Monday, July 6, 2015

In the challenge

Recently I subscribed to some kind of 30-day challenge to eliminate something (I don't know if it was a paleo challenge or what) from my diet. I think I read maybe two days of the emails because I found myself in enough challenges already. But today, I just signed up (metaphorically) for a new one when a doctor called with test results--remember June and a sick kid?

So now I'm subscribing to everything gluten-free. It affects our family as a whole, because why would we single one person out? We're in this together.

So if you have any favorite gluten-free recipes, send them my way. Because right now I can't get my head out of hearting all the gf pancake recipes, and I know we'll have to sustain beyond that.

For our friends and relatives--sleepovers and cookouts will look a little different for us. Please try to understand if we bring a separate treat or food. We don't want to make things hard on you to have to figure out our diet. It is also not our intention to make you feel bad that we may not be able to eat what you fix/bring/offer.

We meet with the dietician later this month to find out what our pantry should look like, and in the meanwhile, I'm scouring pages and blogs for meal ideas and substitutes. Thankful to have a new direction and answers to a chronic problem; thankful that there are so many gf products in stores and more information available to help us make better choices; thankful for supportive friends and family who've already told me things like, "you're a good cook" and "you're a fast learner"; thankful that my child is aware of the need to change, and though it's meant giving up some real favorites, she doesn't want to jeopardize her health (she's a real fighter, that girl).

And now, the bananas that I was going to put into a banana chocolate chip bread will just have to make it to the freezer until I find a flour substitute to make a gluten-free version.

This adjustment might be a little tricky, and a little disappointing at times too, but seriously--when I think of what this (former) lifestyle would do to her future, I won't complain.

And still counting (8174-8201)

ten history chapters completed
the smell of cut grass

clean baseboards
her hand in mine on an evening walk
that girl
a kind specialist

blue freezie pops
her smile
lasagna gifted by a friend
a hot meal at my door
the texts and prayers of friends

how she prayed for the doctors four times a day
and that the doctor is a hugger
decorations made by the kids
and thank you notes to write and send
a hot cobbler

this burden, lifted
cards in the mail
a low-key fourth
a peanut butter cupcake from Wegmans
books by Erin and Lanie

a shop set up at the door
owls swooping in the yard at dusk
a sunny Sunday
weeds to pull

that man of mine

Thursday, July 2, 2015


So grateful for friends who offer chocolate, meals and prayer--who wipe my brow and push me back into the ring.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015


Weeks of a child's health issue. Lesson prep for a new class. Lesson prep for Lanie. Yard. Home. Laundry. Shopping. VBS. Doctors. Rehearsals and recital. The Father's Day stuff. And a group gathering I thought I could handle just before a viewing and cakes to bake. I was cutting the grass fifteen minutes before they arrived.

I found I asked the same question to a friend at least four times. And when another friend texted about attending the viewing, I suggested we ride together. But when she replied later of extra in the car, I frayed.

I held my arms out balancing trays full of responsibility, and a daily onslaught of forward motion knocked them from my grasp. I watched it all fall.

This week--a specialist. A hospital. A yard to cut and food to buy. Recovery. Books to read and classes to prepare. Laundry. Shopping. More. This time machine keeps moving.

I grabbed a rag and wet it down in vinegar water, I got one for Lanie too, and together we started scrubbing baseboards. And then we wiped down cabinets and de-webbed the corners. It bonds us. We did the whole main level.

At the other house, I remembered therapy by fours. The little white 4x4 tiles on the bathroom floor and how I scrubbed them the summer we prepped to sell. How I prayed and cried and scrubbed and let the white clean soothe me.

Who am I in the midst of chaos? And who do I want to be? It humbles me.

I hunker down and time's forward motion pulls me.

The baseboards gleam and the laundry room's grays and whites are calming. I'm grateful for the very little things, the clean and order of one small space.