Shave My Legs!!

Because Sugar and Spice know that their mother is practically comatose in the early morning hours, that’s when they plan their attacks.

Several weeks ago I was fresh out of the shower and getting ready for work when Sugar flew into the bathroom. “Mama, it’s going to be 82 degrees today. You need to shave my legs so I can wear shorts to school.”

I took about .2 seconds to gather my thoughts and told her that first off, her legs really didn't need to be shaved; they have wispy, light colored hair that isn't even noticeable unless she’s in the direct sunlight. I then asked if she was sure it was going to be that warm and she shoved her iPod in my face to show me the weather with a big smiling sunshine and 82 degrees.

I knew this was something she really wanted to do BECAUSE ALL HER FRIENDS ARE DOING IT, but I didn't have the time, or the necessary equipment (an extra razor and shaving cream). I reiterated the same conversation that we've had several times, “Please wait until after you turn 12.”

She seemed ok with this and left to take a shower and get ready for school. I continued with my morning routine, and as I finished up I could hear angry voices coming from another part of the house. I went to investigate and found that Sugar was indeed angry and was taking it out on her sister. I looked at EN with raised eyebrows and a WTF look on my face. He said, “She’s mad because you didn't shave her legs.”

Sweet mother of God, the girl doesn't even have enough hair to shave! I told her that if she was that worried about it, she should just wear capris.

When we were all in the kitchen, she continued on with her rant about how she has GROSS HAIRY LEGS and that she was going DIE, JUST SWEATING TO DEATH IN CAPRIS IN THE 82 DEGREE HEAT. At that point EN snapped to attention… “Who told you it was going to be 82 today? It’s only 40 degrees now!”

I didn't realize it was still that cool out, but it’s not inconceivable that we’d see a forty degree in a day. After all, we live in New England… if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. I said, “She showed me on her iPod that it’s going to get that warm today.”

He asked to see the iPod and handed it back to her… “We don’t live in Atlanta.” She found the weather for our area and found that we were going to see temperatures in the 60’s. Still not enough for her to call a truce.

“All my friends are going to make fun of me. They are going to ask me AGAIN when I’m going to shave my legs!”

As is typical for me, I finally snapped… “The next time they say that to you, ask them when they are going to shave their mustaches!”

I could hear Spice and EN trying to muffle their laughter…

Sugar: They don’t have mustaches. They have peach fur.

EN: Um, I think it’s called peach fuzz.

Sugar: WHATEVER! But they don’t have mustaches.

Me: Well you don’t have hairy legs either. They’re covered in peach fur. 

The End.

xoxo

Ice Princess

Sixteen Weeks

Excuse another moment of silence. Where I've been and what I've been doing since the last post is a mystery to me as well. Lots of stories to tell, just living life I guess.

The battle with the weekly weigh-ins continues and many days I feel like a failure. I thought I’d be farther along by now and am somewhat disappointed with my progress.

At this week’s weigh-in, I received a special “16 Week Charm.” I've been attending Weight Watchers meetings for longer than that, but must have skipped a few weeks here and there. Regardless, 16 weeks is a milestone of sorts. “Research shows” that members of the program that reach this goal are more likely to stick with it. So stick with it I shall… even though the weight is coming off at a snail’s pace.

At the 16 week weigh in, I am down 17.2 pounds. If you add in all the weeks I've missed, I’m losing at a VERY slow rate. I disappoint myself. If I look at the online tools, I see that I’m losing an average of .5 pounds a week. Yippee skippy, maybe if I pee before the meetings I’ll lose more. Regardless, I shall soldier on. As I've said in the past, slow and steady wins the race.

I KNOW what my problem really is… I occasionally binge on something stupid like pizza, beer or Chinese food. Then to get back on track, I’m vigilant about the food I consume, to the point that I don’t eat enough. I know this is stupid and I need to pay more attention and eat what I need to eat, but some stupid voice in my head keeps saying, “The less you eat the more you’ll lose. “ Apparently, I learn new behaviors as quickly as I lose weight.

I have started cooking differently and exercising more, steps in the right direction. I've discovered new recipes that are low in points and heavy on flavor… one of my favorite recipes right now is a Rachael Ray “Curried Carrot Soup.” One might eat a vat of it for very few points. One might add in a spoonful of low fat sour cream and really come undone.

Can you tell this girl loves her food?

Another favorite is a recipe from Brown Girl in Montana… homemade salsa. I made this and knew it was supposed to sit overnight in the fridge to blend flavors, but after all that chopping and dicing, I had to have a bite… or 20, just to make sure it was OK  Holy hell, I may never again buy salsa at a store. It’s more expensive to make but so much tastier and I know every ingredient that went into the food processor. Oh Lawd Jesus that’s some good shit! EN is also a huge fan and I made three batches in three weeks. That’s a lot of tomatoes, baby!

Anyway, I think I’m back now. I have a lot of shit to say. Stay tuned for posts about shaving the legs of a 12 year old. Or my next big thing, growing my own salsa ingredients so I don’t pay out the ass. Yes readers, that’s right, this girl is planting a garden. It will be “totes adorbs” and I’ll love it until I break a nail. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Morning Dance Party

I've blogged plenty of times about how much I hate mornings. I’m generally all business and no party, kind of like the front view of a mullet-style haircut.

It’s not that I’m angry or grumpy in the morning, it’s more of a “failure to comprehend” type of problem. During the week, I wake up, I get ready for work, I leave for work. There’s no messing around, this girl is on a tight schedule and there’s not big margin for error.

Over the last few months, I've been playing fun music on my iPad in the morning while packing up the girls’ snacks and lunches, and making them breakfast. Sugar is normally still doing her hair at this point, but Spice and I will dance all around the kitchen.

Sugar and her eagle ears hear this going on from upstairs so she’s made a point to get ready faster so she can play along. In addition, she has started setting alarms to music to avoid forgetting to do things in the morning. Kid Rock reminds her to eat breakfast. Hannah Montana reminds her to put her lunch bag into her back pack. The list goes on.

We liked her music choices and started using some of those songs to set the stage for our morning dance party. Now we've gotten to the point where one of us shouts out a song and whoever is manning the iPad plays the request.

Recently, EN was up early enough to see the VERY WHITE (read: lack of rhythm) chicks he lives with dance and sing all over the kitchen. Rather than laugh at us on that day, he decided to join in and dance with us, white man overbite and all.

He was quite pleased to show off his insane dance moves.

He “mowed the lawn.”

He “picked apples.”

He “weed wacked.”

By the time he was done, he was the only one left dancing. No one took him up on his offer to teach his stellar moves. We all just stood there in silence, wide-eyed and watching. I should point out here that while he may have stayed within the beat better than we ever do, his “moves” are as bad as ours.

Spice finally broke the silence when she walked over to grab her cereal bowl, “Well. That was awkward.”

Awkward or not, we continue to sing and dance in the morning… and I find myself functioning, awake and smiling just a little bit earlier than I used to.  

xoxo

Ice Princess

A Random Sunday

I feel as though my girls have grown up enough to the point that the hat I seem to be wearing most often lately is that of a taxi driver. It doesn't happen on a regular basis, but on a day like Saturday, where we had two birthday parties to attend at different times… and presents to buy, I felt like I spent a lot of time in the car.

Of course the day had to start off in Target for the gifts. In the process, I refereed three fights, spent scads of money on household crap that we NEED (does everything have to run out all at once?!), lost my cell phone and lectured the children who were trying to buy stupid crap with their own money. Seriously, if Spice adds one more interactive stuffed animal to her collection, I will lose my shit.

After 11 on Sunday both girls were back home and we had a day with not much to do besides laundry and a little house cleaning. The girls attempted to go outside for a bit, but the weather wasn't overly conducive to bike riding and fighting where the neighbors can hear you. Before long it was drizzling and both girls were back in the house. A perfect lazy day.

We've recently become addicted to shows on Food TV like Restaurant Impossible and Restaurant Stakeout, all to be watched when Cupcake Wars isn't on, of course. So on a drizzly Sunday we parked our butts on the couch and watched random stuff on TV. As we are all somewhat opinionated, we all have something to say about what goes on during these shows.

We would have stayed there all day, but I woke up that morning with a hankering for pizza. I've been doing great with the dieting, but when this girl wants pizza, there is no denying her, or there will be hell to pay.

After EN left for work, we got a few things done and headed out for the pizza I was craving. We went to a local place that EN and I used to go to “when days were old and nights were bold.” It tends to be more of a bar type of atmosphere at night, but I figured we’d be pretty safe at 4 pm on a Sunday afternoon.

As I suspected, there were about six people in the place-watching golf, a mellow day all around. Our usual table was available and we quickly ordered as I knew exactly what I wanted. I’d been dreaming about that pizza all freakin’ day!

I would have expected that we would have eaten our meal and left and no one would have noticed our presence. However, we had an awesome waitress who really went out of her way to make sure the girls had fun.

I never really allow the girls to have soda, but when we go to this place, I do let them share a Sprite. I asked to have a cherry added to each of their glasses and the waitress overdid herself by adding a shit ton of cherries to each AND the shot of grenadine to turn the Sprite into the favored Shirley Temple. Already my girls fell a little bit in love with the waitress.

The girls mooched a couple dollars off me to go play songs on the jukebox with the promise that they would play a song for me too. Suddenly the volume skyrocketed and I’m hissing at the girls to leave the volume button alone.

The waitress said, “Oh it’s not them, it’s me!” And Call Me Maybe is blasted through the restaurant.

Two biker looking dudes at the bar start dancing and singing the song to each other.

A lady at the bar starts dancing in her seat, hollering that this is her favorite song.

And the waitress handed my girls a stack of cash because she liked their taste in music and wanted them to choose a few more songs.

Our pizza arrived and we ate and sang along to a bunch of popular favorites by Bruno Mars, Blake Shelton (the ONE song they played for me) and a whole bunch of singers and bands I've never heard of. We chatted and laughed and no one had time to remember to fight or to complain about not being hungry, a very rare occurrence.

The point of this post? The point is that in the grand scheme of life, this was a quick weekend and really, “nothing special” happened that will make us remember it forever. It struck me then, and still sits with me a few days later, that a fun few hours out doesn't require a ton of planning or a lot of money. The dinner out cost me a whopping $22, but the fun we had together (and with the others in the restaurant) was priceless. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Chubby Chicks: Weeks Ten and Eleven

And here I fell off the planet again. Not going to lie, the dental work I had done two weeks ago today kicked my ass. I am going to taunt the Gods in Heaven by saying that I’d much rather endure pregnancy and childbirth again before enduring another “measly” four hour appointment at the dentist.

I still don’t feel right and it’s been two weeks. I recovered from c-sections faster than that!

On to the big news of the day, or the big news of the last two Thursdays.

Week 10: Down 3 pounds (over two weeks) for a total loss of 13.8.

Week 11: Down 2 pounds for a total loss of 15.8.

That’s right, I’m about to go buy my THIRD bracelet.

I’m feeling good about this and I find myself treating meals differently. I plan ahead more. I make allowances for when I know I’ll be around good food/drinks… I’m cooking healthier foods. I've learned to roast vegetables and just eat mass quantities of those because they have ZERO points.

I even lightly breaded and baked eggplant for my own white trash version of Eggplant Parmesan.

I’m trying so hard to make healthier decisions every day, but you know what? I miss bread, potatoes, pasta and chips like nobody’s business. And you know what else? It’s true that one can still enjoy these foods, albeit in smaller quantities, and lose weight. I did some good eating on Easter, but managed to reign it back in for the week and still managed to lose weight.

Just when I get really good at this, I’m going to plateau. We all see it coming, yes?

My euphoria has ended because I surfed the internet while typing this post. I was curious about what my ideal weight should be and it came to my attention that I’m not even halfway there on this journey. Damn it all.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Repeat for infinity…

xoxo

Ice Princess

Under the Influence

There will be no Chubby Chick update this week. I skipped the weigh in and I have a VERY valid excuse. Yesterday, I started my HOLY FUCKING EXPENSIVE time at the dentist’s office. As a reminder, I broke two teeth in January and they were deemed “unsalvageable.” I decided to go with permanent implants and just work one step at a time over years, to maximize my dental insurance benefits.

The only thing that bothered me about this dentist is that he declined the medication that would put me out for the procedure. He promised I would be ‘very comfortable’ and gave me a prescription for Valium for the night before and some for the morning of the procedure. I can drink beer like a champ, but medications knock me on my ass. I agreed to his plan. Boo highly recommended this guy after all. And Boo is the straightest shooter I know.

I took my medication on Wednesday night and the second dose Thursday morning. EN drove my loaded ass to the office and we were told again that the procedure(s) would take 2 ½ hours, but they blocked out four in case they ran into problems.

If you’ve ever met me, you KNOW I’m the gal that will cause problems and the appointment lasted the full four hours. There was an issue with the extractions-they shattered and had to be pulled out piece by piece. I was there so long that a potty break was required, Novocain shots were refreshed and I was given an oral painkiller during the procedure. I am hazy on the rundown of all that went on, but I believe that I had two teeth extracted, posts drilled into my jaw for implants and maybe bone and skin grafts and a whole lot of stitches. I’ll clarify everything on Thursday when I go for follow up.

Through it all, I listened to the dentist banter with his assistant and put in my two cents whenever I could. EN said that he could hear me laughing from the waiting room. Who laughs at a time like this?

We were given a care package which included a bunch (five) of prescriptions that we were told to have filled right away. Since I was still feeling pretty grand, we stopped at the Rite Aid in our town. We dropped off the prescriptions and walked around the store for a while.

I should mention here that I’m pretty frugal and only buy what I need. I don’t browse much, so this unexpected time in a store threw me for a loop. I was tanked and decided to SHOP. Some of our purchases included a birthday card for Sugar that we thought was cute because it has a dog that looks like one of ours in it. Mind you, we’ll forget where we put the card as her birthday isn't for a month and a half. I also perused the wine section and selected a bottle, because with all the medication I was getting, I’d SURELY need a bottle of wine. And really, who doesn't buy wine at Rite Aid? Then I came across these bad boys in the Easter aisle:

Yes, that’s right… an elephant and a frog that make noises and POOP Easter eggs. Could anything be funnier under the influence than pooping frogs and elephants? Then I remembered the lady in the dental office suggested ice cream, so I was off to check out the variety of ice cream. Oh look, it’s buy one, get one free. It sure as hell better have been because that ice cream was $6.50 per gallon.

Halfway through the ringing of our ginormous purchase I decided I had enough and demanded the car keys. I stumbled out to the car and waited for EN who quietly loaded our $100 purchase into the back of the car. Jesus.

By the time we got home, I was in severe pain so EN sorted out my prescriptions and doled them out to me like he was a doctor. It became quickly obvious that I couldn't take care of myself, let alone our girls, so he called in sick to work. Champion caretaker, y’all. He got me ice cream, made me soup and fed me medication at the appropriate times.

Today I’m still under the influence of some pretty good shit but I’m getting my sass back. I lectured the boy on how the mugs should be placed on the mug tree. He reciprocated by telling me exactly how the silverware should be placed in the dishwasher. I probably get even more indignant after ingesting codeine, so I said, “Are you lecturing ME?!” and he pointed to the mug rack and said, “Payback.” I attempted to make the point that the mug rack is aesthetically pleasing but the dishwasher doesn't fucking matter. Even the dogs rolled their eyes.

I’m still loaded to the gills and resemble a half a chipmunk. I can’t bear to look in my mouth but I can feel the stitches with my tongue. I consider myself lucky that for right now, I have the means to fix this issue and someday my mouth will look and feel so much better.

But I’m even more thankful to the guy that ran me around town yesterday, then today did endless errands to pick up books from the library and ingredients from the grocery store so I could make something that didn't need to be chewed… as an extra bonus he stopped at McDonald's both days and got me my beloved sweet tea. Granted today, he got himself REAL FOOD, which he feasted on before getting home. I SMELLED it on him

Payback for my sassiness, I’m sure. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

An Unorthodox Hairstyle

I need to preface this story to let all 22 readers know that I am NOT making fun of religion, or hairstyles worn by people that belong to specific religions. I am not overly religious by nature, but do respect those that have their beliefs as long as they aren't shoving their information down my throat. I am not poking fun at anyone, I merely am pointing out a similarity between something I saw at my own home and something that truly exists.

So no haterade, m’kay?

A few months back Sugar had a Winter Concert at her school. The timing was terrible as Spice had spent three days home sick from school. We decided that EN would call in sick to work so he could attend Sugar’s concert. Of course my heart was broken as I never miss such an event.

While I cooked dinner, Sugar went upstairs to ready herself for the concert. She’s 11 now and would like to be in charge of her hairstyle and attire. I reminded her that she had the required outfit (white shirt, black pants) ready to wear.

She was upstairs for a long time, then finally appeared as I finished dinner. She came into the kitchen holding her head really still, obviously afraid to move and ruin the hairstyle that she worked so hard on. EN and I just looked at each other and tried not to laugh. As gently as I could, I touched her hair and offered to pull some of it back. Wrong move, mama. The girl came unglued and snarled and jerked away from me, “What’s wrong with my hair?!” I tried to tell her that there was too much pulled to the front and she hissed at me and told me I had no idea what I was talking about.

Before I could stop the words from coming out of my mouth, I said, “That’s the hairstyle that male Orthodox Jews wear.” As we don’t have many of the Orthodox faith around these parts, she had no idea what I was talking about, so I googled a picture and showed her.

Picture lifted off the Internet. 

She laughed and denied the similarity and sat down to eat dinner. I tried again to offer assistance, which she declined. Then she got mad again and said, “My favorite one of my friends wears it like this all the time!! What would you say to her?” I told her I would ask her friend if she converted.

She’s my girl and started to see the humor in the situation but still wouldn't change things up. So I offered to play Adam Sandler’s “Hanukkah Song” as dinner music. I offered to change her name to Veronica like the girl in the song. At this point, EN was about to burst out laughing and left for a different part of the house.

She laughed about the song and we joked through dinner, but she steadfastly insisted that her hair looked wonderful. So she and EN left for the show with her mass of Orthodox curls.

A few minutes after the concert was due to start, EN texted and said, “Not sure what happened but her hair is fixed.” Before long they were back home and I asked what happened to her hair. She said that it didn't look right so her friends fixed it. Of course little Veronica never came right out and said that her mother was right!

Fast forward a few months and we laugh occasionally about that night. Sometimes we’ll even sing a line or two of Sandler’s song. If she’s cranky, she’ll tell me I’m not funny and I assure her that when she’s 22 she’ll look back on this and agree that the hairstyle didn't look quite right.

It was one of those parenting moments that left me confused. I knew that her hair looked awful, but I also knew that she loved it. I am always afraid that the middle schoolers will jump on her and laugh at her. I tried to protect her by using one of the few tools I have, a sense of humor.

Yet another instance that will keep me from being nominated for Mother of the Year.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Chubby Chicks: Weeks 7, 8 and 9

I've not been good about updating for my weekly Weight Watchers meetings. I’m sure after my gain in week six you are all thinking I've been off gorging on potato chips and coconut cream pie. That has not been the case.

Week Seven, I took a few days off from work and couldn't bring myself to drag my lazy ass to a weigh in or meeting.

Week Eight, I was down 1.6 for a total loss of 9.6. Yes, people, this freakin’ close to ten pounds.

Week Nine is this week and we weighed in today. I am down another 1.2 for a total loss of 10.8. That’s right, I’m off to buy my SECOND Alex and Ani bracelet. I was going to spend time looking through their website to decide what I want, but I have so much more weight to lose that I’m SURE I’ll accumulate plenty of bangles.

So, nine weeks with a net loss of 10.8. It’s been hard as hell some days, but I’m feeling like it’s slow and steady, and something I’m more likely to stick with. I already notice a change if I cheat too much and have something delightfully battered and fried and served with a fattening dipping sauce. My belly votes no. So instead of overindulging, I feed the craving with something breaded and baked. I am fairly certain that I won’t end up being some nutty, crunchy, healthy eater all the time. I like food too much.

I don’t yet notice clothes fitting any differently, though I believe I felt a hip bone the other day. Could it be?

This morning I put on a new shirt. Nothing fancy, a “nice” sweatshirt really (with horizontal stripes-WTF was I thinking?). Spice came into the kitchen for her breakfast and said, “Oh Mama! You look SEXY!!”

I’ll take it. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

EN Hosts a Play Date

Yesterday the girls had the day off due to an election in our town. Back in the olden days when I was in school, we had to go anyway but now they call it a “Teacher Service Day” or something like that. Regardless, it was a day off for the little chicks, they weren't going to argue.

On Monday night I was chatting with another mother and she said that her twins would really like to come over and hang out with Sugar for a bit on Tuesday. I told her that I would be working but EN would be home. I couldn't imagine that EN would EVER go for having four girls run around the house under his watch, but he agreed to host them for a few hours.

I was stunned and used the situation to my advantage: please straighten the house before they arrive.

As is always the case when one has a play date and the other does not, we were worried about how Spice would behave. The age difference is pretty significant and most ‘cool’ tweenies don’t want much to do with a first grader who thinks burps are hilarious. EN and I texted back and forth about things he could do to keep her from annoying them.  I told him there was a simple cake mix in the cabinet and he said, “I’m not baking a fucking cake.”

My phone was completely quiet for a long time. And then this text, “We were all outside playing street hockey.” We all? Meaning him and Spice too? Why, yes. Apparently when the mother is not at home and there is company, we all find a way to get along. There was no crying, screaming or fighting and everyone, including THE FATHER, played together.

The next text, “Now we are on to English Muffin Pizzas.” I was starting to think that alien beings had taken over my family.

A little while later, the twins’ mom texted to let me know she had picked her girls up and said, “Awesome play date parent. Thank God he was home and not you. LOL” As it turned out, she arrived right after EN’s gourmet pizzas came out of the oven. Since the pizzas were so awesome, the girls asked if they could take some to go. Between bites on the way home, the girls raved about what a wonderful time they had with my people. 

Once I was out of work I talked to my own kids about this play date and these marvelous pizzas. They told me without even thinking twice, “Daddy was more fun and makes better pizzas than you do. Plus he made us lemonade.”

Are we kidding? I’ve been the primary parent for years as EN has almost always worked second shift. Now I’m getting voted off the island because he plays street hockey and makes better English Muffin Pizzas?

I host play dates and whip up dinners, desserts, snacks and lemonade in my sleep. EN hosts a play date ONCE and everyone’s ready to throw a parade for him?

Seriously??

While that parade is going on, I’ll be headed to Aruba for a little Mommy Vacation. No one will miss me until they need help finding their crap. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Chubby Chicks: Week Six

So I took a day extra to study for my weigh in and went this morning. The news was not good. I am up .6 for a net loss of 8 pounds.

I’m not sure whether to blame the over-indulgences on Monday when I had a burger, fries and beer for lunch… or the punishment I inflicted on myself trying to make up for indulging.

Several days last week I left points on the table… Yesterday, I had a lot of leftover points.  Like six points.

So today I got the lecture again from the kind lady who weighed my fat ass. She reminded me that WW is based on scientific studies and experiments, blah blah blah. I can’t wrap my brain around the finite number of points. One would think that if one consumed less points, one would lose more weight.

Not so says my pal at the scale. “The number of points you are allotted is enough for your body to run AND lose weight. Eating less means your body enter starvation mode.”

You know what? My body could live for quite a long time in “starvation mode.”

Pissed.

xoxo

Ice Princess

Serial Stuffie Stealer!

Since Sugar’s school career began many moons ago, we regularly fight about stuff she wants to bring to school. When she was little she wanted to bring toys, stuffed animals and books. Now that she’s older and more mature, she wants to bring her variety of electronic devices. She claims that she uses them to read during reading time. What’s wrong with a plain old book made out of paper?

After fighting endlessly, I've given up. If her stuff gets stolen or broken at school, she’ll have to replace it with her own money. We are already on the second iPod touch!  I’m not buying another one!

Now that Spice is in school we are starting this battle all over again. Lucky for me, I leave before they need to get on the bus so it’s mostly EN’s battle to fight. Like me, he’s tired of this fight and just tells her that by bringing her things to school, she’s taking a risk. We even brought up the topic of bringing stuffed animals to school to her teacher-in front of Spice. Her teacher said that she didn't mind if they brought in toys, but the students need to keep them in their backpacks.

So Spice continued to bring in items from her Wild Stuffed Animal Kingdom. Spice loves her stuffies and takes pretty good care of them. As with any animal kingdom, there is a hierarchy of animals in Spice’s world. At the top of the heap are giraffes like Giraffey and Jungle Love and horses like Butterscotch, Junior, Buddy and Vanilla Valentine. Where the rest of the animals fall under the giraffes and horses changes on a regular basis.

On Tuesday night, we had a rough night at the house. It reached its peak when Spice put her plastic school folder on the hot stove. The folder immediately melted and couldn't even be opened up. I ranted and raved about putting stuff on the stove and finally just told her to ask her teacher for another folder. If there weren't any extras, we’d go buy a new one.

In the morning, I sent Spice’s teacher a note regarding the folder. I didn't hear back from her teacher until the end of the school day. I knew when I clicked on the email that something BIG had gone down. Normally her responses are friendly and reasonably short. This email was paragraphs long.

Oh, shit!

It seems that while the kids were in class someone went into Spice’s back pack and stole her stuffed animal. The stuffie was later found floating in the toilet in the boys bathroom. Spice also reported to her teacher that she had seen a third-grade boy near her back pack and another third-grade boy walking down the hall with the stuffed animal. I found this to be strange because Spice is in first grade and really only knows one 3^rd grader.

On my long drive home, I prayed that the animal involved was not a horse or giraffe. I got Sugar first and asked her if she knew which animal Spice brought… she had no idea. I told her what happened and strongly suggested she be nice to her sister on this heartbreaking day. She actually got quite upset and said that she was “getting tears” thinking about Spice.

I arrived at Spice’s school and as is typical with either of my girls, I was greeted with a big, brave smile and she said, “Mama, someone threw Duchess in the toilet in the boys bathroom.” and then she proceeded to fall apart in the school hallway.

And there in front of us, on the ground, lay Duchess, the sopping wet pink cat. She had been placed in a plastic shopping bag so the ick factor was minimized. I told Spice that it was probably time for Duchess to meet her maker. She wailed louder and said that I should just put Duchess in the washing machine.

Y’all? I’m sorry, call me a mean mother. I am NOT sanitizing a stupid pink cat that fell into a toilet that I haven’t seen. If it was my own house, I’d consider it. After all, I’m the girl that bleached a $20 bill the dog ate and pooped out. But who the hell knows WHAT ELSE was floating in that toilet with the cat?

Fast forward through the tears, drama and phone call to another parent to understand another angle to the story. It appears as though there is a Serial Stuffie Stealer working in Spice’s school. Other stuffed animals have been found thrown in the trash and one time Duchess even found her way to the mitten box outside the nurse’s office. Spice’s BFF has one stuffie that was never found at all. Others have been found in the girls bathroom on the floor.

I’m convinced that Spice and her BFF have NO IDEA who went into their back packs and took their babies. I think they commiserated about their losses and started guessing about who might have done this. They based their conclusions on who they had seen leaving the library which is right next door, and who had teased them by saying they hated stuffed animals.

And the Case of the Serial Stuffie Stealer is currently unsolved and being investigated by the school. If Spice and her friend have a say in it, the police will be called and cameras will be installed in the hallways.

I’m certain that prosecution and punishment will be swift and fierce. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Valentine's Day Buffoonery

Yesterday we experienced the joy that is Valentine’s Day. Having little kids turn this holiday into something so much more than the “commercial holiday” people complain that it has turned into. Sugar and Spice were delighted with their small gifts and bags of Valentine-themed Jelly Bellys. Their day was made even better when I cut their sandwiches into four little hearts for school lunches.

Yes, I wanted to slap my own face for doing that. However, they came home GUSHING about how much their friends liked their sandwiches, so I forgave myself for being “that mom.” I'm sure there are other moms lining up now to smack me for overdoing it. 

I went one step further and made heart-shaped meat loaf for dinner. In years past, I was the Bomb Diggity for doing that. This year, those little chicks turned into sculpture critics. They LAUGHED at my meat loaf and said it didn't look like a heart at all. So they had bread and water for dinner.

Not really.

Sugar is now “too old” to write out cards for her class and have a Valentine’s party, but its right in Spice’s sweet spot. We bought cards for boys and girls and she very carefully wrote them out for everyone in her class. Despite being super diligent, she somehow forgot one for one of her buddies and came home very upset that she left a friend out. She wrote out a new card, including an apology note, and brought it to school today.

While at work, we discussed Valentine celebrations and someone mentioned that the holiday had been banned in some school due to “cultural differences.” I call bullshit, but that’s a subject for another day. I mentioned that the only difference I noticed was that parents are specifically told to include a card for every single kid. To me, that seems a no-brainer.

The guys I was talking to said “NO WAY! There was always someone that you intentionally left out!” and both immediately came up with the name of some girl that was not worthy of receiving one of their precious cards. I swore to both of them that even nasty old Marvin got a Valentine from me. I didn't mention that it was the ugliest, grubbiest one in the package. A card is a card.

Given that I had shared knowledge with my boss that HE DID NOT KNOW (and he knows everything!) only moments before, I should have been prepared for the BS that I was about to get.

BossMan: Where is Marvin now?

Me: No idea, that was in the Midwest. Haven’t seen him in years.

BM: Well I bet that Valentine from you is the only one Marvin ever got. I’m sure he still has it and even laminated it to keep it safe all these years.

Me: Oh bullshit. Come on, I felt sorry for the kid! His family was dirt poor and he had to work in the cafeteria to earn a school lunch!

BM: You’re on Facebook, look him up! This is the year! He’s coming to getcha! Right now I bet he’s driving across the country with his laminated Valentine! He’s coming, mark my words!

Damn it, now I have to find Marvin and know where he is! I waited patiently while my boss continued his antics about Marvin’s long drive to New England, then dug into Facebook just as soon as he went back to his office.

As it turns out, Marvin is currently living in a southern state that I have visited and didn't like at all. His bride is quite lovely, as are their bunch of kids. As I'll never head back to that state, I’m quite sure I’m safe.

In the event he comes looking for me, I do hope he takes off the shower cap he’s got on in some of his Facebook pictures. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Chubby Chicks: Week Five

Down one pound for a total of 8.6. Still doing it.

So, I sleeze around online and look at other blogs endlessly. Some annoy me, some amuse me and yet others are mysterious to me.

I found one recently that intrigues me. It’s written by a woman who had gastric bypass surgery and is now a fitness nut. She says that when she was heavier she thought about food all the time. Now that she’s thinner and a runner, she can eat what she wants, but her attitude has changed. She thinks of food only as fuel her body needs.

What the what?

She says she no longer gets emotional gratification from food.

Huh?

I’m not sure if it’s my head not in the right place, or that I have emotional attachments to food or what. I don’t mean that food makes me happy when I eat. Well, it does kinda, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make here!

I look at food as a way to share, a way to give to others so they know I love them, or just plain care enough about them to remember their preferences. Any time we have a get together at our house, I think through the guest list and I try to remember what everyone likes, dislikes and what I've made for them before. No one wants my same shitty white trash lasagna over and over…. But it sure does make a friend feel good when you say, “This doesn't have onions in it because I know you hate them.”

Then there’s the actual sharing of a meal. It’s probably part of my upbringing and my mom’s insistence on a family dinner around the table every night. I still try to do this with my girls every night, and when EN is home on the weekends, the four of us eat together. Sometimes we add friends to the mix, but we’re always talking and laughing through the meal. No one is allowed to bring a phone, toy, iPad or laptop to the table and the TV is not visible. It’s probably the only time that we give each other 100%. Shit. What does that say about us?

So yes, food emotionally gratifies me. I love the interactions we have around the table. I love preparing meals that I know my friends and/or family will enjoy. Just don’t stick your fork on my plate and try to take my food. I WILL stab you.

And I’m about to get some serious gratification out of food… My coworker’s birthday is tomorrow, so we went to lunch today. We started with salad and finished with cheese pizza (5 points per slice, y’all). I’m proud that I stopped at two pieces. I’m going to get serious emotional gratification when I bring the leftovers to “Mr. I am down ten pounds. Isn't that more than what you've lost?”

Whose idea was it to let him play along anyway? 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Chubby Chicks: Week Four

Sometimes we find inspiration in the places we would never expect. Yesterday someone that I just met (five minute beforehand) said to me, “Love who you are.” It was so unexpected and felt so genuine that those few words just took my breath away.

But it’s true. That’s what we women suck at. We all want to be taller, thinner, have different hair, smaller feet, whatever. Find any woman and ask if she’s perfectly happy with the way she looks and she’s likely to answer negatively. Ask her for a “top three” list of things that she could change and I bet she comes up with three almost immediately.

Why are we so hard on ourselves? Why can’t we love who we are? Even more, how can I teach my girls to love who they are? How to embrace the parts of them that might be bigger or smaller than what everyone else thinks is “normal?”

Pardon the rant.

Yesterday should have been the shittiest day on record. I started with a lengthy dental appointment to assess the mess that is my mouth, immediately thereafter was week four at the Chubby Chicks.

First, the dental appointment. I have a fear of going to the dentist and usually need to be medicated heavily for extensive work. Since I broke two teeth in January, I've been trying to wear my big girl pants and get this mess taken care of. I went to see someone who specializes in implants (and not the fun boob kind). When I told Skinny Bitch about the appointment, she said, “Was this a fucking social call or a dental appointment?” The dentist, his assistant and I talked about so many things while he poked and prodded around in my mouth. I never understand how they can comprehend my mumbles. As we talked about the new outlet mall that recently opened, I said that I wasn't buying clothes at the moment. I am waiting until I am a respectable size. He responded, “Love who you are, and you seem to be a pretty great person.”

I type that a day later and my eyes still fill with tears over a near-complete stranger saying something that nice to me. I could brush it off and chalk it up to him wanting my business, but I’d rather believe that we say what we mean and mean what we say. Even if it was a “line,” it made this old girl feel pretty twinkly.

Then I headed off to the weekly meeting at Chubby Chicks and had great news. Down another 2.4 pounds for a grand total of a 7.6 pound weight loss. I’m working it, I’m working it! Insert happy dance with happy, happy feet here.

In the midst of my battle with my weight, I will try to love who I am, and to make sure my daughters do too… Maybe that will be my next pay it forward. The next time I’m in a dressing room somewhere and hear someone complaining about the way they look, I’ll take a moment to say “love who you are.”

I’ll start by saying the same to my 22 readers… love who you are. It'll make you feel twinkly for a little bit too, I promise. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Flying Toothpaste

I grew up during a time when parents hit their kids as a form of discipline. While I didn't like it, it is just what happened when we were bad. If we did something horrendous, it was expected that we got a spanking and/or grounded. It was a risk we took when we did something foolish.

I disliked being smacked enough to behave myself and can only really recall maybe three instances of my parents spanking/slapping me.

Then I grew up and became a mom and read things like, “Spanking your children makes them think that it’s ok for the big one to hit the little one.” I am going to call bullshit on this theory.

I am not a parent that hits, and neither is my husband. There have been very few occasions when a child of ours has gotten a smack on the behind. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times both my girls have been disciplined in that way COMBINED. And at least half of those times the choice was given to the naughty child, “No snack or a spanking?” Yes, you read that right. They’d rather have their 7 pm cosmic brownie and get a spanking.

So yesterday, when the normal sibling fight turned physical, I was horrified. There was kicking, smacking and pushing on both sides. Why on earth would they behave this way? This isn't how we act here and it’s just not acceptable. EVER. Both immediately starting crying and tattling on one another. Given that I’d already heard them bickering for the last hour, I had enough.

I went upstairs to find that instead of doing all the things they were supposed to be doing: brushing hair before bath, putting clean laundry away, doing homework, practicing flute, cleaning bedrooms and playroom, they had spent their time fighting.

Somehow, it wasn't the messy bedrooms or piles of laundry that set me off, it was the open toothpaste. We've had an issue with “someone” not closing the toothpaste and leaving it to ooze all over the counter and get all hard so it had to be thrown away. Last night the toothpaste was clogged up and someone had nicely decorated the vanity with toothpaste. It was literally everywhere.

That was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

I asked who had brushed their teeth last. It was like I pushed some “resume fighting” button and it was GAME ON. Each screamed at me from their bedrooms as I filled the tub to give Spice a bath. I finally said, “If you are going to behave like this you don’t need toothpaste anyway” and I threw the toothpaste into the playroom.

Before you go calling DCYF on me, pay attention to the details… the toothpaste was not thrown AT anyone. The path was clear as I let that tube set sail. In fact, as this story progresses you will note that neither child even saw the toothpaste get tossed.

I bathe Spice. I get her out of the tub, pat her hair dry and tell her to get ready for bed. Since she didn't even bother to brush that tangled mess, she could brush it out herself. I wished them both a good night and told them to put themselves to bed.

That should have been the end, right?

No, I get into the kitchen as my phone beeps with a new text. It is a text from EN: “Sugar says to please give them their toothpaste back. They try to close it but it pops back open. LMAO, WTF is going on?” and it dawns on me that my child has ratted me out to her father.

And now the phone rings. EN is on the phone to “mediate” us through this crisis. I put the phone on the stairs and told them their father was on the line. Ten minutes later a crying Spice hands me the phone. I finally hung up after the Prince of Sweetness and Light says, “Are you mad at me too?”

A few minute later Sugar came down to ask whether I was coming up to put them to bed (read stories to Spice, rub both their backs, etc). I am not sure how she missed the memo?

That was the last I saw of them last night. Without a doubt, I didn't act appropriately. I should be the Princess of Sweetness and Light and handle their shenanigans with rainbows and sunshine. I should be able to just ask them politely to stop fighting and they should just stop. But in the real world, that just doesn't happen sometimes. They were angry, which caused me to get angry.

However, I didn't hit any kids (even with a rocket-launched tube of toothpaste), so I don’t know where they get the idea that being physical is ok.

And I don’t know how to get them to stop.

xoxo

Ice Princess 

Chubby Chicks: Week Three

Late posting this update… I did weigh in on the correct day, yesterday… but I’m late because I was out shopping for my prize. Yes, you read that right! I finally have lost enough to treat myself to the prize I promised myself for every five pound loss.

I lost one pound over the last week, bringing the grand total to 5.2 pounds. Bomb diggity!

It wasn’t a bad week, I ate well most days. Over the weekend I did splurge a little and we went to dinner at Bugaboo Creek. I got their smallest steak and a baked potato. The potato wasn’t “loaded” and I had my salad dressing on the side. Baby steps!

I thought long and hard about what my prize should be. I really need clothes, I dress like a slob. However, it’s just not much fun to have lost only five pounds so I’d still be in the same fat size. I’d been hearing a lot about some bangle bracelets by Alex and Ani lately, so I thought I would check those out.

I found my prize! I figure for every five pounds, I’ll buy a bracelet. Someday (hopefully) I will have a slew of them displayed on my much skinnier wrist!

This weight loss gig is hard. I don’t remember it being so hard to get fat. I recently heard someone say that a food addiction is the hardest one, because you can’t just banish food from your life, you still need to eat!

I’m not throwing the word addiction out there so I have an excuse for being fat. I know I’m the one that decides what and how much to eat. It’s just so damn hard to say no sometimes. I’ve gotten pretty good at stocking the snack drawer for the girls with stuff that I really don’t care all that much about. However, the other day after grocery shopping, I found a few Ritz crackers left in the bottom of the sleeve… so I thought I’d treat myself to one. And there they were, gone.

I need to learn how to have a small quantity of something I love and leave the rest for another time. I think it’s easier right now to just not have that food in convenient places like my house or office.  

At the Weight Watcher meeting I attended this week, the leader said something about research proving that people that believe they will be successful will in fact be more successful. I think I can, I think I can…

xoxo

Ice Princess

PS: I promise this isn't turning into a fat-girl-weight-loss blog... I'll be back to posting additional posts soon!

Girl... Interrupted

There were two months when there were no entries to this blog. It’s a blog that 20 people read and there’s really no reason to apologize, but I feel bad anyway. Mostly because I have no record of my day-to-day buffoonery during that period. I've been a blogger for several years, so this makes me sad. I really have no legitimate excuse but to say that I was “girl interrupted.”

I got caught up in much family drama around Thanksgiving. Within driving distance, there are five houses (including mine) where we could have celebrated Thanksgiving. I already host Easter and Christmas Eve every year and of those five households, I’m the only female that works full time. I felt justified expecting an invitation. The week before Thanksgiving, EN and I were prepared to spend a low-key day at home with the girls. Perhaps we wouldn't even have turkey?

Even though it was the year for us to spend the day with EN’s family, no local invitation was forthcoming. Of course the family in Alabama wanted us, but the price for four plane tickets was out of reach. Finally, MY sister invited us and I took her up on the invitation. Of course it was momentous. I hadn't seen my niece since March when I discovered she was pregnant. I had never met her daughter, who was born in July.

As EN’s mother assured him that she had plans, we accepted the invitation from my sister. The day before Thanksgiving, guess who calls to say she’ll be all alone for the day? I told EN he should visit her with the girls in the morning, so she wasn't all alone all day. Long story short, the Thanksgiving holiday passed without issue.

In early December we had a small soiree for EN’s 45^th birthday. I’m married to an old dude, y’all! We invited people from work, friends, hockey buddies… and ended up with 50 people and a gigantic bonfire on a very cold night. With a minor exception or two, the party went off without a hitch and a good time was had by all!

Report cards came out and we had conferences with the girls’ teachers the following week. Spice, as I thought, is known to be very smart and helpful in the classroom. However, she is only willing to do what she wants to do. If she’s put in a reading group that doesn't include her favorite cohorts in crime, she simply will not participate. No surprises with her. Sugar’s conference was thrilling to me. After the drama with Science and mean girls this year, she pulled out ahead and got straight A’s once again. Homework at the kitchen counter did the trick!

Then, on December 14^th the massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Connecticut.

Moment of silence.

Even on 9/11 I didn't cry when I watched the footage. But on 12/14/12, I sobbed. I cried big ugly tears and my heart broke over and over again with every emerging detail. For weeks I cried every time I was alone. I thought about families with piles of gifts for recipients that were no longer on this earth. I thought about families waiting for their babies to come home from school, to have them never arrive. A month later I cannot remember that day without a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.

I have tried over and over to empathize with these parents and put myself in their shoes, but I cannot. It is unbearable, a Band-Aid-ripped-off- an-open-wound type of unbearable. Perhaps it’s because I have a child of exactly the same age, or perhaps it is that I am human and something so devastating should never happen.

I am generally not religious and can count on zero fingers the number of times I've been to church in the last two decades. However, I will say that I think there’s someone up there who watches over us, and never gives us more than we can handle. I began to question these beliefs on that day, and I continue to have issue with a God who would allow such an atrocity to happen.

I learned a lesson that day, or was reminded of an old rule that EN and I made when we moved in together: even if you are mad at each other when you leave in the morning, always ALWAYS hug and kiss and say I love you when you leave each other for your day. You never know when it will be the last time you see one another. So there, maybe that’s it; maybe that’s our lesson from God. Maybe He was reminding us to hug and kiss and hold close those that we love. It was a reminder to not take each other for granted.

I pray that the 26 lives that were lost that way found their places in Heaven and stand watch over their loved ones.

Moment of silence…

Spice turned seven on December 20. We made beautiful snowman face cupcakes for her class, took her to dinner and let her choose a new bike as her gift. She was delighted to ride out of the store and into the parking lot. I’m astonished that “my baby” is the ripe old age of seven. She is funny, smart and helpful. Our surprise baby definitely completes our family.

Before long, Christmas was upon us and we were making a mad dash to get everything done on time and not to forget any of the details. This year I had a brand new kitchen and was able to bake and cook to my heart’s content. The girls and I made a shit ton of cookies and snacks and genuinely enjoyed working together. I’m proud to say that I had everything bought and wrapped in advance of Christmas Eve. Yes, you read that right. I think the second year in a row that I wasn't wrapping after everyone left our Christmas Eve Extravaganza.

EN and I both took vacation time between Christmas and New Year’s. I’m delighted to say we hardly did anything. We did take a day to visit EN’s grandpa in Connecticut. He was thrilled to be taken to lunch at one of his favorite haunts. When we took him back to his apartment he told us many stories of what his childhood was like. That’s the history every child should know about their family.

2012 drew to a close and we began 2013 with drama related to unexpected expenditures. My car randomly won’t start and no one really knows why. I broke two teeth and they can’t be fixed… the cost to remove and rebuild is more than the cost of my first brand-new car. Indiana, the Jack Russell, required a $1500 surgery the week before Christmas. It was mostly cosmetic in nature and done to prevent future problems. I’ll simply say here that if a boy can reach his penis with his mouth, he WILL lick it until it starts to turn inside out. True story. I have the bill to prove it.

My goal now is to get back on track and blog regularly. It’s become important to me to keep track of sometimes mundane happenings that happen every day that I would normally forget about. I laugh when I go back through some of my posts and remember the time Spice “bippity boppity boo’d” her sister into a penis, or a fun day spent with Sugar. So I keep this blog as much for myself as I do the 20 people that read and tell me they liked what I had to say.

So to those of you that continued to check the blog regularly, or those that texted or emailed to find out where the fuck I was, I thank you for waiting patiently while I was “interrupted.”

xoxo

Ice Princess

Chubby Chicks: Week Two

We weighed in a day late this week because my partner in crime had a work meeting during our normal weigh in time. Yes, we could have gone before or after, but we didn't. We waited until today.

It was a hard week. I was outrageously hungry last Friday and I don’t know why. Perhaps I was still on a high from dropping so much the week before. Over the weekend, I wasn't so well behaved. I had some pizza. I had some birthday cake. I celebrated my weight loss with beer and a nice single-serving size bottle of wine.

I also spent a bit of time on the treadmill. I do get some credit for that, people!

I wasn't surprised to see my weight go up when I weighed myself Monday morning. But I was ok with the gain, I had the whole week to watch what I ate, track points, etc. After two days of being really good, my weight shot up Wednesday morning… almost back up to where I started.

What. The. Fuck.

I spent Wednesday in a vile mood. I tracked every morsel that went in my mouth. I was such a bitch that I tried to cheer myself up by saving points for a glass of wine during Nashville. I was happy on Thursday morning to see my weight going back down. Phew.

I looked back over the week and I realized that on several days, I left points on the table. Meaning of the measly few I get every day, I didn't use them all up. In my brain, I thought, “Good, I’ll lose even more.” For some absurd reason, it doesn't work that way. It seems that if you eat less than your allotted amount, your body hoards everything that enters it. I don’t know if that’s true or not, but that was my experience this week.

So, weigh in. today. Down .2. Yes, that says POINT TWO, it’s not a speck of dust on your screen. Better down than up, that’s all I have to say.

No, one more thing. I’m pissed. REALLY pissed. I decided last week that every time I lose a total of five pounds, I’d buy myself a prize. Something small, maybe a scarf or a sweater… Looks like I don’t get to buy jack shit this week. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Chubby Chicks: Week One

About once a year… or more, I whine about my weight and all the crazy plans I have to lose a shit ton… and nothing happens. I am disgusted with myself and rereading the blog reminds me painfully of my failings.

While I might not be eating right or exercising EVER, the way I look is always on my mind. I’m unhappy and embarrassed. My coworker and I joked about starting Weight Watchers after the holidays, but then I got sick and didn't want to go out in the cold that first Thursday after returning from the break.

I was still sick and couldn't hear anything last week, so I felt justified in saying, “We’ll start in another week.”  However, I was on Facebook and someone put up one of those inspirational signs that said, “A year from now you’ll wish you started today.”

Well fuck you and the horse you rode in on, that is a SIGN sent down from the Facebook gods, we must start today. So last Thursday we were off to our first meeting. We weighed in separately, but then told each other anyway. Our number on the scale is near identical. I won’t add that she’s two inches taller than me though!

I was surprised by all the changes in WW. I had been a member twice before and did quite well, especially the first time around. I had been anxious to get my slide rule back so I could start figuring out points and get my fat ass back on track. I am not going to lie, I almost cried in the meeting when she told me they don’t have the slide rule any more.  They assured me that it was easy to figure out points with their magical app available for the iPhone, eTools online or I could buy their handy new calculator.

Thanks for the options, but I want my fucking slide rule. Also, I don’t have an iPhone… so for the past week, I've been relying heavily on the eTools… I regularly put in numbers from food labels or random items all the time to see how many points things are worth. My coworker and I shared a moment of silence when we learned that one of our favorite pizza places has a 52 point value for their individual sized pepperoni pizza.

We no longer count calories. We look at things like fat grams, carbohydrates, protein and fiber. It didn't take this old girl long to figure out what makes points values higher and how to eat the maximum amount for the least number of points. One can eat mass quantities of vegetables and fruits and not have to use any points. It’s too bad that there are only about five vegetables that I’ll eat and two are corn and potatoes… not really even vegetables at all.

So I whine to Skinny Bitch that I’m starving and she suggests roasted vegetables. I've never heard of such a thing, tell me more. Nearly every night, I've been throwing together a combination of fresh vegetables in a baking pan with a bit of olive oil and spices and throwing in the oven at a high temperature… DELICIOUS. So good that even Sugar and Spice gobble them up!

Since EN does all the shopping, he noticed the different food I added to the standard list and now he’s interested in WW too. It’s like being part of a cult, I tell you! I started finding points values for all his favorites and he decided he’s going to try this. We know what’s coming right? He’s going to lose weight faster than me and I’ll be pissed. I have already thought of that solution, I will lie to him about points… Oh the Big Mac? Only two points! Load up, have three!!

It’s my membership so it’s easy for him to ask how much every food is worth. And it’s even easier for me to get annoyed with his constant asking, especially after I say “FRUITS AND VEGETABLES HAVE ZERO POINTS.” Yesterday as he was making his lunch, this is what we sounded like”

EN: How many points is lettuce?

Me: Zero. Vegetables have zero points.

EN: How about peppers?

Me: Zero. Peppers are vegetables.

EN: How many points are…

At this point, I snapped. I recollected one of my favorite commercials of all time. I don’t remember what exactly it was for, but the scene was in a store called Everything’s A Dollar. The customer kept asking over and over “How much is this?” and the employee kept saying “One dollar” before getting so frustrated he grabs the microphone for the store and shouts “ONE DOLLAR” the next time the customer asked.

The next time EN asked how many points something was, that’s what I did. I shouted “ONE DOLLAR” because I was annoyed, frustrated and maybe a touch hungry.

First weekly weigh in was today. I lost four pounds. I’m pleased and determined to stick with the program. I’m wise enough to know that a four pound loss every week isn't reality. My goal is to weigh in every Thursday and see a loss, no matter how big or small. Sooner or later I’ll get to my happy place.

Every Thursday I’ll blog about how I've done. Not to bore you all to tears, but to keep me honest and to have a “journal” of sorts to look back on. 

xoxo

Ice Princess

Cookbook Club

As best as I can tell, Oprah seems to have made Book Clubs as popular as they are today. However, I can remember my mom and her friends buying books and passing them around and talking about them afterwards, well before Oprah was famous.

With EN working second shift, I almost never have the opportunity to join a book club. My friend Emily used to let me play along with hers. She’d read the assigned book, then pass it on to me. I wouldn't go to their meetings or anything, but Emily and I would discuss the books between the two of us. It didn't take long before I started calling her club the “Disturbed Chicks Book Club.” Every book I read from their selections left me feeling dreadful afterwards.

First, there was Body Surfing by Anita Shreve. It’s been so long now that I can’t remember why I disliked this book, but I can remember thinking “that’s time spent that I’ll never get back” when I finished it. Then we read Back Roads by Tawni O’Dell. I've since read other books by Tawni and I love the funny characters in them. Back Roads was disturbing and horrible and I still feel icky when I remember the plot of that book. The last book I read from their selections was We Need to Talk about Kevin. Though I loved this book, I bitched to Emily the whole time I was reading. I HATED the format: letters from a wife to a husband. What the fuck, I thought, just tell the story. Well, it all makes perfect devastating sense in the end. So while I enjoyed the book, once again I found the story to be sad and disturbing.

I love to read and I read A LOT. Friends have introduced me to so many wonderful authors I would never have discovered on my own. I never would have picked up The Hunger Games on my own, but my friend Sarah encouraged me to read them and I especially loved the first book. Water for Elephants and The Help were other suggestions I might not have read without recommendations, even though they were very popular. I still cannot bring myself to read about vampires. That’s a level of make believe that I can’t bring myself to care about.

I am a frequent flyer at my town’s library. I know most of the librarians and I’m there often enough to get recommendations from them. I’m also enough of a skank that I frequently owe late fees. The way I look at it, it’s a community service to pay these fines. Every dime I pay goes towards more new books, right? Sadly though, our library is fairly small and I often have to have books ordered in from other libraries, so I have to wait for something I really want. That’s ok though, I've recently discovered new series’ that keep me very busy.

A few months ago, I was at the library and I saw a notice for a Cookbook Club. As a big girl that loves to cook, I was intrigued. I found the gal running the club and begged her to tell me more. She explained that the members of the club would each get a copy of the selected cookbook to play with for a month. On the day of the meeting, the members would attend and bring a dish they prepared from one of the recipes in the book. AND the meetings would be held on Saturdays!

I immediately texted Skinny Bitch and begged and pleaded that she do this with me. It took some cajoling and brown nosing, but she finally agreed and I signed us up. Since then, we've confessed to each other that we each actually read cookbooks for fun. Is there such a thing as a “foodie geek?”

Our first selection was available at the end of December. It is Get Cooking by Mollie Katzen. I like that we are starting out with a “cookbook for beginners.” The introduction talks about kitchen tools and preparation of various foods. The recipes cover everything from soups to desserts, but the best part is that the recipes call for regular food that even I have in my kitchen after a long sabbatical from the grocery store.

I almost immediately decided to make a Roasted Butternut Squash and Apple Soup. It sounds interesting and delicious and like something I wouldn't normally make. Plus I asked Santa to bring me an immersion blender for Christmas, so this soup would break it in nicely. Then I started looking more at other recipes and now can’t decide what to bring. Since I convinced Skinny Bitch to join this club with me, I almost feel like I should make the Caramelized Balsamic Red Onion Soup, which I would never eat, but she would love.

And so I read and I play… The other night I made Chinese-style Peanut Noodles for dinner, which was very tasty. It’s been pretty fantastic to bring a new variety of food to the table and to be so excited when my girls are willing to try new things.

I’m not going to lie, I could waste hours upon hours perusing the internet for new recipes, but there’s something amazing about paging through a cookbook and being excited about bringing new stuff to the table. Maybe someday we’ll get out of the rut of having tuna casserole, sloppy joes and macaroni and cheese on a regular basis!

First Cookbook Club meeting is on January 26. I hope I can finally decide on a recipe to share before then. Otherwise, I’ll be the overachiever that shows up with 15 different dishes!

xoxo

Ice Princess