This post is part of a month-long series. You can read the rest here.
I had been in China for a week when I spotted an American-style deli. I ate a sub with cheese, and I cried real, salty tears over a dairy product. Sheesh.
Today I stood in aisle #79 at my local (small town) Walmart and had a similar experience. I didn’t cry, but I did start talking and moving very rapidly. My son asked even asked me what was wrong. It’s been less than 2 weeks since I started the gluten-free diet, and I have been DYING over Cheez-Its. (Wow. Dramatic, Me?) This is what I brought home, plus some rice and white corn tortillas.
Finding things for me to eat hasn’t been too hard. Re-thinking meals for my family is harder. For exapmle, I’ve wanted to make chicken tenders for the kids, but I can’t use the boxes of Panko or Italian bread crumbs that I normally do if I’m going to eat some. (I don’t recall my mom being a short-order cook for any of us, and I don’t want to go down that road, either.)
Is the diet worth it? I reserve the right to withdraw this statement, but I think so. My pain has just about been non-existent with the exception of night time. I’m not sure about any change in the fatigue.
I don’t intend to throw hissy fits if I can’t eat gluten-free every meal. We had to attend a meeting at a pizza joint during the dinner hour. I ate a salad and just one slice of pizza, and that’s okay with me. In fact, I think occasional exceptions help keep me from pouting.
At bedtime, our daughter prayed,
And God, thank you for Father John’s Pizza. I mean, Father God’s Pizza. I mean, yeah. That’s it.