Busy Saturday

Today’s to-do list:

1. Grocery shopping, even though I did it yesterday (because I need to…)
2. Go to Mom’s (and…)
3. Begin making Fried Ice Cream Balls for Big Sis’ Girl Scout Thinking Day (which I didn’t buy the ingredients for yesterday because I thought it was NEXT Sunday, not THIS Sunday. Oops!)
4. Do homework for online course; due at 6pm (haven’t started yet)
5. Wash blanket and sleeping bag that Little Sis peed on last night
6. Wash blanket and sleeping bag that Little Sis peed on last week
7. Send Evite for event next Saturday (oops again.)
8. Make snacks for Oscar party tomorrow night
9. The usual feeding of the troops
10. Finish everything in time for a family movie night (Mr. Hoagie wants to watch The Addams Family on TiVo. His pick , NOT mine.)

For those of you playing along at home, here’s the recipe I’ll be using today, courtesy of Big Sis’ troop leader.

Fried Ice Cream Balls

To make this fake fried ice cream recipe, use an ice cream scoop to quickly form as many firm ice cream balls as you need. Use your favorite flavor of homemade ice cream. After the balls are formed, you might need to place them in an airtight freezer container and set them in the freezer for a while to harden. You need them to be rock hard!

Just before serving, take the frozen balls and roll them in a bowl of crushed corn flakes, pressing them firmly into the corn flakes until they are completely coated with the cereal. Frosted flakes work well too, and they are especially good.

Some cooks prefer adding a tablespoon or two of corn syrup or liquid honey to the cereal first, claiming it makes the flakes stick to the ice cream better and helps to simulate the deep fried taste.

As with traditional fried ice cream recipes, add the customary garnish of whipped cream, a sprinkle of cinnamon sugar, and a red maraschino cherry on top. Serve immediately.

Weighing in: Back in the Saddle Again

Well, I spent about 45 minutes doing Wii Fit this morning, which inspired Little Sis to do some herself.

Little Sis doing a Sun Salutation

Hey…it’s a start.

And that’s what I think they key is to a lot of healthy habits. The ability to start all over again. And again, and again.

I guess that’s what they call perseverence.

I used to work with a personal trainer. He was great. I learned a lot from him and lost about 60 pounds working with him (I’ve since put them all back on). But when I’d fall off the wagon, I’d hear about it. Which of course, is a big part of what I was paying him for: to keep me accountable.

But after he’d chewed me out, I’d start to climb out of the self-pity hole. “Hey,” I told him, “at least I’m getting good at starting over.”

He’d growl right back at me, saying that I never should’ve stopped to begin with.

But I think in this journey, one of the keys to success is being able to get back on that proverbial horse when you get knocked (or jump) off.

I have weigh in at my Weight Watchers meeting tonight. I go a bit out of my way to go to this particular meeting, because the leader is so amazing. She’s a great cheerleader, and when I have a bad week, she never makes me feel guilty. Just saddle back up and try again.

This week will be a bad week. A lot of emotional eating and general throwing caution to the wind. I did get on the elliptical a couple times, but not nearly enough to compensate for all the bad food choices I made this week.

I’ve noticed that I tend to do fine with food and exercise when Mom’s in the hospital (I tend to do a lot of stairs…especially when Mom was on the 13th floor!). It’s after she gets home that I blow it. When the stress level finally drops, that’s when I fall apart with my food choices, my exercise regimen, and I sometimes even get sick or acne breakouts.

At least I’ve noticed the pattern, right?

Here’s to breaking it.

Again.

What’s that beeping?!?

Well, Thanksgiving went better than expected. Maybe because I lowered my standards. Cooking went smoothly. I gave up on brining the turkey and just roasted it according to guidelines in The Food Network Magazine. Mashed me up some potatoes and put them in the crock-pot to free up oven space. Used my MIL’s recipe for a streusel-topped sweet potato souffle, and made up some Stove Top stuffing. My sister did the green bean casserole, and my MIL provided pumpkin bread and pumpkin pie. There was also a dutch apple pie from Eat N Park for my mom, who is on a renal diet and can’t have pumpkin. We also mashed up some cauliflower for her as a potato replacement. Cleanup was quick (thanks especially to my sister!) and relatively painless. Saved the turkey carcass to make Alton Brown’s chicken (or in this case, turkey) stock.

For entertainment, we had the Wii, plus Madagascar from Netflix. Then Friday afternoon we took the crew to see Madagascar 2. We came in late, so 8 of us (including 2 seniors) are stumbling through the dark to find seats during the opening credits. Not 5 minutes later, my in-laws’ cell phone rings. My MIL can’t figure out what to do with it, so she passes it to my FIL. He answers on the fifth ring. I’m cringing already. He answers in a normal speaking voice, not even attempting to whisper. “What?” he asks. The movie soundtrack hits a silent spot just as he hollers into the phone, “I THINK YOU HAVE A WRONG NUMBER!” The ENTIRE THEATER shushed him. I sunk into my seat.

Overall, everyone got along well, and the running joke became “What’s that beeping?” Add 3 senior citizens to the chaos of kids, cooking and cleaning and they get a little confused. They can’t seem to tell the beeping of the clothes dryer from the beeping of the coffee pot from the beeping of a text message from the beeping of a timer from the beeping of an incoming email. I don’t know why.

Now the last houseguests have left, and we’re spending the morning cleaning and decorating. It’s nice to have the day to ourselves. I’m thankful for that.

Responsibility

I’ve been thinking about responsibility a lot lately.

Mostly because I have more than I can handle at the moment.

My mom’s in the poor health she’s in because she didn’t take very good care of herself. Maybe because back in the day, SHE had too much responsibility. A failing marriage, two (fabulous) daughters, ailing parents, ailing siblings…and she was always the classic martyr.

It didn’t serve her well.

I was at Dunkin Donuts the other day with my family, grabbing a quick breakfast before we hit the Pumpkin Patch Trolley. I was planning to be good…ordered an iced coffee and an egg-white flatbread. And then my husband came back to the table with six donuts…for four of us.

I ate my 3 donut halves.

And as I did so, that word popped into my head.

Responsibility.

Don’t I have a responsibility to take care of myself? So that my daughters won’t have to? Eating those donuts, I concluded, was…IRRESPONSIBLE.

Later that night, after my husband had put the girls to bed, he mentioned that he had heard a report on the radio that cited a study that said most parents of overweight kids don’t even realize they are overweight.

I thought about our kids.

Little Sis has always been pudgy…such a cute baby. And now that she’s four, she’s grown out of it some. But not completely. She’s my grazer…she’d rather munch all day than sit at the table to eat. And she often makes good, healthy choices: an apple, or yogurt.

But not always. Sometimes it’s a lollipop from the pharmacy (gee, am I there often enough?).

Big Sis has always been long and lean. But lately, seeing her in her dance leotard…there’s a little pudge. Not much, but still. She’s always been a junk food junkie.

And it occured to me that it’s MY responsibility as their mother to ensure that they make good food choices.

When my depression was bad, I didn’t care who ate what at my house. As long as they didn’t bug ME about it. As a result, I bought a lot of (too many) convenience foods. Chips, crackers, granola bars….

I used to be a big foodie. When I first lost a lot of weight before Big Sis was born, I became a bit of a food snob. Once I’d educated myself on how to make healthier choices, I didn’t understand how I could ever go back. I knew our kids would be healthy eaters.

And then Big Sis came along. Ever since she learned to talk, she’s been rejecting most of what I serve her. But I persisted. “I’m such a good cook!” I thought. “She’ll grow up to be a good eater if it kills me!” I vowed.

Ha.

Fast forward seven years. The kid and her food critique had worn me down. I had gone from making nutritious four-course meals with gourmet ingredients to nutritious kid-friendly meals to just macaroni and cheese and then finally, a bowl of (nutritious) cereal. Poured by her dad.

I do actually think it may have contributed to my depression. When one of the most important people in your life tells you 3-5 times a day that you SUCK at one of your major responsibilities, it stings.

I took Little Sis to the doctor yesterday for a suspected urinary tract infection (UTI). The doc pointed out that she’s “on the chubby side” and showed me on his chart that she’s…well, off the chart.

Another slug to the gut. That’d be my responsibility.

And the UTI? After literally an hour, a threat of catherterization, much crying (both of us) and screaming in pain (Little Sis), and three separate attempts at peeing in a cup, the doc tells me she’s got “four-year-old wiping syndrome.” Basically, she’s not drying herself off well enough, the area’s irritated and it burns when she pees.

Whose fault would that be? Oh, right. MINE.

So it seems someone’s been trying to tell me that I’ve been slacking on my responsibilies.

And even worse, history is repeating itself. My mom was overweight, I’m overweight (though I’ve been battling it for years), and now, so are my kids. Both of them. So even though we’re just typical Americans, I still feel like a failure.

A failure at fulfilling my responsibilities.