Perhaps I spoke too soon. After a fantastic week with Logan and high hopes that we were making progress, we had an awful week, full of his screaming, “I hate you,” and “I want you to die” and other aggressive comments, both to me and people in his daycare. His teacher reported hitting again, and I saw him defiantly say, “No!” to his teacher when she asked him to clean up his toys (he hadn’t seen me yet).
Why? What the hell do I have to do to make life better for him? I’m busting my ass to try everything I’ve come across, and for what? This was supposed to work, I want to scream … and sob. This was supposed to work.
We’d even gotten through Sadie’s birthday sugar-free. I stayed home Thursday morning to bake sugar-free, gluten-free, and dairy-free cupcakes for her birthday dinner. I’d found a recipe I thought I could do and crawled my way through it. From a recipe on http://theglutenfreedish.blogspot.com/2010/01/carrot-cake-with-coconut-creme-icing.html, I needed:
- 1 1/3 cups of gluten-free flour mix (I made my own)
- 1/4 + 1/8 (or 3/8) cup Lakanto
- 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
- 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
- 3/4 tsp nutmeg
- 1/4 tsp allspice
- 1/4 tsp salt
- 1/2 tsp xanthan gum
- 2/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
- 4 egg yolks (I substituted 2 whole eggs)
- 1/4 + 1/8 (or 3/8) cup coconut milk, lite
- 7 drops Sweet Leaf Stevia liquid
- 1 1/2 cups finely grated peeled organic carrots
- 3/4 cup chopped pecans (I used almonds instead)
Cooking makes me tense. It makes my heart pound. So I flipped away from the recipe page my iPad to Pandora and sang—loudly and probably horribly, as I sing about as well as I cook—with the first song that came on. It was smooth and comforting.
“She’s as sweet as Tupelo honey,” I sang with Van Morrison, feeling calmer already. “Just like honey, baby, from the bee…”
“Oh, and Siri,” I said, “What the hell is 3/8 cup? How much is that?”
“3/8th cup is 2 tablespoons,” she responded.
If only the iPad could actually cook for me, too.
I mixed all my dry ingredients together, ground the Lakanto in a coffee grinder to increase its volume (a trick a friend shared for making the expensive sweetener last longer), and then added my wet ingredients, like the directions said. The batter had the consistency of damp, crumbly sand.
That can’t be right, I thought. So I added a splash or two of coconut milk to make it more … well, more like I expected it to look like, though god knows why I should expect anything in the kitchen.
I spooned my carrot cupcake batter into liners in a muffin tin and slid them in the oven. I think this may have been the first time I made a recipe and actually ended up with the amount I was supposed to. I felt good. In fact, I felt really good. So I switched the song to The Killers and danced around, furiously. Which was probably hilarious, as I dance as well as I cook, too.
Here’s how they turned out:
The cupcakes were delicious, and even more so when my husband topped them with sugar-free frosting. So I should be happy, and our lives should be evening out as we get more and more of a handle on our diet and probiotics. Sugar is gone. But the odd hand patterns, lack of focus, and aggression remain.
So what the hell is not working?
Feeling: Pissed off