Single & Celiac

Twenty-something. Gluten-free everything.

Family Rules

family-rules.jpg

Oh hey there, blog that I know and love so well. It's been a while, eh? Well you know why things take a while sometimes?

Life. Life happens.

And life has indeed been happening to me quite recently, which is why these blogs posts have not. I went on a family vacay, work got a little nuts, and my heart got a lot broken (more on that later).

But this vacay you say? Family vacation?

Ah yes, my loving, sweet, insane family decided to take a trip together (matching t-shirts included!) to Gulf Shores and live in the same house. For a week.

Daring? Yes. Awesome? Yes. Glutenous? Unfortunately,  yes.

You see, I am the resident celiac in our familial unit. The others aren't even g-intolerant (not that I wish them to be). But, it's just me out here on my own little rice, corn and potato-baked island, longing for some company to drink Woodchucks and eat Nut Thins with.

So I'll just cut to the chase: Things got glutened. Spoons were mixed. Hands were unwashed. Meals were contaminated. Tears were shed (by my mom). And leftover nachos became my new morning delicacy.

(I know, celiacs. Like we're surprised).

While the G only invaded a few of my meals the entire week - truly, a feat for my g-eating family to be proud of! - the fact that any meal of mine suddenly became inedible by the invisible nonsense that is gluten was a bit alarming to my kinfolk. It's not like I grew up as a celiac, with my sisters having bread as a weapon in their older sibling arsenal (thank God). And it's not like I live with any of my family members now. I am an IN-DE-PEN-DENT WO-MAN *does Destiny's Child arms*. So this kind of critical kitchen care was new to everyone.

By the end of the vacay week, not only were we pros at day drinking and keeping sand out of our bums, but we made some pretty great strides in sharing a g-free and g-ful kitchen. I'm sure they were all thinking, "wow, this is insane. Gluten is the worst!" and I used ESP back to them to say, "hey, I think that every day! Welcome, oh g-ful one."

Talk about bonding.

The point that I'm getting at, is that while we all learned a lot from each other in this week of vacationy bliss, we were not completely devoid of stress.

Gluten is stressful.

By the end of the trip everyone was so paranoid around mealtimes, that it started to make us wonder: what if we all went g-free when we're together?

Now, lemme just say - I'm kind of totally against this. Yet also, would totally, friggin' love it.

I KNOW. That's not helpful.

But as the diseased one, I feel like I should get a pretty big say in this scenario. On the one hand, I cannot deny how amazingly delicious beer and wheat bread are. I dream about it. I miss it. Why would I ever want to deprive anyone of those yummies? I wouldn't. They can have donuts! LET THEM.

But yet, to just have everyone eat like me and not have to think about crumby hands, or g-free vs. g-ful spoons, or "my cheese dip" vs. "regular cheese dip", or what was last cut on the cutting board... I also daydream about that. Safety! Peace of mind! Nut Thins and Woodchucks for everyone!

So the conclusion? Well, I don't have one. Mixing the g-ful and the g-free is really hard. And I don't know if there's any great solution.

What do you guys do? Does anyone win? More importantly, do you guys wear matching t-shirts with an inside joke that no one understands on your family vacations?

Speak to me.

Aunt Jemima is trying to tell me something...

The First Date