Monday, August 26, 2013

Note to Self: What To Say to My Daughter the Next Time a Trip to Whole Foods Ends in Tears

Yesterday, while driving Lucy home from a trip to the grocery store, she was unusually quiet. A glance into my rear-view told me she was pensive. A few moments later, she broke the silence with this:

Lucy: Mom, when I grow up, I can be anything I want to be, right? That's how life works?

Me: Yes! As long as you work hard you can be anything you want. What do you want to be when you grow up?

(In the split second before she responded, my brain had jumped ahead to a pro-girl chat about scientists or being Batman for Halloween. I wasn't prepared for what came next.)

Lucy: When I grow up, I don't want to have food allergies. I want to be a kid without any allergies. Can I work hard and not have allergies?

Me: ...

What do you say to that? I was teary-eyed and choked up. She caught me off guard. Eventually, I got it together enough to say something about her taking part in the clinical research study and that sometimes kids outgrow allergies. But she saw through my bullshit and, in a way that is very Lucy, called me out on it. "But I might not ever outgrow them."

In my quiet moments when I can look at things logically and objectively and totally divorce myself from any emotional attachment, I tell myself it's not cancer. It's not diabetes. It's not MS or CF or CP or spectrum disorder or a million other awful things.

On the other hand, I'm her mommy and the moments where I can be totally objective and a-emotional are rare.

Yesterday, against my better judgement, I took Lucy to Whole Foods with me. Whole Foods is just one of four grocery stores I visit each Sunday because finding safe brands of foods, vitamins, shampoo, lotion, anti-histamine, toothpaste, etc. means that no one store carries everything we need. Whole Foods, despite what you'd think, is THE WORST. I have a love/hate relationship with the Mother of all fresh, rare, organic, family-farm bred, grass-fed, GMO-free, anti-HFCS lefty hippie grocers. On one hand, they have safe items I can't get for Lucy anywhere else. On the other hand, the store is crawling with patchouli-scented, busy-body, know-it-all, in-your-face hippies who truly believe that if I'd only give my child the right combination of raw, unpasteurized goat milk and probiotics, her allergies (which are likely the result of my failed attempts at attachment parenting) would be cured. And on the third hand, oh look! A new flavor of flax seed chips only $7.99 for 0.25 ounces! I must have them. (I admit, I'm a sucker for this stuff.)

Whole Foods, in Cary, on the weekends has free samples. There are three or four tables set up with pseudo-health food pedlars. "Would you like to try our artesian sheep cheese sticks breaded in Italian panko and oven-baked in a brick oven made from fair-trade bricks?," they say, holding up a sustainably-forested bamboo toothpick skewered with the aforementioned food in Lucy's general direction.

"No thank you."

"Oh, it's okay," they persist. "These are fat free and guaranteed to make your midi-chlorians fight off free-range free radicals. Let her try one."

Lucy gets excited. The other adult, the other authority figure in her proximity just said it was okay to eat. "Is it safe?" She asks with a hope so sincere it breaks my heart to even look her in the eyes.

"No thank you."

"Here, take it with you. She can eat it later. They are so delicious. I give them to my kids whom I happen to be wearing and breastfeeding right now while they're home from college break."

"NO!"

I walk away. And I'm pissed and Lucy is disappointed. The fact that my kid medically cannot eat their stupid food is none of their business. I don't want to "out" Lucy's medical history. If she chose to tell them, as she sometimes does, that she is allergic, that's cool. Her medical issues, her choice. But for the love of unshaven armpits, leave us alone. No means no, you stinky hippie.

This happens at least once every single stinkin' time we go to Whole Foods. It happens at other stores too, but the aggression of the Whole Foods Sampleteers takes the gluten-free cake.

On this particular day, it was supposed to be a short trip. I just needed to give Whole Foods $35 for a month's supply of chewable vegan calcium supplements. But then that whole sample bullshit happened. This made Lucy determined, and I liked her determination. She was on a mission to find a new food that was safe for her. She asked to get out of the cart on the kids' food isle so we could find something for her. Yes, at four years old, she rides in the cart. It's my rule at Whole Foods because I don't trust that some cage-free Sample Missionary isn't going to give her some almond-milk flavored kool aid if I let her go free range. So, for 30 minutes, she took boxes and jars and packages off the shelves and handed them to me.

"Mommy, have I had this before?"
"No."
"Mommy, read the ingredients. Is it safe for me?"
"No. May contain cashews."

Another reason I do like Whole Foods is that they label their foods really, really well. While it is not legally required for them to do so, they label all their house brands to let you know if they were manufactured on equipment shared with any of the Top Eight food allergens. This makes shopping easier because I can, at a glance, rule out 90% of the food in the store without having to do any research or make any phone calls. But on this day, it just pissed me off.

With every label, Lucy and I both became more and more frustrated. We found nothing that fit her criteria of being both something she'd never had and something safe. This is due to the fact that I have spent countless hours going through this same exercise on hundreds of other trips to Whole Foods by myself. If it is safe, I buy it. After 30 minutes, we were angry, sad and tired of skirting the shopping carts coming at us down the narrow aisle. Finally I said, "I think I have a Dum Dum in my backpack." "OK, I'll have that."

We sat in the parking lot and she ate her Dum Dum and we drove home. That's when THE conversation from above happened.

I've been thinking a lot about what transpired yesterday. I think her frustration comes from having so little choice in her life. She's four, so like all four-year-olds, she has very little control over and choice in her world. But most kids get to try a bite of mommy's sushi roll or daddy's french fries. Most kids get to have a nibble of this or that and see if they like it. She doesn't. She knows it is serious and she knows it's absolute and that is incredibly frustrating for her (and us). Food is such a central part of life and socialization. Just today, there was an unannounced Popsicle party in her classroom and she sat isolated from the rest of the class while they ate their treats and had fun together. Yes, life is unfair and kids have to learn that. I understand. But as her mom, sometimes I need to scream into a pillow.

Here's what I wish I had said to her yesterday:

Lucy: When I grow up, I don't want to have food allergies. I want to be a kid without any allergies. Can I work hard and not have allergies?


Me: Food allergies can be frustrating, but food allergies are part of who you are. They don't define you, but they have helped shape you. You are cautious and keenly observant. Not always being able to be part of the crowd has given you a strong sense of self. You know what you like and are unaffected by what other people like. You see a picture of Cinderella and call her "that girl from the movie about the funny mice." The independence that has been forced upon you by your allergies has given you freedom from conformity, and you have embraced it. Your allergies have made you eat healthfully, and taught you about food labels, and cross contamination. You have an innate sense of justice and fairness, which, given your genetics may be as much nature as nurture. I love that you never back down when you feel that fire igniting your soul at the sight of injustice. You have been a scientist since you could understand anything about your allergies, testing hypotheses about safety and ingredients. You have the gift of knowing who your true friends are because they must pass a test of being willing to accommodate you. I wish I could have had a friend test of loyalty and been spared a lot of heartache as a child. You may not know it, but your food allergies are a gift. Each challenge they give you builds your character and teaches you how to deal with adversity.
There are times that having food allergies will be a huge pain and will cause you to feel sad. It's up to you to turn that sadness into action. If you want to stop food allergies, then work at it. You may not cure them, but you can try your hardest. Become a doctor. Become a research scientist. Continue being the advocate you already are.

So, yes, Lucy, you can be anything you want, but be you. Be who you are. Own it, work it, embrace it. I love you, allergies and all, and can't wait to see what you become. I can promise that someday you won't be a kid with allergies; you'll grow into a brilliant woman with allergies. And you may become a doctor with allergies or a research scientist with allergies or a ballerina astronaut with allergies or a president with allergies, just like you'd be a woman with blue eyes, a doctor with brown hair, a researcher that enjoys running fast, or a president with a passion for stuffed animals. Each of those things contribute to making you who you are. I can't imagine a better you in all the world than the you that you are.

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