G's Food Stamp Challenge!

You've heard of the Food Stamp Challenge:  everyone from big-city mayors to large family bloggers have tried it at one time or another.  G is reaching adulthood and wants to make some of his own food choices.  Food stamps here are about $150/month per person, so we gave him $20 and told him it had to last four days.  Long enough for him to get a taste of what life would be like on a budget, but not so long that we'd starve the kid. 

G was able to eat one bowl of our cereal each morning, but that was it.  Other than that, he's on his own until Friday morning.

So here's what he bought:

$1.28  loaf of bread
$2.00  bologna
$1.88 six-pack small applesauce
$1.38 baby carrots
$2.56 small peanut butter/jelly combo jar
$2.48 large strawberry yogurt
$1.98 half-gallon lowfat milk
$.68 macaroni and cheese box (bought 2)
$1.98 chips
$.86 tax

TOTAL:  $17.76

G had to "buy" margarine from us to make his macaroni and cheese.  We could have just let him suffer for his own poor planning, but we didn't.  We're also seeing that soda is an expensive habit as we are charging him 40 cents a can (pretty much our cost) until the experiment is over.

What we've seen:

G is much more appreciative of the fact that his parents make him eat less expensive food sometimes for a reason.  We simply do not have the money to buy him a cheeseburger, fries and a chocolate shake at every meal.  G has one more day to go and he is finding that the food is starting to run out. It won't kill him to eat bologna slices right out of the package tomorrow if the bread is gone, but I'm hopeful that he will be more understanding in the future when we run out of a favourite food.

Have you tried giving your children a similar challenge, or did they learn these things in college?

Christmas Elves

I cannot believe this.  Elf is upset that Woodjie brought home a Christmas Elf hat from kindergarten.  Only he is the Elf.  Woodjie says, "Now I a Elfie, TOO!  There TWO elves!"  Rose had to jump into the picture and G... well... what a goof. 

Little Walking Feet

G had his ankle patched up after an accident in gym class last year.  A few months ago he started walking on the side of his foot and his orthopaedist made him wear braces and go to physical therapy.  It got worse instead of better.  It looked as though his tendons would need to be sliced, tightened and all this other stuff pretty soon.  We were referred to Dr. Bonar's place to find out what to do next. Her office was awesome.  We got an appointment within two weeks, and her people are friendly without being fakey-syrupy.  She told us to not use the brace and not do the special exercises.  I spent just under $100 on "hiking shoes" and if G isn't doing better in a couple of months, she'd like to see him again.  That's it.  G has been very happy this afternoon.  We thought Dr. Bonar was great, but we'd prefer not to see her again, you know?  Only thing is, there are times when "hiking shoes" are gonna look dippy, but that's the price you pay for good health I guess.

Elfie's Birthday

We went out to lunch and looked for tadpoles in the local creek. And look! Elf has a new shirt. :)

Well.

I think I can talk a little about it now. G jumped over a mat and fell badly, crushing the bones in his ankle. He is now patched up with screws and plates and is home in bed. But it was a long week.

Do you have your flu shot? I don't recommend shots often... but get one if you can. There were people with vomit all over themselves coming in, people retching, shuffling, holding barf bags... ugh. Telling you, the ER made NO EFFORT to separate the sick from the well in the waiting area. Terrible. We were waiting three hours before even going back to wait some more and see a doctor.

A total of a day and a half before the surgery even happened. They told us that the orthopedist on call is the one who must perform the surgery, and all these people kept having car wrecks. :(

G is now able to climb stairs and use the restroom alone, but he can't bathe yet. He is using a walker and a wheelchair. I guess when you're really tall, crutches are particularly hard. There are "tall" walkers out there, which I didn't know. His does not have tennis balls. It is our walker to keep so I am thinking of decorating with flaming death skulls or whatever else young men think is kewl. Bummer the wheelchair is a rental or it would likely get pinstriping. :)

G is very sad because this happened literally two hours before his first official tennis practice. He was going to be on the team. All his friends- the buddies he hangs out with at lunch- are going to be on without him. Here's hoping he has a speedy recovery and finds something else with which to occupy his time. There IS always next year. :)

Tea Sets and Tiny People

It makes G very sad. He wanted to be the one to present his little sister with her birthday gift of a basket full of tea party things. She was so happy! She got all the things out and organized them and chatted with G about the different plates and cups. SO cute. G wanted to play with her, but the tea set items kept slipping through his fingers. The tiny little handles... he couldn't even pinch them in such a way that they wouldn't fall. Here, the girl finally got little cups and things that weren't too BIG for her, that she could handle so nicely... but it didn't work for big brother. That was discouraging.
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Later, G finally had an opportunity to use one of the new mugs, and his fingers don't fit through the handle. He had to cup the mug oddly, and it was awkward. He was sad. Someone at a Chinese restaurant told him that he was "too tall," and that one offhand comment really hurt his feelings. He feels a bit better that I have given him my old BIG mug. He has been feeling very down lately for a number of reasons. He is going through a very hard time and that's all the detail I feel I can go into. Will you pray for him? It's more than just the mugs, obviously. It would be nice if all of the family could get along, and G could get the support that he needs from the community. Some important people in his life have failed him of late.

Happy Christmas!

You wonder what Polish Pottery and martial arts have to do with one another until you realize that these are Christmas presents. Yep. G is not going to have anything but a sweatshirt to unwrap on Christmas (don't tell! It really is his only gift!) because he's getting Taekwondo lessons. In an extreme violation of my child's privacy, I have allowed his NAME to be boldly written on the blog in full. Yep. There it is in Korean on his uniform - have fun guessing. The instructor must STAND ON A CHAIR so that G can do his kicks properly... he is just that tall. My present is obviously the pottery. I think it goes well with the stuff in the middle I got at Goodwill... but not too matchy-matchy. Emperor looked at all the stuff from the company online and is sad that I did not get an apple baker. (Look at his blog! He's updated his pictures and clever sayings as well!) I had NO idea that he had apple-baking aspirations, or I would have thrown one into my online cart. He carefully researched how to bake the apples and everything. Dear readers, I hope you are having a lovely Christmas season and that next year brings you much happiness, joy and peace. :)

Small Photos.

(Sorry.  Once I saw the notice that blogger would not upload photos for TWO WHOLE HOURS tomorrow, I had to load photos and do a short post tonight.) 

Do you like my Polish pottery bowl?  I was too lazy to get all the ingredients together (as suggested on the Passport to India page) to make an authentic Indian meal.  This buying a prepared package method offers a small sample without the mess, though.  Elf dislikes potatoes and spicy things.  Somehow he decided this wasn't very yummy.  So Emperor got to eat the whole bowl as this product  is milk free!  Elf had Goober Grape sandwiches and Swedish fish instead. :)

In other news, I finally got the chance to cut G's hair.  I would love to show you how nice it looks, but G says I can't take his picture for the blog.  WHAT is it about the teen years that makes people reluctant to pose for their Mommy's readers?  Come on, now.  This picture doesn't even do the before/after difference justice.  His hair is FLUFFY and CURLY and thick.  You can only cut tiny bits off at a time, or you won't be able to see the comb/your fingers.  As you can see, I have the child sit in a chair in the middle of my kitchen.  For all the fighting we had to do over whether he got to cut his hair/can he straighten his hair/ but but but... he now says that it looks nice.  I guess just not "let Mom take your picture and share it with the entire world" nice. 

Adjustments

With Patrick away in China, G is lonely. He found a friend and fell asleep late last night.

Parenting Teens

A friend did this last night. G came home with a different earring, a BIG "diamond" one. D was quite upset. I didn't like it but tend to put this sort of thing into the "things we don't fight about" box. D was very mad. He mowed the yard for about two hours. He had several discussions with G between clipping vines and mowing.
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Wellllll... he's still really mad. He still really hates it. But he is going to bend on this when he saw how important it was to G. It is starting to look all bruisy and icky. It wasn't even a gold earring they used! I took him out and HE bought rubbing alcohol and a gold earring. Hope it doesn't get infected. But wow. I hope his taste doesn't run into mohawks or purple hair next. It wouldn't bother me *so* much, but poor D can't stand much more, bless him!

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Maybe I'm not too upset because I remember doing this once myself. KT and I were 15 once and liked to listen to Duran Duran in her basement with her cat. We used a hot needle, a cork, and some ice and pierced each other's ears. We were cool. Now we are both all grown up and she is a professor of history. :)

What Should I Buy Today?

We're discussing plans for the day. The car is in the shop, requiring $2,250 worth of repairs (yes, you read that correctly), so D and I are figuring out who gets the van and where everyone will be for the remainder of the day.

"I want to get chickens!" G interjects, flapping his arms.

I know D is about to say, "NO CHICKENS!" because not only is he out $2,250 today, but outrageous and/or odd requests like this are made about every five minutes in this house. But I am quicker.

"That would be awesome! You should look into the city code to see if we can even have any in the first place, though. And you need to learn how to take care of 'em, how to feed them, what they need, how much it costs, and all that. *Then* we can get more serious about thinking about it."

"OK! Can we go to the farm store now?"

Well... yes. This conversation likely started because we were going to go anyway. G, God bless him, does not want clothes from anywhere but the farm store, thrift store, or local school district. So his shirts consist of chicken with egg - themed "Farm Boy" brand shirts, track shirts, and assorted worn out (but soft!) shirts from the thrift store. It's quickly becoming impractical to shop at thrift stores for G, however, as he is very tall but thin. Can't just pick up a 2x for the guy or he'll swim in it. A regular "large" will make him look like an emaciated Winnie-the-Pooh. And the school tees work well, but the school doesn't sell jeans for fundraisers. Time to go to Feldman's.

So when are the chickens coming in? One of the workers informs G that the store is going to get chickens on Tuesday. Tuesday. On Tuesday! It's etched in G's mind. Guess what he will ask to do after school on Tuesday?

Off to look at the pants. And chicken coop wire! Well, he will get a rooster and a girl chicken and within a few years, he'll have hundreds of chickens.

I'm thinking that on our little lot, likely the city code says you can have none. You aren't even allowed more than two dogs in the city limits. "What if the city code says you can only have two?" I ask him in one of those rhetorical tones.

This question throws him for a bit of a loop. Maybe he will just get a girl and boy chicken, and then eat the eggs. I'm thinking the eggs would have baby chickens in them, but I don't say anything except for the fact that maybe he wants to grow a pumpkin this year instead.

G tells me he wants a garden. A really big garden. Right in the middle of the backyard. I know how D would react to that one. But I want one, too, really. I just don't know how to set one up for cheap with no effort on my part. G tells me it's easy... you just find rocks and put them around where you want the garden, and then add seeds. I'm thinking it really takes professional landscapers to set up the koi ponds and waterfalls that I've seen other people seem to need to grow their green beans. And I know that if I did that simple "dig in the middle of the yard" thing without setting up some hugely raised beds on the lot, that D would mow right over my beautiful pumpkins on purpose. He would make some lame excuse about the pumpkins being too close to his trees and using up all the water, or "oops," he couldn't tell the difference between a GIANT PUMPKIN VINE and the nearby grass.

But G is insistent that he can set up a garden. I should purchase several packets of premium vegetable $eeds from the very front of the store near the $34.95 cell phone holders. I somewhat too easily convinced him that pumpkins would be better, since we had the seeds from the 12-pound pumpkin we grew earlier still. Not to mention, we know this kind of pumpkin can grow in our yard... so there you go.

"Let's call Dad right now and tell him we need to set up our garden!"

It's getting dark outside. I'm thinking maybe we shouldn't say anything right away, but wait for a better time, don't you? (Yeah, I guess...) I think to myself that maybe he'd like growing a pumpkin, if he finds a good spot for it and sticks with the project. Problem is, he'll likely tire of the idea right when the hard work starts.

The second we arrive home, G interrupts his father with his garden plans. D looks incredulous and his answer isn't very diplomatic. He "reminds" G about the three-foot square area by the mailbox he promised to weed out for the season *last* year, and how much complaining he did about it. (Yeah, probably no way in la-la land we're getting chickens or a giant garden this year, but I'm ready to be convinced he can do all the work and follow through. I think it would be a lot of fun as long as it's not yet something else I wind up saddled with...)

Poor G trudges downstairs to the laundry room about in tears. "Buddy, I *told* you not to ask Dad right away, but find a better time, didn't I?"

"Well, I thought you meant just not to call right then, but to wait 'till we got home," he explains. "It's all my fault I do things wrong."

Awwww. Poor dejected fella. "It's not your fault you have autism and knowing stuff like this is hard for you," I tell him. "Maybe just wait 'till Mom tells you it's a good time to ask Dad next time."

He nods. We talk a little about his new farmer-meets-rap star jeans and new socks, and he cheers up considerably. "Well, I can't wait until Tuesday! I'm not sure what kind of chickens I'm gonna get!"

The Boxer Fracture.

A little lower, and he'd be in surgery getting pins and metal bits inserted into his hand. WHEN will this boy learn to stop punching cement walls and/or banging his head when he's mad/ upset/ excited/ happy/ whatever? "Yay," G said, "My first broken bone!" Yep, none of the other children has gotten one of these before, so he gets to be the *first.* Kewl. More kewl still? We need to see an orthopaedic surgeon to look over the x-rays and perhaps recast/ recommend surgery. Hopefully not the latter. I'm sure I'll have a lot of fun bringing all the younger children with him to this appointment. Well... here he's striking a pose for the blog. In response to my question, it is NOT supposed to resemble Mussolini.

The Look.

Leather jacket for about $5 at the thrift store. It really looks *sharp* on G and he has gotten a lot of compliments at school. Yes, it is missing a button, but it's otherwise in excellent condition and is old enough to be back in fashion again. This leather is super-soft, too. D bought it to tear up and make little projects out of, but G is giving it some new life. I wish, with the negative temperatures out there, that he did not go out to the bus stop to wait just as you see him here. Apparently wearing a hat or jacket/ being sensible is very out of fashion.

Patrick and G

Usual sort of day, long ago. Note Patrick's clown is on the table with his snacks. He is petting little G's head while he holds his "whooaile" (say with Southern accent) and "Melmo." Snuggly.

Ribbon!

G won this ribbon in a track meet last week. He wants to show it to you and is very proud of his accomplishment!

Fighting Boys.

Apparently, you can prove or disprove someone's homosexuality and/or mental disability by winning a fistfight in a public school restroom. Not being a higher order "male" creature, I lack understanding of these matters. The vice-principal at G's school explained that this fight is probably resolved, as now the parties involved have come to an understanding.

I was very tempted to ask about what this understanding entailed. I kinda doubt that any homosexual out there in the world fully realized his gayness after getting pummelled in the restroom ("Yeah, now I realize that I'm gay! This bruise proves it! I'm a sissy because I lost!"). Sighhh.. I don't get it. The VP almost sounds as though he feels that now that the simmering hate has come to blows, these young men can back off and see how silly the verbal fights were in the first place. And the boys don't even remember what the original disagreement was about.

Um, so why were they calling each other names all year on the bus, and why did they slug each other today??? Ok, not getting it here. So not getting it.

I was also tempted to ask the fellow to put G on the phone so I could ask him what big thing he just proved, but I didn't. I was also tempted to ask why bunches of boys would be waiting for this fight to happen in the restroom (it was PRE-SCHEDULED, just like the big matches!!) and didn't tell staff until about the third round. Ding-ding.

Wouldn't you think the spectators who did nothing deserve some sort of punishment as well? Oh, no, I'm not saying my child shouldn't be in trouble. Nope. Just that there's enough yuck to go around here.

Ok, hilarious post here about raising boys and how we moms get a little overprotective. Excerpt: "While I am on the subject of boys and physical interactions, I may as well go ahead and alienate the rest of you by telling you that when I see little boys playing with their toy guns and I hear mothers say, 'WE DON'T POINT GUNS AT PEOPLE! NEVER POINT GUNS AT PEOPLE!' I want to add the disclaimer, 'except in instances where Somali pirates are holding an innocent captain of a U.S. vessel hostage or a mad gunman has commandeered an Amish school house. In that case, please, do point guns at people and hit your target with accuracy. That is the kind of gun control I can stand behind.'"

Well, here's hoping for a peaceful weekend to you all. Will work on cultivating a peaceful attitude within myself (help me, God!) before the older children arrive home from school.

Moses and the Mountain.

Based on Exodus 19. God asks everyone to get ready for three days. Really, really ready. Stay off the mountain. Are you ready? God has some important instructions. Get ready. Are you ready? The music was originally composed and played by Patrick on his Finale software. Woodjie and Rose are making noise, but try to concentrate on the music, ok? Thanks for watching!

I Need a Friend!!

Here is G after a particularly horrible time, cuddled with a "friend" that I hand-delivered. G was not allowed out of bed for a bit (he was sent there to calm down and do that thinking about what you did thing), and Woodjie's presence calmed him a bit. I gave the blanket to him when he was about three years old... otherwise Mickey Mouse would be way too young for anything I make for him. I sewed his NAME in big letters and put some old jeans pants pockets he wore as a little toddler onto it as well. He still is very attached to it as it's something that is just his, made special for him. Woodjie's visit ended after he started messing with all the CDs and pencils on the headboard.

Expensive ER Visit

The good news is that G is a perfectly healthy kid. He weighs a whopping 135 pounds and is six feet tall. His thumb is not broken, but was very purple and swollen, necessitating a trip to the ER. The bad news is that someone called him a faggot one too many times. I wonder what price Mom and Dad are going to be paying here for his defending his honour...? I'm guessing about $2,000 because of the high-tech splint and the fact that an x-ray was taken.

Aboard the Elf Express

Elf is pushing G all over the place. I think G might be just a little too big for this car he got for his third birthday. But no, it's HIS car, thank you.