Can you say Glu-ten?

God Job!

Now, can you say

Glu-ten free?

So about a month before our big trip, Tessa began complaining of a hurting tummy. 

The complaints went from weekly,

 to daily,

to many times a day,

to all darn day.

The doctor ran tests.  She was a trouper, and never even flinched when they took five vials, or as she tells anyone who will listen, "five bottles!" of blood.  Double stickers for the brave one.  They said they have grown men who can't do what she did.  But when all the tests came back on blood work and other *a-hem* bodily excretions, all were:

negative.

Good, I guess.  And not.  Then what is hurting my little girl?, I needed to ask.

"Maybe it's Irritable Bowel Syndrome" says our pediatrician, who, up till then I had liked.  "Go look it up on the Internet and you will find all kinds of information and helpful hints."

You are kidding me, right?  How many times have I been scolded by thems wiff high-falutin' medical degrees for my looking online for answers.

Besides that, my Mom-dar (that's Mommy Radar, of course) went off right away.

It ain't IBS.  I hate to say it, but...

I knew it in my gut.

Then, via answer-to-prayer mail,

an inspiration came;

What if it's gluten?

Easy enough to check for.  We took her off gluten.

Three days and not-one-complaint later, I asked her how her tummy was doing.

"Fine, ah'cept for when you gave me that cookie."

Oh, yeah.  I forgot and gave her a cookie.  Good job, Mom.

It's been almost 3 weeks now, and (almost) no complaints.

Plus, she loves it that she gets special food just for her.

We put it in her "Tessa Cupboard".

It makes her feel pampered.

For now. 

She knows, now, how to look for "wheat" in the ingredient label,

where to find the allergy information, and how to read the words,

"gluten free".

*

Yesterday was my birthday.  In the car the day before she spoke up.

"So, tomorrow is yer birffday, huh?" Very matter-of-fact like.

"Yup." Sez I.

"How old ya' gonna be?" she asks, all casual, like she's asking what's my sign.

"Twenty-eight"  comes my standard annual reply.

"Oh," she says, hardly listening, then moving right along, 

"so I was thinking, maybe we should have a gluten-free cake,

 'cuz it would be sad if some people in our family couldn't have

 birffday cake on some people's birffday."

Yeah, I think she is going to be just fine!