A Tootsie Roll Pop

A Tootsie Roll Pop. Just one. A single, solitary, Tootsie Roll Pop. I know what you're thinking. Aren't you the lady who preaches to parents about how putting your son on an all natural diet changed his life? Don't you tell everybody how hard it is, but how it's so worth it? Yes. Yes I am that lady.

Yes, I am the lady who writes down a website address and hands it out to parents all the time. I say, "Make sure you look into your child getting quality sleep and healthy foods before you start even thinking about medications." Yes, I am the lady who started making her own granola bars and reads the  labels on everything. I have two different apps on my phone to see ingredients in foods and to see the "grade" a particular food gets. I know the definition of GMO--I have it tattooed on my inner wrist (okay, that was sarcasm). I once diligently rubbed essential oils on my son's ridiculously stinky feet and soaked him in Epsom Salts. I am that lady. I acted "holier than thou" when my husband gave my son a glazed doughnut (oh, the corn starch!). Man, karma really is a bitch.

Because, see, I am that lady. Very much. I firmly, firmly believe that Ben's behavior is directly related to what goes in his mouth. There are things he says, movements he makes, actions he does that I just know HE HAS EATEN SOMETHING. It seems crazy. I know it does. Six-years-ago-me thought it was nuts. Now-me knows it is true.

But, what you may not know, is I am secretly another lady. That lady is a Mommy who loves her son "all the way to God and back a million, gazillion times." That Mommy took her son to the Homecoming parade Friday night and promised her son if he was good at the football game he could have a sucker the next day. Now, she wasn't thinking "Tootsie Roll Pop," but she wasn't necessarily thinking organic Yummy Earth sucker, either.

So, that Mommy got up Saturday morning and ruined her weekend. Ruined her son's weekend. Made a critical error. When her son looked at her with his beautiful blue eyes and batted his mile-long lashes, she gave in. She said, "Sure. Why not? Have a Tootsie Roll Pop." That Mommy looked at the ingredients on the side of the wrapper, made sure it never specifically said "corn starch" and handed her son a sucker. Because, you know what? That lady, that Mommy? She's sick of the Healthy Soapbox Lady. She's sick of checking every damn label and telling her son at a birthday party, "No, honey, remember? You can't eat that." The Mommy in me wants to tell the Healthy Lady to go to hell. She wants to say, "Listen, he's SIX. Can you let him have a little fun? How much can it hurt? Live a little!"

Fortunately, our son does not have the kind of "allergy" that can kill him. Fortunately, I can make mistakes like this once in a while; I HAVE the luxury of making a choice and Ben will not die. Believe me, that fact is certainly not lost on me.

But, damn it, I hate it. I have celiac disease. Or leaky gut. Or something. And I know that I can't eat gluten or dairy or carrageenan. But I am almost FORTY-TWO years old. I have had my fun at birthday parties and summer fireworks and parades. My son is SIX. When is his turn? When can he just willy-nilly eat what he wants and not worry? It's not fair. I know everybody has their own shit hid in a closet, and lots of people have worse shit than this. But, still, it's not fair. He's SIX. He's a little boy.

So, I gave him the Tootsie Roll Pop. And now he's been a heathen all weekend and I'm back and forth between crying for him and wanting to run him over with the car. And I just thought you should know, people out there that I give advice to. It is hard. I get it. Even the Healthy Lady makes mistakes.