Tag Archives : chocolate


one woman’s journey 3

Sounds so regal, doesn’t it?  

Not really.  Here goes:

Yesterday I drove part of the way home from my parents with Nicholas and spent the night at my in-laws.  At my in-laws I was treated to a five-star experience including a nap, childcare, steaks on the grill, strawberry shortcake (made from strawberries that were picked that day) and a comfy bed.  And I was there for less than 24 hours.

I noticed my shoes were squeaking on the kitchen floor.  The spotless kitchen floor.  The floor that makes me nervous to have children in the house.  So, I took my shoes off.  As I walked, my feet actually squeaked.  That clean.  No lie.

After bidding farewell, I headed down the road, lost in thought.  I am finally lost in thought since the first time Maggie learned to speak.  See, she’s in Chicago visiting my parents.  So the car is quiet.  So very, very quiet.  And I am finally lost in thought.

At first, my mind really doesn’t know where to wander.  It has been so long since it has relaxed.  I got to be on a sort of mental offense instead of mental defense.  Normally it is answering rapid-fire questions such as “Mom, when you die do you want to be turned to dust or do you want to buried in the back yard?” or “Mom, Next year can my birthday party be a shark party and the year after that a Tinkerbell party?” or “Mom, if I love Nicholas more than anyone when I’m older, why can’t I marry him?”

So during this glorious period of mindless driving, I happened to rub my chin.  And what did I happen to find when I rubbed my chin, you ask?  A freakin’ chin hair that was long enough to have it’s own zip code.   I kid you not.

First thought: How long has this thing had to grow to get to this length?  Why did I not notice? Why in the hell did someone not tell me?  How many people have seen this beaute of mine?  Thank goodness it’s blond and almost invisible.  Almost.  Maybe no one saw it.  Maybe it is invisible.  OK,  Tweezers.  I need tweezers.  NOW.

Except I’m driving in the car.  There are no tweezers.  I didn’t even pack any.  I have children’s benedryl, children’s Tylenol, the thermometer, all just in case.  But no tweezers.  I can’t even pull off at the next exit and deal with this disaster.

About two hours later I got a little Ralph Macchio on the little sucker.  I plucked it out with my bare fingers.  Take that, grasshopper.  Of course, only later after searching my house did I realize that the tweezers were in my make-up case with me the whole time.  (and yes, a make-up case for me consists of mascara, Q-tips and tweezers.)

The last time we drove back from Louisville, I was the lucky passenger, which means I got to read, surf my phone, and generally kick back during the ride.  At one point I noticed a truck going 65 miles an hour on the other side of a road barrier where the highway split during a few miles of construction. The window was down and I thought to myself that must be a lot of wind.  Then I saw a garbage bag blowing in the drivers seat.  And I thought to myself Holy crap!  There is no one driving that truck.   My heart started to thump as I further inspected, assuming someone would pop up who had been recklessly picking up a CD from the floor.  But again I realized Holy crap!  There is no one driving that truck.  Right then the barrier ended and I saw that the truck was being towed by the U-Haul in front of it.  So really no one was driving that truck, but I didn’t need to use my superpowers to save the world.

This trip, as the lone adult, I had no time for such tomfoolery.

I had more important things to worry about.  Like my GPS getting amnesia and going off-route every 30 miles or so.  (Which, for the record, I don’t need on a trip from Louisville home, but I like to see how many miles to go and the estimated time of arrival.  Shut up.) Or my constant fear of locking Nick in the car with the keys.  Or dropping the keys into the toilet while I’m stopping for a pee break.  Or feeling like I forgot something.  Oh, right, I left Maggie there on purpose.

And because Nick gets to be pretend-only-child this week, he got to choose where we stopped for lunch.  He voted for Cracker Barrel, and who am I to argue?  The only problem being, I really wanted to take a nap, and after Cracker Barrel and given the fact that it was already his naptime and we were in the snooze-mobile, I was committing nap suicide.  And then I ate coma-inducing food, like chicken and dumplings.  Damn.

We ate.  He fell asleep about 6 minutes into the remaining hour of the trip.  I was doomed.  I needed chocolate.  I started planning my chocolate consumption for when I got home only to remember I hadn’t been home in five days so there was little to no chance that any chocolate would remain.  Double damn.  Oh, wait!  There is a piece of chocolate buried in my bag.  Oh, crap, it’s under the laptop, the four books I brought and never got to read, the fresh strawberries I got to bring home and various other randomness.  Better postpone my chocolate fix and concentrate on the road.

 Then the skies opened up.  So I was doomed to be without chocolate without a nap and driving through sheets of rain with cartoon-like lightening bolts striking in the direction we were heading.  Luckily that one spot sheltered by the underpass where I hit some type of water reservoir which sounded as though I had cracked the undercarriage in half, followed by hydroplaning for a few feet next to a semi seemed to have woken me up for the duration of the trip, dumplings or not.

And while I wrote the greatest memoir imaginable on the way home, it was all in my head and now I can’t remember a bit of it.  But on the plus side, Nicholas transferred to the bed and we napped for almost two hours.  That made for a spectacular end to my journey.


reset

I found the master reset button on my four year old. It had a lot to do with finding the master reset switch on myself. I found a mirror (not the unbreakable one that Nicholas broke into a million pieces) got myself centered and the day went well.

Tidbits:
If you need to entertain a preschooler for a few hours, give them a bag of multi-colored pipe cleaners. Seriously. It was a riot. And she got all creative on me, which was a bonus.

Maggie crossed the room approaching her brother, hugged him and said “I love you and someday we will be married.” Marrying Nicholas has been something she has talked about since he was born. I can’t wait to tell all at her rehearsal dinner someday…

I have developed a taste for dark chocolate, apparently. I never liked it before, but maybe I had never gone four days without any chocolate at all…

I was talking to a friend on the phone discussing something not too pleasant (we were in agreement, though, so that was good.) At one point I got overly nice about the topic and she said I needed to eat some chocolate because my brain was not functioning properly. The funny part was, just a moment before I had eaten a piece of chocolate that I was packing up for the neighbors. I actually got nicer with chocolate in my veins. Twenty minutes later, same thing. I thought it was pretty funny that she could actually tell the difference between the “high on chocolate” me and the “please for the love of Pete give me some chocolate” me.

Recently I bought my new fashion accessory for the season – a bag of white men’s T-shirts to wear under my sweaters. I asked my husband if he thought a size medium would fit. Now, the answer I was looking for was something like “Medium? Oh, I bet you are a size small.” Instead I got “Medium? That should work. They stretch a lot.” Gee, thanks.

P.S. I am having a bit of a thing with WordPress at the moment. I haven’t been able to use spellcheck in two days now. Forgive my typos.


oigh! 1

I met with a doctor today who is going to try to help me get back to being a normal person.  For those of you who haven’t heard my adrenal story, here is the condensed version:

When I was 25 I started having extremely high blood pressure, leg pains and heart palpitations.  I started seeing a specialist at Vanderbilt and went every day for two months so they could take my blood pressure and run tests.  Another month later they figured out I had a hyper-aldosterone secreting tumor on my adrenal gland.  I had surgery the next week.  Problem fixed.  Life saved.  Live long and prosper.  Oh, and be tired every day for the rest of your life.

Don’t get me wrong – the doctors at Vanderbilt literally saved my life.  Had I been in any other city, I may not have been correctly diagnosed and well, let’s not go there.

The adrenal glands regulate energy, the fight or flight response, as well as a ton of other things crucial to a healthy body.  Most people have two.  I have one.  I have one that is overtired, overstressed, and begging for mercy.  They run similarly to rechargeable batteries.  They charge during certain stages of sleep.  Of course, getting to the stage of sleep you need is harder when they are running low.  Of course.

So I have had two successful pregnancies and nursed each child for 22 months.  I have run my remaining adrenal so far into the ground it’s looking up at the gutter.  But now I can focus on my body and getting what I need, because I know my children have had what they needed.  Hence the meeting with the doctor.  We are waiting on some lab reports to decide what supplements and medications I will start.  (She said I will feel like I’m taking a pill every time I turn around.  Yeah.)  But the major aspect that needs modification is my diet.

My diet.

Are you ready?  No dairy, no gluten, no wheat.  NO CHOCOLATE.  No sweets, sugars.  OMG.  NO CHOCOLATE?  I could seriously go for most of the rest.  Not happily, but in the effort to feel human again and be able to stay awake all day I will try anything.  But the chocolate is going to be TOUGH.  My husband even groaned at the idea of me not having chocolate and he hasn’t had any in 4 months.

The morsel of good news is that I am not to exercise yet.  I can walk.  That’s it.  Doctor’s orders.  So yesterday’s post was premature and I don’t have to start.  I actually don’t have enough energy in reserve to expend extra working out.  The sad part is I would gladly work out for however long every day in order to sit down to eat whatever I want.   She also wrote me a prescription to nap whenever and as often as I can.  I actually teared up at this.  I feel so darn guilty taking naps.

The diet.  Holy crap.  I have never even heard of half of the foods are that I am to include in a sample diet.  I know they sound stinky and green and icky.  And they won’t taste like chocolate.

In case you are wondering, I’m not starting today.  It’s two days before Thanksgiving and I am road-tripping with my kids back to my in-laws.  My in-laws cook a southern Thanksgiving dinner with all the comfort foods you could ever want.  And I have chocolate stashed at home to finish.  So my goal is to not BUY anymore badness, but to eat through what we have at home in a weaning type process.

If you run into me on the street in a few weeks and I am unrecognizably cranky and foul, you will know why.  At least, hopefully, I will be awake.


oh, the irony

My children don’t know how to eat candy.  It cracks me up.  It’s not like they have never had candy (well, Nicholas hasn’t had much, but Maggie has been around for a couple Halloweens, Easters, and Valentine’s Days.)  This Halloween, though, has been a riot.  Maggie has never seen some of the types of candy she is eating.  She actually asked me “How do I eat this?” holding up a giant tootsie roll.  I said “Chew, chew, chew.”  A moment later she said “It’s working!”  Same thing with Milk Duds.  I think she decided they were too much effort because she gave me the rest of the mini-box.

Nicholas kept trying to give people candy from his pumpkin as we trick-or-treated.  It was pretty cute.  At other houses he non-verbally begged for more and was handsomely rewarded, only to try to give it away at the next house.  He got to have a Tootsie sucker when we got home.  He sucked for a minute or two, just enough to get some purple drool going.  Then he picked it up by the sucker part and sucked on the stick.  He walked away and we couldn’t find the sucker, but discovered it stuck to the leg of his costume.  His other big treat for the night was a piece of Kit Kat.  He promptly sat down once he got a taste of that.  He was so happy he smiled this huge smile and drooled brown chocolate goo down his chin and all over his shirt.  The phrase ”pig in shit” comes to mind.

Maggie has enough candy that if we adhere to the couple of pieces a day plan, she will have some left for next year.  But have no fear, mom will step in and do my duty to rid her bucket of candy after she goes to sleep.

The irony of it all is that I eat chocolate.  Every day.  EVERY day.  No lie.   I hide it in the cabinet.  I eat it when they aren’t looking.  I eat it when they are asleep.  I eat it when they wander into the other room.  I eat it when they watch TV shows.  I am an expert.  And they have so much to learn.  Someday I will sit them down and we will have “the talk” – you know the one - which chocolates are good, which ones are waxy and should be avoided, which ones are sweeter, which ones have the good caramel in them.  It will be a long, important talk and I have to save it for when they will appreciate it.  Until then I will let them eat a piece here and a piece there, knowing the master has much to teach.


broke back mama 1

Two days after trying a wii for the first time, I have totally pulled my back out. I think the two are unrelated. I really hope the two are unrelated. I am not THAT out of shape that a little wii action should put me on the DL. Maybe the road trip in combination with sleeping on different mattresses in combination with lifting a 30 lb. toddler together might have something to do with it. (It happened in the middle of lifting my son.) That and I never made it to the Y last week.

Once I can nurse myself back to having ANY range of motion in my back it’s off to the gym I go. No excuses this time. I can either grow old gracefully or I can continue to crumble into a little old lady. I’m WAY to young to be a little old lady any time soon.

But apparently I need to clarify something. Going to the gym and regaining a level of fitness has nothing whatsoever to do with my chocolate consumption. The two are totally unrelated. I plan to eat a piece of chocolate every day until they strap my arms behind my back in a straight jacket. Then I will try to bribe, cajole or blackmail a piece from whoever is nearby. Don’t think I’m above it. I’m not.

I like to think I have few vices in this world. I rarely drink alcohol, don’t smoke, don’t drink caffeine, don’t drink coffee, try to get 8 hours of sleep a night (at least), floss my teeth daily, but chocolate will go with me to the grave. Not a huge amount all the time, but a few M&Ms or a square of a big Hershey bar every day are the only things keeping me on this side of nuts. So yes, you can nag me if I’m not blogging about my first trip to the Y when we get back home but nagging me about eating chocolate is utterly pointless.

My husband and I have decided Santa will probably bring the family a wii of our own for Christmas. Six months from now I will be rocking it with buff muscles

and a chocolate smear on my face.