Small Success Thursday

It's Thursday and today, we take stock of the past week; of the small things we did that were in fact, big victories.  Motherhood is replete with these sorts of victories, over pounds, laundry, bills, homework, splinters and drawings on the wall.  If we do not recognize that these small daily things reveal sacrifice, devotion and love, we will succumb to the despair brought on by dull joyless dutiful grunt work.  All service must be love, or it exhausts more than the body.  But the trick is, we have to be mindful of what we do if we are to serve out of love; absent that mindfulness, we can turn what is supposed to be a gift into drudgery.  We don't always, but it's an easy slip I know for me.   

With that in mind, today we celebrate the little things we did with great love.  Please join in and visit the others who participate.  Use Mr. Linky and on your own blog, list three or more ways in which this week, by grace, humor, determination and love, you were victorious over minutia, dust bunnies, errands and the demands of modern life.  Then leave a comment.

This week I:

1) Took four kids to get hair cuts.

2) did a one on one shopping (Borders) with my daughter that probably is most hungry for this sort of time. Told her to ask me to do it again. She beamed.

3) Visited with my sister and we promised to go to adoration in our separate towns. (I made it last night!) The best description I have for being in front of the Blessed Sacrament, is Oasis.  You don't realize how thirsty  you are until you drink.

4) Thought the reading with kids would get derailed by last week's vacation (it was great by the way), but we picked back up and I can't wait for them to find out what happened to Eustance on Dragon Island tomorrow. 

5) Will meet this morning with my daughter's teachers to discuss learning styles and teaching strategies. 

6) Let a few go to see Harry Potter on their own, they loved it. --though oldest son said when Voldemort hugs Malfoy --most awkward hug ever.  (Three rows behind him snorted their sodas). We're going tonight. (Date Night).

7) Didn't gain weight on vacation --a victory of not going backwards.

Now it's your turn.

*****ARGH! Mr. Linky failed me.  :P
Here's Mr. Linky. 





I'll put all the blogs who commented onto Mr. Linky. Thanks!
(Had a morning meeting and a 12:00 appt. so I couldn't check the blog until 2 or I would have corrected this sooner). 

And the Worst Part is

...I can't even self medicate with chocolate for all of this trouble.


Two days ago, I received a food death sentence.  I have gestational diabetes and must forgo the pleasure of eating rice, cereal, pasta, potatoes, fried anything, syrups, fruit juices, not flavored with splenda jellies, baked goods and candy and probably ice cream from now until the due date in January.

"What can you eat?" one of my kids asked.  "Cheese and some vegetables and meat."  It sounded unappealing even saying it.  I have a call in for a dietitian, we'll eventually get to do some more than just that, but even so, the sugars will have to be tightly regulated for both the baby and my own health.

In addition to sticking myself four times per day to see how I'm doing, for the next 20 weeks I get to gain weight without having any fun getting there and I'll have to endure the high eating season of Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  Two days of almost no carbs and I'm already irritable.  Normally, I'm a bright side of life kind of gal and do acknowledge that the diabetic regimen usually means I finish a pregnancy healthier than when I started, but I've never had to face this long of a Lent during a time that isn't Lent.  So my spiritual discipline is a bit off because of the season. 

But, I'm dutiful so I went to the local pharmacy to get my testing materials.  The druggist rang them up.  I took them home.  It was then I discovered they'd ordered the wrong strips and lancets for my glucometer.  That evening after all kids were fed and ready for bed, I let my oldest two babysit while I scurried out to the store in hopes that this would be a quick exchange. 

After an hour, the frustrated man explained to me that while he could trade the strips, the store was out of that type of lancet and that I'd need to call my OBGYN to call his pharmacy so they could then phone another pharmacy to request the lancets so I could test my sugars.  "So I get to call her so she can call you so you can call them so I can get them so I can stick myself?" I asked. 

"Yes."

Taking my new supplies and stopping to buy a veggie roast beef six inch, it was time to go home and hope my sugars weren't too high from eating my dinner after 9.  Remember that stress spikes sugars too.  So all I have to do is live a carb and stress free life for the next four months.  

We're off to a roaring start.

Small Success Thursday

This week was full; twenty-seven items on the "To Do" list every day kind of full.  As such, I've instigated a new sanity rule, no lists of things to do over 20 for any given day.  That being said, these were my successes for this week at doing the right thing.

1) I read "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett.  It was a fast read and I loved it and I'm very grateful to my friend Karen for giving it to me.

2) We went school shopping.  I'm still in recovery.

3) My oldest daughter started high school.

4) The Fall Festival plans are starting to come together.  One month to go.

5) After listening to my lecture about how bad habits form when we fail to establish good ones and that the hardest thing to overcome is inertia, two of my children picked up their instruments for the first time in two months.  Of course, it meant I had to exercise.  I hate it when the advice I give is then demanded of me, or rather, I don't hate it but wish sometimes I could get a pass with these guys --not a chance.   So yes, I did my 20 push ups and 20 sit ups today. 

6)  Got to the dentist.  Not a whoopie kind of thing but it was actually an appointment for me. 

7) Wrote a piece, worked on Helen, am trying to fast from the computer except for emails and writing --not because I don't want to be informed but because it's more important I be involved.  I know I've been using this machine as a shield against being more active, so I had to put the machine away.  And yes, my kids are helping with this matter.   They're very good at nagging.  I wonder where they learned it? 

Got a success, a struggle, a triumph over minutia?  Go share it over at Family and Faith Live!

It's On...Temporarily

Nothing motivates or at least chafes like envy.   My siblings have all entered a high exercise healthy phase that forces me to at least acknowledge my couch potato type existence and subsequent couch potato type form.  Hearing that one sibling is training for a Triathlon while another family member is running four miles a day and a third is into weights and cardio, I feel guilt and shame at my own bodily sloth, at least enough to do a few sit ups while watching Burn Notice or push ups during commercials.  My slug like brain reasons, "Hey, it counts."  But my hips say otherwise.

My daughter is taking karate, my other children are doing swimming lessons twice a week.  In both scenarios, I get to act as home base; the car that gets them from point a to point b on time, and central supply for towels, snacks and the hawk supervisor to ensure the long term viability of the non swimming set at the pool.  It's not that I want to be a stationary slug, but home life is usually punctuated by the domestic chores of the day and laundry no matter what you do, involves a good deal of sitting; writing requires a BIC (bottom in chair), and stopping fights requires more brains and lungs than any muscle mass.  Going outside lately has been a non breathable event with temps hovering in the low hundreds; and I honestly don't like saddling my older kids with non necessary babysitting detail.  They're my kids, not theirs; so I want them to be teens, not junior mes.  Hence, I do not say, "Watch them, I'm going to work out."

Sin always requires rationalization and my brain is certainly up to the task of explaining my physical fitness neglect.  Nagging kids to do their summer work books, read, turn off the TV, pick up their toys, go outside, clear the table, etc. etc. etc. uses up all of my iron woman discipline such that at the end of the day when they're all in bed or at least no longer requiring direct supervision, I don't have any metal will left much less energy to engage in a serious work out.  But I know that's a cop out and that if I were serious, I could work out in the morning before they get up or use exercise TV or a video and or keep a food diary to make better choices and that I simply haven't gathered enough will to make this happen. 

But I'm going to spend a week with people I love, all of whom are on a better track physically with me.  I'm hoping to be humble enough to follow their lead and take the hint rather than drag them back towards my side of the scale by poor example.  I'm hoping to gather some extra will from being around all this family that seems to have their acts together.  But I'll have to stop swallowing bad food and swallow my pride instead.  Who knew getting fit was akin to seeking to stay free from sin?

No wonder weight loss is so hard.

A Brother's Wisdom

This past year, my brother Danny lost thirty pounds through (yes) diet and exercise, but also recognizing that anything done in isolation ultimately fails. We are not islands. When I remove myself from my family to write, I get writer's block almost instantaneously.  I need the interruptions to fight against in order to think. 

Likewise, my brother figured out that alone, he could not do this; so he volunteered to raise money for his high school's scholarship fund via pledges based on how much weight he lost and earned the school over 800 dollars in the process.   Talking to him yesterday, I asked for tips for those of us who like myself, have fallen off the weight band wagon and need to climb back on.   So without further adieu:


10) Set a goal.  You know this. I know this.  Make it public.  (That's the hard part).  Post it.  Proclaim it. Write it down and make sure everyone you know that loves you and can stop that Boston Creme donut from even being bought, knows.  

9) Tie your goal with something bigger than becoming smaller.  My brother did a scholarship, now he's working on running a marathon to raise funds for an Alzheimers cure.  I have a friend that does the 60 mile Susan Koemen walk.  Another family I know does the walk for MS, and my other brother does the March for Dimes every year.  My sister is in the March for Dimes this year too.  (So I'm the black sheep right now).   It helps with 1) remembering the goal 2) having a finish date and 3) bringing you another reward for hanging in there and 4) makes it communal.

8) Communal work outs work best.  In tip 9, you saw that this was a family affair for some.  By joining a group that runs, it kept Danny at it when he didn't want to.  Having a friend say, "Hey, join me at the gym?" helps, or a walking buddy and I don't mean the kids trapped and strapped in the stroller. My sister does stroller moms and having all those other ladies around to keep you going, and the smiling faces to get you started, man that helps. 

7) Don't sabotage yourself.  Shop for snacks before you start, make them all 100 cal shots and have them salty and sweet and in the closet for when you parallel eat. (I have to have this because the kids always want a snack in the afternoon and it's hard to watch others eating).  Having a lean cuisine pizza when everyone else is having pizza hut will make it less miserable to be on said diet. 

6) Prayer.  You knew I was going to say it, but ifyou are going to be fasting, you ought to reap the benefits of the double bonus.   Running for my brother is a good stress releaser, it allows him to unpack the day of teaching and to pray.

5) Don't sabotage yourself by putting it off.  We're moms. We make lists and thus things get done.  On the days we don't make lists, what happens?  For me at least, not nearly as much and man is it stressful.  Put exercise on the list. Put the time and treat it like an orthodontist appointment that will cost you 50$ if you miss it. (Why that example? Guess what happens today!)  

Bonus Hint: do early rather than later because we all know later means not ever.

4) Don't sabotage yourself by being boring.  Exercise is not easy so it darn well better be something we don't loathe.  Don't jog if you hate running.  Dance, wii yoga, swim or hit the gym but do something that you won't have to force yourself to endure (I don't spin or run....ever).  

Doing a dutiful exercise is rather like giving a kid a book to read and saying, "I loved this as a child."  Are they going to read it? NO!  So leave the book out there on top of their dresser with the casual, "I remember that book.  It was kinda cool." and leave it at that, then go put on kickboxing and pretend you're batgirl or use your exercise as an excuse to get an ipod and load it with all the tunes your kids won't let you listen to on the radio.  The kids will pick up those books if you don't act too interested in their reading them.  They they'll say, "Hey Mom, Guess what?  I read this cool book. Wait until after they glow about it before you mention you liked it then too."  When I exercise, I want the same credit as the kid,s "Hey guys, I exercised." and I want them not to deflate me too quickly by pointing out how I could have done this sooner, better or more. 

3) Food diary.  It is annoying but true.  If you write down what you eat, you'll eat less and the choices will be better.  If you record every check and pulse and charge, you spend less and spend more wisely.  Vigilance is the enemy of sloth and indifferent eating is a form of sloth towards long term health and daily  maintenance. 

2) Weigh yourself daily and record the number.  It goes with the diary.  You'll know when you've sabotaged yourself and why, you won't want to face that little stupid annoying square in your bathroom and you'll say, "I'll be extra good today so I can enjoy getting on that damn thing tomorrow." Won't happen.  Remember writing that goal down?  Post it in the bathroom near scale.  The scale is your honest friend, even when you don't want to be.  

1) Don't sabotage yourself by being unwilling to start today because you don't have everything in place.  And Don't sabotage yourself tomorrow if you didn't do as well today.  Despair of success, despair of failure, despair of not having the discipline needed, despair of all one has to do in a day, these are all enemies of any type of success, including in the arena of becoming more fit and healthy. 

So I salute my younger brother's hard work and wise words and today, I'm putting said kiddos in the stroller, grabbing my old CD player and we're going for a walk.   It will be only one mile in all probability, but it's a start. 

My goal?  144 by the family Reunion July 10th.  I'll keep you posted.   Good luck everyone.

Law and Order in the Food Court*

The following is a future conversation coming to a municipality near you.

Sitting down at the local chain establishment known for its greasy cheap abundant delicacies that have been deep fried more than once, I prepared to enter that gastronomic paradise known as fresh fried chicken. My meal was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a staff member from the chain, dressed in the red uniform, wearing secret service glasses and holding a brief case.

“You ordered the trans-fat saturated high carbohydrate and sodium basted poultry with a side of twice submerged in canola oil high starch potatoes with a whole milk sugar enhanced frozen beverage?”

“It’s on the menu, #3.” I sputtered.

“Yes Ma’am, please sign these release forms.” He said as he produced a stack of paper an inch thick and placed them in front of my meal.

“What for?”

“Exemption from liability for any current existing known or otherwise health conditions that may or may not be exacerbated by the ingestion of excessive carbohydrate and fat infused food products, resulting in but not limited to heart disease, high blood pressure, hardening of the arteries, diabetes, high cholesterol, stroke, obesity, muscle fatigue, and gout.”

I looked around for a camera or someone to shout “You’ve been punked.” But everyone else in the store was ordering, eating or simply observing. The staff of the business seemed not to notice anything.

“Is this a joke?” I started.

“No Ma’am, no joke. We here at …have started a proactive policy of targeting 10% of our customer base at random to ensure that we show due diligence in warning our patrons about the dangers of eating these particular foods which the government has deemed exceptionally hazardous to the long term well being of its citizens.”

“And I’m…”

“This noon’s recipient of the information.”

"Why me? I'm not that overweight!"

"Ma’am, if we only spoke to people who were obese, we'd be accused of physical profiling. That's against federal law."

“I see. Well, you’ve told me. Now take these forms and go away. My food’s getting cold.”

“You will not sign these release forms?”

“No! I bought the food and I’m going to eat it.”

“I see. Thank you Ma’am for your time.” He removed the first form and my drink.

“What are you doing? That’s my chocolate shake!”

“Substituting a healthy soy-based, protein enhanced sugar substitute frozen beverage, flavored with carob.” He snapped his fingers and another employee in red with sunglasses appeared with a new drink and placed it on my table.

“But I ordered a chocolate shake.”

“If you had signed the release form, it would stay Ma’am.”

“Get me the manager.”

“Certainly, sign this affidavit indicating you wanted to initiate mediation rather than accept responsibility for your poor health choices.” He pointed to the next form.

“Why?”

“It makes you responsible for all potential legal fees involved in the negotiations regarding the return of your chocolate shake.”

“Get me the manager now. I’m not signing anything.”

“Very well Ma’am, I’ll alert the management. In the meantime…” he snapped his fingers again and away went my food. The second employee in sunglasses put an apple, broiled chicken breast and salad in front of me. “Enjoy your meal Ma’am.”

“Give me back my chicken. I paid for it.” I stood up, I was mad.

“Ma’am, you may have back the entire meal on one proviso.”

I should have said “No provisos, I want to eat my food now!” But curiosity got the better of me, “What proviso?”

“Sign this form indicating a pledge enforceable by law that you will put in the obligatory 10 hours of cardio-vascular exercise necessary to erase the calorie-intake health risk represented by this meal.”

“I belong to a gym already.”

“Yes Ma’am, this makes it possible for the government to check into your gym records. You also will not be allowed to frequent another establishment of this franchise until those ten community service hours of exercise are served.”

“What?”

“Oh, and one more thing.” He puts the remaining papers back in his brief case and my cold chicken and fries and melted shake back on the table.

“What?”

“You owe an additional $4.25 for the heart healthy lunch.”

“But I didn’t eat…”

“Yes Ma’am, but federal regulations prohibit the food from being served to someone else, so it is yours to dispose of as you wish. Here is your bill. Bon Appetite.”

*Original run on November 12, 2007

A Gaulling Matter

Two years ago I had laser-scopic surgery to remove my gall bladder. For those out there who slept through junior biology, (or like me, spent the time in the back of the room finishing my Latin sentences for next period), the gall bladder is this tiny sack that acts as a back up system for the liver, siphoning off excess bile from the digestive system. The bile is used to digest fat, like the stuff that makes donuts, ice cream, nachos and pizza preferable to say fruit, broccoli, fish and tofu.

Because I as a loyal American ate more than my fair share of the former, the gall bladder dutifully stored up the unwanted bile produced to allow me to gain weight from my choice of diet. Then one day, I had an attack.

The official gall bladder “I quit!” resignation form had been sent to management.

The result of this painful episode was a trip to the emergency room, during which we discovered my little gall bladder was full of gall stones. A conservative estimate from the doctor at the emergency room looking at the ultra sound was that I had a Google’s worth had built up over a forty year life time of abuse via fresh fried chicken and big macs, Ben and Jerry’s and real butter. The only cure was a perpetual diet of no fat no flavor foods, or surgery. As I had additional extenuating medical conditions that made this not a run of the mill procedure, I was to strictly follow the diet until the specialist could fit me in his schedule.

For three months I ate oatmeal and tea for breakfast, broth based soup and dry toast for lunch, and diet coke and fish with cooked vegetables for dinner. Every once in a while I would dare a bit of variety but only at night, when my husband could hold down the fort as I crumpled in a ball from the stabbing pain of indiscretion. A glass of milk seemed innocent enough. Nyet. How about some rice at dinner? Not a prayer. Maybe some other meat like beef or chicken I thought hopefully. That experiment almost sent me back to the hospital. Nothing makes one disciplined like body crunching severe pain for the slightest infraction. One day I begged for a piece of chocolate and my husband quietly reminded me how much I liked weeping.

A side benefit of being unable to eat 90% of what one wanted was I lost 25 pounds in two months. The downside...well, if you are what you eat, I had the personality of beef broth and could generate about as much energy and excitement.

The date of the surgery arrived and the surgeon explained how they would make three cuts and slice up the gall bladder to remove it through the tiny incisions and then vacuum up any stones or bits of bile that fell onto other parts of my anatomy while the procedure was ongoing. “So doc, basically all of my gall will be divided into three parts?” I asked. It was then the surgeon cued the anestiaologist to proceed.

Six hours later, I nervously ate a hamburger and drank skim milk. Never has hospital food been such a gourmet experience. I even added mustard and ketchup for flavor. There had always been about a two hour layover prior to great pain when I ventured away from dullness. Two hours passed. Three. Four. I went to bed. No attack. No pain. No gall bladder. Huzzah!

I’d love to say I learned my lesson, but the instant I was free of the doctors, I started down my bad eating habit road again albeit at first cautiously.

Then one day, I got daring and ate fried chicken. There was a problem. Without a gall bladder to help with digesting fat, the liver does all the work. It can’t manage fried chicken without creating too much bile. Too much bile acts as a draino on the system. Enough said. Ditto for such treats as ice cream and baked goods that use oil. So while “Gallia est omnis divisa in partes tres” I can no longer stomach a Caesar salad. My stomach and liver will override any foolish choices on my part. “Et tu Body?”

Exercising Futility

Yesterday: Alarm at 5:00 am. I know I said today I’d go to the gym first thing but this is an unhealthy hour. I need sleep. Experts say getting enough sleep helps you lose weight. So I’m going to listen to the experts. Sets alarm for 6:15. I’ll do a workout video in the morning and hit the gym after lunch.

6:15 snoozed to 6:30… Okay. We’re on a Diet. No fats. No Fried anything. No Sweets. No Chocolate. No Caffeine, No Alcohol, No unhealthy anything. What is there to eat in this house…almost nothing.

8:15 am Breakfast. I….need…food. Cereal. Healthy plain bran flake cereal I’ve let sit on the shelf for months is the only low sugar option available. I’ll start good. I’ll be good. Hmmm…taste bad…taste like it’s stale…I’ll fix that…with fruit. Lots of fruit….and milk….and orange juice….who knew eating healthy could taste good….why haven’t I started this before, this is easy….it’s still chewy and stale, but the fruit helps.

Morning room sweeps and dishes and laundry carry us through the next two hours without a mishap except for the two handfuls of M&m’s I gave myself when the toddler went to the potty and I handed out rewards.

10:30 am…Food….I need food….can’t have food until 12…the kids want second breakfast. I fixed them frozen waffles and sipped my diet coke with lime virtuously. I just need to make it to 12…

11:00 am. Double toddler accident below the beltway. Ate a fistful of M&m’s to sustain morale.

11:40 am I’m supposed to wait until 12…what’s 20 minutes…the time it will take me to make the food, so it will be ready by 12, when I get to eat….tuna…with onions and celery and tomatoes…peppers…and just a tablespoon of mayo…hmmmm. That looks REALLY dry. Maybe little more, NO. No. no. I’ll add a healthy fat, some olive oil…just a drizzle. Okay, that looks much better. Mix it up, on toast…a pickle, an apple sliced up and maybe a big glass of milk. That is a virtuous lunch. It needs a little something hot though, maybe some soup…soup is healthy….and I’m going to the gym so it will be okay, I can count the calorie credits, they’re all good calories…

1:00 pm Need to go to gym. Too full…wait until later…let kids watch PBS…feel vague guilt that I’m not putting on fitness workout video for all of us to enjoy or at least try.

1:15 Pottying success and I grabbed a diet coke instead of eating M&m’s. Yeahs all around. Can’t find shoes to get them ready to go to the gym.

1:30 Still can’t find shoes

1:45 Found 3 shoes…still need one more.

1:55 found three other shoes, none match.

2:00 pm Having found a pair of slippers that match, I could technically make a go of it, but child care ends in thirty minutes, wouldn’t be a long enough work out to be worth it…I’ll go at 4…

2:30 Load car of kids sans shoes for school pick up, find other four matching shoes in car.

3:00 pm pick up kids from school, Girl Scout cookie orders came in today, so our car is packed with cookies. The kids open a box to share as the afternoon snack while still in the car in the school parking lot, I absentmindedly eat a cookie the kids hand me. It’s a Girl Scout thin mint. Thin mints. The thin mint scent is wafting around in my head. The open sleeve of thin mints is within arm’s reach…resist….resist….resist….what’s a serving?…four…I’ll have just one…so that’s what…40 calories….40 calories…puh. That’s nothing…I’ll make it two, that’s only 80…besides, these two are stuck…explain to kids that thin mints are best eaten straight out of the freezer. One child hands me another thin mint, “I don’t want this type of cookie Mommy, you can have it.” Her eyes are generous and happy. If I refuse, they will be sad…I eat the cookie. Other children offer cookies and I decline by chewing as long as possible, when we get home, my son has wrapped two cookies in a napkin as a gift to me, so I eat those two…200 calories… trouble.

Unloading the car takes about 20 minutes…then the phone rings such that homework gets delayed…a few thin mints may have been eaten in the process...

4:15 pm “We have to go to the gym..”
“But Mommy, I need to use the computer to type up my Copernicus report.”
“And I have to make a diorama using clay and a shoe box for tomorrow’s project on the rain forest.”
“Can you read to me?”
“I have to practice this piece for the concert on Friday.”

I realize that my gym bag doesn’t have my favorite gym pants or shirt and the walkman is missing it’s headphones and needs new batteries...and I only have AA and it needs AAA…I need to repack this…so it goes in the corner to be dealt with later.

5:30 pm Homework is finished. Music is finished. Thin mints are finished. How did that happen?
“Hey Mom, What’s for dinner?”
Making a mental note to skip dinner, I fire up the pot of boiling water, put the meatballs in the microwave and begin making a salad.

6:20 pm Dinner is on the table. It smells great. Maybe I’ll serve myself…sensible portions.

7:20 pm Time to get people bathed and starting on bed routine.

8:30 pm Kids are mostly in bed…time to do dishes and put away food.

9:27 pm…with interruptions and phone calls and retucking in of three separate kids, plus the discovery of an older one in the back basement reading comic books on the sly, dishes are just now getting done.

10:00 pm…I could go to the gym. It’s open until 11…but I don’t want to go out this late…alone….and I’m tired…I’ll start tomorrow at five thirty --five was too early. I’ll get up and do a DVD –the 21 minute workout, right at six, that way I’ve got a jump on the day and won’t have cut into the schedule by more than 15 minutes….and I won’t have to worry about what I’m wearing or if I have headphones…just the other sleeve of thin mints in the freezer.

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The Twelve Days of Adkins

Reflections on My ongoing Adkins Experience. A Dieter's Diary and attempt to twist reality to fit a theme...more or less.

Day 1 On the first day of Adkins, here's what I had to eat...well, it wasn't a partridge in a pear tree, but it was chicken and salad. Yum. Yum. Telling myself not to eat a Dove Bar, french fries, strawberries or ice cream all the time. By the end of the day, I’m snappish, Husband asks about biology. Snarl “No” and go to fume while munching a piece of cheddar. I feel stale already.

Day 2 Huzzah, I lost three pounds. By my calculations, I’ll be at my desired weight at current course and speed in ten days. Bring on those two turtle doves! Suddenly, No Carb conversion diet seems completely reasonable and of course I’ll stick with it.

Day 3 What gives? I only lost a pound? Did I eat any carbs yesterday? Okay, I forgot and drank six ounces of milk but that’s not like seriously going to keep me from losing is it? That’s so unfair. Resolve to stick with it, after all, I’m on day 3 and I’ve lost four, so I’m one up on the day. Three French hens please. Begin to see how ubiquitous carbo snacks have become in everyday life. I can’t buy a stamp without passing a candy bar!

Day 4 Now taking to weighing twice a day. Did I lose weight yet? Did I lose weight yet? Severe frustration at self for accidentally popping a strawberry, I actually spit it out. Baked four calling birds yesterday to allow for easy snacks today. Wonder if it is worth it.

Day 5 Five pounds are gone! But the days of meats greens…meat…greens…switching to seafood to have variety. Had to order at the golden arches today...that was...difficult. Desperately want to break a new barrier but have stopped talking about diet for fear someone will ask “How much did you lose?” and begin telling me how they dropped 25 the first week. Lost one more pound, somehow feel cheated.

Day 6 I miss orange juice. Very tired of the six geese a laying eggs for breakfast. Reflect on reality that if I had lost one pound each day, I would have been far more satisfied with the diet than losing three, one and then nothing and then one again. Also worry about catching scurvy. Consider branding the diet man a hack, but afraid to stop for fear five pounds are just waiting to hop back on my hips.

Day 7 Breath smells permanently faintly of cheese. Burps have a meaty aftertaste. Now brushing teeth after every meal and snack. Ate the swimming swans today..well not really, but man oh man am I sick of chicken and tuna salad. Staring longingly at children’s lunches, a carb fest of refined sugar –an apple, white bread peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chocolate milk. Begin trolling diet aisles for the pseudo chocolate bars that will substitute for Chocolate. Can’t find any that fit in the diet in this part of the regimen. Nuts.

Day 8 Okay. Seem to have plateaued diet wise. Now considering the radical concept of going to the gym. The gym had an ocatave of women from the La Leche league holding a get in shape membership drive for post partum women. I had actually packed gym clothes in a tote and put them in the back of the car, complete with walkman, but I didn't want to run the gauntlet of eight maids a miling with my crew toting bottles. Went home and did push ups.

Day 9 Considering switching to South beach. Diet Coke isn't even sending me anymore. Even forbidden grapefruit looks so good, it’s scary. Lost one pound. Becoming annoyed. This diet feels dial up, not broadband. Unfortunately, I have trained family to squawk if I weaken, so nine pipers pipe up if I try to cheat.

Day 10 Have decided Low Carb plans are Man diets. Begin promising God to stick to exercise regimen if someone will give me half a blueberry. What’s for breakfast? Eggs. What’s for lunch? Salad and Meat. What’s for dinner, Salad and More Meat. Log on to website for testimonials to keep me in lockstep with the routine. Ten emails later, I'm sufficiently bolstered to march on. Ten drummers keeping me in lock step.

Day 11 Reflecting on the diet rules and their implications. What exactly is a carb? I mean how is it defined –how are foods divided such that one can portion a candy bar in small pieces and get only seven carbs as versus the entire 17 in the goodie. How many carbs in an onz of milk? Some french bread? Banannas? Maple Syrup? Chocolate Five Star Bars? Ice Cream? Pasta Alfredo? Salt and Vinegar Chips, cold cereal for crying out loud!

Not that I’m considering eating any of these things.

They’re for a friend. This lady's dancing with the idea of reintroducing carbs, but my brain has already figured out how I could eat the bad stuff...nah nah nah...can't hear me..not listening...going to stay on the diet...where's my cheese stick. I love cheese sticks....and shrimp coctail at ten in the morning...wondering if we can fiscally afford to keep me on a diet.

Day 12 What?
It's just steak for breakfast.
I couldn't take one more day of eggs. No I will not share.
You guys get to eat pancakes and toast and bagels and oatmeal and cantelope and blackberries, milk, doughnuts and apple juice.

I am offered every possible carb sin, as half the family still likes the idea of being food police, and the other half is ready to sell out for a few pieces of sirloin. There are Lords a leaping as a I cut up my breakfast and portion it out to the assorted heathens. Pieces of appeasement to achieve morning peace. Guess I'll have some more eggs.

There is a dietary mutiny afoot.
Shouldn't have lorded that fact over them.(Sigh).

I made it.

I'm not sure what was harder, sticking to the diet the first three weeks or sticking all of this into my preselected format.

Tune in next time when I try once more to mix two or even three improbable things, from History, Philosophy, English Literature and domestic family life, politics and religion, all for the sole purpose of creating humor and insight...alright, and maybe losing a few more pounds.

In Honor of My Sibling’s birthday.

Date: October 25, 1977.

The baby was coming two months ahead of schedule. Ignorant of how scary this might be, (after all, I was two months early too and here I was, a sixth grader and just fine), I felt happy to know I would find out soon; brother or sister.

My brothers and I got farmed out to our best friends’ homes respectively for the duration. Huzzah! Unrestricted time with peers is every adolescent’s dream; except this one came with a parent that was on a health kick.

Being a good friend, she tried to warn me, but it wasn’t like I had any choice. My parents were hi-tailing it two hours to the big hospital. I came psyched with my pj’s, tooth brush and clothes for the next three days.

Then we were served snack.

Raisins.

Raisins were something you stuck in oatmeal. Raisins were in cookies you ate only after all other options had been exhausted. Raisins were grapes gone bad.

“Can I have a drink?”

Her mom poured us each some water... without ice... from the tap.

As green and as healthy and as ecologically and economically friendly as this may have been, I was an unenlightened seventies sixth grader. This was Not a snack.

My friend meekly drank her luke warm tap water and gave me a “You know how They are” look. We ran to her room to listen to the Doobie Brothers, read Dynamite! and talk about Star Wars. For the next two hours, if one didn’t count the hunger pains, it was pure bliss. My best friend explained that her mother was trying to purge their family of impurities and warned that dinner might not be fun. I promised to be a gracious guest, being her best friend and all, we could tough it out.

Dinner was served.

I don’t think anyone has ever licked their lips in joy and anticipation at a meal like this, or if they have, common sense has prevailed enough that they haven’t gone public. I stared at the plate. The following is 100% unembellished unvarnished, ungarnished truth. Warning! Not for the squeamish or slightly queasy.

Liver: enemy of every respectable child without a gallon of ketchup at their side.
Pickled beets: I have family that eat these so I won’t insult their taste buds. That being said, I wasn’t happy.
Lima beans: My husband loves them. He serves them. I still won’t eat them.
Water. *Still from tap. Single feeble melting cube.

We sat down for grace before meals.

I admit, my prayer was silent and heart felt. “Please please God. Deliver me from this food.”

The phone rang as soon as we said “Amen.”

It was my Dad. I had a sister. Mary Jennifer. I was pumped to even up the score with my brothers. Then inspiration struck. I whooped to her family and gushed, “I have a sister! Oh, I’m too excited I can’t eat!” and ran up the stairs. My best friend saw opportunity and took it. “ME TOO!” she shouted and bolted after me.

I heard her brother and sister try the same stunt to no effect. We played cards until we were sure dinner had been put away. We laughed and snuck down around ten o’clock to feast on vanilla ice cream and Coca-cola.

“To Mary Jennifer!”
“To your sister!”

And the bubbly soda shot through our noses. Truly, it was a great celebration to be alive.

Happy Birthday Sis and many more! Pass the ice cream and soda please.