SortaCrunchy

Meet Katherine Willis Pershey, author of Any Day A Beautiful Change!

February's featured sponsor is Any Day a Beautiful Change by Katherine Willis Pershey. I am delighted to host her here today as she shares from her heart a little about what inspired the book and what you'll find in its pages. I know you'll make her feel welcome here today!

So, I have this book coming out next month. My first book. It’s a dream come true.

Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted to be a writer. When I discerned a call into pastoral ministry – I am an associate minister at a Congregational church – I thought, for a brief interlude, that writing would become a hobby. But I soon learned that writing is a part of my ministry. In addition to writing countless sermons for my faith community, I publish a blog called any day a beautiful change, where I’ve written about everything from bad coffee to my favorite band to working for Jesus.

It was no surprise that I would write about motherhood after my older daughter was born in 2008. However, I discovered that many of my experiences as a new mother were too tender for my blog.

I posted cute pictures but I didn’t let on that I was struggling with crippling anxiety. I told sweet stories but didn’t confess that my family was in a state of crisis. Six months after my daughter was born, it didn’t look like my marriage would survive until her first birthday.

And then, by the grace of God and with a lot of help, we stopped fighting one another long enough to fight for our marriage. We worked so hard. And slowly, painfully, miraculously, we started to change.

Believe me when I say this: I love my husband every bit as fiercely as I love my dear daughters, Juliette and Genevieve. It horrifies me to think for even a moment that we might have missed out on the unexpected and unquenchable joy of a family redeemed.  

Even as the beautiful changes were yet unfolding, I started writing the deeper story (to borrow a phrase from that magnificent blog). Not only about our marriage, but about everything: breastfeeding, postpartum depression, returning to work, our desire to move toward a more natural way of living. I had the courage to do this for two reasons.

I believe that stories are transformative.

I believe that being honest about the hard stuff is one way we help one another through it. If St. John of the Cross hadn’t confessed his “dark night of the soul,” would we still be stumbling around blindly, believing we are the only ones to experience a fallow season in the life of faith? And the other reason I knew I could do this was because, before I even committed a single word to the page, my husband said to me one night: “You should write about us.” His trust that I could honor our story and tell it well meant everything to me.

And now, next month, our story will be a book, the title borrowed from my blog: Any Day a Beautiful Change: A Story of Faith and Family. Like I said, a dream come true, right? But since I’m committed to practicing honesty, here’s the truth: I am terrified. I have rarely felt so vulnerable in my life. Strangers will read my book. Church members will read my book. My mother will read my book. I feel so vulnerable I might have to watch Brene Brown’s amazing TED Talk on vulnerability once a day for the next year.  But I have to lean into my vulnerability because just as I am called to be a minister and writer, a wife and mother, I am called to tell this story.

The following is the first paragraph of one of the hardest chapters. I think by posting it here I’m symbolically ripping the bandage off quickly. Though it hurts like the dickens, it’s wonderful to discover that the wound beneath has healed.

I found it while sorting through a box of pictures on a Sunday afternoon. The pictures were disorganized, just the way I like them: a jumble of images that roughly mimics the way memories drift through one’s mind. I snatched it from the pile, a chill creeping down my spine. Who the hell took this? In the picture, I am sitting at the kitchen table in our seminary campus apartment. My shoulders are hunched, my hands partially obscuring my anguished face. Benjamin is standing nearby, his face contorted with anger, his hands raised into the air in a posture of pure fury. I stared at it, stupidly, for a full minute before I remembered. We had not been in the throes of a fight. We were pretending. My best friend from Ohio had taken the photograph. She was visiting for the weekend, and that morning we’d taken her to the J. Paul Getty Museum perched in the hills north of Los Angeles. We were all drawn to the special exhibit, Bill Viola: The Passions. In the digital portraits – some moving, thanks to newfangled flat-screen technology – actors embodied a range of emotions: joy, sadness, grief, anger. After dinner, between bursts of hysterical laughter, we recreated the scenes. There is no better icon for our marriage than the image Lisa captured: the rousing good time all but obscured by the all too familiar anguish and anger. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to tear it up or frame it.

I pray that Any Day a Beautiful Change: A Story of Faith and Family finds its way onto the nightstands of people who need a true story, a hard story, a hopeful story.

Katherine Willis Pershey is the associate minister of the First Congregational Church in Western Springs, Illinois. A graduate of Claremont School of Theology, Katherine previously served as the solo pastor of South Bay Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Redondo Beach, California. She was one of the founding editorial board members of Fidelia’s Sisters, a publication of The Young Clergy Women Project, and is a contributor to the Christian Century.

 

every mama crow

One time, Laura and I were discussing Instagram - my very, very favorite iPhone app. If every other app for iPhone was terrible, I would still have an iPhone. For Instagram alone. I love it so. Anyway, I was telling Laura that sometimes my IG feed is a little ... same ol' same ol' ... because it seems like many of the people I follow on there just post pics of their kids all day.

Directly after that, I started posting pictures of my kid. All day.

Long before Facebook when parents were forced to use face-to-face conversation to brag on their kids (I MEAN, can you even?), my grandmother used to smile knowingly and say, "every mama crow think her babies are the blackest."

I have pretty much stepped right into that truth and rolled around in it.

Both of my girls are so, so precious to me. But there's something about knowing that in a few short (too, too short) months, Aliza Joy is headed to pre-K has made me miserably nostalgic. I snap photos of her and take videos of her and tell stories about her and laugh about her all day.

I find myself constantly surprised by how like me she is, and I can't get enough of it. She lasted five minutes in our recent paltry showing of snow and she was ready to come inside. As it turns out, my snow grinch genes did land in one of my own.

She can be inexplicably shy around others, but she has so many words when it's the two of us. Something about riding in the car unleashes a torrent of conversation that is so voluminous, I struggle to keep up:

"Mama, dogs don't have whiskers. Is there such thing as a dog fish? Oh by the way, I saw a dog in our backyard yesterday and I think he was a golden retriever. Mmm hmmm. I think he was. And he was sniffing. And is it time to pick up Dacey yet? And do we have church tonight? And oh by the way ..."

And everything is yesterday or tomorrow or last night. And she know has mastered the usage of Seriously?

She's my shadow and my errand runner and my around-the-house helper and as much as she loves her mama, she is SUCH the Daddy's Girl, too. When Kyle was on a retreat for four days last week, she cried big, heavy, sad little tears every single day that he was away.

I know every parent does this. I know everyone looks at their children and they think, "This one. She is something. She is really something special." And certainly I feel that way about both of my girls. There something about Aliza Joy, though, that scares me. Almost like she is too much for this world. I can really freak myself out if I travel too far down that path, so I just try to savor it all.

The up at 6:15 AM sharp every morning.

The perplexing resistance to peanut butter.

The three-times-a-day outfit changes.

The fussing over her hair until it looks just right. (She's FOUR, you know.)

The hilarious turns of phrase and pronunciations of words. Well, it's complicated, she likes to say.

The way she insists on singing and prayers every single night, and how after I pray over her, she lays perfectly still with eyes closed, smile on her face, afraid to move as if some kind of magical spell will be broken if she does.

Oh that AJ. That Joyful Joy.

February's featured sponsor is Any Day a Beautiful Change by Katherine Willis Pershey! Pershey’s reflections will strike a chord with anyone who has ever rocked a newborn, loved an alcoholic, prayed for the redemption of a troubled relationship, or groped in the dark for the living God. Order online at ChalicePress.com and use code SortaFeb for 30% off list price.

 

Practices of Parenting: Practicing the Art of Whisper

My beloved Sarah Bessey is inviting us all in for a carnival of discussion on Practices of Parenting. Every last drop of thought on parenting I have within me is being drained into the book at the moment (can I get an AMEN for final edits?!), so I am re-running this post from the archives on why I choose to practice the art of whisper when I lose my temper with my girls. 

Also? I kind of need the reminder ...

photo by takomabibelot

“A loud voice cannot compete with a clear voice, even if it's a whisper”  -- Bary Neal Kaufman

Oh, it is an ugly confession, but a necessary one.

I sometimes (not always) (but sometimes) (more than I would ever want to) (it's an ongoing struggle) yell at my girls.

I mean really, really yell.  Loudly.

And it's awful and I hate it - oh, I hate it - and I'm willing to do anything to stop.

so long six. so now seven.

"The seven year old, with his toothless smile, is a physical marvel. He stumbles while running across the playground, because his legs probably grew while he slept last night. He looks slightly different every day, because he is growing teeth and losing them at a rapid rate. Suddenly, he is able to think outside the concrete experience of his in-the-moment life, and plan ahead, envisioning what is not yet there." -- Pam Allyn

It is the tradition I engage in every year on January 27th, a sacred liturgy all my own, remembering the last 24 hour hours before Dacey was born, the last full day before I was reborn as a mother.

I start at 6 AM, remembering the soul-crushing call to the labor and delivery floor of our hospital. "Too full." Too full for me to come in for the scheduled induction. Nine days past the due date I was convinced I wouldn't reach, nine days of growing more and more convinced she would never, ever arrive.

But later in the day, there was mercy in the form of the careful gloved hand of my doctor. Membranes stripped at 1 PM. Labor started at 4. I waited until Friends was over at 7:30 to go to the hospital. A long night and lots of things never imagined and she was born on the 28th - FINALLY - at 5:43 AM.

With solemnity and smiles, I mark the day every year. The last day before.

* * * * *

"Seven year olds worry, but they also revel in the rich moments that are special to their age. An ice-cream cone with a grandparent or a subway ride are grand adventures. Seven-year-olds are true companions, old enough to understand you have had a hard day, and young enough to need that day to fall away so she can crawl right back into your arms, preparing for the new and better day ahead." -- Pam Allyn

After school, she climbed into her booster seat and told me breathlessly, "Mom! I got my first birthday present at school today! It was from Maria!" Dacey's pre-K and Kindergarten class looped up together; I know them all by name. Maria is the only one from that class who is in first grade with Dacey, and oh, I do love that little girl. White teeth against brown skin make her smile a true wonder of creation.

"A marble! A clear marble with blue and orange swirl!" Dacey held up it for me to admire, and I said, "What a great gift! How thoughtful of Maria!" My daughter's big enthusiasm for the smallest things - I wish I could capture it and swirl in a marble and tuck it away to treasure the rest of my days.

* * * * *

"While we all rush by, busy and moving quickly, the seven-year-old will still tug at your hand to bend down and take another look. They want to keep that beloved book by their beds because the act of rereading feels important, soothing, and instructive. How right they are. In reality, they are building their reading muscles, becoming more fluent readers, and increasing their stamina and comprehension by revisiting familiar texts on their own that for years you have been reading aloud to them. -- Pam Allyn"

"Pray over me."

Every night, our ritual. Aliza Joy says it, "Pray about me," and Lord knows I do. But Dacey says it the way I say it and I say yes, I'll pray over you.

Holy God and Heavenly Father, thank you for my Dacey girl. She is a treasure and a blessing and a gift from You. Thank you for her beautiful heart and her so smart mind and her loving choices today. Thank for another day with her. Put your Hand on her mind, God, and keep the bad dreams away. Help her dreams to be filled with all the things that are happy and beautiful and good. In the name of Jesus I ask these things, Amen.

If there was ever a child who loved ritual and routine and re-reading and re-visiting, it is her. She feels ground in sameness, but proud of herself for trying new things. "It's good to try something new every day" has been her favorite mantra lately, and I am amazed by the way she has incorporated positive self-talk into her life at such an early age.

She is truly new each day. More of her pull close, pants too short each morning, big teeth pushing in as quickly as little ones fall out. She is growing into herself every day, and I'm learning to step back more and become a student of my child, one of the best texts I'll ever read in her big dark brown eyes.

It will be hard to top Six, it was such a great year for us. But I have high hopes for Seven, for this golden age that is the blessed middle, far from babyhood but still a safe distance from tweenage. Days of marbles and rituals and giggles and fairies that visit in the night, leaving behind sweet rewards as consolation for the pieces of my baby they take while she sleeps.

* * * * *

All Pam Allyn quotes are from her highly helpful book What to Read When: The Books and Stories to Read with Your Child--and All the Best Times to Read Them

Dacey's birth story can be found here: Happy Three to D!

weekend snapshots: january 22 + #janphotoaday

This has been a weird week, marked mainly by the fact that I randomly came down with one of those 48 hour fever viruses and it has set me back in all kinds of ways.

As such, I have cheated on and neglected quite a few of my #janphotoaday shots this week. Boo. I'll get to those in a moment. First, some snapshot mentions to share with you this Sunday:

* WOW! You guys turned up in full force for the giveaway of Jen Hatmaker's 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess! That is the most giveaway entries I've had in a while. The winner of the giveaway copy is Lindsey of Literary Lindsey. How cool that it went to a book blogger. :) For those who didn't win, it's about $10 right now on Amazon and definitely one worth adding to your home library.

* I absolutely 100% loved Jon Acuff's How To Be Awesome At Everything. LOVED IT. Perfect for someone like me who allows fear of failure to keep far too many projects from taking flight.

* One of my dearest, most precious, inspiring, amazing friends - Sarah at Emerging Mummy - is hosting a Practices of Parenting blog carnival which kicks of February 6th. I am so thankful that she is hosting this because sometimes I think we all just want to be encouraged in what parenting looks like for others - the ups and downs, the ideological and the practical. Check out her post for details.

* I like what Emily at Live Renewed did as a spin on her Green Goals for the year. She invited her husband to share on the blog his own response to her goals in green living for the year to come. Such a cute idea and a great way to be accountable: She Said, He Said Green Goals for the Year

And now on to my floppy week of photos.

I started out strong ...

15. Happiness: one of the things that brings me happiness is serving as Minister of Coffee (that would be my self-appointed title) for our little church. Anyone who knows me knows I love coffee in a way that surpasses obsession, and so sharing my love of a cup of Joe on a Sunday morning is really happy for me:

 

 

16. Morning: it's a rare morning, indeed, when we all sleep in, but last Monday (MLK Day), we all did. And it was a lovely.

 

17. Water: we live too far from water, but it's never a bad day for a play bath. Why not add a little chocolate cake for extra fun?

 

 

 

18. Something you bought: this is where I cheated ... I bought this darling late 70s party dress at our Goodwill a few weeks ago for $.99. NINETY NINE CENTS. Can you even? It is SO PRECIOUS on - much moreso than on the hangar. But I didn't post the picture on the 18th, so technically cheating:

 

 

19. Sweet: is there anything sweeter than an emerging writer sticking out her tongue as she strains in concentration, laboring over her new skill? She is teaching herself to write, by the way, lest any of you think I'm a pre-schooling wunderkind.

 

 

Annnnndddd, the rest of the week just didn't happen. SIckies. Blah. Bummer.

But I think I'm finally on the upswing. Hope your weekend has been much more enjoyable than mine!

crumbling

I had plans for today, plans that were big and busy and bursting to be done.

But someone wanted cookies for breakfast, and I said "how about scones?"

And my parents called and "won't you come over and meet us for lunch?"

And my plans all crumbled because I can't resist relationship and I guess I wouldn't have it any other way.

So let's eat on the good china and raise our forks in the fight against the tyranny of the urgent. Let's choose the important one cinnamon-apple flavored bite at a time.

days are merry and bright

I've spent the past few days ignoring technology as much as possible, and I have to say, I feel SO refreshed. Being out of town helps a lot. Sometimes I just need a chance of scenery, you know?

Christmas 2011 brought smiles and delight to everyone. Kyle and I were up at 5:15 Christmas morning, watching A Christmas Story on TV and glancing at the girls' bedroom door every 10 minutes. Finally at 7:00, he went in and got them up. I think we were more excited than they were! Big smiles all around when they saw their gifts.

AJ got her pink guitar and "high heels." She slipped them on right away, and I said, "Careful now, heels can be kind of tricky." Um, she was running down the hall in them two minutes later. I am not kidding. Dacey got a beautiful Waldorf doll named Holly. I won her in a giveaway from Windfall Dolls, and y'all, she is the most charming thing I have ever laid eyes on. I don't know who loves her more - Dacey or me. She also got a doctor's kit that I put together in a vintage doctor's bag I found on Etsy and filled with mostly real doctor's instruments (with much help from Vanessa!).

This little guy was the surprise hit of the day! Another Etsy find, he was just what I was looking for when Dacey informed me a week or so before Christmas that she really must have a Nutcracker of her very own. Both girls have been using him to really crack open pistachios which is not messy at all! Nope. Not at all. (ay yi yi)

Um, let's see. What else?

We went to each of our hometowns and there was much merriment and cheer all around. Yesterday, my sister who is pretty much the best person on the entire planet watched my girls for me so that Laura and I could hit up a few thrift stores in our hometown. This happened in the best shop I didn't even know existed. I am hoping the ruffles distract from the massive bags under my eyes because YIKES. Can't wait to add it into the winter wardrobe mix!

Spent some time with my sister reorganizing our mom's closet (who WOULDN'T want to spend the holidays with me?!) and took this picture of mama on her wedding day, May 11, 1974:

Isn't she the loveliest?

As with all road trippy days, there has been quite a bit too much of this situation happening:

And now we're home and I'm craving routine and normalcy again. I'm even ready to take the tree down, but I'll wait a few more days. I guess.

I know each year that passes is the best for some and the worst for others. I can't complain one bit about 2011. I'm sad to see it go, but I'm so ready to welcome 2012 with open arms. Lots more to talk about the new year in the days to come!

Hope YOUR days are merry and bright wherever you are, sweet friends!

Got holiday cash burning a hole in your pocket? Don't forget just five days left to use code "crunchy" for $20 off your $100 or more purchase from Inca Boot Company! Lovely and unique handmade boots may be just what you need to whirl through the winter days ahead!

A Simple Holiday Season

photo by Dano

The alternate title for this post is

MY FIRST PODCAST! SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

I've listened to all of the Simple Mom podcasts and have just thoroughly enjoyed each one. I have to tell you that getting to record one on A Simple Holiday Season with Tsh earlier this month was SUCH a treat for me.

Whether you are snuggling under blankets today or laying on a beach or baking up a storm (that would be us), I hope you'll take a minute to listen in! We talk about our mutual crazy love for Rebekka Seale, life in small houses, the always tricky gifts issue, and lots more. Also, find out where in the world I would most like to live, how I drink my coffee (I'm positive you can guess!), and what smell I really, really don't like (might surprise you!).

Click on over to get the link and then let me know what you think!

the confessional: i might be failing my daughters

I still see babies when they sleep

A few weeks back, Dacey was sick (again) and so after the doctor's office, I took her to the grocery store where she got to pick out canned soup. We never, ever buy canned soup unless someone is sick, and it's a bit of a treat/tradition for the ones who need healing.

I asked Dacey which kind she wanted. Regular chicken noodle? Alphabet chicken noodle?  Maybe Toy Story or Dora?

My almost-seven-year old, my girl child with the tender heart and the fierce love of animals, my child who has never played with a doll a day in her life, who has always eschewed all things Cinderella and much preferred backyard experiments and art table creating, that child said:

"I want the princesses," she said, "because I'm trying to be more like a normal girl."

Heart. Stop.

My eyebrows lurched toward my hairline and I leaned in really close and breathed my crazy right into her face:

What do you mean? Who told you that you have to like princesses to be normal? Who told you that?! I demanded.

"My own mind, I guess," she murmured. I think she was a little bit terrified of the maniac that had possessed her mother's body right there in the canned soup aisle.

I pulled our cart over to the side and sputtered in short, halting sentences that I don't like princesses and I'm (mostly) normal and it's okay to like what YOU like, even if no one else likes it and no one should ever make you feel like you have to like girly stuff to be normal and I think I ended by asking too loudly and perhaps a bit too incredulously:

Who wants to be normal anyway?!

* * * * *

And then there is A.J. That child changes her mind every five seconds about what she likes and what she wants, but one refrain was repeated for weeks: all she wanted for Christmas was a pink guitar and high-heeled shoes.

At first, we giggled about it. So Aliza Joy. But the more she repeated it, the more we realized she was serious. And so.

I bought them, y'all.

I bought my four year old daughter some sandals with little kitten heels on them. I found them on ebay and they had the word "pageant" in the tags because who buys heeled shoes in a child's size 11? Pageant moms, that's who! She has plenty of the clunky, plastic dress-up heels, but that is not what she wants. Those aren't real and she knows it. So on Christmas morning, she'll get her pink guitar and high-heeled shoes.

Happy Birthday, Jesus.

* * * * *

Over the weekend, we wandered through a department store and both girls squealed at once, "Mama! They're playing Baby, It's Cold Outside!"

It was not the somber and theologically poignant O Holy Night bringing them such delight in the crowded aisles, nor was it the ubiquitous and innocent Jingle Bells. No, no. It was the song decried by feminists everywhere as the "date rape anthem" (it so is not!) that I have every version ever recorded in my Spotify and that has played in heavy rotation since Thanksgiving. The one with pouring drinks and cigarettes? Yes, that one.

And they were delighted because they know I love that song, and they love what their mother loves.

* * * * *

I mean, I knew it would be complicated. Raising girls. Raising women. This isn't the first time I've written about it. It's just that my heart is breaking so much more than I thought it would, far earlier than I ever dreamed. When I asked Dacey last night to choose three stuffed animals to keep on her bed because the rest were going back to the playroom, she asked, "Which do you think are the three girliest?" My chest seized up again.

And when AJ changes clothes five times before we leave the house, huffing and grumbling about how "nothing is right!" I can't get too frustrated because don't I know it?

I guess I feel like I'm failing because I want for them what I'm only just now learning in my thirties. I want them to be confident and whole in who they are. I want them to fast-forward past the years of trying to live into what people expect of them and I want them to learn RIGHT NOW that all that they are is more than enough.

Ten Things Everyone Should Know About Artificial Food Coloring

I've known Rebecca for over six years. Her daughter is the same age as Dacey and it's been a treat to watch our girls grow up together across the miles.

I mentioned recently that Rebecca has launched a new blog sharing her family's plight to eliminate food coloring: Die, Food Dye! Today she is here to share ten things all of us should know about food dye:

My discovery of our child's sensitivity to synthetic food coloring this summer inspired me to start blogging about our challenges.  I've learned so much more in the last four months than in my daughter's whole life, it seems.  Makes me wish I had a do-over at times, but the knowledge we've gained through difficult times makes me grateful for the ride.  This rough path led me to the realization that I too have a sensitivity to food dyes.

After 40 years of awareness campaigns, you'd think that food coloring sensitivity wouldn't be such a mystery.  But sometimes, I think, science is stranger than fiction, and it can be overwhelming to the average consumer.  For instance, I've learned that not all dyes affect people the same way, and that different combinations of dyes can have varying affects.  Even though the effects of synthetic coloring aren't universal, I've learned enough through my research to solidify my belief that artificial dyes are unhealthy for all humans.

Just for starters, some food for thought -

1)  Food coloring is made from petroleum, contaminants, and propylene glycol (a.k.a. antifreeze).  A little perspective ... Yellow #5 (Tartrazine) is made from crude oil runoff and contains a known carcinogen called benzene.  Benzene has been banned from our gasoline in the US.  And the same Blue 2 dye that colors our jeans also colors our foods.  Now times are tough, but I doubt any of us would eat gasoline or jeans willingly.

2)  Artificial food coloring has been linked to bed-wetting, eczema, mood swings, hyperactivity, sleep disturbances, increased risky behavior, ear infections, headaches, hypersensitivity, obesity, asthma, diabetes, cancer, ADD/ADHD, chromosomal damage, hives, and possibly hypoglycemia.  Some scientists believe it could play a role in Alzheimer's Disease and Parkinson's Disease.

3) If a food label includes "artificial color,” “artificial color added” or “color added” this means that natural pigments were used.  Synthetic dyes must be listed on a product, by name (for example Red 40, Yellow 6, Blue 1, Green 3).

EXCEPT:

4)  There are some times when we consume petroleum dyes without ever knowing it:

In stores:  Oranges are sprayed with Citrus Red dye to appear more nutritious, and no label is required.  Salmon are given red-colored feed to make their flesh appear brighter (and therefore fresher).  Supermarket beef is injected with red dye to hide its otherwise gray hue.

At parties: You knew food coloring was in soda, cake, juices, and candy - but did you know that it's also in those goody bag temporary tattoos, face paints, finger paints, and play dough?

In school cafeterias: Kids consume petroleum food dyes in jelly, yogurt, condiments, meats, juices, fruit cocktail, stuffing, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, chips, pickles, sugar-free and regular pudding, cake, popsicles, ice cream, and flavored milk.

At restaurants:  Kids' menu items contain plenty of dyes: Lemonade, sugar-free lemonade, caramel dip, chips, pickles, rice, sauces, condiments, cookies, frozen yogurt, ice cream, "fruit" punch, and juice. Be wary of water taps that do double duty with highly dyed soda.  We always bring dye-free, sugar-free drink mix packets.

5)  Synthetic dyes are not vegan due to continual animal testing.  I found this out after getting the one and only spray tan of my life.  If you have a special occasion coming up and want a more natural glow, do an online search for "organic spray tans."

6)  Petroleum dyes are in white liquids and foods, such as coffee creamer and marshmallows.

7)  Medicines such as pain killers, fever reducers, and allergy treatments (Benadryl) may contain synthetic dyes.  Ask for dye-free versions of prescriptions from your doctor or pharmacist.  You can check to see if your medications have dyes here.  Check your vitamin labels for dyes, too.

8)  Products with the label "made with organic ingredients" may still contain synthetic dyes.  Buying 100% certified organic products is an easy way to avoid food coloring.

9)  "Caramel coloring" isn't natural.  It's sugar that has been highly processed with ammonia and sulfites.  It has been shown to produce two carcinogenic chemicals in the body (related to lung, liver, and thyroid cancer, and leukemia).  It's used in soda, tea, beer, liquor, baked goods, sauces and dips, dressings, gravies, and candy.  I found it in NUMEROUS "healthy" products at two well-known "natural" grocery chains.

10)  The largest American food manufacturers are already selling dye-free versions of their popular products in other countries.  Yes, they do have the means to change their production methods ... it's just cheaper to use chemicals.  And our government hasn't been as proactive in encouraging a switch.

Food dye sensitivity won't show up on traditional allergy tests.  However, testing your family's tolerance to food coloring is free and easier than ever.  Try an elimination diet for one or two weeks:  Make a "food mood" log including foods and drinks consumed, plus notes on behavior.  Compare your notes with your child's school behavior chart before and during that period (especially if your child eats school lunch or is given food rewards by a teacher).  Look for patterns, such as great Mondays followed by steadily worse days.

If food dye sensitivity is confirmed, diet adjustments can be made relatively painlessly.  Lots of food manufacturers offer dye-free alternatives now.  You can buy natural food coloring online and at your local health food store.  And for those of you who love to experiment in the kitchen, it's not hard to find instructions online for homemade dyes using berries, veggies, and spices.  No matter if you have a food coloring sensitivity or not, remember to "vote with your dollars" ... the only way we can make healthy food offerings the new "norm" is to shop with our values.

For more ideas on adjusting to life without food coloring, visit my blog at www.DieFoodDye.com.  Follow @DieFoodDye on Twitter, and interact with other dye-sensitive folks on the DFD Facebook fan page.