Endogenous Morphine....I Dig It

I've been a scale yo-yo most of my adult life. I've never been able to wear "skinny jeans" or super short skirts that require you to shave to your belly button. I was always very active and fit because I was a jockette all through school and continued playing in softball leagues and bowling and biking and running. I have always enjoyed working out. And anyone can tell you that muscle weighs more than fat, so when I was 140 pounds on the scale at 5'3 and a 1/2" (because that 1/2" means something to ME) and wearing a size 9/10, I was extremely thin. I have curves. I like them.

Enter married life and having 5 children in 6 years, with each child weighing within 4 ounces of my bowling ball that I'm now far too busy to use. About 6 years after my youngest son was born, I was watching The Biggest Loser with my husband, that guy whose waist is only 2 inches bigger than the day I met him. Anyway, we were talking about weight and getting back into shape and I asked him if I were to lose all this weight I've packed on over the years and managed to keep it off for a year, would he be willing to pay for plastic surgery to get rid of any excess skin and maybe put the girls back up where they belong since I'm wanting to stop tucking them in my pants. He said he would. I challenged him. I bet him that I could lose my 40 lbs quicker than he could put on 20 lbs. He took that bet.................and lost. I lost 44 lbs in 3 mos and kept it off for over two years. And then it started to creep back on.

Then I lost 10 and then I'd gain 20 and back and forth and back and forth until my heaviest (that I am aware of) was 231 lbs. OMG.  So, when I came back to Egypt with the kids, we lived so far in the boonies that I had to walk at least 1.5 miles just to buy milk and 2 to catch a bus. I started walking the 3.5 miles home from dropping the kids off at school and the weight started to come off. Then we moved to a 5th floor apartment where the elevator had not yet been installed (which is fine by me because I'm so claustrophobic and they're smaller than one of those public toilet stalls) and I managed to get down into a 12! It was soooo fantastic.

Then my husband came back from working overseas and I stopped walking as much because he didn't want me running all over Hell's half-acre all the time. And then we moved into a 2nd floor apartment that was much closer to all the amenities and schools. I appreciated the cut in time that moving provided me. The only down side was that it cut into my forced exercise program. So over the last year, I've ballooned up again. I don't know how much I weigh exactly, but my size 16s are getting a little tight. I ripped the thigh out of my pants stepping up to get on a bus. (Thank God I wear a long dress over my regular clothes so know one knew.)

I am trying to get back into shape. After the whole heart work up last year because I thought I was having angina attacks and it turned out to be stress and gas (not surprising at all) I have decided to make better food choices and start to exercise again.  Last year, I tried to go vegetarian and ended up gaining 10 lbs. And I really like meat. So that lasted only 45 days.

But now I'm trying to cut most of the non-produce carbohydrates from my diet entirely. I've stopped putting sugar in my coffee and tea. I will sometimes add a tiny bit of cinnamon for flavor. I'm trying to up my water intake and I've been taking Mohamed to his exams all week (approximately 5 kilometers away) and walking all the way back at a very fast pace (to 8-count 80's music, in fact.) I'm sweating like a whore in church by the time I get to the vegetable market and I usually complete it in 25 minutes! Of course, today was his last day of exams and I have no idea how I'm going to do this now....perhaps I'll change course and walk down to the beach and up to the vegetable market and back. That ought to be at least as long a course, if not longer. Whatever.

The main reason I started to blather on here was to say that I don't feel depressed today. I've been sad and angry and miserable most of this week. Fighting my angst-y teenagers is usually the straw that breaks my camel's back and after I scream at them and separate them I end up in the fetal position on my bed crying my eyes out. BUT today, after my shin splints stopped hurting me, I felt my face smiling without meaning to and I noticed  how nice the breeze was and how beautiful a view it was (provided I didn't look down at the garbage on the street.) And I felt better overall. Endorphins are nature's Prozac. I LIKE this feeling. I think I'm gonna keep it up.

I KNOW That It's Wrong, But...

I love my kids. I would do anything for them...and have. No reason to go through all of the sacrifices that I, like millions of other moms across the planet, have made for them. I'm not any better or worse than the rest of them.  Or am I?
Yes, I spend an exorbitant amount of time on the computer. I know this. And I try to rationalize that it's because my husband is working overseas and I try to catch up on email and Facebook and my writing this blog or on my novel while keeping Skype open in case he is trying to call.....(Yes, I had to minimize my browser just now to open Skype. Point of fact, I try to keep my blog posts as close to truth as I possibly can.) But the truth is this:

I have no adult friends to talk to in this country. None that I honestly like to spend time with anymore. So all of my friends are at my disposal via Facebook or email. They are MOSTLY people that I actually know in real life and probably 100-150 of them are related to me by blood. I have friends from childhood, high school in Germany, high school in Maryland, former workmates, former partymates, former cellmates acquaintances from all over the world.  There are also about 30  additional friends that I know only from association through military BRAT pages. However, most of the 440+ people on my friends list are people that I actually know. So, yeah....I'm on the computer for about 10-15 minute increments MANY times over the course of any average day.

And these little obnoxious creatures that I gave birth to are criticizing me for "cutting in line," "taking too long," or "stealing my turn" in the 30-minute turn rotation list that is SUPPOSED to keep me from murdering my own offspring.  So tonight during dinner, they were watching the lamest film that Brendan Fraser ever did on television ("Furry Vengeance") and I felt my IQ points dropping. So I finished and sat at the PC to start catching up on some overdue reading. My son, who hadn't even finished eating yet, marched over to me and demanded that I get off the computer because he had been "waiting all day" for his turn to come around again and I always sat here for HOURS and HOURS at a time.  I reminded him that I just shelled out another 15 Pounds yesterday to replace the fan in the power supply unit without asking anyone to contribute and that I was entitled as QUEEN of the household to sit at the computer without interruption. He continued as to how it is so unfair of me to bump him out of line just so I could "look at FACEBOOK."

I know it's wrong....but sometimes I just wanna tell him to STFU.  But then he'd use the expression freely with his siblings and I would be the one who taught it to him. So I don't tell him. Let him learn his use of the f-bombs in the street like other teenagers. 

What Gets Rid of That 'Dead Animal' Smell?

Something not everyone knows about me is that I do not believe in giving children weekly allowances. Perhaps it has something to do with my upbringing.  My dad didn't believe in paying us to do household chores either. It doesn't make sense to get paid to clean up your own mess. Don't get me wrong. I totally disagreed with his opinion while I was growing up...until I turned 14 and wanted my own money and got a JOB that paid far more than my friends $5 a week allowance.  I bagged groceries every Saturday at the commissary (military grocery store) for tips and usually cleared anywhere from $20-50 a week. So, my dad instilled a good work ethic in me from a young age. And my mom made sure we kept the house tidy with her and even insisted that we do our own laundry. (You know, once we were in high school and began to complain at 10pm Sunday night that we "needed" our jeans for school Monday...though they weren't in the hamper all weekend and instead wadded on the floor in our room.)

Anyway, since I buy my kids snack foods and clothes and toys and shoes and pretty much anything that they need, I don't find it necessary to pay them an allowance. They go to school for less than 4 hours a day, so they don't take a lunch. I give them breakfast in the morning, buy them a pkg of cookies each on the way to school and they eat as soon as they get home.  With classrooms holding more than 70 students, I do not want them eating after touching the desks, walls, etc.  I'm grossing myself out over the germ factor as I type this.

So when my kids want money, I make them earn it by giving them jobs that aren't on their regular list of chores to do. (And when I say regular, I mean outside the scope of stuff that I tell them what to do daily but don't run around inspecting with a check-list.)  I had three of them last week whining about wanting money and "a job" to earn it.  I HATE scrubbing the top of the stove so I told Ismail to wash up all the dishes and the counters and the stove top for 3 E.P.  The bathroom needed cleaning, so I told Samiya to clean the bathroom thoroughly, including the tiles for 3 E.P. (Honestly, she did such an awesome job that I gave her 5!)  Then it was Aiman's turn. He begged me for a job. I really didn't have much else for him. So I told him to clean out the fridge with vinegar and water.  He was pissed. I don't know why. It was fairly empty except for the usual mayo, mustard and the usual jars in the door and one crisper drawer that has dried dates and coconut in it for whenever I have a baking itch to scratch. Every other shelf was pretty much empty. All he had to do was wipe down the shelves and voila! Three pounds would be his.

No. He wanted to do the bathroom or the dishes....that his siblings were already doing. Whatever. He went to bed sad and with no money. Honestly, I'd already swept the house out and mopped earlier that day and Randa had dusted for me when she was pretending to paint all the furniture with a dry paint brush. (I LOVE that game.)

Ismail stayed up until midnight cleaning out the fridge, too. He gladly took Aiman's 3 E.P. and I could go shopping and put away new produce and cheese without feeling like a terrible mom for not washing out the fridge first.

So, tell me WHAT on Earth could put that 'dead animal smell' back in my fridge a week later?? Ismail searched and found it. Rotten cheese from the day after the last fridge cleaning 7 days ago.  Guess I forgot it was in there. I wonder if Aiman will want to earn 5 E.P. today. 

Pick Up Games in the Living Room

So I finally sat down inspired to complete the next chapter of my novel, when Aiman came up to me and showed me a round black lid to an empty vitamin bottle. You know, one of those 500 horse-tablet containers.  He had a shit-eating grin and the tile scrubber with the stick thrown over his shoulder. "Can I play with this lid?" he asked.

"Sure," I answered absently and went back to my chapter. I heard the noise levels rising from the living room.
I shut it down with a "QUIET" shouted over my shoulder.

Five minutes and a lot of laughing later, Samiya walked up and asked me, "Mom, do they get in trouble for hitting with the hockey sticks while playing?"  I told her that I suppose it depends on where they're hitting and how.  "I'm sure hooking someone in the face with a stick and the puck is at the other end of the ice would probably end up with at least a penalty box or a good pounding for the offender. Now hand me that dictionary on the table because I can't remember if 'imminent' has two i's in it." I got my dictionary and then the light bulb came on.

"ARE YOU GUYS PLAYING HOCKEY IN THE LIVING ROOM?"

"Yes, ma'am," was sung back by 4 of the 5 kids in a chorus.

I shook my head, realizing that if I broke up the game now, the whining about whose turn it is to use the computer would start and I wasn't done with my chapter still.

"NO BODY CHECKS ABOVE THE KNEES BECAUSE YOU MAY MISS AND BREAK THE T.V."

Who says I'm not up for MOTY award?

Why You Don't Take Kids to Frederick's

Call it "Flashback Week" if you want, but I've been remembering all sorts of crazy things that have happened to me. Today I was thinking of embarrassing moments in motherhood and flashed back to someone else's embarrassing moment in motherhood. I was still just a "cool aunt" figure.
My best friend, we'll call her Anne, was divorced and had custody of her 4 year old daughter, we'll call her Marie. (Yes, you know who you are because I'm using your middle names in an effort to keep you "innocent.") Anyway, Anne had been seeing a guy for several months and decided to buy him silk boxer shorts for Christmas. They didn't fit.
So, like any good girlfriend, she volunteered to exchange them for him because he was too busy (read: too embarrassed) to do it himself. We piled into her big ole blue beast of a car and drove to the mall where we found (ta-da!) Frederick*s of Hollywood. The return/exchange line was a mile long. And Marie was bored. I took her to get some french fries and we looked at some toys at a toy store and she rode one of those mechanical horse rides. We went back and saw that Anne was next in line, so we busied ourselves walking around the store.
Like most four year olds, Marie was very impressed by all the colors and textures of the racks and racks of clothes. "Woooo, this one's shiny" and "Yuck, this one makes my hands itch" and "I like this pink one with the mirror things on it" were a few of the comments she made. Then it happened. The murmuring, chatting and music all seemed to go
strangely quiet all at once. And Marie's voice could be heard
shouting, "HEY! MY MOM'S GOT ONE OF THESE!" I looked up and over at the cashier where I could see Anne's shoulders tense up and her buttcheeks clench. Since I didn't want her thinking I'd shown her child something totally inappropriate I yelled to her, "RELAX! IT'S A ROBE!"
The whole place cracked up.


(Originally posted on Square Peg in a Round Hole, Oct, 2009.)

Mom with Scissors Gets REVENGE!

Does this guy look like he needs a haircut in the worst way? I don't think so, either. But he apparently is going to spontaneously combust if I don't get up right now and pull out my clippers and cut his hair immediately.  I've been blowing off this chore for the last 5 days or more because I have either been too a) sick b) tired c) uninterested or d) busy with anything OTHER than shaving little bits of really poky, itchy, hard to get out of my clothes coarse hair that jumps into my shirt and leaves me scratching for hours because HE  has to get a shower first and use up all the hot  water because HE is the home haircut victim and not I.

I'm SOOOOO giving him a damn mohawk, it's almost scary.

Salivating on the Monitor

I made a mistake. I went back to Pinterest to look for a quick and easy recipe to make for tomorrow for lunch. Holy BEACH TOWELS, Batman! I'm drooling and now I need to change my shirt. I've run across recipes for spinach, onion, feta and hazelnuts salad, eggplant and chicken parmigiana, roasted tofu and pear salad, and baked egg cups (that I'd have to make with garlic cured beef instead of ham because we don't do pork.) I'm starving now....Hello, Pavlov? I'm your dog. Wanna quit with the damn bells already?

Now ordinarily this would not be a big deal...but my son was looking to make some extra cash before I sat down to the computer so I told him to clean the kitchen for 5 E.P. (Egyptian Pounds.) So, he has the counter rolled out into the hall blocking the doorway to the kitchen and there's really not much in the fridge anyway that would remotely come near the ingredients I need for ANY of those awesome recipes. (Except for the apple pies baked into the apples but let's not go insane here! It is after 11pm.)

I'm just going to eat the leftover rice and yellow lentils from dinner and maybe any salad the kids didn't snarf down. But I'm SO going to the open air market tomorrow and we are going to be back in the gourmet game, BAY-BEE! I'm back.  I'm hungry.  And it's on.