Oh, hello. What? I can't hear you. My ears are filled with cobwebs.

Um, er. Yes. Well. Hello! I can see by my handy 2009 calendar that it's been a while. There are so many happenings chez nous, both good and tragically bad.

To the good: Jabba (who has morphed into Chewie with her amazing Wookie impersonations) is walking. And she's 16 months old. What! She isn't quite talking, I don't think, but then again, she makes the same noise everytime she sees the cat, and it sounds, if you stretch your ears to the back of your head and hold your left arm up just so, like "GA!" which I consider to be Close Enough. So she's talking, fine. Yes! Add one more to the chorus of my God, I can't hear myself think with all the voices talking at me at once.

On the farm front: I think someone ate Rosencrantz sometime this winter. Alas. I knew him well. ahem. I gave Guildenstern to the shearer when he came, and then my sheep died, so that was nice. The running theory is that the ewes had toxemia and I put that down to poor management. I'll know better next time, and that means I'll find a new way to kill the next batch. Marley probably succumbed to worms. The ewes had three lambs between them, all just about due. So that's what, a 200% loss?

Crazy Betty is setting on a new batch of eggs, and I hope they will all hatch safely. I'm not sure how they'll get out of the nest box, elevated as it is, but I suppose I can deal with that when it comes.

We're drowning in eggs. I think there is a gross of them on the porch. We have one hen who produces olive-green eggs. I wish I could figure out which one it was; I'd like to ID her. In the meantime, I'll just keep them by for incubating.

I put out the call for chicken and turkey orders. It's hard to know what to price them at without knowing how many I have to order, but people want to know how much I'll be charging. I may just ballpark it.

Perp is having a grand time in kindergarten. She turned 6 last week, dude, and I'm still having a hard time wrapping my head around that. Six. She got a bike for her birthday and has mastered riding up and down the apron of the garage and coasting back down.

Dude also got a bike for his birthday (4!), and he's slowly learning to manage it. More importantly, he got to see the end of Bad Rooster.



Bad Rooster made a big impression around here.
He would pretty much attack any one of us, mostly from behind, and around here, mean people get eaten.
















So we ate him. And it was good. And Dude was happy the end.

The view from the North Pole

just got obscured by letters.

Dear Santa,

This year, I have been very good. I am nice to my sisters most of the time. I try to help around the house when Mama needs it. I take naps most days. Sometimes I don't hit. Sometimes I don't scream. I think that's all.

This year I would like a space suit, a helmet, a firetruck man, a clown car, and a clown suit. I think that I want a police suit, a police car. I would like new games new clothes, please. I mean not new clothes, just new game a helmet for a space man, a space suit, firetruck man, and a police things and a space ship helmet, space suit, firetruck man and police. And a, uh, space ship to go with the space suit and the helmet. And I think that's all.

Love,
Dude.


Dear Santa,

Cleaning my room, and sleeping in my room for two nights, and helping cleaning the dishes. And another thing helpful is staying in my room unles we have to go to the bathroom and always going potty before I go to bed, this is at Grammy's, too. Also, sometimes going to sleep, going to school, that's my favorite part. Playing with my friends inside and outside, being quiet while my teacher talks.

I was doing well and I liked getting for me the food for me and Dude, the toy food.
I liked getting Sprinkles the bear for my brother.

I would like pom-poms and a cheerleader costume [ed. - we're watching the football as I type this]. I want a (before I do another one, can I please tell you if Santa lives in the North Pole? Does he? I always wanted to go there!) king merman. I remember last time when I saw the elves. That's it.

Love,
Perp

The Happiest Drunk on the Block

Yay for conscious sedation during dental work!

Exactly what demographic is Noggin attempting to draw with these Jumparounds videos? The all-important "Desperately longing for youth so we'll take a role we're 20 years too old for" group? Perhaps those "I really wanted to be in Scooby Doo as a kid" folks you hear rumors about? Seriously. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

No, really. I don't get it. These people are all at least 30, pretending to be teens. Nothing new here, I know, but it still boggles the mind. They do lameass dance moves that Perp is trying to copy. I find this both amusing and horrifying. Yes, I love that she wants to get her groove on, but dude. Can't we put on Code Monkey* or something instead?

Also: I don't care what anyone says, I love Yo Gabba Gabba. Biz Markie! There's a party in my tummy! It reminds me a bit of the Sid and Marty Krofft acid trip extravaganzas of my youth. I honestly thought I'd come up with H. R. Pufnstuf during a febrile nightmare one night. Seriously. What. the. fuck.

Oh, and using periods for dramatic effect has officially jumped the shark. I saw it on the cover of some gossip rag at the grocery store yesterday. Shit.

In other news, Jabba is nearly sitting up on her own. She does crunches when she lies down (uber cute), and today went from propping herself up with her hands to fully sitting. On her own. Awww, crap.

She cut two teeth on the bottom and is busy trying to gnaw my fingers off whenever she has the opportunity. She has tried bananas and avocados and loves them both, but I don't think she's getting much down her gullet. I just park her in the high chair and give her a slice of either (long ways) and let her go to town. I have to say, I don't miss the purees at all and I don't think she does either. Since we waited to introduce solids until she was 6 months old, it seemed reasonable to just skip that whole stage. Whee!

I ate cheese today. I suspect I'll be posting tomorrow about the hideous night she (we) had. But maybe we'll luck out. She still does not approve of coffee or wheat but I'm just not ready to give up the latter, given that dairy and joe are out.

Holy shit, ya'll, it went from 47 to 87 today in about 20 minutes. The wind started to shift around noon, with a HUGE wind storm, then it calmed down just a few minutes ago and no shit, it's 90 at our house. In town? fifty-nine. That's crazy, yo.

Dude is still cute and has oddly adult mannerisms, none of which I can bring to mind at the moment. Thanks, lactation lobotomy! He and Perp start summer school mid-June and we're all v excited about it. It gives Perp the perfect opportunity to get familiar with the school layout, introduce Dude to new kids and possibly neighbors (playdates!), and give Jabba a few hours a day of pure, unadulterated Mama time. I think this will be a good thing.

Perp is in an ... interesting ... stage. She's 5. I think that's probably all you need to know. It pretty much says it all:
"Oh, yeah, sorry about X, Y, Z that Perp did. She's 5."
"Ohhhhh, gotcha. Sorry!"

Mary Poppins will be coming to our house for the summer again. She'll be splitting her hours between us and some friends in town with a toddler, so I won't have her daily, but I am so sublimely blissed out by this that I don't even mind it much when Dude tries to headbutt me on the way to naptime. Much, I said. I'm not stoned.

Random mix of news that I'm not even trying to tie together in a coherent post:

I got Husband a Kindle for his birthday and he's in the trial phase, trying to determine if he'll use it enough to keep it or if he should trade it in for blowjob coupons. I suppose I chould just give him both.

We got three pallets of concrete blocks delivered so I can make raised beds where the fenced gardens used to be. The wood was rotting and I decided that a few raised beds made more sense than 55' of mostly unattended garden. Also, I can reorient them so they run N/S instead of E/W. A friend's rockstar husband came over and tilled the spot for the first bed last week, so I just need to level the edges and place the bricks. She said, casually, as if it were just that easy. I think a friend is coming later this or next week to ride herd on the kids while I work.

We have our second batch of meat birds in the garage. I moved the first batch of chickens and turkeys out to the bird yard, and they're all doing really well. We lost one chick to spraddle leg/trampling, and I think two each to general failure. I found the remains of one turkey outside the fence. Since the pigs trashed it last year, the birds have been just ducking underneath a section and going on walkabout. Not so much with the safety, there.

The first batch of chickens is due to go to the slaughterhouse at the end of next month and I honestly don't know if they're going to be big enough. Since they're actually free range, they don't sit and eat crazy high-protein all day long, which means that while they are gaining faster than the layers, say, they're still not going to be mondo birds by 6 weeks, like the ones you see in the grocery store. You read that right. Six. Six weeks. How sad is that? But at least mine are running around, eating bugs, taking dust baths, and doing crazy chicken things, instead of living inside a building loaded with their own shit and devoid of sunshine and grass. Also, I think this first batch will be more like 8 weeks.

If we can get our shit together this weekend, we'll put the electric in the temporary pig yard and get the first two of four. We can't get any until we're ready to build the main yard, though, and I realized that we might need to change our method of building after I saw the fence a friend put up. Seriously, it's a thing of beauty. We could use it for pigs, sheep, AND cows if we wanted, and I suspect we could put birds in there and keep them safe.

Said friend also has Muscovy ducks and I'm going to bring a few home. They are very good setters and mothers and I suspect that the only thing that will keep ducks safe is starting with wily adults.

I got a few dozen minnows for the pond and released them yesterday. I think the pond freezes enough to kill all the fish off, since we NEVER see any feeding dimples in the water, but I don't mind getting a few dozen a year to keep the mosquitoes down. Maybe we'll even see some predator birds.

My mom wants me to take a Master Canner class. Should I? I do a little bit most years, but I'm kind of afraid it would raise my interest in an unhealthy way. That is to say: I'll go apeshit and try to can everything I bring home and we'll never get the kitchen back.















*Known as "Code Monkey love you" chez Smacky.

Anyone need some eggs?

That's two eggs short of eight and a half dozen. I'm sure there's some kind of crazy joke to be made in there, and I wouldn't begrudge you one little bit. I really wouldn't. Husband found the motherlode today, almost three dozen in a tipped over cardboard box out in the pole barn. I've seen that box I don't know how many times, but it never occured to me it would present itself as the Ideal Nestbox. Silly me.

Yeah, so hi! Hello, how are you! Um, I guess I don't have a good reason for not posting. Post partum derangement, perhaps? Yes! Why not? We've had two birthdays, not including Jabba's, a couple days where I sat for a friend's kids and had something crazy like eight preschoolers, toddlers, and babies in the house with just me in attendance*. If that ain't crazy, I don't know what is.

So, a roundup of our activities over the last few months (shameful!):
I flew with all three kids to my dad's place on the East Coast. By. my. self. And we were all unmedicated! I KNOW!

Actually, when it comes to flying, my kids are rock. stars. They kind of suck in the airport itself, but really, where would you rather have the good behavior? In a relatively small, exceptionally contained space, or a hundreds of thousands of square-feet facility with room to run? Yes, exactly.

We spent two weeks out east, with Husband coming out for the second half, which is when we turned it up a notch and dispatched 500 clams. Dude didn't have a chance to repeat his astonishing oysterfest, but he made do. We took a couple dozen out on the dock and tossed them in, hoping they might take a liking to the place and settle in for a stay. Who knows, it could work.

My folks and I took the kids to the beach for a foot-dip, but it was pretty windy and cold, and really too early in the season for a beach day. Perp was ecstatic about being able to stick her toes in the ocean, though. Dude managed to handle the wind pretty well; he HATES it when it blows in his ears, always has. Even as an infant, he'd burrow his face into my chest at the least sign of a breeze. Freak.

Unfortunately, we had a minor tragedy. Let me just say that a four-pound box of shortbread cookies and I cannot coexist in the same house together. Good thing I got the stomach flu yesterday and managed to unload a few pounds in the space of 16 hours. My pants almost fit again.

We all flew home togther and managed to survive the cancelled flight, reroute to Chicago (go see the dinosaur!) and late-night drive from Big City airport to our little burg. Instead of arriving home in time for a late-ish bedtime for the kids, we got home at about 2 am. But we still got home, so okay.

We got our first batches of birds last week, 25 turkeys (bronzes) and 25 meat birds. I have them all together in a wading pool, but they announced their displeasure with this setup by starting to pick at each other. I had to put three bandaids on the butt of one of the chickens. I'll try to get a shot of that, it's actually kinda cute.

So tomorrow, I'll move them out to the new old chicken coop, set up the lights, and let them have more room to roam. I think it'll do them a world of good and I bet the picking stops right away.

And! One of our hens hatched a chick! And she's raising it! For those of you what don't have chickens, this is a Big Deal. Most birds have had the setting/brooding instinct bred out of them, so the only way to increase your flock is to buy chicks or use an incubator/brooder setup. But I managed to score an excellent mama hen, who is doing a bang-up job, and I hope she'll hatch out a full clutch this summer. I suspect that any chicks she raises that have the least natural inclination to motherhood be more likely to get the job done. The other birds we've had who managed to set long enough to hatch eggs out were suckass mothers and smothered the hicks or abandoned them. This is too cool. Me, I'm remarkably easy to please. Cheap date!

So far, no indication that I'll get into school early --holy crap, it's POURING just now-- and frankly that's good since we have no childcare leads. Helps to look for some, I suppose..

And now, cute kid pics!





































*I don't mean eight of each, of course. That would be insane.

Conservation of mess

If you took chemistry in HS or college, you probably remember the concept of conservation of mass. I now posit there is a corollary: despite how much you clean, purge, declutter, and generally empty a space, children will achieve Conservation of Mess. I cleaned most of the downstairs today and a good portion of the upstairs. To compensate for this loss of mess, the kids managed, in the space of about 45 nanoseconds, to trash several previously cleaned spots.

What. the fuck?


OT: Dude just peed standing up and said, "It's a good thing when I pee potty. Rock on!"

OT2: I contemplated washing the kitchen floors today. No, not mopping. Washing. On my hands and knees. Perhaps I nest?

Oh. Um, EWWW

When you flush the toilet, ideally all the products therein flow merrily downhill through the stack and into the sewer/septic/holding tank/whatever fetid locale you happen to have. Right?

I'm just checking, because right now? If you flush the upstairs bathroom toilet, massive quantities of ick flow up through the tub drain. Into the tub. Which we generally use for cleansing our bodies.

There are no words.

Husband made a valiant effort and tried to snake the toilet, but my theory is that the issue is in the tub's line and it's moved far enough down that now it's affecting the toilet, too.

PS, my god we poop a lot.

In other news, I called our local meat guys and am waiting to hear back on when they're coming out to do the pigs. They won't be nearly as big as Breakfast and Brunch, but we got them late (thanks, local meat guys!), so our timeline was shorter.

I feel bad because unlike pretty much any other animal I can think of, when the pigs encounter the electric fence, these guys charge THROUGH it instead of backing AWAY from it. So we haven't had any luck moving them to greener pastures (literally). They're still in the chicken yard, which thanks to several days of rain and the handiwork of our rootertillers, now measure about 5" of muck. I know they'd rather have nice cushy grass but they're too effing stupid/stubborn/bizarre to accept that white lines = pain and hey, STAY AWAY FROM THE WHITE LINES AND EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE.

Next year, we learn them young and early.

Perp started preschool last week and is already home with a cold. Swell! I know she's really feeling pretty bad because she's willing to just flop on the couch with Noggin on, and even spent several hours upstairs in her bed with no complaint. People, that's huge.

Dude has mastered the art of pooping on the potty. This morning, he dragged Husband in to show him and said, "That certainly is a big poop!" Too bad we couldn't flush it down the freaking toilet.

Another successful day of mothering

down the drain.

Hey, I have an idea: let's have a bath! Relaxing, cleansing, fun. Right?

Tell that to the two tearing around the upstairs hall shrieking at the top of their lungs (now with fighting!). I warned Dude that standing up in the tub meant an automatic end to bathtime and he didn't believe me. NOW he wants to wash his hair, which I couldn't bribe him to do with all the tea in China (or jellybeans in the candy factory, which is a far more likely option). Perp didn't want to get out because she wanted to play mermaid, but I really want to get them fed and down early. So I wrestled him out, threatened her out, and now they're banging on my door and trying their level best to break the sound barrier.

TO hell with the kids, it's a wonder any of the parents survive.

I wish you could hear them. It's really quite astonishing.

Banner day

What does it take to warm the very cockles of my withered old heart? Peeing in the potty is a fantastic start.






TWICE!

Already doing something wrong

Dude's cool new Bumgenius 3.0 diapers came on Monday and he promptly pooped FOUR TIMES to break them in. Problem: despite prewash, wash, and extra rinse, they still smell. Sun? Another round of washing? I'm waiting on a bunch of PFs and covers, so if I need to switch to something without fleece I can do that, but I'd really like to be able to put these to good use.

Help!

Oh, and I've managed to lose two cloth wipes in a day. This is going great!

I'm back! And I'm biased!

Ah, summer. Hot, sticky, humid summer. It's coming and I'm about to grow Very Cranky. So I thought I'd try and figure out why it is that I'm so intolerant of intolerance, but still manage to have my own little balls of bias living in my brain.

I don't like formula feeding. That is, I don't like it for convenience. I understand that there are a few (very few) women who legitimately don't produce enough milk, and that some can't nurse because of meds they need to take. But when women just choose to do it, it really bothers me. I never, ever say anything, because it's not my place to tell people how to feed their children. And I know that puts me in the minority of lactivists, but still. It's there. Right under the surface, just hoping I get an opening to put in my two cents. Which I'm too chicken to give. Ah well.

But there it is, I don't support formula feeding unless it's medically necessary. And I'm guessing that my idea of medically necessary is a lot different than most people.

I also find myself discounting people who are very vocal about their religion. Mostly that ends up being Christians (and when did that become a denomination?). I have a few friends who are very religious but it's just part of who they are, not something they use like a hammer to wear others down. When someone says, "What *we* believe," or "In *our* family, we do X," I have no problem with that. When someone says, "What *you* should do," or "The bible says you should do X," I shut down. I can't help it. Part of it is that I just don't seem to have the faith gene that others have. And I'm okay with that. I really am. A lot of people are not okay with that, though, and they don't mind telling me so. THAT I have a problem with.

I understand the command to go out and spread the gospel. But I think it should be shared with people who want to hear it and not forced on people who don't.

But again, I keep it to myself. I don't complain when people talk about their faith, though I think I'll start telling them I don't need to be saved, thanks.

It didn't even occur to me that I had these biases until I was ranting about intolerant people and it suddenly clicked that, hey! I have a couple tender spots myself. I like to think that I don't force them on people or make them feel bad for their choices/beliefs, but it's really, really hard for me to let go of my opinions. And maybe that's okay.

In other news:

• We have 6 new piglets and ohmigawd are they cute
  
• Perp and Dude went to daycamp this month and luuuurved it
• Perp starts 4-K in September. Big girl school!
• Dude has the vocabulary of a 3-4 year old and it's bizarre
• My mom had a great book review for her new kids' book
• We're switching to DirecTV because hey, we have this HD tv that we really can't put to its full use with Dish Network. But DTV doesn't work with TiVo, so we have to use their suck-ass DVR. I'm sure I'll get over it, but I'm not all that happy about it. On the plus: more channels of Absolutely Nothing!
  
• The goats are gone. They went to live on a farm. No, really! They'll be in the county fair this fall and we're going to go visit. But we don't miss them, not even a little.
  
• I'm turning into a fruit bat; I eat at least a pound of cherries a week, plus a pint of raspberries, lots of oranges, and peaches. How I love summer.
  

Unofficially official

Dude has celiac disease. I do not know this for a fact, as evidenced by blood tests, biopsies, or genetic testing. But I do know that when he eats foods with gluten, he develops eczema, stops gaining weight, and becomes a clingy, cranky, borderline-desperate boy.

MIL thinks I should have him tested but all the evidence I can find says that kids are hard to pin down, and that positive results from an elimination diet are good enough. I suppose some day it'll be worth doing, but not until he can understand what's going on and why we're feeding him food that makes him feel like shit. Yeah, you have to load up on gluten before hand in order for your intestines to start reacting, otherwise the biopsy won't show definitive results. Fun!

I've been kind of tooling along with a gluten-free diet for him, basically not feeding him any but not being too careful about the kitchen environment. Turns out a lot of people with CD have terrible problems with cross contamination. Like, separate toasters, pans, knives, peanut butter problems. And since he's having yet another eczema flare despite my efforts to keep gluten out of his diet, I think we have a problem, Houston.

It *may* be that the Quaker rice cakes that Perp shares with him every night (oh so cute) are the culprits, so they're the first thing we're cutting out. But if a few days of that doesn't do it, then I think we may need to just be a gluten-free household. It's too much work to keep everything separate the way it needs to be. I'm starting to understand how kosher households operate.

So. If you have any advice, recipes, product recomendations, hugs... I'll take 'em!

I will tell you this: I've found a cookbook that has let me make stellar brownies. I mean, wheat, no wheat, whatever, these are as good as scratch in the old days. So there's that. And? Chocolate chip cookies. Assuming the chips are GF. Oy. Gluten-free Baking Classics by Annalise G Roberts. Go. Get it. And order some superfine brown rice flour while you're at it. You won't believe the difference that extra grind makes.

Dudie-versary

He's TWO! I honestly have no idea how that happened.

Together, we can fill a landfill

*squirt*
"Dude, was that you?"
"Yeah!"
"Did you poop?"
"Yeah!" Arms up in air. Grin. "Big!"

Dear Dude

If you don't take a nap, I'm going to lose my shit. Seriously. I mean it.

Please. Work with me on this.

I would like to see you like this within the next 30 minutes.

















Thank you for your consideration,
Mama

1-1/2-year sentence

"Bye, Dada!"

If you could see

how FREAKING CUTE Dude is when he dances, well, I don't know, I think your ovaries would explode. Unless you have a different set of gonads in which case you would probably puke instead. Puke with joy!

He is especially fond of the goats (we need names, they're boys), and I'll post pictures tonight if I can get my shit together after I round them up for the night. He hugs them like they're dogs. He also hugs dogs. Fine, our dog.

They folllow us around like dogs, so it's no wonder he thinks they're for hugging. And really, since they're bottle babies, they kind of are for hugging. Squee!

Dude and Perp are recovering from a wicked case of pinkeye. Luckily, it seems to be bacterial so it's clearing up well with drops. Drops from hell. Hell Drops from hell. I can't believe how tight they can squeeze those little lids together. I remember when I was small and had to have several eye operations and the torture of the Hell Drops. So I can sympathize. Empathize, even. But I'm still giving them the drops.

A cow just waleked past on Signing Time: "She has nahnas*," observed Perp. The child is obsessed with the bo0bies.





*I have NO idea how to spell it. NAnas. Nahnas. Nanas?

Dudiversary

Dear A,

I'm at a loss. How has it been a year already? Wait: how has it only been a year? It's hard to believe that this time last year, you were only hours old and already suspicious.


You're starting to walk, which is freaking me the hell out. Luckily for everyone involved, you prefer to crawl, and man alive, can you haul ass. As you improve your walking skills, you have become more and more clingy, which I never thought possible. There have been days when you weren't even willing to go into your father's arms, which I suspect hurts his feelers a bit.

Your sister is passionately in love with you unless you are touching her toys. She'll tickle, cajole, hug, mash, and hit you, all in the space of five minutes. I hope that soon enough you will be a bit more able to defend yourself against her advances.



Your personality blossoms by the day. Watching it is one of the best experiences of my life. You are one of the most observant people I know. Unlike your sister, you wait and watch before making a move. I was not primed for a retiring child. I had spent nearly two years with a Vaudvillian after all; being presented with someone who didn't want to go to random strangers was beyond my ken. I think we've managed to get along quite nicely, though. You seem to like me okay.



When your father comes home from work, you go into a frenzy, "Ooooh! OOOOH! Ooh!" We speculate that you are part monkey, but the only way to be sure is to wait for the climbing phase. I would just as soon not experience the climbing phase. Give me a break on this one, okay?

There isn't much you won't eat, one thing you and your sister have in common.

Bathtime is also one of your pleasures now. Seriously? It took nearly a year for you to get into it, but now you can splash with the best of them. It's a bit ironic, since you were born into the water, but who am I to question your taste? As long as you don't start bringing Barney videos home. Then we'd have to have some kind of intervention.

Nursing is still going well. You seem to be as dedicated a nurser as your sister which pleases me inordinately. I know so many women who have a terrible time with nursing, so I count myself lucky that we're still slogging on.

Another thing you have in common with your sister is extraordinarily sensitive skin. I have yet to find a commercial lotion that doesn't cause you to break out in a hideous rash. In order to keep your skin from sloughing off like a snake's, I have started slathering you in olive oil. I worry a bit that you will like it so much that you will fall into a lifestyle that requires you to oil yourself up on a daily basis. I suppose if you work in tight quarters it would be okay.

I took you and your skin to Monica and she put us an elimination diet. Once I cut out grains (especially wheat, I think), soy, eggs, dairy, fun in general, your skin improved dramatically. Your skin has improved, and I don't mean over the course of a few weeks, I mean within three days. It's really quite amazing. I think we still have an item or two we need to cut out, because four weeks into this you still have some patches of eczema. I think it's either nuts or mangoes, and cutting either out of my diet is going to make me cry. A lot. But it's worth it, and it gives me something to bitch about, so that's a plus.

When it's time for bed at the end of the day, we sit and I rock while you nurse. In the warm dark, we sway to and fro and you settle from a long day of babying. Sometimes you reach up and stroke my face as you begin to doze. And just before I put you into your crib, you rest on my shoulder and press your cheek against mine. I close my eyes and try to remember back to just a year ago, and it's a blur. I can only imagine how fast this next year will fly.



You bring such joy to our hearts, baby boy. Happy birthday.

love,
Mama

Dude

luuurves his doggie

Elimination procrastination

I finally went to my midwife to plan out an elimination diet for me and the Dude. I took both kids in for RAST draws and they both came back entirely negative (at least for the things we though of). Yet I was still sure that there was a dietary component, especially since Dude's skin got so much worse after I got the greenlight from the allergist and stopped monitoring what he ate.

Now, on day 4 of a fairly extensive elimination diet, I can already see a difference in his skin. Crazy! His cheeks, which always had a weird, rosy color that should have been cute but wasn't, have cleared up and are nearly blemish free. The weird scaliness on his torso is almost gone. His legs are still sketchy and he hasn't lost the antecubital eczematous patches but even they seem to be a little better. I suppose the primary culprit is wheat. It's too soon for me to be rid of any dairy, I think. I haven't had much with eggs in it, and no actual whole eggs for several weeks. Peanut butter? Probably a few weeks ago.

I was pretty sure wheat was a prblem from early on but I never thought to cut it out of MY diet, so when I took it out of his and didn't see a difference, I shrugged and gave him a cracker. sigh

Stay tuned for updates as they come up.