I am (not) what I eat

Sigh.

I'm having a bad food day. David and I had lunch at Arby's, I had a Snickers bar for a snack and we're having a roast and stuff and Nancy is being a major pain in my ass this afternoon as I plugged my foods into fitday and saw my totals.

I keep reminding myself that one bad day (and having lunch out with my husband and one candy bar doesn't make it a "bad" day--it's actually been a pretty good day) doesn't undo all the work I've done the last 4 weeks. It means I ate too much today and I'll start over again tomorrow. Tonight I get to go Trick or Treating with my kids and nephews. We're having a party here in our office tomorrow and I've been having fun getting ready for that this afternoon (I'm going as Hermione from Harry Potter).

One day is NOT going to undo everything. I do NOT have to give up everything I love to eat. I am NOT a bad person.

Zero, Zilch, Nothing, Nada

I feel like I should write everyday, even when I have nothing to say.

Uptown trick or treat last night. I didn't snap any pictures (bad Mommy), but the kids had a great time. Allie is Ariel and Kyle is Scooby Doo. Allie looked beautiful last night and Kyle might be the cutest little Scooby ever. He was even thanking people for his candy by saying "Scooby Dooby Doo!"

Allie's last soccer game is tonight if we don't get rained out. I'm assuming they will let us play in the rain, it will just depend if it is thundering or not. They are supposed to have a pizza party after the game and get their awards.

We're under a tornado watch right now. I take those a little more seriously after we had a tornado back in September. My kids will freak right the hell out if we have a tornado again so soon. They aren't quite over the last one yet. Kyle is still talking about the "tomato" that knocked down all the trees. I just got Allie back in her own room, after she stayed in Kyle's room for 3 weeks after the storm.

We also have a freezer full of beef. If we lose power I am going to be seriously annoyed. We had some seriously tasty steaks this weekend, along with some awesome hamburgers and I want more!

I'm actually excited about parent-teacher conferences coming up. Allie has taken to school SO well, it'll be nice to hear about it from her teacher's perspective. She has a really good teacher this year and Allie likes her a lot. I was SO worried about how she would do, being so shy, but she's thriving.

Amazing how much I can yammer on when I have "nothing" to say!

Monday Morning Quarterback--47 weeks to go!

Time for an update.

Starting Weight: 151
Last weigh-in: 149
Today's weight: 147.2
Total Loss: 3.8 pounds

I'll definitely take that. Almost 4 pounds gone in 4 weeks? And I haven't even been trying all that hard--I've been counting calories, but I'm not starving. I'm working out, but not killing myself in the process. So I'm happy with this progress so far.

Talking 'bout My Girl

As promised, I'm back to talk about my girl child today.

Allison is my first born--she was born 11 days before our first wedding anniversary, which has been an endless source of jokes. But I was 33 when she was born and we had no idea how long it would take us to get pregnant. Two months, basically. It's not safe to stand downwind of a Schleter man or you will end up pregnant.

I remember being amazed at how big and round I got, and how fun it was to feel her kicking and punching in there. Until I got to 40 weeks pregnant. With absolutely no sign of her wanting to come out of there. At 41 weeks, she got evicted. I wasn't thrilled about the idea of a c-section, but thanks to being run over by a truck when I was 15, no other option.

I remember David peeking through the curtain at her coming out and him saying "Oh my God what a big noggin!" It was at that point she started screaming. She's still a good screamer.

I had a rough first few months after she was born. I went back to work when she was 10 1/2 weeks old and that was HARD. I hated it and hated pretty much everyone around me, too. Except my ornery, funny little girl. She was scared of everyone, was a total daddy's girl and refused to sleep unless she was laying on one of us, but we survived those tough times.

Our reward for that was the bright, sunny little girl that we have now. Sure she occasionally still throws fits and is whiny after a long day of school. But she's also silly and funny and does crazy dances around my living room and lets me color pictures with her and play Barbies even though I'm almost 40.

My Boy

There are a lot of boys in my life. I have one sibling-a brother. My husband is a boy, and he has 4 older brothers and a brother-in-law. Between us we have 13 nephews. I have a Dad and a Father-in-Law.

And I have a son.

I love both of my kids equally, and no amount of water boarding or electric shock torture would make me say differently. Allie is very much like me, both in looks and personality. I'll write more about her tomorrow. Today's entry is about Kyle.

Thanks to my "advanced maternal age" with Kyle, I got to have all sorts of scary prenatal tests with him. There was a horrid moment when they told us that we had a 1 in 8 chance of having a baby with a non-survivable genetic defect. Then they did an ultrasound of him at 13 weeks while they jammed a needle in my belly and took a sample to check his chromosomes. Even though we couldn't see anything, I just new when I looked at that ultrasound that I was looking at My Boy.

I have never seen such a spastic baby in utero. He flipped, he wiggled, he danced all over the place. As they were poking the largest needle I have ever seen into my belly, I remember declaring to David that he better be a Momma's boy!

As it turned out, all was fine with Kyle. He was just getting us used to how it was going to be with him early. Nothing but trouble. He's ornery (he told me so himself just 2 days ago). He's constantly in motion (people who meet Kyle for the first time invariably say the same thing--does he ever just stand still?? The answer is no). And he's fearless. I have a lot more gray hair than I used to, for reasons having nothing to do with my advanced maternal age!

I went on to have the most miserable pregnancy--Gestational Diabetes, preterm labor, modified bed rest and then a c-section delivery of a 9 pound, 11 ounce bundle of energy.

Now he's three and with his missing front 4 teeth, he's even more adorable than he was before. He's added another weapon to his arsenal as well. He's charming. When he's getting in trouble for something, he will hug me and smother me with kisses. He bats his baby blues at me and smiles so sweetly, like he could never EVER have done what he's being accused of, even while he's holding the evidence of his crimes in his hot little hands.

Last night was the perfect example. He wanted me to lay in bed with him. I do lay with the kids each night and we talk about how their day went and things like that. But he didn't want me to leave. I told him I had more things to do before I went to bed. And he turned those eyes on me and said "But Mommy, when you are not here, my heart is broken." How can I say no to that (for the record, I didn't).

So despite the miserable pregnancy, the stretch marks, the sleepless nights and the gray hair, I would do it all over again 1000 times to end up with Kyle. My boy.

Just Write Something

I've been slacking lately, and I feel like I should just write something.

Kyle has decided that I don't need sleep. He's waking me up every night. Twice he's climbed in with me, only to wet my bed. He's had a rough week and I'm assuming it's a delayed reaction to his surgery. He woke me up again at 12:30 a.m. and I took him to the bathroom, laughed as he stumbled around like a little drunk trying to pull his pants up and then tucked him back into bed. Just as I was ready to get back to my room, he sat up and gave me a big kiss on the cheek and a high-five. He's really a cute little guy. He's lucky.

I'm trying to decide if Allie read for me this morning. I had an envelope that said "Girl Scout Money" on it and she read it this morning. I don't think I told her what it said earlier and she claimed she read it. It's not going to be long before she's smarter than I am.

Have you ever seen 2 kids fight over a guinea pig? Allie was holding our piggie last night and Kyle wanted her. I didn't let them actually physically fight over her, but it was cute. The poor thing looked stressed out.

Our cat Cleo is more like a dog than a cat. She demands affection at all times, loves to be rough-housed with and is constantly underfoot. Freddie is more like a normal cat, shows up when she's hungry, wants petted occasionally, if she decides we are worthy of petting her and then disappears for hours at a time (or mis-appears, as Kyle says).

Allie informed me at bedtime 2 nights ago that she was supposed to write up a list of all the rectangles in our house. She and David scurried around to find them all yesterday morning and she told me last night she found the most. I hope she doesn't intend to always leave her homework for morning. First thing in the morning is NOT my best time of day.

I was on a roll last night when we got home from soccer and I got my house all cleaned up. That's pretty good for me on a Tuesday. Thursday night we have soccer AND Girl Scouts, so we'll be home late. But that's okay. It's for a good cause. Allie's really enjoying both and we only have 2 soccer games left. She's pretty sure she's going to play again this spring, and also do T-ball.

Kyle almost convinced Allie's coach to put him in the game the other day. He can't wait to play something.

There. It's random nothingness, but I wrote something.

48 weeks to go

But no Monday morning quarterback this week. I was sick as a DOG Sunday, so I know my weight is artificially low. I don't want to get all happy about a number and have it bounce back up on me next week. I do know, since I weighed myself out of curiosity, that I lost three pounds during the course of Sunday.

Mean Mommy

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I didn't sleep well anyway, and then Kyle peed is his bed, then crawled in with me and peed in MY bed, too. Then Allie decided that it was International Argue With Everything Mommy Says day and I lost it. It wasn't even 7:30 and I was yelling at her.

As soon as I took a breath I went to her and apologized and we hugged it out and I think we're all good, but I still feel like crap about it.

I need some sleep. Or chocolate. Or chocolate, a hot bath and some sleep. Not all at the same time. That would be dangerous and messy.

Female Troubles

Sometimes I hate being female.

Although I noticed that one of side benefits of working out and watching what I ate the last 2 weeks meant a serious decrease in the PMS.

I hate PMS. For me, PMS means insomnia lasting anywhere from 2-5 days. And mood swings so bad I make Belletrix Lestrange look like Mary Poppins. And bloating--we won't even go into the bloating. We'll just say that I'm grateful for fat pants and elastic waists.

Nancy loves PMS. She loves to point out all my flaws and shortcomings. Like last night, when Allie jumped on me and it hurt. I didn't scream and yell, but I was a little harsher with her than I probably needed to be and Nancy reminded me how mean I am. This morning I didn't have a paper sack for Allie's sack lunch for her field trip and Nancy liked to point out what a crappy Mom I am. How could I forget paper bags? Allie's talked about this field trip for weeks.

This month was much better than usual, which was nice. No insomnia at all, which is almost unheard of. The bloat is minimal (although I'm still wearing elastic waist pants because they are comfy and I don't care!). The mood swings are more moderate--I'm still up and down, but it's smaller peaks and valleys.

I need to remind myself of this when I start to slack. There are a lot of mental health benefits to taking better care of myself.

It's going too fast

My little girl, my first baby, is growing up too quickly for my liking.

One minute she was a crabby, never-sleeping, grumpy baby and now she's a high-energy, never-sleeping, occasionally grumpy 5 year old. She started school without any drama (she loves it so much, she gets mad when the weekends get here). She's playing soccer (she scored a goal for the other team last night, but it was technically her first goal!) and doing Daisy Scouts and has lost 2 of her baby teeth.

She got her first chapter book the other day and was thrilled. She wanders around the house spelling words for us.

She's still my little girl--she still crawls in with me when she has a bad dream and still wants to snuggle with me in my chair when she doesn't feel good. But she's turning into her own independent person. Which is awesome, don't get me wrong. I'm proud of the little lady she's turning in to. And I can't wait to watch her come in to her own as she grows up. I just want time to slow down, just a tiny little bit. I feel like I'm going to blink and suddenly have a teenager.

Go She-Ra!

So today I did something I rarely do. I did weight-lifting at the gym.

I realize it's Wellworks and it's full of retirees mostly, but I always still feel like a dumb-ass when I'm lifting weights. I feel dumb doing it at home, but then it's only the kids and the cats watching me. And my basement isn't encased in mirrors like the gym.

But part of this whole healthy-me thing means that I need a well-rounded routine. Plus I probably need to start thinking about bone health and all that other middle-aged woman crap.

So I lifted my weights. The first set of 10 on everything felt really good. I felt tough and empowered. I decided that if I can't shut Nancy up, maybe I'll just kick her ass. Beat her into submission.

The second set around felt good, but I felt a little less tough. Obviously it's been a little while since I lifted the weights. My Achilles heel is apparently my right shoulder, which is seriously weak.

The third and final set was brutal. My legs not so much, but my sissy-girl upper body was NOT happy with me. I'm a little worried about my ability to wash and dry my hair tomorrow morning! But I'm moving on with my little project and I feel good about it.

Monday Morning Check In-49 weeks to go!

So I have my first Monday week-in-review to do today.

Goal 1: Lose weight/get in shape

Starting Weight: 151
Goal Weight: 130
Today's Weight: 149
Total loss: 2 pounds

I'll take that. I also stayed in my calorie range every day except Saturday, and considering we were traveling all day and tailgating, I can live with that, for sure. I only made it to the gym twice, but with Kyle being sick and having surgery, I'm not going to beat myself up over that. I should have gotten off my butt yesterday, but I did do a really good house cleaning, so I think that counts.

Goal 2: Be a better wife and mom

I did pretty good with the kids this week except for yesterday. Allie was pushing ALL of my buttons yesterday with talking back and whining. Had to take a few deep breaths and count to 10 a few times.

Goal 3: Write more

Well, I'm writing here, does that count? Probably this is the thing I did the least of this time. Maybe next week. Or maybe I'm just not a writer anymore.

Oh hello Nancy. Go away.

Motherhood

I'm back after a child-induced hiatus.

Kyle crawled in with me Tuesday night. I know someday my kids won't want to snuggle with me, so I let him. All was well until he threw up on me and my half of the bed. Those moments were never covered in What to Expect When You're Expecting.

Then yesterday was Kyle's big dental surgery. Somehow his teeth are a freaking mess. They ended up pulling 4 teeth, putting on 3 crowns and doing one filling. They sedated him for all of this, of course. No 3 year old is going to sit still for all of that. No 30 year old could do all that at one time.

Kyle woke up babbling like a sentimental drunk. And no, there's no video. I was too busy trying to keep him from flopping out of my arms and onto the floor. The first words out of his mouth were "I want McDonald's." Then he complained about not having any teeth and then he repeatedly demanded a milkshake. We got him one on the way home and then he had a fit because we took him out in public in his pajamas.

By the time we got home he was back in action and ready to roll. He looks like an ornery little vampire.

Go Away Nancy

I'm busy today and you're bothering me.

Weight loss and Me...50 weeks to go

So here we are at exactly 50 weeks to my 40th birthday. Time to get working on the fitness and health component of my self-improvement journey. Probably my least favorite part, honestly.

I like food. Specifically I like food that isn't helpful in maintaining an ideal weight. Pasta, pizza, chocolate and french fries. Man I do love french fries. But french fries are a large part of the reason I'm sitting here today in old-lady elastic waist fat pants.

So I did my first official weigh-in. 151 pounds. Sigh. I did so good last year and got down to the 130s and said "goodbye forever" to the 150s. Yet here we are again. You tall people are thinking "151 isn't so bad!" But my 151 is spread out over a towering 61.5 inches of height. So yeah, it's too high.

Throw in the fact that my grandmother and my dad are both Type 2 diabetics, and add in the gestational diabetes I had when I was pregnant with Kyle, and there's another really good reason to get my butt in gear.

I'm so pissed at myself, because I seem to keep losing and gaining this same 20 pounds over and over and over again. I just need to remember that I'm not a teenager anymore. My metabolism has slowed to a snail's pace and I need to make some corrections.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm not going to say "As God is my witness, I'll never eat cake again!" Because I do love cake. But I can have ONE slice of cake once in awhile. I can have fries, pizza, m&ms whatever once in awhile. Not everyday.

I did make it downstairs yesterday for a good 1-hour workout. I tossed on season 1 of Supernatural and did 30 on the treadmill and 30 of strength training. Enough to get me pack on track without overdoing and injuring myself. I'm still working on my 100 workouts at the gym before June 30 (I can get a free one-year membership that way).

It's a process and I need to remind myself of that. I have a couple of really good reasons to make it work this time.

Negative Nancy

I am my own worst critic. Everyone is, really, but I think the negative chatter is the thing I hate the most about anxiety. That little voice in my head telling me I’m not good enough, smart enough, cute enough. Whatever. That voice has been with me a long, long time.

Once I finally figured out I had real anxiety and that I wasn’t just really stressed out, I started trying to pay attention to the negative chatter. It’s gotten better thanks to my happy pills, but it’s still there. Picking at me from time to time.

Take today. I overcame my inertia and went to the gym at lunchtime. You would think after a good 30 minutes on the elliptical, plus the walk to and from the gym, I would be able to feel good about myself. And I did…until I saw myself in the full length mirror, in all my naked, pudgy glory. The voice IMMEDIATELY got on my case for being fat, for letting myself go (again).

I have decided to name that negative critical voice Nancy. In honor of a girl who loved to sit beside or behind me in junior high and say nasty crap to me OUT LOUD. She’s really not that different from the inner voice, just slightly more nasal.

So back at the gym, I gave Nancy the finger and told her to stuff it. That yes, I have put on weight, but that I am re-re-re-RE-committed to getting myself healthy and in shape. For me and for my kids. My kids are young and they need me around for a long time. So I need to do this for them AND for myself (not necessarily in that order).

So go to HELL negative Nancy. You’re just another bad habit I’m shedding with my 30s.

Darn Kids

So as usual, my girl child had to make me look like a dumb-ass.

All that worrying and stressing I did yesterday? Little punk (said with much love) decided to Bend it like Beckham last night. Played almost the whole game, kicked the ball several times ON PURPOSE and even volunteered to take corner kicks. Anyone who knows how shy Allie is knows how big a deal it is for her to volunteer for anything in public.

She informed me last night that she had "100 barrels of fun" at soccer.

One of those life lessons I'm trying to learn along the way here--that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar and sometimes a bad day at soccer is just a bad day at soccer, and not an indication that there is either something wrong with my child or something wrong with my parenting. I remember a 1000 times growing up my Mom telling me to take a deep breath and relax. Maybe it's time I finally tried that!