Goodbye, Dad

For the past week on the phone, via email, in condolence cards, and in person at the memorial visitation and funeral service people have been telling me what an amazing man my dad was. He really, really was. I understand the tendency for girls to idolize their fathers, and of people to canonize the recently departed, but my eyes are at least partway open; I recognize at least some of my dad's flaws and shortcomings.

But he touched so many people so deeply in so many ways; he really was something very special. My dad was wise and compassionate and competent. He had a way of being that was just so . . . spirit-filled and mature and welcoming.

I will miss my father unbearably. I already do. But even worse, for me, is the knowledge that my young children and my nieces and nephew will have only vague (if any) memories of their grandfather. They all have wonderful fathers, but my dad was a unique model for a way to be a man. I wish they all had him around both personally and as a role model as they grow to adulthood and decide both who they want to be and the people with whom they choose to surround themselves.

Below are some thoughts I shared at the luncheon following the funeral, and following the break are his obituary and a bulletin insert that goes into a bit more detail about his life.

For a long ago funeral, my father wrote,We are created for life together and we know ourselves as we are known. It is in relationship that we become more than creature – where we become person.

A big part of the way I have always defined myself is as my father’s daughter: Ted’s daughter, the preacher’s daughter, the daughter of the man who meant so much to so many people.

I don’t know how to contain this. I don’t know how to process it. And it occurs to me that I’d like to call my dad to talk to him about this painful experience I’m going through.

My dad was a compassionate man. And he was so very wise. He was also competent and interesting and funny and sometimes painfully embarrassing.

When my sisters and I were teenagers and boys started calling, he’d sit in his recliner with the phone on his stomach, his finger on the “answer” button. He had incredibly fast reaction time. As soon as the phone started to ring he’d hit the button, whip the phone up to his ear, and bellow, “HELLO” in his preacher voice.  I can’t imagine having a better dad. In fact, I’ve never met anyone like my father.

If you’ve ever been to a wedding or a funeral at which my dad officiated, you know that he had the gift of making each ceremony special and unique. And whenever dad baptized a baby, the baby never cried. They just relaxed and stared up at him, mesmerized and comfortable.

Dad projected a sense that: No matter what you tell him, you will not shock him. No matter what you tell him, he will not judge you. No matter what you tell him, he will hold your problems in his heart. And you will not be alone.

Details:

My dad spent a week at a conference at Ghost Ranch, a Presbyterian retreat center in New Mexico. We went to Ghost Ranch as a family when my sisters and I were young, and hoped to go back again one day as a family reunion. By all accounts, my dad had a wonderful week. 

Last Sunday, he boarded a plane for the return flight from Albuquerque to Chicago: headed home. He sat across the aisle from a minister friend and colleague, and they were laughing as chatting as the plane taxied to the runway. My dad's head tipped back and he began to snore. His friend hit him and called his name. He did not respond. 

The young woman sitting on the other side of my father asked if he suffered from a seizure disorder then unbuckled herself, jumped into his lap, felt for a pulse, and began chest compressions. (She was a medical resident.) There was a defibrillator on-board the aircraft. The plane returned to the gate, where it was met by medics who worked on my dad for 40 minutes. He never regained consciousness. It was fast, it was probably painless, and it will always be a mystery. (My dad was overweight and 68 but was otherwise in good health with no personal or family history of heart problems. It might very well have been a sudden, catastrophic heart attack that killed him, but we'll never know for sure.) The whole time the medics worked on him, my dad's friend held his hand. He was not alone.

Obituary:

Lester, Rev. Dr. Ted Allen 68, of Valparaiso, formerly of Kansas, passed away suddenly Sunday, April 22, 2012 in Albuquerque, New Mexico. He was born February 8, 1944 in Evansville, IN to Furman and Florice (Peyton) Lester. He received a B.A. from Hanover College in 1966, Master of Divinity from McCormick Divinity School in 1969, Doctor of Ministry from McCormick School of Divinity in 1986 and his Psychology Doctorate from Graduate Theological Foundation in 2001. 

Ted had served as a Presbyterian minister since 1969 which included churches in Kansas City, MO, Independence, MO, Indianapolis, IN, Albuquerque, NM, Junction City, KS, Valparaiso, IN and South Bend, IN. 

Since 1999 he also served as a Pastoral Psychotherapist with Counseling Ministries in Valparaiso and Chicago. Ted will be remembered by many in the communities he had served as an activist for social justice, advocating for those without a voice. Survivors include his wife, Carolynn, whom he married on August 9, 1969 in New Hampshire; daughters, Sarahlynn Lester (Paul Boal) of St. Louis, MO, Jessica (Ivan) Hay of Kalamazoo, MI, Grace Lester (Benjamin Jett) of Louisville, KY, brother, Harry N. (Sarah) Lester of Hot Springs Village, AR and grandchildren, Eleanor, Adelaide and Theodore Lester-Boal, Arria, Evelyn and Clara Hay and Lilith and Samuel Jett. Ted was preceded in death by his parents and one brother, William Lester. 

Following cremation a memorial visitation will be held Wednesday from 4:00 - 7:00 pm at Moeller Funeral Home, 104 Roosevelt Rd., Valparaiso. A memorial service will be held Thursday, 10:00 am at Trinity Lutheran Church, 201 Washington St., Valparaiso, The Rev. Dr. Frank Vardeman and The Rev. Dr. John J. Santoro officiating. In lieu of flowers memorials may be made to Church World Service or Presbyterian Disaster Assistance.

Pew bulletin insert from funeral:

By the time Ted A. Lester was 8 years old, in Evansville, Indiana, he knew he wanted to be a minister. He frequently accompanied his pastor, Charlie Zapp, on pastoral visits. This is not to suggest that Ted was a goody-two-shoes, mind you. He spent much of kindergarten in the corner, took a little too much initiative as a crossing guard, and was frequently sent to the library to read when his teachers didn’t know what to do with him.

Ted’s parents were both from Western Kentucky, and they sent him back to the family farm during the summers when he was young. He was very close to his cousins. Ted was active in scouting and indeed became an Eagle Scout.  He took groups of boy scouts spelunking, even once he’d gone away to Hanover College across the state. 

In 1967 Ted moved to his favorite city in the world, Chicago, Illinois. He worked as a community organizer and was particularly interested in the civil rights movement, marching with Martin Luther King, Jr. in Mississippi – twice.  After seminary, he even attended a year of law school to help further his interest in community action. And he spent a year as a director of a group home for boys who were wards of the court.

Ted was ordained a Cumberland Presbyterian minister in June of 1967, and he quickly became very active within the larger church. He worked on the merger joining together two different denominations within the Presbyterian family. He served on the Committee on Ministry for his Presbyteries, assisting churches and pastors in need. He Moderated the Synod of Mid-America, and wrote quite a bit of curriculum and other training materials. Every three years at the Presbyterian Youth Triennium he served in the background as the hospital dean, caring for participants with health crises. Throughout his career, Ted was very interested in ecumenism and inter-faith dialogue. Ted was also very active in the communities in which he served. In Junction City, Kansas, he helped found the Open Door Community House for homeless individuals. He also took groups of youth on summer work camps.

Later in his career, Ted completed a doctorate in psychology and began a full-time pastoral counseling practice. He worked in both Valparaiso, Indiana and Chicago and was very interested in brain research and neuro-feedback.

Last year, Ted Lester “retired,” although he maintained both of his counseling offices (and some clients) as well as a part-time church in South Bend, Indiana. In his “retirement,” Ted developed new passions for gardening and cooking elaborate and gourmet meals.

Party Planner

One month ago, Ada's birthday party was easy: she'd have an exact replica of her older sister's fifth birthday party. Oops: our favorite clown is in Hawaii this week. But that's OK, she had another idea, anyway. "I want an Alton Brown party!" Oops: this TV celebrity doesn't know you as well as you know him. But two weeks ago, Ada's birthday party was still easy: we'd go to Whole Foods for one of their cooking parties and I wouldn't even have to clean my house. Oops: Whole Foods had a massive kids' event last Saturday and no birthday parties were held all weekend. This is when things got a little complicated.

Alton Brown hosts a science-themed cooking show on The Food Network called Good Eats. He's also the host/food historian/scientist/commentator for Iron Chef America, but Ada doesn't watch that show. (Good Eats is a show we occasionally watch together while I nurse her baby brother.) It turns out that not only does Alton Brown not regularly perform at children's birthday parties halfway across the country, but also he's not a popular children's party theme. There are no canned party-in-a-box options to purchase. There aren't even Alton Brown-themed party hats. What to do? Here's Ada's 5th Birthday Alton Brown Party, for your amusement.

We decided on a Saturday morning party from 9-11, at which guests could wear pajamas (so that Ada could wear her favorite footie pjs). First came the homemade invitations (since I couldn't exactly order Good Eats invites):


Could you tell that's supposed to be an egg with bacon?

Ada was turning 5, so allowed 5 guests plus herself and her sister (4 guests came, for a total of 6 little girls). As they arrived, we greeted them with homemade name tags so that all the adults would know the children's names - the girls are now old enough that not all the parents needed to stay! A first. The girls went into the dining room and began decorating colorful aprons that would also serve as party favors.


When they'd finished their aprons they washed hands and divided themselves into two groups (by the color of their nametags). The Red Team stood on stools at the kitchen counter with Paul, making vanilla cupcakes. The Purple Team sat at the dining room table with me, making monkey bread.


As the projects baked, Ada opened her presents. Then all the girls sat in the family room to watch me standing behind the kitchen counter making a fool of myself demonstrating yeast and gluten while baking bread. (Thanks to Kristy for taking pictures. Thanks to my sister-in-law for the loaner lab coat and glasses!)



We secretly had three loaves of bread going so that the girls could see the mixing/kneading stage, the risen stage, and the baked stage in short order. After scraping dough from their hands, the girls divided back into their baking teams. The purple team decorated freshly baked cupcakes at the kitchen table while the red team made fruit kabobs in the dining room. The teams then switched stations, and when everyone was done the kids sat down together to eat at the dining room table.



Between activities there was time for free play in Ada and Ellie's room or taking turns flying Paul's remote controlled helicopter. I think it all went remarkably well! THANKS to Paul for co-leading and for making so many of my ideas come to life (including the cupcake toppers and laundry basket of gluten). Many, many thanks to my parents for making the 300 mile drives (separately!) through ice and white-out conditions to be here and to take care of Teddy during the party.



Today was Ada's birthday proper and she got to pick all the food: doughnuts for breakfast, mac and cheese for lunch, and tacos with re-fried beans for supper. Then more presents and it's all over for another 364 days! (Here she's opening a cookbook from her sister.)

They're Just Lazy Gluttons!

I want to be sure I'm feeding my family healthful foods and not dosing them with massive quantities of pesticides, herbicides, hormones and antibiotics. So I went to Whole Foods.

I stuck carefully to my prepared shopping list, which corresponded to my menu for this week:

Monday

Breakfast: old-fashioned oatmeal, cutie

Snack: cheese stick

Lunch: Mediterranean Chicken Salad

Snack: hard-boiled egg

Dinner: Spinach-stuffed Salmon Filet, vegetable medley, salad  

Snack: a glass of wine

Tuesday 

Breakfast: Berry smoothie

Snack: hard-boiled egg

Lunch: Lemon-couscous chicken

Snack: yogurt

Dinner: Turkey/Oatmeal meatloaf, steamed asparagus, mushrooms sautéed in olive oil, salad

Snack: fruit and unsweetened peanut butter

Wednesday

Breakfast: cereal, berries

Snack: apple and peanut butter

Lunch: Greek salad

Snack: yogurt

Dinner: Logos/leftovers

Snack: pear & peanut butter

Thursday

Breakfast: scrambled eggs, cheese, spicy fresh salsa

Snack: celery & laughing cow cheese

Lunch: Chef’s salad

Snack: yogurt

Dinner: Herb-marinated chicken, salad, steamed vegetables

Snack: yogurt shake

Friday

Breakfast: berry smoothie or half grapefruit

Snack: hard-boiled egg

Lunch: open-face roast beef sandwiches

Snack: yogurt

Dinner: Pizza and salad

Snack: baked apple crisp

Saturday

Breakfast: egg "muffins"

Snack: yogurt

Lunch: leftovers

Snack: veg and hummus

Dinner: Beef Burrito Bowls

Snack: pudding

Sunday

Breakfast: fruit/toast/cheese

Snack: cheese stick

Lunch: tomato stuffed with tuna salad

Snack: cheese & tomato

Dinner: out!

Snack: a glass of wine

I spent $335.

And I've spent a lot of time in the kitchen over the past couple of days.

And my children - while they get the added benefit of carbs (a side of bread or pasta for dinner, pretzels for a snack, etc.) are not exactly excited about most of this food.

Contrast this with a dinner at the pizza buffet place, which costs $4.99 for adults, $3.99 for kids, and makes everyone happy (if not healthy). No wait, no prep time, no baby crying in his high chair while Mommy chops veg for salad.

So, yeah, it's easy to see why everyone doesn't eat this way all the time.

The Season

Project Christmas Hat is 6/10 complete. On a related note, all of my nails are broken and the skin on my fingertips is extremely dry.

Still to come: Project Christmas Candle, Project Christmas picture, Project Christmas Letter, Project Christmas Baking, Project Christmas Open House, and Project Christmas Presents. (Project Christmas House is relaxingly completed.)

Baby news, in case you're interested - and of course course you're interested! - Teddy is now 8 months old. 8 months! He's a confident sitter and is starting to get onto hands-and-knees to lunge forward. He'll be crawling before long! He is also beginning to wave. Today Paul asked Teddy, where's my mouth? Where's my nose? And Teddy reached out and touched the appropriate parts at the appropriate times. So cool. He's talking, too. By which I mean that he knows, gleefully, "Dadadadada!" for his father and "Ah-duh,ada,ada,ada" for his sister. Also, angrily, "Mamamamama!" for me and, occasionally, a cheerful "Hey!" for hi.

I love this kid. So glad we added a third.

(So are the girls. They're also nuts about Christmas. But now I need to catch some sleep; Teddy has a cold, is cutting 4 teeth at once, and will have me up before long!)

Disneyland 2011: Privations and Pratfalls

We had a wonderful, fabulous time at Disneyland. And I'll write a more detailed trip report than anyone wants to read. But our misadventures make a funnier tale.

T-3: One child develops a fever.

T-2: Paul gets called out of town on a last minute business trip right before our vacation. By leaving his meeting early he can get home at 11:00 PM the night before our trip. We leave the house at 4:30 the next morning. Yes, 5 hours after he returns home. This sucks because, a) he's exhausted, and b) I need to do a great deal of the packing and preparing by myself with the "assistance" of three small children.

T-1: I try on the custom-designed shirt we've ordered for each of us (yes, we are a family who matches clothes each day at Disney. why not?) only to find that - lo and behold - it's shrunk at least two sizes after its custom dye job. Everyone else's white shirt is fine, but mine is thin, skin-tight, and the Mickey ears form an unfortunate ring-around-the-breasts design. So . . . I drag two children - one still with fever - out to shop for another shirt to go under the disaster shirt, figuring that if I layer 3 shirts together I can make myself into a featureless sausage casing, in this case a preferable alternative. (It works, more or less.)


Trip Day 1: "Ma'am, that beeping sound means that you've been randomly selected for additional screening." I pride myself on making it through security without slowing down the line at all, no matter how many electronic devices or small children might be in my party. Today is no exception, except that Teddy and I are "randomly selected for additional screening" on this trip - in both directions! The helpful TSA lady brings me my bin after my infant and I are cleared . . . and somehow I become permanently separated from my clear plastic baggie of lotions, medical ointments, sunscreens, etc. I don't realize the oversight until we're in the air.

Trip Day 2: Safe! While waiting in line for a map I notice Paul and the children greeting Mickey Mouse. Hooray! I skip the line and sprint across rain-splattered asphalt to rejoin my family for photographs. Oops! Slick spot. I slide LOUDLY into a metal trashcan as though I'm stealing home. Over a week later, my knee still hurts a bit. My pride has recovered somewhat.


Trip Day 3: Please don't call child protective services. Ada's on-again/off-again fever strikes and she falls asleep in the stroller. Ellie really wants to paddle canoes.(Did you know that you can do this at Disneyland? Win!) So I find a shady spot alongside a wall, Paul parks the stroller with Ada inside it, and I hop up on the wall and cover up modestly to feed the baby and let him nap on my lap. After a quiet, relaxing interval, Paul and Ellie return. Paul brushes past the stroller, whose brakes are apparently not engaged, and . . . the stroller rolls across the slanted walk and crashes into the landscaping 10 feet away. Ada (not seat-belted) tumbles out into a bush, wakes abruptly, and begins crying. We discuss the episode later that afternoon. She thinks I'm kidding and has no memory of the fall whatsoever. Whew. "That would be scary," she says.


Trip Day 4: We wake early. Eat granola bars in our hotel room and pack without incident. We check out well ahead of schedule and try (for the second time this trip) to find our way to the beach with GPS or a detailed map. (Head west! Water must be here somewhere!) We travel on deserted highways and stumble upon a Starbucks immediately before finding beautiful, deserted Newport Beach. We watch the sun rise over the water for a bit, then head to the airport. We return the rental minivan, navigate security, and arrive at our gate, still ahead of schedule. Nothing goes wrong! Uneventful trip and a perfect travel day. The only weirdness is that somehow we watched sunrise over the ocean in California.

Mother Drunk When Baby Vanished!

This story is all over the news today. And it's exactly the kind of story that makes me see red.

Let me be clear. I do not think it's a good idea to be intoxicated while being "on duty" as the primary caregiver of children.

(There's also an argument to be made that as a parent one is always, at some level, on duty. Even if it's Girls' Night Out and Daddy's home with the children, if disaster strikes, won't Mom be immediately back on duty, even if she's had a couple of margaritas?)

Also. I don't know the specifics of this case, and I have no idea if Deborah Bradley had something to do with her 11-month-old daughter's disappearance.

My complaint is with the way this story is being reported and with the popular response.

1) SHE WAS DRUNK! SHE IS A BAD MOTHER! Bradley admits that she might have had 5 glasses of wine after her daughter went to bed on the night in question, while the baby's father was at work. It certainly would have been far more responsible to drink when a sober adult was available to care for the child. But this response vastly underestimates how common I believe it is for parents to drink while being . . . parents.

2) SHE PUT HER BABY TO BED UNREASONABLY EARLY! SHE IS A BAD MOTHER! Bradley says she last saw her daughter when she put her to bed at 6:40 PM. This is a normal, healthy bedtime for an infant - depending on the child, of course. My 6-month-old son is often ready for bed at 6:00 PM. At this same age, his older sister liked to be asleep at 7:00. Suggesting that 6:40 is crazy early is . . . ignorant and judgmental. As parents we need to watch our children and follow their cues.

3) SHE DID NOT CHECK ON HER SLEEPING BABY! SHE IS A BAD MOTHER! I don't check on my sleeping babies every night, and I am a good mother. Seriously. I only check on them when I have reason (logical or not) to be concerned about them. Otherwise, opening the sticky bedroom door, walking over to the bed, leaning over to listen, bringing my special mama scent into the room, maybe even laying a hand on the baby's chest to make sure he's breathing . . . all of this has the strong potential to wake him up!

4) SHE IS FAT! SHE IS A BAD MOTHER! I've seen a fair amount of speculation that she must have inadvertently smothered her child since she's overweight. Likewise, since the parents have different last names, I've read a couple of comments from people blaming this on the parents not being married. These responses are examples of common, ignorant bigotry. (So glad my three children have survived thus far despite me having a different last name than their father.)

I hope baby Lisa Irwin is found. I hope she is OK. And I hope that the way the media is reporting this story - focusing on the BAD MOTHER judgement rather than on details that might help with a search for a missing child - doesn't hinder the search/investigation.

But I strongly resent the tone of this discussion.

Pressure To Keep Silent

On one hand are the folks who say, "Children with Down syndrome are gifts from God," and are relentlessly positive. I have every concern that any complaints I make will be met with judgement.

On the other hand are those who hear my exhaustion and think, "I would never choose this for my own family." I have every fear that any complaints I make could influence others to chose not to have a child like my Ellie.

All this weighs like a heavy load of sand pouring upon my head, pushing me down and filling my mouth, keeping me silent.

All parenting is hard work. But sometimes parenting a child with special needs is especially hard work, and this is what I want to talk about.

It's hard to talk about. Because any example I come up with - of my child pouring a bottle of water all over herself or dashing out into the street or being unable to handle a stressful new experience - a nearby parent of a typically developing child will be able to say, "Oh, my son did the same thing last week."

It's not about a specific behavior; it's about a pattern, a matter of degree, an increased frequency, an unquantifiable difference.

These two things exist simultaneously and without conflict for me: I love my daughter so much it hurts, - and - sometimes parenting her is exhausting and I just want it to be easier. Yes, even though she is a gift from God, a delight, a joy, a blessing. Sometimes the burden is heavy. Sometimes her diagnosis does feel like a burden. For her, I'm sure, and also for me.

The best compliment anyone ever paid me was when a friend told me, "I love watching you with your children; it's obvious how much you really enjoy just being with them."

My love for my children is apparent and undeniable. Recently, I've been coming to terms with the fact that parenting one of them is hard, too.

My child behaves impulsively. She might dash out into the street without looking, she might leave the house while I'm in the shower, she might reach across a hot stove if she sees something she wants above it, she might do something I've never once considered doing. It's hard to child-proof a house for a child who behaves in ways I can't anticipate, and who is tall and strong and smart enough to drag a chair over to reach whatever she needs, and has mastered the magnetically locking cabinets. Moreover, I don't want to childproof the house against her! She's nearly eight! She's my big helper! She can get her own snack, feed and water the dog, wipe down the table after dinner with a clean rag, and reach toys off high shelves for her sister. I want to teach her to be responsible with her body, to think things through, to make good choices. These are hard lessons for any kid, but - you see where this is going.

Primarily, I'm aware of this: as hard as it can be to parent a child with special needs, it's much harder to be the child with special needs. Ellie struggles so much everyday and my heart aches for her. What parent wouldn't die a little inside, seeing her beloved child hurting when things are more difficult for her, when she's constantly being corrected, misunderstood, overlooked?

Next up: Don't discount my child because of her diagnosis.

Prepare for the Cute

Teddy, 3-1/2 months; Ada, 4 years; Ellie, 7-1/2 years. Also starring: cousin Abby, 4 years.

I love my kids, and wow, am I smitten with this baby. I won't bore you with Teddy's most recent stats, mostly because he hasn't hit his 4-month check-up yet. But I want to note some of his latest activity, so here it is. If you're not interested in drool and coos, feel free to enjoy the photos then click along!

I feel like Teddy skipped the newborn phase. I look forward to seeing this child grow up (crawling! toddling! driving?!!) but I'm not in a rush. I'll keep the middle of the night diaper change grin fests and my ability to cure anything that ails him with a single rendition of The Noble Duke of York as long as possible, please.

He's so alert and engaged, which I love. He's easy going. I spend zero time walking laps around my house, pleading for him to settle down enough to sleep. He has a schedule. He lets his sisters hold him. He's willing to tag along wherever, whenever. In short, he's a perfect third child.

A couple of weeks ago, Teddy found his right hand and began sucking it vigorously and regularly. Less than a week later, he found his left foot with his left hand, and, presto: a perfect self-soothing mechanism. One hand in mouth, opposite hand gripping toes. Good thing it's summer and he's usually barefoot.

He loves his new exersaucer dealie. (Thanks, mom!) He joins us for meals at the dinning table, frequently in his little booster chair. And I know he's my son because he a) needs some awake alone time every day, and b) already loves books. What three month old shrieks with delight when you sit him on your lap to read picture books?! He's also chatty and Paul thinks he's trying to talk.

Perfect baby.

Summer Crockpot Week: The Results Are In

Overall the week was a huge success. Starting the crock pot the night before, or in the morning, or whenever I had the energy to think about dinner made the house smell delicious all day and meal prep was mostly a matter of setting the table, pouring drinks, and maybe heating up a side dish. But some of the meals turned out better than others.

1. crock pot French dip sandwiches
   I rubbed a roast with French onion soup mix and dropped it in the crock pot with some beef broth in the morning. By dinner time it was tender enough to shred easily with a fork. We served the meat on French rolls with a little melted mozzarella cheese on top. The juice from the crock pot served as au jus for dipping. Ellie and Paul loved this dish and devoured their sandwiches. Ada doesn't eat dinner. I found it a bit greasy; next time I'll trim the beef more carefully and make sure I use fat free broth.
   
   
2. crock pot chicken pizza (served over spaghetti squash or pasta)
   I put a couple of chicken breasts in the crock pot at lunch time and covered them with canned tomatoes and some canned pizza sauce. (This is quick and easy prep, not gourmet cooking!) By dinner time the chicken was tender and easily shredded with a fork. Shortly before serving I baked a spaghetti squash (following the instructions on the sticker on the veg) and boiled a little pasta. I served the chicken and sauce over spaghetti squash and put a few noodles on top for camouflage. This dish was a hit with all, but I found the sauce a bit acidic. Next time I think I'll use a light pasta sauce and call it chicken spaghetti. The spaghetti squash was incredibly easy to make, looked just like pasta, and had an incredibly mild squash flavor that hid behind the tomato.
   
   
3. crock pot burritos
   This was by far my favorite dish of the week. Paul's too. I rubbed a beef roast with taco seasoning and put it in the crock pot with broth, Rotel tomatoes, black beans, and corn. A couple of hours before serving I thought the dish looked a bit watery so I added half a cup of brown rice. Perfection! Wrapped in a tortilla it looked liked something I'd order at Qdoba. Serve with salsa and eat in the basement during a tornado.
   
   
4. crock pot Jamaican jerk chicken
   This one was good, too, though the children didn't care for it quite as much. I rubbed a couple of chicken breasts with Jamaican jerk seasoning and put them in the crock pot with broth, limes, cilantro, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, and corn (I think. I'm not sure I added the tomatoes or corn and I probably added extra spices). This was served over brown rice and garnished with fresh limes and shredded coconut. I found the meat a little dry; I'll cook it on low next time.
   
   
5. crock pot vegetable jambalaya
   Jambalaya, normally a skillet favorite here, was my biggest disappointment of the week. The taste was fine, but the vegetables suffered greatly from spending too much time in the crock pot so I ended up serving jambalaya-flavored mush. I intended to make this as a vegetarian dish but ended up adding some turkey sausage. This was a good thing, since the sausage was the only texture in the dish. I don't remember which vegetables I added but I know I used vegetable broth, brown rice, garlic, onion, Louisiana seasoning, bell pepper, peas, broccoli, tomatoes, corn, and maybe some tomato paste. I think jambalaya is a much better stove top meal than a crock pot meal. Alas.

This week I used no crock pot at all. We had homemade mac & cheese (the children prefer Kraft), homemade baked chicken nuggets with baked sweet potato fries (huge hit), French toast with low sodium bacon and fresh organic mixed berries (quick meal before a dance recital), and homemade crusty pizza calzones (universal joy). Also side salads, etc., usually from a bag.

My favorite warm weather dish is my mom's taco salad, but it takes a bit of last minute prep - time and energy that are hard to find at the end of the day. We eat it a few times each summer, frequently when we have guests. What's your favorite summer meal?

Simple Gifts

I used to have this idea about writing a novel called Simple Gifts about a child with special needs. I can't imagine writing that book, now or ever. Because the more I learn, the more it becomes apparent to me that there's nothing at all "simple" about a child with special needs.

Not Writing, Still Busy

Writing every day is important to me and it's not something I'm doing at present. The urge is still there. I abandon my bed, driven from potential (and much-needed!) sleep by the need to write. Ideas buzz around in my head, eager to be let out.

Then I sit at my computer and hear: the baby waking, an older child requesting assistance (or attention), the pug needing to go outside, my email inbox pinging and pinging and pinging, or just my carpets crying for merciful attention from the vacuum cleaner.

I jot down my thoughts in outline form, hoping to get back to "flesh them out" later. This process satisfies the urge to write but rarely (never) produces anything worth sharing.

Indeed, this is less than half the post it was intended to be. But Ada needs water for her paintbrush and lunch isn't putting itself on the table.


Looking back over our Picasa site for the last month, it appears that I haven't just been on a "babymoon." I did have a baby a month ago and he's rather the center of everything right now. (And rightly so!)

But I've also written a bunch of thank you notes, read several books, gone to book club twice, toured a local Frank Lloyd Wright house, assisted in homework-related projects, hosted lots of company, gone to church and related meetings (several), attended a reunion event, put together a Seder and Easter, taken the dog and child to the vet and pediatrician, respectively, and coordinated the first annual Paul invitational marathon and supported my husband's running in general. Not too shabby.

From Ellie's nonfiction writing project "How To Make Cornbread for Chili:"

Announcing . . .

Theodore James
Born 3/25/11
Weight: 7 pounds, 13 ounces
Length: 22 inches

Mom and baby are doing great.

Valentine's Day

At night before bed, the girls enjoy sharing one rose and one thorn each. (Ellie learned the habit of sharing one good thing/one bad thing about your week at bible study and they've adapted the practice for daily home use.) This week all three of us had the same thorn - we missed Daddy who was away on a business trip. Tonight Ellie was eager to share her rose: Daddy's home! (I considered the cookie bouquet a lovely salve on Valentine's Day!)

Humbled

Ways in which my younger daughter helps control my ego.

Subtitle: and why I should consider locking the bathroom door.

1) Ada likes to keep me company as I sit on the toilet. Perhaps this is purely altruistic; she does like to have company when she's in there. (As for me, I prefer solitude but as a parent one must make sacrifices.) She observes the way I look on the seat them keeps up a running commentary.

"Wow, Mommy, your bottom is so huge. So huge! I think you don't fit on that toilet seat, Mommy. I think it's too small for you. Ellie, come look at Mommy's bottom; it's huMONgous!"

She then proceeds to follow me around as I get dressed for the day, keeping up her feel-good patter.

"Mommy, your stomach is enormous."

"Yes, it is, and you know why my belly is so large right now."

"Because of baby Teddy. But look! It jiggles!"

2) I hurriedly finished the preparation of two large casseroles, one for now and one to freeze for after the baby comes. I'm a bit frazzled from all the extra "help" I've had in the kitchen, the fact that I'm heavily pregnant and uncomfortable, the fact that I have a tiny, over-stuffed kitchen, and the fact that dinner will now almost certainly be late. I trip over the dog as I step backwards and drop the aluminum foil, which unrolls all the way into the dining room. "Drat drat drattedy drat!" I am extremely frustrated but also secretly pleased that I haven't started shrieking like a banshee while hurling pots, wooden spoons, and curses.

"Mommy, you're not a very good cooker."

Thanks. "Do you like this food, honey?"

"Um. Yes."

"Then why do you say that I'm not a very good cook?"

"Because you tripped on the dog."

3) In a discussion about age, parent vs. grandparenthood, and death, Ada informed me that I will very soon have all white hair. And will be a grandma as soon as she becomes a Mommy.

Obviously she is part of the cause of my natural hair color's demise. But if I can control the age at which my daughter becomes a parent simply by controlling the color of my hair, well, that's a pretty good deal!

One Born Every Minute

So there's a new Lifetime show called "One Born Every Minute" in which Labor-Delivery-Recovery (LDR) rooms at Riverside Methodist Hospital in Columbus, Ohio are fitted with fancy cameras to catch every moment and film is edited to fit specific episodes. There's no camera crew in the room, just the family and hospital staff plus a ceiling-mounted camera. I watched an episode entitled "To Medicate or Not? That Is the Question." The episode follows 3 patients from admission through delivery.

1) Woman comes into the hospital in early labor. Nurse hangs an IV of pitocin and promises an epidural when the pain kicks in. All just a matter of course, no requests from the patient for anything and no discussion of why pitocin might be needed for someone already in labor with unbroken waters and no apparent fetal distress. This is a medically managed birth.

But you know what? Pitocin is a serious drug. It can be seriously helpful at times. But it also has serious risks and potential side effects. It's really strange to me to see it just given routinely, without specific indication.

The nurse says, "Not that many women want to have a natural birth anymore, about 90% choose an epidural. It's a choice between feeling the worst pain of your entire life and not feeling anything, so it's pretty obvious what most women are going to choose . . . I guess it's just a personal preference."

Oh, sure, when you put it like that . . .

With the rest of this case, it's obvious that the mom is very comfortable with a managed birth experience. She wants IV narcotics and an epidural. She does not want to hold the baby until after she's been cleaned up. Her nurse asks her preferences and is supportive of the mother's requests. Healthy 9 pounds, 2 ounces baby girl.

2) Woman comes in who has had a previous large baby and is being induced because her physician is worried the second will be large, too. The (different) nurse questions the mother's decision not to have an elective cesarean section! But the mother does not want to have a surgical birth. The nurse says they'll break her bag of waters right away (this increases the pain of contractions and has other risks as well - including infection - but might speed labor) and asks about an epidural. The mother says she'd prefer to try to go without and expresses concerns about the drug's known side effects ("last time it really slowed down my labor"). The nurse replies, "Really?! Alright..." to the woman's request for no needle into the spine and says there's no problem with slowing down labor "if you time it right."

No implied judgment there . . .

The nurse continues to cast doubt on the mother's ability to birth this baby, saying things like, "unless he's too big..." and threatening that if her contractions stall out she'll have a c-section. I was happy when the second shift nurse came in; she was much more supportive.

But after a narcotics shot mom doesn't feel like she can do it without an epidural (no shame in that but it's too bad there was no one there reassuring her and telling her what a great job she's doing, etc.).

Unfortunately, after narcotics + epidural and lying flat on her back the baby's heart rate slows. Mom is too drugged and out of it to move over onto her side. She is freezing cold with chattering teeth and it is nearly time to push but she's pretty out of it. The doctor calls in for a c-section, saying, "I know it's scary and it's not what you want but I think it's probably safer for the baby." Healthy 9 pounds, 12 ounces baby boy.

3) Finally we have the "deliberate" couple who bring their birth plan (and a doula) and want a natural child birth. They sound really prepared, talking about cascading interventions, what's best for the baby, and mom wanting to challenge herself to see what she can do. (The parents met doing endurance sports.)

The nurses and admins at the main desk share many raised eyebrows and smirks at the mom and dad with their birth plan and shared moaning. "Oooopen..." The LDR nurse really wants to run the show and the couple (along with their doula) want time to make their own decisions. The nurse does push quite a bit, saying things like, "the longer you labor, the harder this is going to be," which probably puts unnecessary stress on the mother. The nurse wants continuous fetal monitoring and an internal contractions monitor (the former does not prove advantageous over intermittent monitoring and the latter increases risk of infection).

While offering his wife a drink of water the dad asks the nurse to be more positive (rather than saying things like, "well, she's probably dehydrated, which could be part of the problem"). (My question: what problem?!) The specially trained and very professional nurse midwife (which this couple has instead of an OB/GYN) is very supportive (though she's not in the room most of the time) even as the LDR nurse is pushy. "I'm really glad this shift is over," she says as she walks out, frustrated that the couple did not want her to "teach" them.

A little pitocin after 23 hours of natural labor to push the baby down the rest of the way work wonders and mom quickly delivers a healthy 9 pounds 2 ounces baby girl. She gleefully holds her baby right away and both parents clearly feel great about having the birth experience they wanted (annoying passive aggressive LDR nurse aside).

Disclosures. I've had two babies. My first birth experience was pretty natural in that my water broke in early labor, I labored at home all night, and went to the hospital less than two hours before giving birth. I was not given any pitocin, narcotics, local anesthetia, or an epidural. I did not have an episiotomy, forceps, or vacuum extraction. On the other hand, despite being completely healthy, hydrated, and in transition (almost ready to push) by the time I was admitted, by the time I started pushing I had an IV in my hand (just fluids, no meds), an oxygen mask over my face, a pulse oximeter clipped to my finger, and an internal fetal monitor in Ellie's scalp. It was a low-risk, routine delivery; neither of us had any complications or problems before, during, or after the birth.

My second baby was almost two weeks "late" so I was induced (at a different hospital, one closer to home). The pitocin contractions were indeed very different from the natural contractions I experienced with my first labor. I fought them for hours before asking for an epidural. (By that point I didn't care about ANY side effects, I just needed a break from the pain that never really went away, even during the "rest" period between contractions.) The epidural was awesome and I enjoyed the birth of my second child despite lying flat on my back with my legs strapped into stirrups. I had an IV, etc. etc. and the side effects of that were easily my least favorite parts of the experience. It was a low-risk, routine delivery; neither of us had any complications or problems before, during, or after the birth.

Both of my birth experiences were positive and had happy outcomes. But evidence does not support improved outcomes from so many of the routinely administered medical interventions in hospital labor and delivery. In Missouri there is only one free-standing birth center and it's across the state from me. (A local center is said to be coming soon.) Evidence supports the fact that freestanding birth centers are safe and have outcomes for mother and baby that are at least as good as births in hospitals (with much lower intervention rates). They're close to hospitals and can get patients in for surgery very quickly in the rare case of true emergency.

The U.S. has unusually high intervention rates and is behind 29 other countries in infant mortality. I feel so fortunate that the nurses I had at both of the hospitals where I delivered my first two babies were supportive of me and all my choices, unlike some of the clearly judgmental and prejudicial nurses I saw on One Born Every Minute.

Other quotes from the episode:

"You wouldn't go to the dentist to have a tooth pulled without being numb; why would you go and have a baby without an epidural?" (from a mom)

"No point in being miserable." (from a nurse)

Well, labor feels different for every woman (and every birth experience). For me, the natural contractions (as opposed to the pitocin ones) were hard work but far from the "worst pain I've ever felt in my life." Working with and through them was enormously rewarding and the endorphin rush afterward was incredible. Why do people run marathons? Why do people do anything that's challenging but also rewarding? It really is a "personal preference."

And - even more importantly - epidurals are also serious drugs (and a serious procedure) with risks and side effects for both mom and baby.

The show's editing and voice over (Sigourney Weaver) make the first labor - the most medically managed one - seem like the smoothest, quickest choice. (Obviously this is not always the case.) The tone with the "natural child birth couple" suggests that showering in labor is weird (no way; it's great!) and that thirteen hours of labor for a first child is crazy long. (Nope, not even average.)

But in the end - all happy parents, all healthy babies. So hooray for that. I've got lots more to say, but good grief I've been typing forever and I can't imagine anyone actually read this whole piece!

Rite of Passage

The first elementary school music program. Wow. I looked around the gym and wondered if the other parents could tell that I'm not really a grown-up yet. I often wonder this. Does it show?



This show was especially exciting because it was based on one of our favorite books. As a parent bonus, I was actually able to find the book, tape it back together, and have it available to read at bedtime on several occasions.

Another Snow Day - No Hair Cuts, Please!

A snow day is not the end of the world, especially not on a day when only Ellie was going to be in school and we didn't have anything significant planned, anyway. The girls and I will stay home, bake something yummy, maybe go outside and shovel a little or build tiny snowmen. I plan to use my gravid state as an excuse not to pull children around on a sled.

One nice thing about (yet another) snow day is an excuse not to shower. Showering is dangerous! Children can leave the house, let other people into the house, join me in the shower, or cut off their hair. They are excellent at foiling "child-proofing" attempts. Fortunately I'm relatively clean already and I just had my hair done so none of me really needs washing.

The worst thing about a snow day is the lack of guaranteed nap. I know, all you working people are really feeling for me right about now. But by this point in my pregnancy, knowing that I get to lie down for 30 minutes in the afternoon really helps me muster the energy to get through the day. Everyone should be allowed to take a brief siesta, but for me it's nearly a necessity right now.

(When I was working throughout pregnancies and unable to nap in the afternoons, I'd come home from work, collapse on the couch, and be no good at all in the evenings. Once I even stopped a few blocks from home. I was too tired to drive the rest of the way without passing out on my steering wheel.)

I still think it's a little crazy to cancel school when a few inches of snow is forecast. Unless there's been half a foot of fresh snow since midnight and the roads are dangerously impassable - or unless you live in the deep South where there's inadequate snow removal equipment - I think a few inches of snow falling gradually throughout the night merits at most a few hours snow delay. I blame this trend on the litigious nature of our society. Why not?

Showering with Young Children: A Survival Guide

Episode 1

In December we had an ice day off from school. Unfortunately, it was neither snowy nor particularly icy in our district - just one of those days where school was called off as a precaution, I guess - so I ended up at home with two young children on the last morning I'd expected to have to SHOP BY MYSELF before Christmas.

Hastily reorganizing my plans, I decided to start my morning with a shower. I gave the girls a little extra breakfast and turned on PBS Kids, reminding them to come find me if they needed me.

After a while, Ada joined me in the bathroom. This was not unusual; she frequently comes in for a visit whenever I'm out of sight for a few minutes. "Hiya, Ada, how're you doing?"

"Um, I'm fine, Mommy, but Ellie went outside to play with those neighbor boys."

Indeed she did. Wearing only a nightgown. No coat, no shoes, certainly no mittens or hat. I thought over my options briefly as my hair conditioned and foam dripped slowly down one partially shaven leg. I recalled that we live on a quiet, safe street, that Ellie is 7 years old and allowed outside on her own to play with the neighbor boys (though generally not unclothed), and that this was a lesson she could probably learn on her own for a few more minutes.

Sure enough, by the time I'd finished my shower, she was back inside. We went over the ground rules again, touching heavily on the parental notification aspects of the leaving the house routine.

"Ellie, before you go outside to play, what do you need to do?"

"Put on shoes!"

True.

Episode 2

Shortly after Christmas I found myself needing to shower again. This time I went over all the ground rules - save one - carefully with both girls. Then I waited until Ellie was immersed in some quiet play in her room and I knew I had a few moments to myself. I leapt into the shower.

After a while, the bathroom door opened. "Hiya, Ada, how're you doing?"

"Um, I'm fine, Mommy, but I think I can't work the TV remote right now."

"Oh, that's OK, I think you've had enough TV, anyway. Why don't you play on your own for a few minutes; I'll be out in a bit."

When I turned off the water, I listened carefully. I could hear Ellie still playing in her room with the door closed. I whipped my hair up into its towel turban and headed down the hall toward the family room to check on Ada.

She was sitting on the couch, right where I'd left her, but now accompanied by an adult-sized person.

It was our elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gustafson.

"One moment please." I returned to my room to apply glasses and clothing. While I was at it I moisturized and smeared product into my hair, oddly unhurried about returning to my company.

"I though Ada told you I was here, but I didn't want to disturb you so I decided to wait." Well, if I had to appear fully naked in front of a neighbor, I'm glad it was her.

The one rule I didn't stress with the girls that morning was not to let anyone into the house. Nana and Grandpa were in town visiting and might have returned to the house at any time. I didn't want the girls to leave them out in the cold if that were the case. I don't think Ada would have let in a stranger, but our neighbor babysits sometimes so is both known and safe.

Didn't seem to phase her a bit.

Episode 3

The day before the girls returned to school, I tried again to shower while parenting. This time I carefully went over ALL the rules and made my expectations very clear.

The talk must have made an impression, because both girls joined me in the bathroom. Ada popped in and out for friendly little chats, but Ellie pulled open the shower curtain and tried to climb right on in with me. Once I'd dissuaded her from that course of action, she sat on the edge of the tub, pants getting soaked, and asked a stream of questions along the lines of "What are you doing, Mommy?" and "Why are you doing that, Mommy?"

Friday morning both girls went to school and I took a fabulous, delightful, no one else in the house no one bothering me no interruptions relaxing hot shower. And it was good.

Rent

I've always loved the music from Rent but have never seen the show. I finally got around to watching the movie last night, and enjoyed it, but I think I waited too long to see it. And at some point in the intervening years perhaps I grew up or stodgy or something.

Or was I supposed to identify with the parents? Because I totally did.

Crush

Ellie has a couple of friends who are two years older than she (nine). Their mothers have been talking about bras lately. Bras! I'm still talking about overnight pull-ups! So not there yet.

But apparently we are somewhere else. We've never made much of the whole boy/girl thing. We don't watch a lot of princess movies, we don't ever talk about our friends' sons as "boyfriends," we don't tease the girls about "flirting" or otherwise try to sexualize them and their young relationships.

Nonetheless, they live in the world and Ellie definitely has her first crush.

Fortunately, she has it in perfectly appropriate 7-year-old style. She pokes MJ, her dance teacher's son and an assistant teacher in her ballet/tap/tumbling class, to show her interest. He's a good sport about this. She talks about MJ a lot. When I woke her up for school last Tuesday Ellie sat bolt upright in bed and said,

"It's Tuesday! I have dance today! I'm going to see MJ!"

Yes.

But my favorite is the bit that happens outside of dance class. "Wait, Mommy, I have to go back to my room to get Pretend MJ." Pretend MJ comes with us much of the time, and always needs to be led by the hand. I like Pretend MJ quite well.

Pictured: Ada, Ellie, MJ (and a couple of teachers)