The Low-Carb Thing

For several months now, we've had a dietary shift of direction here...well, I have, and Alex and Bella have been along for the ride a little bit. What I've given up entirely are sugar and refined grains and potatoes, and I only consume the tiniest bit of whole grains. It's something I've known I should do for a long time, but it just sounded so HARD. No sugar? No cherry Coke from Sonic in the afternoon? No crackers with my cheese? NO BREAD? How would I live?

I did a lot of reading, with the major influencers of the plan I ultimately chose being Gary Taubes' scared-straight treatise on food and obesity, Michael Pollan's books, and the books and websites of the Drs. Eades. This is NOT some crazy, high-fat orgy of cholesterol...I'm not having bacon and bacon sandwiches with bacon chips on the side. But I'm also absolutely not worrying about things like saturated fat at present. I may get to a point where weight loss slows down enough that I DO have to start paying some attention to denser-calorie choices, but it hasn't happened yet. The light-bulb moment for me was realizing that humans have zero nutritional need for cereal grains. None. It's something that just hadn't ever occurred to me before.

To tell the truth, it hasn't been that hard, really. In exchange for the things I was giving up, I got to stop worrying about some other things, like fat content and calorie-counting. I very rarely even have to count the carb content in the food I'm eating, because once you learn the basics, it's just super-easy to keep each meal or snack coming in at 1o grams net carbohydrate or less. You basically just load up on quality proteins, healthy fats, and non-starchy vegetables--all you want. The only thing I even have to halfway watch are my fruits, but I stick to the high-fiber fruits, mostly, so even then it's pretty much cruise control. My big indulgence is a bit of 85% cocoa chocolate almost every day.

What I like: Not having to "fuss" with calories, fat grams, points, portions, etc. Losing weight steadily and easily. Having ZERO G.I. issues (which, if you've been with me for a while, you know were a SERIOUS problem for me). Having fewer headaches. Never feeling "bloated" or overfull. Never feeling hungry.

What I don't like: Lack of convenience and "quick and lazy" options. Picking up a sandwich or tossing a frozen pizza in the oven, while still an option for Alex or Bella, isn't an option for me. Many, many more trips to the grocery store than I'm used to making--lots of fresh food means frequent re-stocking of the fridge. Lack of variety in snacking (this may just be my personal lack of imagination, but I wind up having the same snacks over and over, mostly different kinds of nuts and cheese).

What I miss: Crackers and milk. That's pretty much it. I do occasionally work a glass of milk into my day, but I really have to plan for it. Likewise, high-fiber crackers are not out of the question, but they do have to be worked in carefully. This doesn't really fit my usual cracker-eating style, which begins with an open box and ends when there are no more crackers. For my crunch-cravings, I'm pretty much left with almonds.

I don't always manage to stay on the straight-and-narrow with this way of eating--I usually mess it up when I'm tired or in a hurry. My biggest temptation is sushi, and every time I have some, I wind up feeling bloated and gross...and that's just because of rice.

Anyway, I wanted to post about it, because I know there are a lot more of you out there who've been doing this longer than I have, and that you'll have great suggestions and more to think about. Got some protein-dense snack ideas? Conversions of recipes that would traditionally be carb-laden? I'm eating tons of Blue Diamond Bold almonds and making tons of vegetable casseroles. A recent dinner was shrimp scampi with broccoli and whipped cauliflower gratin with carmelized onions--and it was perfect. I need more meals like that on my menu!

Best Thing Written In this House Today

Clicky to view, or read transcript below screenshot:

Mom, thank YOU for taking me out to go trunk-or-treating with you and trick-or-treating with Grayson! I wonder what I will be next year... Dracula? A Witch? Scary Godmother? (like in the show Scary Godmother) A Skeleton? What do you suggest? Godzilla? *laughs* The Incredible Hulk? (P.S. I made Elvis' hair with my Tigger Pop! *laughs again*) You tell me what you suggest! Elvis? E-Mail me back and tell me!

I love her little *laugh* asides.

I Don't Need To Be This Needed

Really, I'm not that good a person. I don't have enough patience, enough compassion. If you'd asked me a year ago, I'd have said that I do...but I'd have been wrong. Because this life is wearing me out before my time. My stomach and my head always hurt, I'm more tired than is justifiable, and "irritable" does not begin to describe my state of mind.

We've been to just about every doctor we can, and they're all coming up empty as far as a diagnosis for Alex, except that "probably" his bipolar disorder has morphed into a different form of the disease than what it has been for most of his life. I'm not really buying it, but what I do know is that he is miserable almost all the time. The rare smile or laugh I can manage to elicit is a huge victory. We're beginning the disability process, which is depressing in and of itself.

I'm very, very worried about how he will fill his days now, because the more he isolates, the less active he is and the more depressed he becomes. He's already checked himself into the hospital for depression once this month, and talked about doing it again earlier today. He seems to really need order and guidelines and a solid routine, but how is he going to get that at home alone every day?

I'm also torn about how much help to give him. He's capable of a good number of things--he feeds and tends to the animals, and helps get Bella ready for school in the mornings, for example. But other things (confoundedly to me) seem beyond him, like preparing even simple meals for himself. I worry about him going hungry, which he does pretty much every day if I don't feed him. It doesn't seem to be a matter of can't as much as a lack of will, if that makes sense. When Bella begged him the other night to make his special spaghetti, he gave it his all and did a darned good job. So the ability is there, somewhere. The therapist we were seeing suggested that I might be doing too much for him, so we've been having a kind of standoff about lunches...he should be able to put together a sandwich, darn it. Instead, he goes without. All day. And then has fast food on our way home from picking Bella up from school, because he's famished...and then expects a full meal to be prepared later that night after Bella goes to bed...at which point I balk in a big way, because, as I've said, I'm just not that good a person.

Complaining that you can't believe you have to go to bed hungry elicits the following response from me: "I can't believe you're going to bed hungry, either." Our freezers, pantries, and fridge are FULL of food. What they are not full of, I suppose, are completely prepared, ready-to-serve meals. But you know what the components of meals are? FOOD. So yeah, it makes me a little bit crazy to hear, "There is NOTHING TO EAT in this house," when I can walk 10 feet and put my hands on fruits, vegetables, nuts, fish, poultry, meat, cheese, etc.

I guess I'm going to need to start packing lunches as if he were the one going out of the house, instead of me. I can't really think of anything else to do, to avoid having the same stupid fight every night. And I'm just selfish enough that it really galls me to have to work that into my schedule. See? Not that good a person.

I'm really having a difficult time with the transition from partner to... partner/caregiver, or whatever you want to call it. It's too easy to get all whiney and I-didn't-sign-on-for-this-y, so I try not to do that, but gosh, it's hard. And it's especially hard when the person you're doing it for seems to be angry with you about 80% of the time. I love him, you know? And I love him enough to understand that his anger comes from frustration--a well-earned frustration with the brain that is betraying him--and that he's not really angry at me, he's just angry, period, and I'm...well, I just happen to be here. But you know what? Understanding it does not making it easier to experience it. And it doesn't stop those occasional fantasies of running away from it all, leaving the crushing responsibility behind and just starting over.

But I could never do that, no matter how bad it gets, because, I suppose, when you get right down to it, I'm not that bad a person, either. No, wait, I don't like how that sounds. Because I would not judge someone who felt they couldn't withstand this burden, and chose to get out from under it. I think of that old hokey song, "He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother," and it almost applies. Because my husband's problems? Well, they ARE heavy. Really heavy. But he's my husband, and I love him, so I own them too, and they're mine to carry. I just need to devise a better yoke.

My Car Gets 40 Rods To The Hogshead, And That's The Way I Likes It!

Bella's got a little upper respiratory infection, and has been out of school all week (and can't go back tomorrow, despite testing negative for flu and mono, because she had a low-grade fever today). Today we went to the doctor, and got a prescription for antibiotics and sinus meds. We had to go to Walgreen's to get them filled, and this resulted in a good hour of standing around the store waiting. Waiting is not one of Bella's favorite pastimes. Nor mine, for that matter, but I've gotten a little better at it over the years with practice. She was reading every label and every sign in the store, with running commentary. CONSTANT running commentary. The following was the most memorable portion.


Bella: "One Hour Photo."

Me: "What, Hon?"

Bella: "Over there. 'One Hour Photo.' I think you can have your picture made while you wait!"

Me: "Oh, no, Sweetie, that's a photo developing center. People drop off their film there to be developed, then come back in an hour to pick up their pictures."

Bella: (enunciating the first word slowly and deliberately, as if sampling something new and exotic) "Film? What do you mean?"


And then they called our name, and I paid for her medicine and my Geritol, and came home to soak my dentures.

It Was Supposed To Take Longer Than This

...For her to be smarter than me. Still just 6 years old, for another month or so, and in the second grade now, *sniff*, and demonstrably smarter than me. Just a couple of recent examples:

While playing World of Warcraft together (in the desert zone of Tanaris, for you fellow geeks--er, WoW players), I get owned for the 10th time by one of those giant basilisks, and complain to Bella, "These big lizards keep stunning me, and I can't move!" To which my daughter responds by looking at me as if I've gone quite daft, rolling her eyes, and saying, in a tone that should be reserved for very small children or adults who have suffered brain trauma, "Well, Mom...they are called 'Petrifiers.' So...that's kinda what they do."

Ouch.

And then, there's this.

This local restaurant that we love features sushi and bulgogi as its main menu items. One day, Alex's mom meets us for a lovely dinner there. While we're driving over, we're speculating on the origins of the place's name, "Kopan." That exchange went something like this:

Dense Parent 1: "Do you know what the name means?"

Dense Parent 2: "No, I don't...I know that the place in North Little Rock, Kanpai, gets its name from a toasting word--I saw people raising glasses to each other and saying it somewhere."

Dense Parent 1: "Kopan...it could be the name of a town or something."

Dense Parent 2: 'I don't know. We should ask the waitress."

A small voice with a slightly superior air rises up from the back seat.

Bella: "Well, bulgogi is Korean food, and sushi is Japanese..."

Dense Parent 1: (condescending and indulgent) "That's right, Honey."

Bella: "Get it?"

Dense parent 2: "Get what, Sweetie?"

Bella: (heaves sigh) "KOrean...JaPANese...see? KO...PAN. KOPAN."


*crickets*


Me: "I'm sorry...did a SIX YEAR OLD just figure that out before any of the rest of us?"


I'm still a little stung, so tonight while she was at GAs at church, we had sushi without her.

Manufacturing Misery

Alex and Bella and I were at lunch today at a local restaurant, and it was one of those seating situations in which our booth was right beside another booth, just kind of visually separated by a wall with a bunch of plants on top. My point being that we could hear every word of the conversation from the people sitting beside us, a fact of which they seemed to be completely oblivious.

As many of you may have noticed, I've recently been kind of awash in pitifulness, feeling helpless about what's going on with Alex's brain, and what the implications might be for our family. I listened--wasn't really trying, but couldn't exactly help it--as the party of four (Grandmom, Mom, Daughter and Daughter's live-in boyfriend, both of whom happen to live in Mom's house with at least one child of their own) discussed such commonplace topics as shopping for furniture and a lost set of keys. I was actually feeling envious at what I considered to be the absolute blissful mundanity of these people's concerns. How lucky are these people beside me, that they can all express themselves so easily, and have such simple, uncomplicated lives? Do they realize how great they have it? Would they believe me if I told them how jealous I was of their furniture shopping and trivial key-loss issues? What a grand life they had!

Then the arguing began. Still, I smiled to myself and to Alex, who I had by now drawn into my eavesdropping. They were arguing about the keys, because someone had moved them, causing someone else to be locked out for a very brief time. This is all they have to argue about? How beautifully uncomplicated their lives must be! How happy would I be if all I had to worry about were some lost keys?

As the arguing progressed, it began to involve all four of the people in that booth, and it began to get more heated, though covering no less (to my mind) trivial ground. Someone left a cup of water on a nightstand, and someone else had to carry it to the kitchen. Someone promised to chip in for laundry detergent, but didn't, and then used a cup (!!) of someone else's detergent. Someone washed their own dishes, but not anyone else's. Someone promised to fix the vacuum cleaner, but didn't. But that person tried to fix the vacuum, and the problem with it was not what the first person said it was, and oh my gosh I have hated you since I met you and I have hated you my whole life because you are a horrible awful person who was always mean to me and don't you dare use that baby as a pawn to punish me and we have had enough of this and WE'RE LEAVING RIGHT NOW AND NO, I WILL NOT SIT DOWN AND BE QUIET GET UP RiGHT NOW WE ARE GOING!

Whoa.

Apparently, what bubbles to the surface isn't always what is creating the bubbles...but we all pretty much know that home truth. Another thought I had was that we are amply able, as humans, to manufacture misery of our own when there just doesn't seem to be enough of it happening organically. I realize how much I, myself, have done this. We do abhor a vacuum, don't we? (Especially a vacuum that you promised to fix but the brushes weren't rolling yes they were no they weren't I looked you don't know shut up shut up SHUT UP!) Since reality has been on the harsh side for us, I haven't been borrowing too much trouble. But did I, when things were easier? You bet.

I'll be trying harder to not do that, in the future.

For all of you who have been so caring and concerned about what's going on with Alex, he's doing a little bit better. He has had every neurological, toxicological, biological, and everything-else-ological test that medical science has to offer, eliminating every possible condition under the sun and leading us right back in a circle to the exact thing that we went in telling them this was in the very beginning: A traumatic brain injury. We're awaiting the "official" diagnosis, but he has begun speech and cognitive therapy to try and reconnect the synapses that are misfiring (or whatever it is, all you brain surgeons among my readers). The outlook, with therapy, is very hopeful. Already, his movement and gait are tremendously improved, and his speech is getting better every day. We're working on sequencing and coordination now, and have even been able to incorporate video games, like Boom Blox (hand-eye coordination, planning) and World of Warcraft (planning, cause-and-effect, sequencing, coordination) into quite a workable form of home therapy.

If anyone with brain injury experience has any tips or exercises for getting all your grey matter's mojo back, we'd love to hear from you. *MWAH* to you all.

Barfight, Gunshot, Mauling, or Slim?

barfight
Originally uploaded by ninjapoodles

I just had some pesky skin cancer (basal cell carcinoma; don't get nuts) removed from my neck, and the resulting wound is a bit more than I'd expected. The mole itself was smaller than the end of a pencil eraser, but the plug they removed from my neck was much bigger than that. And it HURTS.

Anyway, every time I pass a mirror, I'm taken aback at how awful it looks right now. And I know that for the next 10 days, I'll be asked about it. A LOT. I've always kind of hated explaining my various medical infirmities to all and sundry. Something about an injury/condition being visible seems to give anyone you run into the urge to ask you about it. (Don't believe me? Start limping just a little, and be amazed at the numbers of complete strangers who ask you why.)

So I'm trying to decide on a colorful story to go with my new distinctive marking (which, at this point, might as well be an eyepatch). Feel free to vote for your favorite, or add your own.

A. Barfight
B. Gunshot
C. Mauled by the Lonoke County Bear
D. Messed around with Slim
E. Other (please describe)