I caught up with some friends the other day and one friend – Mzzzzz E (she of “Fi-DIE-lity” notoriety) – began showing off how she had just been to the Friendliest Street in Blahblah-shire. How did she know? Because there was a big bloody sign saying “Friendliest Street in Blahblah-shire 2007″. And, as if to prove a point, as she arrived there was a burst of friendly activity between neighbours all calling out to each other and wishing each other well and handing each other macrobiotic tartlets, fresh out of the oven and probably served in a little hand-woven wicker basket covered with a freshly laundered gingham tea-towel. How perfectly Stepford of them.
This then led to a general discussion about what “macrobiotic” actually meant – another friend at the gathering (the one who actually lives on the Friendliest Street in Blahblahshire) did her street proud by cheerfully educating us. Her explanation went something like “macrobiotic means whole foods, pulses, fermented soy, and possibly gluten-free shit and that”. Actually, she didn’t use the words “shit and that”, it’s just that I sort of glazed over after the mention of “whole foods” and so have had to make up what she said. But she definitely used the word “gluten-free” because it got another friend, Mr MacDonald, all fired up. Mr MacDonald proclaimed: “I never knew what gluten was until I had something that was gluten-free and I realised that, whatever gluten was, I must really really like it because the food tasted crap without it.” I think he might have even pounded his fist on the table to punctuate his point.
Which must make life pretty grim for the poor souls with coeliac disease, who can’t even say the word “Gluten” out loud without instantly getting the blurts. Their lives are possibly only matched in grimness by my little friends Master L and Master D, who, because of their allergies, live without butter, which as we know from previous posts such as “More than a Matter of Taste“, is the definition of life as I know it. (Although, if you ask Mr Justice, the true meaning of life is apparently in the dictionary – something he has told me with no trace of irony whatsoever). And their lives must also be pretty grim without peanuts, although arguably their life would be considerably grimmer *with* peanuts, because anaphlyaxis ain’t no damn picnic, sister-girlfriend-whatever.
Let me just say now that the whole peanuts-in-school thing gets me riled. Some people get very emotional about potentially being deprived of their Natural Born Right to put peanut butter in their child’s lunchbox. One could argue that they would be a little more emotional should their child’s peanut butter sandwich deprive another child of the right to live. Last year, when all I could get The Pixie to eat was peanut butter, we went away with KC, MM and Master D, as we do every year. As I was packing to go, KC rang to ask us if we wouldn’t mind not packing the peanut butter because they didn’t have an epi-pen for Master D and we were going to be in the middle of f’ing nowhere without mobile reception. My answer? You bet! Of course! I mean, what was the worse thing that would have happened if we didn’t bring her beloved peanut butter? She’d go a little hungry. And the worse thing to happen if we *did* bring the peanut butter? I personally don’t want to go there.
There seems to be some people out there who regard the whole peanut allergy thing as the delusions of middle-class drama queens. Recently Master D touched some minute traces of a cashew-spread which one of his little friends had micro-smeared around the house, and then Master D must have rubbed his eyes because within an instant, he looked like Sly Stallone after having taken a whuppin’ from our man Mr T. Actually let’s upgrade that metaphor and make him more like Sly Stallone just after he’s had work done by his mother’s plastic surgeon.
A combination of this story and the look on KC’s face when she saw the nut-related items on our canteen list, plus some other “shit and that”, has galvanised me into action to get our school canteen nut-free (though by “galvanised me into action” means I’ve written this blog entry and had passing conversations with other mothers in the playground – but watch this space, peoples! I’m a steam train comin’!). I’m not gunning for a total school ban – not yet at least, as I’m sure that might make parents like Mother of Master L and KC sleep better at night. And we don’t have to go as far as giving everyone allergy-free macrobiotic lunches (did someone say…*yawn*…) but we could take two items off the canteen list: Peanut Butter and Nutella.
Two little items. Out of a hundred items. That’s not too high a price to pay for a bit of piece of mind, is it? After all, it really is more than just a matter of taste for these kids. They’re not being fussy or precious or over-indulged by their parents. They’re just trying to stay alive and the Friendliest thing we could do is to let them.
You make a really good point. I think that when people go up in arms about the ban on peanuts they’re thinking of some whiney prissy guy yelling at a teenager fast food worker who accidently put nuts on his sundae. Then the rest of us watching the scene think dude, if it was that much of an issue you really shouldn’t eat here. I don’t think any one is think of some poor helpless child who probably wouldn’t say anything about being horribley allergic and suffer in silence as the kids have a peanut fight around him.
A lot of the US schools have bans on sugar like in sodas and cookie. But they allow sports drinks and won’t allow homemade cupcakes. It’s a little crazy.
You go sister-girlfriend-whatever! I’m about to have the same debate with the local kindergarten D is due to go to next year where their kinder induction book advises parents to “consider” not including nut products because nut allergies are a “potential problem” for some children. May be the words “life threatening” are a bit too full-on for kinder parent sensibilities…
As for macrobiotic shit – apparently it “reflects a cosmology that is very close to reality and through this concept, it manages to promote long life” – or at least that’s what one of the websites for it say….clear as the proverbial load of old whatevers hey?
Well done, my beloved niece!
Seeing your child go into anaphylaxis is pure terror and the cashew spread incident was mild compared to his first one.
Thanks for putting the message out there and for the solidarity. You do it with such grace, humour and humanity.
This might be the perfect blog entry. We have so freaking funny I almost wet myself; so touching I almost got teary; so passionate I was moved to almost action; and so self-dismissive I felt all warm and cozy and human.
And I now want to find blahblahshire and the freaks who actually vote for roads based on friendliness, and I want to bake a gluten-butter-overprocessed-MICRObiotic feast and leave it, digested and flaming, on their doorstep.
Except that my apathy pulls me back to my computer and relative inactivity. Can’t. be. bothered.
Yet find you funny enough to read twice. Kudos.
I wanted to say something witty and wise, but the frustration I feel towards those that are aware of Master L’s allergies and still send peanut butter sandwiches to school makes me (almost) speechless. It is one thing to be aware yet another thing to make decisions that can affect a person life (which may sound a tad dramatic but is the simple truth).
It is through people like NDM that my children can go on play dates and birthday parties without the risk of contamination and feeling the outcast by eating only ’safe’ food we have packed.
So thanks NDM, not only for the cupcakes and soy milk Master L has consumed from your kitchen but for rallying the troops!
NDM, I think you are denying your children, and your childrens friends, a vital element of real world drama.
These days, with every channel showing some form of medical soap operas (complete with their epidemics of Muchausens by Proxy), young people never really get any decent first hand experiences of a life threatening situation.
By the time a real one comes along, they are so immune and blase they will barely lift a finger to help poor old frothing Freddie.
They’ll probably just stand around and say something like “Ahh, this happened on two seasons ago on E.R – he probably thinks he’s being cool or something. By the way, I’ve got next season on DVD from an illegal download. Want to borrow it?”.
I say, lets keep the danger in schools.
I have a personal fantasy of being the teacher that runs across the school quadrangle, saving the day and earning the respect of my meeker peers.
Plus, I love the idea of slamming an epi-pen, Rambo style, into the leg of some precious brat who didnt do what mummy said.
Take that, Freddie.