Homestead sitting....and Shenanigans

I keep saying, " I'm going to write a blog post," then I never get to it. Look! I started. Beware. My week has been eventful. This may get long. 

I have just recently spent a week giving my mom a much needed break. About a year ago (when mom remarried) she and her new love bought a beautiful house and acreage. They plan to have a farming venture, but as of now it's a rather large homestead. They've been working hard clearing places for pasture here and planting the world's largest kitchen garden there. 

So I get a call one day asking me to house/animal sit so they can turn a business trip into a mini vacation/1st anniversary trip. Excuse me? Go stay in the pretty 100+ year old house and tend some cute animals? Don't mind if I do!!!

Here's the animal count thus far on "Good-O" Farm: 2 cats, 2 goats, 9 chickens and their 2 dogs plus my one makes 3 of the canine variety. Not really all that much to care for. Perfect to give this bayou girl a taste of what she hopes will one day be her life! Yay! 

So I pack my truck full of my one dog, two kids and one infant foster child (along with all the things they require) and we're off to play on the farm! The farm is too far away for my big, strapping, extremely helpful husband to be able to come and help. He's got to be able to get to and from work. But that's okay. I mean sure with a baby it can be pretty tiring but how hard can it be? This is the part where my mother starts laughing maniacally. 

We are on our 4th week of school with the new curriculum and loving it. I'm not about to lose steam now. So that means school comes to the farm too. All of it. Did I mention we're using a literature based curriculum this year? "Literature based" is exactly what it sounds like. Books galore. I have one suitcase that's just books. Just. Books. 

We leave my daughter's dance class and get to the farm just in time to feed and lock up the animals before dark. Mom left instructions. Pop suggests I wash and wax the John Deere. He's funny, that guy.

The chickens go to the coop all by themselves around dark so I just have to get the goats fed and into their enclosure where they'll be safe from the wild animals. I'd hate to have a T-Rex nom my parents' goats. The goats are brush clearing goats so they're set up in a portable pen that consists of a large outer area where they're roaming and eating whatever strikes their goat fancy and a smaller inner area that's more secure where they bed down at night. Four text messages and a phone call later, I have finally figured out how to get INTO the goat enclosure. Now to outwit them and get them bedded down. This takes more time than I'm comfortable admitting.....I go inside and spend half the night shushing excited children and dogs.

And the evening and the morning were the first day. 

I get up early the next morning because my mother's enormous hound mix has her sloppy hound lips on me. She wants out. Why I don't know because she AND her tiny dachshund mix housemate have relieved themselves all over the hundred year old wood floors. Fabulous. I let them out, clean the mess and start the day. 

After school we are out and about with the dogs (mine on leash because he thinks chickens taste like, well, chicken) when I see goats bounding and playing freely OUTSIDE their enclosure. This is not good. I start "herding" the goats back toward the fence. They start butting the dogs who, of course, must give chase. 

The hound mix who, again, is huge (at least 80 pounds) tries to dodge the goat. She slams into my knee and pops the knee cap out. I go down and concentrate on not screaming because children. I assess the damage and realize the knee cap is back where it should be so, while I'll be in pain for a while there's no need for a doctor. Meanwhile my son, who is smarter than me because he's home educated, has taken the "work smarter, not harder" approach. He remembers the goats love pecan leaves so he gets a large stick full of them and lures the animals peacefully and quietly back to the safety of their enclosure. I am proud of his quick thinking and chagrined that I didn't think of it first. To this day I have no clue how those goats escaped. 

The evening and the morning were the second day. 

I started separating the dogs at night so I can sleep. Only took me one whole sleepless night of chasing dogs with a broom to think of it. 

This day, though, day three? This is the day I wanted to laugh and cry all at once because the level of shenanigans is absolutely absurd. 

So now I have a bum knee, in a stiff brace, in a century old house. My bed is upstairs. I could sleep downstairs, but alll the children are upstairs. Including the baby. Up and down I go. Steep, tiny stairs. I go to take a shower. This house was built before bathrooms. At some point the previous owners decided to bring it into the modern age by adding a bathroom/laundry room/why is the hot water heater right there? 

There is no tub. There is a minuscule shower stall that, if I were 6 pounds heavier I might have to wash half of me at a time. It reminds me of the showers I used when we owned a camper as a kid. There is no way possible to shave your legs in this shower. My mom does hers at the sink. Bum knee = hairy legs. Guess I'm wearing jeans. 

I'm ready to take the kids out to one of the little country stores. I have the spare key my mother left me in my hand when I shut the door . At some point between then and when I got to my vehicle, the key magically vanishes. This house eats things. I'm also missing a DVD player remote and 2.5 socks. 

We return from the store with nothing we need but some nice treats. I also had to purchase more pacifiers for the baby. The house didn't eat them but the dogs did. Three in as many days. 

And the evening and the morning were the third day. 

By day four, I wake up thinking what else could possibly happen?! Then my dog nearly eats a chicken. I hear panicked clucking and turn around to see that one of the old girls got just a little too close. I command the dog to release. Miraculously, he does. The chicken is indignant and missing a snoutful of feathers but otherwise okay. She lives to lay another day. 

I learned a lot about working a homestead this week. Even though I only did half the stuff my mom does day to day. I learned I want no dog bigger than me. I learned I could take or leave having goats. I learned I want a tub in my house...and I DON'T want stairs. 

I learned precisely when the fireflies come out to play. I learned that hands on work brings my children satisfaction and joy. 

And I learned I'm yearning for a simpler life even more than I realized. One day, in God's time, in His way we will have our little homestead. And I still won't wash and wax the John Deere.....

Thirty

I haven't written a post in a long time! I've been so busy with finishing up the school year and having a foster placement AND deciding now would be a good time to paint the house! I had to squeeze in the time for this one though. Why?

Thirty. Yep. I turned 30 yesterday. When you have a birthday, in general, it sets you reflecting upon your life. At least it always does me, and thirty is one of those birthdays where everyone reminds you it's a landmark. Some people have an existential crisis when they turn 30. I am not some people.

Turning thirty didn't fill me with dread or send me on a soul searching 'what have I done with my life' journey. I slid into 30 quietly. Surrounded by my family and friends who care for me. So the only epiphany I had this year was that I am healthy(er), doing what I was made to do, happy and (most of all) joyful. 

Happiness happens, but JOY comes from deep within your soul, a place only God can reach, regardless of circumstance. At 30 I am blessed to know both and blessed to know the difference. 

A Hidden Trigger...

I explained a couple of posts ago, that I have recently gone gluten free at the suggestion of a natural health specialist. My plan was to wait and see if I had any tummy troubles for a few months; then to add gluten back in and see if I noticed a difference. Frankly, I didn't expect to notice any changes other than the bloating in my belly. 

Well.....I'm impatient so after one month gluten free and ZERO tummy troubles I couldn't help myself. I tried some wheat bread. Not a lot. Just a slice. I wanted to see what happened. Also, I've been on a broth fast for a few days and broth does magnificently in my belly so I knew there was nothing else that could possibly be a trigger. 

I ate the bread. I got tummy trouble. Not a lot, mind you, just a little. Not nearly as horrible as the time I ate coconut flour (oh my gosh) and flaxseed (double oh my gosh!) But I DID get a bit of a bellyache. 

Frankly, I am stunned. I really thought gluten wasn't contributing to my problems, but the way I've felt this past month along with my belly's reaction when I ate it doesn't lie. My body has a problem with gluten. Veddy intewesting...

I have also made another change recently. I got off "the pill". It was something I felt I should do long ago, but I was deceived into believing it was good for me when it was really masking my body's first cries for help. 

I have been told by doctors for the past few years that the pill will not make you keep weight on. I've been off of it for two weeks and I've lost three pounds...when I've been the exact same weight for months...might be just coincidence. I may get stuck and stay stuck here in a little while. Only time will tell. 

I went two whole weeks without running. I ran for the first time on Monday. My body literally thought it was the first time. Of course it probably didn't help that it was a little chilly and raining but ugh! My body kept screaming "why why why why?!" And now all the things are sore. All of them. Like I've never run before. That wasn't fun, but at the same time I was proud of myself for not quitting when I really wanted to. And oh I really wanted to. Sweet Caroline, has my husband corrupted me?! Am I slowly turning into a runner? Nah.....

A Change Does The Body Good

Change. Some of us shrink from it, run from it, despise it. Others try to change themselves to be something they are not. Still others try to change the people around them into what they believe is ideal.

Change. It hurts. Sometimes someone we love gently, lovingly points out the need for change in our lives. We don't want to change though because change isn't ever comfortable. So we ignore the wisdom offered to us. We run from what we know should be. Only to eventually realize we have no choice but to change. And now it's gonna REALLY hurt. Why don't we just listen the first time? Pride? Stubbornness? Fear of the unknown? A little of all three? Who knows, but here we are on the cliff we've run ourselves to. All it takes is the courage to step into the unknown.  

This week I will make a change. I will have my All In moment with God. A change I've known was better for my body and my life, but I lacked the courage to make it because it means closing a door and never looking back. The door won't be just closed. The house I'm coming from will be burned to the ground.  It's hard. It's scary. And it's gonna hurt. But I've never been more sure of anything in my life. So here I go. 

Going Gluten Free...

I completed my bone broth fast just in time for all the family festivities of Christmas to commence. And BOY were there some festivities! Our Christmases (as most others' I'm sure) tend to be rather full of traveling all over Creation to visit this family member or that one. Coming off my fast I gently branched out to other foods. Eggs (since I already knew I could eat those), rice. I had been told that gluten could possibly be a trigger for me so I did my best to stay away from it while I was traveling for the holidays.

I enjoyed the holidays without too much worrying about what was in my food, but afterward I wanted to make a bigger effort to steer clear of gluten. After several months of healing and probably a detox of some sort I'll try it here and there to see if I notice a difference. For now, though, no gluten. Interestingly enough, I have noticed my belly isn't as bloated as it usually is. We shall see.

Now, a gluten free diet is a challenge for anyone. For a Cajun? The challenge increases threefold. We use roux...in everything. What's that? Want to thicken hamburger steak gravy? Mais, make a roux, cher! Seriously, every time I turn around I'm wanting to make something with a roux. I am experimenting with making a gluten free dark roux, but I have yet to be successful. Someone recommended I try a product made here locally, but I'm just not so sure since it's a jarred oil roux and I make and prefer oil-less roux.

I have gotten creative about thickening things that are lighter though. I recently made Simple, Gluten Free, Corn and Shrimp Soup. It was a success. I liked it, my hubby liked it, and the kids would eat it if I put it over rice. In my house that equals recipe success!

I still haven't gotten a beef stew that was outstanding....nice...but not outstanding. I'll keep trying though.

I haven't lost any weight. I've not gained any, but I haven't lost any either. I run about three and a half miles two days a week. I feel good, which is a step in the right direction. The only time I've been sick in the last week was when I figured out that I can't tolerate coconut flour. Sheesh, I wish there was an easier way to learn those lessons! For now I'll be content with the reduction in digestive issues. Grudgingly content, while I quietly plot against my fat by doing more research....

Bone Broth...and Leaky Pipes

With all the research I have done about tummy troubles and food sensitivities and the inability to lose weight I have stumbled upon enough theories to make your head spin! Conventional medicine spouts all about how it's in my head or I'm not trying hard enough or some other such nonsense. I'm kind of done asking them for help. So that leaves the world of the naturopath. The ones that conventional doctors say are quacks. I even read an article from an esteemed medical institution that pretty much said, "what you're searching for doesn't really exist and it's better to take medication to mask the symptoms than to endanger your health going to unqualified practitioners looking for the source.."

I am tired of being told that IBS just happens sometimes and there's nothing I can do about it besides take medication or suffer. IBS doesn't just happen. I lived most of my life without it. Then one day it appears. I don't think my body just decided to rebel one day. I think my body has been trying to tell me something! The question, though, was, "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!" Bodies really should speak English. Unfortunately the only language they speak is malfunction and pain...

And so....research. I came across an interesting theory that our digestive systems become compromised through a bad diet. (too much processed food, too much pesticide laden produce etc.) The lining of the intestine becomes extra permeable causing undigested food to be released into the bloodstream or other parts of the body. This causes a host of symptoms ranging from autoimmune disease to "unexplained" syndromes (IBS anybody?) and it can differ greatly from person to person.

The powers that be have named it Leaky Gut. Nice, huh? The more research I did, the more I thought that this maybe could be part of my problem. Then I thought, "ok, what would I do about it if I did, in fact, have leaky pipes?" MOAR RESEARCH! (Sorry...can you tell I'm a little tired of research?) I came across several real life accounts of people with IBS who decided to partake in a bone broth fast. They chose a certain amount of time that they would ingest nothing but broth made from the bones of healthy organically farmed animals. This is because the bones (and broth made from them) contain minerals and collagen and gelatin essential to soothing and repairing the intestinal lining. They were reporting being able to frolic in meadows without a care as to where the nearest bathroom was. I wanted that. I wanted to frolic sans toilet. Shoot. I just wanted to homeschool in the living room!

I took this information overload to a very nice natural health consultant. She listened to my whole toilet frolicking story with great interest. She agreed I was most definitely pointed in the right direction, and she armed me for the journey with a bottle of digestive enzyme pills. She also offered me an interesting theory...When asked what changed before I started having IBS symptoms I couldn't think of anything besides my diet. I thought, well my diet changed dramatically when I got married but other than that?? She pointed out that I had also started taking a birth control pill around the same time. (The pill is on the list of things that can contribute to leaky gut) Hmmmmm......

So I made up my mind. I would try a bone broth fast. One week. I chose the week before Christmas. Everyone asked me what in the world I was thinking. I was thinking, "I want to frolic". You can find the recipe I used here, should you be so inclined. It was hard. I mean, the first day I was thinking this isn't so bad, but by supper time the smell of the broth made me nauseous. I couldn't even go near it. I was sooo done. My poor husband wanted me to succeed. He knew how badly I needed this to work. He offered so many ideas. He even tried spicing the broth differently. I just gave up and had some herbal tea instead. I said I'd try again tomorrow. And I did. Except I cheated....just a little. I put an egg in it. Almost like egg drop soup. And man that stuff was good! So it went for 5 days. I would allow myself one "egg drop" a day. They're farm fresh pastured eggs so it couldn't be too bad for me, right?

I survived the week! Not only did I survive the week, but my belly felt pretty good! Let the frolicking commence! I have only had one "stomach bout" from then to now and I know exactly what caused it. Do you have any idea how empowering that is? Seriously. I think I'm going to go frolic right now! Or maybe just teach school....

My Story....Part 2

Last week I started to tell you how I got to where I am today. If you haven't read it you can find the first part here. To continue...

We got married! My dress fit, thanks to a seamstress in my dad's congregation. Lord knows she must have thought I was expecting! So we began our life together. We both worked at local grocery stores, and we would bring home the sale papers and confer, "this is cheaper there so you buy that. I'll get this though.." We worked. For me it was 60+ hours a week. We ate. I already knew how to cook when I got married. No learning here. My mother was determined that I would not have the same problem she did. She didn't know how to cook when she married Dad so they lived on boiled potatoes and eggs for a while. I made my first meal when I was 10 years old. Baked chicken, Rice-a-Roni and green beans. So as a new bride I could cook, and we ate! Not to mention we lived almost next door to at least three fast food restaurants. Our normal routine was pretty much eat, sleep, work. 

And so, we grew. This picture was about six months after we got married. I don't know what the photographer was thinking posing us all sprawled on the floor. The first three years of our marriage was a blur of junk food and work. I started having IBS symptoms a couple of years after we married. Mild stomach bouts on a somewhat regular basis. Then we decided it was time for babies. Well, I finally convinced him it was time for babies. He is much more sensible than I am. He looks at the whole picture where I just want to run after what I want. This is why God put us together. I needed someone to hold my apron strings so I wouldn't run off a cliff. I quit working to be a homemaker and concentrate on baby growing. By the time we conceived our first child I weighed 225 pounds. Keep in mind I am only 5 feet, 2 inches tall....

Here I am about 7 months into my first pregnancy. Eating as usual. It's the only type of pregnancy pictures I took. Surprise ones. I was not about to document that belly! I had perfect strangers stopping me and asking how many babies I was having. My doctor was saying my baby was going to be huge because I was "measuring big". I could not get these people to understand they were measuring fat too. Not just baby. I had incredibly normal, easy pregnancies and deliveries. With my weight that was a miracle. Another odd development during my pregnancies? My IBS went away. Completely. Both times...

In this picture, our son was almost 2 years old, and I was still 225 pounds. People try to let me off easy by saying, "oh you've had kids..." My babies did not put that weight on me. My fork did! As a matter of fact, I was back to pre-pregnancy weight by my six week check up! Unfortunately my pre-pregnancy weight was a lot. When I conceived our second child I was 12 pounds lighter than the first time because I had started changing my diet to try and control the IBS symptoms, but when I gave in to my first pregnancy craving and realized the IBS seemed to be gone again? All bets were off. My second child was delivered two weeks before Easter. The number of Cadbury Creme Eggs I put away during that time is shocking. The fact that I never developed gestational diabetes is even more shocking. 

My youngest child is nearly five years old now. Somewhere in her first year of life the doctor informed my husband he'd better do something about his weight. We determined we'd do it together, for the kids. We have to teach them how to live and be healthy. He took up running and hasn't stopped since. I am so proud of what he has accomplished, but he left me in his dust. I have clawed and scraped and crawled my way to a 60 pound weight loss. Part of it was loss of motivation when I got sick with swine flu and again when I had my gallbladder out. Part of it was rebelling against restricting myself. The rest was just plain old hard! When I first started this blog my husband was already done. He had lost his 100 pounds and run his first half marathon. 

This is us a couple of years ago. I did the "1 mile fun run" with our son. At the end I said I was proud of him AND I was proud of myself because I had kept up with him. He informed me that he didn't run as fast as he could so that I would be able to keep up. Thanks kid.....

I named this blog "Eat Your Vegetables" because when I began this journey I sincerely believed that if I just ate right and exercised I'd lose weight. Calories in, calories out. It's a black and white concept and it worked for my husband. I tried. And I tried. And I tried some more. Nothing happened. I ate 1200 calories a day (which really never left me feeling hungry). I exercised. Hard. Nothing. I mixed up my routine. I drank smoothies. Finally, defeated and frustrated, I went to my doctor for a checkup. At the very end of the appointment I blurted out my whole problem. She looked a little taken aback. She asked if I was "really" trying. I said YES, and showed her my food log on my phone. She suggested that I try low carb. Seeing as how I was addicted to sugar her theory was that I'd developed insulin resistance. I took that and ran with it. 

Low carb?! But I should be able to eat a balanced diet and lose weight! But my body is broken. I have to fix it. So low carb. I lost 12 pounds in the first 2 weeks. To me that meant the doctor must be right. Then I got sick. I had the worst IBS symptoms I have ever had in my life! 

So here I was. Some answers and even more questions. I did more research than I ever did in school. I came across some naturopathic methods of "healing" my damaged digestion. I took all my research and theories and brought them to a natural health specialist (who I will not name because I haven't asked permission). They assured me that I am, in fact, NOT crazy and I am on the right track. 

I started off with the intention of losing weight to be more healthy. This journey has never been about what I see in the mirror, but about caring for and repairing the damage I've done to the ONE body I get. I don't get to trade it in later. God gave me one. That's it. Slowly but surely my journey has morphed into something completely different. I STILL have at least 30 pounds to lose before my weight will be what is deemed the highest acceptable normal weight for my frame. I am highly impatient about getting that weight off, but I've learned that to do that is not going to be as black and white as it is for others. My body is damaged in some way, and until I figure out what it is, and work to heal it, that fat is going to stay firmly in place. Do I like it? No, but it's my reality right now. The road has forked and I've prayerfully considered which to take. I feel I've chosen wisely. Only time will tell.

My Story Part I

I have been putting off writing this post for a while now. Busy-ness prevented me, but also working out in my head just what I wanted to convey. A couple of months ago I realized that I've always been honest about my journey, but I never really explained what set me on the path to start. So here it is....or part one of it anyway.....

This...is me. No, not the pretty lady holding the baby. I'm the baby! I was born to two very outdoorsy parents. A Cajun cowgirl and a Creole Bayou boy. I was taught how to "live off the land". Dad hunted, fished and crabbed. He was also a pastor. A lot of his congregants were fisherman, farmers and trappers. They gave to the church in the form of the fruits of their labor. The norm for us was fresh vegetables seafood, duck, marsh hens, alligator, turtle and the like. We would prepare these foods that we had caught ourselves (or knew the person who did) and Dad would say, "I wonder what the poor people are eating!" If it cost money to buy, it was a special treat, not the norm. I used to get so excited over a Pop Tart! I look back and wonder why, but I was little....

Here I am in first grade. Mom never did understand why they waited until after recess to take these pictures.....And so I grew. Healthy. I can't remember ever going to the pediatrician. We didn't take vitamins. We didn't eat diet food. Although my mom always used Miracle Whip instead of mayo. Yuck. We just lived off of what our surroundings provided us. Dad even tried his hand at a garden for a few years. He and Mom grew all sorts of things. Dad and Mom always had to have a little side business going to supplement their income because being a preacher (contrary to popular belief) doesn't really pay that well. There were a couple of times where Dad sold life insurance and he was good at it, but the outdoors always called him back. He ran crab traps. He had a landscaping service. Then a tree business. All along the way, he took us with him for the ride. My parents taught us to love the outdoors too...

Here I am, being a bayou child. Rubber boots and all....I learned how to fish, though I was never allowed to bait my own hook or take the fish off the hook....that's man work.....I enjoyed it. Then our lives changed a little.... 

At about the age of 13 here in this picture, Dad's ministry took us all on the road evangelizing; doing revival meetings from church to church all over the Southern United States. Our diets changed too. We no longer had time to hunt, fish and grow things. Store bought, packaged foods became our norm and homegrown/caught foods became the exception. Trips through the drive through became rather common too with all the time we spent traveling. My brother LOVED McDonald's. I was pretty sure he'd turn into a nugget. Not so coincidentally, I also, started going through.......

"a chubby phase".....I was performing in a drama here so don't make fun of my funny pose. :) I was "chubby". Fourteen years old and already 180 pounds. I carry weight more evenly distributed than some so I was just called "chubby" and "it's a phase. She's still growing". I had pretty much reached my full height of 5 feet 2 inches by then though. And it was not a phase. My poor metabolism was like "What. Is. Happening?!" I gained weight and developed nasal allergies. I had never had allergies before, but all of a sudden pine trees and azalea bushes became my worst enemies! I also had tinnitus, but at the time I didn't know that ringing in your ears "when the room is quiet" wasn't normal. 

Then we moved back home. Dad took a church to pastor again. Our house had 14 acres. About 7 of those acres were water. I loved it there. I was always in a pirogue or on the levee doing something. At 16 I got a job and I started dating this guy. I was a pretty active chick. I slimmed right down. We were home eating fresh real foods again. Although, not like before because junk found it's way into our favorites in the time we spent on the road. When I was a kid the only time I got a Zebra cake was when we went fishing. Now we had them all the time. That is if we could get to them before my brother. A teenaged boy is like a walking garbage disposal. Anyway, I spent most of the last couple of years under my parents' roof very active. I was either walking to work (because I was terrified of driving) or out on the water by myself, or showing my boyfriend what a beautiful place the wetlands of Louisiana can be if you just stop and look. I guess I was determined to pass the love of the land on to someone like my parents had to me. Then the boy asked me to marry him. I said yes! About a month before my wedding my mom brought me to the lady doctor to get checked out and start on the pill. I started eating like I'd never seen food before. My mom says it was nerves. I say it was the pill. It was probably a combination of both, but BOY did I gain some weight in a short amount of time! I had to have my wedding dress let out at the last second because it wouldn't zip!! I didn't care. I was happy and in love and I was going to be married......