Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Because blowing your nose and going outside to crap is just too difficult for some

Got puked on last night. It was actually kind of remarkable. No liquid at all, just a golf ball sized wad of food bound together with mucus. Very efficient. My kids both know the only way to properly purge one’s system of mucus is to swallow it, choke on it all night and then gag it up on mommy. It’s the boy this time, thank jeebus. The 12 year-old is too big to sit up with all night on the recliner. My legs would go to sleep.

Stepped in dog poo last night. In the girl’s bedroom. This was not remarkable. Just. Fucking. Gross.

Thursday, January 22, 2009

The Fat: an abbreviated timeline

At 18 years old I was comfortable in a size 14. I wasn’t proud of it, but I didn’t hate myself either. I got pregnant with my daughter that year and ate myself stupid all the way through that pregnancy, mostly out of fear absolute terror at the thought of being a mother before I could possibly be ready. In the 10 years that followed her birth, my weight went down and up, up and down, depending greatly on my stress levels and ability to cope.

Immediately prior to my second pregnancy, I weighed 268 pounds. [Wow. That’s hard to look at.] In an effort to get healthier FOR THE BABY [nevermind my own health] I lost 14 pounds in my first trimester without really even trying very hard. By the end of that pregnancy, my net gain was about 6 pounds. Not too shabby. After my son’s birth in June 2006 I was very gung-ho about getting healthy. I used a recumbent bike, walked on my breaks at work and even climbed up and down the bleachers on campus. I stayed away from soda [Mt. Dew is the bane of my existence].

I got down to 220 before the bottom fell out. I had a nervous breakdown [that will NEVER be discussed in detail here], started taking Prozac, started taking online classes, went on vacation and broke my foot, went on another vacation, took more classes, and my husband was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.

Between my husband’s illness and my own overall busy-ness, I got out of the routine of exercising. And for me it has to be a routine. I dove into a daily ice cream habit. And then I got into a daily Mt. Dew habit. By the end of 2008 I was up to 275 pounds. More than I weighed at 40 weeks pregnant with my son. Holy shit.

So far in 2009 I have exercised at least once a day, six days a week. I’ve stopped doing the Dew [except for one lapse]. I’ve had ice cream only once [my grandpa’s 90th birthday]. I drink water and unsweetened tea. I eat a CLIF bar when I feel that chocolate craving coming on. I get plenty of fiber and actually like fruits and vegetables. While I’m not officially limiting my calories, I am being careful that the calories I do eat are good ones.

Want to know how much I’ve lost? Not a damn pound. I’m doing essentially the same thing I did in late 2005 and 2006 but with no results. So either my scale is broken or I am. I made an appointment with my doctor in early February. Hopefully he won’t laugh or roll his eyes when I ask him to check my thyroid.

Friday, January 16, 2009

You don't want to read this

My horoscope today, via Yahoo!

It's a super day to get creative with what you do for fun! Find some free events.
Fun? WHAT IS FUN? I don’t remember the last thing I did for FUN. Fuck you Yahoo! Even if I had a couple hours to do what I pleased I don’t even know anymore what I would WANT to do. And free events? That’s a laugh riot. The only free events I attend are diaper changes and loads of laundry.

I’m seriously fucking bored with my job and I’m not coping very well today. And yes, I’m grateful to have a job at all. I’m incredibly grateful for my health insurance. But right now I just feel stuck. And if I’m stuck here until retirement age IT WILL NOT BE PRETTY.


UPDATE: I've been to lunch since I wrote this and now I'm listening to the Gipsy Kings. I feel a little better.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

House Rules

Have I ever mentioned that my two angels are separated by 10 years? No? How about the fact that they are currently 2 [boy] and 12 [girl]?

“Holy Hell!” you say. Yes, we are in the throes of evil toddler-dom and pre-teen hormonal mania AT THE SAME TIME.

During all those years that we only had our sweet little girl, we were pretty relaxed parents. She was [WAS] a pretty easy going kid and we’re pretty cool parents [if I do say so myself] so we never really had rules so-to-speak. But now there is bad attitude and defiance dripping off of every square inch of our home. In an effort to NOT get [any further] into the yell-like-a-maniac-all-day style of parenting, I propose the following set of rules.

be safe. be responsible. be respectful.

I didn’t make these up myself; I just liked them well enough to steal them from my daughter’s first and second grade teacher, who was by all accounts, a godsend. These will be framed and hung strategically around the house. Pretty simple and all-encompassing, I think. For instance DON’T HIT clearly falls under both BE SAFE and BE RESPECTFUL. I DON'T want a laundry list of DON’TS. We’ll see how it goes. Wish us luck.

Monday, January 12, 2009

We got trouble. Right here in River City.

Much to my husband’s dismay, I made my daughter watch The Music Man this weekend. She loved it. I knew she would, she’s a big fan of The Sound of Music and has been abusing our Mamma Mia DVD almost daily since *I* got it for Christmas [not that I mind; I LOVE THAT MOVIE]. And by abusing, I mean she has been abusing her poor old dad by playing a musical at all, much less one that features Pierce Brosnan “singing” S.O.S. [Snort.] Maybe it’s time for Guys and Dolls

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Fixation of the Week: Citizen Cope

The first thing I noticed about Citizen Cope was that he had stolen my hairdo [if you can call this fucked-up frizzy bun thing on the back of my head a hairdo]. The second thing I noticed [and more importantly] was THIS DUDE IS TALENTED. I hadn’t listened to his stuff in a while [my attention is fleeting at best] but he is featured on the new Dido CD and that got me all interested again. Which reminds me, they were both on that Santana CD. I need to listen to that again… signing off.

Monday, January 5, 2009

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming

Motherhood is discovering that *washable* crayons aren’t all that washable when they’ve been put through the dryer with your work clothes at 8:30 PM on a Sunday and then, 12 hours later, realizing the one shirt you thought had survived didn’t survive after all, thanks to the florescent lights in the office that show such things more clearly than the perpetually dim lights at home.


I spent the holidays self medicating with lots of wine and some tequila. I wore no makeup. I bought my new favorite shirt [at Wal-Mart of all places]. I got lots of new CDs and DVDs to add to my healthy collection. Shelves purchased months ago for the kitchen were installed. The kids had a blast with their cousins. It was awesome.


I now find myself digging deep for some resolve to get fit. Other than the Mountain Dew I had this morning I’m doing fairly well on the food end of things. I just need to get back into an exercise routine. Like I said, digging for resolve, determined to find it.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

Mission (reprise)

I have something very important to share with you, my dear internet. I need to tell you about something that is very near and dear to my heart. I need to tell you about Mission Brand Whole-Wheat Burrito-Size Tortillas.

Stay with me here. The USDA RDA chart says we all need about 25 grams of fiber a day. I won't torture you with gory details about mine and my family's bowels [today], but let's suffice it to say that we NEED fiber in this house. These tortillas have no less than 21 grams of fiber each. Twenty-one grams of fiber. Each.

I'll let that soak in for a minute.

Me: [chuckling] Soak in. Fiber doesn't soak in.


What that means is that with one Mission Brand Whole-Wheat Burrito-Size Tortilla, you've consumed 84% of the fiber that the USDA people think you need in a day, and probably 75% more than most Americans actually get in a day.

I have known people to use Mission Brand Whole-Wheat Burrito-Size Tortillas to make enchiladas and the like, but personally I think they taste pukey with Mexican food. My daughter on the other hand, little California gringa that she is, will accept no other tortillas for her bean-cheese-tomato burrito on burrito night.

What I do is this… I buy the good old-fashioned peanut butter, you know, the kind you have to stir and refrigerate not the crap with the hydrogenated oils in it. I spread a thin-ish layer of peanut butter on one of those Mission Brand Whole-Wheat Burrito-Size Tortillas and then give it a similar layer of honey. Then roll it up tight like a taquito that's almost the size of a churro and you've got the Best Breakfast Ever. Follow it with a good piece of fruit to get the peanut buttery stickiness out of your mouth and you're good to go!

I am being very specific here about the Mission Brand Whole-Wheat Burrito-Size Tortilla because you can accept no substitutes. The fajita-size tortillas of the same brand are much smaller, and therefore have considerably fewer grams of fiber. And I've yet to find any other brand's whole-wheat burrito-size to measure up. I think the closest I found was 14 grams of fiber, which is admirable, but not as remarkable as the great and wonderful Mission Brand Whole-Wheat Burrito-Size Tortilla.

Now go and spread the word!


This here little blog post has made it's home on each of the blogs I've had. THAT'S HOW SERIOUS I AM PEOPLE. I have not received a single cent from Mission, nor do I expect to.