Food Allergy FAQs

The Enemy

As a result of my last post, I've convinced myself that I need to become more proactive in educating the public on the important topic of food allergies in children.  I encounter so many questions from friends, family, and total strangers, that it only seems right to address them here.  After all, this is the appropriate forum for serious discussion, n'est pas?


The following are actual questions (or passive-aggressive statements that imply questions) I have been asked.  I will attempt to answer them as knowledgeably as possible:

1)  I heard this whole food allergy thing is an overblown myth, and that most kids with food allergies, don't actually have them at all.  Can the Dictator eat this peanut butter granola bar?

The answer to your second question is, I'm really sorry, but "no."  And if you wouldn't mind backing a few feet away from us, that would be super awesome.

The answer to your first question is actually, "maybe."  At least, "maybe" to the overblown part.  Recent studies have actually shown that blood testing might give false positives and that many food allergic children may not be as allergic to some things as the testing shows.  Unfortunately, the only way to know for sure if your child is one of those false positives is to give her to Great Aunt Sally (who doesn't believe in food allergies) for the day and tell her to go ahead and feed your child lunch.  If you end up in the ER, chances are your tests were accurate.  Congratulations!  And of course, even if your child doesn't react this time, allergic sensitivity fluctuates over time, so lunch with ol' Sally next week might prove fatal.  I'm not interested in that risk.

2)  What do you think about this whole "no birthday treats at school" malarkey?  Since you're the parent of a kid with allergies (and seem like a total pushover), I'd like your opinion.

Aw, thanks for valuing my doormat-like opinion so highly.  I'd be happy to validate your impression that it is all "malarkey."  The Dictator, on the other hand, will tell you (through tears of disappointment and heartbreak) that it kind of sucks being the only kid to have to sit it out while all the other friends lick the frosting off of Spiderman cupcakes right in front of her.  But, you know, I totally feel your pain.

3)  I hear that breastfeeding prevents food allergies in children.

Yeah.  Me too.  Funny thing...the Dictator breastfed until she was almost two.  (Which, by the way, was no idyllic bonding session for me, as her eating habits resembled those of a narcoleptic Tasmanian Devil).  Like you, person passive-aggressively implying that I am a worse mother than you, I breastfed.  I'm sure it will have lasting benefits for my child.  But I can tell you that avoiding allergies was not one of those benefits.  Now please get down off your high horse so I can give you the pat on the back you so desperately seek.

4)  Do you have to carry an Epi-pen?  That must be a relief/source of ever-present anxiety, huh?

Yes.  And yes/yes.  Actually, more anxiety than relief.  When the allergist first presented it to me and went over proper procedures for ramming it into my infant and calling 911, I burst into tears and rocked in the fetal position on the exam table (holding the baby, of course) for the next hour (because that's how long it takes for them to process paperwork, apparently).  I actually cried more then, than when I found out the Anarchist might not be born with functioning lungs.  Go figure.  I have since cheered myself up by purchasing a super-cute overpriced pencil case in which to store the dreadful, but important device.  It has cupcakes on it (ones without peanuts, of course).  It makes me smile.

Just Say "No" to peanut butter death bars.

5)  So...can she actually not eat anything with nuts in it?   What about this peanut butter granola bar?

Right.  No.  Back away.  Thanks.

6)  Well, if there's only a likelihood of cross-contamination she can eat it, right?  

Yeah, not so much.  I mean, statistically speaking risking her life in this way to make things easier on everyone might not be so problematic.  She will probably not encounter peanut shards in that potentially cross-contaminated cereal, so, you know, it makes sense to just go ahead and hope for the best.  But it turns out that I'm highly uncomfortable playing Russian roulette with my baby's ability to not choke to death.  Call me a softy.

7)  What on earth do you guys eat?

You know, it's funny because I also used to get this question a lot as a vegetarian.  I think people just pictured me grazing on greens like a rabbit all day, which is the farthest thing from the truth because I can pack away more cheese and bread than any creature currently known to science.  The question gains a little more validity when asked of a family with peanut allergies.  The answer is, anything that doesn't contain: peanuts, tree nuts, fish, shellfish, or sesame.  (Also, ice cream, most candy and bakery goods are inherently unsafe.  Boo hiss!)

8)  How do you know for sure the Dictator has allergies?

Golly.  That's a good question.  With all these tests going awry, it's hard to be certain.  But I think I'll have to trust that time she woke up in the middle of the night gasping, covered in hives from head to toe, with ears like a troll/gnome/whatever fantasy creature has giant ears, I dunno.

9)  What do you think about (insert most recent medical study here)?  It seems to say that food allergies are the result of psychosomatic projection on the part of the parent/coupled with false test results/compounded by hatred for non-food-allergic kids/paired with (insert irresponsible parenting tactic here).  So...that means she can have this peanut butter granola bar, right?

Yeah.  I'm sure (insert most recent medical study here) has a great deal of scientific value and will further the important research of food allergies and their causes.  That being said, I really, really wish you didn't know about  (insert most recent medical study here), because you're totally going to misinterpret its findings as being final and all-encompassing and try to give my kid a peanut butter granola bar as a result.  Now put down the peanuty-death bar and back slowly away.  Thanks.

10)  Don't they just grow out of "those?"  

Actually, many kids grow out of certain allergies by the time they are in preschool.  That's the good news.  The Dictator grew out of her egg allergy, so now we can have real cake and not that stuff that reminds me of the foam pit I used to vault into in gymnastics class.  Hooray!  Unfortunately, with peanut allergies (and shellfish, I think), the likelihood of outgrowing the allergy decreases to almost nil if the allergic child's allergy levels increase before the child's fifth birthday.  Which means that, for most kiddos, the nut/fish thing (and of course, other allergies as well) is a lifelong thing.  So we won't be outgrowing ours any time soon, I'm afraid.

11)  Why is your daughter ruining my child's life?

Because we don't like you.  You ask too many passive-aggressive questions.  Also, we're just kind of diabolical sociopaths like that.

12)  I'm an old person.  We didn't have "food allergies" in my day.  Do you hate America?

I know.  I'm sorry.  Change is hard.  And yes, with a fiery passion.  That's why we still live here.

I hope this was helpful for those of you with questions about food allergies.  After all, some of them are even valid/useful!  For real, though, if you have actual questions that you want a real (and not nasty, frustrated and unfairly snarky) response to, please refer to the FAAN website.  ( I think they might even use real science and statistics and stuff...fancy).

Hiding in Bathrooms with Vomiting Toddlers: in which I venture an opinion and avoid a conversation

There's a conversation that, when I hear it coming, makes want to run to the nearest closet/bathroom/cave and lock myself inside (well, I guess I wouldn't have the luxury of a lock in a cave, but I feel like a sizable rock pile might do the trick).  It pops up just about everywhere, but I consistently encounter it while waiting in the hallway at the girls' dance studio.  I'm not sure if this is just what people talk about at dance studios, or if we're just particularly lucky in our choice of dance studios, but for some reason, I am consistently forced to overhear/engage in a conversation about food allergies.  Ugh!  Just saying the phrase "food allergies" causes me to instinctively scan my surroundings in search of a hiding place (it turns out there is no cave in my basement...darn!)

The problem with the "food allergy" conversation is that I have an opinion.  I never like having opinions.  Remember?  We discussed this before.  I'm kind of like Switzerland...or at least, Canada.  Anyway, I have an opinion, and it's a strong one, because the Dictator is a sensitive little thing, and her immune system is no exception.  As such, I get to be one of the super-lucky parents who gets to relentlessly advocate (i.e., annoy the heck out of everybody else) for her peanut-allergic child.

The Dictator enjoys a peanut-free snack.  Boy, do I love reading
labels, interrogating waitstaff, feeling "special."  It's my
favoritest thing EVER!

Now, when you heard that, you probably thought one of two things:

1)  "This is one heroic woman with a big task ahead of her.  People need to be more educated regarding food allergies, thereby increasing their sensitivity to the very real danger of fatality that a growing number of children (8%) face on a daily basis."

2) "Stupid allergy nazi, trying to destroy my baby's right to eat peanut butter sandwiches/enjoy birthday cupcakes/go on field trips to the local peanut roasting facility.  You're such a bad, self-centered witch, and I don't particularly care if your child gets a rash/turns blue/dies.  I think you're making it all up, anyway."

Okay, so realistically, you probably fall somewhere in between.  Sadly, I was more of a "2," than a "1," before the Dictator had to go and be all allergic on us.  I'll chalk it up to sheer ignorance.*  Most people just don't realize how truly severe a lot of these allergies are, how many people have them and how scary it is for parents/teachers who really would rather not see a small child go into shock/suffocate in front of them.**  I think it's actually a completely understandable stance to take, as long as it stems from ignorance (otherwise, you might be a psychopath or something, in which case, I am backing slowly away and resuming my search for that cave I was looking for earlier).

Because of my history of irritation with those parents who I considered to be hyper-vigilant, followed quickly by my conversion to being  one of those parents (who turn out to be reasonably-vigilant), I actually welcome the opportunity to provide information, share our experiences, and have a rational conversation about the implications of our culture's handling of the rise in food allergies amidst its juvenile population.  I swear I do.  The problem is, that's never how the conversation starts.

It usually begins something like this:

"Can you believe how ridiculous this is!?!?  Maddie/Sophie/Jacob/Jaden/Bella/Aiden went to hand out her/his traditional Peanut Butter Almond Shrimp Surprise Cupcakes for her/his birthday in class, and the teacher told her/him they weren't allowed.  I mean, I know the school has a very clear policy about such things (and knew it even before I sent in allergen-ridden cupcakes), but why even bother being born if you can't celebrate annually, in school, in your classroom containing three fatally peanut allergic children, by passing out Peanut Butter Almond Shrimp Surprise Cupcakes!  Tell me that isn't the dumbest thing you've ever heard!"

At which point, all the rest of the parents murmur emphatically that it is, in fact, the dumbest thing they've ever heard, that in their day no one had allergies, and this is obviously just a scam perpetrated by some parents to get everyone to treat their kids differently.

The Dictator arrives home after her birthday celebration at school.  She
passed out small toys instead of cookies.  I bet all her little
classmates will hate her for an eternity for ruining their
enjoyment of her birthday.  Okay, maybe not.  But some of
their parents will.

I don't know about you, but that's totally what I'm going for.  I mean, what parent doesn't want their child left out, socially ostracized, living in terror, and carrying around a sharp needle full of medicine intended to be thrust violently into her tender flesh?

Man, those other parents really have me pegged!  That's exactly what I want!  But I can't complain (yeah, I know, I just did).  Because I used to be those other parents.  So instead of arguing I look for a closet...or a cave.

The problem is, there is no cave at the dance studio.  There are bathrooms, but they're usually full of sweaty teenage dancers (no thank you) or vomiting toddlers (enough of my own, thanks).  So I'm forced to stick around and advocate (lamely) for my child.  I'm bad at fighting.  I'm a lover, not a fighter.  Flowers in the barrels of guns and all that jazz.  Maybe I could just stick flowers in the mouths of the other complaining parents?  That would at least silence them temporarily, right?  Right?  But no.  It's not spring yet (okay, maybe technically, but not really), there is a dearth of flowers, and I don't want to waste the ones I've got. 

The ones I've got.

So I attempt a brave, but diplomatic response:

The Dictator enjoys a friend's
entirely nut-free birthday tea.
We have amazing friends!

"Yeah.  It really is tough for your seven year old to wait to eat his peanut butter sandwich until he gets home.  I completely understand how awful it must be for your little girl to get amazing pricey toy favors on every child's birthday instead of sugary, peanut filled snacks.  That's quite a bit of trauma, and I don't know if it's necessarily fair to make everyone adapt for the safety of a few kids.  I mean, I think my daughter has food allergies.  She's tested positive.  And there was that one time we rushed her to the ER because she was covered in hives, gasping for breath, and each of her ears was the size of her face, but that might just have been my imagination. Actually, I've considered homeschooling because I hate to impose on your kids.  I hate imposing.  To be honest, I feel more bad for your child than for mine..."

At which point I realize I'm a terrible advocate for my child and seek to inhabit the nearest bathroom full of sweaty teenagers and vomiting toddlers.  Because anything's better than talking about food allergies.


* That, and those lovely parents who give the rest of us a bad name.  Namely, that customer I was assisting during my previous life as an underachieving bagel shop employee.  You know who you are.  I was 23, entirely incapable of making corporate level decisions and didn't react well to being screamed at and accused of "plotting your child's death" by selling products containing tree nuts.  You, my friend, were actually a nut job (no pun intended).  No wonder people think we're all crazy!

**The Bureaucrat will also be quick to point out that the Constitutional right of all children to a public education has a higher priority than the Constitutional right of all children to consume peanut butter on school property, and that the legal obligation, blah, blah, blah, trumps the lower court's decision blah, blah, blah, etc.