author of Feeding Eden


The  "Who am I?" feeling started last night just as I was explaining to both kids why my son's Kindergarten class would be bringing valentines to a senior citizen center the next day. "It's a place where people a little older than Nana go to play games with each other and have some fun. But they love when kids visit them. It cheers them up."  

After bedtime rituals, I got on the computer to poke through my usual round of food allergy sites. I found a new one which featured, among other offerings, a CD with educational allergy songs. After I self-entertained by calling out the play list to my less interested husband, "Epi-man! On my g-d! Think it sounds like Elton John? Should we get it?" I sent myself to bed with blissful anticipation that it was his morning to drop the kids off at school.

But the next morning the "Who am I?" feeling continues when I'm showering. I can't stop imagining what the lyrics to "Tingle on my Tongue" must sound like then wondering why there is volcanic ash in my organic "fuller body" conditioner and which volcano they get it from and then worrying that if it is too weird that even though Eden is not allergic to wheat I have come to prefer gluten-free cake mixes like the chocolate cake I baked for the Valentine's Day bake sale and if my friend Rob was too kind to put me on his Facebook page what with my limp hair when I hear the tapa tapa sound on my glass door and a melt-me voice calls out "Bye mommy. I love you. I'm going to make the old people happy now." And I know who I am, I am the old person and I am happy.