New Year’s Eve, for our après ski, we met one of Adrian’s colleagues at a distillery. This particular colleague, like most, doesn’t know our son has autism, and whereas the colleague has typically developing children in the same age range, he would be able to spot any differences. We didn’t want Martin to “stand out.”
One way Martin still stands out is ordering food. When we are in a restaurant, he likes to order by himself. That’s fine, if we are in a restaurant whose menu we already know. When we are in a new restaurant, I have to ask eight million questions. The hamburger—is that just ground beef, or is the beef mixed with bread crumbs? The sweet potato fries—do they have any breading or coating? What kind of oil are they fried in? What else is fried in that oil? The grilled calamari—could we get that without the garlic butter? And the whole time I’m asking, Martin interrupts, usually to yell what he wants: No, no! I can get the calamari! Can I get the calamari? I don’t want salad! Occasionally he also has a mini-meltdown over what’s available (or not available) for him to eat, in which case I take his hand and lead him outside until he calms down.
So we were glad to arrive twenty minutes before Adrian’s colleague, have a chance to peruse the menu (the colleague suggested the location), and come up with the best option, both nutritionally and in terms of avoiding a meltdown. By the time the colleague joined us, Martin was occupied with my iPhone while happily downing a grass-fed steak and French fries cooked in canola oil.
Wait. Potatoes? Canola oil? Do we allow Martin to eat potatoes and canola oil?
Generally speaking, we do not. Potatoes are an occasional summertime treat, organic and roasted on our outdoor grill. Canola oil almost never works. Most canola oil comes from genetically modified crops, and even non-GMO “Canadian oil” is refined (hexane-processed?), bleached, degummed, deodorized rapeseed oil in which omega-3 fatty acids have been turned into trans fatty acids. Why would I let Martin ingest that?
Well, because we were traveling, and when we travel, and encounter new situations, and have to “perform,” some restrictions loosen. A bit.
Traveling, depending on where we go (for example, I can do more at my parents’ in Texas than I can in a suite in Chicago), alters:
- Diet, to a modest extent. Martin’s diet is always free of gluten, dairy, soy, corn, and refined sugar. Beyond that, some specifics slip, including the aforementioned potatoes and canola. It can be hard to ensure organic food, or even non-GMO. He might also miss a day or two of broth. We traveled to Utah on a Saturday. He went without bone broth Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. By Monday afternoon I’d got my hands on a marrow bone and simmered a pot of broth.
- Cookware. Even at home, my cookware isn’t perfect. Stainless steel remains puzzling, in terms of purity, and I’m never sure if my cast iron is seasoned properly or clean. In any event, at home I cook with All-Clad and cast iron, with mostly stainless-steel or wooden utensils. Whenever we travel, we rent accommodations with a kitchen, and unless we are staying long enough to justify a purchase—for example, when we were in Europe for ten days and I bought a fine strainer and a pot, both of which I brought home—I use what comes with the place. That might mean a plastic spatula, or even, egads!, nonstick pans.
- Detox baths. At home, Martin takes two or three detox baths (two cups Epsom salt and one-half cup baking soda) a week, depending on whether he’s also used the sauna. Epsom salt is heavy to carry, and I don’t always trust other bathtubs. What product was used to cleaned it? Could I rinse it well enough? There is no point in trying to detox Martin in a tub with excessive chemical residue.
- Exercises. Right now, we don’t have HANDLE exercises to do. Martin does, however, have four short exercises per day for his vision/neuroplasticity. At least, he has four short exercises when we are not on the road.
We do have absolutes, stuff that doesn’t change, regardless of where or when we travel. Martin takes his supplements, always. I’ve handed him pills in rental cars, measured drops at airport gates, mixed powder into restaurant beverages. I also find him fermented foods, daily, wherever we are. Martin no longer takes probiotics, so fermented foods are his probiotics. Plus, it’s easy enough to find sauerkraut or another cultured vegetable these days, if not kombucha.
The last absolutes? Love, and plenty of attention. Martin always gets those.