Fat Jean Genes

The fat jeans I bought last winter are too tight.  I've been telling myself for months that I am going to lose the almost-thirty pounds I've gained since my bright idea to move to Canada (it must be Canada's fault I can't stop eating, right?)  I lose five pounds, gain eight, lose eight gain ten.  I have barely managed to do the "right thing" for more than a week.  I am officially overweight.  Again.

When I lost thirty pounds after baby number two, it seemed pretty effortless.  I joined Weight Watchers and it really worked for me--tracking my food online, trying new recipes, being able to eat "regular" food to lose weight.  And hitting the gym three times a week helped burn up the fat and give me some great muscle tone, and stablized the old mood swings.  I was looking awesome, and it didn't seem too difficult.  Sure, some days I slipped up a bit with some birthday cake or a lolly, but I got right back on the wagon and reached my weight loss goal.

And I felt awesome!  When I am thin, I look like how I feel.  When I am fat, I feel trapped in someone else's body.  But it's not someone else.  It's me.  Funny though, as I have been chubby or overweight more than I have been fit and trim. 

It's not like I don't know what to do--nutrition, portion control, exercise, weight training--I know what to do.  I've done it before, many times before, with relative ease.  For the most part, I have always lost weight in a very healthy way, eating right and exercising regularly, not following a "diet" per se, but changing my lifestyle.  But this whole year has been an endless binge.  I've never been this out of control for so long.  It's a miracle I haven't gained more weight.  Where is that internal switch that puts me "in the zone" and more importantly, how do I keep it switched on, forever?

So the debate I am having with myself now--do I accept myself as I am and buy some clothes that actually fit so maybe I will feel better, or do I keep struggling to get back on the wagon and fit into the nice clothes I already have?

Broccoli Quinoa Soup

Every time I make this soup, I am amazed at how the kids absolute devour it.  Because of that, I felt I just had to share it.  Maybe everyone else out there already knows about this kind of soup recipe and I've been living under a rock, but if this post reaches just one other mom desperate to get as many vegetables into their kids as possible, it will be worth it!  I made this soup out of a desire to not waste food and money and get good quality servings of vegetables into the little monsters.

The main ingredients of this soup are:  broccoli, onion, quinoa and water.  That's it. 

What I do:

• Cook 1/2 cup of quinoa in a small pot.
• Chop up broccoli--I use mainly stems and save the florets for salads or a stir fry.
• In a large pot, put the broccoli with just enough water to cover it.
• Let water come to a boil, then when it has cooked for a few minutes, add a chopped onion.
• Then add anything else that is white or green--peas, beans, spinach, cauliflower, greens, whatever is taking up space in the fridge and won't last another day.
• You can add potatoes or green lentils, just be sure to start them cooking before putting the broccoli in as they take longer.
• When everything is cooked just enough to be pureed, get out the blender and whiz it all up.
• Add the cooked quinoa and stir through.

Serve with some grated cheese on top and stir through some diced bread pieces if the soup is too runny--this works great for little ones who need a thicker consistency to keep the soup on their little spoons and is a perfect way to use up the end peices of a loaf of bread.  The trick is to not use too much water in this soup--it will taste too watery or you will end up pouring some water away which has nutrients from the vegetables.  I also don't leave the soup to cook forever--just enough to soften the veggies to puree, maybe ten minutes.  I don't even bother with stock--you can add chicken or vegetable stock if you want, but I find an onion and a dash of sea salt works just as well.

What I love about this soup is I can pack so many different types of vegetables into it, whatever is hanging around the fridge, and the added quinoa gives it a healthy, protein-packed boost.  It keeps for a few days in the fridge or longer in the freezer.  I've even taken it to the park cold and the kids gobbled it up.  Go figure!

And happy soup making!

First Daze of School

And she's off!  Every afternoon, with her backpack and snack in tow, Little Miss Four heads off to kindergarten.  She loves it.  No tears.  No fussing.  Couldn't wait to see the back of me.  Can't say I blame her. 

After the first few days, one of the little boys in LM4's class was crying before school and didn't want to go in,  His mom was comforting him, soothing him, encouraging him, doing all the right things as far as I could tell.  But the poor little peach stood against the looming brick wall, tears streaming down his pale little face, inching slowly toward the door.  I saw his mother turn away as the tears filled her eyes--we never want our kides to see how upset we are--and I too, began to well up under my sunnies in the mother empathy thing most of us seem to have.  Her little guy managed to get himself inside the school and the Mary Poppins-ish kindergarten teacher assured the tearful mother that he would be fine. 

And he was.  After a few more days, he seemed to get better.  Myself and some of the other mothers whispered to our kids to make sure they asked the little boy to play because then he wouldn't feel so sad.  I don't know if they did--I think all the kids were pretty scared, and each one dealt with it in their own little way.

But on that day I wondered to myself--what do you do in this situation?  If you take him home, are you teaching him he can leave any situation if it seems too hard, or are you encouring him to acknowledge and listen to his feelings?  If you make him stay, are you sending the message that his feelings and instincts should be ignored, or to persevere even when something seems scary or difficult?  Will he be sitting in front of his therapist in 15 years time sobbing, "And then she just left me to go to kindergarten all by myself!  The horror!"

What would you do?  What did you do?

This whole parenting gig is hard.  Damn hard.

Birthday Girl!

Little Miss Almost Four is now Little Miss Four.  She was delighted to recieve two beautiful Disney princess dresses along with a myriad of other sparkly, glittery, pink, shimmery little girl things.  Nana got her a lovely yellow princess cake, just like LM4 asked for.

But the real excitement with turning four was the promise that LM4 would do poo-poos in the toilet.  All along, LM4 had come up with various excuses as to why she couldn't go on the toilet--she'd never seen school before, Nemo says crabs live in the bottom of the toilet, she was a big girl baby.  Even the promise (or bribery) of Timbits couldn't inspire her to do her business in the toilet.  So as her birthday approached, I seriously thought she was just going to make another excuse.

Bedtime last night:

Me:  "Ok honey, time for bed, and now that you are a big four year old, no more night time panties.  If you have pee-pees, you can go to the toilet, even in the night time.  If you forget and go in your bed, there is towel to catch it and here is a clean towel to put down after and go back to sleep."

LM4:  "Or poo-poos.  If I have poo-poos, I can put it in the toilet."

Me:  "Um, oh yes, yes, that's right honey, pee-pees or poo-poos.  Good night bubba, Mommy loves you."

And off I went.  Then, a few minutes later, it happened.

"Mommy, Mommy, come and see!  I put some poo-poos in the toilet!  Look, I really did!  I can't believe it!"

And she did.  And she proceeded to do it three more times before bed.  She is very eager to keep practicing cleaning her bum, and as promised, Daddy took her out for Timbits first thing this morning.

Another hurdle jumped.  For her and me.

The Sleeping Wars

I am trying to remember the last time I actually slept a whole night.  I think it was sometime about three years ago, when Little Miss 4 was a full-night sleeping one-year-old and I had gotten over the need to check on her every 20 minutes to see if she was breathing.  Those were good times.  Then the second pregnancy hit, and sleep eluded me again with killer cramps in my legs followed by the discomfort of trying to rotate a heavily pregnant belly from one side to the other.  The new baby, cute as she was, loved to wake up all night and feed and cry and do other things that were the opposite of sleep.  She was an unpredictable nighttime baby and I never knew how many times I might be summoned to provide a comforting boob.  Then my oldest daughter starting howling in her sleep and coming into our bed at all hours.  Though I loved the cuddles, it's not easy to sleep between a cute snoring three year old and her snoring bear of a dad.  

When we moved to Canada, and put the kids into new beds and new surroundings, I decided to be lenient and indulge the little darlings when they woke up in the night, with cuddles or more milk or whatever their sleepy demands.  That was eight months ago. 

Now the worst thing has happened:  Little Miss Almost Two is climbing out of her cot, and not settling into her Big Girl Bed. 

Bedtime has disintegrated into hours of continuously going into her room and putting her back in bed, Supernanny style.  She finally settles if I lie with her or someone yells, whichever comes first.  I climb into my bed, only to be woken by little feet coming down the stairs at ungodly hours of the night.  In her cot, she settled back quickly with a bottle of milk, but in the Big Girl Bed, it's another hour or two before she settles back.  Both her dad and I are going mental with lack of sleep.  I am already dreading tonight, but took an extra dose of Patience pills (aka Omega 3) in hopes of maintaining my cool as long as possible. 

I really wish crib-makers made the sides A LOT higher.

Some People Suck

So get this:  I went to get some groceries with the kids.  I suppose my first mistake was going to the shops with the busy, disorganized parking lot lacking any designated pedestrian crossing spaces instead of the calm, slightly more suburban grocery store I usually go to.  I got the kids, my purse and reusuable shopping bags out of the car and found myself standing at the back of the van clutching a child's hand in each one of my own, bags dangling from my shoulders and cars flying everywhere.  One car was cutting across the empty parking space in front of me, another coming up behind me and one more to the right.  They all stopped, so I quickly scurried across to the relative safety of the shops.  Then, the man in the car on the left, who was cutting across the parking space, rudely shouted at me, "You're welcome!  No problem!"

Really?  I realize I didn't give an obligatory wave, but surely this loser saw my hands were full with little kids and shopping bags.  It's not like I sauntered across the street, taking my sweet old time, letting everyone wait.  I was simply trying to get my kids to safety and get out of everyone's way.  I didn't shout thanks because I assumed his windows were closed, and again, just trying to get out of the way.  I am not the kind of person who routinely neglects to thank others for small acts of kindness, but does every act need to be greeted with copious gestures of appreciation, if any at all?  Can't we sometimes do something just to be nice, because it is the right thing to do, and not search for outward gratitude?  I was so shocked, so eager to get away from all the cars, I didn't even have the presence of mind to say something back.  I was so upset, I actually ended up getting back in the car and leaving.  What if this man accosted me in the shops?  I just had to leave. 

Have you ever yelled at someone like this?  Has anyone ever yelled at you?  Did you get to say something back?

My only consolation:  karma is a bitch.

A Most Embarrassing Moment

It happened to me today.  That incident all parents of young children dread--breaking something in a shop.  I was in Starbucks in Niagara Falls with Little Miss Almost Two and a friend waiting for the dads and the older kids to go on some rides.  LMAT was playing with stir sticks, pushing her stroller and harmlessly dancing about until she grabbed a coffee mug off a low shelf.  My friend and I gasped and went after her to  just snatch the mug back before anything happened, when my Little S took off at mach speed (as usual) and triumphantly smashed it on the floor.  So, so embarrassing. 

Bless the staff--after I strapped Little S into her stroller, I asked them what I owed them for the mug but they just shrugged it off and said, "Don't worry about it."  Mortified, we headed out. 

Now does everyone understand why we do not want to go anywhere resembling a restaurant or cafe with the kids?  It is just too hard!  

Has something like this ever happened to you???