Category Archives: food issues

August 13, 2012 · 10:05 am

Hard

This is week is going to be hard.  Starting tomorrow, there’s going to be a therapist in my house every evening at 5:00 p.m. to train Dylan to eat.  Now that I’m done crying about it, I’ve started to think about what it’s going to be like to have a semi-permanent dinner guest.   I’m going to have to keep the house clean, and I should probably try a little harder to put the laundry away instead of leaving it folded on the dining room table until it eventually disappears from use.  I’ll have to go through the mail on a more regular basis, too (sigh), and I’ll need to make sure the left side of the sink is clear of dirty, smelly dishes.  Most importantly, I’ve been wondering if it would be awkward to pour myself a glass of wine like I normally do around 5:00 p.m. each day.  (At least I’ve found my sense of humor.  Grateful Mama!)

But food therapy isn’t the only hard thing I have to do this week.  On Tuesday, I have to take Riley to the lab for blood work.  From a teeny-tiny vein in his teeny-tiny arm.  (We’re testing for allergies.  I’ll share more on this when I have more to report and more energy to report it.)  I’m counting on him to be a good patient like he usually is, but I’m also preparing for other less desirable scenarios.  (For a long time, I had one singular rule of parenting: Expect the unexpected.  I added a second rule after Dylan started sleeping with a portable DVD player in his bed: Never say never.)

As food training and blood work aren’t going to be hard enough, I also have to sharpen 48 pencils by 9:00 a.m. on Friday morning.

Note to self:

Sharpen these guys (or gals):

This no easy task when your pencil sharpener looks like this.

Oh stop.  Thank you.  [Cue blushing.]  Yes, you’re absolutely right.  This is the coolest pencil sharpener on the planet.  I really don’t like to brag.  It’s so hard to take a compliment.  But, well, thank you.

Yes, it’s a pencil sharpener.  I swear.  It requires no electricity, batteries, or apps.  All that’s needed is strength, sweat, and time.  It’s a Boston Champion manual pencil sharpener.  I doubt this antique is worth much money (although you can buy one on eBay for as much as $69.99!), but for me it’s personal.  Sorry to burst your bubble, my friends, but there’s no Runaway Mama giveaway here.  This Boston Champion is not for sale.  Not now, not ever.  I love it!  And here’s why:

  • My dad gave it to me.
  • It says “Boston” on the side and that’s wicked awesome.
  • It vaguely resembles a mini meat grinder.  Or a really clever spaghetti maker.  Or an owl.  (Okay, maybe not an owl.)
  • It’s manual!  Remember when we had to roll up and down windows in the car with a handle?  (I’m old.)
  • It makes my arm sore.  (I’ll take any exercise I can get these days.)
  • Dylan and Riley marvel at it.  They rarely see a piece of equipment in our house that isn’t a touch screen vessel for watching “Transformers Prime” on Netflix, and that’s exactly why they love it.  It’s a novelty and it’s mine, which makes it priceless to them, like my ill-fated heart-shaped crystal paperweight.

Per Dylan’s Kindergarten supply list, I not only had to buy 48 #2 pencils (and 12 glue sticks, six-eight pink erasers, two eight-count packs of Crayola markers, four 24-count packs of Crayola crayons, and I won’t bore you with the rest), but I’m also responsible for sharpening them.  With the Boston Champion.  It’s a lengthy process that requires motivation, drive, and some serious fine motor skills as dramatized in still photography here.

Squeeze.

Insert.

Secure.

Sharpen! (Keep going!  You can do it!  Hang in there!  Don’t give up!  You only have to do this 47 more times!  You’re a rock star!)

Extract.

And voila:

What did you say?  Office Depot is having an electric pencil sharpener sale?  There’s tax-free back to school shopping this week?  You have an electric sharpener I can borrow?  Thanks, but no thanks.   I’m all set.  Between Dylan’s dinners, Riley’s blood work, and the sharpening of the pencils, it’s going to be rough week, but it’s also going to be a labor of love.

Do you have a hard week ahead?

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Filed under food issues, Grateful Mama, owls, school, sensory processing disorder

August 10, 2012 · 4:42 pm

The Couch (Or Blame) (Or Hands)

I fell asleep on the couch on Wednesday night.  I love falling asleep on the couch while watching television.  It’s as comforting to me as the scent of my mom’s perfume or the taste of her matzo ball soup.  Of course, I missed the last ten minutes of “Franklin and Bash,” which drives Mike crazy, because I always wake up when a show is over and ask him how it ended.  He doesn’t understand how I can stay awake until the last scene of a show and then fall asleep.  He doesn’t understand how much I love falling asleep on the couch!  On Wednesday night, when he tried to wake me and send me to bed, I kept saying in my sleep, “It’s not my fault.”  He thought it was strange.  I didn’t.

After my molar pregnancy, I blamed myself (and my body) for not being able to make a baby properly.  Eventually, with the passage of time (and a lot of therapy), I figured out that it wasn’t my fault, but that early and tragic brush with motherhood was where I learned the art of blame.

On Wednesday afternoon, I sat at my kitchen table with a $158 per hour behavioral therapist who spent the better part of two hours convincing Dylan to consume a piece of turkey the size of an ant, and I thought, How did we get here?

Of course I blame myself for his sensory processing disorder.  He is made up of half of my DNA.  Maybe it’s from the chemotherapy I had after the molar pregnancy or the preeclampsia that forced me to deliver him early at 37 weeks.  Maybe it was the c-section.  Maybe it was the store bought baby food or the bottles riddled with BPA.  Maybe it’s because I had no idea what I was doing as a first time mom that his habits and behaviors, especially with food, got so bad.

What’s worse is that sometimes I blame him.  Why can’t he listen, eat, dress, or behave like his peers?  Ugh.  Those are the really bad, regrettable thoughts. (The strike-through makes me feel a little bit less hideous.)  Then the blame shifts and I wonder what evil part of my soul is capable of being so selfish, impatient, and incapable of accepting my son for the perfectly imperfect person he is.   And then It shifts again and I wonder if he blames me for not understanding, for doing too much, for not doing enough, or for doing it all too late.

At times like this, I look for a lesson and a truth.  The truth is that it’s not my fault.  Deep down I know this, but blame has remarkable power.  The lesson is that I have power, too.  When my children’s flaws are exposed, so are mine.  It’s what I do with the vulnerability that counts.  Every day I spend as Dylan and Riley’s Mama makes me a better parent and person.  All of the self-doubt, mistakes (perceived or real), questioning, crying, and couch sleeping makes me stronger and smarter.  I can’t wait to look back at this chapter in our lives someday and be insanely proud of how we conquered this beast of a problem as a family.  Until then, we keep on our journey.

Today, Grandma Barbara and I took the boys to an art exhibit, Nathan Sawaya: The Art of the Brick, at the Art and Culture Center of Hollywood.  (Local readers: The exhibit is here until August 19th, so it’s not too late to check it out.)  This guy builds the most beautiful and thought-provoking sculptures with Legos.  It was just what I needed to get out of my head…

“Think!”

…and into his.

This was Dylan’s favorite:

This was Riley’s:

These were mine:

“The Writer”

“Despair”

“Yellow”

“Kiss”

This one was my absolute favorite:

“Hands”

I couldn’t take my eyes off of it.  He wanted to grasp something, but he was incapable.  He wanted to repair something, but the task was overwhelming. There were so many broken pieces.  Where would he begin?  How would he ever take hold of it if he couldn’t reach it?  I thought, How did he get there? 

It made me lose my breath, but it also gave me great comfort.

What brings you comfort during challenging times?  Have you been to any good art exhibits recently?

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Filed under blame, food issues, Legos, molar pregnancy, motherhood, sensory processing disorder