Food Allergies and the Fern Lake Trail

P, storm brewing:



Grandpapa is super strong:


P and I play billy goats:


Uncle Ian really pays billy goat:


Poor little P was born with food allergies. Why? I dunno. Some have suggested it was my fault (nice :) Some say luck of the draw. Some say its inherited (E does have a number of food allergies). Some say its environmental toxins overloading our wee ones.... Some say its bullshit :) I'll never know. But I do know that some foods really mess with my kid.

The super slow process of figuring out exactly what messes with P is a bone of contention between me and myself. Had I only known when he was first born, oh how much lovelier his introduction to this world would have been! The "colic!" But everything for a reason and all that jazz ;) Fortunately, he's not anaphylactic or anything, we're actually really lucky. And his list has slowly shrunk in size. The bottom line is that nuts (yup, all of them - but not seeds!), food coloring and most artificial flavors/preservatives/nasty chemical cocktails added to packaged foods are out for us. He seems over his dairy, egg, chocolate (in moderate amounts) and soy (well, he can have edamame and tofu in small quantities, but soy derivatives still mess with him) sensitivities.

How do we know what he's allergic to? We've had ample opportunity to observe the trends, since we are unschooling food and the little man generally chooses what he puts in his body. This means he's bucked our advice numerous times and eaten his allergens over and over again. And his sweet little form has a brilliant stop sign - a bright red tush. This, combined with eczema after forbidden fruits, always lets us know his body isn't happy. Were these the only issues though, it would be a lot easier to lean towards a popular approach to food sensitivities: benadryl and skin creams :) But P's emotional roller coaster after he's eaten something his body dislikes can't be as easily soothed by a chamomile bath. He obsesses, rages, hits and is just a general mess to be around :)

So we keep our kitchen free of any allergens (no high fructose corn syrup, no nuts, no crazy preservatives, fortunately the co-op has affordable organic!) and know restaurants that work for us. But every once in a while, the kid sees something he wants to try. Now that he's older, when we mention said food has an allergen, he typically happily skips off looking for a replacement. But sometimes (generally when he's in a group and excited to participate - ahhh peer pressure!) he just wants to try it...

Barring the times we are staying in another's space (umm, his mood swings and other's breakables don't go well together) his food choices are just that: his. And so we watch him be uncomfortable in his skin and try to support him while he rages about crazy things for three days. And then we mention that maybe his body doesn't like that food so much. And in the last few months, he's realized this. Really realized it.

So I've seen him turn down offers of nuts (which he loves the taste of). And candy (which he loves the idea of:). All of his own doing, without a glance towards me or a second thought. He really doesn't like feeling gross. And he's finally getting old enough to connect the two dots all on his own.

But many of his sensitivities are big long words hidden at the end of an ingredient list he cannot yet read. And as he enjoyed his independence in Colorado, sliding from one cabin to another, teasing one family member after another to achieve full tickle status, he munched on something somewhere that didn't agree with him. His eczema was worse than I'd seen in many months. His tush was so red he winced. And his insides, apparently, felt about the same....

Which is a really long introduction to our next, and loveliest, hike. His inner storm was brewing from the get-go, but despite the personal stop sign down yonder, he seemed to be keeping himself in decent check. And he wanted to hike. So off we went with his Grandparents, Uncle Ian and Aunt Alicia.

The trail is beautiful, if not mosquito laden, wandering initially along the river through boulder fields. P was in heaven with all of the climbing and rock collecting. At one point, a little cave opened up into a wall seemingly built for bouldering. And so that's exactly what we watched the great Uncle Ian do:



P, captivated by Ian's ascent:



Around the corner, grew up a wall of great boulders that had provided us with an afternoon of fun last year. Our previous foray up this slope had us lamenting Uncle Ian's absence, so we embraced our chance to play with him this time:



He was a huge help as the little man catapulted from one rock to another, his steady arms always ready to catch a falling child. The view was gorgeous and the rocks just difficult enough to manage that the little man felt like a True Explorer. As clouds moved in, E reached us on the walkie talkie to remind us of the slickness of rain kissed rock, so we sighed and started back down. P didn't want to go, but was eventually willing. Then he was just too tired, too hungry, to move. It was like his inner environment was mimicking the sky overhead...

We eventually reached the trail and refueled, ready to move onward. The sky cleared and the little man's spirits were buoyed by sustenance. He merrily marched atop Ian's strong back, singing stinky songs about Aunt and Uncle, quite pleased with himself. We stopped at the stream to gather a few rocks and take in the view, and the little man's clouds passed over once more....



Ian sweetly fished fave rocks out of the freezing water, the heaviest of which we cleverly stashed behind a tree to retrieve on the return hike. P wasn't exactly thrilled by this approach, but he's familiar with it. (We often hide rocks or sticks in bushes while out in the park, planning to grab the prize on our return home, since the little man typically brings a bag of toys, another bag of snacks and a scooter on our city adventures, thereby filling my octopus arm quotient while out playing :)

On we hiked, P's obsession with rocks growing exponentially. Still he gathered. His pockets were full. Our bag was full. Ian's pockets were loaded. And yet he dug in the dirt, adding rocks till his waistband hit his knees :



When I could see he'd gone over the edge, there was no return from his present cloud cover to clear skies, I suggested a return to the car. Nope, no doing. (Which was fine, it was a lovely hike and one we hoped to see more of this year than last.) So I suggested a moratorium on rock picking, or to at least do trades for those unusually special rocks that couldn't be left behind. He resolutely stuck rocks in his pants, his ears hearing nothing but inner thunder. Then he tried to con his Aunt into carrying more of his beloveds. Ever the love, she found this, something that was straining my every last nerve of patience, preciously hilarious. I silently blessed her then, for putting it back into perspective for me:



So, we attempted to load up on more rocks, sweet Alicia now weighed down too :) I tossed the little man into the mei tai to avoid further confrontation and on we hiked. Alicia and P's grandparents headed back to the cabin (wise, wise choice ;) and Uncle Ian, E and I pressed on...

Quite honestly, the hike only got prettier from there, visually. After a waterfall, a nice local pointed us towards the best route when schlepping a child and it was unbelievably beautiful. Much more verdant than most of the hikes:



She also informed us that by following this trail, we wouldn't have to backtrack our steps; it would dump us right into the distant parking area where we had left our car. A new hike and no extra hike to the car? Perfect!

So the little man chilled for a while, centering himself a bit in the mei tai. Then he popped out for some more rock clambering fun:



And then he was done. Ready to go to the car. When I informed him we were heading to the car, the realization that his precious rock would stay hidden behind that tree hit him and it was Not Pretty. D'oh.

He demanded we turn around and go back the way we came. To emphasize his point, he stomped off in the backtrack direction, arms pumping, jaw jutting, breath humphing. The sky, echoing his insides, was brewing something heavy duty and the car was definitively not parked in his preferred direction. Meanwhile, E and Ian looked on, ready to move on. But the little man could not let it go. He spat, hit, screamed and then melted. Then he repeated it all. Thanks to Alicia's laughter, I'd found my center again and was able to accept his upset for what it was for him, rather than the silliness it was to me. And not only did he miss his rock, the one he claimed no other could ever replace, he felt betrayed. We'd promised to grab his rock on the way down. Now we weren't. The kid had a fair point. We promised to re-hike the following day, but he was storming so loudly that options wouldn't be heard. His wee body wasn't under his control and it broke my heart to see him so outside of himself and hurting.

It was ugly. And long. And gawd bless Ian for chilling at the top of the mountain for the entire melt-down. When the little man was finally spent, he most reluctantly climbed into the mei tai to moan out a few more sobs as we descended. Then, as we passed a lily laden lake and rounded a few seep sodden bends, the sky finally relaxed too and dropped everything it had onto us. Hail and then a pounding rain. Armed with ponchos it was actually a lovely adventure, as the trails turned to tiny rivers and the mosquitos finally departed. Steam rose off of the mountains as we jumped from rock to rock. The little man, awakened from his short nap by the storm, was quietly chillin' in the mei tai, his vision obscured by the giant orange poncho tapping beneath the raindrops. I tried to imagine what the experience was like for him right then, safely wrapped up, wee legs dangling in the cold and wet, warm body rising and falling unpredictably due to his carrier's constant jumps, everything just orange lights and shadows. (Heart enervated by what he saw as our first departure from our word....)



Though E struggled to not pick P up and carry him down the mountain against his will when we were awaiting the end of his wailings (we're attempting to avoid all implications of the "might makes right" rule), he didn't hesitate to make sure we stayed good to our word. And so the Super Papa re-hiked the Fern Lake Trail two days later and fetched P his prized rock. Faith restored. Food allergy lesson revisited.

Interestingly enough, the little man has been Very Cautious about asking me to read labels ever since this incident. And that's what I love about unscooling/life learning. He's wanting to be careful about what he eats so that he feels good. Not because his mama told him so :) (Note: This success has not yet yielded enlightenment in my brain. I still have to repeat my mantra daily: we do not want subservient and compliant. we do not want subservient and complaint... Why doesn't he just listen to me?!?! Wait, I meant, we do not want subservient or compliant....)