I don't intend to turn my blog into a chronicle of my eating issues, but they are big on my mind right now. I just made it through day two, and it was challenging. I was ravenously hungry at least twice and managed not to binge. This might not have ended so well if I had more groceries in my house, but I'll take the grace where I can get it.
Lest you think that all I think about is eating (or NOT eating), here are some one-sentence blurbs about the rest of my day:
We had our last book group tonight, having finished "Life-Giving Love", a book about the Catholic Church's teaching on marriage, family, contraception, and etcetera.
A family we barely know (but dearly love - figure that out!) is coming for dinner on Saturday --- four days away and I'm already nervous.
Baby boy has been sleeping through the night --- I plan to throw a party and everyone I've ever known is invited.
My house is a freaking mess and it stresses me out. Please may the housekeeping fairies appear tonight and make the messes, the unfinished chores, and the various stenches go away.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
I did it.
I ate well all day.
It's been weeks, months even. And it's a vicious circle. I eat bad, I get depressed. I'm depressed, I eat bad. I've been a mess and I told Kevin last night I'd just like to get through ONE DAY. ONE DAY of eating within the boundaries of Weight Watchers. The program isn't magical, but for someone like me who needs its parameters, it is helpful. He reminded me about a speaker we heard who said "A disciplined life is a happy life," and without going all analytical on the word "happy" I'll just say he was a good, Godly, wise speaker. Someone I'd like to listen to, but gosh darnit, I just don't want to quit eating enormous quantities of food whenever I please. However, the more this gets out of control, the more I become a basketcase and that's no good.
It's almost 9:00. I'm on my way to pick up a book and once I'm reading, I don't eat. So I made it. ONE DAY. One day down. I need prayer to tackle another.
It's been weeks, months even. And it's a vicious circle. I eat bad, I get depressed. I'm depressed, I eat bad. I've been a mess and I told Kevin last night I'd just like to get through ONE DAY. ONE DAY of eating within the boundaries of Weight Watchers. The program isn't magical, but for someone like me who needs its parameters, it is helpful. He reminded me about a speaker we heard who said "A disciplined life is a happy life," and without going all analytical on the word "happy" I'll just say he was a good, Godly, wise speaker. Someone I'd like to listen to, but gosh darnit, I just don't want to quit eating enormous quantities of food whenever I please. However, the more this gets out of control, the more I become a basketcase and that's no good.
It's almost 9:00. I'm on my way to pick up a book and once I'm reading, I don't eat. So I made it. ONE DAY. One day down. I need prayer to tackle another.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Saturday, October 4, 2008
If My Life Were A Sitcom...
...it wouldn't be very successful. I'll admit it, there's just not enough "zing" in my every day to interest viewers. But perhaps someday soon my sparkling personality will attract producers and then they'll need help to "loosely adapt" my life to a half-hour show once a week on NBC. If this happens, I will suggest the following for setting and characters:
Me - a witty though neurotic housewife; educated but spends most of her day doing mundane tasks around the suburban home; strikingly good-looking but with a penchant for self-deprecation; slightly chubby though always training for a triathalon; employed by a newspaper syndicate always hungry for her next sharply-written column
My hubby - portrayed as harried; the show never reveals his true job title, but it has something to do with wastewater treatment; stellar father; picks up the pieces of his wife's neurosis
My private investigator - a worldly woman; questionable ethics; her skills are questionable since she is forever avidly searching for but unable to find my birth parents
My running partner - a spunky, slightly mouthy, tiny-bit-rebellious member of a conservative church; provides lots of therapy on thrice-weekly runs
My neighbors - long-time friends who tolerate my "issues" and lend support through the day-in, day-out routines of suburban living; characters in and of themselves:
*one is extremely environmentally conscious to the point of riding his bike everywhere, up to 45 miles a day; has a compost pile in the front yard bringing neighborhood association fines upon himself
*one has such extreme concerns for the weakness of the economy she has undertaken digging a shelter under the street and stocking it with food and cash
*one is the neighborhood "Uncle" kind-of-a-guy - knows everyone, likes everyone, and everyone likes him
*one is my exact opposite - she sees things the way they are with no need for over-analysis; no neuroses; but is sufficiently amused by me
And finally, my children - for the sake of television and the need for hyperbole, I have eight --- combined with the neighbors for our weekly Sunday-night dinners, there are twenty-five children. As with "Everybody Loves Raymond", for the sake of plot and to save money hiring expensive child-actors, much of the child-connected plotlines are secondary.
So... would you watch?
Me - a witty though neurotic housewife; educated but spends most of her day doing mundane tasks around the suburban home; strikingly good-looking but with a penchant for self-deprecation; slightly chubby though always training for a triathalon; employed by a newspaper syndicate always hungry for her next sharply-written column
My hubby - portrayed as harried; the show never reveals his true job title, but it has something to do with wastewater treatment; stellar father; picks up the pieces of his wife's neurosis
My private investigator - a worldly woman; questionable ethics; her skills are questionable since she is forever avidly searching for but unable to find my birth parents
My running partner - a spunky, slightly mouthy, tiny-bit-rebellious member of a conservative church; provides lots of therapy on thrice-weekly runs
My neighbors - long-time friends who tolerate my "issues" and lend support through the day-in, day-out routines of suburban living; characters in and of themselves:
*one is extremely environmentally conscious to the point of riding his bike everywhere, up to 45 miles a day; has a compost pile in the front yard bringing neighborhood association fines upon himself
*one has such extreme concerns for the weakness of the economy she has undertaken digging a shelter under the street and stocking it with food and cash
*one is the neighborhood "Uncle" kind-of-a-guy - knows everyone, likes everyone, and everyone likes him
*one is my exact opposite - she sees things the way they are with no need for over-analysis; no neuroses; but is sufficiently amused by me
And finally, my children - for the sake of television and the need for hyperbole, I have eight --- combined with the neighbors for our weekly Sunday-night dinners, there are twenty-five children. As with "Everybody Loves Raymond", for the sake of plot and to save money hiring expensive child-actors, much of the child-connected plotlines are secondary.
So... would you watch?
Friday, October 3, 2008
Picture of the Week
My sweet Cayna learned to ride her two-wheeler this week. She is a champ! I highly recommend the "no training wheels, remove the pedals like they do in Europe" method. It has worked very well for both our bike-riding kids so far.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Years Past
As I was moving wet clothes from the washer to the dryer the other day, my mind wandered. It was still late September and my commemorative thinking strained back as far as possible to remember other late Septembers.
I'll start the list with the most recent "late September."
late September, 2008 - Celebrated baby John's first birthday. Arranged a professional photograph to order the 16x20 since I started that "tradition" with baby #1. For me and my offspring, the first birthday is a significant time of "coming out of the fog" of the first year. Usually, the on-demand breastfeeding becomes slightly less demanding by the first birthday. Baby moves more out of our bed and into a crib. We're sleeping more. Everyday responsibilities seem "do-able" again.
late September, 2007 - Gave birth! The days and weeks immediately following John's birth were marked by extreme peace. I relished the two-week "babymoon" I gave myself. At the advice of Martha Sears, I stayed in my nightgown for the whole two weeks and rested as much as possible. Accepted meals from friends and help from Mom and mother-in-law. The peace came from God and from the deliberate break from usual expectations on a wife and mom. If only a nightgown could evoke this anytime!
late September, 2006 - After almost six months of "For Sale By Owner", we listed our home in So Cal with a realtor. We also quit attending our non-denominational church and began to go to Catholic Mass. We changed our decision to move to San Antonio in favor of Las Vegas. In case this sounds like a lot, it was. I was a complete wreck during this time.
late September, 2005 - My step-father died unexpectedly and my family mourned.
late September, 2004 - We moved from Murrieta, California to Yucaipa. I was just entering the second trimester of my third pregnancy and hoping for a fun two years in a cute house just miles from the San Andreas fault and bordering an "extreme fire danger" zone. Why won't that dang house sell?
late September, 2003 - Our family of four geared up for a move to Pismo Beach, California! We visited there to explore and find housing, but weeks later the project fell through for Kevin's company and our future move was "up in the air" again.
late September, 2002 - I took a positive pregnancy test and devised creative ways to announce the news of our second child to Kevin.
late September, 2001 - Despite the recent events of 9/11, I flew with my 9 month-old firstborn child to visit Grandpa Tony and Grandma Noela in New Mexico. Joseph was delighted by doting grandparents and a new place to explore.
late September, 2000 - Just into the third trimester of my pregnancy with Joseph, I spent my days at an insurance office job and my nights sitting on the couch watching my belly grow.
late September, 1999 - Our first home went into escrow. I never knew you had to sign so many papers!
late September, 1998 - We were newlyweds. I was on staff with InterVarsity and Kevin biked to school every day and worked at Applebee's at night.
How's that for ten years of a random month in a wonderful life?
I'll start the list with the most recent "late September."
late September, 2008 - Celebrated baby John's first birthday. Arranged a professional photograph to order the 16x20 since I started that "tradition" with baby #1. For me and my offspring, the first birthday is a significant time of "coming out of the fog" of the first year. Usually, the on-demand breastfeeding becomes slightly less demanding by the first birthday. Baby moves more out of our bed and into a crib. We're sleeping more. Everyday responsibilities seem "do-able" again.
late September, 2007 - Gave birth! The days and weeks immediately following John's birth were marked by extreme peace. I relished the two-week "babymoon" I gave myself. At the advice of Martha Sears, I stayed in my nightgown for the whole two weeks and rested as much as possible. Accepted meals from friends and help from Mom and mother-in-law. The peace came from God and from the deliberate break from usual expectations on a wife and mom. If only a nightgown could evoke this anytime!
late September, 2006 - After almost six months of "For Sale By Owner", we listed our home in So Cal with a realtor. We also quit attending our non-denominational church and began to go to Catholic Mass. We changed our decision to move to San Antonio in favor of Las Vegas. In case this sounds like a lot, it was. I was a complete wreck during this time.
late September, 2005 - My step-father died unexpectedly and my family mourned.
late September, 2004 - We moved from Murrieta, California to Yucaipa. I was just entering the second trimester of my third pregnancy and hoping for a fun two years in a cute house just miles from the San Andreas fault and bordering an "extreme fire danger" zone. Why won't that dang house sell?
late September, 2003 - Our family of four geared up for a move to Pismo Beach, California! We visited there to explore and find housing, but weeks later the project fell through for Kevin's company and our future move was "up in the air" again.
late September, 2002 - I took a positive pregnancy test and devised creative ways to announce the news of our second child to Kevin.
late September, 2001 - Despite the recent events of 9/11, I flew with my 9 month-old firstborn child to visit Grandpa Tony and Grandma Noela in New Mexico. Joseph was delighted by doting grandparents and a new place to explore.
late September, 2000 - Just into the third trimester of my pregnancy with Joseph, I spent my days at an insurance office job and my nights sitting on the couch watching my belly grow.
late September, 1999 - Our first home went into escrow. I never knew you had to sign so many papers!
late September, 1998 - We were newlyweds. I was on staff with InterVarsity and Kevin biked to school every day and worked at Applebee's at night.
How's that for ten years of a random month in a wonderful life?
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Opportunity
My children (a couple of 'em) started gymnastics. And I sat in the waiting/observation room and boy oh boy was my mind going a mile a minute. Some of the thoughts I had are similar to those of any mom. Others make me think I'm just plain ka-whacko.
Thoughts I think most moms would have:
1) "This is so cool! Look at those great kids out there! They're naturals! They're Olympic material! Any minute now their instructor will appear through those doors and tell me I have natural talent on my hands."
2) "How fun! I wish I had done this when I was a kid!"
3) "What a great idea this was! This is going to increase their coordination, boost their confidence, and hopefully not render them paralyzed from the neck down."
The thought I had that maybe makes me just plain ka-whacko.
1) "What an opportunity this is. This place is so expensive, what am I doing here? What makes me think my kids belong here? It's not right that it's so expensive - I can imagine all the kids in Las Vegas who would LOVE the opportunity to take a class here but can't afford it."
And then I just got depressed. Try to imagine, if you will, that this depression came right alongside the joy I was feeling getting to watch my kids do all this neat stuff with an expert staff in a fabulous setting. It's funny. I confess here that I will not spend money (even when I do have it) on certain luxuries - and I feel superior for it. "You won't see me carrying a designer handbag like that." "I'd never drive a Hummer." Whatever. But I don't think plunking tons of money down on "lessons" is any better, even if (maybe especially if) it's for my kids. You can't disagree that tons of materialism is justified if it's "for the kids". My question is, how... HOW do you draw the line? Maybe it's not the lessons themselves, in my case. But I realized I enjoyed seeing my kids have this pleasure so much that I would do almost anything to get it for them. Even put it on the charge card when our budget is currently more limited than usual. Why? Because they deserve it. Really? Why? I'm afraid it's a vicarious thing. I wanted things like that and never got them. Or maybe I just wanted my parents to want me to have things like that and never got them. I don't know. I do know this really isn't about gymnastics. And as much as I love my children to the ends of the earth, they do not deserve gymnastics. It's quite a privilege to take lessons in a place like that. And I don't know how to make sure they know that.
Tonight my thoughts aren't organized. I don't know what the moral of this story is. But I have known God long enough to know that when I dump all this at his feet, he's going to work through it with me and eventually I'll learn something. When that happens, I'll let you know.
Thoughts I think most moms would have:
1) "This is so cool! Look at those great kids out there! They're naturals! They're Olympic material! Any minute now their instructor will appear through those doors and tell me I have natural talent on my hands."
2) "How fun! I wish I had done this when I was a kid!"
3) "What a great idea this was! This is going to increase their coordination, boost their confidence, and hopefully not render them paralyzed from the neck down."
The thought I had that maybe makes me just plain ka-whacko.
1) "What an opportunity this is. This place is so expensive, what am I doing here? What makes me think my kids belong here? It's not right that it's so expensive - I can imagine all the kids in Las Vegas who would LOVE the opportunity to take a class here but can't afford it."
And then I just got depressed. Try to imagine, if you will, that this depression came right alongside the joy I was feeling getting to watch my kids do all this neat stuff with an expert staff in a fabulous setting. It's funny. I confess here that I will not spend money (even when I do have it) on certain luxuries - and I feel superior for it. "You won't see me carrying a designer handbag like that." "I'd never drive a Hummer." Whatever. But I don't think plunking tons of money down on "lessons" is any better, even if (maybe especially if) it's for my kids. You can't disagree that tons of materialism is justified if it's "for the kids". My question is, how... HOW do you draw the line? Maybe it's not the lessons themselves, in my case. But I realized I enjoyed seeing my kids have this pleasure so much that I would do almost anything to get it for them. Even put it on the charge card when our budget is currently more limited than usual. Why? Because they deserve it. Really? Why? I'm afraid it's a vicarious thing. I wanted things like that and never got them. Or maybe I just wanted my parents to want me to have things like that and never got them. I don't know. I do know this really isn't about gymnastics. And as much as I love my children to the ends of the earth, they do not deserve gymnastics. It's quite a privilege to take lessons in a place like that. And I don't know how to make sure they know that.
Tonight my thoughts aren't organized. I don't know what the moral of this story is. But I have known God long enough to know that when I dump all this at his feet, he's going to work through it with me and eventually I'll learn something. When that happens, I'll let you know.
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