It’s been almost a year since our diagnosis, and we were doing so well…

Sigh.

Depending on how you look at it, mine is lucky.  His body immediately tells him he has been ‘glutened’ with serious stomach cramps and major gastrointestinal distress.  He is his own major deterrent when it comes to the prospects of cheating or going back to wheat.

Some people are not as ‘lucky’: speaking with one mother the other day, she struggles with an asymptomatic teen who feels it is okay to cheat and sneak doughnuts and pizza with his friends.  Whereas mine will longingly look at a piece of pizza, his brain has now been hardwired to accept that it is sooo not worth the agony.

Flash back to the weekend:  out at a school event, and rather than make the informed choice of going after fully labelled candy that clearly spells out gluten free, mine chooses the unmarked baggie of bulk candy.  Yup, we were home within the hour.

Sunday brought a ready-made sauce that did not list any wheat or wheat products.  The website neither confirmed nor denied.  We rolled the dice, because sometimes it is nice to be able to reach for something ready-made, damnit.  Strike two.

Monday brought a dental emergency from my other one, and a request for good old macaroni and cheese.  Sure, I could do this.  I could make two dinners without cross-contaminating:  I had this!  Nope.  Strike three.

And now we lie awake dissecting every choice, every option, trying to figure out what it is that set him off.  We are wracked with guilt, made worse with his small pained voice, telling us it’s okay, and that he knows we are just trying our best.  He quietly asks if we can’t just go totally gluten free in the house, to provide him with a safe harbour, and danger-free choices.   Yes, darling, we can.  If it means keeping you safe, we will.

Parenting low-point.

Sigh.