Week 9: This Omnivore's Dilemma

Total Weight Lost:  10 lbs

A month or so ago, a friend of mine recommended I read, “The Omnivore’s Dilemma,” by Michael Pollan.  For her, it acted as the catalyst for a complete diet makeover.  I did not have high hopes that it would do the same for me.  After all, I watched “Supersize Me” a couple of years ago and the only thing I got out of it was an increased hankering for french fries.  But I consider this friend to be quite intelligent and reasonable (we both have a completely rational fear of moths), and I decided to give the book a try.  I’ve had it for weeks, but I just started reading it on Tuesday.  I’m not quite finished, and I already have plenty to think about.  I can no longer eat lunch blissfully ignorant about where my food came from. 

Pollan explains that the omnivore’s dilemma is having the ability to eat lots of different foods, but having the responsibility of knowing which of those foods are actually beneficial.  The dilemma has been around for ages, but it is now more complicated than ever.  We have literally thousands of foods at our fingertips (or at least a short car ride away at the grocery store), and most of us have no clue how they got there.  Which is why Pollan wrote his book: to reveal to us the secret life of the American food.

The book is chock full of interesting tid-bits, many of which I have already forgotten.  A few things, however, have really stayed with me.  The first one is the extent to which pesticides get into our food supply.  I think it is pretty common knowledge that pesticides are used on the majority of American farms, but I had no idea just how bad they are for us and our environment.  And they are in EVERYTHING.  Because they are used to grow corn, and it turns out, corn is in everything.  Which brings me to the next sliver of information that is now rooted in my brain forever:

Almost all of the cattle raised for beef in the United States are raised on corn.  And cows do not naturally eat corn.  I think this is another thing that we all, no matter how removed we are from farming, know.  We picture cows out in green pastures of grass eating, well, green pastures of grass.  Not being stuffed full of corn and several other much more disgusting things that I will not mention here in case any of you are enjoying a nice juicy hamburger while reading this.  The point is, it’s not good for cows to eat corn, and it is not good for us to eat cows who have been eating corn.

Now that I have this information I have to decide what to do with it.  I could probably do the convenient thing, which is nothing, and rest assured that in a matter of weeks my mind, which becomes more feeble every day, will forget.  I could also do the responsible (albeit expensive) thing: refuse to buy produce that is not organically grown, only buy beef which is pasture raised, and only buy meat which is humanely raised.  Well, as humanely as possible before it is slaughtered for my dinner (this blog begs the question of vegetarianism, but I will save that for another entry).

In all likelihood, I will be somewhere in the middle.  I think I will buy organic whenever I can, and look into the meat options in southern Maryland.  I have not seen any pasture raised beef for sale here, but then again, I haven’t been looking.  The biggest thing I can do to vote ‘no’ on pesticides is to join our local CSA.  We have a certified organic farm right here in Lexington Park which allows its CSA members to ‘shop’ at a private farmer’s market every Friday afternoon.  To find your own local options, check out http://www.localharvest.org.

Allie with the ultimate bribe: a tootsie pop

In other news, Allison got her first ever hair cut this week!  It was not by choice (I’ve been waiting so her Grandma could do it), but by necessity.  We left New York late Monday night, and didn’t get home until 2 am on Tuesday.  We all slept in and spent the majority of the day relaxing and recuperating.  It wasn’t until Wednesday morning, when I finally got around to combing Allie’s hair, that I noticed the Swedish Fish egg matted in her curls.  Mother of the year, right?  Anyway, I found a salon that could get us in.  I told Allie that I would get my haircut too, so she could see what it would be like.  She actually got to see exactly what it would be like because they gave Allison and me identical haircuts.  The cut looks cute on Allie, but I look like a thirty year old woman with the hair style of a three year old.  Inventor of the ponytail--I salute you.

Our mother-daughter hair cuts

Week 8: Beware the bunny

Total Weight Lost:  11 lbs
Total Waist Lost:  2.5 inches

Our Easter cookies

Last night was a little rough.  Nicole actually slept really well--from 7 pm to 8 am, getting up only once to eat at 4:30.   But my kids have worked out some kind of elaborate system that ensures Chris and I never sleep more than a few hours at a time, and I guess Allison was on duty last night.  She got up around midnight because it was “too dark” in her room.  Around 2, we heard a loud thump, a louder cry, and then the pitter patter of little feet on the way to the end of our bed.  “I fell out of bed,” Allie whined.  Both times, Chris was kind enough to walk Allie back to her room, but apparently he was either too tired to hear my request that he have her use the potty, or he believed Allison when she said she didn’t need to go.  Unfortunately, she is a bit notorious for lying about whether or not she needs to use the bathroom, and we all got up a third time to change her sheets at 4 am.  My point: I did not have a lot of sleep, so you will have to excuse any typos and nonsensical rambling.

But I am not so tired as to think today is Saturday, my usual blogging day.  We are leaving for New York City early tomorrow morning, and I’m certain I will not get up early enough to blog before we depart.  Quite honestly, I think it’s best that I weigh in today anyway, because I fear the numbers will not look as good when I return from NYC.

I’m sure there are people out there who begin their Easter mornings with a sensible breakfast followed by a quiet church service where they politely decline the doughnuts at the doughnut social before returning home to their sensible lunch.  I, however, like to begin my Easter morning with a giant hunk of bunny shaped dark chocolate, followed by a slab of my mom’s famous blueberry buckle.  I then like to politely accept all of the candy that Allie offers me from her Easter egg hunt before returning to the table for a feast of honey baked ham, cheesy potatoes and buttery biscuits.  Oh, and there are usually a couple of Reese’s peanut butter eggs in there somewhere as well.

Most years I at least make sure that the Easter bunny only brings candy that I can resist: Jelly Beans, Starbursts, suckers.  Unfortunately, the Easter bunny went shopping hungry this year, and now we have three large bags of fun size Twix bars, Swedish Fish eggs, and Nestly Crunch eggs hidden in the closet.  It is no small miracle that the bags remain unopened.  But it is just a matter of time before the candy will be out, and it will begin calling to me in its little persuasive voice: “eat me!  eat me!  i’m yummy.  i’m funsized.  i’m so tiny it will hardly...”  Sadly, I never hear the rest, because it is hard to talk when you are being eaten.

This year, I have further fueled the fires of my own demise by baking Easter cookies and a birthday cake for Chris with Allie.  I use the words, “baking with Allie,” loosely because it turns out I am too much of a neat-nik to allow a three year old to do a great deal of helping.  In reality, Allie got to cut out three egg cookies (which we promptly tested) before she was put to bed, leaving me to bake as neatly as I pleased.  Her assistance with the apple cake was not much more involved; she was allowed to dump chopped apples from the measuring cup into a bowl and stir the dry ingredients for 10 seconds, or until flour started to fly out of the bowl, whichever came first.  Anyhoo, the smell of baked apples, cinnamon and nutmeg are at this moment wafting in from the kitchen.  I’m relived that it takes two hands to type; if I were proficient with one, I’d be using the other hand to transport warm apple cake directly from the pan to my mouth.

Chris' cake (it tastes much better than it looks)

This weekend will be me against the four Cs (cookies, cake, candy, & chocolate).  I figure that if I’m going to get out of this without undoing all of my hard work, I better have a game plan.  I’ve decided to be relatively careful about what I eat on Saturday and Tuesday, our travel days.  On Sunday, I will eat whatever I want (but not three or four helpings of whatever I want).  Monday is Chris’ 30th birthday, and I plan to celebrate accordingly.  If this means having birthday cake twice in one week, so be it.  After all, I’d like to think he’d do the same for me.

Week 7: Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Moderation

Celebrating Grammy's Birthday

Total Weight Lost: 10 lbs

I spent the first half of this week celebrating the normal results of Nicole’s blood work and my mom’s last few days in Maryland by drinking lots of coke and eating french fries.  The second half of my week was spent trying to undo all the celebrating I did during the first half.  Nicole, for her part, spent the entire week nursing every two hours and gobbling down jars of pureed bananas, squash, and sweet potatoes in a valiant attempt to gain enough weight that the doctors would never again need to send her to the hospital for tests.

I’m just seven weeks into my healthy living journey, and I’m already having a hard time remembering why I started.  Sure, it feels great to see the excess pounds come off, and I know I’ve done a monumental thing for my body by over-hauling my diet, but the truth is, I miss all the junk.  I miss picking up a 20 oz coke and a pack of those waxy chocolate Hostess donuts as a reward for doing the grocery shopping.  I miss eating Lucky Charms for breakfast every morning.  I miss going out to eat and ordering whatever I feel like having, calories be darned.  And sometimes I look in the mirror and think, “It’s not so bad.  So what if I never lose all of my pregnancy weight?”  I believe that is why elastic pants were created.  And black.  Nothing says ‘slimming’ like a black sweat-suit, right?  It would only take a second to delete this whole blog.  If anybody asked about it I could just smile sweetly and say, “Me?  Trying to lose 30 pounds?  Why I’m sure I have no idea what you mean, and could you please just hold these chicken nuggets for a moment.  It’s hard getting the cap off my coke one-handed...”

But I’ve been down that road before, and I don’t like where it leads.  So I think I need to strike a balance: find a happy median between complete deprivation and utter indulgence.  I thought the Skinny Cow chocolate fudge ice cream might be just such a median until I started calculating the costs of that particular habit.  Two a day (no, not both for me--I got Chris hooked on the strawberry cheesecake ones) adds up to roughly $60 a month, and that’s not including tax.  I can’t quite fathom that much of our grocery budget being spent on ice cream.  Coke, maybe.  But not ice cream.

And speaking of coke, what is it about that stuff that is so irresistible to me?  I know the caffeine may play a part, but lots of things have caffeine.  I’ve never been able to substitute with iced tea, coffee, or even diet coke.  I watched a documentary on Coca-Cola a year or two ago, and it explained a little about the marketing campaign.  They basically associated coke with fun, implying that it is nearly impossible to have one without the other.  This campaign has been wildly successful with me, because nothing goes better with fun than an ice cold (but without ice) coca cola.  A road trip is not a road trip without coke.  It’s my beverage of choice at parties and barbecues.  Sitting outside (in a bug-free environment) in the sun with a coke is the epitome of relaxation.  Well, except for sitting inside on a rainy day with a coke.  No, I just don’t see myself giving it up.  Luckily, I have it on good authority that one (and sometimes even two) cokes can be enjoyed on a daily basis without adverse affects on the figure.  Apparently, you just have to be very careful about what you eat the rest of the day.

For now, I will try to focus on the things I’m doing right.  My whole family is eating out less, eating more fruits and vegetables, and almost exclusively eating 100% whole grain carbohydrates.  I will accept that I am not, nor will I ever be, perfect.  Likely, I will always want to eat chicken strips and home-made french fries on Friday nights.  And I will want a coke to go with them.  And I will want a giant piece of chocolate cake for dessert afterward.  And then I will want another giant piece for 2nd dessert, but I’ll try to resist this--most weeks.  Here’s to moderation!

Week 6: The Weighting Game

The World War II Memorial in Washington, DC

Total Weight Lost:  9 lbs

My weight didn’t go down, but it didn’t go up either; I think that’s the best I could have hoped for this week.  My mom flew in on Tuesday, and I’ve been having too much fun shopping and tromping around DC with her to concern myself with such menial tasks as counting how many of my dad’s famous chocolate chip cookies I’ve eaten.  But I can’t say I haven’t spent any time thinking about weight this week; I just haven’t been thinking about my own.

Nicole at 6 months (12 lbs 13 oz, 25.25")

Nicole had her 6 month well baby visit on Wednesday, and she’s lost 3 ounces since last month.  I know that sounds like an insignificant amount, but Nicole only gained 4 ounces the previous month.  Our doctor was concerned enough to order labwork and a urinalysis.  For an adult, those orders are not a big deal.  You pee into a cup, get a small needle stick, and you are done in all of 5 minutes.  For my baby, it was the most traumatic thing that has ever happened to her  (excluding labor and delivery of course).

I cannot begin to describe how horrific it was to have to assist the nurses in holding Nicole down while she got a catheter.  She wailed the entire time, stopping only once to look up at me with huge, tearful brown eyes as if to ask, “how could you let them do this to me, mommy?!?”  When it was over and Nicole and I had both stopped crying, they sent us downstairs for the labwork.

I don’t think our hospital does many blood draws for babies Nicole’s age.  They called a nurse in from another department that had a reputation for never missing a vein.  She was very nice and didn’t miss, but Nicole’s veins were so little, and the blood just wouldn’t come out.  She screamed with rage and indignation while they tried drawing the blood out with a syringe, but after two needle sticks on one arm and one on the other, the nurses finally called it and broke the bad news that we would have to go through the entire thing again the next day.

The following day was better, if only because Nicole had a two hour nap before we went and was well rested.  The lab must have called for back up when they saw us coming because there were about three times more nurses buzzing around.  The lab supervisor poked Nicole twice and moved the needles around under her skin, but again there was not enough blood for the test.  Finally, the nurses let me hold Nicole while they stuck her finger and collected the blood as it dripped out.  She cried at the initial poke, but then she just snuggled against me for the rest of the time, happy as a clam.  I asked, with barely concealed irritation, why they hadn’t tried the finger prick to begin with.  Apparently, most babies don’t bleed enough that way, but I think they could have switched methods before sticking her with a needle five times.  We should get the lab results today.  Best case scenario, everything comes back normal and we conclude that Nicole is just a petite little girl.  Send healthy thoughts our way!

Mom watched the girls so we could go on our first date in 5 months!

Week 5: The good, the bad, and some things I've lied about

Total Weight Lost: 9 lbs

Okay, they aren’t so much lies as they are omissions.  Just a few things I’ve, ahem, forgotten to mention.  Like that despite my official farewell to Coke five weeks ago, I have managed to ingest  about 60 ounces of the stuff.  And a few diet root beers, quite a lot of no-sugar-added hot cocoa and more animal cookies than I’d like to admit.  The truth is out:  high fructose corn syrup, aspartame, and enriched white flour are still sneaking into my diet somehow.  On the bright side, I am consuming much smaller quantities than I used to.  Which brings me to “the good.”

So far, I have managed to stay within my WeightWatchers Points every week.  Those of you who’ve tried WeightWatchers know that is no small feat.  Though I have to admit, it’s easier when you have the extra motivation of all of your friends and family knowing you are trying to lose weight.  Just the thought of you silently judging me (you’re all too sweet to say anything out loud) for remaining slightly chubby and highly caffeinated in August is enough to make me at least get a bowl instead of scooping Ben and Jerry’s directly from the container. 

In other happy news, my exercise program is going swimmingly.  Not only have I been walking 30 minutes a day five days a week, but I actually enjoy it.  No, that is not a typo, but you may want to ask me again in a couple of weeks when I start running instead of walking.

And now for the bad news.  As I said, I’ve been walking on the weekdays, and I usually do it during Nicole’s morning nap.  It works out great, except that her morning nap used to be the time I allotted for cleaning.  I told myself I could always use the girls’ much coveted quiet time for making my home immaculate, but it turns out that by the time one o’clock rolls around I’m more inclined to sit on the couch and read than get out the vacuum. 

But a dirty house is not my only problem.  You may recall my lengthy explanation in Week 1 about why it is impossible for me to hop in my car and grab a coke from the store at a moment’s notice.  While it is still difficult to get the kids ready to go, we do make it out a couple of times a week for various playdates and child-friendly activities.  These outings are not problematic in that it would still be a lot of work for a single dose of caffeine--I’d have to get the girls out of their carseats, into the store, through the checkout line, and back in the car again.  Or would I?  It turns out, many establishments have coke machines outside and mere steps from parking spaces.  One could, theoretically of course, park in said spot, vend a drink, and be back in the car before the kids could ask, “Why are we here?”  Luckily for me, I think I possess the will power to not take advantage of this opportunity (twice), but I can see how it could become an unfortunate compulsion for somebody with less upstanding eating and drinking habits than my own. ;)

Since I spent a good amount of time describing Allie’s fitness routine last week, I think it’s only fair I do the same for Nicole.  Let me start by saying that if you believe everything the doctors and baby books tell you, our nearly-six-month-old should have spent a good portion of the last few months playing delightedly on her tummy.  This so called ‘tummy-time’ results in the development of key muscle groups which enable baby to roll over, sit unassisted, and eventually move on to more exciting things like crawling.  And I know there are people out there who have successfully implemented tummy time.  I know because I have listened to them prattle on about little so-and-so just loving his/her tummy time so much that they started rolling over by 2 months, crawling by 4 months and doing cartwheels or some other such nonsense by 6.  Outwardly, I nod politely and commend them on their parenting prowess, but inwardly, I wonder if they are lying to me.  Because the truth is, Nicole has never played delightedly on her tummy.  In fact, she hasn’t even laid resignedly on her tummy.  The only thing Nicole has done on her tummy is wail ferociously and spit up occasionally until somebody (usually me) takes pity on her and picks her up.  There was a hazy incident about a month and a half ago where she rolled from her tummy to her back twice in a row, but as there has been no action remotely close to rolling since then, I’m apt to think I imagined the whole thing.

So Nicole’s fitness regime has no rolling or crawling, but what she lacks in prone conditioning is more than made up for in her upright work.  Namely, her walker.  She got it for Christmas from Santa, and her feet didn’t even touch the ground.  Now, three months older and a couple of inches taller, Nicole careens around the house Flinstone style, her little feet moving double time as she squeals with joy at her own mobility.  She wanders from the kitchen to the computer room.  She parks in front of the dishwasher and stares at her reflection for ages (though this may be because she hasn’t yet mastered the art of turning around).  She chases Allie, giggling all the while.  Occasionally, she runs over our feet.  My guess is that Nicole will walk before she crawls, but only time will tell.

But I digress.  My apologies to any readers that are not remotely interested in my children--perhaps I will start a separate blog in which I can detail their lives to my heart’s content.  For now I will leave you with just seven words:  Skinny Cow Chocolate Fudge Brownie Ice Cream.  [I can’t pretend it’s a wholesome good-for-you-food, but it’s delicious and only 150 calories.  Certain sacrifices must be made.]