Today, for maybe the first time, I was a little bummed about the boys' diet. We made some major changes pretty much overnight, but I can truly say I have never minded. It is just so obviously worth it that it seems ridiculous to mourn the crap we used to eat.
Maybe it's because I'm more of an "eat to live" person and not really the "live to eat" type. Maybe it's because when I had to drop gluten as a teenager, I basically eliminated every one of my favorite foods overnight. I don't know, it just hasn't felt like that big of a sacrifice. But today I saw candy canes at the Tops Daily near my school, and I got tears in my eyes. Just for a second, but real ones.
I like candy canes well enough, but it's not the taste I'm sad the boys are missing. It's the excitement of seeing them on the shelf and knowing Christmas season is really here. It's 30 years of trying to eat the whole thing without breaking it, sucking on it until it makes a point and putting the round side in my my mouth whole. It's chewy, stale ones when we're taking down the tree in February and tempting three-year-old candy canes at the bottom of the Christmas box. Just for a minute, I was bummed that my kids won't grow up with those moments.
We do have our own Christmas traditions, and we can continue to build them. But I'm not at all tempted to let them have them, "once in a while." The thing I keep reminding myself is that the boys- M especially- would never have those magical Christmassy memories anyway. The only memories he would have of candy canes would be finishing one in time out after stabbing his brother with it.