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I’m get back on Atkins again now that I’m done b/f, and I’m right where I was when I found out I was pg, so I have no baby weight per se, all just old weight. Dena and I are doing it together, and it’s going pretty well, until yesterday.
OK, yesterday my boss had a graph project he just was not being reasonable about. And he was very grumpy and I was getting very frustrated. I wanted a twix bar or a handful or a dozen from the candy bag up front.
I didn’t. I didn’t actually have anything, because I recognized that what I wanted was “comfort” for lack of a better term, not actually food. Good job.
Then, I get home, and DH has new parts for both computers. And he’s really been looking forward to him and DS #1 fixing these computers. He’s got them pulled apart on the dining room table. So, fine, the two of them “work” on the computers. And I hear just a couple “No, don’t grabs”, etc. But mostly they do all right while I feed DS #2. Then DS #1 and DS #2 have a bath, and I CAN’T get both of them dried and dressed at the same time, so DS #1 runs around in swim trunks (I have no idea) while I get DS #2 in to bed. I get DS #1 in jammies, and DH says these new parts don’t fit the old parts just right, he needs to go to Best Buy. So he goes and I get DS #1 dressed and fed. He gets home, DS #1 and I “help” a couple more minutes and I get DS #1 in bed. So, upshot is I did everything while he did computer stuff, which I totally don’t mind in this case, but it’s still stressful. There is a bowl of Jelly Bellies on the counter, and I resist. I do eat a legal spoonful of cream cheese “frosting”.
I make myself tuna salad and clean the kitchen. I ask DH if he’s ready to eat something, no, and he’s clearly frustrated, something is not going well. I watch American Idol taped from Tuesday. If you skip the commercials and the fluff, it only takes like 25 minutesJ
I go down and work out, and read a bit, and unload the dishwasher. I ask DH if he wants to tell me what’s up. So he does, and the bottom line is nothing is going to work, probably because he had help from the 3 year old. The Mama Bear in me is like “WHAT?” Yes, he touches things after you tell him not too, and he desperately wants to be a part of the project. But you’re the dad. It’s not HIS responsibility, or even CAPABILITY, to not touch. YOU introduced the whole idea, and maybe YOU should have known to wait til 7:30 when they were in bed. Regardless, YOU are the grown up. I am still incensed that he said that. I didn’t say anything to him then, just prayed to Jehovah to help me let it go. I’m still praying that. I still want jelly bellies. I drink water.
So, I go to bed, and my head hits the pillow, and I hear DS #2. So I give him a bottle and go to bed. I hear DH come to bed at 1:30. DS #2 gets up at 3 for a bottle, I get him back to bed (where he talks and babbles for at least 20 minutes, hilarious), and I do down to check email as is my custom, and the computers are both still pulled apart.
DS #1 wakes at about 6, so we get up, and I get DH up at 6:15 to snow blow. And he ignores me and yells at me. Boy do they (men in general, but particularly computer people) get grumpy when the fixing does not go right. DS #2 gets up shortly after and I get me and the kids ready while DH blows snow. He also scrapes the ice off my car and gets DS #2 in his snowsuit. He also snaps at me when I ask him what he’s doing when he takes his laptop back inside. I NEED CHOCOLATE. I eat nothing and take 5 deep breaths before I get in the car with the kids.
So we brave the snow to get to Deb’s, and DS #1 WHINES the whole way because he wants different underpants
. I get to work on time (small miracle)…and there are donuts in the break room. And, I’m starving because all I had for dinner last night was tuna salad because I wasn’t real hungry then. BUT I RESIST. I microwave my cabbage roll pie that was supposed to be for lunch to make sure I get enough to eat and enough fat. Yum. It actually was better than the donuts would be, they’re just Dolly Madison, not even bakery.
Sigh. I’m doing better now. The moral of the story is I control what I eat. I really can. And food is NOT comforting, and will likely make me feel worse about yourself in the long run. Controlling your food IS in fact comforting, and empowering.
On to finish Day 6. Hope anyone who has read this far takes strength from my rotten day.
OK, yesterday my boss had a graph project he just was not being reasonable about. And he was very grumpy and I was getting very frustrated. I wanted a twix bar or a handful or a dozen from the candy bag up front.
I didn’t. I didn’t actually have anything, because I recognized that what I wanted was “comfort” for lack of a better term, not actually food. Good job.
Then, I get home, and DH has new parts for both computers. And he’s really been looking forward to him and DS #1 fixing these computers. He’s got them pulled apart on the dining room table. So, fine, the two of them “work” on the computers. And I hear just a couple “No, don’t grabs”, etc. But mostly they do all right while I feed DS #2. Then DS #1 and DS #2 have a bath, and I CAN’T get both of them dried and dressed at the same time, so DS #1 runs around in swim trunks (I have no idea) while I get DS #2 in to bed. I get DS #1 in jammies, and DH says these new parts don’t fit the old parts just right, he needs to go to Best Buy. So he goes and I get DS #1 dressed and fed. He gets home, DS #1 and I “help” a couple more minutes and I get DS #1 in bed. So, upshot is I did everything while he did computer stuff, which I totally don’t mind in this case, but it’s still stressful. There is a bowl of Jelly Bellies on the counter, and I resist. I do eat a legal spoonful of cream cheese “frosting”.
I make myself tuna salad and clean the kitchen. I ask DH if he’s ready to eat something, no, and he’s clearly frustrated, something is not going well. I watch American Idol taped from Tuesday. If you skip the commercials and the fluff, it only takes like 25 minutesJ
I go down and work out, and read a bit, and unload the dishwasher. I ask DH if he wants to tell me what’s up. So he does, and the bottom line is nothing is going to work, probably because he had help from the 3 year old. The Mama Bear in me is like “WHAT?” Yes, he touches things after you tell him not too, and he desperately wants to be a part of the project. But you’re the dad. It’s not HIS responsibility, or even CAPABILITY, to not touch. YOU introduced the whole idea, and maybe YOU should have known to wait til 7:30 when they were in bed. Regardless, YOU are the grown up. I am still incensed that he said that. I didn’t say anything to him then, just prayed to Jehovah to help me let it go. I’m still praying that. I still want jelly bellies. I drink water.
So, I go to bed, and my head hits the pillow, and I hear DS #2. So I give him a bottle and go to bed. I hear DH come to bed at 1:30. DS #2 gets up at 3 for a bottle, I get him back to bed (where he talks and babbles for at least 20 minutes, hilarious), and I do down to check email as is my custom, and the computers are both still pulled apart.
DS #1 wakes at about 6, so we get up, and I get DH up at 6:15 to snow blow. And he ignores me and yells at me. Boy do they (men in general, but particularly computer people) get grumpy when the fixing does not go right. DS #2 gets up shortly after and I get me and the kids ready while DH blows snow. He also scrapes the ice off my car and gets DS #2 in his snowsuit. He also snaps at me when I ask him what he’s doing when he takes his laptop back inside. I NEED CHOCOLATE. I eat nothing and take 5 deep breaths before I get in the car with the kids.
So we brave the snow to get to Deb’s, and DS #1 WHINES the whole way because he wants different underpants
. I get to work on time (small miracle)…and there are donuts in the break room. And, I’m starving because all I had for dinner last night was tuna salad because I wasn’t real hungry then. BUT I RESIST. I microwave my cabbage roll pie that was supposed to be for lunch to make sure I get enough to eat and enough fat. Yum. It actually was better than the donuts would be, they’re just Dolly Madison, not even bakery.Sigh. I’m doing better now. The moral of the story is I control what I eat. I really can. And food is NOT comforting, and will likely make me feel worse about yourself in the long run. Controlling your food IS in fact comforting, and empowering.
On to finish Day 6. Hope anyone who has read this far takes strength from my rotten day.
What would we do without it?
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