Welcome to Not-So-Ultimate Mommy—a real-life parenting blog for the perfectly imperfect. From fun kids’ activities to honest takes on motherhood, this space is all about finding joy, creativity, and sanity in the chaos. Whether you're crafting with toddlers or navigating parenting curveballs, you’re not alone—and you’re doing great (even when it doesn’t feel like it).
My younger son is autistic. He's 7 years old now, and he was different from the start. That means 7 years of dealing with doctors, schools, aid workers, IEPs, and other parents. It also means I've had 7 years to get used to the label. To know that my son is indeed autistic. To get over the denial most parents of autistic children go through.
In those 7 years of dealing with my autistic son, I've heard dozens of parents say, "I don't want them labelled." And I never understand it. I can't fathom why any parent would shy away from a label that will only help. Here's why I haven't resisted having a 'label' for my son.
It's not about me. His diagnosis, his label, his IEP. Not mine. Putting my head in the sand and pretending he's not autistic is for my benefit, not his. It doesn't help him, and it can hurt him by not allowing him to access the services he actually needs.
Everyone has a label. I was the smart one. My older son is the mouthy one. His best friend is the shy one. Labels all. Because my younger son is only 7, his classmates don't know too much about autism. So he's the weird one. He's the one who flaps his hands. He's already labelled. I might as well make sure it's the correct label.
A label is practical. I know that's not a fun word. But sometimes practical is necessary. Having a single word, a single diagnosis, to describe my son means I don't have to spend 4 hours explaining his problem. And he does have a problem, so I can't afford those 4 hours anyway.
A label means he gets help. Even with that label, it's hard to get help, especially in the schools. IEPs don't grow in trees, after all. The law might say your kid is entitled to a free and appropriate education, but if you don't have a label, your special needs kid WILL slip through cracks. It's going to happen.
One thing I've learned over the last 7 years is that none of it is about me. My discomfort isn't important. What is important is my son. He needs certain services, and those services can only be accessed by those with a firm diagnosis.
So I got over myself and learned to accept what was. My son is a beautiful, loving, smart little boy who happens to have autism. That label doesn't lessen who he is. It just means he has more opportunities than he would have without that label.
Being a new mom is hard under the most perfect of conditions. You're tired, sore, and probably dirty because you've forgotten to take a shower for the past week. And that's when you have the ideal situation.
When you have a baby who won't sleep, the situation is just that much worse. This was where I found myself when my second son was born. He didn't sleep. Ever. Oh, he'd nap for 10 minutes at a time maybe 5 or 6 times a day, but he didn't actually sleep. And since I was going through a divorce, I didn't have anyone to take over so I could catch a nap. That meant less than an hour of sleep per day, and none of that was consecutive. I was totally fried and losing my mind.
Still, I held in there. For five months. On an hour of sleep. Picture that for a moment. I was past being a zombie, and I had a 2-year-old and an infant to care for. Everyone was cranky, everyone was tired, and I think we were all insane. No one was even liking each other at the time.
I had to do something. So I made a decision that wasn't entirely conscious and was mostly driven by exhausted instinct and put the baby down. I put him safely in his crib one night and walked away. I closed the door behind me and collapsed on the floor. I literally did not have the strength to stay on my feet for another minute. It was sit down or pass out.
In fact, I think I maybe passed out. The baby was out of my arms for the first time in five months. I had no reserves left and needed to just sit there, back against the door. So I sat.
And the baby cried. I don't actually know how long he cried. It was more than a minute, less than 30 minutes. I was only semi-conscious, so I'm not exactly sure. But I do know that the crying suddenly stopped. Just stopped. Like some sort of magic. He'd never been quiet when not in my arms.
So my first thought, quiet naturally, was, "He's dead!" Give me a break. I was insane at the time. So I went back in. But just in case he was alive and actually sleeping, or just trying to trick me, I had to be sneaky. Which meant I became Ninja Mommy. I was probably much less impressive in real life, but in my demented state I remember being very sneaky indeed. I remember slinking across the floor and peeking into the crib like a pro. I'm sure I was more like a slug who couldn't see straight. Whatever.
And there he was, sleeping like a champ. A champ I tell you! And not in my arms. For the first time ever. In my relief, I fell asleep right there on the floor. Ninja Mommy indeed.
Did I feel guilty? Honestly, I was too tired to feel guilt. I didn't cry when he cried because I was mostly unconscious. I didn't experience any of the emotions I've heard other moms talk about when they let their babies cry it out. And I wasn't deliberately letting him cry it out. I was just too tired to do anything else.
The next day I took my baby to the doctor because I needed him to tell me that what I had done was okay. He patted me on the back and asked me why I hadn't done it sooner. And, of course, reminded me he'd suggested it before. Twice. I'd just been too tired to listen.
Armed with the knowledge that I was not hurting my baby, I did it again. And again. By night five he was only protesting by waving his arms and snorting at me (he still snorts when he's annoyed and he's 7 now).
I was sleeping! Both kids were sleeping! We no longer hated each other! Mission accomplished (not that I'd really had a mission). I know there are people out there who would say I was being cruel. I don't care. It was either let him cry or drop kick him. Yes, I really was that tired. And I really needed to do something, and I was acting only on instinct.
So what's the moral of the story? That we, as parents, do what we have to do. We do what works for us. Because that's all any if us can ever do.
We have a bit of a lazy summer around here, so we go to the zoo or water parks or any other place whenever we feel like it. Since it's been hot lately, the water park has been our top choice for the past couple weeks. And in these couple weeks, I've noticed the water park is home to some interesting characters.
The Germaphobe
Why this person even comes to the water park is beyond me. She brings her kids, then proceeds to tell them to stay out of the water because of all the bacteria. And don't you know someone might have peed in that pool? Yes, dear, we all know that. We just don't care because our kids are melting from the heat.
The Clueless Mom
Her 3 kids are cutting in line, poking other kids in the eyes, and drinking the water with no regard for Germaphobe's little tantrum over there. And where is Clueless Mom? Well, she might be on her phone, or maybe reading a book. But she totally doesn't notice her little one pushing yours off the ladder.
The Fun-Loving Dad
This guy is just rocking the water park. He has more fun than anyone there. Everyone either loves him or hates him. Including his own kids, who were all ready to leave 4 hours ago.
The Self-Conscious Mom
We've all been there. Tummy is too round. Breasts are too saggy. Butt is...don't go there. This mom is covered from head to toe and she won't go in the water even if she's melting from the heat. Have some sympathy. If you haven't been there before, you will be there one day.
Perfect Mom
You either hate her or you are her. She's in a bikini, actually looks good, and has her kids and everything else in order. Though you secretly pray for her to suffer a massive wardrobe malfunction, you also want to be her. But don't admit it or you're out of the Not-So-Perfect Mom Club.
Grandparents
These people are playing with the kids they've brought and are even playing with kids they didn't. And they're enjoying it, probably because grandparents are the only people kids listen to on a regular basis. Makes us all wish we were grandparents so our kids would listen to us as well...
The Creepy Guy
Why is there always one single guy with no kids standing outside the girls' washroom? I don't know either, but he's the reason we don't send our daughters to the washroom alone.
The Bored Lifeguard
He's supposed to be making sure no one dies, but he's been melting in the heat for the last 7 hours. This guy is mostly asleep, so don't count on him to help your little ones out of a jam.
There are other characters at the water park. Sleeping teenagers. The kids who apparently have no supervision. The weird concession guy. Try people watching the next time you're there. You'll laugh, shake your head, and have a great time.
When you're redecorating, and when you decide to involve kids in the process, it can seem like it never ends. Never. We'd finally reached the point in our Great Bedroom Saga where we could actually go to the hardware store. The planning was done. The room was clean and vacuumed (and I deserve a reward for getting my 9-year-old to vacuum without bribing or yelling). So naturally, I was off to the hardware store. With 2 kids in tow. That's surely not a recipe for disaster.
First stop: The Paint Department. That's where the fun always begins. Because how can you do anything if you don't know what colors are going on the walls? I had already decided that we'd use that 2-in-1 paint. You know that one that is paint and primer in one? I've used it before, and it's the absolute best. But you have to go with a good brand, like Behr. Yes, it's a little more expensive, but remember you're not buying primer.
So I know exactly what I'm getting. Just have to pick the color. Easy, yes? Not so much actually. First I have to get the kids to pick from the right section. I yelled, "That's OUTSIDE paint!" and, "That paint will drive Mommy crazy!" a few more times than I intended. I seriously thought about hot gluing them to the floor in front of the paint chips I needed them to pick from. And they have hot glue in store. And staple guns. How handy...
No, I didn't go get the glue. Or the staple gun. Instead I trapped them there and told them to pick. This should have been easy since they'd already decided on silver. But there were 10 different silvers and 2 boys. Did they pick the same one? Of course not. That would have made my life easier. So now we have two colors that honestly looked exactly the same to me (did I mention that I have just a touch of color-blindness?). So how to pick? I made it easy and lied. We needed 2 cans, I told them we'd get one of each. Then I get the one with 'silver' in the name (it was French Silver, if you're interested) and called it done. Also needed a deep brown (for painting the beds and shelves and other stuff), but I'd picked one out while they were arguing and said that one was Mommy's choice.
Were we done? Of course not. Now we needed paintbrushes and rollers. Do you think kids can pick these things quickly? Nope. They spent 45 minutes trying every single paintbrush in the store before they found ones they liked. We'd now been in the hardware store for well over an hour, our paint was still mixing, and we weren't done yet. Off to electrical and lights, which were luckily right next to each other.
Just as luckily, we only needed a faceplate for the light switch and a tiny extension cord (for that dragon light they'd insisted I order) from electrical. The faceplate had to be white, and there were only four options, but it still took 15 minutes to pick. We were now approaching the 2-hour mark and our cart was still depressingly empty. Paintbrushes, a faceplate, and an extension cord. Sigh. Now for lighting.
Now, it's important to note that the light in the kids' room is on the wall. On the wall. Let me repeat, on the wall. The light we choose, therefore, had to be on the wall. The wall. I even pointed this out to the kids and directed them towards the display of lights that go ON THE WALL. What do they do? For the first time they agree on something, but it's a chandelier. I refuse to buy it because it WILL NOT FIT. Crying ensues. They want the chandelier. Sales man, against what I'm sure is his better judgment, comes over, looking a little scared.
But he had a solution! They had just received a wall sconce that was pretty much a wall version of that chandelier. It wasn't even on the floor yet, but they had one. He went to get it, kids are dancing, I could have kissed him. I didn't due to the wedding ring on his finger, but I could have. Now back to the paint department.
And the kids have changed their mind. Not silver. Gray. So I tell them it's actually gray, and I'm so smart I knew they wanted gray (it was still French Silver with a high gloss finish). For some reason (possible a miracle sent by the gods), the actually believe me.
Now for the checkout. I just spent $560 because that light was so expensive. It's a light! And the kids want to add chocolate bars. More than one. And a couple drinks. What kind of hardware store has chocolate bars and drink? But I'm so tired I don't even care. $579 dollars now.
In the car, heading home, and I'm so tired I don't even care. We're not painting today. Cry all you want kiddos, painting will have to wait until tomorrow. Mommy needs a nap.
My youngest son is autistic. I knew this since well before he started school. I knew he was different from the time he was a month old and wouldn't eat if someone was touching him. I've known since he'd tap his fingers together, just staring at them as if they were the only thing in the world. I've known since BEFORE the doctors told me. My son is autistic and it's my job to protect him. I'll do anything I have to.
Not long after his official diagnosis, another mom I know, one without a special needs child, said to me, "Of course you're going to homeschool him." That would be best, right? Keep him at home where he's most comfortable and control what he's learning and how he's learning it. Sounded great at the time (he was 4, so it was 18 months before he could start kindergarten). At that point, he'd been in daycare for just over two years, and it had been a hard two years. Even with a worker with him every second of every day, daycare was hard. I couldn't help but imagine school would be so much harder.
After much debate with myself, I decided to homeschool my youngest. Then, thankfully, I got my head on straight before the month was out. What was I thinking? It would be a horrible idea! And here are just a few of the reasons why.
1. I have to work. That was the reason I'd been forced to use daycare in the first place. As a single mother, I don't have the option not to work. I may work from home, but in a typical day (Monday-Friday) I work about 12 hours a day. There's no way I can do that and teach a kid anything useful. I had to schedule in teaching my older son to tie his shoes. I couldn't possibly schedule in teaching my younger son all day every day.
2. I'm not qualified. This is probably my biggest problem with some of the people who homeschool. Let's face it, just going to school doesn't mean you can teach. I may have been the top scoring student in math, sciences, and English in my division, but I don't think I can teach all those things effectively. I'm a professional writer, not a professional teacher. So I thought I'd better leave it to the pros.
3. The world doesn't revolve around him. MY world may revolve around my children, but THE world certainly doesn't. My son is relatively high functioning. He still gets a worker at school, but one day, with help and proper preparation, he'll be able to live a mostly independent life. And when he's out there, living independently, he'll quickly discover that the world doesn't adapt itself to him. Not comfortable leaving the house? Unless you can get a job right away that involves staying in your house, you're kind of out of luck, kid. Can't cope with the people? People are everywhere. Get used to it. I could go on, but what's the point? The world is the world, and as kind as some people are, the world itself doesn't care that my youngest is autistic. If I keep him home now, it'll take all the longer to help him cope with the world outside our small family. And he does need to cope.
4. I like being "Mommy". I love the relationship my son and I have. I'd be fooling myself if I thought that relationship would stay the same if I was both "Mommy" and "Teacher". Let someone else deal with teaching him to read and how to walk in line (this has been one of our greatest struggles, actually). I want to be the one who teaches him how to smile and how to play.
5. Schedules are great. Not for me. I'm a nutty writer who can't remember what day it is without my calendar and three reminders from my phone. But my son lives and dies by a schedule. Having to get on the bus at a certain time EVERY DAY and not having the option to change that, EVER, is really good for him. He lives by the clock. I, however, can't. I don't think we'd mesh very well in the homeschooling department. In fact, if he was harping "Mommy, time for snack," at 10:30 EVERY morning, I'm pretty sure I'd totally lose my mind. I never do the same thing at 10:30, and with very good reason.
6. I am so tired of transitions. This is selfish, and I know it. But, as most people with autistic children will tell you, transitions just plain suck. You can prepare an autistic child for it as much as possible, but that transition that's looming before you is still coming, and it will still throw him for a loop. If I can make transitions someone else's problem, you can bet I will. Because Mommy needs to breathe for a minute.
7. He loves his brother. My older son is exactly 2 years older than my younger son and they're quite close. Whatever big guy does, little guy wants to do. And big guy loves school. The friends, the teachers, the bus, the smell of the classrooms (don't ask), he loves it all. No way would I pull him away from that, and no way I would force one kid to stay home and watch his brother skip onto the bus with a smile. That's just not fair.
8.I have no attention span. Seriously. I'm worse than he is (almost). I'm the writer who works on 9 different projects on any given day. Maybe 12. Teaching my son academics would require me to actually take medication to pay attention, and that medication actually curtails my creativity (I know, I've tried it). If my creativity is curtailed, I can't do my job. No job, no food on the table. And now we're starving.
9. I want him to be exposed to ideas that aren't mine. I've thought a lot about this one, and talked to many homeschooling parents who claim to homeschool because they want to control what their kids are exposed to. I don't need that much control. I want my kids exposed to as many different ideas as possible. I LIKE having no control (or very little) over the diversity of education my children receive. I'm not always right, after all.
10. They have more resources than I do. Unless I somehow win the lottery, I can't afford the resources the school brings to the table. I simply can't. Those resources are invaluable, especially for my autistic son. These resources include a full-time professional who is there specifically for my son at all hours of the school day. She is amazing. I can't afford her salary, and I can't keep her prisoner in my basement, so off to school my little guy goes.
This last reason was more than enough to convince me that my youngest was better off in public school. Don't get me wrong, I have only respect for those parents who pull off homeschooling effectively (let's admit that not everyone does), but for my autistic son, it's not the best option. Does he love school? Well, no. But he's slowly adapting. Grade 1 is wrapping up and we'll keep plugging along whether he likes it or not. Because we can't always love what's good for us, and what's good for him is going to school every day.
No matter how hard you try to avoid it, eventually your child will want to invite other kids over for a big party on their birthday. It's inevitable. Oh, sure, you can throw small family parties for a few years, but once your kid starts school, he will notice that other children are having parties. He'll even get invited to a few. Or a thousand, depending on how popular your child happens to be.
So what do you do? You give him that party, of course. You might resist for a little while, but eventually the dark black hole that is planning and hosting a children's birthday party will eventually suck you in. Before you get too far into the planning stage, however, keep these tips in mind. You might even find some of them useful. :)
Remember Who the Party is For--The party is not about YOU. It is about your child. This is not the time to relive your own childhood and throw the party you wish you had. If you loved My Little Pony but your child is more of a Star Wars fan, get the Star Wars napkins. It's not about you.
Don't Invite the Entire Class--Seriously, I've done this. It's always a mess. Not only do you end up with 30 kids all by yourself (because this is the one time no parents will stay during the party), but your kid will have less fun. A few good friends always results in more fun because those are the friends who mean the most. And you kid doesn't have to run around talking to 30 people, at least 10 of whom he doesn't really like. Keep it under 10 for maximum fun.
Don't Try to Be Super Healthy--I recently attended a party for a seven-year-old where the cake was gluten-free, sugar-free, and something-else-free. Even the birthday boy wouldn't eat it. And for lunch? Kale salad. Maybe two kids ate anything at all, and the birthday boy was not among them. Clearly he didn't enjoy these foods, so they weren't for his benefit. If your kid likes cheese pizza and chocolate cake, that's what you should serve. Sure, serve a fruit tray and a veggie tray, but don't overdo it. It's one day. And remember, the day is about birthday kid, not you.
Don't Stress Out Over Allergies--Look, I have a child with a life-threatening allergy, so I know how serious they are. But unless your child has allergies, don't worry about it. Please. I am horrified when a parent tells me they can't figure out what to feed my child. I'm careful. So is my son. He's not going to eat the cake if it's going to kill him. In fact, I probably fed him before we came. As long as you're not offended when he barely eats anything, we're fine. You don't need to accommodate every allergy under the sun. It's your child's birthday. Let him be the focus.
Let Kids Bring Presents--I went to another party for a little girl just over a week ago (my entire school year seems to be one party after another). At this party, the parents requested no presents. Great, right? Well, it didn't turn out that way. The birthday girl was sad. The guests didn't understand why they couldn't bring presents for their friend (they're still quite young, by the way). The entire party seemed lacking. Were the parents happy? Sure. The birthday girl's dad didn't have to haul all the presents home and the parents of the guests saved $20. But remember the part about it not being all about you? Kids want presents. I usually ask guests not to spend more than $10 on a gift, but banning them outright may result in tears.
Stick to Your Budget--As a mom, I've blown a lot of money on birthday parties. I've also planned parties that stuck to a strict budget. And you know what? The kids enjoyed all the parties. The knight party that cost me $1000? They loved it. But the Star Wars party that only cost $150? They loved that too. I've learned the hard way that spending more money doesn't mean it's more fun. Kids do not care.
End the Party On Time--I've been to two separate parties this year that did not end on time. At the first, I arrived at the appointed pickup time and they weren't even close to done. So I went and did my shopping. An hour later they still weren't done. An hour after that, I had to haul my son out of there (because we had another party to get to) and they still hadn't done the cake thing. At the second party, I stayed to help the mom out. The party was three hours. Supposedly. At the three-hour mark, they'd only just started the magic show. Never mind cake or presents. For the love of all that is holy, end your party on time! It will help avoid tears.
Ask For Help--If you're only having three guests, this probably isn't a problem. But if you're having more than five extra children at the party, you'll want an extra pair of hands. And eyes. Surely one of your mom friends doesn't mind staying to help you out. Ask.
Write a Schedule--Not in stone, but a quick little list in your pocket can help keep the party going, and help it end on time. It'll also remind you not to skip anything. Because we all know how cranky the birthday boy will get if he suddenly remembers he wanted to play that bean bag toss game he found at the dollar store a month ago. Write it down.
Have Fun--The party may be all about the birthday kid, but that's no reason not to have fun. There's nothing wrong with Mom playing a few of the games, eating a slice of cake, or laughing with kids and adults alike. If you're having fun, your kid will have fun (usually). Give it a shot.
It doesn't really matter if you have the party in your house or rent a hall. You can go to the zoo, the bowling alley, or the local mini-golf course. Or you can have it in your own backyard. Just make a plan, relax, and have fun.
So the kids want to redecorate? No problem. Huge plans? No problem. As soon as the room is clean.
Which is exactly where the first problem in the Great Bedroom Saga was waiting for me. We have one basic rule in our house: your room is your room. I don't care if it's messy. I don't care if you don't put your clothes away. I don't care if you haven't made your bed. As long as the room doesn't smell like a dried up fish stick and your don't leave your junk lying around the rest of the house, I can live with a messy room.
Until it's time to redecorate. I am not even going to try to redecorate a room with Lego strewn across the floor. Have you ever stepped on a Lego? I have and it hurts. So if there's Lego (or one of the many other little toys they seem to keep on the floor) lying around, I'm not painting. Ever.
Bear in mind that this whole redecorating thing wasn't exactly my idea. The kids came up with the plan. So I figured it was only fair that they get their own junk off the floor before I bought the first can of paint. Good idea.
Or so I thought. Who knew it would be such a battle? And, just to set the record straight, the room isn't exactly a total disaster. Some things are on the floor, yes, but most of it is in toy boxes or up on shelves. Cleaning up the entire room would take no more than about fifteen or twenty minutes. Tops.
So what do the kids do? Nothing, as it turns out. I send them to clean their room, promising a trip to the hardware store just as soon as it's done. Ten minutes later, the kids return and ask to go to the hardware store. That seemed just a little quick to me, so I decided to check. They hadn't even picked up the dreaded Lego. No hardware store.
My youngest, who has Asperger's, had an immediate breakdown. He wanted the hardware store, he expected the hardware store, and he was going to have a meltdown (which looks like a tantrum but actually isn't) until we went to the hardware store. My oldest son, who had apparently planned this out, was just about smirking. He had to go to his not-cleaned room while I dealt with the little one.
Eventually, by repeating myself at least a dozen times, I managed to get the little one to understand the sequence of events according to Mommy. Clean up, then hardware store. Clean up, then hardware store. Little one was on board. Now for the big one.
The big one, at a whole eight years old, was not interested in cleaning.
"Why can't you clean it up?" was his big question.
"Fine," I replied. "But Mommy cleans with a garbage bag. I'm going to get my garbage bag. Anything left on the floor is definitely garbage. I'll be back in two minutes."
Usually my threats are pretty empty, but I think he realized that I just might be serious. By the time I got back, garbage bag in hand, Tristan (my older son) was slowly cleaning up. Slowly, but it was a start. The younger one was sitting next to the bunk beds looking confused. A few minutes of careful coaching and Rowan too was cleaning up. Sort of. But it was good enough.
I helped, of course, and thirty minutes later we were ready for a trip to the hardware store. Doesn't that sound like fun?
Have you ever made a promise to your kids that got you in way over your head? Well, that happened to me this week, and it all started because two little boys wanted just one little thing from me.
First, a little background. My two children, now 8 and 6, share a room. They've shared that room for six years. Before that, it was my nephew's room, but then we all played musical houses (that's a different and entirely ridiculous story) and now my kids have the room my nephew once had. The room has a blue ceiling, blue and grey walls, and clouds cut out of ceiling tiles hanging from the ceiling. It also has a Disney's Cars light switch. All of this was from when it was my nephew's room. The only things I added were a few Diego wall decals and a Thomas the Tank Engine toy box. Six years ago. The room hasn't changed since them.
So maybe the situation I've found myself in was bound to creep up on me. And it may be partially my own fault for not updating their room as they grew. They're not toddlers anymore, after all. But I digress.
A few days ago my oldest son Tristan sat beside me and said, "Mommy, you need to paint my room."
That seemed an innocent enough request, so I asked him what color he wanted it painted. Tristan pulled out a paint chip (where did he get a paint chip?!) and showed me a silver paint that would look lovely but would never go over the deeply insane blue on the walls and ceiling now. I asked if he couldn't pick a slightly darker color. He refused. Fine. Silver walls it was. I'd need tinted primer go cover all that blue, but it was fine. Paint is no big deal.
Tristan went on to explain that if he was going to be a knight, he needed grey walls because castle stones are grey. I remember thinking "How cute" as he talked about being a knight. He has all the costumes and two years ago my father and I built him a castle in the yard to play in.
Rowan, my younger son, snuck in and said, "Did you ask her yet?"
Tristan shook his head, so now I was suspicious. He'd already asked me about paint, and I'd agreed, so what hadn't he asked me. I gave Tristan a look. He smiled. I gave Rowan a look. He ran back upstairs. So I turned back to Tristan.
"What's going on?"
With a heartfelt sigh that shook his little body he explained. He wanted a knight's bedroom. With grey walls and one stone wall and a cool bed and everything. He didn't like Cars and he didn't like Diego. At all. He and Rowan were old enough now to get a bedroom they loved. Thinking paint and wallpaper would do it, I agreed. Then he asked if he could use my computer. In a flash of blind stupidity (and not seeing the connection), I agreed.
So I made dinner and Tristan, at a whole 8 years old, clicked away. To my growing misfortune, I'm coming to realize that the school is teaching my kids to spell and surf the web. This is a dangerous combination. If Tristan couldn't spell, he couldn't use Google and my life would be easier. Well, he can spell and they taught him all about Google. And they taught him how to save pictures from the Internet. This was about to ruin my day.
So I'm making hide-the-beans burgers and cinnamon sweet potato fries and Tristan starts printing something. Who taught the kid to print!? Not me, that's for sure. Into the kitchen he comes with a STACK of paper. My heart clenched as I realized this kid had a PLAN.
What was the plan? A stone wall. Not wallpaper, but real stone. I managed to convince him to use wallpaper because he'd lose a foot of his room with real stone, but it was a near thing. He also wanted to get rid of the bunk bed and have two separate beds. He'd found three pictures on the internet that he wanted to combine. Scary. Oh, and fake windows behind each bed. And castles rising above each bed (he didn't have a picture for this, but he is a little artist). Oh, and THREE nightstands. And treasure chests at the end of the beds. And the beds...navy with a silver stripe. With a crest. And reversible, so silver with a navy stripe on the other side. Still with a crest. Matching curtains around the beds, and these curtains have to hang from the castles rising above the beds.
His plan involves a little more than just paint and wallpaper. It involves new lights (including a dragon light), new switches, new beds, bedding, shelves that look like castles, castles that rise up above beds, curtains, chains, murals, fake windows, and I can't even remember what else. And what did I say when he thrust all these papers and plans at me?
I said, "Yes." What did I just get myself into? Stay tuned for the answer.
My two boys love Pizza Hut. My oldest, in fact, saves up his money to treat himself as often as I allow. The gooey cheese that everyone loves is unfortunately a source of naturally occurring trans fats, so that's not all good. The "Eat Well" (it might be called something else in your area) menu, however, has plenty of options that limit or eliminate trans fats, get the fiber up, and lower the calories. You just have to watch what your little ones order.
Order
Try to get your kids to enjoy the delightful Margherita pizza. It's delicious enough for everyone, so perhaps order one pizza for everyone to share. Two slices of this paired with a side salad (try the raspberry dressing; it's excellent) and you have only 480 calories. Not bad for a Pizza Hut lunch. If you can convince your kids to have a glass of water, all the better, but a glass of juice doesn't add too much to the calorie count.
Don't Order
That pepperoni personal pan pizza might be tasty, but it's not all that healthy. If you add a side Caesar salad (with the dressing, of course) and an Orange Crush to drink, you're up to a whopping 1269 calories with 50g of fat. That's a little much for a single meal, so try to get your kids to look elsewhere on the menu. Their health will thank you for it.
Let's face it, modern families are busy and just about all of us end up eating out once in a while. If we're in a rush, fast food joints may be the only places that fit our schedules and our kids' finicky appetites.
Love it or hate it, most of us end up stopping at McDonald's with our children, but even though it may not be our first choice there are still choices available for the health conscious parent. This chain has taken most of the trans fats out of their fries, reduced the sodium in many foods, and now offers milk, apple slices, and even yogurt.
Order
Happy Meals are a big thing for kids, and they used to be pretty darned unhealthy. Today, however, there is more variety. Consider a Grilled Chicken Snack Wrap, apple slices, and a milk to drink. Even a chocolate milk if your child prefers. And they still get the toy. This combo has approximately 450 calories, 690 mg of sodium, and 12 g fat. While this may not be ideal, it's not terrible.
Don't Order
I have nothing against chicken nuggets and fries, and one of my sons really loves them, but if you're looking the healthiest option, pass on this Happy Meal combo. If you add a small Fruitopia to the mix you end up with approximately 600 calories, 640 mg of sodium, and 25 g fat. Another option is probably best.
Stopping at a fast food place such as McDonald's isn't all that bad if you're careful and discerning. If your children do prefer the less healthy options, limit the number of times they're allowed to choose the nuggets or cheeseburger.
Walnuts serious brain food, especially for children, and they taste good enough on their own. Packed with omega-3s, walnuts keep the neurons in kids' brains firing, protects the heart, lowers cholesterol, and may even help ward off certain types of cancers.
But sometimes we don't want to eat a handful of walnuts all the time. Walnuts are versatile enough to fit in many different recipes, so try the following maple walnut crunch.
Ingredients
1 cup raw walnut pieces
1 tbsp maple syrup
pinch of salt
Method
Preheat over to 325°F (160°C).
Combine all ingredients in a large bow and mixing gently. Make sure all ingredients are evenly distributed and all walnut pieces are coated with the syrup.
Spread walnuts evenly on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake for 10 minutes, turn, and bake for 10 minutes longer.
Let cool before serving.
Make sure you use real maple syrup, not the fake stuff. You'll also want the sweetest nuts possible, so buy smaller walnuts that are lighter in color. Purchase them in small amounts and keep them in the fridge or even the freezer to keep them as fresh as possible.
Kidney beans really are a superfood. They are packed full of fiber, protein, iron, folate, and even antioxidants. Unfortunately, many kids avoid them like the plague. I know mine do. And while you can tuck them into nachos or burritos, they're often quickly spotted by eagle-eyed children. Why not try hiding them in a burger everyone will enjoy?
Ingredients
1½ cups red kidney beans, mashed until smooth
½ cup quick oats
1 cup grated cheddar cheese (medium works best)
1 cup grated sweet potato (raw)
¼ cup coriander, fresh and copped fine
1 tsp salt
2 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
1 egg, beaten
1 tbsp oil (choose your favorite for pan frying)
¼ cup red onions (optional)
Barbeque sauce (optional)
Method
Take out a large bowl. Add all ingredients except the oil and the optional barbeque sauce and mix by hand. Make sure all ingredients are equally distributed.
Form mixture into six equal patties.
Heat oil in skillet. Cook patties for 5 minutes on each side, or until golden brown on each side. Feel free to add barbeque sauce as if you were barbequing. In fact, these can also be cooked on the barbeque outside if you like.
Place on buns, add ketchup, mustard, cheese, lettuce, or other toppings and serve warm.
This is a versatile recipe, so experiment with different herbs. I like to do basil, oregano, and thyme instead of the herbs listed here, but you might have other favorites. The flavor comes from the herbs, so don't be shy.
