I think I am going to try a new lifestyle change. I'm going to be accountable to whoever cares to read this, I'll imagine it to be in the millions just for REAL accountability sake, and write about my food struggles. I hope no one else noticed that today at Oliver Garden I consumed FIVE - 5 - Breadsticks. On WW that's 20 points of bread. I have a problem with bread. I always act, when I'm eating something I deem particularly yummy, like I'm NEVER going to be able to eat that item again, so by stuffing FIVE - 5 breadsticks down my throat (barely able to breath between bites) I can remember that flavor forever! That is my confession for today. My goal tomorrow is to make the RIGHT choices. As Dumbledore says, there comes a time when you choose between what is right and what is easy (or in my case, the most tasty).

My son's intuition

For years, whenever the boys get up in the middle of the night, whether for a bad dream or because they are sick, they always come to Jed's side of the bed. Jed is not a big help in the middle of the night and would always send them back to bed if he had his way. For example: Luke, 5, comes in having had a terrible nightmare. He drummed up the courage to walk down the dark hallway into our dark bedroom, with pillow in tow. Jed tells him, "it was just a dream, now go back to bed." Inevitably, I hear talking on the other side of the bed and sit up to find out what the problem is. I get up and walk a scared five year old back to his room and tuck him in reassuring him that all is well and to have sweet dreams. For whatever the reason though, the boys still go to Jed's side of the bed. I never knew why ......until last week.

Noah, 7, was not feeling well. As I kissed him good night I told him, "if you need anything just come and get me." Well, he did just that, and will never do it again. Around midnight, Noah came creeping into my room. So quietly that no one knew he was there (I still maintain it was a little sneaky). He tapped my shoulder and quietly said, "mommy." At this point most moms would stir a little and lean over to see what their little one needed. I am not most moms. Instead, I screamed. That's right, I screamed at the top of my lungs. Which scared the snot out of Noah and so he screamed. Finally the lump sleeping next to me was roused from his slumber and yelled, "what's going on?!"

I suddenly realized what had happened and what I had just done and so I quickly grabbed Noah and hugged him and told him how sorry I was. He was sobbing and asking, "why were you trying to scare me!" At this point I have to admit that I like to scare my kids. I hide behind doors and walls and periodically jump out at them and scream - which gives me little credibility when I tell my son that I wasn't trying to scare him. I also should mention that I come by this sick and twisted fascination of scaring my kids by birth. My father and brother took much joy in seeing me screaming as I walked into a dark room to find one of them lurking, or even worse, Joe Paterno (which is a long story and one I only share with my therapist).

I guess a mother's is not the only intuition out there. My son knew in his gut, that his dad's side of the bed was a safer route. Forever scarred by his mother, my son will not take that fearful trip again - at least not while he still remembers the horror of having his mother scream at him in the middle of a dark room ..... in the middle of the night.

A day with a seven year old & five year old

If there ever is a time when you question whether you are sane or not, it's after a day home schooling a seven year old and a five year old. Things get heated pretty quickly when you realize, much to the relief of your seven year old, that you don't know as much as you thought you did. That word - when sounded out - is not "said"- it's ssss - aaaa - iiiii - dddddd. This now gives you the opportunity to relax. Because it is always easier to relax when someone else is in control - especially a seven year old. The shoulders can sag because the burden of knowledge has been lifted and placed instead on a more seasoned teacher, my son. Unfortunately, my five year old son doesn't have the same confidence in his brother and quickly baulks at the thought of being taught by the older brother who tends to spend the better part of his day thinking of ways to annoy his younger sibling. So, now a problem ensues. My eldest is ready to take on the world. He already knows everything. I need not waste my time teaching him because he has arrived at his knowledge of the world and how it works. My middle child is much more hesitant to relinquish me from my role as mom and teacher. He still looks at me as perfect and unable to teach anything but the truth. At what point did my seven year old decide that I was no longer worth hero worship and quiet surrender when I spoke? I guess living in such a fast paced world, even for a six or seven year old, moms can lose their appeal. Soon after my son has taken on the responsibility of raising himself, he comes over for a hug and asks me if I can come look at his picture he drew. Of course! It is a picture of his family with hearts around his favorite person, his mommy. Maybe I can't compete with Superman because I can't deflect things with my eyes (although the ones on the back of my head are useful), but my seven year old tells me that doesn't matter because I'm his mommy and he quickly tells me that I'm the best teacher ever! I guess I will put the responsibility of teaching him back on my shoulders. After all, even though I don't know everything, I can make a really good fluffernutter sandwich.

My best friend .... food .... My worst enemy

So, as a home schooling mom of three little boys - ages 2 -5-7 - I get a little tired and frustrated during the day. Of course, being a women and dealing with the hormonal issues that come with this gender I find myself yelling one minute and in tears the next. Yet, I found this weird comfort in food. Chocolate and french fries - french fries first- followed shortly with some good chocolate. That seems to soothe me. The prospect of eating can literally change my mood in seconds. Going out to eat is a common way for my husband to pacify my insane mood swings. "Honey, why are you crying? Would you like to go out to eat tonight?" But I don't want to look like I like to eat. That is where the problem comes in. I'm not huge. I'm overweight. I don't look as though I have missed any meals. That's not my goal, but for once it would be nice to hear someone whisper behind my back, "poor thing, she looks hungry." Those types of sweet nothings will never be whispered about me. Instead I try and hide the fact that I went back to the buffet three times or that at the church potluck I went through the line twice - getting stuff for the kids, of course. The same kids who finished eating 3 minutes after sitting down and are now climbing on the monkey bars and running through the parking lot with their friends. When did food become so much a part of my thought life? I wake up in the morning and my first thoughts are of breakfast and they quickly move on to lunch, dinner and snacks. All before I have even inhaled - umm, eaten - breakfast. I'm not a scientist but I am pretty sure there is something going on in my God created body, that makes food thoughts so FANTASTIC! So, I've tried Weight Watchers and lost 35 pounds. I tried Jenny Craig - huge waste of money - and lost five. Why can't I just be like my brother who gets to 2:00 in the afternoon and wonders why he has a headache. It doesn't take much digging to figure out the head pain came from the fact that he hasn't eaten anything all day. At 2:00 in the afternoon. I've already consumed most my "daily recommended caloric intake" and I'm not even close to ending my "food" day. Did I mention my brother is a bean stalk? My sister is also overweight and during a sibling discussion a few weeks back we were pondering the great character and physical traits we had acquired from our parents. My sister got beautiful, long, strong fingernails. I got great hair. My sister and I looked at our very dashing brother and said, "what did you get?" He looked at us for a split second and asked, "are you kidding? .......... I'm skinny." It was so rude of him to state the obvious, but we forgave him anyway and proceeded to the nearest drive-thru window to finish our conversation. Oh, to have a day without constant thoughts of food. .........