Preventing Anorexia with a Little Cooking

So frail, and yet so angry. She was down to 90 lb at 5’4″. I had a cousin with anorexia. It was her way of exerting authority in a life she felt was beyond her control.

It was scary to see her formerly athletic frame hunched and saggy, as she struggled to close jeans over a distended belly that she perceived to be fat.

I get it. When life spins and spins, when everyone is telling you what to do, the one thing you can undeniably control is what you put in your mouth.

When I got to college I became friends with many girls who had formerly suffered from eating disorders, and some guys who still suffered with them. As a parent, I feel for their parents.

When kids feel cornered they want to feel empowered. Even if their parents were acting with the best intentions, even if they were doing everything right, it’s the kid’s perception that matters. The three disorders I saw were anorexia, bulemia, and severe picky eating – literally eating 5 foods total. Not food groups. Foods. Like french fries and not baked potatoes.

I always wanted to be on the lookout for any signs of power struggles and see how we could address them. I figure my job as a parent is to help them make the right decisions for themselves, not make the decisions for them. Sometimes they fail. It sucks. It will affect them for years, but I cannot spoon-feed life to them.

I recently noticed Veronica skipping breakfast. She didn’t like what I serve (startup oatmeal) and knew she wasn’t allowed to just grab a bowl of cereal.

A little backstory on the epic oatmeal

Veronica decided a few months ago that she would no longer eat steel cut oats. She didn’t like them and simply wouldn’t eat. I recognized a power struggle in the making.

So, we made a little deal. She can bake herself scones, muffins whatever to have for breakfast, but she must eat breakfast every day. She cannot, however, skip meals.

She’s been pretty good about it, and generous with baked delectables. This week, she forgot to bake, so she tried to get away with just having yogurt. Her older brother made merciless fun of her. I told him to back off. Boys and dads do not understand the need to give us girls our space.

While I let it go for a couple of days, I didn’t want this to become a habit. She is now making herself smoothies each day if she doesn’t have any baked goods.

I’m not sure what most people consider a smoothie, so here’s what flies in my house:

  • banana
  • some sort of berries
  • plain yogurt or plain yogurt drink
  • kale (if I’m the one making it)
  • brewers yeast (if I’m the one making it)
  • crushed ice

How to Fund a Startup – The Epic Oatmeal Hack

We have a startup. We have 7 kids. We have a mortgage and two cars like a normal family. Years ago, we decided to sacrifice many normal comforts to ensure we had enough money to fund our business until we could pay ourselves.

We now draw a salary, but decided to keep those sacrifices in place, as much as possible, as it enables us to occasionally eat out, and have some money in the bank.

One of the ways we saved money was avoiding pre-packaged food. It’s fine when you have one or two kids, but multiply that by 7 and you go broke pretty quick. I count cereal as a prepackaged food. Those boxes really don’t hold much.

We were spending about $30/week on cereal and that was when we only had 5 kids. That’s $1560 per year.

So we switched to the much healthier option of steel cut oats with fresh fruit. It costs me exactly $62.55 with tax every two months. I buy a 50 lb sack at Whole Foods.

At first, the kids absolutely loved it. A few years later, not as much. But now, Sunday is a special day. Cereal for breakfast. Belgian waffles or pancakes and bacon for brunch after church, and a yummy cup of juice.

There was also the time factor to consider. With steel cut oats, the kids get a hot breakfast, without needing me to actually cook it.

I bought an old crockpot at our local thrift store for $5. I prefer the really old crockpots because they are not lined with lead glaze.

Each night, I make the oatmeal in the crockpot and by morning, it’s ready for the kids, no matter what time they wake up.

Steel Cut Oats in the Crockpot

  1. Put one part oats to 4 parts-ish water in the crockpot
  2. If I’m feeling like a nice mom, I also take one of the leftover apples that are half eaten, peel it, and cut little chunks into the oatmeal.
  3. Add 1/2 tsp cinnamon.
  4. Turn crockpot on low.
  5. Walk away.

Sometimes I only do step one and five. Then the kids rejoice because I forgot to turn on the crockpot and they get to have cereal.

Usually, I do steps 1,2 and 5 and then we throw some fresh berries on it in the morning. Or, when cranberries are cheap, I’ll get those and stick them in the freezer. Those taste fabulous in the oatmeal when you cook them overnight, as do dried cranberries. I don’t recommend cooking bananas in there overnight. It tastes a bit gummy.

How to Make Lemon Curd… a Little Chemistry, Math, Birth Control, and Biology

We’ve been making homemade ice cream for over a year. Super delicious and healthy. Ok, maybe not healthy, but I can pronounce all the ingredients.

The downside to homemade ice cream is all the leftover egg whites. Before you read much further, you should know there’s some serious girl talk below.

Each batch of ice cream uses 8 egg yolks. So, Veronica and I decided that we have to make angel food cake for each 1.5 times we make ice cream. Hint: angel food cake uses lots of egg whites.

This week, we also somehow had some leftover yolks and a ton of lemons. Some quick googling determined that we also needed to make lemon curd to pour over our angel food cake.

We had no idea exactly how many egg whites were in the unlabelled tupperware shoved at the back of the fridge. Veronica developed a new scientific method I’ll call egg-white-metrology.

If you don’t whip the egg whites first, you can gloup them into a bowl one at a time. They will slurp out in a clump, one at a time.

“Why are egg whites gloupy?” Cue the biology lesson.

I figured, she’s now 12 and has already had “the talk”. It’s time to talk about ovulation and mucus.

We discussed about how women can know the time of month that they are fertile, and the physical signs of ovulation. In fertility books, it literally says when your mucus is the consistency of egg white that you are most fertile.

We also discussed a bit about the emotional signs of ovulation. “This is the time of month when Momma is most joyful and patient. When everything seems to be going fantastic in the universe. When I’m not bothered as much by the annoying sounds your younger brother makes.”

And then we moved on to the discussion of how science can hide these signs. Artificial birth control evens out the cycle a bit. The highs and lows of the month are more level. Since she’s already studied a bit of trigonometry, I explained that without birth control, it’s like your emotional roller coaster wave has a higher amplitude. With birth control, there can be a lower amplitude, or worse, similar amplitude, but the whole wave may be translated lower on the axes – meaning both lower lows and lower highs than you would have had naturally.

The physical signs are different as well. Your body doesn’t produce the same mucus. It is biologically tricked into thinking it’s at a different time in the cycle.

Just as quickly, we moved from trigonometry into algebra. It was time to make the lemon curd.

We needed 4 egg yolks and 3 whole eggs. We had 3 eggs yolks and an egg white. So she figured two whole eggs and two egg yolks would get us there. Here is the recipe I used, but with 1/2 cup of sugar, rather than 3/4 cup. We like our food tart.

Tempering your emotions and your eggs.

making lemon curd
5 straight minutes of whisking eggs into hot butter

When making lemon curd, you get to do lots of whisking. Some people look at this as a chore. I choose to view it as the only time my arms get a workout. It’s only my right arm, but I’ll take it.

Making lemon curd
Gettin’ rid of lumps

The lemon curd was fantastic atop the angel food cake, but it was really the talk that made the time valuable.

Next up… combating anorexia through cooking.

The savory side of life with a ginger

It all started out of frustration. She didn’t like me any more. I sure didn’t like her. How did we get to this place?

Veronica and I had been so close. Lately my eldest ginger daughter was clearly annoyed by my existence. I know moms can have that effect on their 11 year olds, but it’s shocking when you receive the eye-roll.

Cooking with a 12 year old

Out of desperation, I started googling every book I could find on how to live under roof and still communicate. Anyone who naively thinks that kids needs less attention as they get older is just ignorant.

If kids don’t trust you, they are going to look someplace else for that trust relationship. Do you know your kids well enough to even know where they’ll turn? It’s not that most of us are untrustworthy as parents. It’s just that they have to feel it in their hearts. They have to want to talk to us at all, let alone spend time with us. Veronica and I seemed to have lost that.

I had read a pretty good book by Danna Gresh on raising boys, so I looked into her programs for girls. Yes, I admit, Amazon immediately got somewhere between $50 and $75 out of me for everything Danna wrote. I was desperate.

The books offered some good insight, as did the 5 Love Languages of a Teenager book by Gary Chapman. But a lot of it just wasn’t us. I couldn’t translate it to our relationship.

I work full time and homeschool. It’s like 2 full time jobs. I have 7 kids, each with their own emotional and physical needs.

The Love Languages book helped me to feel empathy, and ride out some of the emotional rollercoasters with more patience. But the conduct permitted in his examples just wouldn’t ever fly in my home.

I’m not in a financial position to give my kid money to go to the mall. I started working at 12, as did my husband, as have my kids. If they want to buy something, they usually have to pay for it themselves and find a way to get to the store. And the amount of backtalk he allowed made me cringe.

The Danna Gresh books are really helpful, but I constantly felt myself letting Veronica down. We talked about these 8 Great Mom-Daughter dates, but Veronica eventually asked me to be more realistic. With my schedule, I just don’t have time to spend 2-3 hours with her alone outside the house, much as I may want to.

Also, the mp3s included with the book are just not my daughter’s style. They’re fun and girly, but in a different way than she likes.

So, the wall between us remained up for a while, with me feeling guilty, although Veronica really liked that I was trying. We did the first date, but I never was able to schedule in the second.

Then my daughter had a brilliant suggestion. “I love to cook and bake. You love to cook and bake, and know how to do a lot of it better than I do. Can we bake together for a couple of hours of week and you can teach me?”

She’s a genius.

Truth be told, she’s a far better baker than me. I never bother sifting or bringing eggs to room temperature. She has a natural gift. She makes up recipes from scratch and they come out perfect. I was never able to do that.

But together we endeavor to learn from each other, and create yum yums for everyone else. Much like her Momma, she doesn’t really like to eat the baked goods. We both enjoy the challenge of making them. So any recipes you find here have usually been altered to have far less sugar. We like the savory kind of life.

I’ll keep you posted on our savory and sweet concoctions. Next post will be lemon curd with a side of mathematics and birth control.

Don’t You Hate It When Your Kids Ignore You???

The first time I ask them to do something, it’s probably in a nice tone of voice. The second time, probably a bit less so. After that, all bets are off.

Rationally, I know the flies/honey thing, but man, the anger burns bright when they just. won’t. listen.

So, here’s what’s been working lately. I get down on their level and calmly, but firmly, state the minimal requirements for us both to get out of the room alive.

It takes every ounce of patience to refrain from throttling them, but I do it. I give them the space to decide to either ignore me and face agreed upon consequences, or do what is needed to maintain family harmony.

I feel the hurt well up inside when they either ignore or mock, but somehow I manage to not explode.

Imagine then, the patience needed for Our Father to witness us mock and ignore him.We agreed in a sacramental bond to love, honor, and obey Him, and yet… he sits there lonely on Sunday mornings as we ignore Him. Maybe, if He’s lucky, we grudgingly make an appearance on Sunday mornings, wearing whatever flip-flops and shorts were next to the bed. Or maybe we decide instead that much-needed, sleep, grocery shopping, kid’s sports are far more important than a promise made when we were too young to know what we were signing up for.

So we mock and ignore. We’re too mature for those childish beliefs. We know better than the Father who created us. We break the commandments and ignore He exists. Imagine the patience He must have…

Melting away our water supply

This year we indulged in a splurge, a new old fridge. For $100, we got one of those fancy side-by-side fridges that dispenses water and ice.

I was able to retire my position as the icemaker of the family, as for the first time we had a machine to do the job.

While I am no great environmentalist, I do not like to be wasteful. In the past six months since we installed this fridge, I noticed a rather disturbing trend.

We are wasting a TON of water.

The kids used to simply drink tap water that was stored in the fridge. Now they walk by the fridge and first fill their cup with ice and then water. And I mean FILL their cup. You can’t usually control it. Some of the ice spits on to the floor, which then gets chucked into the sink and melts.

Yes, our actual consumption of water into our bodies has gone up, but I’d guess half the time that cup of ice water gets dumped out.

With all the people throughout the world who cannot get clean drinking water, this just seems like an incredible first world extravagance, which could easily be minimized.

Making it so easy to get cold water, means it’s also incredibly simple to waste that water. So, in our effort to be healthy by drinking lots of water, exactly what lesson are we teaching our kids?

Heaven is a Hell of a Place

How do you envision Heaven? Is it a place where you can do whatever you want? When you picture it, what do you do all day? If you’re to be honest with yourself, can you possibly imagine how you wouldn’t be bored???

The whole “harp and sitting on a cloud” image doesn’t sound like a reward for a life well lived.

And there’s the punch line. Heaven isn’t simply a reward for a life well lived, any more than birth is simply a reward for being in your mother’s womb for 9 months.

Heaven is justice. So is Hell.

If your ideal vision of Heaven is being with friends, eating at luxurious banquets, listening to music, not having pressures or dependencies, then God is not going to punish you by sending you someplace that does not meet your vision. To you, the real Heaven might seem like Hell.

Just imagine, what if our earthly visions of Heaven and Hell are wrong? What if Heaven is an eternal drudgery, and Hell is daily pleasures?

Where would you want to go?

What if Heaven is eternal obligations spent with God and Hell is daily pleasures spent with all your friends? Now where do you want to go?

God loves us far too much to eternally send us where we wouldn’t be fulfilled. That is justice.

Our eternal life is not a reward for living life, it is the fulfillment of how we lived life.

Heaven is a place where your kids chew with their mouths closed

Heaven may really be an eternal bond with God, but to those who want to be there, that is exactly how they wish to spend eternity – with God. They want to be with Him, not because He promises them happiness, but because being with Him IS happiness. It defines happiness. More than that, it defines the pure joy and peace for which they spent their lives in pursuit.

Heaven may indeed be a glorious banquet filled with delightful fatty goodies. It may have an exclusive guest list of your favorite authors and celebrities, a dress code of those fancy clothes you’ve been looking for an excuse to wear and certain table manners may indeed be required of those dining on luxurious food. The other guests and host are the very people with whom I wish to spend eternity, in a room filled with peace and joy.

The room is so incredibly peaceful and joyful because everyone there:

  • appreciates the exclusivity of the event
  • savors the delicious flavor of every bite of the meal
  • and is eating in harmony

Indeed, following the “rules” (dress code and table manners) of the banquet has resulted in a meal in which none of my children fight at the table. They all desire to be at the meal on time, dressed in their best suit and tie. Even the itchiest fancy Christmas dress is no longer itchy. They are assured that there will be enough food and seats for all who attend, and wish to please their Host in both their dress and their ability to chew with their mouth closed. Even better, they don’t talk with their mouths full because they want to relish every morsel.

In my vision of Heaven, everyone wishes to follow the rules because they are pleasing both to themselves and their heavenly host. They are then “rewarded” with pleasures even better than we can possibly imagine on Earth.

For people who choose Hell, they would be eternally bored in Heaven. God’s presence is an afterthought while on earth, and would be an eternal annoyance in the afterlife. Why would you want to spend an eternity with someone you ignored during your life?

If justice demands not sending someone to Heaven who would not be fulfilled there, why would someone choose Hell?

Hell is wanting to eat spoiled food with someone else’s bratty kids

On the rare occasions that I get to go out for an indulgent meal, I tend to REALLY  enjoy my food. After a delicious appetizer, I look forward to the next course expecting to wallow in bacon fat of some sort. After the main course, while my tummy may be full, and even hurting a bit, the dessert menu is usually filled with tempting decadent chocolate goodies. I know my lumpy areas don’t need a flourless chocolate torte, and I will regret the indigestion from eating more, I just can’t resist.

At that point, if my husband says “are you really going to eat that???” I will likely shoot him daggers. While his intention is to inspire me to keep to my goals of being healthy and fit, his reminder to lay low on the sweets makes me annoyed by his presence. The last thing I want is to be around someone who reminds me I’m failing at a goal.

Even though I know each delicious bite is causing pain (and a bigger butt), I keep going in for more. That’s my vision of Hell. You push away those you love and cause yourself more pain.

That is the Hell we may choose upon death. It may feel good, while it slowly burns and eternally consumes you. Our very definition of pleasure is pain.

Let’s take a step further. What if your definition of pleasure becomes warped due to your addictions of food? So, while you may have been a foodie at one point, in Hell you now find animal feed and spoiled milk delectable. Or worse, you become so addicted that, while your taste buds and mind may know this Hell-banquet is disgusting, you find yourself not only unable but unwilling to stop eating. Your personal Hell becomes a never ending banquet in which you want to devour endless foul food that makes you sick with each bite.

Everyone around you is yelling with food in their mouths. It sprays on your face and you lick it off. You just can’t get enough of this stuff. Your kids may be in Heaven, peacefully, but you are mad at them, both for not being with you and not understanding that your experience in Hell is the right choice. You convince yourself that you don’t want to be with them for an eternity anyway. They would just spoil all your fun.

If you really dig deep, how do you want to live each day, not just now, but for an eternity? If you consider the joy and harmony that could be brought about by living now the way God suggests, would you be willing to try it for a day? A week?

Heaven may indeed have banquets and friends, but if that’s the only reason you want to go, then it really has nothing to do with God. You’re not fooling Him, although perhaps you’re fooling yourself.

The Hypocritical Christian

It’s me. I am that woman. I am sinner. Hear me roar.

I ask others to join me in my peace-filled faith. “Harmony” I promise you. “Harmony” will come if you simply listen to God’s word.

My eldest told me he takes so long in the bathroom simply because it’s quiet there. I agree. All moms know that the only peace is in the bathroom. Until some kid slams the door open.

To truly live my faith… to live as if God was in charge… would mean refraining from yelling at my kids when they simply act like the same obnoxious kid I was to my own mother.

I’m far too proud to do such a thing as accept the failures of those from who I expect perfection. “You, my child, must be perfect as I am not.”

Yes, that’s mean. The angry Christian. A role model to none. So, what are my choices?

I can:

  1. expect them to irritate me and then not get upset
  2. accept that they will be irritating sometimes and deal with it by patiently correcting them
  3. expect reasonable behavior, but give them the time and attention they need to understand why they’re doing it

Option 1 sounds like “kids will be kids and monsters will be monsters.” That’s how you wind up with entitled whiners as your offspring. Nope.

Option 2 is what has failed for me so far. Er, I patiently correct them the first 3 times and then it comes out as a scream.

Option 3 seems to have worked for me in the past, based not on their behavior, but on my own capacity to listen to them. Case in point, the same whiny tantrum which made me scream today, I handled with ease when I wasn’t also trying to work/cook dinner.

If I’m to be honest, it’s my terrible habit of multi-tasking that leads to the demise of my patience. Also, my habit of greatly overscheduling myself. As my brilliant husband has suggested for years, I need to give complete attention to whatever task is at hand. If that’s a kid, fine.

If I’m trying to answer emails at a time when it’s clear I won’t achieve that task, then I need to stop. Getting pulled away from something I shouldn’t have tried to do anyway, is the cause of my loss of patience.

This week, I resolve to actually schedule in the stuff that I was trying to multitask – like laundry, email, cooking, cleaning and see how I do.

But first, let’s be real. I don’t clean. 🙂