Nearsighted

The princess is blind. Or at least very nearsighted, according to the opthomologist. 20/175 in one eye, 20/150 in the other. At first I felt terrible that we didn't recognize this before, but the good doc told me that eyesight in a child can change very quickly. She might have just recently become blind. Inside I felt badly though, because I honestly thought she was telling the teacher she couldn't see the board just because she wanted to move away from the boys she was surrounded by.

As it turns out she was telling the truth.

We ordered some glasses for her. Flexon of some sort, in a purpley color. They come in in 7-10 business days. I'll post a picture as soon as I get them. She looks adorable in them.

And now she can see.

Can you imagine what life must be like, to go from fuzzy to clear?

kill.the.gluten

So I've had this celiac thing going on for the last 5 or so years. It was a huge deal at first. I went through all the stages of greiving for my lost Krispy Kremes. Denial, Anger, Denial some more. Since I never got really sick from eating gluten, it was hard for me to stay on the diet. Plus, gluten free food is pricey, and we were on a strict grocery budget. Besides, who wants to make a delicious dinner for the family, and then go eat a bowl of rice.

Yuck.

But I've learned over the years many tricks to eating well and eating gluten free. Exchanging this for that. Investing in rice flour. The value of a good box of gf brownies and how to hide them from everyone else. Drinking a lot of Diet Dr. Pepper.

So this site, which was the brainchild of my sis-in-law, Liz, has recipes and pictures of what we eat. Nothing too fancy, although I do have some killer recipes that are worth the work. We just thought it would be fun to share with you that you can eat a gluten free diet and not starve. Will some of the foods taste a little different? Sure. Will you still miss those Krispy Kreme? Of course. But they don't sell them in Arizona anymore anyways.

Enjoy.

kill.the.gluten

Confession

Did you know that even when there is only one other person in the urgent care waiting room, it still takes two hours before you get to leave?
Why was I in the urgent care, you ask?

Let me tell you a little story...
Monday night was baseball night, as is almost every night. Luckily it was an early game and we were home by 8pm. Just in time to throw some dinner together and put the kids to bed. Hmmm.....what to make.....I opted for something easy and fast, breakfast. No not cereal, but eggs, potatoes, and leftover ham from Easter, which I was hoping was still good.

I was standing at the stove frying up potatoes, scrambling eggs and slicing ham when I turn around.....just in time to see my baby wriggling her way out of her carseat, about to fall from the table onto the kitchen tile floor. Supermom surfaced and I leapt to grab her, not realizing that supermom cannot jump through chairs. I was halted in my tracks, and fell to the ground screaming for someone to grab the babe as she was about to hit the floor. Chance finally realized what was going on and reached her just in time. I helplessly lay on the floor, crying and writhing in pain.

In my rescue effort, my sternum had landed square on the back of one of my kitchen chairs.

My oldest, holding the baby, grabs the phone and wants to dial 911. My daughter is hysterical, worried for her sister and scared for me. I say in probably too loud a voice that we don't unbuckle the baby from her carseat because she can get out now, and to never do that again. No one takes the blame and I am in too much agony to interogate. I get up, go to the bathroom, almost puke, pull myself together and try to salvage dinner, which has pretty much burned.

A little while later, with my chest now throbbing, I was sitting on the couch, unable to do much else. My little Cannon asks me in a super serious voice, "Mom are you going to spank the bottom of whoever unbuckled Claire?"
"No son," I say.

"Okay it was me," he says apologetically.

I laugh a little on the inside, because laughing on the outside hurts.
"Don't do that again," I told him.
"I won't mom, I won't."

And don't worry, I didn't break my sternum, just a deep bruise. I should be back to normal in about 6 weeks. Hopefully.

Fastball to the head

Why is it that when you have a child and they are all tiny and new, all you can do is be amazed by the way they progress?

Look at the way she smiled at me!
Did you see him roll from his back to his tummy?
Woohoo! She's finally crawling!

As they get older you celebrate these little milestones with enthusiasm, pictures, and phone calls to relatives.

He learned how to ride his bike today!
She wrote her name all by herself!
He hit that golf ball square through that top window! Amazing!

If for some reason they are not moving along as you feel they should, or as the other kids are, you worry.

So when do you think she'll get a tooth? She is 8 months.
Is it normal for him to not talk at all?
Will she ever learn how to use the potty?

And it just gets worse as they get older.

Yes, I understand she needs speech therapy.
No, I can't understand what he just said either.
You mean another one needs speech too?!

And you look at their friends and judge how they compare with each other.

She's the best student in her class, and the youngest!
His social skills are not anywhere near the other kids in Sunbeams.
Will he ever catch a ball?

And pretty soon, you're sitting on a chair, out in the cold evening air, clenching your fists because he's up to bat, and he hasn't hit a ball yet, and you really can't even look. Then

BAM!

He gets hit on the helmet with a fastball and falls to the ground. And you jump up and throw your baby to the nearest adult and rush to the fence, ready to take him into your arms and wipe his tears with your shirt.

Only you watch him get up, shake it off, and take his base.

And you realize that he doesn't need his mom anymore to make it better.
And that he doesn't want the other kids to see him cry.
And that he suddenly seems more grown up than you can recall him ever being.

Worst.......Parents.........Ever.......

We are absolutely the worst scouting parents on the face of the earth.

We stayed up super late the night before his 9th birthday trying to finish his Beaver, or Wolf, or whatever animal you're supposed to get when you are 8. We've started many projects that haven't been finished, ie. the newspaper recycling, the chore chart. But this one takes the cake.

He recieved his pinewood derby box about 2 months ago. Right away he wanted to work on it. Sure, sure, not right now though.

That is what we told him every time. The derby got moved back, then it was conference. Last Wednesday I called his leader about where scouts was to be held.

Not this week, she said, because of the pinewood derby on Saturday.

Holy Crap!! It's on Saturday!

Mike! It's on Saturday! Oh no! Mike has to work late every night!

It was up to me. And Chance wanted a rocket car. Exactly how do you make a block of wood pointy and round with a miter saw??

Two mutilated car kits later and it was Friday night, and there was no rocket car.

Dang.

So I told Chance that we were going to have to use his car from last year (the car we cut and painted the night before). We'd paint it a new color, though, that's cool right? It's okay right? Don't tell anyone about this, okay?

So he raced his old car.

And won 2nd place.

Next year he wants to use the same car.

Just paint it a different color.

Thank goodness.

Big Brother

I was driving the other day and the little babe was positive she didn't want to be in the car. As we were miles from home, there was nothing to do but let her cry it out.

After about 10 minutes of this she stopped. Assuming she went to sleep, I asked Cannon, who sits next to her, if she was asleep. He said no.

Odd, I thought. It's unusual for her to just stop crying for no good reason.

I turned around to look and saw this. He was holding her hand and she was wide awake, looking up at him with her big brown eyes.