Checking in, month 2.5

In the car today, something I now cannot remember made me recall the year we've just come through, the whole entire year I spent without my husband and the boys without their father. We were passing the Jimmy Swaggart Ministries on our way to have lunch at the mall, which is something the boys and I would do on Sundays together. Everyone gets to pick what kind of cuisine they want, ride the carousel, get a cookie and make ample use of the escalators. To our credit, we're weaving together quite nicely.

I've written earlier about our struggles with Landen's school performance. While he excels at spelling, math, lunch, recess and behavior, he spent six weeks with no video games and two weeks with no television for bringing home D's and F's in reading, English and social studies. At the suggestion of a friend, I took him for a language screening with a speech pathologist to look for signs of dyslexia. I am happy to report that there are none. Landen is not dyslexic. I stayed silently in the room for the two-hour screening, the beginning of which was Landen looking at four pictures on a page and being asked to point to the one that matched the word the pathologist was saying. When he matched the word "predatory" to the correct picture, I wanted to stand and clap. We do not have the full report back yet, but he will spend some time with that speech pathologist this summer getting his skills and his confidence up.

He is no longer grounded, because we have worked his ass off the last two weeks and the results have been A's in reading, English and social studies.

Jake vacillates between happy and heartbroken with regular frequency. Heartbreak, sadness and discontent are masked by our eldest as rage and anger, and it is because of the big hearts for the plight of Jake Allbritton and the principal's similar experience with her own son that he has not been asked not to return to school. We've done detentions and in-school suspension and we are required to sit quietly and read most days at aftercare. I know that in my own struggle with mental illness, knowledge is power. The more you can understand the mechanics of why your brain does not respond like everyone else's in any particular situation, the better equipped you are to recognize where you are headed before that direction is bad. Jake has social anxieties and impulse control problems that medicine cannot address, generated by ADHD, his mother's passing and the changes we've imposed in his living situation multiple times in the last year. So the more I can help Jake understand where his deficits are, the less confused he will be when he starts to lose his shit and the better armed he is to jump out from in front of his own train wreck. In the fourteen days since we decided to approach him this way, he's improved by leaps and bounds.

My relationship with the boys has changed a lot since their dad got home and re-established himself as the head of our household. A lot of Landen's attachment to me has been transferred to Corey. Jake no longer sees me as the person responsible for all the things he hates about his life. They both see me as the mom in our house. Landen would rather I be referred to as his "mom" in public, while Jake will quickly and politely correct you that I am his stepmom. I've still got one who lets me be closer than the other does BUT 1) I feel love from both sources and 2) there is not as much space between them on the spectrum.

There are not many scenarios for which I could describe Corey as a hardass, but we do experience some. Sitting down to dinner is my least favorite time of the day. I know I put my own mother through this times 100, and I am sorry every evening around suppertime. Very rarely is there across-the-board satisfaction with what is laid out on the table in the evening. I've bitched about this before. If they've never seen it (hamburger macaroni), they do not want to eat it. If there is any deviation to the taste, it's not so good. If Jake hates it, I can see it and will negotiate with him on how many more bites he has to eat before he can be done. Landen has an opinion about everything, and he wants to refuse it or offer an alternative or cover it with ketchup. Now that they are back under the roof with their dad, all bad habits (and they've picked up a few) shall cease and desist. Suppertime has become a no-mercy event. Your hands do not belong on your head to hold it up. If you are flatulent, odds are you will have to leave the table permanently. If you say something unpleasant about the food (like Landen looks at me and says "not so much"), you'll have to eat all of that item on your plate. You may say you do not care for something, but you will not be served anything else. (On the back end, the chef will never serve you that again.) When you are done, throw away your remnants and put your dishes in the sink. I dread this, not because he's wrong - I have a fear of Landen looking at my friend or family member who has served him a plate of something she's made, wrinkling his nose and saying "not so much" - but because when we do not have proper table etiquette and emotions run high, my steak does not taste as good.

There are other dealbreakers here, though not many. Disrespecting the stepmother is not tolerated at even the smallest levels. You will say "yes ma'am," "no ma'am," "yes sir," "no, sir," "please" and "thank you" and the Earth will stop spinning on its axis until you do. Your room will be clean before your head hits the pillow and in most instances where one of them falls asleep before bedtime (happened Friday night) they will be roused to help clean the room and brush their teeth. We're also sticklers for hygiene. However, it is the stepmother who whispers in Dad's ear that the daily allotment for gaming equipment has been reached, that no more toys can come IN the house without some having to leave it and who will shoot you Hessmer eyes if she even thinks she sees you thinking about putting anything other than your ass in any seat in this house.

Sounds rough, right? It ain't. There's a TV in their room (that goes off at bedtime.) There's always dessert and Sunny D. We see a movie almost every weekend. We disregard bedtimes for Slumber Party Saturdays. We let them use our jacuzzi tub. We take them swimming and buy them Nerf guns. They usually get to pick the music in the car. They're hugged and they're kissed and they will NEVER grow into men whose parents never told them they loved them.

What feels the best is when family, friends, teachers, parents and medical professionals testify as to how great the boys are adjusting into the new normal. How they are thriving in stability and routine. How it's clear when people interact with them that it's not perfect, but it's working. And the best part is that it's working for the whole, for the dad and the (step)mom and the husband and wife too.

Maybe the universe finally heard my pleas to stop with the life-altering changes? Probably not. We're waiting on our response letter from the boys' new school.

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Eight pinches to a teaspoon

Today is the eighth birthday of one Landen Daniel Allbritton. He is one-half an inch shorter than his older brother, whom he also outweighs by seventeen pounds. He does not care for onions. In fact, he has to be forced to eat anything he's never had before. His favorite cereal is Reese's puffs. He's witty and quick and his mouth gets him in a whole lot of trouble. He spends the night almost entirely on his back. He talks in his sleep. He lives for his Xbox and his mean, punk-ass parents limit how much he can play per day. He will sit and watch anything on TV. He loves to cook. He hates to have his nails trimmed. When he smiles, he looks just like his mom.

It would not be sentimental not to think about and talk about his mom today. She lived for parties celebrating every milestone of these boys, and Landen's seventh birthday was her last. Corey and I have made the decision not to have the boys' birthday parties at our house for a while. House parties belonged to her and you really want to hold on to the joy of these birthdays and not celebrate under the cloud of who is missing it. Pam and Ronnie came in from Beaumont and Erin's best friend (and Jake's godmother) Carly never misses a birthday party. I know how hard it was for them to see Landen celebrate a birthday without their daughter and friend, but both the boys were so very happy  that Ronnie and Pam and Carly were there.

Chef Landen, Nanny Carly and Jake

Paw-Paw, Jake, Chef Landen and Maw-maw

Landen has transitioned quickly in acceptance, so we remembered his mom for a minute this morning, but blessedly those memories did not put a damper on his excitement over his birthday. Jake did not mention it, but that does not mean it wasn't on his mind. If you believe she saw us, I think she enjoyed watching Landen measure flour like a pro and perfectly knead his pizza dough to share with his friends.

We had Landen's party at Young Chef's Academy in Baton Rouge. We opted to spend more (much more) on a party than on presents, so some of his friends from school and the children of some of my friends that they play with came. The ladies who do the birthday parties are very cute and funny. The birthday boy gets to make the dough and then distribute it amongst his friends, who then roll it out and put sauce, cheese and pepperoni on it.

We had two extra seats because some parents who said they were bringing their kids decided not to, or whatever, so I made Dad and Maw-maw jump in and make pizza with the birthday boy. Then I had to try not to cry. Then I hid my face behind the camera and took a picture!

Jake Allbritton, for all the ornery he has in him, possessed the biggest most open heart, and can be truly joyful for the good things that happen to someone else. He's happy for you when you win a game. He's happy for you when you make a great grade and get ungrounded. He's like Christmas morning on your birthday, when you get all the attention and presents. Although he did publicly declare himself to be the smartest kid in his class.

At the end of the party, no one had messed up my house and I did not have to clean anything up. Corey took the boys to the movies and my mom took my sister and me shopping.

This is the only picture I'm in, and I so appreciate 1) Landen's "atta-boy" on his party and 2) Jake's scrunchy face.

We took about 100 pictures of the party, but here are fifty or so of them, in a slideshow. We aim to make you feel like you were there.

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Oughta be in pictures

So Aunt Mindy heard the plea on the last blog and posted some pictures of baby Corey Allbritton and baby Brad Allbritton. Grandma Pearl also heard it and she's made us some copies, so I guess I better get to work planning one of those walls in the stairwell that's covered with black and white pictures of our parents, our grandparents and our kids. And Cydney Wilson, duh.

Anyway, without further ado, and I've omitted the baby picture of him in the little gingham newsboy cap because, hello, the man has a rep to protect.

So, Brad is the dark haired dream that looks very much like Jake Allbritton. Aunt Mindy is the baby in the floor. Aunt Dody is the oldest girl and Uncle Jimmy is the oldest boy.

This delightful young boy is Grandpa Brad. He looks a little scrawny and precious, like Jake. And those are the chin, lips and eyes of Corey Allbritton and Jake Allbritton. That great head of compliant hair skipped two generations, though.

This is Corey's mom and dad and little baby Katrina. I can look at little else but Brad's biceps in this picture. Oh yeah, and the fact that almost that exact face with a shaved head is snoring in my bedroom right now

Pfffft. I do not even know where to go first. Katrina's blonde hair and dimples and red lips? Corey Daniel's obvious pride in his two front teeth? Or that beautiful sharp chin that was present as early as his toddler years? Or how lucky we all are that my precious grew into his forehead?

Stop it. Katrina's oldest son is her mirror image with shorter hair and boy clothes. I cannot believe Corey had silky hair as a little boy. And that little dreamboat in the back, Uncle Chris. I promise if you saw him now, you'd still want to pitty-pat his wittle face.

Like father, like son, no? I'm told this is Corey in the seventh grade and Brad in the sixth grade. Or vice versa.

Baby, I'm all over the mock turtleneck.

This is what Corey looked like in high school, at the age during which he demonstrated total dipshit boyfriend behavior and stomped my heart flat on the regular. But I, oh I could not resist those eyes and those lips (still can't - it's even engraved in his wedding band) and was always a-running back for more. This shirt was MY favorite shirt, as in, I owned it. I can't make any excuses for mid-90s fashion, people.

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Who do you look like?

I spend an embarrassing amount of time studying the faces of my children trying to figure out who they look like. I've walked into rooms with Landen whereupon people we'd never met directed statements at him like "I know who you belong to!" and "You have GOT to be SSG Allbritton's child." Corey's facial features are so strong - the big dark brown eyes, the long lashes, the sharp chin and chiseled jaw - and aside from the long lashes, Landen does not have any of those. The other night in a restaurant, I looked at Jake from the side and directed Corey to take note of his jawline, and there it was.

We do not have many pictures of Corey as a child. He lost his in Hurricane Katrina. He says he was little like Jake, hyper like Jake, complex like Jake. And sadly, Jake has Corey's unruly hair. For photographic evidence, we do have these.

So then I give you these, to compare. I wish I had a goot picture of him from the side, so you could see the jawbone, which is identical to Corey's, but now I'll just have to sneak up and take one. 

Because when I give you this picture, there's no way that you can say Landen looks like his dad. Boyfriend looks just like his momma.

Landen acts just like his dad. Corey hears "Him, apple. You, tree." from me almost on a daily basis. Landen has the witty comeback, the advanced insight, the sound effect, the big joke, the overall shitass behavior his father has not managed to grow out of in 32 years of life. I cannot think of a single example for you, right now on the spot. There was one yesterday. I'll have to start writing this down. It's the personality you see in this picture: 

Although Landen is a lot more talkative and cheerful than Corey will ever admit to being. So I think in addition to looking like his mom, he may have gotten his happy outlook from her too. But he's got his dad's wiles and smart mouth.

This is the only picture we have of Corey's dad. Again, the pictures he had were flooded in the hurricane. Maybe this blog post will be a cattle call for Corey's family to send us some pics of Corey when he was little and Corey's dad. I would LOVE a picture of Corey and Brad together. I showed this picture to the boys, and Landen said "that guy looks like my dad with more hair."

He would've gotten the biggest kick out of these smart, funny, mouthy little Allbritton boys. And I think he would've loved seeing Corey being a dad.

I cannot WAIT to see what they look like at thirteen, which is when Corey said he started looking like he does not. And seventeen, which is when I fell idiotically in lurve with him. And thirty, which is how old he was when we got married.

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Cooking adventures

The one and only time I ever tried to fry chicken, I set fire to the pan and the stove. I was nineteen. I haven't tried to fry food since. We eat the hell out of baked chicken, chicken cooked on the charcoal pit and chicken cooked in my black iron skillet. We do not fry a damn thing here. Which sucks because when I lived in DC I had a friend who used to have me over and make homemade taquitos with me and I crave them on the regular, but you have to fry them, and I. do. not. fry.

I did not learn to cook from my mother, who is an excellent cook. The woman does not possess any ability to stick to a recipe - she always has to doctor something and then she cannot tell you how she doctored it so that we, her daughters, can copy the taste in our own kitchens. Or if it's something she's been cooking for her whole entire life without a recipe, she cannot tell you the measurements you need to use to copy the taste in your own kitchens. If you like something she makes, you better go on to Jena and have her make it for you. What we did learn from her was all about flavors - what flavors are good together, how much of sweet or spice you can get away with - and I must confess that this means I doctor recipes also.

My favorite way to eat a steak is from a skillet. It has to be a good cut of meat and you will fill your house with a dense layer of smoke that will take two hours to dissipate. If you are possessed with the urge to cook steaks this way in below-freezing outdoor temperatures, people in your family may complain when you have to open doors and windows and turn on fans to air out your house. You need mild weather and great kitchen ventilation. I considered neither of these conditions when I decided my family needed to eat Steakhouse Steaks last night.

Cartoon courtesy of Natalie Dee

Sometimes I go blind with a severe need to do something. I forget that I will always regret the pursuit of that thing later, like when cleaning the kitchen and noticing the $48 price tag on the package the four filet mignons came in before throwing it away. Or scrubbing burned rubber off the ceramic stovetop. Or throwing away the crockpot. Or listening to my children cough as they descend the stairs to come eat their dinner.

All of these are residual effects of my passion to eat Steakhouse Steaks and potato soup for dinner last night.

Potato, Cheddar and Chive Soup, With or Without Bacon

4 large potatoes, peeled and sliced (I used baking potatoes)

4 cups chicken STOCK

2 large garlic cloves

1 cup shredded cheese (I used 1 and 1/2 cups, a mix of Gouda and Sharp Cheddar)

1/4 cups chopped fresh chives

1/8 tsp cayenne

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

1 tsp onion powder

1 cup heavy whipping cream

 

Cook the potatoes in two cups of stock in the crock pot. Cook on high for 2 hours, or until potatoes slide off a fork. Transfer 2/3 of the potatoes and ALL of the cooking liquid in a blender. (I had to do this in two batches.) Add garlic to puree. Return the potato and garlic puree to the slow cooker. Add shredded cheese, chives, seasonings, and 1 cup of the remaining stock. (Use the rest of the stock if the soup needs to be thinned later.) Cook on low for 45 minutes. Stir in the cream and cook on low for 15 more minutes. Sprinkle with more shredded cheese and some bacon and serve.

 

Steakhouse Steaks

 

I bought 4 filets, about 8-10 oz each and pretty thick, about 2 inches. I used a brush to coat the top, bottom and sides with olive oil, then sprinkled all surfaces with sea salt and coarse ground black pepper and left out to get room temp.

Photo courtesy of my Blackberry.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. (Here you will need to turn on your vent, your ceiling fans and open your kitchen windows.) Put a cast iron skillet on HIGH heat for five to seven minutes, so it gets VERY hot. Sear evenly on all sides - top, bottom, sides - for 1.5 to 2 minutes on each side. When all sides of all steaks are seared, place them all in the skillet and put a pat of butter on top of each one. Put in the oven for 8-12 minutes. I used a little thermometer and took my steaks out at 130 degrees, which is medium. The butter will crust on top AND melt down and let the steaks sizzle in their own juices. Remove from the oven and cover for 10 minutes with foil before eating.

 

Corey tried to tell me I could never make these steaks again, even though they are divine. Craving Ruth's Chris but can't spent $150 on dinner for two? Make these! I think I'm going to reserve a repeat of Steakhouse Steaks for the rare cool and breezy weather that rolls through Baton Rouge, when throwing your doors and windows open is pleasant and not painful. At least the kids were warm, in the clean-aired second-floor bedroom.

 

Oh, I almost forgot the part of the story where I set the stove on fire. See, what happened was that when the steaks went into the oven, I needed some counterspace, so I put the crock pot, which was finishing the soup, on the stove. I did not put it ON the burner I had just turned off, but I apparently put it TOO NEAR that burner, because there was a POP! and then smoke and then I picked the crock pot up off the stove and there was FIRE on the stove. I yelled "COREY! FIRE!" and then blew the fire out. Cydney complimented Corey on his quick reflexes. It would seem the the stovetop melted the feet and the cord on the crock pot, and the cord caught fire. I had to throw the crock pot away.

 

A lot of kitchen equipment was hurt in the making of Steakhouse Steaks and Potato Soup, but I stand by my decision to make both 150%. It's that good. Please don't let these unfortunate events deter you from making this. I trust you to use better judgment than I did. You know, the judgment I'll use next time I try to make this. In March.

 

Completely unrelated to cooking but totally fun, Corey was eating a snack bag of chips thirty seconds ago and is now sound asleep in his recliner with his headphones on and his computer in his lap. The boys went to Beaumont last night before the weather got bad, so they're having grandparents' weekend this weekend and we're going to sleep late and not wear pants. Call before you come over.

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I'm all, this is hard!

I love my Will and Grace references.

So, I listen to Dr. Laura. I spend a lot of time in the car throughout the day - going to meetings/events, picking the boys up from aftercare in Gonzales. I despise her. I find her hypocritical, abrupt, abrasive, insensitive, narrow-minded, hateful and lacking compassion. This is not a post about that. She makes me think about all the things that zoom into your radar when you become a parent. The fact that when I was Jake's age, I would leave my house on my bike and come home for supper, but my kids will never experience that. Or that we never heard about our friends being molested or abused at friends' houses, and now you almost have to do background checks on your kids' friends' parents before sending your child to someone's house. That I was at slumber parties every weekend by age ten and Jake may never get to do that. That kids today, including mine, can maneuver a smartphone but not ride a bike.

I also did not have homework in the second grade. Nor do I remember studying for multiple-page tests in the fourth grade. Say what you will about the LaSalle Parish School System, but I turned out okay. So it alarms and angers me that the boys cannot pass tests based on the learning they do in the classroom.

Punishing your kids means you punish yourself also. I was grounded enough as a teenager. I resent grounding myself as an adult.

So we come home with test folders today - the tests (not homeworks or daily grades) from the last week. This makes the FIFTH week that Landen had brought home unacceptable grades in Reading. For a while, I was looking for signs of dyslexia. We bought books and read extra at night. I met with his teacher last fall, and her professional opinion is that Landen chooses not to apply himself when he is not immediately familiar with the material (read: will make a wild-ass guess on an unknown word instead of sounding the damn thing out) or he just skims through paragraphs or questions with heavy content (read: boyfriend has The Lazy.) So we keep pushing, practicing and penalizing bad grades. He hasn't played a video game in five weeks. Tonight we took his television privileges away until next Wednesday's folder comes home. And he will write his vocabulary words and definitions every night and review the weekly story leading up to the test. Sad for a second-grader.

Then we have Jake, who struggles with #1 responsibility and #2 timed math tests. With his ADHD, if he was a student in the public school system, it would be a requirement that he be given extra time to complete timed tests. Parochial schools do not have to comply with this federal requirement, and his school has refused to give him extra time on these tests. He typically makes D's and F's on them, and we do flashcards and que sera the rest. But tonight we got a note from the teacher on a timed test that he turned it over incomplete with forty seconds to spare AND was caught copying answers from a friend, which is so very surprising from Jake. So because he did not even try, and because cheating is no different than lying or stealing in the Allbritton house, he's lost his television privileges also.

Jake is at the age where he can do his written work pretty much unsupervised, and we just check to make sure he completed all his assignments correctly. He has trouble remembering to communicate when things are due or he needs to study for tests. In fourth grade, they place the onus on the student for keeping track of their assignments, tests and due dates. So if one of his parents overlooks "test tomorrow" written in his assignment pad in his own handwriting for Social Studies and Jake the Snake does not bother to remind anyone that he needs to study for a Social Studies test, the material may not be reviewed the night before and the boy may underperform on the test the following day. So we're working on being responsible for our assignments.

This frigging SUCKS. No lie. Homework sucks. Studying for tests suck. Trying to figure out how to motivate the insecurity or underachieving out of your children sucks. Landen is a kid who can figure out how to MacGyver himself and his brother out of a travel trailer when locked in. Jake can give you the life story of Alexander the Great (minus the homosexual part) and wage mighty battles on Rome: Total War on the computer.

I've complained about homework before. It's been promoted to the bane of my existence. You cannot dismiss D's and F's in second grade, inconsequential as it may seem to real life because #1 you'll use those subtraction facts for life and #2 they have to grow accustomed to the expectations you have for them and understand the importance and consequence in meeting or not meeting those expectations.

Corey and I are not so stellar at this full-time parenting gig. Yet. We're getting better. It's trial and error, figuring out what works and what doesn't and adjust the game plan accordingly. The good news is that at the tender ages of almost-eight and almost-ten, they still seem satisfied and happy to be here with us. AND, hello! I got a pat on the head and a "love you, Nell" from Jake this morning. It's been a LONG time since once of those was thrown my way.

Oh, and on Tuesday we turned in our extensive application packets to transfer the boys to St. Jude the Apostle School next fall. Even though the boys love the school they currently attend and the faculty has been tremendous through Erin's illness and passing, we cannot continue driving back and forth to Gonzales (twenty + miles) twice a day. St. Jude is smaller than the current school and right up the street from our house. We should hear something before Mardi Gras. I think Landen is going to jump right into sleeping later and attending a new school. Jake is an anxious child and change of any kind throws him into a tailspin, so he's going to really struggle and act out with this. But we're working with his psychologist on steps to take to acclimate him to this change. And we're not telling them until probably April. Corey and I are a nervous wreck waiting to be evaluated and find out if our kids can move. We have a loose Plan B and an even looser Plan C, but fingers crossed St. Jude (the Patron Saint of hopeless cases and lost causes) finds room in their heart for us.

All this to say that after we pay $1.3 million in registration fees, we're re-doing the boys' room. They can't agree on anything, so Corey and I picked out a celadon green and brown quilt with a little light blue in it. Quite the graduation from the pirate theme they've been complaining about for a year.

Landen D. turns eight on February 26. We're doing a party at a cooking place and the kids will make their own pizzas (and eat them.) He's invited ten kids from his school and it took threatening to cancel the party to get him to stop talking about his birthday party at school. Check out how cute these invitations are!

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