On the advice of my acupuncturist, I've decided to become gluten-free.
There are several problems with that statement, the first being I ate an almond croissant for lunch yesterday. I was running errands, hungry, and about to be late for a second appointment with the aforementioned acupuncturist. When presented with the choice between a bran muffin and almond croissant, I employed a special bit of mental arithmetic and arrived at the conclusion that a butter-based pastry, rather than a flour-based one, would be more in line with my new diet.
So maybe I am not gluten-free so much as gluten-avoidant. Only when it's convenience and definitely when it means I can select a croissant over a muffin.
The second problem with the previous statement involves the acupuncturist. Remember, I poison people for a living. I am not a primary care doc, a radiologist, or a endocrinologist. I don't prescribe medication that lowers blood pressure. I don't bring babies in the world. It is exceedingly infrequent that I encourage anyone to lose weight or change their diet. My practice involves therapy with the ability to denude the skin from your lips to your anus.
But now I see an acupuncturist, and, just as with every weird lifestyle and diet modification I make, this one is also because of migraine, a fact that doesn't make me feel like less of a fraud sitting in her office.
February and March were terrible headache months. I established with a new PCP who, in addition to prescribing nasal steroids and ovulation suppression, referred me to an acupuncturist. I've gone twice.
During our first appointment she took an impressively long history, looked at my tongue, checked my pulses, and declared mine to be "migraines of deficiency", as opposed to "migraines of excess" - or those suffered by patients with high blood pressure and more ruddy complexions. She jammed some needles in my hands, feet, stomach, and between my eyes, left me pinned on the table for forty-five minutes, then suggested I avoid gluten. I've enjoyed both our visits immensely.
I really want this to work. If it does I will gladly pay for additional sessions to continue after my referral runs out. But the only people I've known to undergo acupuncture (two for infertility, one for morning sickness, and one for insomnia) all say acupuncture didn't help their respective aliments. Maybe if it doesn't the new diet will.
It's been great having MIL with us for the last few weeks. Aside from the extra pair of hands to help refill milk cups and mop up spills, MIL is far more interested in, and tolerant of, messy play than I am. She and Munch have made cookies, Playdoh and "high tea", all of which required various combinations of food coloring, flour, rainbow sprinkles, and the ladling of sticky liquids from one vessel into another. Munch and Wow are getting used to pancakes in the morning and cornbread with dinner.
She's also happy to watch Wow while we go skiing, and so we've been getting in the last trips of the season.
Last Saturday we got to the mountain a little after 9 and left at 12, which means we spent the same amount of time in the car as we did skiing. A storm had come in during the early morning and the conditions when we arrived were more of deep winter than early April. We made the mistake of taking Munch up the summit lift early, where visibility was near zero and the wind gnawed at every minor track of exposed skin. When we got of the lift she started screaming at the absolute peak of her lung capacity. These were not screams of protest, but of an actual, palpable fear. There could be no calming her down or reminding her that she'd skied this same trial a few weeks ago. I wrapped my arms around her torso, locked my skis into a hard wedge, and held her between my legs as we chattered down the slope together.
But even on easier terrain with an improvement in the conditions, her screaming continued. Not quite at the same intensity as on the summit run, but persistent nonetheless. Gradually LD's screams (of frustration) matched those of the five year old and it was clear we needed to go. We ate our packed lunch in the car on the near-silent trip back home and did not stop for ice cream.
We had planned to go back up Sunday, but in the interest of preserving the family peace, opted for a morning at the Japanese garden, an afternoon on the tennis courts, and an easy dinner.
We returned today, and I am grateful to report we will end the season on a high note.
It was a perfect Spring day. Munch sang Let it go and In summer with her arms in the air as she bumped down the slopes. We laid off the requests for FRENCH FRY and let her wedge when she wanted to. Instead of Tic Tacs, she got Starbursts. We stopped for lunch on the earlier side and when she started getting grumpy, we headed home. I think we've agreed on ski school for next year.
Munch got wait-listed at the French charter school. Her number is so high it's unlikely there will be a spot for her in the fall. She did, however, get into the private French immersion school. I think LD is relieved about the charter school and anxious about the private school. We wont hear about the Spanish program for a few more weeks.
I think those are all my thoughts. MIL, Wow, and LD left to join my parents at the beach after we got back from the mountain this afternoon. Tomorrow LD and my dad are going to surf while Munch and I are at Ben's birthday party. Tonight she and I went to the library to get more Ivy and Bean books, then had "girls night" which involved (another) viewing of Frozen and popcorn. I've been working on this post and eating cookies 'n cream ice cream since I put her to bed, which I have just now realized is not, in fact, gluten-free.