This may sound a bit narcissistic, but I love having a kid who's so much like me. Now, I didn't mean it the way it probably sounds. See, I have an insatiable need to learn things. I was probably a frustrating student. If I didn't want to learn it (*cough cough* MATH), I threw up a mental block, but if I DID want to learn about something, I'd read and read until I'd soaked up all I could on the subject. Thankfully, Goober got a love of learning from me AND an aptitude for math from his father. He also got an insane capacity for all things science. Scratching my head over that one.
Anyway, I was making lentil soup for dinner and Goober asked me why we've been eating so much soup and so many bean-based meals lately. I explained a little about eating inexpensively while still eating nutritiously and then showed him some "Clara" videos on Youtube. Clara is a little Italian grandmother in her nineties living in Upstate NY. Her grandson, Christopher Cannucciari came up with the idea to film his grandmother talking about and cooking depression-era meals. Not only is she cute, fun and even soothing to watch, especially if you're missing your grandmothers, but there's a lot of wisdom in her little stories.
Of course, his next question was naturally, "what was the depression?". YAY!!!! Google field trip!!! I searched for a bit and came up with a neat little documentary on the depression available on Netflix. It's made up of lots of news reels from the era. Of course, we'll fill in with chapters from his American History textbooks and some fiction from the time-period, but for the time-being, we're snuggled up in front of the computer having some mother-son nerd time together- well, right now, we're in the intermission as we prepare to have dinner and I thought I'd pop on quickly and share my joy. 'Cause the only thing better than nerd-joy is blogging about it. 8)
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Monday, April 18, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
"Sugar ticks"
Crash about age 5, around the time his first tics appeared.Everyone knows that too much sugar is never a good thing. All the long-term health effects are well-documented. Parents laughingly blame their kids' hyper-active bursts after holidays and birthday parties on the copious amounts of sugar consumed. I always have! I never thought, though, that it could have such a fast, obvious, visible impact on an already existing condition.
Crash was diagnosed with mild Tourette's syndrome last year after developing some disturbing eye-rolling , grimacing and hard blinking. We thought it was an optical problem as he already had glasses. When his eye doctor referred us to a neurologist, I knew. After the diagnosis, the initial anger, sadness for Crash, crying and many sleepless nights spent reading and researching, I relaxed. Over the next few months, it settled into just the hard blinking. We don't even notice it most of the time anymore. It's so mild that it's technically not even Tourette's. The neurologist told us that if he developed a vocal tic to accompany his facial twitches, then it would officially be Tourette's. Vocal tics generally appear between the ages of seven to nine, although they can manifest at any age. Crash just turned eight last month. They can be any sound made with the voice: grunts, throat-clearing, words, etc. . Vocal tics are very rarely coprolalia, or swearing. Only a very, very small percentage of people with Tourette's swear.
After his sister's birthday party last fall, he did develop a disturbing vocal tic for a couple of days- chronic throat-clearing. He wasn't sick. It was a very regular, rhythmic, "uh-hmm" UH-hmm". Josh and I watched him quietly for a couple of days, but it went away as quickly as it had appeared. Relieved, we went on with our lives. It happened again after his brother's party in October. We were out running errands and I reached for his hand and he panicked and told me he needed his fingers free. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I asked him "why?". He turned red, paused, and said, "I have to do this, Mommy" and showed me how he was rubbing the thumb and fingers of both hands together. I told him it was okay and held onto his wrist instead while I tried to swallow my worry back down. That one disappeared after a day or two, too. We happily forgot about it and went on with life once again.
I noticed this past Sunday, though, that Crash had started "tic'ing" badly and had even developed a new tic (biting his lower lip until it's raw). I didn't want to make a big deal about it for fear it would make it worse ( we believe the best course of action is to not speak about it unless he brings it up. *I* feel that drawing attention to it and making it a focus and a "problem" would only serve to give it power). It's worked well so far. He's a very sure, out-going, confident little boy full of humor and personality. He hardly notices it and neither do his friends. That is, until he came to me this morning upset and crying. It's driving him nuts. He said, "what is WRONG with me, Mommy?" After my heart finished shattering, I hugged him and explained that his tics had just gotten a little bit worse than usual and that we'd try to figure out how to make it better again. Princess, standing by with a worried look on her face gasped and said, "ticks?! How did Crash get ticks on him?". I can always count on my girl for some comic relief. We explained and I got them back to their schoolwork.
After doing some reading, I finally made the connection: sugar. He has a bag of candy left over from a birthday party pinata and has been having a piece or two once a day for a few days. His blinking has become almost violent and the skin under his lip is rough and raw. I sat down with him during a quiet moment yesterday and asked him if he could please quit biting his lip because he was hurting himself. He whimpered and said he couldn't- he HAD to do it and it felt weird if he didn't. *sigh* Hello, Tourette's. Sorry to see your ugly face.
I have since confiscated the bag of candy (much to his misery) and am going to pick our menus carefully over the next few days, avoiding as much refined sugar as possible to see if there's an improvement. I'm sure ( I pray) there will be. I know there is often a genetic predisposition toward Tourette's ( it has never appeared in either of our families that we know of, though), but I'm almost 100% positive there are also environmental factors, too, such as diet. It'll be interesting to see if my theory is right as there is a chance he could pass it onto his kids and it would be nice to know how to keep it in check. It's not horrible. There are far worse things it could be, but a miserable kid is a miserable kid and that is a VERY big deal to Mommy. I hope to have my happy, confident boy back soon.
UPDATE: A few weeks, out, we're pretty sure it was the sugar and/or possibly artificial coloring. His "new" tic has disappeared and we're back to our baseline normal. We've decided to split the difference trying to find a happy balance. I went ahead and let him have a little candy at Easter but informed him it might have an effect on his Tourette's. We talked about it for a bit and he decided ( of course) to eat his chocolate bunny and accept the consequences. His blinking did increase for a few days, but he didn't develop any extra noticeable tics. Since his older brother has food allergies and there is some science to support that Tourette's is a *form* of food allergy, now that we've got it back to "normal", I'm considering doing an elimination diet to see if there is any further improvement. My main suspect is dairy because Crash's Tourette's symptoms began to show up about the same time Goober out-grew his dairy allergy and we began giving it to them. He has always eaten wheat-based foods, so I'm not as concerned about that one. Food allergies in one form or another just seem to be the hand our boys were dealt. Fortunately, we have plenty of experience in that area and it shouldn't be a big deal ;).
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Tidbits
Little stories and quotes from my FB page I don't want to forget :)
Princess frequently gets nostalgic for the things of her long-ago childhood. She also has a memory like an elephant.
Today, it was a McDonald's playplace we went to years and years ago. Princess, close to tears: "Mommy, remember that Playplace we went to with Aunt Gina when I was little? I want to go again." Me, distracted: "Ew, those places are filthy".
Caroline, close to tears :::sniff::: but it was so fun...". Me: "we'll probably go to Knoebel's again this summer- that'll be fun, right? What more could you want?" Princess, suddenly dry-eyed and without missing a beat: "A thousand dollars".
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Crash has such a sweet heart. He puts on a pretty good tough act, but I know better. I just smashed a monstrous spider in the bathroom that had Princess cornered and was, according to her, planning to make her its dinner. I turned around to dispose of it and saw Crash standing there with a shattered look on his face. He told me he was going to get a piece of paper and rescue the "poor thing" and put it outside where he could be with his friends. I tried to console him and tell him our house would be swarming with spiders needing rescue in a month or so, but alas, his formerly sweet, flawless mother is now a cold-blooded murderer in his eyes. When he prayed at lunch, he asked God to comfort the "poor spider" if it was up there with Him. I don't think I've ever felt like such a heel. ;)
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Princess frequently gets nostalgic for the things of her long-ago childhood. She also has a memory like an elephant.
Today, it was a McDonald's playplace we went to years and years ago. Princess, close to tears: "Mommy, remember that Playplace we went to with Aunt Gina when I was little? I want to go again." Me, distracted: "Ew, those places are filthy".
Caroline, close to tears :::sniff::: but it was so fun...". Me: "we'll probably go to Knoebel's again this summer- that'll be fun, right? What more could you want?" Princess, suddenly dry-eyed and without missing a beat: "A thousand dollars".
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Crash has such a sweet heart. He puts on a pretty good tough act, but I know better. I just smashed a monstrous spider in the bathroom that had Princess cornered and was, according to her, planning to make her its dinner. I turned around to dispose of it and saw Crash standing there with a shattered look on his face. He told me he was going to get a piece of paper and rescue the "poor thing" and put it outside where he could be with his friends. I tried to console him and tell him our house would be swarming with spiders needing rescue in a month or so, but alas, his formerly sweet, flawless mother is now a cold-blooded murderer in his eyes. When he prayed at lunch, he asked God to comfort the "poor spider" if it was up there with Him. I don't think I've ever felt like such a heel. ;)
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Sunday, December 26, 2010
We had a wonderful, cozy Christmas day yesterday. Last night as we were all getting ready for bed, I grabbed my oldest in a hug ( Goober) and pulled him into the chair with me for a snuggle. Somewhere in the recent past, he's gotten too old for snuggles with Mommy and it makes me sad. Every now and then, though, I get him down and "waller" him ( as my Grandpa used to say). As I sat there hugging him, I was startled by how big and filled out he's gotten as of late. While it saddened me a little that he's growing up too fast, I was also so thankful that he's growing.
Goober's always been very small for his age ( we called it "wiry" to give it a positive spin).
He didn't start out that way, though. His birth weight was 7lb.5 oz. Very respectable for his parents, who were both in the low 7 lb. range. I had a very uneventful pregnancy and birth with Goober, but our official introduction into parenthood after his birth was a trial by fire. I was young- 21. My husband was 20. During our stay in the hospital, people kept referring to my husband as "your boyfriend" or "your partner". No matter how many times I found the guts to correct them and say, "my HUSBAND" and show them my rings, it kept happening. I would seethe silently for a few minutes and then forget about it and enjoy my baby. I was also questioned endlessly about our decision to not circumcise our son. No matter how many times I said, "no, we chose not to", someone else would always come in and try to convince me otherwise. I had opted to have my baby room in rather than be left in the nursery. I woke up once to a nurse quietly wheeling away his bed. I asked, "where are you taking him?" She said, "Oh, I'm taking him to be circumcised, I'll bring him back when it's all over. He'll probably just want to sleep". I sat straight up and said, "NO, YOU ARE NOT!!!". I shocked her and myself.
As we were preparing to take him home, we were told we needed to take part in a "class" before we were allowed to leave. Again, I was annoyed, but we quietly complied. We sat down and looked around and realized all the other participants were very young teen moms, some alone and some with the fathers. During the class, we were "taught" how to wrap, change and burp a baby, among several other very basic things. I was thinking, "wait, you think we're too stupid to know how to change a diaper, yet you're letting us take these babies home and trusting us to keep them alive?!". Whatever. We got through it and went home.
Almost immediately, I realized something wasn't quite right. Goober had been born with a beautiful complexion, yet a day or so after we got him home, he began getting horrible patches of eczema all over his body and he would get red bumps all over that spread if I rubbed them. He also turned into a miserable baby. He would begin to nurse and then begin crying and fussing. As a result, it was a constant cycle of five minute nursing sessions. I hardly left the room. Soon, he would cry from hunger, but begin pushing me away with his little hands in misery. At his well child visits, I told his pediatrician I suspected food allergy. She scoffed and said, "everybody thinks their baby has a food allergy. He has colic" and proceeded to give me all the horrible, worthless advice that doesn't work for "colicky" babies. We endured it for five miserable months and then one day, Goober when on strike and refused to nurse. We both spent the day crying. Finally, in desperation, I dug out the little can of dairy-based Similac the hospital sent home and made up a bottle. As I was going to give it to him, some dripped on his chin, which immediately turned red and puffy with hives everywhere. I dumped the bottle in the sink and called my husband at school ( he was in college at the time) and told him to pick up some soy formula on the way home. I was at the end of my rope, and so was poor Goober. When my husband brought home the formula, I made up another bottle and dripped some on his skin to see what would happen. Nothing. I gave him the bottle and he took it all. It was amazing. Afterward, he let out a contented burp and dropped off into a deep sleep- the first time ever. Almost overnight, he turned into a different baby.
I'm a vegetarian. With my husband in college, finances were tight. As a result, we recieved WIC. Since I was a vegetarian, I received extra vouchers for dairy and peanut butter. I relied heavily on dairy and peanut butter for protein. Those were my prime suspects for food allergy for Goober. By the time I was finally able to convince his pediatrician to refer us for allergy testing, I had two more suspects- egg and chocolate (I gave him scrambled eggs on his first birthday and he reacted immediately before he even got any to his mouth). I discovered the chocolate when I found him sitting behind the end table gumming a Hershey's kiss after Christmas. He was covered in hives and wheezing. The allergist was doubtful when I gave him my list of things to test for, but obliged and tested for a myriad of other things as well. He reacted very strongly to the four I had mentioned and to nothing else. After testing, he said Goober's reaction to peanut was so strong it scared him. Dairy and egg, too. He sat us down and had a very serious talk with us to help us understand just how dire a situation it could be. We listened and took everything to heart. We walked around in a daze for a few days and then got busy reading labels and compiling a "safe foods" list and I got busy creating recipes using alternative ingredients.
Finally confirming his allergies and justifying my worries ( I was known as a paranoid mom) wasn't the end, though. Even after we finally eliminated all possible allergens from his diet, he continued to dislike eating and struggled with horrible reflux. Even if we were able to get a decent meal into him, more often than not, about five minutes after eating, it would all come up. It wasn't normal spitting up, it was projectile vomiting an impressive distance. We would begin all over again, praying something would stay down. Between his hatred of eating and the throwing up, we considered it a good meal if we were able to get two or three good bites into him and have it stay down. I broached the reflux with his pediatrician and once again, got dismissed. She did, however, lecture me about his weight ( 19 pounds at a year and a half) and proceed to instruct me that I needed to give him WHOLE milk and lots of cheese and dairy to "bulk him up". I stared at her and reminded her that dairy was potentially deadly for him. She blinked a few times and consulted his chart. "Oh. right. Well, give him lots of fattening things, then. Chips and french fries and syrup and ... ". Was she serious?!
I had been making his baby food all along and decided to play with some recipes using foods with HEALTHY fat and calories to help bulk him up without resorting to processed junk.
His favorite became mashed bananas with avocado. I tasted it once. Awful, lol, but he loved it! .
I would also add olive and flax seed oil where I could and added brown rice syrup to his cereal.
He was obviously a very healthy child. He didn't have the constant colds and infections and problems other babies seemed to get regularly. He was very active and obviously curious and bright. However, he wasn't "bulking up" fast enough for the pediatrician's liking and she referred us to Riley Hospital for Children to see a specialist. Now, I thought they were finally going to address his reflux. We got there and were taken to an exam room. In walked a Dr. and a Dr. Goober was examined, pronounced to be severely underweight and we received a very serious lecture that the slightest breeze would push him over into "failure to thrive" and were basically accused of child abuse. Now, silly me, I always thought that diagnosis was reserved for weak, listless, pale children. I was cross-examined and even asked if I was "withholding food" because I thought my baby was "too fat" At this point, I'd had enough and said, "of course not!" and launched into everything we'd dealt with up to present. I again pleaded with someone to address his reflux ( after all, we were at the best Children's hospital in the region) and again got the brush-off. They decided to have me talk with a nutritionist "to help you know how to feed him". She was the first reasonable person we'd talked to and actually listened. I explained his food allergies, aversion to food and reflux and how I tried to work within those confines. After, she sighed, patted my hand and said, "honey, you're doing everything right, there's nothing else you CAN do". Finally! I bawled and we were finally able to go home. Nothing accomplished except getting the "experts" off my back. On the way home, I reflected and thought over the past year and a half and somewhere between Indianapolis and Lafayette, I grew a backbone. *I* know my baby, I love my baby and I am the only one who will make sure he's taken care of. If I don't stand up and make sure that's what happens, the fault is mine. When something is wrong, I find the courage to insist until I'm listened to.
Goober's reflux eventually settled down; though, to this day, if he runs around too much or jumps around too much, he throws up. I'm guessing it has something to do with a weak muscle in his esophagus, but since he grew out of throwing up after eating, no doctor will check it out.
His aversion to food, though, lasted a good eight years. He had always just been a poor eater, and as a result, very small for his age. He willingly eats all kinds of vegetables and prefers healthy food, but he just wouldn't eat very much. We had resigned ourselves that he was just always going to be small. He's always been extremely healthy, just small.
Until about two years ago. Something happened and my nibbler turned into a bottomless pit. If it's not nailed down, it gets eaten. If his brother or sister didn't finish their portion and there's none left in the kitchen, he'll eat theirs. If he has two servings and is still hungry, he'll ask for a banana... or three. It's come and gone with his growth spurts, but has recently revved up into high gear the last month or so and he's turned into an eating machine. I still get teary sometimes watching him happily mow through more food than my husband can eat. It's still amazing to me. As his appetite has grown, so has he. At an astonishing rate. Some days, I swear he goes to bed taller or more filled out than when he woke up that morning. He's outgrowing clothes left and right. Some parents might be frustrated, but I'm thrilled.
I guess I hadn't realized just how much he's grown until last night. I couldn't be happier.
Goober's always been very small for his age ( we called it "wiry" to give it a positive spin).
He didn't start out that way, though. His birth weight was 7lb.5 oz. Very respectable for his parents, who were both in the low 7 lb. range. I had a very uneventful pregnancy and birth with Goober, but our official introduction into parenthood after his birth was a trial by fire. I was young- 21. My husband was 20. During our stay in the hospital, people kept referring to my husband as "your boyfriend" or "your partner". No matter how many times I found the guts to correct them and say, "my HUSBAND" and show them my rings, it kept happening. I would seethe silently for a few minutes and then forget about it and enjoy my baby. I was also questioned endlessly about our decision to not circumcise our son. No matter how many times I said, "no, we chose not to", someone else would always come in and try to convince me otherwise. I had opted to have my baby room in rather than be left in the nursery. I woke up once to a nurse quietly wheeling away his bed. I asked, "where are you taking him?" She said, "Oh, I'm taking him to be circumcised, I'll bring him back when it's all over. He'll probably just want to sleep". I sat straight up and said, "NO, YOU ARE NOT!!!". I shocked her and myself.
As we were preparing to take him home, we were told we needed to take part in a "class" before we were allowed to leave. Again, I was annoyed, but we quietly complied. We sat down and looked around and realized all the other participants were very young teen moms, some alone and some with the fathers. During the class, we were "taught" how to wrap, change and burp a baby, among several other very basic things. I was thinking, "wait, you think we're too stupid to know how to change a diaper, yet you're letting us take these babies home and trusting us to keep them alive?!". Whatever. We got through it and went home.
Almost immediately, I realized something wasn't quite right. Goober had been born with a beautiful complexion, yet a day or so after we got him home, he began getting horrible patches of eczema all over his body and he would get red bumps all over that spread if I rubbed them. He also turned into a miserable baby. He would begin to nurse and then begin crying and fussing. As a result, it was a constant cycle of five minute nursing sessions. I hardly left the room. Soon, he would cry from hunger, but begin pushing me away with his little hands in misery. At his well child visits, I told his pediatrician I suspected food allergy. She scoffed and said, "everybody thinks their baby has a food allergy. He has colic" and proceeded to give me all the horrible, worthless advice that doesn't work for "colicky" babies. We endured it for five miserable months and then one day, Goober when on strike and refused to nurse. We both spent the day crying. Finally, in desperation, I dug out the little can of dairy-based Similac the hospital sent home and made up a bottle. As I was going to give it to him, some dripped on his chin, which immediately turned red and puffy with hives everywhere. I dumped the bottle in the sink and called my husband at school ( he was in college at the time) and told him to pick up some soy formula on the way home. I was at the end of my rope, and so was poor Goober. When my husband brought home the formula, I made up another bottle and dripped some on his skin to see what would happen. Nothing. I gave him the bottle and he took it all. It was amazing. Afterward, he let out a contented burp and dropped off into a deep sleep- the first time ever. Almost overnight, he turned into a different baby.
I'm a vegetarian. With my husband in college, finances were tight. As a result, we recieved WIC. Since I was a vegetarian, I received extra vouchers for dairy and peanut butter. I relied heavily on dairy and peanut butter for protein. Those were my prime suspects for food allergy for Goober. By the time I was finally able to convince his pediatrician to refer us for allergy testing, I had two more suspects- egg and chocolate (I gave him scrambled eggs on his first birthday and he reacted immediately before he even got any to his mouth). I discovered the chocolate when I found him sitting behind the end table gumming a Hershey's kiss after Christmas. He was covered in hives and wheezing. The allergist was doubtful when I gave him my list of things to test for, but obliged and tested for a myriad of other things as well. He reacted very strongly to the four I had mentioned and to nothing else. After testing, he said Goober's reaction to peanut was so strong it scared him. Dairy and egg, too. He sat us down and had a very serious talk with us to help us understand just how dire a situation it could be. We listened and took everything to heart. We walked around in a daze for a few days and then got busy reading labels and compiling a "safe foods" list and I got busy creating recipes using alternative ingredients.
Finally confirming his allergies and justifying my worries ( I was known as a paranoid mom) wasn't the end, though. Even after we finally eliminated all possible allergens from his diet, he continued to dislike eating and struggled with horrible reflux. Even if we were able to get a decent meal into him, more often than not, about five minutes after eating, it would all come up. It wasn't normal spitting up, it was projectile vomiting an impressive distance. We would begin all over again, praying something would stay down. Between his hatred of eating and the throwing up, we considered it a good meal if we were able to get two or three good bites into him and have it stay down. I broached the reflux with his pediatrician and once again, got dismissed. She did, however, lecture me about his weight ( 19 pounds at a year and a half) and proceed to instruct me that I needed to give him WHOLE milk and lots of cheese and dairy to "bulk him up". I stared at her and reminded her that dairy was potentially deadly for him. She blinked a few times and consulted his chart. "Oh. right. Well, give him lots of fattening things, then. Chips and french fries and syrup and ... ". Was she serious?!
I had been making his baby food all along and decided to play with some recipes using foods with HEALTHY fat and calories to help bulk him up without resorting to processed junk.
His favorite became mashed bananas with avocado. I tasted it once. Awful, lol, but he loved it! .
I would also add olive and flax seed oil where I could and added brown rice syrup to his cereal.
He was obviously a very healthy child. He didn't have the constant colds and infections and problems other babies seemed to get regularly. He was very active and obviously curious and bright. However, he wasn't "bulking up" fast enough for the pediatrician's liking and she referred us to Riley Hospital for Children to see a specialist. Now, I thought they were finally going to address his reflux. We got there and were taken to an exam room. In walked a Dr. and a Dr. Goober was examined, pronounced to be severely underweight and we received a very serious lecture that the slightest breeze would push him over into "failure to thrive" and were basically accused of child abuse. Now, silly me, I always thought that diagnosis was reserved for weak, listless, pale children. I was cross-examined and even asked if I was "withholding food" because I thought my baby was "too fat" At this point, I'd had enough and said, "of course not!" and launched into everything we'd dealt with up to present. I again pleaded with someone to address his reflux ( after all, we were at the best Children's hospital in the region) and again got the brush-off. They decided to have me talk with a nutritionist "to help you know how to feed him". She was the first reasonable person we'd talked to and actually listened. I explained his food allergies, aversion to food and reflux and how I tried to work within those confines. After, she sighed, patted my hand and said, "honey, you're doing everything right, there's nothing else you CAN do". Finally! I bawled and we were finally able to go home. Nothing accomplished except getting the "experts" off my back. On the way home, I reflected and thought over the past year and a half and somewhere between Indianapolis and Lafayette, I grew a backbone. *I* know my baby, I love my baby and I am the only one who will make sure he's taken care of. If I don't stand up and make sure that's what happens, the fault is mine. When something is wrong, I find the courage to insist until I'm listened to.
Goober's reflux eventually settled down; though, to this day, if he runs around too much or jumps around too much, he throws up. I'm guessing it has something to do with a weak muscle in his esophagus, but since he grew out of throwing up after eating, no doctor will check it out.
His aversion to food, though, lasted a good eight years. He had always just been a poor eater, and as a result, very small for his age. He willingly eats all kinds of vegetables and prefers healthy food, but he just wouldn't eat very much. We had resigned ourselves that he was just always going to be small. He's always been extremely healthy, just small.
Until about two years ago. Something happened and my nibbler turned into a bottomless pit. If it's not nailed down, it gets eaten. If his brother or sister didn't finish their portion and there's none left in the kitchen, he'll eat theirs. If he has two servings and is still hungry, he'll ask for a banana... or three. It's come and gone with his growth spurts, but has recently revved up into high gear the last month or so and he's turned into an eating machine. I still get teary sometimes watching him happily mow through more food than my husband can eat. It's still amazing to me. As his appetite has grown, so has he. At an astonishing rate. Some days, I swear he goes to bed taller or more filled out than when he woke up that morning. He's outgrowing clothes left and right. Some parents might be frustrated, but I'm thrilled.
I guess I hadn't realized just how much he's grown until last night. I couldn't be happier.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Horse Crazy
I have known girls in my life who were absolutely obsessed with horses. They tend to be a "type". Rugged country girls who live, breathe, and sleep horses ( I was going to say "eat", but that just seemed wrong). They almost always live on the outskirts of town, if not in the country and if they don't have their own horse, they have access to them.
My little girl seems to be following in that tradition. For as long as I can remember, she's been horse-crazy. She was born in town and until a year ago, lived in town, but she absolutely loves horses. When we moved to the country and our neighbor we share the property with had a horse, I thought Princess was going to lose her mind. Unfortunately, "Lady" the horse is old, cranky and set in her ways. She only gives you the time of day if you have an apple or carrot for her. Then, she grudgingly walks over, strettttches out her neck and takes it delicately with her teeth all the while maintaining enough distance so that you couldn't possibly pet her. She sticks around for a minute to see if you have more, then tosses her head and snorts, dismissing you, and trots off.
Princess was heartbroken at first at being given the brush- off by the object of her affections, but she continues to admire her from afar, staring out the window for long stretches and watching Lady graze in the pasture. Hopefully, one day, she'll have one of her own to love, but in the meantime, she's amassing an admirable collection of horse paraphernalia. She receives ponies and horses as gifts, horse books, pictures of horses. Whenever she gets any money, it gets spent on, you guessed it, horse stuff. Most recently, she used her Christmas money to buy a stuffed horse. She tied a string around its neck and it has become her constant companion. Although Princess's Daddy is of the same school of thought as my Papaw ( "horses don't provide a service and you can't eat them, so they have no place on a farm"). They do have some that are barely bigger than a dog, now- surely he couldn't deny something so cute and less than three feet tall? I'd bet it would still eat less than our cat! :)
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Ewwwwww, Boys!
It wasn't until I had my daughter that I realized how truly disgusting boys can be. My first two being boys, it was all I knew. Still, I had an inkling that mine might be a little more, uh, gross than your average boys.
When Goober was three and a half and Crash was one, I baby-sat for my neighbor's girls. Because of that, I would buy cheap cereal from Aldi for them to snack on in the afternoons. A favorite was "fruit loops". One day, I was trying to get caught up on housework while the girls played outside and Goober and Crash were "napping" ( or, rather, supposed to be napping). I began smelling a not-so-pleasant odor. Sniffing, I ended up in front of the boys' room. I heard whispering and giggling. Mentally preparing myself, I entered the room.
There stood Crash, covered in neon green polka dots. Paint? Where did they get... Ohhhh.
Anyone who's ever gone to change their child's diaper after they've been eating something with lots of food coloring knows that shade of green. Goober stood holding a small pillow, with the ruffle wrapped around his fingers. The best explanation my three year old and one year old could give me was that Crash had "gone" and budding picasso Goober had decided to utilize it by taking the ruffle of a pillow, dipping it into the "palate" and painting his baby brother. Of course, in the process, he had gotten it on himself, the bed, the floor, the walls, some toys... . You just can't contain art. I spent the afternoon gagging as I cleaned them and the room up. It wasn't the first, or the last. I've gone through a lot of bleach in the last ten years... . Things have definitely gotten better. They've finally learned to appreciate the "yuck" factor of poo and have stopped using it as a medium, but they've discovered many other ways to gross mom out.
Just yesterday, they managed to do it again. I was rolling out pie crust in the dining room and Crash came in laughing like a maniac, jumping up and down and yelling, "He did it! He ate it!!!"
Being the dummy I am, I said, "ate what...?!".
Crash giggled and said, "he ATE a fruit fly!!!" ( every time we buy bananas we get the stupid things).
I stood there with my mouth open and said, "he did not!".
Crash giggled again and said, "Yeah, he totally did!!!".
Goober came in grinning and said, "yeah. I did- I figured protein is protein".
I started gagging. I never in a MILLION years would've thought he'd be the one to do something like that. :P. I stretched the truth a little and said, "please don't eat fruit flies, they have diseases" ( things you never thought you'd say #2,879). Whether they do or not, I don't care. I know house flies are petri dishes on the wing and to me, fruit flies are guilty by association. Goober had the good grace to go pale and say, "Oh, I didn't know that". I said, "the next time you're hungry, would you please just grab some carrots?" Hysterical laughter.
I can't help but wonder if God isn't preparing me for something big. And gross. Maybe when World War III breaks out, I'll be put in charge of bed pans and dressing gangrenous wounds. Maybe it's just so that when they're all grown and catch their little boys hurling poo diapers around their bedroom or snacking on caterpillars in the back yard and call me in a panic, it'll be my turn to laugh :).
When Goober was three and a half and Crash was one, I baby-sat for my neighbor's girls. Because of that, I would buy cheap cereal from Aldi for them to snack on in the afternoons. A favorite was "fruit loops". One day, I was trying to get caught up on housework while the girls played outside and Goober and Crash were "napping" ( or, rather, supposed to be napping). I began smelling a not-so-pleasant odor. Sniffing, I ended up in front of the boys' room. I heard whispering and giggling. Mentally preparing myself, I entered the room.
There stood Crash, covered in neon green polka dots. Paint? Where did they get... Ohhhh.
Anyone who's ever gone to change their child's diaper after they've been eating something with lots of food coloring knows that shade of green. Goober stood holding a small pillow, with the ruffle wrapped around his fingers. The best explanation my three year old and one year old could give me was that Crash had "gone" and budding picasso Goober had decided to utilize it by taking the ruffle of a pillow, dipping it into the "palate" and painting his baby brother. Of course, in the process, he had gotten it on himself, the bed, the floor, the walls, some toys... . You just can't contain art. I spent the afternoon gagging as I cleaned them and the room up. It wasn't the first, or the last. I've gone through a lot of bleach in the last ten years... . Things have definitely gotten better. They've finally learned to appreciate the "yuck" factor of poo and have stopped using it as a medium, but they've discovered many other ways to gross mom out.
Just yesterday, they managed to do it again. I was rolling out pie crust in the dining room and Crash came in laughing like a maniac, jumping up and down and yelling, "He did it! He ate it!!!"
Being the dummy I am, I said, "ate what...?!".
Crash giggled and said, "he ATE a fruit fly!!!" ( every time we buy bananas we get the stupid things).
I stood there with my mouth open and said, "he did not!".
Crash giggled again and said, "Yeah, he totally did!!!".
Goober came in grinning and said, "yeah. I did- I figured protein is protein".
I started gagging. I never in a MILLION years would've thought he'd be the one to do something like that. :P. I stretched the truth a little and said, "please don't eat fruit flies, they have diseases" ( things you never thought you'd say #2,879). Whether they do or not, I don't care. I know house flies are petri dishes on the wing and to me, fruit flies are guilty by association. Goober had the good grace to go pale and say, "Oh, I didn't know that". I said, "the next time you're hungry, would you please just grab some carrots?" Hysterical laughter.
I can't help but wonder if God isn't preparing me for something big. And gross. Maybe when World War III breaks out, I'll be put in charge of bed pans and dressing gangrenous wounds. Maybe it's just so that when they're all grown and catch their little boys hurling poo diapers around their bedroom or snacking on caterpillars in the back yard and call me in a panic, it'll be my turn to laugh :).
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Waltzing to Europe
I home-school our three kids. Even when I was working two full-time jobs, it did not take as much out of me as this does. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE it- I love having a say in what my kids are learning- and making sure they do, but some days, it's a real marathon in emotional and mental endurance. However, I wouldn't trade it for anything. I adore the curriculum I've chosen. It's very time-consuming, but my kids are soaking it up, and having fun doing it.
One thing I absolutely love that came with our second-grade curriculum is "Geography Songs", by Larry and Kathy Troxel. It's basically memorizing geography by setting the list of countries in each section of the world to music. The song always corresponds to the geographical area. For instance, we just finished the Middle East. They're not only learning about that particular area, they're being exposed to the traditional music, reading about their culture and traditions and learning about how that particular country and people interact with their country and people today.
This week, we're beginning Europe. The focus being on Western Europe. The song is a very catchy waltz tune - one two three, one two three, one two three, one... Luxembourg, Lichtenstein, Switzerland, (one two three), Austria Belgium and Netherlands (one two three), France and Mon-a-co, Ger-man-y are allll in West-ern Eur-ope!!!
Often, the kids learn it after just one listen. I wake up with it in my head in the morning and I hear the kids singing it all through the day. Now, it may not mean much to them now, but I do know that one day, they'll hear about something happening in Germany and go, "wait a minute..." and have a better understanding of where it is, what the people and culture are like and it's relationship to the countries around it than a lot of public school kids. I've learned so much more home-schooling my children than I knew before. I think that schools in America have been too nation-centric. I remember focusing hard on our own country and never really even touching on others. I came out not knowing much, except that they existed. Now, I'm all for my kids learning about their own country, and they do, but I think it's a very big mistake to be so self-centered. Our kids will grow up to be adults- some of which may very possibly have careers that deal with other countries and cultures. I think we should at least have a base knowledge. People in other countries have a much better grasp on it than we do.
One thing I've been a little slack on this year with Crash that I made time to do with Goober is to make a point to look up and make recipes from that particular region/country. For example, when Goober was in second grade, We made falafel and a minted carrot dish when we studied the Middle-East. I think this week, it'll have to be something with sausage and sauerkraut ;).
One thing I absolutely love that came with our second-grade curriculum is "Geography Songs", by Larry and Kathy Troxel. It's basically memorizing geography by setting the list of countries in each section of the world to music. The song always corresponds to the geographical area. For instance, we just finished the Middle East. They're not only learning about that particular area, they're being exposed to the traditional music, reading about their culture and traditions and learning about how that particular country and people interact with their country and people today.
This week, we're beginning Europe. The focus being on Western Europe. The song is a very catchy waltz tune - one two three, one two three, one two three, one... Luxembourg, Lichtenstein, Switzerland, (one two three), Austria Belgium and Netherlands (one two three), France and Mon-a-co, Ger-man-y are allll in West-ern Eur-ope!!!
Often, the kids learn it after just one listen. I wake up with it in my head in the morning and I hear the kids singing it all through the day. Now, it may not mean much to them now, but I do know that one day, they'll hear about something happening in Germany and go, "wait a minute..." and have a better understanding of where it is, what the people and culture are like and it's relationship to the countries around it than a lot of public school kids. I've learned so much more home-schooling my children than I knew before. I think that schools in America have been too nation-centric. I remember focusing hard on our own country and never really even touching on others. I came out not knowing much, except that they existed. Now, I'm all for my kids learning about their own country, and they do, but I think it's a very big mistake to be so self-centered. Our kids will grow up to be adults- some of which may very possibly have careers that deal with other countries and cultures. I think we should at least have a base knowledge. People in other countries have a much better grasp on it than we do.
One thing I've been a little slack on this year with Crash that I made time to do with Goober is to make a point to look up and make recipes from that particular region/country. For example, when Goober was in second grade, We made falafel and a minted carrot dish when we studied the Middle-East. I think this week, it'll have to be something with sausage and sauerkraut ;).
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