A Farewell to Autism. A Farewell to Arms.

9 years ago and some months, I gave birth to my perfect first son.  He came out weighing over 9 lbs and observed the world around him with a keener awareness than could be credited to a typical newborn.  My obstetrician joked that I had given birth to a 3 month old.  He slept five hours at a time from his second night home and he laughed and smiled at 5 weeks.  He was unique and my husband and I marveled at how two screwups could have created something so remarkable.  I imagine most parents feel that way - both mystified, terrified, stupid in love, and yet a little suspicious of this character that had so brazenly overtaken our lives.  Lambert had quirks.  He was happiest with a bottle in his mouth and would eat until he vomited and then want to start all over again.  He hated the mall, would cry ceaselessly for hours after we'd left, until he finally wore himself into a fitful sleep.  He would growl in his best demon voice during silent prayer in church, all the while smiling widely.  His name literally means "bright land" and Lambert was that, bright and different, and totally, unabashedly himself.  He did the usual mama, dada babble at the usual time, he rolled over, sat up, walked and such all on schedule.  However, shortly after his first birthday, the bright land became dim.  Where his little body was so full of himself, it began to hollow.  The lights in his eyes clouded over and he stopped his babbling.  He stopped his sleeping.  He became smaller, somehow, while his body continued to grow.  Yes, he'd had his shots right before that happened.  And, too, he'd had two traumatic accidental falls (running before he could really walk) within a week.  One necessitated having a shattered tooth pulled and the second resulted in seven stitches in his forehead.  Both of these required him being restrained, terrified and screaming.  I've never come face to face with my own failures as a human as I did those days, holding my son down yelling at the doctors to just hurry it up and leave him alone.  A couple of months after his accidents, I asked for an evaluation from the early childhood services center in my town.  People told me not to worry, that he was a boy.  Boys develop later than girls, etc.  I was really hoping I was wrong, that Lambert was fine, he was that perfect happy little boy who was just going through some sort of developmental depression.  Not so, they said.  He was behind in language and required speech and developmental therapy in home.  He received those things, along with occupational therapy and a whole host of whatever I could do with him while his newborn brother was asleep (which was rare because baby number 2 was NOT a happy, sleeping kind of child). By age 3, it was time to have Lambert evaluated by the local school district.  I saw it as an opportunity to show off my brilliant, unique child.  The child who would surely be an engineer because he preferred to take apart his toys to see how they worked, rather than play with them like the sheepish masses.  I was proud to answer the questions the therapists asked and proud to watch Lambert as he explored the room and ignored the examiners.  How independent he is, I thought.  And then, I heard it.  The catch in the voices of the evaluators as they spoke amongst themselves.  One woman said "Well, I don't know...I'd really like to see him in his preschool".  Of course, I agreed!  More opportunities to show off my amazing son, who wouldn't?  It was after that visit that I heard the word Autism applied to my son.  My Lambert, my bright land.  When the developmental therapists came and asked the questions they asked, I came to believe that their inevitable conclusion of what had happened to Lambert - that he became Autistic - was the direct result of my failures as a mother.  I'd eaten too much tuna before I knew I was pregnant.  I'd allowed the doctor to vaccinate him with that blasted MMR shot, even though I felt I knew better. I didn't catch him when he fell. I didn't insist the doctors sedated him when he got his tooth pulled, or got his stitches, it was all my fault.  Forget the refrigerator mother.  Try the incompetent mother.  The insecure mother.  And, sure, the drama queen mother.  That was 6 years ago.  I have carried that banner, and that guilt, for 6 years, celebrating World Autism Day as a family holiday, sporting Autism t-shirts, giving to Autism, baking for Autism, decorating my car with Autism ribbons, telling my son's story.  That child has been to every doctor and endured every test known to humankind.  He's had counseling, occupational therapy, speech therapy, therapeutic listening, social skills therapy, diet changes, supplements, you name it.  And, through it all, he's known about that word, Autism.  I explained what it meant, how it applied to him, what we would need to do to help him cope.  You see, we were always lucky because he's been labeled as "high functioning" which means no cognitive delays, he was verbal, though his speech was delayed, he sought social interaction, though he wasn't adept, and he was able to give and receive affection.  For 6 years, we championed the cause of Autism.  And, now, three days ago, he lost his diagnosis.  After a full and complete re-evaluation, Lambert is no longer under the Autism umbrella.  He has been diagnosed with ADHD, which in terms of the spectrum, is a graduation of sorts.  So, I pulled him aside to talk heart to heart, "So, Lambert,  you know all that testing you did at school?  Well, they looked at everything and decided you don't have Autism anymore.  What do you think?"  He pumped his fist in the air and said "Yes!"  And, that was it.  Really?  That was IT?  I expected this big heart to heart talk about what that meant to him and how he felt and all I got was "Yes!"  Granted, a happy yes but to me, it felt like some momentous moment...is that redundant?...anyway...I realized the space Lambert's Autism filled in me was so much greater than the space it filled in him.  It never defined him to him.  To him, it was a word that helped him give himself a pass when he was acting a little weird and it was a word that meant his diet was restricted to gluten free, all natural foods, which kind of sucked, but other than that, it was just a word.  I was the champion of the cause, I was the carrier of the word as something that defined not only my son, but defined me as well.  And now it's gone.  My big symbolic act was to take the Autism magnet off my car..and put it on the fridge because Lambert likes it.  I honestly don't know what else to do but it feels like I came to the finish line of a big race but all the spectators had gone home hours ago.  And, I have all this space in myself that I can now fill.  I think I'll try filling it with all the things that define my children that can't be put into words, or boxed under diagnostic categories, or filed neatly like their IEP meeting paperwork.  Because, really, we have two kids with ADHD now and our house is pretty topsy turvy but I've got to say, no matter what some psychologist, or even I,  like to call my kids, they are Lambert and Maxwell and those are about the only labels I can apply without missing the kid for the words. 

When your cake crumbles, make cake balls! Or try to make cake balls...

I had a baking failure Saturday that entailed overflow, fire, and in the end, crumbly cake.  My applesauce cake would not hold together to freeze and my dreams of easy family breakfasts crumbled with it.  Do I throw it out?  Heck no!  Do I force my kids to eat 2 pans of applesauce cake before it goes bad?  No way?  I make balls - cake balls, that is.  Or at least I tried.  Let me preface this by saying I have never made cake balls - these are a relatively new confection in my view and seemed like an unnecessary step in the evolution of cake.  But, my Dutch ancestors reminded me that in this case, cake balls might just be the trick to saving those 2 pans of applesauce cake that I rescued from the fire.  So, being an experimental cook, I didn't bother with instructions.  Who does that?  Instead, I mushed my cake up, made a cream cheese icing (1 tub Tofutti Better than Cream Cheese, 4 Tbsp. Unsweetened Vanilla Almond Milk, and 6 Tbsp. agave nectar), mixed it all up and rolled into balls.  Those, I froze overnight.  This morning, I burned 2 bags of Ghirardelli White Chocolate Chips by trying to melt them in the microwave.  Glad I bought 4...The remaining 2 bags went into the double boiler, as my husband suggested in the first place, along with a little almond milk.  I've heard that dipping is the preferred method for coating cake balls.  But, really, I had a LOT...who has time to dip?  So, I spooned, that made a mess, I dipped, that took too long and still made a mess, and ultimately, I grouped together a pile and poured the chocolate on top.  I can't say each little ball got evenly coated.  I can't even say each little ball got coated at all.  What I can say is that I have a nasty cold and I'm over it.   This will likely be my last foray into cake balldom but at least I can say I tried...kind of.

The smushing

Cream cheese frosting ingredients

Chips pre-burning

Awww, happy in the proper double boiler

Naked balls!  Sorry, couldn't resist...

Dipped

And poured.

And done.

Once a Month Batch Cooking - an experiment

OK, so I admit it.  I hate my schedule.  I know, I'm a total wuss...I'm a teacher for God's sake, not a stockbroker or something super time consuming like that but still.  All this work and cooking and taking care of kids and all that is really putting a crimp in my "me" time.  Time I would rather spend at Tae Kwon Do or or watching Netflix or getting killed in Uno by my kids or...staring at the wall.  Whatever.  So, my sister in law inspired me to try this once a month cooking thing. The only trick is that we are a family of allergics so I thought it would be hard to find a resources to help me plan it all.  Cause, using my own recipes and putting together a shopping list and all that seemed too daunting to me.  Enter onceamonthmom.com!  She has special diet menus, including gluten/dairy free, paleo, vegetarian, and traditional.  Who knew!  I downloaded January's menu and decided to give it a try.  I planned ahead and got my meat ordered from paidom.com, ordered some necessities from Amazon (gluten free Bisquick and a food processor), and sent my husband to the store with a big ol' list.  The upshot was, I messed up on the meat delivery and ended up with a whole bunch of produce that had to be used this weekend and my meat won't be here til next weekend.  So, I went to Kroger and got what I need and I'll use my farm stuff next month.  After 1 hour, this was my Facebook status: "Only on recipe number 2 and already had to take a break for a small kitchen fire...this does not bode well...On the bright side, our smoke detectors work!"  By 3 hours in, this was literally my Facebook status: "I hate cooking. What was I thinking. My kitchen is my enemy."  After 6 hours, this is what I  had to say "
6 hours in the kitchen, 22 meals prepared, 2 pans of applesauce cake on the table, 2 meals in the garbage, 1 small kitchen fire, and a lot of cleanup later...now that I'm sitting down I think it will be worth it :)".  Kind of says it all.  Overall, I recommend onceamonthmom.com for the following reasons:  Her lists are very thorough, the recipes are uncomplicated, there is a plan for every diet, the labels are a really nice feature, and the Google docs convert to Excel.  Some things I will bear in mind next time are:  Check the quantities before I get started - the conversions from 1 serving to 4 seemed a little off but I'm not known for my measuring and her measurements are very precise- I'm chalking this up to my fault, buy the stinking foil pans and use them, use my own baked goods recipes - I haven't messed them up yet...yet, and chop extra onions!  Here are some photos of my day.

My newly arrived Kitchenaid food processor got a major workout today - better it than me!

My husband suggested this for the "onion eye" problem...he must really love me because...well....wow...

This photo represents foreshadowing.  My applesauce cake is not one to be held by mere containers...

And, here it is!  One small kitchen fire during recipe number 2 may have put a damper on my enthusiasm, not to mention my confidence...

The recipe said "pour batter in greased containers"- who knew 4 wouldn't be enough?  I really need more adult supervision.

Thank you to our Roomba, Micky.  He's always good for batting cleanup.  If only I could have turned him loose in the oven.

Mess cleaned up and back in action - here's an early view of some completed recipes.

Oh the irony.  With all that cooking going on, my kids get cold sandwiches for lunch...

Enjoying their bribe..er...game.  It's not safe in the kitchen, boys!

And a lot of recycling was generated on this day.

The labels are a nice feature of the onceamonthmom site.  They include detailed instructions - which goes a long way toward hopefully preventing future fires...

The cooked goods cooling before bagging.

And, after 6 hours I have 22 meals ready to go.  2 went in the garbage because I didn't follow directions (again with the adult supervision thing), and the applesauce cake ended up being too crumbly to package (entirely possibly I forgot to add something because I was afraid of the whole overflowing bowl thing) And, I skipped out on making 3 of the recipes because...well...because my on task threshold had been exceeded and I was tired...Obviously.

Here's how I'll look coming home from school when I remember that I don't have to cook dinner!  Yay!

Check out  http://onceamonthmom.com/ for yourself!