Embarrassing But True

At this very moment Jack is dozing off to sleep.  I am staring at a house that has been ransacked by a lovely, long, messy play date and am toying with the idea of taking a nap instead of restoring it to order.

Oh the luxury of motherhood.  Deciding that naps rank higher on the priority list than dishes.  

But before I cozy up in my down comforter, I have a confession.  

Every Monday I wake up disappointed.  Disappointed that it is not Tuesday.

Care to guess why?

Because Tuesday is Biggest Loser night of course!  

I am hopelessly addicted to the Biggest Loser.  

I'm not sure why I've made such a deep and long lasting commitment to a reality show, but I have.  

Confession #2: I cry almost every episode.  I know Jillian and Bob are over the top with the self-empowerment speeches, but I just can't help but think, "These people may have never thought of themselves in any good terms."  I also cry because I can just imagine the change in their lives when they are 100 pounds lighter.  

I'm a sucker for any sort of make over, really.  But these people are doing the work.  They are learning how to change the course of their lives.  It is good to see people opt for exercise and healthy eating instead of surgery or pills.  I really get emotional when they are able to go off of the 13 medications they have to take each day or when they can fit into some outfit they thought was just a dream.  

Confession #2.5: Pill-popping and quick-fix "health" gimmicks really get me riled up.  I am very sad for our nation and its struggle with obesity and health in general.  I know I'm a bit hypocritical - I know I could do better for my body (read confession #3) but I would say that I live by an 80/20 scale.  80% good for me, 20% for fun.... sometimes 70/30.  But I ache for families that consume only meals from boxes or drive-thrus, or whose primary entertainment comes from a glowing box.  How can so many people just not know how to care for themselves?  

I better step off my soap box before I get too squirly. 

Confession #3: When I wake up on Mondays and face the disappointment of waiting one more whole day to see the next chapter in the Biggest Loser journey, I usually console myself by doing some sort of baking.  

Then I eat whatever I've baked as I watch the Biggest Loser.  

Don't tell me you don't do the same thing!

Brownies have been the craving lately.  Or chocolate chip cookies.  But I think my baking phase is dying down (luckily, the more I'm in the gym, the less I want sweets).  Maybe I'll go back to microwave kettle corn.  Maybe. 

Confession #4: When I go to the gym on Wednesday, I visualize Bob coaching me as I run on the treadmill.  There is no way I would want to face the wrath of a Biggest Loser trainer, so I run extra far or push just a little bit harder than I do the rest of the week because I have a fresh mental picture of someone cheering me on.

By the way, I added

a whole mile

to my run today.

I'm feeling pretty smug.

That brings my mileage to

TWO

miles.

Woohoo.

Oh.

I guess I still have more work to do.

But we've got to celebrate the small things.

Right?

Confession #5: Biggest Loser is my gateway reality show.  I scorned reality tv for so long.  Now, not only do I watch B.L., but I also keep up with Survivor.  WHAT!?  Why?

I don't know why!

I just do.

Confession #6: I'm blushing from all this self-revelation.  I hope you still love me even after you know my shameful secrets.

Now, I have about 30 minutes left to close my eyes and ignore the scattered toys.  After that, it is back to the pick up, play chase, tickle tummy, start dinner routine.  

I have not baked anything yet today, and I just might resist this week.  After all, I want Bob and Jillian to be proud.

And I want to not feel my bum bounce when I add my next mile.

Please Advise

I've woken up with a headache the last few days.  It isn't normal for me, so it has me pondering.

It could be this of course.

But do you know what I think it really is?  

I'm afraid to admit it.

I think I have a problem with caffeine.

I didn't drink coffee until I was pregnant with Jack.  But since then, I've sucked it down.  I went through a very expensive phase when I had an Iced Caramel Macchiato from Starbucks, everyday. 

My budget couldn't handle that, so I quit.  But I've replaced it with an iced chai every morning (made at home).  Lately I've been adding a cup of coffee or a second caffeinated tea in the early afternoon.

I think when I wake up, my body is saying, with a headache, "Hey! It has been hours since you've feed us that sweet, sweet coffee!  Get on it already!"

So here are my options:

1. Give up coffee and caffeinated tea all together.  Cold turkey.  Free myself completely from this evil affliction. 
   
2. Switch to decaf options.  (The problem I have with this is that I still add a ton of sugar and milk to my coffee, so I'm still pumping myself full of not-so-good-for-me-calories.)
   
3. Drop the coffee (with all the add-ins) and stick with tea.
4. Don't care at all and give into the addiction.  After all, I live in Seattle.  I'm not the only one with this problem. 
   

So?

Friends.  

What am I to do?  My decision making skills are clouded by my recent ardor of dark brown and creamy beverages. 

Please advise.

Now, if you will excuse me.  I have half a cup of chai that needs my undivided attention.

My Hero

The last few days have been a little exhausting.  You know the kind where your to do list extends way beyond your mortal powers to complete... yeah, a few of those days in a row and I was feeling pretty wiped out.

But then, I looked at my list and thought, "What is the worst that can happen if I don't get everything done?"  Well, the very worst is that people might think I'm a jerk because I didn't call them back, but I'm pretty bad at returning phone calls anyway and I think people still like me, so I've already crossed that bridge.  

All the impending doom I imagine as a result of my empty check boxes is just that, imagination. (The universe will not implode because I didn't clean out our pantry or sweep the kitchen floor, nor will my family go hungry because I did not organize my shopping list by aisle)  This is a lesson Andy is teaching me.  His words are "chill out."  Not always my favorite thing to hear, but when I think it and do it before he has to tell me, I feel pretty smug.  

You know what else eased the weariness of an uncompleted list?  It has to do with Andy again.  He was out tonight getting some work done on his tattoo (don't be jealous ladies,  my husband is such a good, bad boy!) and I asked him if he could pick up dinner.  When he was finished he called me to find out what I wanted.  Our usual "will you pick up dinner" conversation goes a little something like this:

ME: Can you pick up dinner?

ANDY: Sure honey.  What do you want?

ME: Oh, whatever.

ANDY:  Like what?

ME: *frustrated that he can't read my mind* I don't know honey.  I'm tired.  Just get something.

ANDY: *frustrated that he can't read my mind AND that I don't know what I want* makes a suggestion to which I say yeah, fine.  Or, alternate ending, I say in a huffy voice, "Nevermind, just get yourself something, I'm not that hungry."

But tonight, Andy called and shyly proposed that he pick up my guilty pleasure (which I am afraid to confess to all of blogdom... so I don't think that I will.  Just know that it is greasy and probably causes cancer and comes from a drive thru.)  which is EXACTLY what I wanted!  What a guy, how did he know?  That small proposal set us off giggling and flirting like when we were dating.  I loved every second of it!

And now, my list is forgotten (well, at least set aside momentarily), my tummy is full and tomorrow looks bright.  

Way to go Andy, you saved the day again!