Vanilla Butternut Squash Soup

• 2 pounds (or so) of diced butternut squash
• 2 small onions, or 1 mack-daddy onion, diced
• 2 Tbsp olive oil
• water or stock to cover
• salt and pepper
• 1/2 cup cream
• 1 teaspoon good quality real vanilla

In a stock pot, saute onions in olive oil until soft and fragrant. Add diced squash (no need to bake first) and cover with enough stock or water to just barely cover. You don’t want too much liquid, or the soup will be too thin when you puree.

Simmer over medium heat until squash is soft- 10-15 minutes worked for me.

Remove from heat and puree with a stick emersion blender or in your food processor/blender until creamy smooth. Add vanilla and cream, and stir together. Top with chives and/or a tiny drizzle of cream.

Speaking of, what the heck with a prof who doesn’t show for the first class, when class is only once a week, and then the following class is on a holiday? It’s 12 weeks of classes, and it will be week three before we actually see him in a class. I’m a little miffed.

Abby lost her first tooth! She then promptly lost her first lost tooth. Tears aplenty were had by all. Said tooth, tiny little thing it is, was miraculously recovered the next day on the floor near her bed. Tooth fairy shall be arriving shortly. With any luck. The boys don’t even try anymore. They just put their teeth on my dresser. Mom FAIL.

Looks like winter finally decided to show up. Snow is fun for about an hour, then I’m ready for spring.

Jeffrey went snow-shoeing yesterday for a field trip at school, and the poor boy was in tears this morning when he got up his legs hurt so bad. Next week they go cross-country skiing, and he’s already fretting- I sent him to school with a motrin and a pep-talk.  Fifth grade is hard.

<Sshhhhhh, be very very quiet…> Bean is doing well </quiet>

I watched my first and only presidential debate thus far this year- and aside from finding Newt Gingrich to be one of the vilest, foulest, most reprehensible excuses for a candidate I’ve ever seen, it was great.

So earlier last year, I lost a ton of hair. It’s good that I had a ton of hair to loose- because I really did drop probably half my hair. Thankfully it appears to have been just stress-related (because that’s FUN!) but now, my new hair is all growing in. Which means, much like a dog in the winter, I’m getting my undercoat. I have a constant halo of short 3-4″ hair all around my head in a constant stick-up and misbehave riot of unruliness. I’m still glad its coming back.

Speaking of- on my to-do list today, I actually wrote “Raise hell”.

Yesterday I accidentally ate some gluten, and while I was going to say rats gnawing on me would be preferable, I decided that was too gruesome, so I’m going to go with “I was very uncomfortable.” Better? See, I’m always thinking of others. Anyway. Gluten. Yeah, bad bad bad. Vomit, cry, handful of Benedryl, wait and see if a trip to the ER is necessary. Restaurants really need to be more careful about where they hide their %$#& flour.

Bubble baths are my new favorite way to get warm in the evening. It’s also easier to shave my legs without cutting myself to shreds if I do it in the tub. Just as an aside.

I am utterly addicted to Words with Friends. I know, I’m about a million minutes late to the party. And I really really suck at it! But its so fun! Reminds me of when I was a kid and my mom and aunts would play Scrabble and my mom would throw the board at someone. Only I’m miles too far for anyone to throw a board at me. It’s fantastic. What? Because I needed another time-suck? Shut up. <dandelionmama> Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone!

• I adore Marc Jacob’s OH LOLA perfume. The girls in Sephora keep giving me samples. Love!
• Steaming hot chai tea. I’ve given you the recipe before… now where is it?
• MAC lipglass in the neutral quad. Oh my stars, Boy Bait is my new favorite.
• Palm trees. Every January I miss California with an aching in my heart…
• Sweet almond oil. Someone asked my secret to nice skin, and I got this tip from my friend Annie: after you cleanse at night, skip the expensive moisturizers and just gently massage some almond oil into your face. It works amazingly well.
• Homemade hummus. So simple, so easy, and so very very good.
• The color cobalt blue. So beautiful, and so elusive.
• I wish there was a park with long swings close by. Or that I could swing on My Swing down in Morgan Hill.
• And last but not least, and utterly out of my reach-  pretty pretty precious…

I’ve long admitted a crush on Anthony Bourdain, and his new show “The Layover” combines for me not only his acerbic sense of humor, but my own loves of travel and local food. He was in San Francisco tonight, and I was wicked homesick, and loving it.

Today was my first day back to school. I had one four-hour class. The prof was a no-show, and his grad student showed long enough to pass out the syllabus and tell us all to go home. I’m all for a free night, but the first class? And when it’s only once a week and next week is a holiday? I wasted a sitter, one of my parking passes, and the time and effort to get to campus during commute time. Not very happy.

I have deep-midnight cobalt-blue travel mug that I utterly adore. Only every time I use it, I try and sip from the wrong side, and pour tea all over myself. Tonight was no exception. The color delights me so I ignore the drips.

There was an alignment of the stars today, and my student loans funded, I got hold of a real person at DSHS, I paid my bills, and Costco had running shoes in my size that fit perfectly and were less than $40. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, and being grateful.

Eating super healthy and seeing the benefits in my skin before I see it anywhere else. I have to be so neurotic about avoiding gluten for the small inconvenience of anaphylaxis. But now I’m giving up diet Coke. and diet Dr Pepper. I know. Weep for me. But my skin is so happy. And I’m vain enough to navigate withdrawal headaches for a few days for my skin to glow.

Speaking of, go to Smitten Kitchen and make the carrot ginger soup. Here’s the recipe. Just trust me, no matter how much you like it- don’t eat three bowls. That’s about a pound of carrots right there and your tummy- er, MY tummy- wasn’t quite prepared for that much carroting. But DO pickle the green onions- super yummy. And easy.

Need to write my thank-you notes for Christmas. If you’re waiting on one, I promise it’s coming.

I’ve decided to finally renew my passport. It’s not like I have any looming international travel plans or anything- though I do have this fierce desire to go to Brazil. (despite Newt thinking us Welfare Mom’s can buy vacation packages with our foodstamps, I haven’t figured out how to manage that yet) But I do think someone who loves to travel as much as I do should have a valid passport.

I love arugula.

The new quarter starts tomorrow, and I’m trying very hard to take slow, measured breaths and not let the waves of panic overtake me. In the pre-dawn haze this morning, unable to go back to sleep, the to-do list grew (as it always does in the wee small hours) to monstrously looming proportions. The only thing in my power at such a ghastly hour on a Sunday morning was to grab a pen and paper and make a list. Somehow this always, at least somewhat, takes the damned demons down.

Stress does not do pretty things to human beings- yes, I know, Biology 101 says we need certain amounts of stress to function properly, but I’m gonna go out on a limb here and suggest the last five years were more a dumptruck load, rather than a delicate dance of tension and give.

So with the quarter starting, the one thing I’m committed to doing again is running. It’s the first thing I cut out, because hey, it’s just for my health, and it sucks, and I hate doing it- and it makes everything else bearable. Tire those muscles out, get the endorphins flooding, keep the stress in the sweat and make my sleep that of physical exhaustion rather than just emotional.

So in the next few weeks, when I have to take the GRE, the PRAXIS, and a math placement test for my final quarter so I can graduate, when I have to write the rest of my 150 page+ Senior Capstone and keep up on three classes and three kids- remind me, my bloggy friends, that I need to be running my ass off, not pulled my hair out.

Bean’s IEP was pretty simple- only its been a three years since his last full official evaluation, and we’re going to do another one. That’s fun. It means piles of paperwork, and him being observed by people who have their degrees in the same thing I’m working on. They’re professionals, but I’m his mama. I have to say, his team is great, and IEP’s don’t actually stress me out the way I know they do so many parents. I know the lingo, my rights, my son’s rights, and mostly the team is very good. But it’s still a draining process.

I came home from the IEP with Abby in tow- she hasn’t been in school since December 16th- and dug out my financial aid paperwork and got to work on making phone calls for that mess. Most people know how much fun that is…

Once I got that done it was time to complete my Quarterly Certification Review for DSHS- only I’ve been trying to get through to them since mid-December. I couldn’t get through on the phone lines, then they were closed for the holiday, and now I’m up against the wall and my benefits will be cut off if I don’t “prove need”. Again. It’s not a problem to provide them what they need- but it is a problem to get anyone on the phone to actually complete the interview. Hundreds of tries- usually I get an “All circuits are busy, please try later.” message. Occasionally I’ll actually get in the voice queue and input my account number, but every single time thus far, I get “All operators are helping other clients, please call back later.” And it starts again.

Yesterday, after the IEP and Financial Aid, this just pushed me over the edge. I felt so helpless. I need (and sincerely qualify for) this aid, and I’m trying to jump through all the hoops I have to, but because of a phone queue that doesn’t hold you in line, I cannot make the deadline. I dissolve into ridiculously hopeless, dramatic tears.

A good friend has some inside lines, and happened to call me during my torrent of self-pity- and was able to get me an actual phone number- not the toll-free number- and rather quickly I was speaking to an actual human being. She couldn’t complete my certification, but she did give me an extension, so my kids are still covered and we get food this month. Small miracles.

By the time I got off the phone with the lady at DSHS, it was time to go pick the boys up from school, and Abby was moaning about being hungry. Second day back to school, and the kids have a half-day. 12:30 release. When I open the door, there is a turn-off notice from the electric company. Yes, I know I’m late, but my student loans fund on Monday and I can pay the bill then- only I don’t have that long. I shove the bill in my purse and hurry Abby to the car. The kids’ Christmas money will have to pay the electric bill. I can pay them back next week. The balancing and trade-offs you make in poverty are astounding sometimes. I won’t tell the kids.

I pick the boys up, and we have to head downtown to meet with a nutritionist. Their pediatrician wrote us a referral back during their checkups, hoping a nutritionist could help get Bean to eat something besides PBJ and just generally help everyone. Its a fine idea. In theory.

The first half hour went fine. She weighed, measured and did an analysis on each kid. Bean is surprisingly healthy for having never ever ingested a single vegetable that was not a french fry or ketchup. Jeffrey needs to eat more fruit and vegetables, and Abby is just fine. But this all took a lot of time.

At the end of the first hour, Bean started to unravel. I told her this was going to get ugly, and it did- faster than I can ever remember. There wasn’t really time for me to get him out of there, and he tipped. When he started throwing furniture, I had to lay on him while the nutritionist sat at her table with her laptop, watching in fascinated horror. I told her if there was somewhere quiet and dark we could put him it would help. She opened a cupboard and shoved everything out, and he climbed in and shut the door. He hit his head for a few minutes and vocalized, but in about 15 minutes, he came out calm and happy and started to put the room back together. The look of fascinated horror on her face never changed.

Two hours. We were there two hours. Bean skipped out as we left, happy as a lark, and asked to go to the cafeteria. He loves hospital cafeterias- they have a conveyor belt that moves the trays into the dishwasher. None of us had eaten, so I acquiesced. Bean got a peanut butter sandwich. Go figure. The others had whole wheat pasta. And I had a diet Coke and an Excedrin. Dinner of champions.

On the drive home, my back started to spasm. Once in a blue moon this happens, usually in conjunction with a massive tussle with Bean. Et voila. By the time we got in the house, I sent everyone down to play, and tried not to puke from the cramping spasms and shooting pain. I would rather be in labor than have back spasms- no joke.

Jeffrey got me an ice pack, and I took the last four Advil in the house. Laying gingerly on the bed, I closed my eyes and waited for the pain to subside. Slowly… slowly… I could breathe again.

I didn’t remember until this morning that it was my kids’ Nana’s birthday. We never even called her.

So how was your day?

Parenthood kicked me in the gut tonight with it’s all-too-accurate portrayal of mothering a child with Aspergers. I’ve got a love/hate relationship with this show, and I don’t watch it every week- but I’ve watched enough to know they do a damn good job most of the time. But its kind of like watching Breaking Bad- I don’t really have any desire to watch a show about a guy devolving into drug addiction. It’s not…um… entertaining to me. But this here? Well, it’s shocking to see someone on TV (where by and large what I live is not really even on the radar) dealing with an incredibly accurate and emotionally loaded, nuanced portrayal of what it’s like to mother this child.

The show opens with Max, the boy with Aspergers, blowing up at his well-intentioned mother. He unloads, cursing her and telling her he hates her. He throws things at her, and rages at the situation. And she is caught there, knowing she must do something, unclear what is spectrum disorder processing and what is a child misbehaving; pulled taut between uncertainty, her own anger, shock, grief, surprise and a hundred other rolling emotions. The actress (Monica Potter) captured it beautifully. Tragically, painfully, beautifully.

And doesn’t it figure? Bean’s IEP is tomorrow morning at 8 am, where his team of teachers and therapists will sit with me and go over his education plan, where we will discuss his inability to control his emotional responses, and try and figure out how to lead him in a way that balances the delicate dance between what is disability, and what is a child testing his boundaries. A hundred rolling emotions coming down the track…

Every single piece of laundry in my house is washed, dried, folded and PUT AWAY. Bow down, suckas! I shall enjoy it for the 3.7 seconds it will last, before Abby changed her wardrobe for the first of twelve times today. But for those few seconds… ahhhhh.

DSHS has my annual review scheduled for sometime between the 3rd and 6th- this week. Only they’ve been closed for ten days. I can’t even get the recorded voice on the phone this morning- only the error message telling me all circuits are busy. Hooray. This should be fun. Hopefully I can catch a lull by Thursday, otherwise- sorry kids! no food for us this month! Living on the edge is so much fun!

If I do get through to DSHS, my kids all have an appointment with a nutritionist downtown. Their pediatrician thinks maybe a nurtritionist, all official-like, might be able to convince Bean to eat something besides peanut butter English muffins. I let her have her delusions, and kept the food log for the week. This should be fun.

I’m running again, if you’re generous in your definition of “running”. But it’s happening, and that’s all that matters. Right?

I’m having to cut myself some slack on my grad-school applications. Some of them are due by the 15th of this month if I want to start in August, and I haven’t been able to take the GRE yet. This makes me want to cry, but there is simply not anything I can do. I might have to accept matriculating to January, and while I’m not happy about it, I have to acknowledge it was not humanly possible to knock out the 19-unit quarter, study (and pay) for the GRE back in the fall, deal with the Holidays and raise three kids alone. Expectations, meet the Brick Wall of Reality. I’m trying not to let it take the wind from my sails- and some of the schools still have April deadlines- which is waaaay more practical for me. Either way, I can do this. Keeping my eyes on the horizon and realizing sometimes things won’t go perfectly.

Speaking of, school starts for me on Monday. A more sane 15 unit quarter, I have to admit, and I’m trying to look forward to it.

Bean has taken my five-pound weights and done something with them- I have no idea what. Knowing that kid, they’re in his backpack. Remember when he used to put cans of pineapple in his backpack and wear it around the house? Creative problem solving and self-therapy. My kid is a genius. Now where the hell are my weights?

Perhaps the best Christmas gift we got was from Grandma- the Hot Wheels Wall Track- regard, the tidiness and compact nature of the track belies the coolness of the cars cascading down the wall. They all love it, and I’m not constantly cursing the tracks being everywhere:

Worst gift? Oh easy-peasy! Baby Alive! Dude… why? WHY?

Was treated to an optic migraine (x3!) yesterday. It’s not as bad as it could be, I know- I only get the effed-up vision and the nausea and dizziness that come along for the ride. The fun is what it starts when I’m out running errands. Usually I can get myself home before I can’t see- but yesterday it came on fast and furious, and I was in the grocery store. No way was I getting home, and no way was I gonna drive basically blind. So I parked my cart and hung out at the in-store coffee-shop until it passed enough to see and walk again. Good times.

Mo got me started (and totally hooked on) Words with Friends. It took me umpteen games to finally beat her, but I think I got the hang of it. It reminds me of playing Scrabble with my grandma when I was a kid. I’m terrible, but its fun.

Wow, I have a ton of thank-you notes to write. I’m grateful.

My friend Steven Peck wrote a new book called “The Scholar of Moab” and it’s sitting right here on my bed waiting for me to curl up and finish it. It’s spectacular, if you’re looking for a bright, creative, slightly odd science-fictiony western-ish book. It’s really its own genre- and I highly recommend it. I also recommend his other book- “A Short Stay in Hell”- it’s coming out in March, and is one of the best books I’ve ever read, no joke.

On that note, I better get reading. Monday academia takes over again and my reading will no longer be at my leisure.

As Jeffrey used to say when he was little, Happy Janulater!