5.23.2012
A Happy to Be Gluten Free Recipe: BBQ Chicken Salad
I suppose it's cheating to post this recipe on the blog, but I have no shame...I'm posting it anyway. This recipe is hardly new or inventive or complex. It's as simple as it gets, but it's healthy, easy, gluten free, and dairy free. It just doesn't get any better than that at our house!
BBQ Chicken Salad
chicken breasts
Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce
lettuce
canned black beans
canned corn
tomatoes
olives
onions
cheese
tortilla chips
Ranch salad dressing
more BBQ sauce
sour cream
avocado
WHATEVER you like on your salad!
In the morning, throw a few chicken breasts in the crock pot along with some Sweet Baby Ray's BBQ sauce (gluten free!). Set on low and fuh-get-about-it.
As dinner time approaches, set all your salad toppings in bowls on the table. Rinse the beans and corn after opening and draining the cans. Chop up the tomatoes, grate the cheese, mix up the sour cream. You get the idea.
After sitting in the crock pot all day the chicken is tender and flavorful. Stir it around to shred it up.
Bring it to the table and dinner is served. Everyone can make their salad to their own liking.
Personally, I like to skip the cheese, olives, and sour cream (more calories than I need by dinnertime). Instead I mix together a little BBQ sauce and Ranch in a small bowl and spread it over my salad. It makes a great salad dressing. (Obviously those who are dairy free need to skip the Ranch and cheese.) I also crush tortilla chips over the top to give it a little extra crunch. Lots of tomatoes and black beans for me and my tummy is happy. As is my daily calorie allowance too.
5.22.2012
Jar Love #47: Homemade Sugar Scrub for Mothers' Day Gifts
When I was looking for Mothers' Day gift ideas a couple of weeks ago, my love of jars may or may not have influenced my search results.
Homemade sugar scrub...? In canning jars...??
Yes. Please. And thank you!
The truth: I
So I figured I would give it a go. I found a recipe for homemade lemon sugar scrub. Now to find all the "gourmet" ingredients...
Sugar. As in regular, plain, old, ordinary, baking, table, cereal sugar. Check.
EVOO. Extra virgin olive oil. Check.
Lemon juice. Bottled. Check.
Essential oils. Screeeech!
After a tad more research I discovered essential oils can be obtained at your local natural/health food store. One quick "Kids! To the van!" later...I had some essential oils in my hot little hand. Lavender. Mmmm.
Back home and about 2.41 minutes later I had my own resealable jar full of homemade lemon sugar scrub. Fresh, fragrant, and fully capable of exfoliating all that yucky skin off my hands and feet. I tried it out on my scaly legs too and it worked beautifully! Smooth, satiny, and rejuvinated with lemon and lavender!
Side note: Someone mentioned that sugar scrub was good to shave with. I don't know if I was doing something wrong or if I'm just a wimp, but after one swipe with the razor...I have come to the conclusion that you should indeed NOT shave with sugar scrub. OUCH!
Armpit note: Scrub is not to be used on your face either. Facial skin is much too delicate.
After making my own jar of scrub I was hooked. The world must know of the goodness of homemade sugar scrub! I went on to make a couple of quadrupled batches in my big popcorn bowl. My childen kept begging for a taste as I giddily stirred my sugar, EVOO, lemon juice, and essential oils concoctions.
25 eight ounce canning jars later...
...I had Mothers' Day gifts for the moms of the primary children of our ward, thank yous for Teacher Appreciation Week, and more Mothers' Day gifts for our own moms, grandmas, and friends.
The beauty of homemade sugar scrub (besides the obvious eye appeal of it sitting on the counter in a clear canning jar) is how easy it is to make, adjust, and personalize. Don't like lemon or lavender? No problem! Try peppermint instead. Or vanilla. Or use brown sugar instead of white. Or switch out the EVOO for grapeseed oil. You really can't go wrong with this. There are tons of free recipes online for homemade sugar scrubs.
Once you have your jars filled, decorate and personalize your containers to your heart's desire. Again, if you're feeling creatively flat, go online for lots of decorating ideas. For my jars, I used a big circle paper punch to cut out circles of lemony yellow scrapbook paper. I applied it to the jar front and lid top with Modge Podge.
I figured there might be other people out there who are as clueless as I was about sugar scrubs so I added a label as well as a tag with the scrub ingredients, an explanation of what it was, how much to use, and to make sure to stir it up before each use.
Recipe for Homemade Lemon Sugar Scrub (makes 12 oz with a bit to spare):
2.5 cups sugar
1 cup EVOO
4 TBSP lemon juice
several drops of essential oil
Combine ingredients in bowl. Mix thoroughly into a gritty paste. Pour into desired container. Seal tightly. Oil will separate as it sits; make sure to stir again before each use.
I know I'm a little late for Mothers' Day now, but this would make a great baby shower favor, an addition to a new mother basket, a thank you for the church ladies, or a "just because I was thinking of you" treat. And don't leave yourself out! Whip up a batch and spoil your own hands once in awhile. Especially after you've covered them in gardening grime, pasty paint, or crafting crud.
5.21.2012
Dance Biscuits
Child #2, Jeigh, had her end of the year dance recital on Saturday. This girl is a born performer. She loves to dance and sing and be on the stage, whether the stage is in our living room or in the school auditorium. She may not be the best dancer or singer, but she shows no fear in her happy and carefree exhibitionism. I admire her bravery and hope she never loses it.
At her Saturday recital, her little dance group performed two numbers. We could see that her too-long dance pants were becoming rather troublesome during the first dance. As I kneeled in front of the stage recording the second dance, I could see she was becoming distressed with her pants. She kept stepping on the bottoms and almost de-pantsed herself several times. Her face showed her frustration and panic. I wanted to help her desperately, but there just wasn't anything to be done until the dance number was over and she was off the stage.
Finally, she looked down into the audience and saw me wearing my most reassuring grin. Her face lit up and she instantly forgot about her slouchy pants. What a proud mommy I was to see my little girl overcome her little trial and move forward with confidence. I couldn't help getting a little teary eyed as she finished her dance with flair. (I know, I know. I'm a big boob.)
The big parent payday came when she, the last one off the stage, shot me an "I love you" sign along with her most dazzling smile! Golly, I love that girl! And I'm so grateful for her vivacious, loving, joyful spirit in our family!
At her Saturday recital, her little dance group performed two numbers. We could see that her too-long dance pants were becoming rather troublesome during the first dance. As I kneeled in front of the stage recording the second dance, I could see she was becoming distressed with her pants. She kept stepping on the bottoms and almost de-pantsed herself several times. Her face showed her frustration and panic. I wanted to help her desperately, but there just wasn't anything to be done until the dance number was over and she was off the stage.
Finally, she looked down into the audience and saw me wearing my most reassuring grin. Her face lit up and she instantly forgot about her slouchy pants. What a proud mommy I was to see my little girl overcome her little trial and move forward with confidence. I couldn't help getting a little teary eyed as she finished her dance with flair. (I know, I know. I'm a big boob.)
The big parent payday came when she, the last one off the stage, shot me an "I love you" sign along with her most dazzling smile! Golly, I love that girl! And I'm so grateful for her vivacious, loving, joyful spirit in our family!
5.19.2012
Summer, of the 1998 Variety
Joe is coming home today! He's been out of town all week and I can't help but laugh at myself as I clean the house from top to bottom in preparation for his arrival. When we were dating, I used to spend hours getting myself pretty for him. Almost 9 years of marriage later and I spend hours getting the house pretty for him. Either way...I'm out a few hours.
I like to listen to Pandora when I'm cleaning. Today, I set it on the "Moves Like Jagger" station and bustled about wiping and vacuuming like a crazy woman. Usually this station plays peppy, Top 40, energy-inducing kind of songs. Today it took a different direction and escorted me on a trip back to Summer 1998.
That was quite the summer.
17 years old.
I worked at a boy scout summer camp.
This was the first time I was away from my parents for any kind of an extended amount of time.
It was also the first time I was around...*gulp*...boys. At least boys I wasn't related to.
I met a lot of really interesting people...(*gulp*...boys).
I grew out my bangs.
Lost 30 pounds.
Learned about "ska" music and eyeliner.
"Broke up" with my best friend over a lot of silly stuff.
Experienced my first kiss.
Endured my second kiss.
Listened to the "Romeo + Juliet" soundtrack over and over again until the CD skipped from being overplayed.
Summer 1998...
Now there's a story worth telling...
If I could just get over the awkward, the "soooo highschool", the embarrassment of doing and saying stupid things just for the sake of being young and stupid.
I like to listen to Pandora when I'm cleaning. Today, I set it on the "Moves Like Jagger" station and bustled about wiping and vacuuming like a crazy woman. Usually this station plays peppy, Top 40, energy-inducing kind of songs. Today it took a different direction and escorted me on a trip back to Summer 1998.
That was quite the summer.
17 years old.
I worked at a boy scout summer camp.
This was the first time I was away from my parents for any kind of an extended amount of time.
It was also the first time I was around...*gulp*...boys. At least boys I wasn't related to.
I met a lot of really interesting people...(*gulp*...boys).
I grew out my bangs.
Lost 30 pounds.
Learned about "ska" music and eyeliner.
"Broke up" with my best friend over a lot of silly stuff.
Experienced my first kiss.
Endured my second kiss.
Listened to the "Romeo + Juliet" soundtrack over and over again until the CD skipped from being overplayed.
Summer 1998...
Now there's a story worth telling...
If I could just get over the awkward, the "soooo highschool", the embarrassment of doing and saying stupid things just for the sake of being young and stupid.
5.17.2012
Happiness is...
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...cheese quesadillas for lunch. |
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...anticipating the first visit from the Tooth Fairy! |
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...sharing a bowl of watermelon with your best buddy. |
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...feeling skinny. |
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...not being too busy to stop and watch the little things. |
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...a bucket and a baby. |
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...still thinking its cool to be "twinners" with your Mom/daughter. |
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...canning jars filled with homemade goodies. |
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...zzzzzzzzzzzz. |
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...the "shy one" being the bravest about the pony rides. |
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...3 year olds in pseudo hot pants and GoGo boots. |
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...thrift store treasures! |
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...being grounded from the Wii. |
5.16.2012
Guest Blogger: "I am Not the Kind of Person to Sit Around Waiting for a Baby to Come"
I woke at 4:17 am with some contractions. They were not bad at all but got me excited so I laid in bed timing the contractions at 8-10 minutes apart. Around 4:45 I got up and did some laundry. I finished packing the bags, got ready for the day, plugged in the camera, video camera, and my cell phone… meanwhile tracking my contractions with the iPad at around 6 minutes apart. I had arranged with Christy (sister in law) to tape the birth so I texted her and she was ready to go at the drop of a hat. When I had Micah, I started contracting at 4:45 am and lost my plug around 7:00 am I was waiting for my plug to come before I got too concerned about heading up to the hospital.
By 8:30 the contractions were consistent. I was busy around the house and would yell to Tyler “START!” and he was clocking them at 2-6 minutes apart. I called Dr. Clifford (who was on vacation) to tell him but felt ridiculous because as soon as I hung up the contractions came to a dead stop and he was in Yellowstone so it wasn’t like he could have done anything anyway. Christy showed up and still no contractions.
We (Christy, Tyler and I) took Micah to daycare then headed to some stores to get supplies for our mutual activity that night. I figured the walking would help get the contractions going again. Still nothing. I asked Tyler to take me to work so I could finish up some stuff I had been working on the day before. He asked if I wanted him to stay with me but I didn’t because I already felt like him and Christy had been following me around like I was on suicide watch or something.
My boss had us employees come in for a powwow since we figured the baby was coming soon. I ended up stepping out of that meeting a couple of times to have contractions out in the hall. I would step out, stand in the hall feet shoulder width apart, and rock. Breathing in for three rocks, breathing out for three rocks. The contraction would end and I would step back into the meeting. A couple times I was mid sentence and I would just stop turn and go into the hall. I wasn’t timing them so I wasn’t aware of how close they were coming.
My biggest fear always has been and always will be, that I will be that woman who comes running into the hospital yelling, "I’m in labor! This baby is coming! Why isn’t anyone doing anything?!" Then they will check me, lean around my stirrupped spread legs and say, “Mrs. Gilbert, you are at a one. We are just going to have you head home for a bit, you poor excuse for a child bearing woman, and try to walk around till you get a little…or a lot more dilated. Alrighty mmm hm okay?” *snap off gloves* Due to this fear I tell myself, "It’s got to get worse, suck it up woman, you are not going in yet, your baby will be prettier if you wait three more contractions." You know, encouraging things like that. Anyway…
Tyler asked if I wanted to come to lunch with him, Christy, and Travis. I told him that the contractions were starting to make me sick to my stomach so I didn’t want to go eat and be contracting in a restaurant. As soon as I said “Just go without me and come get me when you are done” the contractions seemed to step it up a notch. I would rock and dig my finger tips into the small of my back to relieve some of the pressure.
I got scared at this point. I had gone through a lot of mental preparation to have this baby natural and pain free but these were hurting and I felt like I was losing focus. I was tired because I had been up since 4 and I started to get weak and think about how easy it would be to get the epidural. I had to remind myself that my discomfort was worth it to give this little girl a drug free entrance into this world.
I texted Tyler again asking him to come get me ASAP. When he got there, the contractions were really painful and coming every few minutes in fact I got in the car then got right back out again to have a contraction. While I was contracting, Erin (my sister) called. So just as a point of reference, I work at Gateway Financial on the corner of Cedar and Pole Line. I started talking to Erin while Tyler headed down Pole Line to Tammy’s house to drop Travis off. We got out of the parking lot and I started explaining to Erin that I had not lost my plug yet so I must not be that dilated. She told me that not everyone loses their plug in one big mass. Good thing I have sisters to educate me.
We had only gone one block when I started another contraction so I got off the phone with her as Tyler pulled into the V1 propane on the corner of Pole Line and Alameda. I finished the contraction then straightened up. I heard a popping noise and water came gushing down my leg. I felt her drop down and her head hit my pelvis.
I said, “My water just broke this baby is coming NOW! We need to go to the hospital!” Tyler said, “Travis can you walk the rest of the way?” Travis jumped out and I think was more than willing to get out of the situation. Ha ha! I kneeled on the front passenger seat facing backward. Tyler pulled out of the parking lot and headed down Alameda. Before we even reached the grade school I felt another contraction and I felt her head pushing down between my legs. I said “Tyler her head is RIGHT there!” I felt him speed up.
Another contraction, I put my hand between my legs and encouraged her head NOT to come out. When a contraction came, I would bury my head in the head rest try to will her not to come. Christy said she thinks I bit the headrest at one point. Ha ha! When I was not contracting I was planning and thinking about how best to deal with the situation. I could feel Tyler swerving around cars and hear him talking about lights being red. I was hugging the head rest and thinking about what will happen when we get to the hospital because there is no way I will be able to stand up.
The contractions were coming fast and I was trying to resist the urge to push but at a certain point your body takes over and does what it needs to do in order to accomplish the goal. Another contraction, the fact is made know to me that in the next contraction her head is coming out. I told Tyler, “You’ve got to pull over this baby is coming out and I need your help.”
Tyler told Christy to call 911 and she was right on it. I pulled my shorts down around my knees and put my hand between my legs in time to feel her head come out. Tyler got into a parking spot and I said, “I have her head in my hand” He ran around the car and ripped open the door as I heard Christy giving the address to the 911 operator. I thought to myself “How on earth did Christy just KNOW the address of where we are!?” Then my thoughts were ripped back to the situation at hand…or literally, IN hand.
Christy was instructed to give the phone to Tyler so the operator could talk Tyler through the delivery but when Tyler saw her head and the rest of her body coming out he threw the phone back and said, “I can’t talk right now, she’s coming!” Then with my hand on her head and Tyler’s hands on her body with one last contraction she made her grand entrance.
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Labor and Delivery gown |
They had me hold onto her until the ambulance and paramedics arrived minutes later. I just rubbed her, stroked her nose, and tried to keep her warm. It was such a beautiful thing to be able to be the very first person to touch her, to hold her. Mine was the first voice she heard and I wasn’t screaming or swearing or telling Tyler this was all his fault. Tyler and I were there as husband and wife with the newest member of our family. We had done it together and grown stronger as a couple because of that. He trusted me to listen to my body and I trusted him to not wreck while speeding and running red lights and I trusted him to catch her.
I was able to flip over in the seat so I was laying down. They took my vitals and brought the gurney over. The guy said, “Ok we are going to move you over to the gurney so we can load you into the ambulance.” I didn’t even think about it I just wrapped the towel they had cleaned the baby off with around my waist and got out of the car and over onto the gurney. The paramedics were like, “Well, WE were going to move you over, but that works.”
They buckled me in and said, “So what are we going to name this baby?” I didn’t think about it and just said, “Her name is Oakley”. I heard some approving sounds then I heard clapping. They loaded me into the ambulance and Tyler came in with a phone saying that Officer Marchand insisted on a picture of the baby because he’d been doing this for 28 years and never seen anything like this and everyone was going to be asking if he’d gotten a picture.
Christy drove the CR-V, Tyler sat next to me in the ambulance, and Oakley was at my head in the paramedic’s lap. I felt calm and in control the entire time. At no point did I feel that dreaded sinking feeling of “what if” that people often talk about. I knew that between my preparation to have the least invasive natural birth and the protection of the Lord that we had done fine and we were going to be fine. I am sure the adrenaline flowing through my veins like cocaine was also helpful in this euphoric feeling.
We arrived at the hospital where they asked how we were doing and decided to bypass the ER because everyone seemed to be good so we headed straight up to labor and delivery. On Monday night Tyler and I had come to the hospital to attend a maternity social. The class was instruction on where to come into the hospital when you were in labor, how to check in, they showed us the rooms we would be in, etc. Needless to say, that was NOT the route we took to get to labor and delivery. Ha ha!
Since Dr. Clifford was out of town, Dr. Burton was the on call doctor for the office. He arrived--a bit flustered it seemed--but soon settled into routine and was joking around as he assessed the situation. They announced Oakley’s birth weight as 7 pounds, 13 ounces and birth length 20 inches. I asked her to repeat herself because if I had heard correctly she was more than a pound lighter than Micah and 2 inches shorter. I hadn’t expected that.
I still had to deliver the placenta and was more then ready to get that process started. Dr. Burton was allowing the resident OB to do this until he saw how much pain this inexperienced student was putting me through. I think the resident was used to working with women who had had epidurals and had no feeling below the waist. I could definitely feel each harsh aggressive movement as he pushed and poked and even dug to get the placenta out. Finally Dr. Burton took pity on me and took over. Within minutes he told me to give a big "heave ho!" and we got it out. Then he sewed me up. I didn’t tear as bad as I did with Micah but there was still some reconstructive work to do. While they were sewing me up someone said, “Did we happen to get a time of birth for this baby?” Uh…no. We looked at what time we called 911...1:14 and added five minutes to that. Time of birth: 1:19 pm.
The nurse brought Oakley over and said her temperature was a little low and they wanted to do skin to skin to get her warmed up. I looked down to take my shirt off and realized what a mess it was. One of my favorite maternity shirts and it was covered in blood and birth. I took it off and realized, Oh my gosh! Our car! The seat! This warm day…heating up the car! Oh yuck! I started talking about it and the nurse said, “Now don’t you worry about that. You have this little baby and she is perfect. Just worry about that later.”
A nurse came in and said she had a funny story for me. She had been down in the ER when a patient said to her, “Did a woman just have her baby in the City Hall parking lot?” The nurse said she hadn’t heard anything about it at that point. Just after that they received the call that the ambulance was headed in with a mom and baby that was delivered in the City Hall parking lot. The nurse went back to the patient and asked how he’d known about it. The guy said someone heard it over the police scanner and posted it up on this Internet news site, then it sent him as a notification on his phone of the most up to date news. The nurse thought it was pretty funny but I was just in shock. It is odd how quickly my personal life can travel without me knowing or having a say.
Tyler came and told me he’d just gotten off the phone with Mom and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears. I guess she had texted me and stopped by the office and couldn’t find me. Then within minutes, she received a text from Tyler saying "we’d had the baby, mom and baby were fine, baby born in car". Ha ha! Needless to say, Mom was a little concerned. She came into the room minutes later and started to cry. She came to my bedside and said, “Don‘t do that to me!” It was good to have her there. In surreal situations, mom always seems to ground me and bring me back to Earth.
She asked if we had settled on "Oakley" and I said, “Yep, 'Oakley Deena'.” I don’t think we had told Mom we were thinking about naming our daughter after her so she started to cry again and was waving her hand in front of her face like she was swatting flies. I heard Tyler talking to Christy and asked what was up. Apparently his mom and Nicole did not believe that Oakley had been born in the car. Tyler was trying to convince them.
We were told we had some visitors and in walked Officer Marchand and Officer Johnson! They said they had just come to see how things were going and make sure we were good. He said there was already an email going around telling the story. He complimented me on how calm I had been and talked about how so much bad stuff happens in his job it is really nice to see something good happen. He told us that someone back at the office told him to let us know they thought we should name the baby "Justice". Good thought…but not gonna happen.
We took some pictures with them and let them hold the baby. I asked if either of them had known Officer Dan Gilbert. Officer Marchand said he had worked with him for a while. I pointed to Tyler and said, "This is his son." Officer Marchand held Oakley up and with a bit of emotion said, “So, this is Dan’s baby granddaughter.” I looked over at Mom and all the sudden she was "swatting flies" left and right!
The Portneuf PR lady came into the room and said, “Well, news travels fast! Now this is totally up to you and my job is to support your decision and help protect you if need be. I have four news sources that would like to come get your story.” I just laughed out loud and thought, Wow it must be a slow news day for Pocatello. Tyler and I agreed to have them come around 4 pm. Mom ran to get Micah from daycare and I ate some lunch.
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Photography by Idaho State Journal |
After the interview we all just sat in the room for a while soaking everything in. Then we moved to recovery, Room 226. I looked at my phone and had eight texts from different people asking what was going on and what happened. Including one from Dr. Clifford that said, “You bad girl!” I had to call Kay to let her know I had gotten the stuff for the Young Women's activity but she said they were probably just going to head up to the hospital to see us. Natalie Houghton (a friend from the ward) stopped by. I made some other phone calls to family. Travis came, then Tammy and Shayla. While they were there, Dad came.
Nursery stopped in to get her for a bath so Tyler and I kicked everyone out and went to watch. Her short dark hair turned into long light hair! So, so much hair! The young women came and gave me a blanket they had tied. When they left I ate dinner. Rachel Thomas came around nine. We watched the news story then visited til ten. The nursery came to take her away for her hearing test and said they would keep her until she woke to eat. Tyler headed home.
Alone…Alone for the first time in what felt like eternity! I was so tired yet the second I rolled over to sleep the day started reeling though my head and I was wide awake. I laid there for what seemed like forever but was only about a half hour and I fell asleep.
The whole day was crazy. Looking back now, I realize those contractions that I was suffering in silence in the hall at work, that were making me sick, that was transition labor. I realize now, that my body doesn’t do "false labor". It may take a break but it isn’t giving up. I realize that not all laboring is the same, even in the same woman. I realize that with my next baby, when I feel pain in my back, I am having am likely having a baby within six hours. I realize that some people really think me foolish for even going in to work when I was feeling contractions, but they had stopped and I am not the kind of person to sit around waiting for a baby to come. I have things to do.
Of all the things I have come to realize, this is what I realize the most: Women have been having babies for centuries. It is the most natural trauma we can put our bodies through. Our female structures KNOW how to deal with a four, seven, or ten pound ball coming out of a once very small opening. If we just relax and have faith in the strength that we have within us, it will happen. You just do what needs to be done.
5.15.2012
Jar Love #76: Homemade Taco Seasoning
Hi. My name is Evelyn. And I am addicted to jars. More specifically canning jars. Even more specifically, canning jars of the Kerr, Mason, and Ball persuasion. And if you want to get very specific, antique jars just about send me over the edge.
It's not a sickness.
They're useful. And pretty. And really useful in so many ways. And really pretty. In so many ways.
(Am I the only weirdo out there who's heart starts racing a bit at the sight of glass jars? Come on, fellow jar addicts. Give a girl a little love.)
Don't get the obsession? Allow me to share one of the uses for those empty jars: homemade taco seasoning!
For years I have purchased ready-made taco seasoning in the little packets as well as in bulk to make tacos, nachos, burritos, taco soup, etc. But it finally dawned on me recently (and more recently than I care to share) that the ready-made taco seasoning often has dairy and wheat ingredients, besides a whole bunch of other unmentionable stuff. Big no-nos for dairy allergies, Celiac Disease, and dieting.
I have to admit (for I am full of confessions today) that I initially assumed we would no longer be able to enjoy Mexican food as a family. Welp. Add one more thing to the "can't" list. *grumble*
Did you know you can make your own taco seasoning???
I didn't.
In hindsight, I feel pretty silly admitting that I didn't know you could make your own taco seasoning. Really, I'm not stupid. Way back when I had a 3.7 GPA and I did get a 28 on my ACTs. Both times I took it. But sheesh, I can be pretty slow about things sometimes.
Enough about me and my molasses brain...(By the way, I blame the kids. They sucked the smarts right out of me with each pregnancy and all the subsequent sleep deprivation. I sure hope they enjoy all those brains I utilized once upon a time.)
Homemade taco seasoning! You can find lots of recipes out there in Google Land. From the gourmet to the budget savvy. Here's the link for the one I am using lately. It's not too spicy for the kids. Plus, this blogger comes from the same mold I do. That being the jar obsessed mold.
Homemade Taco Seasoning Mix:
1/2 cup chili powder
1/4 cup onion powder
1/8 cup ground cumin
1 Tablespoon garlic powder
1 Tablespoon paprika
1 Tablespoon kosher salt
Dump all your taco seasoning mix ingredients in the jar, shake, and store in your cupboard. Use 3 TBSP of mix per pound of ground beef.
No stress! No mess! No waste! And it just looks so cute! At least to this "jar head".
More jar love to come...Mother's Day Sugar Scrub!
5.14.2012
I Wear Running Shoes to Therapy
I started running last year because I was fat.
And I was fat because...Well, I'm still figuring that one out. But don't worry about me; I'm working through it with the help of therapy.
I see my therapist 3 to 4 times a week. And I always wear my running shoes. A ponytail. And spandex.
My therapist doesn't talk much. She just listens as my brain sifts to the rhythm of my running shoes hitting the pavement. Some days "therapy" is just getting away from the kids, the house, the daily grind. Running mindlessly to loud, pumping music. My mind idling on song lyrics, craft projects, to do lists.
But some days--like today--we have break-throughs.
Today I ran past a wild rose bush. Cheery red and yellow blossoms snagged my peripheral vision. They flagged my memories down and instantly conjured a childhood image.
A daddy daughter date.
A Saturday morning. I don't know how old I was, but lucky me, I was going to go to a church breakfast with my dad. Just him and me.
Dressed up, we stood next to the wild rose bush that grew in our backyard. Near the grey bricks of the garage. The bush was wild and prickly and repulsive most of the year. But every spring, it imparted a peace offering: hundreds of bright, happy red and yellow blossoms.
I could smell the sun baked blossoms as we posed for a quick picture. My mom was there too. I remember her breaking off a few flowers to place jauntily in my dad's pocket. And a few blossoms to tuck behind my ear. Fragile, homemade boutonnieres for our special date.
Like the brilliantly colored petals, everyone was cheerful. The excitement of this petite rite of passage imprinted on my young mind accompanied by the sight and fragrance of floral reds and yellows.
This vivid memory, a memory I haven't reflected on in years, flooded my mind within milliseconds of catching sight of the bush. As I rushed past the blossoms, the warm, musty smell of sun baked wild roses waved me on, patting my back, and sealing in the reminiscence.
As I continued on my running path, savoring this cherished memory, I marveled at how quickly it had risen to my conscience. At how vivid it was. And again at how swiftly my mind and heart synchronized afterwards.
And just like that something gave way within me. Almost physically I felt it.
Forgiveness.
It was an instance where the circumstances of the moment harmonized. The music on my playlist was rather melancholy. I was feeling particularly receptive after being worn down by the effort of the first few miles. This was the one and only wild rose bush seen on my entire four mile journey.
There was a release. Of hurt, of anger, of bitterness. A grudge held against parents who made so many mistakes, left back on the trail, laid down to rest next to the rose bush. It was a sudden and enlightening realization that all parents are guilty of negligence and error as they struggle to find their way through parenthood. That there was no point in making them suffer for it anymore. Whether they realized I was doing it or not. Whether I realized I was doing it or not. And a hope that my own children would be kinder to me than I had been on my own mom and dad as I would inevitably have my own grievous faults in raising children.
All that from running.
I started running because I was fat. I keep running because I am healing my body, mind, and soul.
(And it's a heckuva alot cheaper than seeing a real therapist.)
5.13.2012
Happy Smothers' Day!
This morning I was lovingly greeted by an enthusiastic 5 year old daughter.
"Happy Smothers' Day, Mommy!"
She quickly corrected herself, but I kind of liked it better the first way.
We mothers, we like to smother. We will smother and cuddle and hug and kiss and and nag and worry and adore and cheer and support and loveloveLOVE you from the very first moment we hold you in our arms to our very last dying breath. And it's high time we received some appreciation for the smotherers we are.
So to all you smotherers out there...Happy Smothers' Day! May your day be absolutely overflowing with reciprocated smothering!
5.08.2012
"Them Riley Women"
My husband and the husbands of my sisters have a little term for the women in my family.
If my mom, two sisters, or I do or say something a tad crazy, maybe a little hardcore, perhaps rather remarkable, they just roll their eyes knowingly at each other, give a little sigh, and mumble something about "them Riley Women".
Our reputation precedes us.
It's my mom's fault. She started it. Her own mother passed away when she was only three years old. She was raised by a gruff dad and four older brothers. Resiliency, hard work, and "hard core" just came with the territory. Self reliance and determination flow through her veins.
Which makes it genetic. Or so I can see in my sisters. They are just like my mom. They work harder and longer than any one else. They create solutions. They generate fresh ideas. They make intricate plans. They build things with their bare hands. They garden and can and sew. They go and do. And do so quietly and without public accolades.
Me?? Umm...I kind of took after my dad. We like to entertain people. We listen to loud music and have fun and work to make people feel welcome and loved. Which are all important qualities too.
There's some of my mom in me. In fact, I have a pretty good balance of the two. I'm very blessed that way. My parents both have great strengths that make them wonderful people and lucky me, I got a genetic dollop from both.
But I dropped out of the Super Woman marathon in my family long ago. The white flag has been thrown. I'm painfully aware that I will never be quite as amazing and ambitious as my mom and sisters are. It really used to bother me--it still does sometimes--but I hope that I've matured enough now that I can sit back and just enjoy what wonderful women they are, as well as embrace the wonderful--and different--woman that I am.
So what was the dividing barrier? The great sifter between the "wonderful women" and the "Super Women"?
Child birth.
They have 'em natural. I don't. I've tried, but between a stubborn body, painfully long inductions, moving schedules, plane schedules, pure ignorance, etc, I've never been able to make it happen.
I greatly admire--with varying shades of jealousy--my sisters each time they emerge from glorious natural birth experiences. They are so strong willed and amazing. Seeing them walk through the valley of the near-death shadow of natural childbirth, unscathed, leaves me feeling rather inferior and just plain "wonderful" instead of "Super".
Whatever. Enough about me. This is no pity party.
This is a birth day party because one of "them Riley Women" just went and did something today that sets the Riley Women bar at a whole new level. She gave birth to her baby in a car in the Hometown, Idaho City Hall parking lot!!!
How do you ever top that?! Unless you have twins on a boat in the middle of a snow storm...you don't. See why I forfeited long ago?
My mom and sisters are incredible! I admire them all for their strength, courage, and pure unadulterated ambition and I'm grateful to be their sister and daughter. I mean, really, these are the kind of people you want to surround yourself with in a crisis or the end of the world. I'm set for life. ;)
Congratulations to both of my little sisters for bringing into the world a whole new generation of "them Riley Women"!
Welcome to the world little Evalett (April 24, 2012) daughter of Erin and Kip...
And little Oakley (May 8, 2012) daughter of Camille and Tyler!
P.S. Here's a little fun "Them Riley Women" fact... There are three girls in my family (and two boys, but they don't count right now). All three of us girls each had a firstborn son and then a second born daughter. Each of those second born daughters was born 4 days from each of their respective fathers' birthdays. Pretty sweet, huh?
P.P.S. And, suuuure, maybe both my sisters can give birth naturally, but I still win the prize for biggest babies! Take that, sissies! :P
If my mom, two sisters, or I do or say something a tad crazy, maybe a little hardcore, perhaps rather remarkable, they just roll their eyes knowingly at each other, give a little sigh, and mumble something about "them Riley Women".
Our reputation precedes us.
It's my mom's fault. She started it. Her own mother passed away when she was only three years old. She was raised by a gruff dad and four older brothers. Resiliency, hard work, and "hard core" just came with the territory. Self reliance and determination flow through her veins.
Which makes it genetic. Or so I can see in my sisters. They are just like my mom. They work harder and longer than any one else. They create solutions. They generate fresh ideas. They make intricate plans. They build things with their bare hands. They garden and can and sew. They go and do. And do so quietly and without public accolades.
Me?? Umm...I kind of took after my dad. We like to entertain people. We listen to loud music and have fun and work to make people feel welcome and loved. Which are all important qualities too.
There's some of my mom in me. In fact, I have a pretty good balance of the two. I'm very blessed that way. My parents both have great strengths that make them wonderful people and lucky me, I got a genetic dollop from both.
But I dropped out of the Super Woman marathon in my family long ago. The white flag has been thrown. I'm painfully aware that I will never be quite as amazing and ambitious as my mom and sisters are. It really used to bother me--it still does sometimes--but I hope that I've matured enough now that I can sit back and just enjoy what wonderful women they are, as well as embrace the wonderful--and different--woman that I am.
So what was the dividing barrier? The great sifter between the "wonderful women" and the "Super Women"?
Child birth.
They have 'em natural. I don't. I've tried, but between a stubborn body, painfully long inductions, moving schedules, plane schedules, pure ignorance, etc, I've never been able to make it happen.
I greatly admire--with varying shades of jealousy--my sisters each time they emerge from glorious natural birth experiences. They are so strong willed and amazing. Seeing them walk through the valley of the near-death shadow of natural childbirth, unscathed, leaves me feeling rather inferior and just plain "wonderful" instead of "Super".
Whatever. Enough about me. This is no pity party.
This is a birth day party because one of "them Riley Women" just went and did something today that sets the Riley Women bar at a whole new level. She gave birth to her baby in a car in the Hometown, Idaho City Hall parking lot!!!
How do you ever top that?! Unless you have twins on a boat in the middle of a snow storm...you don't. See why I forfeited long ago?
My mom and sisters are incredible! I admire them all for their strength, courage, and pure unadulterated ambition and I'm grateful to be their sister and daughter. I mean, really, these are the kind of people you want to surround yourself with in a crisis or the end of the world. I'm set for life. ;)
Congratulations to both of my little sisters for bringing into the world a whole new generation of "them Riley Women"!
Welcome to the world little Evalett (April 24, 2012) daughter of Erin and Kip...
And little Oakley (May 8, 2012) daughter of Camille and Tyler!
P.S. Here's a little fun "Them Riley Women" fact... There are three girls in my family (and two boys, but they don't count right now). All three of us girls each had a firstborn son and then a second born daughter. Each of those second born daughters was born 4 days from each of their respective fathers' birthdays. Pretty sweet, huh?
P.P.S. And, suuuure, maybe both my sisters can give birth naturally, but I still win the prize for biggest babies! Take that, sissies! :P
5.07.2012
Monday Melancholy
*grumblegroanwhinemoangrouchgrumble*
Ohhhh, it's been a frustrating day.
And I'm not exactly sure why. It's only Monday and I got all the laundry washed, folded, and put away. I did the dishes. Twice. I vacuumed. Three times. I kept the house tidy and neat all day long. We got homework done. I paid bills. I answered phone calls. I organized paper work. I said my prayers. I read scriptures.
I even squeezed in my P90X workout, which I didn't think was going to happen with all the housework and laundry.
A killer day for a mom of four, right?
But for some reason there was very little joy in all of it. Accomplished though it was, I still felt like I was scraping by all day long, just trying to complete something. Anything.
I'm burnt out on P90X and eating healthy.
I'm wondering if there's anything to my life beyond vacuuming floors.
I'm pessimistic about the clean laundry staying in the drawers.
I'm tired of meat and potatoes and veggies, meat and potatoes and veggies, repeat, rinse and repeat, for dinner.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Oh me and my monotonous wonderful little life. What a pity I'm so blessed with so many amazing things, eh?
Good thing I saw this today...
If this guy can do it, with a smile on his face, I can do it without grumbling and complaining.
Happy Monday! Here's to a more joyful Tuesday!
Ohhhh, it's been a frustrating day.
And I'm not exactly sure why. It's only Monday and I got all the laundry washed, folded, and put away. I did the dishes. Twice. I vacuumed. Three times. I kept the house tidy and neat all day long. We got homework done. I paid bills. I answered phone calls. I organized paper work. I said my prayers. I read scriptures.
I even squeezed in my P90X workout, which I didn't think was going to happen with all the housework and laundry.
A killer day for a mom of four, right?
But for some reason there was very little joy in all of it. Accomplished though it was, I still felt like I was scraping by all day long, just trying to complete something. Anything.
I'm burnt out on P90X and eating healthy.
I'm wondering if there's anything to my life beyond vacuuming floors.
I'm pessimistic about the clean laundry staying in the drawers.
I'm tired of meat and potatoes and veggies, meat and potatoes and veggies, repeat, rinse and repeat, for dinner.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
Oh me and my monotonous wonderful little life. What a pity I'm so blessed with so many amazing things, eh?
Good thing I saw this today...
If this guy can do it, with a smile on his face, I can do it without grumbling and complaining.
Happy Monday! Here's to a more joyful Tuesday!
5.06.2012
Your Daily Dose of Vitamin Cee
I know she's mine and that makes me rather partial, but seriously...Isn't she adorable?!
This really has to be the golden age of parenting. Or at least one of countless golden ages of parenting.
Ahhh.
5.05.2012
This is the Man I Married
Joe recently received an end of the year bonus. Woohoo! Extra money?! WOOHOO!!
But what does this man that I married, this father of my children do with that extra money???
Does he buy a new tool?
What about a new recliner?
Does he go blow it on a weekend out with the boys?
How about a new gun?
Maybe a down payment on a motorcycle?
He should spend it on some new clothes for himself.
Or maybe even a night out with his gorgeous wife (hee hee!).
Does he do any of that???
Nope. No. Nada. Not even close. No way.
This is what he does.
He spends three hours shopping around town for a swing set for his children only to bring home the next best thing...
A trampoline!
Then he spends his entire Saturday, his one and only true day off, to set the thing up.
And he even lets the kids help.
And we all know how truly "helpful" a 7, 5, and 3 year old can be.
What a guy! What a dad! We sure love you, Daddy Joe, for being the selfless, committed, loving, giving man you are. (Even if you always pull goofy faces when I take pictures.)
But what does this man that I married, this father of my children do with that extra money???
Does he buy a new tool?
What about a new recliner?
Does he go blow it on a weekend out with the boys?
How about a new gun?
Maybe a down payment on a motorcycle?
He should spend it on some new clothes for himself.
Or maybe even a night out with his gorgeous wife (hee hee!).
Does he do any of that???
Nope. No. Nada. Not even close. No way.
This is what he does.
He spends three hours shopping around town for a swing set for his children only to bring home the next best thing...
A trampoline!
Then he spends his entire Saturday, his one and only true day off, to set the thing up.
And he even lets the kids help.
And we all know how truly "helpful" a 7, 5, and 3 year old can be.
What a guy! What a dad! We sure love you, Daddy Joe, for being the selfless, committed, loving, giving man you are. (Even if you always pull goofy faces when I take pictures.)
5.04.2012
Mental Picture or Just Mental?
There's a little restaurant chain that began in St. George, Utah back in 1997 called Cafe Rio. Maybe you've heard of it. It was new to me until I moved to the Salt Lake City valley in January of 2011. A few weeks after our move I was asked to join a planning committee for a church dinner. "Cafe Rio salads" were one of the options discussed for the menu and desiring to fulfill my duty to this committee, I took it upon myself to do a little field research. The next day I made my way to Cafe Rio, purchased a shredded chicken salad, and...sealed my fate. I've been hooked ever since. (I swear they must slip cocaine into that house dressing.)
Over the years we have moved around a lot. Sometimes it's difficult to feel like a place is "home". So with the intention of making Utah my "home sweet home" I feel it is my civic duty to do as the Romans do, or in this case, do as the Utahans do. I have a moral obligation to make a weekly lunch trip to Cafe Rio. All in the name of being a good neighbor and citizen, mind you. Over the past year and a half I've tried several delicious items on the menu, but I'm always drawn back to the shredded chicken salad. Since I've been on my weight loss journey it's the smaller shredded chicken tostada that satisfies my Cafe Rio craving ("Hold the tortilla, cheese, tortilla strips, and sour cream, please").
But I digress...Confessing my Cafe Rio addiction is not why I came here today. But it was while I was in Cafe Rio, savoring my weekly chicken tostada that I saw something that made an impression on something within me. And here is my clumsy attempt at taking a mental picture of it.
The lunch hour brings people from all walks of life into Cafe Rio, including dozens of police officers. My daughters and I love watching these law enforcers taking a break from their long workday to enjoy a meal. They are relaxed and engaged in casual conversation with people around them. It's pleasant for my children and myself to see these civil servants that we respect in these unfettered circumstances.
As we ate I watched one officer in particular. Something about his arm had piqued my interest. His entire left arm, from shoulder to the wrist, was covered in tattoos. This, I would assume, is a rather unusual signature among law enforcement individuals, especially law enforcement individuals in Mormon Central, Utah. But it wasn't just the permanent sleeve of tattoos. It was the wedding band that gleamed from his ring finger just below the tattoos. And it was the police patch sewn on to the left sleeve of his uniform that hovered above. The wedding ring and civil servant patch sat on either end of the tattoo like bookends.
This arm told a story.
What the story was about, I'm not sure. I don't "speak" tattoo. But I gathered enough from the cover to perceive the poignancy of the tale. I wanted to know more. I couldn't keep my eyes away from him, or more directly, his arm.
An urge came over me. I at least wanted the abridged version of the story. I wanted a picture.
But all I had was my lousy cell phone. I wrestled back and forth in my head whether I impose on this unsuspecting fellow who is trying to eat his lunch and ask for a picture. I began to shake as I worked up the nerve to ask him. How ridiculous. Some silly mom with three noisy little girls asking for a picture of his arm.
But I had to have one.
I worked up the nerve a dozen times. I wimped out eleven and a half times. When he started to get up to go I knew my chance was walking away with him. I seized the moment. I jumped up and asked him if I could take a picture of his arm. What a weirdo. I asked a police office for a picture of his arm.
But what a nice guy, he accommodated. I imagine when he joined the police force he pictured serving his community by catching criminals and rescuing victims. Not posing (with his hand on his heart no less--HIS natural placement, NOT my request) for the Mamarazzi in Cafe Rio.
I hastily snapped the picture and stumbled away. I couldn't stop jittering for the next half hour. I was so anxious I'm not even sure I thanked him for submitting to my awkward appeal. I waited until I had all of my children safely back in the car before I indulged a peek at my picture.
But...no picture. Stupid phone.
I would try to draw his arm for you, but my artistic skills lean towards the cartoonish. A cartoon just wouldn't do this justice. And I am more painfully aware than you that I am floundering as I attempt to take a mental picture here. My vocabulary and thesaurus are failing me today. Overall, I am frustrated by my lack of artistic talent or tools to illustrate to you just why some random police officer's arm made such an impression on my soul today.
And now I've wasted two hours, muddling it all up, trying to explain something that would have taken a moment to photograph and slap on a "Thought this was cool today!" caption. With time and smearing of words, I'm beginning to wonder just why a massive tattoo bordered by symbols of devotion to family and country cast such intense imagery for me today. It's not like I'm some kind of tattoo enthusiast or married to a police office or in the jewelry business.
*Sigh*
I'm just a mom who really likes her Cafe Rio tostadas, who likes to people watch, who wishes she sometimes wore a professional grade camera around her neck instead of a diaper bag, and who appreciates those people who put their lives on the line to serve our community.
(I should really consider renaming this blog "To Make a Short Story, Long...".)
5.03.2012
Our Celiac Disease Story {Part 2}: Happy to Be Gluten Free!
I feel like I'm getting rather obnoxious with all my posts about Celiac and food allergies. This blog is not necessarily a "food blog" nor an "allergy blog". It's just a slice of our life. And since Celiac and food allergies tend to be part of life...it's gonna be on the blog.
I promise to get back to topics other than food and blood tests and diarrhea and such, but indulge me as I write one more post.
Yesterday I wrote about how we discovered that Elle had Celiac Disease. But that's only half of the story. I wanted to share how things have been altered since we have made the necessary life changes in keeping her tummy and body safe and well fed.
I am not what any one would call an "observant mom". It takes me a long time to SEE things in my children and for my brain to make the connections. They say that hindsight is 20/20. It's odd how many things have come into focus since we received Elle's diagnosis of CD and made the move to a gluten free diet.
Elle did not have the typical signs and symptoms of CD. Many kids that are diagnosed are labeled as "failure to thrive" and sickly looking. My kiddo was born weighing 9.6 pounds and she never really slowed down. She's always been at the top of the growth charts. She's a tall kid. She's a pretty healthy looking kid. She didn't complain about stomach aches. She had a lot of energy.
She did have other red flags that I couldn't exactly identify then, but know now that they were screaming at me that something was wrong with my daughter.
For Elle's third birthday I threw her a rock-themed birthday party. As in rocks you pick up off the ground. Not rock and roll. Why would I do such a strange thing? Because I perceived that my little daughter had this thing for rocks. This weird, unexplainable attraction to rocks. She would pick up pebbles from the ground every single time we went outside to play or get in the car and immediately pop them in her mouth. Then she would suck on the rock and roll it around in her mouth. She did this so often that when we would clean out our van we would find dozens and dozens of small stones in her car seat and rolling around on the floor.
At first I figured it was just a toddler thing; little kids like to put things in their mouth. Then I figured she inherited Mommy's love of rocks; I still have my rock collection from when I was a kid. Then I began to worry. In addition to the choking hazard, it just seemed strange. Especially when I would watch her pick up a rock, lick it, dip it in the dirt, and then lick the dirt off the rock. Repeatedly. Strange. I would also catch her trying to lick metal and cement. Really strange.
I mentioned her idiosyncrasies to our pediatrician who tested for an iron deficiency. The tests came back normal. Both the doctor and I figured Elle just had an affinity for rocks. So I embraced her love of rocks, put her down in the will for my rock collection, and put together a rock themed 3rd birthday party.
Since Elle has begun a gluten free diet, I have not seen her eating rocks or licking anything other than the occasional popsicle or sucker. Her little body was trying to tell her and me something and we just weren't picking up on the clues. Now her body is able to absorb the nutrients it needs and it doesn't "ask" her to go eat rocks or dirt anymore. So now what am I supposed to do with this bucket of rocks?
There were other clues. Her hair was stringy and would fall out in bunches every time I brushed her hair. I was almost afraid to brush her hair because I didn't want her to be bald. Her nails grew oddly and very slowly.
Since going gluten free, her hair and nails are much improved.
The biggest symptom that Elle had of Celiac Disease was the "brain fog". My little third-time-is-the-charm baby was the quietest out of all of my children. She hardly ever cried from Day One. She was so sweet and passive and easily satisfied that she became the little wheel that got lost in the crowd where there were much louder and squeakier wheels hogging all the oil.
When she turned 18 months her behavior took a turn for the worst. She was into everything, just like any kid, by 100 times worse. I would cry to my mom and sister, "I don't remember any of the other kids doing this!". She could get into trouble quicker than any toddler I've ever seen. And so quietly too. I didn't even know she was dumping out soap bottles or climbing book shelves or sitting in the toilet until it was too late.
As the months went by, people began to comment about how quiet she was. We just figured she was the "shy one" in our little herd. Maybe she just couldn't get a word in edgewise with her two older, chattier siblings. But with time, her vocabulary and behavior were not improving. She had a hard time computing that there were rules to be followed. Time outs were useless. Spanking was even more futile. I was so frustrated with this little silent child of mine.
Oh, how I wish I had realized what kind of an intimate connection there is between food and brain and body, especially for children.
Even after we received the CD diagnosis I didn't realize that her behavior and lack of verbal development were being impacted by her intolerance to wheat. It wasn't until family and friends started commenting how much Elle was suddenly talking that I clued in. But indeed, shortly after we started the gluten free diet, her vocabulary EXPLODED. It could be coincidental, but I'm inclined to believe that she had been freed from a wheat induced, brain fog prison. Her body and brain were now receiving the nutrition they needed to function and process the world around her.
My husband, bless his heart, is not quite the believer I am. He is suspicious of doctors and feels they like to make up illnesses and problems just to keep the money rolling in. Me? I'm a collapsed-on-the-floor, crying-the-ugly-cry, praising-Jesus believer.
Discovering that Elle has CD may have been one of the more devastating events in our life, but on the other hand it has been one of the more liberating events too. I now understand why my child was doing and not doing certain things. I have the tools to help her on her path of development, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I can be a better mom for my daughter.
And while she is only three and doesn't have much to say on the subject, Elle seems to be happier. She is more social and more capable. She is interacting with the world instead of floating through it, destroying everything in her path.
I'm grateful that she was diagnosed at so young an age. She is very open to dietary changes and new foods right now. She (hopefully) won't remember how amazing a big fat cookie or homemade cinnamon roll tastes when made with "regular" flour. By the time she is dating and going out with friends, it won't be a big deal that she has to be vigilant about what she orders from a menu or eats at a party. Hopefully she won't feel too different about having CD. She'll be able to live an active life free of stomach aches, intestinal issues, infertility, osteoporosis, cancer, diabetes, or many of the other complications that can come with undiagnosed and untreated CD.
To make a very long story, very short: We are HAPPY to be GLUTEN FREE!
I promise to get back to topics other than food and blood tests and diarrhea and such, but indulge me as I write one more post.
Yesterday I wrote about how we discovered that Elle had Celiac Disease. But that's only half of the story. I wanted to share how things have been altered since we have made the necessary life changes in keeping her tummy and body safe and well fed.
I am not what any one would call an "observant mom". It takes me a long time to SEE things in my children and for my brain to make the connections. They say that hindsight is 20/20. It's odd how many things have come into focus since we received Elle's diagnosis of CD and made the move to a gluten free diet.
She did have other red flags that I couldn't exactly identify then, but know now that they were screaming at me that something was wrong with my daughter.
For Elle's third birthday I threw her a rock-themed birthday party. As in rocks you pick up off the ground. Not rock and roll. Why would I do such a strange thing? Because I perceived that my little daughter had this thing for rocks. This weird, unexplainable attraction to rocks. She would pick up pebbles from the ground every single time we went outside to play or get in the car and immediately pop them in her mouth. Then she would suck on the rock and roll it around in her mouth. She did this so often that when we would clean out our van we would find dozens and dozens of small stones in her car seat and rolling around on the floor.
At first I figured it was just a toddler thing; little kids like to put things in their mouth. Then I figured she inherited Mommy's love of rocks; I still have my rock collection from when I was a kid. Then I began to worry. In addition to the choking hazard, it just seemed strange. Especially when I would watch her pick up a rock, lick it, dip it in the dirt, and then lick the dirt off the rock. Repeatedly. Strange. I would also catch her trying to lick metal and cement. Really strange.
I mentioned her idiosyncrasies to our pediatrician who tested for an iron deficiency. The tests came back normal. Both the doctor and I figured Elle just had an affinity for rocks. So I embraced her love of rocks, put her down in the will for my rock collection, and put together a rock themed 3rd birthday party.
Since Elle has begun a gluten free diet, I have not seen her eating rocks or licking anything other than the occasional popsicle or sucker. Her little body was trying to tell her and me something and we just weren't picking up on the clues. Now her body is able to absorb the nutrients it needs and it doesn't "ask" her to go eat rocks or dirt anymore. So now what am I supposed to do with this bucket of rocks?
There were other clues. Her hair was stringy and would fall out in bunches every time I brushed her hair. I was almost afraid to brush her hair because I didn't want her to be bald. Her nails grew oddly and very slowly.
Since going gluten free, her hair and nails are much improved.
The biggest symptom that Elle had of Celiac Disease was the "brain fog". My little third-time-is-the-charm baby was the quietest out of all of my children. She hardly ever cried from Day One. She was so sweet and passive and easily satisfied that she became the little wheel that got lost in the crowd where there were much louder and squeakier wheels hogging all the oil.
When she turned 18 months her behavior took a turn for the worst. She was into everything, just like any kid, by 100 times worse. I would cry to my mom and sister, "I don't remember any of the other kids doing this!". She could get into trouble quicker than any toddler I've ever seen. And so quietly too. I didn't even know she was dumping out soap bottles or climbing book shelves or sitting in the toilet until it was too late.
As the months went by, people began to comment about how quiet she was. We just figured she was the "shy one" in our little herd. Maybe she just couldn't get a word in edgewise with her two older, chattier siblings. But with time, her vocabulary and behavior were not improving. She had a hard time computing that there were rules to be followed. Time outs were useless. Spanking was even more futile. I was so frustrated with this little silent child of mine.
Oh, how I wish I had realized what kind of an intimate connection there is between food and brain and body, especially for children.
Even after we received the CD diagnosis I didn't realize that her behavior and lack of verbal development were being impacted by her intolerance to wheat. It wasn't until family and friends started commenting how much Elle was suddenly talking that I clued in. But indeed, shortly after we started the gluten free diet, her vocabulary EXPLODED. It could be coincidental, but I'm inclined to believe that she had been freed from a wheat induced, brain fog prison. Her body and brain were now receiving the nutrition they needed to function and process the world around her.
My husband, bless his heart, is not quite the believer I am. He is suspicious of doctors and feels they like to make up illnesses and problems just to keep the money rolling in. Me? I'm a collapsed-on-the-floor, crying-the-ugly-cry, praising-Jesus believer.
Discovering that Elle has CD may have been one of the more devastating events in our life, but on the other hand it has been one of the more liberating events too. I now understand why my child was doing and not doing certain things. I have the tools to help her on her path of development, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I can be a better mom for my daughter.
And while she is only three and doesn't have much to say on the subject, Elle seems to be happier. She is more social and more capable. She is interacting with the world instead of floating through it, destroying everything in her path.
I'm grateful that she was diagnosed at so young an age. She is very open to dietary changes and new foods right now. She (hopefully) won't remember how amazing a big fat cookie or homemade cinnamon roll tastes when made with "regular" flour. By the time she is dating and going out with friends, it won't be a big deal that she has to be vigilant about what she orders from a menu or eats at a party. Hopefully she won't feel too different about having CD. She'll be able to live an active life free of stomach aches, intestinal issues, infertility, osteoporosis, cancer, diabetes, or many of the other complications that can come with undiagnosed and untreated CD.
To make a very long story, very short: We are HAPPY to be GLUTEN FREE!
5.02.2012
Our Celiac Disease Story {Part 1}: Those Silly Yaks!
Honestly, I can't remember if I have shared our Celiac Disease story on the blog. It's quite possible I did. I have people asking me all the time how I figured out that my 3 year old daughter has Celiac. So I can't remember if I have typed this out in an email, a Facebook bar, a blog post, or just talked to some random stranger in the grocery store. If it was here, forgive me for being redundant.
If it wasn't here...well, it's high time I got this written down, eh? (That and stop talking to strangers in the grocery store.)
The story really begins with my oldest child, Dee. He has had a severe milk allergy, as well as other allergies (shell fish, fish, seasonal, animals) and asthma since he was a brand new baby. We discovered his allergy quite by accident when he was only a few months old. A pediatric allergy specialist and all his high-finagled testing confirmed our suspicions when he was 6 months old. But that's another story for another day.
After parenting this first-born, allergy-ridden kid, I was aware of some of the signs and symptoms of food allergies in children. And I saw some of these signs and symptoms in my third child, Elle.
Early 2011, we had moved to another state and I needed to make contact with a new allergist in the area for Dee. While Elle didn't seem anywhere near as "allergic" as Dee (he has anaphylactic reactions where he swells up and has a hard time breathing when exposed to milk among other things), there were enough signs and symptoms of a food allergy that I wanted to have her tested (dark circles under the eyes, watery eyes, diarrhea, often mucousy diarrhea, dry skin). If for nothing else, it would give me peace of mind. I made her an appointment at the same time I made one for Dee.
The allergist is a busy lady so it wasn't until early Fall of 2011 that we finally found ourselves sitting in an exam room. Both children were tested via skin testing for food allergies. Dee was retested to see if he had outgrown any of his, which he had! (Add fish and shellfish back on to our meal plans! Yes!) Yet, he still tested highly sensitive to milk. Bummer.
When Elle's skin testing came back negative for all the major food allergies (including wheat by the way) I was surprised. I just felt that something was amiss with my little 3 year old. Call it a hunch. Call it Mother's Intuition. Call it Hypochondria.
The doctor suggested we draw blood and do more sensitive testing. Then she asked about Celiac Disease.
Huh???
Was there any family history of Celiac Disease.
Yes. My uncle and his daughter and her daughter.
Well, let's throw that test on there too since we're drawing blood anyway. Can't hurt to just check.
We had Elle's blood drawn and I admit, I walked out of the office wiping the whole incident from my mind. I figured I was just being a hypochondriac mother. There's nothing wrong with my kiddo. Moving on...
A couple of weeks later, it was a Tuesday night. 9 pm. My cell phone rang and I didn't recognize the number. Who would call this late at night?
"Hello, is this Elle's mother? This is Dr. B. I wanted to talk to you about Elle's recent blood tests."
I was caught off guard. Honestly I had hardly remembered she had even had blood drawn.
Then the doctor's voice took on the tone of an adult on a Charlie Brown show.
"Waa waa wah waaaa Waaa waaa. Wa waaaaah Waaaa Wah. Waaah wah waaaah."
Hardly a thing she said registered in my head. Mud. Clear as. Still I found myself nodding and saying the words "Yes, I understand" and "Okay" when a voice inside of me was saying, "Hold up! We DON'T understand! And this is NOT okay!"
She then asked if I had any questions to which I calmly said, "Nope. Thank you." and promptly hung up.
Then the dam broke and the flood rushed forth.
My daughter has tested positive for Celiac. And not only tested positive, but has soaring high numbers. My daughter has Celiac.
Huh???
Several hours of googling, a few flabbergasted Facebook status updates, two teary phone calls, a multitude of prayers, and some grieving for lost life expectations later...
I was ready to begin facing this monstrous thing called "Celiac Disease". Or at least what felt monstrous at the time.
There are mountainous learning curves to climb when adjusting to a gluten free life, but we come from hearty stock. Mountain climbers we shall be. Perhaps whiny, dawdling, stumbling mountain climbers. Yet, still, moving in an upwards and onwards direction.
Several months later we are still learning, but we are finding our groove with wonderful help from our GI doctor, a dietitian, friends and family who struggle with CD as well, and a wealth of information available at our fingertips online.
So while life is a little more complicated these days, it is still very, very good! (And delicious!)
5.01.2012
Happy Celiac Awareness Month!
It's May 1st! You know what that means!
That's right! It's the first day of Celiac Awareness Month!! Woohoo!!
Okay, okay. So I admit I didn't know that either until I saw something on Facebook this morning. But as a mother of a child with Celiac Disease I'm all for jumping on board with an awareness effort. "Celiac Disease" was just something my uncle and his daughter and her daughter had. It was their problem. Too bad if they can't eat what the rest of us are pigging out on at the family reunion. It doesn't affect me.
But in the fall of last year, it became my problem too when my little 3 year old Elle was diagnosed. It's genetic, ya' know? There is suspicion that my grandmother, who died very young, may have had it as well.
Celiac Disease rocked my world. And it wasn't even me that had been diagnosed (although I and all my other children of age have been tested). Over the past several months I have had to embrace all new ways of approaching food. We have had to replace many ingredients in our pantry and diet. I'm learning new ways to plan and prepare meals. I am vigilantly trying to prevent cross-contamination. I am trying new products and foods.
This life style isn't easy. It isn't cheap. But it is doable. Whatever I can do to keep my little one safe, happy, healthy, and well-fed...I will do it.
Now, as for the rest of you...
Not to be a dooms day sayer but with increasing Celiac awareness there is also increasing diagnosis. This is no longer such an uncommon disease. If you or your loved ones have been experiencing any of the symptoms of Celiac Disease, you might want to get tested. A simple screening blood test can be performed in your doctor's office. Of course the hope is that the tests come back negative, but if they don't...there is a wonderful community of helpful people out there in the world, ready to help you along on this life-changing journey. (Thank goodness for Google!)
During the month of May, try a new gluten-free food. Get tested for CD if you are concerned at all. Learn a few things about the disease. Hug someone who has Celiac. Be understanding when a parent of a child with Celiac or any kind of food issue needs to vent a bit about how rough it is. Go gluten free for a week. Or a day. It's all in the name of awareness, my friends!
Again, Happy Celiac Awareness Month from a mom who is learning to be happy about going gluten free!
And check back later (tomorrow maybe?) if you want to hear more about our Celiac Disease story.
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