I met with a nutritionist yesterday to talk strategy for Ceeya's feeding issues. It was very helpful, and I walked out of there feeling poorer, but optimistic. For one thing, the nutritionist (known henceforth here as "Dr. Eats") was very encouraging about what we are doing right, such as all eating together as a family at the table without the TV on, saying grace before meals (SPD kids need routine and ritual), and pushing fresh as opposed to processed foods as much as possible. She also liked that we are doing sensory activities that are related to food, such as putting uncooked rice and beans in a large Tupperware container, hiding small toys in the rice and having Celia dig through to find them, and "painting" with whipped cream. Her primary concern as we talked about what Ceeya eats is that she's barely getting any carbs, since she doesn't eat rice, pasta, bread or potatoes (except in French fry form). So she wants us to begin trying to get her to eat those at every meal—to keep giving her the core foods she loves but also at each meal to offer a food she won't currently eat, preferably a starch. She made the point that when Ceeya rejects a food that she has been accustomed to eating, we should respect that, keep it out of her diet for a few days and then bring it back. Interesting: when I told her of Ceeya's vestibular issues (i.e. she becomes anxious with unsteady or unpredictable movement), she asked whether she sits in a high chair. She does, so Dr. Eats suggested simply moving her to a child-sized table and chair, so her feet are firmly on the ground and she doesn't feel like she is floating in space. Despite the high chair having a platform for her feet to rest on, she may simply have issues with eating that far up off the ground. That had not even occurred to me, but it makes perfect sense. Other tips: make everything bite-sized and stick a toothpick in it. Since Ceeya hates touching things, she may be more amenable to eating food when holding it on a stick. (She certainly loves popsicles, so this is familiar to her.) Dr. Eats suggested making really tiny meatballs, cream of wheat "snowballs," and rice balls to be speared with toothpicks. Sweet Dub, ever the dedicated father, has declared Friday night "Toothpick Night," and claims he is making food the whole family can eat and it will all be on toothpicks. Dr. Eats says we should make the most of Ceeya's willingness to dip things to get more protein into her—since she loves tortilla chips, she suggested pureeing black or pinto beans into bean dip, or making "baby" guacamole with mashed avocado and a little salt. She is already into dipping fruit into yogurt, so we will just continue with that. Portion size is another thing. We don't tend to give Ceeya a lot of food at one time, because it overwhelms her and she will just throw it all off her high chair tray and look at us blankly. Dr. Eats said that even giving her a lump of mac and cheese is too much—we basically have to differentiate each noodle. "Pull out five individual noodles from the mac and cheese," she said. (Dear Lord.) Dr. Eats also suggested getting Ceeya more involved with food prep—for example, in making homemade chicken tenders. She advised putting cornflakes in a Ziploc bag and letting Ceeya bang on the bag until they're pulverized, then putting boneless chicken pieces in the bag and letting her shake it until they're coated. She can then watch me fry them. "Now, she may not eat them the first few times," she said. "In fact, you might have to make them that way twenty different times before she'll actually eat them. I'm not saying she's going to eat a new food tomorrow, but she may eat it in three months." So, pretty much as expected, there is no quick fix. We're in this for the long haul, but there is at least light at the end of the tunnel. And my little lambie pie is so worth it. |
Showing posts with label munchy blah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label munchy blah. Show all posts
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Chewin’ the Fat with Dr. Eats
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Find a Happy Place
Sweet Dub is going out of town for a few days to do some filming. I miss him already. I really do! I have a lump in my throat and it’s been about 6 hours. That’s kind of ridic, but as Woody Allen once said in far ickier circumstances, “The heart wants what it wants.”
In the meantime, I will be working on Celie’s food aversion and social anxiety*, corralling kids before and after T-ball (it’s Team Picture Day on Saturday! At which time we will be asked to cough up an obscene amount of money to get a picture of our kid with her team and her very own personalized baseball trading cards with her picture on them! Remind me again why we are doing team sports?**), attending two Sunday birthday parties which are being held at exactly the same time, and trying to meet multiple deadlines at work. It is time to put away childish things like coffee and invest in some Red Bull. Or maybe just step it up to espresso, no?
Work is kind of sucking right now. The deadlines seem to be reproducing and as they do my Malaise seems to be trying to keep up, followed closely by Eye Strain and Headaches, both of which seem to appear within an hour of my arrival at work. I have not had a vacation this year (woe is me), and I am not expecting to get one now until September. Feeling very ground down and unappreciated, whiny whiny fiddlesticks.
P.S. I have officially hit the wall on the third of eight projects I am working on. Well, I cleared my desk of two projects this morning, so I am actually ahead of schedule. When does THAT ever happen, I ask you?
P.P.S. Bizarre interaction of the day: an older white male co-worker telling me, “You da bomb!” What?! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
* I expect to have both of these completely under control by the time her dad gets back on Sunday. I believe this falls under the category of “if you can believe it, you can achieve it.” In reality, I am hopeful that I can get her to accept one new food this weekend. Baby steps, as They say.
(Have been doing some research on food aversion and have discovered that Celia has what is called food neophobia, i.e., a fear of any new foods. [This flabbergasts me, since I am pretty much game to eat anything and that was the expectation in my family of origin, in which my sister and I gained reputations as “picky eaters” because she would not eat lima beans and I would not eat raisins. Honestly. We would both eat all kinds of things that other kids wouldn’t eat, including Brussels sprouts and beets, and yet we were stigmatized. My family is a piece of work.] This goes beyond being a picky eater into total freakout territory. Whee, fun times.)
** I am so not a joiner of anything. Slacker, thy name is Lisa.
In the meantime, I will be working on Celie’s food aversion and social anxiety*, corralling kids before and after T-ball (it’s Team Picture Day on Saturday! At which time we will be asked to cough up an obscene amount of money to get a picture of our kid with her team and her very own personalized baseball trading cards with her picture on them! Remind me again why we are doing team sports?**), attending two Sunday birthday parties which are being held at exactly the same time, and trying to meet multiple deadlines at work. It is time to put away childish things like coffee and invest in some Red Bull. Or maybe just step it up to espresso, no?
Work is kind of sucking right now. The deadlines seem to be reproducing and as they do my Malaise seems to be trying to keep up, followed closely by Eye Strain and Headaches, both of which seem to appear within an hour of my arrival at work. I have not had a vacation this year (woe is me), and I am not expecting to get one now until September. Feeling very ground down and unappreciated, whiny whiny fiddlesticks.
P.S. I have officially hit the wall on the third of eight projects I am working on. Well, I cleared my desk of two projects this morning, so I am actually ahead of schedule. When does THAT ever happen, I ask you?
P.P.S. Bizarre interaction of the day: an older white male co-worker telling me, “You da bomb!” What?! I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
* I expect to have both of these completely under control by the time her dad gets back on Sunday. I believe this falls under the category of “if you can believe it, you can achieve it.” In reality, I am hopeful that I can get her to accept one new food this weekend. Baby steps, as They say.
(Have been doing some research on food aversion and have discovered that Celia has what is called food neophobia, i.e., a fear of any new foods. [This flabbergasts me, since I am pretty much game to eat anything and that was the expectation in my family of origin, in which my sister and I gained reputations as “picky eaters” because she would not eat lima beans and I would not eat raisins. Honestly. We would both eat all kinds of things that other kids wouldn’t eat, including Brussels sprouts and beets, and yet we were stigmatized. My family is a piece of work.] This goes beyond being a picky eater into total freakout territory. Whee, fun times.)
** I am so not a joiner of anything. Slacker, thy name is Lisa.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Skinny Mini
At our last pediatrician visit a couple of weeks ago, we discovered that Miss Celie had a “raging” ear infection (the doctor’s words, not mine), and that although she’d grown two inches since her last checkup five months ago (yes, we’re off schedule), she actually weighed less at 17 months than at 12 months. I know Celie is a horribly picky eater, and I had been dreading the appointment, because the list of foods she will eat is quite small, and lately she had begun rejecting certain foods that she previously would eat.
Dr. H said we might need to take her to an occupational therapist to work on her food aversion. (This is an actual thing, this food aversion!) But then she conferred with one of the other doctors in the practice and they came up with a plan whereby we are to offer Miss Celie food once an hour while she is awake. We are only to offer her foods which she actually likes, although they do want us to try giving her PediaSure or Carnation Instant Breakfast as a supplement. (It turns out she hates PediaSure and will only tolerate about one tablespoonful of Carnation Instant Breakfast in her milk.)
If she doesn’t gain weight on this plan, by April 21st, they will send us to jail. No, no, I kid. They will refer us to a nutritionist and possibly also an occupational therapist, who will re-teach her how to eat. (I am serious.) I don’t know if this comes through in my regular blogging, but we are actually pretty healthy, balanced-meal eaters. Viva has even commented that her teacher says she is the only kid who brings healthy snacks to school. (That is rather alarming and fodder for a whole post of its own.)
We are educated, middle-class, blah blah blah, which I hate even writing, but I feel like we have all the tools at our disposal for our little one to be healthy and flourishing. Is our kid failing to thrive? In all honesty, I walked away from the appointment with a giant lump in my throat, feeling like a terrible parent.
Sweet Dub’s reaction was similar: “I feel like we let her down,” he said.
Celie doesn’t look underweight. She has a layer of baby fat, and she has curvy little arms and legs. She has a little potbelly, as most healthy kids her age do. She isn’t fat, but her genetics are going to predispose her to that. Sweet Dub and I were both skinny kids and we are not large adults.
She’s also been teething, this time with molars, and she’s caught every cold that’s come down the pike. Her appetite has not been great. At the moment, she eats most kinds of fresh fruit*, cheese, some yogurt, applesauce, peanut butter, crackers of all types, some pasta, and that’s really it. Oh, and air, in the form of any kind of puffed veggie-type food item like Pirate’s Booty or Snapea Crisps. She won’t eat baby food, she won’t eat potatoes (except the occasional French fry, her one food vice), she won’t eat rice or bread, and she won’t eat any kind of meat. She also won’t eat tofu. She eats green beans and sometimes broccoli.
It’s tough. Sometime she will eat things they offer her at daycare and then she won’t eat the exact same thing at home. Months ago she tried peas from a classmate's plate, and ate a bunch of them. She would eat them at home, but then one day she refused and hasn't eaten a pea since.
She is often crabby, and I am quite sure she is just hungry. But if you offer her a food she doesn’t recognize she will turn her head away and screech until you remove it from her sight, or at least from her highchair.
Someday I will look back on this and shake my head at how overly concerned I was, as I watch Celie eat a bowl of ceviche or something. But for now, I’m in the thick of it, and feeling pretty bad.
P.S. My doctor even suggested feeding her ice cream to fatten her up. Not sure that’s the road I want to take – first of all because of the sugar, and second of all because I don’t want her to grow up thinking of ice cream as a food group. Talk to me in a couple of weeks if she still hasn't gained weight.
* Except bananas. What kid doesn’t eat bananas?
Dr. H said we might need to take her to an occupational therapist to work on her food aversion. (This is an actual thing, this food aversion!) But then she conferred with one of the other doctors in the practice and they came up with a plan whereby we are to offer Miss Celie food once an hour while she is awake. We are only to offer her foods which she actually likes, although they do want us to try giving her PediaSure or Carnation Instant Breakfast as a supplement. (It turns out she hates PediaSure and will only tolerate about one tablespoonful of Carnation Instant Breakfast in her milk.)
If she doesn’t gain weight on this plan, by April 21st, they will send us to jail. No, no, I kid. They will refer us to a nutritionist and possibly also an occupational therapist, who will re-teach her how to eat. (I am serious.) I don’t know if this comes through in my regular blogging, but we are actually pretty healthy, balanced-meal eaters. Viva has even commented that her teacher says she is the only kid who brings healthy snacks to school. (That is rather alarming and fodder for a whole post of its own.)
We are educated, middle-class, blah blah blah, which I hate even writing, but I feel like we have all the tools at our disposal for our little one to be healthy and flourishing. Is our kid failing to thrive? In all honesty, I walked away from the appointment with a giant lump in my throat, feeling like a terrible parent.
Sweet Dub’s reaction was similar: “I feel like we let her down,” he said.
Celie doesn’t look underweight. She has a layer of baby fat, and she has curvy little arms and legs. She has a little potbelly, as most healthy kids her age do. She isn’t fat, but her genetics are going to predispose her to that. Sweet Dub and I were both skinny kids and we are not large adults.
She’s also been teething, this time with molars, and she’s caught every cold that’s come down the pike. Her appetite has not been great. At the moment, she eats most kinds of fresh fruit*, cheese, some yogurt, applesauce, peanut butter, crackers of all types, some pasta, and that’s really it. Oh, and air, in the form of any kind of puffed veggie-type food item like Pirate’s Booty or Snapea Crisps. She won’t eat baby food, she won’t eat potatoes (except the occasional French fry, her one food vice), she won’t eat rice or bread, and she won’t eat any kind of meat. She also won’t eat tofu. She eats green beans and sometimes broccoli.
It’s tough. Sometime she will eat things they offer her at daycare and then she won’t eat the exact same thing at home. Months ago she tried peas from a classmate's plate, and ate a bunch of them. She would eat them at home, but then one day she refused and hasn't eaten a pea since.
She is often crabby, and I am quite sure she is just hungry. But if you offer her a food she doesn’t recognize she will turn her head away and screech until you remove it from her sight, or at least from her highchair.
Someday I will look back on this and shake my head at how overly concerned I was, as I watch Celie eat a bowl of ceviche or something. But for now, I’m in the thick of it, and feeling pretty bad.
P.S. My doctor even suggested feeding her ice cream to fatten her up. Not sure that’s the road I want to take – first of all because of the sugar, and second of all because I don’t want her to grow up thinking of ice cream as a food group. Talk to me in a couple of weeks if she still hasn't gained weight.
* Except bananas. What kid doesn’t eat bananas?
Monday, November 09, 2009
On the Mend
The Blah Blahs are recovering from whatever horrible ailment that was. And thus and so we have all returned to “normal” life, off to work and school and day care. Cily did not seem so sure about day care this morning. She had a rough night and her cheeks are kind of swollen, indicating to me that teeth are about to break through. Cily would not eat breakfast, and neither would Viva, and I fretted a bit about it in the car as we tootled off to begin our days, but then Viva could not stop telling me the entire plot of the Captain Underpants book she read last night, and Cily chimed in loudly here and there cheerfully, at times talking over her sister (she is not quite clear on conversational concepts yet, but would feel right at home with some of my closest friends who, and they know who they are, can’t quite ever let one get a full sentence out without bursting out with an exclamation) and so I managed to get over it, letting Viva out of the car at school with a Tupperware of dry cereal to munch on and handing a bottle to Cily’s day care provider as I handed her over. And then somehow I drank two cups of coffee at work and got to lunchtime and realized I hadn’t eaten breakfast either.
Soup is the answer. I think it cures all kinds of ills.
Soup is the answer. I think it cures all kinds of ills.
Friday, June 05, 2009
Vague and All Over the Place
That was a very long hiatus.* For those of you who might be concerned, nothing was wrong aside from the everyday life with an infant (sickness every other week! Explosive foul-smelling poop! Curse you, gastrointestinal skullduggery!) and craziness at work. Seriously, taking work home and working until 1 AM and then the baby waking up at 5? Not my favorite thing ever. Probably one of my least faves. Yeah.
Yesterday was the culmination of weeks of work (mostly not mine, despite what the previous paragraph may lead you to believe) on a huge event at my job. There was a lot of sugar and caffeine to get us going, and then a lot of rich catered food afterward to thank all of us for working so hard. Today, I feel really “fat,” and I put fat in quotes because I know I’m not actually fat but I feel bloated and just – I don’t know, overdone. I don’t look cute today, my clothes don’t fit right, etc.
For lunch, I decided to have a salad and iced tea while working at my desk (I know, stop me, I’m crazy! What will I do next?). And I was feeling pretty good about that, typing away, until I heard a buzzing noise and turned and saw a fly in my food. I am on the third floor of a high rise with windows that don’t open. How on earth?
That ruined everything. I picked out a whole section of the salad where the fly had landed, along with a good 1-inch diameter around it. It’s my favorite salad. I went out of my way to get it. I managed to eat most of the rest of it. Nonetheless, now I’m feeling a little queasy. Damn you, Musca domestica!
Time for a little Internetly investigatin’! A brief search reveals that the common house fly is “often a carrier of diseases, such as typhoid fever, cholera, dysentery, and anthrax. The fly transmits diseases by carrying disease organisms onto food. It picks up disease organisms on its leg hairs or eats them and then regurgitates them onto food (in the process of liquefying solid food).”
Oh my precious God. I think I just threw up a little in my throat.
In other world news, Sweet Dub is out of town for a few days for business. His job has really accelerated and one of the reasons I have been so busy is that he has been so busy. At any rate, it’s weird being home without him (more on that in another post – I feel like I am a much worse parent when he is gone). But one benefit to him being away is that both kids sleep with me in a big snuggly warm pile when he is gone. There are few things on my all-time List of Wonderfulments that are better than sleeping in between my two girls, with Cily’s forehead pressed right up under my nose, and my legs entangled with Viva’s. Ah, the love.
I envisioned this time as a great opportunity for Sweet Dub to get some time to himself, which I don’t begrudge him in the least. Nonetheless, in the morning, I’m packing up the kids and driving to Palm Springs to join Sweet Dub in the hotel (with multiple pools! And room service! And miniature golf on site!). He says he misses us. He says he wants to drive home tonight and pack us up and take us back with him. He is sad and lonely. I laughed at him when he called this morning at 6 to say all this. “I wish I had time to miss you,” I teased.
But you know? I have a feeling that I would feel the same way, waking up alone. And I just realized he’s never spent a night away from Cily since we brought her home from the hospital. Maybe he’s going through withdrawal.
What do you think, Cily?
Yes, definitely.
* In retrospect, not really. It felt like I hadn't posted in a couple of weeks, and then I discovered that I had. So...I think the sleep deprivation is translating into general absent-mindedness, which in the overall scheme of things is, I think, kind of a lovable trait, yes?
Yesterday was the culmination of weeks of work (mostly not mine, despite what the previous paragraph may lead you to believe) on a huge event at my job. There was a lot of sugar and caffeine to get us going, and then a lot of rich catered food afterward to thank all of us for working so hard. Today, I feel really “fat,” and I put fat in quotes because I know I’m not actually fat but I feel bloated and just – I don’t know, overdone. I don’t look cute today, my clothes don’t fit right, etc.
For lunch, I decided to have a salad and iced tea while working at my desk (I know, stop me, I’m crazy! What will I do next?). And I was feeling pretty good about that, typing away, until I heard a buzzing noise and turned and saw a fly in my food. I am on the third floor of a high rise with windows that don’t open. How on earth?
That ruined everything. I picked out a whole section of the salad where the fly had landed, along with a good 1-inch diameter around it. It’s my favorite salad. I went out of my way to get it. I managed to eat most of the rest of it. Nonetheless, now I’m feeling a little queasy. Damn you, Musca domestica!
Time for a little Internetly investigatin’! A brief search reveals that the common house fly is “often a carrier of diseases, such as typhoid fever, cholera, dysentery, and anthrax. The fly transmits diseases by carrying disease organisms onto food. It picks up disease organisms on its leg hairs or eats them and then regurgitates them onto food (in the process of liquefying solid food).”
Oh my precious God. I think I just threw up a little in my throat.
In other world news, Sweet Dub is out of town for a few days for business. His job has really accelerated and one of the reasons I have been so busy is that he has been so busy. At any rate, it’s weird being home without him (more on that in another post – I feel like I am a much worse parent when he is gone). But one benefit to him being away is that both kids sleep with me in a big snuggly warm pile when he is gone. There are few things on my all-time List of Wonderfulments that are better than sleeping in between my two girls, with Cily’s forehead pressed right up under my nose, and my legs entangled with Viva’s. Ah, the love.
I envisioned this time as a great opportunity for Sweet Dub to get some time to himself, which I don’t begrudge him in the least. Nonetheless, in the morning, I’m packing up the kids and driving to Palm Springs to join Sweet Dub in the hotel (with multiple pools! And room service! And miniature golf on site!). He says he misses us. He says he wants to drive home tonight and pack us up and take us back with him. He is sad and lonely. I laughed at him when he called this morning at 6 to say all this. “I wish I had time to miss you,” I teased.
But you know? I have a feeling that I would feel the same way, waking up alone. And I just realized he’s never spent a night away from Cily since we brought her home from the hospital. Maybe he’s going through withdrawal.
What do you think, Cily?
Yes, definitely.
* In retrospect, not really. It felt like I hadn't posted in a couple of weeks, and then I discovered that I had. So...I think the sleep deprivation is translating into general absent-mindedness, which in the overall scheme of things is, I think, kind of a lovable trait, yes?
Monday, March 23, 2009
Lunch Limbo
“Mom, I want to have school lunch.”
Oh, dear God. Well, I think we have fallen into a bit of a rut as far as packing a lunch from home. I admit it. Since the baby’s birth, I’ve started packing stuff I never would have sent to school with Viva before. I’ve actually broken down and bought – oh, the shame – junk food (Cheetos, I’m looking at you). And not just junk food, but individually packaged junk food, so not only am I potentially ruining my child’s health, but I’m simultaneously destroying the planet! All by my onesies!
Ah, my old friend, Guilt. When did you get back in town?
Okay, in all fairness, here’s what Viva went to school with this morning: tuna salad with multigrain crackers, strawberries, seedless red grapes, a “100 calorie” package of Pepperidge Farm Chessmen cookies, and watered-down lemonade. (Regular readers may recall that Viva is not a big fan of the sandwich. I was pleased to discover recently that she loves a sandwich on a bagel, so that became a once-a-week staple until I learned that she was taking my lovingly constructed sandwiches apart and eating each component separately. Apparently this also meant she was throwing away the lettuce on the sandwich rather than eating it. Ugh.)
Her lunch generally consists of a “main course” with some kind of protein (can be anything from a turkey sandwich on a bagel to mac & cheese in a Thermos), one or two servings of fresh fruit (pretty much any fruit) or vegetables (edamame beans, baby carrots), a side of crackers or chips, and some kind of treat (this can be anything from a granola bar to Trader Joe’s yogurt to the occasional bag of cookies). And a drink. I don’t do juice boxes, so I fill up a reusable container with drinks from home – either water or watered-down juice. This covers two snack breaks and lunch during her school day.
When I asked Viva why she wanted school lunch, she said, “It just looks so good!” However, we have tried school lunch before, and aside from it being more expensive, there were often items that Viva simply didn’t like, and she’d come home hungry. Also, school lunch doesn’t include snacks, so I had to pack a lunchbox every day anyway.
I’ve been looking up lunch ideas online and found some good suggestions to get me out of my rut at lunchopolis and ilunchbox. Let’s face it – I’m never going to send Viva off with the gorgeous lunches you might see at Vegan Lunch Box. But I’ve got to think if I mix it up a bit more, she might back off on going back on the lunch plan at school…for the moment.
What about you? Do you have any fairly easy, fairly healthy lunchbox suggestions? Throw ‘em my way! I’m open!
Oh, dear God. Well, I think we have fallen into a bit of a rut as far as packing a lunch from home. I admit it. Since the baby’s birth, I’ve started packing stuff I never would have sent to school with Viva before. I’ve actually broken down and bought – oh, the shame – junk food (Cheetos, I’m looking at you). And not just junk food, but individually packaged junk food, so not only am I potentially ruining my child’s health, but I’m simultaneously destroying the planet! All by my onesies!
Ah, my old friend, Guilt. When did you get back in town?
Okay, in all fairness, here’s what Viva went to school with this morning: tuna salad with multigrain crackers, strawberries, seedless red grapes, a “100 calorie” package of Pepperidge Farm Chessmen cookies, and watered-down lemonade. (Regular readers may recall that Viva is not a big fan of the sandwich. I was pleased to discover recently that she loves a sandwich on a bagel, so that became a once-a-week staple until I learned that she was taking my lovingly constructed sandwiches apart and eating each component separately. Apparently this also meant she was throwing away the lettuce on the sandwich rather than eating it. Ugh.)
Her lunch generally consists of a “main course” with some kind of protein (can be anything from a turkey sandwich on a bagel to mac & cheese in a Thermos), one or two servings of fresh fruit (pretty much any fruit) or vegetables (edamame beans, baby carrots), a side of crackers or chips, and some kind of treat (this can be anything from a granola bar to Trader Joe’s yogurt to the occasional bag of cookies). And a drink. I don’t do juice boxes, so I fill up a reusable container with drinks from home – either water or watered-down juice. This covers two snack breaks and lunch during her school day.
When I asked Viva why she wanted school lunch, she said, “It just looks so good!” However, we have tried school lunch before, and aside from it being more expensive, there were often items that Viva simply didn’t like, and she’d come home hungry. Also, school lunch doesn’t include snacks, so I had to pack a lunchbox every day anyway.
I’ve been looking up lunch ideas online and found some good suggestions to get me out of my rut at lunchopolis and ilunchbox. Let’s face it – I’m never going to send Viva off with the gorgeous lunches you might see at Vegan Lunch Box. But I’ve got to think if I mix it up a bit more, she might back off on going back on the lunch plan at school…for the moment.
What about you? Do you have any fairly easy, fairly healthy lunchbox suggestions? Throw ‘em my way! I’m open!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Joy of Not Cooking
This week, suddenly and unexpectedly, I have completely lost interest in cooking.
You know, I think I had a fairly good run there. I'm one of those who sits down on Sunday and maps out meals for the week, and then draws up a grocery list based on that, and then pretty much follows the meal plan with a little improv here and there. But I've just had it. I just want to come home and spend some time with the kids. This evening when I came home with Cily, Sweet Dub was mid-workout in the living room. Viva was upstairs, having finished her homework, and she proudly showed me her MVP ribbon from football clinic at school. I changed my clothes and folded laundry while sitting on the floor in my bedroom next to Cily on her activity mat. Viva plopped down with us and began playing an elaborate game of cars, planes and dinosaurs, which I provided some of the voices for. It was -- dare I say it? -- relaxing.
Sweet Dub came upstairs and asked what we should do for dinner. I realized I would be fine eating some fruit and a bagel sandwich, so that's what Viva and I had for dinner. Dub had leftover tortellini. All was well and the world did not fall off its axis. I could get used to this. The End.
You know, I think I had a fairly good run there. I'm one of those who sits down on Sunday and maps out meals for the week, and then draws up a grocery list based on that, and then pretty much follows the meal plan with a little improv here and there. But I've just had it. I just want to come home and spend some time with the kids. This evening when I came home with Cily, Sweet Dub was mid-workout in the living room. Viva was upstairs, having finished her homework, and she proudly showed me her MVP ribbon from football clinic at school. I changed my clothes and folded laundry while sitting on the floor in my bedroom next to Cily on her activity mat. Viva plopped down with us and began playing an elaborate game of cars, planes and dinosaurs, which I provided some of the voices for. It was -- dare I say it? -- relaxing.
Sweet Dub came upstairs and asked what we should do for dinner. I realized I would be fine eating some fruit and a bagel sandwich, so that's what Viva and I had for dinner. Dub had leftover tortellini. All was well and the world did not fall off its axis. I could get used to this. The End.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Day Twelve. And a Partridge in a Pear Tree.
Here are some small things for which I am grateful:
1. It’s Friday.
2. It’s cool and clear today, and because I am in Los Angeles, that means it’s 63 degrees. I never have to dig my car out of the snow before I go to work. As a Bostonian by birth, I know that is truly a blessing.
3. The Blah Blahs are officially planning a vacation. Destination as yet unknown (planning has just barely begun).
4. I gave a progress report on my foster care project in a meeting today. It was very well-received – staff are excited about all the possibilities of this new program. I am too. Maybe my enthusiasm rubbed off. But my boss and boss’ boss are particularly pleased.
5. I went to the Farmer’s Market at lunch today. There are few things more scrumptious than a fresh strawberry.
1. It’s Friday.
2. It’s cool and clear today, and because I am in Los Angeles, that means it’s 63 degrees. I never have to dig my car out of the snow before I go to work. As a Bostonian by birth, I know that is truly a blessing.
3. The Blah Blahs are officially planning a vacation. Destination as yet unknown (planning has just barely begun).
4. I gave a progress report on my foster care project in a meeting today. It was very well-received – staff are excited about all the possibilities of this new program. I am too. Maybe my enthusiasm rubbed off. But my boss and boss’ boss are particularly pleased.
5. I went to the Farmer’s Market at lunch today. There are few things more scrumptious than a fresh strawberry.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Day Eleven. Cheesy and soulful.
Grace in...oh, you know.
1. Brie cheese.
2. And Camembert, too.
3. And focaccia.
4. Soul sides. Because I go to the site and scroll around and inevitably yelp and yip with excitement. I hadn’t been in a while, I admit, and today I was reading back a few posts and YIP! “I LOVE DAVID RUFFIN!” Yeah, it’s like that. Really great artists you may have totally forgotten about. Old soul music is just like home to me. I can’t explain it any other way.*
5. Being told that the EVP where I work (who is a published novelist, and completely anal about language) has been praising my writing talents hither and yon. Wow.
* Ooh! Dionne Warwick! Now there’s an O.D. (Original Diva) for ya. And look at her picture. She looked FABulous.
1. Brie cheese.
2. And Camembert, too.
3. And focaccia.
4. Soul sides. Because I go to the site and scroll around and inevitably yelp and yip with excitement. I hadn’t been in a while, I admit, and today I was reading back a few posts and YIP! “I LOVE DAVID RUFFIN!” Yeah, it’s like that. Really great artists you may have totally forgotten about. Old soul music is just like home to me. I can’t explain it any other way.*
5. Being told that the EVP where I work (who is a published novelist, and completely anal about language) has been praising my writing talents hither and yon. Wow.
* Ooh! Dionne Warwick! Now there’s an O.D. (Original Diva) for ya. And look at her picture. She looked FABulous.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Just Heat and Serve!
I am less than two weeks away from going under the knife. On Monday, October 8, I’ll be having a myomectomy to remove the 7 or so fibroids that are making my life less than stellar. I will spend two to four days in the hospital and then recuperate at home for anywhere from six to eight weeks. We have spent the past couple of weeks periodically making arrangements for this time – mapping out medical leave (Sweet Dub will take one week off), arranging for my in-laws to take Viva the night before, etc.
One of the reasons I am having the surgery is to eliminate the back pain I’ve been having, which is fairly constant at a dull roar but likes to flare up with screaming meemies every now and then. The past couple of nights I have not been able to get comfortable enough to go to sleep. So last night I was channel-surfing and came across this show, about a family with 8 kids – first a set of twins, and then sextuplets. I missed the first part of the show, but was intrigued because the mom was preparing to have surgery with a long recuperation and I was wondering if she was having something similar. Er, nope – she was having a tummy tuck. But she went shopping with her 5-year-old twins to buy enough food to prepare two weeks’ worth of meals. Sweet fanciful Moses! It took her 24 hours to cook all the food, and then she was on to packing clothes and diapers and the kitchen sink for all her kids as they were preparing to drop them all off with various friends and relatives.
Let’s stop right there for a second, because I’m still floored by the food (and let’s face it, laundry? For 8 kids? Yes, that gives me nightmares). The mom, Kate, explained that she wanted to cook all the food for her kids ahead of time because they had never yet tasted junk food and she wanted them to have organic food as much as possible, which is admirable, and I can see where she’s coming from. And her husband, like mine (love you, babe!) is not all that skillful in the kitchen. But let me tell you, the second I found out I’d be in bed for at least a week, two words came to mind: Trader Joe’s.
Trader Joe’s, sweetie. It won’t kill you. I intend to stock up on as much frozen food as possible and try some new things I’ve never had before. It’ll be an adventure!
One of the reasons I am having the surgery is to eliminate the back pain I’ve been having, which is fairly constant at a dull roar but likes to flare up with screaming meemies every now and then. The past couple of nights I have not been able to get comfortable enough to go to sleep. So last night I was channel-surfing and came across this show, about a family with 8 kids – first a set of twins, and then sextuplets. I missed the first part of the show, but was intrigued because the mom was preparing to have surgery with a long recuperation and I was wondering if she was having something similar. Er, nope – she was having a tummy tuck. But she went shopping with her 5-year-old twins to buy enough food to prepare two weeks’ worth of meals. Sweet fanciful Moses! It took her 24 hours to cook all the food, and then she was on to packing clothes and diapers and the kitchen sink for all her kids as they were preparing to drop them all off with various friends and relatives.
Let’s stop right there for a second, because I’m still floored by the food (and let’s face it, laundry? For 8 kids? Yes, that gives me nightmares). The mom, Kate, explained that she wanted to cook all the food for her kids ahead of time because they had never yet tasted junk food and she wanted them to have organic food as much as possible, which is admirable, and I can see where she’s coming from. And her husband, like mine (love you, babe!) is not all that skillful in the kitchen. But let me tell you, the second I found out I’d be in bed for at least a week, two words came to mind: Trader Joe’s.
Trader Joe’s, sweetie. It won’t kill you. I intend to stock up on as much frozen food as possible and try some new things I’ve never had before. It’ll be an adventure!
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Brevity is the Soul of Wit
About this whole Working Full-Time Dealio: I don't remember if you asked me how I feel about it, but quite frankly, it's not all that it's cracked up to be.
I just wrote a whole long post about it and I was boring even myself, so bleep that.
I just wish I had more time.
Farmer in the Dell
Have I mentioned that we at Casa de Blah have become gardeners? The cold winter (cold by Los Angeles standards, that is) killed a whole strip of pretty purple rushes we had going on in our backyard, so we pulled them out and planted food. Okay, maybe that's not quite right. I think what I meant to say was that my next-door neighbor, who is retired and has some time on her hands, volunteered to come over one day while we were at work/school and she not only singlehandedly ripped out all the reeds or rushes or whatever the hell they were, but also planted three tomato plants, a zucchini plant, and some string beans. Inspired, I also planted some strawberries. Through this process, I've learned that I really like gardening. (I know, hardly earth-shattering, but for someone who grew up around a lot of concrete, a pleasant realization.)
Here's the patch:
And now we are inundated with zucchinis. The strawberries are coming in slowly (we eat one at a time), the tomatoes are taking over the yard (though not ripe yet), and the beans? Well, the beans have not been looking so good. We keep debating what to do about them, but not doing anything, because that is our way.
The Cheese Stands Alone
Ever since we got back from Hawaii, Viva has had trouble sleeping by herself. We made the mistake of letting her sleep with us in the king-sized bed in our hotel room. This was perfectly okay because (a) there was plenty of room; and (2) we were in a suite, so if we wanted to get up to any shenanigans while she was asleep, we had a separate room (with a door!) we could go to. Now, at home, Sweet Dub and I sleep in a queen-sized bed. We sleep in a queen-sized bed because we like each other and like to be close to each other. It works for us unless there is a skinny four-year-old draped in between us, kicking her father in the back and poking me in the face with her elbow while sleeping.
The first week we were back, Viva made it known repeatedly and loudly, with much whinage, that everyone else had a brother or sister to sleep in their room with them and why didn’t she and we were horrible parents who were scarring her for life with our insistence that she sleep on what amounts to a splintery plank raised up off the floor with only the rats for company in her drafty attic room where the snow drifts in and her filthy handkerchief-sized blanket doesn’t quite cover her enough, ALONE, ALONE, ah the agony. And so on and so forth.
We finally got her off of this tack by numerous explanations that even if she had a brother or sister, they might not share a room, or even want to, and that if she had a brother or sister, she would definitely have to share us with him or her, and that would mean less time and attention for her, which, as the ultimate drama queen, you know she is not going for. And so we were saved.
And then there was Pee-Wee.
While channel-surfing recently, Sweet Dub came across Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, and knowing of Viva’s love of the dance, he recorded the portion of the movie where Pee-Wee dances in the biker bar in the high-heeled patent white loafers. If you haven’t watched the movie 500 times, you might not remember that after that scene, Pee-Wee takes off on a motorcycle (or should I say hog?) loaned to him by one of the bikers. He immediately crashes through a billboard and gets rushed to the hospital, whereupon he sleeps fitfully, and you see that he is having nightmares of what has happened to his own bike. These are nightmares featuring scary clowns doing unspeakable things to the bike and leering horribly at the camera. I didn’t remember this part of the movie, unfortunately.
Thanks, Pee-Wee! This scene is now seared into Viva’s hefty braincase, where it has marinated in the splendiferous goop of her imagination and now takes over almost every brain function after the sun goes down. What I am saying to you is that Viva is now terrified not just to sleep in her own bed, but to pass by an open closet or even take a bath for fear that scary clowns will come up out of the drain.
Once again, my “Good Parent” badge is hanging a bit askew. And she doesn't want to go to bed.
(I honestly didn’t remember that scene. Why would I deliberately torture my sweet bobblehead so?)
I just wrote a whole long post about it and I was boring even myself, so bleep that.
I just wish I had more time.
Farmer in the Dell
Have I mentioned that we at Casa de Blah have become gardeners? The cold winter (cold by Los Angeles standards, that is) killed a whole strip of pretty purple rushes we had going on in our backyard, so we pulled them out and planted food. Okay, maybe that's not quite right. I think what I meant to say was that my next-door neighbor, who is retired and has some time on her hands, volunteered to come over one day while we were at work/school and she not only singlehandedly ripped out all the reeds or rushes or whatever the hell they were, but also planted three tomato plants, a zucchini plant, and some string beans. Inspired, I also planted some strawberries. Through this process, I've learned that I really like gardening. (I know, hardly earth-shattering, but for someone who grew up around a lot of concrete, a pleasant realization.)
Here's the patch:
And now we are inundated with zucchinis. The strawberries are coming in slowly (we eat one at a time), the tomatoes are taking over the yard (though not ripe yet), and the beans? Well, the beans have not been looking so good. We keep debating what to do about them, but not doing anything, because that is our way.
This afternoon, while I was working from home, Sweet Dub came home for lunch. "We might have to pull out these beans," he said, walking around them. And then: "Oh my God, a bean! Hey, another one!"
Hey howdy hey, we have beanage. It's all very timely because I have been reading that Barbara Kingsolver book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle about how she and her family spent a year trying to eat only food that was produced locally. Now, it does help that they were able to move to a farm that they conveniently already owned, so they were able to grow a lot of food themselves. We don't own a farm. We merely rent a little house with a yard. But it's an interesting concept nonetheless, and if I ever finish the book and have the time or inclination to do so, maybe I'll review it fully here! in this very space!The Cheese Stands Alone
Ever since we got back from Hawaii, Viva has had trouble sleeping by herself. We made the mistake of letting her sleep with us in the king-sized bed in our hotel room. This was perfectly okay because (a) there was plenty of room; and (2) we were in a suite, so if we wanted to get up to any shenanigans while she was asleep, we had a separate room (with a door!) we could go to. Now, at home, Sweet Dub and I sleep in a queen-sized bed. We sleep in a queen-sized bed because we like each other and like to be close to each other. It works for us unless there is a skinny four-year-old draped in between us, kicking her father in the back and poking me in the face with her elbow while sleeping.
The first week we were back, Viva made it known repeatedly and loudly, with much whinage, that everyone else had a brother or sister to sleep in their room with them and why didn’t she and we were horrible parents who were scarring her for life with our insistence that she sleep on what amounts to a splintery plank raised up off the floor with only the rats for company in her drafty attic room where the snow drifts in and her filthy handkerchief-sized blanket doesn’t quite cover her enough, ALONE, ALONE, ah the agony. And so on and so forth.
We finally got her off of this tack by numerous explanations that even if she had a brother or sister, they might not share a room, or even want to, and that if she had a brother or sister, she would definitely have to share us with him or her, and that would mean less time and attention for her, which, as the ultimate drama queen, you know she is not going for. And so we were saved.
And then there was Pee-Wee.
While channel-surfing recently, Sweet Dub came across Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure, and knowing of Viva’s love of the dance, he recorded the portion of the movie where Pee-Wee dances in the biker bar in the high-heeled patent white loafers. If you haven’t watched the movie 500 times, you might not remember that after that scene, Pee-Wee takes off on a motorcycle (or should I say hog?) loaned to him by one of the bikers. He immediately crashes through a billboard and gets rushed to the hospital, whereupon he sleeps fitfully, and you see that he is having nightmares of what has happened to his own bike. These are nightmares featuring scary clowns doing unspeakable things to the bike and leering horribly at the camera. I didn’t remember this part of the movie, unfortunately.
Thanks, Pee-Wee! This scene is now seared into Viva’s hefty braincase, where it has marinated in the splendiferous goop of her imagination and now takes over almost every brain function after the sun goes down. What I am saying to you is that Viva is now terrified not just to sleep in her own bed, but to pass by an open closet or even take a bath for fear that scary clowns will come up out of the drain.
Once again, my “Good Parent” badge is hanging a bit askew. And she doesn't want to go to bed.
(I honestly didn’t remember that scene. Why would I deliberately torture my sweet bobblehead so?)
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Pinkberry, Shminkberry
As middle age advances upon us, Sweet Dub and I find ourselves a bit behind the trends. I have been hearing the hype about Pinkberry for nearly a year now. There's a Pinkberry mere blocks (walking distance!) away from my office building. There's one in Los Feliz, a stone's throw from where I live, and there's one in
Sunday, after hiking in
We ordered: I had the original flavor frozen yogurt topped with fresh mangoes, raspberries, and blueberries. Sweet Dub had green tea frozen yogurt topped with strawberries, bananas, and granola. Viva had original flavor with blueberries.
The cost: Fourteen bucks! Are you kidding me?
The verdict: Meh. Not so much. I expected to be all, "There's a party in my mouth! Ooh la la!" Instead I was all, "For fourteen bucks, I could've bought some Haagen-Dazs and a pint of raspberries and called it a day."
Sorry, Pinkberry. Your evil charms did not work their magic with the Blah Blahs.
Nice jingle, though.
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