Camp cooking hack.

We’re vacationing on the cheap this summer.  Yes, that means we’re camping.  Tent camping, no less.  Camping can get expensive really fast if you don’t prepare your own food.  And, it can get exhausting really fast if most of the prep work hasn’t been done before the trip.

Which means, for the last week I’ve been making breakfasts and dinners galore that can be easily cooked or reheated on a camping stove (or in the fire) so we can enjoy yummy food in minutes with minimal mess.  I started with French toast sticks.

Keeping marriage alive.

Date night.  I used to think there was no way we could pull it off.  Our kids were difficult, babysitters were expensive, we were so stinkin’ tired by the end of the day that doing anything besides hitting the sack seemed ridiculous.  We wasted many years justifying our low frequency of date nights.  Then our oldest turned 11.  And suddenly a whole new world opened up to us.  Tim and I could pay her far less than hiring outside help, but enough to keep her honest.  So date night became a thing for us.  We have a basic rotation of what we do for our dates – a monthly lunch date, an evening at the temple, an occasional game night with friends, movie night at home, a walk or bike ride on the Greenbelt.  My favorite though, and of course it’s the most expensive of the lot, is our season tickets to the Idaho Shakespeare Festival.  4-5 plays a summer and we book the tickets ahead of time so that it’s on the calendar.  Works like a charm.  It’s a built-in date night doing something we both love.  Outdoor theater with my man.  Building our relationship one act at a time.  Genius.

The way to a man’s heart.

Dads have come a long way in recent years.  Studies suggest that they help more around the home and with the children than ever before.  Despite this, our appreciation/respect for what they do may or may not have improved accordingly.

This Father’s Day we set out to make certain Tim had no doubt how much we love a appreciate everything he does for our family.  How better to do that than through food, glorious food?

For starters, the kids scoured Pinterest for just the right candy bar poster.  

We kicked off the morning with a nutritious breakfast of (yep! They’re homemade!) Boston Cream Donuts.

I could have stopped there but since dinner has to get on the table, why not make it a special request from our special guy?  Louisiana Chicken Pasta it was.  Seriously delish.  (Though, as a side note, I would recommend pounding the chicken breasts super thin so you don’t have to deep-fry them to the point of looking burnt…the chicken tasted divine but didn’t make for an amazing display). 

All that(and a Sunday afternoon nap) made for one happy daddy.  That night Tim thanked me for my hard work and thoughtfulness and remarked that he needed to up his game on making me feel awesome on Mother’s Day.  Cha-Ching!

A break for Lily and me.

You know that time you wrote a lengthy blog post about a fun experience you got to have with your second-born which you subsequently deleted?  No?  Well I do.  So let’s just hope that in this case a picture is worth a thousand words.  Sixth-grade field trip with Lily was awesome.  The end.

We run for food and friends, in that order.

I signed the kids up for Boise’s Capitol Classic again.  It’s a one-mile run down Capitol Boulevard for kids ages 6-14.  My girls never hesitate when I ask if they want to participate any given year, largely because they can count on at least one friend for company along the path and, more importantly, they anticipate the after-race party in downtown’s Capitol Park with food, games, potential prizes and food.  Wait, did I mention that already?

They came walking  flying down the street with their friends by their side and smiles on their faces.  They barely broke a sweat.  I’m not sure the race is the “boost” to fitness it’s intended to be, but whatever.  It’s a great way to kick off the summer.

The Ides of May

This May was surprisingly less hectic than previous ones.  Perhaps I’m getting used to the mayhem.  Or maybe I’m neither pregnant nor carrying around a baby so the demands are manageable.  Regardless, I’m grateful for the reduction in stress.  Here are a few shots of the mountains of projects, activities and performances that magically appear during the glorious month of May (when what you really want to be doing is relaxing by the pool with an ice-cold lemonade in hand…who am I kidding?  Like that ever happens in the life of a mother of five.)

Recitals and field trips and projects and concerts.  All joyful occasions.  And all DONE.

Love and logic.

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve been told I’m the worst mom in the world, Tim could quit his job and stay-at-home with the kids too.  Today I got an earful because I was refusing to “rescue” my youngest daughter from her dilly-dallying morning ways by making her lunch.

She’d been up for half an hour and had barely gotten dressed.  She had five minutes left to do everything else – eat breakfast and make her lunch.  She uncharactetistically scarfed down a bowl of cereal but, when faced with the task of pulling together a lunch in a minute flat, she began to fall apart and yelled at me to help her with her lunch.  In response to her disrespect, and the fact that her distress could have been easily avoided by staying on task that morning, I flatly refused.

The girl launched into a full-blown tantrum and subsequently missed her ride to school.  Well, the policy in our house is that if you miss your ride, you get to walk the almost 1.5 miles to school.  By yourself.

She tried to turn the tables on me and say that she wouldn’t go to school unless I drove her.  I wasn’t playing that game.  The policy on THAT is that if she didn’t do her job (school), she would get to do my job for the day (a whole lotta chores, naturally).  We have a policy for everything, apparently.

Reluctantly, she began to come around.  She cleaned up the destruction her tantrum had resulted in, made her lunch and got herself out the door.  I followed her closely in the car for over a mile until we reached a certain point where the road ends and the walking path begins. I decided to join her for the final stretch.

Apparently, the fresh air and exercise had done her good.  We chatted about how she could avoid the same scenario in the future as we dodged sprinklers and giggled when we got sprayed.  All was forgiven.  Apparently I’m no longer the worst mom in the world.  At least until next time.

How doing something for me made me a better mother.

It’s been said that “water cannot be drawn from an empty well” and that advice applies in particular to mothers.  The task to raise children is a daunting one and can tax even the most energetic of women.  It’s easy to get caught up in the idea that to mother is to give everything to our children and, while I believe that to err on the side of this extreme is better than the opposite, as always, there is a balance to be struck.

How does one find that balance?  How can a mother know when her well needs to be replenished and how can she determine exactly what would do the trick?  Some mothers have regular opportunities for replenishment : a satisfying job outside the home, a college course or two, a book club or exercise group, a religious study group or regular girls’ night.  Still others, like me, fill their wells in less regular increments: squeezing in dates with the hubby, taking an occasional trip (sans kids and sometimes husband as well), a spa day or participation in a community musical.

Each mother can determine the frequency of said “breaks” and the nature of them.  The trick is to do it deliberately and to make each moment away from your kids count.  It’s also important to refrain from feeling entitled to a “break” or claiming that you “need” it.  Despite the fact that there are obvious benefits to filling one’s well, I dare say that such attitudes diminish the sense of gratitude we feel for the opportunity to pursue one’s own interests AND for the appreciation we feel at the opportunity to be called “mother” in the first place.  There are very few things we “need” in life and it’s safe to say that a break from parenting does not make the short list.

Still, a quote from M. Russell Ballard reads:

Find some time for yourself to cultivate your gifts and interests. Pick one or two things that you would like to learn or do that will enrich your life, and make time for them. Water cannot be drawn from an empty well, and if you are not setting aside a little time for what replenishes you, you will have less and less to give to others, even to your children.

Notice he said “pick one or two things” and set aside a “little time” so that we would not fall into the trap of prioritizing ourselves over our deserving families.

On occasion, I have lacked such judgment and determined that my chosen “replenishment” was not replenishing at all and simply an escape.  Other times my chosen rejuvenation was just that and benefitted my family indirectly by inspiring me to be a better me.

One such time came a few years ago when I decided to participate in a community choir for the 8 weeks leading up to Thanksgiving.  I decided to do it largely because I missed performing and because it would only require a few hours a week for a short period of time.  And yes, because it would give me a break from my children.

The experience was everything I hoped it would be.  The music penetrated my soul and filled me with gratitude.  I formed cherished friendships.  My voice began to do things it hadn’t after years of relative disuse.  But the most remarkable effect it had was the way it changed my parenting.

I had become caught up in a cycle of negativity with my daughters.  Their strong wills compelled me to match them with progressively harsher discipline and it wasn’t working.

During one particular rehearsal, the choir was having serious pitch problems.  As we sang a certain a cappella number our problems with intonation were readily obvious. I’m sure it was a source of frustration to our accomplished conductors.  Instead of criticizing, however, they lavished praise on us and simply gave us tools to help us improve our intonation.

I learned something about parenting that day. I learned that negativity is rarely a catalyst for change.  I learned to exercise patience with my children who had far less experience and wisdom than I (much as I had less experienced than these incredible choir directors).  I learned to use praise as motivation for improvement.

I am so grateful that I was deliberate and prudent in my decision to spend time away from my family.  Consequently, it yielded far more benefits than anticipated.  My well was filled to the brim.  And then some.

Wishbone Day 2017

I meant to post on May 6th, which was Wishbone Day, but between soccer games, Saturday projects, play dates, concerts and a mommy/daddy/daughter date with Eve, the opportunity escaped me.  Still, the entire week is OI awareness week, so I figure I’m still on time and can call it a win.

We all wore yellow on Saturday to raise awareness of osteogenesis imperfecta, the genetic bone disorder with which Jack was born.  We are still learning about OI ourselves, and hope to participate more fully in raising awareness and improving the condition of life for the individuals affected by this rare disorder.  Lily wants to become a geneticist and find a cure for OI, so there’s that.

When Jack was diagnosed over a year ago, after suffering a femoral fracture at the tender age of one month, we were pretty clueless as to  what life would look like for our sweet little boy.  The type of OI with which he was diagnosed (Type III/IV) indicated anywhere between dozens and hundred of fractures in a lifetime, moderate to severe bone deformities, short stature, potential hearing loss in early adulthood, 50% chance of brittle teeth, etc.  We weren’t even sure if Jack would ever walk.

To be clear, we have never feared what the future holds for Jack.  Our understanding of the purpose of this life softens the blow of every hardship we encounter and we would go forward in faith no matter how severe Jack’s condition.  Likewise, our understanding of the purpose of this life demands that we recognize and are grateful for every way in which Jack’s condition has exceeded our expectations in terms of severity.  And it has.

So we still don’t know much.  Here’s what we DO know:

  1.  Modern medicine is glorious.  Without the regular infusions Jack has been getting to strengthen his bones, I dare say we would have seen a much higher incidence of fractures.  He’s only had one  in over a year.  As a side note, when we viewed the X-ray of his wrist after his recent fracture, you could see lines across his lower arm bones, much like tree rings, indicating bone growth.  Without pamidronate, the regular course of treatment for young OI kids, Jack’s limbs would be even shorter than they are.
  2. Jack is going to be short.  This comes as no surprise and we are, in fact, grateful that he is even ON the growth charts, albeit hovering in the 3rd percentile.
  3. Jack has dentinogenesis imperfecta, or brittle teeth, which is present in about half of OI patients.  He popped his first tooth at 6 1/2 months, WAY before any of my other kids had, which made me suspicious.  Sure enough, as his teeth have grown in, they have the telltale signs of a dentin deficiency, as they are discolored and somewhat translucent.  His dental care began at age 9 months and will prove to be rather involved.  And expensive.  We still think he has a winning smile.

4.  Jack has met all of his gross motor skill    milestones on schedule and is walking like a champ!  With increased mobility comes risk, so although we are thrilled that his bones are holding up under the weight of his body, we can’t help but cringe every time he tries to scale something.  Nevertheless, I would say he is the most cautious of all my toddlers.  It is apparent that he was blessed with a personality to match his fragile body.  Not foolproof, but to say we are grateful that he is not throwing himself off the top of the backyard slide (or anything else, for that matter) would be an understatement.

Jack is a bright, sensitive, sweet child who has brought a light and joy into our home that cannot be measured.  We are grateful for the concern and support our family and friends continue to demonstrate and look forward to many years of learning from the unbreakable spirit with which Jack has graced our lives.

The isolation of having a special needs child.

When I was pregnant with Jack I looked forward to the day I could join the local mommy workout group at our neighborhood church meetinghouse.  The other kids would be in school all day, I would have some pounds to lose, and we could incorporate it into our routine.  I’m very much a social exerciser-there ain’t no way I’m gonna bust my rear unless there’s someone else counting on me to be there or pushing me to do my best.

Alas, it was not meant to be.  As soon as we found out that Jack had OI, I knew that there was no way I could take him to an exercise group where energetic kids run around largely unsupervised.  It’d be like throwing him to the wolves.  I wasn’t willing to take that chance.

That isn’t the only concession I have made or will make on Jack’s behalf.  Contrary to when my daughters were young, Jack has never had a real play date.  I can’t really do “swaps” because it’s not exactly a fair trade to expect someone to baby my child so that her kid doesn’t inadvertently injure him while just doing what kids do.  The few times I’ve done social stuff during the school day, I simply bring Jack along and watch him like a hawk.  Which inevitably means my so-called social event ends up being pretty light on the social side of things.

I’ve also had to limit the amount of time I spend in my kids’ classes at school, an activity which has a fair amount of social benefits.  Toddlers are not exactly conducive to teaching art lessons so I’m relegated to leaving him with  dear friends with no kids (or really gentle kids)  at home to care for him while I support my older children.  Understandably, I don’t want to put these sweet friends out more than I have to, considering the huge hit to productivity it is to watch my delicate little boy.

I am lucky though.  We are comfortable enough financially that, if we need to spring for a sitter, our pocketbooks can handle it.  Consequently, our regular date nights haven’t suffered too much.  That has been a lifesaver and I realize that many marriages crumble under the strain of having a special needs child.  I suspect not having the time, money, or  energy to invest in maintaining your most important relationship might have something to do with that.

Still, during the daytime it’s just me and Jack and I’ve found it a little more complicated to foster relationships with friends (his AND mine) than it was when my girls were little.  Add to that the fact that all the friends I made at the time are no longer having kids and are knee-deep in teenage/school-age children probs.  Meanwhile, I’m being left in the dust with my lengthy to-do list, afterschool chauffeuring schedule, and a toddler clawing at my legs begging “up”.  The loneliness of it all can eat at a person.

Some of the questions I ask myself are, what am I going to do for preschool?  With my other kids, I ran a mother’s coop where we all took turns teaching.  Is that even possible or will I have to teach more often to compensate for the fact that the other mothers will have to hover over my child more than the others during free play time when she could otherwise just send them out for unstructured play?

Will I even send Jack to public school?  His height, bone fragility and discolored teeth might label him a target and I shudder to think of the possibilities of kids bullying him.

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE having a baby in the house again(if you can still call Jack that).  I’ll save that topic for another blog post.  And I’ll survive.  I’ll make new friends, revive much of the wonder of having “littles” in the house again.  I’ll just have to go at it a little differently this go around.

Having a special needs child is a game changer, for sure.  While I am grateful for the tools and means with which to deal with this new set of circumstances, the isolation is real.  I have a new perspective and greater compassion for those who find themselves having to navigate a world that is not designed for anyone who does not fit the norm.