Gluten Free = Exploding Brain.

Going gluten free is stupid.  So there.  Frowny face.  At least, here, at the beginning, I definitely think so.  I thought I would tell you friends about it.  It is obviously important to you.  It makes me happy and sad that my post Sandy Poop is on fire right now.  Sadly, I think Italy must have some big bowel problems as they are checking in a lot more often than the rest of you.  Watch out for tangents...

Anyhoo...  I have always wondered a little what "going gluten free" would do for Max and his Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD) and his autistic tendencies.  This has always just lived in the back of my mind, especially since he has somehow conned his teacher into believing he is an angel.  I think he is pretty damn great, obviously, but I was hoping he would have the same behavior at school as he does at home.  Twas a no-go.  He is perfect between the hours of 7am and 11am. 

I myself was very much looking for a change of life.  Sitting around with an unemployed husband as "just a housewife" while wondering if the lights would get to stay on while looking at yourself in the mirror and HATING what you see is, well... sad.  Very sad.  I am freaking sick of it.  It also occurred to me a little late in the game that if, damnit, I wanted to go take a walk or work out, there was another person in the house to watch the kids... so what was holding me back???  Anyway, enter my googling tendencies and a slight obsession with Pinterest and you get a bunch of research on the Paleo Diet.  I've always been a bit against any diet that seriously restricts any one food group, but I was pretty interested in the way people said they felt on the diet.  I will say though, that, damnit, I LIKE COW'S MILK.  I 100 percent agree that it is for baby cows, but why do I find it so tasty???  And no cheese?  Well, that's just crazy talk.  Suddenly I realized, there's not much gluten on the Paleo diet.  Actually I wouldn't say suddenly, but eventually it sunk in.  I wanted those results for Max.  What if his slow-to-grow speech or his sensory issues could be resolved by changing his diet?  Don't I owe him at least a try?? 

Kids who have gluten sensitivities often crave items with gluten in them.  Now, I've read the science... can't say that I could repeat it... but I can tell you that it makes sense to me that kids would crave it and get caught in a vicious circle.  I also know I could offer Max 20 chocolate bars or one small bowl of pasta and he would choose the pasta hands-down.  Max is one big pasta noodle. 

It hurts my brain already to go shopping though.  Mama wants to lose weight.  Daddy wants meat.  Cooper wants pizza and hamburgers.  Z, well... doesn't eat anything.  Our food budget is tiny.  I don't like the idea of processed foods.  Or dyes.  Or artificial sugar and additives. I am trying to feed a lot of people on a little money with some ridiculous ideals.  Now I want to go gluten free.  Yep, sounds stupid.  It feels stupid.  ...Unless it gets results.

I figured we would start the process slowly.  That will give me time to stock up and figure out what the hell I am doing.  Max also eats breakfast at school and I know the little Carbo is eating cereal or something with gluten everyday.  Plus, I know this sounds woosy, but I just don't want to discuss a gluten free diet with his teacher.  With only two and a half weeks left of school, I just don't want to have to get into it.

I'll tell you one thing I learned today...  pasta and anything with flour may just not be in Max's diet anymore.  GOOD GOD, the prices.  I thought we would just get him a few gluten free specialty items from the store.  ...stuff to help him ease in, ya know?  Your typical Mueller's pasta was on sale BOGO:  $1.57.  The crap I had to shop from ranged from $1.79 PER BOX FOR 8 OUNCES to $3.39 PER BOX.  Say whaaaaaaaa?  Crazy talk.  Same thing in the cookie aisle.  Same in the crackers.  I knew gluten-free items were often more, but whole DOLLARS worth?  wowza. We may just have to wean the boy to fruits, veggies and meat only because my brain may explode.  But alas, my mantra will be, "Just 30 Days".  If I can just try 30 days solid and see if there is a difference, won't it be worth it?  Damn this junk is hard. 

So there ya go, my fellow friends that like to talk poop and other happenings of the gut.  That's where I am.  We'll see how this goes.

If you ever want some of my "research" check out my Pinterest boards... I'll leave it there for you, my Googling comrades.

Itsa Poop Fest!

Tips for hand washing cloth diapers.  Because maybe you like to pretend you live in the 1800's.

1.  Approximately 1 week before attempting to wash your cloth diapers by hand, begin feeding your wee babe a diet of cheese and apples.  This will ensure they create those cute little turdlettes that roll right into the toilet leaving the diaper nearly clean.*

2.  Approximately 3 days before attempting to wash your cloth diapers by hand, use your tub to shave your legs.  I chose 3 because you don't want to turn into Chewbaca, however you don't want to give your husband the expectation that you'll be shaving your legs any more often.  Also, after you see what floats in your tub, you won't want to take a bath in there.

3.  It should go without saying, but every time your little darling poops, flush it down the toilet!  The job is long, nasty and TERRIBLE if you don't.  This is true whether doing this by hand or using your washer.  Even if you use disposable diapers, you're supposed to do that.  No, for reals.  Go check the side of the package...  I'll wait...

...

...

see????  No, no one does that... but you should.

4.  I keep my diapers in a 'wet bag'.  They are AMAZINGLY awesome. I used to just throw them in old grocery bags 'til wash day, but that was just nasty.  The wet bag keeps the smells to itself.  Of course, after a few days of sitting in a bag, the dirty diapers could very easily burn your nose hairs.  I filled the bath tub for the first soak, set the wet bag in there and filled it up with water.  I never smelled a dang thing.  'Twas a better smell experience than using the washer!

5.  I use a big paint stick to slosh 'em around.  Not because I'm worried about getting my hands dirty...  I long ago gave up on that...  it's the bowling ball that prohibits me from bending over correctly.

6.  Approximately......  *here*  .......you'll be glad you shaved your legs.  Drain tub.  Fill with warm water.  Use detergent.  Soak forever.

7.  Drain the tub.  You're nearly there.  Fill back up with warm water and detergent.  Scrub 'em up!

8.  Drain the tub, rinse 'em out and SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE.  You'll never do as good a job as your washer.  (frowny face.)  Hang them out to dry and fluff them in your dryer so they're soft for the lil' one's tushy.  Your electric bill will thank you.

9.  Get yourself a cold drink.  You'll feel like you worked all day, but you only did one measly, very specific laundry load for the day.   Everyone else still expects clean clothes too.

10.  Don't feel bad for me.  We just haven't had the time to fix the effed-up-laundry situation.  We're thinking 'pipe-snake' before we go full-on new pump.  We've got A LOT of ridiculous stuff (no, really, you wouldn't believe me if I told you) coming to a head (gross analogy) this weekend... then it's project laundry and project classroom.  Hell or high water.  Really.






*Don't be a moron.  Some of these things are just silly.  Don't really feed your kid a diet of cheese.  Although it may seem handy.

Five For Friday

What, what??  it's been awhile since the last Five.  This has been the week from... eh, hell.  Yup, I think that sums it up.  It has not only felt like hell, see as how the temperatures have been in the 100's... but it's also been a psychological hell.  Yay!  oh the fun!  Next week will be better.

I command it so.

1.  I just got done taking Max to the doctor.  Yesterday, while grilling, The Hubs remarks, "we need new brake pads tomorrow."  See as how I have already budgeted his paycheck to zero, I go a smidge nuts-o because the kids had already gotten me teeter-tottering right on the edge anyway.  I put myself in timeout.  This equates to me just sitting in the bathroom staring at a wall.  Now, the children get a minute of timeout for every year of age.  I find it unfair that I do not get 31 minutes of timeout.  When I was back to homeostasis, I inquired about any squeaks that the brakes were making prior to the big announcement.  I got a manly, "yeah.  They've squeaked a bit."  I got in to take Max to the doctor and HOLY SHIT, BATMAN!?!  Grinding.  Wailing.  Squeaking.  Rubbing.  I damn near turned around to head home, but so desperately needed to get to the doctor.  So now the weekend will consist of the Effed Up Laundry Situation and The Car Situation.  Sounds like fun to me!

2.  If you know me, you know I freaking LOVE OUR PEDIATRICIAN.  She has literally saved the life of Max when he was just a little newborn.  She is freaking amazing.  I cannot say it enough.  I love her.  I love our rapport.  I just want to kiss her cheeks whenever I see her.  (I will stop.  I sound like a stalker.)  Anyway, due to a school system that frankly, doesn't seem to give a fuck, I took Max to see the doc to see what she had to say.  I've often wondered about apraxia or his hearing.  The kid is as smart as a whip.  I wonder if he's not just a little Stewie all locked up inside simply because he cannot speak adequately.  She heard me out and we'll be on our way to the Children's Hospital here in Atlanta sometime soon.  We'll probably swing by our audiologist too.  Ima need a nanny though because I'm already anxious about how we're going to get anywhere with 5 kids, 1 vehicle and a Hubs that works constantly.  It'll fall into place.  Right?  (right???????!!!!??????)

3.  Caleb goes home tomorrow.  I haven't told you guys all the drama that has surrounded his visit this time.  ...And I'm not gonna.  so there.  Suffice it to say, there will be a lot of tears and it may be the very biggest, bravest thing the 'Awesomes' have ever had to do.  He is going back to a home that simply isn't good enough.  Isn't warm enough.  And is not supportive enough.  It makes me sick.  Whatever you believe in... juju, prayer, chicken sacrificing... please send a little my way.  We're going to need a little extra ooomph this weekend.

4.  This happened yesterday:

I'm pretty sure I'm going to use this against Coop in a few years.  I don't know why the goofball chose the dress, but it was hilarious.  I highly recommend a costume box for my peeps with kids.  Every so often they just come up the stairs as someone else.  It's good for letting the ol' imagination wander.

I too have worn this dress.  I think it was... mmmm.... circa... one million years ago.

5.  Something positive.  Something positive.  Let me see...

thinking.

thinking.

I love the Hubs.  Yes, this should be obvious.  But life is never easy and we just keep trucking, most of the time with laughs and silliness.  It is true that I am still a kindergartener when it comes to affection.  If I pick on you... I must love you.  I never grew out of it.  The Hubs will often force my hands around him in a hug and say, "Let us begin affection class."  I am awkward when it comes to showing affection.  I blame this guy:

That's muh Dad.  It has been said between the Uncle Bro and I that we knew Dad was dying when he said, "I love you."  It sounds sad, but that in absolutely no way means we didn't already know he loved us.  You didn't need to hear it.  It was all around you.  Yet apparently 'normal' families hug and what not...  this is where 'affection class' from the Hubs comes from. 

During this phase of life, when each day brings some new ridiculousness I just want to say to the Hubs... Thanks for that surprise Coke here and there...  Thanks for understanding I have a hyper-vigilant anxious reaction even with things I cannot control...  Thanks for just getting the fact that I 'need' 'affection class'.  and I.... I.... I... LOVE YOU.  phew!



Have an awesome weekend.  I hope I haven't whined too much.  Ima bust through this weekend and come out a brand new sparkly person.  This is my plan.  It is also my plan to stay in air conditioning at all times.  We'll see how all that goes.

Do You Have A Pack-And-Play?

I am crazy excited.  And maybe I'll seem just plain crazy after I explain why, but I was told something yesterday that is going to change my life! 

I will tell you here that you will most likely not share in my excitement unless you too have a kid like Maximus.  Max is by far our quirkiest kid.  I will not even attempt here to try and explain just how quirky he is, but this kid has the power to make me laugh the hardest and the power to infuriate me beyond that of any other human being.  I do not know how a kid that knows so few words by the age of 33 months realizes it is hilarious when a kid of such short and silly stature farts and quickly shouts and points, "LOLA!?"  This same hilarious guy broke my window with his bare hands when he got mad a few weeks ago.  That being said, if you have a kid that freaks out when he's mad and you've attempted time out, you know that it is an absolute joke.  I've tried Supernanny-ing it.  (yeah, I made that a verb.)  Telling myself I'm in it for the long haul.  Attempting a two minute time out that actually lasts 45 minutes because the hellion can't stay seated for a solid two minutes.  When Max gets mad he hits things, throws things, screams at the top of his lungs and as a defense becomes straight as a board, every muscle clenched so that picking him up is nearly impossible.  Time out is a joke.

Realizing a goal the size of a two-year old booty was going no where, I threw out the time out chair for a big masking-taped frownie face in the middle of my kitchen.  As long as he was in the square, damnit, I was counting it.  One must, however, eventually mop the floor and wasting so much masking tape just started feeling... dumb.  Also, what happens when he starts experimenting with putting his little toe over the line, oh... there goes his leg... but his butt is still in the box!  Dumb idea.  And once again, this guy is a chunk... I got sick of hauling him back to the frownie face.

Finally yesterday the "Family Trainer" came to the house.  She.  Was.  Awesome.  One of the first questions she asked me was, "Do you have a pack-and-play?".  I immediately knew where she was going and in the distance an angel began singing or playing harp or whatever angels do.  "Yes!  Yes!" I shouted, as if to seal the deal with yet another person that I am just really socially awkward. 

Mommyhood seems to be an evolution of ideas.  When I had just Cooper I pretty much walked around with the idea that "I am the shit".  As you add more kids and more personalities and more.... emotions... quirks?... weirdness?... to your brood it simply gets harder.  The "I am the shit" feeling does not come about nearly as often as one's self esteem could dream of.  Ideas like using a pack-and-play for time out just don't always come easily.  It seems simple enough, but mayhaps my brain was on "What's the quickest least smelliest way to clean up guinea pig poop?" or "how little can I scour the bathroom today and still get by?" or "will my guest be able to smell all the dirty diapers in the house?" that day.  The amount of multi-tasking involved in raising kids is just effing overwhelming until you consider that sometimes it is an evolution of things getting a little better everyday as just one new idea is brought to the masses. 

Anyway.  The Family Trainer suggested a two and half minute time out away from everyone in a pack-and-play.  The time out only begins once Max is calm.  We have begun with the two behaviors hitting and screaming.  These behaviors get no warning... straight to time out for them.  "Now, this is going to be a very hard two weeks for you, but if you can do this you will see results." she said.  She said that over and over again.  I kept saying, "no problem!"  She would reiterate, "it's going to be really hard to ignore him, but you can do this!"  Finally, at the end of our meeting I reassured her (I think?) by saying, "I forgot to tell you that my oldest has Tourettes.  I sometimes wonder if my 3 year old has it as well.  He practically hums all day.  I don't want this to sound bad, but I uh.... have absolutely no problem ignoring them.  This is going to be just fine."  She gave me one of those awkward smiles that look like, "mmmm hmmmm.  okay."

So here we are.  Day two.  Things are going swimmingly.  All the fuss has been taken out of time out.  Hopefully when we reach our goal of two weeks we'll have a calmer, happier, good-kinda-quirky Max.




(Bam.  post 100 bitches.  Click muh clicker.)

A Proud Moment

Oh! I am so proud.  You may want to exit now if you do not prefer gratuitous mommy-bragging.  This is one for the portfolio!

Coop's picture was on the front of our newspaper today.  He's been reading to the READ dog for a few months now and he's very proud of his accomplishments.  I've mentioned it before here.  I've been asked before and I've thought it myself, "What's so special about reading to a dog?  and how does it help?"  I can tell you that for our kid, who can be a bit shy, it has helped because there is just no pressure from a dog.  Actually, our dog in particular, Lucy, falls asleep at every visit.  We've tried to read to our dog, Sammy, but there is way too much licking (on his part) involved and it's just not as comfy since he's an outside dog. 

As a still fairly new homeschooler, when Coop first sat down with Lucy I was a bit nervous.  No, I shouldn't have been, I should have just let Coop be,  be his own person.  But I was nervous for him.  "I hope the lady knows he's only 6!  I hope she realizes he just started reading!  I hope we chose a book that won't be too hard or embarrassing for him!"  Yes, the first time was rather agonizing.  Coop is not one to open up to people he doesn't know... let alone try to dabble in a new skill he was just learning... right in front of a stranger.  His first 15 minute session was sloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooow.  Did I put enough o's?  o infinity.  He connected with Lucy though and decided he wanted to keep participating.  He was excited and talked about Lucy right up until their next visit. 

There's something else about reading to a dog and not a hyped-up mother who corrects every other syllable...  it's calming.  I was concerned when he began reading to Lucy back in September, that every Tourettes tic he had displayed thus far would come bursting out.  Nope.  He just... read. 

This all is why Saturday when Patti, Lucy's owner, asked if Cooper would like to participate in the photo I was so excited.  "I thought he would be great because he's my star student" she said.  Coop took all this in with his usual, 'whatever' attitude, but I was busting at the seams.  I wanted to tell everyone.  When we met up on Monday to take the picture, it was all I could do to keep from bawling right there in the library.  There was Cooper, reading clearly, fluidly and perfectly.  No tics.  And a small crowd had begun to gather of school kids and parents to see what all the commotion and camera flashes were all about.  My shy guy kept his cool and kept right on going.  I was beyond proud.  I was proud of Cooper and honestly, I'll say it... proud of myself.  I taught someone to read.  And if you can read, you can learn anything.  This was a moment my heart took a picture of.

For more information on the READ therapy dog program: 

Here is Lucy herself.
http://www.librarydogs.com/index.html
readingpaws.org

For the article itself:
Paulding Library Offers Reading Program to Wag About

Sunday! Sundae! Sunday!

Okay.  I admit it.  Mayhaps it was a mistake.  I have lived through enough Sundae Sundays to admit that maybe it is just not such a great idea.  At first it seemed amazing:  Every Sunday for dinner we will simply have sundaes.  No menu planning.  No complicated ingredients to buy.  Not much to really think about.  Only six little bowls and six little spoons to wash up afterwards.  Maybe not the most nutritional of dinners, but something the kids would remember when they were all grown up.  "Hey, remember when we always had sundaes for dinner on Sundays??  Man, that was fun".  No, it is not the most nutritional of dinner items, but one day a week won't kill us!

Recently I've sat back and pondered another of our Sunday traditions:  doughnuts.  Each week, dependent upon good church behavior, we all pile in the van after church and head to Ingles.  Everyone gets to go in and pick their very own doughnut.  Sprinkly.  Creme-filled.  Chocolatety.  Sugary.  Everyone gets so excited.  (Which makes me wonder if our Ingles has noticed our weekly field trip yet and watches from afar like the circus has just rolled through...)  After doughnut picking we all settle down at the table and talk about what we learned at church and how hard we're going to nap.  (Well... I usually talk about how hard I'm gonna nap...)  It's a nice time to just be together.  Doughnut time usually counts as lunch since we get home from church around 11am.

So I stuck all that together in my head the other day and realized, "Oh shit.  My kids eat nothing but crap on Sundays."  OOops.  My bad.  Now, I don't necessarily subscribe to the idea of no sweets for kids.  I suppose that's evident in everything I've just said.  I sometimes wonder if this whole anti-obesity situation is going to backfire when we raise a whole bunch of little robots that scream, "nooooooooooooo!  sugar bad."  Once these little people can make their own choices, some are going to go ape-shit in the candy aisle.  Instead, I believe in all things in moderation.  Let's learn about nutrition, but also how to have something a little sweet every so often.  But, let's be honest... my Sundae Sundays have become a free-for-all that I'm going to have to put the kiboshes to.

This is going to get messy.

So what goes... 

the doughnut or the ice cream?  

oh, choices.  choices.