Pulling My Weight

Yay, back in the 130s

2010-09-26T01:17:00.000-07:00

Well I'm in the 130s on my scale, Weight Watchers counts it as 141 or something. I am trying not to focus too much on the exact number as long as the trend is downwards. I've been doing pretty well on the whole; still not counting points but aware enough that I will be accountable to stop any serious blow outs.

Apart from last night of course. We went to a party and I sort of went crazy with the little entree snack things available. I tried to compensate by having a modest main course but then had a double helping of the passionfruit cheesecake. I knew it was wrong and now I'm regretting it, but trying to move on.

I have been bone tired lately. Today I got up early with the kids (6am) then went back to bed around 10am for a 'nap' that lasted until nearly 3pm. It was so sweet of Jeeves to let me have that time as I know it is difficult to take care of three little ones on your own. He took them to the duck pond and gave them lunch, and I feel really refreshed now.

I'm planning on starting my exercise routine tomorrow - 20 mins of cycling on my recumbent bike 5 days a week for now. I have been doing zip for awhile so this will actually feel quite ambitious. So depressing, given how athletic I used to be. I would have done this as a warm up in the past! I really do want to get back there.

Sorry I've been AWOL

2010-08-31T05:12:00.000-07:00

This has been a tough few months, and I put weight loss on hold in that time. So much on hold in fact that I actually gained about 10kg! Way to follow through on a project Eliana...

A few weeks ago I decided to get a grip on my out of control eating and get back on the wagon. It's a little dusty and rickety, but hey it has served me well over time so I'll take it for another spin.

Seeing as I was rethinking all previously held positions I thought I'd go whole hog and join Weight Watchers. I know I know, I've bitched about the lack of logic in substituting one numerical tracking system (calories/kjs) for another (points), but I am really more interested in the group meetings, support and accountability. From what I can see it is basically a pep club for dieters, which I kind of like. I love the online tools, I'm all about charting and tracking. I like the leaders, with their 'this could be you' before and after shots. I even like the little stars they give you when you have a good week. I was a good student at school, I think it programmed me to work for little gold stars. So far I have two of them and am down around 4kg (8.8lbs).

One of the motivators for this week is a death of a colleague - one of the Magistrates with whom I work. He had a massive stroke on Friday in chambers and died that weekend. He was in his 50s, a healthy non-smoker with no markers for illness. None of this makes sense to me or any of the legal community who worked with him. I am aware that, had this fate befallen me instead, noone would have expressed surprise. That scares and saddens me. I know I'm elevating my risk through my lifestyle right now and my family deserves better than this. I'm going to fix this problem. Fix me.

Pumping (milk, not weights)

2010-05-05T05:14:00.001-07:00

My son’s therapy programme is now at an intensive stage. It has been a challenge not to over-eat from the stress of witnessing his anxious response to 6 hours of challenging tasks. I’ve done very little exercise, but have managed to avoid all unhealthy foods altogether, and show restraint with portion sizes. So I guess this is a success overall. I have dropped only about a kilogram (2.2 pounds), which has mainly been from breastfeeding.

I’ve noticed people have varying weight loss success with breastfeeding. My baby is becoming quite chubby in that gorgeous Michelin-man way babies have, so I gather he is consuming any extras I happen to eat. When I fed the twins, I lost 10kg in three months. I was too exhausted to be hungry, and just grabbed a bite in between feeding and settling the babies. This time I feel ravenous most of the time. It is a real struggle to ignore these hunger messages and persuade my brain that I can actually wait until the next meal without scarfing two sandwiches.

I heard a programme on the radio the other day about women inducing lactation for the purposes of weight loss. Say what now??? I googled it and found this apparently legitimate discussion: http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20100125075920AAS6nhf.

I’m stunned that anyone would consider this a genuine technique for losing weight! Surely downing progesterone and pumping away for hours until your nipples are raw is harder than going for a walk and moderating your diet? Hey guys here’s a great weight loss idea – lop off a leg, you’ll lose kilos instantly. Think of all that plasma loss, that has to weigh something! And who needs that second kidney weighing you down anyway?! How has weight loss become so removed from overall good health and balanced living?

Don’t get me wrong, I love nurturing my baby, but breastfeeding that doesn’t involve the transmission of nutrients to a child is completely insane. The only thing you would conceivably do is achieve the National Geographic-breasts-down-to-your-knees look at record pace.

Fitday

2010-04-15T18:25:00.000-07:00

I signed up to Fitday a couple of days ago to track my food consumption and (theoretical) exercise. It is a US site, so everything is in imperial measurements, but there are enough online calculators to make that unproblematic. I eat pretty repetitive meals, with variations of fruit and vegetables, so it isn't too irritating to have to input foods that aren't recognised by the almighty Kraft nation.

So far it has been quite eye opening. Days that I would ordinarily have classified as 'break even' have proven to go a little over my energy needs. A pre-crumbed whiting fillet that we eat regularly (my one convenience meal night per week) proved to have 2000kj per serve - double what I'd thought it was. And I had two serves on one night!

After I saw that, I cancelled the fruit snack I'd planned and just had some diet soft drink. So it is really keeping me accountable.

Unfortunately, they don't have a 'breastfeeding' option for energy outlay, so it's a bit of a guess as to what constitutes that fine balance between losing weight and affecting the milk supply. I also need to get butt moving and add some exercise to the day to see how that affects matters.

I'm not weighing myself at this stage. I'm still trying to decide whether to weigh daily, weekly or monthly for best accountability and motivation. Guess you'll find out soon ;)

This is Autism Awareness Month

2010-04-04T19:32:00.000-07:00

This has been a hard couple of months for me. Firstly, I had a new baby and all the attendant difficulties this causes. I won’t belabour the point, I’m far too bleary eyed.

Secondly, my little boy J was diagnosed with a developmental disorder called Pervasive Developmental Disorder – Not Otherwise Specified. It is an autism spectrum disorder where the individual has some of the traits of autism, but not of a severity that would satisfy the criteria for classical autism.

I went through a whole range of emotions on receiving this diagnosis. Denial – “He really isn’t that bad, he’s just a late bloomer. All twins are a bit slower to develop”. Anger – My heart breaks every time I see him struggle to do something his twin brother cruises through. Bargaining – “If you make him better I promise I really will lose weight”. And now I’ve reached Acceptance – He is my little boy, I love him and with the right early intervention he has an excellent chance of leading a perfectly typical life.

Having had time to digest it all, I’ve realised that my initial devastated reaction was very much overblown. He has some processing issues and is language disordered but that’s about it. He doesn’t have any intellectual issues (if anything he seems pretty bright), he has only mild sensory seeking behaviours and no sensory avoidance ones, he never has ‘meltdowns’ and is generally a very easygoing, loveable little boy. Because he has already had so much speech therapy, he is already indistinguishable from his peers to the untrained eye.

My goal is that he be indistinguishable from his neurotypical peers when assessed by an independent autism diagnostician. I think he is in a range where this is an achievable goal. Failing this, we want him to be as happy as possible, and live the best life he can. There is no suggestion that he will need a special school, or even special classes within a mainstream school. He is 3 so nothing is set in stone, but at this stage it all looks well.

The treatment for PDD-NOS is the same as classical autism. We’ve started a course of intensive therapy called Applied Behavioural Analysis (ABA). There are courses that teach parents to administer the treatment, but the optimum is that he receive 20-40 hours of one-on-one therapy per week. There is no way I would be able to do that without putting the other two children into childcare. This just doesn’t seem fair to my newborn baby and J’s twin. Also, I’m not sure that I am skilled or qualified to write an adequate programme for him to ensure he develops appropriately. Additionally, I will need to go back to work next year, so I couldn’t be the primary therapist without giving up my job. We decided the best thing for our family was to have intensive in-house therapy for 20 hours a week, supplemented by 5-10 hours of parental therapy.

J has five different therapists – a very good thing, as social issues are a part of his diagnosis and it will help him to relate to a number of new people. They are all trained and experienced, with degrees in Psychology (or in their final years). They are overseen by a case manager with 20 years’ experience with autistic children, and assessed independently by psychologists who formulate the programme and review J’s progress. It is extremely expensive – a minimum of $1000 a week. Jeeves earns about $900 a week and I have no employment income, so we are using our savings to pay fees and survive, and then redrawing on the home loan. The government has chipped in $12K; $6K a year for two years. This will last about three months, but I appreciate it. We can afford it but it will mean money is tight for a long time. At least we have enough in savings that we CAN afford it. My heart bleeds for those parents who have to struggle on their own without the financial means to obtain assistance.

Anyway, this is why I’ve been out of touch for awhile. I’ve had other priorities.

But this is Easter. A time of sacrifice, rebirth and of course lots and lots of chocolate. I didn’t do so well on the sacrifice part (unless it was to lay my hefty self on the altar of that rabid Easter bunny, covered in inferior compound chocolate). But I’m going to give rebirth a decent shot. I need to invest time in becoming the best me I can be – which is ultimately the best mother I can be.

Weigh In

2010-02-22T22:12:00.000-08:00

My plan is to start a new healthy living program after my 6 week post-natal visit. Even so, I've been trying to keep an eye on what I eat, pretty much like I did during my pregnancy.

This morning, I jumped on the scales to review where I was post-baby.

I AM BACK TO MY PRE-PREGNANCY WEIGHT!!!!

Actually, a little under this weight. Wow! This is such great news! I guess my efforts to control my intake whilst pregnant really did lead to actual weight loss over the course of the pregnancy, even though I recorded an overall increase. I have noticed my fluid retention has gone and I look pretty good. Not great, but good.

I am incredibly proud of myself as it is so difficult to be restrained when you are flooded with hormones telling you to eat (not to mention the harpy Greek mother-types around me giving me advice like 'You need to drink a litre of full-fat milk everyday!') I'm still getting this advice, only now they tag on 'to preserve your milk supply'. Breastfeeding is excellent for burning surplus weight, so I'm looking forward to seeing if this is as effective as it was with my twins.

Gabriel's arrival

2010-02-14T14:43:00.000-08:00

He finally arrived! We were booked into the hospital and a heartbeat scan revealed no issues, so I was prepared for theatre. I said a mildly tearful goodbye to my twins and tried to think optimistically about the coming surgery. In other words, I only just managed to refrain from scrawling my last will and testament on the back of my hand. Can you probate a hand anyway?

The anaesthetist was on the younger side of qualified, and she inserted a needle into my hand, only to swear under her breath.

"Oh crap, I used the wrong size. I meant to put in the green tube, not the pink one".
My confidence in her instantly eroded but I tried to stay calm. I was sure she knew what she was doing.
"Um, well that's okay, you can have another jab, I don't mind".
Attempt number two left a 4cm diametered bruise across my wrist. And she didn't hit the vein. She tried to keep going with attempt 1, but the fluid wouldn't run in.
"Oh wait, it runs if you just keep a finger pressed below the entry point. Can you do that?"
No not really, I mean, I'm about to be focused on the birth of my baby. Can't a nurse do it? Do I really have to participate in the surgery? TRY AGAIN.
Attempt 3 was mainly successful if I kept my hand at the right angle. I settled for this.

Moments later, they called the staff to an emergency and the paediatrician, obstetrician and anaesthetist rushed out of the room. I figured they needed to deal with someone needing a spinal or delivery or something. They returned two hours later.

The anaesthetist got me into the position for a spinal block. Last time I'd had this with the twins I'd managed, even though I was crouched over a watermelon sized lump at the time. And I was 20kg larger. The Doogie Howser anaesthetist at the other hospital still got it in one attempt. Three anaethetists have assessed my spine as being moderately easy to locate. So it shouldn't have been a problem.

This doctor tried for FORTY MINUTES, and made at least ten attempts. I was shaking uncontrollably from exertion, and sweat was pouring off me as I tried to hold the position and not to think about the pain. She would sting me with local anaesthetic, then stick a big needle in my spine and move it around in an attempt to locate spinal fluid. Rinse and repeat.

Eventually she came around and said she just didn't think she would get it and asked whether I wanted to rebook on a different day with a different anaesthetist. I could tell she had completely psyched herself out. But this was my baby's birthday. We had all prepared for it. The freezer was stocked with meals I'd made for my children. It was going to happen!

I said to her, "Look, the next step at this stage is usually that I go under a general anaesthetic right?"
"Yes".
"Okay, well let's do that then".

She was truly sorry, and I managed not to cry that I wouldn't get to see my baby's birth and neither would my husband. I had a flare of anger at myself at that point. Why were her feelings more important to me than my own?? Problem is I'm naturally courteous and I knew how bad she felt, so rubbing it in would have felt like bullying her when she's down. In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't say anything.

As it turned out, the emergency they had all rushed off to was a baby whose heart had stopped beating. They resuscitated him for over an hour, but his heart stopped for 20 minutes. While the child was technically alive, the chances that he or she would escape without severe brain damage was small. What a nightmare.

Part of me is just glad that the dark fate stalking those hospital corridors didn't find its way to my room. They must all have been so distressed when they came in to me. No wonder she was rattled.

She did a great job with the general anaethetic and I had excellent pain relief after the surgery. Jeeves was able to see and photograph the baby immediately afterwards, and he showed me the photos and brought me updates until the nursery staff observing our son were able to bring him to me a couple of hours later.

I was instantly and thoroughly in love with our beautiful baby boy.

As it turned out, the cord had been tightly wound around his neck. If I hadn't planned a c-section, it was very likely I would have needed one in any case. I am thankful every day that I went forward instead of delaying the birth, as who knows what could have happened if I'd postponed. Having seen his beautiful face, I don't think I would have liked to wait another minute.

Welcome to the world my son, you are much loved and wanted.

Ready to go!

2010-01-30T15:25:00.001-08:00

The baby is due anytime now, and I can't wait!! I suspect he will go full term (another week) as my twins did, as I have some kind of superlock cervix. But I'd be happy for him to come earlier, since he is fully matured now.

I'm in the nesting phase, just sitting on my egg and waiting. Jeeves is doing a lot of the housework as I'm having trouble with anything that requires me to bend over. I have plans to go crazy this weekend and cook up a storm of freezable foods, but I don't know how that is going to go as I am also extremely tired. And cooking means shopping, which means walking, which means throbbing ankles. Jeeves' mother is returning from overseas for Gabriel's birth, and I might ask her to take over a lot of the cooking. For all that we disagree on a lot, I'll never argue the fact that she is a wonderful cook. She doesn't just make delicious foods but it is universally healthy, fresh and organic. My parents are troopers but neither of them are skilled in the kitchen. Their contributions are more likely to be in the way of fish fingers. That's fine for a day here and there, but I have made serious inroads in getting my kids to eat veggies, and I don't want this lost.

This morning I made a 'cafe breakfast' for everyone - grilled tomatoes, scrambled eggs with chives, a heap of swiss brown mushrooms and some toast. We have a cafe within walking distance that we occasionally take the boys to, and this was the first place they really took up plain, unadorned mushrooms. For one of my boys (the carnivore) this was his second vegetable (I hide a lot in his meat sauces, meatballs etc, but he had only ever accepted tomato plain). Since then mushrooms figure heavily on our household menu. I guess he likes their meaty taste and texture. They each ate maybe two cups of sliced up mushrooms this morning, and half a tomato. So I guess it's fruit and yoghurt for lunch. I ate a similar amount with an extra slice of tomato and toast, and I am stuffed, so I don't know where they fit it in!

Our summer garden is producing like crazy and we are eating a lot of the produce every day - tomatoes, zucchini (and zucchini flowers), eggplant and capsicum. We also had a heap of apricots - maybe 400-500 over the course of those too-short weeks. Unfortunately, the tree ripened in the middle of a heatwave, so I had to pick off all the fruit to prevent it from being damaged. I dehydrated some to make dried apricots, gave some to family and friends, and we ate the rest of them fresh; a massive glut of apricots for about ten days. It was wonderful. It's such a shame that the season is so short though. We also had a few plums, but the tree is still a baby and the heatwave took many of the fruits prematurely. Still, it is a great opportunity for our children to learn where produce comes from, and I let them help me pick all the apricots.

I'll try to organise a photo of the baby as soon as he arrives. Wish me luck!

A Crappy Body Image Day

2010-01-06T15:49:00.001-08:00

The due date has now moved to 8 February, unless he decides to come earlier. I really hope not as we have a cabin booked at a seaside caravan park for a week in January. It will be great to have the kids play in the water each day, while I sit on the beach like the resident beached whale. Okay, maybe not whale, but at least a walrus or something.

Jeeves and I took the twins on an outing yesterday. We rode the bus into the city (incredibly exciting for three year olds) and visited the museum, had lunch in a park, saw a pet shop and went to a luxury chocolate store. I am so far along in the pregnancy that all of this was extraordinarily tiring, and my ankles and hips were throbbing.

There were a young bogan couple on a bench we passed, and I heard them discussing my weight, clearly appalled that I'd let myself go. That hasn't happened since I was nearly 180kg, and it was rather depressing. I know I look huge right now and it's clear that they didn't realise I was about to have a baby, but it was still demoralising. I complained to Jeeves.

"Don't worry Muffin, you're PREGNANT, it's normal. Do you want me to get you a t-shirt advertising that fact?"
Sniff.
"No... Well, maybe just some skywriting. I wouldnt be able to cram my gargantuan stomach into a t-shirt - waaaah!"

He flat out refused to challenge the teenagers to a duel, what sort of a husband is he anyway.

I keep hearing about these pregnant women who have fabulous body image.

"Oh, I've never felt so sexy! I finally have breasts tee hee hee!"

I feel about as sexy as a hippo. And not one of those cute cartoon hippos with ballerina skirts and lipstick, I'm the hefty, mud spattered flatulent one covered in gnats.

Okay, so I'm having a bad body day. On the plus side, I'm weeks away from the world's easiest diet - give birth and lose 5kg in one day!! I lost 10kg whilst breastfeeding the twins, although I was eating a huge amount of food and as many treats as I felt like. So I guess there is a silver lining after all.

Being Mum

2009-11-28T21:30:00.000-08:00

I haven’t weighed myself in ages. I don’t think I want to know! I feel very hefty though. I’m now 30 weeks into the pregnancy and so incredibly tired. Thankfully, it is also my last day of work tomorrow. I had my last court day on Friday and tomorrow is just a paperwork day. I’m really ready to let go and move into this new phase of my life, although it does give me a little cause for panic.

Being a lawyer gives you a stable, respected identity in our society. I lose a few points for being in criminal defence law, but gain a few for working with a human rights organisation. Your social rank is pretty easily identifiable; assumptions are made about your wealth, status, education, intellect and general social demographic. Those assumptions are not always correct. I’d never be able to afford a BMW even if I was shallow enough to want one – we make less money than a first year teacher. And half the lawyers I know get more stoned and/or drunk than their clients (just in a more functional way). But on the whole people respect you, even grudgingly.

Motherhood doesn’t have the same easily identifiable social markers. There is little to separate the bogan mums from the ones who (like me) spend all their time reading about child development, and making flashcards and books to help their children’s speech. Occasionally it’s not so difficult.

At the grocery store: “Don’t you f*&$%g swear at me you f*&$%g little shit!” BOGAN MUM.

I’m also not a huge fan of the mums who are so involved in their own busy socialite lives that they give minimal time to their kids. This breed of mum can often be seen in couture outfits driving their BMW 4wds whilst simultaneously blowing on their manicures and talking on their mobiles. RICH BOGAN MUM. There are plenty of uninterested dads who also fit this profile.

But on the whole I think almost all mums are actually doing their best, within the scope of their background, education and own modelling. I have met enough drug addict, criminal mothers who’ve had their kids taken away to know that the grief and loss they feel is genuine and profound. Often not enough to stimulate a change in behaviour (once again there are personal limitations in play) but all they know how to do. That being said, I don’t pretend that it’s enough – the net result is the same. Chances are still high that I’ll see their kids in Youth Court in about 10 years.

Unlike other career paths, where the top performers are readily identifiable, how do you know if you are doing well as a mother? Noone ranks you and there are few performance markers. We don’t get a payrise or reclassification, or chosen to head up a big project. We just keep slogging along, and we don’t really get to find out whether we’ve done a good job for decades, when we turf them out into the world to see what kind of citizens they make.

Even then, it can be hard to tell. I mean, you can probably give yourself a fail grade if your pride and joy is ever in the Supreme Court having a non-parole period fixed. You probably get a tick if they’re on the bench, or being inaugurated as Prime Minister, or storming a beach somewhere (unless they’re anti-nationalists; or even then, are they just freedom fighters?).

I think it’s going to take me awhile to figure all of this out. Thing is, I have about 14 months of unadulterated motherhood. So I guess I’ll have the time.

Gabriel

2009-11-03T21:12:00.000-08:00

I haven't written for awhile, mainly as my 'dieting' life these days consists of sitting around not exercising and just trying not to gain any extra weight. I've put on a kilo or so this month, but nothing drastic. I'm not being greatly restrictive, pretty much eating as much healthy food as I feel like, and trying to be moderate in the evenings. I've started getting heartburn if I have late-night snacks, so that has really gone downhill.

I'm almost 6 months pregnant and SO TIRED! I want to sleep at about 7pm, and then end up sleeping in until 8am. I'm starting to worry that I'm developing gestational diabetes, so I'm going to be tested for that in the next few days. Fingers crossed that all is well.

We decided to name the baby Gabriel (well, Gabe). I gave Jeeves 30 or so names and this is the only one we both liked. He has been making all these jokes about how we'll need to keep him away from trumpets (among his many other fine achievements, the Archangel Gabriel and his horn are said to herald the coming apocalypse - trust my husband to overlook all the neat serene angel bits and focus on the end of time). The only thing I'm a little wary of is that his middle name was already determined to be Michael, after Jeeves' uncle who passed away too young, so he'll be named after both Archangels. But seriously, how many people use their middle names in daily life? (Incidentally, I work with a colleague whose middle name is Livingstone - not exactly playground friendly).

I'm going to get back to harrassing Jeeves to read New Moon. I dragged him through Twilight, promising that the teen romance would be much more bearable when combined with werewolf action. He seems to like it - grudgingly - but I guess it doesnt help to have your wife standing over your shoulder putting pressure on you to get through it before the movie comes out. Hmm, maybe I should get one of those motivating drums? "LINE, LINE, LINE, LINE" to every beat... :)

Wedding Blues

2009-10-16T16:09:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine is getting married today. I’m looking forward to the wedding, albeit with some hesitation. This is one of those marriages where the bride has been in a flood of tears and uncertainty about the relationship before throwing herself into the wedding day preparations. They have been engaged since around the time Jeeves popped the question – and we are having our fourth wedding anniversary next month. I am praying that she is making this choice because it’s what she wants, not because she worries she will be alone, or because it’s what other people expect, or she feels she can’t escape. If it’s a choice with which she is happy then, as her friend, I am happy; she is a good person who deserves a life full of contentment.

I am a great believer in supporting a loved one’s choices, regardless of personal opinions, so I’ve agreed to read a prayer at her wedding. And I will truly be praying for their lifelong happiness. Marriage is a sucky thing to get wrong, especially if you’re a devoted Catholic.

This leads me to my own personal angst – my current appearance. Sooooo, I have to stand up in front of a whole bunch of people who haven’t seen me since school huh? No problemo! I’m in the sixth month of pregnancy, I haven’t dyed my hair for over that time (for the sake of the baby) and the dress requirement of ‘glamorous’ does not fit anything in my current extra plus-sized wardrobe.

Did you know that mainstream maternity wear only goes up to size 18? It’s like there has been some kind of fashion consensus that fat people cannot and should not procreate. My pants are currently a size 26. With an ELASTIC waist. The ones with buttons exploded about a week ago, leaving me at the bar table holding up my trousers, and trying to still look and sound lawyerly.

Thank God the current fashion trend (which I’d otherwise hate) is those maxi dresses. They have a high waist, under the bust, and a billowy, Jane-Austen era lengthed straight skirt. Plenty of room for baby growth and no need to shave your legs, let alone show your pregnancy induced water retention. Teamed up with the ‘boyfriend’ cardigan now in vogue (which I do rather like), it looks passably church-suited, especially when I add my black pearl necklace and earrings. I’m going to have to hope I’m seated in a dark corner for the reception though.

Another invited friend and I debated what our husbands should wear that suited the ‘glamorous’ code.

“Do you think they need to hire tuxedos” I queried on the phone.
Jeeves piped up in the background, “Not gonna happen Muffin”.
“Graham’s wearing the ONE suit he owns. The one he wore to our wedding. With the baby puke mainly wiped off” my friend said firmly.
“Well I guess Jeeves can wear one of his work suits. I don’t want him looking like an idiot if everyone else is in day suits”.
Jeeves called out, “I am NOT hiring a tuxedo. I’d look like James Bond after he let himself go”.

I guess that would make me the now-hefty former Bond girl. Although I can’t think of a recent Bond girl that survived the encounter.

Status Quo

2009-10-12T17:24:00.000-07:00

Well this has rapidly turned into something other than a weight loss blog. That is because it is actually INCREDIBLY HARD to lose weight whilst pregnant. I’m constantly hungry. Not just hungry for emotional reasons or habit or hormones, actual physical hunger. Growling-stomach-type hunger.

I had a couple of crazy weeks about a fortnight ago where I succumbed to the Tim Tams’ siren call, gained a couple of kilos, and generally junked up my body. It made me feel bloated and terrible (not to mention junk food doesn’t stay down all that well). So I recommitted to eating healthy foods and eating a few more healthy snacks than usual. If I’m still hungry at night I make a sandwich. I’m focusing on quality rather than quantity, but still trying to keep at a maintenance level.

I haven’t had any weight gain in the last couple of weeks (actually, a small decrease). This is probably effectively weight loss. The baby puts on weight, I lose it, we average out. Anything more at this stage would be unrealistic.

Even at 22 weeks my stomach has really grown outwards. The rest of me seems the same, so I figure it is just baby but I really envy those women who have slight bumps at five months. My twins stretched everything out so my uterus is just hanging there without adequate muscular support. Very uncomfortable, and somewhat disconcerting. I look (and feel) much more pregnant than I actually am. Yesterday, the very courteous Magistrate I appeared before asked me if I wanted to remain seated whilst I gave my submissions.

“Thanks Your Honour but I’ve only got six weeks to go until leave so I’ll just waddle on until then.”

It’s not an exaggeration, I’ve actually developed a Mother Goose waddle. How depressing. My mother said I should stop trying to walk around in heels, but I don’t have flat shoes and it’s not worthwhile buying anything when I’m about to go on leave.

I decided to take annual leave before my maternity leave. Jeeves is taking leave as of Xmas too so we can spend time together as a family before this big change. He’ll be off work until two weeks after the baby is born, at my request. He really needs to recharge his batteries or else he won’t cope with the sleepless nights to come. Jeeves said to me, ‘But what about your batteries Muffin?’ That honestly hadn’t occurred to me. Maybe I’m just one of those lithium brands.

Sexology

2009-09-28T20:28:00.002-07:00

We had the big baby scan yesterday. No news on the baby’s health status (although the radiology lady seemed unconcerned). Bubs certainly looked healthy enough and is growing on target.

News flash though:

IT'S A BOY!!!!!!

I can't believe we're going to have three sons!!!

The downside:
- I'll have to stash money away for the food bill the way other people do for superannuation.
- His alloted room is pink. Pink walls, pink curtains, carpets, robe, fan... We're going to leave it for now as the light passing through the closed curtains gives a very 'womby' feel.
- We'll never have a daughter :( This is definitely our last baby.

The upside:
- We may not need that second bathroom after all without another woman in the house.
- I already have all the clothes he'll need.
- We're halfway to a footy team.
- I only need to worry about what one penis is doing instead of all the penises in the world.
- Another man to carry on the family name.
- A girl would probably have inherited Jeeves's broad, manly shoulders...

He looked beautiful and was growing v well. We got some lovely pics but I don’t know how well they would scan (one I love with just his tiny little feet crossed together - you can see every digit). Jeeves is a happy and proud Papa, as always.

Damn I look cute in a medical mask

2009-09-11T04:45:00.000-07:00

I spent the week hacking up a lung with some kind of terrible cold or flu. I’m still not sure about the difference, seeing as so many people aren’t even noticing they have swine flu these days. I certainly noticed my cold. Kleenex’s accountants must have noticed my cold, they would have had such a surge in profits this week. I also had a slight fever so I took Panadol to try and protect the baby from any harm.

I went to see my obstetrician wearing a facial mask. Imagine the sight of half a dozen pregnant women instantly panicking.

“Relax ladies, the mask is precautionary, I just have a bad cold”. Grave silence from the fertile ones. Constant daggers. Bloody swine flu publicity…

“Mrs Jeeves?” the doctor called me in. He glanced at me. “Are you all right?”
I swanned past the judging matrons. “Oh you know me doc, just here to spread pestilence and create mass panic”. My obstetrician chuckled and asked me where I got the mask. I told him I bought it from the chemist.
He paused. “You know, that’s really considerate of you”.
What does everyone else do, infect the populace??

The baby is growing well and I’m now over 17 weeks pregnant. The obstetrician weighed me and I’d lost about three kilos since our last appointment. He’s a broad-shouldered hefty guy and told me he was completely jealous. I’m jealous of him, he should be able to comfortably pack away 10,000kjs and still lose weight, he’s that huge a build. I’m trying not to convert that into actual Mars Bars but it’s enough to have a fun life.

He was worried that I was furiously exercising or dieting but I told him I’m just living a healthy lifestyle. He told me not to put any pressure on myself.

As I’d lost weight and been unwell he did another scan of the baby. He was sleeping happily, with his hand cradling his face. So cute! I can’t believe how much more developed he is in only a month. We humans really are remarkable.

Show show show show

2009-09-05T17:24:00.001-07:00

We went to the Royal Show yesterday. It’s a lot more expensive than I remember. The entry fee was $38 for two adults (my boys are free as they’re under 4). Food is just insanely expensive. Six bucks for a cob of corn?? Eight for a bowl of strawberries and cream? Okay strawberries are expensive in Australian winter, but corn is such a rip-off. I have no idea why you pay $10 for a handful of popped corn at the movies when you can buy a sack-load for the same amount if you’re intending to feed it to a pig. Ahh, the joys of value-adding.

In anticipation of the Royal Rip-Off, we brought our own lunch and just picked up a couple of treats. In traditional Greek style we had a bit of a meze platter – dolmades, keftethakia (little meatballs), grilled eggplant, sundried tomatoes, olives, hardboiled eggs and sandwiches. A lot of people raised their eyebrows at our foreign ethnic ways (hello, you’re eating compounded anuses and snouts in a hot dog bun loser) but it was delicious and economical. We followed it with fruit and a selection from the Charlesworth Nut bag.

My big treat for the day was a box of Aunt Joan’s mixed nut brittle. It is to die for! Actually, you probably would die if you had enough of it, the two main ingredients are sugar and animal fat. But it is an annual treat worth waiting for. It lasted all of about five minutes after we got home, but Jeeves scoffed at least half.

The kids were a bit overwhelmed by the noise and bustle. I had thought it would be a good chance to work with my youngest son on his speech (he has a language disability). There was plenty to talk about, but no way we could hear each other. Even so, they loved looking at all the animals and giant tractors.

On the pregnancy weight front, I’m still at the same weight. I think my goal is 119kg by the end of the pregnancy, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to achieve it. I am ravenously hungry most of the time, so I think I’m doing pretty well all things considered.

Endocrinology worries

2009-08-26T21:24:00.000-07:00

I saw my endocrinologist yesterday to monitor my thyroid hormone levels. Pregnancy requires you to up the dose of thyroxine – the hormone produced by the thyroid which controls metabolic processes. I take an oral synthetic as my thyroid was removed and destroyed during my cancer treatment.

My obstetrician ordered a blood test two weeks ago. The nurse who took four vials of my blood and left a huge fist-sized bruise appears to have incorrectly labelled my test. The wrong one was sent to my doctor. So I need to be retested. I’m not fussed about the bloods themselves (the second nurse left a 10c sized bruise, which I can live with). But my endocrinologist suggested there might be a problem, which we want to know about sooner rather than later. He might have actually increased my thryroxine too much for the health of the pregnancy.

Instant panic.

“If my levels have been too high will that have had an impact on my baby’s development?”
“No”.
“It’s growth?”
“No. But you might go into premature labour if we leave you at a high dose”.

Oh great.

I’ve dropped my dose pending the receipt of the results. I feel like my dose is too high – I’m edgy, my mind races and I get shaky hands, which are signs with which I’m well familiar. But thyroxine levels take 6 weeks to either increase or decrease, so I can’t expect to have instant results either way.

On the weight loss side of things, I have had a slight decrease. I’m happy with that for now. I’ve planned out the family’s meals for the next week and filled the house with healthy foods, so things are looking good. I still need to add regular planned exercise to the equation (rather than the constant end-of-day weariness that comes after working, playing with the children and doing all the housework). But I am starting to believe in myself again, and that is a big positive.

Ten percent

2009-08-14T16:43:00.000-07:00

I’ve just completed a week on Lite n Easy, doing the 8300kj plan. Even with the higher plan, I admit I’ve cheated a little. But I also added several days of exercise in – not the rigorous gym kind – but walks with my husband and the kids and incidental movement. I’ve lost 1kg (2.2lbs). I think that is about as much as I should lose each week whilst pregnant.

So I’ve now achieved10% of my goal of losing 10kg (22lbs). I figure I should get this weight off by the 30 week point, as after that the baby’s growth really takes off. Most pregnant women gain the bulk of their weight in the third trimester. Once I’ve lost the 10 my goal will be to remain fit, healthy and weight-stable for the remainder of the pregnancy while the baby grows. This will involve some weight loss on my part but I will ease back on exercise through necessity (so I don’t slip a disc or something).

The last trimester is exhausting. It’s just impossible to sleep well with a watermelon strapped to your front. Not to mention the hourly trips to the bathroom. I’m told it’s natures way of preparing women for a screaming baby at all hours. I think Nature is a cruel bitch. What sort of loon prepares for a fast by giving up food? No, you go to an all-you-can-eat buffet and scoff it all down whilst complaining constantly to all your friends about your impending sacrifice.

Note I’m reserving the right to complain. Anything less would be unAustralian.

Stripping bare

2009-08-09T18:45:00.000-07:00

I have always felt somewhat awkward about my body. Years of being morbidly obese and then losing a lot of weight did some damage. Not so much that I feel repulsive, but enough to make me self conscious. I’ve noticed I’m not the only member of the female population that feels this way – most of the girlfriends I’d love to physically resemble won’t undress in front of their boyfriends. I’m not going to be giving the burlesque gals competition any time soon, but I have to say I’m not particularly prudish in that respect. I’m a lights-on kind of girl, albeit with occasional reluctance. I’m not confident of my body, just not exactly ashamed. It is what it is and I enjoy what it can do because I’m basically a glass half full kind of person. I don’t like what it is, and that makes me feel a bit ill at ease with my naked self.

Giving birth to my twins helped me achieve a level of body acceptance I’d never had before. My body achieved something incredible – growing two healthy babies to term when most twins are premature. My boys were nearly 7 pounds each, when most twins are underweight (less than 5 pounds). I breastfed them for 4 months, and my body provided all the nourishment they needed in that time. I didn’t even care that my body changed to accommodate all this earth-mother wonder. I breastfed my boys in front of about 20 different nurses, doctors and midwives. This was an enormously exposing process; it is simply impossible to feed two infants effectively without being topless.

Even with all this, I’ve never quite accepted casual public nudity. I’m not one for nudist beaches or skinny-dipping. I’m conscious that the public ideal is a slender, healthy-looking woman, and I don’t meet that expectation. Who wants to gross out their peers, not me.

Jeeves is the complete opposite. He strolls around our house naked whenever he feels like it (even past open windows, to my complete horror). He went to a nudist camp once with a friend. He has no issues with his naked form whatsoever. And he has no issues with mine – not one. I can live with the rose coloured glasses.

This weekend I went to the swimming pool with Jeeves and the boys. Afterwards the boys and I went to have showers in the changerooms. The plan was to wash the boys in the group showers and then huddle everyone into the private shower cubicle so that I could have a quick rinse. The boys were having so much fun in their open shower. I thought to myself, “Stuff it, what do you care what these strange women think of you?” I stripped off and we all had long, sumptuous, hot showers and then changed in the public change area. It was surprisingly liberating. I thought I’d be a furtive public nudist but I was relaxed and luxuriated in the experience. I was so proud of myself. If I caught any looks around me it seemed to be interest in the two little toddlers dancing under the water next to my faucet. It felt like a whole new day for body acceptance.

Obstetrician

2009-08-03T02:18:00.000-07:00

We met with our obstetrician today. He is a burly, good-natured man with obviously keen intelligence and a relaxed attitude. We both liked him immediately.

He ran through my medical history and did a scan of the baby. He’s now about 5cm long and 12 weeks old (I’ll call ‘it’ a him for now as I seem to breed sons). We got to hear his incredible heart beat again, which was lovely. We’re going to do the Down’s syndrome nucchal fold test later in the week. It won’t affect what we do with the baby, I just want to be prepared if it’s likely there’s something to worry about, and to let go of it if it’s unlikely.

My blood pressure was up a little – 130/70. That is highish for me. I’m usually around the 110-120 range (110 at peak fitness, 120 the rest of the time). That got me worried.

I talked to him about weight loss in pregnancy and he was firm on the issue.

“I want you to maintain your weight at a bare minimum. Preferably, I want you to lose 5-10kg by the time you have this baby. It is much easier to do a c-section on a 120kg woman than it is on a 130kg one. And I want you to do 20-60 minutes a day of exercise”.

My head was reeling. Dieting whilst pregnant….? Could the internet be wrong???!

He is an extremely well regarded obstetrician. He’s considered the best on my side of town. I’m going to trust his advice. Music to my ears, I’m allowed to restrict my kilojoules!

“Your baby is a parasite. It will take everything it needs from you. Just eat a broad range of healthy foods”. Sing it doc!

So the goalposts have changed. I now want to lose 5kg (11lbs) in the next three months. I’m going to aim for 0.5kg a week. And I am going to start walking again and see if my ankles can handle it now.

Death by coffee

2009-08-03T02:00:00.000-07:00

“Check out this death notice in the paper Jeeves, it’s like three columns long. We ethnics really know how to make the most of funerals”.
“Hmmph. That seems like a bit of a waste of money” he scoffs.
“No way! If I die before you I want a full half page. With a photo from when I was thinner. Preferably with full makeup”.
He raises his eyebrows. “How about I just build you a monument? It would probably be cheaper”.
I pause to think about it. “Like the Taj Mahal?”
“Only smaller. And based entirely in the corner of our garden. A Muffin Mahal”.
“Okay. But don’t stiff me on materials, I want quality marble. Do you even know what ‘mahal’ means?”

He doesn’t.

I love our mornings together.

Baby baby

2009-07-26T18:52:00.000-07:00

I saw my baby last night.

I’ve been getting increasingly worried as my pregnancy symptoms have been decreasing – the nausea has tapered off and my breasts are less tender. I remember that my nausea didn’t stop with the twins until about week 15-16 so I thought perhaps I’d had another failed miscarriage.

Around 2pm I caved in and went to the Women’s and Children’s Hospital to ask for a scan. When they heard I didn’t have bleeding or pain (except that same achiness I’ve had all along) they put me in the lowest priority group. I’d expected that and prepared for a wait. I had my newly purchased books 2 and 3 of the Twilight series with me.

I read up to half way through book 3 when they came to fetch me six hours later. It’s the most I’ve read in a sitting since before I had children. Frankly, I wouldn’t have been bothered by it at all, but for the fact that I was asked to drink water to have a full bladder for the scan. Three hours later, when it became clear I was about to make a puddle, they told me to void half my bladder.

Oh sure, that’s not a problem at all. It’s like eating half a chocolate donut.

As it turned out, I had to have the vaginal probe in the end, which required me to have an empty bladder. All that pelvic floor training for nothing.

They scanned for a bit and then switched on the monitor.

“Thump thump thump thump thump”. It was the most beautiful music.
“Is that my baby???!”
“Yes and the heartbeat is good and strong”.

I started crying. The last time I was in that room – the exact same room, probably the exact same probe that had its way with me last time – they told me my baby had died. I was so happy.

“We think it’s actually a little older than 10 weeks, probably closer to 11-12. See Bubs has little legs and arms that are moving?”

It kicked hello at me. I saw its perfectly beautiful little heart fluttering away on the grainy screen. The doctor said my decreased symptoms were probably completely normal and not unusual for a pregnancy involving a single baby.

I love my baby so much. I loved it when it was just a double line on a pee stick, but now I love it more. I was sitting in the waiting room beforehand at 7.30pm, starving and imagining myself comforting myself with Hungry Jacks if my baby was gone. After I saw it I just knew I had to take care of it better. I went home and hugged my husband and quietly ate my chicken and vegetables. Guess it’s back to tuna salad for me.

Turning 30

2009-07-19T21:56:00.000-07:00

I am now officially 30 years old and decrepit. Sex and the City so lied about it being the new 20, I just feel old. I’ve been waiting to feel ‘grown up’ for years and it hasn’t happened yet. I thought having children would help but there’s still that part of me that is stunned that I am of age to change the world, or even have an effect on it.

That being said, I don’t think I’ve ever gone to McDonalds without a sense of surprise that a multinational conglomerate is essentially run by 16 year olds. And my c-section was done by a doctor whose fantasy girl would have been Kylie Minogue rather than Marilyn Monroe. So I should probably just suck it up.

I did actually enjoy my 30th celebration. Jeeves took me away to Apple Tree Cottage in the Adelaide Hills. Our cottage was on a huge property overlooking a lake-sized dam and abutting an apple orchard. It was utterly romantic and I loved every minute. It was nice to wake up to kookaburras singing and cows lowing (and peeking in at the windows). The cottage had so many nice touches beyond the usual B&B complimentaries – binoculars and a bird-watching book; picnic baskets and a rug; a hammock; various sizes of gumboots to march around the muddy paddocks in inclement weather etc.

We went on a long country walk up and down hilly paddocks. I was surprised that I managed to walk that far – over an hour. Gumboots are great in the mud, but they aren’t exactly designed for arthritic ankles. My feet eventually numbed and I was fine after that (at least until they defrosted).

The apple orchard was bare but a lemon grove was covered in ripe, juicy lemons. We filled our pockets (as invited by the brochure) and took them home. It’s probably a good thing I didn’t bring my dad – he would have stripped the trees bare with a team of Greek rellies and then feigned ignorance when the owners wondered what happened to 50 tonnes of lemons. On the plus side, we’d have lemon preserves for the next century…

Cancelling with HI

2009-07-07T00:02:00.000-07:00

I cancelled my Healthy Inspirations membership. I don’t think I will renew my membership in the future. The program options are just too inflexible.

I was mistakenly advised when I first joined that I could switch between the different programmes and that my 12 month contract meant I would have a minimum commitment of $10 a week. I thought, “Okay, a minimum of $520 annually, I can handle that even if I decide it’s not for me”. I opted for a higher end offering diet and exercise plan - $30 a week – and was later advised that I was not allowed to drop back to the $20 plan (unlimited exercise) let alone the $10 one (exercise in off-peak hours). I was told that the employee who gave me this advice was wrong and had no authority to do this. Incidentally, she is no longer working there. I told them that they are still bound by their employee’s undertakings, as I had the right to rely on their sales people knowing the product. In the end I decided not to go all Lawyer Girl on them and took it as a sign that I should commit to the diet programme and do my best to lose weight before trying for another baby. But it still left a bad taste in my mouth. I stopped regularly buying their products at this point and looked for other suppliers. No way was I paying more than the minimum. (In other words I opted for the passive-aggressive approach. My entire job description is open confrontation, I try to avoid it in my personal life unless absolutely necessary!)

I’ve been unable to use the gym all winter because of my osteoarthritis, but my only option was to suspend my membership, cancel or do the threatening legal action thing on the basis of their original misrepresentation. My time is too valuable for the latter course. Suspension cost $5 a week, and I would have been paying that forever, seeing as I will (hopefully) be getting increasingly pregnant and uncomfortable before having a c-section next year. So I opted for cancellation. It was a one-off fee of $200, which I still consider pretty steep, given that I had medical reasons for ending my membership.

I know they are a business, but they leave a lot to be desired in customer relations. The staff are friendly and motivated, and the programme is balanced. The advertised emphasis is on the welfare of their clients, and this is the case except when it comes to the bottom line. Let’s face it, entrapment is not a way to ensure customer satisfaction with a product. I would have happily gone there for weight training indefinitely, as they are within walking distance from my house. The inflexible approach to my membership issues means I won’t be using their business again.

Hormonal

2009-06-29T21:54:00.000-07:00

Another week of stable weight, in spite of my husband bringing home yiros and chips on one night (didn’t stay down) and gelati on two nights (most of this went too). This ‘morning’ sickness is hitting me hard. I hate feeling perpetually queasy. I take medicine every morning that I need to keep on taking to stay healthy and, ultimately, alive, so I need to keep this down. It’s getting to be quite a challenge.

It was bad when I was pregnant with the twins. Back in the days when drinking Ribena made sense, I had a glass every morning. I don’t drink coffee or red wine, so I need all the other antioxidants I can get. I remember once I went into the bathroom to have a shower, stepped out and just lost it. There was Ribena everywhere, it was like the shower scene in Psycho. I walked outside and started crying. Poor Jeeves just held me, then picked up a bucket and went to clean up. I have a good husband.

The other forgotten joy of pregnancy is the emotional upheaval. Jeeves found me crying in front of a Wiggles dvd the other day.

“Muffin! What’s the matter?”
“Nothing (sniff). Look honey, it’s the Big Red Carrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!!” I moaned as I burst into tears again.
“Umm is that all?”
“The children just look so happy”.

He gave me cuddles anyway. Wiggles sorrows deserve hugs.

That same night I took my niece to Disney Princesses on Ice (pretty damn great btw, even for us grown up princesses). I cried when Mickey and Minnie came out. And when Tinkerbell arrived. And when Aladdin started skating. And when Cinderella’s bejewelled carriage entered the stage, to the gasps of all the little girls.

Oh God, I just know I’m going to feature on Disney’s dvd of the event… Stupid hormones!!

Weight loss in pregnancy 2

2009-06-23T18:12:00.001-07:00

You might note that I have updated my scale counter with a small weight gain of 2.5kg. Not completely terrible given that I put it on during a pretty bad month and two further months have passed. Since I became pregnant, I’ve had completely stable weight. I’m planning on losing a little during this trimester; not as a ‘diet’, but simply as a natural side-effect from eating healthy, balanced meals in solid portions.

I have done some online research on weight loss in pregnancy. The advice is still to proceed with great caution, but some websites suggest obese women with a body mass index as high as my own are able to lose weight in the way I have just described in the first two trimesters, with minimal gain in the third. Anecdotally, many have described their weight loss as a surprise, and a natural consequence of their careful food choices in pregnancy. Ie. Cut out the crap, eat more fruit and veg and drink more water.

My diet is basically a very healthy one, on a day-to-day basis. I eat a lot of vegetables, salads, fruits, lean meats and wholegrains. Quantity has been my main problem. I’ve managed that thus far by eating hearty, solid meals and minimising snacking. I have pretty bad morning sickness already so it has been easier than I thought. The challenge has been keeping it all down and drinking enough without inducing that queasy, sloshing feeling.

Life as yiayia

2009-06-23T17:56:00.000-07:00

Jeeves has been away on circuit in Maitland this week. My parents are convinced that caring for two year old twins is unachievable for a ‘single mother’ so they go into crisis mode whenever my husband leaves me alone for more than an 8 hour shift. Mum moves in and starts doing laundry. Dad brings meals over and does the lawn. I used to fight for dominion over my household until I realised that this included vacuuming. Now I just cede power and grab a novel. I felt guilty at first, but I’ve realised that they enjoy taking care of us. It’s their chance to re-live their own glory days of parenting. I imagine they enjoy it better knowing there is respite from their labours in sight, when they can go home and watch the Greek television station via satellite for a six hour stretch.

God I can’t wait to be a grandparent! I must be the only person on Earth who looks forward to being old. I plan on being one of those mega-busy retirees, who volunteers and looks after their grandkids. I want to travel and go to the theatre and have expensive dinners at Michelin star restaurants. I want to have hot nursing home sex (preferably without needing a hip replacement).

I hope I make it that far. I have a way of picking up little illnesses. Like thyroid disease. And cancer. But I’m doing everything I can to keep my life going strong.

Movie Night

2009-06-20T04:06:00.000-07:00

So here I am on a Saturday night preparing my taxes instead of having meaningful social contact or doing anything that could even remotely be construed of as fun. I wanted to watch a movie with Jeeves, but we have completely different tastes.

Usually, I love the fact that Jeeves has a full cranium and an active curiosity about the world. It makes for very interesting conversations and a diverse range of library books tramping through the house. But, when it comes to movies he likes to be intellectually stimulated (read arthouse) and I just want my brain switched off. I like light-hearted comedies, non-weepy romances and most things with popular appeal. You know, entertainment.

“How about this movie about man landing on the moon, Muffin?”
“Does it have Jim Carrey in it?”
“No.”
“Pass”.

I don’t want to learn about World War 2. Actually take anything with genocide off the list. Ditto war generally. And politics. Nothing with the word “crisis” in the title.

No I don’t want to watch a documentary about any ancient civilisation. Or about physics. Not even Mythbusters honey.

“Stop trying to make me learn! It’s a Saturday!”
“Well I’m sorry but this documentary is just not accurate. Hitler and Chamberlain signed that treaty because *insert some fact I never listened to in school*”
“Aaaargh! That’s it! I’m going to go do our taxes!”

Exercise in Pregnancy

2009-06-18T14:45:00.000-07:00

My appointments with my therapist will now be ‘weight maintenance’ based. The plan is to eat a balanced, moderate diet and start a programme of gentle exercise to maintain overall health. If I eat well I should be able to maintain or even lose weight in the first trimester, and gain only a small amount in the second and third trimesters, which will mainly be baby.

The exercise she recommended was walking in water, especially in sand. It’s a great idea but the nearest non-swimming pool water – unless you count the duck pond down the road – is about 30kms away, and we’re in the midst of winter right now, so umm NO. The closest swimming pool is a good 20 minute drive from my home. That would be fine if I was free and single, but I already feel like I impose enough on my parents (who are my childcare when I am at work) and on my children without adding a 40 minute round-trip commute.

We settled on the recumbent bike. I was advised to start with 5 minutes a day for a week and then up it to 10 minutes for a week each. I’d say that’s do-able. I completed it at a moderate pace – enough to make me a bit puffed but not straining too much. One thing that occurred to me as I was pedalling along was that there is no way this will be possible in the second trimester, unless I want a baby with knee shaped dents in its skull. So I’m going to have to think of something new then.

My doctor also suggested as much walking as I can handle. I am doing my best here, but walking has become extremely difficult for me due to a flare up with my osteoarthritis this winter. God, I can’t believe I’m even saying that word, I’m not even thirty and I’m having old lady illnesses.

Next thing you know I’ll have piles and diverticulitis, and be shouting at children to get off my lawn.

Obesity in Pregnancy

2009-06-12T21:47:00.000-07:00

Before I became pregnant, I discussed with my obesity therapist what my strategy would be when I had a positive result. I have heard such conflicting information from doctors and other health professionals about what is ‘safe’ for a pregnant obese woman.

Pregnancy is not the time to take up a new exercise regime. But you can continue on with your usual routine as long as you feel comfortable.

Fair enough. But what if you have had a fitness routine for a solid block of time, then had an extended period of sloth and overeating, like me? Would exercising now be a ‘new exercise regime’??

Some of my doctors have recommended gentle exercise and healthy eating without actively under-eating. Others have encouraged I hit the gym and continue restricting kilojoules. I have this bad feeling that the latter have some latent disgust at my being obese and pregnant.

There are some health professionals that are barely able to control their disapproval of my physical state. I wonder if, after I leave, they give full reign to the moue of repulsion that is otherwise suppressed in the clinical setting… When they pop out back for a ciggy and a quickly-scoffed Snickers, do they ponder why we chubbies just can’t control ourselves, and what precisely gives us the right to procreate?

Stop the presses

2009-06-09T00:32:00.000-07:00

My period was due today. I hate waiting so I ducked down to the supermarket for a pregnancy test this morning, not expecting anything.

It's positive. I'm pregnant! I can't believe that, for the third time, I've become pregnant in the first month of trying. I'm so so so relieved. That's the first hurdle cleared.

I'm surprisingly calm. I've decided to tell my family and close friends, but not my work colleagues. I'm much more acutely aware of the risk of losing this baby, and I don't want anyone to know who wouldn't feel a personal loss if this occurs.

My mum was delighted. Today is my parents' wedding anniversary.

'Umm oh of course it is mum, that's great, congratulations! And here's my well thought out gift for you - another grandchild!' Made with love and a whole lot of antenatal vitamins.

God, please let me keep this baby. And please let there just be one of them in there. I'm not the Ark, they can come out in single file from now on. Please.

Potty Training

2009-06-04T18:39:00.001-07:00

I’ve been so busy at work lately. There’s been a trial on almost every week. Not one had gone ahead though. Aaah the joyous life of a lawyer, full of procedural delays.

We have a public holiday next Monday. I’m going to take Tuesday as my rostered day off. Score! Four day weekend! I’m going to spend it potty training one of my twins. The boys are in the largest nappy size. After this, my little men would have to become Tena ladies, and I don’t want to go there.

I’m also going to use this break to get back into the swing of exercise. (In addition to the scrubbing of floors and blow-drying wet patches on the carpet). I haven’t done any regular form of exercise for weeks. Although my weight isn’t changing, I’m wondering whether I’m losing muscle and gaining fat. Regardless, exercise is an essential part of a healthy lifestyle, and I have become too complacent.

There’s a lot to be said for feeling comfortable in one’s skin, but I still want to focus on my goals. My health is not negotiable.

Earth Mother

2009-05-29T19:52:00.000-07:00

My friend Abigail has been developing a garden patch. I’ve had one running for a couple of years, before which I’d stuck to herbs.

I love growing my own fruit and veggies. There's something really special about seeing them pop up from the ground and that moment of, "Wait a minute, weeds dont grow in a row, that's my corn coming up!! I made food!" There’s some sort of primitive, Castaway-fire-creation charm about it.

Gardening is my goddess moment, swanning around like Demeter and plucking tomatoes and chives from the ground. I have never found gardening for visual pleasure particularly engaging. I enjoy seeing beautiful gardens, but I don’t care enough about flowers and bushes to want to waste my labour, water or fertiliser on them. But I enjoy having a veggie patch, and fruit trees. I love having a writhing worm farm which enriches my soil. I like my compost bin. I even like seeing bees – the closest thing I have to a phobia – buzzing around and pollinating the garden. There is something cyclical and rhythmic about the movement of energy and the passing of the seasons. Without being all earth-motherish, I suppose it speaks to my life force.

I eat better when I grow my own food. I snack on my fruit, and that of my relatives (we have the standard Greek produce exchange). I make stir-fries from my bok choy and salads from my various lettuces. I make the best ratatouille I’ve ever had from my eggplants, capsicums and zucchini (the secret ingredients are roasted red onions, a certain smoked paprika and a capsicum preserve called Ajvar).

Maybe I was a farmer in another life.

Farm Day

2009-05-24T21:43:00.000-07:00

I’m nursing a back-ache I acquired in lugging home four huge criminal law encyclopaedias. I had to spend the weekend preparing for a trial listed tomorrow.

I learned today they’re withdrawing the charges against my clients. Apparently the alleged victim doesn’t want it to go ahead. That’s good for my guys – a bird in the hand and all that – but if it was me I’d be as angry as relieved. They’ve been on bail for this charge for over a year, and have always said that it was a case of mistaken identity. I’m glad it’s over for them, but they’ve lost an opportunity to challenge him for placing those allegations against them.

And I lost most of my weekend.

The part I did spend away from the books was fantastic. We drove about 40 mins away to a Farm Day – a ‘country’ fair in the middle of Mt Crawford forest. I live 15 minutes from the CBD in Adelaide, but there’s a passage through the hills in the other direction that leads you into bush and farm land within 20 minutes. Somehow I hadn’t realised how close we were to all that green space.

The fair was so much fun. The kids loved all the stalls, tractors and animals. My niece rode a horse for the first time. Everything was crazy cheap too, compared to the insane show prices you get used to ($9 for a baked potato?? Seriously??) We had large, freshly baked cupcakes for $1 (US 70c). My niece had a hot dog for $3 and a bucket of hot chips for $2.50. There was also a lot of fresh produce, all dirt cheap. My dad wanted to fill the car with bags of fertiliser that were 30% less than ‘town price’. Ahem, NO.

He also wanted to buy live chickens. “They’re only $2 each! I could chop their heads off and they’d be cheaper than the ones at the store”.
“And how are you going to get them home, just stuff them in the boot? Come on dad, walk away from the livestock”.
“We could twist their heads off in the carpark and take them home that way”.
Oh geez.
“Dad, there are kids everywhere and God knows about the RSPCA. I don’t have the time to spend my weekend plucking hens, now come on!”

He made little sawing motions with his hands towards the chickens as I dragged him away, still trying to persuade me how easy it would be. Good ole dad, dispatching chickens in a carpark and hauling them away in the boot like some poultry mobster.

Psychotherapy

2009-05-20T07:06:00.000-07:00

I had my third appointment with my obesity therapist today. It’s basically psychotherapy with a focus on overeating. She’s the only therapist I’ve ever seen and I really enjoy our visits. I spend all day talking about other people’s problems (most of criminal law is explaining people’s behaviour) so it’s nice to have someone listen to and assess mine. Even so, I find myself analysing my doctor. It’s partly my natural curiosity but also an innate sense that there should be quid pro quo in any conversation. I have to stop myself from asking about her life, although enough comes through to pique my interest.

I think it will take awhile for counselling to sit well with me. I just feel odd imparting all my intimate thoughts without receiving someone else’s in return. There is something a little off about it – like visiting a prostitute instead of going to the effort of dating and reciprocal lovemaking. Let’s face it, therapy is really a process where you pay someone to pretend to be your friend for an hour. A trained, educated, useful friend true, but it’s still a mercenary relationship. I think it’s the same reason I cringe at the idea of getting a massage from a stranger.

The babymaking diet

2009-05-18T02:47:00.000-07:00

I have reached the baby-making target on my count-down (which is why I've removed the ticker from my blog). Time to commence the mating dance.

Unfortunately, the sperm vessel otherwise known as my husband is currently somewhere in Maitland, in the Yorke Peninsula. Cry little eggs, cry.

Fortunately, my timing was a few days off and he'll be back tomorrow, right on time to do his manly duty.

My mother and I once had an icky sex conversation, which I've managed to delete from memory barring one pertinent comment: Thou shalt have congress with thy husband from the seventh day following the red river, until the twenty-first day. And it shall be good.

My memory banks will only allow the most chaste and pure of access to maternal wisdom on this topic to prevent gouging of eyes and blood pouring from my ears. But she's on the money about the timing. So that's the plan for this month.

I went on a spending spree today at the lingerie store. I doubt Jeeves will complain about the bill. You can't expect an Olympic athlete to run the marathon barefoot.

Not that I fall into the athlete category these days. I've had a bad weekend. There was pizza involved. And gelati - copious amounts of both. Even worse, I enticed poor Jeeves to join me instead of going downstairs and doing his exercise like he'd planned. Still, I have a lot of energetic exercise scheduled for him in the next few weeks, so let's hope it balances out!

Aunt Flo

2009-05-14T03:09:00.001-07:00

Well I got my period about ten minutes after writing the last entry. Who knew my blog had such amazing mystic powers.

You know, I’d really hate to win a million dollars…

Pause.

Dammit.

In other news, I had a new number on the scales today (in a good way). I’ll wait and see if it sticks around before I update.

Not counting my chickens

2009-05-13T19:52:00.000-07:00

My period is late. I had light bleeding post-sex a few days ago, but it didn’t develop into anything.

I’ve had strong pregnancy symptoms for the last few weeks, but they have largely evaporated since the bleeding happened on day 24 of my cycle. Was it all just psychological? I could literally feel changes to my extremely sore nipple tissue, which has never happened to me except during pregnancy. Now this is all gone and my nipples are only mildly uncomfortable (like the days post-miscarriage last time). Do you get psycho-somatic breast changes??? If this happened, wouldn’t every unhappily ‘flat’ girl out there think themselves into a B cup?

Could I have become pregnant and lost another baby? Is this another failed miscarriage? I don’t know what to think. If nothing has happened within the next few days, I will go and see my doctor. I’m trying not to stress about this, or think about my ‘schedule’ for baby-making.

Waiting To Exhale

2009-05-11T21:41:00.000-07:00

I notice my little counter says there’s a week to go until baby-making time. Ironically, that’s the week my husband has to go to Maitland to do the court circuit – a mere 300km away from here. It looks like my fertile period will fall on the circuit week for the next few months.

Before I go and Google the freezing of sperm for a DIY turkey baster insemination, I need to consider whether I am anxious enough to be pregnant to go to these lengths. Maybe I should just try without being too obsessive about the issue. There were five years between my older sister and myself. I'd like it to be less for my children, but I don't know that I should stress about it yet.

I really don’t want to have to get romantic with any kitchenware if I can avoid it!

Mother's Day

2009-05-10T22:20:00.000-07:00

I’ve put 1.5kg on. I’m not sure why. I think it might just be a fluid thing. I’ve been having a lot of ‘break even’ days kilojoule-wise. Today is going well, so let’s hope the tide is turning.

Mother’s Day was lovely… on the whole. My very sweet husband always does adorable things to celebrate. Last year he planted me a herb and winter vegetable garden. I loved it. This year he made me a lovely cooked breakfast and bought all my favourite things – Lindt chocolates, two books, wasabi peas, pink lilies (the flower from our wedding) and the Twilight cd. I like that, even when he’s not obviously listening, he’s on standby.

The only sour part of the day was - *drumroll* - my mother in law! Didn’t see that one coming did you… I got the boys ready for Jeeves to take them over for a visit. From the shower, he asked me to call ahead and make sure she was home.

I knew it would go badly. I knew she would not like that I was calling and not Jeeves. It was 10.30am and evident that Jeeves had wiled away the morning doing Mother’s Day things for me, the secondary mother. As predicted, the principal mother was displeased.

“Hi there, happy Mother’s day! We were wondering if now was a good time to come over…?”
“No, now is not convenient”.
Pause.
“Okay, well what time today would be convenient?”
“Today is not convenient at all. I am busy”.
Yuh-huh. Busy on Mother’s Day. In spite of the established plans made the day before.

I persuaded her to come over when she took a break from her gardening, so we could at least give her the present we’d chosen.

Jeeves was going to get us both the same book (on making your own organic household cleaners and domestic products - we are both really into organic stuff) but she took affront at this idea when I mentioned it the week before. I think she wanted something that was just about her. She asked him to choose a plant for her "as you know what I like".

I CHOSE THE PLANTS. We all went together, but Jeeves approved of my suggestions and we happened to buy those plants.

SHE LOVED THEM.

SHE HAS BEEN EFFUSIVE IN HER DELIGHT OVER HOW WELL HER SON KNOWS HER TASTES. She even wrote him a letter about it.

The sword of Damacles is in position. And I find I cannot let it drop. She is so happy and seems to need this so much.

I believe it is wrong for a grown woman’s self esteem to need constant boosts from her adult son, who has his own family to attend to. But I am secure in my position in his life. I hold my rank so firmly that I do not need to throw it in her face. For all that she rejects me and intrudes and is critical, I pity her loneliness.

Garbage Day

2009-05-04T23:54:00.000-07:00

I have now lost the weight I put on over Easter. I’m not sure why, on the whole I’ve been incredibly lazy lately. Curse my snugly polar blanket on 7 degree mornings!! I have been moderate food-wise, so I am crossing my fingers that I’ve actually lost fat and not just muscle.

Yesterday, I walked to the shops with my boys. They were grizzly and it was past their naptime, so I was rather harried until we were on our way home and a garbage truck pulled up next to us. Imagine the delight of two 2 years olds who suddenly have a real life truck going about its work next to them.

Garbage trucks have really undergone a renaissance since I was a kid. That was the last time I bothered to take a close look. Ours now has this super robotic arm that grabs the bins – not the stiff, grating, mechanical kind but this fluid, flexible bending limb that looks almost animate. It looks like you could shake its hand, if you were willing to overlook the fact that it took a human being's job (not to mention the ick factor).

I think my boys decided the garbage truck was some relative of Thomas the Tank Engine. They were enthralled and narrated each bin pick-up: “Bin go up. Shake the rubbish! Bin go down. Thank you Truck!” What a wonderful world children live in, where benevolent trucks come and take your rubbish away through sheer kindness. I also love how they personify the inanimate objects around our house that form their 10-roomed world.

I was so charmed by their reaction that I started to chase the garbage truck. I followed it all around the neighbourhood, jogging uphill to keep up and zipping across roads. I cannot imagine what the driver thought about this crazy lady with a pram stalking him around the block. Still, it was a fabulous workout, I was drenched in sweat afterwards. Apart from the stench of rotting garbage, I’d highly recommend it.

Post-Easter Recovery

2009-04-24T16:02:00.000-07:00

I jumped on the scales yesterday to review the post-Easter damage. Now I’ll admit that I really got into the Easter festive season, both Western and Greek. I have some hazy recollection of spanakopita and souvlakia, lamb roast and homemade Greek sweets, and a huge mountain of chocolate. Dad always cooks like the circus might drop by unexpectedly.

‘Oh my God dad, there’s two of every kind of animal here’.
‘Don’t say the Lord’s name like that on Easter’.
‘I’d need four stomachs to digest all of this’.
‘Don’t be silly, you need to eat, you’re getting too skinny. Fai! Fai! (Eat! Eat!)’

My parents have been telling me I’m too skinny since I hit the 130kg (286lbs mark). They lived through civil war and poverty, where plump equalled rich. They have struggled to adapt this to modern knowledge of healthy living.

To get a sense of proportion back, I’ve ordered Lite n Easy for a week. I’ve done this before with varying success, but yesterday was my first day completely on-plan for several weeks, so I’m happy about that.

I won’t update my stats as yet. I completely refuse to accept that number. The scales and I are negotiating a settlement.

Obesity Clinic

2009-04-21T14:41:00.001-07:00

During this year’s annual post-thyroid cancer review with my endocrinologist, he referred me to the hospital’s Obesity Clinic for follow up with my weight problem. This was months ago, and I hadn’t been sure whether I would attend.

I wasn’t sure what to expect. Was it naming and shaming? Would this be a repeat of my grade school physicals, where we were publicly weighed and callipered? I’ve mostly lost my social phobia over public weighing since The Biggest Loser made it a three-commercial special event, but it’s not something I relish either. I was concerned pressure would be placed for me to have bariatric surgery – something I do not favour for myself at all.

When I arrived, I had a hard time finding the clinic. It is in the middle of another outpatient ward, and there are no signs mentioning what it does. There wasn’t a waiting room full of reinforced chairs or covered mirrors, and the weigh-in was private (albeit with one of those heavy-duty elephant scales).

I was allocated a doctor who treated me over a decade ago when her specialty was obesity in youths. She helped me make a lot of changes in my life, and we barely ever mentioned weight. That just happened as a natural process of attrition as I dealt with the things that were causing me stress. The clinic does bariatric everything (and the skin removal that goes with it) – all free btw – but the main service is psychotherapy.

God I love therapy. It isn’t just for Americans anymore.

Dr J wants to take me on as a private patient for counselling and support. When I heard this I felt the immense sense of guilt I have every time I spend money on something instead of making a payment into my children’s education fund. But get this – HER PRIVATE PRACTICE BULK BILLS ALL PATIENTS. Only in Australia can you get a free psychiatrist to be your weight-loss coach. I see you Weight Watchers and raise you a million!

Apple Tree Cottage

2009-04-19T14:30:00.001-07:00

When I was an impoverished student planning my trips away, they invariably included backpackers accommodation and a handful of my friends sharing the expenses. I remember looking through a guide to short holidays in the Adelaide Hills and bemoaning the fact that I could never afford any of the beautiful quaint old houses. One particularly captured my imagination: Apple Tree Cottage. I don't know why, I think it was because there was a lake involved. And a rowboat. And an apple tree orchard. There was something Lucy Maud Montgomery about it.

For my 30th birthday Jeeves has bought me two nights at Apple Tree Cottage!!! How sweet!
Here it is:

Can't wait! I'm so excited.

We gave serious consideration to the 'indulgence package' with wine and chocolates and other nibbly goodies, but I feel like my whole life up to this point has been an indulgence, so I am happy to forego this one.

Mamma Mia

2009-04-18T15:15:00.000-07:00

I’ve spent the morning reading other ‘dietblogs’ and feeling inadequate. There are all these people out there having their Oprah AH-HA moments – okay, Oprah isn’t doing so well …having their Rocky Balboa moments, and here I am strolling aimlessly through the weight loss garden! Not a kickboxing class or marathon (MARATHON?? Seriously??) in sight. No lemon juice detoxing, no calorie controlled shakes.

Just me and temptation.

I have Greek Easter lunch ahead of me today. Dad said he is making two trays of spanakopita this year. And lamb, my sworn nemesis; not the $20 extra trim backstrap, but something cheap and fatty and stuffed with rosemary and garlic.

Why couldn’t I have vegan parents? Sigh, even then I’d probably still be here writing about satay noodles.

Studies continually show that genetics is not to blame. That being said, I worry about my children ‘inheriting’ learned behaviours from me.

Last night I made them chicken nuggets for dinner. The term has been a little corrupted by McDonalds – mine were homemade organic chicken fillets dipped in egg and homemade cornflake crumbs and baked in the oven with a little canola spray on top. One of my sons had a couple and then said ‘all done’. The other one gorged down like he was stocking up for winter. He ate all of his and then his brother’s leftovers. I sat there watching him, waiting for the natural satiety point I hear so much about to kick in. It never happened. He just kept on going, smacking his little lips and saying, ‘Mmmm delicious chicken’.

He does this a lot and I don’t know whether I should do anything about it. Jeeves says he’s perfectly normal. Is this normal?? My boundaries have been so screwed up my whole life I don’t even know anymore. He looks like a regular two year old and I’m not worried about him being overweight as I know he is typical for his age group. But I am concerned about the whole satiety thing. I always figured I had screwed up my inbuilt signals years ago and just couldn’t re-learn what was inbuilt in every human being. Now I’m wondering whether this is truly the case, and if I ever had this control impulse in the first place.

Lenten Fasting

2009-04-17T23:30:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is Greek Easter. We celebrate by going to Church tonight and then having a midnight feast. Until a couple of years ago (when I moved to Pt Augusta, a good 100km away from the nearest Orthodox church), I rigidly observed the Lenten customs, and Church attendance, just as my parents taught me.

When your culture is surrounded by inconsistent and alien traditions and values, it is strengthened by strict observance of common rules. The Greeks came to Australia in the 60s and 70s and created a time capsule of village life. They upgraded the donkeys for Holdens, but about just everything else stayed the same. I grew up preserving olives and tomatoes, raising a mini subsistence farm of animals and vegetables and learning how to cook like my yiayia’s yiayia (yiayia = grandma). Not to mention all the unspoken rules about politics and religion being the domain of men, staying a virgin until you’re married and finding yourself a nice Greek boy from the village to help you have lots of Greek babies. Apart from the babies, I failed in the subtleties of Greekness. My mere competence in pigeon-Greek is a dead giveaway. Not to mention my distinctly separate eyebrows.

However, I have generally kept to the religious precepts – the ones that are consistent with my ideas of being a good human being, and a good Greek. During Lent, Greeks fast like a lot of Christians. No dairy, meat, eggs, fish (except on Palm Sunday, which is a crazed celebration where we gorge on whiting). We can have olive oil but not olives, or the other way around; it has been a few years so I can’t remember exactly.

I well recall going on a date half-way through Lent with a lawyer I had met. He took me to an Asian restaurant. For the first time in God knows how long, I had observed the fasting rules so completely, that I didn’t want to give up my winning streak. Lord knows, I have a lot of sins to offset against that feather of truth. I asked about a thousand questions of the waiter. (Well it was a pad thai, there is a crapload of ingredients in it!) I could see my date absorbing this and deciding that the sure young thing who had flirted with him so wantonly in the courtroom had transformed into a religious nut who would either have her ankles chastely crossed or be boringly fastidious in the bedroom.

Let’s face it, noone wants to sleep with a girl who is missish about what she puts in her mouth.

I had my own complaints. Apart from the lack of spark, the man ate his meal like a hungry, slobbering dog at a trough. Noone wants to be scoffed down like that.

Neither of us pressed for a second engagement. Let this be a warning to all you daters out there!

Oedipus Complex

2009-04-16T15:20:00.000-07:00

Jeeves’ mother is driving me crazy. She and his father divorced when Jeeves was about 19, and she has been single ever since. I think she is lonely, and she relies on her two sons for comfort and companionship, which can really impact on our relationship. There are times when I want to send him home with a note attached: “I’m returning Oedipus. He appears to have strayed further than his umbilical cord will allow. Please keep him off my lawn in the future”. Nice and polite, no eyes poked out or anything…

Her need for affection has created some sort of competition for Jeeves’ priorities. She seems to need a hierarchical relationship, where she is more important than me in Jeeves’ life.

Smother-in-law: “You shouldn’t criticise Jeeves. If he dented the car you should say ‘The car was dented’ or ‘We dented the car’ not blame him”.
Me: “But HE dented the car, not the royal ‘we’. He was careless and dented a brand new car, and as a grown man he is accountable for that”.
“Well you are damaging his self-esteem by telling a third party about it”.
*Groan* “It wasn’t a third party, it was you – I was venting to you as my family!”
I could hear the smirk over the phone: “I think I know him better than you do”.
“Well I disagree, I’m his wife. He’s not a little boy anymore”.
“Well I’m his mother. And if you go by years, I’ve known him longer”, she replied smugly.
All the answers that sprung to mind somehow involved sex, so I said nothing. One must be a lady (or at least have her mother-in-law believe this is the case).

On another occasion, during the same argument: “When boys are dying in the battlefield they don’t call out for their wives, they call out for their mothers”.

CUT THE FUCKING CORD LADY.

I know she is lonely. And I know he will always be her little boy. But I was the making of the man. I am his best friend and life partner, chosen by him and anointed as his wife in God’s church. I brought his sons into the world and nurture them each day. It is beyond question that we are his main concern. It is so obvious to me that I do not even argue the point with her as I have no desire to hurt her feelings, and I know it is really about her.

The resentment and jealousy of the daughter-in-law, all about her.

The constant criticism, and reminders that she does not consider me to be her family. Sigh.

Jeeves called her last night and had a long conversation with her. I was so proud of him, I know he finds it difficult to hurt her feelings because she is so sensitive, and he and his brother have always treaded gently. He told her he has a family of his own now and that the children and I have to be his priority. I don’t think he had truly believed that I was correct about her wanting to ‘trump’ me until this conversation, but he said it really came through. He also said her resentment was obvious, but he doesn’t believe she is consciously aware of it. I don’t know what to do about it, short of setting up a Lavalife profile for her.

She Works Hard For The Money

2009-04-15T15:39:00.000-07:00

I’ve just done 30 minutes on my recumbent bike – the first exercise I’ve had for over a week. I actually managed to haul myself out of bed at 6.30am as planned (I even beat the alarm clock). The key seems to be that I was asleep by 10.30pm last night, so I wasn’t exhausted in the morning. I do seem to need a solid 8 hours to function at my best.

I also weighed in this morning. The number was not great, but I’m not too dispirited. I’ve had several extremely stressful weeks, and I’m still learning to cope well with these. Looking back, I can see my ‘bounce back’ time is getting shorter, and I’m not falling as hard as I used to, so that is progress.

Today is officially my day off. I work four days a week (I worked three days until two months ago). That being said, it’s pretty hard to switch off. Like every lawyer out there, I do a lot of ongoing filework, and continuing legal education in my off-time. The trade off is that, on my formally paid days, my employer largely lets me work from home. The court I am stationed at is five minutes from my house. This benefits work as I am on-call far later than previous lawyers based at that court, and myself as I can spend my lunchbreak and time I would have otherwise been commuting with my children. I go in two or three times a week (generally at night after my boys are asleep) to collect files, leave my dictation with my secretary and add my signature to a whole lot of correspondence.

I appreciate how lucky I am to have this kind of arrangement. It is depressing that other parents, and particularly women, don’t have the same opportunity for balance in their life. One thing I can say from my experience is that these situations rarely just come up. You need to push and negotiate and make it happen in your current position. Most employers are readily willing to accommodate a valuable employee, as long as they (a) trust them not to abuse the privilege and (b) they obtain some benefit from the arrangement, even if this is only staff-retention. Their flexibility improved my morale, allowed me to feel that I could work an extra day without compromising my parenting (which they wanted me to do), and engendered a sense of gratitude and loyalty to my employers and managers. I have always worked hard – it’s genetic I think – but I am perhaps extra careful that they get their dollar’s worth out of me. Studies have shown that flexible work arrangements lead to improved productivity, and I can see why this is the case.

Greek Easter

2009-04-12T04:39:00.000-07:00

I haven’t coped well with losing my cousin. The combination of that stressor and a surplus of Easter chocolate in the house has been impossible. And as I’m Greek, there’s still a second Easter to go in a week’s time.

My mother reliably informs me that the timing of the Greek Easter has something to do with the Gregorian calendar, or the moon cycle or something. It made sense when she explained it. I always figured it was just cheapskate Greeks deciding to get discounted chocolate. What sort of ethnic person pays full price??

Some women get the shopping rush buying shoes, I get it with discounted groceries.

I went shopping the day before the public holiday, about half an hour before closing time. All the seafood was half price. We had a huge amount of atlantic salmon for dinner tonight and it was amazing! All of the meats were discounted, so I bought out half the extra trim and organic section to stock the freezer. Not to mention Jarlsberg light cheese and smoked chicken breast in the deli section for half price. They announced special deals the whole time I was there and the little old ladies practically clawed each others’ eyes out to get there first.

I think it’s genetic. My dad is the KING of discounting.

‘Eliana, how many of the loaves of bread on this shelf are down to $2?’
‘All of them dad. See those little discount stickers’.
‘Ohi mari mou, that is just a suggested price. We should ask for a discount’.
I sigh. ‘Dad, they don’t barter, this is Australia’.
‘Signomi young man - see this rack of bread loaves for $2? If I buy all of them how about you give them to me for 50 cents?’

We went home with 43 loaves of bread for 50 cents each.

This is why my father runs four freezers. I’ve tried to explain that it’s false economy and the fridges will cost $200 a year to run, but he doesn’t listen. I don’t even want to think about my family’s carbon footprint.

Regret

2009-04-10T17:13:00.000-07:00

My cousin has passed away. She had depression for a long time and was found the other day by her sister. I feel utterly miserable and sick to my stomach. She was about a year older than me - so 30, 31? What a waste of a life.

I feel so guilty. She smsd me a couple of months ago and I didn't respond. I never really thought anything of it, I was just busy at the time. I guess I had such limited time I allocated it only to a small number of people, and avoided and neglected everyone else. I heard thereafter that she was admitted into a mental institution. When the grapevine sent news that she had been released, I tried calling her and left a message on her phone. She never responded. I'm guessing she was probably embarrassed and didn't want pity-friendships, that's how I would have felt. I left it as I told myself I'd done my duty. Now I wish I'd done more. I don't delude myself that I could have altered the course of time, but I wish I'd been there for her. I'm thinking a lot of people will be feeling that way today.

My challenge - and yours - is to reach out today. Find that person who seems lonely or overwhelmed and show them that they matter to you. Tell them that you care about them and can't do without them. Take notice of those people at the fringes and show them that there is no such thing as an insignificant person, a menial human being, or one unworthy of love and attention. And treat yourself that way too.

For anyone who needs it, the number in Australia for Lifeline is 131 114.

The big 3-0.

2009-04-08T03:43:00.001-07:00

My mole was nothing. Well it was a complicated medical term that I can’t remember, but it had the word ‘benign’ in it, and the doctor said it was nothing to worry about. He always gives me a copy of the test results, which really should come with a Latin dictionary. And an Australian translation down the bottom: “No worries mate” when it’s all-clear and “You’re cactus mate” whenever the word ‘malignant’ appears.

Given that I’m now hopeful about making my next birthday, I’ve been thinking about what I want to do to celebrate. I’ll be 30 in July. The big 3-0. I remember when that felt over-the-hill.

My original plan was to have a big celebration, either at my house or at a hired hall. Something low-key but high energy, with lamb and pig on a spit, Greek dancing into the night and lots of catered Greek food and sweets (I’ve learned from experience this is the easier way to go at a comparative cost to DIY cooking). I figure that would set me back a few thousand.

For the last few weeks I’ve been wondering about spending thousands on a big party for people I barely see. Jeeves suggested we go away for a couple of nights instead. We do an overnight trip away as a couple once or twice a year – go to some luxury bed and breakfast in the Adelaide Hills, or a plush hotel. This time I was thinking we could do something similar, but maybe fly to the Gold Coast or Sydney for the weekend. So I’m looking forward to that.

… Have you noticed the conspicuous lack of diet talk in this post? I’m not doing so great today, but I’m hoping it’s a temporary aberration. It has just been one of those days. I’ll be staying away from the scales for a bit I think.

If I don't make it, give Jeeves my eternal love

2009-04-06T14:07:00.000-07:00

Well it’s 6.25am and here I am, all dressed and ready to go exercise.

Somehow I’ve been slightly diverted to the computer (which is in the office behind the rumpus room where I keep my recumbent bike). Bad Eliana! Bad Eliana!

Don’t worry, I’m just checking my email and then I’ll start. I’m not planning a Rocky Balboa moment though as my chest cold means I’m hacking things up every five seconds and struggling to breathe. Still, I’m closing in on two weeks without exercise, so I want to at least make a token effort, even if it is just 15-20 minutes at a moderate setting.

Investing 101

2009-04-03T20:40:00.000-07:00

When I was in the early stages of my weight loss journey, I would go to the library and read everything I could on dieting and general health. I generally wouldn’t actually follow these programmes, but I enjoyed – and still enjoy – reading about South Beach, Atkins, Low-GI, Pritikin etc. It is interesting to see the claims and contradictions in each of these plans and all too often, the easy solutions marketed like so much snake oil. Other weight loss blogs have exhaustively covered the kilojoule in minus kilojoule out concept, so I won’t belabour the point. In my opinion, the two major keys to weight loss are knowing how much energy is in different foods and treating your motives for overeating; education and self-analysis. Simple, very simple. Not even remotely easy.

Since my decision not to obsess about weight-loss (apart from this blog, which meanders alongside my impulsive thoughts for the day), I have stopped reading ‘diet’ books. I occasionally get a recipe book or something aimed towards feeding fussy toddlers. But I’ve changed genres. My new interest is in investing.

Don’t worry, I’m not about to market my all-new-never-fail equation for picking winners (Snake oil! Get your snake oil here!)

I made my very first direct share purchase immediately after the market dropped by about 20%. All of a sudden, shares were under-valued and I thought it was a good time to begin investing. I put about $50k into the market, only to have it drop further in the financial crisis plunge. By 40%.

I remember looking at my online investment portfolio with sweaty palms, trying not to calculate just how many months I’d need to work to make that money back before my husband found out. I’ve mentioned this before, but Jeeves is not a money person. He was blasé about our losses.

‘Meh, I’m sure it will bounce back. It’s a long-term investment, right’.

I breathed a little bit slower into the paper bag.

To avoid imminent heart failure, I started educating myself. As everybody pulled out of the market and the price plummeted, it occurred to me that I would be stupid not to buy at such a discount. If I saw anything else I needed on offer for half-price, I’d snap it up. Why would I not buy a share in an established blue-chip business on the same basis?

I bought as much as I could. I have since learned that this is from the Warren Buffet school of thought, a form of dollar cost averaging. For instance, if you buy 100 shares at $30, and the price drops to $20, you buy more shares to average out your cost basis. So, if you bought another 100 shares you’d have 200 shares at $25. Thus, you would need less of a rebound to be back in the green.

That is precisely what has happened to my little portfolio. As of this week, we are back in the green. I expect future volatility, but am just so freaking relieved that my children’s education fund seems more secure than it has for months.

Moving the sloth

2009-04-02T20:12:00.000-07:00

The scale gods have smiled on me - 124.3kg (248.6lbs) at this morning’s ritual fat-sacrifice ceremony. I still haven’t started exercising (unless you count the marital kind), but that’s the plan for next week. I’ve become a bit lazy during this sickness-induced break.

Sloth has a way of becoming exponential. At first you challenge yourself on the highest setting on your machine, drink protein shakes and find time to fit in a class or two a day at the gym. Then you ease back on the gym visits and remember how to chew real food. After awhile you find excuses to have an extra ‘rest day’ a week, which turns into two, and then into all week. The walking machine slowly becomes a towel rack.

But somehow, the less exercise you do, the more tired you feel. I wish I was a better mathematician, as I’m sure there’s some equation for all of this, just waiting to attract a Nobel prize. I definitely feel less tired when I am hauling myself out of bed at 6am to go to the gym. Maybe not the first day, or the second, but eventually. The difficulty is convincing my brain that any of that is true. It is easy to forget when you have just hit the alarm and are still on the cusp of your dreams. I need to get over this bugbear now though, before winter hits and the power of a cozy bed is at its strongest.

Bride of Frankenstein

2009-04-01T14:18:00.000-07:00

I had a mole chopped off my arm. Ever since my melanoma, I need to be extra cautious about anything that looks a little funny. The GP didn’t have grave concerns about this one, but he goes by the ‘what will make you sleep best at night’ test.

‘Well I’ve had a huge piece of my back cut out doc, so I’m already into the Bride of Frankenstein category. Pock-mark away’. He knows I don’t seriously feel monstrous (usually).

I stopped trusting my luck right around the 1 in 200,000 cancer diagnosis, but I’ve had many joyful days since then, so fingers crossed it’ll be nothing.

I’m having some bizarre results on the scale. Now I’m down nearly two kilos. I should be down… I think. I’m eating right on target as I’m not feeling so great and my appetite is reduced, but I’m also barely moving. My ‘break-even’ basal metabolic point is something like 10,000kjs, and I’ve been having about 7000kjs. So in theory the scale should be telling the truth.

Sweet, sweet, changeable truth.

That bitch lies to me on a regular basis, sometimes between breaths. I hate jumping on twice only to have massive variation in my weight. I have a morning ritual where I position the scales directly on a particular point in the bathroom – five tiles down from the towel rack, seven across. I take my morning medicine and drink precisely two cups of water, and this is my ‘starting point’. It’s my attempt to have some consistent basis to identify downward trends, short of having a NASA guy come in each morning to calibrate the damned thing. It still screws up, so I’m trying to focus on the overall direction, rather than the exact number.

Watch your pic-a-nic baskets...

2009-03-30T20:48:00.000-07:00

Waaaaah!!!! I gained a kilo this week. How can that be?? I have barely exercised but my food has been okay – a couple of days breaking even, mostly going under. Wtf??

Last week Jeeves was away so I pledged I’d return to Healthy Inspirations bright and early on Monday and make up for my absence. I just couldn’t get out of bed at 6.30am. Partly, it is because I have come down with a virus and am feeling generally miserable. But that’s only the last couple of days. The real problem seems to be that it’s so damn dark in the mornings here!

It’s presently daylight savings in South Australia and my mammalian self is struggling to adapt. I’m a big fan of the idea on the whole but, this year, the timeframe has been extended into autumn. The sun is still up when my toddlers go to bed, and we are waking up in pitch darkness. Telling my body to rise 45 minutes earlier goes against all of my circadian rhythms. I keep setting the alarm, but my brain wants me to snuggle under the covers and hibernate like a bear settling in for winter. Incidentally, I think that’s also the part of my psyche that convinces me to buy $30/kg salmon in spite of budgetary constraints. According to my doctor it makes me smarter than the average bear.

I promise I’ll keep on trying. At least I have the food thing happening.

The resume queen

2009-03-27T21:04:00.001-07:00

Jeeves has one brother - a year older than me, about five years younger than him. They look disturbingly alike. I make a lot of jokes about trading up to the newer model. Yeah, I'm a lovely wife lol.

Anyway, I treat him like the brother I never had (I am the middle child of three girls). I used to do a lot of editing work back in uni and have been helping him write his MBA applications. This involves a lot of revision - a LOT - but I have to admit, he's the best candidate I've ever seen. He speaks seven languages, and is gifted both intellectually and personally. I'm so proud he's my family.

I just found out today – he got into WHARTON (Uni of Pennsylvania)!!! The best business school in the US!

He’d already been accepted into the MBA programmes at Columbia, London Business School, INSEAD (in Singapore) and a couple of others that weren’t really challenges.

In spite of the crappy exchange rate for the Australian dollar right now (it’s down to about 70 US cents, when it almost achieved parity not long ago), I think he is going to go. What better way to blow $200K (including living costs). I view it as an investment in his future.

I’m so happy for him! And that adds to my general happiness today because I met my goal weight for this month! Well, I technically was over by 0.1kg but that’s such a minor fluctuation that I’m treating this as a victory.

The next goal is to be 121kg (266.2lbs) in four weeks’ time. Shoes on.

Donkey Tales

2009-03-26T17:01:00.000-07:00

One of my sons – the angelic looking one in the photo below – was bouncing around on the couch next to me a couple of days ago when he landed elbow-down onto my shoulder. It was like a move out of the WWF (or is it WWE now?) I immediately felt pain and I think a nerve has knotted up in response. It has been hurting ever since and I haven’t been able to move comfortably, let alone exercise.

I live in great fear of having a serious injury. When my mum was about my age, she and my dad were in Greece and he persuaded her to ride a donkey in his village. When she climbed aboard, he slapped the donkey on the butt – as a lark I’m told – and it took off at a gallop, leaving my poor mother behind. She was incapacitated for months and has had constant back, shoulder and neck pain her entire life.

Incidentally, is there any more Greek a way to hurt yourself than falling off a donkey??? Maybe a souvlaki-stick injury. Or cutting yourself whilst smashing Greek plates like my theo did. He’d had one too many ouzos and was dancing on the table during the best-man’s speech. Not Adelaide Convention Centre behaviour people…

Anyway, the lack of mobility is definitely not helping and I’ve been slack food-wise, so I think I’ll have broken even this week at best. I’m going to have to ramp things up if I want to get to my goal weight for the baby-making-frenzy.

My Angels

2009-03-25T05:14:00.001-07:00

I've been toying with the idea of putting my original 'before' shots online. Forgetting the fact that this would entail my locating and dusting off my ancient scanner, I don't know that I want to do this. Those pictures feel like another person - one I've largely kept hidden from my husband.

In the meantime, here's a picture of my twin boys. As you can see, they look nothing alike - one's all me, the other all my husband.

An ode to lawyering

2009-03-25T03:16:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days when you’ve seen someone do their job – which is also your job – and realised just how far you have to go? I referred a conflict matter out to a senior lawyer, who also used to work at our firm. Let’s call him Adam G. No, A. Gaite. (That ought to fool you google).

Every time I encounter this man’s work – be it when I am reading a transcript, or a Supreme Court appeal, or watching a trial (as with today) I am aware of how much I don’t know. I feel like a ragged barefoot pilgrim sitting at the base of Mt Everest. He’s the lawyer I want to be when I grow up (minus the A-list partner – let’s face it, Jeeves and I aren’t really the glitterati type).

I totally have a non-sexual crush on him (Jeeves doesn’t approve of the other kind). There’s a whole list of lawyers who I’d love to follow around and worship like some groupie on tour with the Rolling Stones. You learn so much just watching them work. And I throw rose petals in your wake like nobody’s business.

I told Jeeves the above and he said he has the same feeling of inferiority whenever he watches senior counsel do their thing. But he’s such a sensible man, he just runs his own race and tries not to compare his achievements to those of others.

I thrive on the competition in law. I love to win and loath losing. I enjoy challenging people, testing their truths and exposing their lies. I like the mind-games and the persuasion, the empathy and the negotiation. I love the ideology and the ethics and the old-world courtesy.

There is something courtly about the world of law; it is the last great competitive arena, our wigged and gowned thunderdome, veiled in Latin and dusty phrases pulled from the 19th century. We are the last knights, the sword and shield for our clients. There is a kind of Old World poetry in it, if you can overcome the tendency to deliver McPlea after McPlea.

Hi Boss, my liege

2009-03-24T03:54:00.000-07:00

A couple of interesting things happened to me today. Firstly, I received my first dietblog related spam, sent to my blog email. After all those impotency ads, it was rather refreshing.

Also, someone at work asked about my blog. Unlike a lot of other bloggers I know, the idea of my colleagues reading my blog doesn’t make me break out into a cold sweat. I am pretty well an open book and I don’t associate emotional openness with any particular sense of exposure or vulnerability. I’m Greek – we laugh, we cry, we smash plates at parties. We’re not a reserved people, and I’m okay with that.

Nevertheless, I did have to pause for thought as to whether I have mentioned anything that could be viewed as offensive by anyone in my workplace. A quick scan of old posts has put my mind to rest on that score. So a big ‘howdy’ to any colleagues reading this.

Did I mention we bought the recumbent bike? We were both really happy with it during the hire period, and we used it even more than the treadmill (mainly because our portable dvd player fits neatly into the little shelf unit, so you can easily be distracted by tawdry blockbusters). All-up it was $1750. I’m trying not to calculate that as a proportion of my annual wage for fear of raising my blood pressure. I’ll think of it as an investment in my health. This machine had better start paying out soon though...

Gym-nastics

2009-03-23T03:32:00.001-07:00

Jeeves left for Maitland this morning to cover the court circuit there for the week. I’m missing him already. Neither of us sleep well without the other one next to us. The effect is compounded by being the only one to get up at night to change the twins and persuade them that Playschool isn’t on at 4am, and they should go back to sleep.

I missed the gym this morning as Jeeves left before it opened, so I stayed home with the boys. I won’t be able to go tomorrow morning as I have to meet my new tenant to sign a lease agreement. The only available time would be after work, but I find it really hard to exercise unless I do it immediately upon waking. It’s a matter of juggling competing interests – time with the children; appearing neatly presented and lawyerly rather than cramming my sweaty, unruly self into a suit; finishing my paperwork during work hours so I can actually have half an hour to de-stress in the evenings before I fall asleep. Somehow, exercise just doesn’t get a look in during the day. I appreciate how important it is, and that it is an essential part of my wellbeing, but it still needs to fit in with the rest of my life.

At 6.30am I can jump out of bed, sleepwalk through my circuit and be home just in time to see Jeeves carrying one of my boys out of their bedroom (the other one likes an extra hour of sleep). My torment is over and I can just pretend it never happened, whilst being able to tick off the exercise box in my Healthy Inspirations journal. It works.

Being Muffin

2009-03-21T15:08:00.000-07:00

Someone wrote to me about Jeeves’ pet name for me, Muffin. He started calling me that on about the third date. We sort of fell into being a couple within about five minutes of dating. I remember he said, ‘I love you’ on our second date. We were at a Korean barbecue joint; I brought him some kangaroo and he said it as though he was talking about my bringing him meat. (Totally legitimate basis to inspire love btw, more women should think of that). He said it ‘for real’ a couple of weeks later, then freaked out and took it back. That made me (who had freaked out a little when he said it) want him to say it again. Ahhhh the pure mathematics of love…

‘Muffin’ was arrived on without any real consultation.

‘Noooooo you can’t call me that, I’m on a diet. Can’t you call me something less fat-related??’
‘Like what, Carrot?’
‘Haha very funny’.
‘Honey?’
‘No’.
‘Sugarplum’.
‘NO!’
Jeeves sighed. ‘Well, how about Bran Muffin’.
I laughed at that one. ‘Nothing digestive’.

So Muffin stuck.

Ever since then he elaborates on Muffin to describe how I feel or what I’m doing. So I’m Awww Sad-Muffin, Gym-Muffin, Mmmmm Wet-Muffin (in the shower), or Cannibal-Muffin (when I eat a muffin).

After all my resistance, I have grown to like it. He makes me feel loved.

Bugging Me

2009-03-21T02:04:00.000-07:00

I woke up last night to use the bathroom and get a drink of water. As I was making my way through the darkness, I had the bizarre sensation that a patch of the wall seemed somehow blacker than usual. I turned on the light and there was this HUGE ALIEN GRASSHOPPER THING peering down at me. It was at least the size of my hand.

I'm not usually afraid of bugs. I'm fine with them in their natural environment, which does not include my living room.

With crawling flesh, I ran back to bed and shook awake (or slightly less asleep anyway) Jeeves.

'Get up! Get up! There's a horrible bug thing in the living room and it could go into the children's room!'
'Mrrrrrmmmmmrrrrhhh'
'Jeeves you get your ass up right this second, and do your manly bug-killing duty!'
(Sleepy silence)
'You totally owe me for that speeding fine now get up!!'

That got him up.

He slid a tupperware container over it (wonder if this invokes the lifetime replacement guarantee?) and a piece of newspaper under it and took it outside into the garden. He put it into the garden - the farthest edge of it, near the woodpile where the snakes I imagine are there might eat it.

'You said you liked bugs Muffin!'
'I do! I wanted to be a entomologist when I was a kid. I like them an awful lot when they're pinned and under glass. This was not a nice insect, I like the nice ones'.
'Maybe some day you can create a revolutionary new classification system - 'Nice' and 'Not Nice'."
'Yeah well that incorporates all the necessary information now doesnt it'.

Generic Me

2009-03-20T19:20:00.000-07:00

In the spirit of saving money, I’ve been trying all sorts of homebrand products lately. Some are good, and seem to be repackaged versions of the mainstream brand. Others are terrible and are obviously from the reject pile. The truism that you get what you pay for does apply in most instances, but with staples like tinned beans/tomatoes, flour and even processed cheese, the generic is usually just fine.

The labels all have a ‘100% refund guarantee’. Usually, like the company has banked on, I can’t be bothered getting my refund and just learn from experience. The other day I bought a big box of no-name cocoa. It tasted like dirt had been added. I had so looked forward to my minimal-caloried cup of chocolate-ness that I marched back to the store and demanded my money back. To obtain this, I had to fill out a huge form providing all sorts of personal details, none of which had been necessary to actually purchase the product. All for my $3.50 or whatever! It took about ten minutes, not counting the trip down there. What a waste of time, and a huge deterrent to taking anything back (or having a risk-free trial of the product).

It also bought a generic organic wheat biscuit brand, which is cheaper than the Weetbix I normally purchase for the children’s breakfast. Weetbix’s box specifies the amount of iron, thiamine, folate and niacin either added to or present in the product. I wanted to know whether the generic was the equivalent. For the first time in my life, I contacted the info line on one of the boxes.

“We don’t have that information Ma’am”.
“So it doesn’t have those vitamins and minerals?”
“I don’t know. The only information I can give you is what is on the box”.
“Well then why do you have the infoline? Is it for people who can’t read?”
“Can’t help you, sorry”.
“Well can I ask the company to do that testing? Surely if they put that information on the box everyone would buy the cheaper version, which is just as good for their children”.
“Goodbye Ma’am”.

I just don’t get it. My next step of hotline harassment will be to call the one on the back of the shampoo bottle that promises hair-care tips. Do I brush up or down…?

Money money honey

2009-03-18T03:04:00.000-07:00

Jeeves got a speeding fine for going 71km through a 50km zone in Kadina, one of the little towns he covers for his circuit. Great example there, the citizens' criminal lawyer zipping around town oblivious to the big signs with those incomprehensible numerical hieroglyphics on them.

It’s for $310. I’m sitting here fuming, thinking of all the other things on which I could spend $310.

I’ve never ever received a speeding ticket. The closest I’ve ever come was a parking fine when I forgot I was in the 2 hour zone instead of the all-day one ten feet away. That was my daring brush with the law. And that wasn’t even the law, it was just some stupid council regulation.

Jeeves isn’t quite a great train robber. This is his second speeding fine in the four years we’ve been together. He is non-plussed. His cavalier attitude is irritating me way more than the actual money.

I’m a scrimping and saving type. There are very few things on which I’m willing to splurge: The kids’ education (long-term). Quality educational toys (short-term). Romantic nights away once or twice a year. Organic, free range food. I’m not a casual spender, I have to be acquiring something valuable before I’ll part with my hard-earned cash. It comes from growing up on the breadline.

Jeeves is from old-money. He has never struggled, always had the best and never had cause to worry about his finances. It’s not that he’s focused on money – far from it, he doesn’t seem to have any conception of it as anything but an unlimited resource that need not occupy his attention.

My husband is happy to fall into line with my ‘save every penny’ philosophy as he is one of the least materialistic people I’ve ever met. At the same time as he will happily spend $1000 on a ticket to the opera to see the Ring cycle (admittedly, this was pre-me), he is perfectly content with a dvd. Even a weekly rental. We homebodies are pretty easily pleased at little expense.

His dad was a financial analyst and company director. He had a trust fund. I remember my dad having four jobs, all of them menial. My mum ran a daycare from our house. I recall having cement floors and a card table instead of a dining room table. I remember an old blanket was our bedroom curtain.

But my folks were old-school ethnic migrants. They worked harder than anyone I’ve known. The house was unfurnished but it was theirs, built by my dad and his brothers. The kids at school told me I came from ‘the slums of Adelaide’ but my parents saved everything they had to send us to a private school. Eventually, they bought a house for each of their daughters and gave it to us so we would have somewhere to raise our families. I will pay all of that forward. I have explained all of this to Jeeves and I believe he understands most of it.

Still, I wonder how much I will need to save before I feel safe?

The Magic Chair

2009-03-15T20:48:00.000-07:00

I know this is supposed to be a dietblog, but there is only so much I can say about that. I'm trying not to obsess about it and just live a healthier lifestyle, and there are only so many ways I can affirm that idea. Right now the theme is 'stay the course'. I'm doing fine and happy with how things are going.

I'm going to Healthy Inspirations three times a week. I'm doing cycling for 40 mins another two or three days a week. I'm generally eating what I'm supposed to. I'm creating a lifestyle, rather than white-knuckling this plan.
One thing I really like about Healthy Inspirations is its holistic focus on a woman's wellbeing. One of their key elements is relaxation. They ask you to monitor your stress levels, so you can see when overeating relates to this issue. They also have a weekly session in a massage chair with aromatherapy oils and tranquil music.

Have I told you about the chair yet?? It is incredible! Jeeves gives pretty good massages, but I'm sort of embarrassed to say that I'd pick the chair over him anyday (sorry hon). It's 'fingers' don't stray from my knotted muscles... Haha, just told Jeeves this; his response: 'Hey, I'm just finding all your pressure points'.

Have yourself a merry little forever

2009-03-13T21:50:00.001-07:00

I'll make this quick as I can hear the kids have woken up and are running around. As soon as the footsteps are punctuated by Boys: 'It's mine!' and Daddy: 'No smacking!' I'll have to pull on my Mama cape and go to the rescue.

I showed one of my boys photos from Christmas this morning. We decorated the tree together and I got a lot of great shots. I saw that he remembered 'Christmas tree' but it took a moment for the cogs in his head to slide into place. That day was only three months ago.

It occurred to me, if I succeed in losing weight permanently, there is a pretty good chance that they will never remember me this way. Short of it being a cautionary tale - how to work your way up to a heart attack in three easy steps (step one, don't take any) - I don't think I want them to have this memory of me. I know I'll never wipe away the past, and I do want my sons to believe that they have the power to make changes in their lives - even achieve things that seem impossible. I'll keep a couple of 'before' shots but I want them to know me as a healthy person. I want that to be their model and the memory of their mother that they carry throughout life.

Come and play, everything's hey okay

2009-03-11T17:31:00.000-07:00

I've accidentally deleted a couple of posts so here's attempt number three at keeping in touch.

I'm down about another kilogram (2.2lbs). I'm really not worrying too much as long as the scales go in the right direction and I start to feel more fit. I haven't been to the gym so far this week.

Everyone in the family has been or is sick. I have terrible sinus pain, headache and a fever. Nevertheless, my mother-in-law is taking care of the children today, so I can go to work. I've dealt with a convicted murderer, an armed robber and a kidnapper today and I still think she has the raw end of that deal. Thank God she's an ex-kindergarten teacher and has come equipped with all sorts of new educational ideas. I saw giant dice, mini dice and a counting game cd as I was leaving. I feel the usual motherly guilt about leaving my children to work, but I am glad they are in good hands. I'd hate to leave them with someone whose idea of childcare was Sesame Street.

Not to knock the Street, the Street rocks big-time. But I am pretty firm about my tv limits. My niece learnt to count from Sesame Street. It was pretty odd to hear this little Aussie girl with an American accent. Could have been worse, she could have sounded like the Count: "Vun, two, tree"...

Big Brother

2009-03-06T20:23:00.000-08:00

There are lots of cool things about having a blog. Motivation. Venting. Bitching about your life. Most of the time nobody comments and you treat it like a hobby journal purely for your own edification. Ever since I put the tracker in - my own little cctv nosy neighbour device - I've been enjoying seeing how people have found their way to my neck of the woods.

I won't mention in detail the googler searching for novel and exciting ways to watch women in their 40s enjoying their fruits and vegetables... Or the surprising number of Americans looking up Leslie Sansone's husband. But I have been delighted at the number of people from all around Australia googling Allan Wanganeen Sr. (Incidentally, once I have obtained the consent of his family, I'll be nominating him for a posthumous Order of Australia medal. If you can assist, please contact me or comment below).

Feel free to delurk peoples, how else am I supposed to find fresh reading material..?

Except for the fruit and veg guy, you just keep on googling by mister...

Looky here, 40kg lost overnight!!

2009-03-02T03:23:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of becoming an optimist, I decided to change my stats to reflect this entire weight-loss journey. Look, I lost a teenager/cujo/a tenth of Jeeves' science fiction collection!

Yes, it's basically just spin to make my 1/2kg (1.1lbs) loss this week feel bigger. But when you look at the numbers, it really is an achievement. I'm starting to think I should plan something major for the half-way point. I'm not sure what exactly that would be but I'm pretty sure it will involve Jeeves and a bottle of something fermented.

Eviction Night

2009-02-28T23:50:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had to evict someone? My sister's tenants are causing her problems and I think she's going to need to evict them. She's in London, so I'm going to be her hired muscle. I've evicted maybe four people in the 15 years or so that I've been a landlord. Yes, a landlord AND a lawyer! I know, I know, we have our own special little roped off section in hell.

I'm very reasonable, which is probably why it gets to the eviction stage (after they haven't paid rent for a month and my house has been urinated on/damaged/spray-painted, I generally call 'when'). It's all a very stressful process - serving papers, dealing with screaming people, negotiating with neighbours upset at the steady diet of punk rock, going to court... Not all that different from my job in fact.

This has generally been a stressful week. My colleague - whom I cared about - died. It distressed myself and a number of my colleagues, all of whom I care about. I have to take someone's home away from them. And I had no rest this weekend as I spent it doing a Senior First Aid Certificate. Yes, I am actually now qualified to help at the scene of an accident (if I can overcome hysteria and hyperventilation that is). Feel free to faint from shock, I actually know what to do now.

As a result of all of these stressors, the food and exercise thing hasnt been going so great. The alarm went off this morning - set at 6.30am so I could get an hour of cycling in before preparing to go to the first aid course. Jeeves started dilligently poking me in the back like he does every morning (with his finger, geez what were you guys thinking?) I just couldnt get up. The same thing has happened for three days straight.

I've managed to 'break even' each day, which is better than gaining I guess. But I am going to need to up the exercise as a means of coping with stress this week. Al's funeral is on Wednesday and I know it will not be easy to say goodbye.

Goodbye Allan

2009-02-25T00:51:00.000-08:00

Allan passed away at 5pm yesterday.

I spent the night at work shuffling papers after the kids had gone to bed. I could hardly look at Allan's office. He has photos of his kids and grandkids, personal mementos, all the things that make your 4x4m cube your own. And now all those passions and ideologies and even little preferences have all been snuffed out.

I found myself wondering stupid things like how many sugars he took in his coffee, and who will remember that in the years to come. The little things that we fuss over every day, and which add up to a life. Who will know or care that I shelve my books by order of their era, and then by theme, author and alphabetical order. My own crazy little dewey system, and it means nothing in the scheme of things.

When I look at my life's accomplishments, my first thought is my children. Good parenting is severely neglected in the great books of history. Noone cares unless you raised a Unabomber. Shakespeare had - what - three legitimate children? He left his family to pursue his career, and does anyone care what kind of a father he was? Of course not.

It is far too high a bar to say we only matter if we make our mark. Name a hundred people who have made a great difference to humanity throughout all time. Can you get to fifty without needing to take stock? Consider there are over six billion people on this planet - counting only those who are presently alive - and you'll see how futile a goal this is.

I guess all we can do is try to take less from this world than we bring to it.

Allan Wanganeen Sr

2009-02-23T02:25:00.001-08:00

One of my colleagues from work, Allan Sr, has suffered a stroke. He had surgery and is on life support, but it will be switched off within the next few days and he is not expected to survive. He is a good man, a family man. He does not deserve this and neither do his wonderful kids (one of whom is also my colleague). It will be a profound loss for us, both individually and as a community.

Allan has committed his life to our organisation and the progression of Aboriginal rights. He is hard-working, ethical and tolerant; a wise, measured, dignified man. He has never assumed the high vantage point allotted to upper management, but has always been receptive to the most junior employee. For this reason, every Aboriginal person with a grievance comes to him first. He knows when to pursue the formality of his office and when to invite them in to have a yarn over a cuppa. Sometimes he does both in turn, and it is always, always the right decision. He personifies everything that works well in an Aboriginal organisation.

I feel sick at heart. I ache for his family and those who love him.

I can't believe he is leaving us when I was chatting to him in his office just the other day.

There is also part 0f me that feels riddled with selfish fear. I think about my husband - who is nearly six years older than me - and worry about his overweight. I could not do without him. I sicken over my dad's high blood pressure, and my mum's diabetes. And I think about me in a hospital bed someday with someone next to me ticking a cause of death box that says 'obesity-related illness'. My children deserve better than that. I deserve better.

I refuse to make the end of Uncle Al's life about me. At the same time, I cannot blithely go down my self-destructive path and think it won't happen to me, it doesnt happen in my life. I will mark this day, and mourn it and learn from it in turn.

Phew

2009-02-20T19:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not pregnant.

And how do I feel about this? Hmmm. Ninety percent relief as this is the wrong time for me, and ten percent wistfully wishing that I was.

I had a review yesterday with the endocrine surgeon who treated my thyroid cancer. There is no sign of recurrence but I will be checked annually for the rest of my life. It has now been ten years since I was diagnosed. I started losing weight a year later, just after I was given the all-clear and decided I wanted to live the best life available to me.

NINE YEARS I've been trying to lose weight. Isn't it about time I got the job done?

I'm a couple of months away from my 30th birthday. I have achieved a lot of the things I wanted in this time - things I never thought I would have. I have a great husband. My children are everything I could ask for. My job is interesting and I am able to help people every day. The only major personal goal that I have left is losing weight. (And that whole saving the world thing, but I think I'll have to break that one down into smaller pieces.)

So the plan now is to try for another baby in two months' time. Fertility-wise, the next time I could get pregnant would be somewhere mid-May. That gives me nearly three months to lose the 12kg (26.4lbs) that it is generally recommend pregnant mothers gain. So that's my new goal. See above.

Thank God

2009-02-18T20:24:00.000-08:00

My best friend is okay. It was a goitre with benign nodules. The world can get back to rotating now.

In other stop-the-press news, I'm a wee bit concerned that I might be pregnant again. We haven't been trying as I want to lose more weight before I get pregnant (somewhere in the vicinity of as much as a baby/placenta etc will weigh). In fact, we've actively being trying not to have a baby. There was one little slip-up where we were sort of in the moment but then we remembered to take precautions. Unless he has super latex-eating sperm determined to proliferate, I doubt those few minutes of unbridled genital freedom can have done anything.

HEALTH MESSAGE FOR ANY TEENAGERS READING THIS: Note that, although the chances are lower, you can get pregnant even with the withdrawal method!! Put on a condom!

Don't get me wrong, I'd be delighted to be pregnant, but I was hoping to have a few months longer to recover from losing our last baby.
I have aching breasts (which has only ever happened so far whilst I've been pregnant). And a back ache.

If we're pregnant under these circumstances I swear I'm going to carve out a little fertility god that looks like my husband...

Vale Frasier

2009-02-18T01:44:00.000-08:00

No news yet on my friend’s test results. I haven’t called as I am trying to avoid repeatedly haranguing her when she has just come out of intensive care. It’s tempting as I’m so worried, but it doesn’t make the BFF etiquette list.

I dragged myself out of bed and did a 40 minute cycle this morning whilst watching the last season of Frasier. I moved to Pt Augusta during the final year so, alas, I never saw it. This little town of ten thousand didn’t have access to the channel screening Frasier, damn them. They really should have declared that upfront in their tourism brochures – NO CHANNEL 9. MOVE ELSEWHERE FOR YOUR DR PHIL HIT. (And don’t think I wouldn’t have).

With some embarrassment, I tried for awhile to persuade my visiting friends to bring in video tapes, feeling like I was smuggling contraband over the border. My supplies eventually dried up. My friends are mainly ‘Neighbours’ people.

So now, long after the Emmys are gathering dust and the stars of the show have moved into cartoon voice-overs, I’m finally getting some closure. I’m dragging it out as much as possible. I have two and a half dvds' worth to go. I can ration that out over about a week.

One more week of exercise happiness left.

PS: What ever happened to the dog who played Eddie? I guess it’d be asking a lot for him to be anywhere by now but on that happy farm upstate where all the old yellers go to play…

Joining the cut-throat club

2009-02-16T20:23:00.000-08:00

The last week or so has been sort of out of control with my eating and sporadic with exercise. It has been a stressful week and I have resorted to the same old coping strategy of sloth and sweets. I'm going to look up who makes Tim Tams so I can buy shares. It's like legal crack.

My best friend is in hospital having half her thyroid removed. They found some nodules and need to take them out in case they are cancerous (only about a 10% chance that they are but, trust me, that's scary enough). They just took her out of intensive care. It has really hit me hard.

It is nearly ten years ago to the day when I found out I had thyroid cancer. Seeing someone so close to me going through that experience has really stirred up a lot of memories. I was in hospital for three months, almost all of which I don't remember. My memory just won't hold onto that part of my life. I try to remember the names of my doctors, the treatment, the medications and it just won't stick. I gather I am blocking memories that would otherwise be traumatic.

I've been thinking about the whole ordeal the last few days. I remember my throat healing up for a few days and then becoming football-sized with infection, and rancid pus exploding from my neck and sheeting down all over me, just at the point when I could barely breathe. And, without warning, being pinned down by medical students so my throat could be cut open by the surgeon doing his rounds (without anaesthesia). They needed to clean out the infection. The radioiodine treatment, where a guy pointed a geigercounter at me a few times a day, and I wasn't able to go near children and women of child-bearing age for several weeks. And believing I would die for a whole year because noone bothered to tell a naive, incredibly sheltered, anxious 19 year old kid any different.

I still have the card with my surname and 'thyroid cancer' on it that hung over my hospital bed. I changed my surname as soon as I got the all-clear. It was part of an overall re-make of who I was. I 'changed' it again when I had children. I felt that they owned me and I was their willing devotee, so I adopted their name, which was also my husband's name.

Ten whole years have passed and there is still so much to remake. Now that's depressing. I guess I'll be peppy as that seems to be a requirement for these diet blogs - SO not me btw - and say it's a work in progress.

I don't think I'm ready to burn that card with my old name yet though.

I miss Leslie Sansone

2009-02-09T21:25:00.000-08:00

I’ll just take a moment to express my sympathy for the victims of the Victorian bushfires. I don’t think there’s been an Australian who hasn’t shed a tear for them. Those who can, please consider a donation to the Red Cross Appeal.

In South Australia the heatwave has broken, although I hear it will be back towards 40 by the end of the week. For now I’m enjoying the respite and snuggling under my quilt. And my husband – ahem, next to him I mean.

I got back onto the cycling and did an hour this morning at moderate intensity.

I used to love exercise. I would diligently walk every morning and bounce through those stupid Leslie Sansone walk aerobics tapes I saved from the early 90s without complaining once about her bouffant hair. Ever since my osteoarthritis flared up – oooo I feel ancient and decrepit just saying that word – exercise has become this chore I get out the way before I get on with my life.

Distraction is helping. I have re-discovered my local library and it has gone digital. The books are now a dusty sidebar to the true wonders of dvds, cds and the internet. I’ve been borrowing all sorts of movies – some very good, others those B-grade offerings you only turn to when Blockbuster has been raided of everything else. I’m finding that the mind is more easily distracted by new things, rather than repeats of the familiar, however entertaining (read Frasier). This morning’s offering was ‘Shopgirl’ but I also have ‘The King of Scotland’ which I’ve been dying to see.

Down 5, except in my dreams

2009-02-04T20:23:00.000-08:00

Holy crap this diet thing appears to be working. I'm down 5kg (11lbs). I keep waiting for a tub of lard to yell 'Surprise!' and start ditching transfats right back on to my thunder-thighs, but it hasnt happened yet. Well, maybe in the occasional nightmare.

I have these vivid dreams where I am eating copious amounts of food. Banquets of roast lamb and stuffed Greek vegetables and tart cheeses with red wine. I wake up furious with myself for going on a bender until I realise it was Dream Me and I am overwhelmed with a sense of relief. It is a bit depressing to dream about making love to a yiros instead of say Brad Pitt (admittedly he has because way harder to fantasise about since (a) he married and (b) he took in half a dozen foundlings).

Won't I ever have a normal relationship with food? Will it always be this thing I have to count and measure and control? I hate that idea. I'd like to walk past a cheesecake without feeling its gooey stickiness in my mouth. And I'd like to have a piece of cheesecake when I feel adequately hungry without feeling like I've 'blown it' and needing two more pieces for false comfort.

One of my greatest fears is that I will pass on my warped thinking to my children. I don't want them to be afraid of food or obsessed about it. And I definitely don't want to be one of those feeder parents (like my own) who express their affection by stuffing their little cherub with all sorts of treats.

My kids are regular 2 year olds. At least I think they are. One study showed that most parents with overweight or obese children believed the child's weight was within the normal range. Maybe we are all so used to seeing plus-sized citizens that it has warped our perspective. I know I have days when I feel 'normal' and then I have to remind myself that I am actually morbidly obese. It's fine if you don't have an investment in your physical appearance, but there's no getting past the 'morbid' part.

Here's my briefs Your Honour

2009-02-02T21:48:00.000-08:00

Things are going well. I haven’t been using the bike for the promised daily hour, but that is due to the unbearable heat (still over 40 degrees). I have compensated by eating a little less during the day, though I still expect my weight loss to slow. I’m not exercising for ‘weight loss’ as such; I think it is an important element in a healthy lifestyle, so I want to keep going. There is something to be said for diversity though, so I am looking forward to returning to Healthy Inspirations.

I returned to work this week. It was a lovely long break and I do feel energised. Well maybe ‘energised’ is the wrong word; slightly less lethargic than I would otherwise feel in this weather. It is hard to be excited when you’re standing at a bar table and sweating so much that the billowy white skirt that looked so cute in your cupboard turns transparent.

Not a day to have nanna-panties on.

Definitely not a day to have nanna-panties on in front of your husband’s ex-girlfriend (who was sitting behind my sweaty fanny). Oh the shame!

Death by broiling

2009-01-29T18:48:00.000-08:00

Adelaide is in the middle of a heatwave. It has been over 40 for several days now. I’m starting to have rainfall mirages.

“Gasp! Listen Garen, that was a crack! I think there’s lightning! Oh my God, a storm is finally coming!”
“Umm no that was just another branch falling off our gum trees. It’s the heat stress”.

Dammit.

My split system air conditioner has been a little champ on the whole, but it was no match for a 45 degree day (113 degrees Fahrenheit for you Yanks). We have water restrictions in place which only allow you to water by bucket or twice a week for up to three hours on certain nominated days. The twice weekly (or usually once weekly) watering has been fine for most of summer as we have a reasonably drought-resistant garden, but in temperatures like this you need to water everyday. So I have hauled buckets like an Egyptian slave. Our garden was lovingly developed by the previous owners, and spread over the 950 square metre block, so that’s a lot of buckets. By the end I felt as though I had already done my workout for the day. Nevertheless, I dragged myself into the rumpus room where my bike is set up and did 1 hour of cycling for 5 days this week. I rock.

Other than my aching back (and my aching loins – 40 degree heat = stay on your side of the bed for the love of God) I feel okay. Slightly demotivated, but I think that is just the weather. I have not been able to keep up the ‘three days on, one day off’ concept. It is just too hot and sometimes I have other things to do, places to be. But I am doing at least the five hours and as much incidental exercise as I can squeeze in on the other days. Work starts again next week, so that will be another challenge.

Mine's bigger than yours

2009-01-25T19:18:00.000-08:00

I decided to take a rest day today. My gluteus maximus (ie my ass) just couldn’t take anymore cycling right now. I think I will do three days on one day off, which is 5 or 6 days of exercise a week. This recumbent bike is great. My mini dvd player fits neatly into the book slot and I have been watching Frasier whilst riding. I found I was starting to associate Frasier with leg cramps, suffering and an odious task I need to get out the way to enjoy my day, which is definitely not the Pavlovian link I want for my favourite show. So I am breaking it up by reading for half the time. I’d do file work and make it pure suffering, but I need to ensure I don’t despise exercise completely. It’s a fine balance.

We had a friend and her son over for a playdate this morning. Her little boy was born in the same week as my twins and we happened to meet at the playground opposite my house one day. They live just down the road, and we all get along really well. I’m always self-critical around other mums. I micro-analyse my parenting skills and compare myself and my children to their family. I am very careful to be supportive of everybody else’s parenting - I have been around too many dagger-wielding mums to do that to anyone else – but I pick apart my own. This friend happens to be a psychiatrist specialising in child behaviour, so I figure she is a reasonable benchmark for educated parenting.

I was sitting there after she left trying to get my kids to count just like her little boy when I realised how stupid I was being. There is nothing wrong with them, just like there is nothing wrong with her little boy for eating nothing but Vegemite on white bread (they supplement with vitamins but fret the same way I do about my kids). There is some compulsion in human beings to be perfect and the best at everything. I know it drives us to become better people, but it can also be consuming.

My mother-in-law commented on my new exercise regime as being too much too soon. She said I have a habit of embracing something new completely, and doing it to crazy extremes which I consider the ideal, and then burning out. It is that same drive for perfection that I have with so many other aspects of my life. It is something I am going to have to watch. I felt guilty about resting today at first, but I think that is a reasonable balance. I would rather do an hour on the bike five times a week than 40-45 minutes everyday. I’m on track and I’m seeing results on the scale, so I’m going to let go of guilt and just enjoy the journey.

Persistence

2009-01-23T20:34:00.001-08:00

Husband: ‘Do you know what I love about you?’
Me: (hopefully) Everything??
Husband: (drily) No. But you never give up.

It’s true, I’m annoyingly persistent. I’ve had a goal to reach 70kg for about ten years now, and while I have struggled I have never given up. And I am in a much better position than when I first started. I have never surrendered that ground.

I read somewhere that, in a year where Harvard graduates were studied, it was found that only 5% wrote down their goals. Those 5% apparently made more money than the other 95% combined. Overlooking the dubious implicit theory that wealth = success/self-worth, there is something to be said for focus. So here are my goals for February:

1. Be the best lawyer in town. No problemo! Okay, be the best lawyer I can be. I work for a leader in social justice and I am going to start taking advantage of that to increase the public profile of my division.
2. Get down to 126kg (279.4lbs). Still depressingly over what I was three months ago, but I am not going to get anywhere whilst I waste time looking backwards at what was. That’s a loss of 5.5kg (12.1lbs) in a month. It is achievable, although it would probably be the last month I could get those kinds of numbers.
3. Do an hour of cycling at least 5 times a week, and hopefully every day.
4. Have a romantic Valentine’s day with my husband.

Okay, I’m all goaled up, now just watch the money flow in… I’ll settle for achieving three out of four of the above.

Recumbent Sweaty Me

2009-01-23T02:05:00.000-08:00

My increased weight since I lost the baby has really aggravated my arthritis and made exercise very difficult. In fact, it has made general living painful. I am terrified that I’ll end up being one of those morbidly obese women who need gophers to move about shopping centres – the kind who only wear muumuus as the biggest sizes don’t fit, whose ankles are as thick as most women’s thighs. I always looked at those women, thinking, ‘How could they let it get to that stage?’ until I realised that this is how some other people see me. Now there is just sympathy of experience.

I went to a fitness store last week and hired a recumbent exercise bike. It costs $1800 or so to buy, and I paid $400 for an 8 week hire with an option. My husband and I agreed that, if I use it for an hour at least five times a week during this period, we will cough up the remaining $1400 to own it outright. It was delivered yesterday and I started my new programme today.

The standard upright bikes have never been much good for me. I have an unusual coccyx (that little bone at the base of your spine). Most people have a curved coccyx. Mine is straight and it causes me pain to sit for extended periods, especially on hard surfaces. Bet that's more than you wanted to know about my ass. The recumbent bikes allow a lot less pressure on this area, so it is more comfortable for me. It also takes some weight off my ankles.

Even though my butt felt okay, my ankles and knees hurt more than I had anticipated. Nothing like walking for an hour, but still pretty substantial pain. I got through the hour, courtesy of a Frasier dvd. The dvd player fits perfectly onto the bookrest, and is a great way to get your mind off the huffing and puffing. One hour = three episodes of The Simpsons / Frasier. Very do-able.

I feel like a bit of a wannabe for hiring my bike just when the Tour Down Under is on (Australia’s equivalent of the Tour de France). Lance Armstrong has launched his comeback here and every man and their dog is cruising on two wheels in this town right now. I read somewhere that he pushes through the pain by remembering the pain of cancer treatment. He says that he gains strength from remembering that people are still out there suffering like he did, and the difficulties of training do not compare to their hardships. I have been through a fair bit of that myself, so I am going to try to remember how much I have already overcome, and not let the pain stop me.

Victor Harbor

2009-01-16T16:02:00.000-08:00

I was doing great until we went away for a mini-vacation. It was only three days but boy did we go crazy. So I am pretty much back at square one right now and trying to regret those fish and chips on the beach.

My husband’s aunt has a great holiday house at Victor Harbor, right on the bluff. It has amazing ocean vi foews, four bedrooms, two baths, several living areas and a huge veranda area where you can sit and watch the ocean changing colours. It was our first vacation with the children, and the first time they had seen the sea (we lived in Pt Augusta when they were babies but it was so blistering hot that we never took them swimming). We invited my parents along too, and all had a great time together. The boys went swimming in the sea for the first time ever. For the first half I was the definition of paranoid mother.

‘Do they have sunscreen on?’
‘Yes honey’.
‘But it says here you need to reapply every hour for maximum protection, did we do that? Oh my God, I don’t have the time, is it time yet?? Holy crap, is that a shark?’

I only let my husband go in knee deep.

Well, there have been shark attacks this summer, and our chubby little toddlers could pass for a tasty morsel of seal.

My boys go ‘swimming’ every week with their Granny. Her gym has a toddler section in the pool, so she takes them in with her and they do water games. As a result, they weren’t too distressed by the water at the beach. They followed us right in. They looked to see how my husband reacted to things like the sand, waves, salty taste and the seaweed, so he stayed calm (and I did my best), and they stayed relaxed.

You’d think with all that potential for walking, I would have actually done okay diet-wise. I fell into the mentality that it was my holiday and I’d not worry about it. That probably wouldn’t have been an issue, only I started to choose high-fat foods just because I had given myself permission to do so, regardless of whether I actually felt like it or not. I was like a camel stocking up before crossing the Sahara. Really really stupid.

My weight is at a level right now that walking really aggravates my arthritis. So I’m going in today to hire a recumbent bike. The upright ones cause me discomfort after more than 10 minutes. My coccyx is straight instead of curved like everyone else’s, so sitting on any hard surface gets painful after awhile. Weird, I know.

Chasing the Wagon

2008-12-29T16:57:00.001-08:00

I’ve spent the last couple of days falling on and off the wagon. After 5 days of Lite n’ Easy (I’ve been faithful to the programme on 3/5) I’ve lost 2kg (4.4lbs). Not bad, but I can do way better than that.

It was interesting to remember hunger. I had forgotten how Lite n’ Easy felt. Not that you are ever starving or anything, but you are never full. You are just satisfied and then hungry and then just satisfied again. It is a real eye-opener after being stuffed to the gills for months on end.

To establish my starting weight, I got on the scale about fifty billion times, as I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. Post-pregnancy and the stress of a miscarriage, I am now 129.4kg (284.68lbs). Yikes! No wonder my ankles have been throbbing and I’ve felt so – well – lardy. You know that thigh-sticking-together, hefty, wobbly feeling you get when you are slipping into the morbidly obese category? I haven’t been this weight for about 9 years, and I feel repulsive.

I have no idea how my husband still finds me attractive, as I’m at that stage where no matter how I package it, I feel like a whale. There’s no cute top, no great hairstyle, no artful bedroom positioning that can disguise the truth. This has to change NOW!!!

I am not doing Lite n Easy this week, mainly because I missed the cut-off point for orders. It occurred to me 10 minutes before the cut-off time that they might not deliver on New Year’s Day and I might need to order today instead of tomorrow. By the time the page had loaded up (stupid stone age computer) it was too late. But I have ordered 2 weeks’ worth of dinners for the week after, for myself and my husband. The daytime meals are okay for me, it’s the night when I have problems, and it is more convenient if we both do it. I will use up our frozen meats and go crazy with the veggies and see how we go this week.

Six degrees of separation

2008-12-23T21:29:00.000-08:00

I have just finished work and have 5 weeks off to look forward to – ahhhhhhh!!! My husband and I had asked for our annual leave two months ago, to give work the opportunity to ensure adequate coverage. Two lawyers down is a big deal when you only have 9 lawyers covering 11 courts and circuits. I didn’t hear back from my boss, notwithstanding several emails, hints and text messages. I assumed the fobbing off equalled ‘no’ so it was a great surprise to me when he called last weekend to say we could have the rest of the year and the whole of January. I haven’t had a break like that since I was a student! Bring on the diet challenge!

Court was interesting today. I walked to the bar table and glanced down at the nametag of the prosecutor next to me – she was my husband’s ex-girlfriend! I had never met her before but he had bumped into her a few months back and was mortified that she had entered his field of work. Their relationship had not ended well – she had behaved appallingly and he had been absolutely heartbroken. It took a long time before my emotional Florence Nightingale-ing healed those wounds. I had fantasised for YEARS about encountering her, upon which I would be a cold bitch and cut her down (I know that sounds horrible, but I’m a defence lawyer, I’m trained to be cut-throat when it is warranted). I had the script all worked out.

It is hard to explain this without betraying their private personal information, but due to her conduct in the relationship I had expected her to either be a ruthless bitch or an outsider with poor self-esteem. She proved to be the latter, which intuitively made me want to protect her. She was sweet in an awkward kind of way. She was also very distressed as her evidently beloved father-in-law had died that week. I guess I’m not actually that cut-throat, as her vulnerability only made me feel like giving her a hug. Damn those motherly genes.

I guess kicking her ass in trials will have to suffice. For the sake of karma. I’d hate to put the universe out of kilter.

Pre-Xmas

2008-12-21T21:05:00.001-08:00

Thank you to everyone who has made comments, sent cards etc about the baby. I am very grateful. I’ve reached the point of acceptance now and I’m praying that 2009 will be the year we complete our family.

Having said that, this started off as a ‘dietblog’ and has gone somewhat awry since then, so it’s time to re-focus. I am not going to delve into the minefield of a strict diet plan at the same time as our Big Fat Greek Christmas (Christougena) is getting underway. I am way too busy with the kids and home life to go crazy in the pre-Xmas period, but Xmas day is sacrosanct. I’m not going to worry too much and just stick to a couple of basic rules:
(a) Eat a sensible breakfast in the morning.
(b) Eat a plate of salad and then have whatever else I want after it; hopefully the salad will fill me up so that I won’t go overboard with the two of every kind of animal smorgasbord that my dad always prepares.
(c) Don’t take ANY leftovers home with us.

I’ve gained a heap of weight through this stressful pregnancy/post-pregnancy period, and I’m going to have a depressing new starting point come Boxing Day. I want the scale going downwards by New Year’s Eve.

To that end, I’m going back to an old friend, Lite n Easy for a week, to kick-start things and remind me what sensible portions ought to look like. I once lost 10kg in preparation for surgery following this programme, and I liked it, barring some bugbears. It is expensive, and I got to the point where I was wondering why I was eating a tiny micro-muffin for the same kilojoules as a filling salad sandwich, but I think I need to get back in touch with hunger. Not that gnawing hunger that would make you trade your own mother for a Kit Kat, but not-fullness. Lite n Easy keeps you in a perpetual state of never-full, which I have practically forgotten in my present bloated gorging. I think this is some ascetic 40 days in the wilderness concept, so let’s hope it works.

I will also be returning to my gym as soon as I am physically able to do this. I went back to work earlier than I would have liked as there was noone to cover for me, and I think it has stretched out my recovery. It will be good to get back into exercise and feel like me again.

D&C

2008-12-16T05:07:00.000-08:00

I had the d&c last Wednesday and feel mostly recovered, physically at least. What can you say about the emotional side of things. At least I had my two beautiful boys to come home to (three counting my lovely husband) – and many many people are not that lucky.

The night before the procedure, I started having cramping and pain. It was bad enough to wake me at 2am, but not so bad that I couldn’t distract myself by reading a trashy romance novel. My husband eventually asked me why I didn’t just take some painkillers – oh yeah, that’s right I can take them now without worrying about the pregnancy…! – and I went to sleep about 20 minutes later. As a result though, the doctors thought I might have ‘passed’ the baby and not need the d&c with all its attendant risks. The handheld ultrasound could not locate the sac. They decided to book a more detailed one with radiology and give me a pill to help soften the uterus and encourage menstruation.

The pill is essentially like early labour. A bit crampy – worse than periods, not as bad as the night-time cramps. All in all, quite bearable. A series of this pill is often used in lieu of a d&c, but the doctors were concerned that I had already waited a month without progress. The success rate is only 85%, and even then you can need a d&c at the end of it.

I had been fasting since 9pm the day before from food and 5am from water. I was parched by the time the ultrasound happened at 3pm. Hospitals have such dry air. The ultrasound showed that the sac had detached and was being expelled by the cramping. I felt rather sad to be watching my much-wanted baby leaving the world. The radiologist marvelled that we were seeing the exact moment the sac was passing through the cervix, as though I was a nature documentary. It hurt me a lot to watch myself go from pregnant to un-pregnant, all on a little blurry screen. I’m glad my husband was there to hold my hand.

Even though the baby was passing through, a lot of material seemed to be left behind. They decided that the safest and most certain way of returning to normalcy (and normal fertility) was for me to have the d&c. I was carted off to theatre at around 5.30pm.

On the previous theme of horribly insensitive people, the one that took the cake was actually the obstetrician that performed the d&c. As they prepped me, I explained the story about the night-time cramping and the ultrasound showing the baby passing through the cervix.

“Baby, foetus, I don’t know what you call it”, with a sad little smile because I felt stupidly embarrassed about loving my baby that never was.

She responded, without a trace of sympathy, “We call it product”.

It’s the last thing I remember before they put me under.

Seriously??? From the fucking OBSTETRICIAN??! Don’t they do sensitivity training? In fact, I know they do as I heard the same thing over and over from several of the more understanding doctors/nurses/midwives:

“Was this a planned pregnancy?”
“Yes”.
“I’m very sorry for your loss”. Fucking APPROPRIATE.

I know ‘retained product’ is the technical term but who on Earth says that to someone who has just lost their baby?? I feel I constantly have to justify being upset about this loss. That ‘product’ had an education fund, and a list of potential names, and family who shed tears over his or her passing. It makes me so angry.

My darkest hour

2008-12-05T03:41:00.001-08:00

Our baby has died.

I came home from a walk to the park with my husband and children, and went to use the bathroom. There was fresh red blood. I knew right away it was bad. I had started to worry the day previously, as I felt less pregnant. My nipples had become much less sore and I wasn’t feeling nauseated.

Now I feel sick to my stomach in a wholly different way.

I went to the hospital and they did a scan – one of the hand-held ones the obstetricians have rather than the high-tech radiology machines. It showed that the baby was far less developed than it should be at 9 weeks. They thought I might have my dates wrong, but this was impossible. I went home and told everybody that my baby had passed away. I spent about two days crying – as much as one can around 2 year olds who don’t understand their mother’s grief.

I had another scan two days later which dated the baby at 6 weeks – a little tiny rice grain-seized angel that will never be. There was no heart beat. I thought I had accepted the news but watching that little flatline made me miserable. The blood test showed my hcg levels are falling, rather than doubling like they should every 48 hours. This confirms that the baby is certainly gone.

The doctor is being as prudent as possible and will do another blood test on Monday to double-check the results before putting me on the emergency list for a D&C anytime that week. I could go to a private hospital and get it done sooner, but this is Adelaide’s specialist obstetric and paediatric hospital. They do 15 of these procedures a week. I just want this over with so I can grieve my baby’s loss.

Other people’s attitudes have been upsetting. I’ve had all the incredibly sensitive comments. I won’t pretend to understand them:

- “On the upside you can drink at Xmas now”. This was from the obstetrician at the hospital. (1) There is no upside whatsoever to losing your child. (2) Getting pissed really wouldn’t qualify in any case, and I don’t even drink.
- “The baby must have been disabled and you are better off in the long run”. Sometimes I say this to comfort myself – that the baby may have suffered if its life had been prolonged. Other times I think I just wanted my baby and don’t care about anything else. Ultimately, I can’t know what took my baby’s life, and I don’t want to be speculating.
- “This is all part of God’s plan”. I am a committed Christian, but even I don’t blindly concede this one. I don’t know if everything goes according to plan. I don’t see a higher purpose in all our random sufferings, I think we just make the best of the hand we are dealt. I don’t believe God is sitting up there throwing lightning bolts at my uterus to teach me a lesson.
- “You can have another baby”. People would never say this to someone who had lost a living child, why do they say that about your baby in utero? I wanted that baby, my baby!
- “At least it wasn’t really a baby, just cells at this point”. We are all just a bunch of cells. I guess how you feel about that bunch of cells defines how much you value it. It was my child and I loved it. People shouldn’t diminish that or make me feel that I have no right to grieve.

For future reference, the right thing to do is say, ‘I’m so sorry’ and perhaps ‘If you want to talk, or need anything, please let me know’. Some of my friends have been incredibly supportive. Some have gone through this whole experience, and it has helped to have their information and advice.

My husband has been struggling with this. I know he was not attached to the baby in the same way I was. I think, fundamentally, he defines a ‘baby’ differently to me. He sees it as a little smudge on a screen, whose heart probably never even beat. It was real to me in a way it wasn’t to him. My entire body changed the moment I became pregnant. I was incredibly aware of the baby, and it had a profound effect on me physically and hormonally. With the security of this knowledge, I made plans for our baby. I remember he cried when he first felt our twins kick, and again when they were born. I know that was ‘real’ to him. To my knowledge, he hasn’t shed a tear for this baby. I understand it intellectually, but it upsets me. I can’t help but feel that our baby deserves to have its father grieve its passing. I know he is very upset at my distress, but I want him to feel something for our child. He says he feels sad, but there is such a gap between our emotional responses right now.

Damn it

2008-11-18T22:22:00.000-08:00

I just wrote a great little post which somehow deleted itself. Nooooooo! I don't have the heart to re-write just now without smashing my keyboard so I'll have to leave it for another time.

I've been planning some renovations of this site in any case, so I should have some time to get to it in a couple of days. Take care until then.

Up the Duff

2008-11-09T02:36:00.000-08:00

I’m pregnant. Holy crap.

Following my three and a half negative pregnancy tests, I decided to see my doctor. The ‘half’ arose when I didn’t pee long enough on one of the sticks, mainly due to poor aiming. Definitely no writing my name in the snow for me, even if South Australia had snow. Seriously, whoever comes up with these directions must have muscles like a vice clamp; by the time I actually hit the stick I really have to imagine waterfall torrents to keep things going.

My doctor gave me yet another urine test, although he just had me pee in a sterile cup. I had miraculous aiming as usual and had to wash the outside of the jar. I got paranoid that it was damp and he’d know I leaked it onto the outside, so I spent awhile blowdrying my urine sample before I went back to his office and deposited it onto the desk. He used a little squirter thing to put my ‘sample’ onto the test strip, and the control line – and just that line – came up almost immediately. I was completely focused on whether I’d need a D&C for what I assumed was a failed miscarriage. I sort of glanced down and said, ‘Yep, still negative’. We were chatting a few minutes later when he pointed out a very, very faint second line. It was like a ghost baby. Deep down I knew right away that something was going on, but he just said he wanted to take a blood test.

I got the results the next afternoon – a positive test! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!! My hcg levels were about 175, so the estimate was that I am 4-5 weeks pregnant, which seems to fit my dates. It is also consistent with one baby, which is what we have planned (although my twins were a beautiful surprise). Things don’t always work to plan, but I won’t upgrade to the Tarago unless absolutely necessary.

The downside is that there is a reasonable risk of miscarriage because of the foot and mouth disease. The doctor said that, in the early stages of pregnancy – before limbs and heart chambers and organs are being formed, where it is just mass cell division – a virus will lead to either total miscarriage or a normal healthy baby. I would be devastated to lose my baby but I think a severely disabled child’s suffering would be the death of a thousand cuts. So I am going to just hope for the best. Say a prayer for me.

As far as the dieting goes, I am going to do some research into a healthy eating plan for a pregnant obese woman. I don’t want to balloon because of this pregnancy, nor do I want to do anything stupid that might harm our baby. My doctor said it is unsafe to ‘diet’ whilst pregnant, but important to eat a healthy diet. Yuh-huh… I am going to need to pin him down on that one. Obviously, this isn’t the time to take the Special K challenge, but I need to know what to do. The interim plan is to record everything I eat and post the bulk of it here for the sake of accountability.

Watching the calendar

2008-10-31T22:44:00.000-07:00

My period still hasn't arrived. This is the first time it has ever been late since I was pregnant with the twins... and then it wasn't so much late as non-existent. I am up to day 30 on the count, and I am normally a 25-27 day kinda girl. I will wait a few more days and then make a doctor's appointment. No point in wasting money on pregnancy tests (yesterday's was negative) when a simple blood test will be definitive. I would not be worried but for the fact that we were trying to get pregnant at the relevant time. I even had a little bit of bleeding on my scheduled day, which I thought was implantation bleeding. But then I contracted foot and mouth disease that same week. What if I was pregnant, albeit too early to know it, lost the baby (so no testable hormone) but it is still inside me? Is that a problem or will it all sort itself out within the next cycle period?

My Orthodox, highly conservative mother told me I should take the abortion pill 'just in case'. I was really surprised. I would not choose to have a severely disabled child, but I am willing to leave this in God's hands. This is not even the choice I would be faced with, it would be simply speculative. As is my theoretical pregnancy I should remind myself...

On the diet front, I am treating this as a new month. I was watching a programme on addicts the other day - I have no doubt whatsoever that I have an addiction - and they were discussing the concept of 'one day at a time'. I have had quite a few consecutive days where I have not kept my promises to myself; as a result, I have started to distrust my own intentions. So today I have been focusing on one hour, one meal, resisting one impulsive thought. It has been going well.

I always feel better when I have control over my environment. I asked my husband and dad to take the twins to kindergym today, and I cleaned the house for 2.5 hours straight. It made me feel so good. My husband has also let me have the last 2 hours downstairs, doing our filing/taxes and browsing online (both the necessary and the frivolous - sometimes both).

One useful tool that worked for me in the past was completely removing tempting food from my environment. I don't have any junk food in the house and haven't for years, but I have a real problem with bread. I have about 7 different kinds of bread - pita, wholegrain, lavash, mountain bread, fruit bread, rolls etc, all in freezer as there is only myself to eat most of them. My husband is gluten intolerant and the kids mainly eat plain wholemeal bread, while I like the kind with lots of grains. One of my major binge foods has been toast and toasted sandwiches. I asked my husband if he could take the 6 ft freezer out of the kitchen and within 24 hours he and my dad had hauled it downstairs into our storage/basement area. What service! There is already a little bar fridge on the lower floor of our split level, so I can keep anything that is a problem for me hidden away. There is no direct access to the bottom floor right now, as we blocked off the spiral staircase leading down, to safeguard the children. The only other route is outside. By the time I make the trek onto the porch, downstairs and around through the garden, the overeating impulse is over. Failing this, the entire area can be locked up tight. It is like being in rehab, only in my own home. Just knowing I can exert physical control until I am emotionally in control again is so reassuring.

Confession time

2008-10-27T17:27:00.000-07:00

Padre I have sinned and am here to make confession. I have been one bad girl lately. Not carrying Ronald McDonald's lovechild bad, just eating way way too much of (mainly) the right things.

I have been feeling really unwell the last week or so - lethargic, tired, nauseated. I thought for awhile I was pregnant (that would explain the backache). Stupidly and illogically, I gave myself permission to relax on my eating, as I *might* be eating for two. Three negative pregnancy tests later...

Naturally, being depressed about not being pregnant allowed me to eat some more. And now I can presume my period is about to arrive, which surely means I'm allowed to have chocolate, right!? Surely no girl bleeds and doesn't feed..!

What is with this crazy, mindless eating?? Surely I have more self-control than that?

I have been so tired I haven't been to the gym at all. I don't know what's going on with my body. Maybe this is latent foot and mouth exhaustion? I do know that the excuses have to end.

This morning, I caught sight of myself in the reflective doors of the courthouse and it wasn't pleasant. I was so stunned I just stopped and the automatic doors slid open and closed and open and closed. It wasn't any better on the third or fourth opening. I eventually decided to walk through the door, if only for the sake of my client's continuing confidence in me as a non-catatonic lawyer. This has to change!!

Chicken

2008-10-19T19:11:00.000-07:00

You may note my change to the ticker above - 2kg (4.4lbs) down since last time woo hoo! Seven kg (15.4lbs) in total!

As an aside, I have not managed to change the stupid ticker a single time without needing to re-create the entire thing, I keep forgetting my password. We are required to remember so many passwords and numbers these days and I am just terrible with that kind of thing. I know that, before reading and writing became commonplace, human beings once wandered around reciting massive tracts of texts like the Bible and the Odyssey, but I have no idea how they did it. I would have been stuck after 'In the beginning'. The annoying part is that you aren't able to just re-use the same numbers because they all have small-print excluding liability if one of the Hotmail techs happens to steal your ATM pin. The chances are pretty remote, but it would be my luck that it would happen on the only week I actually had something in my account to steal.

I had a rather average weekend health wise. My mother-in-law came over for our usual Sunday lunch and brought a massive feast and I overdid it. I don't know if I'm in a position to complain as the food is so incredibly healthy and most of it is grown in her garden. She uses such a variety of ingredients and it all tastes so amazing. My mother-in-law is also extremely artistic and everything is presented beautifully. Since we had the kids we don't really go out much, but this is a healthy, organic, gourmet meal that is unlike anything I've had at a restaurant, and infinitely preferable. We had chicken soup and chicken salad, both made from a $25 organic chicken. I raised my eyebrows about the price when she first told me about it, but it was so worth it. The chicken tasted like those we used to raise ourselves when I was a kid. It tasted somehow cleaner and more... chickeny. I had almost forgotten that this is what real chicken tastes like.

My mother-in-law is very passionate about organic food and sustainable living, so I have been learning a lot from her. She was vegan for about 6 years because she did not want to support intensive farming, and I am very sympathetic about this point of view. For the record, I believe eating animals is justifiable and part of the circle of life - I am their predator, and I am grateful that they give their life to sustain my own. But I don't believe that I can support a chicken growing in a shed along with another 16 chickens in a square metre, ransacked by disease and damage, where it never gets to run around and dust bathe and do normal chicken things before its life ends through my predation. Not just so I can have drumsticks for $1.99 per kilo.

Foot and Mouth

2008-10-15T17:03:00.000-07:00

I think my twins have foot and mouth disease. I thought that was some bovine thing but apparently it has been going around lately. (I give my 'official' diagnosis with some reservations, considering that I'm going on the opinion of the internet and some anxious bystanding grandparents). The boys are presently at the doctor with their grandparents, while I am stuck (wo)manning an office 100km away from them. I hate leaving them when they are miserable and wanting comfort, but my mother shooed me out the door and said they were fine, just irritable. I have used up all my sick days so there wasn't much of a choice, but I still feel like a contender for the worst mother of the century. Thank God I have my parents to help me out, I don't know what I'd do without them.

I'm feeling somewhat off-colour myself today; given that and the babies' health, I will definitely skip the gym. I walked into work and will walk home, but that's a comfortable pace without any inclines and I barely count it as exercise. I should probably find out how many kilometres it adds up to, but it's so stop-start through the CBD that you can't really work up a sweat. I guess every little bit counts. I saw a new number on the scale today, so it appears to be going in the right direction. To be honest, I feel so icky right now that I don't care a great deal. I'm not on the brink of falling into a medicinal bag of doritos or anything - my appetite is low if anything - but I am too tired to muster the energy to be peppy right now. Still, I hope everyone else is doing well and staying on plan. I'll be more effusive after I've recovered and gotten some sleep. I had a two year old's foot in my ear half the night so I feel exhausted. (What is it with kids and weird sleeping angles?)

Asthma

2008-10-06T21:06:00.000-07:00

Along with the return of exercise has come another old friend - asthma. I had moderate asthma as a child, which lingered in a mild form as an adult. I'd generally use an inhalor a couple of times a year, generally when the weather became cold or I had a bad chest cold, which triggered it. Now I have been having really regular asthma attacks - nothing life threatening, but inconvenient and uncomfortable. There's nothing like coming to bed wheezy to ignite those marital fires let me tell you. Now I just need a couple of bunions and a raging case of eczema and my husband will be all over me.

I wonder if this is some kind of immune system issue. Today I broke out in a horrible itchy rash all over my face. My husband said I looked as though someone had thrown acid on me. Thanks sweetheart. I am such a hypochondriac, I always assume the worst. I worry I have some horrible disease featured on that week's episode of House (diagnosis = Lupus, you know it's always Lupus). I guess having had cancer twice by 29 pre-disposes me to a little anxiety on that score. Oh well, better get my itchy, wheezy self into my gym clothes.

Wedded bliss

2008-10-06T19:07:00.000-07:00

For years and years I used to exercise every single morning. I'd get up like clockwork at 6am, jump out of bed and get moving. In winter I wore a little beanie and some gloves. In summer it was a tank top and shorts. No mountain was too high, no bed was too warm. Since falling out of the habit, it has been so much more difficult to motivate myself. One of the bonuses of this programme has been that the ladies call you up and gently 'remind' you if you miss a session. I remember a Stephen King story where a smoker gives up cigarettes using a heavy-duty motivational service; when he slips up, they cut off his wife's pinky finger. I seriously thought that was what it would take to get me back into my exercise groove. As things turn out, I don't need to hire a mafia hitman afterall; the idea of being harangued by a consultant is enough to make me think twice about making excuses. So far I haven't missed any exercise sessions.

In spite of sticking to my exercise regime I haven't exactly stayed on the wagon this week. My weigh in is tonight and I'm not looking forward to it. We had my cousin's wedding on the weekend. It was the typical Big Fat Greek Wedding with a billion people there (we are fifth cousins, so naturally we were invited). There was a huge buffet with pretty much every Greek food imaginable. Massive slabs of succulent lamb, souvlakia, seafood, dolmades, lots of salads and about a dozen other things. It proved too much temptation, particularly as dinner was served around 9pm and I was already really hungry. My mother and husband on either side of me were encouraging me to unbutton my pants and eat myself into oblivion so I succumbed to the siren's song of the buffet table.

I actually persuaded my husband to join me in some Greek dancing afterwards. He wasn't too confident about the steps, but you pretty much just grab someone's hand, run around with the rest of the circle and occasionally make a little skip and shout 'Opa!' Hopefully I burned some of the dinner off, although I'm not too optimistic.

Jeeves

2008-09-28T18:28:00.000-07:00

Note the change in weight guys - I'm now down 5kg (11lbs) yay!!! All that exercise has actually done something, it wasnt just sheer masochistic pleasure after all. Whaddya know.

My programme has me sweating it out 3 times a week for a circuit, and then walking on my treadmill whenever I can. Last week I was full of adrenaline and excitement about starting a new programme and I went a bit crazy with the exercise. Unfortunately, I have osteo-arthritis in both ankles and it flared up over the weekend. I hobbled around for awhile but then collapsed on the couch to be attended to for the rest of the day by my husband, aka Jeeves.

It drove me crazy to leave the home/child/me maintenance to Jeeves. As many of you with husbands might testify, Jeeves has different standards from myself. He overlooks the little things like my children crumbling boiled egg/strawberries/playdough into the carpet. He will happily step around their toys strewn all over the loungeroom. And 'doing the dishes' amounts to washing everything located immediately within the sink and nothing on the benches around it. (Peripheral vision is not his strong point). Sigh, you just can't get good help these days. Still, one can't be fussy when one is sitting one's ass on a couch, watching Doctor Who and nibbling on a protein bar instead of chasing two year olds around. All said, I think I have a wonderful husband. And I adore his buttle.