Granola doesn't mean death!

I don't recall if its been mentioned but my son, who is five, has life threatening allergic reactions to any peanuts, some of their legume cousins, and tree nuts. Its a bit of a double edged sword. On one hand, these items are easy to work around in my kitchen. He used to also be allergic to dairy, eggs, soy, all legumes (I'm talking green beans, peas, etc), and cinnamon. Having outgrown most of those, working to cook without nuts and peanuts is easy.

Finding food "off the shelf" or visiting restaurants? Still sucks.

So its my mission in life to give him variety. And a semblence of normalcy. And to understand that he needs to be vigilant, but we can deal with this.

With school starting up, I wanted him to be able to take a granola bar to school with him along with his juice, sandwich, trail mix (another homemade safe recipe!) and fruit. I want options for him, not just the same old lunch every day. However, the next time you're in the granola aisle at the store - spend 45 minutes reading every box from every granola bar maker - you won't find one he can eat.

Thankfully, I'm determined :) And this was really an easy recipe.

B-Safe Granola

Ingredients
2 cups rolled oats
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup wheat germ
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup raisins (optional)
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup honey
1 egg, beaten
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Generously grease a 9x13 inch baking pan.
2. In a large bowl, mix together the oats, brown sugar, wheat germ, cinnamon, flour, raisins and salt. Make a well in the center, and pour in the honey, egg, oil and vanilla. Mix well using your hands. Pat the mixture evenly into the prepared pan.
3. Bake for 30 to 35 minutes in the preheated oven, until the bars begin to turn golden at the edges. Cool for 5 minutes, then cut into bars while still warm. Do not allow the bars to cool completely before cutting, or they will be too hard to cut.

I'll say, cut them while they're a little warm yet - but LET THEM COOL before you move them. Seemed to break less for me. B has never had granola before and thought they were ok but could maybe use some chocolate chips. Hey, I can oblige that - the rest of them IS pretty healthy. So we're trying them again this week with chocolate chips and I'll let you know the outcome!

Poopwatch 2011

Update. The pricetag has been found. Poopwatch 2011 has come to an end.

It better not be called into action again.

I'm an archaeologist

While weekends may be for the mothers of school aged children to recoup from the trauma of elementary school....this does not apply to the mothers of babies.

I, unfortunately, am a member of both mother groups.

While the kindergarten antics have died down, the baby is making sure no one has a boring weekend. She's mobile now. I've become a carpet archaeologist looking out for every stray string, crumb, toy, marble, bead, or WHATEVER that the carpet seems to create overnight. I am having an affair with my vacuum - giving it more loving attention than I have been giving to my husband.

Yet last night, it happened. Not in my 5+ years of motherhood have I experienced this. I saw one of the ends of those little plastic "strings" that hold price tags on clothing on the floor. No idea where it came from. I started to go get it but before I could, she snatched it and ate it.

Then game the gagging and gasping as it went down, followed by her crying and gagging as I tried to get to it first and pull it out (I failed) and then the crying as it went down - you can't tell me that felt good.

So at 8 months old, before trying bread, milk, cookies, real meat, or anything that does not come in a prepackaged jar from the baby aisle, the baby ate plastic. And now my archaeological ambitions continue, only they've now moved to the diaper table as I tear apart every turd from this kid looking for the price tag.

And here I thought archaeology was all glamor and excitement like Indiana Jones. I'm in the Temple of Doom alright - but its much stinkier than I envisioned.

Are you FREAKING SERIOUS?!

Day three.

This kindgergarten crap is starting to sound like a prison journal.

We made it to class. We were not NOT lost. However, the spiderman lunchbox was not as lucky. It made it to lunch. The dinosaur sandwich and trailmix were enjoyed thoroughly. But at the end of the day? The lunchbox is no where to be found.

At the end of day three.

I'm glad its the weekend. One more day of kindergarten this week and Momma may need to hit the bottle. Weekends aren't for the kids to recharge - its to give their mothers a break from the worrying, planning, and BUSINESS of kindergarten.

What's my name?

I thought that the first day of kindergarten would be the hardest. I was wrong. The second was worse. First, it was worst because I could not bring him. I could not hide around that corner and make sure it went ok. I had to let him be dropped off by my sister and then pray someone in the building found him before he accidentally passed himself off as the shortest third grader ever. I called after drop off time and my sister, a pro at this with a 1st grader in the same school, laughed about my neurotic worrying and assured me he made it to school just fine.

Then came the call at lunch.

"Mrs. P? Just calling to see why your son wasn't in school today."
"Not in school!? What do you mean NOT IN SCHOOL. He's there. Check all the rooms! HE IS THERE!"
"They have a sub and she took attendance and he's not there."

Now, its important to stop here and note that my son is a Junior, named after his dad. To save confusion (and in part because I wasn't 100% sold on the first name when he was born) we agreed to call him by his middle name. While all legal forms have his actual God-given name, he has never in his life been called or referred to by that. I used to joke that I wasn't sure he KNEW his real first name...turns out I was right.

"They have a sub? She's calling the wrong name. GO back and ask for him by his middle name..."

The secretary ran down, called out the middle name, and there was my sweet boy sitting at the table coloring a cat with all of his friends. Crisis averted. Again, never doubt the level of stress and concern your mother goes through on any given day without your knowledge.

She's freaking out over something possibly major often....and you're just coloring a cat.

Kindergarten time

I did not disappear. Again. I just got busy. I'm not airing dirty laundry for the world to see but lets just say that Jimmy Carter would be proud of the fight and negotiations that went down between my ex and I to get the boy into kindergarten.

Two and a half weeks late.

In all fairness, it would have been only two weeks, but the child decided that after 6 months of stress and headaches, it would have been too cliche if he'd just, ya know, gone to school finally. Nothing like a hospital visit and case of pneumonia to slow things down. The ER doctor looked at me like I was nuts when I requested a note saying he's honestly sick...

"You want a doctor's note for missing TWO days of kindergarten?"
"Yes, yes I do. You have no idea."

Not so sure work would have believed the luck, or lack thereof, without some actual proof either. I swear I'm not a slacker employee nor a truant mother! We just apparently broke a mirror under a ladder when that damn black cat walked in front of us. But we made it. Two and a half weeks late.

We walked him up to school, showed him around, then turned him loose to play before school started. It was magical. It was going really well. Then, like any other overprotective mother that is having a hard time letting go, I hid around the corner to watch him do the locker/classroom morning routine.

I watched him awkwardly put his coat and backpack into the locker. Then stand there, completely overwhelemed and lost. I wanted to run over and help him. But I did not. I watched him carefully start to walk one way, then stop completely unsure and walk the other way, only to stop and just look lost. My heart sank. Then it broke. He was all alone and had no idea what to do. I wanted to run over and help him. But I did not. Finally, I watched him start to slowly walk completely away from his class and around the corner. I wanted to go help him and let him know I was still there and it was ok. But I did not. I caught his teacher's attention, told her he went the wrong way and needed help. She ran to go get him and then ushered him into his class.

I had to let him do it himself. Without me. Or so he thought. Even if you can't see her or don't know she's about - never doubt the ability of your mother to look out for you, kiddo ;) And when you come home bragging to me about how well you did, how easy it was, and how you were right on top of things - know that my proud smile is secretly directed at us both.

We're growing up.