As of Tuesday, I’m back on the low-carb bandwagon. From 2002-2003 I lost over 50 lbs. on the Atkins diet. Starting in 2004, I started sliding back into carb addiction. Really it was the New Year’s cruise that we went on that started things. I think that the cruise director will personally throw you overboard if it is revealed you are on any sort of diet. When Jennifer became pregnant, I really started to pack on the carbs. I’ve gained back 15 lbs of what I lost, so it’s time to go cold turkey.

When I did Atkins the first time (before it was cool) there were very few low-carb foods out there to eat. This was a good thing from a dieting standpoint. Now, I’m surrounded by all sorts of temptations, which, because of their convenience and relative deliciousness, are just as bad as the carbs. Those of you not familiar with the Atkins diet may not be aware that there are four distinct phases:

1. The oh-my-god-I-can-eat-bacon-with-every-meal phase. This is the hook, when you will gladly trade off breads and sugars for taking your relationship with the butcher to the next level. This phase eventually gives way to
2. The I’m-getting-really-sick-of-eating-eggs-for-breakfast phase. Eggs and bacon really are the only traditional breakfast foods that are legal. Try eating that for three weeks in a row. Eventually I started skipping breakfast. Before the advent of the low-carb food craze, there was little portable food as well. Beef jerky and pork rinds are the only things I can think of. Now, there are a number of low-carb bars, and some of them don’t taste awful, but that just makes you want to eat more of them. Skipping meals because of the monotony leads to
3. The I’m-just-plain-sick-of-eating phase. Now the real weight loss begins. The low-carb diet keeps you from getting hungry, and when you suck all the joy out of eating, there’s really no reason left to do it. The weight loss eventually results in the
4. The I’ll-keep-eating-this-way-as-long-as-I’m-skinny phase. If, like me, you lost enough weight to have a profound effect (incessant compliments, eliminating back pain, increased energy, blogging material, etc.) then you would resign yourself to a life of eating old shoes if it meant staying thin. That is, as long as you stay away from cruise ships.

It’s only been two days, but I’m already starting to tire of breakfast, but at least I know it can be done, and I’m starting from a lower weight than before. My goal is to lose 34 pounds, which would put me at 100 lbs. down from the day I got married. This was originally my goal when I did Atkins in 2002, but I never quite made it. Here’s to finishing things out.

Anna awoke this morning to a house littered with ‘hidden’ jellybeans, which she gathered with glee. Thankfully we didn’t have to get into the details of how Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny are able to enter our house and wander around unnoticed, but monsters and guns will never be able to get inside under any circumstances. Jellybeans were thus the theme of the day: how many could she have, when could she have more, how many did she earn, and so forth. In between the jellybean-eating, Jennifer managed to get on skates for the first time in about seven months, in preparation for rejoining the hockey league.

Tara slept all morning, leaving me to tend Anna, to enjoy some terrific weather in the backyard, and to do some reinforcing work on the swingset. After Jen got home, Tara finally awoke and drank a bottle with little resistance. Then, like the rare, but cyclical aligning of the planets in the sky, all four of us managed to take a bath or shower on the same day.

I must admit that for as well as the day seemed to go, and even though I managed to do about five loads of laundry, the installation of four lag bolts on the swingset is about all the forward progress that was made on a household project; still, there is hope. Next week, I’m hoping that I can go fetch some flowers for the front planter and fix the sprinklers in the backyard in preparation to fill the space left by our failed hibiscus bushes. In my mind, completion of such a project would officially mark the end of the newborn anti-honeymoon.

Speaking of honeymoons, I now have less then two months before the May trifecta of Mother’s Day, Anna’s birthday, and our anniversary. In light of this year, marking ten years of marriage, I now see why professional athletes retire BEFORE being inducted into the hall of fame–who expects them to follow that up? Some of you may know that for the first Mother’s Day after Anna was born, I stayed up nights to construct a scrapbook of Anna’s first year. For this act, I was immediately inducted into the Husband Hall of Fame by several of Jennifer’s friends and acquaintances. But then what? I haven’t come anywhere near topping that for any occasion, nor can I afford to lose the amount of sleep required to try. To top it off, we have some traveling to do in advance of said trifecta, so I am fairly hosed for pulling off an upset of the scrapbook this year.

Nevertheless, today was a good day, and I should reflect on it with fondness rather than focus on impending, unavoidable, looming failure to properly mark the occasion of four years of motherhood, four years of life, and ten years of marriage. Wait… it’s not just four years of motherhood… I have to get my mom something. Aaaagh!

Spending the night on the floor of a girl’s room is officially no longer as much fun as it was in college.

On Sunday, I took Anna to local park where there is a 1/4-mile railroad that occasionally features a restored steam locomotive. This particular weekend, they were also having a sort of festival featuring pioneer-era displays, teepees, and recurring, staged gunfights. We first noticed the gunplay, which involved the sheriff, various bad guys, and occasionally a pioneer woman, from about fifty feet away. Anna was curious for about five seconds before she developed an intense dislike for what was going on. As we turned away I explained how they were putting on a show, and when all the dead actors hopped up and took a bow, I pointed out that everyone was okay.

We had already ridden the steam train once, having purchased two tickets for each of us, so I figured the frontier gangstas¹ would be on break for a little while and now would be a good time to go. We barely missed the subsequent boarding and were first in line for the next train. Two laps later we boarded, and were therefore the furthest from the exit when they announced that our train would indeed be robbed at gunpoint. I explained the situation to Anna, but she didn’t want to get off. The train proceeded, and eventually we were robbed, but since everything happened outside the train, and we were not near a window, Anna did not see or hear much as I covered her ears until the show was over. Following the train ride, we walked to the sandwich shop to pick up lunch and head home.

I don’t remember Anna being affected at all by the morning’s events throughout the day, but in the middle of the night, she awoke crying, and when I went to see her it was clear that she was afraid of something. She didn’t explain it (she generally can’t when she’s very afraid), but I ended up sleeping the rest of the night in her room. In the morning she was whiny and clingy, up until we talked more about the gunfight, how it was just a show, that everyone was fine, and how people did not in fact do that “for real” (I wasn’t going to get into any more nuances of the issue than that). Instantly, she was chipper as could be, had a good day, and slept Monday and Tuesday night without incident.

Last night, she awoke to go to the bathroom, but found that the door was closed and the light was on (something she did herself earlier in the evening). This led to fear and crying and parental floor-sleeping. This morning was a little rough, and when I stopped by her school to see the Easter parade, she was very clingy, but hopefully a little talk tonight will clear things up. Failing that, the two of us may have to make a metal detector out of Legos.

¹ Frontier Gangstas would be an excellent name for a folk/hip-hop band.

Last night Tara went almost ten hours between feedings. I found out about this the morning after, because I slept in my office, uninterrupted, for nearly ten hours. It was a pretty good night. Even Anna slept well; she was too warm in her long jammies and changed into shorts and short sleeves in the middle of the night. She at this moment putting on her clothes for the day, which she selected herself.

Yesterday evening our friends J. and D. were over with their daughter M., who is an amazingly energetic child. Although our house was at one time baby-proofed, and it is still safe for the most part, there are still a lot of things around to get in to. M. is very tall for her age, and left unsupervised, I’m sure she would have climbed up to get all sorts of stuff we wouldn’t have thought was vulnerable. Anna actually has done a really good job of learning and honoring what she should and should not touch. When Tara becomes mobile, I’m sure Anna will be a good helper in making the house safe for her.

Yesterday, we stopped by Bisher’s for a prime new york strip (for me) and a filet (for Jen). Fish sticks for Anna, milk for Tara, and you’ve got yourself one happy family.

I thought a little more about yesterday’s findings; in particular, the psychiatrist asked if I was verbally impulsive, that is, do I just blurt out things? I said no, but I think that as a child that I was. There’s no question that Anna is verbally impulsive; some of the things she blurts out have shocked us, and contributed to us seeing the psychiatrist in the first place. Apparently this trait is the result of being very verbal and having ADHD together. I think that as I have grown older I’ve learned to filter things out.

I also thought about how Anna reacts to our disappointment with her; and that I have had similar reactions, though more internally focused than hers. Now I just have to teach her the things that I have learned; not easy to explain to a three year old, considering how difficult they were to learn in my thirties.

Another thing the psychiatrist explained is that Anna and I get along better than do she and Jennifer because my brain and Anna’s brain are wired up the same way. Jennifer’s is different. Maybe Tara will end up being more agreeable with Jen.

Tonight was bath night for pretty much everybody, and we managed to get Tara in somewhat of a smiling mood (which was surprising because she was screaming five minutes previous). Jennifer took these photos while I was giving her a bath. No, she did not poop in the tub.

Hopefully these pics will appease Grandma D. for the moment, and serve to dimish the “photoneglected sibling” effect.

We have been trying to get Anna to tolerate us doing something with her hair, as it tends to get very snarled and messy because she won’t wear clips or a ponytail, and she hates having it washed and combed. Thanks to the internet (and to Jennifer for being my guinea pig), I managed to coerce Anna’s hair into this french braid this morning. It didn’t last for very long, but for a first time I think it’s promising. If I can get the technique down a little more, she may actually tolerate having her hair tied up (a straight ponytail gets in the way when she’s in her car seat or leaning back).

Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t seen any of the Austin Powers movies. However, I know the evil guy has a little tiny evil guy who looks and acts just like him. Today I discovered that Anna is my mini-me.

We met with the psychiatrist at her home office. She was very nice, very observant, and for most of an hour she asked us some very routine sounding questions about our current situation, about our family history, and about Anna’s behavior. As we were talking to her, we realized that much of Anna’s behavior has been greatly improved in the last four to six months, yet there were still episodes that had us concerned enough to seek help. Anna even backed us up by demonstrating her low frustration threshold right there in the office as she played with blocks, and by ignoring our calls to order.

Near the end of the hour, the doctor gave us her diagnosis. Anna’s behavior is normal, she is very smart, and she will probably eventually be diagnosed with some form of ADHD. She then explained certain behaviors in this context. It took us a long time to get to the point that she actually tells us that she’s sleepy or hungry, and this is because she is so focused on what she is doing that she doesn’t pay attention to what’s going on in her body until it’s too late and she becomes very cranky. She has problems paying attention because of this focus. We’re frustrated that despite her tremendous verbal skills, she won’t follow instructions because she is so easily distracted. Further, I had the same things going on as a child, and it seems to run in my family. It’s so simple and yet I missed it entirely. I was also very smart, verbal, focused, and yet easily distracted. Actually, I’m still like tha–hey, look, something shiny!

For most of the time I was counting the three dollars per minute flying out of my wallet, but at the end I realized, that yes indeed, the good doctor does earn her money deservedly. This little epiphany gives us some validation, some perspective, and some direction for our little dynamo.

Tomorrow we are taking Anna to see a child psychiatrist, and I am tremendously conflicted about it. I tend to focus on the present, and at the moment, I think Anna is doing fine. However, I cannot deny that there have been episodes where I have been sure that Anna is not like other children. She is smarter, moodier, and more sensitive than any other child I know. What we’re trying to deal with is the moody and sensitive part; much of the time we feel like we are walking on eggshells trying to avoid upsetting her, and sometimes it’s hard to care about her at all because it seems as though nothing will appease her.

The psychiatrist is highly recommended from two sources, including our beloved pediatrician. The only unflattering comment we have heard about her is that she is, in fact, a psychiatrist, and psychiatrists treat biochemical problems with chemical remedies. I really don’t want to see Anna on any sort of medication; in fact, I believe I would absolutely refuse to administer it at her age. I think that we have made a lot of progress with her on her moodiness and behavior, and I’d like to think we can continue to do so. Moreso than that, I really find it hard to bear that thought that there is something wrong with my little girl–she is who she is, and I could not love her more. Also, I feel some guilt, that her behaviors are the result of our parenting. I will probably never know how much of her behaviour is inherited, how much has been learned, or how much could not have been predicted.

Tomorrow, what I expect is that we will learn something; we will have an objective, professional, and highly recommended opinion regarding our daughter. Beyond that, I really do not know what will change. Maybe we’ll have some more strategies for dealing with her behaviour. Perhaps we’ll merely have a baseline against which to measure future progress.

I have thought off and on all day about making this post, and for some reason, the hardest part was deciding which picture to post alongside it. I decided on the “flower child” photo, even though everyone I know has seen it over and over again, because regardless of what I learn tomorrow, to me, she will always be this perfect, indescribable little thing, so beautiful, so precious, existing only for a moment, and then changing forever.

This morning, Anna forgot to rant about not wearing green, so while she was watching Dora, I picked out green clothes for her, down to the ponytail holder. She didn’t notice as she ate her cereal, and I took photos of her and chuckled to myself, but I was totally busted when I sat down to postprocess the images, and she saw herself up on my computer monitor. “I’m very angry! I don’t like green!” I ran back into the kitchen and made like I was going to eat her breakfast strawberries, and she forgot all about it.