*Sigh*

Honestly, for lack of any better subject heading there!

I'm surviving the new lifestyle...  Sort of.  I'm no longer drooling as I pass Starbucks, no longer dreaming about frosting, no longer missing cheese or feeling as though I'm missing out.  I've been hitting the gym (yay me!), eating better, and just really trying to be better. The GF cooking isn't going too badly, and so far, my menfolk haven't complained (pretty sure they're too scared to....).  It hasn't been too difficult to revamp most of our favorite dishes, and I've just steered clear of the of the ones I can't.  I still have yet to completely embark on the dairy-free part of this (licking the homemade whipped cream off the beater is just too good to resist!), or the adrenal diet.  Quite honestly, I'm resisting the adrenal diet.  I'm not looking forward to three weeks of eggs, boiled chicken and brown rice.  Ick.  Along with my usual gluten-full baked goods, I've also been bringing GFDF dishes/breakfast casseroles to "work" on Thursdays.  Again, no one has complained yet!  These dishes have been well-received, and I've been encouraged by my fellow volunteers.  One friend even asked for one the recipes, and I kind of giggled to myself, as I had just kind of thrown things in the mixing bowl, in true Amy fashion.

I did hit the wall this past weekend, and sort of skidded into the Chik Fil A parking lot, barely remembering to put the Jeep in gear before screaming up to the register to order a sandwich, complete with mayo, American cheese, cole slaw and Coke Zero.  I followed it up with a milkshake, after I finished hugging the ice cream machine, of course.  When I was finished with that, I begged my husband to take me by Starbucks (he refused).  And the next morning?  I couldn't get out of bed without a Percocet first.  So, I've learned my lesson.  I'm definitely on the right track, even if I can't tell on a day-to-day basis.

The one thing I cannot seem to get my head around though, is this GLUTEN FREE BAKING.  Pretty sure I'm going to die trying. So far, every single loaf of GF bread has gone in the trash.  One loaf was okay enough to make into bread crumbs, but certainly not good enough for actual bread, and definitely not up to my usual standards.  The others weren't even good enough for bread crumbs!  Last week, I actually turned out five absolutely perfect and gorgeous loaves of gluten-full rosemary-olive oil and italian bread, just to remind myself that I am great at baking, because it's been so horribly disappointing for me.  There have been tears, there's even been screaming and stomping of my feet, and yes, I'm still scraping GF pizza "dough" off the wall after I threw it in frustration...  Or tried to, but it had the consistency of mashed potatoes, so it kind of stuck to everything.  For the record, my family's gluten-full pizzas turned out just beautifully that evening.  Ugh.  All I wanted was pizza that night, and I was just really upset about yet another failed GF baking attempt.

After I stomped headed off to sulk in the bath tub, my dear husband decided he was going to save the day.  He researched another recipe from a website I frequent, and set to work.  I saw the result--a cracker-like crust, no sauce (tomatoes are nightshades, which cause/contribute to inflammation...), rice-based cheese, and broccoli as a topping--and immediately declared it Crap On A Cracker.  Being the two year old brat I felt like that evening, I flat out refused to even touch it.  No.  You can't make me.  Uh-uh.  

Soooo....  You know how sometimes as a parent you say something and immediately are made to regret it?  Yep.  Avery picked up on what I was calling the GFDF pizza, and thought that was the real name.  Unfortunately, we haven't been able to convince him that it's pizza, so whenever he asks for it (he seems to really love the stuff!), he asks for....  Crap On A Cracker, with absolutely no clue that it's a bad word.  Oops.  When we try to correct him, saying "Oh, you want pizza?"  He is adamant, "No!  I don't want pizza!  I want Crap On A Cracker!"

The other side of that story is that, as it turns out, I'm allergic to some part of that pizza.  We're not sure which ingredient yet, but Shawn was certain at first that I was exaggerating or making it up, just because he'd made it and I didn't want to eat it.  At first it was just my tummy that hurt, then my chest got tight and I felt like I had a lead weight on my chest, then my mouth got fuzzy, and finally my lips got numb.  When he realized my NP friend was screaming across her texts "TAKE BENADRYL NOW," he knew it was for real!

*Sigh*

My Personal Theory, Why I Have Sons

Surprisingly (or not, if you know me well enough), I've given this topic a lot of thought.  Over twelve years of deep thought.  And I've finally arrived at a satisfactory conclusion:  I have sons (rather than daughters), because I'm supposed to teach them how to be proper husbands and daddies.

A-ha!  Gotcha--bet you were thinking to yourself, "Wow, that's the shortest blog she's ever written!"  Sorry.  I'm not finished yet!

When I found out I was pregnant with Noah, my first thought was, "Dear God, please let this child be a girl, I have no idea what I'll do with a boy."  There were a lot of stressors throughout Noah's pregnancy,  the least of them being that he was a bit of a surprise.  I thought for sure if I had a girl, I just might be able to get a slight grip on motherhood.  We went in for our first sonogram, and lo and behold, there were boy parts up on the screen.  I even argued with the tech, telling her in no uncertain terms that she sucked at her job because it was obvious to me that was an umbilical cord.  Then I wanted her to double check and make sure she'd taken down the previous client's screen.  Then I wanted her to double check my child and my screen.  Then I wanted it confirmed by the doctor.  To say Shawn drove home with a shellshocked Amy in the passenger seat, mumbling, "What am I going to do with this BOY?" the entire way would be an understatement.

When we were finally pregnant with Avery, I remember telling Shawn that this time I was certain we were having a girl!  God wouldn't give us TWO boys!  And again...  We both walked out of the clinic a little shellshocked that time after seeing boy parts on the screen.  Another BOY???  What am I going to do with TWO BOYS????

Well, I'll tell you what I'm doing with them--I'm loving them, teaching them, raising them up in the way of the Lord, caring about them, and caring for them.  I play with them, I laugh with them, I live with them, and I cherish them.  They are my gifts.  That's not to say we always get along, or they always love what I'm teaching them, but we are making work for us.  And now, I could never even begin to imagine life without them.  I don't want to imagine life without them.  And really, I'm not sure I can imagine raising a daughter!  I love these boys more than life itself, and the things they bring to my life are innumerable, and immeasurable.  Along with teaching them, there are the countless things they teach me about myself, about life, and about themselves.

I've shared a bit of my past with my father before.  I wanted to be cherished, I wanted to be loved, I wanted--needed--to be Daddy's Little Princess--but I wasn't.  I tried lying to myself, and others, for a long time that I was; I made excuses for my father, but the truth is that he was never emotionally available, and there was never a connection, nor the real relationship I craved and needed.

This is where it becomes about my grandchildren and my future daughters-in-law.  I love them already without even knowing who they are, and I want my sons to do the same.  I want them to treat their wives and children the way their dad, my husband, treats me, and the way I treat them.  I want them to understand respect and love, the need for relationships, attention, and playtime, the need to be brothers now so they can be great brothers, dads, husbands and uncles later.

This is why God gave me sons rather than daughters....  So I can help raise up a new, better generation of husbands and daddies.

(And you never know, there's still a chance Shawn will get his little princess, if it's God's will--I haven't given up hope yet!)