While my husband and I freely educate everyone about food allergies, we chose to hold back one detail with our allergic son. We basically told him everything about food allergies, except we kept the L.T. on the down-low, L.T. = Life-Threatening.

I know, I know, chastise me if you want. Our goal was to tell him prior to starting first grade, this upcoming fall. We knew it was appropriate to provide him with all the symptoms, the emergency protocol, the knowledge that an ambulance ride was necessary and a possible short or long hospital stay. But death, that seemed too frightening for my doe-eyed, sensitive boy. The discussion made even me worry. I think I would prefer to have the birds and the bees talk to telling him food allergies can be life threatening. Here’s why…

Every year we visit my home state of Ohio and visit my mother’s grave. My son was born exactly seven years, two weeks and two days after my mother’s death. I’ve always said that God gave me something to mourn and celebrate in the month of September.

Last year my son started to ask questions about why we go to the cemetery. When I explained that we go to remember and celebrate the life of my mom, your grandmother, he was fine with it. But then, about 50 yards away was a very large hole being dug for an upcoming burial. His questions mounted. I explained our funeral and burial process, not in a lot of detail, but just enough to give him an idea. Even though I told him that grandma was in heaven and her body in the ground, to a five-year-old that was overwhelming. Even when I said it I could hear the wheels in my son’s head turning, how can grandma be in heaven and her body in the ground – two places at once. It took almost two months before he stopped thinking and asking me questions about it.

Trust me, I can understand his worry. When I was a youngster the complete 3^rd generation above me all died before I was nine. It seemed like every other week we were doing a tour of funeral homes, Masses and cemeteries. Anyhow, I knew he wasn’t ready for the L.T. news until he was a bit older.

But then…he started to do something that a food allergic kiddo is best not to do…bite his nails. Seeing his jagged nails was like nails on a chalkboard for me.

In our effort to curb his gnawing claw addiction, we tried all sorts of things. We took away bedtime stories, we took away bedtime cuddle, which quickly evolved to no stories and cuddle, and then lastly, dessert (which is only twice a week) was taken away. My husband and I talked about black pepper, Tabasco, etc. Nothing seemed to faze him and the kicker was that he admitted to biting his nails at school. School…where 20% of anaphylactic reactions take place.

Last Friday I did a spot check to find that his fingernails aren’t growing and looked just as jagged as the last time. My husband and I agreed that it was time for the talk.

We were eating dinner and my husband started:

“Your mother and I have gotten very upset that you are biting your nails and you’re probably wondering what’s the big deal. You know there’s the possibility of coming into contact with one of your allergens, have it on or underneath your nails and then put it in your mouth and have a reaction. I guess that isn’t enough for you to stop biting. But you know son…food allergies can be life threatening. That means you could die.”

I chimed in and shared with him his Anaphylaxis Plan and read a statement at the top of the Plan: “Anaphylaxis is a serious allergic reaction that is rapid in onset and may cause death.” My son said to me, “I didn’t know that.” I said, “We didn’t want to scare you; but, biting your nails is starting to scare and worry us. You can’t afford to be a nail biter.”

My son took it so well, better than I did mentally. As I look at the little boy, who isn’t so little anymore I guess, it’s hard to reconcile that this heavy burden has to be placed on a child. A child, who is just starting to live a wonderful life, has to hear about the possibility of death. It all seems so strange.

I felt a little bit of innocence leave him as our conversation ended. I’ve always said that my son is an old soul. He takes life so much in stride, more so than most adults. I don’t think that’s by chance. I truly believe that Someone knew that he would handle the burden well, just as Someone knew that I would be the mother and my husband the father that would so fiercely love and protect him while ensuring balance in his life.

My hope is that he will stop biting his nails. Time will only tell. In the meantime, my husband has offered him his Greek worry beads, and we continue to remind him what he can’t afford to be…a nail biter.

Trying Once Again
It’s February 2008. We were trying for our second child and growing weary dealing with male and female factor infertility this time around. We did our best to make one another laugh at the ridiculous and always embarrassing side of being barren.

It was the morning of our Intrauterine Insemination (IUI). Bright and early, my husband was at the andrology lab, providing his deposit, where he started to feel like Norm from Cheers.

The Guy’s Etiquette Guide to the Andrology Lab

1. Do not make eye contact in the reception area.
2. Speak barely above a grunt to check-in at the front desk.
3. Refrain from singing or humming the song, “Hav’in My Baby.”
4. Last, but certainly not least Never, NEVER, N-E-V-E-R open a closed door. Can you believe the rooms did not have locks?

I went in two hours later spinning the nurse practitioner (NP) wheel wondering who would grace me with her presence, ask me to disrobe from the waist down, give me a paper sheet the size of a oversized napkin to “cover” myself and then make me wait in that cold, cold room. A NP enters rattling off my husband’s sperm stats like the box score from a baseball game: count, motility and morphology. She completes the insemination, sets an egg timer, how ironic, for 20 minutes and leaves me with my thoughts.

Our nights were always the same the day of an insemination. We’d climb into bed and one of us would ask the other, “So how do you think things went?” Like either of us would really know, but infertiles have these discussions, it’s what gives us hope.

On this particular evening, my husband began to complain about his visit to the lab… You know, they just really messed with my routine today…the usual gal wasn’t manning the front desk; it was someone new who made me uncomfortable. IT WAS A GUY! I gasped, A GUY?! LOL Yes, a guy that went through the whole procedure like I had never been there before. It was really embarrassing.

To be clear, there is nothing more embarrassing than what women go through. Let’s be honest, you fellas enter a room
A-L-O-N-E and do what you have been doing since you were 12-years-old. While women mentally go to their happy place and pretend they are making snow angels rather than in stirrups exposing themselves to every ultrasound specialist, NP and doctor that enter the exam room that day.

My husband’s second complaint was just as silly: Then my room’s adult materials were, ahem, definitely worked over. In fact they were from 1991 and 2001. Can you believe it? 1991 and 2001? These magazines are seven and 17 years old. With the amount of money we are paying, you’d think they could have more current magazines.

Yes girls…that’s what I thought…if we’re talk’in money here…I think I’d prefer a lower copay than $800 a month for my injectible fertility drugs, or perhaps cloth sheets that cover you on the exam table or how about a heated exam table. Not a better selection of periodicals for the men’s specimen rooms.

As I listened to him complain about the quality and outdated library he was provided, I couldn’t help but think, “Why aren’t you concentrating on what you’re in that room to do? Why are we doing an analysis on the dates of magazines and the evolution of smut through the years?

I had a hard time empathizing that day. I couldn’t help myself with my response, “You know…I can’t feel sorry for you. I enter a sterile exam room with hotel artwork on the walls, a cold, paper covered exam table and a revolving door of new people to greet me at each visit. Where I go, for you Grey’s Anatomy fans, there’s no McDreamy or McSteamy poster on the ceiling to put me in the mood.” : P

How Things Turned Out
When my husband and I embarked on the journey to have another child, we made a pact that if one of us had enough, then it was time. One no, was two nos. I told him this was our last month. I couldn’t take the shots, the weight gain and the sadness that had set in. I could tell that my unhappiness was affecting my mothering of our son, and he was the last one I wanted to suffer. I came to accept that if we weren’t pregnant that month, then our son was meant to be an only child. One could never say that we didn’t give it the good old college try when our last pregnancy ended in a miscarriage and landed me in the ER on Christmas Day hemorrhaging.

When my visitor arrived that month my heart sank. I shed many tears realizing that it was the closing of a chapter for us, no more children, no brother or sister for our son. But then…my visitor left as quick as she arrived. It turned out my progesterone levels were borderline low, which caused me to spot. The solution was progesterone in oil injections for the first trimester. I know, more shots…but these shots I could do if it meant holding a baby in my arms and giving our son a brother or sister. Our second son was born December 10, 2008.

I honor each and every couple that has infertility in their past or present. It’s definitely a horrific voyage you’d prefer to not have stamped on your passport. One thing that infertility taught me and us as a couple is that you have to have faith. We were always taking turns encouraging each other to find our faith during this excruciating process.

So in the end, always believe that something wonderful is about to happen, because sometimes, we must walk by faith and not by sight.

I knew more than I wanted to know about my husband’s sperm: count, motility and morphology…we commonly referred to it as the wicked trifecta. Certainly takes the romance out of conceiving a baby. Then in 2007, I was diagnosed with Elevated Follicle Stimulating Hormone (FSH). In normal “Joe Bag of Doughnuts Speak,” my diagnosis meant that I was running out of eggs and my egg quality was diminished due to my advanced age of 38. As a result of my old and decrepit eggs walking around with canes, my possibility of miscarriage skyrocketed.

Sitting in my reproductive endocrinologist’s (RE) office and hearing his words made my head spin. In my younger years, I could have majored in passing out and I also came from a long lineage of passer outers. Between my sister and I bets were placed at the beginning of every Mass.

Side Note: To my mother’s chagrin, God rest her soul, I once passed out in communion line at church. My swooning was a mixture of not eating breakfast and the excessive heat from a failed air conditioner. At the front of the communion line, my father swooped me up into his arms to carry me outside, caught the edge of my mother’s summer skirt in his hand and lifted it to the entire congregation of St. Michael’s Catholic Church – talk about a godly experience for the congregation and out of body experience for my mother.

Back to my story…being a professional passer outer, I was close to putting my head between my legs as the color drained from my face and my vision began to go black and white. “You see Kristin, I hope you take this the right way but…you’re only as good as your highest FSH. Your FSH is 24 and 25 is the cut off for In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) so as you can see you are not even a candidate for IVF. Injectible fertility drugs and Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) is your only option,” said my RE.

I slumped into a horrible place. While doing so, I had family and friends making all sorts of comments to me that only added to my inner turmoil…”You’re not going to make that boy an only child are you? Why did you buy this big house if you weren’t going to fill it? Maybe you’re trying to make something happen that you’re not meant to have.”

A colleague of my husband’s had a neighbor once say to his wife, “Maybe God doesn’t want you to be a mother.” As a half-breed Italian here’s something I could sink my teeth into… God had a vendetta against my husband or me, maybe both. Maybe in typical Godfather style I should ask, “Godfather, I need a favor from you.”

I wonder if we understand the impact our words have on others. Sometimes in the routine of our daily lives we forget what is old hat or funny to us is fresh news or a hidden heartache to someone else. As I left my RE’s office, all that kept echoing in my head was “you’re only as good, you’re only as good, you’re only as good as your highest FSH.” My life, my reproductive status, my womanhood was diminished to one number, 24. Yet I could not let go of that saying, “you’re only as good.”

My maternal grandmother had a saying about people who talked a lot and rarely listened, she called it a terrible case of “diarrhea of the mouth.” My best piece of advice is to dig deep and find that sense of humor you know you have. It so often can turn a terrible hurt into a crazy, stupid moment for someone else. To climb out of my dark abyss, regain my strength and begin living life again I took a few steps and these steps are the same suggestions I have for you:

1. Find Yourself a Coach: Having a coach is a great way to vent and expel your demons of the day, get focused on the mental and emotional balance that supports conception and pregnancy and counter the negative blather that can sadden you to the core. I’m a firm believer that everyone should have a coach.
2. Start the Best and Brightest Club: Build a small circle of friends, family and professionals that can support you in your efforts. There’s nothing like the feeling of being surrounded by love and support at a difficult time.
3. Make Self-Care a Daily Do or Die: You must create the life you want. At the end of the day, only you can truly make yourself happy. Reminding your kind soul that you are there to take care is of immeasurable value ~ nourish and protect yourself.

Last but certainly not the least, print this quote and read it everyday: “Pursue your dreams not because you’re immune to heartbreak, but because your real life, your whole life, is worth getting your heart broken a few thousand times.” ~ Martha Beck

This blog entry is dedicated to Dr. Pamela Aasen
My dear coach and friend Pam, you have had such longevity in my life; we dance in and out of each other’s lives at times, but always come back together as if we have never skipped a beat. Without your strength, your compassionate guidance and wicked sense of humor that matches mine…I don’t know where I would be. You have helped me travel many of the most challenging miles in my life:

• Horrific grief of my mother’s passing from ALS
• Infertility and Miscarriage
• Feeding issues with my eldest son that lasted almost four years
• You kept my eyes on the prize for the beautiful birth of our second son who we were supposedly destined to miscarry in the first trimester.

Pam, thank you for always seeing what I can’t. You have always given me hope, been the most awesome cheerleader and the mother’s love and voice that I have missed the last 13 years of my life. I hope you know what a beautiful gift you are in my life and all those in which you touch.

Love, Friendship and Health to You Always,
Kristin

There’s a quote from the movie that made me think about my sons and a topic that I seriously ponder on a regular basis. How can my husband and I raise strong boys who strive for not only what they want in life, but also what they want to give in life? Here’s the quote:

“Give enough to your kids so they can do anything, but do not give them too much so they can do nothing.”

As many of you know, my husband and I struggled with infertility for many years. I had a lot of time to think about what kind of mother I wanted to be: how I would show my love, how I would discipline and how I would go about creating beautiful, giving human beings. While pondering, I think it’s only natural to reflect on your own childhood and learn from your parents’ credits and mistakes, because every generation attempts to parent better.

I sure don’t have all the answers, as my kids are only six and three. My kids are like any other and want every toy in sight; I call that a bad case of the gimmies. So how do we as parents begin to squelch the gimmies? Well, one thing I know for certain, it’s important to teach the value of giving, freely, because you want to and with the expectation of nothing in return.

How can you go about doing this? Well, society has some pretty convenient programs like Toys for Tots, Good Will, Food Shelves, Rice Bowl, etc. A couple of things to consider is that one must find a way to balance the harsh realities of life to the age appropriateness of the child. Secondly, is that you cannot do these activities once a year and expect to have giving built into your child’s character. As with anything in life, it takes a steady diet to indoctrinate our kiddos.

My solution is to start with small things where your child can participate. For example, each holiday season we contribute to Toys for Tots. Each of my sons selects two toys for the program and we have them put the toys in the bin at the collection site. The actual act provides them with the understanding that they are making an impact on kids who are just like them. A simple toy, something they have many of, will bring a smile to a face of a child that is in want.

Here’s my new everyday challenge that you may want to try, start a Service Jar. Download Service Jar Slips from the Today’s Mama website. There are two pages of service suggestions and a third page that provides the opportunity to make your own slips tailored to your family. Then have one of your kiddos draw a slip each week and complete the act of service.

You know, a few of my cousins and I have a running joke entitled, “The All About Me Show.” We all encounter people in our daily life that think every waking moment is about them: their wants, their desires, their needs, their feelings, etc. It’s not by chance that we have grown into a “me” society that irreverently chooses personal needs over the good of the community. We’ve born it, we bred it and we have the chance to change it too. It starts with our children. Parenting is a verb, not a noun, so we have the chance to create a new show, “The All About We Show.”

I’m hopeful that my boys’ repetitive acts of kindness will create a great show with their performance of a lifetime ~ The Great Ripple Affect.

Perhaps each spring the neighbor’s roaming cat uses the side of your house as a litter box.

Or the neighbor’s kiddos consistently throw landscaping, pea rock into your grass; resulting in you cursing each time you mow the lawn.

And then there’s Bob, the Neighborhood Watch organizer, who lurks around the house, ringing your doorbell after 9 p.m.  This usually happens when your husband is travelling, scaring you, and the “you know what” out of the cat at the side of the house…possibly causing the whole litter box problem. Well, maybe the cat and Bob situations aren’t related to one another, but it added a little humor.

In case you are wondering, all of the above stories have actually happened between the two houses where my husband and I have lived.

What’s the solution to these daily annoyances? It’s challenging yourself to find the humor in a situation and flip the stress to laughter. Let me give a couple examples.

As I listened to my husband rant under his breath, criticizing the neighbor’s parenting skills, while doing his best to pick the pea rock out of our lawn for the ninth time this summer. I think how can I make him laugh? So I say:

“You want me to take care of it? Just think of me out there in my housecoat, curlers in my hair, cold cream on my face and cigarette in hand, yelling in the raspiest voice I can muster, you kids get out of my yard!”

It took the edge off of his anger and gave him a mental picture to reference each time he went pea rock picking before a mow.

Then, there’s the cat that kept using the side of our house as his personal toilet when spring arrived. I did some research for my husband and found three ways to handle this delicate situation:

1. Outfit my husband in camouflage, night vision goggles and a can of spray paint.
2. Scatter a couple of bulk, black pepper containers at the side of the house so that the pepper would adhere to the cat’s paws, a couple of licks later, that cat wouldn’t want to come back to our house.
3. Purchase a super soaker water gun and lay in wait.

I can tell you that we tried numbers two and three. Number two was very effective and economical. A word that best describes option three is, entertaining. There’s something truly satisfying about watching my husband exclaim, ‘There it is!’ while grabbing the soaker, wielding the waterarm like Rambo and chasing the zigzagging hairball around the yard. After three years of observing this, I can tell you he has never actually sprayed the feline…but I’ve had a good time watching him try.

Not so much into the humor? Find yourself being more of a serious person by nature? Well, I have another option for you.

I gratefully live with egalitarian roles in my household. My husband, as King of the Castle, will take a turn with the toilet scepter, scrub a floor or throw a load of laundry in the washer…and I as Queen will take out the trash, pressure wash the garage or trim the shrubs. So women, please don’t be offended when I share with you how my husband encourages me to handle my stress whenever my sense of humor is on hiatus.

We heard through our neighborhood grapevine that our pea rock, hurling neighbors dubbed us “The Child Haters.” We’re sure they came to this conclusion because, eventually, my husband would ask that the kids to stop hurling the rocks into our yard. Apparently, respectfully asking that the act stop made us unreasonable.

As if struggling with infertility and a miscarriage wasn’t enough, the term “Child Hater,” was particularly hurtful. I so badly wanted to confront and share with them our plight so that they would feel bad for the terrible label they assigned to us. I felt like we were wearing the scarlet letters CH (Child Haters) as a badge of shame.

My husband was as hurt as I was, but was wise enough to tell me, “Those individuals have small minds; we don’t. Whatever you want to say to them, recite it as you scrub the floor.” I’ve never forgotten his thoughtful words, as it’s a very creative way to get those feelings out while getting a little housework done.

I am thankful that my husband and I compliment one another. Between my humor and his kind nature, we are able to help diffuse one another when our feathers get ruffled.

And…let’s not forget, there’s something to be said taking the proverbial high road. You don’t always have to tell someone what you are really thinking. There’s also something to be said for people being respectful of one another, and of course, minding their own business.

So the next time you feel like you are ready to boil, start thinking about how to tame your little beast. If you haven’t caught on already, having a sense of humor, finding your kind nature or scrubbing a floor can diffuse almost any situation.

I’m teaching a class at Linden Hills Coop on Saturday, March 31, 2012, from 10 a.m. – noon on preparing for school with food allergies. Whether your child is entering kindergarten in the fall or a subsequent grade, learn how to partner with your school to establish a comprehensive 504, IHP and emergency plan all while encouraging food-free celebrations, activities and curriculums.

To register or learn more, check out this link: Preparing for School with Food Allergies

I hope to see you there!

Kristin

Many school staffs are not familiar
with their district’s policies on food allergies.

You can’t always rely on your school
to protect your child at risk for anaphylaxis.

Come learn how to partner with your school to create comprehensive plans of protection,
encourage food-free alternatives for curriculum and celebrations and manage social activities beyond the classroom.

Food Allergies 102: Ready & Rarin’ for School

Date: Thursday, March 15, 2012
Time: 6:30 p.m. – 8:30 p.m.
Where: Lakewinds Natural Foods
Lakewinds Member Price: $25.00
Nonmember Price: $27.00

Space is limited. To register, please visit or call the Lakewinds’ customer service desk at 952.473.0292.

Have questions? Please give me a call 612.845.7585 or send an email Kristin@agiftofmiles.com.

The below Top 10 was acquired from Devan McGuinnes on Babble.

1.  “You can always try again.”: The end goal of pregnancy is not having two lines show up on the test — it’s a baby to grow their family. Many women will indeed go on to have another pregnancy, but they will always grieve the one the never got to know.

2. “Be grateful for the children you have!”: Grieving the loss of a baby has no effect on how they feel about their living children. They will not replace or ‘fix’ the child that she lost. Grieving is not ungrateful — it’s healthy.

3. “I know what you are going through.”: Unless you’ve been through miscarriage, saying this can be of very little comfort. However, if you have experienced loss, many find it comforting to hear how you are functioning through your grief.

4. “At least you weren’t further along.”: There are some who will agree that the further along you are, the harder it is for you. The problem with this is grief is SO individual and diminishing someone’s grief based on a time-line number is dismissive and hurtful.

5. “It was not a real baby just a fetus.”: A “fetus” is a baby. The mom will feel changes from very early on, making the transition to motherhood already there in her mind. It was a real baby.

6. “At least you didn’t know your baby!”: That is basically the problem — she never got to really know her child. Not only is she grieving the baby she never knew — she is grieving the fact she never got that chance. We love our baby from the moment we know we are pregnant.

7. “It’s probably for the best.”: Miscarriages happen for many reasons, and you do not know what may or may not have caused this particular loss. The best for whom? Me? The now dead baby? You? This does not make a person feel better.

8. “It wont happen again.”: Everyone hopes that everything will be fine in the next pregnancy, but sometimes it isn’t. Women who have recurrent miscarriages often remember being reassured by others that everything would be fine next time, and sometimes this makes for an even harder time coping with the second loss.

9. “After so many miscarriages you should be getting used to it.”: You NEVER get used to it. You should know this comment is hurtful.

10. “Get on with your life, this isn’t the end of the world!”: Grieving is normal, natural and very important. There are some women who are told this one after a very short amount of time and grief doesn’t work that way.

So, what should you say? “I’m so sorry.”

Some of us know all too well what a Big Fat Negative is…others are wondering what I’m talking about. A BFN is a negative pregnancy test, which cannot be confused with a BFP, a Big Fat Positive test.

Many times when working with clients I like to come up with a “Top 10” list for their challenge. Recently, an infertility client said to me, “Please develop a Top 10 list for recovering from BFNs…I’m crippled each month it happens.”

There’s no doubt about it, struggling with infertility is a rollercoaster ride. The beginning of a cycle is so focused on doctor appointments, medications, blood draws and ultrasounds. Then your IUI or egg retrieval and embryo transfer happens and you have to wait two weeks for “The Answer.” Even if you are trying naturally, all the monitoring gets old very quick.

What I remember about BFNs is that some months I was able to take it in stride and plan for the next cycle. While other months left me anxious and weepy into the next cycle. Not a good thing when wanting to be open and radiate positivity in support of your mind and body to do its best work.

So what can you do to honor your disappointment and sadness, yet pave the way for positivity in the next month? Reference this list, or develop your own, to keep yourself focused and on target:

1. Grieve…but with a Time Limit – It’s awful. Your hopes were dashed yet another month. Take the time to experience your feelings; however, limit the amount of time. I can remember giving myself one hour for a full-fledged emotional breakdown. Set a timer for 60-minutes, cry, rip a magazine to shreds, and verbally or in writing vent your frustration. When the timer buzzes, exhale a cleansing sigh, clean up the mess, freshen up and go on with your day.
2. Talk about your feelings with someone you trust – This conversation is certainly not for the nosey neighbor that keeps asking you, “When are the two of you going to start a family?” No this conversation needs to happen with someone who is in your “Circle of Trust” to quote Robert De Niro from Meet the Parents. Find that person in your life that’s very good at listening, not your partner or spouse, who can support you in releasing all the pent-up sadness and anger.
3. Decide if a Break is in Order, Even if it’s Just for a Month – Many times in life, creating some space helps you to look at a situation with clear eyes. While it may seem like you’re losing out on a month of trying…you actually might be gaining the focus necessary to continue and rejuvenate your mind, body and spirit.
4. Create an Evaluation Timeline – My husband and I created an “evaluation date” for our infertility treatments. After our second miscarriage, we decided to give ourselves six months. If we weren’t pregnant at the end of six months, then we would reevaluate what to do, i.e., Continue with infertility treatments? Look into adoption? Take a break? Decide to stay a family of two? Giving a span of time where no decision has to be made is freeing. We didn’t have to talk about what we were “going to do”…because that conversation wasn’t going to happen until the evaluation day arrived.
5. Plan for the Next Month – I know that sounds pretty simple, but planning for the future took the focus off the present. Allowing yourself to be hopeful is sometimes the best medicine.
6. Acupuncture – Make two wishes upon one star. Acupuncture is a great way to increase fertility and manage your stress. You will feel more centered and able to handle the stress that comes your way, fertility related or not. So what are you waiting for…go get poked!
7. Consider a Short Trip Together – This is something that my husband and I never did, but in hindsight would have been a great idea. Especially consider this option if you decide to take some time off of treatments. Soak in the solitude together not thinking of your next step…simply be present with one another. Can’t afford a trip; then plan a great staycation where computers, cell phones and the television are a no.
8. Girlfriend Night – There’s something magical about being with a BFF. Take the time to relax, be yourself and reminisce about fun past times while making some new ones.
9. Delve Into a New Interest, or Resurrect an Old One – Photography has always been a love of mine, especially night photography. I can remember setting up my tripod in downtown Minneapolis and shooting over the Hennepin pedestrian bridge. Seeing those red, car light trails…nothing like it. Husband had my photographs matted and framed a few years ago. Create a fond memory and a healthy distraction.
10. Challenge Yourself – I could make this easy and give you a tenth idea. Instead, I challenge you to supply #10. What can you think of to focus your emotional, mental and spiritual energy after a BFN? Help others by posting your #10 on this blog entry as a comment.

If your next month includes a Big Fat Negative, run through the above Top 10 and fill your time being Breezy, Fearless, and Nurturing.

All eyes are on General Mills this week with the launch of their newest offspring, Peanut Butter Cheerios®. To refresh my memory of the various flavors, I took a gander at the Cheerios® website. While perusing the products section, I recalled the memorable Bubba Blue’s line from the Forrest Gump movie, “Dey’s uh, shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That- that’s about it.”

Well, Cheerios’ currently has 13 different varieties. Dey’s uh, Cheerios® Regular, Cheerios® Honey Nut, Cheerios® Multi Grain. Cheerios® Apple Cinnamon, Cheerios® Banana Nut, Cheerios® Chocolate, Cheerios® Cinnamon Burst, Cheerios® Frosted, Cheerios® Fruity, Cheerios® Oat Cluster Crunch, Cheerios® Yogurt Burst, Cheerios® Dulce de Leche, Cheerios® Peanut Butter. That- that’s about it.

What’s all the hubbub about bub? Four items concern people:

1. Similar packaging between the Multi Grain (MG) and Peanut Butter (PB)
2. Lack of distinction between the actual MG and PB Cheerios® O
3. Anxiety about a child innocently sharing PB Cheerios® with an allergic child
4. Concern about possible manufacturing cross contamination

The uneasiness that surrounds the PB Cheerios® are the same kinds of concerns that you would have with any food product. The packaging of many products are similar, to name a couple, Bimbo Bakeries makes both Brownberry® and Arnold® breads. Their website are exactly the same design, the brand logos are not only similar in style but in color (red) while Brownberry® has milk as an ingredient and Arnold’s does not. Pop-Tarts® have similar packaging, a variety of flavors and varying allergen ingredients which requires diligent ingredient review.

As parents of food allergic children, we teach to not accept food unless we have approved of the item. The rule remains the same regardless of the lack of distinction between the Cheerios® O or whether it is shared. In addition, my watchfulness of my allergic child while around other children consuming food remains just as vigilant.

Lastly, it is recommended that parents review ingredient labels at each time of purchase, since ingredient labels and manufacturing practices are changed without notice.

Sure it’s frustrating to have to watch and be mindful of another product; however, the introduction of Peanut Butter Cheerios® doesn’t change how I address my allergic child or the purchase of a Cheerios® product. Before the introduction of the flavor Peanut Butter, my son wasn’t able to have the Honey Nut, Banana Nut, Oat Cluster Crunch or Yogurt Burst…now we add Peanut Butter to that list.

As Forrest’s momma always said, “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” That’s why we have to stick to our rules, be diligent and stay vigilant.