. The adults told her to go ahead and eat her lunch, just not near him. But she knew better, allergies are dangerous...ESPECIALLY nut allergies. And he has an EPI pen.

She told me a migraine is nothing compared to an allergic reaction. And she knew she could eat as soon as she got home. So...she took out her strawberries, zipped up her lunchbox and told the other helper that she wasn't taking any chances.

It's not that she made a stand. She didn't actually do that much, all she did was make a very small choice to peek in her lunchbox and then tuck it away, acknowledging that one risk didn't outweigh another. She "got it". Even though we aren't an epi pen carrying family, and we've never had to use one, even before Bumblebee was cleared to be in the same rooma s a peanut.

I'm proud of her. I'm not so thrilled with the school, if I was the child's mother...but I'm not; so what can I say? And I'm happy to report that with immediate snacking after school, and a very early dinner, she only had a mild headache without stomach issues!

And...The child survived with no obvious reactions. He and Bumblebee both did a delightful job in the first grade singing performance last night. :-)

"I don't think I'm related to her," Penguin told me earlier, referring to the squalling tantrum of arms and legs that is her sister.
"Oh?" I ask, restraining Bumblebee from causing any more damage to her sister or the rest of the house.
"Yeah, I think we must have gotten a different baby at the hospital or something," she says, "If Bumblebee were really my sister, we wouldn't fight so much."

*sigh* Nice try, kiddo.

March comes into our household like a lion...filled with school projects, girl scout cookies (that half of us can't eat), a bunch of birthday parties interspersed with "Ugh, how can I have the flu again?!?" and of course, the promise of spring.

This year my husband is dutifully clearing our tiny yard. He was motivated by the prospect of Penguin's birthday party, a gaggle of tween girls giggling, running and generally wreaking havoc frightened him.

Luckily the party went off without a hitch (well, okay, unless you count me waking up with Penguin's flu two days beforehand.) Thankfully, my parents stepped in to take the girls to a "can't miss" event the day before; and with the support of my diligent husband and whining kids, the rest of the house was orderly, the table set, treasure hunt clues hidden and a gluten free cake baked and iced well before anyone arrived. They all asked for seconds, and even thirds, on the cake so it must not have come out too "gluten free".

Anyways...back to my musings...

The garden. Well; the wannabee garden. Our funky shaped yard that has spots of grass, areas of dirt, and a large square of cement. We weed, mow, and rearrange as we endeavor to determine once and for all WHERE the sun hits the longest. That's where vegetables have the best chance of survival, we think. And forget aesthetics. We want produce. We don't even want massive amounts of produce. Just a few simple plants.
Successful plants.

I'm going to turn this brown thumb of mine green. (Which may take an awful lot of determination, given the dead cactus on my windowsill.) Said dead cactus was removed for the birthday party. Which was more successful than any of my gardening attempts to date have been.

I want to do it for me. Sure, I want to cut the grocery bill a bit. And I love the idea of walking out into the garden and harvesting dinner. (Although I worry about having the energy to prepare it after harvesting.) I want to lower our impact on the environment by reducing our trips to the store. And I want...I want the kids to know where food comes from. I want them to get their hands dirty, and stop panicking when they see a bug, and to realize the full circle of life. I want them to experience the satisfaction of growing what's on their plate.

And I'm hopeful that Ms. B (whom I will soon dub BumbleB or HoneyB) will be more willing to eat a variety of foods if she actually grows them. (What can I say, I'm an optimist)

But most of all, I want to walk outside and see plants growing, real plants, real green leaves that we're nourishing. The sight of life will do more for all of our souls than the food itself, I think.

We've gardened before. A few years ago, we tightened our belts and spent our tax refund on all sorts of garden stuff. We were determined to make it work, and it almost did.

But just as the seeds were poking out of the ground, and the sunflowers were turning their heads to the sun, there was a knock on the door. To make a long story short, the garden didn't survive (nor did many of the tools) and it soured us on even trying again for a very long time.

However, we have a new landlord now, and a host of new allergies along with a bit more energy than we had a few years ago. Our confidence has had a chance to recover, and youngest does have the start of a green thumb that I want to cultivate.

So maybe...just maybe...we'll try...I think we'll start with sweet potatoes...

Its hard to be a kid with allergies...

"So, Penguin, what's the best thing that happened today?"
I'm regaled with an account of being lunch helper and...guess what? We're having an ice cream party!
"Um, awesome. When?"
Tomorrow.
"Oh. Do I need to bring something?"
Shrug.
"Do they know that you're dairy free and gluten free?"
Face falls.
"Okay, well, who's organizing it? I'll call and make sure that you get something too."
I don't know. The lunch people, I think. The kids know I have food allergies.
"I see. Is there something I can do?"
No.
"I'm sorry kiddo. So, um, what's the worst thing that happened today?"
Pause. We're having an ice cream party.

I feel like a rotten parent. :-(
(This exchange occurred on Thursday. Luckily, she got a juice bar that was free of all allergens including dye. She was walking on air, and I'm happy to report...so was I.)

Science Fair Fun

Third, fourth and fifth graders in my daughter's school are required to do "proper" science projects. Most anyone who has kids knows what this really means. It's code-speak for "Parents, get ready to stress out!"

My inlaws have some great pictures of my husband at Penguin's age. He's sitting at a table, looking increasingly bored as the montage continues. His dad is sitting beside him, fiddling with wires and screws while his big brother occasionally takes part.

We've decided not to let the same thing happen in our house.

That doesn't mean that science fair is easy. In fact, it might be even harder when I can't just take care of some part of the project that needs to get done...I have to walk Penguin through it while her sister whines that it just isn't fair. But, it gets done (Whether it gets done "right" or "well" or "the way I'd have done it" is a different story. I'm learning to let go of my image of right, and let her do it her way. If nothing else, at least the judges can tell it was obviously done by a kid.)

Anyways, she chose an interesting subject this year. One that I was eager to help participate in. She wanted to do something that would help tie in food allergies; although obviously food allergies are not exactly a scientific experiment a young girl can design. She settled on recreating a project that was referenced on Delphi's Celiac Disease Support group about a year ago. In that project, high school students borrowed colanders and such from gluten eaters and tested them for the presence of starch using iodine.

We didn't want to collect colanders. We also didn't want gluten in the house. Our final design involved using wooden spoons to make rice (although rice does not contain gluten, it's a starchy grain. The starch would show up if present. If the spoons are holding grains, they'll hold flour. And flour has starch AND gluten.) She settled on the unpretentious question "Is there a way to wash all the starch off of a spoon?" She tested by making rice (Er, having Mom make rice and then stir it thoroughly with a spoon) Testing the spoon as a "control". Yep, it was starchy. She rinsed all the rice off the spoon. Still starchy, which surprised her a little.

The big one was the final test of washing it with soap and water. To our surprise, there was still small amounts of starchy purple flecks floating around in the water. No matter how well we washed the spoon, we still could find bits of starch in that water. This means that nutritionists and those crazy, zealous gluten haters are right...you do, indeed, need to dispose of your old glutened wooden spoons after going gluten free. Starch remains, and where there are bits of flour (starch) there is gluten (protein).

Intriguingly, the prior experiment that this was based on showed that items like colanders could be cleaned thoroughly enough for there to be no remaining starch. It makes use wonder if one of the experiments was done incorrectly (we did find that it was easier to see results when we stirred the water and transferred 2 TBS to a small, clear bowl before adding iodine. This necessitated less iodine to see starch in the control.) Or if wooden utensils just had more big pores for starch to hide out in. Obviously...as a kitchen test done by a 10 year old with a sketchy (at best) understanding of what she was doing, the experiment bears repeating again and again. But, she did prove that there's good reason to investigate the issue. And that the zealots have merit.

Just for fun we tested some clean spoons from other kitchens, and they had bits of purply starch in them, too.

I really think this could apply across the board to other allergies as well...can nut protein hide out in wood? Dairy? Obviously, I won't use my spoon to cook for my friend's rice-allergic son. But I will still use it for safe recipes...after all, studies show that germs just don't live as long on wood as they do on plastic. And I'd rather have flecks of old rice that germs!

My daughter's a hero; or...It's okay to break into your own house.

Sometimes in parenthood; you find yourself encouraging the strangest behavior.

Today was one of those times. We finally arrived home from school; laden down with backpacks, undelivered girl scout cookies and a science fair backboard. While balancing these items in my arms and hollering for the girls to please lock the car when they finally manage to get themselves extracted...I realized that the gate simply wasn't going to open.

I pushed. I prodded. I jiggled the chain. The chain was loose. In fact; it was only attached to my end of the pulley. Which meant, the 6 foot fence was locked up tight.

What to do?

I did what any good parent would do. I sent my 10 year old up there to investigate. She willingly climbed the wall next to the gate, and then balked. It's a long ways down.

But, there was no choice. I was not in climbing clothes. She's young, she's spry, and she was going to do it. I called encouraging remarks and walked along the wall with my hand out to steady her (my side was cement, the other side was grass and clover.) I tried to get her to let herself down onto one of the lawnchairs, but it was a no go. She would have jumped into the raised bed (filled with bermuda grass) but someone (probably me) left a garden claw sticking up out of it.

Finally she managed to maneuver herself down along the other side of the fence, repeating "I'm scared, I'm scared, I'm scared" as her sister repeated the same refrain...but adding in "We're going to get in trouble!"

The men at the gas station nearby were amused. Or confused. I'm not sure which.

My exasperated "You're allowed to break into your own house!" was met with chuckles.

And then she was down, and manipulated the latch, and we were in.

"I'm a hero!" she proclaimed.

Yup. She's a hero. And I'm proud to say very unlikely to ever embark in a career of criminal activity.

An everything-free party! (except for fun)

Yesterday heralded my soon to be 7 year old's birthday bash. It's a big event. Turning a new year older. Holding up an extra finger when someone wants to know how old you are. Seeing your friends. And hey, cake!

She planned carefully. She designed posters. She drew pictures. She poured over party catalogues. We pondered the fact that although last year we found no Tinkerbell merchandise for her Tinkerbell tea party, there are at least 3 fairy designs this year. But no Webkinz; the topic of choice this year.

Invariably, my girls are a year ahead of the game. From Horses to Unicorns to Olympics to Harry Potter, we have to use ingenuity only to find 6 months later, our demand has finally produced supply. And by then, the girls are off into some other new and exciting trend. Next year, there will be Webkinz everything. And they'll be ho-hum about it.

Anyways...My rule for a low stress party is that we can't poison anyone.

It's a strict rule. And not even Mommy's health can be risked by dangerous normal food. Especially not Mommy's health. The birthday child is important, but who takes care of them? And who makes sure each guest goes home with the right parent? That the walls don't collapse?
That's right. Mom. And she can't do it from bed.

So, the requisite martyr-mom attitude must go out the window. Cake is corn free, gluten free, potato free, etc. Penguin deserves to feel at home in her own home; and why on Earth would I bake for one kid but not the other? Of course, the cake must be dairy free, too. And since nuts are a potentially serious reaction...no nuts allowed. This does create some increased stress for me before hand. The main issue? There's no back up. If my homemade cake does not turn out well; I have to bake another one. There's no last minute race to the grocery store for a powdered sugar icing frosted confection. No fall back plan. Sink or swim, the baking must turn out okay or guests will go hungry. Period.

After our own family; we start to consider guests nutritional needs.

For Miss B that isn't too hard. Her friends don't seem to have any allergies, just finnicky food ideals. That does make being a hostess slightly more challenging. Many a playdate has involved the dramatic sigh of a pint-sized guest accompanied by the breathy remark "Don't you guys just have something normal?" (Pardon me, I thought carrots and apples and grapes WERE normal.)

At any rate...I don't want them to go home from a PARTY grumbling. I have managed to perfect a few recipes that I feel good about serving. The kids are supposed to choose one; but Miss B chose something less than perfect. Still, my kids devoured it and I served chocolate chip cookies (homemade, delicious, perfected, "almost normal" as described by my brother) to the balkers. They asked to bring some home to their siblings, which can't be a bad thing.

We also served "Kinz Kebobs" which were skewers of California grown strawberries and Hondurian Cantaloupe (I tried to find something else local, I really did. But she turned up her nose, she's 7 and well...I haven't truly started that whole local-vore thing that I'd love to implement, and will totally jump on as soon as a tapioca farm opens next door.) Those were a big hit. You just can't miss with fruit on a palm tree stick.

The kids entertained themselves in a Webkinz Arcade, which was essentially a balloon labeled "Zingoz Bounce"; Silly Six Pins (A loud-electronic game that gets little use but the kids love) dubbed "Kinz Pinz" and a box labelled "Wishing Well 2" where the kids could earn prizes by pulling out matching plastic fruit. The concept was lost on them, they had a blast anyways and many of them just collected prizes. I feel bad that it wasn't more evenly distributed; but, no one cried, they were all too busy screaming in delight. That's a good thing, I think.

The Arcade madness was followed by a treasure hunt to find Arte. Those with kinz experience know that Arte is the Curio shop manager who sends you treasure hunting. Our hunt culminated in the discovery of...well; rocks. Special rocks. Designed to be broken open and treasure unearthed. Our treasures? Lollipop rings, mardi gras beads and charm bracelet kits. (Please note that the rocks did harbor danger in the form of glutenous FLOUR. They were broken open outside; under the supervision of the non-Celiac parent. They were also created by the non Celiac in an off residence kitchen.)

Then we sat down and made bracelets. Luckily it all sort of worked out. The kids were not into making sure everything was even and fair...they were mostly into "I found this, I'm keeping this." Thankfully, I bought things by the dozen and there were only 8 kids total, including Penguin who is only a guest by proxy. So it really did seem to work out. I'm the only one who worried that some of the kids got slighted. (Unless they complained in private.)

I was told that the gem hunt was the most fun EVER. Good news. Things wrapped up with the unwrapping of gifts just barely before 3 pm; when the first parent came knocking to collect their offspring. And dh and I collapsed on the sofa with my parents and my brothers family thinking collectively "We survived!"

Miss B is happy. But dealing with that infamous after party "let down" feeling. After all, the next big event seems a LONG WAYS OFF. And her sister's upcoming limelight (Second march birthday) followed by her cousin's first birthday (3rd March Birthday) is not helping things much. Luckily, we got the party over with before her actual day of birth; so we can keep the celebration rolling through the week.

Turkeys

I'm reading a book called "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver. It's an interesting read about one family's endeavor to eat local for one year. They do have a firm foundation in healthy eating habits, and an intimate knowledge of gardening well before their local-vore adventure begins, which is slightly disappointing, but nevertheless; the information within holds my attention.

One fact that has jumped out at me is their Turkey choice. They've chosen to raise their own poultry for this adventure, something I'm not sure I could do (How do you not name an animal you interact with daily?) but, then again, I have trouble eating something I knew used to have a pulse, brain waves, and communication skills. The troubling aspect was the cited fact that around 98% of the turkeys sold annually (from the deli and freezer cases) have been bred for some rather unique qualities.

They are docile. They won't put up a fight at cramped conditions, and don't mind being half crushed for half of their lives.
Their lifespan is limited. If permitted to reach full growth, and wander around, the sheer "normal" weight of their bodies will crush their legs and ultimately, their chest. This, I imagine, provides a rather slow and painful death.
Most disturbing of all; they are incapable of procreating naturally. In fact, there are technicians who are skilled in surgically removing the male's sperm and inseminating the female.

Folks...Americans eat these monstrosities. In fact, we consider them prized fixings. Meanwhile, the days of the wild turkey (the bird that found itself on the table during our first Thanksgiving feast) is in danger of extinction. Varieties of poultry and livestock are not only losing popularity, they are disappearing almost as quickly as the rainforest lands can be cleared to make room for more livestock grazing land.

How is it healthy to eat the flesh of a critter that would not have survived another month if mankind hadn't put it out of it's misery? At least, when that misery is inflicted by mankind's lack of appropriate nourishment and attention?

We play G-d with animals, with plants, with our food supply. We pretend we can outwit mother nature in an operating room, with modern medical miracles. But we don't see the bigger picture. Someday we're going to wake up and realize that we ourselves are dying, and it will be at our own hand.

My kids are growing up in a world that I've helped create. It scares me half to death to think of the problems that I'm leaving behind for them and their children to clean up after. The more I learn, the more disturbed I become. It's not just pollution, global warming, and generations of poor nutrition and the loss of integral health knowledge (our food shouldn't be bright blue) that they need to bounce back from. They're also going to be contending with rampant wild strains of genetically modified and mutated crops, franken-turkeys who can't procreate, massive extinctions and mutations. They'll be cleaning waterways and seeking safe, fertile farmland.

I can see it unfolding like the Ghost of Christmas Future. And we have to do something. More than I am already.

V-Day...beyond food.

It's here. Friday the thirteenth...of February. This is the cause of much celebration in the homes of young girls (and boys, I'm sure). Today is the day of the school VaLeNtInEs DaY party! Yay!!!

Of course, this means cookies, and cupcakes, and (thanks to the new "healthy food in the classrooms" initiative) a fruit plate and veggie tray. Not to mention lovely party bags full of sweet, sugary, dye-bright, casein full candy. (Made from pure corn, of course!) They do look lovely. And the kids, of course, want to share something fun as well.

We've done light sticks with Harry Potter cards, and lovely little tattoo furry cards, and one year we made foam-y lips or mustaches that attached to safe lollipops. (Those turned out cute, but very mom-work intensive)This year, I think we hit a true winner though...these adorable little caterpillars with tags attached that read "I'm Buggy about you, Valentine" and "You're all WRITE" (Both socially acceptable for a 5th grade girl to hand about freely.)

My youngest also made little tags for cute little heart mazes (yes, I know...landfill fodder *sigh*) that read "You a-MAZE me" she's very proud...and the best part is, they were cheap, encouraged the kids creativity and fine motor skill development, are completely allergy friendly...and they certainly are unlikely to be duplicated, today, anyways.

The only cloud in our sky is that the youngest (the one who can eat the dairy decadent gluten gorged feast planned for the afternoon) will be missing her party due to a fever. That's okay...I get to snuggle a sick baby (who isn't often a "baby") and the Valentines will keep; she doesn't need the sweets and we'll have our own party this weekend.

Besides, her birthday's coming...

The things we take for granted...

When you wake up with a fever, sore throat and chills; you really gain a new perspective on Tylenol.

I mean, when the kids have a headache, or stub a toe, or grow new molars, I have that magic bottle in the cupboard. It's always handy, and when I run out; more is only a quick hop in the car to any local drug store or grocer. But, the same isn't true for me.

A few years ago, I had an amusing time trying to track down safe acetaminophen (Tylenol). The problem was that I wanted something for a headache and menstrual cramps. Over the counter Tylenol and Tylenol knock-offs would do the job just fine. Except that every blessed one of them contains corn derivatives.

In other words; I can choose between the pain that has a (probably) limited duration, or abdominal cramps, bloating, nausea etc that goes on for a guaranteed 2 weeks to a month. Or; I can find a pharmacist to compound it. Compounding, as I soon found out, is becoming a lost art...lost to the red tape of legislature.

Thankfully...A few years ago, I did find a pharmacist willing to help me. And today, when I woke up with aches and pains; I thanked my lucky stars and reached for my trusty compounded acetaminophen.

I've come to take for granted that mild aches and pains can be virtually extinguished by a little capsule filled with a very common substance. And that there doesn't need to be a trade off. Or even a waiting period. I guess I've become spoiled.

Unfortunately, this morning I quickly realized that my medication had expired. Quite awhile ago, actually.

So now I'm patiently waiting for my doctor and the pharmacy to work out the logistics of compounding more acetaminophen. And next time...I'll be grateful that it's in the cupboard. Well worth a dollar a dose.

And next time, I'll keep an eye on that expiration date.

The Gluten Conundrum

I find myself writing this out over and over and over. So here goes, in my blog, where I can later cut and paste or just link it. :-)

The evil of gluten:

With most food allergies, as I've learned, the gial is to track them down. The best tool for this is a food diary (to help note trends) and an elimination diet followed by food challenges. (The challenges are vital because you do not want to live in unnecessary fear, nor do you want a diet that is too restrictive.)

However (!!!) Gluten does not follow the same food allergy rule. If you suspect gluten is the root of your health issues (and increasing evidence links it with arthritis, weight gain, autism, asthma, chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia, and any other dx that leaves a dr proudly smiling and reassuring you that while there is no treatment, you aren't dying.) then you have more to do than 'simply' cut it out of your diet, note symptoms, and challenge it.

You see, gluten intolerance could be Celiac Disease. And Celiac Disease, while easy to manage, is important to diagnose properly. People with Celiac experience intestinal damage when they ingest even small amounts of gluten. And; they may experience damage without correlating symptoms. In other words...when you "challenge" gluten, you might find that you can "tolerate" small amounts. But those small amounts that don't cause symptoms can flatten your intestinal villi, and leave you malnourished; setting you up for a host of serious conditions down the road.

So, before going gluten free it's a really good idea to go to the doctor, discuss the idea with him and insist on a blood test first. Request a FULL celiac panel, not just the TTG. This will guide your decision on whether to follow up with a GI, or get a biopsy, or just give gluten free a go. This is particularly important with children...they are less likely to continue the diet in their teen and adult years without a proper diagnosis. But, if they aren't thriving and gluten is impacting growth, it's better for them to be healthy and gluten free than wait around for enough damage to occur for a diagnosis to be made. Only you, in conjunction with a good doctor, can know what's best for your particular situation.

It doesn't hurt to go gluten free. It can be a healthy, well balanced diet. Many cultures have a traditionally low gluten or gluten free diet. But once you do give up gluten, the intestines will start to heal. When the antibodies are no longer active, it will be impossible for a doctor to definitively dx Celiac Disease. While you don't need a doctor's permission to eat gluten free; you may need that note for college, or kid's camp, or employment reasons, or if you're ever hospitalized or need long term care and they aren't keen on a special needs diet. And adding gluten back in can create symptoms before damage is severe enough to detect. Or, it can cause damage without symptoms...leading you to believe you're cured until you collapse.

If you go gluten free, and then challenge it without symptoms, it is important to regularly monitor your antibodies with blood tests. If you do develop Celiac damage; you want to catch it as early as possible.

Also...if wheat, rye, barley or oats seem to cause rashes or shortness of breath, contact your dr. This could be a traditional IgE mediated allergy; and challenging it on your own at home could be dangerous. IgE allergies can be tested with a blood RAST or skin prick test; and an educated guess made as to the potential severity of reaction.

Food Allergies: Prison? Or Pardon?

This entry, like so many lately, has been inspired by recent goings on in a variety of online communities I take part in.

The subject that inspired me was the frustrated comment that food allergies feel like a prison. I can understand where they're coming from. Indeed, it's frustrating when 'everyone' is going out to eat and you have to find something to bring along, or eat in advance, or just beg off. It's hard to avoid participating in the most fundamental of ice breakers..."Did you try that dip? OMG, it's to die for!" It's lonely to not identify with the curbside "what's new at Starbucks" conversation.

But I don't view food allergies as a prison.

For years, I was in pain. I did my best to ignore it, to push myself out, I put on a smile and bounced about, and laughed like there was no tomorrow. But I had that internal monologue going. "5 more minutes. Just 5 more minutes." I had a route mapped to the bathroom, I was imagining soothing white light coating my abdomen, I begged off citing "headaches" and "menstrual cramps". No one seemed to notice that I always had pms...and if it did come up I joked that I was stuck with "pre, post, present" syndrome. We laughed. Life goes on.

But every moment was just one step in front of another.

My daughter has fond memories of the days before I had "food allergies". When I'd tell her to grab a big pile of books, and we'd snuggle up in bed with the heating pad and read for hours. She remembers building a fort, and me telling her to bring the juice and a cup so I didn't have to leave. She doesn't know that I didn't have the strength to walk to the kitchen. And the memory chills me.

Although I am still dealing with many of the affects of food allergies, I'm also healing. I'm awed by the trips we take, to the zoo, to the library, to the park. Trips that I enjoy. I used to think I enjoyed them, but I hurt. I wasn't really "there". I was in my internal monologue of "5 more minutes, this doesn't hurt that bad." or "Breathe, just keep breathing, slowly, that's right." I love lamaze. I barely used it in labor, but I got a lot of use out of it for other reasons.

Sure, my heart still pauses when I have a meeting I can't miss. I still make sure I can have a quick getaway even though I haven't needed one in awhile. (Okay, okay, okay, I had a few close calls over Christmas. It was a nasty reminder of what life used to be like; and if it weren't for December, I probably would be feeling even less skittish at the moment.) As a good friend once told me "The best way to get over a fear is to jump right in. But, when you jump in and a freak wave knocks you over and tangles you up in seaweed, it just confirms that your fear was well founded. And obviously, it makes it much harder to 'just jump in' again." I'm just recovering from the seaweed memories. It doesn't mean that food allergies create a prison.

As far as I'm concerned, the allergies have set me free. That freedom is a bit scary at times. And of course...I still have physical symptoms that hold me back, and frustrate me. Restaurants are not a relaxing opportunity. Parties are scary. But only because of my memories and fear of embarrassing myself. I can't shake the memory of walking into a career counselors office, forcing a smile and vomiting into his trash can; running in shame. (Maybe I should get that health under control before job hunting?) Or the restaurants. *shivering*.

Now that was isolating. Violent stomach flu striking any moment of any day, several times a month with little warning other than the almost omni-present discomfort; now THAT was a prison. Doctors shaking their heads and telling me to buck up, shrugging, suggesting I relax...just jailors, throwing away another key. Medications that at best, left me sleepy and unsafe to drive? Just empty hope.

Discovering food allergies? It's like being set free after years of prison. Sure, I'm not living the life that TV tells me everyone wants. I may not be an executive anything, or the PTA mom, or a June Cleaver-wannnabe. I'm not a social butterfly, and I've never eaten at the half dozen restaurants I use as landmarks when giving directions. But I have some control over my health. I have hope. Hope! That thing with feathers, that perches on the soul...(Emily Dickinson)

I can bond at the park. I can bond with other parents over the trials of bedtime or their toddlers new cute boots. Everyone can relate to grocery budgeting, whether you buy ingredients or pre-packaged goods. And there's not one of us who doesn't have a pile of laundry calling.

Food allergies may have imprisoned me once, but now that they're labeled and acknowledged, they've set me free. I'm no more imprisoned than an Orhodox Jew, or Seventh Day Adventist. The only prison is in my own memories.

There's Mercury in that Corn...

Well, as a corn allergic individual, I've learned that the vast majority of the time, "There's Corn in that. And there's Corn in that, too." However...I did not know that High Fructose Corn Syrup was contaminated with the heavy metal Mercury. In fact, it contains a LOT of mercury.

The Corn Refiners Association argues that they have cleaned up their act. Not only is there now no mercury in corn syrup, they now are using mercury free processing agents.

Amusing. If there never was mercury in corn syrup, why are they "now" using the mercury free versions of caustic soda and hydrochloric acid? And why has it never come out before that this "all natural sweetener" used to have mercury?

With all of the hype about corn syrup causing obesity, one would think that if there had been evidence before, even suspect, that it would have found it's way into American's ears. Unless, of course, there was a cover up. (Is this when Mel Gibson shows up at my door with "Conspiracy Theory" theme music?)

Perhaps the study was flawed? Then why was it confirmed by a second study conducted by the Institute for Agricultural and Trade Policy? This one showed that around 31% of the food and beverage products that contain high fructose corn syrup which were tested (purchased straight from supermarket shelves) contained mercury. The study was limited, meant only to challenge the findings of the first study after a notable lack of response from the FDA and other consumer advocacy groups. And it proved that the first study...had some merit, after all.

But corn is good. The Corn Refiners Association is huge industry. Corn is in everything, and they are looking for ways to stick it in products that lack this miracle food. It has fiber. And it grows well in North America. Most importantly, it's government subsidized. And it has so many other potential uses, such as ethanol.

Some days, I think that's about all corn is fit for...burning. At least it will kill us slowly, and it burns cleaner than coal.

The Shrinking World

Our world is shrinking.
Not our planet, although if the arctic ice continues melting, the amount of available land will certainly continue to shrink. I mean our world, our environment...what we perceive as "the world".

We used to live in our own cities, and the boundaries were defined. We bought produce from the market, our staple pantry items from the corner store. The corner store was supplied from a local farmer. Who grew their own crops.

There were bigger companies, too. But their supplies, again, were limited by distance.

We used to travel through books, and talking on phones seemed miraculous. Our president was a mythical figure, and our state representative might be a vague idea as well. We lived in the here; and if we didn't like what was going on in our local community...we could do something about it, or we could find a better place to live.

That doesn't work anymore. We live globally. Our kitchen is stocked from all over the planet (Thailand, Indonesia, Brazil, Italy); our cupboards are filled with merchandise made in China from parts and pieces gathered from a selection of countries. Our corner store is located on our desktop, if not our palmpilot. GPS makes us feel right at ease in any "new" location...without even meeting the eyes of a local gas station attendandant.

The internet informs us not only of our local news but whats going on in Pakistan. The smaller the world gets, the more out of control we feel; and so the government makes new laws, new legislature meant to protect us from our own inadequacies.

Don't homeschool. Even if the public school is failing your child, the government challenges you to jump through hoops to keep your child home. Someone has to fail, even if it is your child.
Mass-vaccinate. Sure, hundreds die each year. But that's so thousands can live. They don't dare give freedom of choice to trained individual doctors who know a patient's history. No, much better to make that decision without looking a child in the face. Otherwise, they might hesitate; knowing the risks.
Forget compounding drugs. Someone, somewhere can take advantage of that. Besides, it's too risky. The compounding pharmacist might make a mistake. And that would be dangerous, at least as dangerous as anaphylaxis from the excipient used to bind the drug commercially. Much better to leave the statistically insignificant helpless. From a boardroom, they can't see them suffering anyways.
Crush the small farmer. They can't afford fancy machinery, they can't afford to lose a room full of carcasses and they can't dedicate an entire field's yield to testing. They can't provide a separate bathroom with proper sewage to the handfull of customers they have. They can't hire help unless they can afford to build a new housing unit. They can't charge for tours. Nevermind that they have such a limited distribution and work slowly enough for their production to be a safer choice than whats turned out at a frightening speed by bug businesses; nevermind that they have a personal rapport with customers and an intense personal drive to keep their customers happy. Forget the fact that customers are thinking individuals who can look around and make choices for themselves whether or not to risk eating the meat, or grain, or homemade apple pie that's for sale. They can't compete with billion dollar agricultural giants, so they can drown.
And now toys. Toys, and clothes, and hair accessories. All the little unique items found in church bazaars and craft fairs and online from individual entrepreneurs are being threatened. Mothers who work from home to produce slings, and cloth diapers, and handcrafted baby and child items are threatened. The retiree who spends his days creating heirloom quality children's toys in his backyard shop for a bit of supplemental income is threatened.
Why? Why, because those big companies...the ones who produce massive quantities of colorful, plastic future-landfill fodder...cut a few too many corners. They got so big, and the world so small, that they harmed a few too many kids. Too much lead showed up in items meant to be mouthed. And the government took action, looking only at the big companies, the CPSC created a Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act. And this act threatens the livelihood of thousands, just when the economy is at its weakest.
The worst thing is, it's disguised as a good thing.
In order to stay in business, all a company needs to do is send a portion of each batch of toys or clothing off for independant testing. They simply need to pass a lead screening, and prove that they meet the governments standards. It would be tragic if that hardwood race car carved by Joe happened to have lead in it. Or if that christening gown, with hand tatted lace, was laced with poisons. Who would guess? Certainly not the people who produced them in the first place, the ones whose livelihood depends on every customer's satisfaction.
It sounds reasonable until you do the math. In order to stay in business, small business owners would need to raise their prices astronomically. A $10 barrette set would go for close to $5000. After conservative testing had been paid for, anyways.
Whether I want to or not, I'm stuck buying the cheap ones from China. From a company that can afford to take risks with my child's safety, because the odds of that small batch of lead painted barrettes getting found are minute. The government will have much better luck tracking down small businesses who make a slight error, don't you think? And the small business owner won't have the resources to recover.
With price tags like that, entrepreneurs won't be able to get started. Famous Amos ate a Nestle Tollhouse cookie and said "Hey, someone should sell these." So he tried. And when it worked, he earned enough to grow and slowly start doing it "right".
If he'd been required to buy the production equipment, get a license, and have a third of his first batch tossed for testing purposes we'd never have found pre-packaged chocolate chip cookies on the store shelves.

What futures will be harmed because a visionaries hands were tied with red tape?
And when will it end? Where do we draw the line? When do we, as a society, see that parents can make the decision to parent? There is no "right" answer for everyone. It's okay to make mistakes, that's how we learn. The trouble is, individuals need the freedom to make mistakes, while corporations need the constrains of laws to keep them from forgetting their responsibility to each individual.

Our world needs to shrink again, in the opposite direction. We need to start shopping at our local stores, where our taxes stay in our own community, and we support people who live here, too. We need to be governed by our local officials, who can see our unique needs better in person. We need to be trusted to make decisions, and given full disclosure so that we can make an informed decision. And we need to learn not to simply pass the buck to the next guy. When we make mistakes, we need to own up to them. Just as we hold others responsible for their own errors.