Beautiful Brides and Black Lives

Twenty four years ago, in the months of May, June and July of 1996 there was an epidemic of wedding fever within my social circle. Having recently seen all the anniversary posts on Facebook, I believe there were roughly 10 couples in my relatively close friend group who married within mere weeks of each other, Dom and I making our own vows somewhere in the middle on June 1.

At one wedding in particular, as the bride straightened her veil and bridesmaids fluffed her train a friend commented, “Doesn’t she just look beautiful?”

Another nearby friend replied with a disinterested eyeroll, “Well, you know, all brides are beautiful.”

The backhanded compliment shocked those in earshot and diminished that particular bride’s feeling of joy and elation in that moment.  While the words themselves taken out of context were essentially true, the statement actually refused to acknowledge the bride’s individual beauty and produced an air of awkward tension for a while. It had such a profound impact on our circle that for years later, any time we truly meant to dismiss something, regardless of the subject matter, we would give a Miranda Priestly-like wave of our hand and say, “Well, you know, all brides are beautiful.”

When we say or when we acknowledge that black lives matter, we are not saying that all other lives don’t matter. But when we counter “Black lives matter” with “No, ALL lives matter,” it has the same diminishing effect.  Yes, all lives do matter.  As a Christian I believe that without doubt and without compromise.  But I believe that we must particularly acknowledge in this time that black lives matter because we who have never worried about the color of our own skin have for so long diminished them, dismissed them, ignored them. We may not have been overt in doing so, but by not actively living as though we believe black lives matter, we may as well have said that they don’t.  We need to say, “Black lives matter,” because our collective past actions have demonstrated otherwise. Our actions and attitudes have relegated black lives to the expendable.  If we truly believe that all lives matter, then we don’t need to qualify or specify that they all do. Saying that black lives matter puts the appreciation on every black life and forces us to recognize their inherent value. We should, without reservation and without hesitation, acknowledge the life before us.  Acknowledge that that life matters – the person in front of you, the person next to you, the person you don’t know who might look different from you.  THAT life matters.

Let us not diminish anyone’s value simply because the world is full of valuable people.  My friend was a beautiful bride on her wedding day, even if every other bride in the history of weddings was also beautiful.  We said it out loud simply because we loved her and it deserved to be said.  Can it not be the same for black lives?

Historically, civil rights for all, inalienable rights for all, freedom for all did not really apply to the collective all.  It doesn’t exactly apply today.  Despite history’s best efforts to teach us, we still have a lot to learn.  We can learn.  The question remains, looming like a squall on the horizon: will we?

Cousins, COVID, and the Class of 2020

My mom texted me this morning. Her phone had reminded her – a week early – of Victoria’s high school graduation ceremony that would have been held on May 16 at 9:00 AM.

That is, if the world hadn’t fallen apart.

That’s right – if we were pandemic-free, my baby girl would have graduated next weekend. I would have watched her walk across the stage right behind her cousin, Lucas.  I would have snapped a million pictures.  Seriously.  I would have totally drained my phone battery or my storage capacity, whichever proved to be the weaker link.  We would have left the ceremony and gathered with the entire family at our house, celebrating and laughing until the kids finally decided they had spent enough time with all us oldies and driven off in search of their friends.  Kasie and I would have uncorked a wine bottle and probably dusted off a photo album or two.  Oh, the photos!

We would have first turned to this page. The page appropriately titled “Yucas and Tortilla,” because that is what they called each other when they were toddlers. Cue the awwwwwwwww’s.

Yucas and Tortilla in the toybox – 2004

Born just six months apart, these two were so stinkin’ precious.  And trouble? Don’t even get me started! I mean, really.  Look at those faces.  (Although, I have to add one small caveat here… it was Lucas’s sister, Bella, with whom Vic spent the most time in “time-out” at Mimi’s.)

Trouble with a toy train – 2005

But days become months, months become years.   Kids grow up.  Moments get breathed into being, then reshape and reform until they blur into one strange memory on whose continuum we cannot determine exactly when the change occurred.  We miss the growth while it’s happening.  We miss the sprouting of the seed and the budding of the leaves.  We look around one day and we have a tree.  Or an adult.  Or two, as the case may be.

Growing, growing, GROWN! – June 2019

When we recognize the moment, when we see the pending end of an era that we honestly don’t want to end, we smile at the memories.  We swipe away a tear before it has a chance to ruin the day’s makeup.  And we pray that those trees have strong enough roots.

As my children grew, one of my dear friends told me that it may not always be the “firsts” that tug most at my heart; oftentimes, it will be the “lasts.” She was so right. This is my last baby.  Grown, even if not quite flown from the nest.  But I know it won’t be long. These photos make me sad and nostalgic, but they also make me immensely happy.  For our family, both tearjerkers exist here.  John and Kasie are experiencing their first child to graduate, and Dom and I are experiencing our last.  It is bittersweet, to be certain.  It is worth celebrating; it is worth writing; and it is even worth crying over. We are so madly proud of our babies, though it’s evident they aren’t babies anymore.

Marion C. Garretty is credited with saying, “A cousin is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.”  I believe it.  I’ve witnessed it. I feel it when I look at these photos.  I am eternally grateful to my niece Bella for taking such great cap-n-gown pictures of these two. Her talent has made my heart smile.

To all the graduates of 2020, but especially to Lucas and Victoria, may every day be an adventure, may you love and live life to the fullest, may the sun shine always on you, and may the stars write your name.

I love you forever,

Mom / Aunt Lori

Parting Words

I read a blog post today that really struck home, in both a good and bad way. A fellow Mom let off some steam about all the “rules” of parenting and how absolutely tiresome they are.  The rant got my attention because the title referenced slathering toxic cream (sunscreen) onto her children. I actually thought it was going to be a post about the dangers of the toxic creams and how regular joes can avoid them, which – as you know – I support. But she went in a completely different direction, humorously focusing instead on how following the do’s and don’ts often prevents us from living the very life we seek.

She’s right. I mean, she’s dead-on, nail-on-the-head, face-palm right.

Why did this resonate with me so? I’m glad you asked.  If you’ve read my blog before, you might have noticed that I only posted twice in 2015. There are two reasons for this: 1) I was actually busier living life than writing about it and 2) I found that the thoughts I was trying to formulate into an educational blog post were often this-is-how-you-should-do-it thoughts which would serve to benefit no one other than me. I don’t EVER want someone to read my blog or anything I’ve written and feel like they are being judged or criticized for the choices they have made. Remember that saying our mothers taught us, “If you can’t say anything nice…”? I’m proud to say that I actually listened. When I read what Sarah wrote in her post, it reinforced my belief that no one should feel like the job they are doing as a parent is not good enough. Ever. And I thought, Amen, sister! To hell with the parenthood rules.

I admit that when this blog started I found a ton of mommy-bloggers who seemed to have their lives tidy and packaged and wrapped in a shiny bow. I had already stepped quite a way outside of my comfort zone to share with the web my successes and my failures at a year of changes toward natural living.  I used the blog as my scrapbook, and then I found the entire mommy-blogging community. I thought they were geniuses, and I envied the amount of readers they had. I bought a domain and linked it to all the stellar blogs I followed. I signed up for Twitter.  I created a Facebook page and invited friends to like it.

To date, my FB page is a dead horse and if I may be honest here, I hate Twitter.  Hate it.

The effort of keeping up with all the e-social requirements was exhausting. I mean, really. How in the hell are we supposed to experience life if we’re sitting in front of a screen watching stats and comments all day long? Seriously? If I do that, then eventually I’m not going to know the kids I’m writing about.

It took me about a year to realize I had better things to do with my life. I ditched my efforts at gaining followers and my readership remained in the single digits.  I could live with that.

So basically, I have two reasons for writing today.  First, I’m thinking that I will not renew this domain when it expires.  I will move all the posts over to my primary blog, www.DomAndLori.net, just to keep my ADHD and parenting advice available – you know, on the off chance that a reader needs my words to tell him or her that it’s okay to call the shots. (As if.) Essentially, I believe the shelf-life of The Purpose Driven Mom is nearing its end.  It’s cool.  Because honestly, every time Facebook tells me someone looked at my page, I feel this overwhelming responsibility to go write a new post or update the site. But at the same time, I’m not feeling the “purpose,” so the responsibility is mildly aggravating at best. Besides, notifications from all these damn apps are on my last nerve. Example: Pinterest tells me today that I have 25 pins waiting for me.  Um, no, I don’t.  My friends saved 25 pins and Pinterest thinks I care.  Kiss off, already, Pinterest. It’s not like I’m going to suddenly want a knitting pattern and forget you exist.  Give me some dang breathing room. (And yes, for all you techies with the knowledge knots, I have already turned off the notifications.  And I’m still getting them. Figure that one.)

Second, I have some parting words for anyone who reads this post, whether you’re here because you followed the mission from the beginning or because you just stumbled upon the page and felt like spending some time with me. (Thank you for that, by the way.)  I have spent a full six years changing my lifestyle, helping friends with food advice and recipes, and attempting to make my corner of the world a little more natural, if not altogether better. Sometimes I have succeeded and other times I have fallen flat on my face.  But I have learned in these six years that the journey is entirely mine and that my mission includes not judging people who do not walk the same path.  To that end, I feel I have achieved my mission.  But I want you all to know a few things before I bid you adieu, some things I hope will help you on your own journey:

• Please, for the love of everything holy, don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you are less of a person or less of a parent because of your choices. If you love your children and let them know it, then you are a good parent in my book. When you read an internet post or email that says you HAVE to do this or do that, unless it seems like something you have the desire, the time and the energy to try, IGNORE it. If you wanna give it a shake, do so. But if you try it and find that it doesn’t make your life better, then allow yourself to Let. It. Go.  And show the haters your middle finger.
• There is a ton of electronic information on recipes, tips and tricks to make natural living easy. Spoiler alert: 99% of them do not work for the long haul. Trust me.  I have made every recipe for natural cleaner on the internet. I have tried many of the home remedies suggested by mostly-trustworthy writers, and I have found very few things that actually live up to their claims. (Six years, people.  Six long years.) I have found many things that I have no desire to even try. I love coffee, but putting butter in it, despite the claims, does not make it or me bulletproof. And the idea of a coffee enema is a straight-up Hell No.  After six years of research, of all the “natural” cures on the internet I can vouch for three.  Get that? Three. They are:
  • Lavender essential oil works for minor burns. It immediately takes the pain out of burns from bacon grease splatters, and it even worked when I hit my knuckle on the oven element last week.  I will always have a bottle in the kitchen cabinet.  Take that for what it’s worth.
  • Heartburn cure: 1 Tablespoon Apple Cider Vinegar and 1 teaspoon honey diluted with about half a cup of water. Chug it, shoot it, whatever you wanna call getting it down the guzzler. It is the only thing that has ever worked on me, and it cures in less than ten minutes.  Granted, I’ve only had heartburn four times in my life, but OHMYGOSH I would cut out my esophagus to alleviate that pain!  This worked every time, and it will forever be my remedy.
  • Allergy cure: take the heartburn remedy and add ¼ teaspoon cinnamon and 1/8 teaspoon turmeric. I usually hit this three times a day when I’m sniffling. This works on me, my husband and my son when the seasonal pollen count threatens to take us down.  My daughter won’t go near it, so we may never know if it works on her.  She’s good with a box of Kleenex, so we shrug and move on.
  • BONUS cure: I don’t think this one is on the internet, maybe it is…I’ve never looked. My grandmother taught us this treatment for ant bites.  If you get attacked by ants, immediately grab handfuls of leaves from two totally different plants or trees (soft leaves work best) and pulverize them together in your hands. Rub – no, smear – them all over the ant bites until your skin is green from the chlorophyll.  This seems to take the sting out right away and keeps the pustules from forming. I’ve used this remedy for years.

So there they are, folks – the four natural, everyday remedies I am willing to vouch for after six years of research and practice. As far as food goes, I will always endorse clean eating as a means of staying well and being good to your body. You want to use whatever diet/method/lifestyle supports your best health, no matter what anyone else thinks of it. If there is anything I have learned in these six years, it is that change is hard, and each person has to decide for himself or herself how much change is worth it. My personal food choices are wildly unpopular, but they work for me and I feel good physically when I stick to those choices.

CONFESSIONS:

• While my best health is promoted by a grain-free lifestyle, my home is not grain-free. It’s not even totally organic.  My dogs eat grain-free.  My kids do not.
• My kids eat Reese’s Puffs. Yes, you read that right. I actually put in my grocery cart multiple boxes of full-on General Mills, GMO, gag-me-with-a-cereal-spoon Reese’s Freakin’ Puffs. Why? Because it makes them happy. They know my opinions and ideals, and they share some but not all of them.  Once they became teenagers, I felt like they had the right to make that choice. So if they want canned ravioli or Pizza Rolls or Kraft Mac & Cheese, by George, they’re gonna have it.  I pick my battles.
• I love to be in the sun, but I don’t use sunscreen unless I’m swimming. Judge away, just don’t tell me about it. I have my reasons for not listening.
• I have loved my readers’ comments, especially when they tell me that I helped them consider a new view or that they found parental support on my blog. I felt like my presence here was helping someone, and that made me feel good. I owe gratitude to everyone who ever bothered to read my words and write me back.
• I have considered ditching my Facebook account altogether because my newsfeed is full of aggravating articles from activist organizations that I once “liked.” I need to take my own advice and just flip those organizations the bird, but even that task seems like an energy drain.
• I texted my husband yesterday before I left work and told him that I wanted chocolate and wine. Like, for dinner. I was serious.  And I got them.

It’s been a pleasure to share this journey with you, my friends, but it’s time to close this chapter of my internet life.  I wish you health and peace, always.

Love, Lori

The Vaulted Files: Christmas Wreath Storage Solution

Tags

Christmas decorations, holiday clutter, wreath storage

I originally wrote this in early 2014 before my unintended sabbatical from blogging here.  Back to work, now…

So, there I was, packing away all the Christmas décor after Epiphany this year when it dawned on me that I now had sixteen – no, make that seventeen – Christmas wreaths hung in and on my home. I have to admit, I choked a little on the thought of buying enough boxes in which to store them. Where were all the boxes going to go?

One of the things we lucked into when we built our house is a closet in the garage, where Dom decided all of our holiday décor could live. And it just so happens that there is a lot of tall wall space in this closet. I wanted hooks for my wreaths. But, really – seventeen of them?

And that’s when this idea sprang to life. Home Depot, or any home store, has the brackets that hold closet shelves and rods, right? You know – these things…

They cost under $4 each.  And voila! They also hold about three wreaths (four, if you don’t mind smushing them on there.) The hook part that would hold the rod holds one of the wreaths so you can make sure the others don’t come sliding off of the bracket. I bought about six of these and placed them strategically on my wall so the wreaths can hang in the closet and I never have to worry about their bows getting all wonky from storage.

Now, go… be free and hang your wreaths! 😉

 

On the Ball

Tags

ball, canning accessories, cooking tools, herb sicissors, kitchen organization, kitchen shears, kitchen tools, pantry organization, removable labels, spice labels, spice lids, water infuser

I don’t usually do random product recommendations, but I am so taken with four new things recently, that I just have to share them with you.

You already know that I love to can foods. One of my future projects is to create the perfect Paleo Marinara and can up a ton of it. Tomato season will be arriving soon, so this is moving up on the to-do list. In the meantime, I keep looking at the canning supplies of my local stores. And I must say, Ball has some seriously cool new tools! Four of them top my list of all-time favorite kitchen aids.

Ball dissolvable labels. I can’t tell you how many times I have put leftovers in the fridge, mingled among various similar containers, only to forget what’s in each container, subsequently ignoring said containers and emptying them into the trash ten days later. (As I mumble Oh, yeahhhhh, we DID have pot roast last week. Darn!)

Enter these new labels. Cute as a button, real paper stickers that don’t require any special kind of pen. I label everything. Did you hear me??? EV-RY-THING. I have them in the fridge:

I have them in the pantry:

I have them in the bathroom:

The coolest part of these labels is that they wash right off! (Even accidentally, so don’t get your jar near water if you want to keep the label!) No scrubbing or special solvents to rid your item of stickiness. They wash right off in the dishwasher. Or under the faucet. It’s pretty cool to watch it dissolve off of the container under a stream of running water.  I think it’s safe to say my OCD loves these things!

Ball Five-Blade Herb Scissors. Holy mother of pearl, if you’ve ever spent ten minutes finely chopping herbs for a single meal, you need these scissors!! They have five blades, so you can chop herbs in jig time. I have been a parsley chopping fool for the past five months. I got these scissors three weeks ago, and my life hasn’t been the same since. Snip, snip…oh, look, all my chopping is done. I have time to have a glass of wine while hubby lights the grill!   These seriously rock!! The first time I used them, I freaked out when the parsley stuck all between the blades, leaving me to wonder how in the heck I was ever going to get all those herbs out of those tiny, sharp spaces. And then I looked at the cool plastic sheath that came with the scissors. There’s a corresponding five-blade grid on the end of the sheath that is used to clean out the scissors. Voila!!! No wasted herbs. Why can’t everything be this easy?

 

Ball Herb and Spice Lids. I thought the little quarter-pint jelly jars were too cute when they were sold as a set of four with these regular-size flip-top shaker lids. But now, Ball sells the lids in separate two-packs. I already had a full set of the tiny jars and was using the jar/lid/ring combos for my spices. But fiddling with lids and rings every time I want dried basil or shrimp seasoning gets old. These lids offer four generous holes covered by a secure flip-top. I love their size and color. My spice-cabinet loves their easy stackability.

Ball Mason Jar Infuser. Okay, so this one really isn’t a kitchen tool. It’s a sippy cup for adults. Whatever. I love it. This infuser fits wide-mouth mason jars and supplies a drinking lid and removable infuser compartment. Just fill the infuser with your favorite herbs, fruits, whatever, and fill the jar with water or tea. Moments later, you have a rockin’ flavored beverage. The infuser is dishwasher safe and BPA-free, for the win!

So there it is, folks: my love of all things Ball. Green rocks!

The Vaulted Files: The Fine Line

 

(I am finding a lot of crazy stuff in the vault, which duly represents the crazy in my head.  Much like the saying goes for blowing your nose: “Better out than in.” LOL.  Enjoy…)

I am an absolutist.  (Is that a word?  I should have looked that up first…sorry.)  I would normally say I’m an extremist, but my understanding of extremism is that it breeds intolerance for other people’s decisions, and that just doesn’t sound like something I want to be.  For instance, I believe that certified artificial food colorings are absolutely bad for us.  So I spend three times as much money on Unjunked m&m’s for my kids’ candy treats.  That’s my absolutism.  If I were an extremist, I imagine I would storm the middle school and demand that they stop selling Skittles to innocent kids.  And then my son would die of embarrassment because his mom is the crazy lady who attacked the concession table.  So I just prefer to work in absolutes.  And here’s how I came to this conclusion:

I was thinking about this the other day, feeling like I was sitting far-out on a hippie limb all by myself, wondering why we as a society even allow poisons in our foods, much less voluntarily consume them.  One thought led to another and the next thing I knew, I had planned out the next two decades.  The odds of my children finding and falling in love with others who had been raised on grass-fed beef, organic veggies and homemade bread are slim to none.  And then I started thinking that my poor grandchildren (God willing I ever have any) will face all the health problems that I’ve tried to prevent in my own children, simply because my daughter- or son-in-law would have contributed the wonky chromosomes tainted by Big-Ag and corporate America, all because his or her mother didn’t give two hoots about Roundup-resistant wheat and soybeans.  And then I’m quite technically back where I started.

So then I thought how nice it would be to have a huge commune for those of us who want to live away from the oppression of our corporate food supply. We could farm together, raise happy chickens and cows, and control everything we consumed.  We would be untainted by the outside world.

There are just two problems with this idea:  1) I’m not, and have no desire to be, Amish; and 2) no matter how good our intentions at the beginning, eventually we would all find some Kool-Aid to share.

So, no, this idea of segregating ourselves from modern society will never work.  And I wouldn’t want it to, really.  My rules can really only be imposed on me (and my kids for the time being), and that’s okay.  So I’ll just hang on to my absolutes and do what I can to make the world a better place in my little corner of it.

Unjunked candy, anyone?

The Vaulted Files: Infestation??? Horrors!!

Tags

head lice, Logic Products Group, natural lice remedies

I have a rather insane storage vault of unpublished posts, both for this blog and for my life and love ramblings over at DomAndLori.  Some of them are not just unpublished, they are unfinished.  But I intend at some point to publish them anyway. Here is the first to come out of the vault: 

 

Let me be honest at the start, here: this is not something I want to be talking about.  For the second Christmas holiday in a row, my family is battling head lice.  Go ahead and gag now.  I’ve made a morning of it, myself.

I truly had hoped that we would be done with all this nonsense once the kids got out of elementary school.  Oh, sure, I had seen many a note come home in their backpacks about a lice sighting in their wee years’ classrooms, and I was smugly grateful that it never struck us personally.  Until 2012.  There we were, minding our own business, settling into the new home, enjoying Christmas and BAM!!  We were hit with a one-two punch.  Vic and me.  E-gad!  This is what I get for snuggling my kids?  I took roughly five days off of work to deal with 1) the infestation of those little unseen buggers and 2) my personal trauma/embarrassment/failure as a parent.  Overdramatic much??

To debunk any misconceptions of the nastiness that surely must exist in my home and on my person, I learned the following during that horrific week of wanting to claw my own eyes out:

1. Lice attaches itself better to clean hair.  Yes, folks, contrary to popular belief, you do not have to be a filthy person to suffer the injustice of head lice.  Clean hair holds the eggs better, so I guess, Yay, we’re clean!
2. You don’t just have to share hairbrushes with someone or sleep on their pillow to get head lice.  Lice are sneaky, creative travelers and sometimes where it came from and how you got it is only a guess.
3. There is a proliferation of chemical-laden treatments on the shelves of our local pharmacies.  None of them are natural or holistic, and very few of them are safe for repeated use.  Granted, I almost don’t care if it burns my scalp off, I want to use whatever I can as often as I can to make the hell pass more quickly.

Last year as I was confessing the horror to a coworker, she knowingly stated, “It doesn’t matter how natural and against chemicals you are, once you are dealing with head lice, you will practically douse your kids in gasoline just to get rid of it.”  Omigosh, having now been through it twice, I can tell you…truer words were never spoken.

For months afterward, any time either of my children itched above the neck they would run to me and blurt, “Check me!!” and I would commence to combing through their hair to make sure they were not infested again.  And fortunately, they never were.  But there I was this morning, unassumingly stroking my son’s hair as he slouched on the bathroom floor, nauseated from what we would determine four hours later to be the flu.  The flu, people.  My son is wrestling the flu and I’m thinking out loud, “We need to cut your hair soon, sweetie.  Wait a minute, what’s this in your hair? WHAT THE %$#@! IS THAT?!!!!!!!”

But I knew exactly what it was.  And I was nearly sick right beside him.  Within minutes I was checking the Hubster, my daughter and myself, determining whom to treat and whom to all-out quarantine, practically in tears with the memory of last year.  But I sniffed the tears back, grabbed my keys and a ponytail holder and sped off to WalMart at 6:30 in the morning to begin my journey:

Step 1: Drop well over $100 on every kind of lice treatment on the shelf.  Throw in some homeopathic cough meds and several packs of Ricola, and hope something gives the kid some relief.

Step 2: Treat every head with gawdawful pesticides while Hubster strips beds down and begins the laundry cycles.  I love the Sanitize feature of my washing machine.  It’s great for making sure my stuff is clean when we’re dealing with crap like this.  Forget that it takes four days to wash two loads.  Sheesh!

Step 3: Send text messages to family members whom we have been around during the holidays.  Pray that they don’t have it too.  This brings up a touchy point:  Yes, it is highly embarrassing to admit to someone that you have head lice.  I get that.  I’ve had it twice now and sharing the news hasn’t gotten any easier.  You will feel like a pariah.  But hear me on this one thing: You must let others know so that they can treat and/or prevent the malady in their own households.  Yes, it sucks to call someone up and say, “Hey, great seeing you the other day! I’m so glad we got to spend those eight hours together!  By the way, we have lice, so check your heads.”  There’s no easy way to do it.  But you have to.  And when that person you’ve called is dealing with head lice later, hopefully he or she will remember your honesty and pay it forward.

Step 4: Run to the pediatrician’s office for flu test on a Saturday morning.  Thank God they are open on weekends!

Step 5: Take a moment to actually breathe and read the label on the spray can for the furniture.  I had forgotten why I didn’t use it last year.  Dear goodness.  We would have to sit all four of us plus the dogs outside in the cold while the stuff dries on the furniture, then ventilate the cold into the house so that we can once again breathe indoors.  Who the hell created this stuff?  Monsanto?

Having two dogs and one flu-ridden son prevents me from opening windows and spraying toxic chemicals in my home on a December day.  So I took to the Internet, hoping something somewhere would provide some measure of treatment for my furniture and non-washables.  Vacuuming, steaming and scrubbing just doesn’t seem like enough.  In the five days I took off work last year last year I wiped down, scrubbed and cleaned every surface to the best of my ability.  I was exhausted.  I’ll do it all over again out of necessity, but I’d like some help.

And so I stumbled upon the Logic Products Group, founded by a mom just like us.  She too dealt with the horror of head lice and discovered that there were no natural, safe treatments available.  She has remedied that.  I ended up on her site because of her household spray, which is reported to be safe for repeated use around pets and people, unlike any of the spray products you will find at the pharmacy.  I ordered a bottle straight from her site and another bottle from Amazon with my Prime membership.  Unfortunately, I won’t have the product until next week, so I’ll be vacuuming and scrubbing until then.  Without the benefit of trying the products yet, I am impressed by what I see on their site.  They have general products for the home as well as flea and tick treatment for pets. (Update: I purchased the furniture spray and the lice shampoo.  I sprayed everything down and was pleased with the spray, but did not have the opportunity to use the shampoo, as it arrived a week after the trauma had ended.)

The Nourishing Gourmet also wrote a great post on natural treatments of head lice.  Neem oil and tea tree oil are top choices for treatment and prevention in her post.

So – quick recap – we have head lice, flu and now (oh joy!) a puking dog.  There simply is not enough wine in this house.  I seem to recall a bottle of tea tree oil in my bathroom cabinet, so I’m off to mix that into some water and spray on all our heads for good measure.  Hey – better than gasoline!

Why No Wheat?

Tags

diabetes, glycemic index, Grain Brain, no grains, paleo, pre-diabetic, wheat, Wheat Belly

I had the “wheat-free” conversation with two friends recently, which prompted me to write this post.  Over the course of the last year and a half whenever I tell someone that I try to follow the Paleo lifestyle for eating, they always ask why I don’t eat grains.  I suppose sugar is a no-brainer for most people, as it was for me, but I didn’t always have a ready answer on the grain part.  I had only vague “grains are anti-nutrients” statements that I could not support with any memorable scientific notes.  Not being one to try to force people to my way of thinking, I’d shrug and let it go.  What’s right for me isn’t necessarily right for someone else.  Hadn’t I learned that already in my own household?

Last autumn when my husband was diagnosed as being pre-diabetic I read through the literature his doctor sent home with him.  It recommended low-fat foods, fruits, vegetables and lots of whole grains.  Ugh.  But I nearly lost it when the literature encouraged diet soft drinks and sugar-free candy.  ENCOURAGED!!!   I read the absurdities out loud and then tossed the literature across the table.

“Will you help me eat right?” my husband asked.

“I don’t agree with that crap,” I said, pointing to the literature endorsed by the American Diabetes Association. “I can’t even explain to you exactly why I don’t agree with it, but I can’t stomach the idea of medical professionals telling people whole grains and Aspartame are good for you.”

“Then we’ll throw those papers away.  Will you help me eat right?” he asked again.

How could I say no?  He was placing more trust in me than in his doctor, and I wasn’t about to let him down.  I jumped back on my Paleo bandwagon with both feet.  Dom immediately cut out grains and sugars.  His blood sugar, which we tested daily, normalized at once and over the course of the next three months he lost 20 pounds.  Even better than those awesome health benefits, we were enjoying cooking dinner together almost every night and sharing lunch at home during the workdays.  I decided to make it my mission to find out why this grain-free life was treating us so kindly.

Two of the books I have read in my quest are Grain Brain and Wheat Belly, both written by physicians and chock-full of science.  Admittedly, I sometimes found myself zoning out from all the scientific references, but two things caught my attention and held it: 1) Both doctors referenced cases of various illness and disorders which other doctors could not specifically diagnose – all alleviated with the elimination of grain from the diet; and 2) the scientific trials referenced in both books included tens of thousands of individuals – large scale research.  Conversely, I overheard our local news recently touting a health study in which 200 individuals participated.  Wow…a whole 200 people?  Please.

Even though I had already given up wheat and other grains, these books reinforced my resolve to avoid them.  Some basic facts that strengthened my understanding are:

• It’s not my great-great-grandmother’s wheat.  The wheat we eat today has been so genetically modified in order to produce larger crops and greater profitability that it no longer resembles the wheat of our ancestors, and it wreaks havoc on the body in ways that ancient grains simply did not.
• The inclusion of grains as the basis of our food pyramid (not to mention the sheer proportion of grains compared to other foods in our “recommended daily nutrition”) is not based on any scientific evidence.  It was pretty much decided by a group of politicians in the 70’s (who were likely trying to support corporate agriculture) and simply never challenged.
• Genetically engineered wheat (roughly 99% of all wheat world-wide) can not survive in a natural environment.  Originally created to produce higher yields in an effort to offset world hunger, these grains were propelled into our food supply without any studies on their health effects.
• From a blood glucose standpoint, a slice of whole wheat bread whacks out your blood sugar more than a Snickers bar.  (NOT that I am advocating you dine on Snickers!)  To be precise, a Snickers bar has a glycemic index (GI) of 49.  A slice of whole wheat bread has an average GI of 71.  This information alone makes me furious that the ADA literature I referred to earlier actually promoted wheat products and whole grains for people wanting to manage diabetes.  I guess I should just be happy that they didn’t advise we have a Snickers bar with our diet soda.

I looked at the American Diabetes Association’s website explanation of GI on various foods.  They list the GI of a piece of whole wheat bread as “medium GI (56-69)” while stating white bread has a “high GI (70+).” Conversely, according to the Harvard Medical School, whole wheat bread averages a GI of 71, the very same as white bread.  Surprising to most, a “healthy” bowl of instant oatmeal averages a GI of 83.  I looked extensively at various groups’ food GI charts and came to my own conclusion:  given the extensive varieties of food products available to us in the stores, the data pretty much can be expressed in any light to support any claim.  But I have to marvel at the fact that a whopping 79 million people in the U.S. are “pre-diabetic.”  From my standpoint, it’s easy to see why.

Okay, so I gave up bread (and oatmeal and crackers and cereal and donuts and… you get the picture).  Wanna know what else I gave up?  My ever-growing list includes joint pain, cramps, blemishes and skin oddities.  Dom gave up antacids entirely.  Just a little slip (which we made on two separate weekends) brings back symptoms we would have otherwise ignored in our former selves.  So many health inconveniences were just accepted as a part of life and aging.  But the elimination of wheat (and likely sugar too) has proven that life and aging can be so much better than we had been trained to accept!

So, what do I eat?  Well, lots of eggs, uncured meats, cheeses, whole milk (I’m “paleo plus dairy” 🙂 ) fruits, nuts and vegetables.  We drink red wine with dinner.  No sugars, no starches.  I rely on sweet potatoes for an indulgent carb boost and paleo “treats” for my occasional sweet tooth.  (See Living Healthy with Chocolate and PaleOMG for some awesome treat recipes!)  I don’t worry about calories, fat or cholesterol for many of the reasons cited in the two books referenced above.

And no, quitting wheat cold-turkey was not super-easy.  I actually did it three times before it stuck.  This last time, with Dominic’s health at stake and armed with much more information, I walked away from wheat and didn’t look back.  But I know how hard it can be… after all, I made an Italian give up pasta.

I’m no doctor and I don’t pretend to be.  I don’t know your personal situation and cannot guarantee any results for anyone, including myself.  But if you’re dealing with an ailment no one can identify, or you’re simply just wishing you could feel better, try eliminating wheat and grain from your diet.  Give it four weeks and see how you feel.  It may work for you; it may not.  I’m betting that it will.

I found a quote on Facebook the other day that stated, “Every time you eat or drink, you are either feeding disease or fighting it.”  (Credit: Heather Morgan, MS, NLC.)  I have learned that I’m a fighter.  How ’bout you?

I wish you health and peace.

Where Did I Go Wrong??

Tags

aspartame, headache, wrigley's gum

That’s a rhetorical question, of course. I know exactly where I went wrong.  No need to rub it in.

It all started a little over a week ago when Victoria popped a piece of Juicy Fruit gum in her mouth.  Wow…Juicy Fruit.  I used to LOVE that gum when I was little.  My immediate reaction, though, was “That’s not a gum I approve, you know.”  Oh, she knows. My comment made little difference as she smacked away on it and tucked the remaining pack back into her purse.  I reasoned to myself that a stick of Juicy Fruit was certainly not the end of the world, high fructose corn syrup be damned.

Fast forward to last night at the grocery store, where as I am sliding my debit card back into my purse, Victoria is slapping not one but TWO packs of Doublemint gum on the counter behind me, cash in hand.

“What’s in that gum?” I ask.  She shrugs and emphasizes the fact that she’s buying this contraband with her own money.  Fair enough, I reason. I try to give my kids freedom in spending their own money while encouraging them to make smart choices along the way.  How else will they learn, right?

I pick up one of the packs and flip it over to the ingredients list. Corn syrup, no surprise.  Guar gum, gum base, yadayadayada.  Holy crap: Aspertame.  Acesulfame K!  BHT!!  I feel my own head exploding as I announce the evil ingredients.  “Vic!!  This stuff is horrible!!”

“I’m not going to chew a whole pack in a day, Mom!” she protests.

“No,” I reply, “you’re going to poison yourself a little at a time over the course of the next week, rendering your entire nervous system defenseless against the tiny, steady onslaught of toxins.  My God, you might as well start drinking Diet Coke!  I mean, really, what if you want to have children when you’re grown up?  Is that pack of gum worth ruining your chances before you’re even old enough to want them?!”

Yep. There it was.  Did you see it?  I became THAT mother.  I didn’t say anything I don’t believe, but I said it in a way that I can’t stand, and worse, in front of people who don’t understand.  I could feel the eyes of the cashier upon me as Dom bagged up my slew of organic, unprocessed, non-GMO groceries.  I know she was thinking, “Oh, poor kid!”

Truthfully, though, for reasons I couldn’t readily explain to anyone, I felt like a dagger had been driven through my heart.  Aspartame and BHT were two of the first ingredients I identified as dangerous back in 2010.  Everyone understood their harmful effects.  Didn’t they?  Or had the passage of time and priority weakened our commitment to safe and healthy eating?

Our commitment.  Was it really ours?  Or was it just mine, forced on my family because 8 and 9-year olds don’t have as much buying power as (the now) 12 and 13-year olds?  It was a really low moment for me.

In the car on the way home I tried to reiterate to Victoria what Aspartame and BHT do inside the body.  I ran a short litany of side-effects.  At the mention of headaches, light bulbs switched on for both of us.  Vic had been having unexplained headaches for about the past week, complaining at least every other day.  We had estimated causes to be the change in weather, change in hormones, not enough sleep.  It didn’t occur to me to ask, “Have you chewed any crappy gum lately?”  It’s not labeled as sugar-free, because there is corn syrup in it, so I would have never guessed that Wrigley’s made its gum with the artificial sweetener Aspartame.  But now we know.

Part of me feels that she’s still young enough for me to control what she has access to.  And I do not mean to give that up entirely, lest you think I’m okay with her touring crack-houses as a hobby.  But another part of me feels that she has to learn some things on her own.  She has to be allowed to make choices, even those that I don’t agree with.  My part in this stage of her life is to keep her alive and safe and make sure she can match the effect to its cause in any circumstance and learn from the experience.

I just pray that I have the grace to not be such a jerk about it.

The Minimum

While driving to work a while ago I noticed a new billboard.  It has a smiling man on it with five simple words: “Do the minimum.  (I do.)”  Way to instill confidence, SafeAuto.  I can see how “good neighbors” and “good hands” would be a turn-off.  Your marketing reps must be proud.

Despite that this ad was for auto insurance and had the polar opposite of its intended effect on me, it made me think about all that we do and wonder why we would ever want to promote doing the minimum.  Isn’t that kind of what’s wrong with us?  Everybody wants to get more and give less?  Avoid all the cost and still benefit with all the gain?  Don’t we already spend too much energy trying to claim more while actually doing less?

It reminds me of a former co-worker.  I was new on the job, fresh out of college and eager to learn.  I’ve always been motivated at work – in a behind-the-scenes kind of way.  A wallflower in public, I’m not too big on taking in all the attention, even for a job well done.  But I truly believe any job I do has my name on it and my reputation behind it.  So that makes it worth giving my all.    Anyway, about a month or so into the job a problem arose and I volunteered a solution.  No one really understood how to implement the solution even though it sounded good to them, so I also volunteered my own energy to make it happen.  I viewed it as a chance to sink my teeth into something creative, and they viewed it as an opportunity for an issue to be corrected without taking their time from other duties.  Everyone walked away happy.  Win-Win.

As soon as the directors were out of earshot, my co-worker tsk–tsk-ed me, warning, “You’d better be careful.  Don’t let them know what all you can do, because then they will expect you to do it.  It’s best to keep quiet and let them do the work.  You’ll see.”

I was dumbfounded, completely blown away that someone with that attitude could actually draw a paycheck.  While I picked my jaw up off the ground, she rolled her eyes and turned back toward her computer, leaving a lasting impression on me.

I suppose that was a lesson that naïve little Lori needed to learn.  No matter how I expect people to behave, many of them will only ever do the minimum.  Some of them will expect me to follow suit.

I won’t.

Not in life. Not in relationships.  Not in my work.

And for the record, I won’t change my expectations of other people, either.  And I fully intend to teach my children the value of exceeding the minimum.  Take THAT, smiling billboard man.