Chicken and Sponge

The Unintentional Vegetarian

My little vegetarian, Miranda, sitting on driftwood while on the coast of Oregon, contemplating the universe.  Miranda surprised me by becoming a vegetarian back in September and then stuck with it.                                                                                                                                                       

I have been on a diet since the 4th grade, basically my entire lifetime.  I have lost weight many, many times and have gained it back each and every time with more to spare.  I don't blame the diets.  I don't own every diet book known to man but I have a good supply representing the full spectrum of what is out there to torture ourselves with.  I've also tried meal replacement plans ( yeah, those you see on television commercials) and they do work.  While some of the diets are unhealthy and ridiculous, some of them are healthy and effective.  The problem usually isn't with the diet.  Weight loss isn't rocket science.  The problem is with our own weaknesses and compulsion to eat tasty, very unhealthy food.

I had had enough. Mick, too, had once again vowed to lose all this extra weight we're carrying around. (I must say, if I'm going to be fat, I'm really grateful that my husband is, too.  Yes, I know that is selfish; just think of it as a bonding issue and a past time that we get to do together).  Mick is actually more disgusted by our current situation than I am because last spring he was within about 20 pounds of his goal weight and then we just ate our way back up.

We all, even skinny Miranda, watch The Biggest Loser.  This is Mick's inspiration and I think that's great, but it wasn't quite enough for me.  I was still having food problems and still stuffing comfort food into myself.  I had heard of "The Skinny Bitch" and knew that there was some controversy connected to it.  I'd heard that many people found it offensive.

Offensive sounded perfect to me.  I know how to lose weight.  I exercise for an hour a day, six days a week and these are no weenie workouts ( they're the Biggest Loser and Jillian Michaels workouts).  For me it is always a food issue.  I know what I do wrong--I just continue to do it.  So I was ready for some tough love.  I needed to hear something along the lines of, "ok, moron, quit stuffing so much food into your fat, pig face"...or some such encouragment.

I got so much more than I bargained for when I started reading "The Skinny Bitch".  I didn't know they were vegans.  I didn't know that I would be graphically informed (in my case reminded)  of the horrors of the slaughter houses and the devastation they wreak upon this planet.  Some of it I actually couldn't read because it was too horrifying and too graphic. 

I knew that these were the reasons that Miranda had chosen to become a vegetarian.  My reasons were a bit more complex.  Yes, I wanted to lose weight, definitely that, but I wanted to feel healthy, too.  Fat-free-this and artificial sweetener-that, were making me feel toxic and sluggish and diseased, even with weight loss.  My other reasons for adopting the Skinny Bitch, vegan lifestyle center around Miranda.  I needed to feed her better.  She had adopted this new lifestyle for moral reasons and though I supported her right to do so, I wasn't cooking enough for her.  We were relying too much on frozen vegetarian entrees.  I felt like a bad mom.

I'd had no intention of becoming a vegetarian when I picked up that book, in all ignorance of the contents, but I felt compelled to follow through.  I really haven't missed the meat.  As long as I can eat mushrooms and some of the starches, like corn and sweet potatoes, I'm content. ( Confession:  I have cheated and eaten some shellfish.  Having lived in the seafood industry for more than 18 years, I just don't feel that these creatures are being inhumanely tortured.  And I like the way they taste.  Just don't ask me about live butchering crab.  However, I know that the crab in my freezer were not live butchered because I bought them from friends right off their boat and I'm the one who boiled the little suckers.)  I digress.

So does the Skinny Bitch diet work?  Absolutely.  What works for me is that I don't feel like I'm on a diet.  Probably key to this is the avoiding of processed food.  Processed equals poison.  I've only lost about five pounds so far because Mick and I had a very bad diet week.  It was the usual, unspoken delusions:  I've been exercising hard, just a little of (fill in the blank) won't hurt.  But it's never just a little, is it?  So we smack ourselves and use a little of that tough love self-talk, "Come on, you moron, quit shoving all this tasty poison into your fat carcass and WAKE UP!"

I'll keep you informed as we progress. Meanwhile, I'll just look to my hero, Miranda, for continued inspiration.

I've the Patience of a Saint

Samantha, on her last day of elementary school, found the transition difficult, so she stayed in the cupboard.

Autism Household will be a regular feature of this blog because, frankly, there is no getting away from it.  In one form or another, this is our daily life.

Example #1:  Today.

Sam is in school today, after the three-day Presidents' Day weekend, which had been preceeded by an illness that had Sam at home for three out of five school days.  So, as we saw our beloved daughter off onto the little bus this morning, I had grand visions of accomplishment and productivity dancing through my head.  But it was not to be.  Not smoothly, at any rate.

My computer was not cooperating.  It was not starting up properly or shutting down.  It was refusing to read a disc that I know has photos on it.  It was also taking forever and a day to load anything.  The problem?

When Sam is home, she completely takes over our bedroom.  How this works in practice is that the black curtains remain shut, creating a dark cave; our covers are thrown off the bed onto the floor in a heep; my reading lamp is placed into the bed so that Sam can color and trace a few of the thousands of color sheets and movie covers that she prints off every day; our pillows are rearranged to her satisfaction; snacks, including chips, are eaten in our bed; for some reason plastic water bottles are bitten on the bottom and left standing on their caps so that she can suck water out of the bottom; the boombox is frequently played at top volume, as is the TV (or it's on mute with closed captions), and the computer, too, is at maximum volume, playing her favorite songs and shows.  All three usually play simultaneously.

I don't mind sharing.  Hell, I had to learn to share with Mick and that was probably harder, though his demands were more reasonable.  I do miss having a space of my own, especially when the kids are home.  I really miss my computer, my properly-working computer that is, and when the kids are home and occupying themselves, I feel like I'm just spinning my wheels.

I admire what Sam has accomplished and figured out on her own.  She is considered severe on the spectrum, after all.  Somehow this child has figured out what to type in the search box to lead her to YouTube and some of her favorite videos, music, and shows.

Currently, among her favorites are The Emporer's New Groove and a Disney show called Phineas and Ferb.  I can appreciate the writing and humor of these shows, but as another example of life  in an autistic household, here is what we frequenty endure at some ungodly hour ( is it 3:00 a.m.? 4:00, 5:00?  I don't know because my eyes refuse to focus properly).

So these ungodly early mornings go something like this:

music from the computer:  "PHINADROIDS AND FERBOTS!  PHINADROIDS AND FERBOTS!"

me:  "Sam, turn it down, now!"

Mick:  whimper, groan.

The song continues while Sam marches and frolicks from one end of our bedroom to the other.  When the video reaches the end, Sam starts it again.

the computer, softly,: "Phinadroids and Ferbots!  Phinadroids and Ferbots!"

Sam starts her scampering again, and I manange to get one eye open.  I see that she is wide awake with a huge delighted smile on her face.  I sigh and try to drift off.  But each time that Sam passes the computer, she taps the volume button once or twice and suddenly we realize that we're listening to:

"PHINADROIDS AND FERBOTS!  PHINADROIDS AND FERBOTS!"

me:  "Sam, turn it WAY down NOW!"

Mick: groan, whimper, and burrow into the covers and pillows, like that's going to do any good.

And so it goes, on and on, over and over.

The real problem with the computer is that Sam only knows one way to get to whatever favorite site she seeks and that is very rarely a direct route.  If she found something she liked by clicking through six or eight windows from another site, that is the route she knows and uses.  She never closes anything out and she never shuts it down properly.  Yes, if I was a responsible mom, a good mom, I would take the time and teach her these things.  Maybe that will be next year's resolution.

Why don't I assert my parental authority and just kick her out of our room, make her play in her own room?  Because I'm a soft touch and I don't feel like apologizing for it.  I will try to justify it, though.  Being autistic, there are so many things that other 12 year-olds get to do that Sam probably will never get to do.  For example: ride her bike to a friend's house, go to a sleep-over, hang out at the mall without Mom present, etc. So if her current version of fun is loud music, dancing, watching TV and surfing through YouTube, so be it.

If we had a bigger house Sam could have a playroom.  In the meantime, Mick and I share with her.  When she takes over in the wee hours of the morning and can't be chased back to her own bed anymore, we'll stumble out to the couch and her bed, closing our bedroom door behind us.

So how productive was I today? Well, I've finally transfered this from long hand to the computer.  Next, I'll see if I can figure out how to post pictures in the next ten minutes.  Then Sam will be home and I'll be kicked out of here again.  Another typical day at this house.

The Woman Who Fell Off the Edge of the World

This is a work in progress.  It is my intention to post parts of this novel each week.  I hope to get reader feedback and I'd really appreciate constructive criticism.  I'm not adverse to destructive criticism if you're really clever and witty, but if not, see if you could be helpful to me.  Anybody who has alot of advice can email me at:  chickenandsponge@yahoo.com,  subject line: novel.  Thanks, everybody.