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.