Honey, the Toad Sprung a Leak

Show of hands, how many of you know that a toad can pee 1/2 it's body weight in a single potty break?  Talk amongst yourselves....well?  Yeah, I did not know either.  I don't have solid evidence of this via the scientific experts Wikipedia or google, but I am pretty friggin' sure they can.  

Today I told my 9 yo that he needed to clean Hoppy's "habitat" (aka large Walmart storage bin with holes carved in the lid).  Hoppy's home smelled like he had let some seafood go bad.  Actually, that is EXACTLY what Hoppy did.  Apparently he was not a fan of brine shrimp or dried meal worms.  I had avoided buying the live crickets because I am no murderer, but Hoppy appeared to be losing more weight than I was on weight watchers.  So I broke down and got the crickets...which my Husband informed me you also have to feed.  Is there no end to this madness?  Now I have to feed the dinner?  

Anyway, the 9 yo was cleaning the indoor swamp and I said I would hang with the Hopster.  When we picked him up we realized there were probably not many crickets left.  He must binge eat at night when no one is watching, but who doesn't.  It just made me like him more.  Hoppy was plump.  So yea!  We saved him (well, saved him from his natural habitat through a non-violent toadnapping.)

 Hoppy stood in my hand not moving for a while and then I put him down on my chest and laid back so he could hop around a little ( while maintaining my oh so maternal contact with him).  Well, I clearly did a nice job comforting him because he felt comfortable enough to let it go...and go...and go...and go...  Like a good mommy would do, I let Hoppy continue to pee on me, thinking at times that he had sprung an actual leak and that all his body fluids were draining.  And when he was done, I gave him back to the 9 year old and went up to take a shower, resembling someone who had lost a water balloon fight. 

 So let this be a lesson to all you mothers of toadnappers out there.  Get puppy pads.  And never pick up your toad when he looks big enough to have eaten your house cat.  That is all the wisdom I will impart on you today.  Tomorrow I will teach you about buying a fish tank and 5 fish to alleviate your 6 yo's jealousy over your 9yo's toad.  Good mommy.  Pat pat pat.

Day 6: Too Soon

Polenta Nachos

Welcome to day 6.  Do you know what you should not do on day 6?  You should not be so proud of your self for sticking so well to your diet that you go and try something other than your fat pants on.  Doing this is an incredibly bad idea because you will now feel twice as fat as you did when you started.  Boo.  And then I scrolled through some old pictures then had been posted on face book.  I'm not sure if it is inspiring or depressing that I saw a bunch of pictures from when I had lost a bunch of weight.  They made me want to kick myself in the a$$ for letting it come back, but it was nice to see what I had accomplished before and can accomplish again.  I wish that I could accomplish it all in one month before the girls' weekend!!!

I am still proud of myself for sticking to it for 5-1/3 days so far because I am not anywhere near wanting to give up or stop.  So yea.  The other cool thing is that I have found a way to come up with some filling, NOT disgusting meals.  I wasn't sure what to do last night when I got home.  I had saved points for a slice, but I got home late, so I fended for myself.  I had a tube of polenta, so I sliced it up, realized that I had enough points for the whole non-fat thing, and fried it up (in Pam).  Then I started thinking it might taste good with my guac...BUT I didn't want to kill the no fat thing, so I made my guac without the avocado (aka - I made salsa).  Cilantro, plum tomato, scallions, some lime, salt and voila.  It was actually delicious!  I'm not a cooking blog, so I will leave that up to the pros normally.  But this time I had to share.

I'll try to come up with some more interesting things to say in the next few days, but this has turned into a little bit of my own motivation - if I put it out there, it is public.  And people will be waiting to see if I succeed or not.  Of course it isn't like I've actually jumped the shark and advertised that I'm posting.  These are silent posts for now.  For me and anyone who happens to accidentally fall upon it through Google.

Day 3, YEA! I Found my Old Bin of Fat(ter) Pants!

Me again.  Woah, 3 posts in 3 days!  It is still morning, so one would think I couldn't have much to say yet, but those are the ones who don't know me.  I alwwwwwaaaaaaaayyyyyssss have something to say.

Last night, as I was starving on the way home and planning to serve my beloved family the yummy lasagna leftovers, I was trying to think of what the heck I was going to eat.  I had a lot of points leftover and could very well have had a smart sized slice of my lasagna.  But portion size has always been part of my dilemma.  If I start, I will not stop, and smart sized would turn into super sized and that would be bad.  I would rather have a LOT of something that is less appealing than a little of something that I can't get enough of.  So, I thought back to the resource that I had used a few years ago to drop a bunch of weight.  Hungry Girl.  I am not (yet) paid to endorse anything, so this is from my heart.  I love that website.  They are the ones that introduced me to Shirataki noodles, Laughing Cow (light) cheese, and turnip fries.  Now, you might not be jumping up and down looking at that list, but let me tell you, it is great.

Shirataki noodles have very little taste on their own, but once you combine them with a couple of ingredients, they take on that flavor and are quite filling.  And get this - don't quote me, but a whole bag of them equate to like 1 Weight Watcher point.  When you throw them in a pot with a couple of wedges of Laughing Cow light cheese and a package of Smart Strips steak style strips (or chicken style), you have a creamy steak and noodle dinner that fills a large plate, looks and tastes like meat and pasta but is really a pile of veggies with some cheese.  6 points.  And you stay full for > 30 minutes!!  So that was my dinner last night.  Oh, and did I mention that it takes <10 minutes to make?  Yeah.  Quick, easy, tasty, 6 points.  Win.

I don't know if I got hungry later or if I just wanted to munch, but since I had only used 12 points between breakfast, lunch and dinner, I had an apple with 3 TBS of peanut butter.  The peanut butter was a costly 8 points, but I had it to use and did.  And you know what?  When I woke up this morning I was not starving. 

So, day 3 started out good.  Even better was that I ventured into the room full of bins.  The bins of "every size and shape I have been in the last 10 years."  And I found the bin I was looking for.  The clothes that I wore before launching a successful WW diet campaign a few years ago.  Not only does this mean that my wardrobe has expanded a little and that I can put my credit card away.  But it means that I didn't get any bigger than I was THAT time.  Small victories.  I hope to be tucking everything back into that bin in a month, but for now it made me happy.

Talk to you soon, but for today, I am hopeful again...not very funny at all (sorry), but hopeful.

Day 2, I'm Friggin' Starving

Hi - It's me again with a two day in a row post extravaganza.  Today is the second day of my diet and cramp combo.  Above you will see the colorful yet ridiculously tasteless meal that filled me up (ish) 4-1/2 hours ago.  Based on my diligently increased intake of water, I probably peed this out 3 hours ago.  I am friggin' starving now.  Tea has not staved it off.  Water has not stopped it.  But alas, I have been super hard on myself today, and have only consumed 6 Weight Watcher's points.  That leaves me...with a lot that can still be used today.  If I told you how many points I might as well take a picture of the scale while I'm standing on it.  You would know too much.  And we all know that after 2 days, I am nowhere near willing to step on a scale. I will visit the scale when I can wear my old fat pants and they start feeling loose.  Talk to me in two months.  So, if you say that, then I am 1/30 of the way there - to being willing to weigh myself - not to my goal you silly people.  That takes about 4 months (from experience). 

I know that I could jumpstart the whole thing if I was willing to walk a bit or go to the basement and jump on the treadmill.  Or basically do anything to rip myself away from Candy Crush or playing the Wii with my boys in the evening.  But I'm not that kind of girl.  I was that kind of girl a long time ago when I went to the work gym every day at 5:30am.  I hit milestones there - was able to jog for 2 miles for the first time in my life (well I did it once).  I pressed the ENTIRE stack of weights on the leg press (I swear it was 400lbs - no joke).  I was so proud of myself!  And then came a day when everyone started telling me how much of their BMI they had lost.  There were some huge percentages!  And these were from my healthy friends.  So I had them retest my BMI.  -1%.  I burst into tears and never went to the gym again.  Well, I might have gone a couple more times until I messed up my knee playing volleyball.  When I was in PT for that knee, I was building up to 80 pounds on the leg press.  That was it.  I was done.

So, I'll leave you for now.  Because I have to pee for the 407th time today.  And then I will serve my lovely family the awwwwwesome leftover lasagna that I made Saturday.  While I silently resent them.

Top of the Roller Coaster Again

Once again my girl Jules from A Little Bite of Life (and high school) has kindly let me know that time was ticking and I was not posting.  She is blog perfection and the slayer of the very mean Wall Street Journal anti blogger lady.  I find it difficult to fight Jules' reminders.  I really enjoy writing and feel great after putting together a good (in my opinion) post.  So, without further delay, I will now embark upon my next topic.  One that is so common that I don't know there is much more to be said.

Dieting.  You can call it a lifestyle change or some other bullshit like that, but the reality for me is that I am dieting.  When you realize that your old storage bin of fat pants are really your not fat enough pants, it is time.  When you start going to pharmacy clinics instead of your own doctor because they won't weigh you, it is time. When your supersized batch of guacamole that you brought to the Cinco de Mayo party became a serving for one, it is because you make fan-friggin-tastic guac and don't want to share...and it is time.

It started today.  And do you like to know what else started today?  Cramps.  Those of you who are naturally skinny probably don't realize what a bad combo this is.  Because my formula is at risk.  I am like Einstein when it comes to this formula...

(Ibuprofen x 4) + (Wine x 2) = What cramps?

Not to be confused with (Ibuprofen x 4) + (Wine x 6) = Hey babeeeee, do you mind that I bought 5 pairs of shoes yesterday?  You're so hot.  Kids?  I don't know where they are, do you?  Wait whose kids? I think we should zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Anyway, I bet just a few of you out there know EXACTLY why my formula is at risk.  1 measly little cup of white wine = SIX weight watchers points!!!  It is diet highway robbery.  A cup of Grapes costs 0 points, so how can wine be 6?  IT IS IN THE FRUIT AND VEGETABLE GROUP!!!

So, today I munched a lot of lettuce, had about 8 or 9 oz of some lean protein, and squeezed a lime and called it dressing.  And I enjoyed 1 cup of medicinal wine with Advil sprinkles for dessert.  There were a couple of times during the day when I felt full, but now is not one of them.  As I write I have reverted back to my childhood habit of chewing on my cheek to give my mouth something to do and maybe get another bite of protein.  I am craving chocolate and am trying to figure out how I am going to make it to bed without going downstairs to attack the Cinco de Mayo leftovers.

As I climb down from the kids' bunk bed after reading them to sleep, I am reminded that this is not the first time my fat ass will have to turn sideways to exit or that my knee will snap, crackle, pop on the way down the ladder.  Maybe that memory will be enough to get me through tomorrow.  That or the gargantuan pants I will climb into.

In the meantime, I post a challenge to Ms. Jules of recipe creating fame...create a 10 point dinner that leaves me full for > 1/2 hour.  Or a 3 point dessert that silences the screaming carbohydrate voices.

Sticks 'n' Stones May Break My Bones...Because Apparently I'm Old

Hello.  I would apologize for my long absence, but it is boring to have to start every single post the same way.  So I'm just going to catch you up on some things that I did or had done to me:

Did you read last April's post about the Virginia Beach nightmare vacation?  Yeah, if not, read that first and then read this to know that Oops, we did it again.  Apparently as abhorrent as my Husband and I found that trip, it was equally as GOOD for my kids who had fan-freakin'-tastic memories of it.  They clearly have a much higher tolerance for their own whining, disobedience and tantrums than we do!  So, we packed up and went again.  Surprisingly I do not have enough for a top ten worst moments of vacation this year!  That said, I may have blocked out most everything else except for one incident that repeats in my head like a scratched...we'll say DVD, but I really mean record (album, these giant music discs that used to play on "record players" and I think DJ Rub a Dub or whatever might still use in clubs).  By referencing the record album, anyone reading will already know that I am of "a certain age."  And at this certain age, a woman may become a little sensitive to references about her age.  But let me frame up my sensitivity for you a little more.

Before we went on this trip - which was planned during my kids' Easter/Spring break (all 2 days of it thanks to a school district that fears rain and fictional forecasts) - I had given up something for Lent.  I'm not Catholic which many many many MANY people pointed out, but I have always tried to give something up for Lent anyway.  So this year, as usual, on Ash Wednesday, I asked myself "what haven't I done yet that I can still give up?"  Swearing?  No, that was out by 7am.  Salt?  Too late, already had the omelet.  Drinking? Probably could have but at my "certain age" it isn't that challenging anymore - especially since my 9 year old seems to be picking up math better (meaning I don't have to try to teach him).  Heels?  No, I couldn't.  I wouldn't!  I was a 5 day a week platform heel junkie.  It was my rep.  My identity!!  But I had worn flats to work that day due to something that I am sure is probably a ligament/tendon/internal thingie related to my Olympic training for the sitting-on-your-ass-at-a-desk-all-day competition.  So the shoes were still an option.  And it was a huge challenge, so I took it.  How many pairs of flat shoes did I have to buy to make it through?  6.  Black, bone, fuchsia, royal blue, burgundy (that my boss thought were Ninja slippers) and some weird green/khaki color that matched nothing but had rhinestones and were on sale.  Some of the guys believe this was my ulterior motive.  People I didn't even know the name of at work asked if I had hurt my foot or something.  Someone that I know but don't see frequently had heard the rumor that I had given up heels - but I believe she misunderstood why as she thought it was "for Len" and was under the impression that I had a new short boyfriend.  So, why did flat shoes depress me?  Because for every inch of heel I lost, I  appeared to have gained 5 pounds.  Since I was prone to 5" heels, that was a significant weight gain.  And, that 25 pounds was on top of real weight that I gained since I had not stopped eating since last year's vacation to Virginia Beach.  I felt ugly and fat and old and short.  I started shopping in old lady stores and my friends openly mocked me.  After 40ish days of feeling ewww, I was vulnerable.

Cut to Virginia Beach.  We had made a few alterations from our trip plan from the year prior in hopes of saving a bit of sanity.  We got a hotel room that had the beds in a separate room from the living space (for the expected time outs and "JUST GO TO BED NOWWWWWW" moments) and had a mini fridge and microwave (for the oops, we forgot to eat and it is 2pm and we are all starving and crabby now issues).  And, we secured a hotel room on the boardwalk and near the interesting stuff (to save ourselves from the imminent 5 year old collapse tantrum on the sidewalk and refusal to go one more step back to the hotel).  All of those were successful strategies by the way.  As was bringing the Wii.  The only issue came when I went with my 9 year old to the bodega (aka little grocery) across the street to stock the mini fridge.  It was going fine.  Perfect.  I mean yes, I was buying bread, bologna, cheese, peanut butter, and water for $40, but generally it was going fine.  And then, out of nowhere, the friendly man behind the counter dropped the straw that broke the ego's back.  His words hung in the air while I tried to absorb what he had asked... "Is he your Grandson?"

What did he say?  Is he talking to me?  My what?  HE THINKS I AM A GRANDMOTHER?????  OF A FRIGGIN' 9 YEAR OLD???????  Through my endless obsessing with this conversation, I have developed some awesome comebacks that I wished I had used.  But I am horrified to tell you that the best I could come up with in my shock was "Uh, no, he's mine."  I'm embarrassed to tell you that because my friends clearly thought that I would have either threatened his life or stuffed his corpse into the ice cream cooler.  But I did not.  I quietly let my son look at redneck rodeo belt buckles on the way out with the enthusiasm of someone who has had her walker pulled out from under her.  And we went back to our room where my Husband got the best laugh of his calendar year.  I tell everyone who will listen so that they can tell me the man was clearly crazy or blind...after they stop laughing.

We will probably go back to Virginia again sometime and might even stay at  that same hotel.  And I will go alone to that bodega and I will be skinny and wearing 7" heels and new gravity defying boobs that came free with my facelift.  I will be there to stock my fridge.  And that night, I will eat his liver with some fava beans and a nice bottle of Metamucil.

Potty Rules for Grown Ups

Today's post comes after another long long long break and is inspired by a glob of ick that I witnessed today!  Ladies!!!  Listen up!!!  It is time to go over some rules that you learned when you were 3 but many have cleeeeeeearly forgotten.  How to use the potty.  More specifically, how to use a public potty.  Let's go over some rules of engagement here...we can categorize these using the 5 senses.

• Smell.  Some people would rather die than actually use a public restroom, particularly if they have to go #2.  They are appalled by the knowledge that other people DO, in fact, use the public restroom for this act.  They will make comments about the stench and hold their nose and pretend to faint.  They will make sure you know that THEY did not create that horrendous stench eeking out of the stalls if you are walking in when they are walking out.  But you know what?  It is a restroom and stomach issues don't always wait until you are conveniently in the privacy of your own home.  These people do not need to hear you make gagging sounds and they don't need you to  stick around outside the restroom to find out who made that smell happen.  
• Sound.  Ladies, there is no need to laugh when someone has a minor or major gaseous explosion.  Chances are that the reason you heard that outburst was because you were sitting in a stall nearby waiting for the other person to leave.  That's right - you were waiting for them to leave so that you could fart yourself.  So as a rule, if you are both in the bathroom for more than 5 minutes and neither of you is making a sound, the odds are high that you are both trying to wait each other out.  At this point you should both just let it go (figuratively and literally).  Since we are on the topic of sound, let's go over my #1 pet peeve in a public restroom.  GET OFF THE @)$(*@_%! PHONE!!!!  This is NOT the time to go over your grocery list with your spouse.  It is not time to chat about dinner.  It is not the time to ask your kid how his/her day was.  It is time to friggin' pee or crap, wash your hands, and leave.  The BEST was when I walked into the restroom and saw a colleague was on speakerphone with her Husband.  I walked in and yelled my "hey, how you doing, this is SaltLizard - who is this" to the phone.  She laughed and called me ignorant and continued with her call.  I then announced to her Hubby that he was about to hear me pee and I hoped he enjoyed the show.  At this point I believe she took it off speaker.  I don't care if you play words with friends for an hour or facebook chat with half your high school in the stall, just don't field your damn phone calls in there.
• Taste.  Taste you are saying?  Ewwwwwww.  All I have to say is this.  You are in a room where people you know, sort of know, and don't know at all are pooping.  I certainly appreciate your rigid oral hygiene, but I cannot comprehend how you can brush your teeth in there.  Can't you almost taste that smell?  I would rather have a root canal than do that.  WHY?  
• Touch.  Again you may be confused.  But let me spell it out.  There is NO WAY that my ass should touch anything that came out of you on the toilet seat.  I should also not be standing in a pool of oops, you must have had a power surge of pee on the floor.  I have close friends who are hoverers.  I am first, very impressed by their thigh muscles.  And second, I am horrified that they are not willing to touch their own pee with toilet paper to prevent someone who does not maintain a squat from getting wet.  This is disgusting.  STOP IT.
• Sight.  This is where it all comes together.  A few things on this topic.  If you walk into a restroom with 5 stalls, and someone is in stall 1, where do you go?  STALL 5.  The next person should enter stall 3.  The 4th and 5th people are going to get too close to 2 people, and it cannot be avoided, but because it cannot be avoided, they can be forgiven.  If I am sitting in stall 1 in an otherwise empty restroom, don't you dare go into stall 2.  I don't care if your name is engraved on the seat - move it down the line!  You must attempt to leave at least 1 stall between you at all times.  Men know that - think about urinals.  No one should be that close.  OK, so now you've done your business (at least a stall away).  When you stand up and flush, turn around.  Take a look at that bowl.  Do you see ANYTHING red, brown or yellow that came out of your body laying in the bowl?  Yes?  FLUSH IT AGAIN!  Unless it is something that was not supposed to be flushed in the first place and then reach your dumbass hand into that bowl and get it out.  Use a pen to pick it out - I DON'T CARE.  Your rudeness is no reason for me to have to look at that.  Oh, and while we are on that topic, check the floor too.  Apparently some of you don't notice when objects fall out of your body onto the floor either.

Well, I do believe this concludes my tirade.  I know that there will be points that you agree with and disagree with.  I highly doubt that anyone will be reaching into the bowl to retrieve something they shouldn't have flushed.  And I'm pretty sure that you will still walk out and warn the people going in that it smells bad and that you are not responsible (hell, I do that too - I'm not taking the heat for something I didn't do).  But if my little outburst has done anything, I hope it has made you think twice about your restroom manners.  And I hope it made you laugh.  But not so hard that you peed.