Wednesday: Kitchen Table Adventures: SOCK-KER!

Christmas is coming!!!

We’re excited for Christmas at our house.  This year, we used a red and green paper chain to count down the days until Christmas.  Each morning after breakfast, one of the boys would tear off a chain and then they’d all count how many chains were left.  I thought this was great for my 3 year old to practice his numbers.  Did I mention that I am a homeschooler? I like to look for every opportunity to teach my youngest the basics – get him a head start before Kindergarten.

Speaking of which, Kitchen Table Adventures today is all about pre-schoolers.  The kitchen table can offer endless possibilities to excite the imagination of my 3 year old.  Today, we played a game on the table called “Sock-ker”.  And yes, it involves using socks.  The items required for this game are:

One pair of men’s sports socks – like the white Hanes kind.

One bouncy ball.

The game is played with laying the socks in a curved shape on either end of the table to be used as goals.   The players stand opposite of each other and take turns rolling the ball as carefully as they can into each other’s sock goals.  There is no blocking, or swatting away of the ball.  You just need to get the ball “nested” into the sock to get a point.  It’s harder than you think and the boys had a great time trying to get the ball into the sock nest.  The ball would often roll off the table, but that was fun too, because then it could bounce and Mom wouldn’t get upset with having a bouncy ball upstairs.

This game is great in helping my preschooler with hand-eye coordination and learning how much pressure is required to get the ball where he wants it to go.  Plus, when he makes a goal, he is jumping up and down working those large muscle groups.  And when the ball falls to the ground – he is scrabbling for it.  A great work out for a 3 year old.

Until next time:  Eat well, be well and be happy.

Mondays with SPD: The Quest for a Balanced Sensory Diet

I’m on a quest. A quest to discover the different ways I can facilitate the sensory needs of my children. 

When Diane, our Occupational Therapist, came by last week to work with Bruce, I observed my son begin to put assorted objects in his mouth and chew on them.  It suddenly dawned on me that he does this when he is anxious.  First, he started chewing on a piece of paper, which I took away from him. Next, he found his little black comb and began gnawing on it.  Diane took it away from him and supplied him with a battery operated “wiggle” pen.  I watched as Bruce placed it against his jaw, then his nose and under his arms as Diane and I discussed creating a sensory diet for him, as well as teach him self-calming skills.

Diane also discussed how important it was to meet his sensory needs before he had meltdowns and to help him figure out on his own how to calm himself.  Unfortunately, it was my misunderstanding of dealing with Bruce of taking it upon myself to calm him down during his meltdowns.  When I first learned of Sensory Diets a little while ago, I didn’t quite grasp the concept, nor did I have anyone to hold my hand and show me how it worked.  I was told by another OT to read “The Out-Of-Sync Child” by Carol Stock Kranowitz and I would be good to go. I would know everything I needed in order to meet the needs of my sons.

Personally, I found the book to be dry, boring, and would inevitable put me to sleep faster than reading the Bible.  Don’t get me wrong, it is a well researched and very informative book and I use it as a resource.  But reading and doing – are two different things.  And for something as overwhelming as SPD, I really felt I needed an expert to walk me through this process.  Turns out, it isn’t that difficult.  I tend to interpret things as being more complicated than they really are.

So, with Diane’s encouragement, I am creating a Balanced Sensory Diet for my kids – which seems kind of funny to me.  Since I’m already highly aware of the nutritional value of foods I give to my kids (making sure that it’s balanced and wholesome) switching gears into the realm of sensory integration shouldn’t be a problem.  Although, there are no RDA’s for the amount of pressure my child should be receiving while he lays between the mattresses, or how long I need to brush his arms and legs, I need to listen to my child for when his needs are satisfied.

The Balanced Sensory Diet is like a fitness plan and is outlined in the aforementioned book.  Carol writes that “It will enhance every child’s ability to function smoothly, whether the child is in sync or out of synch”.

Next time, I will have Bruce’s Diet created and posted.  Until then, eat well, be well and be happy.

Aloha Fridays: Roof Water and Rain Barrels

As mentioned before in previous posts,  my family moved to Samoa for the second time in 1992.  We lived in the village of Amouli in a hurricane house that belonged to my grandparents.  The house was constructed of cement blocks and topped with plywood roof overlaid with corrugated tin.  The only indoor plumbing was the kitchen sink and it produced nothing but thick sludge when turned on – therefore, it was struck off our list as a source of fresh drinking water.

My father, ingenious man that he is, quickly worked to solve that problem.  In the picture below (which is the only photo I have of the entire fresh water reclamation system my father designed) you can see the rain gutter he rigged up to catch the runoff from the roof (never mind dirt and dust, bird and bat poop and other insect contributions).  The rain gutter would funnel the water into the barrel below which had several layers of netting and cotton fabric stretched over the top of it. 

Our high-tech water reclamation system.

Every morning, one or two  of us older girls would come out with an arm full of quart size plastic jugs (former Clorox bottles) and fill each bottle, add a drop of Clorox bleach, secure the lid on tightly and pack it inside to stack on the shelf next to the electrically challenged stove.  This would be our supply of drinking and cooking water for the day (for 11 people).

Teaching little brother and sister how to extract coconut juice. 
Poke hole in the "mouth" of the coconut and tip over a cup.

We’d also supplement our fluids with POG juice (Passion, Orange, Guava juice), from the local bush store, coconut juice and milk fresh from New Zealand.  I don’t know what it was that made it so, but the New Zealand butter and milk tasted far superior to American milk and butter.  Maybe their cows eat real cow food – like grass.

Wednesday: Kitchen Table Adventures with play dough and SPD

Tried and true – play dough is probably one of the best inventions ever!  My boys absolutely love this pliable toy and can sit for hours shaping and creating.  And best of all – you don’t have to spend a lot of money on the store-bought variety or the accessories for this activity.  Just make your own and use whatever is in your kitchen drawers to let your kids experiment.

Playing with the dough will increase strength in the fingers, increase manual dexterity and work on those fine motor skills.  If you add rollers, and cookie cutters to it, all the better.*

This is the best recipe for homemade clay I’ve come across.  There are two methods you can use to make it.  First, you can put the color in with the water before you add the other ingredients, or wait  until the dough has cooled and let your child knead the color into the dough.  I prefer the latter approach as it’s a great way for them to work on their gross motor skills and gives my SS (sensory seeker) son the sensory input he craves.

Play Dough

2 cups water

¼ cup vegetable oil

2 cups flour
1 cup salt
¼ cup cream of tartar
Food coloring or fruit or vegetable juice (carrot, apple, beet, grape, plum, etc.)

Mix oil, water and coloring (optional – can add coloring afterwards) in a saucepan over medium heat.  Add flour, salt and cream of tartar.  Stir frequently until dough pulls away from the pan and forms a ball.  Remove from heat and let cool.  When cool enough to touch, knead dough and use as is, or divide into equal parts and add coloring (if you haven’t already) and knead the color into the dough.

To store:  Keep in a closeable plastic bag in the refrigerator up to a week  or so if you use the natural juices to color the dough with.  I use food coloring and keep my dough longer in the fridge (up to 6 weeks).  If it dries out, I add a few drops of water.  I use my nose to determine if the dough is ready to be thrown out and a new batch made.

I let my boys use my cookie cutters, rolling pin, garlic press, butter knife, forks, spoons, slotted spoons, pastry cutter,  cupcake pan, canning rings and tops, plastic cups and lids, plastic dinosaurs and plastic people to create all sorts of fantastical lands and creatures. 

Enjoy!

* Fortunately, my SPD boys don’t have a problem handling play dough – but other SPD kids can have aversions to the texture of play dough.  I can’t offer advice on how to handle that situation, other than to direct you to an Occupational Therapist who will suggest another activity more suited to your child’s needs.

Monday Mornings with SPD: Warm up that brain!

I recently learned of an exercise to help get SPD kids warmed up for homework or other school assignments.  My son's OT showed me cross-overs which involves tapping the right knee with the left hand, and then the left hand to the right knee.  This is done a few times before the routine changes to tapping the left foot with the right hand, and right foot with left hand.  Then you switch it up again with the cross-over foot tapping behind your body.  Both of my boys struggled with this at first, but eventually got the hang of it. The OT says that these exercises can help the SPD child (or anyone):

• improve concentration
• reduce stress
• feel more centered and balanced
• increase energy

and I would add that it helps with hand-eye coordination.

This activity and more can be found at http://www.braingym.org/
So, today, we implemented this activity during our music lessons.  We turned it into a dance and stood in front of my full-length mirrors as we danced to Wee Sing Silly Songs (http://www.weesing.com/) The boys loved it and after about 15 minutes of this, we went right into doing math and it was the easiest lesson to give today.  Son #2 was relaxed and calm and able to concentrate.  Son #1 was very cooperative and finished his assigned work in record time.

It's important to switch the exercises up so the boys don't get bored - so I'm always on the look out for new ideas.  The OT did mention that having a swing and/or some spinning toy they can sit on to spin would be just as calming and relaxing for them.  So, it's off to IKEA to pick those items up. http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/80100251 spinning chair.
http://www.ikea.com/us/en/catalog/products/00065497 swinging chair.

Until next time, eat well, be happy and be well.

Aloha Fridays: Stories from the South Pacific.

I may not have all the details exactly right, but I do know the facts.  My mom gave away my baby sister to a Samoan family (without realizing what she had done) and then had to "buy" her back with a case of beer and canned meat. 

We moved to Samoa, the first time, in 1977.  February, I think.  As we were unloading our few belongings from my grandparent's truck and packing it into the house next door, a strange Samoan woman offered to hold the baby (my sister M who was about 6 weeks old at the time) so that my mother could work unhindered getting us set up in the house.

A few hours later, when we were settled in and ready to enjoy dinner that my Samoan step-grandmother's house girls had prepared - my mother realized that the baby was missing.  A frantic search of the villages nearby located my baby sister sound asleep in the arms of her "new" Samoan mother.  My step-grandmother spent a few minutes negotiating with the woman and finally, with a case of beer and a case of canned meat, the woman reluctantly handed the sleeping baby back to my relieved mother.

I was three and a half and had only two little sisters at the time.  My sisters and I all had light blond hair, which fascinated many of the residents of the island.  Whenever we were out and about the island, strangers would reach out and pet our heads and finger our long blond hair.  It terrified me.  I had no idea why they wanted to touch me, but as a toddler, this attention would make me cry and I would cling to my mother and father, situating myself between them to prevent being touched.

L to R:  Me, Gary and A.

It was also about this time that I discovered ice-cream cones.  I was absolutely amazed that after I finished my ice-cream, I could actually eat the funnel shaped holder it came it.  I remember it was a hot, balmy evening and we had just seen the first Superman movie and as we were walking back to the market to catch a bus home, eating my ice cream, I heard singing up the way and listened in rapt attention to the beautiful voices calling out Samoan folk songs.  I came to understand that Samoans (some of them at least) love to sing.  They sing a lot and have naturally beautiful signing voices. 

And Samoan boys can sing so beautifully it would melt your heart.  I loved listening to the singing.  One such Samoan boy, that I fell in love with when I was five years old, was my uncle who was only two months younger than me.  But I loved him and wanted to marry him anyway.  I was crushed when I learned I couldn't marry him.  Gary has a beautiful singing voice and has produced at least one album I know of.  Check out his website: http://www.myspace.com/garykingmusic

Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy.  Tofa soifua.

Wednesday at the Kitchen Table: Fun with your table!

How many adventures can you possibly have with a kitchen table and chairs?  Endless!  Especially if you use a little imagination and some common household objects.

The kind of games my children play around and under the kitchen table involves turning the chairs around and pushing the backs against the table to create cages for a zoo, or a spaceship, or a jailhouse for villains. 

For the Zoo game one child or more dresses up as a tiger (and orange shirt, or face paint, or shaggy brown wig would work - we have an old tiger costume from Halloween) and the other child(ren) play the zookeeper(s) who take care of the tiger(s).  The tiger(s) escapes and there is much whooping and hollering as the children chase each other around to either avoid capture, avoid being eaten by the tiger(s), or avoid having the tables turned and the zoo keeper(s) getting put in the cage. 

For the spaceship game, lay a chair down so the legs are under the table.  These will be the "steering" sticks and missile launchers.  Get a couple of #10 cans and several small balls of various sizes for the "fuel" that has to be changed out after a major battle. One can being the re-charger can and the other the engine of the spaceship. Other variations include using the balls as actual missiles, but I would suggest you use ping pong balls.  You'll need a "food processor" which can be another chair in it's correct position where food can appear once the child places his/her order.  Of course, you'd be supplying the lunch or snack on a plastic plate.  An old keyboard can make an excellent addition to the "spaceship" as well as making tin-foil space helmets and pajama spacesuits accessorized with tin-foil badges and medals.

Shoeboxes hold the treasures you find on alien planets!

I made the helmets a little too tall.

For the Jailhouse game it's superheroes vs. super villains.  Turn the chairs around to make a jail like the zoo game, and have pillow cases available for capes, and tin foil wristbands and anklets if desired.  Sometimes my superheros have swords and we use foam tubes that we cut in half and wrap one end with duct tape for a handle. Once when we studied about Greek Mythology, it was the gods vs. gods and we used cardboard lightening bolts wrapped in tin foil, cardboard shields wrapped in tin foil and decorated with markers, and foam swords.

Next Wednesday I'll share some ideas to keep sensory seeking SPD kids busy at the table.  They LOVE this game.

Monday Mornings with SPD: What is SPD?

My sister M and I have each have two children with Sensory Processing Disorder, and she recently sent me this link to a video titled "What is Sensory Processing Disorder?".  I have a lot of friends who ask me that question as well, and this video does an excellent job of explaining. 

In an effort to meet the demands of my blog's audience, I will devote Mondays to discussing SPD and how it affects our lives in particular.

Wednesdays will be devoted to Kitchen Table Adventures with fun recipes, arts and crafts, and stories aimed at helping SPD kids (and non-SPD kids).

Fridays are Aloha Fridays, where I kick back and share stories about Hawaii and Samoa, two places where I spent most of my life as a kid.  I love the islands, and love to share the adventures I had there.  I hope to be able to also share some of my friend's stories here as well.  My friend L has amazing stories of growing up on a coffee plantation in Hawaii. 

Until then, eat well, be well and be happy!

Hawaiian Christmas 1992: New home, Paka-lolo and Family Reunion

In September of 1992, my mother and I left our home and family in American Samoa to go to Hawaii and find work in order to buy plane tickets for the rest of the family to join us. 

Our goal was to have them with us by Christmas.  But, we weren't earning enough, fast enough to accomplish this.  We did, however, have enough money to bring my two teenage sisters over with the hope that they would find jobs and help with the money situation.

Once my tall, tanned, blond and blue-eyed sisters arrived, my mom gave them the task of finding us a rental home someplace near since she and I worked 12 to 14 hours a day for FEMA during the Hurricane Iniki disaster.  We left it to them to make the phone calls and travel by bus to look at rentals and secure housing for us.

According to them, it was a despicable job.  My two sisters are like night and day and asking them to work together was like tossing a cat and a dog in a basket and asking them to help each other get out.  They looked at one house in Kaneohe and called it good, paid the landlord the security deposit and rode the bus back to Honolulu with the news.

So, we moved out of my Aunty P.'s house (see previous post) and into a three bedroom, one bath home in the shape of an L.  There was a basement which had been divided into two apartments.  We had no back yard as it was perched on the side of a hill above a dense jungle.  We had no front yard either, as it was at the end of a small cul-de-sac and ccompletely paved over.

Our first night in the house was quiet and peaceful.  We had no furniture.  We made our beds on the soft, clean carpet with sheets and pillows we had purchased at the local JC Penney.  Our windows were covered with a screen and had glass louvers that we could adjust to allow for the south pacific breezes to blow in from the ocean about a mile away.  Faint reggae music could be heard from the apartment below and as I lay there in the semi-darkness, listening and chatting quietly with my mom and sisters, I detected a sweet scent wafting in through our windows.

I breathed in deeply, trying to place the scent, but could not identify it.  I took in another deep breath, and then commented to my family, "Do you smell that?  What do you think it is?"  My sisters inhaled deeply, as well as my Mom, who groaned and told me to close the windows.  Alarmed, I asked why.

"It's paka-lolo," she explained.  Paka-lolo is Hawaiian for pot.  I glared at my sisters who sat there with wide eyes, "How could rent a house with neighbors doing pot?" I accused.  My younger sister pointed at the other and claimed innocence in the housing decision.  The other sister, rolled her eyes and said, "Next time we have to rent a house - you do it!"

Me on the left with my two wonderful sisters.

A week or so later, we sent these two same sisters of mine to get Christmas decorations and do the grocery shopping in preparation for the arrival of the rest of the family that was due to arrive 2 days before Christmas.  My sister, the one with the mile long legs, dragged our other sister down the road to the nearest grocery store and bought the makings for our Christmas dinner. 

On their way back, they stopped by a roped off area of the parking lot where Christmas tress were being sold.  My long-legged sister is the queen of flirt and somehow managed to secure a large Christmas tree for us.  The other sister had to drag it home and together, (they finally worked it out between them how to get along) they propped the tree up in the living room inside a used tire they found alongside the road, strung lights around the tree and draped it with silver string "icicles".

We didn't have stockings for Santa to fill, so Mom and I collected the old coffee cans from our office break room and then decorated them as best we could with white copy paper that we cut into snow flakes and red and green markers to add festive color.  We even used the left-over party decorations from the office Christmas party to decorate our home with.

By the time the rest of the family arrived, on December 23rd, 1992, our home was decked out and everyone was so happy that we were finally reunited.  I was so excited to see everyone.  I missed them so much - more than I ever expected to. 

Reunited after nearly four months

When we got home from the airport, we spread out a white sheet on the living room floor, and had a feast of roasted turkey, rice, mashed potatoes, salad, pineapple, bread, pies, macaroni salad and candied yams. 

That Christmas was one of the best I ever had.

CONTEST: The Elfess and the Sword Short Story Contest

Elfess and Sword

"She has a story to tell," a friend commented on the above drawn I had just completed.  And that inspired this contest.  I'm looking for a 500 to 1,500 word short story about the Elfess and the Sword pictured above.  Submit your story in the body of an email to: jc_hurst  at  comcast.net  In the Subject line - put CONTEST. 

The winner will have their portrait drawn as an elf or elfess by yours truly.  Contest Deadline is January 1st, 2011.  Winner announced January 30th, 2011. 

And the winner's story will appear on my blog and website.  So, get writing. 

Thankful for Samoa, Indoor Plumbing, and My Bed

You may be wondering what the three things in the title have to do with each other and my blog theme of the Kitchen Table. Well, I'll tell ya. This coming Thursday is Thanksgiving, a day we think about everything and everyone we are grateful for and give thanks for those people, things, events, etc. that have graced our lives.  And we eat a huge meal at the table - well, most of us do, I'm sure.

I know that I have a lot to be grateful for and indoor plumbing and my king-size platform bed are just a couple of things I am truly grateful for. I count myself exceedingly blessed with these two luxuries.

In Samoa, our bathroom was a 6'x4' concrete-block structure located about ten feet from the back door. I dreaded to go inside and avoided it as long as I could, but there was no alternative unless I wanted to go out into the ocean across the road. Not very practical.

My daily routine while I lived in Samoa was to march outside armed with a five foot long broom handle, and throw open the bathroom door. I thrusted the end of the broomstick inside and banged it around, making sure to smack the pastel pink toilet a few times, and tap the shower head on the other side of the partitioned room.

Inevitably, large frogs, 6 - 9 inch long centipedes, and hermit crabs in discarded tin cans would scramble outside. I had already jumped up on an upended bucket and let them pass, except for the centipedes which I consider the most vilest, evil insect on the planet.

Once the bathroom was cleared out, or, as much as could be cleared out since the roaches dived for cover in the broken mortar between the concrete blocks, or under the cracked toilet base, I reached in and jerked on the pull cord for the small single bulb hanging through the corrugated tin roof above. It's dim light did little more than illuminate a small circle of the concrete floor of the shower. I tried not to look at the black mold that stained the concrete walls where slower moving spiders and millipedes still scrambled to find shelter.

I stepped into the shower in my flip-flops and lava-lava (a length of thin cotton fabric used like a towel) and turned on the faucet. There was only one temperature setting and thick brown sludge gushed out of the pipe with choking, gurgling sounds. It took several minutes before the water ran clear. Sometimes, there would be body parts of crabs that would shoot out of the pipe and flop to the concrete floor. I used the broomstick to flick the decimated creature out of the bathroom.

Showers had to be quick,because you never knew what else would come out of the pipe. So, I'd hang my lava-lava from a nail on the door (there was no lock), and scrub down as fast as I could. I think my best time was just under a minute.

Wrapped in my lava-lava, I would hurry back inside before any of the teenage village boys could see me - but there was a clear view of our backyard from the village's basketball court where the boys played "jungle ball" (a rougher version of your standard basketball).

Then would begin a full day of just trying to survive. At night, we would drag out our beds, which were little more than body size pillows stuffed with batting. Mine was a fat purple one with little white flowers on it. We all (nine kids)slept in the living room, while my parents slept in their own room.

It was wall to wall bodies, and we'd switch our places around depending on who we had disagreements with during the day. I never slept in the same spot twice - but my favorite spot was in the middle of the bunch. It was the safest from midnight attacks of roaches or centipedes, or frogs who liked to cozy up with one of my sisters for some reason. But, the person slipping in the middle wasn't immune to geckos falling off the ceiling. Most times I had to sleep in front of the door, where several gaps around the door allowed roaches and mosquitoes entrance. When we first arrived on the islands, we were a delightful feast for the nasty, tiny biting insects. Over time, I suppose our blood got too salty for them and they left us alone.

When I got my big pillow where I wanted it, I'd spread my lava-lava over it (yes, the same one I used for my shower in the morning), and then used either another lava-lava or bed sheet (if I was fortunate to get to it before another sibling) and pull it over myself, careful to tuck it under my body all around me. Then, I put my smaller pillow over my head to protect my face and ears from curious insects in the night. I slept in one position the whole night, because I knew that if I moved from under my layer of protection, I'd wake up with some large bug trying to crawl into my ear, or 'squitoes biting me, or, mercy, a frog sitting on my chest.

Without the experience of Samoa, I don't think I would be as grateful as I am today for the luxuries which I enjoy. So, yes, I am thankful for my luxurious bathroom with jetted tub, and separate shower that emits soft drops of crystal clear water. A toilet that doesn't moonlight as a hotel for icky creatures, and a tiled bathroom floor with golden flecks that sparkle in the sunshine, and clean white walls.

I'm thankful for my king size bed that can sleep five and doesn't smell like old onions.

I could go on for pages and pages about all the things I'm grateful for. But most of all - I'm grateful for my husband. Words cannot express the love I have for him and what he means to me. I am a better person because of him. I love my children and am grateful for them - I couldn't imagine my life without them. I'm grateful for my family, friends, and those who invented indoor plumbing and beds. Thank you.

Tofa soifua!

Just Published: A book to help raise money for autism.

Just Published
This is just a quick note to let you know about a book I helped create, WIND AND SUN, RAIN AND EARTH, for the benefit of Clear Horizons Academy - a school for autistic children to help expand their program. 100% of the proceeds from sales of this book will be donated to the school. Just click on the button below to be taken to the online store where you can purchase a copy.

Thank you for your interest.

Spaceships, Spiderman, and a Super Mean Boss

Alright.  The title of this post is a little bit of an exaggeration.  My boss wasn't mean - he just wasn't fully aware of the situation.  But I can write about it now because I don't work for him anymore.

Once upon a time I worked from home.  I had two small children and a crazy notion that my situation was idyllic.  I started working for a real estate development company when my children were 3 and newborn.  Things were manageable as my newborn slept alot and my 3 year old could entertain himself for hours.  But things changed radically once my youngest became mobile.

To keep my children entertained, I would convert the kitchen table into a spaceship right after breakfast.  I'd pull out the chairs and turn them around and then drape blankets over the table and chair backs.  I'd fix them snacks and put them in the "Food Processor" for when they were hungry later.  I gave them an old keyboard and mouse, cardboard "control panels" and several little balls that they could put in #10 cans for "Fuel" for the spaceship.  I'd stuff pillows and blankets under the table for them to sit on to be comfortable and once they were situated, I'd dash off to my office in the next room to make phone calls, return emails and process paperwork.

Kitchen Table Spaceship

One morning, my oldest son decided he was tired of the spaceship routine and wanted to do something different.  Being resourceful, he climbed up on a stool and found the huge spindle of kite string I had just purchased in anticipation of kite flying weather in the hall closet.

While he was doing this, I was on the phone with an irate vendor who demanded to know when she would be receiving a check for the products my employers had purchased from her company.  Since I was the liaison for the accounting department, I knew full well the financial situation of the project and there simply wasn't any money to send to this woman.  So I stalled.  I told her I would contact the accounting department and get back to her as soon as I could.  She was not happy with that response - but I had nothing else to offer her.  Once we hung up, I called the accounting department to inform the Controller of the call and ask if there was anything we could do to mollify this vendor.  No such luck.  The funds were not available.  Sorry.

As I sat there trying to figure out something to say to the angry vendor, my phone rang and I saw that it was my boss calling.  Oh good, maybe he could give me an idea of what I should say to the vendor.  I picked up the receiver and cheerfully greeted him. 

"I have [irate vendor] on the line with me," he began without preamble.  I cringed and spent the next few minutes listening to him and the vendor discuss the project and when she was going to get paid.  From the outer edges of my hearing, I detected a strange noise coming from the dining room where I thought my children were playing.  I sat still for a minute, pulling the phone away from my ear and hitting mute to listen closely to the strange noises coming from the other room.  My maternal instincts instantly went to red alert.  Without knowing what or why, I knew something was very wrong and I dashed out of my office and found something completely unexpected and surreal.

Every square inch of the dining room and adjoining family room was covered in an intricate web of kite string.  In the center of it all, my four year old was jumping up and down in a panic and when he saw me, began wailing at the top of his lungs "He is ruining my web!"  To my horror, I saw that my eighteen month old was completely entangled in the web.  He had managed to get so tightly wound in the string, I feared he was choking because his face was red.  But, once he saw me, he also started wailing. 

It still amazes me to this day that I was able to keep calm as I listened to the irate vendor holler about not getting paid on time, my boss trying to calm her down, and me trying to save my baby from near death, and quiet my four year old all at the same time.  I was so grateful my boss hadn't asked me any questions while I frantically unwound my baby from the web and urged my children to be quiet.  But the baby was still upset and inconsolable.  I trotted to his room and dropped him in his crib and then ran back to my office and closed the door against the continued shouts of my 4 year old. 

And then, my boss asked me a question. I unmuted the phone, answered the question.  That set off another tirade from the vendor.  I muted the phone and dashed back out to mollify my toddler and get him situated with a snack in the kitchen while I listened to the faint cries of my baby.  And to my dismay, my boss asked another question before I could get back to the office and so I answered him while pouring juice and making shh signs to my child.

Eventually the vendor calmed down, satisfied with my boss's solution to the problem and after she hung up, my boss said to me, "We really need to keep up a professional appearance.  I know you work from home, but our vendors don't know that.  We don't want them to know you work from home and have children because the image that they will have is diapers on your desk and toys everywhere." I could only imagine that he must have heard my baby crying in the background when I was in the kitchen and had to answer his question.  I bit back a sarcastic reply and agreed with him.  Once he hung up, I put my head on my diaper-free desk in my toyless office and cried.  A few moments later I retrieved my children, sat on the couch and cuddled with them as we read stories.  I didn't answer the phone for the rest of the day. 

I decided then that I needed to hire a nanny.  Working from home was no longer my ideal job. But that is a story for another time.

Until then, Eat well, Be Well and Be Happy.

Guests At My Table?

My Husband and I have been exploring the idea of becoming Foster Parents for about 10 years now.  A month ago, we decided to actually call the Foster Care Agency and find out more about their program.  We learned there were classes that were required in order to become licenced Foster Parents.  We would also have to go through background checks. 

Last Monday as we were on our way to attend the third installment of 8 four-hour long classes, I couldn't help but reflect upon the time I was pregnant with our first child.  My husband and I attended 12 once-a-week classes on Natural Childbirth and Infant Care in preparation of becoming parents.  Though the content of these Foster Care classes are immensely dissimilar to the childbirth classes we attended, the concept is the same.  To prepare ourselves for the caring of children. Except this time, it won't be for a new baby of ours, it will be someone else's child we will be bringing home, and it won't necessarily be a wonderful experience for all.

Sometimes, children that go into Foster Care are brought there after a drug raid and their parents have been arrested.  Sometimes, Social Workers remove a child from homes that are filthy and unsafe, or because parents are neglecting them.  Many times drugs and alcohol abuse are involved.  Many times these children have been abused.

My husband and I have anguished over this decision for weeks now.  Sometimes I feel like I can do it, then other times, I feel weak and unsure and think I can't.  I hear horror stories, then I hear amazing stories of change and hope. 

It only dawned on me during our third class that adoption was part of the Foster Care program if reunification with the biological parents were impossible.  I hadn't considered that at all and now I'm in turmoil.  These kids have been through a lot.  And they come with a lot of baggage, and I don't feel strong enough to deal with it.  I wonder if I expect too much of myself, as I try to wrap my brain around what it will be like caring for someone else's child 24/7 - or even adopting their child.  The closest thing I can compare it to (from descriptions given by other Foster Parents and Social Workers), is when I brought our dog home for the first time and spent 6 months dealing with very destructive behaviour from a dog that suffered from separation anxiety.  Our dog destroyed hundreds of dollars of our personal property before he finally figured out that we would always return home. 

I realize that comparing a dog to a child is a poor example, but if I can tolerate my book chewing, garden destroying, kid nibbling, pencil shredding dog, I can probably deal with a troubled kid. Hopefully.

And so, as I sit at my table, I realize that I need to pull it apart and add the extra leaf, and purchase a few more chairs. I'm going to have a few more guests at my table soon, and the stories that are shared across its marred and stained surface will be scary, sad, funny, and most likely change my life forever.

Hurricane Val and Koko Samoa

In March of 1992 my family moved to American Samoa to pursue my father's business - producing and selling Samoan Koko.  It was planned that we would live there for about 6 months, long enough to get the business up and going, and then move to Hawaii and run the business from there.

Hurricane Val had struck the islands just four months previously and had done some serious damage to the Cocoa plantations.  Needless to say, there was a limited supply.  My Samoan step-grandmother had connections in Western Samoa and was able to get us our first shipment of raw cocoa beans.

Hurricane Val devastated a Korean fishing fleet. 
These huge boats dotted the reefs in Samoa. 

The beaches were covered with dead coral reef remains.
Coconut trees were ripped from the ground and flung across roads.

The process for preparing Samoan Koko is pretty simple.  Roast the bean, shuck the outer shell of the bean and then grind the bean into a paste, package it and then sell it.  It's not the traditional Samoan way, but my father had a talent in producing a quality roasted bean that impressed the older Samoan's who always favored his Koko in many trials he had conducted over the years. 

My father constructed a roaster out of two fifty-five gallon drums.  He cut one in half and mounted it on a frame with the open side up.  This was the firebox that contained the wood.  The other drum was mounted on a rod through the length of it and set above the firebox.  A small door had been cut into the side of it attached with hinges to allow for pouring the beans into the drum.  The end of the barrel had another door cut in it to allow ease of dumping the beans out  by lifting the one end up. 



My turn at the roaster while chatting with a friend who was visiting from Utah.
Raw cocoa beans in a bucket next to me.

 There lies the trick of a good batch of Koko - the roasting.  If roasted too long, the bean would taste like charcoal.  If not roasted long enough, it would be bitter.  My father had a knack of knowing when the beans had roasted to perfection.

After the beans had been roasted, my father would pour them into large buckets and haul them into the house where we would all sit around and shuck beans while we watched TV.  We had to shuck the beans while they were still hot, because it was easier to get the hard brown crust-like covering off them.  We all developed callouses on our fingers from the shucking and brown dust got everywhere as the smell of fresh roasted cocoa beans filled our home.

Shucking cocoa beans.  We sometimes would
try to smear cocoa dust on each other for fun.

When all the beans had been shucked, my father would take them to the kitchen table where he had a large meat grinder set up.  Then, while he poured the beans into the hopper, one of us kids would hold a small plastic bag under the opening to catch the thick dark brown sludge.  Then the bagged Koko would be handed to another kid who would tie it, then passed onto another kid who would slap a label on it, and then to another kid who placed it in a box to cool. 

It would take a few days to roast a hundred pounds of Koko.

There was an ice cream maker on the island that my father got a deal with to make King Koko Samoa Ice cream - which was essentially vanilla ice cream with roasted Koko nibs inside. 

It was my job to stand in a grocery store in Pago Pago and hand out the Koko ice cream samples to the shoppers.  Most of the Samoans did not understand the concept of "free" samples and kept trying to give me money as I kept trying to get them to take a little paper cup of ice cream.  Finally, out of frustration, I just took their money so they would sample the ice cream.  I sold one carton of ice cream that day.  My mother, who was at a different store, sold two.  Things weren't going so well with our ice cream line.

It wasn't long after that experience that there were no more beans available.  At all.  The Koko business venture came to an end, and the struggle to return to Hawaii began.

Mom vs. McDonalds

NOTE: Scroll to bottom for recent updates

I'm very picky about what I set on my dinner table for my family to eat.  However, that picky factor goes missing when I'm busy running errands and I've got three hungry little boys who are turning into monsters because of their growling stomachs. 

So, in desperation (because I failed to plan accordingly and pack healthy snacks) I will head to McD's for Happy Meals for the kiddoes.  I never once stopped to take a close look at what my kids were eating (partly because the list of ingredients are nowhere to be found on those brightly colored cute boxes or bags they give us). 

When a friend sent me a link to this article about the Happy Meals I was so happily handing to my children, and they were so happily enjoying -  my jaw hit the keyboard.  How could I have been so blind as to what is REALLY in those happy meals?  I felt cold horror sweep through me and I determined to do some serious investigation and an experiment of my own.

I had to go to other sources just to verify this article and to discover more about this woman who conducted an experiment of putting a Happy Meal kitchen counter for 6 months to see what would happen here and here.  I didn't feel she did a good enough job of portraying just how disturbing her discovery was.  So, after preparing my Mom's Happy Meal, I set it on a plate next to the McD's Happy Meal and put it up on top of my cupboard with the intent of checking on them in a week to see what would happen.  Check back next week for the updated photos.

      



McD's Happy Meal

Close up of McD's

 





Mom's Happy Meal



Close up of Moms



I didn't stop there.  I had to compare my Mom's Happy Meal and to the McD's version in every way.



I paid $2.98 + taxes for a Happy Meal from my nearest McD.  That involved about 30 minutes of my time to go down there, stand in line, give my order and return home with it.

I made Mom's Happy Meal in about an hour (from scratch - bun and all).

The cost breakdown for the complete deal (best guestimate for some of the items):

$1.00 for toy

$0.02 for paper bag

$0.17 Bun

$0.25 Fries

$0.94 Beef

$0.27 box of juice

$0.50 worth of assorted spices and seasonings, ketchup, mustard, pickles, tomato, and lettuce.

Total: $3.15 plus tax (this of course doesn't include cost of electricity or my wages).

Yes, McD.'s is cheaper, but is it healthier?



I couldn't resist comparing the nutritional value of Mom's Happy Meal vs. McD.'s. 

All information about McD's food can be found here and here .

 

My nutritional information came from the recipe for Mom's bun in Good Housekeeping Cook Book 2009 edition and from the various product's labels.

McD.'s Happy Meal Hamburger with small fries and juice:

580 calories, 20 grams of fat

Mom's Happy Meal:

472 calories, 17 grams of fat

Ingredients:

Mom's                                                   McD.'s

                               BUN



   Flour                            Enriched Flour (bleached wheat flour, malted barley flour,

   Yeast                           niacin, reduced iron, thiamine mononitrate,        

   Milk                             riboflavin, folic acid, enzymes)                              

   Sugar                           Water

   Butter                           High fructose corn syrup

   Salt                              Sugar

   Eggs                            Soybean oil and/or partially hydrogenated soybean oil

                                      Contains 2% or less of the following:

                                      salt

                                      calcium sulfate

                                      calcium carbonate,

                                      wheat gluten

                                      ammonium sulfate

                                      ammomonium chloride

                                      dough conditioners (sodium stearoyl

                                      lactylate, datem, ascorbic acid,

                                      azodicarbonamide,

                                      mono-and diglycerides,                            

                                      ethoxylated monoglycerides, monocalcium

                                      phosphate, enzymes, guar gum,

                                      calcium peroxide, soy flour)

                                      Calcium propionate

                                      sodium propionate (preservatives)

                                      soy lecithin

                                



                                 

                              BEEF PATTY

100 % Ground Beef        100% Ground Beef (salt, black pepper)

                                KETCHUP

Heinz Brand                         

Tomato (from concentrate)        tomato (from concentrate)

Sugar                                        High fructose corn syrup

Distilled vinegar                         Water

Salt                                           Corn syrup

Onion powder                           Salt

Garlic powder                           Natural flavors

Natural flavors

                                PICKLES

                                LETTUCE



                                 FRIES

Potatoes                            Potatoes

Olive oil                            Vegetable oil (canola oil, hydrogenated soybean oil,

Salt                                   Natural beef flavor [wheat and milk derivatives], Basil (citric acid),  Dextrose

Oregano                           Sodium acid pyrophosphate (maintain color)

(Baked in oven)                Salt

                                        Prepared in vegetable oil (canola oil, corn oil,

                                        soybean oil, hydrogenated soybean oil with

                                        TBHQ and citric acid to preserve freshness),

                                        Dimethylpolysiloxane added as an anti-foaming agent

                            

    

                                  JUICE

Apple and Eve Fruitables                      Minute Maid Brand

Apple                                                    Filtered Water

Purple Carrot                                         Apple juice from concentrate

Sweet potato                                          contains less than 2% of Vitamin C and

Butternut squash                                     calcium citrate

Beet

Pear

Strawberry

Kiwi

Tomato juice

Filtered water
Natural flavors

Citric acid

Vegetable color

Ascorbic acid (vitamin C)

Vitamin A palmitate

Vitamin E acetate

The thing that irked me the most was the advertisement on the Happy Meal packaging. According to McD.'s packaging, after your kids eat their sub-standard food, they want your kids to run off to the computer and play McDonald's games online.  As if they don't get enough opportunities to sit around practising their hand-eye coordination skills on the Wii or Xbox.

I just had to create my own marketing campaign for Mom's Happy Meal.  I encouraged them to play outside and then let them know how much I love them - and I do this for free!

Next week, I'll let you know what exactly all those ingredients listed in McD.'s food are and what they are used for.

Until then, eat well, be well, and be happy.

UPDATE 10/30/10


Mom's 1 week old burger and fries



McD's 1 week old burger and fries



Close up of Mom's 1 week old burger.  Notice fruit fly.

Close up of McD's 1 week old burger and fries. 



1 week old fries. Notice the white fuzzy mold.



McDs 1 week old fries.  Notice the plastic-like sheen.



Moms 1 week old burger.  Notice the white fuzzy mold on the burger itself.

Where's the mold?

Update #2 11-24-10  (Here are the final photos of my month long experiment).

If you are thinking of grabbing a McD's meal for your kids while you are traveling - stop and think about the pictures you are about to see.  My advice to you is to go to your local grocery store and pick up a fruit and veggie tray and give that to your kid and if your kid bellyaches about it - tell them you are doing them a favor by ensuring their health as adults, and if they still complain, ignore it.  Eventually, they will get hungry enough and eat it.  Start now, teaching your children healthy eating habits - so by the time they are adults they can enjoy good health.


This is Mom's Happy meal a month after it was prepared.  It is hard as a rock - completely dried out. 



McD's burger and fries still look edible.

Close up of mold.

Fries without the wrapper and opened McD burger - no mold.  And no smell either.

Mom's burger - hard to open as it was all firmly stuck together.  The bread was dried out and once the burger was open, a distinct scent of rot could be smelled.  Not only did it not look edible - it smelled horrible.  Nature's way of letting you know not to eat it.  In contrast, McDonald's burger is "UNNATURAL".

After I dumped the McD burger and fries - I noticed an orange greasy substance on the plate.  I could detect no smell and I have no idea what it was.

Mom's burger and fries only left a few crumbs.  The water droplets are from when I washed my hands after removing the food and before I noticed the greasy puddle on the McD. plate.

So there you go.  This experiment has scared me away from fast food.  I will now head to the grocery store for healthier alternatives if I need to grab my kids something to eat.  It's no more time consuming to go to the store than it is to go to a fast food joint. 

Eat well, be well and be happy.