A gift from a stranger

My blog has always been a dot net.

The dot com equivalent belonged to a man in Canada. I wrote to him several years ago, letting him know that I would be interested in buying welcometomybrain.com if he was ever selling. I never heard back. C'est la vie.

In August, he contacted me out of the blue.

"I never replied and for that, I am sorry. I wouldn't have said yes as I had big plans for it at the time."

"I am writing to you now to let you know that my ownership of the domain name is due to expire" ... "I will not renew it."

"Let me know if you would like me to do anything specific to make sure it gets transfered to you and I will do so" ... "you've done really good with the title (and kept it up all this time), you deserve it."

A virtual stranger. We've watched each other from a distance for many, many years. Gifting me something that had value. Honoring a person he has never met.

So, on the day of the 262nd Magical Milk Pic, Welcome to My Brain Dot Com became mine.

There is good in the world. There is kindness. There is thoughtfulness. There is connection. Today I, again, say thank you, A.B. for your gift. I hope to make it to Canada one of these days so I can buy you a cup of coffee and wrap my arms around you in a grateful embrace.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"That's a boob, on the road ;)"

(photo by Kayla, used with permission)



You can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

Crazy Fast Black Bean Soup

As we cleanse from our holiday splurges, I look for meals that are fast and packed with goodness. Here's a favorite.

Crazy Fast Black Bean Soup

6 TB olive oil
small bag of baby carrots
6 celery stalks
1 bell pepper
3 onions
4 large cloves of garlic
2 cartons of veggie broth
4 cans black beans

With the larger produce, just quarter or cut down enough to make blending easier.

In a blender or Vitaminx, throw in the carrots, celery and bell pepper with enough broth to keep things moving. Mix til smooth - as long as it takes. Pour into giant soup pot. Back to the blender, throw in the onions and garlic with a little bit of the broth (I always find myself doubling the garlic, cause I'm obsessed). Mix til smooth. Throw all of that in the pot along with the olive oil. Bring to a simmer, cover and walk away for about ten minutes.

Rinse the beans and throw those in. Let simmer, cover and walk away for about another ten minutes. Then mush up the beans as much as you can with a potato masher. Salt and pepper to taste.

From my brain to yours

Wishing you and yours a fantabulous holiday season,
form of ... a shrinky dink.

You can't lose Christmas, Ralphie

We have a law in our home. It applies to all persons, regardless of their history of trauma and endless list of survival behaviors. It was created by dictators with no democratic hope for change or removal. It goes a little something like this:

You can't lose Christmas.

That's it. No details. No exceptions. Period. Finito. That's that.

The same goes for birthdays.

I have literally said to my children, "You can burn the house down. We will move into a hotel until the house is rebuilt. We will collect insurance money, rebuy gifts and still have Christmas. Because you can't lose Christmas."

"But what if they broke their brother's DS?"

You can't lose Christmas.

"Wait. There is not an inch of our house NOT covered in urine and/or feces!"

You can't lose Christmas.

"My son called me a b****!"

Yup. One of my kids called my husband that last night (um, yeah - we couldn't help chuckling). You can't lose Christmas.

"You don't get it. My kid actually poisoned the dog."

It is horrific. Yes. Their trauma is horrific. And repair work can and should be done for the sake of their hearts. Part of that? It goes like this:

You can't lose Christmas.

Of course, this goes for whatever your major celebration is: Hanakah, Kwanza, Solstice, birthday, fill-in-the-blank.

Before I go any further, let me state that for you as a parent it is going to rip your guts inside out. You are going to hear a voice echoing in your head from some family member (or yourself) that says, "If I had ever done something like that, I wouldn't have been able to sit down for a week or would've been grounded for a month of Sundays!" You are going to feel like you are letting your child get away with something.

In those moments there are a few things I keep in mind to help me calm and remember what is truly going on.

Trauma has jacked with the brains of our kids. In a stressful moment/week/season they get stuck in a part of their brain that was meant to only be visited on occasion, in extreme circumstances. Our kids also find themselves regressed emotionally and developmentally in those times. They can be, quite literally, a three-year-old in a 12-year-old body.

Imagine a three year old kicking and biting and hitting two days before Christmas. Throwing toys and scratching up the family dining room set. Having a massive tantrum. Would we take Christmas away? Nope. That's crazy talk. A three year old cannot understand the magnitude of what they're doing when they feel out of control. We would redirect in the moment. When they are calm, we would reconnect with them and give them an opportunity to do the same. That is how we heal and guide young children. Our kids need the exact same thing. There is a reason they do these crazy things that are just so beyond description. They are camped in a part of their brain that wanted to kick them out long ago.

Family celebrations and holidays are an opportunity to imprint into their minds and hearts: you are a part of this family. Period. Finito. You can never lose that.

Personally, this makes me angry. If anger is a miscue for what is really going on inside of me, then I have to admit that it makes me feel ... hmmm ... powerless? As though I lack authority in my own home? I have this overwhelming desire to make sure that my kids know just how BAD their behavior was. So (in my head), my reaction to cursing should be somewhat extreme. My reaction to destruction of property or violence should be over-the-top. That is my default. That feels like the right thing to do.

You can't behave this way and cause such utter havoc in a home and still get Christmas? Right?

RIGHT?

It's the way almost all of us were raised. It's the way our parents were raised. It didn't cause more damage to many of us, because we received and maintained that vital nurturing and connection in the earliest years. We could handle some very authoritarian and militant responses from parents, because we had a trust in them. We believed we would be taken care of. We were functioning on top of a base that had been built years before.

Our children are trying to function on quick sand.

They don't believe they deserve celebrations. They don't believe they deserve a family and stability and genuine love. They assume, all the time, that the bottom is going to drop out again. So, they take what little control they do have. They go ahead and try to sabotage the good. At least they can decide when it happens. In their minds, that's something.

"But if we do this, we aren't teaching our kids right from wrong. They'll think what they did was okay."

Really? When was the last time your child became dysregulated and gave you a back rub because they didn't know right from wrong? They have got the right-from-wrong thing down to a SCIENCE!

"But they'll think I'm okay with it!"

Again ... why do you think they did it in the first place? They KNOW that most humans are not okay with it. When you stay therapeutic, stay calm and in control, continue to create a space where they can be heard even when speaking through behaviors ... you are finally teaching them the thing they don't believe. Some adults can be trusted. Some love can be safe. THAT is where the magic happens.

Otherwise, when we enter that battle and begin the snowball of consequences, we are feeding the shame. You are not a bad person for doing that. You are HUMAN for doing that. I've done it a gazillion times, myself. Because I'm human, too.

And do you know what makes it even harder? We don't see the shame. We don't see the hurt many times. We see anger and narcissism on crack. It looks like our children don't care. They don't care what we give them. They don't care what is taken away. Or we see rage. Manipulation. Sass. Or we see ALL of that, depending on the day!

The more aloof your child appears, the more they are trying to hide their pain. The more angry your child appears, the more they are trying to hide their fear. The things your child yells at others is a direct reflection of the very things they believe about themselves. Sit with that. For your own sake, and to keep breathing right now, just sit with it. Do not beat yourself up. Just sit. Absorb. Take a moment to take care of yourself before you move forward, even in your reading and thinking.

When we know better, we do better. And messing up in parenting is like GOLD! Sometimes it does more good than if you'd rocked it in the first place. No ... really.

If you have already told your kid they have lost Christmas, just fix it. Walk in and say, "Ya' know, I've been thinking. I realize that you have been feeling stressed. You're actually trying to talk to me with how you are behaving, and I have been stressed too - so I wasn't listening! Geeez. What a mess, huh? Well, I'm sorry. I totally messed up. Did you know grown-ups mess up? Well, you do now. Cause I blew it. Could I have a do-over? When I said you lost Christmas, I made a mistake. In fact, I would like to make a law in our home: you can't lose Christmas. Is it cool with you if we make that law?"

When you mess up and fix it and reconnect, you do amazing things toward healing in your child. It. is. gold.

Okay, okay, okay. I say all of that to also say this:

I get it.

This sucks.

So, what are you doing for you? "Do not focus on your child's behavior all the time. Do not become obsessed." Find you again. Take care of you. Keep Christmas in place, and find a way to love on your own heart and your own mind. Step away from the trauma. Let it carry on while you carry yourself. Five minutes here and there.

Minutes well spent.

Make sure everyone has their Christmas, everyone has their family ... even if it doesn't look like what we always dreamed.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"Taken downtown Fort Worth at Sundance Square. We were participating in a Breastfeeding Flashmob of sorts."

(photo by DFW Momma Photography, used with permission)


You can submit your own Magical Milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com

... and start all over again

The last week and a half has been pretty dark and dank for me.

The weather has been continuously overcast. There is a reason I prefer to live this far south. I love the sun. It chocks me full of Vitamin D. It does awesome things for my mood.

I have been working through some heavy grief. When you open a door to pain, it's amazing how other unresolved sources come pouring out. You can't stop it. You have to ride it and allow it. Work through it.

My brain and my heart have each had much to process. It has brought me down. One of "those times." The tough ones.

In it, though, I kept reminding myself of its shelf life. That grief is a process and a journey and doesn't always stay where it is. That the sun will shine again, dang it.

And it did. It always does.

In my sloshing through of this little dark period, I have continued to push myself. I connected with people even when I felt pulled to be a recluse. When I did that, I have had my mind split wide open. My life intersected with other women who truly understood me in ways that many don't. I would have missed those moments and those connections if I had not nudged myself against the darkness.

The dreariness lifted, figuratively. When it did, I was already moving forward ...

I practiced vulnerability. I admitted things to people that love me to my core, and they heard me and ... yup, you guessed it ... still love me! I sat in actual sunshine. Like literally - SUNSHINE! I absorbed fascinating conversation with a new addition to my Circle of Awesome. I ate pad thai. I put on my new favorite skirt that was repurposed from an old AC/DC tshirt I found at a thrift store. A perfect example of new life springing from old. I sat with one of my children and reminded them of their worth. Again. For the millionth time.

I went outside in MORE sunshine and gave my youngest child the gift of playing with my iPhone by asking her to take my picture.

It felt so good.

I feel so good.

These words were written 75 years ago by Dorothy Fields, and they still kick ars to this day:

Nothing's impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up,
Dust myself off,
Start all over again.

May I coach you into the holidays?

I have not officially announced it, but yes indeedy - I am parent coaching.

What I'm discovering is that most people aren't necessarily needing help every week. Yet, the occasional booster is what keeps them going. It's also the holidays and my husband is about to find himself enjoying his Christmas break from teaching. What better way for him to celebrate than by being completely in charge of the kids and the house while I chat it up with other parents? AND ... at a discount!

So, Monday, December 19 and Tuesday, December 20, I will be offering one hour Parent Coaching appointments for just $30 each.

UPDATE: All of my holiday discount appointments are full.

You may find more detailed information here, on how to land yourself on my schedule after Christmas.

Let me know if I can be a help to you!





(photo by Curtis Fletcher, used with permission)

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

(picture of our favorite Lindsay, used with permission)



*you can submit your own Magical Milk Pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com*

Happy people take care of their bodies

Sonja Lyubomirsky is a psychology professor at the University of California, as well as a research psychologist. In her studies, she has discovered 12 things that happy people have in common.

I am happy. Even when I'm feeling crappy, I am a happy person. People are forever asking me how I reached this place. It wasn't because I prayed enough, or took a magic pill, or held my mouth just right while dancing on one foot, or was just born happy (um ... NO ... you can ask my mom about that first year). Yet, I have discovered that self disciplines, even the ones which result in fun, have radically changed my life. These are things I learned through my own therapy and medicinal treatment for depression and anxiety. If you realize the concepts in this series are simply not enough, seek help. Insist on it. Find your own personal level of healing, which is different for everyone. Sometimes I speak "happy" with an accent, because I still dance with depression and anxiety - and that is okay.

I thought I'd focus my Mondays on each of the 12 common factors. It makes sense, because Mondays can totally slurp on the happiness meter.

*******************************************

Today is the last post in my Happy People Series. Holy crap!

We are ending with something we all know is true, yet we loathe this truth: if you don't take care of yourself, you will be sicker and more miserable than you have to be. This is true, even when our "best" does not look like someone else's "best."

I was once sicker and more miserable than I had to be (had to say it again for all the grammar whores - I try to make their eyebrows twitch at least twice a week). I have watched my life and my body literally change as I became mindful of me. I have watched my children's lives and bodies literally change as I became mindful of them.



I once weighed 200 lbs. It was not baby weight, although I did try to blame it on the not-quite six pound infant that exited my body.

I was depressed. I was so clinically depressed. I don't know that it ever leaves you. Perhaps I'm a recovering depressed person? I have a handle on it. I still feel it and recognize it. Taking care of my body has had a profound effect, not on making it all go away, but on taking back the power and control it had over me.

I actually started to run. I had no desire to run. I hit a 5K. Then I hit a 10K. Then my husband started to run, and this summer we ran his first four miles together. Then I stopped. I drizzled a little run here and there. Just recently I knocked out my first 5K again, since mid-July. I got back in there. I became mindful of me again.

I have radically changed the way I eat. It has been slow and steady. When I know better, I do better. Slowly. I still eat everything in moderation. Yet, I also know that many of us use "eat in moderation" as an excuse for tipping the pendulum in the wrong direction and hanging out there until our habits change yet again. I fight that natural desire. This one is still really hard for me. I love food. I like food to be my medicine, but sometimes I just want it to be my drug to suppress my big feelings.

I protect my sleep. It is my friend. It is more important than a clean house or a full schedule. Sleep heals our bodies and minds. Literally. We process the good and the bad while we sleep. EMDR is not only a highly praised and amazingly effective therapy, but it is thought to mimic our REM sleep cycle. Those Zzzz's can be a very effective and free RX.

Let's not forget that just five years ago I didn't even know what "vegan" meant. I had no idea the power of a plant-based diet. I still had white flour and sugar in my cabinet. Ten years ago I had heard the term "steamed vegetables," but had no idea how one might go about, ya' know, steaming them. I was convinced I was never meant to run anywhere ... ever! I was just learning the power of sleep, but still had more anxiety over my house being messy than feeling like crap. I was finally allowing a professional to help me.

It has been bit by bit.

Slow and moderately steady.

And I find I'm not the same person I was. It was a part of finding my happy.

Remembering my own miscarriage

I woke to the news that Michelle Duggar has miscarried with what would have been her 20th child born to her.

And now I cry.

It takes me back to my first pregnancy. How fast that little guy was conceived (I have zero proof that our first was actually a boy, but I just know - gut feeling). How strong that heartbeat was the first time we heard it and got to actually watch it on an early ultrasound. My life changed that day.

It changed again just a few days later when I realized something was terribly wrong.

To this day I do not remember any pain or cramping. Yet, there's no doubt now that I was in complete and utter denial of the entire experience. "Women spot! Happens all the time!"

I wasn't spotting. I was slowly losing my baby. My first child.

And how I lost my child was ... awful. Miscarriage is terrible. In my case, it provided no closure. It was terribly disrespectful to this little life. It was embarrassing. Miscarriage turns off everyone's "Appropriate Things To Say" button. Because NO ONE would walk up to anyone in any other situation with a bright face and say, "You can always marry another man!" or "You can always have another child ... to replace this, um ... teenager." Yeah, um ... no. That would never happen.

I felt angry at the time, and have had to let that go. Miscarriage makes everyone uncomfortable. People simply don't know what to do. It's not their fault. They simply do not have a person in front of them to mourn. It makes sense. It hurt me, but I'm not mad at them for their reactions.

I was just mad at death.

There are women who miscarry and it does not affect them in this way. I won't dare to predict why. I do not know. I know me. We get to all be different. We all deserve respect for how we feel. It's ours. And no one should dare try to dictate it. Do not feel guilty if you do not grieve a miscarriage. It is your body, your pregnancy and your feelings! Guilt? Um, no. It is yours. That guilt is coming from what someone else is projecting on you. There is no truth behind it, because this. is. yours.

So, here I sit ... fourteen years after that child's due date. It doesn't hurt like it used to. However, now it comes out of nowhere, when I very least expect it. Plenty of miscarriages have crossed my path this past year. But along comes Michelle Duggar and I find myself grieving at my kitchen table as five children flutter around me.

Maybe it's because I know people are being just awful to the Duggars. Hurtful ... spiteful ... to an entire family who is grieving.

Not here. Feel free to share your own story. Feel free to say, "I am so sorry for their loss." But no one gets to hurt someone else here. Not even someone we don't know. Death is death. Grief is grief. Today we mourn.

*******************

Mid-afternoon, I received an email from my husband. He had read today's post at work. I had almost posted the differences in our experiences, but never wanted to make my husband out to seem jerky. He wasn't jerky. He reacted in the only way he knew how, and in the only way our circles seemed to be dictating. But he owned that today, and I want everyone to read it.

I was deeply hurt by the giant cavern between my pain and what appeared to be my husband's complete lack of grief. We have talked about it over the years on days like today, when it hits me again. He offered to share this with everyone, because he's so unbelievably strong and caring. Let this help you. Let it mend the rift that may exist between you and your partner when it comes to a loss during pregnancy:

"When we miscarried, I had no idea what to do, except to be there next to you. I didn't know whether the right thing was to wish it away ... act like it had never happened ... chalk it up to "one of those things" ...

I also didn't really know how to feel. I knew others who had experienced a miscarriage, but had never really listened to anyone talk about it. Everyone that I had met seemed to suppress what they felt. I always felt like it was totally taboo to talk about it. And I guess I carried that into our experience.

I'll never forget [a friend] saying, "Men experience it different than women." That's a sucky way to look at it, but I totally carried that into our experience, and used that as an excuse to not allow myself to feel anything.

I'll never forget being at [a conference we had that weekend]. Leaving early. I'll never forget the hospital stay with the D and C. And I'll never-ever forget how impersonal the doctor was when we went in for the "official word."

I didn't know anyone at that point who knew what to say ... who knew what to do. And, Christine, I know that I wasn't totally there for you. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. I know now to take it just as seriously as any other death. Like you said, grief is grief. We lost a child. We.lost.a.child."

I put the trash in trailer park

I did not pick up before going to bed last night.

I say that as if I EVER pick up ANYTHING before going to bed. Um ... no.

Anywho, this was my bathroom counter this morning.

Hysterical.

Traumaholidays

Every December my family spends an evening eating out together and then each person chooses a new Christmas ornament for our tree. It's something we have done for years. Each ornament is marked with the person's name and the year. We have also marked every other ornament on the tree with the person who gave it to us and the year it was received.

Our Christmas tree is full of people and memories. Pulling them out each year and reliving those times and the feeling brought on by each ornament ... well, it's interesting. Sometimes painful as we look at those that remind us of friends we have lost to death over the years. Yet, they are all very, very telling.

You see, last year this is the ornament I picked for myself:



No, really.

You've read my life. You know our realities. Some of you might even feel yourself experiencing some anger looking at that silly thing. You're thinking, "Yeah, her life can't suck as bad as mine, that's for sure! I could NEVER hang such a thing. I could stomp on it, yes. Hang it? No way."

Let me explain.

Last year I made peace. I found peace. With reality. I have been doing this all along, but it was another major touchstone in my life.

I found peace in the truth that all of my children have extreme potential, but each potential may very well be drastically different. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that I will never experience some milestones with some of my kids, and "typical" family experiences have absolutely been tainted by trauma. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that my children are already WAY beyond where they would have been if they had continued to live within the trauma they have experienced. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that I may never, ever, ever, never like being therapeutic. Because it's challenging. It's hard. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that I am human. I help other parents. I am a great cheerleader. All the while I mess up regularly and do the opposite of what I know is best and really disappoint myself. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that I have to stand in the balance for my kids and put up boundaries and not always participate in "normal" things. I have to have thick skin when people judge us because they just simply don't see "why??" we are protecting our kids in some ways. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that my kids may or may not continue to create their own healthy boundaries when they become adults. They may not choose to set themselves up for success. They may fall hard. Sometimes. Rarely. Or a lot. And that's okay.

I found peace in the truth that this is my life, and I do not have to let trauma own it for me or any of us. We still get to be a family and experience joy and fun and awesome. Even when it takes extra effort. And that's okay.

May you find peace this holiday season. True peace.

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week

"Snapped this picture of my 4-year-old daughter nursing her baby, Ms.Well. I nursed Ava for 18 months, and she's watched my sister nurse my nephew for almost a year now. I think what pushed her over the edge to begin her own lactation was the HUGE population of openly nursing mamas in Europe. We're spending a semester in Switzerland, and there are milk-drunk babies everywhere we turn. What an encouragement! I know this isn't a typical Magical Milk Pic, but I thought it was too sweet not to share."

(photo by Autumn Lockett, used with permission)

**you can submit your own magical milk pic to magicalmilkpics@hotmail.com**

Happy people are spiritual - maybe

Sonja Lyubomirsky is a psychology professor at the University of California, as well as a research psychologist. In her studies, she has discovered 12 things that happy people have in common.

I am happy. Even when I'm feeling crappy, I am a happy person. People are forever asking me how I reached this place. It wasn't because I prayed enough, or took a magic pill, or held my mouth just right while dancing on one foot, or was just born happy (um ... NO ... you can ask my mom about that first year). Yet, I have discovered that self disciplines, even the ones which result in fun, have radically changed my life. These are things I learned through my own therapy and medicinal treatment for depression and anxiety. If you realize the concepts in this series are simply not enough, seek help. Insist on it. Find your own personal level of healing, which is different for everyone. Sometimes I speak "happy" with an accent, because I still dance with depression and anxiety - and that is okay.

I thought I'd focus my Mondays on each of the 12 common factors. It makes sense, because Mondays can totally slurp on the happiness meter.

*******************************************



Oh my. So, today's "Happy People" post may actually make some people very unhappy. But not necessarily for the reasons some might think.

You see, studies continue to prove that religious people, in general, are happier and live longer. To that, all the Protestants and Evangelicals in the room are raising the roof and gettin' all, "Ah yeah, Jesus is the reason - what? What?" This is where I'm going to ruffle some feathers, disappoint several and yet hopefully help us all see which parts of faith and religious practices cross over into general practices of happiness.

I know a lot of genuinely happy people. As we've been covering the past 11 weeks, there are a lot of practices that come together to create this state of mind. As far as today's topic is concerned: some believe in Jesus, some follow the teachings of Buddha, some listen to nature and the universe, and some believe in no higher power at all. Yet I have friends in all of these categories who experience consistent joy and happiness in their lives.

So, I did some digging before hitting today's point.

Chaeyoon Lim, sociologist at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, and Robert Putnam of Harvard University, read my mind before I could even think it. They did a study to break down the specifics of why religious people are happier. Because I have witnessed plenty of unhappy AND happy people across the board, this has always been a stat that has never been crystal clear for me. Their findings make sense, and actually coincide with things we've already talked about in this series.

It seems service attendance was the big factor. The more people attended religious services, the happier they felt. Actually, they noted that happiness plateaued at one service each week. It did not increase if you attended multiple services each week (as a survivor of regular Sunday and Wednesday night obligations, I can attest to how more is not necessarily better on the happiness scale!).

However, it goes even farther than that: "People who say they go to church every week but say they have no close friends there are not any happier than people who never go to church," Lim said. "People who say they go once a month or less and say they have a couple of close friends in the church they attend tend to be happier than people who say they go every week but have no close friends."

Hmmmmmmm.

Realistically, you can instill this practice in your life without being religious or attending religious services. That's gonna' rub some people the wrong way, but I also hope it is read with an understanding that I spent the first 37 years of my life attending church services a minimum of three times a week. The more personal connections I had, the happier I was. That changed over the years, but was also true with how I was connecting outside of church services.

Meaning, in fact, that atheists can find just as much community and happiness as the Methodists. To which all the atheists say, "Um ... duh!"

Regular church attendance does, however, have a built in advantage to put those opportunities in front of you each and every week. A way to find commonality and purpose with others. An opportunity to build relationships. Yet, it can happen in any group setting. If you do not regularly attend religious services, how do you live out the truth that "Happy People Connect?"

Mom-Is-Sick Tabouleh

I have a cold. A good, old fashioned cold.

Everyone else seems to have some sniffles and coughing. I was laid out for two days wondering if it was the flu.

So, besides saturation levels of Vitamin C, I have also had to feed the family actual FOOD. And when you feel like crap, you feel like cutting corners. Thus, today's recipe. I give to you -

Mom-Is-Sick Tabouleh

Cook 3 cups dry brown rice according to package directions, if you can see through your watery eyes post-sneezing (which makes this bad boy gluten free - the rice, not the sneezing)

Then, in a blender/Vitamix/food processor, throw in the following:

All the leaves off a bunch of fresh parsley
A bunch of fresh mint
One onion, quartered (or more, depending on how well your appliance pulverizes)
2 pints cherry tomatoes
6 TB olive oil
6 TB lemon juice
salt & pepper to taste

Blend the bageebiz out of it. Pour it over the rice and stir well.

Boom. No chopping. Make Ask one of your kids to remove the parsley leaves. Throw crackers on a plate. Make Ask another kid to heat up the leftover soup from the day before when you were in your Nyquil coma.

LUNCH! Or dinner! Or breakfast! You don't know. You're sick. But it's food and actually quite delish.