Fun with Food

Some days I think they are out to get me. 

If you recall, we have been living with Thing 1's wheat allergy for a little over a year now.  It took some time, but we all have adjusted.  We've figured out how to tell when she has pigged out on something wheat-filled without even asking.  She's a banshee who cries all the time.  We've figured out she actually loves all kinds of fish, brown rice, and broccoli.  And yet she won't touch peanut butter?  We've even learned a few combos that allow her to eat a little wheat and feel "normal" while not going overboard.  You could say I finally feel like I have a grip on things in my "new" kitchen.

Enter Thing 2.

This week, we found out she is allergic to dairy.  I thought I would go crazy making sure wheat didn't creep into our diet, now I have to look out for dairy, too.  Milk and cheese.  Do you realize how many things milk, in some form, is actually in??  Pick up three things in your pantry and look at the label.  Let alone trying to make tuna rice casserole (because we can't have tuna noodle--wheat!) withOUT cream of mushroom soup or cheese? 

Oh, and we can't sub soy products for the milk--she's allergic to that, too.  Moreso than the dairy, actually.  I knew I was in trouble when they started asking about her life as a baby and they specifically addressed whether she had colic.  Oh, DID she.  But at least now we know why.  I guess.

To make it more entertaining, Thing 1 can not eat wheat, but she's fine with dairy.  Thing 2 is fine with wheat but cannot eat dairy.  Can they at least be allergic to the SAME key ingredients?  Apparently not.

So what the hell am I supposed to feed my family, without taking out a second mortgage?  The doctor tells me meat, fruits and veggies.  The only other option is to make three separate "versions" of each meal--one without wheat, one without dairy and one with all the goodness.

In the interest of the food budget, which is already astronomical (want my kids to be healthy, Michelle Obama?  LOWER FRESH FOOD PRICES), I've decided that EVERYONE will eat wheat free, dairy free.  Otherwise, I'll spend 50% of our income on food AND spend three hours a night in the kitchen, after a full 8 hours at the office, with the Things running around crying because they are hungry and it's taking FOREVER to fix dinner.

For a bit of a silver lining, the Things have not had as long to pick up bad eating habits; for the most part, they are not picky and somewhat easy with which to reason.  In fact, Thing 1 has found a viable solution.

While a friend is on vacation, we're feeding her cats.  She thought the soft food smelled "good" and asked to taste it.  After the third no, I finally just told her "fine" thinking she would stick a finger in, be grossed out and never consider it again.

Not my kid.  She picked up a big hunk and popped it in her mouth before I could even react.  And she likes it so much, she wants to use catfood to make a burrito for her school lunch.  "What's the big deal, it's just like tuna?"

Luckily, it has wheat in it--so I get an easy out that doesn't require argument or explanation.

But if you see me at Wal-Mart with a cart of Fancy Feast, you'll know why.

Dear Daughter:

Tonight is the last night before you begin a new and exciting phase of your life--school!  Mom doesn't really know how to feel.  On one hand, you are beyond ready and I'm so excited for you.  On the other hand, I can't believe you are old enough for kindergarten.  I know you can't understand that right now, so I'm writing this and maybe one day you will be able to understand.

Until the moment I held you in my arms, I never knew what "happy" really was.  I never knew love was something that could actually be held in my arms, could cry out for me, could wrap my own heart into your tiny little hand.  But you sure did all of that and more.  You made me a mommy.  You made me a better person.  You made me want to be a better person so I could show YOU how to be a good person.

Sometimes I feel badly because I can't be home all day, every day with you--especially those days you begged me to.  But it's important for you to see that girls can do ANYTHING they want to do in a career.  

Sometimes I am afraid of you growing up.  It's a lot of fun, you have so many adventures ahead of you.  You have so many friends and sleepovers and experiences.  But you also will have pain and heartache--friends that say and do mean things, boys you think you love until they break your heart, tests you won't do well on, big games you won't win and so much more.  I'm afraid because these are things that will be hard for you, things I can't help you with--but things that will give you your character.

Sometimes I'm afraid you won't like me forever.  As you grow up, Mom will seem "not so smart" and one day, I'll seem downright stupid.  I'm not, but it will seem that way--and you will tell me so.  You might even tell me you don't like me one day.  I'll get mad because it's disrespectful, but mostly because it will hurt me badly and I won't ever be able to let you know--or you will use it against me over and over again.

Sometimes you will want me to be your friend, and I can't.  Being a mom sucks sometimes.  I have to make hard decisions and you won't like all them.  I won't ask you to like them, but I will ask you to be respectful.  Try and remember that even when I seem to be fine?  I'm hurting on the inside.  It's not easy to tell you no.

Sometimes I'll want to be your friend, and you won't let me.  And that's ok.  But I hope you will always feel like you can talk to me about anything--even the hard stuff.  I promise to always listen, and you can always trust me to be honest.  Even with the hard stuff.

Sometimes things at school won't seem fair.  And to be honest, sometimes they aren't.  But life isn't always fair.  It's tough for those of us who try hard to be good people and be honest--you might even get called naieve, like me.  Don't worry, you just have a good heart and expect the best of people because you always give YOUR best to people.  And no matter how mean people can be, I hope you will never allow them to take your joy away. 

Smile, even when you want to cry.  Crying is ok, don't get me wrong.  But when you smile, no matter the situation, people respond better and you are more likely to get your way.  Besides, smiling is contagious--the other person can't "not" smile back.  It's fun.

Be a good friend, always.  You never know what kind of "stuff" people have going on at home and sometimes they just need one friend to make the world brighter and better.  And they will always love you for being kind, especially when nobody else is.  Treat others the way you would like to be treated.  Always.

Follow the rules.  Mama don't want called at work.  Besides, rules help keep you safe--and I don't want to imagine a world where you are not safe.

You are an extremely bright girl, and some kids will try to bring you down.  Don't let them.  Being smart and using your mind is the best gift and I know you will use it wisely.

Have fun!  You have 13 years of school ahead of you.  I know you will want less "play" and more learning because that is your nature.  But relax and have fun--you will have plenty of time for homework in the years to come.

I love you, Redhead.  And I'm so very proud of the little lady you already are.  It is a joy to have watched you grow these first 5 years, and I can't wait to sit back and watch you in this new phase of your life.  You have no idea how lucky you are, and you have no idea how lucky I feel to be your Mama.

Love,
Me

Mourning in Whoville

Today was a sad day at our home, especially for Thing 1.  While out on the regularly Saturday jaunt to buy groceries, I was reminded why I HATE having pets.  Thing 1 spotted a kitty that didn't make it across the road, and sarcastically said "That's not one of our cats, is it?"

Of course not, its a good 2-3 blocks from our house.  And yet as I drove past, thinking to myself,  "poor kitty", I noticed something familiar about the kitty.  My heart sank as I realized this flattened feline was our Lilly.

I'm a sucker.  We have a LOT of cats.  "We" had two, we agreed to keep a couple for my brother for a couple of months (that was 6 years ago), and we inherited a colony of ferrel cats with our house that I finally have tamed after years of coaxing and disobeying city laws.  Factor in a rough winter, survival of the fittest and thyroid cancer, our official count is 6 (3 inside, 2 inside/outside and 1 outside).

But Lilly was "the one".  The coveted one.  The one that slept with Thing 1 every night.  The one that let both Thing 1 and Thing 2 pack her around, put her in any precarious situation--aka the baby strollers.  She was the sweet one, the cuddly one.  Just...the one.  So of course she was the one to meet an untimely demise, right?

I have a pretty staunch "truth" policy with Thing 1 and Thing 2.  I tell them the truth because I expect them to tell me the truth.  The Lorax calls me naive.  I am confident karma will come thru for me in the end.  Alas, today, that truth policy meant I had to tell Thing 1 the kitty we saw in the road was, in fact, Lilly.

It sucked.

She cried.  I cried.  Thing 2...well, she tried to be comforting, offered kind words to her sister.  And then her appeals just went WAY wrong.

"I'll tell you a story about your Lilly to make you feel better.  Once upon a time, there was a cat named Lilly.  She got runned over by a car.  So she went to heaven and got wings and used them to fly back to her Delaney because she loved her so much.  But then she got runned over again and it hurt really really really bad and...."  That's as far as the story was allowed to go.

And that was just the beginning of Thing 2's obsession of using the death of Lilly to tease Thing 1.  All day long.

For instance, Thing 1 finally pulled it back together.  Out of nowhere, Thing 2 says, "Awww...I know you miss Lilly.  Because she's dead," and later "Don't you wish you could see Lilly?  But you can't, not ever again."

The worst, however, came at rest time.  Thing 2 jumped up and looked outside the bedroom window and called to her sister..."Come quick, Lilly is outside the window."  Was I wrong????

No, it was a sick and twisted joke and the sound of the laugh that followed was just...wrong.  I really don't know where she gets that kind of mean, but it really scares me sometimes. 

That's not true, I secretly know where it comes from.  All day, I've had the urge to ask "Why did Lilly cross the road?" and then answer, "She didn't make it across the road."  But when you are the one who has carried a swollen, twisted dead kitty out of the road so your daughter won't have to see it, knowing who it is? 

I think I've earned it.

RIP, Lilly Francine Batterson.  You will  be sincerely missed, especially by your little redheaded pal.

Lilly with her new wings, by Thing 1

Mall Madness

Shopping fun with Thing 1 and Thing 2.  It was supposed to be a short trip to buy a birthday gift for Thing 1's bestie's birthday party tomorrow.  Um....yea....right...short...

Shopping excursion started at Toys R Us.  We came up with several good ideas, but Thing 1 has always had that shopping gene.  And since we were shopping for her very best friend, well, things had to be PERFECT.  Perfection didn't come from Toys R Us.  What DID come from Toys R Us was her backpack for kindergarten.  I really wanted a "nice" one that all the other moms would be jealous of, even had it picked out (Hello, Thirty-One!) but then the @$%^ Princesses had to blow that for me, of course. 

It was the only thing I had going--Mommy would get a pretty, "big girl" backpack.  But Rapunzel apparently speaks to Thing 1.  She called to her, and she dropped it on me: "Mom, seriously, I'm going to be in kindergarten.  I'm big enough to pick out my own backpack, you are embarrassing me."  How do I argue with that?  She's right, but not even for reasons she can fathom.  She's my first to go to school, I thought I was ready.  And I know it will be fine--but I'm due a little time to freak out.  She doesn't need me to pick out her backpack today, what's next?  She doesn't want hugs and kisses and cuddles?  She doesn't want me to pick her hair color?  Decide if she can get her belly button pierced? 

Alas, I survived a genuine panic attack.  I think, anyway.

On to the mall, to Target.  I suggested we eat first.  NO.  Not possible.  But about halfway thru?  We start whining and crying that we are starving.  Of course.  So we find an acceptable gift.  But only because one doll is named Delacey.  I'm totally serious.  Not that we have a complex or anything.

Dinner at Panera.  20 minute break while Thing 2 went #2.  I'm serious, public bathrooms are her thing.  It grosses me out more than I can even tell you.

I decide to swing into a shoe store to find a new pair of flipflops.  As a gift to myself for my impending date of birth celebration.

I swear I will never be one of those parents who apes out on a kid in public.  But...in the shoe store, fighting with a big, sweaty lady who was looking thru sale shoes and wanted the same size as me?  Thing 1 thought it the perfect time to lift up my skirt.  The store was busy.  And my ass was pointed toward the door of the mall.  Every ounce in my body wanted to literally beat her with that stick.  To add insult to injury, as I turn to slap my skirt down and maybe accidentally her hand with it?  I dropped my hold on the pair of shoes I wanted and the other "kind soul" picked them up and took off with them to the cash register.

I had complete intentions of leaving the mall right then. And I should have.

Tromping back thru Target, with two girls in "Mall time out", I got sidetracked.  Since I didn't get shoes, maybe I could find something cute and cheap for the date of birth celebration dinner.  As I picked up three simple things to try on, somehow Thing 1 found a...something.  It was like the top half of a prom dress, I have no idea what the @#$% it really was.  A blouse?  I can't imagine it was THAT short of a dress, but who knows, maybe?  She insisted on trying it on while I was trying on my items.

Fine.

My stuff looked much better on the hanger, usually the case when I'm actually WANTING to find new clothes.  So, being a silly smart-a**?  I decided to put the little purple pretty thing on.

It was a size 5.  I wore a size 5 to my Junior Prom.  I remember that because I was soooo proud. 

I got the thing over my head, my shoulders (it was strapless) and somewhat situated over my "not size 5" bosom.  Thing 1 finally noticed, Thing 2 joined in laughing, it was a great moment.  Solid bonding.

It was a pretty snug fit.  So I expected to struggle, to wiggle.  But it was stuck like chuck.  Not budging.  Not even a little.

Thing 1 thought this was hysterical.  And it was.  Thing 2 just kept pointing and laughing, together they were laughing so loud the little clerk girl came and knocked on the door to see that everything was "going ok."

HELL NO, but seriously--what was I going to tell her?  I was in my skivvies, with this tiny shirt/dress stuck on my DD's. 

I got tickled.  We all three laughed for about three solid minutes, and then I realized--this really was not funny.  This thing was seriously stuck.  Badly.  As in, I might have to rip it off to get out of it.  Suddenly?  It was not funny.  At all.  In fact, it was pretty rock bottom for me, a new low.  Healthy lifestyle is back ON.  Hardcore.  Starting immediately.

But first, I had to enlist help.  From a 5-year old.  Who likes to tell stories to everyone.  For this, I would pay dearly.

As I sat on the floor of the dressing room (aka panel dividers) in Target, my firstborn pulled and tugged while I wiggled, trying to free myself from this size 5 Chinese trap.  FINALLY, it moved a tiny smidge, then a smidge more and Thing 1 freed me from my purple prison. 

As we busted it out of Target, Thing 1 finally says, "Here is what we learned tonight.  If you are going to try something on, make sure you can get it off.  Otherwise it could be a really bad deal."

Of course, there was a lady and her daughter walking in front of us, shoulders shaking, taking in every word.  She turned around and said, "You are one smart little girl."  And then to me? "Don't worry, we've all been there."

I don't think so, lady.  But thanks.

Girls Night Out

Spontaneity.  It's important in relationships.  Personally, I think it is important in relationships with children as well.  It's teaching them a great lesson.  Right?

Tonight, the Onceler was called to duty by the office to deliver a "left behind" piece of furniture, leaving Thing 1 and Thing 2 and I to fend for ourselves.  I'm a big fan of "girls nights" and luckily, so are they.  So I called one on the spot.

My awesome in-laws delivered the Things to the office where we were all going to hit dinner on the hub's way out of town.  SURPRISE--he had to leave earlier than initially expected.  Things begged for Chipotle, and if you know me, you know they didn't have to twist my arm too badly.

Thing 2 has a "thing" for public bathrooms.  I think she is punishing me because I used to nurse her in bathrooms when she was an infant.  I wasn't the "whip it out" kind of mom.  So, of course, she HAD to go at Chipotle, despite my threats that she'd better go a LOT or else.  Of course she didn't have to.  But we now know she can reach the sink by herself AND the soap, an improvement from our last Chipotle trip.

Because our Chipotle is beside Baskin Robbins, you must know the second leg of our evening tour. Interestingly enough, Thing 1 gets the nastiest kind of ice cream possible--Daiquiri Ice.  I swear, it's frozen tequila.  And she loves it.  I'm pretty sure this is a bad sign.

Thing 2 gets the brightest color "something" she can find, and after two bites, announces to the whole store she has to poop.  Of course.  She insisted she wanted to go by herself at first, and at first, I was going to let her--it's a small store.  Just when I decided to step in the bathroom and check it out?  She was just before  sitting down on the URINAL when I opened the door.  Ever tried to explain what that is and why little girls can't use it to a 3-year old?  I highly recommend you think it thru before you judge me any further.

Alas, we survive BR and decide to make an extra stop before we make it home.  It's hot, I'm a cool mom, so I suggest the spray park.  The girls were ecstatic.  They thought my "out of nowhere" idea was about the best thing ever-and even more fun because it was a surprise for us all. 

So I, in my work clothes, and they in their shorts
head in to the spray park to get wet, of course.

At first, it was cute and funny.  They were having a blast.  So I started snapping pictures on my phone.

So we played the WT family, with no bathing suits.  And no towels.  I realized we would have to go home at some point and the soaked clothing could present an issue.  But that would be later so "future me" would take care of it.  I went back to snapping pictures.

Thing 1 discovered quite the "trick" of wearing a dress and the fountains.  Or a preview of 25 years in the future when her water breaks.

Finally, time had marched far enough and it was time to leave.  Apparently, the blanket that is always in my trunk with which I had planned to dry off the Things?  Yup, it got taken out of the car. 

I had two soaked, dripping children and all I could find in the car?  An apron, leftover from Vacation Bible School.  Obviously there was a higher purpose that knew this day would soon come, else I would have already removed it, right?

Thing 1 and Thing 2 were dried off with an apron in the parking lot.  And then I did the only thing left to do--I stripped them down and strapped them into their car seats, buck naked. 

After they had properly questioned me as to what would happen if a policeman pulled us over, I drove very carefully home so they could streak around the yard "because it's fun to be naked."

Sure, it was a new low.  Sure, the Oncelot will have heart failure when he reads this.  Sure, the doorbell is ringing and it's likely DFS.  BUT...tonight?  I'm the fun mom and they are happy I belong to them, so they say.

That's what I call a GREAT girls night out!

Hundred Acre Woods

I took Thing 2 to see the new Winnie the Pooh movie on Friday.  She has been reminding me daily for about a month that we were going to see it--just us two (no Thing 1), as a date.  If you didn't know me in my younger years, you must know that I had a slight obsession with Winnie the Pooh.  He's cute, ok?  I used to have quite a collection.  I once decided I would make my entire kitchen Winnie the Pooh...but then I met the Onceler and he made fun of me. and my obsession.  So I resigned to Classic Pooh for Thing 1's nursery.

I think it may have scarred her.  She has NEVER been a fan, at all.  When discussing going to the movie, this became apparent when she asked why he is called Winnie the Pooh instead of Winnie the Pee.  It worked out so she could go with the Onceler to see Transformers 3.

So Thing 2 and I met some good friends at the movie.  The girls enjoyed the movie, and it was pretty cute.  But while watching it, I couldn't help but wonder if the characters were always that annoying.  I don't think they were. 

Because of my warped mind, I couldn't help but see the individual...issues presented by our friends the Hundred Acre Woods, easily the name of a mental institution:

1.  Tigger = Classic ADHD.  ADHD is characterized by lack of attention, hyper activity and impulsive behavior.  Tigger can't sit still, he's always hopped up as if he has had 15 cups of coffee.  He loses things--including his bounce--and he is very easily distracted.  He is a very sweet tiger, but his hyperactivity always puts him into different predicaments, despite his original good intentions.

2.  Rabbit = Classic OCD.  He's overly neat and orderly.  Ever notice how perfectly straight his rows in the garden are and how often he messes with them?  He seems to experience a great deal of anxiety when his friends mess up his house, his garden, etc.

3.  Eeyore = Severe Depression.  Depression is characterized by feeling sad, blue, unhappy, miserable or down in the dumps.  Describes the little "blue" donkey to a tee, eh?  Have we ever seen him smile?  Not even when his actual tail is found, my friends.  "Oh bother."

4.  Owl = general know-it-all.  I guess this isn't a disorder, but it could be.  Owl knows everything about everything.  His overconfidence is annoying, at best, since he actually is a bit of an idiot.  And yet his "need" to be right about everything seems to result in his constant "put down" of his friends.  To me, I sense a much bigger issue with Owl.  I feel he is still undiagnosed.

5.  Piglet = Severe anxiety.  He's afraid of anything and everything, including his shadow.  He lacks confidence and is constantly afraid something is going to happen to him, to his friends.  Christopher Robin goes to school and Piglet is convinced he has been kidnapped.  He needs to be medicated.

6.  Kanga and Roo seem to be fairly normal on the surface.  However, Kanga is easily described as a helicopter mom.  She hovers over Roo, very rarely allowing him to make his own decisions and/or actions.  I'm going to go far enough to throw out "The Hero Syndrome", google it.  Poor Roo, I see therapy in his future.  Anyone want to bet she still nurses him in an effort to still feel "needed"?

7.  Christoper Robin talks to his toys.  And he thinks they are real.  I think he is schizophrenic.

8.  Finally, Winnie the Pooh. Compulsive overeating is his poison.  He want to eat when he is happy, sad, afraid, alone.  He dreams about honey and its the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up.  He puts himself, his friends in harms way to feed his compulsion.  He even has delusions when he is unable to eat. 
Ultimately, Pooh is able to choose his friends over honey, so I think he is on the right path.

After looking a little deeper at the characters, Hundred Acre Woods doesn't seem so innocent, eh? 

No wonder it speaks to me.

Let's Get Cooking!

It's the theme of our church's Vacation Bible School.  It's been a great week, lots of learning for both Thing 1 and Thing 2...and me this week. 

1.  Naps during VBS week are mandatory.  Daddy took the Things to a birthday party on VBS Day 1, no naps as a result.  Thing 2 cried all night.  She was the only one.  Not sure why parents wouldn't be comfortable leaving their preschoolers with a sweaty "chef" who keeps quietly threatening one crying child.  I'd call it a bonus.

2.  No matter when VBS week falls, it will always be the single hottest week of the summer.  And the AC will go out either at home or at the church.  This year was at the church.  You think I'm joking, but one or the other ACs always gets spunky.  I'm secretly glad it wasn't the one I have to pay for this year.  After all, I'm on vacation.

3.  Not all preschoolers are created equally.  I love the kids at our church.  But VBS brings "other" kids, too.  Many of these kids are good.  But there are always a few...

Parents: if you want to take your kids to a visiting church for VBS, that's awesome.  We want them, God wants them.  But please be sure they know how to act in public, if not church.  I recognize I hold Thing 1 and Thing 2 to high standards.  They will tell you if they act out, I will take them home to beat them with a stick.  Ask them.  Please note, I never have beaten either of them with a stick.  But once they realize I won't follow thru with the stick?  All is lost.

4.  Breastfeeding, uncovered, is not appropriate during vacation bible school.  I nursed my kids, I'm all for it.  But either cover yourself or sit at the back of the room to do it.  It's not our place to explain to preschoolers what you are doing and/or what "that" is.  Also, your child is 9 months old.  He doesn't need to eat every 20 minutes.  If he does, you need to supplement formula.  Preferably during VBS.  Finally, if you can quote the "rules of engagement" when it comes to your right to breastfeed?  You're making it your own agenda and your child will suffer--don't nurse him until he's 5, please.

5.  Food allergies are serious.  Thing 1 is allergic to every food except chicken, oranges and egg whites.  I know a lot about food allergies and I take them very seriously.  Tends to happen when you have to pack an epi-pen.  It's not ok to tell people your child has a food allergy when you are just wanting him to eat organic.  Lying in church seems wrong on multiple levels.

6.  When you get 2 1/2 hours of a free babysitting service AND free dinner for you child/children?  You don't get to complain.  Period.

7.  I asked Thing 1 what she has learned this week.  She tells me "Jeff" has braces and is very cute.  "Super" cute.  But it's ok, it's not like she "wants to marry him or anything.  Do you think he wants to marry me?"  I'm sooo not ready for her to grow up.  And yet it's happening, faster every day.

8.  I asked Thing 2 what she has learned this week. She laughs and tells me a new word: Camel hottie.  And I don't want to know what it means.

What would you do if your mother asked you?