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In Which I Humiliate My Oldest Child

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The Tuesday after Halloween my eight-year-old ran to get the newspaper from the end of our driveway like she does every day. Aubrey loves to steal the comics out of the paper before her Daddy can even touch it. I was a little nervous about her reading my column that day. She gets embarrassed over the most random things. So I wasn’t surprised when she screamed, “MOM!!!!!” halfway through the article. I was however shocked about what she found so humiliating.

Here’s the column:

Halloween is not my favorite— I know this is probably shocking information. You are probably asking yourself, “But why wouldn’t you love to chase three small children fueled by high fructose corn syrup all over town in the pitch black praying that they don’t get hit by a car or lost in the dark?”

And to you, I’d say, “Exactly.” 

My anxiety levels increase in direct proportion to my children’s blood sugar level— school parties, fall festivals— sugar sneaks in to their day while they are at school and they become ticking time bombs, their blood sugar crashing just in time to get in the car with me. 

I picked the girls up from school on Halloween and braced myself for my least favorite night of the year. Aubrey and Emma dressed as “scary vampire ghost girls.” While I negotiated how much makeup they could wear, I told Sadie to go put on her costume. Sadie had originally said she wanted to be a police officer which was extremely convenient for me because Emma was a police woman last year and the costume fit Sadie. But when she got ready to go trick or treating with her class, she folded at the last minute and dressed as a princess.

I had no idea what she was going to put on when she walked out of the bathroom, but being as she is the third child, I really didn’t care. Sadie came back quickly wearing a hot pink leotard, her purple tennis shoes and a cape. I choked on my laughter and asked her what she was. She rolled her eyes, “A supah hewoe gull— duh!” 

She looked like Richard Simmons in a cape. 

“Of course you are! But you need pants, it’s cold.” I bargained. 

She ran out of the room and came back after adding a pair of blue jeans to her get-up. 

Emma fell apart trying to find a pair of shoes to match her outfit. No matter how many words I used, she could not be convinced that white sandals with a large flower on the toe, might not be the scariest or warmest choice to complete her costume. 

As all three girls argued over who got to carry which candy bag, I fantasized about ways I could scare them straight. I wished I still had a prom dress from high school that I could wear in the carpool line to pick them up, or maybe I could just go pants-less, they would be horrified and no one else would have to be the wiser. 

What could I do to make my children feel the same sense of dread that I feel when facing Halloween? To make them understand the horror I had to face to get them in the bed after eight hours and 8000 grams of sugar— each. 

I daydreamed about showing up at their school to eat lunch with them and grabbing food out of their friends lunch boxes. I’d grab a fork and just stab anything within arms reach. 

“You gonna eat that?” I’d ask their friends as my kids stared open mouthed in horror. 

The girls continued to scuffle, they started to simmer down as we made our way out of the house and into the car. 

“Buckle your seat belts,” I admonished, still silently scheming— I could break out into spontaneous dance in the grocery store, or put their birth videos into their backpacks for Show & Tell— if that didn’t terrify everyone who saw it then I didn’t know what would. 

The commotion in the backseat got louder. 

“Buckle your seat belts or you are going to be sorry,” I said, smiling to myself as I cranked the car. If all else fails, the price tag on their therapy bills should be enough to scare anybody. 

I will give you ten million guesses what she was embarrassed about…

The idea of my sending her birth video to school?

Nope.

The thought of me eating off of her friend’s lunch trays?

Not even.

The suggestion that I drive her to school in my underpants?

Negative.

“MOOOOOM!” She screamed, “WHY DID YOU TELL EVERYBODY ME AND EMMA WERE THE SAME THING??!!!”

The horror. 

Emma (6yo) Weighs in on Election

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Emma: Momma do you want Mitt Romney to be our president or Barack Obama to be our president for four more years?

Me: Ummmm, neither really.

Emma: WELL, Barack Obama’s favorite food is chili and his favorite sport is basketball…

Me: Okay.

Emma: Mitt Rom-in-nee’s favorite sport is riding horses and his favorite food is granola. AND he has 18 grandkids.

Me: Where are you getting this stuff?

Emma: It was in my Weekly Reader. I really like chili… BUT also? I really like horses too. I don’t know who I would vote for. That’s hard.

Me: Tell me about it.

I Don’t Want to Blink

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It was quiet in my house this weekend. Eerily quiet if you are used to the normal level of screeching and hissing that becomes white noise when you are raising three daughters. I wandered around my house in the quiet trying to figure out what was wrong.

Traditionally if my children are extremely quiet one of a few things is about to happen: a) something is being destroyed, b) something is being eaten that shouldn’t be eaten or c) very expensive makeup is being used as a mosaic on my bathroom floors. I shuffled around, doing a head count and found something odd. I repeatedly found all three of my children in the same room. All weekend long my house would get quiet, I’d go looking for them and find all three girls huddled together and here’s a headline— not making mischief.

They played dress up, pulled out board games and played tug of war with our dog, all three girls against Moses. (He still won.) Aubrey, Emma and Sadie piled up on the couch to watch a movie, then begged me for a quilt to take outside. While wandering through the kitchen in my pajamas I caught a glimpse of them through the screen door.

The light outside was golden, orange and yellow leaves gently swirled to the ground. I could hear their laughter and conversation spilling in the kitchen door and I watched them across the yard. Aubrey was wearing her Halloween costume and raking up a pile of leaves at the bottom of the slide. Emma and Sadie sat in their playhouse above her, bundled together in a quilt, watching. Once Aubrey finished she climbed into the playhouse and helped Sadie sit on the slide. Their peals of laughter ricochetted through the cool fall air as leaves flew up as Sadie slid into the pile.

It’s hard sometimes, in the screeching, homework doing, dinner cooking week— to remember that these moments exist. It’s easy to become so busy in doing that we don’t remember how much we have to be thankful for. I stand at the screen door until the wind begins to chill me and dusk begins to fall. I call the girls inside and during bath time and dinner, brushing hair knotted by the wind and jumping into leaves— I forget, again.

Emma runs crying into the room brandishing a bite mark, “Sadie bit me!!”

I forget the golden moment and slip into Mommy Dictator mode, “SADIE!”

Sadie sits in timeout, chubby arms folded across her chest in defiance.

“You need to apologize to your sister,” I admonish.

“She can say sowwy to huhself!” Sadie smarts off.

“No she can’t.”

“Oh, cuz she didn’t bited huhself?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

“No she didn’t.”

“I want to get a new family!” Sadie threatens.

“We’ll miss you. Should I pack your things?” I ask.

“Well… not wight now. I’m gonna get a new family later.” With her change of heart Sadie apologized and finally everyone is in bed. Until they’re not. And I forget, again how lucky I am to have them. I am tired and sick and I just want to sleep.

“PLEASE stay in the bed!” I beg as one by one my husband and I put them back in their beds.

The house is quiet, everyone is asleep. I straighten the covers on Aubrey’s bed and kiss her curly head. I pad quietly to the kitchen, flipping off lights, checking the doors. I walk into Emma and Sadie’s room. Emma’s empty bed confuses me for a second until my eyes adjust to the dark and I see two small shapes under the covers of Sadie’s bed.

I smooch their warm cheeks while they sleep, curled around each other like two baby kittens. Their sisterly squabble of less than an hour before is clearly forgiven. I wonder at what drove them to the same bed, laughing to myself that sleeping four feet away from each other seemed like such a hardship when only an hour before they were ready to trade each other in. I inhale the sweet smell of their heads and for a moment, I remember.

Why I’m Gluten Free

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About two years ago I was having a lot of health issues, I was exhausted to the point that I was peeing on sticks to see if I was pregnant and generally felt like crap. I went to see a nurse practitioner who specializes in food allergies and takes a naturopathic approach to medicine. She ran some blood tests and within a few days told me that I had serious vitamin deficiencies. (Ding, ding, ding– red flag.)

She gave me supplements, did some additional testing and told me I should feel better in a few weeks. I was extremely skeptical but after 10 days of supplements I did start to feel better. By the time I went back to see her I felt better than I had in months.

“You cured me!” I told her.

She was glad I felt better but said my latest blood work had shown her what she suspected, I was gluten sensitive which was most likely the cause of my vitamin deficiencies.

I was not impressed. She rattled off a list of typical gluten sensitive symptoms but nothing sounded familiar.

“I just don’t think I have that?” I said.”There’s one way to find out. Cut it out of your diet for a month and see how you feel. Then add it back in.”

So I did.

It was hard.

Gluten= protein found in wheat, rye & barley that binds bread & gives it it’s texture, i.e, what makes it delicious.

I had no idea what I was doing or what I could eat but realized quickly that there was gluten in EVERYTHING. After about a month of starving I was at the beach on vacation and made a calculated decision to commit glutenicide over a cup of gumbo. The flour in the roux contained gluten but I didn’t care. I ate it with abandon.

Within the hour I broke out in a rash on my arms, legs and back. Message received.

The longer I’ve been off gluten, the more strongly I react to it when I commit glutenicide or accidentally “get glutened.” The only way to be tested for celiac disease, or gluten intolerance, involves eating gluten for a week and having a biopsy of your stomach– that seems extreme since I know if I eat it I will get sick. I’m not going to pay someone a couple of grand to tell me what I already know. No gluten for me.

I found out about Udi’s within the first 6 months of being gluten free and it made my life so much easier. I quit trying to measure weird ingredients and make bread or a pizza crust that was barely edible. I stocked my freezer and pantry with Udi’s and made a few simple changes to the way I cook, I learned how to tweak recipes to make them gluten free.

TIPS FOR COOKING GLUTEN FREE:

  • Use cornstarch as a thickener for soups and sauces instead of flour.
  • Make your own gluten-free bread crumbs for dishes using Udi’s bread or use cornflakes.
  • Buy a bag of gluten-free flour to substitute cup for cup when breading, frying or pan frying. (Proportions will not be the same for baking.)
  • Keep gluten free tamari (soy sauce) in your pantry for making your own marinades and stir- fries.
  • Check the label on chicken/beef stock that you buy. There is often gluten in these products that you may not know about.
  • Learn how to make a gluten free *béchamel sauce (if you live in the South think Cream of Chicken Soup.) This sauce can be used as a base for casseroles, pot pies, creamy soups and macaroni and cheese.

Check out Udi’s website for more information on going gluten free and take their Udi’s 14-Day Gluten Free Challenge!

Got any questions about being gluten free? Let me answer them for you!

I was not paid for this post but did receive a box of Udi’s product samples which I inhaled. Dark Chocolate Brownie Bites? Almost as good as cash dollahz. 

* Béchamel Sauce or White Sauce:

2 Tbs of butter melted on the stovetop

2 TBS of Gluten free flour, add to butter and whisk

Slowly add 2 cups of liquid: milk, half/half, cream, chicken stock or a combination of these.

Salt and pepper to taste

Add grated cheese for a cheese sauce for gluten free pasta.

 

Sadie Puts Baby Jesus in Timeout

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A few weeks ago I wrote about all the things I’ve heard myself say to my kids that I never anticipated coming out of my mouth. I joked about telling my kids not to jump on the trampoline topless, then while drinking my coffee one morning before school I saw something out of the corner of my eye. It was Sadie, my three-year-old, jumping on the trampoline in nothing but her brand new purple tennis shoes as half of Greenwood drove by on their way to take their kids to school.

Things haven’t improved in that arena— the crazy things I say to my kids that is— the nekkid trampoline jumping was thankfully curbed by a recent drop in temperatures.

I picked my kids up from school a few weeks ago and drove by the drug store to pick up a prescription. As we waited in line the girls unbuckled their seat belts and wiggled around in the car. It was fine, until their giggling turned to shrieking and I found myself screaming, “IF EVERYONE COULD JUST SIT ON THEIR OWN BUTT ON THEIR OWN SEAT!!” right as the window slid open and the pharmacy tech asked if she could help me. The look in her eyes said she knew the answer to that question— I was beyond all help but she was wrong, I was picking up my anti-anxiety meds so she may have saved three little lives.

This week, in lieu of nekkid trampoline jumping, Sadie spent a lot of time playing with her “Little People.” I had a Little People dollhouse as a child and Sadie loves to get her own dollhouse and all of her little figurines and pretend. Her productions can be quite horrifying or hilarious, depending on how you look at things. She had found some figurines from her Little People Nativity Set, so as she played Joseph and Mary interacted with a generic Dad figurine with a cellphone literally glued to his hand and the Baby Jesus had a play date with the Little People baby.

I was cooking dinner and listening as Sadie played at the kitchen table. Apparently the grownup Little People were eating dinner— Mom, Dad, Mary, Joseph and one stray Wise Man and the babies were left to play together. I don’t know what happened but a fight broke out between the babies and things got heated.

Baby: You are a baby!

Baby Jesus: Uh-uh! You are! You are the baby!

Baby: No I’m not! You are the baby— you STUPID!

Baby Jesus: You poo-poo head!

Me: HEY!

I rapped my wooden spoon on the kitchen counter, “We don’t talk like that.”

Sadie shrugged and held up her babies, “Dey said it Momma. Not me.”

“I’m pretty sure Baby Jesus never called anyone a poo-poo head.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Want me to put him in timeout?”

Sadie put Baby Jesus in timeout for saying poo-poo head, as I finished dinner and wondered if I should send her out to the trampoline.

Health Care Scare– Mississippi Style

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I had to go to the hospital today to get a head CT… of my sinuses.

I realize that doesn’t sound traumatic to you, but I spent an entire twenty minutes in the waiting room playing through the soap opera-esque scenario of getting “the call.”

Obviously it would be a tumor or something totally inoperable. I envisioned my poor motherless children at my funeral and wondered how long Zeb would wait to start dating. (At least fifteen years.) I was lost in this familiar daydream (read: what I do every single time an airplane takes off) when the Radiology Tech called my name.

RT: Robin O’Bryant?

I walked towards her as two nursing students in their bright whites approached us.

Nursing Student to RT: Do you know where they are giving the influenza shots?

RT: I don’t know. They are giving flu shots on the 5th floor. **They could be doing those there too?

Me: *slaps self in face*

This is why every health care encounter I have scares the chit out of me.

Dramatic diagnosis: I have chronic sinus issues. In lieu of flowers, send Mucinex-D.

**This is alarming because flu IS influenza. If you didn’t know that, I forgive you. Unless you are a medical professional and then I do not.