From the time I was born, I had feeding issues. Those were the days when breastfeeding was on the decline and my parents had difficulty finding a milk-product I could digest. Cow’s milk made me sick so they began testing the potential of other similar milks.Eventually, they settled on goat’s milk which enabled me to thrive. Those were also the days when goat’s milk wasn’t sold in every grocery store. I’m not sure where they found goat’s milk in our relatively large city because I doubt it was readily available … I’m just glad they found it!

Once I graduated to solid food, my belly matured enough that I didn’t have serious food challenges. However, there were plenty of foods I didn’t care to eat. (Truthfully, my daddy was a picky eater and I know I must have watched him turn up his nose at multiple foods, especially vegetables. I learned from him … but then I ventured out on my own. He’d eat peas and lima beans, while I’ve always gagged on them!)

In adulthood, I simply steered clear of the foods I didn’t enjoy. That was easy enough. If we were out to eat somewhere, I’d scoot the peas or lima beans to the side of my plate and my Beloved would enjoy them. At home, the best I could manage was an occasional small can of English peas warmed up for my Beloved’s sole consumption. (Can you see how amazingly patient he is with selfish old me?)

After our youngest son was born, I began having stomach issues again. Keeping a food diary, I learned exactly what caused my issue! As in my infancy, cow’s milk was the culprit.

Twice weekly, a local dairy in our town delivered milk – in old-fashioned half-gallon glass bottles no less! The product was whole milk and each bottle came with about half an inch of cream in the bottle’s neck. That milk was delightful … until I found myself suffering from lactose intolerance! You can’t imagine how downcast that diagnosis made me – no more milk for me? How will I live?!

In the years since, I’ve learned to avoid milk. And I’ve learned about the host of other food issues, intolerances, allergies and hypersensitivities from which people suffer. There was a time when my eldest daughter (then a teenager) thought she might be allergic to chocolate; she absolutely loved York’s peppermint patties and usually ate a couple a day. Again the question, this time coming from my daughter’s lips:  How will I live?!

Having experienced these issues, I’m sympathetic with others who also have issues. I know some conditions may even be life-threatening (as in someone with a serious peanut allergy). When someone comes to our home for a meal, I’m eager to accommodate his or her food challenges and special requirements. However, in addressing one food issue, I’m been known to stumble unwittingly into another! (Yep, that’s the kind of “cook” I tend to be.)

I’ve also learned through observing our culture that certain food issues can be (and often are) elevated to unique status as “fashionable.” A celebrity writes a book about certain food struggles and people immediately measure their symptoms, believing the symptoms mirror the celebrity’s description! A dietician suggests that this or that food is causing a host of disorders and complaints, and multitudes instantly re-orient their eating habits.

The video below provides an interesting commentary about fashionable foodies. Though I’m not gluten intolerant, I couldn’t help laughing and laughing some more at this creative presentation!

The title of my post refers to an old novelty song from 1943 that became a number one hit in 1944. As a kid, I remember thinking the words were actually mares eat goats and does eat goats.

Naturally, having been nurtured in infancy on goat’s milk, my heart was pricked that goats were being haphazardly eaten by mares and does! What if a baby needed goat’s milk to live, but the goats had disappeared from the land … thanks to those ravenous mares and does? As a city girl, how would I have known otherwise?

But maybe there was a saving grace. My concern for the goats had its bright spot … I steered clear of the song’s last line:  a kid will eat ivy, too, wouldn’t you?