Did you know I have standards? Perfectionists tend to be slaves to these things called standards. Mostly, it's a curse. The average mom of four probably just goes with the flow when all family members, sick and weak, stop picking up after themselves. The house might look like a bombing site, but she just laughs about it, and maybe even takes photos for the Christmas letter.
And then there's me. The perfectionist. My house is never perfect--not even close. But my standards never relax. They stay in place, driving me insane, and keeping me awake at night. When I can get up a few hours before the family, things will improve, but probably not to the extent I'd like.
That said, there is one good thing about my standards. It's my grocery shopping. I check labels. 100% whole wheat bread has to have at least 3 grams of fiber per slice. I check serving sizes, to make sure I'm not being cheated out of my fiber. Three grams of fiber, per slice. Not per two slices.
And tortillas have to have at least four grams of fiber each. Along with the refried beans and the 7% lean ground turkey, they make for a very healthy dinner. The cheese provides the fat that the children need.
Recently, my not-so-beloved Walmart Supercenter stopped carrying the high-fiber (5 grams) multi-grain tortillas that we like. At first, I thought it was their maddening habit of not hiring enough stockers. No matter what time of day I shop, their shelves are missing something I need. But five consecutive trips have confirmed that my favorite tortilla went the way of my favorite whole wheat pizza. Slashed. Replaced.
The replacement is something called Flatout Flatbread. It's made with stone ground 100% whole wheat and includes flax seed. Flax seed is good stuff. Try adding it to your pancakes! Finally, the kicker is that this flatbread has 8 grams of fiber per slice! It's fine in recipes requiring tortillas, and you can even use it to make a personal pizza (it's thicker than a tortilla).
Now I knew it had to pass muster with my terribly persnickety Timothy. It didn't. He took one bite of his burrito that first night and said, "Yuck, this isn't my regular tortilla."
Momma (trying to keep cool): "Yes, that's true Timothy. They don't carry our tortilla anymore. But this happens to be even healthier, and I think it tastes very good."
Timothy: "I only like my regular tortilla!" (He can sound like such a brat at the dinner table!)
Yesterday's trip to Walmart again turned up negative on our regular tortilla. So I bought the Flatout Flatbread again, but this time I also bought pizza cheese and pizza sauce, and a small package of the terrible-for-you pepperonis. They are high in everything that is bad, but if we put only four or five on each pizza, we'll survive. The serving size is about 15 pepperonis, totaling 12 grams of fat. Yuck! But we all lost too much weight recently, so maybe they're okay for this month.
My guess is that tonight Timothy will not complain about the Flatout Flatbread. He loves to make his own dinner!
Not that I'm keeping score with Timothy, but if I were, here is how I think it will go.
Momma = 3 points for the three extra grams of fiber, -1 point for losing the fiber in the refried beans.
Timothy = -3 for having to eat 3 extra grams of fiber, +1 for getting Momma to buy pepperonis
Another great buy for your family:
Baked Barbecue Lays Potato Chips
Nutrition
14 chips = 3 grams fat
Calories = 120
It's best to stick to 3 grams of fat per 100 calories. It's recommended we don't get more than 30% of our total calories from fat. Fat = 9 calories per gram Carbohydrates = 4 calories per gram. I'm not a fan of low-carb diets. They're just bad nutrition IMHO. Follow the food pyramid for good nutrition.
Chip nutrition, cont.
potassium = 230 mg
fiber = 2 grams
calcium = 2%
thiamin = 4%
niacin = 4%
phosphorus = 6%
vitamin C = 4%
riboflavin = 6%
vitamin B6 = 8%
magnesium = 4%
Showing posts with label child-rearing challenges. Show all posts
Showing posts with label child-rearing challenges. Show all posts
Friday, October 23, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
new photos
I've got the camera working. This first photo is Daniel's beloved salamander.
Here is my Emily, hanging out.
Here is Anna Grace--10 months old today--playing with the big girl toys. She is walking very well--losing that drunken-sailor, new-walker stride.
Here is my Timothy, down for the count. He was sick as a dog yesterday, feverish and listless. He was glad he didn't have to pay any of his token-behavior-system, play-money dollars for any of the TV he watched. TV is free for sickos around here; it's the only way to get them to rest. Today he is throwing up and still feverish. I think we're in for it around here.
I cuddled with Timothy while he watched Charlotte's Web--stroking his face and hair. As much as I could, I spent special time with him all day. Then last night as I was tucking him in, he grabbed my neck to give me another hug. He whispered in his sick-boy, hoarse voice, that he loved me taking care of him. That made me feel like a million bucks! I do love being a nurse to my sweeties.
They all got their regular flu shots last Thursday. He either picked this virus up at church, or in the doctor's office. How catch 22 is that? Go to the doctor's office for a shot to stay well, and then get sick from your well visit. That works for me. NOT!
We wash our hands in the van with gel, and then with soap and water when we get home. I explained numerous times that they probably won't get sick if they keep their hands off their face. Then suddenly, they have an insatiable desire to touch their face. Gotta love kids!
A couple good consignment-shop finds--both warm corduroy fabrics
Friday, October 2, 2009
another perspective
The other book I checked out at the library is entitled The ADD Answer, How To Help Your Child Now, by Dr. Frank Lawlis. I've just read sixty pages of it. It is much different from the other book--featured in yesterday's post--in that it is anti-medication, pro-psychology, and pro whole-child/whole-family care. Much is included regarding the psychological ramifications of labels (ADD/ADHD, etc), including their affect on the whole family. After reading these sixty pages, I'm ready to give up on the medication route, at least for a time. This author presents a very convincing case against medication.
Needless to say, my mind is full, and my spirit is troubled.
It's easy to say that medication should only be used in the worst of cases, when learning is affected, and then only for short periods of time. But inattentiveness isn't the only problem. The impulsivity of AD/HD makes Daniel a danger to himself and to his siblings. For example, I only allow him to be alone with the baby when she's in her playpen. If she is playing in the living room, I allow Daniel around her only if we are there to supervise. This isn't because he is mean or aggressive. Rather, it is because he is too physical, with frenzied, uncontrolled movements. While medicated, his physical movements are more controlled and predictable. I can walk away and not worry about what he might do. And, he receives far less negative feedback while medicated, because we're not having to harp on the multitude of things he needs to stop doing.
Incidentally, Emily Rose received her forehead scar and stitches earlier this year because Daniel was carrying her and impulsively dropped her, even though he had the strength to set her down gently. He never picked her up again after the accident, thank God. I'm relieved that he received this wake up call before something more serious happened.
I think the outcome for AD/HD children depends more on the feedback they receive from their families than anything else--including what their report cards say. We know that for every one negative interaction, they need ten positives to overcome the pervasive feeling of failure. But the tricky part is that it's nearly impossible to come up with that many positives, due to the annoying characteristics they display. Perhaps if the AD/HD child were the only child in the home, meeting their weighty emotional needs would be a relative breeze.
Right now, I feel very human--flawed, powerless, and defeated. I'm not a relaxed or good enough parent to give him what he needs. The anti-medication crowd gives compelling arguments--I'll give them that. When I read their writings, I desperately want to throw out everything in my medicine cupboard. Their modifications and interventions all sound very good on paper, but implementing them consistently in daily life, in moment-to-moment interactions, is another matter altogether.
I hate medication. I just hate it. It scares me that the safety testing for AD/HD drugs has been done on rats and on adult humans. It's a huge gamble to assume they're safe for most children.
Tonight, all I know for certain is one thing--the outcomes for Daniel's life are up to God. The more I try to make them up to me, the greater my disservice to my son.
Needless to say, my mind is full, and my spirit is troubled.
It's easy to say that medication should only be used in the worst of cases, when learning is affected, and then only for short periods of time. But inattentiveness isn't the only problem. The impulsivity of AD/HD makes Daniel a danger to himself and to his siblings. For example, I only allow him to be alone with the baby when she's in her playpen. If she is playing in the living room, I allow Daniel around her only if we are there to supervise. This isn't because he is mean or aggressive. Rather, it is because he is too physical, with frenzied, uncontrolled movements. While medicated, his physical movements are more controlled and predictable. I can walk away and not worry about what he might do. And, he receives far less negative feedback while medicated, because we're not having to harp on the multitude of things he needs to stop doing.
Incidentally, Emily Rose received her forehead scar and stitches earlier this year because Daniel was carrying her and impulsively dropped her, even though he had the strength to set her down gently. He never picked her up again after the accident, thank God. I'm relieved that he received this wake up call before something more serious happened.
I think the outcome for AD/HD children depends more on the feedback they receive from their families than anything else--including what their report cards say. We know that for every one negative interaction, they need ten positives to overcome the pervasive feeling of failure. But the tricky part is that it's nearly impossible to come up with that many positives, due to the annoying characteristics they display. Perhaps if the AD/HD child were the only child in the home, meeting their weighty emotional needs would be a relative breeze.
Right now, I feel very human--flawed, powerless, and defeated. I'm not a relaxed or good enough parent to give him what he needs. The anti-medication crowd gives compelling arguments--I'll give them that. When I read their writings, I desperately want to throw out everything in my medicine cupboard. Their modifications and interventions all sound very good on paper, but implementing them consistently in daily life, in moment-to-moment interactions, is another matter altogether.
I hate medication. I just hate it. It scares me that the safety testing for AD/HD drugs has been done on rats and on adult humans. It's a huge gamble to assume they're safe for most children.
Tonight, all I know for certain is one thing--the outcomes for Daniel's life are up to God. The more I try to make them up to me, the greater my disservice to my son.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
token behavior systems
Last week I checked out Colleen Alexander-Roberts' book, The AD/HD Parenting Handbook, Practical Advice for Parents from Parents, proven techniques for raising hyperactive children without losing your temper (2nd Edition)
The author dealt with moderate to severe AD/HD symptoms and successfully utilized a play-money token behavior system. Her children were also on medication. She writes:
"In our home we used play money. We had a chart with household rules on it. Each rule was worth a specific amount, anywhere from one dollar to twenty. Every time our son followed a rule, he received the agreed amount. The money he earned was placed in an envelope for one week. During the week he had to spend this money. We charged him five dollars an hour to play a video game, two dollars an hour to ride his bike, ten dollars an hour to play games on the computer, three dollars to watch a rented video, and two dollars to watch an hour of television. Every Saturday, he turned in what was left of the money he earned. For every ten dollars in play money he turned in, he received one dollar in cash. He was able to spend this money as he wished or save it for something special he wanted to buy. In this case, once we gave a reward (the play money, for instance), we never took the reward away. Instead, for noncompliance we used time-out, took away a privilege, or assigned an extra household chore. We never took away what he had already been rewarded."
"We used this play-money system very successfully for quite some time. The original household rules were replaced by new house rules two months after we initiated this system; we had achieved the desired effect. However, no reward system works forever, so be ready to substitute another system when needed. Always seek professional help if reward systems do not work with your child."
I started a sticker chart with Daniel and Timothy on our first day of school. The thing is, I hate sticker charts! They do work with my boys, but I eventually get bored of them (or too busy) and drop the ball. Already, yesterday and again today, I forgot to update their stickers.
Today I discussed this new system with them, and they seem quite intrigued. Momma is intrigued for a number of reasons, not the least of which is this system's potential for curbing screen time. So off we went to the dollar store, in search of play money.
Incidentally, I hate the idea of charging play money for a bike ride. That seems counter-productive to me, since exercise is healthy and desired and especially beneficial to AD/HD children. Yeah, charge money for any type of screen time, but not for exercise.
We're jumping in and starting the play-money system tomorrow. They are excited. I am resolved to do everything I can to make it work. For a successful school day, there are two rules I really need them to follow:
1. Follow directions the first time they're given.
2. Clean up without arguing.
There are five rules altogether, but these are the two that really make a difference in our school day. My boys hate clean-up time. I've struggled for all these years with their poor clean-up attitudes. Partly, the difficulty is due to the bin organization system for our playroom. Putting smallish things into the correct bins is a lot more difficult than throwing all the toys into one large toybox.
Anyhow, I'll keep you posted on the wonders of play money.
If you have difficulty getting your child moving in the morning, she suggests that each step of the morning routine be written out for your child, in words or pictures. None of her suggestions are particularly novel, but she has plenty of them, for many different problem areas. The book also includes ideas from many other AD/HD-seasoned parents.
There is also a very good chapter--written by a physician friend of hers--on AD/HD medications (penned in 2006).
The author dealt with moderate to severe AD/HD symptoms and successfully utilized a play-money token behavior system. Her children were also on medication. She writes:
"In our home we used play money. We had a chart with household rules on it. Each rule was worth a specific amount, anywhere from one dollar to twenty. Every time our son followed a rule, he received the agreed amount. The money he earned was placed in an envelope for one week. During the week he had to spend this money. We charged him five dollars an hour to play a video game, two dollars an hour to ride his bike, ten dollars an hour to play games on the computer, three dollars to watch a rented video, and two dollars to watch an hour of television. Every Saturday, he turned in what was left of the money he earned. For every ten dollars in play money he turned in, he received one dollar in cash. He was able to spend this money as he wished or save it for something special he wanted to buy. In this case, once we gave a reward (the play money, for instance), we never took the reward away. Instead, for noncompliance we used time-out, took away a privilege, or assigned an extra household chore. We never took away what he had already been rewarded."
"We used this play-money system very successfully for quite some time. The original household rules were replaced by new house rules two months after we initiated this system; we had achieved the desired effect. However, no reward system works forever, so be ready to substitute another system when needed. Always seek professional help if reward systems do not work with your child."
I started a sticker chart with Daniel and Timothy on our first day of school. The thing is, I hate sticker charts! They do work with my boys, but I eventually get bored of them (or too busy) and drop the ball. Already, yesterday and again today, I forgot to update their stickers.
Today I discussed this new system with them, and they seem quite intrigued. Momma is intrigued for a number of reasons, not the least of which is this system's potential for curbing screen time. So off we went to the dollar store, in search of play money.
Incidentally, I hate the idea of charging play money for a bike ride. That seems counter-productive to me, since exercise is healthy and desired and especially beneficial to AD/HD children. Yeah, charge money for any type of screen time, but not for exercise.
We're jumping in and starting the play-money system tomorrow. They are excited. I am resolved to do everything I can to make it work. For a successful school day, there are two rules I really need them to follow:
1. Follow directions the first time they're given.
2. Clean up without arguing.
There are five rules altogether, but these are the two that really make a difference in our school day. My boys hate clean-up time. I've struggled for all these years with their poor clean-up attitudes. Partly, the difficulty is due to the bin organization system for our playroom. Putting smallish things into the correct bins is a lot more difficult than throwing all the toys into one large toybox.
Anyhow, I'll keep you posted on the wonders of play money.
If you have difficulty getting your child moving in the morning, she suggests that each step of the morning routine be written out for your child, in words or pictures. None of her suggestions are particularly novel, but she has plenty of them, for many different problem areas. The book also includes ideas from many other AD/HD-seasoned parents.
There is also a very good chapter--written by a physician friend of hers--on AD/HD medications (penned in 2006).
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
glitches
Oh, how I loved my new sleep schedule! Life was seeming so much like a breeze. Okay, well...not really a breeze--just a relative breeze. But, alas, it's been thwarted by my problematic sleeper, Anna Grace. She is apparently getting a third tooth, although I don't feel anything actually coming through. She's been waking every thirty minutes or so in the early morning, which means I can't leave the bed to get my shower, do devotions, or complete any chores. I am fearful of her crawling off the edge of the bed, looking for Mommy. Transferring her to the crib that time of the morning just wakes her up.
Another glitch is that Daddy either studies late into the night, or works late into the night. Having Anna wake him up frequently after he's just gotten into a deep sleep isn't kind.
I'm very disappointed with these glitches. Now that I've tasted the peace and order that flow from actually completing necessary tasks, uninterrupted, I feel off balance and cranky. I miss that smooth-sailing start.
Anna and I still get up before the older kids by an hour, and that helps some. I can start laundry, feed Anna cereal, straighten up the living room and playroom, or look at a lesson plan or two. But I can't get my shower until Daniel comes out at 7 and can keep Anna company. Moreover, all the children are up by the time my shower is complete, and they all want a piece of me--making it frustrating to try to get dressed to shoes, put on lipstick and mascara, blowdry my bangs, and put scrunching product on my wet permed hair--to be combed out later. I do all this hygiene business while trying to keep the troops quiet so Daddy can stay asleep. Believe me, this scene is anything but relaxing.
There is peace in knowing that I'm getting healthier sleep, that I've kicked my computer-screen addiction, and that I'm getting some special time with Anna, who is pretty independent (as babies go). She loves to walk around and play with her toys in the living room, which gets blocked off to become her own special, large playroom--devoid of choking hazards. She can see me in the dining room doing laundry, so she is content while I work for a bit. I recite nursery rhymes to her while I start the laundry and fix her cereal.
I love nursing babies--including night nursing--and I hate cry-it-out techniques. So for now, I'll settle for some continued, somewhat-controlled chaos. Having a cuddly baby in my bed gives me a unique peace and joy--an irreplaceable gift.
By this time next year, she should be sleeping through the night. And 4 a.m. hot chocolate--enjoyed, not gulped--will be mine.
Another glitch is that Daddy either studies late into the night, or works late into the night. Having Anna wake him up frequently after he's just gotten into a deep sleep isn't kind.
I'm very disappointed with these glitches. Now that I've tasted the peace and order that flow from actually completing necessary tasks, uninterrupted, I feel off balance and cranky. I miss that smooth-sailing start.
Anna and I still get up before the older kids by an hour, and that helps some. I can start laundry, feed Anna cereal, straighten up the living room and playroom, or look at a lesson plan or two. But I can't get my shower until Daniel comes out at 7 and can keep Anna company. Moreover, all the children are up by the time my shower is complete, and they all want a piece of me--making it frustrating to try to get dressed to shoes, put on lipstick and mascara, blowdry my bangs, and put scrunching product on my wet permed hair--to be combed out later. I do all this hygiene business while trying to keep the troops quiet so Daddy can stay asleep. Believe me, this scene is anything but relaxing.
There is peace in knowing that I'm getting healthier sleep, that I've kicked my computer-screen addiction, and that I'm getting some special time with Anna, who is pretty independent (as babies go). She loves to walk around and play with her toys in the living room, which gets blocked off to become her own special, large playroom--devoid of choking hazards. She can see me in the dining room doing laundry, so she is content while I work for a bit. I recite nursery rhymes to her while I start the laundry and fix her cereal.
I love nursing babies--including night nursing--and I hate cry-it-out techniques. So for now, I'll settle for some continued, somewhat-controlled chaos. Having a cuddly baby in my bed gives me a unique peace and joy--an irreplaceable gift.
By this time next year, she should be sleeping through the night. And 4 a.m. hot chocolate--enjoyed, not gulped--will be mine.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
terrible, horrible, no-good, very-bad sleeping
Good morning! I have only checked my e-mail three times these last few days. Victory!
The master schedule I've been writing--designed to put us on the road to sanity and learning--is nearly done. My Anna Grace, 9 months-old, sweet as honey, and a blessing beyond words, is a terrible, horrible, no-good, VERY-BAD SLEEPER--to borrow some words from Alexander. My only time to work on the schedule is after the children are in bed at night. Her Royal Sweetness wakes up so frequently--night and day--that the planning and revising is a very. slow. process.
Just now, I put her down for what should have been a 90-minute nap. As I hear her cries and look at the clock, I see it was only a 35-minute nap. While it's very hard not to get emotionally pent up about this (given that I'm sleep deprived), I will simply get her up and let it go.
Because I have no choice. God, allow Her Royal Sweetness to sleep! Please! Pretty please, even.
No sarcasm in the "Royal Sweetness" part....she really does have the best temperament ever. Remind me when she is three that I once said this, will you?
The master schedule I've been writing--designed to put us on the road to sanity and learning--is nearly done. My Anna Grace, 9 months-old, sweet as honey, and a blessing beyond words, is a terrible, horrible, no-good, VERY-BAD SLEEPER--to borrow some words from Alexander. My only time to work on the schedule is after the children are in bed at night. Her Royal Sweetness wakes up so frequently--night and day--that the planning and revising is a very. slow. process.
Just now, I put her down for what should have been a 90-minute nap. As I hear her cries and look at the clock, I see it was only a 35-minute nap. While it's very hard not to get emotionally pent up about this (given that I'm sleep deprived), I will simply get her up and let it go.
Because I have no choice. God, allow Her Royal Sweetness to sleep! Please! Pretty please, even.
No sarcasm in the "Royal Sweetness" part....she really does have the best temperament ever. Remind me when she is three that I once said this, will you?
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