Chickpea-Spinach Soup

My mom reminded me of this soup, which originally came from The Clueless Vegetarian. It's been a while since I made it, and I'm glad I did. 3 of 3 boys approved this meal. Chiefly tomatoes, zucchini, onions, garlic, chickpeas, and fresh spinach, it is a hearty, flavorful soup for cool nights.



Also, French bread. Mmmm....

Ingredients:
2 tbsp olive oil
2 medium zucchini, chopped into roughly 1/4" pieces
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 14 oz. cans of diced tomatoes
1 tbsp tomato paste
1 can chickpeas
4 cups vegetable broth
2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp pepper
5 oz. of spinach (~ 1/2 prepackaged stuff), washed and chopped

Directions:
In large saucepan, saute the zucchini, onion, and garlic in the olive oil about 6-8 minutes until tender. To this add the diced tomatoes, tomato paste, chickpeas, and vegetable broth, stirring well. Bring to a boil over medium heat, then turn back to simmer for ~10 minutes. Add the chopped spinach, salt, and pepper, and let cook about 1-2 more minutes, until spinach is just softened. Serve hot, preferably with good bread for dipping.

Tidbits

I love my children beyond belief. Currently I wish I were home with them, snuggling on the couch, reading a book, or even watching their current favorite show, iCarly. I want to make hot cocoa and share brownies and listen to their silly stories while we play the 500th round of mancala.

Of course, I didn't feel that way yesterday. Or Sunday. You see, in Ye Old Infinit Wisdom, I, uh, didn't account for the holiday when re-ordering the meds for the oldest two. And because I am kind-hearted towards the people whom I inflict my children upon, I reserved the remaining medication for when I felt they would need it the most: the days we needed to go out in public (i.e., school).

Therefore, we went two days using Old School "Deal with It" ADHD modification methods, which include... well, me being frustrated off my ass that no one hears me, and them being incredibly excitable, distracted, and argumentative over the least little thing. I must have threatened to ship them to 10 different countries. Meanwhile, I was half-heartedly attempting to work from home. What a joke! I ended up giving in and just going with the chaotic, bumpy, nerve-trampling flow of things.

It's been a while since we've flown solo without ANY meds for either of them. Even when Middlun's medication failed last year, I at least had Oldest on an even keel. I had forgotten what hell life is without them. I don't care what room is left in the food/gas/utility budget - we'll go without electricity before we go without sanity. (I mean medication.)



So as I stood in the pediatrician's office this morning, patiently awaiting my background check for our monthly allotment of highly restricted stimulants, I wondered how long this song and dance might continue. How many months will I traverse to the pharmacy, sealed papers in hand, and pray that my insurance is still good? How many years will I be trudging to a school, obligated to meet with teachers who probably won't understand, or won't care enough to truly consider their conditions? How many parenting and discipline workshops will I attend in some furtive hope of finding that perfect fix... or how many more hours and co-pays will it take with a therapist before I quit feeling cheated out of a peaceful motherhood?

It used to be that people would say "oh, they'll grow out of it". Such comforting lies are intended to keep even the strongest of mothers from throwing themselves (or something otherwise large and valuable) out of a second-story window. Of course, I'm more inclined to believe the words written by our doctor on Middl'un's 504 medical evaluation form: Condition is lifelong.

And even after years of dealing with angry teachers and paranoid doctors and craptacular insurance representatives and medical bills and accepting this as "what just is"... I still cry a little inside at that thought.

As much as I love them as they are, sometimes I still want the parenthood I'd envisioned...an easy, quiet life of raising little intellectuals, heads buried in books. (Clearly, I was deluded.)

But even adjusting for my delusions, I still wish that trying to carve out a "normal" life for them - as normal as it can get, given our past, their lack of a father, and my own failures as a parent - was not so damn difficult...not so unfair.

I feel like I should update.

The problem with not updating for several months is that you tend to have a lot to catch up on.

But I wanted to share what was going on with Middl'un.

Middl'un playing his favorite game, mancala.

Back in October, we switched Middl'un's medicine to Vyvanse 60 mg. [That was after yet another battle with the insurance company, but we finally prevailed. Our pediatrician earns six gold stars - she had to do a lot of paper pushing on our behalf.]

Thankfully, the Vyvanse is working. Middl'un is a lot calmer when on his medication, and can focus and complete his tasks. In fact, he's doing very well now in class, earning A's and one of the teacher's prime students. So, of course, this threw a wrench in our Section 504 plans - the assistance team at the school questioned his need for accomodations.

After several frustrating emails, including one strongly-worded email copied to the 2nd-grade teacher, the counselor, the first-grade teacher, and anyone else who would listen, I finally managed to get the ball rolling on the Section 504 plan for my son. There was a careful treading of the water to try not to piss anyone off while simultaneously trying to explain how very pissed off I was. Some citations of the law might have happened. And maybe a long discussion of why the school can't simply take into account his medication, which, as you may recall, doesn't always work consistently (we tested out five new prescriptions alone last year before the right medicine/dosage).

The big news is - we had our kick-off IEP/Section 504 meeting on Tuesday. There were 7 of us there, Middl'un included, which felt a wee bit overwhelming. This included the principal, the counselor, the school psychologist, the EC resource teacher, his teacher, another special ed. teacher as the LEA representative, myself, and Middl'un (who colored/drew quietly the whole time, damnitall - shouldn't he have been showing off his wild side?)

We discussed the current interventions in place (extended time to complete tests and assignments), and two new interventions (remove his desk from his peers and provide a timer). We discussed adding the ability to take water/walk breaks around the room, and also the ability to stand at his desk while working (which he does all the time).

I was asked for my thoughts on his needs and issues, so I gave a full list of information including not turning in class assignments, not completing assignments, forgetting homework and materials, difficulty following extended set of directions, and sustaining conversations. I brought up his previous evaluation by a psychoeducational consultant (which, disappointingly, the team seemed unaware of). Luckily, I had a copy of that evaluation with me.

We discussed the observations made by teachers and other staff, and, thankfully, his teacher was vocal about his issues and stated that the modifications in the classroom have helped a great deal. We discussed the additional information needed to complete the evaluation, which includes vision/hearing tests, a medical evaluation, and a battery of educational/psychological assessments, speech/language evals, and behavior scales.

I don't know about other ADHD moms, but I feel like I could feel out a behavior scale in my sleep.

This is all to say... that at least one huge stress in my life is moving forward. I'll be finding out in the next two months whether or not all my kvetching and emailing has been worth it.

In which I discover a new vegetable...

As part of my attempts to incorporate more veggies into my life, I have taken two great steps:

1. I emailed an application to my local CSA. Hopefully, they have it. I had so many embarrassing technical difficulties attempting to fill it out (thank you Adobe), I'll be lucky if they draft the money from my checking account on time. As it is, I'm thankful to my friend Shara for pointing me in the right direction.
   
   
2. I am road-testing new vegetables. Tonight, it was the humble parsnip. As Joel, my oldest son, proclaimed, "What's the big deal? It tastes just like a carrot!"

For the parsnip, I went with a soup. Because it's still mother-fucking cold in this joint.

Likely Not Sicilian-Style Broccoli-Parsnip Soup
Recipe adapted from The Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen by Donna Klein

1 large head broccoli, rinsed and drained
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 medium parsnips, peeled and finely chopped (or one HUMONGOUS and one tiny parsnip, if you're me)
1 medium onion, finely chopped
4 cups vegetable broth (I used Swanson's Organic Veg. Broth)
1/2 tsp italian seasoning
1/2 tsp salt
3/4 tsp sugar
1 tbsp toasted sesame oil
pepper to taste (I was generous)

First off, I did all the prep work (the endless chopping) the night before. In fact, I got tired of attempting to saw through the massive parsnip, and eventually gave it to Joel, with a grater, and had him go to town. This ensured that at least half of it was chopped "finely". You want to chop and separate the broccoli such that the florets are separate from the stems. I forgot that they would need different time frames to cook, so I made Joel separate them all after I was done chopping. I have the perfect kitchen assistant; he doesn't kvetch.

Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over low heat, and add the chopped onion, garlic, and parsnip bits. Stir it around for about 15 minutes, letting the veggies soften. It will look something like this:



Next add the vegetable broth, broccoli stems, italian seasoning, salt, sugar, and pepper. (The original recipe calls for thyme; I was out of this. And marjoram. And most of the things you'd usually substitute for thyme.) Bring this to a boil, then turn the heat back to a medium-low flame. Cover it and let it simmer for 25 minutes or so - it won't smell too terrific at this point, but it gets better, I swear.

Forget to take pictures of this part. Make some pretty star-shaped biscuits while you wait and throw them in the oven.

Next add the broccoli-florets, as well as the toasted sesame oil. Let cook another 5 to 10 minutes. (Hint: The finer you have your assistant chop the florets, the quicker this will be.)

Pull biscuits from the oven. Pour soup into bowl. Inhale deeply, and be sure to enjoy the light sesame taste mingling with the grated carrot-like parsnip.



(Oh, but I won't lie - my kids were too terrified of the appearance to really eat this. But I thought it was lovely.)

I promise, I'm not dead....

I have sorely neglected my beloved blog. *takes a moment to hug the keyboard* Life has been...full. Nothing major, other than work being bananas, and then the usual holiday rush. We were very, very lucky this year. 2009 was very kind to me, and I was happy and excited to spoil my children and family ridiculously at Christmas (but within my budget, yay!)

Anyway... part of my new year's resolution was to be generous to myself, of which a sub-resolution is to eat more veggies. (Veggies = healthy = being generous to my body.) So I'm on the lookout for healthy, yummy, vegetable-based meals. Here's one to start off:

Tomato-Lentil Soup with Brown Rice
adapted from "The Mediterranean Vegan Kitchen" by Donna Klein

2 tbsp olive oil
6-8 scallions, chopped finely (reserve 1/4-1/2 cup for garnish)
2 small carrots, chopped
1 stalk celery, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped finely
4 cups of vegetable broth (If you're clever, you make your own...but I'm lazy and used Swanson's Organic Vegetable broth.)
1 cup water
1/4 cup brown rice
1 cup lentils, rinsed
1 can diced tomatoes, with juice (The original recipes calls for whole canned, but then asks you to chop, drain, and deseed them...which is too much work for me.)
1/2 tsp dried thyme
salt and black pepper to taste

Do all of your chopping in advance. In a large saucepot, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Combine the scallions, carrots, celery, and garlic. Cook for ~ 5 minutes, stirring with a spatula, so you can be hot like me.



Mmmm....

Next add the broth, water, lentils, rice, canned tomatoes, thyme, salt, and pepper. It will look very unassuming.



Bring it all to a gentle boil, to be a freak like me. Turn down the heat (I have a gas stove, so I only have 3 settings: flame low, flame high, and HOLY @#@! GRAB THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER. It is a very old gas stove.) Once you have turned down the heat, turn on some music and dance around vigorously for 45 minutes, or until the lentils and rice are soft. (The dancing is very important, so you can be raw like me). Serve in non-coordinating dinnerware, preferably a classy yet child-friendly bright yellow plastic bowl, with a giant slice of cornbread on the side. For dipping.



Next time, I plan to vary this a bit, and add more rice (maybe 1/2 cup), and less lentils (maybe 1/2 cup). It was a lentil-splosion in my kitchen. Which, lentils are great, but I wanted soup, not dal (at least tonight).

So, enjoy! and have fun like me...why don'tcha?

I can only hope for more teachers like her.

"Zachary is such a bright child. I have to tell you, he was one of my favorite students."

I had run into Andrea on the way out of the school this morning. I'm grateful that I stopped to run in and put lunch money on the boys' accounts. Instead of teaching first grade this year, she's interning for her principalship. Zachary loves Andrea.

"I spoke with Ms. D last year after we tested him for AIG, and told her that he is so clearly gifted, with his reading and math skills. He's just not on second grade level. It's such a shame that his medicine wasn't working. M. said she was going to make sure not to lose track of him."

I am trying not to cry with gratitude in front of this woman. After the last three months, I've come to feel like every interaction with the school is a battle.

"I'm going to work with his teacher and share with her some of the modifications I used with him. She's new to teaching second grade."

She's also been out for a week with the flu. Which means that terse email I sent two days ago asking about the lack of communication and if my child's needs were being met makes me a true Asshole Parent.

I mention that I am trying to get a 504 for him (again), and ask about the denial last year.

"We didn't need one last year. I've worked with so many kids like Zachary. Even when the meds wore off, I was able to use modifications to help him. All children with disabilities are covered under 504, but not all have modification plans. The problem is, it either has to be affecting his grades and impeding his learning, or impeding the classroom. Last year, that just wasn't the case. He's just too smart."

I stand there, filled with pride and pain. I explain my frustration with this, and everything I've been told by educators and friends (none of which work at our school, unfortunately).

"I'll be working here through December. I'll see if I can help with the 504 process. He needs that so teachers that don't know how to work with children like him can get through to him. He's a special case. I'll see what we can do to make sure we're meeting the law."

I am covering my nose so that I can squelch the tears.

"He's a special case. He's on such a higher level. He often does his own thing, but he needs to be challenged. I know he's frustrated by his lack of focus. I'll speak to his teacher."

I offer out my email address and we say our goodbyes. It is all I can do not to jump for joy and break down into tears. I was so relieved to hear something positive about my child. And yet I am still eternally frustrated at the way this disorder complicates our lives.

In other news, I managed to get an email to the Exceptional Children's Parent Involvement coordinator for our county. Which means I have someone from outside the school who can help me navigate the legal waters of this Neverending Saga.

All in time, I suppose.

How Much if Not Enough?

Yesterday I received a call from the pediatrician's office. The angel on the phone informed me that the prior authorization for Middl'un's Vyvanse had finally gone through, and was ready for pick-up at the pharmacy. I thanked that angel profusely, and felt a few moments of elation - I'd finally beat the insurance company. After six months of purchasing and trying their pre-ordained list of ineffective generics, we were able to make the case for a newer drug.

When we picked up the prescription yesterday afternoon, Middl'un was interested to see what color pills he would be taking the next day. He and I oohed a bit over the pretty blue-green and white color, and then I put them away.

As I stood in the kitchen this morning, a cup of milk in one hand and a pill in the other, I wondered if perhaps I had an unhealthy amount of false hope in this drug. Watching him take the medication, I had the familiar feeling of doubt and tension in my gut. If this doesn't work, I thought, I'm going to fall hard. It is such a tooth-pulling exercise to get new medications, and dosages, worked out for him. I've been emotionally exhausted for the past month.

And of course, there's always the concern for side effects, for the potential damage to his heart. There's the ever-present thoughts dwelling on whether or not it is right or wrong for us to alter the chemical make-up in his brain. If it were antidepressants or insulin, you wouln't think a second thought, would you? My brain reels and rehashes the same arguments.

Despite sending four emails in the past three weeks, I have not heard anything back from the teacher. I sent on a paper note today informing her of the new medicine, and asking her to please give me feedback on his behavior over the next week. I am concerned by the lack of communication from her end. I know from the counselor that the Section 504 process can take up to 4 weeks of observation before they even call a meeting on it, so I'm not riding the bit too hard - but it would be good to have some acknowlegement of having received my emails. I'm wondering if my intentions of being the Asshole Parent are backfiring.

Speaking of his behavior, I've been thinking a lot about the school's point of view in this. I have to stick up for my son. I realize that his problems there are probably two-fold. They stem from his disability, and the fact that he also has a stubborn, independent streak a mile wide. Sometimes I wonder if I'm ascribing the right behaviors to the right issues, myself. Sometimes I wonder what is and is not in his control. As I explained to a friend yesterday, my hope is that treating the disability and learning to work around it with him will help resolve some of the anger and stubborness, too. I'm afraid the school thinks I'm only making excuses for him.

I do hope, as Christi commented the other day, that if/when the medicine works, they will notice the difference, and understand what is and is not within his control. That was an eye-opener for me in the beginning, when the Concerta started working and he was a completely different child. Well, still Middl'un with a lot of pep and bounce, but he could sit and hold extended conversations with me. He could finish his homework in 20 minutes. He didn't feel the need to walk around constantly or swing his arms wildly and bash his little brother in the head.

I have so much hope riding on the next two weeks, and hoping that the Vyvanse will work. Cross your fingers, please.