The more I eat raw foods, the less frequent my IBS symptoms. Yep, I’m talking about poop. Nothing is more humiliating as a grown woman to be hopping around in search of a toilet. If I’ve got a toddler in tow, a store employee gives a knowing smile and will kindly point the way to the restroom. By myself, well, not everyone is so kind. If I haven’t been turned away, I’ve heard snickering and sarcasm behind my back as I race for relief. This was one of those mornings I received a painful reminder that eating certain foods will always produce the same, unpleasant result.
My 4yo was ready and raring to go to school on-time with no tears, no temper tantrums, and no complaints. I was too, or so I thought. We left the garage to make our way to his school. Before emerging from Chicago’s underground maze of tunnels, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. Anxiety (in addition to poor diet) can also fuel the symptoms, so knowing I could get caught in the middle of the loop during rush hour without a quick and easy place to stop, park, and find a bathroom is the sure thing to bring it it on. I turned around and drove home. JP was confused, but excited that we weren’t going to school. The symptoms passed quickly (whew! okay, enough detail), but then I had to rush to an appointment, and after that, school was simply impractical. Because of my fickle GI system, he won a day with Mommy. Okay, that wasn’t so bad. He’s great company.
Here he is teaching me his meditation techniques he learned at school. His teachers call it “The Silence Game”. Om.
All this reminded me to make a fresh batch of almond milk. Almonds Dairy Ø