Speaking of excess baggage, anyone want a roomate??

First off I'm going to pat myself on the back here, yay me for running almost everyday this last week! I took two days off however, one to put a whole bunch of new music on my fancy schmancy MP3 player and the other to just sit and eat cookies, oh I mean carrot sticks.....yeah, yummy yummy carrot sticks.

Today I think something has finally sunk in however, that yes I may deserve the pat on the back for getting off my couch every evening after baby goes to bed, but I also need a pat on my ass to remind me that its still there and will continue to grow if I don't stop with the absent minded eating. I am not going to say that I'm going to start to count calories today, fooled ya didn't I! I will instead start on Monday, after I go camping and eat all the yummy things that go along with it, including beer!!!! I will be more aware of what I'm putting in my mouth between now and then though, and will probably enjoy every single tantalizing chew....

So the other day, I went into my fridge to pull out on of my....er....carrot sticks, and there sitting in the fridge in a black garbage bag is a half eaten turkey. You may be thinking wow, they're so healthy and on the edge, eating turkey when it not even a holiday. You would be correct in assuming that I am on the edge, on the edge of going frickin crazy!!!!!!!

Let me begin back in December when Tom the turkey first showed up on the scene. My brother, The Roommate, won a 20+ pound turkey at his Christmas party. Let me just say here that he had the choice in what size of turkey he wanted, and yes my friends he chose the biggest one, because I guess in hie eyes bigger is always better. So Tom came to live in the little freezer that is built into our fridge. Don't ever get one of the fridges with the freezer on the bottom, they are tiny both upstairs and downstairs!

So, Tom snuggled down in his new digs for his long winters nap. When I say long I mean long. You would think that this turkey would have made its way onto a table somewhere, being that is was Christmas and all. But oh know, not when The Roommate is concerned. He decided that he was going to take it to our dads place on the island, two ferries away, when he went to visit. Thinking that he would be going in the next few weeks, whatever, we could work around the turkey.

So Christmas was what, 6 months ago, and Tom was only just taken of ice, two weeks ago!! 6 months!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! So The Roommate, who is sans vehicle at this point in his life, puts Tom in his duffel bag, yes his duffel bag, and proceeded to the island. First of all, who eats a turkey not on a holiday, isn't there some un-written rule that says you can't, and if there isn't, when did Vancouver Island run out of Turkeys?!?!

Finally, Tom flew the coop!! My husband and I literally peered into the freezer together, head to head, like a frozen dinner commercial, and smiled at our new found space! Gone, gone, gone was Tom, and The Roommate as well for 4 whole days!!! Now, when I say gone for 4 whole days I was referring to The Roommate, however, as I opened the fridge the night of The Roommates return home, I realized that I was also, apparently, referring to Tom. There he was, albeit in a slightly altered state than I had last seen him, poor skinless Tom, partially devoured and placed in a black garbage bag, like a forgotten mob hit.

So I got what I wanted, Tom out of my freezer, how the heck was I supposed to know that the Damn turkey would come back and move up in the world, into my fridge! Whats really sad in that Tom has travelled further than I have in the last 6 months!!! So a few days after Tom came home to roost, he started to do what most dead things in black garbage bags do, smell. He wasn't rotten, it was just that cooked meat smell that your fridge takes on,, letting you know that its time to deal with it. So I mention to The Roommate that its time to do something with it. What does he do, eat it, make some soup......oh know!!! He sticks in back in freezer, black plastic bag and tin foil tray and all !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WTF, is all I have to say.

I called him on it, there was no flippin way that Tom was going to be around to see another Christmas, not in my house! I kindly pointed out that IF he ever got around to eating him again he would have to eat the whole thing, so why not just pick the meat off and separate it into individual ziploc bags. Simple solution right? Wrong. The Roommate flipped out and slammed Tom back into the fridge and stomped out. Soooooo, Tom was once again in my fridge.

Two days later, on a rainy and blustery day, I had really had it, and as The Roommate stood making a sandwich, PB and J, not turkey, I told him that I wanted Tom out of my fridge! Well, the PB knife was slammed on the counter, and once again he stormed out. He came back in wearing a hat and grabbed Tom and went outside. As it was garbage day I figured he went and tossed Tom in the can outside. However, 10 minutes later I realized poor Tom was being treated to a more dismal farewell. The Roommate, instead of freezing the meat in nice one-person sized ziplock bags, which any non-lazy non-food wasting person would do, instead took Tom into the back woods, dug a hole, and threw Tom the turkey in there! I think it took more work to get his rain gear on, find a shovel, carry Tom out into the woods, dig a hole, and fill the hole back in, than it would have to have picked the meat off, but that's just me.

So I learned two things, one: boys suck, or maybe its just roommates. Yup, I think its just roommates. Secondly, things wrapped in black garbage bags always mean trouble.

Rainy Day Thoughts....

I'm feeling in one of those moods where you just want to curl up in one corner of the couch with a huge cup of coffee and a good friend in the other corner of said couch and talk for endless hours about absolutely nothing. It could be the rainy day or possibly it was the text that I received last night from one of my favorite people....It wasn't anything sappy or fluffy it was merely a quick note to let me know that I was considered a good friend and thank you for being there.

It made me think about all of the things, good and bad, that have created the vast amount of memories that make up our relationship. We all have friends, but there are some who mean more than others. You know, the ones who make those lasting imprints in our lives. The friends who can tell from your Face Book status that they need to give you a call, or the ones who send you flowers for no reason other than the fact that they thought of you on a sunny day. Friends who know you, the real you. I am lucky enough to say that I have a few friends like these.

As I sit here being all nostalgic and reminiscent I can't help but think about whether or not I'm truly being all that I can be.....No, not in the army sense but the friend sense. In between late night sleep interruptions, care of my sweet sweet baby boy, the everyday adventures of my new babyfied life and of course trying to be the caring and supportive wife that I am (lol), do I really have that much left of myself to give to yet another person....I must being doing something right, after all I received a text confirmation from a real person, and I didn't even have to pay them! But is it enough, could I be doing more, should I be doing more.............

I think, in a round about way, this is mother guilt. Because I am now a mother, and have, as mentioned, a babyfied life, the time that used to be spent on creating and maintaining friendships, now is mostly spent on mothering. So, for a change, I am not feeling guilty about not mothering enough but instead am feeling guilty for not friending enough! (Wow, how do you like my creative vocabulary.) Where does the guilt end? And when did I become so emotional that I can turn a perfectly wonderful sentiment, such as a text, into a huge guilt ridden rant......Oh right, since creating life and taking a trip down the hormonal road called motherhood!

There is a saying, "It takes years to grow and old friend." And it was years ago, before my babyfied life, and even my married life in many cases, that many of my most dear friendships were created. And it is these "old friends" who I, and I'm sure you, my faithful reader(s?),have come to rely on. The ones who accept the changes in our friendships, who understand the reasons for such things as a missed coffee date or the delay in returning a phone call. So I suppose that there is no reason to feel guilty for not being able to spend as much time as I used to on my friendships, as long as I remember to make what time I do have count, and to remember that one day our lives won't be quite so busy.

Self Sabbotage.....At least Im good at something.

I know what my body needs: healthy foods eaten in moderation, exercise, brain stimulation, laughter, and a good solid night sleep. However, what I need and what I do are two totally different things.

As I sit here, not cleaning but instead blogging, I feel angry at myself, disappointed and fat. I have recently gotten back into running,I have only been doing so for about a week but last night I talked myself out of going. Why didn't I run yesterday, it would be done and I would feel good about myself. I know that once I get out there its not so bad and it will be over before I know it, so why is it that I am constantly looking for reasons, better known as excuses, for not going. Oh I know, I get up at least twice during the night, then up at 7:oo am for the day, dealing with a teething baby who manages to make a huge mess even though he doesn't move, all the while running a household, and finally getting the chance to go out and run once the baby is down for the night (8:00pm). Yeah I think I'd rather eat ice cream on the couch, oh wait that's what I did!


So I should have gone for a run last night but didn't. I rationalized not going by deciding I would go for one with the baby and the dog in the morning before the first nap. When I woke up this morning I actually smiled because it was raining, I now had a legitimate reason for not going!! However, by the time breakfast was out of the way and cleaned up the rain had stopped and as I stood in front of the window in my to large t-shirt, with boogers on it that aren't mine (really they're not) and my fuzzy Christmas inspired PJ pants, smelling the coffee that as always was taking forever, I once again found reasons for not strapping in the baby and lacing up my shoes!

Not only is my own mum coming for a impromptu visit my mother-in-law is also dropping by. So I of course have cleaning to do, beds to make, and children to make presentable. As if this was not reason enough to talk my self out of the run I then doubly justified it by deciding the baby was better off just going to bed now, to be up and ready for company, then going later if at all, because what if he fell asleep on the run and woke up when we got home and I wasn't able to put him back down......Damn I'm good! Anyone need any excuses......

Mmmmm I feel like I'm 12 again, and trying to be like all of my friends and keep a diary. I was so awful at it that I always had to back date it and make stuff up because I could never remember what actually happened. However, I could justify to myself why my ultra busy 12 year old schedule kept me from writing on a daily, weekly, or even monthly basis. Even at 12 I was good at making excuses, no wonder I am so incredibly fabulous at it now!

I will go running tonight, I promise.......

A Long Time Gone

So it turns out that having a baby and trying to do something scheduled is a joke, well at least until they are old enough to nap. Ahhhhhh sweet sweet nap time where have you been all my child's life...........Well I guess I can't be to mad as your here now, thank frickin god!!!!


So on that note, of not being able to be mad, to you my most faithful readers I do ask that you not hold my absence against me as I was just doing what I do, being a mum. and how could you resist a face like this...


Lets get caught up. Hi I'm Laena an overweight, semi-new mum who's whole world has been taken over by someone else's schedule. It's like my mind and my body have been taken over by this foreign being, who feels the need to change everything I've ever been, including skinny! My sleep pattern has been changed, I now have very little to none. My eating habits have also changed, I now follow the "cold infusion diet," which includes such things as cold coffee, which I now drink allot of, cold toast or cereal, which is also cold. Lunch follows along the lines of the previous nights dinner, which most people call leftovers, eaten cold and usually while feeding the foreign being himself or doing various other motherly tasks. Side note- do not fold laundry while trying to consume lunch, or breakfast and dinner for that matter, the result will be more laundry which means more time doing more chores. Who needs lunch anyways, we are after all trying to lose weight. Dinner on the "Cold Infusion Diet" is usually fairly healthy, the husband, who usually has such "long and hard" days comes home expecting something for dinner. Mmmmm speaking of foreign beings taking over my body and committing me to things I don't want to do.......So I make something "fabulous" and then sit down to feed my little one, which is never as quick as you think its going to be, and then turn to eat my own meal. Which of course has gotten cold and which of course I'll have to share because nothing is no longer just mine. So there it is, the "Cold Infusion Diet," at least when the baby pulls on my coffee cup and spills it over the two of us, catastrophes are avoided, because of course it's cold!


Now, onto The Jeans. I have not given up on them, they are still here in plain sight, haunting me, however, they have moved back into my room, life went on even is the blog didn't. I will not fit them by the original due date, that is obvious. I am still however, working on it, yeah me!


Later I will get you caught up on all of my latest resolutions as well as my latest indulgences, and oh yes there have been many......









So, to sum it all up, I'M BACK.......

Well it's day 3 into the battle towards The Jeans. I realize that I didn't write yesterday, and I apologize to my faithful followers (not so much to my creepers as they can't even be bothered to let themselves be known, but I still know your out there). No I didn't fall into a starvation coma, or perhaps lapse into a sugar coma due to falling off the wagon; I simply was just being a mum and therefore was doing mum things and lost track of time, I gotta sleep sometime! I think I should probably set some blogging rules for myself, so here they are:1) Always blog on a Monday as that is weigh in day, 2) No less than 3 blogs a week (no guarantee on what days. except Monday, as that was rule number 1), and 3) Never ignore a smile and the need for a cuddle to blog, as I'm sure my public will understand.

Now that we have that straight, on to more pressing matters...FOOD! So I seem to have a minor problem in that I'm addicted to food. Drug users can go cold turkey to abstain from using their drug of choice, but how is it that I'm supposed to go cold turkey from eating.....MMmmmmm turkey, I can't even write a sentence without that cold clammy feeling taking over my body, little beads of sweat gather on my brow as my eyes dart from the pantry room cupboards to the deep freeze, do you hear that....I think there's a toaster oven ticking near by. HELP ME!!!!!! Instead of methadone, I'm given celery and carrot sticks with low fat dip, all the while watching my husband eat rainbow chips ahoy cookies dunked in strawberry quick. I should mention that strawberry quick is not something that usually temps me, but after (only) 3 days of dieting I'm ready to reach over the kitchen table, b%@&* slap my so-called support person, then take his milk and chug it back like I was at a kegger! Just like drugs, look what food and lack-there-of has reduced me to, soon I'll be licking the table after we eat just hoping to find some gravy, or even worse, showing up at a playground near you looking for a freebie or two, the words "just one more snack pack, that's all I need, and then I'll be done," falling from my mouth. So how is that I deal with this dilemma of being an addict but still having to see, smell, and taste my "drug" of choice......ask me in 7 months, and only if I fit into The Jeans.

After throwing my bag of Fruit Loops into the garbage on Monday, I then later went back and opened the bag up and poured just the Fruit Loops into the garbage. Ohhhhh faithful readers, your probably thinking what a good girl I was by remembering to recycle the plastic bag, however, I actually needed those sweet loops of goodness to mingle with the mornings coffee grounds and yesterdays leftovers so that they were no longer able to tempt me with their fruity goodness. And yes, I may have ate a few before contaminating them, what a waste......It then became obvious to me that I was in need of some healthy groceries to aid in my healthy living quest. WELLLLLLLLLLLL............how is it that I'm expected to eat healthy and still make my mortgage payments???

Apparently, I am expected to give up my first born child in order to be able to pay for all this healthy food. You would think that with the increase in portions in Canada's food guide there would be an outcry from the masses as to the prices that one must pay for a bunch of radishes and head of lettuce. Yet, all I hear about in the news is "oh no, HST tax on take-out food!!" What about the tomatoes, who is going to fight for the tomatoes??!! Not the masses, they're obviously eating take-out food, it would just be me, and only because if I sat at the kitchen table opening up my styrofoam container, there they would be, The Jeans, their size 12 stitching looming at me from across the table, probably wishing they were a medium sized shirt with arms so that they could b&*$@ slap me. I think perhaps my withdrawal from sugar is not only making me a little bitter but also gives me the tendency to jump from subject to subject, are you still with me?

Needless to say, I bought the damn radishes and the head of lettuce, all the while digging my fingernails into the palm of my hand as the final total was brought to my attention. I said thank you, and asked the cashier how she felt about tomatoes.........

-There is no love sincerer than the love of food

George Bernard Shaw

This morning was it, the day of all days, the day of the diet....duhn duhn duhnnnnnn!! I went to bed thinking positive nutritious thoughts, and visions of apples and quinoa danced in my head. My morning started much the same way as every other day, up early, once again due to a son who feels the need to grow and therefore eat. It was rainy and gray, and very very windy; a great day to curl up with a cup of cocoa and have something filling and warm for breakfast, mmmmm like pancakes. However, I remembered I had officially started my diet and I then realised that I probably won't have time to make pancakes for like 2 years, I instead turned to my faithful cereal cupboard.


My cereal cupboard and I have become somewhat acquainted over the last few months. Never having been much of a breakfast person I rarely ate the stuff, but then something happened. I seemed to be spending endless hours awake, at strange times of the morning and night, and I was always starving; enter cereal. I love this stuff, so many kinds in so many different shapes and colours; if I was feeling a little sad my three friends Snap, Crackle and Pop would liven me up, if I was angry I'd pour a little Capt'n'Crunch in my bowl because how could you not laugh at a grown man in a captains hat. Alphabets always made me feel smart and Special K always made feel healthy. However, as I opened up my personal cupboard of feelings (wow, the relation between food and feelings is clearly apparent right at this moment) and I grabbed out my Fruit Loops, I began to realize just how gray and dreary my day was really going to be. No more Fruit Loops!! How could I, not only live without the ability to eat quickly, but live with out the sugar fix that on most days has kept me functional.

After staring longingly at Tucan Sams candy coloured box for what seemed like an eternity, I managed to come to terms with the fact that the numbers behind the word CALORIES was not a misprint. As I stood there looking at the obscenely large caloric number and at the ridiculously small portion amount I realised, that 10 minutes after officially starting my diet, I was already justifying to myself why I deserved to devour Tucan Sam's loopy goodness. After all, there is fruit in there, it says so on the box, so how bad could it really be. Yet, as it had only been officially 10 minutes since I started my diet I still managed to find a small amount of self-control, and was able to put the box down and step away from the cupboard. I can only imagine what might have happened had there been golden grahams in there instead of Fruit Loops, a diet catastrophe, that's what! So, as I sat down to my soft boiled egg, fibre enriched whole wheat bread and coffee with skim milk and stared out at the gloomy morning, all I could think about was climbing back into my still warm bed with my box of Fruit Loops and full fat milk in hand. I had then officially been dieting for 23 minutes. How was your morning?


23 minutes, they seemed like an eternity, and only 250000 minutes left, give or take a few, no problem. Well faithful followers, and of course my dear blog creepers (I know you guys are out there) this is where my sarcasm is beginning to show through, because by no problem I really mean, HELP ME ALL I WANT TO DO IS EAT!!!!!! Through out the day I of course came across many similar incidents, and it was when I was looking through the pantry for a healthy snack all the while holding onto a bag of cookies, merely for comfort, that I then realised that The Pants needed to play a much more significant role. I could not simply leave The Pants on top of my dresser, and assume that in 7 months I could pull them out and we would essentially become one, we were in fact going to have to get to know one another again and go through this laborious process of dieting together. In essence The Pants needed to become my conscience, my guide, as one Mr. Jimminy cricket would say, a constant reminder of our overall goal. So, The Pants have now joined me in the kitchen, the room of no morals as I like to call it, and here they will stay.


Well here are the basic facts, I need to lose 40 pounds, maybe a little less to fit The Jeans which are a size 12. Perhaps I'll eventually reveal my starting weight and thus where I plan for it to be in July, but for now it's between me and my scale.....

-The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.

Jean Giraudoux

Well it is officially the eve of my diet and I can already taste the nothingness. In anticipation of the joyess day, I have done, what I hope every woman who is about to go on a diet does, eat anything and everything that is not included in Canada's extensive food guide. Well maybe some of the items are, does the food guide have a white category, or perhaps a chemically altered sugar category, ahhhh who are we kidding chemically altered sugar would belong in the white category, duh!

So yesterday, a friend who read my blog, asked me what was so special about The Jeans, and told me that I should elaborate on them. Well they are in reality just jeans, denim coloured material, that yes has a little bit of stretch for extra comfort, but still nonetheless pants that we all put on one leg at a time. Well, that are usually put on one leg at a time except in extreme circumstances that may result in a minor breakdown (see Friday's entry). However, supposed friend who is not a follower of my blog but instead just a blog creeper, to me, they are the goal. Once I am able to put The Jeans on without the use of heavy duty machinery or by rubbing diaper cream all over my lower extremities, I plan to take down all the photos that WILL have accumulated of my son over the months, and put up photos of, you guessed it, moi. So there it is folks, the climax! If I promise to somehow make it exciting, seeing me in a pair of jeans, will that keep people continuing to read my blog, even if they're not official followers. I am open to suggestions of what would make the photo interesting, but please keep in mind that I have managed to have a limited police record and now that I'm a mother I would like it to stay that way. On a quick side note I will re-post photos of my son shortly after my July 1st deadline, because that's what mum's do and also, because it's my blog.

So, my faithful follower, and yes to you blog creeper(s?), we will pick this up tomorrow as it`s Sunday and I`m off to do what every wife and mother does on a Sunday, show our faithful devotion to the washing machine, stove and toilet. Maybe I`ll make tomorrow my Sunday for paying homage to the household deities, I can see a little man who only has smiles for me and I plan to get some cuddle time in.

-Its not that some people have willpower and some don`t. It`s that some people are ready to change and others are not.

James Gordon

And so begins my first post. Why, you may be asking, are you wasting your precious few moments reading something that isn't going to tell you how to get your baby on a much needed sleep schedule, or how to get your dog to stop peeing on your in laws decorative table covers when you go over for one of your long overdue visits, or even how to get your partner to own up to the fact that they have been using your callous scraper while they're locked in the bathroom for what seems like hours. Yet, we all go through experiences that can be in some way connected and its nice to hear once and a while that your not crazy. I can tell you that your not alone and what may seem like horrendous, traumatic and trying times are...exactly that, and we all go through them.

And so I shall begin my tale of yesterday morning. I decided after a night of getting up constantly to feed my son, who has the audacity to be going through a growth spurt, that in my sleep deprived state I would try to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. Do you have any idea where I may be going with this story?? Well, I took these jeans out of my drawer where they lay at the bottom of the pile underneath my pre-pregnancy fat pants, you know the ones usually worn around a girl's favorite time of the month. These pants were under my pre-pregnancy comfy pants, ones usually worn on rainy movie nights made of worn flannel that have some room for the popcorn and diet pop to expand. These pants were in turn under the jogging pants. Now, jogging pants, for me anyway, are the last resort pants, the ones that you never go out of the house in and are only ever worn in extreme circumstances. And then of course there were a few pairs of the inevitable maternity pants. So, if you have been paying attention, my pre-pregnancy jeans were at the bottom of a pile that illustrates my bodies changes throughout my pregnancy. However, the fact that 3 months later I'm still wearing my maternity pants should then illustrate that my body has yet to figure out that we're no longer pregnant!



So I then turned off the lights, as there was no need to face the problem head on, shut the blinds, turned away from the mirror, and, unlike the rest of the world, I decided to not take any chances and put my pants on both legs at once. I'm not to sure why I did it this way, perhaps I felt that a little momentum may help in this situation, or maybe it was the simple fact that I knew once I saw how bad the situation was with one leg that I wouldn't dare try the second one, let alone try to pull them up. Well lets just say that no amount of momentum short of a speeding freight train was going to get those jeans p and over my baby luvin thighs. So there I was, in the dark, sitting in a heap amongst my used-to-be fat pants that are now just pants, the ones that still fit anyway, used-to-be skinny pants around my thighs, crying. Now were not talking just a few tears but rather full out uncontrollable heaving with legs and arms flailing, basically, I was having a 28 year old temper tantrum. I suppose I could blame it on the lack of sleep or hormones but I would like to reserve the right to use those excuses at a later date preferably for something I have said to my husband and feel the need to take back for whatever reason.

By the time I had pulled myself together and managed to peel myself, or rather my thighs out of my once favorite pair of jeans, I had come up with a plan. This plan is how I have ended up here, writing this blog. I want to lose weight but to do so I need to feel like I have to answer to someone, namely who ever may mistakenly stumble across my blog. I plan to fit back into my jeans by July 1, 2010 and keep you all posted along the way. I have to say that as I got dressed, there was a little extra bounce in my step, I put a little extra effort into making myself up. I was feeling great about my new plan, then I turned on the light, looked in the mirror and realised that even though the baby was late in getting up, my milk was right on time.

So there it is, Monday January 18Th I will begin to lose some of this excess baggage....