Categories
Food Health and Nutrition Kids Parenting

Food vs “Food”

Alison’s cousin came to stay over the weekend, and I found myself exasperated at the child’s refusal to eat any of the food I had to offer.

She’s always been a picky eater, and believe me, I get the whole picky thing.  As a child, and actually through to my early twenties, my hypothalamus failed to notify me when my body needed fuel.  As a result, I never felt hungry.  And if food looked funny, smelled funny, or felt funny, I didn’t eat it. 

So, yeah.  I get it.  My history of pickiness is the reason we have a household rule that the kids have to try at least one bite of everything I put on their plates, healthy or not.

However.  In my opinion, this not-quite 7-year-old’s eating habits go beyond being picky.  She will not eat anything that is not deep fried, unless it’s ramen noodles or  a peanut butter and jelly sandwich – and even then, it has to be on white bread, no crusts. 

Her visit was unexpected, and so I had nothing to feed her int he pantry.  Blythe and I had to make a quick run up to the corner market, otherwise girlfriend was going to starve the whole time she was here.  And yes, I told her that I was not happy about spending $20 on “junk” because she won’t eat a damn banana or whole wheat noodle.

The child does not consume anything with any nutritional value.  N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

I know I go above and beyond when it comes to serving whole, nutritious foods in my household, and I also understand that not everyone eats that way.  If it weren’t for Blythe’s food allergies, I’d probably even allow my kids to eat a deep fried this or that on occasion. 

My in-laws insist that Alison’s cousin’s greasy food habit is normal, and my kids’ love of fruits, veggies, and whole grains is an oddity. 

It’s hard for me to believe that in this age of information, serving kids nothing but hollow foods is standard.  But then again, childhood obesity is at an all-time high, and you can’t go to a restaurant without seeing corndogs and chicken nuggets on the children’s menu.

So help me out, my friends.  Where on the spectrum does your family fall? 

Do your kids refuse to eat anything that isn’t fried or sugar filled?  Are your kids fruit and veggie junkies?  Or do they fall somewhere in between, in a happy medium?

Categories
Parenting Special Needs

Ostrich

It’s been six months since Blythe was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder.

She’s made incredible progress.  A few set-backs, to be sure, but mostly progress.

I just realized today that I haven’t been taking advantage of all the resources available to me, to help her.  And in that discovery I was smacked in the face with something my best friend told me many, many years ago.

When things get tough, I invert.  I do things by myself.  I don’t ask for help.  I reinvent the wheel when there’s a perfectly good one sitting 10 feet away.

Why do I have to keep learning this lesson? 

I let myself get so overwhelmed by the heaviness of it all, never asking for help until I’m being crushed into the ground, like Atlas

Why am I so afraid of letting others help me, or in this case, my daughter?

Why haven’t I connected with the many people who have offered support with Blythe’s special needs?

Why didn’t I assume there was a website dedicated to clothing for kids with SPD (many thanks to Heather for the link)?  So many simple solutions to problems we face every day.  Why didn’t I at least do a quick internet search?

Why did I take it upon myself to research every possible preschool for Blythe, instead of calling our county’s office of education for recommendations?

Why haven’t I hired a housekeeper?

Because I do things myself.  Even if life around here would have been a hundred times more pleasant for the past six months, had I just reached out for some support.

Why haven’t I learned to ask for help?  Or at least learned to gracefully accept it, when it’s offered.

Every time I re-learn this lesson, I want to give myself a swift kick in the ass.

Categories
Kids Parenting Special Needs

Bye-Bye, Baba

This morning, Blythe and I watched the slide show I made for her first birthday.

I pointed out how big she is becoming, how tall and smart.  We talked about how big girls drink milk from a cup, and babies drink milk from a bottle.

I pointed to the Blythe on the screen, baby Blythe.  I pointed to the Blythe on my lap, Big Girl Blythe.  We talked about how there are babies out there who could really use her bottles.

So, I made her one last bottle.  She asked that it be a BIG ONE.



And then we emptied the contents of her bottle cabinet into a box, and sealed it up with miles of packing tape.  I think all kids love tape. 



Blythe decided to send her bottles to Baby A.  She knows he could use them.

She carried the package out to the front porch all by herself, and set it on the bench for the mail lady to pick up.

She said good-bye to the box, good-bye to her baba’s.

And then, as we read books and got ready for nap, she began to cry.  She missed her baba’s.  She loved her baba’s.  She didn’t want them back – in her mind, they already belonged to Baby A. 

But she was grieving.  She was so very, very sad.  She doesn’t want to be a big girl anymore, she said.

I lay there in the dark with her, rubbing her back and feeling the tears fall down my cheeks and I mourned with her.  For a kid with Sensory Processing Disorder, there aren’t a lot of sure-fire options when it comes to soothing. 

Baba’s were her thing.  If she got overwhelmed and her senses felt like they were going out of control, a baba would calm her right down.  It’s hard for both of us to let them go.

But it’s time.  Recently she was very, very sick for two full weeks.  During that time, she developed a bad habit of “needing” a bottle to get her back to sleep every time she woke up in the night.

Now that she’s better, she continues to wake up every 2-3 hours, asking for one.  There are at least a dozen reasons I want to nip that habit right in the bud.  And the only way I can think of to do that, is to make bottles completely unavailable.

I know she’ll be alright.  She’ll find another way to soothe herself, and I’ll help her every step of the way.  This is a good thing.  It is.

But walking away from that package, from the last thing that kept her in “baby” status?  It was hard.  She’ll always be my baby. 

But it’s time for me to let her be a big girl.  My big girl.

Categories
Parenting Special Needs

Stages

Blythe has a raging double ear infection and a nasty, wet cough.  

I haven’t slept more than a few minutes at a time for 4 nights in a row, because she cries out, in pain, constantly throughout the night.  I lay next to her, and never fall completely asleep.

To say that I’m exhausted doesn’t begin to cover it.

Tonight, at bedtime, I lay there beside her and cried silently as she fidgeted for an hour before falling asleep.  The antibiotics contain traces of corn.  It’s the lesser of all the other corn-infused choices. 

For now, in the beginning, she’ll just be hyperactive.  Soon, though, the effects of corn exposure will start to manifest in a million different ways.  It’s hard to say how far this will knock her back, when all is said and done.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the parent I used to be, before Blythe was born.  The mother Alison had for her first 3 and a half years of life.  That woman was exactly the parent I always hoped I would become.

I love my daughters, both of them, with the kind of passion I never thought would be possible.  I wouldn’t trade them for anything.

But sometimes I wonder what our life would be like, if Blythe didn’t have special needs.  If I could only be the parent I used to be…

If I could run in to Rite Aid for cough drops like a normal person – without having to kick myself for letting my baby girl rest her cheek against the counter for a split second.

Her face started to swell immediately.  She was fine, after a speedy dose of Zyrtec.  But it rattled me.

What would life be like if I could relax?  How would things be different if I didn’t worry constantly?  What kind of mother would I be now, if I hadn’t had only a dozen restful nights of sleep in the past three years?

Would I let my kids have corn dogs?  I ran up to the store the other night, alone, and felt an unexpected pang of jealousy when I overheard a dad tell his two boys to pick something – anything, really – from the deli for dinner. 

I’ll never, ever be able to do that.

I mourn the loss of what could have been, sometimes.  On nights like these, when I’m exhausted and worried and tearful.  It makes no sense to pine for a life that won’t ever happen… especially when, for the most part, I am so incredibly happy with the life I already have.

Today, Alison lost her first tooth.  What a huge milestone it was.  I wish we could have celebrated, but instead we spent the afternoon at Urgent Care, with Blythe’s needs once again taking the front seat while Alison’s lesser needs are pushed to the back. 

Will she come to resent her sister, if I’m not careful?  Will she wish for a life that could have been?

I hope not.

Categories
Parenting Special Needs

Big Papa

Baby A is two days old.  Five pounds, five ounces, with the most adorable baby cheeks.



From the nursery window, he looks like any other baby.  But Baby A is different.

The woman who gave birth to him is a meth addict, and a smoker.  Child Protective Services took him from her as soon as he entered this world, and thank goodness. 

Without her, he has a fighting chance.



Our friend Jesse was informed just today that he gets to take Baby A home – parental rights have been signed over to him.

It was a scramble to put together everything a new, first time daddy might need.  In the baby section of Wal.Mart, I threw diapers, wipes, blankets, bottles, formula, baby soap and teeny-tiny nail clippers into his basket.  From my garage – a car seat, a crib mattress. 

That is enough to get them through the first few days.*

Jesse knows that taking care of Baby A will be difficult.  Meth babies face horrific challenges, ones that can last a lifetime.  But everything Baby A needs rests in Jesse’s hands, in his heart.  He will be the most amazing Big Papa – dedicated, careful, informed. 

Everything his birth mother was not.

After today, life for the two of them will never be the same.  And I, for one, can’t wait to see this beautiful family grow.

———

*Offers to help Jesse and Baby A have been pouring in.  Can I just say, again, how much I love this community?  The two of them could use just about anything you might think of, and donations of any kind are appreciated.  Email me at Jerdre53 (at) aol (dot) com or dm me @Sweet_Life on twitter if you are interested in helping.  Thank you!*