In the beginning

So, I thought I’d start by just going over a few of the initial changes I’ve made in my kitchen.

Once I finally wrapped my head around the whole “good fats in moderation are good for you” concept, the first thing I did was buy whole milk instead of 2%.  I can hear some of you gasping.  I felt completely BAD buying those first couple of containers, like a food cop was going to jump out of the dairy case and cuff me for trying to clog my family’s arteries.  Obviously, some folks don’t do milk or dairy, and that’s great, but in my family we do like milk, so…why whole milk?  Well, it tastes really good.  The idea behind this whole food concept is to up the quality of your food, enjoy it slowly and thoroughly, and you eat less.  It’s true.

So change #1: whole milk.
I’ve been buying organic milk for several years now, either this brand or Horizon.  But I always bought 2%, occasionally forcing myself to buy skim for my own consumption.  Blech.

Last night before bed my stomach was a bit empty.  I poured maybe 4 ounces of milk into my Bama jelly glass and sipped it over the next 15 minutes.  It tasted amazingly good, and it filled my stomach just enough to let me go to sleep feeling comfortable.

I suppose the next change is really more of a series of smaller changes.  I took a few of the recipes I found in the books I’ve mentioned (French Woman Don’t Get Fat, The Fat Fallacy) and tried them.  We had some pasta with leeks and parmesan cheese, drizzled with plenty of olive oil.  Delicious!  And along with that I prepared some pork loin chops.  I still have some work to do if we want to have those again because to say they were a bit tough is being generous.  But, we also had another pasta dish another day, this one with lots of zucchini and diced tomatoes, again with a good amount of olive oil and some basil.  We had some whole wheat bakery bread toasted with a slathering of the new butter I’m buying: Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter.  Ingredient list? “Pasteurized Cream, Salt.”  Yes, it has to be left out for a few minutes to be truly spreadable.  This is not hard to accomplish.  You set it out, you do some of the other stuff that needs doing, and when you check it again, it’s ready.  It is a beautiful creamy yellow and tastes so good.  It even says “milk from grassfed cows” on the package.  Yes!  That’s exactly the kind of REAL FOOD I’m looking for…

So change #2: try new recipes that are heavy on the vegetables, and don’t skimp on the good fats to increase their palatability.  (Just learned that new word from yet ANOTHER new book: Low-Fat Lies, High-Fat Fraud).  Tonight we’re having bean burritos.  In the past, when we wanted burritos, I’d buy a couple of cans of store beans, plop ‘em in a saucepan, and voila!  But today, I put a bag of rinsed and sorted pintos in the crockpot with a good amount of salted water (and I used coarse sea salt), two whole garlic cloves, a tablespoon or so of chipotle chili powder, about a teaspoon of cumin, and some bay leaves.  When I get home I expect them to be tender and ready to eat along with some monterey jack cheese that I’ll grate right before we eat.  We’ll have some of the fresh salsa that Publix sells in the deli (all natural, lots of veggies, no weird ingredients). I’ll let you know how they turn out.

The last change that I’ll list for today is more of a behavior than a food choice, per se.  I am slowly learning to savor the food I eat.  It took me by surprise when I started consciously putting down my fork between bites – because I realized that I usually shove food in like I’m being timed.  Also, I’m simply chewing my food.  Tasting it.  Enjoying it.  I’m not saying I’m trying to chew a certain number of times, but I’m actually using my teeth, consciously noticing the flavors and textures.  Another surprise: when I took note not to put more food in my mouth while there was still the bite I had just taken in there.  Seems crazy, I know, but when I began to pay attention, I came to see that I was eating too fast and not even coming close to appreciating what I’m putting into my body.

Change #3: slow down and savor it.

As far as finding some substitutes for the store bought things we’ve been buying for years, I have two things to share today.  Stephen loves Chunky Chips Ahoy cookies.  Kerry does too.  I’ve been known to indulge, as has David.  So, I figured I’d find the best chocolate chip cookie recipe I could and make it with the best ingredients I could afford.  So, I made these: Whole Wheat Chocolate Chip Cookies from the wonderful blog 100 Days of Real Food.  I recommend the recipe heartily.  Next time I’ll be doubling it so that we have a treat that isn’t packed with chemicals.I used organic whole wheat pastry flour, good unsalted butter, and pure vanilla extract.  I used Nestle semi-sweet morsels because I had them on hand already.  And these turned out beautifully!  David and Kerry thought they were great.  The only drawback was that when Stephen asked for “Chis Ahoy” and I smiled brightly and brought over one of these beauties, he picked one up, sniffed it delicately, and said, “No.  Chis Ahoy peas.”  Ah well.

The other new recipe I worked on this week was a homemade granola.  Since I’ve been eating more yogurt (whole milk with cream top) I remembered how good granola goes with yogurt.  So I studied some recipes and kind of cobbled together my own.  To make about 4 1/2 cups total, I used 1 1/2 cups of rolled oats, 1 cup of sliced almonds, 1 cup of unsweetened shredded coconut, a 1/2 cup of walnuts, about 1/4 cup each of flax seed and sunflower seeds, a scant 1/8 cup of brown sugar, 1/4 cup pure maple syrup, a drizzle of honey, and about 1/8 cup of coconut oil, warmed slightly to liquefy.  I mixed all that together, spread it on a foil-lined cookie sheet, and baked it for 1 hour, 15 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes so it browned evenly.  The house began to smell SO GOOD after about 30 minutes.  The end product was golden, crispy, and smelled delicious.

I tried about 1/2 a cup of this for breakfast, with a generous amount of whole milk.  And let me tell you…it beat any cereal I’ve tried.  It was so very good!

Well, this has grown very long.  I guess I’m still pretty excited.  I’ve always loved to cook and this feels like such an adventure.  Thanks for coming along!  More to come!

The weight of the world…

It’s on my shoulders.

And by “weight” I mean literal pounds.  While at times I’ve certainly felt the figurative weight of the world (stress, worries, more stress) from time to time, for the last few weeks I’ve become very interested in the way people eat.  Most specifically the way my family eats.

This interest began years ago when I ran across a book called French Women Don’t Get Fat by Mireille Guillano.  It’s a native Frenchwoman’s take on the so-called “French Paradox.”  The media has predictably taken this idea and spouted such nonsense as “The French Paradox is a myth,” or “So these people eat ALL THE BUTTER and croissants and red wine as they want and don’t get fat?  Sure they do.”  Well, that’s not the paradox at all.  Traditional French eating is about celebration, about savoring the BEST food you can afford – slowly, and not stuffing one’s face with a bunch of chemical compounds masquerading as food.

And these mysterious food-like products are what many Americans typically ingest.  Go to the grocery store and take note of all the “healthy” foods you see: low-fat, fat-free, high protein, sugar-free.  Then look at the list of ingredients.  Chances are it’s a paragraph that’s chock full of words requiring a consultation with chemistry textbooks.

I’m about to finish another book called The Fat Fallacy that examines the “healthy” food-like substances that Americans have consumed in ever-increasing quantities in the last 30 years, all the while the obesity rates in the U. S. climb steadily upward.  The author, Dr. Will Clower, is a neurophysiologist (and a native Alabamian) who spent two years living and working in France – and who came home healthier and lighter (as did his family) than when they left America…all from eating real food: whole milk instead of watery skim, cream instead of low-fat Cool Whip, fresh vegetables instead of canned everything…

So, my personal goal is to reduce and eventually eliminate non-foods, while increasing our consumption of real, honest, and hopefully local foods.  To quote Michael Pollan (The Omnivore’s Dilemma): “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.”  It just makes sense.  Is it going to be easy?  I can readily admit that it is not.  I spent nearly double my normal amount of time (but not double the money, which is interesting) at Publix recently, reading package labels and searching for the best products I could find.  It took me a full 10 minutes to find a box of crackers to go with my organic hummus (same price as the regular) that had fewer than 25 ingredients.  I hope to be able to find better food not only at my normal store, but discover other sources along the way.  The little Organic Harvest store in Hoover, even Whole Foods (if I’m selective).  The point is – there IS better food out there, and I’m going to find it without going bankrupt.

I plan to take this blog in a decidedly different direction, focusing on my “real food” goals and discoveries.  While I have grown tired of repeating myself about the problems that autism presents, you will still find mentions of autism here – because how could I not talk about the elephant in the room?  And the greatest challenge by FAR is going to be trying (and perhaps failing) to find healthier alternatives for Stephen’s extremely limited selection of menu items.

I’ve already tried a few new recipes and ideas, and soon I’ll share those, with some reviews and pictures of the finished products.  My goal is to eat BETTER foods – not to be a vegetarian, not to give up sugar or sweets completely, but to eat whole foods along with occasional treats that also happen to be real foods…to savor my food, to eat wonderful things that are good for me, and to stop when I’m full.

Today, we started watching the HBO documentary “The Weight of the Nation.”  Very eye-opening.  I wish every Alabamian could watch it.  Or, would watch it.  It has reinforced my resolve to just do BETTER.

I’m excited about this.  It feels good to do something so positive.

Truisms: A Reluctant Homage

In general, I do my best to avoid the overused, banal phrases that, to me, signal mental laziness and a poor vocabulary.  However it pains me to admit it, though, some clichés are just spot-on.

“Sometimes we don’t appreciate something fully until we think there’s a chance we might lose it.”

Ugh.  So trite, so hum-drum, so…absolutely true.

A routine test turns up what is 99.9% likely to be nothing, but until you know it’s nothing, you worry.    Suddenly life is so heartrendingly precious you can hardly stand the intensity of your feelings.  All of the annoyances, the petty problems, the minor things are so very unimportant that you can’t believe you ever gave them a second thought.  Even having a severely disabled child and a host of other problems to deal with on a daily basis seems like a walk in the park.  The mere mention of a problem that might affect the quality of that life – or at the very worst, take that life away – and you swear you will never, ever NOT appreciate what you have.

If forced to look life and its gloriousness and variety and wonder and problems and uncertainties – and its finite nature – squarely head on, one would be foolish indeed not to take that opportunity to realize that, yes, each day is a gift, that we should never waste a day in pointless anger, that nothing is as important as loving and being loved.  Having one’s eyes opened to the beauty of every day is never a bad thing.

For this life, I am grateful.  For the people who love me, who accept my love, who bring me laughter and joy and things to think about and do, I am grateful.  For the sons of my heart, who grew within me and who carry a piece of me with them, I am forever grateful.

Today life is crystalline, bright, perfect and full.  That is enough.

February 15, 2012

Dream, my little love.

Dream of trains that talk

of bears that eat honey and sing songs

of blue puppies, of paw prints

of every precious thing a childhood can hold.

Laugh, my little love.

Toss aside the standards of the world

for they matter so little – your world is your own…

Your happiness is the purest expression of joy that I have ever known.

Rest, my little love.

You are safe here.

You are my baby, born into a world that would not understand,

entrusted to me

for always.

We love you with depth unimaginable.

We protect you with every fiber of our being.

We celebrate you today, the day you arrived

and changed our lives for good,

for not-always-so-good,

forever.

Pride of purpose

Stephen will be 12 soon – in 13 days to be exact – and that will mean that we’ve known he has autism for almost a decade.  Most years I’ve done a post to commemorate his birthday, and maybe I’ll still do that, but I felt inspired to get some thoughts out today.

Autism is still a horrible, frightening, frustrating disease, disorder, whatever.  There are times when it breaks my heart and makes me feel hopeless…but not nearly as frequently as in the past.  And, honestly, part of the reason is that I’m finally on a good medication that keeps me from having total freakouts on a daily basis…but there is another element.  Stephen tries harder every day to learn useful words.  I’ve also found him on more than one occasion lately doing his own Google searches – holding a video in one sweet, soft, babyish hand while he diligently types the name of the video with the other one.  He used to always come and get one of us to do it for him.

So even with a child this affected, time brings improvements…glacially slowly, perhaps, but the overall trend is positive.

Something else has been creeping into my consciousness recently.  A perspective change of sorts…having a child so very dependent upon you for every need can (and does) often feel like an overwhelming burden.  It’s a hard life, nearly devoid of spontaneity and spur of the moment events…but what I’ve realized is that there is a graceful dignity that can imbue nearly every aspect of this life.  We are Stephen’s caretakers.  We take care of a soul who, without a caring network of family and teachers and friends, would be utterly lost.  There is a sense of pride in keeping him neat and clean and as well-fed as possible.  There is a peaceful feeling that comes with knowing that his hair smells of shampoo, that his clothes are clean, soft, and comfortable, that his socks are straight on his feet so the seams won’t press against his toes…  He can’t tell us when small things are uncomfortable or irritating…and I’ve found honor and purpose in caring for my son…in making him smile, in hearing his laughter when his daddy blows bubbles while Stephen’s in the tub, in seeing his big brother engage him and tickle him till he laughs that precious laugh, in seeing his obvious delight when one of us understands what he’s saying.

We could do our “duty” and make sure he is appropriately fed, clothed, and sheltered.  But there IS joy to be found in trying to understand him – to decipher the problems, to try to find solutions, and yes, to honor this little human person, to give as much scope as possible to a life limited by a cruel disorder.  I have always known that his soul shines, his innocence untarnished…to find deeper truths in this life of ours is a blessing that I embrace thankfully.

YouTube Therapy

David pointed out to me this morning that I haven’t written in a long time…also, that I tend to come to this blog as a last resort, most often when I’m fed up, in pain, mad, or in despair.

Guilty.

My writing seems to flow most easily from a place of pain.  I’m not sure what that says about me.  I’ve always heard that to be an artist, one has to have suffered.  It seems rather fancy and pretentious to consider myself an “artist,” but since art is about creating, and I’ve created this blog…I’ll let it stand.  So perhaps I’ve just taken that suffering thing too seriously.

Regardless, I want to build on a former post about Thomas and Stephen’s self-designed speech therapy.  Stephen continues to love love LOVE watching various videos on YouTube.  Like some autistic children David read about, Stephen doesn’t seem to be able to watch and listen simultaneously – it’s just too much to process.  So, with much repetition, he will watch a video segment, then turn his head away, cocking his ear toward the speaker and listen.  Watch, then listen.  Watch, then listen.  It can get annoying, but when you realize that he’s trying to learn, it’s a bit easier to stand it.  After watching/listening, he’ll try to say whatever’s being said, or sing the song being played.  It’s really precious to see.

We’ve continued to notice that he is also using the phrases appropriately in various situations during his day.  “Whatever is HAPPENING?” is a popular one when he’s, well, wondering what is happening.  We still hear “I can’t stop! Help! Help!” or “Oh, no, I’m in trouble!” when there’s a crisis.  And this morning, a sleepy Stephen who wasn’t ready to get dressed for school declared: “Of all the beastly luck!  Confound that ridiculous Colonel Hathi.”  (Stephen is Shere Khan the tiger and I am Colonel Hathi the elephant in this scenario. That’s from “The Jungle Book,” for the uninitiated.)

It is no less than astounding to see this boy, so trapped and encumbered by autism, continue to find his own way to communicate.  He is still a delight and a joy when he is happy – dancing through our lives with his smiles and belly laughs. 

Overall, things at our house are, dare I say it, smooth at the moment.  David, Kerry and I have settled into the relative peace, and as a team we are learning more about riding the waves of Stephen’s ups and downs.  It helps to have each other to lean on.  Kerry is as laid back as ever, calm and unruffled.  David has become rather masterful at figuring out the reasons behind some of Stephen’s meltdowns.  And thanks to my doctor’s help, I seem to have found a good anti-anxiety medicine, and I feel stronger and more capable of weathering those storms.

Thanks to David for giving me the nudge to write this morning.  It’s good to acknowledge the bright moments, and I’ve neglected to do that at times.  So, we will keep taking each day as it comes, knowing that we really can handle whatever happens.

Maybe

I woke up feeling unsettled today and the morning has continued to follow a downhill spiral.

Maybe it was because I went to bed feeling down – I’d said something that wasn’t intended to be hurtful to David but came across that way.  I get so frustrated with myself for rarely thinking carefully before I speak.  I cause myself untold problems because of this propensity.  Apparently, some people don’t choose to vocalize their every waking thought.  Who knew?  <sigh>

Maybe it was because Kerry got irritated due to these factors:

1. He was running late and I had only tried to wake him up 3 times.  Gah!  What is my problem?
2. His hair was not doing its flip-thing properly.  He said, and I quote, “I should always dry my hair before I go to bed at night.”  Umm…and how many times did I ask him last night if he wanted a little help drying his hair?  Twice.  He of course said, “No,” with that mildly irritated scorn that 13 year old boys have mastered.

(To Stephen’s credit, he was lovely and sweet and happy this morning.  Thankfully.)

Maybe it was because I tried to do too much before leaving for work (my fault, but I love to come home to made-up beds).

Maybe it was because after I finally got on the road the lady in front of me started moving when the light turned green then inexplicably slammed on her brakes instead of continuing to turn right.  No cars coming.  No emergency vehicles coming.  No small children wandering in the street.  I didn’t hit her, thankfully, but did this cause me to slosh coffee all over?  Oh, yes.  Yes it did.  Did I have a napkin?  No.  No I did not.  Did I dig a used paper towel (used for what?) out of the side pocket of the car door and clean it up?  You bet.

Maybe, just maybe, it was because I realized I had to get gas, that cute little gas icon mocking me as I contemplated trying to make it to work without getting gas (quickly surmising that with the morning I was having, running out of gas would NOT be a good thing – like it ever is?).  Or perhaps the fact that it took approximately 47 minutes (give or take) to fill up my car because the pump kept clicking off after 0.000032 gallons went into the tank.  *squeeze pump*  *CLICK* *pump, pump, pump* *CLICK!!!*  Repeat sixty-two times and you’ve got it.  ARGH.

Maybe it was because there was a record number of idiots who should have never been given drivers licenses on I-65 this morning.  You know, those people who whip around you like they’re on the vice squad and involved in a chase, only to find out that the cars in this lane are at a standstill just like the other two lanes?  And somewhere down 65 from my exit there must’ve been a collision of two of those model drivers, and it slowed down everything, and I was running late already from having to get gas…

Maybe it was because I dragged myself into the office with my various bags, purse, lunch, etc. and accidentally bumped someone.  I quickly said, “Oh, sorry!” only to be fixed with a glare, eyerolling, and a sort of “hmmppphhh!” kind of noise.  I barely brushed them!  Remember the old “excuse me for living, the graveyard’s full!”?  I should’ve yelled that, really loudly.  Don’t you think?

Maybe, possibly, it was because when I finally stumbled to my desk and got my computer going, I had an email from my bank with this subject line: “Helpful Ways to Avoid Overdrafts.”  Oh, well, here we go.  Within this email I’m going to find some solid advice.  I can just tell.  I’ll bet I can even guess one of the suggestions: “Keep plenty of money in your account.  This will keep your balance positive and insure no more fees for overdrafts!”  Double argh. 

Well, it wasn’t quite that bad, but it did start off with a bit of chiding:

We realize that it's not always easy to keep track of your spending [HA!] and the exact balance in your checking account [are you kidding? it’s easy – Z-E-R-O] — and Regions wants you to know that we're here to help you maintain financial control [awwww!  you guys are so sweet!]. Our records indicate that you have incurred overdraft fees several times over the last year. 

Oh, really?  How nice of you to notice.  “Several times”?  My OD fees alone have probably financed some CEO’s last vacation to Aruba.

Then it goes on to give me several options about tying my account to a savings or money market account (excuse me while I laugh uproariously) or to a Regions credit card (excuse me…more laughing).

So, eight “maybe’s” later – I think that at the root of it all is that I am just plain old tired.  Tired of being “strong.”  Tired of being “special.”  Tired of astounding people who “just don’t know how you do it.”  (News flash – we DON’T.  We almost always feel worn out, or worried or isolated or misunderstood.) Tired of rarely having a cogent thought.  Tired of not remembering what it’s like to be normal, to have a normal life, friends, social events, of being so worn out at the end of the day that I don’t have the energy to do anything beyond what has to be done.  Tired of watching my husband struggle to deal with things that are out of his control, yet impact him at every turn – with no one to listen or understand or care but me.  We try.  We try so hard to stay positive, to look for the little things, to smile.  But sometimes it just doesn’t work anymore.

So.  There.  BLEAAAGH to this day. 

“I think I’ll move to Australia.”

*For the uninitiated among you who haven’t read the original book which happens to be about Alexander’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day – go, find it, read it, and laugh.  It’s a classic.

**Pssst.  Thanks for letting me vent.