What I Do In My Spare TIme

Greg gave me the day off yesterday and took the kids to Sleeping Bear Dunes again.

I spent the day having lunch with Grammy, buying oodles of delicious gluten free food at the food co-op, and trying to find the Amish woman who sold me the best strawberry jelly and trail mix at the Farmer's market last week.

There aren't many Amish up north here, but I'm telling you that this woman had the best trail I've ever had and I almost want to delay our departure in hopes she'll be at the Farmer's Market again on Saturday. I could survive all the way home on her perfect blend of salty and sweet.

If I lived here, I'd be stalking her all the way home and her husband would be telling her to stay away from the crazy "English" woman.
When I got home and had no kids around, I settled into a fascinating article about The Dark Side Of Wheat and how selective breeding and hybridization in the last 50 years has changed the genetic makeup to such an extent that the wheat we are eating today contains as much as 50 percent more gluten than our grandparent's wheat. Our wheat today also contains a 6.5 times larger genome than our own human species.
Greg's mom mentioned to me the other day that people didn't have food allergies when she was growing up. You never heard of anyone who couldn't eat bread. She's actually correct about wheat intolerance. I read yesterday that frozen blood from military men in World War II was tested for wheat allergies and antibodies against wheat, compared to men in the military today, and they now believe as many as 1 in a 133 people are either celiac's or have wheat intolerance, and our new plagues and gastrointestinal problems, such as Krohn's disease, irritable bowel syndrome, acid reflux, chronic fatigue syndrome, and fibromyalgia may be due in part to having undiagnosed celiac's disease.
While our modern advances in growing wheat that is drought and pest resistant is largely responsible for feeding our world population explosion and saving millions upon millions of people from dying of starvation, we may have changed our "staff of life" to such an extent that it is now poisoning us.
Which made me think about how well a lot of autistic children do when put on a gluten free diet. What else is exploding in our population? Autism, which also is at about 1 in 133 in America.
Which made me think of the Amish woman at the Farmer's Market. Amish people still grow their own wheat from their own seeds. They aren't beholden to the big corporate giants who now hold patents on the genetically modified seeds farmer's need to plant. What is the rate of autism in Amish communities?
According to what you read, it is extremely low, with one article stating it could be as low as 1 in 15,000. And as many as 70 to 90 percent of the Amish DO vaccinate.
I've always thought that autism was due in part to something, somewhere in our food chain or our environment. Especially when you read about how autism is virtually unheard of in Somalia, but when immigrants move here, their US born children have a rate of autism 2 to 7 percent higher than the general population.
The typical Somalian diet consists of camel milk, meat, millet, and maize in their homeland. This changes dramatically upon entering America with introduction of wheat and cow's milk.
Could wheat be causing autism?
This is the stuff I do in my spare time. Try to solve the world's problems by developing conspiracy theories and then calling my sister to bounce them off of her.
I have an unopened romance novel that I bought at the library for 35 cents.
I promise I will read that on the way home, Nancy.

Things You Can't Do In Vegas

Things my kids would never see in Las Vegas.
The sun setting on the water on a real lake.



Steering the wheel on a big sailboat. I suppose this is possible if you become a pirate and work at Treasure Island.

Pumping your own free water if you need a drink. You can get free drinks in Vegas, you just have to be 21.
Catching frogs. The things you catch in Vegas, you don't talk about.

Making hollyhock dolls with Grammy. What can you make with a tumbleweed?
We were down in the open space for a film festival a couple nights ago and a man approached Greg's mom and handed her a pamphlet. My first instinct was to tackle him and rip it out of Barb's hand. If you've ever been on the Strip and had to deal with the smut peddlers, you know what I'm talking about. The pamplet was about God. If someone hands you a pamplet in Vegas, I can guarantee you it won't be about God.
It would probably say, "Surprise, we're guys. In room entertainment."
I did arrive in Michigan with my showgirls though.

You can take the girl out of Vegas, but you can't take Vegas out of the girl.
I can't wait to get home to my people.

My Kid Just Can't Eat Oil

Amanda has been having a super hard time over the past two days. I accused Greg of slipping her red dye 40. She's been having uncontrollable crying jags. If she can't find her sunglasses, she completely freaks out. She is exhibiting OCD symptoms and has just been almost impossible to deal with.

I've had to buy our food at the regular grocery store, because I didn't know my way around in Traverse City and I didn't know where any local health food stores were. I finally found the food co-op, but not before I bought a bunch of commercial brand name cereals at the regular store.

Since I never buy stuff at the regular store, I forgot. I forgot about the artificial preservative butylated hydroxytoluene or BHT, which is in most major cereals. Look on the back of your cereal. Here are all the current studies on BHT. It's one of the biggest culprits in ADHD behaviors and is also a petroleum product like red dye 40.

If you have kids that are acting nuts, try replacing your breakfast cereal with ones that use vitamin E as an antioxidant.

If you are new to my blog, and have a child out of control, please click here to read about red dye 40. My child just can't seem to metabolize oil. Go figure.

The Family Bed Isn't Working For Me

I will start this post by showing you our sleeping arrangement over the past 2 weeks.
The family bed isn't really working for us and if you have a family bed, please chime in and let me know how much sleep your family is actually getting. My kids normally get about 10-12 hours per day. Ten would be a luxury. They are going to bed well after 10 and getting up around 7 and we are dragging them all over the place, so they aren't napping either.

All night long, they are kicking each other. It's fun. We are all so sleep deprived, if I saw Dr. Sears walking along the road, I'd run him over with my car. I finally figured out that I have to put their pillows in the middle of the bed and spread them out in a diagonal configuration away from one another.

Overestimating the children's attention span and interest level, we drug them yesterday on a two hour road trip to Mackinac Island, which is only assessable by ferry.

Mackinac Island's claim to fame is a complete ban on motorized vehicles.

Everything on the island is still moved around by horse and carriage. People get around on bicycles. I've been there four or five times and usually we rent a bicycle and peddle around the island.

On the way there, we pass by the Mackinac bridge, which is the third longest suspension bridge in the world, connecting lower and upper Michigan. The only other fact about this bridge that has stuck in mind is that in the 80s, a lady driving a Yugo was blown off the bridge and plummeted to her death in the icy waters.

The kids weren't really that interested in the bridge.

Nor, surprisingly, they didn't care about the horses.



Wouldn't you think this would be fascinating?

You would be wrong.

They didn't even care about the poop wagon.

I actually spent the entire two hours I was on the island, ushering people into the bathroom. Greg was so mad, he said he was putting them all back in diapers. I tried to tell him this is why I don't take him to Disney with me.

He said he's done. He's not taking them anywhere again until they're eight.

So we left. And they thought the boat ride back to the car was the best thing ever in the universe.

When we were getting off the boat, Gregory said, "This was the most fun day ever, Daddy."

See? Another fabulous vacation day.

Are You A Fudge Faker?

I have a secret.

For twenty years I've pretended to like fudge. But I don't. I don't like fudge. It makes me sick to my stomach. I don't know if it's because it's so rich, but I don't like it. I will nibble at it, but I don't care for it. Blech.

Since people in Michigan think fudge is better than anything, I just pretended to like it so I wouldn't be some desert rat that doesn't get it.

Yesterday, we drove out to Fishtown in Leelanau. And we bought fudge, because that's what you do.

The kids ate an entire slice in 10 seconds. I declined to eat any because I had an empty stomach. We hadn't had lunch yet and it was already 3pm. I swear time moves slower up here.
Ten minutes after the fudge consumption, Greg spotted a hot dog cart and got the kids something to eat. Austin and Amanda promptly dropped their dogs on the ground. Not one to waste a $1.50, Greg blew them off and everyone ate.
A few minutes later, I looked at Autin and he had tears coming out of his eyes as I watched vomit come out of him in slow motion like he'd turned into a human soft serve ice cream machine.
I dived and caught the puke in my hands, in what is some sort of maternal instinct. Greg told me later it looked like I was catching sausage coming out of a meat grinder.
I could hear a teenager yell to his friend, "OH MY GOD, that kid is PUKING!"
I ran to the garbage can and threw the vomit in, while Barb whipped out her Purell. I had saved the day. No puke on Austin, no puke on the ground, no puke on me.
Then I looked at Sarah and she was gagging and having dry heaves. Once when Austin was a baby, I was feeding him bananas and Sarah walked by and saw them smashed around his mouth, and she threw up her entire breakfast instantly.
So I grabbed her and RAN to the grass and she proceeded to vomit all over herself.
I swear it was the fudge.
Fudge makes my family vomit.
I asked Greg later if he even LIKED fudge
"No. I hate it."
"Then why do you eat it?"
"Dunno. Just do."
Huh?
Does ANYONE like fudge? Or is this like the Emporer's New Clothes? Are you a fudge faker?
Anyway, I took Sarah to the van, cleaned her up, changed her, and we went along like nothing happened.
It was another fabulous vacation day.

Second Scariest Moment Of My Life

While I was blowdrying my hair yesterday morning, Austin came in and said, "Mommy, the crayons are stuck. They're stuck."

So I thought he meant that he had shoved them back in the box incorrectly and they were all stuck.

What he meant is he had put a whole box of crayons into the heat register and they were STUCK.

We've got to get out of here before these kids wreck this place.

Greg's younger brother and girlfriend drove up to see us and the kids were overcome with joy.




Nobody in the universe is as loved as Uncle Mark. These kids will love the clothes right off of you.

Greg's mom and Mark and Julie went to get lunch and I was making myself a tuna sandwich with a homemade loaf of garbanzo bean bread that I picked up from the farmer's market, when someone knocked on the door.

It was the president of the association, so we invited her in to talk. She's like ninety, so I knew she was likely deaf, so we sent the kids into the bedroom so we could ask her some questions.

Suddenly the kids came running out of the bedroom and Sarah said, "Mommy, something TERRIBLE has happened."

I thought they had pulled the blinds off the window.

Greg and I went running into the bedroom and the screen was bent and hanging down and Austin was gone. In that split fraction of a second, I realized that he had fallen out of the second story window.



Austin was laying on the ground. He was screaming and screaming. Greg got there first and scooped him up and he was holding his head and screaming. It was terrifying. The only other time I have ever felt such a sick crippling feeling was when I was sitting in the hospital cafeteria and the nurse called me to tell me they were rushing Austin into an MRI because his brain was full of fluid.
We put ice on his head, and I held him and comforted him. After an hour, it was evident that he didn't land on his head. He landed on his tailbone. He just seems to default to his head no matter what happens to him.
After a couple hours of resting and loving, he jumped up and was climbing all over Uncle Mark.
He is okay. I am so thankful. Having grown up all my life in a ranch, it never even occurred to me that you could fall out of a window. Window safety is not something I've ever even thought about.
I can't imagine what the association woman was thinking. We just left her standing in the living room.
I cannot believe that happened. I am still in some sort of delayed shock. I just cannot tell you how badly that scared me.
Sarah was in the newspaper yesterday. That's not our real last name. I gave the reporter one of our many fake last names.

Greg's mom said, "You've only been here a week and you are already in the newspaper."

If we stay here another week, we'll be on the news.

We gotta get out of here and back to Las Vegas where it's safer.

If I Can't Have Fun, Nobody Can

Greg had a hissy fit yesterday because he was painting his mom's condo and he didn't want me to take the kids anywhere fun or do anything fun.

Seriously, he had a temper tantrum.

"Oh, I have to spend the whole day away from home, entertaining the kids, but I can't have fun? If you can't have fun, no one can have fun?"

What rule book are we reading?

I have to say that the condo looks fabulous. The other paint was really cheap or applied incorrectly and there were big streaks where the older paint was bleeding through. It was nasty. It looked fine if it was cloudy, but if the sun hit it, you could see all the mistakes and bad workmanship. The new paint looks fantastic.

Which I hope makes up for the fact Austin jumped off the bed, and hung from the ceiling fan, and broke the cord out of the motor, and busted the light off, and it's now dangling. Or that the kids pulled their towels off the towel rack and it fell off the wall. It looks lovely in here. We're going to fix all that, of course.

So Greg's mom and I set out to go see the Old Mission lighthouse. Turns out that nobody had fun. I think Greg jinxed us.

Nobody would use the outhouse, so I tried to hold Amanda in a squatting position in the woods, and she peed all over her skirt and my feet. Everyone was whining and miserable and to make it even harder on myself, I took them on a tour of the inside of the lighthouse, because kids five and under get in for free, and this is our last year to enjoy such excitement as touring a lighthouse for free, and they WILL do it, damn it, even if it kills me. Grammy got stuck on the steps and Sarah left her bucket at the very top.
They all cried from starvation and overtiredness when we left to find a picnic table.


We stopped at the Old Mission park and ate and the kids got in the water, where they began throwing handfuls of sand at each other.

I warned them and then Austin looked at me and threw a giant handful at Gregory.

So I went in the water after him, and threw him over my shoulder, and hauled him out of the water while he screamed and cried and made him sit on the bench.



Then to teach me a lesson, he threw himself in the sand and rolled in circles until he was covered from head to toe with sand. Wait. Is that Greg?

When everyone was finally happy and playing, the skies opened up and it started pouring, when moments earlier, it was sunny and hot. So we had to run for the van, strip everyone down, get them in dry clothes, get the sand off, and go home.
It was another fabulous vacation day. Vacations are so much fun. Until they're not.

White Man Lies

We went hiking at Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park yesterday. Those ants down at the bottom are my kids, who are up to any challenge when it comes to climbing.

And this is straight up.



I heard some guy huffing and puffing on his way up and telling his kid, "The air is thinner up at this elevation, son. You can't even use the same recipes way up here."

I Googled the elevation when I got home and the summit is 965 feet above sea level. I was cracking up. You think that man has ever been out West?



The girls wouldn't let me dress them alike yesterday, so I was forced to match Greg. This is what happens to old triplet moms when the children stop letting you color coordinate them. Do you think I can get Greg to wear black?

Which one is Gregory?

And guess who was hiking at the same time we were?

Kate Gosselin!!!! Did anyone think that haircut would catch on to the general public? Greg's mom was horrified that I took a picture of a random stranger. Like nobody has ever taken MY picture before. I've had someone videotape me while I was eating with my children.

After we went hiking there, we took the kids swimming in Lake Michigan and looked for Petoskey stones. I was going to write about the Petoskey stone legend, then I stumbled across a Native American blog and he said the legend is all white man lies.



Petoskey stones are fossilized coral. Since I'm White and definitely lie, the legend goes that stone was named after the son of a French nobleman and an Ottawa Indian princess and the name means "rising sun".

But that could all be wrong now, according to the website. There were no Indian princesses, and if there were, they wouldn't marry the White man. We, white people, make up stories to amuse ourselves. I don't, but the rest of you do.



The kids have yet to ever find a Petoskey stone.



But they sure did try.



Is this one? Poor Austin. His eyes still make peculiar movements which I am attributing to his brain tumor. I think the size of it presses on his optical nerve, so that when he tries to look up, his eyes make this strange movement.



Is this one?

It was another excellent vacation day.

Now it's supposed to rain for the next hundred days. I have no idea how you people survive with a lot of children when you can't go outside.

Do you make up stories to amuse them?

We Should Try This. You Go First

There was an ad on my blog yesterday for gluten-free, fat-free noodles. They are called Miracle Noodles. What caught my attention was the claim that they are also calorie-free.

If something is calorie-free. is it FOOD?

Remember Olestra? The fat substitute that was supposed to change our lives? We were going to be able eat all the chips we wanted and not gain any weight? What ever happened to WOW potato chips?

Oh, yeah, I remember. They made your anus leak. You might get skinny, but otherwise be completely unappealing.

So I started reading about the Miracle Noodles yesterday, since it was raining. and the kids were napping. and I had nothing else to do. What's the gimmick? How can a noodle be calorie, fat, and gluten free?

But wait, there's more!

They're also kosher, cure diabetes, high cholesterol, constipation, and obesity.

By golly, why aren't we all eating them?

I was reading this all to Greg and he said, "Oh, I'm sure. Why don't we just eat air."

So I figured they must be made out of some horrific man-made chemical. But they aren't. They are called Shirataki noodle and they are made out of the konjac plant, which is grown in Asia.



It's totally natural!

And it comes in angel Hair and penne for those Italian pasta loving fools.

Okay, what do you suppose the catch is?

Anal leakage?

I think we should try it. We'll all get really skinny together. You go first.

Got Any Drama For Me?

Never in the history of mankind have two people put so much thought into the color of walls and couches.



The furniture was sent back. Furniture stores have been scoured. There are no furniture manufacturers in the lower 48 that make anything to match these walls. So I've been told.

The decision was finally made to paint the walls. You would think we were painting the Sistine Chapel over here. So as of five minutes ago, we are down to three different couches and two wall colors.
In between all that, we went cherry picking. Traverse City is the cherry capital of the world.

As you can see, Greg has his uniform on. White shirt, jean shorts. I did wash today and all he brought was 12 white t-shirts and a gallon of bleach. We make a dashing couple. Does the reality show What Not To Wear have a couple's episode? Everyone wonders how we have managed not to officially work for the last 8 years. We've spent $27 on clothes. That's how.
The children ate several pounds of cherries, pesticides and all, before we left.
Austin has been begging me for showers over the last two days.
He's been saying, "Mommy, I stink. I smell disgusting. Mommy, I need a shower."
So I've been sticking him in the shower to make him happy. Water is included in the association fee, so for once in his life, he doesn't have Greg hovering over the shower with a timer.
I figured out yesterday that the other kids are telling him he stinks on purpose.
I overheard them saying, "Austin you smell yucky. Ewwwwww. You smell. Ewwww."
"Stop telling your brother he stinks. Do you understand me?"
The kids have developed a strong attachment to the caterpillars here. They call them cata-puters. There actually killing the trees, but they think they are cute and fuzzy. They are making cata-puter hotels.

Amanda's cata-puter is having a baby soon.
During Greg's Big Shopping Adventure, I took the kids to the beach and we walked downtown and window-shopped. While we were sitting and eating ice cream, a gigantic unneutered (nonneutered?) Great Dane walked by and Gregory pointed at the back of that dog and Austin started roaring with laughter.
"Look at that dog's BUTT."
You've never seen such hysteria. They laughed and roared and laughed. They were laughing so hard, a couple across the street, eating dinner, started laughing.
Everything is funny when you are five.
Okay, I realize, yawn, that this blog has been positively boring lately, but I have been in a completely drama free zone here. Got any drama to share?

Not A Care In The World (Except The Dog Poop)

I can't get the kids to go in the pool at home unless it's literally 110 degrees out because they tell me the water it too cold. But they jump right in the FREEZING Grand Traverse Bay like they are in a sauna.

They must remember the first time they went swimming in it.


These kids are having a blast. We went to the beach twice yesterday.
First we went to Bryant Park, which was one of our favorite beaches, but this year it was covered with dog poop. I didn't believe Greg's mom when she told me there was tons and tons of dog dirt at the water line until I saw it for myself. People run on the beach with their dogs and let them crap all over and don't clean up after them. YUCK!
We moved down and found a nice clean area, but we all wondered if the city has run out of money and can't afford to clean the beach?

The kids were oblivious to our disgust though and just played and played and played. They really do get along so well. They are the best of friends and just play for hours and hours and hours together. Watch the boys in this video.



Austin is so happy. He is so incredibly happy.


It's hard to remember that he has another MRI on August 18th. He almost never complains about his head hurting anymore, so I'm feeling really confident that his tumor isn't growing.

People ask me all the time what his long term prognosis is? What's going to happen? I don't know. I honestly don't.

But I know that we are giving him the happiest childhood anyone could ever hope for. And he is happy. He laughs and laughs and laughs all the time. Just watch that video and you see a little boy with not a care in the world.

These are the days I hope we always remember.

Not the dog poop part though. I'm going to forget that part right now.

We Made It To Grammy's!

We finally made it to Traverse City and to Grammy's new condo. It's right across from a skateboard park, so since we don't have a television, the kids are watching the kids skateboard.

I have internet, because it's right on the main drag and backs up to all these businesses that offer free internet to their clients. In fact, if I was eating gluten, I could almost order a meal from the bedroom, because it overlooks an Arby's drive thru.

The condo has brand new white carpeting, so we are going to run to the store today and buy some shower curtain liners and stick them under the table. Can you imagine my kids eating on white carpeting? The condo was built in 1973, but it was updated in 2007, so it is very clean inside.

The walls are a strange taupe color though that has a pink hue, so the couch Grammy got clashes with it horribly. We need to go look for new furniture today? What color?

It's pretty loud here, with the semi trucks and motorcycles driving by, but I'm sure you get used to the traffic noise eventually. I wouldn't. but I'm sure people do.

There are two boys living overhead who are 7 and 9. I guess they were messing around in the bathroom and now the ceiling is leaking into Grammy's shower. This won't be the first time Greg has had to repair a ceiling in a condo in Traverse City. Remember last year?

Okay, it's a good thing my kids can skateboard. I'm going to go send them across the street! They are driving me nuts this morning!

You Catholics Sure Know How To Party!

Greg and I went out together for the third time since the children were born last night. Unlike the rest of you, who probably ditch your kids all the time (Yeah, you!), I haven’t had enough practice at doing this to not get all concerned about leaving the kids.

I kept thinking maybe I wouldn’t go. Was a 14, 12, 11, and 9 year old capable of taking care of a 5, 5, 5, and 4 year old? Then I was going to go, but I was going to swing back and get them all to bed.

Then I wasn’t going to go.

Then I was.

Then I thought I’d take my own car, in case I had to get home and everyone else could stay out.

Getting four kids to bed is a lot of work. The 14 and 12 year old are boys. The 11 year old would be responsible for getting them all to bed. The 14 and 12 year old were really just going to keep them from escaping or burning down the house.

In the end, I went, and by the second pitcher of margaritas, I forgot I had kids. What kids?

We had so much fun. Three bars later, we stumbled home at 1:30 in the morning.

Scott and Kathleen know everyone in their town. It was like we went to dinner at someone’s house, because they knew everyone who walked in. The town has a population of 18,000, 75 percent of which are Catholic. Their kids actually have school holidays for Polish generals.



Since Scott is a good Catholic man, we dropped in on the Knights of Columbus hall for a little drinking and gambling. You Catholics sure know how to party!

“So is this is this like a secret society? Are you guys protecting the Holy Grail or something?”

Scott wouldn’t divulge the secrets. Blast him. He did offer to pray me out of purgatory someday, so it’s good that I know him.

Since it’s a small town, we walked around to bars and ended up in one where Scott and Kathleen knew everyone in the crowd.

“Look! It’s our lawyer’s son!”

“That’s our babysitter!”

“Hey! That’s our son’s girlfriend’s older brother!”

Wow! We are SOOOO old! Everyone either went to the Catholic high school, worked at the Catholic high school, or had kids going to the Catholic high school. It was a fun, loud, happy, boisterous crowd. You Catholics sure know how to party! We had so much fun.

The 11 year old had no problem getting the kids to sleep, so I worried for nothing, and then the most miraculous thing happened in the history of my parenting experience. My triplets slept in until 9am and Austin slept in until 9:45.

Holy cow! We still got 8 hours sleep! We should go out ALL THE TIME!

I think Scott has already prayed me out of purgatory.

We Missed Hairy Guy Night

We are still in Ottawa. We were going to leave today, but Greg's mom called and she was all frazzled. The new furniture was all wrong. She thought the dishwasher was leaking. It's freezing there.

So she told us not to hurry to get there.




Greg went to work in the city anyway yesterday.



Now I'm going to write in "code" so I can fly below the Google radar. Greg and his friend were working in a g.a.y. bar in C.h.i.c.a.g.o yesterday, where they were installing a shower to come out of the ceiling and descend down to the d.a.n.c.e floor on a c.r.a.n.e. Then the b.a.r has shower c.o.n.t.e.s.t.s.

Brilliant marketing, eh?

I guess this bar is PACKED and the guy that owns it is making a FORTUNE.

So Greg and Scott were going to stay and make sure it worked (and they thought it was l.e.s.b.i.a.n shower night). Then they found out it was really hairy guy night. Literally. Hairy guy.

"OMG! You should have stayed! You could have won that one!", I told him.

I asked him what it was like in there.

"Uhm, it was GAY!"

So they left and drove back to town here and hung out at the Knights of Columbus hall and drank in front of the pope with all the other seventy year old men.

Either way, it was hairy guy night. I don't think there is a lot of manscaping going on at the hall.

Kathleen and I debated whether we should go meet up with them, but we decided we didn't really need to hang out there. We were tired after our hiking adventure.

So we are leaving tomorrow and heading up to Traverse City. The kids are having the time of their lives here and Gregory said he loves it here and never wants to go home.

We went to the Farmer's Market this morning and hung out at the park and played kick ball in the Catholic high school gym. Tonight we are going to let the older kids babysit and go out to dinner.

This is the life. I love it here. I never want to go home.