Banana-Nut-Chocolate Chip Muffins

It’s the weekend. Yay! If your family is like mine everyone wants something different for breakfast. These muffins are something we can all agree on.

Banana-Nut-Chocolate Chip Muffins

2 cups unbleached, all purpose flour (or whole wheat flour)
¾ cup sugar (or unsweetened apple sauce)
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
4 mashed, very ripe bananas* (approx. 1 ½ cups)
1 tablespoon Canola oil
1 ½ tablespoons pure vanilla extract
¾ cup walnuts
¾ cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Use cooking spray on a 12 cup muffin tin. In two separate bowls, mix the dry and wet ingredients. Form a well in the dry ingredients and pour in the wet until everything is just combined. Don’t overmix or the muffins will become tough.  Divide equally, and bake for about 25 minutes. Enjoy!

* When my bananas get too ripe for us to eat, I peel them and put them into a freezer bag and then the freezer until I’m ready to make these muffins.

Arthritis: It’s not only a grandparents’ disease. Just ask my three-year-old daughter.

It started as a swollen index finger that never went away. Multiple x-rays, a ton of blood work, visits with a pediatric orthopedist, a cancer scare, an MRI, consultations with two pediatric rheumatologists at Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital and nine months later we learned her official diagnosis. By that time the swelling had progressed to all of her fingers on both hands and both ankles. Her rheumatologist explained she had juvenile arthritis affecting multiple joints. He spoke pretty straight to prepare us for what she faced while trying to reassure us it could be managed with long-term medication. My husband and I were overwhelmed, and to be honest we’re still trying to wrap our heads around it.

  

Although there is not nearly enough research being funded for juvenile arthritis, (Ellie is one of only 300,000 children in the entire country facing this.) we’re thankful it’s no longer the crippling disease it once was. But the reality of what could happen is terrifying. We desperately need answers and reassurance, but that’s not available.  There are no explanations for why her body attacks her healthy joints. The inflammation could go anywhere at any time. Our goal is to get it under control as soon as possible and get in front of the disease. The first round of medication she tried didn’t work, and her arthritis progressed. She’s currently taking three medications—one I crush up and sneak into apple sauce each morning, one she has to drink daily and one weekly injection that we were trained to give her. I’m not going to lie; it’s tough. We used to call her a rockstar after she’d take her medicine or get a shot. After a couple of weeks she looked at us teary-eyed and said, “I don’t wanna be a rockstar anymore.” She doesn’t understand.  How could she? She’s only three. The fact she has to comprehend arthritis and long term medicine makes me sad. I just want her to focus on being a kid.

I’m also very angry that it’s her and not me. I can hop right out of bed, but my sweet daughter can't. Our morning ritual is often long and can be frustrating. It’s difficult to be patient. I pray for understanding for her. And for Laddy and me. She calls weekends “getting up easy days” and that cracks me up. I like that better too.

We’re stressed about causing her unnecessary anxiety. The information we received encouraged us to be completely honest with her so she can learn to accept her condition, but it’s a lot. Hell, it’s a lot for me, and I don’t have to take the medicine or the shots. She sometimes asks if it’s “shot day” and we worry it’s stressing her too much. I wish I could fix it, but no amount of bear hugs or kissing it better will make it go away.

The number of doctor’s appointments that has become our new normal is overwhelming. It includes monthly bloodwork at Children’s Hospital to make sure the medication to help her arthritis isn’t hurting her liver or kidneys. And who knew the inflammation could go into her eyes? We visit the ophthalmologist every three months to ensure her eyes stay safe. For the time being we’re going back to Vanderbilt every six weeks until the doctors can get the correct combination of medication for her. 

Mostly, I’m a worrier. I’m troubled about the pain she feels that she never ever complains about. It’s both good and bad that she doesn’t whine a lot. I’m not sure I could deal with her crying all the time, but my heart breaks when I think about the rheumatologist explaining that the stiffness and discomfort she feels is her normal. I’m concerned about unknown future flare-ups. I’m worried people may treat her differently. I don’t want her to be known as the kid with arthritis.  I want them to see her as the absolutely incredible kid she is who loves coloring with markers, playing outside, gymnastics and Scooby Doo. I’m nervous about the potential side effects from the medication. Thankfully her only side effect so far has been exhaustion. Her fatigue seems to be getting better, but it can come and go without much warning and usually is most prevalent the day after her shot. I’m worried about the possibility of future bullies who may make her feel self-conscious. And I’m concerned I won’t be able to adequately balance when to rescue her from pain and when to push her to do more or try harder.

Our daughter has proven to be incredibly brave. She may be shaky when she rolls up her sleeve, but she is one tough little girl. She doesn’t scream or throw a fit. Her palms may be a little sweaty, and she may feel nervous, but even at three years old she refuses to let it get the best of her. She’s my hero. Last week she thanked us for taking such great care of her. If she’s not crying, we certainly can’t…at least not in front of her. We took turns leaving the room for a minute to get it together.

When I step back for a moment I’m so incredibly grateful her diagnosis is not life threatening. One glance around the waiting room of Children’s Hospital, and you find yourself counting your blessings. We’re learning to take it day by day and minimize the what ifs. We’re gradually accepting our new family dynamic while refusing to allow this to define our amazing daughter. We recently registered for the Knoxville Jingle Bell Run/Walk next month in hopes to gain more awareness for juvenile arthritis and hopefully raise additional funds for research. If you’d like to join or support our team please visit: http://knoxvillejbr.kintera.org/ellieselves

We’re also striving to enjoy the little things in life just a little more. Ellie calls everything from rocks to sticks “treasures” and loves to collect them all. I admit it used to annoy me to constantly discover these treasures throughout my house. Not anymore. My husband and I are now following her lead. We’re simplifying. We’re working to laugh more and worry less. We’re giving more and getting less. We’re trying to breathe more and obsess less. We’re sunset watching, star gazing and collecting all types of leaves and acorns. We’re seeing the beauty that’s all around us more clearly now. And we know everything will be okay.

“You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give.” Eleanor Roosevelt

Not My Best Mom Moment

I blame my sister. She taught my niece about the importance of brushing her teeth regularly and properly by telling her she had to brush off the sugar bugs to keep them from causing cavities. It worked perfectly, and my niece has gorgeous teeth today. Genius, right?

Until about two weeks ago it worked for me too, but out of the blue my daughter completely lost interest. She'd rather play, read another story, watch another show, or do just about anything to keep her a safe distance from her toothbrush. This drives me crazy. I'm sort of a fanatic about brushing my own teeth, and I definitely want her to develop healthy oral hygiene habits. Lately she's tried to negotiate with me. She's said, "I'll only brush them just a little bit, Momma," and "I want Daddy to brush them," (He is obviously not very thorough.) and my very favorite, "Okay, I'll brush them, but I will not use toothpaste." 

I really wasn't on my A game with patience earlier this week. I was tired... tired of negotiating, tired of bribing, just plain tired. So when she took both hands and covered her mouth refusing to open for me to brush away those sugar bugs I didn't have the energy for another debate. I calmly placed her toothbrush back into the cup and left the bathroom saying, "That's fine, but your teeth will become rotten. Would you like to see what that looks like?" She did. 

In my exhausted, if not slightly crazy state of mind I googled "rotten teeth photos" to show my three-year-old. (I agree, not my proudest parental moment.) Before I even saw her eyes grow huge I knew I'd gone too far. I don't believe in fear tactics, and that's exactly what it was. I tried to convince myself it was a here-are-the-consequences-of-not-brushing-your-teeth educational opportunity. In reality it was more of a let-mommy-scare-the-hell-out-of-you-so-you-will-just-do-what-I-ask tactic. It worked, but I was immediately ashamed. And I felt even guiltier as she walked straight to the bathroom for an extra long brushing session. 

Since then she's eagerly allowed me to brush and then taken her own turn without one word of protest. I really feel terrible, and I still blame my sister. 

My Daughter the Comedian

Kids are smart. And hilarious. My three-year-old is especially funny when she's not trying to be. Sometimes we shouldn't laugh, or at least we shouldn't laugh in front of her. But that's easier said than done. 

After spending a lot of time trying to conceal my blemishes before work one morning: “I’m so sorry you have those boo-boos on your face, Mom.”

After telling me her tummy hurt I encouraged her to sit on the potty: “Mom, I believe this poop is taking a nap.”

Just out of the blue one day: "You're a very good cooker, Mom, and Dad's a good picker upper."

While channel surfing one night and pausing on a TLC preview of the 600 lb woman: "Her big!"

When trying to teach her a song my mom taught me that spells B-I-B-L-E, and she promptly corrected me. “No, it goes B-I-N-G-O, Mom!”

While cleaning off Shelby's muddy paws for what felt like the 100th time one day: "I feel ya, Mom, that dog gets on my nerves sometimes too."

When I asked her to wash her hands before dinner one night: "Let's do this. My hands are filthy!"

While eating breakfast one morning when I must have still been tired and maybe just a little grumpy: "I believe you need more of that mommy coffee today."

When we were trying to convince her to pee in the potty: "I'm sure a Popsicle would help me do it."

While resting on the couch one night: "Let's not be lazy, Mommy. Let's get up and dance!"

While hanging out at home one evening: "When do you guys think you can clean this mess up?"

Just before the opening kickoff of the Superbowl: "Go VOLS!"

One night when she didn't want to sleep by herself in her bed: (through tears) "But we're a family, and families are supposed to stick together!"

A good effort before bath time one night: "We don't have to wash my hair tonight do we, Mom?"

One night as I placed dinner on the table: "I'm not hungry for this at all. I think I'll just have Popsicles."

When my husband didn’t fully shut the bathroom door, and she peaked through the door: “Wow, Dad, that’s cool. I didn’t know you had a squirt gun like that!”