Happy Things This Week

 While I may not have taken any days off, or gone anywhere that would be considered fun this week (I do not consider the grocery store fun), and I was incredibly busy all week, that doesn't mean it was a bad, draining, unhappy week.

Am I exhausted, sitting here typing this on Friday evening?  Oh heck yes, I'm ready for a twelve hour snooze (as if that ever happens, even on the rare vacation).  The heat and humidity are ramping back up, and I certainly feel that pressure on my body.  But, as tired as I am, I can still see things that made me happy.

For one,--and don't judge me for the first picture, which is partly a before and partly an in-progress photo--I got the master bath shower scrubbed.  It hadn't had a good scouring in about a year (and, honestly, not even a half-assed one in six months or more) and was looking pretty skanky. Gotta love well water, especially iron-rich well water (and yes, we do have a water softener but it can only accomplish so much. . . )  

Part of the lapse was because I was out of my go-to wonderful shower cleaner, and found out several months later that it had been taken off the market (it was pretty potent stuff, so probably not the greatest environmental- or health-wise, but dang it did a good job with hard water stains.)  A different brand was finally recommended to me by someone else who has very hard water, and I was able to get ahold of some of that to try.

Before/During

The after picture looks much more appetizing.  'New' brand did the trick, although it says no scrubbing needed, just spray on and wipe away and I most definitely had to scrub, even with a scrub brush in some areas. Now to keep it this way. Perhaps a monthly cleaning will only require a spray on and wipe away. . . 

After

 I didn't, technically, enjoy scrubbing out that nasty shower, but I am loving how bright, clean, shiny and generally more pleasant it is now!  (Do you think I can give myself a cash bonus equal to what it would have cost to pay someone to do this unpleasant task?)

Much more fun than taking a mineral deposited shower back to pristine brightness (or as close as it gets after almost 22 years of use), was cutting a bunch of black eyed Susans from the front flower bed and bringing them inside to beautify the dining room table.  

The 'vase' is actually an antique blue glass Ball canning jar that previously belonged to DH's paternal grandmother. When she died about 20 years ago her daughters divided up her canning jars and, since they knew I was the only one of this generation (the grandchildren) who cans and preserves food like they do, they shared some with me.  The blue ones I don't use for canning, but use them for display instead.

I have been trying to get DH (and myself) to eat salad of some type--not counting pasta salads-- at least three times a week all summer.  We had an especially colorful one with our dinner the other night (along with marinated and grilled chicken breast from one of our freshly butchered broilers).

After not being home enough the last three weeks to work on anything in the Finish The Tack Room category, DH installed the light fixture I'd bought for it.  It's LED and SO BRIGHT!  But I wanted bright, like full sun daylight bright, because 1) it's a 12' ceiling and 2) there's going to be a 18" or 24" wide shelf around three of the four walls at approximately 6-7' from the floor for storing totes of out of season or otherwise not used daily/weekly horse-related stuff and that shelf is going to kinda block light coming from above.

This is the light I got, with two moveable panels so that I can kind of aim the light 'under' the future shelf, which is where the saddles and bridles will be stored.

Last Sunday evening, DH and I had a small campfire (really to burn some brush and paper garbage we'd accumulated), and while sitting out there watching the fire, I was able to do some knitting.  

Back in March, when we'd taken K3 and Toad to Sedona on Spring Break for a hiking trip, I had started working on a new pair of socks.  It pretty much got a few inches knit on that trip, and then I didn't touch it on a regular basis after Easter.  However, it was to a point that two hours of knitting on Sunday brought me to the needed foot length for beginning the toe decreases. And once you start the toe decreases, well, you get kind of obsessed about just finishing the dang sock already!

I finished the toe and grafted it closed last night while DH was watching TV.  So now I have one sock knit this entire year! Woo Hoo! I'm hoping to at least find a half hour someday soon to cast on and get the cuff knit for it's mate; maybe by Christmas I'll have a pair I can wear.  The yarn is some Trekking XXL that I've had in my stash for probably 10 years.  So if I make it into socks, does that count as decluttering my house?

What 'simple' joys did you find in your week this week?

Can We Please NOT With All The Soy?!?

 Soy.  It has somehow, in the last decade or so, taken over every food product in the store and at restaurants. Or so it seems.

Which isn't a terrible thing, unless your body, like mine, has strong opinions about soy in the things it ingests. Years ago, I discovered, quite unintentionally, that my body doesn't like interesterified soybean oil. Like, really, really doesn't like. As in, almost immediate stomach cramping and purging of all intestinal contents. Not fun.

So, I tried to avoid that particular formation of soy in my food.  Problem solved.

Except, to a lesser immediately violent extent, a couple of years later, on a hiking trip vacation, I discovered that my body also does not like isolated soy protein. UGH.  Add isolated soy protein to the Do Not Eat list.

Try finding a protein bar, or even a granola bar, without that.  Try hiking for half a day (or more) without a convenient to pack, non-temperature sensitive, source of protein like a protein bar.  Luckily in 2024 I discovered Aloha protein bars, which are both palatable, and do not get their protein from soy! Hallelujah! Highly recommend!

Unfortunately, my body's dislike of soy has gotten worse as soy has crept into more and more food items. Regular soybean oil (not just interesterified), soy lecithin (waah, even in the chocolate chips I make cookies with, not to mention pretty much every brand of ice cream under the sun and tons of baked goods, dairy products, etc.), plain old soy protein (not just isolated) all cause a measurable gut reaction. Every single time.

Even my for many years belovedly safe hot dogs from the local meat market now contain smallish amounts of soy.  So supposedly small it's almost the last ingredient listed on the package, but it's enough to make the early morning hours of the day after eating a 'safe' hot dog be requiring frequent trips to the bathroom.  That is no way to live a productive or enjoyable life!

It's so frustrating! Soy is increasingly difficult to keep out of my own kitchen. Trying to eat out (without unpleasant gut issues later) is getting practically impossible.

Now, I know that there's probably medications my doctor could prescribe to 'calm down' my intestines' reactions to soy.  But why should adding chemicals to my gut to lessen it's natural processes be the number one answer?  Why not just take all the (expletive deletive) soy out off all the foods it's been added to in the last two decades? I mean, the same food existed pre-soy craze, why can't it go back to that?

(Truthfully, I know that it's because soy has become the cheaper alternative to those other ingredients, but come on. . . it's so not good for more people than just myself.)

Can we please, please, please, NOT with all the soy?!?

View From The Porch Swing

 Yesterday, I did a lot.  Worked two horses.  Made breakfast (fried eggs and toast for DH, Greek yogurt with granola for me), lunch (leftover chicken tortilla soup) and dinner (burritos!) for DH and I (he rarely cooks).  Washed the dishes, did a load of laundry (and hung it on the line), cleaned stalls, took care of chickens; all of which are normal daily chores.  Spent about two hours painting boards that will become the ceiling of my tack room in the barn.

And then, rather than pick up another chore at nearly 8:00 in the evening (after being on the go for 12+ hours), I told myself I had to sit down.  Not just sit down, but specifically, sit down on the porch swing (because, why do I have a porch swing??? To sit on and relax.)  And, while I was sitting on the porch swing, I may as well read the library book I've had a love-hate relationship with for almost two weeks. 

Why had I not turned the book back in to the library all ready if I wasn't going to actually read it to the end? I still had it, so I should buckle down and get the last 50 or so pages out of the way.  Really, it wasn't a terrible book, and I was sort of interested in how the author was going to tie up all the loose ends. The major plot concept was okay,but I had figured out the gist of it about 150 pages ago and was not all that enthralled with the writing itself.  Overall, not a book for me even though, written a bit differently it definitely could have been more my style (um, less money and time are no object, let's pick a random event in history to add in and then, in the 1950's go back to a semblance of the noble country life of ye olde England and fall in love with the heir whose entire family just happens to love and accept you, American chick, on first meeting. . . nauseum for this person--me--who eschewed poorly written and massed produced romance novels from the time she was a teenager.)  Based on this book, I doubt I will read anything else by this author.

Anyway, I gently swang on my porch swing, skimmed through the last chapters of the book to verify I was, indeed, right about the ending, and then enjoyed about ten more minutes in the beautiful evening before the sun went down.

overlooking the garden, which has been tilled and is ready for planting 

(once it dries up from a rainy Sunday and, now, rainy Monday night and all of Tuesday morning).

due West, to the sunset

I need to remind myself to make use of that porch swing more regularly.  Just because the sun is up and on duty until nearly 9 p.m. these days doesn't mean I also have to spend all those hours working.  Mental breaks are good.  Physical breaks are good.  Remember to allow myself down time.  It's imperative.

Fourteen Years?!?

 Today is 14 years since I started this blog.  Wow.  So much has happened, my family has grown, and changed, and life is so different (but yet, also the same) as it was back in 2011.

There have been many times, in the last two years especially, when I've asked myself why I have this blog still.  I feel like I don't do right by it; that I don't post as often as I want, nor do my of my posts in recent years have the tone I'd like them to have.  A lot of them, to me anyway, feel like I'm giving a report rather than chatting with a friend.

What to do? 

Pull the plug and stop blogging?  Am I just done?  Am I out of things to say and share?  Is blogging dead anyway?  (I find it harder as time goes on to find blogs that I'm interested in--real people not selling products or faux lifestyles.)  Does everyone just prefer photos and not much meaty (as in substantial) talk these days?

Or try to find time (and topics I find fun/appealing) to post about much more regularly--like weekly as a minimum?  Set a schedule and do what is necessary to stick with it (even if I'm not feeling it?)

Give myself grace and just let the timing and topics be what they may?  That was my original intent, really, just to share what comes through my life, good and bad, interesting and dull.  Just an everyday average person, not some super hyped-up-always-bright-and-sunny version of womanhood.

I started this blog more as an outlet for myself (I've always loved writing, but hate writing on assigned topics) than anything else.  It's never been a financial thing, it's never been a popularity thing, and for the most part I never talk about politics or current social hot buttons because those just aren't me.  I do still want to write posts.  I do still want to share thoughts and ideas and happenings and creations.  I'm definitely not out of things to share.  If blogging is mostly dead, well, it's not completely buried yet, and I'm fairly sure there are people like me out there who want to read not just look at perfect pictures and witty captions.

So where do I/this little place here go from here?  Well, we shall see what the future holds.  Life is busy, but it's always been busy.  I'm trying to learn to be better at self-care (a totally foreign concept for most of my life) and writing, for me, is a form of self-care.  

I need to sit on my porch swing more and write.  I mean, that's why I always wanted a porch swing--to sit and relax on--and why my kids bought me one a few years ago. 

Would you like to join me?

Grateful, November third Sunday

 (Oops it's Monday all ready.  Forgot to schedule this for publishing yesterday--Sunday)

My gratefulness post today is about how much better my knee has gotten in the past month.  Or however long it's actually been (somewhere close to a month) since DH's last trip that took him out of town for a week or so.  At that point, I was still having troubles doing my own chores and no way could have taken on any of his (like stoking the wood boiler).  This time, I'm probably at 75% capacity in my own heavy lifting, can actually do stairs like a normal person, walk a good 1/2 mile with no soreness or gait issues, AND I stoked the wood boiler! 

I confess, toting and swinging large chunks of wood into the opening of the firebox did cause a bit of pain the first few days, but by the end of the 10-day trip that DH was away for, my knee was no longer complaining about this task.

Physical therapy is coming along. Still doing strengthening and balance exercises, but they are way different and have increased in difficulty level compared to what they were a month ago.  And I'm down to once a week for PT instead of twice.We're getting there!  Hopefully in another month or so I'll be full steam ahead.

The Second Four Weeks

This is the end of the eighth week that DH has worked from home.

Here in Michigan, we are still under the Stay Home order. It has been extended to May 28th.  There are a few 'restrictions' that have been lifted, but really they were stupid things to be not allowed in the first place: landscape and gardening crews are now allowed to work, garden centers can open, people can go golfing and use boats with motors.  All of which are typically done outdoors and not with people on top of each other. Yesterday, construction crews were given the green light to resume business.

However, it is now mandatory to wear face masks in the grocery store and other enclosed public spaces.

So, I made a few more face masks for family members, at their request.

Flowers have been blooming all over the place.  I've been working on weeding flowerbeds, and also relocating some of my perennials that needed thinning.  DD1 has been the lucky recipient of some of them; she is happily landscaping her and Honorary Son's first home.

the bore bees (aka carpenter bees) are awake!

Garden planning, and tilling, and planting have begun.  Seed potatoes are in the ground.  Onion starts arrived yesterday, and will be planted next week (after this weekends' below freezing temps are over).

planning

tilling

onions

While the ground was still soft, DH and I pulled out a few weed trees with the tractor.  We'd meant to get them a year or two ago, but DH's job was so busy for all that time that they got overlooked and just grew bigger and bigger until they were no longer movable and transplant-able.

The clothesline got it's new lines, and has been in use frequently the past two weeks.

 We've had weather that varied from breathtakingly beautiful, to stormy, to WTF?!?

sunset

foggy sunrise

graupel?!?

beautiful spring day

lightning glow

lightning burst

Shopping has been an ongoing adventure.  I say adventure to put a positive spin on it.  Some of my worst days, mentally, have been days I went to the grocery store.

Toilet paper, unavailable for most of the first weeks, finally showed up in quantity, although usually one brand at a time and with purchasing limits in force.  I'm a die hard Quilted Northern fan, and thankfully I had enough pre-pandemic, to last until it was again available at a store near me.  Although, if you compare the last package of my January purchased tp to the April package, you will notice a size difference.  Hmm. Yes, the package on the left (January) is taller than the package on the right (April).

May has brought further downsizing on the tp front.  Notice that there used to be six rolls to a pack; now there are only four. And for an increase in price, compared to the six roll pack bought in January.

Flour and butter have been hit and miss.  I use a lot of both in my cooking and baking.  Whole wheat flour, which disappeared from the shelves the second week when everyone had bought out the bleached all purpose flour, has been my most desired commodity.  My everyday bread recipe is half whole wheat and half (unbleached) all purpose flour.  I began the pandemic with most of a 5 pound bag in my kitchen canister, but finally ran out about a week ago.  Grudgingly made a batch of all white bread last weekend.  Yesterday, when I went shopping, I scored a (teeny tiny) bag of whole wheat flour, as well as more unbleached all purpose flour.

2 pounds?!?  I'll have this used up before May is over!!

This week has been mostly temperate weather.  We enjoyed a small campfire last weekend, even burning a hollow log (aka a blow log) that DH found while cutting deadfall in the woods earlier this year.

The little oak saplings we had planted two Aprils ago are doing fairly well.  This week they started putting out tiny baby leaves.

Hoping that by the time another four weeks pass, much of the restrictions on daily life will have been lifted.  DH will probably continue to work from home much of the summer, at least for the parts of his programs that are teleconferences and analyzing data.

The New Normal?

We're still hanging in there, DH working from his home office, and me tending horses Monday through Friday in the mornings.  The wood boiler still needs stoking daily, chickens still need care morning and evening.

Still under the Stay Home order too, which has made Sundays a little strange as church is closed.  We have been doing church at home on Sunday mornings, using the live streamed services of sister churches in our synod.  I dug out the hymnals from when my kids were in parochial school (and had a hymn a week as memory work); and for Palm Sunday service we sang along with gusto.  It felt so good to sing those familiar festive hymns.

The plan is to stream Holy Week services too; on Thursday evening and Friday afternoon, as well as on Easter Sunday.  I've been giving DH a bit of ribbing over Easter breakfast, as he is a member of the church council and the councilmen cook and serve breakfast at church on Easter morning. I told him that even though church won't be open for breakfast that day, my kitchen certainly is, and it's stocked with ham, eggs, and bread (for toast), so there's no reason he shouldn't make breakfast for me that day. LOL.  We'll see. . .

Meanwhile, it's unclear if people will be required to wear masks when out in public (I've heard conflicting reports on this issue and can't find anything official in writing). . .   Just in case, I decided to go ahead and make myself a couple of fabric masks.  I'd actually been thinking about such a thing for over a year, mainly for when I'm working in dusty conditions such as putting hay up in the loft.  My lungs aren't what they used to be.

And if I'm going to wear a mask, it's going to be one with my personality in mind.  So I went stash diving through my fabric and came out with two horse themed prints.

yep, looks like me

 Each mask has different fabric for each side, to make them easy to recognize which side is which if they get temporarily taken off.  The one with the large horse print, I lined with flannel for softness.  And just in case flannel proves too hot in the warmer months I used a plain piece of cotton for the inside of the second mask.

pinned together

mask 1 sewn together, in need of pleats

mask 2 pleats pinned and ready to sew

two finished masks;

slightly different styling

ready to wear

Working away on a few other crafty projects, one of which will be part of K3's birthday present at the end of the month.  She's been hinting for a doll blanket made by Grandma, and I've got the sewing machine out currently.  No pictures to show yet, it's still in the concept and pulling fabric from the stash phase.  Artistic me wants to go with pieced blocks, yet practical get-it-done me is leaning toward squares of different fabrics sewn in rows.

How are things going with you?  Feeling crafty in your at home time?  Or just like the world has gone off it's axis? 

I confess, there are days when I feel very out of sorts, and others that are not much different as long as I don't read any news or turn on the TV.  My biggest anxiety inducer lately is when I think about paying bills with 20% less income; even though DH is still working, his employer is holding back 20% of his pay until this coming fall or winter.  Not much can be done about that. We'll have to figure this out as we go along.

Weight--Always a Tough Topic

I was the stick skinny girl in school.  The one who actually wore a size 0 at one point in her life without even thinking about it. Who ate and ate and still fell in the 'underweight' category on the charts.  Even my final days of high school, when I was nearly 4 months pregnant, I hadn't broken 120 pounds yet.

I didn't stay that skinny.  Four kids and twenty-some years later, I found myself teetering on the edge of obese.  According to the BMI charts, I was 'overweight' at 178 pounds, just not quite to the dreaded 'obese'.

I was frustrated.  I didn't want to be obese.  I ate well; home cooked meals, not fast food. Honestly, even as a teen I didn't like fast food, and by the time I hit 30 I pretty much refused to eat it.  Eating out had better mean a sit-down restaurant, not burgers and fries, or I wasn't interested in being taken out to eat, thank you. We didn't and still don't eat out much.  I didn't drink soda, as I'd figured out before hitting my twenties that cola gave me a stomach ache, and in my mid-30's I had to give up even my favorite never-caffeinated sodas because their manufacturers had started adding high fructose corn syrup to them.  HFCS gives me severe headaches, so I've been avoiding it way longer than the media has been preaching against it.  I've always hated potato chips.  Prepackaged baked goods fell way short in the taste department, so those weren't my downfall either. All in all, I was a pretty healthy eater.

So why in the world was I so darn fat.  (I do realize that a lot of women would look at me and say "178 pounds at 5' 7" tall is not fat." )  I puzzled over it.  I researched.  I soul searched.

Well, I didn't exercise other than doing a lot of walking and more physical labor each day than most American women my age.  And I did have a big sweet tooth.  Baking is my specialty.  And I do eat like a farm hand (my excuse:  I am a farm hand.)  But I ate a lot of potatoes and noodles.  Those starchy carbs.

So I started exercising in a focused way. In my typical fashion of "if you say you're going to do it, then you better get it done or die trying" (a morale I was taught in my youth: if you make a promise to someone, you better keep your promise. Be a person of integrity), I did it.  I exercised five days a week, half hour a day, for about a year and a half.  Along with that, I tried to eat less carbs--unless they were fruits and veggies--and more protein.  And I lost weight.  I lost almost 30 pounds, getting down to 149 when I hit the point that I was starting to think I looked almost too bony (and DH did comment that I was getting awfully bony but then again, I'd been bony when we met, being roughly 120 pounds back then and still with a metabolism that let me consume endless amounts of calories).

Somewhere along that year and a half, I decided I wanted to run the local Memorial Day 5K, and I started training myself for that. 3+ miles, three times a week, with fewer intervals of walking until I was able to actually run (actually more of a jog) 3.5 miles without stopping.  I picked up a little weight then, all muscle mass, weighing in at 155 when that 5K came around.  I blogged about that, my one and only 5K here. 

After doing the 5K, that summer I ran, but not as much.  And I exercised, but not always 5 days a week.  Then autumn came, and I went to the doctor to get some newly arisen female problems checked out, and ended up being put on severe restrictions in terms of physical activities.  The list from the Dr looked something like this: no bending, twisting, pulling, pushing or lifting more than 5 pounds for the next six weeks.  I asked about running or jumping and was also told NO.

Needless to say, that was the end of my exercise habit. So I gained a little weight that winter.  Lost a little when summer came again, and I was hit and miss running and working out again.  That fall was DS1 and family's big move up to MI from SC and into our house for about 18 months.  Enter stress into my life big time.  Not to mention no space or time to do my workout dvds.

Something in me changed during that winter.  I don't know exactly what, and neither do the family doctors I've seen since then--and honestly I'm so tired of getting the same old generalized tests run and not being given a referral to any sort of specialist (like perhaps an endocrinologist)-- even though I've asked for referrals.  While, at first, my weight didn't go up much (even though for some reason my waistline ballooned nearly 5 inches in a two day time frame after doing some of those female tests), my blood pressure did.  And my iron went down.  And then we--the Dr. and I--tried battling my anemia with iron pills, but those gave me digestive upset.  And despite having diarrhea every morning, my weight continued to go up.  So did the blood pressure.  And my resting pulse.  My lung function, however, has decreased. Going up a flight of stairs shouldn't affect my breathing, but it does.  Going up two flights of stairs--from the laundry area in the basement to the master bedroom--carrying a hamper of clothes about does me in.  I am literally coughing and gasping.

This cannot continue. It's time for me again to get serious about a regular exercise routine, and about vetoing those starchy carbs.  It's time to switch doctors, and try to find a primary care physician who will listen and not just say "Oh, you're overweight" without looking into why my body got so out of whack that lead to this weight and what we can do to put my body back in stride. It's time for me to do it or die trying.  Honestly, I think I'm going to die if I don't try.  I'm too young to feel like this.

Last week, I dug out my workout dvds, and I've been doing three or four workout sessions a week,  running through a different workout each session, on top of riding The California Horse (which is a huge cardio and core strength workout in itself) three times a week.  I'm doing it, albeit in a modified form when I get extremely out of breath, but I'm doing it. 

Now to start interviewing, I mean, trying new, primary care doctors to see if we can get to the bottom of what I think is a hormonal/adrenal/thyroid/cortisol from ongoing stress imbalance.

Why I Like to Exercise

This is a post I wrote, and never published, back in early February 2013. Oh how much has changed in five years, even more so in the last two years, in my health.  I fell out of my exercise routine in the Fall of 2013 after having some testing done because of a few female issues which resulted in being put on severe physical restrictions that literally said

NO

• bending
• twisting
• pushing
• pulling
• lifting more than 5 pounds

for six straight weeks.  I was also told no running or jumping (because I asked), which meant basically no exercise at all, not even going for a jog.  

Less than a year after that (a year in which I kinda but not quite got back into my workout groove), DS1 and family moved in with us. Nearly 18 months later, they moved out, and its been two years since then, but the stress eating I learned to do during their stay at this little place here keeps rearing its ugly head, and despite good intentions, I have never gotten back to the point, in terms of physical or mental health, that I was at in early 2013.  Even with riding 3-5 days a week for most of 2017, my weight has stagnated.

I really, really need to get back to where I was five years ago. Back when I wrote this

I'm back on the workout bandwagon after having my schedule disrupted for the last half of December.  Other than being mildly sore the first week, I have noticed a few things that made me realize how much different I am in my exercise lifestyle than in my sedentary lifestyle:

1. my skin is clearer.  Weird, and I don't have a scientific explanation for it, but it seems that a good daily sweat (and rinse off) gives me a glow that chases away the dry dull skin of winter.
2. I'm ravenously hungry for protein, but not so hungry for carbs.  This is the exact opposite of how I felt during the few weeks I didn't work out regularly.  Those weeks all I wanted was to eat (and eat, and eat) something crunchy, preferably sweet and crunchy.  The past week those types of foods haven't even sounded appealing.  Give me a pork chop, a venison steak, a chicken breast! 
3. I'm more upbeat.  I noticed this back in 2011 when I first implemented a 5x a week exercise routine.  Working out helps keep me in a good frame of mind and not so prone to feeling depressed.  I might start the day feeling draggy, but after 30 minutes of keeping up with a workout video, or on a 3 mile run, my brain is on overdrive and I have energy flowing through me.  After a week of not exercising at all, the pessimistic overtones had crept back into my life and were fighting for dominance.
4. I have more energy.  Funny thing, how expending a lot of energy creates more energy.  Long lasting energy.  So much so that on my 'day off' from working out, I can barely sit still, I have this urge to be doing things.
5. I'm more limber.  Touch toes?  Yes.  Kick my own height?  Yes.  Two years ago I pretty much had given up on ever being able to do that again.  Thought it was just part of my long lost youth.  Do a back bend?  Well, not yet.  But half-way, and I'm not giving up. . . maybe next year.  Truth be told, I could never do a back bend.  There's a lot of things I never could do before that I do now: butcher chickens, hunt deer, bake bread, quilt, knit. . .
6. My pants fit better all ready.  Two weeks ago, they were tight.  At the end of day five of exercising, they were back to comfy.  I'm kind of hoping to need to buy new pants in 2013. . . pants that are a size smaller than these.
7. I don't feel 41.  Nope.  I honestly feel about 1/2 my age.  Hmmm.  It's hard to remember being 20.5.  That chick had the world by the ba--- well, I'm sure you know the phrase.  She was going places.  The future had nothing but good things in store for her.  She wasn't afraid to tackle anything.  She ran like the Energizer bunny.  How cool it is to feel like that two decades later.  Thirty felt so much older than 41 feels now.

That, and the fact that in the sixteen months since I began my new routine of working out five mornings a week, I have gone from a size sixteen (the largest I'd been even while pregnant eons ago) to a size ten (the size I was after DS2 was born).  I feel like I've gained back the "me" that was lost while rearing children.  Funny thing was, until I started to get myself back, I didn't realize I had missed me.  I just thought I was bummed out about all the challenges and craziness that being a wife and mom brings. All the things that life in the middle stage (not young, but not a senior citizen yet) brings. But now, now I remember the me that I was back in the day.  The more athletic me.  The optimistic me.  The energetic, zealous me.  The me that loved to work hard, that didn't mind sweating or being out of breath.  The me that could work hard without being so out of breath!

That is why I like to exercise.  It gives me me.

Oh my goodness.  I want me back.  I want to not get out of breath just carrying the laundry hamper from the basement to the upstairs master bedroom.  

To quote myself, Thirty felt so much older than 41 feels now.  46 is so much harder than 41 was, and I don't think it really needs to be that drastic of a change in ability in just 5 years. If 41 was easier than 30, 46 feels like I have one foot in the grave. 

Killing Me

I haven't posted much at all about DS1 and K2's situation.  Mostly, when I actually do find some time to post, I just post about the grandkids being here with DH and I.  I haven't said much because, well, it's their personal business not open for public discussion. Especially when CPS is involved.

However, all this stress is really taking its toll on me.  In light of K2's mental struggles, my own depression is a walk in the park.  And yet, I feel that depression, and its affects on my daily life, getting stronger and stronger.  I'm battling my own dark hole, a yawning chasm that seems to be stalking me, lurking just out of sight around every corner.  I cannot fall in that pit.  How will I be there for the grandkids, and an acceptable caretaker in the sight of CPS, if I am in that pit?

And yet, often talking about depression is a very effective way of fighting it, of clawing my way up the walls of the pit, of gaining ground until the top is reached and firm footing once again achieved.  What a catch 22. To talk is taboo (they can't know I'm less than perfect, flawed), yet to talk is often a solution.

On the assumption that I'm not alone in this frustrating vicious cycle of stress and depression, I'm going to choose to talk, albeit somewhat vague on details for the sake of privacy.  Also, because it feels like I'm getting to the point where mental stress is piling up into physical breaking down of my body.  Weight gain, digestive troubles, unsatisfactory sleep, lethargy. . . I bet you know the list.  The symptoms.  The feeling.  The point at which it feels like dealing with other people is literally killing me.

When DH and I went away for a week in January, he made some startling and somewhat unsettling observations.  I've been thinking a lot about them, which has led to some conclusions.  

First observation, I rarely laugh.  I did, more than once, spontaneously bust out in laughter while on vacation.  Something I just don't do at home.  That, in itself, is sad.  Sad that on a day to day basis, I find few things to smile about, and even fewer things that create such joy in me as to generate a laughing response.

Second observation, I never want to try new things.  I may very well be tired of my rut, but I am in no way open to the suggestion of something different. Truth be told, I'm afraid of wasting my precious time on what may likely be another unlikable/unhappy experience.  On this past vacation, I actually relaxed enough that not only was I open to attempting what could possibly be an overwhelming social situation (actually walking on the chaotic Las Vegas Strip to see things like the Bellagio's fountain and the statues at Caesar's Palace) I even willingly tried new to me cuisine: we ate Indian and I loved it (although I confess we only ordered the least spicy sounding things on the menu).  As soon we boarded the plane to come home, though, the funk enveloped me and I was back to shut-down mode.

A few things I wrote in my notebook about these feelings:

• frozen with fear of unpleasantness
• bundle of nerves, always anxious, no control over schedule  
• If I do get 'a break' I feel like I must either catch up on all that I haven't been able to maintain in terms of housework, or I feel like I must do a "fun" task now, before the opportunity gets taken away from me.  Yet, I never enjoy that "fun" task because of the 'do it now' aspect.
• a desperate need for creativity and physical outlets

Third observation, I don't have the stamina I had 5 years ago.  Or even 2-3 years ago.  I get out of breath so much easier. My body hurts. My head does too, more often than it should, and now my eyes seem to be joining the rebellion.  Yes, my weight has increased quite a bit from what it was 5 years ago (when I was working out pretty much daily and even ran a 5k).  It's not just the weight, though, because my weight has held pretty steady for the past 2 years while my breathing has gotten worse.  Bad enough that I'm contemplating requesting an allergy test, because I suspect I've either developed allergies or asthma (both of which more than one of my offspring have, but I never did before).  And if it's not allergies or asthma, then I have a lung problem, which is a scary prospect. 

It was a rude awakening when, while hiking, DH commented that in another 5-10 years he and I probably wouldn't be able to get out and hike in places like we gravitate toward (the unpaved, steeper, more challenging trails).  His point; we aren't in shape for it now, and we're only going to get older and more decrepit in the years to come.

Whoa.  Old, I can't do anything about.  But decrepit has never been on my itinerary. Especially not if we're talking somewhere between 2023 and 2028! I've said, more than once, that I don't want to die from some debilitating disease or waste away for years before my death.  My preference has always been for a 'sudden and tragic' death.  (Apparently when I went off that horse in December, DH feared my wish was about to come true.)  A heart attack in my 80's, while riding my then favorite horse, is totally okay with me, as long as I'm gone before I fall off and hit the ground (because hitting the ground hurts, and the whole idea behind a sudden death is that it doesn't hurt. Fine one minute, gone--and blissfully unaware--the next).  A heart attack at 46 (or 51 or 56) because I'm dealing with too much stress is absolutely not okay.  Something's gotta change.

The weight is going to have to come off.  Some of my go-to stress eating favorites are going to have to just not be made or otherwise brought into my house. I've never been a drinker, never understood the allure that it seems a lot of people find in alcohol, in daily drinks after work to help them relax.  I do, however, find my fix in chocolate and other sweets.  *sigh*  In fact, I rarely will just drink a beer, glass of wine, or mixed drink by itself.  No, I need food with it to find the alcohol desirable.

Finding time for regular exercise is going to have to happen somehow (although, during the times the grandkids stay with us nearly round the clock, I just don't know how feasible that will be; I can barely fit in time to go to work and next to no time for riding). Riding 4-5 times a week helps, but after a while, that becomes a set point and I need to add different types of exercise to it in order to continue  weight loss.  How to carve out 1-2 hours a day, every day,  for sweat-inducing, heart-pounding exercise?  Especially if the grandkids need to return to my care on short notice and for an unknown length of time?

So, I guess, if talking about my stress, my depression, is the only change I can make right now, because a lot of the sources of the stress and depression are out of my control (ahem, how other adult members of my family choose to behave), I'll have to work with what outlets I have.

ADD/ADHD (part 3)

But wait, that's not all!  There was more that DH & I did with our family than just change what we ate.  Edible intake was a huge portion, but that alone didn't 'fix' everything for DS1 and his possible ADD or ADHD.

That kid (well, all our kids, and I truly believe every kid in the world) thrived on structure.  Now, I don't mean over scheduling and micro-managing his time.  No, it's simpler than that.  Having a consistent time that he woke up, had breakfast (never, ever, go without breakfast--doesn't matter if you are a child or an adult, eat your breakfast!), went to school, came home from school, played, did homework, had dinner, played some more, took a bath, went through the bedtime routine, and went to bed every single day, allowed him to focus on what he was supposed to do when.  Plus, regular and consistent sleep is a huge benefit to brain function, no matter who you are.  There weren't fights and meltdowns over homework (usually), because he knew what portion of his evening he had to sit down and do it. There was no use arguing, this time slot was homework time. And the sooner it was done, the more play time he had.  (*side note* I really and truly believe that DS2 watched and learned from his brother's experience with school work.  DS2 was 4 grades younger, and it was his personal goal to never have homework.  If he could get all his assignments done at school, or on the ride home from school that was his plan.  He got almost to high school homework-free with this mindset.)

I always gave my kids a snack (both solid and liquid) and at least a half-hour of play time when they got home from school.  Didn't matter how much homework there was that day, first order of business upon arriving home was to have something to eat and drink, then go outside and run around (weather permitting--basically if it wasn't down pouring, thunder storming, or wind chills below zero) for at least a half-hour.  I firmly believe kids need to decompress a little after being cooped up in a classroom.  Their bodies need refueling and a good blood-pumping bit of physical activity, then their brains will be better able to focus on any necessary homework.  The amount of time spent on homework varied by child, and even by the day.  The less homework, the more play time; because the only things they had going on (when everyone was in elementary school) after school was dinner, chores, homework and play time.

Something that always grated on me, and honestly still does, is the common practice in schools to take away recess time for undesirable behavior in the classroom or for not having assignments finished on time.  Especially in young children.  Making them sit still even longer during the day, and not having that short bit of physical activity doesn't really make them have an easier time not being wiggly, or grumpy, or help them think through their work better.  Everyone needs a break to stretch now and then; we all come back refreshed and ready to tackle the next task.  My preference would be more towards having sentences to copy ("I will sit still" or "I will be quiet" or "I will be nice to my classmates")  or an short essay to write ("Why it's rude to talk back to the teacher" or "Why it hurt Joey's feelings when I pushed him" or "Why it's a distraction when I keep falling out of my chair") for older kids rather than being punished by missing the physical and mental break of recess.  Anyway. . .

In addition to the play time, if DS1 was having a particularly rough day body-wise, I would assign him laps.  Meaning he either had to walk, or run (depending on how much 'steam' I felt he needed to burn off) a certain number of times around the outside of our house.  These could even be done in the dark (such as in the winter when the sun was down about an hour after we returned from school) because he was following the walls of the building and not going far out into the yard or near the street where I might not be able to keep an eye on him (for anyone leery of having their child approached by strangers in cars. . . )

In the summer, the daily routine changed, of course, since there weren't six to seven hours of being away at school during the day.  Instead, there would be reading time, drawing/coloring time, helping to cook, bike riding time, etc.  We would go to the library, or the beach (weather permitting) on a particular time on a particular day each week.  Same with grocery shopping.  It was predictable, and reliable, and DS1 (as well as the other kids) knew when it was coming and what to expect (and how he was expected to behave or what he was expected to do).  There is a great deal of comfort for kids in having a routine and knowing what is going to happen next.

So we've got nutrition, structure, free time (play) and physical exercise all helping to manage DS1's tendency toward ADHD type behaviors.  But wait, that's not all! Limitations on screen time also helped.

Now, this was back in 1998, remember, that I started this whole big research project into what would help DS1 with his energetics, noise, and other behaviors that were creating the whole "Does he have ADD/ADHD?  Does he need medicating?" question.  There were no such thing as smart phones or tablets back then.  Laptops really were a business thing, not a home computer.  And not all homes had computers.  We didn't get our first computer at home until 'Santa' brought the whole family one for Christmas that year.  We didn't own a video game system, either.  So most of my kids' screen exposure was the television.  And I was the TV Nazi, let me tell you!  Even as a child, I wasn't too impressed with TV, and I've never really been an avid watcher of television.  I remember being about ten years old when I stopped watching cartoons, because I felt they insulted my intelligence.  The three stooges?  Puh-leeze.  Soap operas?  Really?  I mean, seriously, does that represent anyone's real life?  Give me something that I could apply to my own life and benefit from. (Yes, I do love documentaries and other types of educational programs.  You probably were wondering. . . )

My poor kids were allowed to watch 30 minutes per day of cartoons and that was only the ones on PBS (we've never had cable or satellite TV).  Not every day, but some days, they could also watch one video, which was typically something by Disney.  A "long" movie might be an entire 90 minutes of eyes glued to the television, which they felt was a huge treat.

Might sound like cruel and unusual punishment compared to the amount of screen time kids get these days, but you know what?  It gave them more time for outdoor play, sports, reading, playing board games or doing puzzles, or just interacting with each other, their friends, and DH & I.

When we did, eventually, acquire a home computer and a video game system, their individual screen time increased by another 30 minutes.  They could now watch 30 min of TV and spend either 30 min on the computer (playing the few computer games we owned, all of which were probably considered educational) or playing a video game (also monitored for acceptability before being purchased).

Sounds harsh, yes?  It worked.  On the occasion where DH or I got lenient with the times and allowed TV, movie, computer or video game binge-ing, behavior went into the toilet quickly. Then we all suffered: DS1 (or whichever child was zombified by screens), DH and I all had to pay the price of doing screen detox and getting back on track.  And, now, many years later when all my kids are adults, I have to say that they all are very good at entertaining themselves without having to be glued to a screen.  They all, even DS1, are good at time management.  They all have in internal monitor which tells them when they haven't been physically active enough and need to slot in some time to move around or get outside



Hopefully these posts been more than a trip down memory lane for me and a (maybe) somewhat interesting story for you to read.  If you, or anyone you know (your child, for instance), struggles with possible ADD/ADHD or behavioral issues (constant motion, talking a lot), it can't hurt to try changing your diet for a month or two and see what happens.  Structure and consistency help a lot also, as well as the opportunity to be physically active numerous times a day.  Screen time can be beneficial when the right sorts of things are on the screen, for limited times, but can also be a downward spiral of sluggishness, grumpiness, and other undesirable traits when used too long or for the wrong sorts of things.

If you are someone facing ADD/ADHD in your life, I wish you luck.  Don't give up, and don't get discouraged.  You can experiment and learn what things help, and which things make life more challenging for you. You can learn to be in control of it, and not let it control you quite so much.

ADD/ADHD (part 2)

Meanwhile, that same time Spring, I was digging into how to manage some major health issues of DS2's.  He'd always had skin problems; had been seeing a dermatologist since he was nine months old (he was just over 4 years old when we started down the path of trying to see if DS1 really had ADD/ADHD).  The day after DS2's 4th birthday, he'd woken up in his first ever asthma attack and ended up in the hospital for 3 days.  Two month after that, another severe asthma attack netted him another two days in the hospital.  Now it was the following Spring, his allergies were kicking back into high gear with all the pollen around, his asthma was flaring again, and I was seeking all the info I could get on how to keep his allergies & asthma under control enough to prevent any more hospital stays.

Enter a book, the title of which I have long since forgotten, containing a chapter about nutrition.  A chapter that brought to the forefront of my mind a sheet of food additives that his dermatologist had long ago given me, telling me that often things like dyes (artificial colors), artificial flavorings, artificial sweeteners, and preservatives (particularly TBHQ, BHA and BHT) increased the likelihood of an eczema flare up.  Then, I had an A-HA! moment.  Eczema, hay fever (allergies) and asthma all have a genetic link.  So, if those things would cause DS2's eczema to flare, would exposure to them also increase the severity of his asthma?

Since he was all ready exposed to a number of allergens I couldn't control (pollen, outdoor molds during the warm wet weather), could I lessen the chance of an asthma flare up if I cut those suspicious substances--all the artificials and preservatives--from DS2's diet?  It certainly seemed worth the effort to give it a try.

And it was an effort.  Unless you are a organic vegan grow and cook everything yourself person, go to your cupboard and fridge, and read the ingredients on every single item of food and condiments and seasonings that you have.  How many of them contain at least one colorant, flavoring, sweetener other than sugar/honey/molasses/maple syrup, or a preservative? (note, I attempted this on Monday and couldn't find a single item with TBHQ, BHA, or BHT, so not sure if they are rarely used these days or if I've gotten so good at eradicating those items that there isn't any in my house even though the kids are grown up and don't eat here anymore).

BUT, DS2's asthma stayed under control.  Not only that, since everyone in the house was eating and drinking the same things as DS2, everyone got healthier.  Skin was better not just on DS2, but also on myself and DD2 (we have eczema also).  DD1, who has been on the run since she learned to push herself around in a baby walker, didn't bounce off the walls so much and her mouth which seemed to never shut ran at a lower speed (later experiments with her enlightened us to how sensitive she is to red dyes).

This new way of eating became our normal over the summer of 1998 (which, not coincidentally, is the summer I started gardening, and have grown an increasing portion of our food ever since). When school started back up again, with DS1 in 4th grade, DS2 in Kindergarten, and DD1 in preschool, I learned how to pack lunches and snacks that avoided the 'bad things'.  The complaints about DS1 being noisy and not sitting still didn't resurface at all that year (although he still zoned out sometimes, and he struggled with boredom and organizational skills).  DS2 stayed relatively asthma free (no hospitalization, not even one missed day of school).  DD1 was a favorite (and well behaved) student of her preschool teacher.

That year, and the next six or seven, no matter how many kids I had in school (be it two or three or four), not a single one had a single sick day.  Ever.  Many years, it was noted that the S____ (our last name) kids all had perfect attendance.  More than one year, ours was the only family in the school where not one child had missed school.  (Then came the year of the recurring head lice epidemic and that went to h@*%.)

Coincidence that my kids' health and behavior issues improved?  I really don't think so.  And, apparently neither does DS1, who has been the main person lately drilling me about what I fed him growing up.  K2 has recently been diagnosed with ADHD and has been put on meds for it (which seem to be causing her some unpleasant side effects).  K3 sometimes shows signs that she might possibly have an attention or learning problem. DS1 remembered vaguely the time when it had been thought that he had ADHD, and so he sought me out for advice.  Which has led to a conscious effort on my part to remember all the things in 'regular' food that I have avoided for so long that I don't even have to think about them anymore.

ADD/ADHD (part 1)

This is a subject that I had not thought of in many years.  But recently, it's been brought up to me several times, and since I'm having my brain picked by others right now, I thought maybe it would be a valuable topic for a blog post.

Back when my kids were small; actually so far back that there were only three of them, DS1 was having some issues in school and it was suggested by more than one person that he might possibly have ADD or ADHD.  Our first course of action was to go from public elementary school, to a small private Christian school in search of a smaller student to teacher ratio, hoping that more one-on-one type of attention might help in his wiggliness.

Having a smaller, and multi-grade, classroom helped somewhat, but hadn't alleviated all of the issues. By the middle of DS1's second grade school year (and now the parents of four kids), DH and I were at what we thought were our wits end. (Oh, if only we knew how his educational future would play out!  Then again, it's better we hadn't known then because we may have slit our throats and gotten it over with.  Truly, getting DS1 through to high school graduation was sometimes that bad.) I took DS1 to be evaluated for ADD.  Now, this was back in early 1998 or so, when it seemed like ADD was the scourge of nearly every single boy in school.  No kidding.  ADD was 'diagnosed' a hundred-fold more times than it had been in the past decade, and more than it would be just ten years later.

Which is a nice way of saying I had my doubts as to the accuracy of these diagnoses. So I wasn't going to be satisfied with a doctor taking a quick 5-minute look at my child and be willing to have a 'professional' label him as ADD and stick him on drugs for the rest of his life.  In my mind, I wasn't sure he wasn't just bored with school.  He was a quick learner (as I had been; I only went to school for 12 years, completing 1st & 2nd grade in one school year, and doing college classes while still in high school. My father had gotten his diploma even quicker, skipping both Kindergarten and 7th grade, graduating at just 16) and I knew that I'd spent many classroom hours bored out of my skull.  What had saved me was that I was a doodler, so as long as my hands could be busy drawing on something--or, when I got older, writing elaborate stories--I could sit still and quietly wait for the teacher(s) to move on to the next lesson. My boy didn't apparently have my affinity for doodling, was too young for writing fanciful sagas, and he was a wiggling, squeaking, beeping, airplane-noise-making mess.

We started with our family doctor, who asked a few questions about the school time wiggles and airplane noises, asked a few more questions about DS1's attention span outside of school, and basically said "Well, he could have ADD or more likely ADHD, but I'm not really an expert.  Would you like a referral to someone who knows more about it?"

I took the referral.  On to doctor and evaluation #2.  More questions, starting with infancy.  Had DS1 hit all the typical developmental milestones on time?  Yes, and many early.  Had he gone to preschool? Yes, sort of, it was a rural area that did Head Start as a weekly home visit from the teacher who after her hour with Mom and Child left a packet of activities for the mother to work on with the child until the next visit.  Once a month all the students of that teacher (and their mothers) had a 1/2 day group session where the children interacted with each other and the teacher while the moms were given an informational presentation and interacted with each other.  (*side note*  I really, really loved how that program was done.  I had not heard of one like it before or since then, and I wish more programs were run in that manner.) How did he do in preschool?  Awesome; his teacher was challenged to keep him in materials as he ate up the tasks and was always eager for what the next thing was that he was going to learn.  In fact, that teacher had cautioned me not to hold him back from kindergarten just because he had a Fall birthday; she felt that he was more than ready at nearly five and would be troublesome in school if he had to wait and was bored.  He actually had begun to teach himself to read, and the summer before Kindergarten, he was sounding out small words on his own.

The second doctor also sent home a questionnaire for DS1's teacher to fill out.  But he never, ever interacted with DS1 himself, or observed DS1 in any way.  So, when he said "Let's try putting him on Ritalin, it might be ADHD", I went off in search of a doctor who would actually look at DS1 himself.  I mean, if a doctor wouldn't prescribe an antibiotic over the phone for an ill child just based on the mother's description of how the child was behaving and what it's vitals were, but insisted on the child being brought in for examination first, how in all honesty and accuracy could they prescribe behavior altering drugs without actually watching or talking to the child?

Doctor #3, who if I remember right also had training in child psychology or psychiatry or something, did the testing I had been looking for.  A detailed, complete evaluation.  One whose questionnaire began with questions about the pregnancy itself (including mother's health and nutrition), any complications during labor or delivery, development/illnesses/injuries of the child since birth, home life, and school history.  Then there was a long and detailed form for DS1's teacher to fill out on separate days (I think) three times a week for two weeks running.  And, on top of that, two sessions with DS1 and the doctor; one with me in the room, and the second one on a different date of about twenty minutes of just the doctor and DS1 (with a staff member witnessing).

Finally!  Finally!  Finally!  And the outcome of this was that DS1 did seem distractible enough to warrant a trial period on medication.  If the meds helped, then he most likely had ADHD and should continue on them.  If they didn't help (because for kids who don't actually have ADD/ADHD, this med would make them even less focused and more jumpy) then we would discontinue them.

Well, for two weeks I faithfully gave DS1 his pill.  For two weeks, his teacher filled out a daily evaluation form in regards to his classroom behavior (she didn't see much change).  For two weeks, I also had sheets to fill out about his behavior at home.  For two weeks, DS1 had trouble sleeping.  For two weeks, DS1 had a nosebleed nearly daily--and he'd never had nosebleeds before.

At the end of two weeks, we took him off the meds.   It pretty much corresponded with the end of the school year, so DH and I decided that for the summer, we'd take a break from any further seeking of medical fixes for DS1's classroom energy issues.

More of the saga to come in my next post.