When a Nutter Butter is Public Enemy Number 1

Back in the mid 1970’s, I was in elementary school in Western Massachusetts. Every day at lunch, they had an interesting way of insuring children ate the slop that was set in front of them. They offered us crack on white bread for dessert.

Of course it wasn’t really crack, but it was the most silky, gooey, creamy peanut butter I have ever had, stored in huge white drums. If you finished your lunch, you were allowed to go back into the lunch line and get a piece of soft, nutritionally void white bread with a huge dollop of peanut butter slapped across it. We would cradle this bread lovingly in our little hands and eat the open-faced sandwich in tiny bites, savoring every bit of it.

I am very doubtful that this scene takes place in any public schools today.

It’s strange how a food as ubiquitous as peanut butter has become Enemy #1 in the Food Allergy Wars. Every preschool my daughter has attended has been “peanut free”. Elementary schools have “peanut free tables” where allergic kids can sit and be safe from the humble nut. I feel guilty when, out of desperation, I make a PB&J and bring it into a public space. We eat it huddled together and then afterward I scrub their hands before they touch anything.

And, yet, I understand all too well why this is necessary. Because although peanut butter (Skippy only) is a staple in our home, my oldest daughter, Belly, is allergic to milk. Well, not really milk, but casein which is a protein found in milk.

This means that she cannot have ice cream, yogurt, butter, cheese, Cheetos, pizza, milk chocolate, donuts, Cool Whip or even certain types of cereal, bread, soup, crackers and TV dinners. In some cases, especially when it comes to TV dinners or Cool Whip, this is a good thing. But, when she attends a birthday party, she can’t eat the cake. When she goes to the movies, the popcorn is verboten. When the Ice Cream Truck rolls around, I have to quiz the guy on a Push Up Pop’s ingredients until the rest of the neighborhood is ready to throw me under the tires.

What about you? Is this topic near and dear to your heart? Or, are you sick of all the rules surrounding what you can or can’t pack in your child’s lunch box? Please join me as I talk more about this subject with Kristen Chase of Motherhood Uncensored. I’ll be the guest on her weekly online radio show this Wednesday night, July 9th, at 9pm. If you’d like to call in, I’d love to talk with you and hear your thoughts on this subject.

Just don’t feel sorry for Belly. As far as allergies go, hers isn’t so bad. As the guy at Whole Foods said as we searched the freezers for dairy-free pizza: “At least she isn’t allergic to gluten. Now THAT sucks.”

Feeling Groovy

My uterus wanted to let you know that it feels all shiny and new today. Many thanks for your kind words.

May 41 be less—ahem—invasive.

For those of you in my corner of the earth, here is a little something I wrote that may interest you.

40 is Kicking My Ass


I’ve always believed that age is a state of mind. Lately, though, I’ve felt about 75.

Since turning 40 last July, I’ve had:

* a colonoscopy;

* found out I’m just a step away from having a torn retina (a bit startling since the only other person I know who had a torn retina is the 80+ year old music director of our church);

* a mammogram which came back as ‘suspicious’;

* a second, let’s-really-squish-them-to-hell mammogram which, thankfully, came out fine;

* a hysterosonogram which is about as fun as being punched in the gut a few times.

And now, on Monday, I go in for a ‘procedure’ that involves some heavy sedation in the Day Surgery wing of our local hospital. Nothing too serious (well, at least I’m told that 99% of woman are ‘fine’ afterward), but, geesh, do you think 41 will be a bit easier to take?