19 March 2007

One of those weeks

I just had a lovely breakfast date with two old friends - Ben, and Jerry. Haven't seen them in a while as they are the type of friends who are no good for me, but I love them anyway. Especially when I'm all hormonal and have a headache and a sinus infection. Ben and Jerry always make me feel better.

Speaking of friends, we have a new one living with us. Jerome moved in during the cold snap about 2 weeks ago. I guess he was homeless or his house was frozen over. He currently lives behind our stove and has completely ignored the peanut butter we leave out for him in friendly little boxes with doors on them to keep him in. And even though all the dry goods in the kitchen are now in assorted plastic storage bins where he can't nibble on the packages, he's still around. Dared to even come in the living room while we were watching a movie friday night. Oh well. Guess he missed his chance to go live in the park with the rest of his little friends, because Jim is hitting the hardware store to pick up some old fashioned traps and poor Jerome is just going to get his neck snapped in two. I have no patience for houseguests like him, and while I believe in kindness to animals and I don't wear fur (ha, like I could afford it anyway...) etc., there is just something about a mouse in my kitchen that skeeves me out.

14 March 2007


I'm an emotional eater.

Have been, probably always will be. I didn't fully understand what it meant till my therapy session last week when we talked in depth about it. Reason being, I had kicked the habit in the past, but lately? It's back. Even with my PCOS diagnosis and knowing how sugar and fat effect my body, I still have such a hard time with food. I found out that my emotional eating is just like (or at least very very similar) to an alcoholid. It's an addiction. It's not so much the "gotta have it" mentality that makes it an addiction, it's much deeper. I eat the way some people drink because I'm trying to find satisfaction that I'm not getting elsewhere in my life. No, not sexual. I've got a baby and am on anti-depressants so I have no issues with my lack of sex life. But that feeling of fullfillment is missing, so I turn to comfort food. When I'm sad, I feel like "I deserve this chocolate because of what I'm going through." When I'm angry, it's more of a "Well screw you. I'm going to go get some tasty take-out pad thai without you knowing." Sometimes it's boredom, and I eat because I can't think of anything else to do and somehow I feel that another snack will help satiate me.

Fortunately, I don't keep "bad" food in the house. The worst thing I can binge on is leftovers or peanut butter and jelly (organic natural peanut butter, low sugar jelly, and flourless and sugarless bread from Trade Joe's). But I don't need a PBJ after a breakfast of scrambled egg whites. And then some fruit. And then a yogurt. And then some hot cocoa. It's the continuous munching that I need to learn to control. So much easier said than done, as I haven't figured out what I can do to find satisfaction. I feel short of time - Natalie is far from being a champion napper, so those few moments when she is asleep is spent working, answering emails, switching laundry loads, cleaning up the kitchen, etc., leaving no time for me to sit down with a crafty project and really make a dent in it. And I don't feel like I have the support I need in all this from Jim. But hopefully that will change. He and I have to talk about some things, this being one of them, before my next therapy session, or my therapist is going to bonk me over the head for being such a chicken and procrastinating another 2 weeks.

12 March 2007

13 Months

On Friday you turned 13 months old, my sweet little pumpkin baby. You celebrated by having a complete meltdown in the middle of playgroup, which is something you have Never Done. My friends didn't believe me when I said you could lose it on occasion, because I am so fortunate that when we are out in public and there are other people around, 99% of the time you are a perfect angel. Friday was part of that 1% when you aren't. I couldn't blame you, you were beyond exhaustion. You've been working more and more on your walking, and also seem to be working on a few more teeth. At least thats what I keep telling myself is the reason for your recent bout of crankiness. That and the fact that you are slowly becoming a toddler in front of my eyes.

It makes me sad that you'll never be a baby again. I cherish the 3am wakeup with you screaming bloody murder because those damn molars are hurting you. I cherish that time because it's one of the only times ever you'll sit still and cuddle while we rock in your great grandmothers rocking chair, while I whisper sweet nothings in your wee little ears. And while there is a lot that I'll miss, I do look forward to when you can run around the back yard yourself, and can talk to me, and color, and we can bake banana bread together, and so many other things.

Today you discovered that you could blow a zerbert on my stomach and we were both cracking up. You also "blow" on your eggs in the morning to cool them off. Two weeks ago it was snowing, but now it's getting up in the 60s during the day and I can't wait to hit the park when you get up from your nap. You love watching the other kids and swinging on the swings. You've also discovered what fun it is to ride in the car with the windows open. I love looking back and seeing your big grin and your squinty eyes braced against the blowing rush of air. I love you, Natalie, now and forever.

07 March 2007


Yesterday was our anniversary. 3 years ago we entered into wedded bliss in front of all our family and friends and all. We got lots of presents, and pigged out on lots of delish leftover wedding cake, and looking back, I don't think there's much I would have done differently. Yea, it was a big church wedding with all the trimmings, but we cut corners and I was proud of the fact that in DC, the total cost was about what it would have cost had we gotten married in suburban (and cheaper) Philly where I grew up. I probably would have sprung to get my makeup done professionally, and would have like a fancier reception site, but it wasn't that horrible or anything - and people LOVED our reception because we hit the nail on the head and had plenty of space, the right volume of background music (thank you to the high school girls from our church who performed as a string trio - excellent and CHEAP), good food, etc., so it came to be like an elegant dinner party instead of a wedding reception. We even had a buffet and no seating arrangements, which, suprisingly enough, worked out better than we could have hoped. It meant people mingled, and if they got stuck at a table without many people they knew, it wasn't like they were going to be mad at you for seating them there. In actuallity, there were some interesting combos of people - girls from my bible study sitting with Jim's mom's cousins - that had a lot of fun together. Who could ask for anything more?

Just for my husband to remember this day, the 6th of March.

If it wasn't for my mom leaving a goofy and overly excitied "happy anniversary" message on his cell, he wouldn't have remembered. But he admitted this is what reminded him, and he felt REALLY bad, and I have a feeling he'll be making it up to me big time. Which I feel very smug about. I'm crossing my fingers for a massage gift certificate.

03 March 2007

Ok, people...

We were at a party last night ("party" sounds like wild drinking games and dancing on tables and passing out at 2am - it was actually more like a dinner party with too many people to actually sit at the table to eat) for my good friend's birthday. Lots of fun, Natalie was a champ, showing off for everyone and trying to eat my chicken curry right off my plate. With her hands of course. But what wierded me out was how many people kept asking me "How are you doing?" with very obvious sincerity in their voices. My standard response was "Um, OK. It was a busy week. Busy busy busy! But that's a good thing, ya know?"

Most of my friends don't know I suffer from depression or have happy pills that I take every night before bed. The friends that do know are either out of state or in a different circle than the gang that was at dinner last night. I'm wondering if a worried Jim snuck the word out to his sister and from there it's spread around. I wonder if the fact that I mentioned in passing to another friend a while back about going to therapy, I wonder if she put two and two together. Maybe people were just genuinely concerned and care about me enough to ask, with no background information at all. I don't know, but it's put me on edge.

And it's saturday morning at 9:30am and I can hear Jim muching on tortilla chips. He is seriously weird.