Written by Em
When announcing our first pregnancy, we were given the usual reality checks - a baby changes everything, blah, blah, blah. Less sleep and personal hygiene versus more love and joy.
Got it.
We received the same reminders during our wait for Baby #2, just jacked up a notch - "whoa, you guys think one is a handful, ha, ha?! You ain't seen nothin' yet!"
Gee.
Thanks.
But boy were they right.
Turns out, Youngest has this pesky liver disorder called PKU. If you're a regular viewer of my homebase, you might be a little familiar with this three-letter combo. If not, here's a crash course - think vegetarian diabetic. Youngest is missing the necessary enzyme to metabolize the amino acid phenylalanine to the amino acid tyrosine. It just means he has to be on a special low protein diet, for life. (Here's more information, if you're interested.) We do a blood test every other week to check his "levels." If they stay within range, he's right as rain. If we wander too far into the dark side, permanent side effects, such as brain damage, set in.
Quite the balancing act, but after three years, it's pretty routine and fully (mostly) embraced.
Until we hit a holiday.
I then loathe PKU.
I mean, bang-my-fists, stomp-my-feet and curse-the-gods kind of hatred.
What's Thanksgiving without a succulent, golden turkey (can you smell it)? Christmas without a rare roastbeast and Yorkshire pudding (yes, English family roots)? Easter without a Honeybaked ham or hollow chocolate bunnies, for Pete's sake?!
I can tell you, because I've experienced them all. And yes, I will confess, only to you guys, that it totally sucks. I will never, ever say that to Youngest (I imagine some kid in preschool will probably point it out for me), but yes, it totally sucks.
But so does decreased mental capabilities.
Perspective is key.
There are two schools of thought when it comes to holiday management of the diet: One - incorporate low protein recipes into the day (we lean this way when extended family is involved), or Two - completely change the tradition.
We love to completely change the tradition.
Not that we don't fully appreciate the fact that one day Youngest will have to "mainstream" when it comes to food, but we feel like offering him full acceptance at home builds confidence to stick to the diet later in life. At least I pray that it does.
Lord only knows how bad I'm screwing this up.
So instead of the usual chocolate selection at Halloween, it's now Skittles, Dum Dums or pencils. For Easter this year, we held a jelly bean hunt, and for dinner we grilled veggies and turkey hotdogs (and a lo pro version for Youngest - yes they make them) and had a picnic outside watching the sunset.
Not a pork product or deviled egg in site.
I cannot truthfully say that I don't miss the traditional fare. Those meals were my childhood memories. Believe me, my mother reminds me all the time. I actually lied to her this year and told her that yes, I bought a ham for the rest of us since that's how it's done.
Enough! (that's for my mom)
This is Youngest's childhood now, so he gets to help pick the menu.
When we went for our initial genetics counseling right after his diagnosis, the wonderful dietitian let me in on a little secret that has sustained me during my many closet tantrums.
"It's not the food on the table that matters, it's the people surrounding it."
And there's always girls' night out for wallowing around in chicken fried steak.
What can I say? I'm hardly a saint.
Got it.
We received the same reminders during our wait for Baby #2, just jacked up a notch - "whoa, you guys think one is a handful, ha, ha?! You ain't seen nothin' yet!"
Gee.
Thanks.
But boy were they right.
Turns out, Youngest has this pesky liver disorder called PKU. If you're a regular viewer of my homebase, you might be a little familiar with this three-letter combo. If not, here's a crash course - think vegetarian diabetic. Youngest is missing the necessary enzyme to metabolize the amino acid phenylalanine to the amino acid tyrosine. It just means he has to be on a special low protein diet, for life. (Here's more information, if you're interested.) We do a blood test every other week to check his "levels." If they stay within range, he's right as rain. If we wander too far into the dark side, permanent side effects, such as brain damage, set in.
Quite the balancing act, but after three years, it's pretty routine and fully (mostly) embraced.
Until we hit a holiday.
I then loathe PKU.
I mean, bang-my-fists, stomp-my-feet and curse-the-gods kind of hatred.
What's Thanksgiving without a succulent, golden turkey (can you smell it)? Christmas without a rare roastbeast and Yorkshire pudding (yes, English family roots)? Easter without a Honeybaked ham or hollow chocolate bunnies, for Pete's sake?!
I can tell you, because I've experienced them all. And yes, I will confess, only to you guys, that it totally sucks. I will never, ever say that to Youngest (I imagine some kid in preschool will probably point it out for me), but yes, it totally sucks.
But so does decreased mental capabilities.
Perspective is key.
There are two schools of thought when it comes to holiday management of the diet: One - incorporate low protein recipes into the day (we lean this way when extended family is involved), or Two - completely change the tradition.
We love to completely change the tradition.
Not that we don't fully appreciate the fact that one day Youngest will have to "mainstream" when it comes to food, but we feel like offering him full acceptance at home builds confidence to stick to the diet later in life. At least I pray that it does.
Lord only knows how bad I'm screwing this up.
So instead of the usual chocolate selection at Halloween, it's now Skittles, Dum Dums or pencils. For Easter this year, we held a jelly bean hunt, and for dinner we grilled veggies and turkey hotdogs (and a lo pro version for Youngest - yes they make them) and had a picnic outside watching the sunset.
Not a pork product or deviled egg in site.
I cannot truthfully say that I don't miss the traditional fare. Those meals were my childhood memories. Believe me, my mother reminds me all the time. I actually lied to her this year and told her that yes, I bought a ham for the rest of us since that's how it's done.
Enough! (that's for my mom)
This is Youngest's childhood now, so he gets to help pick the menu.
When we went for our initial genetics counseling right after his diagnosis, the wonderful dietitian let me in on a little secret that has sustained me during my many closet tantrums.
"It's not the food on the table that matters, it's the people surrounding it."
And there's always girls' night out for wallowing around in chicken fried steak.
What can I say? I'm hardly a saint.
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