Future Punkgirl and Other Lunch Shenanigans

Okay, I'm not the first person to write about making from-home lunches fun, and I'm sure I'm not the most creative, but I am the one most likely to never tell you to cut your kid's sandwich into a replica of the Mona Lisa. If you, like me, have no aptitude for making works of art out of food, then this is the post for you.

Punkgirl was diagnosed with celiac disease five years ago, and the biggest change for her (and me) was the inability for her to order lunch at school. We eat a gluten free meal for dinner (because I, too, have celiac disease, and I refuse to cook two meals), but up until that point I let the kids get their fill of gluten-filled foods during breakfast and lunch. Punkgirl was pretty devastated to find that she could no longer participate in eating the chicken nuggets, pizza Friday, or any of the other kid-friendly (read:gross) foods at school. And until recently, these things weren't readily available in gluten-free varieties. 

So I became pretty good at slapping two pieces of gluten-free bread together, but more importantly, I became great at making the kid laugh at lunchtime. It's not fun when you're eating a lunch brought from home that tastes like cardboard in tinfoil and everyone else is eating warm chicken enchiladas, or hamburgers, or even sloppy joes. Thus began Future Punkgirl and Other Shenanigans.

I write notes--not every day, because then it's too routine, but say, once every few weeks or so, though I have gone as long as a month--to Punkgirl, from Future Punkgirl (in case you haven't guessed it yet, Punkgirl is my eldest daughter, Shaelin.) 

Punkgirl was a middle-schooler when I started, and middle-schoolers are for some odd reason obsessed with gross. So the grosser, the better. They also love drama, which is why I like this one:

Today, for the first time in high school, I sent her one that said "Shaelin, something momentous is going to happen today. Be ready for it....*PS, if you don't believe me, your friend S is sitting to the right of you today. PPS If S isn't sitting to the right of you, you've accidentally changed the future by coming back to the past to warn me--you! ~F.S.

Punkgirl ruined the surprise today by accidentally going into her lunch bag in the morning, but the hysterical giggling coming from her lips tells me she still enjoys the adventures of Future Punkgirl.

I know you're thinking "that's it? A couple of notes, that's all you've got for me?" The truth is, it could be--it's minimal effort and maximum return (because we never know when future Punkgirl will make an appearance), but for those of you over-achievers out there, I have a couple more suggestions.

Be crazy. By "be crazy" I don't mean hide in the lunch room closet and spy on her to make sure she's eating okay (I mean, it will stay in her mind for the next several years when you pop out that one time and let her know that you'll keep checking to make sure she's actually eating...but you probably don't need to do that. Probably.) I mean be creative, and make her be creative. I've duck taped her dessert closed (though she wasn't as happy with that one because she put in all the effort of getting it open to find NOT CHOCOLATE inside.) I've cut a cupcake in half and placed it in one of those weird-shaped salad dressing holders, so the only possible way to get it out involved getting chocolate frosting on your fingers. And I've used milk and food coloring to paint toasted bread for her sandwich with bizarre or creepy pictures (though admittedly, that one was far more effort than I generally expend.) 

The idea is that Punkgirl gets a laugh, or a groan, with at least a few lunch meals per month. Her friends even get a laugh, as she opens her bag with care in case something some day pops out of there. Not that I've encouraged that concern...

Disney DTs

Last year was the first year since 2008 that I haven't gone to either Disneyland, Disney World, or on a Disney Cruise at least once.  (I even went to Disneyland when I was pregnant with Rose, and while I had to miss all my favorite wild rides, I STILL had a blast.)  Since she was a new baby and I was having such a hard time breastfeeding, I was a little sad about not going last year, but I knew it wasn't feasible and I had consoled myself with the thought that someday we would return.

I should mention here, before we went in 2008, I thought all those Disney Disney Disney people were nuts.  I had gone twice, and had had meh experiences both times (the first one because I was there with extended family and I am a nuclear kind of gal, and the second one because it was two weeks after my father died and I was in the early stages of pregnancy, and my sole purpose for being there was to take my rather ungrateful niece to the bathroom.  We also had stayed off-site both times, and my experiences have shown me that that will never happen again.) Anyhoo, I digress.  That 2008 trip was everything I ever wanted in a vacation.  It was in CA, where Coffeeguy has relatives, so we got to visit; it was in CA, 'nuff said; and it was my first vacation in 10 years.  It was also shortly after I was diagnosed with celiac disease, and let me tell you, Disney knows how to feed an allergic guest!! I carried boxes of Imodium "just in case" because my experiences with eating "gluten free" at restaurants were not encouraging.  I worried that if either have to starve or my stomach would pay the price for cross-contamination.  But no...Disney's chefs emailed me back & forth, and they had a gluten free meal for me at every restaurant where I had a reservation--and some I didn't! It was paradise.  I got to eat delicious meals and then go enjoy the park, without fear of having to stop every ten feet because a crumb got into my food! All of my food at the buffet was prepared separately in the back, and they even made me gluten free Mickey Mouse waffles that were to die for.  

Add to this the fact that my then-5 year old boy got to walk around the park in a fairy costume and not one cast member batted an eyelash, and my then-7 year old daughter got to take on Darth Vader at Jedi Training, and it was easily the best vacation I have ever been on.

Now, back to the DTs.  I had hoped to use my tax returns for a trip this year.  Rose is 15 months old now, but would be closer to two, and she adores Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and absolutely can't get enough of Wendy & Peter Pan.  My older two are 13 and 11, and the time when a family trip will cease being a bonding experience is fast approaching.  I feel like now would be the perfect time to take a short trip to WDW, to get me out of this withdrawal stage!  Alas, Coffeeguy doesn't seem to be on the same page.  While our tax returns were healthy (thank you, Rose, my beautiful little tax deduction), we do have to get our second car back on the road--which still leaves some money, but maybe not quite as much as we'd hoped.  I vote for a short trip (though we are adamantly against value hotels with a little one due to the long bus ride) in a moderate hotel, and if we include the meal plan we won't have to worry about gluten free foods or bringing money for dinners.  

Maybe that's not reasonable, but this mama is dying to see Rose's reaction to the Happiest Place On Earth!

The breastfeeding crack hormone

     I mentioned in my very first post that Rose is breastfeeding.  I didn't mention the love/hate relationship that I have with breastfeeding.  I formula-fed Punkgirl and Happyboy ten and twelve years ago, and other than a tendency for Punkgirl to projectile vomit if you didn't burp her at EXACTLY two ounces, they were fine with it.  We had a strong relationship, we bonded perfectly fine, and my husband got to share in the feedings.

     Unfortunately Punkgirl inherited my celiac disease.  For those of you that don't know, cd is a digestive disorder that controls your life.  The only remedy is to go on a completely wheat/gluten free diet.  In researching symptoms in children (I suspect Happyboy has not escaped the inevitable gluten free--GF--diet) I found a study that concluded that if you breastfed for at least 6 months and introduced gluten in the 5th/6th month, you drastically reduce your child's chances of cd.  It was worth it to me.

     Then came Rose.  Removed by c-section, she came out unhappy that she had been removed from my nice warm womb.  She cried vigorously until the moment that my husband held her next to me and she held my pinky in her hand.  From that moment I was hooked.

     I firmly believe (through no scientific evidence) that the hormones released during breastfeeding are like crack.  They are a feel-good hormone, which I will admit, skeeved me out when I read about it.  Who wants to feel good with a baby on their boob?  But it happens, and the only way to describe it is that there is actually nothing sexual about your breast when your baby is suckling.  And she did, the very first time I put her on, she was a champ!  She knew exactly what to do and where to go, and she fed and filled her little belly, then burped and feel asleep on my chest.  It was magical.

     That lasted a day.  On day two (after your chemical mind is hooked on the love  and pride you feel when breastfeeding goes well) Rose forgot how to breastfeed.  I know, I know, how the heck does she forget?!  But she did.  She couldn't latch on, which made her cry, and thanks to complications from a spinal headache I very nearly had a breakdown over it.  But I pulled myself together (as I often do) and sucked it up and called the nurse.  I was pretty unprepared for the, uh, hands-on portion of the "breast is best" philosophy.  They don't tell you when they say breast is best that you may find a nurse squishing your boob like it's one of those stress-reliever balls to try to fit it into baby's mouth.  I looked at her in horror, looked at Rose in horror, and vowed never to push that call button ever again.  She finally decided, after twisting my breast into a mammary pretzel, that I would need a nipple shield.  The shield is a small piece of silicone that fits over your nipple to help the baby find it.  It's messy, it's a coordination nightmare, and it's going to be your worst enemy if you don't realize that it's only supposed to be temporary--which I didn't.  But it works.  And getting that milk into your baby's mouth will be your priority, so you will grin and bear it first, then cry and bear it, and then finally beat down the door of a lactation consultant despite the fact that you swore you wouldn't go there because you need to feed without the damn thing dribbling milk all over you.

     The other thing they don't tell you, after helping you pump in the hospital, is that you only need to pump both breasts until your milk comes in.  So there I was, at home, happily pumping away, saving ounce after ounce in the freezer! I was a milk machine!!  But in doing so, my breastfeeding relationship with Rose became my nightmare.  I had a massive oversupply, causing reflux, foul exploding diapers, and worst of all, it would cause Rose to choke horribly on all of that milk. It was as if I was water-boarding my baby.  I almost resolved to quit (but I swear, those breastfeeding crack hormones make you want to succeed at breastfeeding--there's no other explanation.)  The bf crack coupled with Rose's milk allergy (discovered through an elimination diet after she broke out in an itchy rash all over her body) meant we couldn't even just switch over to formula, so I scoured the Internet (after finding the first lc's direction to stop pumping completely and to block feed, switching breasts every three hours, unhelpful.  I did them, but still my milk would literally squirt across the room.)  I found all kinds of resources...but none of them worked.  As one friend put it, I had turbo boobs that just wouldn't quit.  I later rationalized that I must love Rose so much that I over-produce as a direct result of that love.  It sounds silly...but try pumping without looking at a picture of your baby, and then try it while looking at one.  You'll see a difference, because your brain is thinking "awwwww I love you" and causing your milk to respond to that.  It's a bio-mechanical marvel.

     So hours of crying--on both our parts--led me to Marie.  I was searching for any answer...I had tried uphill feeding, block feeding, I never pumped (which also meant I couldn't go anywhere if I didn't want to supplement with soy milk, because I never had reserves.)  Marie was a lactation consultant--lc-- in CA who I met online and who saved me from feeling yet again like I had completely failed at the stay-at-home Mom portion of the program.  I had felt like I was constantly covered in milk, like I had too much to feed Rose but also couldn't give it to her without a crazy dance of drink a little, splutter, cry, drink a little more, splutter, get squirted in the face, cry--and that was just me.  Marie took detailed information about Rose's poop, her sleeping habits, my pumping habits, her reflux, her fussy times....and turned it into a plan to get us back on track.  Now, I should mention, most of my bf friends had told me I would get to this point if I "just hold on a little longer", but I was slowly losing my sanity and I began to think they were lying!  (You know, fellow baby-crack addicts do lie sometimes.)

     And it sounds like such a good problem to have--too much milk? How is that a bad thing?  But it is, and it leaves you feeling like you can't even feed your baby properly.  Now, I know, I just explained that Marie saved us, so what's not to love about breastfeeding?  Try cooking dinner.  Rose instinctively screamed for milk every time I cooked.  I changed dinner time.  I tried making a bottle (back when I still had a stockpile of milk) so Coffeeguy (that's my man) could feed her.  No, Rose won't have it.  She has to either be feeding as I cook or be sitting in an infant chair watching me cook, eyeing me like a little tyrant waiting to lash me should I stop talking to her.  She has begun to follow my every move, keeping an eye on her precious milk supply as if pirates were bound to come forth and steal me.  Again, it sounds so cute, but try going to pee and having to take her with you just to avoid the piercing screech that all three of my children were "gifted" with!  

     I guess my point here is that I'm still not sure if breastfeeding is as rewarding as they say--I mean, yes...there are (now) those moments where you lay quietly feeding her in the morning, and she looks into your eyes and you feel like the Queen of the World...but I have to wonder why I have continued so long?  I've said before, I'm a suck-at-home-Mom, so it's not out of any earthy-crunchy or breast is best mentality...and it certainly hasn't been "easier" than bottle-feeding!  I have to go back to that theory.  The breastfeeding crack hormone theory.  Any of you suck-at-home Moms have a breastfeeding crack addiction?