I used to eat ice cream for breakfast.
Mint chocolate chip or
Peanut butter chocolate in a pinch.
I didn't just have a sweet tooth, but a whole sweet mouth.
I ate what I wanted and didn't really care what was in it, as long as it was yummy.
I could make cookies by myself without a recipe by the time I was 7.
When Avonlea was 7 she was well on her way to such heights of accomplishment, when it hit.
Gluten. Dairy. Eggs. Sugar.
Avonlea sat in the doctor's office and described her allergic reactions.
She kept saying, "But that's not allergies because my Daddy does it, too."
And as I sat there and her words worked their way through my brain I realized what I later told her in the car, "Life as we know it is over."
Dave did indeed have the same allergies as she did. So did Grant. And Rowan. Rosy's reaction to egg produced an emergency room visit.
To make a long story short, I no longer eat ice cream for breakfast.
We now eat very differently and I've come to terms with it all.
Soaking grains can be fun. Really.
Raw milk is yummy and the cream on top can be made into ice cream. With honey.
I know how this all has affected me but sometimes I forget that my children also have been affected by these limitations and food awareness.
And then I'm reminded.
Dave took Grant hunting this month. Dave had grabbed a bunch of food at the store before they left. He later told me that Grant refused to eat the canned chili that he made for dinner. Why? Grant read the label, spotted "Trans fat" in the nutritional information, and wanted nothing to do with it. He wouldn't eat it. Dave scoffed at him, ate it, and was later sick. Grant had a moment of "I told you so."
So my ten year old checks labels and won't eat it if it's not healthy...it gets worse.
Monday night we watched Sound of Music as a family. At the opening of the film it is announced that the movie is modified to fit the screen.
Avonlea turned to me gaping, "They modified the movie!" Yes my daughter knows about genetically modified foods, which we avoid at all costs, and thought that they somehow did something unhealthy to the movie. I had to assure that it was perfectly safe to watch.
I was still reeling from this when the part in the movie comes where the kids and Maria buy fruit at the stand and take it up into the mountains to have a picnic. During this charming scene, where the boys are playing ball and the girls are lounging while they eat their fruit, Rosy turned to me in consternation and said, "They didn't wash that fruit!"
I explained lamely that they probably did but just didn't show it and I toyed with the idea of explaining to her that they probably didn't use harmful pesticides at that time, but I let it pass.
I think I'm going to go make some ice cream for breakfast.