This could have been a Facebook post, but really, do my 724 FB friends want to be "forced' to read about my dysfunctional relationship with food? This way I figure you the reader have assumed all the risk by choosing to read this blog.
1. Oreos
When Dan quit drinking I said I'd give up Oreos. I suppose this really isn't an eye for an eye. Had I said I would give up all cookies that would have been the same thing. Nevertheless, I gave up Oreos. For life. I may honestly have a harder time not eating Oreos than Dan does not drinking. A study came out recently that said Oreos are as addictive as crack. Tell me something I don't know.
2. Reece's Peanut Butter Cups
I. Can't. Stop. Myself. when these bad boys are around. If I don't have the actual thing, I've been known to find chocolate and dip it right into the jar of peanut butter. Maybe I shouldn't keep chocolate and peanut butter around to boot?
3. Cheddar and Sour Cream Baked! Ruffles
The exclamation point is in there to emphasize how quickly I can consume these. Poof! The bag is gone before I realize it. I justify this by thinking at least they're baked. However, one serving is 3 Weight Watchers points. The whole bag contains 6 servings. Do the math and that's 18 points. I only get 26 points per day. HUGE problem.
4. Smartfood White Cheddar Popcorn
If you're a friend from back in my Frontier days you will A, remember this and B, have the same problem. (I'm talking to you Angel and Julie!) I am not sure what it is specifically about this popcorn that is so addictive, but I'm convinced it may actually contain crack.
5. Toffee
Butter and brown sugar. Is there really anything else to say about this???
What foods make you forget to hit the stop button? I'd love to hear so I can add those to my "10 foods I can't keep around" list!
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Thursday, June 13, 2013
For This Child I Prayed
It's been almost 6 months since my last post. I know this because it was the day before my little man Jack was admitted to the hospital with RSV. Unfortunately that was just the beginning of struggles for him.
We have spent a lot of time at Lurie Children's Hospital. When Dan was working on the new hospital before it opened (Luke was 1 1/2 and I was pregnant with Jack), he said, "It's the most amazing place I hope we never have to go." If my life were a book or a movie I'd say the author was utilizing a literary technique called foreshadowing.
In the weeks and months that followed, Jack missed gross motor milestones; he would start weekly physical therapy sessions, consult with speech therapists and have scopes done in conjunction with ENT for feeding issues which determined he was at risk of aspirating, be put on Prevacid for "silent reflux" (WTF?), and ultimately end up being evaluated by a neurologist.
Let me tell you how it feels to be told your child, your personal miracle, should see a neurologist.
Heart. Breaking.
Earth. Shattering.
Jack has been diagnosed with hypotonia. It's more of a condition than a disease. It's a fancy term for low muscle tone, muscle tone meaning "the amount of tension or resistance to stretch in a muscle." The neurologist actually said, "He's just a little floppy and will probably outgrow it," while at the same time running THOUSANDS of dollars worth of tests, some of which were sent to Mayo Clinic.
EVERY single medical professional including a few who are also "framily" (friends who are family) has told us, "He'll be fine. He's okay." While I trust them all, as Jack's mama it's hard to believe. A kid who isn't expected to walk until he's 18-24 months old does not seem "okay" and "fine" to me.
But, in the long run as long as nothing else is actually wrong, it is accurate to say that Jack will be fine. He may never be a professional athlete. He may not learn to ride a bike until he's 7. He'll probably have poor handwriting. But eventually he will walk and talk and to the passive bystander he will look no different than the other kids.
I actually think Luke may be on the low average side of muscle tone. He sat up and walked on the late side of typical, doesn't articulate as clearly as others his age, and certainly falls down more than other kids. Dan also thinks Luke isn't super athletic.
While I was at my own physical therapy yesterday (for issues I have related to delivering my two miracles) I asked the PT if she thought I had low tone. Her response was, "It's possible. Your muscles certainly don't activate quickly." Huh. Well there it is. I knew it wasn't genetic from Dan. While he may not currently be in the best shape of his life he used to be a semi-pro baseball player. My father (a minor league ball player) described Dan's athleticism and skill by saying, "He just has an instinct. He knows where the ball is going and he's there." I now realize Dan has some sort of freaky weird muscle memory and high tone that reacts much quicker than the other 3 members of our family. Sorry L & J. My bad.
It was recently suggested to me by someone in Dan's family that "we don't know what it's like to struggle." I can't tell you how offended I was by this comment. To say the wheels came off the bus and I went ballistic cuckoo for cocoa puffs would be an understatement. My child is seeing a neurologist. And even if he weren't, EVERYONE struggles. What an ignorant thought.
Nevertheless, I want to make it very clear that I understand completely there are other kids and parents who are in far worse predicaments than we are with Jack. I do not for one minute want to compare us to someone who's watching their child fight a potentially fatal disease or illness or to anyone who's been told their child has autism.
But as a parent you want/hope/beg/plead/pray to God that your child will be perfectly healthy. Anything less than that is gut-wrenching.
So for now we will continue weekly PT and most likely start speech therapy within a few months (late walkers tend to be late talkers). I will also continue to pray that my baby is not in any pain and that he will be a happy little guy. Just like this...
We have spent a lot of time at Lurie Children's Hospital. When Dan was working on the new hospital before it opened (Luke was 1 1/2 and I was pregnant with Jack), he said, "It's the most amazing place I hope we never have to go." If my life were a book or a movie I'd say the author was utilizing a literary technique called foreshadowing.
In the weeks and months that followed, Jack missed gross motor milestones; he would start weekly physical therapy sessions, consult with speech therapists and have scopes done in conjunction with ENT for feeding issues which determined he was at risk of aspirating, be put on Prevacid for "silent reflux" (WTF?), and ultimately end up being evaluated by a neurologist.
Let me tell you how it feels to be told your child, your personal miracle, should see a neurologist.
Heart. Breaking.
Earth. Shattering.
Jack has been diagnosed with hypotonia. It's more of a condition than a disease. It's a fancy term for low muscle tone, muscle tone meaning "the amount of tension or resistance to stretch in a muscle." The neurologist actually said, "He's just a little floppy and will probably outgrow it," while at the same time running THOUSANDS of dollars worth of tests, some of which were sent to Mayo Clinic.
EVERY single medical professional including a few who are also "framily" (friends who are family) has told us, "He'll be fine. He's okay." While I trust them all, as Jack's mama it's hard to believe. A kid who isn't expected to walk until he's 18-24 months old does not seem "okay" and "fine" to me.
But, in the long run as long as nothing else is actually wrong, it is accurate to say that Jack will be fine. He may never be a professional athlete. He may not learn to ride a bike until he's 7. He'll probably have poor handwriting. But eventually he will walk and talk and to the passive bystander he will look no different than the other kids.
I actually think Luke may be on the low average side of muscle tone. He sat up and walked on the late side of typical, doesn't articulate as clearly as others his age, and certainly falls down more than other kids. Dan also thinks Luke isn't super athletic.
While I was at my own physical therapy yesterday (for issues I have related to delivering my two miracles) I asked the PT if she thought I had low tone. Her response was, "It's possible. Your muscles certainly don't activate quickly." Huh. Well there it is. I knew it wasn't genetic from Dan. While he may not currently be in the best shape of his life he used to be a semi-pro baseball player. My father (a minor league ball player) described Dan's athleticism and skill by saying, "He just has an instinct. He knows where the ball is going and he's there." I now realize Dan has some sort of freaky weird muscle memory and high tone that reacts much quicker than the other 3 members of our family. Sorry L & J. My bad.
It was recently suggested to me by someone in Dan's family that "we don't know what it's like to struggle." I can't tell you how offended I was by this comment. To say the wheels came off the bus and I went ballistic cuckoo for cocoa puffs would be an understatement. My child is seeing a neurologist. And even if he weren't, EVERYONE struggles. What an ignorant thought.
Nevertheless, I want to make it very clear that I understand completely there are other kids and parents who are in far worse predicaments than we are with Jack. I do not for one minute want to compare us to someone who's watching their child fight a potentially fatal disease or illness or to anyone who's been told their child has autism.
But as a parent you want/hope/beg/plead/pray to God that your child will be perfectly healthy. Anything less than that is gut-wrenching.
So for now we will continue weekly PT and most likely start speech therapy within a few months (late walkers tend to be late talkers). I will also continue to pray that my baby is not in any pain and that he will be a happy little guy. Just like this...
For this child I prayed, and the Lord answered my prayer.
1 Samuel 1:27
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
It Never Ends
We just completed a week of potty training boot camp. That is to say Luke uses the potty most of the time. There are accidents ahead, for sure. But the work itself is done.
Phew. That was hella hard. I almost had several nervous breakdowns. Glad it's over.
Wait. Damn it, I'll have to do this with Jack, too.
See, I'm the type of person who is always thinking (Dan would say "worried") about when we'll be done with all the tedious chores of parenthood and when we can start really living.
Hmmm.
That quote from the movie Parenthood seems fitting here:
"There is no end zone. You never cross the goal line, spike the ball and do your touchdown dance. Never."
Hmmm.
Yes, that's true. When Luke was born, Dan and I were literally terrified of just keeping him alive. It moved from that to sleep training to solid foods to bottle weaning to big boy bed to potty training to...
Huh? I guess it really doesn't end.
The teacher part of me literally just realized that there are plenty of hurdles ahead - learning to count, learning to read, multiplication, ACTs. This brought forth the epiphany that Luke and Jack are going to strike out in little league and have their hearts broken more than once.
It never ends.
In 2013 I'm going to try very hard to live in the moment and enjoy whatever stage my boys happen to be in. One day all too soon they will be grown up. I don't want to look back and think about how I wished away all that time waiting for our life to begin. It's already begun.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
-Ferris Bueller
~Cin
Phew. That was hella hard. I almost had several nervous breakdowns. Glad it's over.
Wait. Damn it, I'll have to do this with Jack, too.
See, I'm the type of person who is always thinking (Dan would say "worried") about when we'll be done with all the tedious chores of parenthood and when we can start really living.
Hmmm.
That quote from the movie Parenthood seems fitting here:
"There is no end zone. You never cross the goal line, spike the ball and do your touchdown dance. Never."
Hmmm.
Yes, that's true. When Luke was born, Dan and I were literally terrified of just keeping him alive. It moved from that to sleep training to solid foods to bottle weaning to big boy bed to potty training to...
Huh? I guess it really doesn't end.
The teacher part of me literally just realized that there are plenty of hurdles ahead - learning to count, learning to read, multiplication, ACTs. This brought forth the epiphany that Luke and Jack are going to strike out in little league and have their hearts broken more than once.
It never ends.
In 2013 I'm going to try very hard to live in the moment and enjoy whatever stage my boys happen to be in. One day all too soon they will be grown up. I don't want to look back and think about how I wished away all that time waiting for our life to begin. It's already begun.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
-Ferris Bueller
~Cin
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