On the candy bandwagon

So, I LOVE CANDY.  If you have read any of my other posts, you know that they have to incorporate some sort of fitness/food issue.  My relationship with fitness and food are tumultuous.  Some weeks I am really good, and get into the gym a couple times, and burn lots of calories.  Other weeks, not so great. Somedays, I eat a balanced meal, even have healthy snacks, and forgo the  midnight dive into the freezer or refrigerator.  Other days, not so great.  I guess I'm a work in progress! So this week, not so great. I AM ON THE CANDY BANDWAGON. I love holidays where I have an excuse to eat candy.  I love the candy that comes out during Easter time only.  Those whopper-like Robin Eggs.  The CARAMEL Cadbury eggs. The marshmallow peeps (not necessarily good, but you HAVE to have those at Easter.) The peanut butter eggs.  I could go on.  But I wont!  I am going to have a snack now.  Followed by some sort of fast food lunch.  Followed by an ice cream snack.  Maybe I will have a decent dinner?  Maybe?!  I will probably go to Zumba tonight, but I will most definitely grab a handful of Starburst Jelly Beans on the way out.

Candy is the reason my cheeks look like this!

I can't kick this habit

My french fry and soda habit.  I just can't seem to let go of the goodness of the deep fried, oily, salty, straight from a hole in the ground potato.  And washing it down with some bubbly, artificially sweetened, and caffeinated beverage.  I know these two things are bad for me.  I know they are contributing to the small lumps overtop of my low-rise jeans, that we affectionately call "muffin top."

For some of us, it is the mini-muffins, for others, it is the normal muffins that you bake at home out of the muffin pan, and there are a few out there whose muffin tops resemble the muffins they sell at the bakery for a ridiculous price because they look like they have gone on steroids.  Wherever you are on the muffin top number line, I am sure if you had my habit, you would be one above where you currently are.  Like I have said before, I have small mid-section, but this post-30 and two baby back/side fat is JUST NOT COOL.  But yet, I still partake in processed potatoes and chemically enhanced beverage.

I wonder what it would take for me to stop.  If a fairy came down and said " CD, I will grant you boobs if you stop partaking of that crap," then I would do it. They wouldn't have to say what size at all, really, because I will take any.  It has to be more than what I currently have. My mom told me if you lost all of your baby weight and nursed for a significant amount of time, then your breasts would get smaller.  Whatever, there was no way my natural nearly B's could get smaller, right?  WRONG.  I don't know why I thought they would stay the same perky C's they were when they were filled with baby food.  Maybe I was hoping, and wishing, and praying (name that tune) that a water balloon would stay the same size filled and popped.  So now I am stuck buying EXPENSIVE padded bra's, so I don't look like a prepubescent boy. (From the front only, cause everyone knows baby got back).  Thanks Collin and Kyle!

On a happy note, I worked out 3 times last week.  And this week I get to teach my first Zumba class. I think I'm headed in a good fitness direction.

Broken Wheelchair!

I met my mom for lunch today at El Charro.  During the summer, I am there once a week or so.  This restaurant used to be an old Roy Rogers (I think), so it has that "hole in the wall" feel to it.  In fact, my husband severely dislikes going there.  I LOVE IT.  The service is great, the food is delish, it's less expensive than any of the chains, and it has the best Mr. Pibb/Diet Coke mixed drink ever. If you are a Dr. Pepper/Mr. Pibb lover, you will love this drink. I don't know why it is so good here, it just is.

So halfway through the meal, my mom says, "Hey, I was hoping you could go with me to the mall, I need new shoes. I've had these for two years, and you know I wear them every day.  I think it is time!" (A little side note- my mom has tons of health problems, and one of them is neuropothy related to her diabetes.  She is only "allowed" to wear a certain type of shoe, and they are difficult to find.) The kids were good for a couple of hours, so I decided to go with her.  After waking the baby up from his 25 minute nap, (sad, I know) I met my mom and Big Boy inside. The first store we went to, did not have tennis shoes in wide.  All of the fat feet in this world and places don't carry wide?  I have a wide foot, both of my sons have wide feet, and obviously my mom has a wide foot.  There is a need for wide people.

My mom started ahead of me down to the next store, while I bought Big Boy the exact same pair of gray N's as his dad. They are seriously cute.  I leave the store and find my mom happily sitting in a wheelchair and her introducing me to a man as her new boyfriend.  I might have believed her if I 1- hadn't heard that before, 2- the man didn't say- no I work here, and 3- she hasn't been married for 40 years.

Since my mom is now in a wheelchair, that means Big Boy (4 years old) is left to push Little Guy (one year old) in the stroller.  Not gonna lie, I was quite apprehensive about it all. I am not even down the first ramp and I hear a squeak.  Followed by a squeeeeak.  I push her down the ramp and there was a bit of silence.  Not too bad, I can handle this.  Then we hit the store.  I try to convince Big Boy to stay right beside of me, while trying to turn my mom.  Squa-weeeeeek- squeak- squeak- squeak.  Now heads are turning.  While I am huffing and puffing, and my legs are almost in lunge position to get her into the store, I see Big Boy happily pushing Little Guy and all smiles from the both of them.  That is until he runs and the stroller tips backwards and Little Guy hits his head and screams in terror.  I calm him down, and we realize the store doesn't have the shoes, so its time to go!

Great, now I have to push her back up the ramp.  Ok- here it goes. I get a jogging start, and just go for it.   Squeak, squeak, squeak, skirch, bump, bump.  Oh good gravy, did I just run over my two sons?  Nope, whew!  But the dang thing can barely go now. It's broken. Lucky for us, my mom does have SOME mobility.  She gets out and pushes the wheelchair back as I take my son to the bathroom; coincidentally, we JUST went!  When I leave the bathroom, there my mom is, a grin from ear to ear, sitting in a wheelchair!? 

What is she doing?  It's time to go, boys are getting antsy and I can't walk much further in my pointed toe flats (yes, I still wear these, they are super cute), and my tight-butt jeans. 
"I got a new wheelchair.  The lady said there was nothing wrong with the old one, and you must just be lazy if you couldn't push me in it.  I told her that you weren't being lazy, but she insisted the other wheelchair was fine. Push me in this one, see if its better."

OMGoodness. Lucky for me, it was better. Mom was determined to get her new white tennis shoes today.  Off we go again.  This time it was definitely easier to push, however, we still had to go up that stupid ramp we went down on, I was still wearing Target clearance flats, and my sons no longer thought it was fun to be in the stroller, or push the stroller. We got her shoes, dropped off the wheelchair, and high-tailed it back to the car, well, at least my sons and I did! 


We took my mom back to her car at El Charro.  I sat in traffic on the way home as  Big Boy had a Frosty, and I shared nuggets with Little Guy.  We were finally at home- yay! Right?  Wrong!  I go to get Little Guy out of his car seat and I can't even bend over; my back is throbbing in pain.  I hope you like your new shoes Mom, really, I hope you do!

sweat!

Ok. You know that gross woman who inches her way up to the front of the class, is 10 minutes late and then proceeds to breathe heavy and sweat all over the floor? That was me last night in my Zumba class.( At least I had the courtesy to brush my teeth and wear deodorant, unlike many other people in the class.) I am NOT a glistener.  I am a sweat-er. (No, sweating that much does NOT mean I am totally out of shape because I don't work out enough.) As my smooth dancing, forty seven year old classmate, who has a rockin' body, and a great demeanor said- "Sweat it out girl, get them nasty toxins out.  The more sweat, the better!"

I am grumpy when I miss my Mondy night class. The instructor is just OK and her music is OK, but I HAVE to go to that class. I have a couple of acquaintances in the class that I get silly with, and a buddy saves me a place up front. Some weeks, this is the only time I actually make it to the gym.  Sad, I know!  If I don't go on Monday night, I feel like the rest of my week is already shot to Hades.

Would I like the class more if the instructor switched moves after an eight-count instead of right in the middle? Probably. Would I like the class more if she faced us for any amount of time instead of just watching herself dance with hip-hop rhythm, even to Latin inspired songs in the mirror?  Probably.  Would I try as hard to make it to her other classes if she had a wider variety of music? Probably. 

And now I really want to go because I have some competition, because the girl behind me out-danced me last night?!!!  Lol!  Go new girl, Go new girl, go head, its your birthday :)

So I did make it to the gym at least once this week, lets go for twice- then I will make some pizza and eat cookies! (Oh wait, I do that whether I work out or not!)

Mind over fatter (fry love)

I would say mind over matter, but the matter of the fact is, my mid-section is getting fatter.  I eat like a pig.  And, I like to eat pig, along with chicken, cow, even Bambi.  I like sweets, a lot.  I like fabulous fatty fried foods.  (love the alliteration there!) French fries in all forms are my favorite.  I don't discriminate- there is the uber salty kind- yum. The cheese fries- yum. The waffle fries- yum.  The curly fries- yum.  The sweet potato fries- yum.  The steak fries- yum.  And the endless fries with your meal dipped in ranch- yum, yum, yum.  So, today, along with my fries, I had a side of sandwich, and a lot of diet soda. (I'll kick that soft drink habit one day, I promise.) I had fries on Sunday.  I had fries on Saturday.  I skipped Friday, but before that, I had fries on Thursday.  CAN SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME WITH MY FRY ADDICTION?!

Look what I found-  Does it get much better than a French Fry Pizza?

My house smells like crap!

Literally, my house smells like crap.

When I go grocery shopping, and there is no alternative to what I need, I just pick it up, regardless of the price;  green -peppers and squash for example.  Neither one of those really come canned, and there isn't a "cheaper" vegetable that can replace either one of those.  Peppers are just plain expensive!

At the grocery store, I always do a ballpark figure of how much my bill is going to be as I am waiting in line, as to not have that surprised look on my face when the clerk spouts off a larger number than I had anticipated.  I am usually within $10, so thats pretty good.  Well, as I was leaving Wegman's a month ago, the cashier said- "OK, that will be $105."(There are only 4 of us and we do our bulk shopping at BJ's and our miscellaneous shopping at Target.) I'm pretty sure I did the whole widen my eyes and shake my head as to say "a whata what?" But without saying a word, I swiped my credit card wrangled my whiny child who only got to choose one type of candy instead of two.  I put my three bags of groceries in the trunk, got the kids belted in, and then sat in the Wegman's parking lot reviewing the bill.
Hamburger- 9
Steak- 21
Raspberries- 4
Peppers-5
Bread- 3.50 (I know, I can't palate anything but the multi-grain anymore.)
Pizza- 7.00
Frozen lunches- 3.00

OK- you get the idea.  So I decided that day that I was going to plant a garden.  Dangit, if food was going to be that expensive, at least I can offset the cost by growing my own vegetables.
Ummm, did I forget that we lived in Virginia and it has been cold as hell this winter? 

So I started my garden inside.  I bought the seeds, the soil, and the seed starter box.  I planted them outside on a relatively nice day, with the help of my baby and pre-schooler- oh boy were they big helps! ha!
I put them on my dining room table and opened up the blinds.  Man did those suckers sprout up right away.    I transplanted them to cups in the kitchen a couple of weeks ago, and then early this morning, I transplanted them again, into their new boxes,  until we can crack through our clay soil, and its warm and sunny enough for the veggies to go outside. 


I went into the garage, got the bag of garden soil, and brought it inside so I didn't have to keep going outside.  BAD IDEA.  What was I thinking?  I brought animal poop inside of my house, mixed it all up and got my fingers all dirty in it.  And then I was surprised  and couldn't figure out what that wretched smell was.  (The big boy's exact words- "Mom, what is that wretched smell?")  We left for a birthday party, and came home five hours later.  The smell was worse.  I sprayed the mess out of the house with Lysol, which is potent, and you could still smell the wretched smell.  We went to dinner, came home, and my son wouldn't even come inside of the house it smelled so bad.  I said aloud, "Man it smells like crap in here."  Oh, that's because there is CRAP in here. 

I'm so grateful tomorrow is going to be a nice day cause those windows are comin' open!

I was determined

to sleep in today.  I was mad at the other half, so I decided he was going to get up with the kids whether he liked it or not.  I slept in for sure.  I planned on going to the gym. That didn't happen.  I planned on zooming by the  pre-school my son will be going to next fall, that didn't happen.  I planned on doing the dishes, oh darn- that didn't happen either!

I did manage to take a shower- go me!  And then I stepped on the scale.  I'm not sure why I was thinking the number on the scale wasn't going to change from a couple of days ago.  I mean I had four meals yesterday, and ate three snacks the day before.  Duh!  Oh well, one of these days I will get back into a rhythm with working out and maybe eating a little better! Maybe?! 

(FYI, my little one has been carrying around a curling iron for the last half hour!)