Room and Board

I finally broke down and bought some convenience foods. I balanced the checking account the other day and there were way too many entries for fast food. So I bought cereal bars, granola bars, a few TV dinners and a few Hot Pocket-type things. Not to worry, I also bought more fruit and vegetables than I usually do.

Sorry for the length, this is just a quick update. I'm engrossed in a search for a three bedroom apartment. Not that I'm going to find anything, but I guess it'll keep me distracted for a few hours.

Back for more

I actually got to the gym today! Woohoo! The workout I did won't get me into the Olympics or anything, but it's a start. My gym is closed Monday, but I'm going to go Saturday and Sunday. I also get to mow the lawn tomorrow, and I might try and talk my mom into helping me split some perennials. We're going to the zoo sometime this weekend, too, so I will be all kinds of active.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go figure out how many calories were in the pasta I just ate.

Up and up and up

Weight is up to 237.6. Yay! I cannot express to you how much the idea of gaining weight for no good reason thrills me. And at what, 1 or 2 pounds a day? How exciting! I shall be unable to move by the end of the year.

So, to recap, I need 3400 calories a day to maintain 230 pounds. Not that I want to maintain 230 pounds, but anyway. My calories yesterday were 2887, which is more than it should be. I ate emotionally twice, a glass of chocolate milk when the damn curtain rod fell off the wall again and no matter what I did it wouldn't stay up; and a sesame seed bagel with cheese and Canadian bacon when I weighed myself and it said I'd gained 4 pounds. Apparently I was teaching that scale good. It ended up being around 600 extra calories. No matter how many extra calories it ended up being, I was still well below the break-even line. I had a 500 calorie deficit, which, while it may not have made me lose any weight right away, should be enough to lose a pound a week. Yet here we are.

Anyway, I'll stop harping on that. Today is my last day providing daycare full-time. Yay! Kind of. (That one wasn't sarcastic.) On the one hand, I know that E and, to some extent, N, like having other kids around. However, it can get really grating if the daycare kids are being brats (happens a lot) and it can get really annoying if them being brats makes E think that he can act the same way (happens way too much for me). The money was also nice. But oh well.

That's it for now, I guess. I won't bore you by trying to pull topics out to discuss when I can't think of any. I'm going to pay special attention to balancing what food groups I eat and getting lots of water today; hopefully tomorrow will show some improvement in weight.

Fatty fatty fat fat

Weight is up to 235.8. This is baffling to me. I will admit to eating more than I should on the weekend, but that was four days ago, and I certainly didn't eat an extra 18,000 calories.

According to the most basic formula (weight x 15 to maintain) I should be able to eat 3500 calories a day and not gain weight. And I don't. Eat 3500 calories a day, that is. I do keep track. I hope it's one of those girl bloaty things. Gaining unexplainable weight was one reason why I gave up dieting after N was born. Breastfeeding and eating 2000-2500 calories a day got me a 10 pound weight gain. The next 25 came after I threw up my hands in disgust and gave up. Good job me! I am seriously considering thyroid testing, the fat person's scapegoat of choice. I had it tested once, when I was younger, and it was within normal ranges. However, that is something that can change with pregnancy and I've had two. So maybe. That would be nice to be able to take a pill and actually lose weight when I diet and exercise.

I have a confession to make. When I was younger, after my dog died, I stopped eating. And then once I got over the worst of the grief I had lost weight. So I kept not eating. And I lost 40 pounds. (Sadly, losing forty pounds did not make me skinny. I was still at least 15 pounds overweight.) Then I got bored and started eating again. I did manage to keep a lot of the weight I had lost off until I got pregnant with E. I am very seriously considering doing that again. Willful anorexia. Frankly, it was the only diet that ever worked for me. I am not condoning the whole eat-until-you-starve-to-death thing, nor am I saying it's for long term use. But maybe my food issues are so bad that the only way I can deal with them is to just not eat. I wish I could be normal about food, but I've been trying for a decade now and I'm no closer than I was when I started.

I can't believe I'm actually going to put this on the internet. But it's pertinent information, I guess.

It's just me again

I know I've been inconspicuously absent for a few days. I haven't been avoiding you, I swear.

I'm kind of annoyed with myself right now. I haven't been to the gym since the start of this thing. Actually since well before the start of this thing. I really really want to go. No, I do, seriously. However, I have this weird thing now where I will be dead tired around 9 PM, sleep for an hour, wake up, be up until 3 AM, sleep really crappily until DH finally drags me out of bed so he can get ready to leave at around 9 or 9:30 AM. He leaves a little after 10 and gets home around 8:30 at night. The gym closes at 9. We are a one-car family, and even if we weren't the child care situation at my gym is iffy to say the least. I would probably be seriously angry if I loaded up the kids and took them down there only to find out that it was full, but that's a moot point.

I need to drag my ass out of bed in the morning and go, I know, but it's so hard when you've gotten maybe four hours of sleep. I guess I'll have to split it up--whatever I can get at night and maybe two hours during naptime, and hope I don't keel over from exhaustion.

I've been playing around with real estate listings for the past few days. I would love nothing more than to get my hands on a neglected old house and bring it back to its full glory. I have this weird thing about "saving" old houses from being turned into shitty apartments or being bulldozed to make way for condos or McMansions. To see an old house that someone has remuddled to the point that it needs to be torn down to the studs makes me want to cry. I think I seek out these neglected houses because I feel bad for the old houses I've owned and had big plans for, but haven't been able to save because of one extenuating circumstance or another. If any of that makes sense.

Our credit sucks, though, so purchasing a house will be a few years in the making. I even applied for a mortgage tonight, but, surprise surprise, our scores weren't good enough to get it. (By the way, I think it is a bit silly that the gateway criteria is credit score. To me it's a bit arbitrary to be the end-all be-all deciding factor in these things.) I was completely expecting that we wouldn't get it, but it still depressed me. And I ate a bowl of pasta with ricotta and mozzarella. Sorry, Internet. I'm hanging my head in shame. I fell off the wagon. I wish I could guarantee that it won't happen again, but I can only say that I'll do my best to stay away from the spaghetti next time.

Have you ever heard that joke about the fat person who goes to a drive thru and orders a double cheeseburger with bacon, large fries, a dessert pie, and a diet Coke? And haha at the fattie because after ordering all that junk he thought he was being "healthy" and ordering a diet drink? I hate that joke. A, because a person is really not what they eat. (See my husband--he can eat anything he wants and not gain weight. Although lately he has been getting a little belly and I feel slightly vindicated. Guilty, too.) B, people don't always buy "healthy" things because they are healthy. I cannot stand the taste of regular colas. They disgust me. I grew up on diet soda, so that is what I can stand. And no, this little rant isn't coming from anything specific. Just a pet peeve of mine.

I am still feeling bleh if you wanted to know. Last night after writing my entry I thought, "Oh my God. I am describing depression. I am depressed." And the word "depressed" depressed me. I'm an emo kid. Excuse me while I get my Buddy Holly glasses and put on an ironic T-shirt and my Chuck Taylors.

My mood is not being helped by these damn kids. And I'm not referring to my own, I watch a few kids for daycare purposes. And I'm soooo glad it's Friday. I cannot put up with the chasing, toy stealing, hitting, kicking, running in the house, crocodile tears when you get punished crap anymore this week. I neither drink nor smoke, and right now I feel like I could use a pack of cigarettes and at least one bottle of wine.

Ah, insomnia. We meet again.

I guess it's not terribly fair to call it insomnia if I'm almost always up at this hour. It just feels wrong to be wide awake at 2 AM when there is no pay involved. I'm starting to think it would be better for me to nap in the afternoon with the kids and then sleep for six or so hours at 8 or 9. It just seems to be how things want to be.

Anyway, I've been feeling a little stagnant lately. We rent, but we rent from a private owner, which means that we have certain freedoms that people in apartments owned by corporations don't have. We can paint, and I put in a new kitchen floor (with permission, thank you). But now all the major stuff is done. Except for the dozens of sewing projects and, frankly, ugh. I'm sick of sewing right now. I had a bad experience with finishing the edges of sheer fabric embroidered with metallic threads. It was the biggest pain in the ass ever.

When we had finished the painting, floor, etc., I realized that, for the most part, I was done. I have never been done before. We have lived a lot of places, most private owned, and quite a few owned by my parents. There were projects I wanted to do in all of them and in all of them we moved before they were finished and I still lament not getting those things done. But now I am done. And I feel at loose ends. It's unfamiliar, and it's not like what I thought it would be. I imagined I would bask in the glow of my finishedness, and instead I seem to be panicking and going through some sort of life crisis. I even looked at houses for sale although we're really not in a financial position to be doing so. And moving sucks.

This mood was made worse when I went to put N in his carseat tonight. It is a 5-22 pound carrier, and I realized that he was probably at the upper weight limit. His feet are hanging over the end, and the shoulder straps cannot be adjusted any higher. My baby is growing up. DH and I agreed that we would not have any more children (more on this in a minute) so I have been gathering baby paraphernalia to sell on Craigslist or something. I realized that that carseat was my last bit of little baby stuff. There will be no other stuff to get rid of until N outgrows the convertible carseat that E is currently in, the one that goes to 40 pounds. That will probably be another two years.

Now on to the stuff about babies. I don't know that I am done having kids. It was always my plan to have four children. Even now, after giving birth to two, and remembering how bad it was, I'd like to have four. At the time that we agreed that two was best, well, two was best. I certainly wouldn't have a third child now, right this minute. I can't remember the last time I got a good night's sleep and I am seriously contemplating becoming nocturnal because it would be easier. Also, I have always said that I would have an even number of kids. Odd numbers mean someone gets left out. I grew up with two siblings at home and I can attest to this fact. This means that if I have one more kid I'm committing to having two more kids. And we don't have anywhere to put two more kids, unless they are of the variety that you can fold up and store under the couch when not in use.

One major reason I said OK to only having two was that I have two sons, and I wanted (want) a daughter very badly. Nothing against boys, but I want a little girl. There are tons of reasons why, and I'm not going to justify my want. However, I have this fear that if I get pregnant again I will have another boy. And then another one after that. And then I will have four sons. Imagine all the possible broken and/or maimed appendages. I cannot or I will surely become a gibbering, drooling idiot.

So right now I just feel like I need...something. Something to happen. Although normally I am content with the day to day of my life, and I am happy with everything around me, right now I am...restless seems to be the best word. Waiting. I guess I'll know what I'm waiting for when it happens.

Insight or Die

Here I am again, this time to give you insight into my eating habits. Calm down, control yourself. Try to contain your euphoria.

Most of the time I am really good during the day (although I hate to quantify eating habits as "good" or "bad.") and I do not overeat. I have been having some problems with this at lunch--the kids will eat one bite of their food, or half a sandwich, and then get up from the table. The Clean Plate Club member in me immediately screams in protest, saying that there are starving children in China! Not eating that food would be a travesty! Plus, we are a one-income family, and wasting food=wasting money to me. Something that I cannot abide. But yesterday and today I have done better. When E didn't touch his lunch yesterday, I simply covered it and put it in the fridge for dinner. (Shut up. I'm not Joan Crawford, it was something he liked but he wasn't hungry due to sneaking half of his brother's yogurt.) My first instinct was to eat it, but I fought it successfully. And no one is going to go bankrupt throwing away half a PBJ sandwich a few times a week. Although I may start making half sandwiches to nip that problem in the bud.

Nighttime is the worst time for me. After the kids have gone to bed, it is quiet and it feels like I can finally sit down and relax, and what better way to do that than with a bowl of ice cream? Also, DH doesn't get home until 8:30. I consume most of my food after this point. Not because he's eating; in fact, he usually doesn't eat much at night. I actually don't know why I eat so much when he's home. Is it a subconscious thing? Like he can eat whatever he wants and not gain weight (bastard) so I should be able to as well? Or is it a subconscious thing where I'm trying to eat so much that I goad him into telling me to put down the fork, for God's sake? I really don't think I'm that passive-aggressive.

I know that DH loves me the way I am. When we first met, I told him I was on a diet. He immediately announced his intention to make me a chocolate cake because I did not need to be on a diet. Ha. I weighed 176 when we met. If only he had known how much I really did need to be on a diet so I did not blow up like Violet Beauregarde. It was kind of sweet, though. I guess. I probably would have gotten fat even without that chocolate cake, since most of my weight is from pregnancy and breastfeeding.

When I worked, before being married or having children, when I still lived at home with my parents, in fact, I got to go home for lunch. When I went home I did not prepare a meal, sit down, eat it, and then read a book or watch TV until it was time to go back to work. Not most of the time, anyway. Most of the time I would open the fridge or cupboard, find something to eat, inhale it, and repeat. For some reason I was laboring under the impression that since it was a lunch hour, I should be lunching the entire hour. The funny thing is, I did not realize I was doing this until after I moved out on my own. I have been dieting since I was twelve (at least), thought I knew all there was to know about fats vs. sugars, calories consumed vs. calories expended, crunches vs. lunges, and I failed to identify a huge black hole of calories.

I think this entry has gone on long enough. Before I go, though, I am simply bursting to tell you that my weight is down 0.6 pounds. Woohoo! Excuses to eat! And I am going to a Mother's Day Pizza Fest at my mom's house tonight, so let's hope I can keep myself from gaining that back and then some. Anyway. I'm all done. Really.

In which I am no fun to be around

I am In A Mood. I hate being In A Mood, as it makes me short with the kids (and thank God I only had mine today, or I might have torn out half the hair on my head) and then it makes me feel terrible for being short with the kids. I was doing fairly well until this Mood descended on me around 4 PM. Now it appears that only salt, carbs, and sugar can treat this horrible affliction. And maybe some pasta. DS#2 appears to also be In A Mood as he keeps following me around whining. I can blame his poutiness on teething, but I can't do the same for myself. (Is it odd that I think it's OK to be pissy if there's a reason? Being crabby because somebody broke something or your husband left a sinkful of dishes after you had just cleaned up is OK. Being a jerk for some inexplicable chemical/hormonal reason is not, apparently.)

I have taken my knitting back out. To backtrack, I am terrible about unitasking. I hate doing it. I cannot just sit still and do one thing. Even when I'm up and about doing things I don't like to be doing just one thing. So it was very hard to sit at night and do nothing else when reading or watching TV. Eating used to be the perfect way to solve that problem, but I took to knitting as a solution a while ago. And then I got a new knitting basket so that balls of yarn would not be everywhere and that somehow kept me from knitting for a month or so. I brought the basket out again and am currently working on a baby blanket for the Children's Hospital NICU. That way I can use leftover yarn and do simple patterns. The one right now is just a moss stitch, although I wish I had started it in a basketweave stitch. I'm too lazy to tear anything out even though I'm only five rows in and three were edging.

Anyway, I'm going to go sit in front of the TV with a diet soda (another thing I won't give up. Diet soda is not the devil, people) and knit. And watch Ghost Hunters and How Clean is Your House.

Yay for Lists

I am a compulsive list maker by nature. I’m a Virgo, for those of you that follow astrology, and we are perfectionists. That is what I blame for all the lists, although I don’t really follow astrology, and you would never call me a perfectionist if you saw my house right now. I think I just like seeing my day broken down into doable tasks.

Anyway, here we go with list one.

Foods I’m Not Willing to Give Up to Lose Weight

Let me preface this by saying that I know that my major problem with eating is portion control. I am not saying that I can eat the foods below in massive portions every day. But I love them, and there is no real substitute for any of them. I also reserve the right to add items to the list as I remember them.

1. Chocolate. I eat chocolate every day. I guess my palate has been trained to expect chocolate after meals. Usually it’s a serving of pudding or a cup of cocoa. I am toying with the idea of buying a bunch of those individual fun size candy bars or whatever, throwing them in the freezer, and letting myself have one every day. One thing I’ve learned is that I should indulge my chocolate cravings within reason. The times that I have resisted a chocolate craving have usually resulted in me eating 300 calories of something else and still eating the chocolate. For that I might as well have had a full size candy bar and then some.
2. Real butter. Margarine is gross. Have you ever melted it? Or “spread,” whatever that is? Disgusting. It separates into water and oil. I think a lot of people try to save calories by substituting “diet” foods, and since margarine is lower in calories than butter, they consider it a diet food. I was watching a TV show about weight loss once (those shows are one of my addictions) and they had a doctor on there saying that margarine goes straight to your arteries. It’s fake, your body doesn’t know what to do with it. Butter is a “natural” food. Your body can process it. You shouldn’t be eating a stick a day or anything, but there is no substitute for real butter flavor. In cookies, I will usually substitute half the butter with unsweetened applesauce. Still has the flavor but half the calories and fat.
3. Cheese. I am, technically speaking, lactose intolerant. I was when I was a kid, then it went away for a while, and I’m pretty sure it’s back. But I love cheese anyway. You can add cheese to so much stuff and it becomes better. What casserole isn’t better with a layer of sharp cheddar on top? Or smoked gouda? (You have to love a cheese that tastes like bacon.) I do not generally just eat chunks of cheese, although when I was pregnant I used to get cravings for whole-milk mozzarella, put on a plate and melted just slightly. Yum.
4. Pasta. I used to eat pasta a lot more than I do now, almost every day. I don’t know if I’ve gotten lazy or what, but as far as just eating a big bowl of pasta, I probably only do that once or twice a month. I do use pasta in a lot of casseroles and stuff like that, though.

I actually can’t think of anything else right now. Could it be that I am so easy to please? Only four things? I thought about putting meat on there, but I like tofu, and I get cravings for veggie burgers a lot. I should pick some up the next time I’m at the store. As it is we don’t eat red meat, so if it came down to it I think I could go without it.

There you are, Internet. My first list. Probably the first of many. Maybe next time I will post something more important. I make no guarantees.

The Gory Side of Having Kids

E had a minor accident today. He was holding the storm door open for me after I took out the trash, and I pulled it closed without realizing his finger was in the crack between the door and jamb. I had to call my mom to leave work to help me calm him down, and I told her I'd probably be in big trouble if she didn't work so close. He's had Tylenol and is sleeping on the couch. I feel terrible about it, even though I know that the odds of him getting his finger slammed in a door at some point were pretty high. I think everybody's done that at least once.

Yet Another Day One

Well, actually it's 6 PM, so tomorrow will be another day one. One of many.

I am a mother of two, and my youngest is eight months old. With the first, E, the baby weight was fairly easy to lose once I got down to it. It's completely the opposite with my youngest, N. It seems that no matter what I do--low calorie, high protein, low fat, lots of exercise, tons of water--I gain weight. So for a while now I have done what I want. And, of course, I have gained weight. I actually weigh more now than I did when I was 9 months pregnant. Only two pounds more, but still. Sometimes I wish I was pregnant again so at least there would be some justification for all this weight.

Right now I weigh 231.2. There, it's said. When N was born I weighed somewhere around 219 (229 when I was 9 months pregnant) and I got down to 207 within a few months of his birth. I thought I was down to 189, and I was ecstatic. Then I got a new scale, since the old one would measure up to 75 pounds difference within a minute. No, seriously. I found out I was 207 and fell off the wagon, for lack of a better term.

I'm done. I have two pairs of pants that fit, and they're on the way out. I have less than five shirts that fit comfortably, and I have three pairs of shorts. I have boxes and boxes of clothes that I have packed up because they no longer fit. I can't bear to get rid of them, though, mostly because I'm not independently wealthy and can't afford to replace my wardrobe when I gain or lose weight.

I'm sure it will take me a while to find a balance between being able to control my weight and the rest of my life. And I'm here to write about it until I do.