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!