My Oldest.

She's picked up a wicked "you have to know something obscure to know what I'm laughing at" sense of humor. Half the fun is watching her watching whoever it is that she's talking to. Her eyes kinda twinkle and you can see the smile on the corner of her mouth begin to twitch as the other person mulls over the obscure thought connection puzzle she's laid in front of them. She lets it go if they don't get it, but her voice dances when they do; they're in the club. They've figured out the secret handshake and cared enough to play along. I've taught her well.

Her inhibitions leave when she's on the dance floor. She owns it. She knows it.  She talks to it. Barefoot, she caresses the wooden floor, whispering with each pirouette. With her toes, she digs in and shouts a chassé, knowing the air accepts her, loves her, and the floor regains her when she's done.

The floor is the foundation of all her muscle, all her moves. It never leaves, never fails, always accepts her efforts to leave and pushes back, with equal force, to help her gain new heights in what she loves. Just enough resistance to make her strong, a trust earned since she was three. I hope I've done the same.

She notices everything, physical and emotional. Windshield wipers that go faster than ours. The movie that showed an obscure shot of the Central Park Zoo trying to pass it off as somewhere else. Seeing others bullied afflicts her physically with pain and hardens her to action. My own inner facial flinch when she does something I don't approve of makes her crumble when I leave the room. She knows me so well it scares me.

She's so much like me that it scares me. Not that I'm afraid she'll do something stupid, she will. Not that she won't be brilliant, she is. No, her burden will be an internal one, a constant struggle between introversion and the excitement of the crowd, the shy subtlety of "will you join my club" and the pure joy of performance. Her power is her weakness; her joy is high and her sorrow black, but tomorrow is always sunny. I think she'll navigate it well. 

I Smell a Panic and it's Covered in Aspartame

Every few years some sort of death food or medicine rears its ugly head on the internet and circulates like wild-fire. Apparently, aspartame is back on the paranoia circuit again.

Remember, anything can be a poison. Of course it's not the best thing for you and has unintended consequences if you guzzle it by the gallon in a frothing frenzy to not eat (all natural) sugar. It might also show up in the blood stream of dead people who had multiple health issues that forced them to use a sugar-substitute; diabetes probably being the common co-morbidity. Others may have been indulging in an unknown variety of "all-natural" health elixirs that don't mix well with much, including aspartame.

If you have ever taken a course in statistics or research you will (or should) learn the phrase "correlation does not mean causation." One of the top examples is the correlation between ice-cream sales and drownings, one of the highest ever studied. As one increases, so does the other. The key is in understanding that they are related, not in causation, but in relation. The relation being the heat of summer time that causes people to eat ice cream and swim. One does not cause the other, but they very often keep close company.

One story that was circulated regarding aspartame included the story of John Cook who "began drinking six to eight diet drinks every day. His symptoms started out as memory loss and frequent headaches." It goes in to great detail describing horrific symptoms that led to his untimely demise. Which begs the question: Was Mr Cook given the standard test for Phenylketonuria (PKU) at birth?

Strikingly, Mr Cook's symptoms correlate with PKU and the substance phenylalanine is often found together with aspartame in sugar-free diet drinks. Was he too old to be tested at birth or was he denied the test by well intentioned parents for fear of a government conspiracy covering up horrendous deaths? We will never know because the story is just vague enough to sound true, but uses a wonderfully generic name that is hard to track.  

Although a bit more money from the government or the FDA might help their bottom line, Doctors, Pharmacists, and Nurses are not part of the conspiracy. They might alert someone as to the over consumption of any food-additive or a potential interaction between medicines or over-the-counter (OTC) herbals.

The current postings smell of the same pseudo-science and panic inducing rubbish that fuels the anti-immunization campaigns, which harm more people than they help.  A web search gives nothing but uncited cut-and-paste news stories that fail to mention where they can from or an original author that has written anything else in the health field. The only "support" for the story is a self-publicized conspiracy theory.

If you or your child need sugar substitutes to make a medical condition bearable, than use them in moderation, but don't throw them away and cause yourself harm by ignoring your medical condition.

If you feel over-burdened to spread medical news, make sure it is a cited article and not cut-and-paste. For everything else, find a medical professional you trust and can talk to before you jump on a band wagon. Even Dr Oz is wrong occasionally, so get a second opinion if you want, but the internet can be a dangerous place to take at its word.