Milk This

I love cow's milk. I have it daily, in my lattes, and sometimes with cereal. I remember drinking "Quik" all the time as a child. Man, that stuff was good.

When Hutton was a toddler, I did the expected thing, and introduced milk to his diet when he turned one. He was still nursing, so it wasn't something he drank a lot. When he weaned at 15 months, he moved from drinking my milk to cow's milk. At that time, he also developed his first ear infection, and started to get a funny rash on his face. As I was a first time mom, and pretty clueless, I didn't think this had to do with cow's milk. That he'd weaned - sure, that might be it. He wasn't getting immunities from me, so he was more likely to get sick and get an ear infection.

The pediatrician gave me a steroid cream to give him for his rash, which turned out to be eczema. His ear infection went away with antibiotics. Another one happened a few weeks later, and his eczema flared and cleared, but never stayed gone for long. I can't remember what led me to decide to stop cow's milk in Hutton's diet -- if it was a suggestion from the pediatrician or something I found online while looking for eczema treatments. Either way, I stopped giving Hutton milk around 17 months. He still ate cheese and yogurt, but no more cow's milk straight up.

Soon after, he stopped getting eczema. He stopped getting ear infections (the one he currently has is the first one since he was a toddler!). I had my "aha!" moment. Keeping cow's milk out of his diet wasn't too much trouble. I mean, it was nothing compared to the diet he's on now!

I, of course, still had my milk in my lattes, and drank it throughout my pregnancy with Harrison. Though, at this point, Hutton had been diagnosed with Autism and we were trying the gluten and casein free diet for the first time. While I was pregnant, I read in various Autism groups that cow's milk was a big problem for many with Autism. That mothers drinking it could cause their nursing babies to get colic. Huh. Hutton had colic. I decided Hutton definitely had a milk problem, and he hasn't ever had milk straight up since I first took it out of his diet. When he had ice cream around Christmas time, he said his stomach hurt. So, even if we ever are able to add back in dairy to his diet, I'll still be very watchful of cow's milk.

Fortunately, Harrison never had colic as a baby, so I was able to keep up my life-affirming addiction to the delicious goodness of lattes. He doesn't drink cow's milk, either, though, because it's easier for us all to be on the diet. (Or for me to hoard the precious cow's milk for myself.)

So, when Hutton came home with milk propaganda in his backpack the other day, I just laughed. They're talking about nutrition this week at school, and we all know how cow's milk "does a body good!" Especially when you're allergic to it and it causes ear infections, eczema and colic.

If anyone wants, I'll scan the "How We Get Our Milk" coloring book, too, brought to you by "Your Dairy Council, 'The Nutrition Education People'" so you can indoctrinate your own kiddies!

Adventures in Baking

Yesterday I decided to stop wallowing in self-pity about the evil diet and to attempt to do some allergen-free baking. While reading recipes, I checked Hutton's allergy test results for the fifteenth time and realized SORGHUM was on there as well. For most people, living without sorghum is a no-brainer, but if you happen to be a diet that limits most grains, it's hard, because it's a gluten-free grain that is present in many gluten-free substitutes and recipes. But then, nothing to freak over. I'll just use millet instead.

I decide to attempt two recipes: a cookie and a muffin. The first attempt: an almond cookie recipe from the allergy-free cookbook. I mixed together almond butter, almond oil, almond extract, and almond - oh yeah, millet, and then some brown sugar. (I was pretending that Hutton doesn't have a yeast-problem, and that cookies won't feed yeast. Hey, they're decorating cookies for Valentine's Day in his class! I don't want him to suffer because of yeast!) The resulting "dough" was very crumbly, but I managed to press it together and form cookies out of it.

They came out of the oven, hot, crumbly, and somewhat tasty, looking like this:

The boys liked them, though, even though most of the cookies crumbled before making it to their mouths. That was part of the experience, though. Eat cookie, spread crumbs around counter and get them all over clothes.

Before I made the second batch, I mixed in an egg white, and the dough became much more doughy and actually kept some cookie form. The boys like those, too, plus they didn't leave crumbs everywhere. Ding! Write that down in the allergy cookbook -- ADD EGG.

Second attempt: a muffin, made from millet, oil, other stuff I can't recall. I mixed everything together, and it made a lovely batter. Looked like it might work. I filled a muffin tin with batter, and popped it in the oven. Checked on them at 15 minutes. Eh. More time. Checked on them again. Hmm, they look done. I took them out of the muffin tins. Hmm, why is there all this moisture left in the muffin tin? Why does the paper not come off the muffins well? Why does this muffin taste like ass? (Well, that's a guess. I haven't tasted ass, but it probably tastes a lot like the muffins.)


I thought I'd keep the scraps of muffin to attempt to make bread crumbs, and called my friend, the home economist supreme, for advice and muffin trouble-shooting. I read her the recipe over the phone, and her comments were, "Why didn't you use baking powder?" Huh? "Maybe you should try shortening instead of oil." OK. And, "I'll come over tomorrow and help you bake." YAY! (After tasting the muffin scraps today, they still tasted like ass, so they were trashed. My friend and I figured out it was the oil. Note to self: never use canola oil again for baking. Or make sure it's very fresh.)

Today Culinary Master came, looked through my pantry, and whipped up two batches of baked goods, using the same basic mix of millet, tapioca flour, almond meal, potato milk, ghee and almond oil. And BAKING POWDER. One half of the mix went into muffin tins, with blueberries and some sugar added; the other half of the mix was "drop biscuits" with some herbs thrown on top.

After several minutes of baking, the experimental baked goods emerged. The verdict: the muffins weren't very puffy, but were very tasty. The "drop biscuits" didn't look like biscuits, unless you're using the British sense of the word. Essentially, they looked like giant herb cookies. They were tasty, too, though.

Although the doctored recipes won't win any food beauty pageants, I will definitely try them again! Thank you, L, my culinary master! Did I mention L doesn't have gluten-free baking experience? Yes, she's a master!

So Much to Say

And not much of it is good.

I've stayed away for a few days, as I was in the "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" frame of mind. No, I prefer to wallow in misery and let my depression stew for a few days before forcing it on my poor, undeserving (or is that underserving?) readers.

The misery and depression aren't so miserable and depressing today. Amazing what a day, and a double shot mocha (with whip) will do for you!

The pleasantly fading misery and depression stem from a few things, but they all involve a certain beloved first child. Yes, I love him unconditionally. No, it's nothing he did, but rather things involving him. See the difference?

Anyway, last week I received an email from Hutton's ABA consultant, who had emailed Hutton's primary megabitch er, teacher, wait, let's just say it's someone involved in Hutton's life several hours a week. This woman who shall remain nameless had emailed his ABA consultant about Hutton's behavior. ABA consultant had been in to observe Hutton's class a few times and recommend things to try for his bad behaviors. [That's what they do - Applied Behavioral Analysis. Kind of like a nicer version of Pavlovian conditioning. You show a child how to do something the right way, and give him lots of praise, or tokens, or treats, or he gets to play with a special toy, etc. if he does the "right" thing. For instance, if Hutton is working on a worksheet, and completes the worksheet, he may get a high five and a check mark on his chart, with the goal being after he gets five check marks, he gets to play with his trains. If he does something "wrong" -- tearing his worksheet and putting the paper in his mouth, let's say, very hypothetically. Cough. -- he is redirected to doing it the right way. The bad behaviors tend to be ignored, as if you punish them, that is often what the child is going for -- attention, and a chance to get out of what he doesn't want to do.]

Back to the story. So, the ABA consultant knew that this mystery woman (MW) didn't like having Hutton in her, uh, surroundings, and was not too keen on trying these ABA techniques for changing negative behaviors, but she still told MW that if she (ABA consultant) could help with any transitions to a new class she would. MW wrote back, in my best paraphrasing, with some of the choicest words in bold:

We are leaving Hutton's backpack in the bushes [he often throws his backpack in the bushes after he gets off the bus] so he doesn't get his snack for the day as a consequence. We reward all the other kids with crackers and telling them "Good job!" when they aren't ripping their papers, and ignore everything Hutton does unless it is harmful or affects other kids. Yesterday, Hutton was playing with the soap and got some in his eyes. I'm hoping he is smart enough to put the two together.

The rest of it mentions more of his bad behaviors, and how she knows I am weary of the school battle. Huh? I'm fine with school. Hutton is fine with school until he is treated like a dog, and worse than that, a very stupid dog.

Onto my mom bias. I know Hutton has challenging behaviors. Yeah, really. I deal with fights over getting him to drink his supplement-laced drinks every morning (damn, that TMG really smells bad, and Hutton sniffs everything before eating or drinking it! Guess he really doesn't need TMG that much today), his howls of protest when he doesn't want to do something he needs to do (get the bus, go to speech therapy, go downstairs for ABA therapy...), other assorted things here and there. But, I also know that Hutton is a very smart little boy who is perfectly capable of doing kindergarten level work. The trick is to make it enjoyable. Hmm. That's crazy, isn't it? Make kindergarten fun? You mean, so kids will like going to school for the next 12 years? Yeah, crazy.

And the point of Hutton being in kindergarten isn't to make him feel singled out as a stupid freak; strangely enough, he may get that idea when he's IGNORED and everyone else is rewarded for things he doesn't understand. Does he know they're getting crackers for not ripping papers? Maybe, but more likely he just sees other kids getting crackers, while he essentially sits ignored and hungry, because he doesn't get to have his snack, because his backpack is still in the bushes. But wait, how is he doing to make those connections if, as MW believes, he's not smart enough to realize that soap in your eyes hurts? GRRR.

I think his ABA consultant would point out that the whole idea is POSITIVE reinforcement of good behavior. Not punishment of bad behaviors. I realize punishment works to change behaviors, too, but that's not what we're looking for. I'm sure MW would love to be able to whip Hutton into submission, but that's just not going to happen in WA kindergarten. (I do remember being horrified when we moved to Tennessee and they had corporal punishment in the form of paddling at middle and high schools! No, I never was paddled. I was a good girl!) I've seen how well positive reinforcement works for Hutton. When I go crazy with praise after he writes his name on his homework sheet, the whole process goes so much more smoothly. Imagine that. Praise works better than my getting angry and frustrated. Who knew?

A few minutes after I got the forwarded email (e standing for EVIL), I got another email from MW, CCed to the ABA consultant and the director of special education at Hutton's school district.

Just to prove me wrong (or insane) Hutton has had much better days this week...He hasn't thrown his backpack since the day he missed out on snack. He has been willing to stay in his seat and do his work with a minimum of prompts. (And lots of crackers.) Let's stay on course and see how it goes!

So, right when I'm ready to get Hutton out this class ASAP, MW comes around to seeing how well he can behave. Of course, now I have to let her know we're doing a gluten, casein, corn, etc. free diet, and will have to provide them with some better reinforcers. I called the director of special education to discuss the situation, but haven't heard back from her yet. Needless to say, I still want Hutton out of crazy (hey, she said it herself!) Megabitch's class. But I don't know what his options are, and I've heard bad things about our neighborhood school from another parent. Sigh. It will all be fine. Eventually.

The other misery has been dietary. Hutton has been fine on the diet. I'm the one having trouble getting used to it. And Hubby (or Husband as I should call him, as Hubby sounds too cute and cheery for someone I'm still sorta pissed at) has problems with it as well.

Yesterday, as I was making the boys waffles (yes, Kim, I got the Trader Joe's ones!) and bacon, I was trying to get Hutton to drink his supplement juice. I made the mistake of putting the vitamins that smell in there (super nu thera and TMG), and Hutton wasn't going to drink his juice, which had the last of the lemonade in it, which is the best beverage for disguising the grapefruit seed extract I'm currently using to treat his yeast overgrowth. I was trying everything. "Hutton, you need to drink this so it will kill the yeast monster!" "Sweetie, if you drink this, you can have maple syrup on your waffles!" then quickly degenerating to, "Hutton, you will not scream at me. Go to your room until you calm down!" followed by, "Sweetie, please drink this! You won't be able to have any bacon unless you drink this! These supplements are really frickin' expensive!" Finally, after Husband came downstairs and offered the helpful, "Hutton, please drink your juice so Mommy will shut up," I dumped the drink, found some oranges to make orange juice with, and hid the grapefruit seed extract and a few other non-smelly vitamins in the o.j., which was readily accepted as drinkable by super-nosed boy. I then attempted to show him how to swallow capsules. No, that didn't work. I think I'll be leaving the smelly stuff out indefinitely, and sticking with the yummy, though not as nutritious or good for a yeast problem, chewable vitamins.

So, I was pissed at Husband after that remark, plus when he tried to say that we weren't doing anything fun all weekend, not because he had work to do (which he did) but because we couldn't go out to eat because of the diet. I decided to take the boys to the park after a delightful GFCFetc. lunch to prove him wrong. Husband wheedled his way into going to the park with us, then went to work that afternoon.

Another incident at the park added to my weekend funk. We saw a boy from Hutton's class. I spoke to the mom briefly about our plans for school for next year, while avoiding talking about a certain teacher at all costs. The boy from class pointed out that Hutton didn't pump well on the swing. OK. A few minutes later, another boy from Hutton's class showed up. I attempted to talk to the moms, who are obviously better friends than I am with either of them, for a few minutes, while watching their sons come up with some super-imaginative play scheme involving the jungle gym as a submarine, and going into the boiler room to check for leaks, and spotting dolphins through the periscope, etc. Hutton preferred to just play on the jungle gym as a jungle gym, and I quickly excused myself to spot Harrison on another jungle gym, feeling left out and sorry for myself, and sad that Hutton wasn't playing "the right way" with two boys from his class.

Today, in my less-miserable state of mind, I realize that the two boys aren't autistic (well, I know one isn't, and I'm pretty sure if the other one is, he's super high-functioning, as he came up and asked me my name and proceeded to call me by name for several minutes), and they are friends outside of school, so probably play better together anyway. If Hutton's friends from school who have autism were there, it may have been a different story, or if his friend Amy were there...Who knows?

Oh, and I was just PMSing. A classic excuse for misery and depression!

One of Those Days

I woke up late, and scrambled to get the boys fed and myself dressed in time to get to ABA therapy on time. I was about 5 minutes late. Not too bad.

After a long discussion with the ABA consultant about Hutton's school situation (she observed him in class last week) we're going to go with the approach of my calling the Special Education Director of the school district, who also observed Hutton in class last week. Whatever the director wants to do, I'm going to push for it to be done as quickly as possible, then the ABA consultant can meet with teachers and come up with methods for them to use with Hutton. We'll see...

After that, we had lunch, then drove south to see Hutton's doctor to go over test results from his latest round of many, many tests of various bodily fluids. The results: Hutton has yeast (uggh), bacteria dysbiosis, and allergies to things I feared, namely corn. So, in addition to using various new supplements to fight yeast and help heal his gut, he's going on a yeast-free diet, as well as cutting corn and eggs, which are in addition to the gluten and casein (basically wheat and dairy) he can't have, which we already have been working on. The yeast-free diet wipes out the other mainstays of Hutton's diet - fruit, and condiments or sauces that make it possible for him to eat the meats I give him. He loves honey on his chicken nuggets. Well, both of those are out - I haven't found any gluten and corn-free nuggets, and I've heard that they're very difficult to make from scratch (well, if you want them to be edible, that is). The honey feeds yeast. Hotdogs? He likes the nitrate-free hotdogs, but loves them with ketchup. We'll see if he'll still eat them, condiment-free. They have gluten-free waffles Hutton likes, but will he eat them without syrup? We'll see! If not, he can have bacon. He will eat some salad, but he's never had it sans dressing. He does like carrots. So, we can feed him all the carrots, potatoes and meat he'll eat. Yee-haw.

Basically, I'm wallowing in self-pity because this means no more eating out for four months. Eating out is the highlight of my weekend. Oh well. I'll have plenty of time now to enjoy cooking in the kitchen. Wait, I hate cooking. The only things I like to cook are cookies and other things Hutton won't be able to eat. I also hate going to the grocery store, which will now be a much more frequent occurrence, since Hutton will essentially be on a cave-man diet of fresh vegetables and meat for the next four months. Did I mention I hate cooking? So, if Hutton's going to be on the diet, the rest of us will, too, cause I sure as hell am not going to make two of every meal for four months.

Hutton also has some mercury, arsenic and lead according to the special porphyrins test we did. So, after four months of yeast-killing and gut-healing, we'll re-test and then do some chelation.

Sigh. One day at a time, right?

Oh, and Sally, the evil bitch sweet dog had gone several days without any accidents, so I put the rugs back down. See, she slides all over the hardwood floors when there are no rugs to provide traction, since her hind legs are still a bit unstable, so I put the rugs (or what's left of them, after being washed a hundred times) back down. Tonight as I was stressing out about Hutton while making a meal we won't be able to eat again for the next several months (a last supper, if you will) I noticed one of the rugs was reflecting the light in a peculiar way. Because Sally had peed on it. Less than an hour after going outside to do her business. Of course, she managed to high-tail it up the stairs, part dragging her hindlegs, to get away from me and hide when she realized I was yelling, "Sally! Goddammit!" I half-carried/half dragged her downstairs and put her in her crate, then threw the rug in the wash. Deep breaths. Lots of deep breaths, Laura.