Dayjamas

Giving dairy the boot

I think Kiku has a sensitivity to dairy products.  I've had a hunch about this for a while now, and remember talking to her pediatrician about it when she was around 18 months old.  The doc said that a dairy allergy was unlikely because she wasn't exhibiting any of the usual symptoms, like a red ring around her bottom, or rashes on her face.  But today something interesting happened.  Kiku was in a great mood all morning, until she ate some yogurt during snack time.  About ten minutes later, Dr. Jekyll turned into Mr. Hyde.  It was like a switch was flipped and suddenly she was acting uncooperative, defiant, and irritable.  This has happened before, so many times before, but I'd never been able to attribute it to a specific food until today.  A light bulb finally came on in my head.

I've always felt like Kiku's personality changed when she turned one, which is when we introduced cows milk.  Since then she's become more serious and moody, and I've always had a sneaking suspicion that dairy was the culprit.  I know I should've listened to my gut and not dismissed the idea solely based on the opinion of her pediatrician. 

I've been doing some research on food sensitivities and she has many of the symptoms, like frequent ear infections, stuffiness, mood swings, irritability, hyperactivity, loud breathing during sleep, and the list goes on.  I suspect that sugar might also be partially responsible, so we're going to cut that down (or out altogether) as well.

As of tomorrow, Kiku is going to stop consuming dairy products for 21 days.  It's going to be a challenge to find alternatives, but I'm determined to make this happen.  If nothings changed after three weeks, then we'll cut out sugar and see how things go. 

The good ol' days

Last Friday Kiku came down with a virus and had to stay home from preschool.  She had a fever, a runny nose, and was terribly cranky.  I tried to keep her activity level down in order for her to get some rest, but it wasn't easy.  (She never wants to slow down, even when she's feeling miserable - a quality she gets from JJ who is exactly the same way.)  So I decided to put her crib mattress on the floor and let her jump to get her ya ya's out, and then managed to calm things down a bit with a few books, some playdough, and an episode of Sesame Street.  Three quarters of the way through the morning I noticed that Kiku's eyelids were getting heavy, plus she was running into things and tripping and falling more than usual.  I suggested that she go lie down and rest, but, true to form, she said, "no!  I'm ok!  I wanna play, Mama!"  So I let her continue with whatever she was doing (putting together an Easter egg party, I believe) since it was so close to naptime, but within five minutes she asked me if it was time to take a nap.  I couldn't believe it.  Kiku asking to take a nap?  And 15 minutes before her regular time?!  This could only mean one thing:  the girl was tired.  While we were going through her nap routine I felt relieved that she was finally going to get some rest, but a short lived feeling it was because she just wouldn't let herself sleep.  That's right, no napping occured.  She ended up spending some "quiet time" in her room, which was better than nothing I suppose, but the remainder of the afternoon was pretty miserable (for both of us).  When Kiku doesn't take a nap, she gets all wound up.  She bounces off the walls, has a hard time focusing, and lashes out with fingernails.  At about 4:45 pm, I put her in the crib to "take a break" after she did a few too many things that make parents want to bang their fists into pillows and scream.  She was out like a light, and slept until 3:30 AM.

The rest of the evening was bliss.  I'd forgotten what it felt like to cook in peace.  It was so relaxing to take my time and enjoy the process.  Dinner was calm.  I savored my food and was able to have an actual conversation with my husband.  It felt like the days before our intense child had joined the family. 

Normally, the period between cooking dinner and bed time is very chaotic and stressful.  Kiku usually demands my attention when I'm in the kitchen and asks to be picked up whenever I'm at the stove.  It's not enough to stand on a stool and watch, and rarely is she interested in helping me cook like so many other kids her age seem to enjoy doing.  No, she wants to be held.  JJ often tries to distract her with other things if he's home, but it's hard to pull her away.  She is persistent.

Dinnertime is tense.  Kiku will sit at the table for about ten minutes, doing any of the following:  pick at her food, constantly demand drinks she's not allowed to have (I knew it was a mistake to let her have a sip of soda that one time!), throw food she doesn't like on the floor, pour juice or milk onto the table, or bang her fork or spoon.  All the while we run interference, asking her to pick up what she's thrown on the floor, doing what we can to get her to stop banging, etc.  I can't remember the last time she ate a good dinner.  When she's done, she'll get down from the table and ask us to play with her, as she's not content to play by herself.  We tell her that we'll spend time with her when we're finished, but she still persists.  It doesn't help to set up an activity for her to do while she's waiting for us.   It doesn't help to include her in converstation at the table.  We've tried turning on the TV, but she gets bored after a few minutes and flips it off. 

Experiencing a calm evening last week allowed me to realize just how miserable we all are at dinnertime, so I've decided that it's time for us to try something new.  I'm going to start giving her dinner early, around 5:00 or 5:30, and then offer a small snack before bed.  JJ and I can eat later, after she goes to bed.  We'll see how it goes.  I have a hunch that our normal dinnertime of 6:30ish might be too late for her, and I've noticed that she sometimes sleeps better when she's had some protein at the end of the night.  I'm hoping this might help improve her mood in the mornings as well.  Lately she's been waking up on the irritable side, and our morning routine (changing diapers, getting dressed, brushing teeth) has been nothing short of a struggle. 

I'm crossing my fingers.

Tilden Park

Soakin' up some California sunshine.

The overdue library book queen

Why do I have such a hard time returning library books on time?  I thought I'd reformed this year, but no.  There's an overdue book sitting on my desk right now.  This habit of mine goes all the way back to junior high, if not earlier.  I can remember holding on to books months past their due date, patiently waiting for the next fine free day at the library.  The last time we moved, I actually found an old library book at the bottom of a cardboard box.  Due date: 1985.  That's right, I never returned it.  I guess that means I stole it.  Now it's sitting in some land fill (it was a book on skiing technique from the 70's and very outdated).  I'm a bad library citizen.

When I moved to Seattle and applied for a library card, I decided that I was going to make a fresh start and return my books on time.  I did pretty well at first, until I went into labor and the pile of books I'd checked out a few weeks before sat in a corner of the dining room for at least a month if not more.  After paying a hefty fine, I vowed to stop.  Once and for all.  I was either going to return my books on time or stop using the library all together.  So, I decided on the latter.  I started spending more money on books and JJ would often ask me why I didn't just use the library. 

Well, after a few years I decided that I wanted to try again.  I enjoyed the library too much to stay away any longer (I love browsing through the non-fiction stacks and pulling anything that looks interesting), and it was a great place to find books for Kiku.  I knew the solution to my problem was to get organized.  The Seattle libraries give you a single print out with the due dates for your books, dvd's, etc. rather than stamp each one individually.  This means that in order to keep track of them, I need to mark the due dates on my calendar.  The system's been working well for the most part, but it does get a bit confusing when I renew books online and the due date is adjusted.  Even so, I've returned most if not all of my books on time for the past six months.

So why is there an overdue library book sitting on my desk?  Why can't I remember to return it?  I play by the rules in other areas of my life - I pay my taxes, parking tickets, and bills on time.  It could be forgetfulness, or laziness.  Or maybe, just maybe, it's the rebelliousness in me.  My need to shirk authority.  I guess some parts of us never quite grow up. 

I (heart) my bread machine

A few weeks ago I decided to spring for a bread machine called Just for Dinner by Westbend.  Basically, it rocks.  We were buying fresh bread several times a week and having to throw half of it away the next day.  We love fresh bread but the three of us can only eat so much. 

This bread machine works well for us because it produces smallish sized loaves (enough for 2-4 people) and only takes 45 minutes!  That means I can throw a few ingredients into the bread machine, cook dinner, and - voila! - warm, fresh bread just in time for dinner. 

Fickle not pickle

This morning Kiku couldn’t decide what to have for breakfast, changing her mind three times.  I told her she was being fickle.

    “Oh, yeah, I wanna pickle!”

    “No, not pickle, fickle.”

    “I want a pickle, mama!”

    “Fickle.  It means that you’re always changing your mind.  You can’t decide what you like or dislike.”

    “Pickle!”

Kiku wasn’t the only one feeling fickle today.  Last night the three of us returned from a five-day trip to the bay area, and I woke up this morning feeling somewhat unsure about whether I really wanted to move back.  This is after making the BIG DECISION to move a few months ago...in the dead of winter.  (My advice to anyone considering moving away from Seattle: never decide in the winter.) The trip itself went smoothly and it was great to spend time with good friends and family, but I was a little overwhelmed by the whole place. 

I’ve definitely crossed over. 

I’m not sure when it happened, but I know I didn’t feel this way when we visited last summer.  Sometime between then and now I became a Seattlelite and stopped being a bay area girl.  When I stepped off the plane last week, it didn't feel like home.  I felt like a visitor.  I didn't "get it" anymore.  People seemed to be racing everywhere, whether by car or foot.  It felt edgier, grimier, more stressed out, more me-first.  I even found myself disliking the intensity of the sun.  It seemed too bright, and I practically had to glue my sunglasses to my face.   A few mentally unstable types approached Kiku and I (this never happens in Seattle) while we were out and about.  There was the odd guy who offered Kiku a dot-shaped sticker, and then followed us into the grocery store to offer her more stickers.  Harmless enough (probably), but my mind couldn’t get around the possibility of the dots being laced with LSD. Then there was the time when we were walking down the street in a somewhat upscale neighborhood and a tattered woman covered in sores asked me if I knew where the Laundromat was.  I told her that I didn’t live there and she proceeded to violently scream, “no one does laundry around here!” to me and everyone else around.

These kinds of interactions never used to faze me.  It was just part of my everyday environment and it felt normal.  Seeing someone pace back and forth while talking to themselves used to be normal.  Having a homeless person bark at me or call me Yoko was normal.  Now it feels threatening.  I’m sure it’s partially due to my maternal instinct to protect my daughter.  But even so, I’ve gotten soft. 

Seattle is nice, calm, slow paced, easy, clean, and, well, normal.  People (including the bus drivers) smile and say hello, drivers aren’t aggressive, rushing isn’t de rigueur, and there are fewer people flying their freak flags (or at least they’re quieter about it.)

I feel calmer and safer in Seattle.  My mind is clearer.  It’s easier to live here and there are fewer things to worry about.  So why move?  If this is such paradise, why do we want to go back to the land of over stimulation?  Up until recently, there have been three main reasons. 

1.    The weather
2.    Missing loved ones
3.    The blandness factor

But now I'm getting more used to the weather, and the only months that really get to me are Dec-Feb.  It might be more bearable if we can get away to a sunny spot every winter.  I certainly miss my friends and family, and I don't want these people to be strangers to Kiku, but what if we committed to visiting three or four times a year?  Maybe that woud be ok.  Then there's the blandness factor.  Over the past four years I've found myself craving more interesting, stimulating interactions with people who were less reserved.  But now I'm wondering if it matters so much anymore.  Large urban areas are interesting but they come with a price. 

I can't believe I'm actually feeling this way.  I've bitched about Seattle for four years.  It's been hard to adjust to the culture and I haven't felt like I've wanted to stay for the long run.  And now this is happening.  I'm starting to, umm, like it (maybe even love it?) here.  Although it could be that I just need to get used to bay area living all over again.  You know, grow back a thicker skin and adjust my "normal" meter.  The question is, do I want to? 

I'm just too damn fickle.

Abbreviated

Kiku has started abbreviating words, like "peet" for peanut butter and "peep" for people.  And then there's "I want crack" for I want crackers (a little scary, but still cute).

My favorite is "MaPa."  She'll sometimes use this when referring to both JJ and I at the same time.  What can I say, the girl's efficient.

Just say no

This afternoon I was making tuna salad and had various condiments out on the counter, including the relish.  Kiku loves pickles and asked if she could eat relish straight out of the jar.  "No, sorry," I said, "we only eat relish mixed with other things."  She continued to ask, and by the third or fourth time I started wondering to myself why I wasn't allowing it.  We let her eat dill pickles straight from the jar, so what was the difference?  Why was my first reaction to say no?  I guess there's just something distasteful about eating condiments alone.  Take ketchup, for example.  We'll let her dip french fries into it but then get uptight the minute she starts eating it by itself.  As long as her meal doesn't consist solely of condiments, should it really matter?  It all goes to the same place, and besides we all know ketchup is a vegetable!  Same with relish.

Despite my realization, I couldn't go back on my answer for fear of "giving in" or "being inconsistent."  It ended up not mattering, though, because she picked the relish pieces out of her tuna salad, put them in a pile, and spooned them into her mouth.

Kiku isn't at the point yet where she's asking, "why not?"  But it's coming.  Soon.  I need to start practicing the old adage "think first and speak later."  When Miss Persistent gets a little older, she's not going to accept "no" without a good reason to back it up.

April Fool's

I’ve never liked my name.  I mean, who wants to be named after a month?  Not me, that's for sure, and the fact that I was born in September just adds insult to injury.  Apparently my grandmother really liked the name and my mother caved into the pressure even though she preferred names that were more common in the late-60's, like “Diana” and “Christina.” 

Just think, I could be a Diana.  How easy it would be.  No explanations necessary.  I could've been spared the teasing on the playground every April 1st, and I wouldn’t have to look up in wonder every time someone uttered the word “April” (which is often). 

I’ve also never quite identified with the name itself.  I don’t feel like an April, and introducing myself has always felt a little awkward.  It doesn't roll off the tongue very easily and sometimes people mistake it for "Apple" or "Maple." 

Oddly, most of my friends seem to think my name and personality match up pretty well.  What do they know?