Dropping the Baby Weight- I Hope

I started back on the Weight Watchers. It's time. It's actually WAY past time. I have found some co-workers/girlfriends at work to do it with me- Ghetto style, as one of them deemed it. We are weighing in in the nurse's office. We are reporting our food diaries through school e-mail. We are talking about points and how much THIS is worth and THAT is worth. We are holding each other accountable.
I have only been doing if it for three days- but feel tremendously better already- just to have set the ball in motion. I feel motivated and ready to tackle this fer reals this time.
I attempted to "do" Weight Watchers the day I got home from the hospital with Jake. Those efforts proved futile. I was too tired. Too bloated. Too new a Mommy to really stick to it correctly. Plus, now I can exercise. And sleep sometimes- which helps.
I have never been this heavy before- so the road ahead of me seems long- but I know I can make a difference if I maintain the program. I am uncomfortable and really- feel so much better when I don't have to be so worried about the "draping of the cloth" ( aka- getting dressed ) each morning.
My first goal is Feb. 14- date night for my husband and I. The goal? To feel better so I have reason to celebrate. My next goal is summer weather. I don't want to buy a new summer wardrobe- but will have to if I don't get my weight down. My third goal is July. We are going on a beach vacation and I will need to don a bathing suit. I don't want to spend Jake's first beach outings concerned about my spare handles-
At any rate. The way I see it is that I need to lose 40 pounds by July. Do-able. Just have to keep reminding myself how worth it it will be.

Six Months In

There has been little to report around here lately other than Jake finally cut his first tooth- which was... well, not my very FAVorite part of parenting and at the same time not the WORST part. He was just.. not that fun is all. Meaning he was not happy. Which in turn meant that he was fussy and therefore I was not happy. And when I say not happy, I do not mean depressed and eating chocolate and listening to sappy music- I just mean up a lot, and cry-y, and generally not in a very jovial mood. And so that is/was that.

In other six month news, he can almost sit up for more than two seconds at a time. He prefers standing and jumping to most other positions. So my arms tend to get a work out. He hates all foods green and likes pretty much anything that will constipate or stop him up. He will learn.

Speaking of which. He's not a big fan of eating... so I can foresee mealtime might be a struggle as time wears on. He would much rather stare at pretty much anything ( ie- a power cord? a pencil? a crumb on the floor? ) rather than eat and tends to get a lot of food everywhere since he likes to first stick his hands in his food, and then on his bib/eyes/hair/feet/nostril etc.

He is learning how to talk- sorta, and has "found his scream". Which means bath time and bed time can be pretty loud. But, for now I am in love with his noises. I am sure I will get over that, but for now it brings me joy.

He's fairly interested in holding his own bottle. He likes a good ride in the car or a toss in the air. He doesn't care for any activity that indicates crawling might independently occur. He prefers instead to sit on laps of big people and lunge at whatever he so chooses- meaning unless you have a fairly tight grip he could fall any which way but loose.

His favorite toy is his Globie- which I suspected he would and so purchased it at Wal-mart on a whim. He also likes soft, chewy, small cloth books that crinkle and beep and jingle and rattle.

What does this all mean? It means that I have become fascinated with his poo color and his puke and his butt rash. Which means that since I am so wrapped up in what HE'S doing, that I have little time left to care for much else. I do not say this begrudgingly- I say it lovingly with a teaspoon of matter-of-fact added in.

I have managed to get myself up at 4:45 in the morning several days a week for a walk on the tread mill. I went to Target the other day all by myself and I did squeeze in a pedicure. I have a ladies brunch and a girlfriend's baby shower on the horizon- so I do not feel super out of the loop.

I think I have just fallen so in love with my little guy that the world as I previously knew it has melted into the background a little bit. I think my husband feels the same- so the fact that we are spending our day off tomorrow shopping at Babies R Us for new bigger-boy car seats does not irritate me as much as it excites me.

We have come a long way these last six months. Happy six months little Jake!

Holiay Recharge

Between work and mothering and preparing for the Thanksgiving holiday, I have had little to no free time. Blogging has taken a severe back seat to pretty much... everything else. Part of the issue, I believe, is that I have not had time to think. Not enough time to watch crappy rom-coms and read poorly written British chick lit. No unwinding time on the treadmill or in the bath- or even a two hour solitary trip to Target. All of these things being, of course, my favorite ways to unwind. Which was why yesterday was such a treat.
I spent the better part of the week and the weekend anxiously preparing my litany of Thanksgiving dishes. I spent so much time cooking that our evening family time was relocated to the kitchen. My husband casually remarked, " I am really sick of hanging out in the kitchen." I hear you my dear, oh, I hear you.
That being said, I rather enjoyed perusing the internet last week for holiday fair that was not of my usual variety. I want to especially thank Martha Stewart and Paula Deen for sharing a nice variation of a Fall Salad, a crunch top old fashion apple pie, and chocolate pumpkin marbled cheesecake bars. That being said. The food I created was fine. No raves, no complaints. ( Perhaps next year I will try to drink less wine while baking?? - On second thought.. nah. )
The actualy holiday- between packing all of the said dishes, and the baby, and the baby's "stuff" and then relocating from one family to the other family 45 minutes away mid-day, left me... exhausted. Don't get me wrong, the holiday was delightful as it usually is... but for reasons afore-mentioned, it was not exactly what one would deem... relaxing. Which is what I am trying to tell you I have been craving these days. ( By the way- a revamping of the holiday schedule is on the docket for next year---).
So yesterday- with a refrigerator full of yummy leftovers, signaling a day off from the kitchen, and the hubby out doing his thing.... I relaxed. I swore to Billy as he was exiting the house that, " I am not doing jack today, just so you know."
And despite my declaration I found myself scooting my brand new Bissell around the house ( boy did we ever need a new vacuum... gross!! ), and I couldn't resist tackling the overgrown laundry pile, I did manage to squeeze in plenty of cuddle time with Jake and to rent Four Christmases with Reese Witherspoon and my favorite celeb to trash on, Vince Vaughn ( because I waited on him while waitressing years ago and he was a total asshole). But despite his smarmy grin I enjoyed all 96 minutes of the poorly rated box office bomb, as it epitomized what it is I have been craving... down time.
Today I feel emotionally recharged. Ready to tackle Old Navy with gusto and to reconsider my former promise of NO CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. Because last night when I glimpsed the shiny glory of all of the eager beaver neighbor's Christmas finery, I couldn't imagine Jake's first Christmas with a scroogey Mom sans sparkly white lights.
It's amazing what a little rest can do.

Our Last Date

Whew. After two long weeks of worry and concern and maybes we got some confirmation last Thursday suggesting that all was fine after all and thank you very much modern medicine. As a result, instead of being induced on Thursday afternoon, my husband and I came home from the specialist and crashed. As in stumbled into the condo and onto horizontal surfaces and slept all day. Obviously the scare and the drama of baby ills wore us out.
By Saturday morning, when we were done being thankful to the world and catching up on rest was no longer a necessity, we started to become slightly... I hate to admit it, bored. Since we had been under the impression that we might be in the hospital with a child this very day- all plans had been previously either not scheduled or canceled. We muddled through the day with some fishing and movie rentals, but ultimately, I could not help but think of the advice I have been so frequently given, "Enjoy your time now, while it lasts."
After about the 25th time I caught this thought running through my head, my mind began conjuring up ideas, and before I knew it, our "last date" was born. My husband, equally bored, thought this sounded alright as well, because there was really no way we could have another fishing/movie day...
So yesterday, in what I consider to be a day with the absolute most perfect weather available, off we went to the Graue Mill and dinner after at our favorite restaurant, Francesca's.
Because the Graue Mill is on our route to our specialist's office, we have been increasingly intrigued as to the park's offerings. Historic websites generally do not do justice, as was the case for this nifty little spot- complete with scenery, a museum, walking trails, and your overly informed and interested tour guides. But it was gorgeous and interesting and very pleasant.
Our dinner was excellent as well, as we knew it would be. Luckily, a Christmas gift card awaited us and therefore, the large bill at the end of our feast did nothing to squaush our spirit.
Upon arrival at home, I felt satisfied with our "last date", espeically considering that neither my husband nor I are much for "dates"- it was a nice day.

Coffee Pot Wars

Introducing: ON your left, the Stainless Steel Mr. Coffee 10 cup Carafe auto coffe pot. ON your right.... 1980's relic Black and Decker Space Saver- No frills with a 12 cup GLASS carafe....

I must admit, I have always appreciated, given the right time and place, a healthy dose of competition. Growing up in a children-filled neighborhood, games were aplenty and winning occurred every day, along with losing. It IS more fun to win, but I learned early on that the enjoyment of playing the game, regardless of said game's outcome, was the real prize.

As I grew up, it became evident to me that there are many people out there that possess a fierceness to win. And unless the "game" is taking place in some sort of sports arena, I do not want to win so bad I will poke your eyes out, therefore, these people scare me.

And you know who the fierce folks are! Heck, you know who YOU are. Your desire to have more KIDS than me, your desire to make more MONEY than me. Your desire to have a nicer car, find a better deal, get more attention, have a cleaner house, cook a better burger. Doesn't matter, you want to win and it's women like you that kept me a very safe distance from trying out for any and every competitive reality show out there. I have NO desire whatsoever to compete in that manner.

As I mentioned previously, however, I do like to see a game. And even more so.... a winner. Particularly when the results affect virtually no one. For example- two ants on a sidewalk trying to get to the leaf first? Game. How many times I can throw my undies from across the room into the dirty clothes basket before I miss? Game. How much water can I put into the bathtub without it spilling out? Game. But today's game is the kind of game that really geeks me out.

Our coffee pot has not produced a good cup of joe in months. We told a friend about our dilemma and he gave us his old ( very very old ) coffee pot to try. So this morning- as I blog away- there are TWO pots of coffee brewing.

It's Mr. Coffee in a stainless steel carafe VS. Black and Decker under the counter with a glass carafe. Who will the winner be? Not sure. According to my research- good coffee is predicated by extreme heat. Our Mr. Coffee has yet to demonstrate an ability to really "heat things up". I gave Black and Decker a cleaning con trial run last night and 'ole boy was HOT. However- he has no auto timer NOR does he sport auto shut-off. As I hear the duo brew drips pumping in the other room- my mouth salivates for the first taste. Results will be posted later on when the husband decides to rise and drink.

Things have not been this exciting around here in a long time. Let the games BEGIN!!

PS- Taste test was relatively uneventful. A winner was decided almost instantaneously by moi, however- the husband 100 % backed me up within mere seconds of his swigs. I must say-- shockingly- the 1980's Black and Decker Space Saver dripped out some DELICIOUS tasting brew- Now the new delimma? How will I remember to turn it OFF every time I use it?

Clean House

Lately- with my husband in physical therapy three nights a week, and me fighting off a cold, dinner creations have been... whimsical. I have never been one for the European style of grocery shopping, not even as an urbanite, and instead prefer to mentally catalogue a series of meals and basics and load up my cart for a once a week haul. But this week has been different. Last weekend, when said haul usually occurs, I was not feeling up for it. And as I perused my freezer I pulled a variety of meats out and figured that with some creativity I could make my way through the week.
And make my way I did! Shockingly, what I discovered, is that I have a ton of food stuffs that have been cast off from a previous recipe, never made, or quite frankly, just forgotten. As I persued the wide array of seasoning packets, hidden behind the forty-odd tins of tuna fish, I recalled an article written by a local "chef", if you will ( actually- a housewife with self-proclaimed cooking skills ).... she mentioned that January was clean house month at her house.
She described making her way throught the nooks and crannies of her pantry- pulling, tossing, baking and cooking all those morsels with expirations dates approaching or cans of what-nots whose partners vanished in a flash of cooking lightbulb moments or Betty Crocker inspired frivolity.
The trick for me was to not let my husband recognize the sudden adding and subtracting of ingredients in what we have deemed a "previously refined dish". So there are almonds in the brownies. So there is pineapple in the jell-o. Wait. There is JELL-O? I put sprinkles in the cupcakes and excuse me but yes- that is what I call mayonnaise on your burger. Delicious, isn't it? And stop asking about the amount of pickles this week. I just crave them. Eat up, honey! Chop chop now!
And so we have made it. We have been well fed and nary a meal was tossed. And now again it's Saturday and I am considering managing another haul-less grocery weekend. To flush out the last of the oddities... pesto pasta anyone? and forge through another creative week of cooking. By Wednesday evening, when we sit down to a glorious meal of Italian Meatballs and french fries, I am sure we will be ready to get back to the old ways, where the protein is enhanced by the carb and the veggies are meshed with the protein. In the meantime, our meals will look increasingly like a three ring circus until the last of the artichokes are baked and the pimentos stuffed.

I Need an Intervention*

Will someone PLEASE come over here NOW and place a padlocked chain on the refrigerator? Or at least black ball me from all of the local eateries? Please? 'Cause there is some kind of eatin' frenzy goin' on over here and I am afraid I am in the eye of that there storm!
It all started last night with the "big night out"... DAMN those mini crab cakes! They got my sugar and fat free palate all stirred up with emotion. And then today when I woke up and weighed myself I saw that the scale was reading one of the lowest numbers I have, I mean HAD, seen in a long time.
And excitedly, to stay on course, I followed one of the Weight Watcher commandments and ate a sandwich before going to the bridal shower at Maggiano's today- so I would feel satiated and not overeat. Ha ha... satiated my ass! Apparently this person has never been to a bridal shower at Maggiano's.
The bread came. I skipped the butter. Score one for lean me!
The chopped salad came, along with the spinach one, and fried calamari and the bruschetta. I loaded on the salad and bruschetta- and blew off the fried stuff. Scores are tied.
THEN came the lasagna, the cream sauce pasta, some... what was the healthy thing I blew off again? Oh yeah- somewhere among the pasta there lingered some fish. But I feasted heavily on the pasta-particularly the lasagna. Hmmm, let's check the score now... oh yeah...? How about I am down. WAY down.
So by the time the cheesecake came and landed squarely in front of my plate, I knew it was a complete blow out. Bite after delicious bite it went down. Gulp. I couldn't even see straight it was so good. I was like a crack addict, knocking the other well-dressed ladies aside and spilling waters to get dibs on some seconds.
As I lumbered to my car I thought may pants my explode right off of me. Leaving decayed shreds of black cotton schrapnel on windshields everywhere. This walk, while precarious, and thankfully incident free, would be what is henceforth refererred to as my exercise for the day.
Then there were the goody bags. And believe it or not, the smell emanating from the bag tantalized me so much that I actually opened it, because by now I am a complete sugar whore. And I managed to devour an entire coconut brownie on the car ride home.... even though my poor tummy was screaming for my sweat pants, a break, and a couch.
And in the truest of Lori fashion, I decided to say screw it... and ordered up some deep dish sausage pizza for dinner. Oh - and a side salad. To keep it lean and healthy. If that isn't the joke of the frickin day. I mean what kind of facade is that? A SIDE salad?
Did I hear someone mutter the words "addictive personality"? Just be thankful that your fingers were nowhere NEAR my mouth today.

*To spare myself any further humiliation, there will not be any pictures in this post.

Big Night Out

I wondered how last night would turn out all week. My husband and I hadn't been to a bar in the city in over a year. To prepare for my big night out I hit up Target for a cute shirt ( note to self: Don't go to Target to get "going out" clothes, better to save it for teacher clothes and underwear). I also ate a husband encouraged sandwich, so as not to get loopy after one beer. I stroked on the eyeliner thickly, like a four year olds' crayon. I busted out my hoop earrings that are large enough to hula in.

And when we got there I felt a little bad for the host. We were celebrating his wife's 40th birthday and the guest list didn't seem to be matching up with the attendees. But the food was delicious ( how can you NOT like mini fried crab cakes that you dip into a Mayonnaise sauce? ).

We ordered our beers and quickly fell in line with the beer drinking cadence around us.

We found ourselves socializing with another couple for the majority of our time. They were nice enough. The woman had a buzz cut. I kept staring at it when we talked. I had to stop myself many times from asking her how she felt about her hair cut. Because I went through a phase where I wanted to look like Sinead O'Conner but never had the cojones to go beyond a trim. And I kept thinking about the time when I was in church with my mother and I had on jeans that "had a long rise" and when I sat the bulge in the crotch suggested I was sporting a penis in there. And I began to panic and kept whispering to my Mom that "These jeans make me look like a boy!!"... in that completley horrific way that only adolescent teenage girls do.

I digress.

The conversation rolled into the "What actor would play you?" variety. My husband said ,"That guy from the Sopranos". And I have to admit he's pretty spot on. I hoped no one would ask me, because I have no idea who I would say. My mind seems to get trapped somewhere between who I would want to be like versus who is actually a likeness of me... Because I would say Fergie but the people would be thinking Kirstie Alley.... And the words Fat Actress come to mind. Which by the way, the season is readily available on DVD at my local library. Seriously. ?? ( I mean is it just me or is this kind of thing not exactly a bedrock of literature?).

Anyway, a good time was had by all. Uneventful, but pleasant. We left at 10:30 ( I know what you are thinkging! Party animals!! ) as the beer bus rolled up to take off the others to a night of Salsa dancing and who knows what at Excaliber ( umm... NIGHTMARE...). I am sure by now that most of them are laying in bed right now dying for a glass of water and a cheeseburger, and trying to recall the details.

Crock of What?

I think since I have been married I have really had the chance to hone my culinary skills. I tackle, one by one, meats and sides I didn't think possible from the likes of my clumsy mits... orange roughy to venison. Cole slaw to roasted Greek potatoes. Things usually turn out, well, ummm fair to "middlin"- as in I am not the best chef but I can crank out a meal you can eat.

And now that the late Fall weather is starting to turn I decided to try my hand at an Old Fashion Guinness Stew. It's a crock pot "situtation"- so I went ahead and cut the three pound grody to the max hunk of beef gut on Sunday- as well as the potatoes, carrots, and onion. I then, as the recipe called, lightly browned the beef for two hours.

On Monday night, I added the potatoes and carrots and what not- and let her simmer.... for hours. And it wasn't done. We had frozzen pizza.

On Tuesday night- I let her simmer again. For hours. STILL not done. Back in the fridge she went. How about some fish?

On Wednesday night... I came home before my salon appointment and let her simmer again. For hours. And when I came home, it was cooked enough to be eaten. But I was so annoyed at the ordeal I didn't even want any. Instead I ladled up a big fat bowl for my husband- who almost immediately asked, "What kind of MEAT is this?". Oh NO you didn't. You LIKE it my man- because that is about five pounds of food that I have been slaving over for the last FOUR days and you have to like it... pretty please... like it? PLEASE like IT.

"It's just stew meat, do you like it?"

"I dont' know."

And then within thirty minutes he was puking up my Old Fashion Guinness Stew in the bathroom.

And I didn't have the heart to throw it all out last night. Or aplogize to my husband. I almost took it to my students. But then thought better of the possible food poisoning accusations and the ensuing lawsuit.

So my creation sits. Dismally, in a huge crock pot on the bottom shelf of my fridge.

Maybe I will take it to the farm this weekend and feed it to the pigs.

Taco Pig

All overweight foodies have snuck food. ALL OF THEM. I know. I am one of them. I believe it's a learned trait, but at the same time, if you have ANY self-consciousness at all, there are times it's just darn inappropriate to reach for another snack. And really, life cannot go ON unless you have a bite of the forbidden food, usually in the form of some kind of chocolate tower or bag of crunchy whatsits. Some of my best friends are food sneakers. And I know it even if they haven't told me.
Once while living in a second floor apartment in Chicago, one of my girlfriends ( Stacy*) was over. Mindy* called from her car and mentioned she would come by, too. And since three makes a party let's just go ahead and get Taco Bell and make a fiesta!
She took our orders and then we waited. And waited. We called... no answer. With worrisome, yet empty - no seriously, we cared more about the food, stomachs, we sat on the radiator and peered out the window like anxious little piggies. It was then, in the darkness of the night, I spotted, due to the inexplicably placed street lamp, motion in a nearby car. I motioned Mindy to come and look as well. It was then Mindy exclaimed, "Is that Stacy? In the car? Wait, what is she doing?" Me..." It looks like she is doing something... wait, is she EATING?" We started to roll with laughter. We took this as an oppourtunity to make a joke on her. To be funny, but mostly because we were hungry and we were angry she wouldn't come in and share.
So Stacy came in, nonchalant. She began passing out the delicious Mexican-American dishes when I noticed my order was not right, the sour cream was missing. Mysteriously. And Stacy only gave herself one item while Mindy and I had piles of three. With suppressed giggles, we asked her why she wasn't hungry. Ambivalance.
We asked her why our orders were wrong. Again, ambivalence.
We ate and chomped in silence and then I finally asked her, "That's weird, you have sour cream on your lip, I thought you didn't like sour cream."
She reached for her mouth so quickly I was worried about self-injury.
Mindy could take it no longer and we busted her out... "We were watching you eat Lori's taco from the window, you pig."
When she finally got over the LIE as well as saw the humor we all had a good laugh.
Even now. Poor girl.
She has grown up now, like me... It was over ten years ago. But there will always be a part of me that thinks of her as the girl who ate my taco in secret.

*Names have been changed to protect the piggishness.