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Fava Bean Hummus

September 10, 2013 - 7:00 am | March 6, 2016 Dips, Fructose Free, Gluten Free, Real Food, Recipes, Side Dishes, Soy Free, Top 8 Allergy Free

2 Comments

I’ve been wanting to make a hummus recipe for Jed for quite a while now. Snack foods that appeal to a toddler are difficult to come by when restricted by Fructose Malabsorption, and hummus seemed like something I might be able to make within his dietary limitations.

Sadly, I hit a brick wall right away: chickpeas are a no-no on his diet. I could trial them to see if he could tolerate them, and I probably will at some point. The other day, though, he was coming off being fructosed by the evaporated cane syrup in one of our favorite pancake mixes and I didn’t want to confuse the issue with a new trial.

Instead, I used Fava beans! Supposedly, they are ‘safe’ for FructMal, so I figured we were off to a good start.

Unlike normal hummus recipes, I had to omit the garlic. This pretty much flies in the face of every hummus recipe I’ve ever seen, but it turned out really well despite the lack of garlicky goodness. Feel free to add some garlic to yours if you can.

Here’s what I did:

First I added the lemon juice, tahini, olive oil, salt, cumin and chopped onion to my food processor to get those ingredients well mixed.

Everything but the beans!

Then I drained and rinsed the beans…

Rinsed and drained fava beans.

…and added them to process.

Needed a little something…

They needed a little more liquid, so I added more olive oil and some water. After letting the machine run for what seemed like forever, I had a nice, smooth hummus!

Creamy yumminess!

I scooped it all into a bowl, sprinkled a little paprika on top, and snack time commenced!

Y’all, Jed LOVED it! He ate about a quarter of it before getting full! Darrel came home and I told him to take a taste, and at first he wasn’t sure…but after eating about half of the rest he decided it was really good, too.

Sadly, Jed seemed a little bit fructosed the rest of the evening and the first part of the following morning, and his diapers were RANK. I don’t know if it is the beans, the tahini, or the cumin and paprika, but as much as he liked this I’m willing to make it in varying ways to find one that works best for him. Of course, he could also have been showing reaction to the sweet onions we’ve been using. So this is still a possible “safe” recipe for him as-is.

However, I had to share this with you because it really satisfied both my men’s appetites!

Fava Bean Hummus

Prep time

5 mins

Total time

5 mins

This delicious dip will satisfy anyone!

Author: Cradle Rocking Mama (Carrie Summers)

Recipe type: appetizer

Serves: 2 cups

Ingredients

1 can fava beans
3 T. lemon juice
2 T. tahini
2 T. olive oil (plus an extra T. if needed)
1 tsp. sea salt
½ tsp. cumin
¼ c. chopped onion (optional)
3 T. water (or as much as needed)
paprika for sprinkling on top

Instructions

Add lemon juice, tahini, 2 T. olive oil, sea salt, cumin and onion to a food processor and process.
Drain and rinse the fava beans, add to the food processor.
Process, scraping down the sides occasionally. Add 1 T. olive oil and water as needed for consistency.
Process until smooth, then scoop into a bowl.
Sprinkle paprika on top to make it purdy.
Enjoy a unique hummus with chips or veggies to dip!

What are your favorite hummus flavor combinations?

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This post shared with:

Real Food Wednesdays, Frugal Days, Sustainable Ways, and Whole Food Wednesdays.

A Lesson in Fructose and Sweet Onions

September 9, 2013 - 7:00 am | September 15, 2013 Uncategorized

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Photo courtesy of Gualberto107 at http://www.freedigitalphotos.net
Who knew something so yummy could be so dang painful?

Jed is one tough little guy.

I know this because I spent yesterday being “fructosed”…and it sucked.

My head pounded. My thoughts were fuzzy and disconnected. My stomach was an almost constant cramp. My patience was at an all time low. I was snapping at my men. I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.

If this is what my sweet little boy feels like when he’s fructosed, well, he is just about the toughest little guy around for still being so awesome through it all.

How did I end up so fructosed? Well, let’s go back in time a bit…

About a month ago, I figured out that to make hamburgers REALLY delicious, you should carmelize some onions and serve them on top. Yum! Takes burgers up about ten notches, as a matter of fact, and since I’m so limited on my diet I was THRILLED with this discovery!

Then Darrel saw some sweet yellow onions on sale at the grocery store and bought those; I started using them more often because, well, they don’t make me cry like a little girl who didn’t get a pony on her birthday when I chop them.

Time to get a little graphic here (which, frankly, y’all should be used to on this blog by now!). I did notice that I started to have quite a bit more…um, well, gas. Like “clear a room” gas.

Other than offending other people, it didn’t cause any problems for me and MAN! Were my burgers and hamburger hash ever tasty with those sweet onions! So I kept on eating ’em. Variety tasted so sweet, you know? (Besides, even with being at work last month I spent most of my time alone at home with the kids, so I didn’t offend too many people! Um. I hope.)

As with anything that tastes so danged good, you wind up eating more and more of it. It’s human nature to want to eat the tasty treats!

So I suppose that sometime in the last few days, I managed to eat TOO much of those tasty sweet yellow carmelized onions. And yesterday I paid the price.

Now, I already suspected I have FructMal because of the melon experience last summer, but being on such a restrictive diet I hadn’t had a chance to test the theory out. Frankly, I’ve been so busy paying attention to the boys’ food needs and reactions that I hadn’t really noticed when I get gassy or tired and compared it to my food.

So yesterday I spent some time trying to educate myself about onions.

First I found this article, which is all kinds of awesome. That’s where I learned that sweet onions have about 25% more sugar in them! Worse, when you carmelize onions, they break down their natural sugars into monosaccharides – like fructose. Which makes total sense, because we all know onions are sweeter when they’re cooked, right?

But, dude. Fructose! Ugh!!

Then I found this, which is probably the funniest and most succinct description of the symptoms and treatment of FructMal I’ve ever found in one place.

That’s where I learned about the connection between FructMal and depression. I knew fructose made Jed “wonky” and have behavior issues, but this was news to me.

Now for a little story about me as a teenager.

I wonder if those of you who knew me in high school are aware of this, but I spent over TWO YEARS of my high school and early college years being drugged for bi-polar disorder.

Yeah. I’m not bi-polar, y’all.

As a teenager, though, I would have these sudden fits of rage followed by bleak depressions, and they came on so fast (and left just as quickly) that the only explanation the shrinks could come up with was bi-polar.

(Oh, and why was I going to shrinks? Because I had some boring freaking teachers in high school at times and would regularly sleep through their classes. Don’t challenge my brain? Fine. I’ll take a siesta! Unfortunately, they couldn’t possibly understand that I was tired and they were boring, and insisted I be removed from school until I passed a drug test – because drug use is the only explanation they could contemplate! This despite my repeated explanations. Ugh. This happened so often (with negatives on every drug test, thankyouverymuch) that the Principal – boy, do I have another great story about HER – insisted my parents take me to psychiatrists to figure out what “my problem” was. There’s more than one reason I want to home school my kids; allergies are actually only one of them.)

So they put me on lithium. For over two years. Go here and read the side effects. Is it any wonder I was a total mess the last two years of high school? (And don’t you love the irony of a school insisting I was on drugs so much that they forced me into a situation where I WAS drugged with an incorrect medication? Bad words. Bad words. Very very very bad words.)

Wanna know what I ate almost exclusively in high school? Coca-cola. Pizza. Doughnuts. Tacos. Burritos. Desserts. Chips and queso. Yeah, I’ve said before I was the pickiest kid on the planet, and that was pretty much all I would eat. All day, every day.

Looking at that now, do you know what I see? High FRUCTOSE corn syrup. Tomato sauce. Wheat. More wheat. MORE WHEAT. Garlic. Onions. Sugar. More wheat. Oh, and have I mentioned WHEAT?

All of which are on the no-no list for FructMal.

So, turns out, I’m not crazy! And I’ve probably only occasionally been actually depressed.

Turns out, I was just severely fructosed and suffer from Fructose Malabsorption, and the fructose was making my life hell. I’d get fructosed, get depressed and miserable, then the fructose would fade and my angsty “mad at the world” self would be unleashed – only worse than normal, thanks to being subdued for a while.

I was being sickened by my diet.

Huh. Good to know.

I have a LOT more self-educating to do, y’all. This CANNOT be Jed’s future!

(And you know? This makes me even MORE of a food activist now! My last year in high school my grades plummeted. I remember struggling like crazy to be as “bright” and sharp as I had always been. Between the fructose and the lithium, it’s a wonder I could remember my name! As a result of those grade drops, I dropped from the top 10%, couldn’t get the financial aid I needed to go to my first choice schools, wound up at a college poorly suited for me, and ended up dropping out. Imagine how different my educational – and self-worth – trajectories would have been had I NOT been drugged out with all these unknown things? I’d probably have a doctorate and be engaged in some challenging work by now. Of course, I wouldn’t have Darrel or the boys, so I’m not sorry…but, just imagine…)

I HATE FRUCTOSE.

And y’all? Be careful of your onions. They could totally screw up your chances of getting in to Julliard. Or getting a date.

__________

This post shared with:

Real Food Wednesdays, Frugal Days, Sustainable Ways, Whole Food Wednesdays, and Healing with Foods Friday.

Miley Cyrus and Mrs. Hall

September 7, 2013 - 12:37 am | September 7, 2013 Uncategorized

I am saying that we need to face facts.

The fact is, people do judge you by how you dress and conduct yourself. (Witness job interview tips and tricks: how to dress, how to shake hands, how to answer questions dynamically, etc. Why would people go to that trouble if they were NOT being judged by how they dress and conduct themselves?)

That holds true in the dance between men and women as well.

Being the mother of sons, I agree wholeheartedly that we need to teach our young men how to behave properly and “control themselves”.

I am, however, unwilling to place all the blame on young men for bad behavior, when our daughters are – apparently – not being taught the same things.

It takes two to tango, you know.

So for those naysayers of Mrs. Hall, who commented that she needs to “stop blaming the girls” and “teach her sons some self-control”, here is what *I* will be telling MY sons about women:

Boys, I am raising you to be Good Men.

There’s a lot that goes in to being a Good Man, but as far as how a Good Man views and treats women, here’s a primer:

Good Men do not regard women as only sexual objects. Good Men see women as creatures of beauty and love, and treat them that way.

Good Men respect women and admire them. They protect women. Good Men use their natural physical strength to defend women when necessary. Good Men NEVER use that strength to hurt women. Ever.

Good Men are chivalrous; they will open doors and hold coats, because it is the courteous thing to do – not because they think the woman can’t do it herself.

Good Men can look at a picture of a scantily clad woman, be aroused by it, and still choose not to act upon those desires or treat the woman with disrespect.

Good Men are – wait for it – GOOD MEN. They are honorable, fair, trustworthy, loyal. They are defenders of the weak, and protectors of the innocent. Often – not always – but often, women need defending…and a Good Man will always do that for her.

Good Men are not, however, patsy’s who let themselves be run over, taken advantage of, or devalued by others.

As such, Good Men will seek out Good Women; women who have inner strength and inner beauty and show grace and determination in their demeanor.

Good Women have the good sense to know that, unfair as it may be, people WILL judge you based on your dress and comportment. Good Women know this, and while perfectly willing and happy to dress sexy at appropriate times, will not post pictures of themselves in their nightgowns (with no bra) on the internet.

A Smart Woman will also have the sense to know that you can’t act like Lindsay Lohan and expect people to treat you like Margaret Thatcher.

Smart Men and Women – Good Men and Women – understand that it may not always be fair, these supposed double-standards and assumptions about people – but fair or not IT IS WHAT IT IS. Smart People understand that it’s easier to accept that and move on with life than waste a lot of time and energy being angry about “the unfairness” of it all.

Life IS unfair in a lot of ways. Smart, Good People accept that; they fight against what they can, accept what they cannot fight, and move on to issues that they can affect.

Boys, I say all this to you as a woman who had self-esteem issues in her youth. It took a lot of years for me to realize that my efforts at trying to be “liked” and “cool” were causing people to treat me with actual disrespect. I could not understand why I could never find a Good Man to date and marry; why all men acted like jerks to me. So I understand completely where many of these misguided girls are coming from.

Finally, one day, I “got it”. I understood that *I* could make people treat me with respect by how I behaved; my dress and demeanor was a large part of that. And when I gained that understanding, I didn’t waste time trying to change the world around me.

I changed myself.

I raised my standards and started acting like the Good Woman I knew I was. Lo and behold, within a few short months I met your Daddy. A Good Man.

A man who will – and has – walked through fire for me and you. A man who treats all people with respect, but places his family first. A man who will never put himself first in our family – who will always put the three of us ahead of himself in every way.

The kind of man I want you to be.

So be Good Men, sons. Don’t treat scantily-clad women with disrespect, don’t view them as ‘easy conquests’, don’t behave badly towards them.

But be discerning. A woman who is willing to allow people to think bad things about her because of how she dresses and behaves may well be a wonderful, amazing woman – but she shows a severe lack of self-respect by conducting herself in a way that allows others to create negative views of her.

So don’t waste your time dating those types of women. They don’t respect THEMSELVES enough to be able to properly respect YOU.

P.S. Sons, this goes for you, too. If you dress like a sloppy thug, refuse to dress appropriately for the occasion, wear ratty, smelly clothes with your underwear showing…well, you’re just asking for people to form negative opinions of YOU as well. Be smarter than that; show some respect for yourself and the people around you by behaving and dressing like the Good Men I KNOW you are.

__________

So, someone has finally addressed the YOUNG MEN on this issue. Bottom line: people judge. It’s human nature. We can either work with that basic human instinct, or stomp our feet like children crying “No fair!”

What do you think? Should we all just “put on our big girl panties” (and bras – no selfies, please!) and accept reality? Or continue to whine about it all?

A Tad Bit Tired

September 6, 2013 - 7:00 am | September 5, 2013 Uncategorized

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I hate it when I’m right.

(Well, not really. I like being right most of the time. It just stinks when I’m right about something bad.)

Back in February I stopped Zac from eating some kitty litter, and wrote about WHY you don’t let an FPIES kid eat kitty litter and/or cat poo. The litter hasn’t been an issue since then; I immediately moved the kitty litter boxes and they’ve been out of sight/out of mind for Zac ever since.

Until Wednesday.

The little scamp has taught himself how to climb off the bed without help (also without sharing this new talent with his Mama and Daddy), and woke up before me that morning. He chose to not wake me up and instead take the opportunity to go exploring!

He explored his little self right into the laundry room, which now houses the kitty litter.

Jed, being the protective big brother that he is, was also awake and ran immediately to get me. “Zac go!” he told me.

In my stupor, I didn’t follow him right away. After turning and seeing an empty bed, though, I went on instant High Alert. “Zachariah! Where are you?” I called out as I ran from the bedroom. (He can’t answer yet, but often will come to you when you call his name.)

He didn’t come.

Instead, I had to track him down, and I found him in the laundry room, right in front of a big, steaming pile of cat poo.

Ugh!

I grabbed him up and said “No, Zac. Don’t touch that.”

His diaper felt a little full, which is normal for first thing in the morning, so we went to the diaper changing table. When I laid him down, I realized he was cupping his hand as though he were holding something.

After forcing his fingers open, I found a piece of chocolate and wondered: Now where did he get a piece of chocolate? (No, my brain does NOT work really well first thing in the morning, why do you ask?)

I wiped his hands and threw the ‘chocolate’ away, and suddenly it dawned on me what he had actually been holding.

Damn!

Sure enough, the diapers started up – again. Green, mucousy, bloody.

We’d JUST gotten to the point that his diapers were no longer burning his butt from the almond milk ingestion last week! His heinie was FINALLY healing up!

And the little stinker decided to eat some cat poop and screw it all up again.

As you might imagine, Wednesday was NOT an especially great day for me.

On top of the emotional deflation of ANOTHER FPIES reaction, Zac always comfort nurses when he’s not feeling well, which means a good portion of my day was spent sitting on the couch, nursing a cranky baby.

Did you know that those lovely “bonding hormones” that are released when nursing a baby are still in full effect even 15 months after birth?

That has to be what is happening to me; after flying home last week, I was a zombie. Work drains me! Darrel carried a lot of the slack over the weekend, but come Tuesday morning I was on my own. Zac was comfort nursing from teething and residual FPIES reactions all of those days, and the only time of the day I could get anything done (read: laundry or kitchen cleaning) was after bedtime.

So I thought I just hadn’t gotten enough rest over the weekend and was burning the candle at both ends at the beginning of the week…until yesterday.

Wednesday night, deflated, exhausted and just flat ‘over it’, I went to bed with Zac. At 7:45 p.m. I was out like a light, and the kids and I didn’t wake up until 8:00 a.m.

Now, I know I woke up enough to feed Zac throughout the night, but if you ask me, I remember nothing during those 12 hours and 15 minutes.

That’s some good sleepin’, right there!

Yet on Thursday, every time I sat down to nurse Zac on the couch I felt myself trying to fall asleep.

Suddenly I remembered after Jed was born; I was nursing him in the NICU and kept trying to fall asleep. I mumbled something about how I didn’t know why I was so tired (snort, choke, giggle – anyone who has ever had the displeasure of being a guest of the NICU will shake their heads at that one!) and the nurse told me it was the result of the lovely “relaxation, bonding hormones” being released.

I’m sure the outstanding numbers of narcotics I was on and the one hour naps I was allowed had something to do with it, too.

I’m guessing I haven’t been this tired in a long time, and being so tired, combined with that flood of “feel good drugs” provided by my own body are making me dang near catatonic at this point.

All of which is to say…that’s why there was no post yesterday. I just couldn’t wake up enough to finish the recipe I planned to post. Oops.

Anyway, now we wait for baseline – AGAIN – and continue on as planned.

Darrel and I are thinking of ways to install serious baby-proofing in the house; if we do what we’re talking about, I’ll post about it so you can see what FPIES baby proofing looks like!

Oh, and all this comfort nursing is having an effect on Jed, too. Jealous, much?

Every single time I’m not nursing Zac, Jed has to be physically ON TOP OF ME. When I AM nursing Zac, he often will come up to us, look at Zac and say “Stop eating, Zac!” He’s taken to actually laying on me and his brother when Zac is nursing, too. He has a flat-out panic attack when I leave the living room in the morning to put Zac down for a nap.

Zac nursing on the left…Jed laying on the right. This is normal now.

The icing on this jealous-of-Mommy-and-Zac cake came this afternoon, though, when Jed informed me that HE wanted to “eat the other boobie”!

The child hasn’t nursed in almost two years, and suddenly he wants to nurse? I was confused for a second, and then it dawned on me…this is perfect three year old logic. Nursing Zac is what keeps Mommy from spending more time with me, therefore, if *I* nurse, too, I get to spend more time with Mommy!

Ah…well, maybe I handled it wrong, but I said “Sure, go ahead!” and offered up the other side. He latched on, tried to nurse for about fifteen seconds, then popped off and was done. I guess he’s forgotten how to do it, and it probably wasn’t as satisfying as he hoped it would be.

At least I avoided saying “No” yet again…and in honor of his obvious need for more “me”, we spent Zac’s nap time playing hard in the living room. We made tents, train tracks, tunnels, and the tickle monster visited for a while, too.

Hope you all have a good weekend, and see you back on Monday – hopefully with a non-reactive baby, a “Mama-full” toddler, and a little more rest!

Were your older kids ever jealous of the time you have to give your nursing babies? How did you deal with that? And what is the grossest thing your kiddos have ever eaten?

How to Make Traveling for Work Easier on Your Toddler

September 4, 2013 - 7:00 am | September 4, 2013 Uncategorized

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After writing about Jed’s difficulties the last time I went to work, you were all AWESOME at offering suggestions for how to make it easier for him! I am looking forward to trying almost all of them in the future, but I know several of them will be better suited for when he is older.

One suggestion really stood out as something he could understand right now, though, and I did it before I left for work last week.

Credit for this goes straight to my friend Joy, a fellow FPIES Mama. During her stint as a military wife, she said she used this technique to great success with her kids when their Daddy was deployed. Thank you very much, Joy!

It’s so simple: take construction paper and cut strips. Then make a chain of construction paper rings, one for each day the parent will be absent.

Construction paper strips

I’d intended to have Jed help me make the chain, but in all the insanity of trying to get packed for work I ran out of time before bedtime. So I made it myself and introduced it to Jed before we left for the airport.

I couldn’t find my tape, so I stapled the rings together. Next time I make it, I’ll use one color only for the last day of the trip. That will be easier than saying “the second ___” every time.

I can’t believe how much this helped! Jed LOVED IT!!

Before we left the house, I picked up Jed and said “Hey, honey – do you want to see something really cool?”

Then I walked over to the chain, which I had hung on a wall sconce in the dining room, and showed it to him. “Sweetie, you know how Mommy has to go fly today?” I started.

He immediately grabbed me in a huge hug and said “NO! Mommy no go fly!”

Hanging on a candle wall sconce where he can easily see it – but not easily reach it!

So I told him that I had to go to work sometimes because that’s how we got the money for Thomas trains and cereal, but that I would miss him every second I was gone and would come back as soon as I could.

Then I pointed to the chain again. “Every night before you go to sleep, you get to take ONE ring off the chain. When you get to the second yellow ring, you’ll take it off, go to sleep, and the next day I will be home! Isn’t that cool?”

At that moment, he just hugged me tighter and reiterated that I shouldn’t go to work. A mere ten minutes later, though, he was over at the dining room wall, trying to reach the rings!

I asked him “Which color ring are you going to take off tonight, Jed?”

He looked at the chain, thought for a second, then turned with a big grin and said “Yeddow ring!”

Darrel and I laughed and told him that he had to wait to take off the yellow ring, that he had to start from the bottom.

Excitedly, he said “Blue ring!”

Every night I was gone, he would take off another ring before bedtime. Every day when I asked him what color ring he was taking off that night, he would tell me the correct color – then he would say “Mommy come home yellow ring!”

The whole week I was gone, he never once told me “Mommy come home!” or “Mommy stop flying!” (Though he did tell me “Love you, Mommy!” and “Jed miss Mommy! Mommy come home yellow ring!”)

It was such a relief to not have the guilt over being at work this last week, considering how everything else was going!

So there’s the tip of the day: if you travel for work and have young children who don’t understand calendars yet, make a chain of construction paper. That way they can visually SEE how close it is to the day Mommy or Daddy come home!

Drinking Out of the Finger Bowl

September 3, 2013 - 7:00 am | September 3, 2013 Uncategorized

9 Comments

So many FPIES Mama’s talk about frustrating or dangerous situations they’ve been placed in thanks to the ignorance – or rudeness – of friends and family.

Situations where they’re invited to a play date with the assurance that all food will be kept in a safe location, only to arrive and find the snacks are laid out on the coffee table and they have no choice but to leave or spend the entire play date hovering over their child like a hawk.

Or where they travel hundreds of miles out of state to visit family; family who assures them they will help keep unsafe foods out of the child’s reach. When they arrive, though, there’s one relative that keeps trying to sneak foods to their baby (“Oh, come on, it’s just a bite – it can’t hurt him!”) and another relative that constantly leaves food out where the child can reach it (“For goodness sake! You’re just paranoid!”)

Or any other number of situations I could outline where people are thoughtless and endanger a child’s health – and even life – with their ignorance, rudeness, and basic jerkiness.

We’ve been pretty lucky; we have a few relatives that we suspect believe we’re over-reacting, paranoid, and “playing it up”, but they’ve never said as much to our faces and always behave as if they will follow our rules. Everyone else – friend or family – has been wonderful about taking Jed and Zac’s food allergies and intolerances seriously. They prepare special meals, ask questions, work hard at keeping food out of reach, and are scared to feed my kids anything without our approval.

Part of the reason we’re so lucky, however, is that I’ve strictly limited our possible exposure opportunities. I’m not joking much when I say we’re shut-ins.

Play dates have been non-existent for the last year. I can count on one hand (with fingers leftover) the number of times Zac’s feet have touched the ground at a fast-food play area. He’s only walked in a park one time in his life for a very short while, before it got to be too stressful for me to keep an eagle-eye on him and a general “Is he still there?” eye on Jed.

We don’t even go to church any more because it’s too dangerous for us there.

I don’t give anyone the room to be rude, thoughtless, or ignorant about food allergies in my kids lives. I’m too protective, and I’ve worked too hard to keep them safe to let anyone endanger them.

And it kills me.

My kids don’t get to socialize like I want them to. They don’t get to explore like I would like them to. They don’t get to play like I want them to.

I’ve read too many reports from the other Mama’s, so I know: someone out there is going to hurt my children because they’re just too stupid to listen to me, or too careless to have my trust.

This makes me wonder: whatever happened to good manners?

“Manners”, for these purposes, is defined as:

the socially correct way of acting; etiquette

I understand that many people do not understand food allergies. They think it’s a fad, or a “crazy Mom” thing, or…I don’t know, exactly, but they just don’t “get it”.

Fine. Fair enough. However, I have yet to meet a single Food Allergy Mama that thinks anyone else on the planet should “get it” regarding their child.

All any of us have ever asked for is consideration and respect.

Consideration and respect have absolutely NOTHING to do with food allergies! They do, however, have everything to do with good manners and being polite.

Polite: marked by an appearance of consideration, tact, deference, or courtesy

Simply put, it’s just good manners to respect the health needs of your friends, family and guests.

For all those people out there who countermand a Mother in front of her child when she’s outlining the food rules for you, ask yourself this: if she were telling you about the homework her child must do for school, or the rules for behavior that are expected of her child, would you likewise scoff, scold, undermine, deliberately disobey, and generally make things harder on her?

I think it unlikely. Most people are willing to go along with a Mom who says she insists her child use “Mr. So-and-so” instead of a first name, or that her child must finish an essay for school before joining the family for festivities.

So what, pray-tell, is the difference?

Why would someone go along with manners and schoolwork, but not the rules necessary to keep the child from getting sick – or even dying?

I honestly don’t know. Maybe they’re selfish. Maybe they’re jealous of good Mothering. Maybe there are just a lot of sick, cruel people out there who want children to get sick before they believe. Maybe they secretly dislike the parents.

Maybe people are just jerks.

But if society was, well, more civilized, none of this would be a problem.

If those people were exhibiting good manners, they may still secretly disbelieve, scoff, and roll their eyes…but they would go along with it because well, it’s just what a polite person does.

Years ago I read a story about a sit-down dinner with some Very Important People. Not all the guests were VIP’s, though, and some had never seen a finger bowl before. When one of the guests at the table picked up his finger bowl and drank from it, the hostess immediately picked hers up and drank as well!

She knew what he was doing was “wrong”, but to spare him from any embarrassment she copied his behavior as if it were perfectly normal.

It was an exemplary display of good manners.

Why won’t more relatives and friends of kids with food allergies “drink out of the finger bowl”?

I just don’t know.

Until they will, though, we won’t be joining them at the table.

Let’s hear from you: why do you think people are so unwilling to be gracious about food allergies?

Another FPIES Reaction

September 1, 2013 - 7:00 am | August 31, 2013 Uncategorized

9 Comments

The view from my “office” window.

The last half of August was a hot mess for me. I worked ten days in the month, all of which were after the 16th. That explains my absence here last week, by the way; anything beyond basic survival was WAY beyond my abilities!

To make matters worse, this last week of work was just a cluster of Murphy’s Law for us. The day I left for work, Darrel got a speeding ticket taking me to the airport, which caused me to miss my first flight. My first day at work, Darrel realized we had somehow managed to leave all my ground beef at home, which meant I wouldn’t have any protein to eat at work for the last 4 days of my trip. That involved some SERIOUS shenanigans and effort on my family’s part to reunite me with my beef!

The very next day, Tuesday of last week, Zac got a hold of Jed’s sippy cup of almond milk and drank some. Hello, FPIES reaction!

The ingredients of the almond milk; my corn-free friends confirmed for me – this is almost SOLID corn! The gums and vitamins are all corn-derived, and the wax coating on the carton is probably corn derived. I HATE CORN!!

Wednesday he started with diarrhea; by Thursday morning it was bloody and mucousy, and his butt became a solid open wound from the acidity of the poop.

And I was flying my fanny off, an average of 7 hours of actual in the air time each day, and could not get home to my baby.

Mom and Darrel assured me that he was fine; I should keep on flying. By Thursday night, though, I was beyond worried. Mom reported that Zac had only drunk 20 ounces of formula the whole day…this from the kid that can chug 50-80 ounces a day under normal conditions!

He wasn’t vomiting, but he was having about 15-20 diarrhea poops a day. Consuming that little liquid is dangerous; dehydration is one of the main reasons FPIES kids wind up in the hospital.

Y’all, I was frantic.

Again, though, Mom assured me that she was checking for signs of dehydration and that he appeared to be fine. I decided to wait and see how Friday morning went.

Friday was my last day of work. All I had to do was go from San Antonio to Houston, then Houston to San Francisco. As of 10:30 p.m. on Friday night, my five month leave of absence began.

By the time I made it to Houston, at 4:00 p.m., Zac had only drunk 11 ounces of formula but was continuing to poop blood at a disturbing frequency.

I couldn’t take it. IF I could get home quickly, Zac would likely begin comfort nursing and would stay hydrated enough to avoid the ER. If, on the other hand, I continued with my trip I would not be able to get home until Saturday night, sometime after 5:00 p.m. In that amount of time, Zac could easily wind up dehydrated enough to be hospitalized.

So I jumped through the hoops necessary to get an Emergency Drop from my last flight leg and hopped on the last flight of the day back home.

Friday night, we pulled the Alimentum RTF, and put Zac back on a strictly breast fed diet.

Darrel and I had each privately worried that the almond milk ingestion set off an FPIES reaction, but that the Ali might not be safe for Zac, either. If it was a slow burn reaction, this acute reaction might make it worse for Zac.

We know the breast milk is safe, so until he returns to baseline, we have to remove the formula.

Sigh.

My heart is breaking over his little tushie! I swear it looks like someone turned him over and dropped acid all over his butt. Bright red welts – some of which have broken open – are covering his heinie. At this point, because of the open wounds, we’re slathering his butt in Neosporin every chance we get.

Saturday, back safely on breast milk, Zac only had 4 poopy diapers all day! However, they ALL had visible blood in them (though that could be from the open wounds) and were absolutely FULL of JUNK! I found a blade of grass, a bit of a crayon (that he had reacted to the week before), and several other unrecognizable items in there…so God only knows if he is reacting to only the almond milk or also these other things.

Poor little Zac.

I’m back to being a human pacifier; he’s taken to nursing every 30-45 minutes All. Day. Long. Saturday he nursed for – wait for it – FIVE HOURS and TWENTY MINUTES.

All that lovely weight gain we got from the Ali? Shot. He lost a full pound last week.

In case I haven’t mentioned it, FPIES sucks.

So now we wait.

We wait for him to get back to baseline. We wait for his little tushie to heal completely.

Then we give him the Alimentum RTF again and see if we actually have a safe formula for him. If we do, we move on to quinoa again. If the Ali causes a reaction, we wait again for baseline to return, and THEN re-trial quinoa.

If quinoa is safe, we will skip lamb completely; we know he reacted to at least one of them, so process of elimination makes that one easy. If quinoa is NOT safe, we wait again for baseline and re-trial lamb.

After that, we can proceed with other food trials. If he is safe with both Ali and quinoa, that puts our timeline for starting new foods at somewhere towards the end of September. If any of those foods prove unsafe, however…well, we might not be able to start NEW food trials until towards the end of October.

I’m so relieved to be home with my babies. Financially, I really don’t know how we’re going to survive, but I can be back in the thick of “FPIES Maintenance” without having my attention and time diverted.

I’m praying it is enough, and that I can keep him healthy and finding safe foods.

Please pray with me?

Salmon Stuffed Mushrooms

August 23, 2013 - 7:00 am | November 20, 2014 Appetizers, Corn Free, Dairy Free, Dinner, Egg Free, Fructose Free, Gluten Free, Quinoa, Real Food, Recipes, Seafood, Side Dishes, Soy Free

A Letter to my Future Daughters-in-Law

August 22, 2013 - 7:00 am | September 1, 2015 Our Lives, Parenting

6 Comments

My Dear Daughters,

Recently my friends discussed how we all knew we were done having children. That conversation got me thinking, and I had to admit that while I would LOVE to have more children – many more, if given the choice – we are probably done with just our two boys.

The medical bills are killing us, the stress is almost overwhelming, and frankly, Darrel and I aren’t getting any younger. If we’re going to have more children, we need to do it now…but with Zac being completely dependent on my breast milk I can’t risk that vital food source being taken away by pregnancy hormone changes.

So, while I already know that I will regret not having more children in about thirty years, I also am trying to make my peace with the fact that my two sons are the only blessings I will probably have in my motherhood journey.

Except for one thing: one day, anywhere from 15-25 years from now, my sweet little boys will meet YOU.

You, who will make their hearts go pitter-patter. You, who will smile at one of my sons and make his brain short-circuit. You, who will become a part of the Summers Family.

You, who will become my Daughter.

I want you to know right now that I already cherish you.

Right now, you’re probably a baby or toddler – or maybe not even born yet! But one day you will win the heart and soul of one of my boys and he will want to be with you forever.

From that moment on, dear girl, whether you like it or not, you’re getting a second Mama.

I will never replace your own special, dearly loved Mom, I know. That’s not the goal or the point. But just as a mother has room in her heart to love many children equally and fully, I hope you will find room in your heart to include me as a Mother figure to you, in addition to the one that birthed and raised you.

From my end, I promise to respect you. I will honor the ways you decide to run your household and raise your family. I will offer guidance gently and cautiously, of course, because we can all learn from our elders, but I will try my best to avoid making you feel as though I’m imposing my will on your life.

I promise to love you. As with any family dynamic, I may not always like you (nor you, me) but I will always love the woman my son thought precious enough to marry. I will consider your likes and dislikes, your interests and the things that irritate you when I suggest activities to do together – and when I buy you gifts, as well.

I promise to welcome you into our family with open arms. I will introduce you to your new family with pleasure and pride, and share family folklore in abundance until you can eventually tell the stories as well as we can. One day, your children will ask, and you’ll be able to tell them about both sides of their family with ease.

I promise that I will not lay a guilt-trip on you about every holiday event that comes up. Ideally, we’ll work out a way that your parents and Darrel and I can see you and our son at every major holiday, but I promise that if that isn’t possible, I will work with you to find a schedule that works for all of us – no pressure!

I promise that I will be there as much as you’ll allow.

I will be there when you’re planning the wedding, to lend support and celebrate the excitement of throwing such a lovely party.

I will be there when you’re setting up your house, to help schlep boxes and paint walls.

I will be there when you’re at a loss as to how to convince my son to pick up his laundry off the floor or mow the lawn (or whatever task he’s gotten lazy at that drives you up a wall) to tell you – I tried, really, I did! – and help kick him in the butt to help you out some more.

I will be there when you’re pregnant and nervous, and I’ll even make “craving” runs for you if you need me to.

I’ll be there in the delivery room, if that’s okay with you, to hold your hand, advocate for you (I’m really good at that by now), and be a calm in the storm for you to lock on to if you need.

I’ll be there in those scary first weeks as a new Mama, after everyone has left and you’re suddenly tasked with getting to know this new little life that you’re supposed to take care of.

I’ll be there to do a load of laundry, clean up your kitchen, sweep your floors, and cook a meal or two…just to keep things afloat while you get your “Mama Legs” underneath you. I would love some Grandbaby cuddle time, of course, but I promise to be there for YOU, then; to help you rest and spend time with your new baby without being stressed about keeping up the other parts of your life.

I’ll be there for you in every way I possibly can, dear girl, with warmth and welcome, because my dearest wish is for you to be as happy to be a part of my family as I am that you have become a part of our family.

I know that you love my son, and I want to tell you all about what he was like as a baby and a child. I want you to know the sheer enthusiasm with which Jed greets everything in life! I want you to know the quiet determination Zac exhibits as a 1 year old!

I want you to know that the love I feel for my sons is broad and unending…and that if you’ll let me, that love will include you, too.

How could I not love you, after all? If my son loves you, and you make him happy and love him back, well, really – is there anything else I could ever want for them? You’re perfect and precious, and I want you to know that I can’t wait to meet you and give you a gigantic hug.

I hope you’ll let me become a part of your life. I’m already so grateful that you’re going to be a part of mine.

So don’t listen to those horror stories about Mothers-in-law, dear girl. I promise I’m not like that, nor will I ever be like that to you or my sons.

As a side note, Darrel is in on this, too. He wanted a daughter so he could have a “Daddy’s Girl”, so I know without a shadow of a doubt that he will love you just as much as I will. I hope you’ll love and admire your Father-in-law, too.

All My Love,
Your Future Mother-in-Law

Adjusting To Work With A HUGE Mama’s Boy!

August 21, 2013 - 7:00 am | August 20, 2013 Uncategorized

7 Comments

photo courtesy of kangshutters at http://freedigitalphotos.net

Here I am, two months back at work and one week away from another five month leave of absence, and I have to tell you – adjusting to work is hard.

When I started writing this, my story-telling quickly devolved into lengthy explanations of some of the difficulties of being a nursing Flight Attendant. I just deleted over 1500 words that would have bored you to tears!

So I’ll give you the short version: being back at work is awesome and devastating, all at the same time.

I love having the paycheck; financially, we can really use my income. Taking the pressure off there is a fabulous stress-reliever!

I hate being forced to pump in awkward places (like in public with a nursing cover over me) and spending every waking moment ensuring the milk stays properly cold, when I have no reliable source of refrigeration.

I love getting to have a pseudo-break; I’m never really NOT a Mama…even on the road I have to diagnose, make decisions, and worry my fool head off over the phone. However, on the road I DO get to take uninterrupted, lengthy showers, pee in private, and choose exactly how I will spend my limited free time.

(You know, after I’ve worked all day, pumped every 3 hours, stored milk, cooked my food, cleaned up after myself, slept, showered, and all that jazz. My whopping hour a day to myself still feels glorious!)

I am amused by the fact that even though I love the pseudo-break, I still find myself not actually wanting to do much on my layovers because, well, I’d rather be home. And if I’m not going to be at home, I’d rather sleep. Or bathe. Or just lounge on the bed in the hotel staring at a TV screen and feeling my brain turn off.

Going out just feels sort of like work, which is the oddest thing because most Flight Attendants take the job because we love to travel and see new things!

I hate the commute. Here’s an example of why: Monday morning I woke up in Boston, flew to Newark, then flew my final flight for this work assignment to San Francisco. I was finished with work at 3:00 p.m. At 5:30 p.m. I was sitting as a passenger on a flight to Newark! We landed at 2:00 a.m., I spent the night sleeping in the airport, and at 8:30 a.m. I was on a flight back to my home. We landed at 10:20 a.m.

Accounting for the time change, that was a 17 hour commute that spanned the entire country. I did the same thing in order to get TO work on Thursday. Pretty crazy!

I’m flustered by the fact that I used to be an expert packer, but now I have two littles running around distracting me and I keep forgetting very important things. Things like my stevia and breast shields for my breast pump (oh, yes, that happened!)

To fix that, I’m making up a “Master Packing List” of every single item I need to carry with me and laminating it. Then every time I go to work I can cross off each item with a dry erase marker, and when I’m done packing can wipe it clean and use it next time.

Being so scatter-brained is not my normal modus operandi at work, and it flusters and frustrates me.

I’m excited by the idea of one day being able to take my kids on grand adventures all over the world – for free! Since homeschooling seems to be becoming the educational method of choice for our family, just think of the possibilities!

Studying the Revolutionary War? How about a trip to Boston, Philadelphia, and Baltimore! Studying World War II? Let’s go to Normandy! Visit Dachau! (Been there, done that; gut-wrenching and horrible. But still something the kids should see.)

See? There are some great opportunities in our future thanks to my job, and I intend to use it all to the fullest.

Until then, though, I have a very big, huge, stab-Mama-in-the-heart ‘hate’ to get through: Jed doesn’t like me going to work.

At. All.

Jed and his Mama

I’ve suspected he’s been “acting out” a bit for a while now, but yesterday really drove it home. For this trip, because we were still in the early stages of the Ali trial for Zac, we decided it was prudent to have Jed go to my parents house from Thursday on so Darrel and Zac could be alone.

That way Darrel could really keep an eagle-eye on Zac for any reaction signs, and if, Heaven forbid, an ER trip was necessary, Darrel would not have to scramble to find child-care for Jed at such an urgent moment in time.

We tried to play it up as a Great Thing: “Jed! Guess what! You’re going to get to spend the weekend with Grandma and PopPop all by yourself! You’ll get to play and dig and be the center of their universe!” And at first, Jed seemed really excited by the idea.

Within an hour of being alone with Grandma and PopPop, though, Jed decided he didn’t like this. He was telling a story about something and mentioned Zac to my Mom, and suddenly realized – Zac wasn’t WITH HIM.

“Jed go Zac. Take Jed home, Grandma!” he told her.

Ugh. In our logistical planning we’d forgotten one vital fact: Jed and Zac have never been apart since Zac was born (not counting the week in the hospital last summer).

And Jed now goes up to Zac and says “Baby Zac. Baby brother. Jed friend.” and kisses him – several times a day.

We completely didn’t consider that Jed would miss Zac.

We also didn’t completely consider that Jed would miss Daddy. He made that clear on the second day of his stay, when he told Mom to “Take Jed home. Take Jed Daddy. Take Jed Zac.” Then he told me on the phone “Mommy come back. Mommy stop flying.”

Ugh. Twist the knife, why dontcha?

Sunday afternoon Darrel drove Zac over to my parents house. We were confident an acute FPIES reaction was not likely to happen, and Darrel had to go to work on Monday. So Jed got to have his brother back and his Daddy back and he was THRILLED!

He ran after his little brother shouting “Zachayiyah! No!” any time Zac started to get into anything he shouldn’t, grabbed wooden toys and took them to Mom to protect Zac, and hugged and kissed Zac as much as Zac would tolerate.

Then Darrel left to go home, and Jed didn’t like that very much at all.

He took the opportunity to talk to me briefly on the phone on both Sunday and Monday to tell me – again – to stop flying and come home. Otherwise, he refused to speak to me on the phone.

Yesterday, when I got home and got in the car with the kids, Jed refused to hug or kiss me. When I told him “Oh, Jed! I’m so happy to be home! I missed you so much! I love you, Snickerdoodle!”

He looked me right in the face and said “Mommy no love Jed. Mommy go away.”

Ugh.

At dinner, he finally started to show some affection towards me: desperate, clingy affection. Suddenly he HAD to be on my lap, hugging me for all he was worth, telling me that “Jed no like Mommy go flying” and “Jed miss Mommy” and “Jed sad Mommy fly”.

I tried to reassure him…lots of hugs and kisses, and I wanted to give him something to cling to – my five months off that are right around the corner!

So I told him that I hated leaving him, too, but that Mommy sometimes had to go to work. I said that I thought about him all the time I was gone and missed him horribly.

He liked that; hugged me harder and smiled.

Then I ruined it.

“And after I go to work next week and come home, I’ll be home for FIVE WHOLE MONTHS!”

His little body actually shriveled up before my eyes when I said that. He pulled away from me and hung his head, and suddenly he wanted off my lap.

Dumb Mommy moment: he’s too young to understand calendars! “Months” are a concept beyond him right now. What he understood about that comment was that “Mommy is going away again”…and he got sad.

After showers, getting ready for bed, he kept insisting that he “Sleep Mommy”. I promised him that as soon as I got his brother to bed, I’d come snuggle with him. It was the only way he would willingly leave my side.

Break. My. Heart.

I hate that Jed hates me leaving for work.

On the bright side…does that boy love his Mama, or what?!

Now to just survive one more week without permanent abandonment issues popping up…and maybe in February he’ll be able to understand a little more about my job. Like days of the week and the concept of how long I’ll be gone.

I think I know what our first home school lessons need to be!

Anyone else have to travel for work and leave your kids behind? How did you make it not miserable for them when you left?

Fava Bean Hummus

A Lesson in Fructose and Sweet Onions

Yeah. I’m not bi-polar, y’all.

I HATE FRUCTOSE.

Miley Cyrus and Mrs. Hall

I am saying that we need to face facts.

I am, however, unwilling to place all the blame on young men for bad behavior, when our daughters are – apparently – not being taught the same things.

A Tad Bit Tired

How to Make Traveling for Work Easier on Your Toddler

Drinking Out of the Finger Bowl

And it kills me.

This makes me wonder: whatever happened to good manners?

Simply put, it’s just good manners to respect the health needs of your friends, family and guests.

Another FPIES Reaction

Salmon Stuffed Mushrooms

A Letter to my Future Daughters-in-Law

Adjusting To Work With A HUGE Mama’s Boy!

At. All.

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