2009-09-30

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs

The new movie Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs features a character with a plot pivotal peanut allergy, which has created a veritable blogstorm about Sam Sparks, the anaphylactic weather girl. [Spoiler alert!]


Most of the unhappiness is focused on the movie's cartoon depiction of an allergic reaction. Sam is thwarted by a gauntlet of pointy peanut brittle from accompanying Flint Lockwood in a quest to turn off his planet endangering invention. As Sam lowers Flint with a licorice rope toward the climatic confrontation with his machine gone amok, she receives a cut on her arm from the peanut brittle, causing the left side of her body and her entire face to blow up like a balloon. Initially she doesn't want to leave Flint, but he plummets away after gnawing through the licorice, and she is whisked back to their flying car by another character, where Manny, the camaraman/physician/pilot is waiting with a dose of epinephrine. He injects her leg, she gasps and sits up, then flies away unscathed.
Some of the concerns are due alternately to the scariness or humorousness of the allergic reaction. Others are to Sam's inexplicable failure to carry her EpiPen with her and her reluctance to leave Flint to seek treatment. Some moms are worried that kids who watch the movie will want to see an allergic reaction for themselves, and attempt to cause one in a peanut allergic child, which is a truly terrifying thought. Food allergies are serious, and tend to take up a huge amount of brain space for those of us who live with them. In the case of this movie, though, it might be worthwhile to step back and take a look at the bigger picture.
Sam's peanut allergy ties into two of the movie's themes: the problematic relationship of consumers to food and the destructiveness of denying one's true nature. The impetus for Flint Lockwood to create his machine, which converts water to food, is the closure of their island's only industry, a sardine cannery. With the movie's typical light touch, the residents of Swallow Falls do not go hungry, rather they are forced to eat sardines, which are "super gross." The success of Flint's machine and his accidental creation of "food weather" allows Swallow Falls, renamed Chew and Swallow, to indulge in a smorgasbord of excesses.
Food lying on the ground is whisked away by another of Flint's inventions, the "Out of Sight, Out of Mind-er," which flings the remains to Mt. Leftover, the humongous pile of food behind a virtually unbreakable damn. Unfettered access to candy has some predictable results on the town's children and the gluttonous mayor with his creed of "bigger is better" eats himself to his own destruction. In this context, Sam's anaphylactic reaction is another example of food as a danger to the consumer.
Sam and Flint share a common trait in their feeling of being outsiders due to unusual interests. Flint copes by isolating himself in his lab with his monkey Steve (voiced by Neil Patrick Harris) while Sam has chosen to play dumb as a perky intern by hiding her interest in hard science. Shortly after meeting, Flint feigns a peanut allergy to impress Sam, as both characters attempt to impress each other by pretending to be different from their actual selves, who are in fact ideal for each other.


Flint's willful blindness to the machine's dangers in his desire to be a hero to his community and Sam's struggle to continue on in their attempt to stop the oncoming food storm despite her reaction to the peanut brittle are both doomed to failure. Only when the two characters accept both their strengths and their weaknesses do they succeed. Sam gives voice to her inner scientist to warn of the impending danger and uses her meteorological expertise to navigate the flying car through the storm. Flint embraces his inventory of wacky inventions to find the tools he needs to turn off the machine and return safely to earth. In a fantastic world of flying cars and food from the sky, Sam's peanut allergy serves as a surprising reality check.
After the movie was over I was impressed by the food for thought included in a cartoon which held my six year old spellbound. During the movie itself, I was continually distracted by the damage potential to my highly allergic child of the food falling from the sky. Cheeseburgers? Beef and milk. Drifts of ice cream? More milk. The morning forecast for sunny side up? Eggs. Shrimp larger than a cartoon character's head? Shellfish. That's some serious prawnage!
So what did The Kid think of Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs? "I liked it a lot." What was his favorite part of the movie? "When Steve [the monkey] was chasing the gummi bears around." Was it scary when Sam had an allergic reaction to the peanut brittle? "Don't be silly! It's a movie, so it's make believe, not for real! Can we have meatballs for dinner? I want to help!" Absolutely.

2009-09-28

Sunbutter Roll Up Lunchbox

Lately The Kid's been a little distracted at lunchtime. The good news is that one of his new friends has been making a point to bring Kid friendly lunches of his own, so that they can sit together. The less good news is that The Kid would rather talk and play with his friend than eat. (And can I mention how I teared up when his friend's mom told me how her son reminds her every morning not to pack peanut butter? For every inconsiderate boob who thinks that eating peanuts on airplanes is an inalienable right, there's someone else who surprises me with an unexpected kindness.)
The upshot is that I've been working even harder to make lunch appealing and easy to eat. This one has Sunbutter and my mom's homemade chokecherry jelly pinwheels, a mini banana with slices at the top to make it easier to peel, red grapes, and two Enjoy Life Happy Apple Cookies from the Best Gift Basket Ever. On the side are juice and a sticker with different kinds of dromedaries. I just hope that he doesn't get sidetracked by the one hump camel and the two hump camel. That could lead to an awkward lunch discussion!

2009-09-22

Labor Day Leftovers Lunchbox

Here's a late look at this alliterative lunch from last week. It contains a turkey burger on a homemade bun, corn on the cob cut into wheels and watermelon chunks with a food pick. On the side are the usual juice/water mix and a couple of marine mammal stickers.
The Kid helped make the buns, which led to the happy accident of several non standard sizes and shapes, one of which was a perfect match for the lunchbox. I made a small sized patty to go with it, and my proud little baker was able to eat his creation at school.

2009-09-16

Here We Go Again

Yesterday was picture day at The Kid's school. So in the morning I coerced him into a Hawaiian shirt (Mommy's twisted photographic tradition), wet down his hair, attacked it with a brush, then put a little of my Molding Souffle on for good measure. I should have known better.
Shortly after recess, I got The Call from the school nurse. As the kids were coming in from outside, the teacher noticed that my child's face had broken out in welt like hives. She sent him to the nurse, who dosed him up with Benadryl, then gave me a call. I haven't done a break down of the ingredients yet this time, but I'm pretty sure that The Kid started sweating out on the playground, which gave the mousse a chance to start a contact reaction on his skin.
I've been kicking myself pretty hard for screwing this up, but I'm trying to use the incident as an opportunity to fine tune both the school's food allergy plan and The Kid's understanding of his food allergies.

The good news:
  • The teacher noticed the hives immediately and took action.
  • The day I spent camped out at the county school board offices until my child was transferred to the only nearby elementary with a full time nurse just paid off in spades.
The not so good news:
  • The teacher sent The Kid to the nurse's office accompanied by another student. If the reaction had worsened or his breathing had been impaired on the way there, there was not an adult present.
  • The Kid felt the hives, but continued playing rather than alerting an adult. I've realized that almost all the talking and planning I've done with him has been geared toward preventing a reaction, rather than how he should handle it. This is becoming more his responsibility as he gets older.
Deep breaths and constructive thoughts. That's my mantra right now. Just deal with one thing at a time, and maybe, just maybe, I'll run out of things to deal with for a few minutes. Food allergies never take a day off, and I just have that sinking feeling, here we go again...
Update: I just spoke to the school nurse, and she was standing outside the office watching The Kid walk from his classroom to see her. What he told me was correct, but incomplete. That's a relief, and my faith in the school nurse has been justified again.