It goes without saying that we have spent the last year reinventing how we see food. Food got dark. It got dangerous. And then we bested our demons and came out the other side, safely and successfuly navigating around the evils of gluten. We had won.

At least, at home.

Travel has presented a fresh new challenge: an opportunity to crest another hurdle. It goes without saying that we are best situated when offered a small kitchenette and the ability to provide fresh, GF meals that are out of cross-contamination danger. And yet, even within that safe harbour, there are additional measures.

Measures that play directly into my OCD tendencies, and do nothing but exacerbate them. Even I am disgusted with my over-compulsive tendencies to clean and re-clean every square inch of food preparation area. I do it in the name of safety for my son, and indeed, am proven victorious when he stays healthy all weekend. But what is good for him is not good for me. Rather than sitting back on vacation and relaxing, I must now front-load a weekend away with sanitizing cutlery trays and scouring cupboard corners. All in the name of keeping him safe. Don’t misinterpret me: this Tiger-Mom will do anything in the name of her kids. But I believe there is value in recognizing my self in the journey too.

So we continue: we are coming up on our one-year anniversary of his positive endoscopy, and I am beyond proud to say we’ve got this. Now it’s all about the nuances. And reigning in my OCD.