Friday, March 13, 2009

Diet update

Yesterday was a pathetic performance for my diet. I ate two lunches, two dinners and didn't work out (even though it was time to). I blamed it on D for staying up late, thus throwing my timing off, causing me to eat late which prevented me from working out.
I'm not off to a good start this morning either. We just ran out of my favorite breakfast cereal so I have nothing (healthy) for breakfast. When I got to work, I started eating the only nourishment I could find, Saltines. I had two of them, ick!
Wish me luck that I don't go across the street for a decadent sausage, eggs, cheese and hash browns.
But then again, it is Shabbat. I know when I get home tonight, I will tear into that deliciously dough-y and sweet challah.
J says in order to be on a diet you have to cut out carbs. But I won't even try to do that. I think reducing all portions is more manageable and hopefully, reasonably efficient.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Sharing is caring

"Heah..." S says, handing over a small handful of found booty (cheerios) to her sister.
"You can have some. But that's it. Or else you will get diarrhea," she warns her sister.

Conversation at Trader Joe's

I told S to let me wear her pink plastic ring bc I was afraid she
might lose it in the store. Surprisingly she handed over her ring
agreeably and remarked, "You wear my ring cuz you're married to me."

In the parking lot S said to me, I like cheese so much, like mice. "

I feel like I have to go around with a tape recorder. Gems are
frequently dropping left and right.

Wonder what goes on in their heads

Last night before she went to bed, S says to me, "Mom, wanna know why I love you?"
"Cuz you're my friend."
So I tell her, "Do you want to know why I love you? Because you're my daughter and you're very special to me."
Not to be outdone, she replies, "You're my daughter too, Mom!"

This morning, she was so excited as she jumped into me and said, "Mom, I love you in the world!"
And I said, "Aren't you missing something in that sentence?"
Then she exuberantly replied, "Mom, I love you on the top of the world!"

Day two

Day 2 of the diet and I think I only need to undo two buttons instead of the buttons and the zipper on my size 6 pants. YAY!

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Couple that loses together stays together

Or 300 lbs of looooooooooooooooooove...............

My husband has agreed to go on a diet and weight loss plan with me. The first step is the dreaded weigh-in. So we got on the scale together, held hands and closed our eyes briefly.


We did it 4 times and those were the results. I guess our scale is a little funky.

Any way, we're going to work as a team so we won't know how much each member is pulling their weight, hehehehehe.

I think we're going to try to eat less, eat healthier and exercise more. I haven't decided how frequently to do the weighings. Two co-workers told me that they weigh themselves daily, it was the only way to stay disciplined. When I heard that, I scoffed. But look where I am now.

Sadie's husband, Haman

Last night, before she went to sleep, she told me again she loved her husband, Haman.
And she was going to work on turning him good. But if that didn't work, then she was going to get a whale to eat him up. And then with her mouth wide open, she made a loud, grunting eating sound.

Extra Recession Pounds (but not the good, ie monetary kind)

It's 3:30 and I'm dying for a snack but I have to control myself and find other ways to stave off my pre-conditioned all-day hunger because as of now, I'm on the first diet of my life. How did I get here? I don't normally like to talk about my weight but tough times call for super transparency, so here goes.

Starting around last year, every time I saw a picture of myself, it was unusually unflattering or let me blunt, I thought I looked fat. Either my face seemed puffy or my behind looked rather large. I kept thinking it was a bad angle, or poor sleep, or a poorly planned outfit, or blamed some other temporary, external factor. I was really so creative and generous with myself! And the few times I got myself on a scale, it was somewhat of a surprise. First it was 118lbs. I thought, hey not bad, 5lbs above my pre-pregnant/wedding weight, I can live with that and wear it respectably. Then it climbed up to 122. And I thought, oh I'm getting my period, it's all this water. In my mind, I really weighed 118, the "acceptable" weight. So the scale must be broken and my dear husband corroborated with this story (if you're reading honey, I hate to tell you but our scale is not broken). I totally ignored all the signs that I had fallen into a fat trap and believe me there were plenty. Just the other week, I weighed myself on the "broken" scale again and it read "126". Whoa, I thought. The scale is super wrong, we have to find some way to return it. I was in complete denial. Then yesterday, I took my kids to the doctor and did a weigh in for myself. 126. Whoa, that must be wrong I thought. I was still in denial. My dear husband also corroborated with this story, thinking it said he was heavier than he thought he was too. But sometime after the doctor visit, it started hitting me like a ton of bricks. Two scales gave the same weight reading and I think I look fat from recent photos... So I went through some old photographs from 2 years ago until now. I couldn't deny that starting around mid/late last year, I started to look like the Stay-puft marshmallow man. I must have known on some level because I didn't put up photos of myself on Facebook. And then I remembered that my size 4 pants were getting tight so I moved up to my size 6's. When this happened, I blithely told myself that my pants had shrunken from poor washing/drying techniques (*begin rant or wrath on poor mother or husband*). Then, I couldn't fit into my skinny jeans. Damn them for shrinking, I thought, casting them to the back of the closet without nary a thought that I was actually expanding. And alas and alack, now, the final blow, even my size 6's have gotten really snug...after lunch today, I wanted to unbutton them so badly. I may have to move to size 8 or maybe even (God forbid!) my maternity clothes!
I don't know how I'm going to do this, but I need to lose the extra 8lbs. I'm eating 5 large meals a day and like Pavlov's dog or a drug addict, I NEED all those meals. I can't believe I was totally blindsided by the 8lbs. Do I cut down to 5 smaller meals or 3 large meals? Any advice? Haaaalp!!!

Monday, March 9, 2009

Cause of and medicine for pain

I think one of the signs that my children are getting older will be a full day without a single spill. At the end of today, before we start to brush our teeth, take a bath and begin our nighttime routine, a whole cup of milk is spilled. It's all over the place and I get so frustrated. I grab a dish towel that I think is ready for the wash anyway and begin to vigorously wipe up the floor. And of course, my children think it's so funny. They're trying to foil me as they walk all over the spills, spreading the wetness and creating an even bigger mess. I have to keep them away as I try to get the floor clean. The whole time I'm gritting my teeth with annoyance. And then, I feel some wiggly bodies jumping, pounding and kind of sliding off me. Because I'm down on my hands and knees, my children take the opportunity to play "horsey" with me. I can't help but burst out laughing and my bad mood is lifted.

And probably another sign that my children are growing up is the moment I don't have to worry about pens or markers left unattended on low surfaces.

Only so much she can take

"My tummy!" Sadie yells a little louder, repeating what she said earlier to her grandfather, who's a little hard of hearing.
"Your cousin?!" says Pa.
"No, my tummy!" she yells even louder.
"What?" says Pa, asking for more clarification.
Now she yells at the top of her lungs, "MY TUMMY!!!!"
And he says, "Your cousin?"
She's finally had it with him and gives her a piece of her mind, reprimanding him with the ultimate conversation killer, "Pa, you're poopy!"

A real sense of humor

"Who do you love?" asks my sister. My sister often likes to ask for validation from my children.
"My mom only!" says Sadie defiantly, fully aware of what my sister is soliciting.
"Who else?" prods my sister.
"And my dad, too," she says with a mischievous look.
"And who else?" sister is not going to give up.
And of course, my daughter is a total punk so she declares, "Haman"
My in laws are at the table and they're shocked.
What did Haman do, Sadie, someone asks.
She replies matter of factly, "He killed the Jews."
And decides she's going to one up herself.
"I love my mommy, my daddy and Haman, my husband."