Easter celebrations, Clara-style

Finding eggs is lame, but eating the candy inside is sweet.

These irresistible blowing flowers get me every time.

Flitting through this flower field makes me feel like a fairy.

Look at my pretty dress from my cousin!

I'm so funny. No wait, you're funny.

Is there a restroom nearby?

I'll oblige you and pose by this rusty gate.

And then I'll dye some eggs with you to make you happy.

Hanging out with nice grown-ups is pretty fun . . .

. . . even though sometimes they enjoy kid stuff more than I do.

My mom is pretty nice.

And my dad is pretty creative--he made that Easter caterpillar out of plastic eggs.

Speaking of fairies, who needs a bunny when they can have an Easter fairy?

Go on, say it. You know I'm cute.

But I just can't help it.

Words of wisdom, by Clara

CLARA: The Holy Ghost is squished in my tummy from my food. (said after dinner, apparently building off the concept that she can feel the Holy Ghost inside, in her heart)


MICHAEL: Clara, what's lightning?
CLARA: Thunder.
MICHAEL: What's thunder?
CLARA: Lightning.

(Glad we got that straightened out.)


CLARA: (referring to Mr. Bear) This is my only begotten bear.


CLARA to me: Can you pretend to be Mama and I'll pretend to be Clara?
ME: Uh, Clara, I am your Mama, and you are Clara.


CLARA: My bum is full of my skirt.

(When you think about it, it's sort of impressive that she managed to tuck her Sunday skirt entirely inside of these little shorts.)


CLARA: The sun sweated me! (said while sitting in the hot car)


Clara is fond of certain vegetables--broccoli, spinach, brussel sprouts, peppers, tomatoes, kale, sweet potatoes, onions, etc. She is not a fan of potatoes but will eat them if she's really hungry as long as they're not mashed. She likes carrots in moderation. We have been eating a lot more vegetables over the last couple of months, and the other day I was making her lunch for school the next day.

(Kale after it's cooked down--in case you're wondering, it is a member of the cabbage family and has a fairly mild flavor--it's not as squishy as cooked spinach)

ME: Clara, would you like pizza in your lunch tomorrow?

CLARA: Yes, and kale.

ME: I don't have kale, just brussel sprouts. Is that okay?

CLARA: Yeah.

She really enjoys roasted brussel sprouts, or she likes just eating the frozen bits of brussel sprouts that come out of the freezer bag.

CLARA: (upon seeing a head of iceberg lettuce, probably for the first time since I'm not a big fan) What's that big brussel sprout thingie?

The pic above is another example: We made homemade pizza again last week, and I was putting cooked spinach on it. She kept asking before each bite, "Can I have some more?" and probably ingested at least 1/4 cup at that sitting, er, standing.

The other day I was fixing broccoli and had cut off the stems of some frozen spears to cook the florets. The half-thawed (and to me, unappetizing) stems were on the cutting board, and before eating each one she inquired, "May I have this?" and then proceeded to eat at least four.

I think this is somewhat bizarre. Don't get me wrong--I am thrilled and wish I could pat myself on the back (although I know that if she didn't want to eat it, there would be virtually no way to force her to even if I wanted to, which I don't), but I can't help but wonder if she's missing some vitamins or something.

Is there such a thing as veggie pica?

Don't answer that. I don't want to know.

St. Pat's

Do you ever do something that sounds like a good idea, in theory?

You know, like put chemicals (aka food coloring) in perfectly wholesome, steel-cut oats in celebration of a holiday?

What, that doesn't look good to you? (Michael's bowl.)

How about with the addition of cottage cheese? (My bowl.)

No?

Yeah, Clara didn't think it was such a good idea either. So I switched it out and gave her old-fashioned, non-colored oatmeal instead. I think her inner food purist rebelled: Green-frosted cupcakes are perfectly acceptable, but green oatmeal? I don't think so.


Clara was feeling a bit nervous during her preschool St. Patrick's Day parade. As a side note, I've never experienced the hurrahs of St. Patrick's Day like I have here--you see Irish flags hanging on houses, of course the Catholic schools are closed, and it was incredible to me the number of people (our family included) who were wearing green. It cracks me up.

Hope your day was as lucky as the blarney stone.

Big weekend

This past weekend Michael and I enjoyed a night away in Atlanta while Grandma watched Clara. We attended an orthodontic conference at a fancy hotel and ate lots of delicious food.

We also signed the contract for our future.

Yep, we really are moving to Virginia in December and buying a practice. It's a done deal.

Wow.

Signing contracts. Amazingly enough, even though this single act has changed the course of the rest of our lives, I feel peace and excitement. I have no nagging uncertainties, although there is certainly some fear and nervousness. We have felt the hand of the Lord in our lives.

If either doctor backs out, they have to pay a lot of money to the other. A LOT of money.

As the attorney put it, "It puts a little blood in the water."

Later that night, we went out to eat with Dr. Alvis and a few of his staff. Michael ordered a caesar salad on the side, and he was surprised to learn that anchovies are part of the recipe (when you order it at a nice restaurant, that is). So Michael split the slimy little fish in half and we each ate it on top of a crostini. Although the taste was not revolting, it wasn't too grand either.

This experience made the second "first" we had that day.

Sitting with most of Michael's future staff. Yikes!

They are kind, welcoming, and supportive. Dr. Alvis is a man of integrity, has a good practice, and has been very helpful and considerate. We get along very well, and we couldn't feel more pleased and thankful. We all know there will be some definite adjustments, some bumps in the road--perhaps significant ones--but we feel peace that the direction we're pursuing is right.

And that makes the future pretty exciting.

Sometimes

I haven't posted in awhile. I don't know why exactly, except for the fact that things haven't been too exciting or different lately.

But hey, who needs exciting when every day normality is fine, too?

Some days are like Clara's morning hair: out of whack.

Other days are crazy, but we endure it with a smile.

Some days feel organized and put-together.

Others feel productive.


And other days bring feelings of satisfaction.


Hope your day is going well.

Once upon a time . . .

. . . there was a little girl, waiting for snow.

She got her wish, and gleefully romped through a world of white.

Then her father and mother built a snowman . . .

. . . with the help of some neighbors who supplied man power and essential snowman eyes (potpourri lime halves) and buttons (pine cones).

But in the night, the snowman got heavy. And forlorn.

It couldn't hold its head up any longer.

So the little girl and her parents built it again as a slightly smaller version of its former self.

And the little girl was happy.

The end.

Edelweiss

Tonight I resisted my usual practice of hurrying through her bedtime routine--prayer, brush teeth, story, song--and got into bed with Clara, snuggling under the covers with her as we read the Friend and a couple of books together.


For once, instead of thinking about other things, I savored the moment. I felt her warm breath on my nose as we snuggled close together, she in her bunny bag (footie pajamas), and me in my ratty sweatpants and stained "pajama" shirt.

I asked her, "What song do you want me to sing tonight?"

"Edelweiss," she responded.

I obliged, kissed her good night, tucked her in, turned out the light, and closed the door, treasuring a happy memory.

. . .

Of course, moments later, I hear her yelling, "Take the (too-loud ticking) clock down!" (more on the clock on another post), and so I enter the room again and take it down. She then informs me that she needs another animal in bed with her--she gets her baby doll--and her yellow blanket.

I again acquiesce, tucking her in a second time.


Edelweiss she certainly is. Even when manipulating the Mama during the bedtime routine.

Book Review: Disease-Proof Your Child

Disease-Proof Your Child: Feeding Kids Right is authored by Dr. Joel Fuhrman.
This book's jumping-off point is his first book, Eat to Live, which I haven't read. Basically, the entire premise is that our society is focused on remedy and medication to solve health problems instead of using the body's natural defense--good nutrition--to prevent disease and illness in the first place.

His philosophy is that it isn't enough to just reduce saturated fat, or eliminate artificial dyes or sweeteners, etc.--you have to EAT MORE VEGETABLES (and fruits, but especially vegetables). He makes the case that it is the specific phytochemicals and nutrients in plants that give your body the tools it needs to prevent cancer, asthma, viruses, etc. from successfully gaining ground in a child's body.

He is a proponent of vegetarianism and veganism but also points out that you can be a healthy omnivore so long as you limit consumption of animal products and especially make sure that you are eating lots of veggies.

Overall, I found the book an interesting read, as well as a thought-provoking one. The whole dairy disagreement that so many in the diet/nutrition/health world debate is one that is probably outside the scope of this post (or blog, for that matter).

Whether you agree with his philosophy or not, it might be worth a gander.

Whatever it takes

I have a problem.

I like using onions when I cook, but they absolutely kill my eyes.

After incredulously seeing a pair of "onion goggles" in a store awhile ago, I had an epiphany.

Who needs fancy onion goggles when these stylish yet inexpensive safety goggles work perfectly?

P.S. Onions are really good for you.

P.P.S. Thanks for all your kind comments lately. You guys rock.

Book Review: The Parenting Breakthrough

As usual, this book was a recommendation by one of my wonderful sisters-in-law. I actually BOUGHT it, which tells you that it has to be pretty darn good (of course, that might also have been because I couldn't get it through inter-library loan).


Merrilee Browne Boyack is a mother of four boys, a lawyer, and a Mormon. Her writing style is, shall we say, ebullient, not to mention slightly quirky, but it's not annoying and makes her personal perspective refreshing and real.

The entire point of the book is teaching your children how to be independent and realizing, as she mentions, that we don't have children to keep them in the house forever. She shows her readers that chores should be used as opportunities to teach valuable skills and are a means to an end: raising an independent, responsible human being.

Check out Boyack's list ("The Plan" as she has dubbed it) for the skills to teach a child at each particular age:

Age 3: dress self, use toilet independently, beginning to brush teeth, pick up toys, say prayers, clean glass tables

Age 4: Brush teeth, make bed, make own breakfast, make sandwiches, beginning to clean room

Age 5: Straighten room, vacuum, empty garbage cans, set table, clear table, make own lunch, warm up canned food, get allowance

. . . and it continues . . .

Age 13: sew simple items, shop for clothing and other items, find bargains, plan parties, have own recipe files, shop for groceries, use ATM, type without looking, understand prescriptions . . . order something by phone, order something by mail, order something on Internet, read Book of Mormon through, check fluids in car . . .

Et cetera.

WOW.

"The Plan" should obviously be dependent on the child and on your personal priorities; e.g. I am not willing to let Clara brush her own teeth because (1) she doesn't want to do it, (2) she does a bad job, and (3) my husband is a dentist. (I'm not quite sure how that third reason comes into play here since he often can't be there to brush her teeth, but psychologically it's very important.)

Another very thought-provoking aspect of the book is her discussion of the importance of teaching children financial skills and how she goes about doing it.


We've been working on Clara's self-help skills for a while (tidying her room daily, getting dressed alone, etc.) but we're expanding our efforts. And on that note, I'd like to introduce you to Pirate.


Pirate is Clara's plant (a.k.a. one of her chores). Why she named it Pirate is anybody's guess.

I'd also like to introduce you to the dungeon. The dungeon is where the silverware prisoners are locked up to prevent them from escaping. Occasionally a stray fork or spoon likes to try to sneak away, but fortunately Clara is the the dungeon guard and prevents that from ever happening.

Now whether the prisoners are locked in their correct cell, well, that's still a work in progress.

I'd recommend the book. It's a good 'un.

A new perspective

As we've approached Clara's fifth birthday, I have been pondering on how different our life is than I think I imagined it would be when our little girl turned five. I think everyone makes plans about the future they expect, albeit often subconsciously.

I had planned on having at least one--probably two--more kid(s) by the time Clara turned five. That unfortunately hasn't happened, but that's another story. I subconsciously pictured our little growing family, a picture-perfect glimpse of happiness as my husband finished his last year of residency and we embarked on a new life. I naturally assumed Clara would be precocious and talented, just like her parents (haha). I'd relish being a mom, despite its challenges, and would commiserate with friends on frequent playdates. Life would be ideal.

However, life doesn't always happen the way we plan.

Words that I'd never thought much about, or even heard of, are now familiar friends to me (well, I wouldn't go quite to friends . . .). Autism. Aspergers. Pervasive developmental delay not otherwise specified (PDD-NOS). Central auditory processing disorder. Dyspraxia. Motor planning. Sensory processing disorder. Adaptive aquatics. Physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Speech therapy. Individualized Education Plan. Special education.

I realize with some chagrin that our challenges with Clara are minute compared to the much more serious or life-threatening difficulties that some parents face with their children--cancer, spina bifida, poverty, cerebral palsy, diabetes, displacement by war, abuse, etc. But as this is my blog, in my vanity I am focused on myself. Sorry.

I have felt many emotions. Disbelief. Shame. Disappointment. Embarrassment. Confusion. Uncertainty. Anger. Fear. Sadness. Pain. Self-pity. Grief.

I've heard on more than one occasion something to the effect of "Oh, but my kids do that, too! You just only have her so you don't have anything to compare her to." I think sometimes people don't believe me, or think I'm exaggerating or just being paranoid when I talk about my concerns. And while I'm sure that many of my emotions are ones felt by all parents traveling on the parenting journey, I have also seen, babysat, taught, and interacted with enough children to know what is "normal" and what isn't.

And you know what? I've decided it's okay to not have a child who is "normal."

So I must add to the emotions above. Joy. Surprise. Mirth. Love. Silliness. Pride. Astonishment. Admiration.


Having Clara has helped me feel more deeply. I have savored the sweet victory that comes from a child learning to take her shirt off by herself after I've worked with her about two hundred times. I give thanks that my child now often likes to hold my hand (I used to watch in longing at a mother and a daughter holding hands together). Perhaps this is egotistical of me, but I feel that we appreciate many little things that most parents take completely for granted. I appreciate being able to walk at a somewhat normal pace with my daughter instead of having to drag her along as I used to. I rejoice in a spontaneous kiss and an unexpected "You look like a princess!" comment. I am thankful when she can tell me something she did at school that day. Or when she doesn't growl at a stranger and says "hi" instead. I feel such pleasure knowing that my daughter enjoys drawing now more than she used to, even if she prefers to draw small nonsensical circles on the paper.

Our journey with Clara has introduced me to a whole world of people--good, good people: therapists who have become friends, teachers whom I can call when I need advice, doctors who care about Clara's success and potential. People at church--and elsewhere--who have taken Clara under their wing and love her inexplicably. I confess that I have sometimes wondered why they love Clara when she doesn't always reciprocate in kind. And yet they do, because she is easy to love. With all her wiles and mystery, her rigidity and incomprehensibility, she is a sweet, precious soul. One who wants to please her parents and who is learning to make good choices, albeit painfully at times. She adores books, which makes her mama proud and grateful. She loves music and can sing on pitch, which brings me immense pleasure. She is learning to pray. And she is beautiful--when she laughs and looks into your eyes, the world is a magical place.


There are days when I want to give up, but those days aren't as frequent as they used to be. When Clara asks me for the umpteenth time, "Can we do something else?" but can't think of what she wants to do, or when she can't answer my question or have a normal conversation, I grow frustrated and sometimes angry. Why can't she just count the stinkin' animals? Why can't she just SHARE?!! Why can't she just be normal? Why couldn't I have the kids that all my friends seem to have? Why do I feel so isolated and alone? I don't know if I can do this, I think to myself.


But then, each new day we find--or are given--more strength. I have felt God's love in so many ways--through the people who help Clara, through my amazing husband, through her own actions, through prayers--her guileless ones, ours, and the prayers of others--and sweet experiences. Little by little, I recognize that even if I could, I would not go back and change things.

If she were more neurotypical, I couldn't be the person that I hope I am becoming. I wouldn't be learning the lessons that I so obviously need to learn: learning to let go of what people think of me (and my child), the importance of depending on the Lord, learning to recognize what I can control and what I can't. I am so thankful for Clara, for both the challenging and the wonderful that she brings to us. Being her mother is a gift. I am grateful for a loving Heavenly Father and for His Son, and having a strong testimony that through temple covenants we can be together eternally provides additional fortitude.

Yesterday an acquaintance was talking to me about Clara, and I told her a little about her situation and she said, "I'm sorry." I was a bit taken aback with my own inner reaction because I realized, I'm not sorry.

I read in a book that happiness is when you don't want to be doing something else. And I am happy.

I can finally say, "Life doesn't always happen the way we plan. Fortunately."

Small and simple

Lately I have been thinking a lot about words like consistency, diligence, perseverance, and the scripture that "by small and simple things are great things brought to pass." I have been reminded that it is truly the small things in life that matter most, and that the largest influence we can have is actually through the smallest of ways. The Savior Himself is a perfect example of this true principle: Born as a baby to a poor mother and earthly father, living in an inconsequential country ruled by Romans, in a largely unpopulated world, Jesus Christ lived a quiet life, and most people didn't know He even existed until after His death and resurrection.

And yet today, we see Christianity spreading across the world with millions having come to the knowledge of Christ as their Savior and Redeemer.

Small and simple is the way to go.

And on that note, I'd like to introduce a new small and very simple aspect of my life:

Clara's picture schedule. (It's on a black piece of foamboard, which is difficult to see.) Based on the PECS concept (Picture Exchange Communication System) that is frequently utilized for children on the autism spectrum, this chart that I made and illustrated has pictures of activities that occur during the day. Clara often has a difficult time thinking of what she wants to do, so she'll just ask, "Can we do something else?" about a million times a day. It has gotten pretty wearing. Now I can just say, "What's on your schedule?"

She can participate in planning the non-scheduled events. Another big bonus is that it helps her to visually see that yes, she can watch a show, but only after she has tidied her room, done her chores, and done her physical therapy exercises (aka gymnastics moves).

The pictures are laminated and have velcro on them.

I think is my favorite one.

Here are some more of the ones I made. As time goes on I'm sure that we'll have to add more pictures, but for now this is--as Martha Stewart would say--"A good thing."