Now that The Mister is back at work, Mikey often complains that he misses their early morning breakfasts.  So do I (mainly because it meant I wasn’t making them), and one night after dinner I casually mentioned to The Mister how making breakfast, the easiest meal of the day to prepare, gently sucks from my soul the will to live.  There is something about matching cereal with fruit so early in the morning that I find as complicated as balancing chemical equations.  The Mister just looked at me and smiled, those inscrutable eyes of his giving nothing away.

The next morning, I stumbled into the kitchen and found this.

I think he left the cereal box out to mock me.

A breakfast of cereal and fresh cut strawberries for the boys prepared by The Mister before leaving for work.  I called him immediately, of course, thanking him for helping me in such a simple but thoughtful way.

“Oh, you’re welcome, but it was for Mikey.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean, for you too, of course.  Ahem.  But Mikey told me he missed me making him breakfasts so I told him last night I was going to figure out a way where we could still have breakfast together.”

I see.  Most likely Mikey missed eating breakfast before noon, but that’s neither here nor there.

Not to be outdone, one day Mikey woke up even earlier than usual, and after laying with me for a while in bed said, “Mama, you don’t have to worry about breakfast today.  I’ve got it under control.”

I stumbled into the kitchen and found this.

It didn’t escape my notice that Mikey’s version of breakfast also includes an old bag of candy, scissors, a crazy straw, and a plastic golf club wrapped in duct tape, which makes cereal and fruit a tame combination by comparison.

I love Nicholas, and he will always be my little guy, but holy crap is that kid acting like a total turd. Of course, I blame myself. I’m Catholic and a mom, a lethal powerhouse of guilt, so I feel confident I can shoulder this albatross. I am not confident I can shoulder Nicholas. In fact, I’m one whiny outburst away from putting him out with the recycling on Friday.

It started two weeks ago, when Nico tackled head on his first bout of the stomach flu. I’ve said it before and I will say it again: nothing good comes out of puking.

Second children are, by birth order, the wilder and woollier ones. Nicholas is no different. He has far more scrapes, scars and bruises than Mikey has yet to achieve in five years of first-born cautious living. Naturally, Nico took to vomiting with equal passion. No, he couldn’t puke a few times, maybe 3, and call it nap time. Nicholas had to unhinge his pyloric valve in the middle of the night and unleash a fury heretofore seen only in exorcisms, frat parties, and cholera pandemics.

Eighteen times. That’s how many times he threw up on me in the course of 8 hours. It was The Perfect Storm in my very own living room, only instead of spume and seaweed, Mother Nature tried to drown me under 35 foot waves of apple-flavored pedialyte and saltine crackers.

Midway through Puke Watch 2009.

After the storm, there was nothing left. Not even a scrap of clothing. Nico was left sleeping in a chair wearing nothing but a diaper, a bib, and two old towels. I was in the corner rocking, muttering softly “not again! make it stop!” The next few days after that were just as rough for him, what with the appearance of explosive diarrhea (how I wish it was strong enough to launch me into another continent!), so I cut him some slack and fed him whatever seemed to interest him, which wasn’t much.

One week later, Nicholas awoke with a clean diaper and a dirty disposition. It’s been a battle ground ever since.

He cries when he’s hungry. He cries when he’s done eating. He cries to get in the high chair, and cries to get out. He cries when Mikey is touching the Star Wars figures. He cries when he can’t figure out how to make cars travel vertically up a wall. He cries just to hear himself cry. Except there is no real crying. Oh, sure, he sprung a few tears that one time Mikey knocked him seven ways to Sunday during The Star Wars Battle of June 24 , but everything else? A total faker. Eyes and mouth wide, lungs loud and uvula vibrating like a punching bag, yes. Tears, no.

The smile of a kid who knows he’s going to work you in ten seconds.

I ignore him when he is acting up, for the most part, as do The Mister and Mikey. This sort of behavior is unacceptable. The headstrong attitude, the manipulating, the refusal to accept any position other than his own…it’s like me as a child, only different. In my case I was totally innocent, and any bratty behavior on my part was clearly my mother’s fault.

Something occurred to me after I watched that Joan Jett video for the 37th time. My 20th high school reunion is next year, and I, along with one of my best friends from high school, am in charge of putting it together.

So for the last week I have been trolling facebook like a recently separated guy on Match.com. I can’t find my yearbook, so I’ve been searching the dark recesses of my mind trying to remember my graduating class. When I hit upon a name, off to facebook, classmates.com, or google I go. One part stalker and two parts loser, I send unsolicited emails hoping beyond hope this is the same Chris W. I sat behind in Trigonometry, the same Karen who’s red hair I always admired, and the same Potter who was always very nice but I rudely ignored. {Sorry about that, by the way, Potter.}

So the topic today is high school reunions. Who has attended them? What did you do? Any tips for yours truly to make this reunion fantastic? I heard many classes have reunion weekends. Was that the case for you?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I found that one guy from World History on Twitter and I need to scare the crap out of him with a random direct message from the past.

I’m a big Joan Jett fan.  Actually, I’m a big fan of 70s rock music in general.  To quote The Mister, “For someone who’s never smoked pot, you sure do like loadie music.”  But, that’s neither here nor there.  Today I was enjoying this video (several times) on You Tube while researching high school reunions (I’m planning my 20th in 2010). I haven’t heard this song in probably 20 years. I enjoyed it so much, I tried to think of a way to make a post out of it. I came up empty.  Fate had other plans.

Fun, right? I was back in the 80s before the first “oh yeah.” (As an aside–who knew Joan Jett had such a figure? Wowza.) Anyway, after that quick walk down memory lane I started on dinner. Then I called The Mister and told him to pick up diapers. It was all very glamorous, and I felt just like Joan Jett in that bikini while I did it.

Two hours later, The Mister came home. Said hello, and dropped the diapers on the kitchen floor. Chatted up the boys. Laughed when I told him I was planning my 20th reunion. Then he told me he was going to go change out of his work clothes.

Down the hall he went, and out of nowhere started humming “Do You Wanna Touch Me” by Joan Jett. The same song I watched on You Tube two hours previously. When I asked him why he was singing that song, a song I heard 2 hours prior for the first time in decades, he just shrugged his shoulders and said he had no idea.

For my next trick, I will make 50 pounds disappear from each thigh.

Yesterday was Day 60 of my new way of eating. A milestone, for sure. I haven’t cheated once, but I have come close, and my diet almost crumbled mid way through when I reintroduced grains.

People, it was a huge mistake to do it willy-nilly like I did.

Starting with day 31, I added 1 cup of grains to each of my three meals. I didn’t question the grain, other than to keep it whole and unprocessed. This was a huge mistake for me. For 9 days I suffered through unexplained mood swings, hunger, and frustration. That’s my version. Here is The Mister’s version: “You were an insane, raging harpy and I wanted to divorce you or kill you 8357592 times. An hour.” Jorjana said I seemed pissy, and that all of a sudden it just all seemed so hard for me.

That is exactly how I felt. All of a sudden, it was just disgustingly hard. I started skipping meals again, losing focus, and just feeling sorry for myself. On day 10 I took out the grains and went back to my old meal plan. I felt better within a few days, but the fact that I wasn’t eating grains bothered me. They are necessary. Period. I decided I needed to consult with a registered dietitian, someone who could help me introduce grains in a way that wouldn’t jeopardize my weight loss–or my marriage.

After a long search, I finally found Diane Keddy. I won’t devolve into an unhinged serial killer and list the countless reasons I love her, but suffice to say she is excellent and I highly recommend her services. Given my history of PCOS (and her extensive knowledge of the condition), she believes mindlessly adding grains to my diet was akin to making a diabetic swim in sugar water. After 30 days without sugar or grains, my body was like a bull in a china shop after reintroduction: clumsy, inept, and destructive. She advised me to eat grains low on the glycemic index. I did so last week, and have not really seen the issues I did a few weeks ago. The Mister is silent on the issue. He is currently huddled in the corner waiting for the bomb to go off, but so far so good.

What does all this have to do with the series that shamed me?  Reading kept me from breaking my meal plan, as tenuous as it was at some points.  Jorjana suggested that I create a list with 10 items I love to do that don’t involve food.  When I felt my hold on abstinence slipping, I could refer to my list instead of the refridgerator.  I know it sounds ridiculously simple, but this tip saved me. The first activity I wrote on my list was reading.

So, I read.  And I read, and read, and read.  I read the entire 4 book series, The Host, and two more fluffy books from my sister in law.  After a while, the strangest thing happened.  I noticed that in the evening, when I suffer most from false hunger, I started craving books.  I no longer wish to unwind from a long day with popcorn and T.V.  I mean, I don’t even think about eating, and I don’t suffer a twinge of hunger.  This is huge!  This goes beyond willpower or determination–it’s a completely changed behavior.

I think the key was keeping the reading materials light and tasty, like paper Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, if you will.  I’m not sure this experiment would have worked as well if I snuggled into the couch to read David Foster Wallace.  Over time, I think I can broaden my reading horizon into thinking woman’s territory once again, but for now I’m sticking to tasty morsels.

Here are a few of the other items on my list.  Think about what you would put on your list, and if you are up to it, share it in the comments or on your blog.  I’m always open to more ways to avoid breaking my meal plan. :)

1. Reading
2. Writing
3. Redecorate the house, or plan out a new project for the house
4. Walking the dogs
5. Listening to music
6. Email or call a friend

Sorry, but I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to post.  On Saturday I reached a milestone: 30 pounds gone!

That is a lot of weight, especially on someone as impossibly petite as I am.  Seriously, I am a shrimp.  I’m 5′4″ but for some reason it seems like I am much smaller.  Maybe I hang out with a lot of tall people.  Regardless, I couldn’t really tell the difference, despite the 30 pounds.  My clothes seemed a little bit looser, but not by much.  Then, I went jeans shopping.  Whatta ya know–2 sizes smaller!

I was going to write a huge long post about what worked and what didn’t, but then I realized that maybe, um, no one cares!  Everyone always asks for pictures, so I decided that since I already posted a haggard picture of myself earlier this week, there shouldn’t be too much harm in posting a disgusting before picture.

So, without further ado, here I am with the family on Easter Sunday.

And here I am on Thursday, June 4, 2009. Mikey took the second picture.

If I had to credit one thing over the last 57 days it would have to be Jorjana, an attorney who happens to read my blog and emailed me regarding my weight. She has been an immeasurable help everyday, several times a day. She is an incredibly inspiring and motivating individual who successfully lost a great deal of weight 6 years ago. I’m trying to convince her to start a Life and Wellness Coaching business. Seriously, she is that good.

I still want to write a post about a few things I have learned along the way. Is there anything you would like me to write about? Feel free to let me know in a comment or send me an email. I’ll try to answer the questions to the best of my ability. Just keep in mind I am a rookie and still struggle to figure out what the hell I am doing most days. Oh, and I still have a crap load of weight left to lose.

In other words: I’m no expert and any subequent posts on achieving weight loss are as much for me as they are for anyone else. :)

I’m so tired I am stupid enough to post a horrible picture of me.  Mikey and I are both exhausted in this picture.  We both have dark circles and puffy eyes.  Not long after this picture he burst into tears, but not before thoroughly enjoying his birthday party on Sunday.

There is a season in my life that starts every year in the Spring.  After Easter, I truly begin to sweat and tremble at what lies before me.

It begins with Mother’s Day.

Approximately 5 days after that is my sister in law’s birthday.

Five days after that is my dad’s birthday.

Five days after that is Mikey’s birthday.

Five days after that is my brother’s birthday.

Five, sometimes 10, days after that is Father’s Day.

Five, sometimes 10, days after that is July 4th.

Three days after that is my niece’s birthday.

Eleven days after that is my mom’s birthday.

In between all that are graduations, end of school year parties, and more birthdays outside the immediate family.

We are half way through the insanity, thank goodness.  At least the 5 day celebrations are almost drawing to a close, which helps.

So, humor me.  What is your busy season?