The Rule of One Revisted

Yesterday was the first Sunday of Advent, and I managed to talk Jessie into coming to church with me to celebrate the verb to HOPE. I love this season of waiting, and was grateful for Busted Halo’s first day of Advent practice—taking a breath any time you find yourself having to wait. A hopeful practice, a being-present practice, and definitely a practice needed by mothers trying to get daughters to church on a Sunday morning after a Saturday night of partying.

After church, Jessie darted ahead of me into Fraser Hall, first to the table of snacks and treats. We are, of course, focused on mastering the Rule of One this season. And there are many opportunities to practice it, along with waiting and hope. Which seem to be what I need to focus on, in support of the Rule of One that is.   

As I approached the table, Jessie’s furtive smile (ah, braces, there is no hiding consumed matter with braces) showed me that she had already partaken of at least one treat, not counting the chocolate brownie and slice of lemon cake she was holding, one in each hand. I gave her the mother-evil-eye (you are out of line, but I won’t yell because we are in public) and she turned away from me, quickly walking to the edge of the room to smile sweetly (mouth full) at her former brownie leader sitting in a chair by the window.

When I finally got her out of the hall and in to the car, we discussed (a polite description of our conversation, which involved a lot of heavy breathing on my part, and which I am not sure is exactly what Busted Halo meant by taking a breath, but sometimes you only have variations to offer), again, the Rule of One.

But Mom! said Jessie. I used the Rule of One. I remembered ‘take one,’ so I took one. . . . And then I took more.

Needless to say, we will continue to work on the Rule of One. At least during this season, there are many chances to practice.

And we had 2 chances to practice the Rule of One, first at our church, then at another church's Advent supper last night with the Harts. This is Jessie and Minda, mom of the Hart family. Minda encourages eating lots of delicious food. Jessie is sticking with her through this season. So am I.  

   

The Rule of One: In Which I Tell the Truth About Food

The truth about food is that it is a continual challenge—to eat reasonable portions, to eat at reasonable times, to make reasonable choices for particular times of the day (like, for example, avoiding ice cream for breakfast), and to eat at a reasonable pace. I will not detail what defines “reasonable,” just state that it is a very generous definition.

The truth about food is that Jessie’s difficulty demonstrating self-control around food is limiting her ability to go to certain functions on her own. Because she makes herself sick, or I get calls of concern from her colleagues or mentors.

I will state that we never used food as anything other than food. And we have always enjoyed food—baking, cooking, eating, sharing, preserving. So the root cause of the challenge is something that I am not sure of. I do know that there are certain things we no longer have in our house—like ketchup and nutrigrain bars.

However, we are trying to make certain situations manageable and as easy as possible. So we came up with the RULE OF ONE. When you go out, you can get ONE muffin, you can take ONE sandwich, you can drink ONE soda, you can buy ONE croissant, you can have ONE piece of cake, etc… It covers most situations and is a pretty clear rule. One. Simple, straight forward. Those are things that always work best in the beginning.

And I was speaking to Claire, she of patience and other wise virtues, and she agreed that this was indeed a very good rule. A rule that they in fact use over at their house too. “But,” she said, because we often share our brilliant ideas and the not so brilliant (but certainly creative) variations our daughters dream up, “what do you do when Jessie applies the rule a bit too literally?” Country gal had taken Claire at her word and when she came home from school chose: one muffin, one yogurt, one rice dream, one smoothie, one juice, and one cheese as her snack.

There is no doubt, our daughters keep us thinking and reinventing..

What food rules do you have? And more importantly . . .  do they work?

Text Message Alert

While Jessie spends most of her time insisting that I not be involved in her life, guide her, teach her, or tell her what to do (other than being available to drive her where she wants when she wants and sew costumes and ripped favorite clothes within 2 minutes), she also has this need to text me what she is thinking or doing. This text just in:

I will refrain from hiting the reply button, unless anyone has any brilliant suggestions that don't involve "stuff" as a verb.

Okay, really, my next blog will be a buddhist blessing.

The Humble Kiwi (written January 5, 2011)

A new year, a new renewal intention—not a resolution, I don’t do those; except perhaps ones similar to Jessie’s when she was about 12 years old: “My resolution is to eat more donuts!”—to get back to blogging.

Much has transpired while I haven’t been blogging—Jessie’s inaugural experience of the Rocky Horror Picture Show at our local movie theatre, a bus trip to Cryville, a college tour to Toronto, yet another Christmas pageant, and my father’s diagnosis of terminal cancer—which just goes to show you that life happens even when not chronicled! Halleluiah for that!

However, because so much has happened (in small and nugatory bits that move us forward and along the path) I got overwhelmed by the idea of trying to catch up. So instead, I offer you the humble kiwi (more on college tours, bus trips, and futures planning later).

The kiwi is a small fruit. Green, fuzzy, difficult to peel, yet one of Jessie’s favorites. Not the best choice for a “fruit in the hand” kind of snack, but still, we try to keep a batch on hand to add to a winter fruit salad treat. At school, they are encouraging Jessie and her peers to make healthy food choices and to stretch their usual routines to include fresh fruit and vegetables (not processed foods). I will not question WHY this is so much more acceptable or even inspiring coming from Ms. Ashton or Ms. Ford than from me or Dan. I just bite my tongue when Jessie says, “Ms. Ashton says fresh fruit is healthy and we should be bringing it for lunch or a snack,” and not point to the handy lunch list we have posted in the kitchen that lists all the fresh fruits that she could/should pack for a healthy lunch. “What a good idea!” I say, and make a mental note to give them a list of all the things we have been trying to tell/teach Jessie and see if they can work their way through it.

This particular morning Jessie grabs a kiwi to add to her lunch box. She tells me that someone there will help her cut it and peel it at school. At dinner I ask her how that worked out. “It was good,” she said, “but I didn’t eat all of it.” “Oh?” “Well, I couldn’t find the knife and Tanya was busy and so I just kind of ate it.” “What do you mean?” “I bit into it. It was kind of fuzzy; not too bad.”

Ballistic mom freaks (that, I am afraid to admit, is me). WHAT!! But the skin could be poison! The skin on some vegetables and fruits is poison and you don’t just go eating it if you don’t know! Its fuzzy, it tastes horrible, and it could be poison! Don’t EVER do that again! You HAVE to know what you are eating! You CAN’T just eat skins and stuff without knowing … blah, rant, blah, rant, rant.

Sane mom (that, I will admit, is sometimes me) thinks. Hmmm. I wonder if the skin is poison? I better look it up. So I excuse my ranting self and head to the computer and look up kiwi. It turns out you CAN eat the skin (the picture shows a delightful slice of kiwi, skin, seeds, white stuff and all!). It turns out that the skin actually contains lots of antioxidants. Antioxidants: the meaning of which I had to explain to Jessie when I came back to the table contrite and apologetic. I had to tell her that she, in fact, made a smart move when she decided to eat the skins of the kiwi and that I, in fact, did not know what I was talking about.

I then had what appears to be turning into my usual dessert during these transition years: humble pie.

Two-Stomach Legacy

It is my father’s 80th birthday on Wednesday and this past Sunday we all—Grumps, Grams, Jessie, Dan, I, my brother Bill and his partner Leigh-Anne, and my other brother John—drove to Chateau Montebello on the Ottawa River for its renowned brunch.

Chateau Montebello used to be known as The Siegneury Club, and my father remembers when his father was a member and they would go there in the winter to skate, ski, and sled. It’s now owned by Fairmont and is an upscale yet rustic resort with biking, hiking, horseback riding, fishing, spa, and a famous Sunday brunch to die for!

We figured this would be a great way to celebrate my father’s 80th, as large and sweet brunches are his menu of choice. In fact, he shuns any foods that don’t look like they have either a) been processed or b) contain heart-stopping amounts of sugar and cream. While my father will pick at a salad or a delectable plate of steak and fresh green beans, he has been known to eat third and fourth helpings of praline ice cream with butterscotch sauce and a large side of carrot cake.

When Jessie was little, we tried to convince him that he needed to set an example and could he please eat all of his dinner before dessert, and limit his dessert to what might be considered a reasonable helping. In true paterfamilias style, he came up with his own solution to our effort to keep Jessie eating healthily. He explained to Jessie that he was unique in that he had TWO stomachs. One for regular food and one for desserts only. The dessert stomach was significantly larger than the regular stomach, hence his ability (and need) to eat just a bit of the main course, but 2 or 3 helpings of dessert.

Jessie quickly figured out that, since she was Grumps’ granddaughter, and since she had an extra chromosome and therefore had extras of everything, she also had to have at least 2 stomachs, just like him. And there began their absolutely delightful ascent into dessert heaven. “Gotta feed that extra stomach!” is the refrain at the dinner table when we visit in Montreal, and out comes a frightening array of dessert cakes, ice creams, and sauces. My father smiles sheepishly, Jessie grins full out!

Never mind that he was the top tax man in Canada and Chair of the Montreal Board of Trade in his day. His true legacy, to Jessie anyways, is his second stomach.
(in picture: Grumps, Jessie, Leigh-Anne)

Glee, Cranberry, and Creativity

Last night Jessie and I treated ourselves to dinner in front of the TV. Inveterate Gleeks (fans of the TV show Glee) she missed last week’s finale because she had a Down Syndrome Association board meeting (she is co-chair) and Dan recorded it for her. This is the wind-down week of Storefront and Jessie just goes directly to her work placement at a Dollar store in the morning and then comes straight home for the afternoon.

Storefront is a two-year program that focuses on skills for independence and is our first foray into a specialized program … all of Jessie’s school life was spent in a regular classroom, fully included, and that is a whole other story! Which I will try to tell at some other point, but I am still in the recovery phase and my therapist says repression has its uses. Just to clarify: I am a full, active, and slightly rabid supporter of inclusive schools, and that was the problem. While those were some of the best years of our lives, they were also some of the worst—I have both the biker jacket (Mom from Hell) and the scars to prove it. Jessie, tho, seems to have survived and thrived.

So, as a kind of last week celebration we have not entered into our summer routine (because I haven’t invented it yet) and we’ve told Jess that it will be an easy week with few expectations or demands. Hence, TV in the middle of the week (normally there is no TV during the week). Her only task was to set the table. My only task was to figure out how to work the DVD recorder (Dan wrote down instructions for me). I wasn’t too worried about her reaction to New Directions (the name of the Glee club in the TV show, for those of you not yet addicted) not winning the Regionals (I admit, I watched it last week while she was at the meeting) because she already heard the plot from another Gleek at Dandelion. That saved us one meltdown.

You see, while Jessie knows that TV is scripted, written, and acted, like all good soap opera and other viewers, she invests a huge amount of emotional energy into the characters and the plots. Hence why we limit TV! (want her to save some of that energy for what I call “real” relationships).

So we had our plates full of chicken, beans, rice salad, and cranberry sauce and we turned the show on. Now Jessie is not the neatest of eaters. Put food and TV together and you have a reason to purchase a heavy-duty front loader (which we did). And she managed to get cranberry sauce all over her new grey University of Calgary sweats (her trip souvenir from the DanceAbility workshop with MoMo in Calgary, Alberta).

As Jessie does all her own laundry—I gave up trying to keep up with her 10-times daily change of clothes—she was devastated. I told her that if she took them off right after the show (she was obviously not devastated enough to pause the show and deal with it) and soaked them in cold water and put stain stick on it, then the stain would probably come out—ah yes, teaching moments.

She did take them off after the show. But this morning, on my way down to the basement to meditate, I noticed that she had just left them lying on the stairs. “Jess. Your pants are here and you didn’t soak them or put stain stick on. The stain might not come out.” “That’s okay,” she says blithely, “It's creative!”

It’s creative? Not the response I was looking for. And then I remember: to Jessie, every moment has the potential to be a Glee moment—where people sing and dance their way through mishaps, mistakes, and the angst of adolescence. Where creativity is the reigning value and if you slip up—on the job, with a chore, even in trying to zip up your winter coat—it can all be righted by calling it “creative” and you can move on to the next scene. Because just around the corner, there might, just might, be a parade or a stage or a leading man waiting to provide that happy ending that we all deserve. Where moms don’t rag on you and friends always call and teachers just tell you you’re brilliant and no one asks you to change anything about yourself and, of course, the lyricist has written just the right song for the moment. And nowhere in the chorus or the verses is there any reference to stain stick!

Sugar, Sugar!

While the picture is from her birthday at Disney World, it perfectly sums up Jessie’s delightful, yet challenging relationship with sugar!

Yesterday when Jessie called on the cell after school was over, her opening line was “I had sugar!” No mention what exactly she ate/bought that had sugar, just “I had sugar!” “Okay,” I said, “did that sugar come in any form of food, or was it just sugar?” “Mooooom (the long oh of course). I had money and I bought a SMALL sundae after school because I was hungry.” Silence on my end. Then, “Jessie, that’s not a good or healthy food choice. When you get home we need to talk about healthy food choices.” Click. Or whatever sound goes with the slamming shut of a cell phone. Then a few minutes later the phone rings again. I don’t answer it. (I’m getting good at that.) There is a message however. So I listen: “Mom, I’m sorry I hung up on you. I was being defensive and I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hear what you had to say. You’re right (huh?). Maybe when I get home you can print out a problem solving sheet and you can help me figure out how to make healthier food choices. We can do it together.”

Wow! First, the fact that she used the word “defensive” in terms of her reaction, second, that she recognized her defensiveness, and third, that she was willing to do something about it. Most of the adults I know (myself included) rarely recognize their defensiveness so quickly and are usually never ready to do something about it until at least a day later! I need to learn something from this … about myself in particular. But food continues to be a challenge, one that I can relate to, except I am graced with a overactive metabolism that allows me to eat “sugar” with abandon. I am sure that will change as I age, but Jessie has inherited my love of sugar, without the metabolism that makes it not so apparent. Jessie LOVES food—sugar and carbs in particular—and combined with little self-control and a sluggish metabolism it is a bit of a struggle. Food gets mixed up with all sorts of other issues as well, such as independence.

This weekend, for example, we got to sleep in on Saturday for the first time in what feels like a million years, as Propeller Kids is finished for the summer and Jessie doesn’t have to get out the door by 8:30 to go teach. As Dan and I were lazing in bed (at 8!) Jess slams into our room and drops a pad on the bed saying “I’ve written you a note, read it!” She is fully dressed, we are barely awake. Dan’s the only one who can read without glasses these days, so he picks up the pad off the duvet, pushes himself up and reads: “Mom and Dad: I am trying to be more independent because its important and its what Storefront is teaching me, so I am going to Tim Hortons to buy myself a breakfast sandwich. Jessie.” I am too tired to be kind or thoughtful or measured in my response. “You are NOT going to Tim Hortons. (I count myself lucky that she is not willing, these days, to completely ignore my commands.) You don’t have to buy your food to be independent. Making your breakfast also counts as independence you know!” She slams down the stairs and the house shakes, but at least she doesn’t go out the door.

Part of this is due, I am sure of it, to the fact that she has just spent the last two weeks or so eating out—the dance workshop trip to Calgary and the school trip to Montreal. And despite my best efforts and guidance, we consumed a lot of “unhealthy” food, and boy did it taste good! So the food battle continues. We try to celebrate the little gains (other than weight!), and her willingness to recognize that it can be a challenge.

And so, true to her word, when she got home we did the “problem solver sheet” together. I did reiterate that we weren’t trying to get her to never have sugar or ice cream or any of those delightful things, but to try to create a balance in her diet that gave her room to eat any and all of the things she loves without harming herself or her health. The solution (after defining the problem and the goal) was to 1) not go to school everyday with money so that she is tempted (she did recognize that it was REALLY hard to walk by Baskin and Robbins each day after school on her way to the bus stop, and felt better when I agreed with her that that would be really hard for anybody!) 2) to pick one day a week when she would bring money to buy a snack after school, 3) to mix up what she bought and maybe to choose a frozen yogurt instead, and 4) to pack a snack that she likes that she can eat after school. We also talked about what would happen if she bought a snack everyday and how much money she would then NOT have for some of the things she wants to buy … like clothes, movies, dance classes, and fixing my old guitar. Ah money …. And budgeting. That is a whole different post!