Hungry, Hungry Hebrew

Last night was not our finest hour as a family.
Dave and I came home cranky because I had a bad call Wednesday night, neither of us slept much, and neither of us had particularly good Thursdays.  Traffic was atrocious so getting home from work was struggle.  Rain + wind + someone seizing on the sidewalk = Nate being the last child to be picked up from day care.  He's always out of sorts when this happens and I don't blame him.  I can tell you from experience that there is something about being the last child left standing that makes you start to wonder if your parents are ever coming.  Maybe they got in an accident or maybe they just forgot.  So then we were all running late and dinner was late and Nate got too hungry - grumpy, uncooperative, plus complaining that "Nate tubby hurts".
I'm sure that anyone with kids has had an evening like this.  And maybe we're not the only ones who break our own rules because we think it'll make things a tiny bit easier?  Well, anyway, that was my rationale when I let Nate sit in my lap to eat dinner - something we just don't do.
For a few minutes it did seem to be better.  Nate stopped talking about Mommy holding him and started at least talking about what was on his plate.  He was lovingly fingering a small piece of matzoh.  We even let him dip it in his yogurt.  Oh, the forbidden pleasures.
And then the decision that was to change the course of the evening.  Nate held out his yogurt covered matzoh.
Nathan: "Mommy bite."
Mommy: "No, honey, mommy doesn't want your matzoh."
Nathan: "Mommy bite!"
Mommy: "No, really, honey, it's for Nate."
Nathan: "Mommy bite this please."
Mommy: "Oh, OK" accepting the tiniest sliver of coconut milk yogurt infused matzoh.
The last moment of silence of the evening, and then
Nathan: "Gimme that matzoh."
Mommy: "Sorry, Nate.  It's all gone in Mommy's tummy."
Nathan: "My matzoh.  Gimme that matzoh please." (Gimme, by the way, is a very recent addition to his vocabulary, and one I can definitely do without)
Mommy: "I can't, honey, it's just all gone."
Nathan: (Now trying to physically reach into my mouth) "Nate need that matzoh.  My matzoh."
So started the longest, loudest, and on some level, most amusing temper tantrum that Nate has ever treated us to.  There was crying and screaming.  There were increasingly incoherent pleas for matzoh back.  He continued to try to reach into my mouth to retrieve it.
I ran the gamut from ignoring to reasoning to giggling hysterically at his fairly comic distress.
Eventually I just took him upstairs and put his pajamas on.
Eventually he managed to eat a little dinner.
Eventually, far past his bedtime, he went to bed.
The first thing he said to me this morning?
"Mommy eat Nate's matzoh and Nate crying and crying."
Well, yes, that does pretty much sum it up.

Progress

I am now going a half mile further in the same amount of time and doing twice as much running as walking.  So, I am moving right along.
I do think it is going to be a massive let down when there is no Royal Wedding buzz on the Today Show in the morning.  I might loose all motivation.

Egg-Free Addendum

After my post today I decided to make a Passover apple cake from a mix for Nate to take to school tomorrow. When I pulled it off the shelf I noted only that it needed 2 eggs and figured "I'll just use flax seed and water, no problem,"
Well, on closer inspection, the recipe actually calls for two egg yolks and two egg whites "beaten until stiff".  (That clever leavening again.)  I'm sure you've never seen flax seed and water as an egg replacer, so I'll describe.  Ground flax seed + warm water + time = slimy mixture resembling raw egg whites = great emulsifier but does not beat or rise.
I have a box of Ener-G egg replacer (potato starch plus baking powder basically) and it says on the box you can mix it with water and beat it into stiff peaks.  So I did.
I used the flax seed for the yolks and the Ener-G for the whites (folded them in even) and lo and behold, out came a matzah cake.  A real, tasty, moist, vaguely fluffy matzah cake.
I am astounded.

Wish me luck with the Kosher for Passover potato starch pasta I am making him for school lunch tomorrow.

Egg-Free Judaism

I don't usually think of Nathan as bereft.
Sure there are things he can't eat.  A lot of them actually.
But then again, his mom will never tell him to eat his green beans or his peas.

Our holidays, however, have been a challenge.
Egg free Chanukkah proved to be a big bust.
The egg free matzah balls dissociated into a sad mush at the bottom of the pot.  Some later online investigation suggests that the only way to make egg free matzah balls is with lots of tofu - another forbidden food.
The potato pancakes, without the binding egg ,eventually just became hash browns.

Then there was Purim.
We had fun making Hamentaschen (without eggs or milk or butter) and they were pretty going into the oven.   After baking, however, they were more like Haman-squishen; misshapen and stubbornly pale. Tasty, but still a little disappointing.







So that brings us to Passover, the season of unleavened food.  But it's not really unleavened because over the centuries, the resilient and desperate cooks have figured out how to make fairly light and suspiciously leavened desserts.  With copious amounts of beaten egg whites.
Challenge yourself.  Find a Passover dessert that doesn't have a single egg or whipped cream.
I found one.

We wanted Nathan to engage in and enjoy Passover so for weeks we read Passover books and discussed the plans for our "Passover party".  Two nights before Passover the following took place.
Nathan: "Let's have a Passover Party"
Mommy: "We will.  Soon. What are we going to have at our Passover party?"
Nathan: "Candles! And wine! And matzah!"
Mommy: "And what else?"
Nathan: "Matzah ball soup!!"

This really made me feel like someone punched me in the gut.  We rehearsed and rehearsed but had been practicing something he couldn't do.  I felt bad.
I also thought I might be able to make some money with a line of allergy friendly kids books.  Enjoy favorites such as "Easter without eggs", "Milk-free cookies for Santa", and "Pilgrims didn't eat soy".
Seriously, though, I should not have worried.  He did fine at the Seder, refusing even the sweet fruity Charoset with a vehemence that made it clear that the safest matzah ball would not have crossed his lips that night.  Ah, the irony.  I spent weeks researching recipes, and at the end of the day he had matzah and mango for dinner.
At least the rest of us enjoyed the kugel.

Good, Bad, and Maybe Less Ugly

Here is what I think about exercise.
1) It's hard.
2) It takes time I don't particularly have.
3) The results are seen on the scale of D-E-L-A-Y-E-D gratification.
4) It makes me sweaty which makes my skin red and itchy and I totally hate that.
5) It's kind of boring.
6) I'm pretty bad at it which makes me feel inept which makes me feel bad about myself which makes me want to stop doing it and go back to something I am good at.

But here's the horrible Catch 22 (almost as horrible as that particular book, in fact): I feel terrible about myself when I don't exercise, too.  Last year, rounding on three patient floors, I often wondered which would kill me first the panting and chest pain after climbing one flight of stairs or the embarrassment from the above circumstance.

So, through wheezing and foot pain and scratchy skin I have soldiered on with this running program.
Here's what I think about it.
1) It's been hard
2) I do enjoy watching the Today Show while I jog.
3) I've gained some weight which is basically the stupidest thing EVER but I'm blaming it on the fat to muscle conversion (This happened last time I tried to get in shape too.  All my pants got too tight in the thighs before they got looser finally.  I think I share my father's predilection for easy muscle mass growth and it outstrips fat loss.  Sadly, I think I will never look lean b/c of all that muscle bulk.)
4) BUT, I was thrilled last week when I skipped up two flights of stairs with a pair of medical students, lecturing the whole way, and wasn't even breathing hard at the top.
5) And yesterday, I got out of bed with a headache and a total lack of motivation, went to the gym ONLY because I had promised Nate the night before that he could put money in the meter in the morning, and then had a great "run".  It was, for the first time, more jogging than walking, faster than usual and therefore farther than usual in the same amount of time.  And my headache was gone.  And I felt great for the rest of the day.
And I am actually ready to do it again tomorrow.

Jekyll and Hyde

Nate was unbelievably charming this weekend.  It started with Shabbat dinner on Friday night and never seemed to end.  He ate well.  He was energetic, playful, and even walked when we asked him to and rode in the cart (dum dum DUM) when he didn't want to walk.  He took his medicine, cooperated in tooth brushing, and occupied himself while Dave and I did some cleaning.
So why did Dave and I come to Monday morning feeling like roadkill?
Because for reasons we can't exactly explain, Nate had a pair of really bad nights.  Saturday night, moments after Dave and I fell asleep (literally) we were yanked from sleep by a screaming Nate.  I scooped him out of bed and what ensued was "Exorcist" minus spinning head.  He threw up more and more forcefully than he has in a really long time.  When he, and I, and the floor, and the nursery chair, and a bath towel were all covered, he settled back in my arms and said "Yellow spill make Nate's tummy all better."
After the clean-up and the debate over the culprit (white buns made in a facility that also processes sesame seeds or Olive Garden noodles which we had previously confirmed to be safe - It's really the only reason we go there) we all manged to sleep through the night.
Sunday, the case against the noodles became firmer when he developed a hive on his cheek while eating his leftovers.  Sunday night he didn't throw up.  He just cried and writhed in my lap for 30+ minutes crying about having a yellow spill and heaving but not actually succeeding in making his tummy all better.
We're blaming Olive Garden and now that the gift card is gone, we are unlikely to go back - ever, but it's just a guess.  I hate when he is sick.  I think it's almost harder now that he can tell us what is wrong and I still can't fix it.  He cries "Mommy hold you" over and over again, but I am holding him.  It's just not making things any better, and that breaks my heart.
Maybe there's no food to blame.  Maybe after a 6 week honeymoon, he's just having an EE flair.  Sure he takes the medicine and seems to be so much better, but it can't be just that easy, can it?  (If it was, when you decided to start a running program you wouldn't skip and entire week because of a bad cold, a bad call, and a grant deadline and then have to drag your tired self through a Monday morning run wondering why you let yourself backslide - but more on that later.)  Kids who take their controller meds still get asthma flairs.  Maybe when we kept him home from school last week for an almost identical pattern on Monday/Tuesday, we weren't preventing the spread of disease, but just missing the obvious.
Maybe it is just a reminder that even when things seem to be going smoothly, parenting was never meant to be easy and we were never meant to sleep through the night.