clickmom

the bitch is back

You know, it is funny, because yesterday I discussed addiction with the cashier at WF, who reluctantly admitted to me that he smokes. I asked him if he was into health related stuff, working there and all. What I said to him was that in my experience with addiction, addiction will subside just long enough for you to let down your guard and then as soon as you relax it will go for another below the belt attempt at reestablishing itself. You can't let your guard down too soon.

Last night I dreamed that I ate an apple. It was perfection. It was cool, the coolness spreading over me slipping into my finger tips and down through my veins and refreshing me like nothing I have ever experienced. It was crispy, and felt so good in my mouth, sweet with the just the right amount of tart. The sensation of this apple made me feel like I was floating. Juices were sliding down my throat and dripping off my chin. My hands were wet with them. I savored every bite, feeling it's cool rush and eagerly taking more. Once I had finished I wondered if it were possible to get more. I began to panic because I needed more. Then I woke up and felt like crap because I thought I had eaten an apple, as if eating an apple were the worst thing I could do! For an instant I felt like a total failure and had the thought of just giving up, I was overwhelmed with the difficulty of these restrictions. Then I realized that I was in bed, and that there was no juice on my fingers, and no cool apple freshness in my chest, and that I had not wavered from my diet. I came out of the haze enough to realize that I had dreamed the whole eating thing.

That my friends is what my addiction does to me. Every time I start to think I have a handle on it I have a dream that makes me feel like I should just throw in the towel. Until I wake up. Then I know what I have to do, try harder.

Despite my desperate sounding last and present post clickmom is not going to throw in the towel. Oh no, dear readers, clickmom is going to win this battle. I have logged too many miles on my feet, bike, in the water, and on my new victim-the arc trainer- I have passed up too many sweets to even think of stopping now. This is one project that will be seen through until the end- my end- because it is ME time over here, and in the midst of taking care of everyone else I am now (finally) taking care of me too.

I was cranky again today. I held it together despite going to the boat show in NYC to look at boats to replace the bad bad boat that broke my baby sister's arm. We were there for 3 hours and I was as pleasant and as wonderful as could be.

Then we came home and the kids asked if we could have Chanukah. Something in me snapped. I am hating Chanukah right now. It's too long! The bitch came back. Maybe I am just tired after the apple feast last night, maybe I skipped lunch, maybe I am PMS, maybe all of the above. I gritted my teeth through the candle lighting and the gift hunt, and then was unprepared for Evan's less than luke warm reaction to his gift. It was naturally something I came up with on my own, some PS2 game that involves dancing and a dance mat. I thought it sounded like fun. Fun and moving that would be good for them. He thought otherwise. I told him to tell me if he wanted to return it- we could let him pick something out. He pretended to be OK with it. Fifteen minutes pass and I call the family for dinner. Matt is moping because after playing his gift, a video game for 12 seconds he has decided that despite the fact that he asked for it by name, it isn't his cup of tea. He wants to know if he can return it. I say he cannot return it if it is opened. He whines and starts talking about selling it on ebay. I hate that they want to sell things on ebay. I don't sell things on ebay or know any thing about selling things on ebay. I want him to shut the f--k up and play the overpriced game that he asked for by name and got. He keeps saying ebay-blah blah ebay and I am ready to strangle him when Evan decides to tell me that despite the fact that he too took his game out of the packaging he wants to return it.

I loose it and let lose my tongue, which amounts to the two kids sobbing into their rice pilaf (that I can't eat!) afraid to move and unable to speak. Like I said the bitch is back. When the husband tries to point out the over the top method I have enlisted he receives his own private tongue lashing. It went something like how I am entitled to loose it since I go around holding it in all day. Since I am the model of patience and purity I am allowed to unleash the bitch when the situation is this incredible. I told you she was back.

In the end I had to apologize and beg forgiveness and let Evan say "bitch" 4 times and hug and kiss and apologize some more. Evan was easy, he liked saying "bitch", but Matt made me grovel extra hard. He came around too. Josh got so jealous of all the hugging and kissing and begging for forgiveness he said that maybe he didn't like his gift either. Now I am forgiven and trying hard to choke down the bitch. Man, I could kill tonight.

But I am totally not going off this program. So, yeast beware, I am tough.

coming soon to a dieter near you, the most frustrating event since low carb dieting- THE PLATEAU

Oh my people, I am going out of my mind here. I have hit a plateau and am struggling with staying motivated, not just to eat a wheat and sugar free diet, but to eat an entirely yeast free diet, and still see absolutely no progress. Remember when I said 47 pounds? Well, I it is only 47 every other day, on the alternate days it is 45. This means that I am weighing myself daily these days which is a bad bad thing, because it makes me crazy. I have been here, at this weight, for too long and hoped that when I cut out any starch or carbohydrate I would quickly lose 5 pounds to make up for the plateau, but no. My plateau is too stubborn.

I am the kind of person that needs positive reinforcement to keep me motivated and this is not positive! I need to see the belly shrinking!! I need to see loose skin!! I need my pants to fall off!! I need my sleeves to get too long!! And I need to see it now!! If I am going to keep up this deprivation for another two weeks minimum I need to be enjoying some serious weight loss. AAaaaaggghhhh!!!!

When I complained to my chiropractor I secretly hoped he would say, "Well, if I adjust you this way and stimulate your blankety blank it'll help", or "I have a secret supplement that will help you", or anything promising. But no, he said I had lost a lot of weight and my body needed to adjust. Bah! Not what I wanted to hear. Also he said that an overgrowth of candida can prevent my body from using the thyroid hormone which according to the blood tests I am actually making. Bah again! And the worst thing he said was that sometimes a plateau could last up to 6 months. No way!! I need to emerge from my winter coat with another new bod this spring. There is no way I am going to be sane after 6 months if I don't start seeing results. I am up to 45 minutes on the arc trainer (I own that baby!! Oh yeah!!) and am keeping my heart rate in the fat burning zone, I'm still swimming and walking, and I even took a spin class that nearly killed me, I am trying, but nothing. Boo hoo.

Just look at this situation- I have no choice here but to stay on the program since I am maintaning all these restrictions for reasons other than weight loss. I mean, I am feeling more like a well human being and not a dazed and sick human being. I realize that this is a step in the right direction. Weight loss is just the icing on the cake. And I like icing!! But man, it has been tough. And I am so over being fat. I just want a nice healthy looking body, not a stuck on a plateau body that isn't losing any freaking weight!! I am just so frustrated. For the last three days I have been consumed by this. I know I've got to stop weighing myself, but when the clothes still fit and the reflection looks the same, I am going to know what is and isn't going on. sigh. I'm so down about this.

the knife slipped, I swear

Matt doesn't attend Hebrew school at our Temple. Instead he is tutored at home by an amazing woman, Debbie. Debbie suggested that she would like to arrange for me, the husband and Matt to go see the movie Munich with her. She'd really like Matt to see this movie, so that she could use it as a spring board for more conversation about history, bias, intolerance, terrorism, etc...... Matt is not looking forward to these sad lessons. He doesn't want to see the movie.

We were sitting in the diner last weekend when the husband brought up the need to hire a sitter for Evan and Josh so that we could all go to see Munich. Matt protested in his usual loud enough for the entire place to hear voice, "I don't want to see EUNUCH!"

three reasons why today rocks

1. Dinner was on time for the first time in a week.

2. I got 3 comments in one day (all on one post too).

AND the bestest reason of all

3. I realized that all the exercise IS having it's desired effect and, omigosh I can hardly breathe, I am finally getting an ass!! WooHooo!!

If I drove a limo would I still have to talk to them?

In the car today, where all the best things happen, Evan asked me if the "F word" was the only curse word that didn't have a meaning. gulp I told him it had a meaning. double gulp. He had to know what the meaning is. gulp harder.

Being the parent who always gives the straight answers, told him what it means. Yup, eyes on the road, and white knuckling the steering wheel, I told him THE TRUTH. Thank goodness I didn't have to look at him while doing so. He seemed satisfied, didn't make a big deal or any thing and didn't bring it up at all for the rest of the day, until dinner 8 hours later. When I had completely put the whole thing out of my mind and let my guard down. As in dinner with the husband that is. The husband who would rather lie than tell the truth about all uncomfortable things. The husband who would rather suffer chinese water torture than explain anything related to biology or reproduction to the kids. The husband who can not believe how up front I am with the kids. The husband who isn't going to ever have "the talk" with the kids.

All of a sudden, while we are all eating away, happy and unsuspecting, Evan gets a big smile on his face, starts swinging his legs and shifting side to side dancing in his seat when he proudly announces in a sing song kind of way "I know the REAL meaning of the F word." He is challenging Matt, who was not in the car this morning to hear this news.

And? Hello? Lightning? You may strike me now!

Matt says he does too, which I am not certain of, then Matt dismisses Evan in the big brother is never ever going to admit it if he doesn't way.

Silence.

Nothing.

So, I squirm and look up at the husbands gaping mouth and look of shock and try to explain that I had no choice, he was asking. Evan would not have let this one drop and I didn't want to turn it into a big deal. Better he should find out from me? Right? The husband shakes his head in disbelief, regains control of his facial muscles, and continues with his dinner. He knows better than to argue by now.

little sister stuffs a stocking

My little sister put Crest Whitestrips in her husband's Christmas stocking.

1. Guess what her husband said...
a. Very Funny
b. Thanks bitch.
c. Cool, do these things work?

2. What other items did little sister put in her husband's stocking?
a. a gold chain and brass knuckles
b. a lump of coal
c. deodorant and body wash

3. What was my BILs response to the following question:
"How much do you love my little sister?"
a. Is this going to cost me?
b. Did I do something?
c. Alot. Why do you ask?

Answers:1:c,2:c,3:c

day 4 of the yeast feeding food deprivation diet

So, I saw the doctor and decided to just get real do the damn diet on Wednesday. I had already blown it with breakfast, so my day to begin the worst diet in the world would be Thursday. Thursday I felt fine, it was a busy day and I ran happily from one event to the other, not noticing any side effects of the diet. I think this Dad may have been on the diet however,

because he slept through the third grade concert. The kids were absolutely going for cute and adorable and not soothing, so beside the fact that all 150 or so parents and other assorted guests had to sit through 25 minutes of chimes and third grade chorus before seeing their own kids, I can't fathom any other reason why this Dad would have passed out, other than he too is on a "don't feed the yeast" diet. I should find him and talk.

Evan performed as expected. Being a child of my loins he did not sing, look at the teacher, or perform the choreographed hand movements. Had he done any of these things I most certainly would have screamed loud enough to wake the sleeping Dad. Evan did however throw in his own personal touch-the look of total boredom. Evan has perfected the eyes half closed "this sucks" look, and he was really at his finest during the bulk of the performance. He had complained about the concert for several weeks leading up to it, and I told him he didn't have to participate, but he got all excited about wearing his blazer and nice pants so he said he wanted to go. This is Evan in his suit, notice the other kids all have their mouths open because they are singing. Also, their eyes are open because they haven't mastered "the look" like my little angel boy.

But, at least Evan looked all handsome in his suit. Oh yeah, the principal stopped me on my way out of the gym-atorium and told me that when he saw Evan in the hallway earlier in the day he complimented Evan on his sharp look. Evan then looked the principal up and down and replied "You too." Good Job, Evan.

That was Thursday. On Friday I still felt OK. Well, I thought I was feeling OK, but the warning signs were there. When I woke up Friday morning I had two thoughts in my head, the first was "Wonder what the weather is today?" and the second thought was "Why is there a band of fire around my ring finger?" It seems that this tiny irritation that I have been battling under my 10 year anniversary band that hasn't come off since our 11th anniversary (#15 is rapidly approaching) worsened over night. I woke up with a raw red rash and a very swollen finger. First I went to see my new pal, arc trainer, cause a girl has to do what a girl has to do, and then picked Matt up early from school and headed to the jewelry store.

I entered the jewelry store and calmly told the lady behind the counter that I needed my ring cut off. She said they didn't do that any more and had not done it for years. I asked why not, she said because of insurance reasons. I offered to sign a release. She said she was sorry. I had to suppress my rage while I asked through my clenched teeth where she suggested I go to have the ring removed. She said the hospital. I leaned over the counter and in what might have been considered by some a hostile tone of voice began to say "Look lady, you don't understand, if this ring doesn't come off my finger in the next 20 minutes..." When I was interruppted by the owner of the store, who recognized me as the wife of Mr. IG, as in incredibly generous, who also likes to buy ridiculously priced glittering gifts for his wife. The very smart owner of the store, wisked me to the back where he produced the device necessary to grind through the band of my ring, freeing my poor finger and avoiding the scene that I was prepared to make.

Later in the day I swung by my office to say "Hi." to the fine staff members that are stuck in that cave of an office all day. As luck would have it, one of the freelance writers had also stopped by with her brand new smoochie love baby, who was happily asleep in his infant car seat. When he woke up I got to hold him until he began to fuss, and then it was clear that he was hungry. When the almost crying baby's mother did not attend to his needs fast enough, I said "If you don't sit down and nurse this baby I'm going to lactate and do it." It registered that I may have been over the top when the other women present gave me the "Are you PMS?" look.

Yesterday, I started the day off all right, but then it hit me like a brick wall. NOT ALL RIGHT ANY MORE. First I noticed a weakened feeling, as if I was coming down with something. Then I noticed that all my senses were on high alert. In particular was my sense of smell and hearing. This made the smell of anything unbearable and the sound of anything maddening. This included the voices of household members. And my alternate personality returned to fill in for a while, her name is Bitch. Bitch, doesn't like children, men or dogs, so it is not easy living with her. I haven't seen bitch for a long while, probably since I detoxed off of sugar, and that makes sense, since this yeast free diet is a detox too. Well, once Bitch returns, the only thing to do is wait it out. She never stays for too long.

I informed the kids of my personality status and being the well trained and fearful little angels that they are they cowered in the playroom for hours until they got hungry and had to come up stairs to beg for food. The Husband on the other hand is not as well trained and he had the chutspa to find humor in my situation. After he tried to crack a few tasteless and decidedly unfunny jokes at my expense, I calmly turned to him and attempted to decribe the bitch's need for love and support during a crisis time like this. When he made a cowboy stance and pretended to draw pretend guns from his pretend holster, I knew it was time to get out.

So, I set about attending to the yearly task of luminarias. Each year on Christmas eve the neighborhood sets up candles in white paper bags. It is quite beautiful, once they are all lit at sun down. Every year I see all the Dads and their boys doing this manly task, and every year I do it. Occasionally Evan helps, but honestly, he is a bit too excited about the prospect of setting a fire, so I try to avoid him. The boys were still hiding down stairs, and the not well trained husband remained on the couch even after I announced "Don't come help me with the luminarias, I want to go down in history as the only woman in the neighborhood who ever did it by herself every single year." Is he thick or what??

This year I forgot to give my block captain the money for my luminaria supply. Luckily I realized I had all the ingredients on hand, except for the kitty litter, which I could substitute sand for. What I thought was a bag of sand in the garage turned out to be potting soil, so I headed for Josh's sand box. The husband couldn't resist cracking one more not funny joke, and made an appearance on the patio to first question my choice of sand box sand for the luminaria and then suggest that the nearby dog poop might also be a good substitute for kitty litter. What a guy!

How did I react to this display of love, concern and tenderness? Well, the Bitch sat down for my other personality Hysterical, who had a nice "You don't love me." crying jag. Needless to say, by the time I got the luminaria set up I went to bed and didn't even stay up late enough to see the street all aglow. Here's what it looked like this moring, when I saw that not one but two of my neighbors did not participate.

Yup, after my last four bags there are about 300 yards of glorious nothingness. Jeez.

Today we went to the Big Apple Circus, as we traditionally do on Christmas Day. We even pick up my 93 year old Grandma and bring her along. Here is us outside the big tent on our way into the circus.

This is the transformation that took place and here we are just as the performance ended

Then we came home and had Chanukah. Tonight I hid the gifts on the laundry machine. We do a "Tonight Chanukah is brought to you by...fill in family member." thing. Matt wanted to go first, since he was so excited about the gifts that he had bought. I hid his wrapped up gifts, and one from us to him, and then they boys find it doing a hot and cold thing with me banging a spoon an a metal pot to indicate their proximity to the treasure. It is great fun, and a real headache by day 4, but my Dad used to do it this way and I am into tradition. Matt got me a hat, and it made me cry because I was just thinking to myself that I wanted to buy some girl hats that the boys wouldn't "borrow" and the hat he got me has a sequined pom pom on top. I swear that boy can read my mind.

I think the bitch has receded, so hopefully I'll be in better shape tomorrow, because the untrained husband is home from work, and it is supposed to rain, and you know how that goes.

not a neme, just some stuff about me

I have been tagged to do this seven sevens neme by The Queen Mama. People, I am such a loser, I can't even think of 7 things I say most often. I went to my family for help and the only one who had a suggestion was Evan and he kept yelling "Shit!" which is oh so true, but not my proudest moment, y'know? At least he was thankful for the free pass to say "Shit!" which he did about 17 times before I had to threaten to brain him if he didn't shut up. (Another golden parenting moment)

Also, I am in a bit of a brain fog, because I did go back to the doctor last week to discuss my blood results which were entirely unremarkable. Not only did my thyriod test normal, but it was right in the middle of normal so I couldn't even suggest that the low end of normal might not be enough thyroid for me. Everything else was fine, and the few things that seemed to be on the low end of normal were actually things that are better to be low. So, the reality is-too much fuel going in, not enough effort going out.

Except for I still feel like "Shit!", so the doctor suggested that in leiu of my history of antibiotic use, I was most likely suffering from candida (I knew this one going in) and would benefit from a yeast and sugar free diet. What am I eating these days, you may wonder. Well pretend you are lost in the forest and forced to forage for food. Yum! I get to eat meat (that I thankfully don't have to catch and skin myself), or fish and vegetables (the really yummy ones like brussel sprouts and cabbage are best), and raw unprocessed nuts. I get to drink water. Think Atkins diet extreme.

The purpose of this diet is to starve the candida. They feed on sugar and anything that becomes sugar during digestion. This is why I can't have any fruit or rice or potatoes or (sob) wine. I also have to avoid foods that are moldy or fermented, like cheese or vinegar, which means boring salads with no dressing. More Yum!

Today is day three for me on this deprivation diet. I am positively feeling the effects of the yeast (candida) die off, I am light headed, a bit wiped, and my breath is rancid. The positive here is that I am expecting to have a nice jump start to my continued weight loss, and as a matter of fact I dared to weigh myself this morning, despite the fact that I am not post menstrual, and my newly updated weight loss stat is:47 pounds!! Woo Hoo for me.

The one really scary aspect to this diet, despite the clawing hunger in my gut, is the fear of constipation. You see Dooce and I have more than just blogging in common, and when I say "I feel her pain." I mean it. I have been there, and frankly, I do not want to go back. I am dependent on prunes (like about 9-12 a day) for normalcy here, and live in fear of forgetting them for a meal, let alone forgoing them for weeks on end. SO, I have vowed to drink lots of water to keep hydrarted, and maybe even (gross) swallow some (gross) flax seed oil if need be. I am good so far, but on the lookout, because a girl has to stay on top of these things. When you stop paying attention, it can get ugly. Real ugly. Scary ugly. Don't go there ugly.

Hopefully my next entry will be the freaking Neme, or maybe I'll just admit defeat and one of my kids or the husband will give me some really good blog fodder. It is after all vacation, and we'll be spending lots of family time together. Joy, and good times.

it's just like looking in mirror when you're totally naked

I like to check my stats. I am not as obsessive about it as when I first started blogging. Back then I used to check about 12 times a day and keep records on post it notes. I could tell you how many people checked in between the time I sat for dinner and when I left the table. Now I just kinda look when I post. I do get embarrassingly excited if I get a lot of hits. I have even made the kids come running in from the next room to look at the computer screen and witness the number of hits.

My dilemma lately is that I had named a certain post from May 13th, a song title, because Matt was singing that song. Recently a famous singer who cut an oldies album (notice how I am intentionally not naming names or titles) did a remake of that song and I have been getting many hits a day from many countries (an extra thrill over here, believe me) by folks who are searching for the original version of that song.

Tonight, in a moment of honesty and courage, I went back into my archives and renamed the post and removed the telling line of lyric from my post. Now when I see how many hits I have since midnight GMT today (When the heck is that anyway?) it will hopefully be mostly people who are really looking for me. I feel so vulnerable. I hope I can handle the truth.

not what I planned on doing this morning

In an effort to prove a strong biological link with his mother, Matt, age 12, and klutz from birth, attempted the foolish and next to impossible task of walking on the treadmill while playing a game on his PS2. Matt claims he got the idea from his mother. His mother denies suggesting the activity. In addition to a fractured wrist he has no skin on one finger knuckle, the back of his right calf, and the top of his left hand. He is grateful he got to miss a day of school. He is wondering just how much sympathy he can get from female acquaintances. Baked goods might help him turn the corner.