Movie and Popcorn

Surround Yourself With Good

A small-town movie theater, a stolen handful of popcorn, and the lesson I keep having to relearn.

Have you ever been to a small-town movie theater? I have — many, many times.

I grew up in a town of about 300 people. We’d drive five miles to the next town over for school and for the good stuff, like the movies. That little theater had squeaky seats with springs you could feel right through the cushion, and a floor so sticky with spilled pop that your shoes made a funny schlick sound with every step. I loved the smell of the popcorn, and that flutter of excitement as I scanned the rows for familiar faces, waiting for the magic moment when the lights dimmed and the movie began.

Last night I was back in a small-town theater — but this time I was the grown-up, doing the taking instead of the being taken.

My five kids had tagged along with me all day: playing with cousins in the morning while I did some health coaching, then patiently surviving my meetings and errands on the sacred promise that if they were good, we’d all go to the movies. They held up their end beautifully. So at 7:00 we rushed off to the $1.50-a-seat theater to see Shrek. Under ten dollars for all five of us! I splurged on the little kids’ combo packs — popcorn, candy, a small pop apiece. (I cringed the entire time I paid. I never touch soda myself, and there I was handing it to my kids. I should’ve smuggled in something better!)

The movie had already started, so we felt our way into the dark like a little train of blind mice — me with the baby on one hip, my newly-dethroned three-year-old wailing that she couldn’t see a thing, everyone bumping into each other and trailing popcorn behind them. I counted seats with my outstretched hand until it hit the far wall (the floor lights were long dead in that dear old place), and we finally spilled into a row, wedging the oldest into the row ahead so we’d all fit.

Taking five kids under eight to a movie by yourself is, I can now officially report, PURE drama.

Once we were settled and my eyes adjusted, I looked down the row: five little faces glowing in the screen-light, hands drifting up to their popcorn boxes without ever leaving the movie. And oh — that smell. Popcorn was triple-forbidden for me: processed, buttered, and definitely not gluten-safe. I knew the risk. I was staying strong.

Except… I hadn’t eaten dinner. Just a bowl of soup at lunch. I dug through my purse — DANG. No almonds. Not one.

Then my three-year-old handed me her popcorn box to hold while she wrestled with her booster seat.

Reader, it was more than I could bear. I took a piece. Then another. Then a whole guilty HANDFUL, before quickly handing it back.

Her popcorn tasted strangely sweet — and only afterward did I understand why: her little packet of powdery candy had spilled all through it. So that handful came with double the trouble. Oh dear.

Long story short: I got sick. I’ve spent the whole day since wading through molasses — foggy, wrung out, dragging my feet. I’m up, I’m dressed, but it’s been a slog. That’s what gluten does to me: bone-deep fatigue, irritability, sometimes days flat in bed. One handful. That’s all it takes.

It got me thinking about how differently we’re all wired. A college professor of mine swore even a little MSG would put her in bed for a day (though, funny enough, I’ve eaten it with no trouble at all). And a dear friend spent ages at her wits’ end over her daughter’s wild behavior before finally discovering the culprit was red food dye — and there really is research now suggesting certain artificial dyes can affect behavior in some sensitive children. So often we can’t figure out what’s behind our kids’ meltdowns, or our own mystery symptoms… and so often, it’s hiding right there in the food.

I keep coming back to the same conviction. Dr. Weston Price found that people eating their traditional, unprocessed diets tended to have remarkably strong health and remarkably good teeth, often well into old age. And when I look at the friends in my life who’ve left processed food behind, there really is a difference — not so much in how they look as in how ALIVE they seem.

A college friend recently told me how much healthier and more vibrant I seem now, compared to my sickest, most exhausted days. I held onto that — not out of vanity, but because I remember all too well what my life was like before I changed how I ate. (There were years I could barely walk across a room on my own.) A little hope like that reminds me the work is worth it.

Food really does make a difference. And I’m simply trying to be as well as God means for me to be — which means eating the way He made food to be eaten. Which means, alas, no buttery, artificially-colored movie-theater popcorn.

So next time, I’ll come prepared. My car now has a bag of nuts, figs, and dates riding shotgun — my staple, my “emergency good.” (I really, truly should have learned this the LAST time.) Next on the list: refilling my water bottle before we head out the door.

Here’s the little motto I keep landing on for Celiac Shack:
“Surround yourself with so much GOOD that you never even crave the BAD.”

Though honestly? I’d add a tiny asterisk: …and keep the bad as far away as you can, just in case you don’t have quite enough good surrounding you yet. (Right now the most sinful thing in my whole kitchen is a bottle of maple syrup, so I’m safe for the moment. Ha!)

Always keep a little “emergency good” within reach — because you truly never know when a three-year-old is going to hand you her popcorn.

“…if ye are prepared ye shall not fear.” - Doctrine & Covenants 38:30

Lots of love to YOU!

With much love,

Steffanie

Shared as our family’s personal experience, not medical advice. Gluten reactions, food-dye sensitivities, and other food responses vary a great deal from person to person; if you suspect a food is affecting you or your child, a qualified provider can help you sort it out.