Y’know that race I was talking about? Turns out I’m going to be traveling for business that day and won’t even be in town. Aargh. Must. Set. New. Goal.

Mia keeps linking to me so I’d better get off my butt and actually post something. I was all set to post this weekend, but that evil TypePad outage prevented me from doing so on Saturday. And then I figured out that I had better get a package ready for USCIS, anyway.

I think my headline for that post was going to be “My Christmas is Ruined.” One side of me really wants to be in a whiny mood about everything that’s happening to us this year. To be brief… we believed — due to past experience and comments from an immigration officer — that DH would be able to travel internationally this Christmas, so we booked tickets to Scotland. Our beliefs, we found out later, were completely flawed. I guess it just goes to show what a great job the Department of Homeland Security is doing. Let’s just say FEMA isn’t the only agency under DOHS that’s screwed up, royally. And you thought it was bad when it was still called INS. All this to say that our travel plans — which included showing off the boy to DH’s family for the first time — are pretty much in tatters.

But I’m really trying not to feel sorry for myself. I’ve already been “taking advantage” of my put-upon state by giving myself permission to pig out. Which is not at all wise, of course. I did run/walk with Mia on Saturday, however, which was fantastic — even in the rain. We also had a very cozy weekend inside (while rain came down in buckets outside) by the fireplace in our house. We also started feeding the boy solid food for the first time. I think feeding him just amplified all of my worries about my own diet and setting a terrible example for the boy.

In one weekend we:

1. Drove through at Burger King and ate our meals in the car, while parked in front of a Wells Fargo (don’t ask why).
   
2. Bought 4 separate bags of potato chips/cheese puffs, because two of them were 2 for $4 and the others were 2 for $5. Actually, I think we had already bought 2 bags of chips on Friday, bringing us up to a grand total of 6 bags in one weekend. DH was going through chip withdrawal or something. I think 1.5 bags were gone post-weekend.
   
3. Made creme brulee. Of course, I licked the spoon after pouring it out into the ramekins.
   

The whole chips thing really got me thinking. DH has always been a skinny guy. When we used to buy Haagen Dazs pints (one in his flavor and one in mine) and eat them together, I would always eat more at one sitting, while he would just shave off the tiniest slivers each time. Now, however, he’s been trying to keep from buying HD to avoid eating it in front of me (as I’m ostensibly dieting). But he bought a pint the other day and — in uncharacteristic fashion — ate half of it in one sitting and polished it off in the next. Could it be that trying to deprive himself is resulting in binge eating, even in my skinny-minnie husband? Hmm…. Now I feel bad, like I’m foisting my food issues off on him and pushing him toward disordered eating.

I didn’t manage to hook up with Mia, but I did make it out for a run/walk on Saturday. It was my first real attempt at running for a long long time, and I’m pronouncing it a success.

I wasn’t sure how far to go or how to structure it, but I just headed out from the house heading along the running trail nearby. The way it’s set up, you occasionally have to cross a road, where there may or may not be traffic. So what I did was run to the first road, then walk the next section until I reached the next road, and then run again, etc. etc. Same thing on the way back. It’s sort of similar to something I used to do while running called fartlek (which is Swedish for “speed play” and actually has nothing to do with breaking wind). Bottom line: I ran about a mile and walked about a mile.

May I just say it was hard? Despite my new shoes (which, of course, make me faster, just like I used to believe as a kid), I plodded along, feeling super heavy. I could feel my excess stomach flab bounce, and my ass certainly jiggled, too. I saw lots of others — most faster than me but at least one at my pace — chugging along, too. Having done a marathon and triathlons, I have this memory of how running can feel, but it certainly doesn’t feel very good, yet.

Today (Monday), I’m feeling it, and in a very good way. We still haven’t fixed our darned treadmill, but we did get a lot done this weekend, which feels good. Hopefully we can get the treadmill thing done soon, so I can continue the running/walking during the week.

I’m thinking this might be a good 5K to shoot for, training-wise. It’s 2/26, which is fairly late in February (obviously). That’s give me 2+ months to train — and I’d need every minute. It also looks like a nice scenic (and flat!) course.

As I type this, DH is out running. I’m so pleased that I encouraged him to go, and that he’s going. But, you know… I’d really like to go myself. It’s sort of pathetic, but we can’t do treadmill running yet because the way the treadmill is set up (in the “dining room”), we’d likely hit our heads on the light fixture if we actually tried to run. Not a good thing. And there’s no way I’d be running in the dark — like he is — anyway. I’m too much of a chicken.

Still, my walk this weekend with Mia, and our planned run this weekend, has got me really psyched about the prospect of really getting into shape. After our walk — with the boy strapped on my front — I definitely felt stronger. I’ve been enjoying walking around — vast reaches like from the car across the parking lot to the office building — and feeling my leg muscles in action.

Eating-wise, things haven’t been great, though. I “cheat” on CORE practically every day, and in many different ways. I don’t really have an excuse except that it hasn’t been my top priority. But I guess I have to make it more of a priority if I really want to succeed at losing weight.

When you least expect it… I was down 2.6 lbs this week. Why? I have absolutely no idea. But I’m taking it. Symbolically, it’s a big one, because it brings me down under the 200 mark — into “onederland,” as they say. Maybe it was because I was ill this week and didn’t have a huge appetite. Anyway, just trying to keep the momentum going.

Got my hair cut today, too. Aargh, it’s short. I showed the haircutter lady a picture but she didn’t exactly abide by it. It’s OK in front, but in the back there’s basically nothing there. Oh, well. It’ll certainly be easier to deal with than the mop I had before. I probably look like a butch lesbian — just in time for a bunch of work events and a trip to visit family in Scotland — but it’ll grow out. This was my first haircut since before having the baby. I was reaching the post-partum period where your hair starts to fall out (this because none falls out during the pregnancy), so it was getting pretty annoying and yucky.

It has been an interesting couple of weeks, the dominant feature of which has been a pretty heavy cold, which rotated through our little family. It sapped from me my will to do much of anything, other than try to survive. Unfortunately, as I mentioned before, I’m still comforting myself with food — and I certainly haven’t been exercising what with the fever and sneezing and all. But last night I created a kick-ass Core concoction for dinner. It might have actually been too kick-ass, I fear, because I loved it so much I gobbled all of the leftovers today. Anyway, here’s the “recipe”:

Whole-Grain “Haggis-Like” Ground Beef Concoction w/Sweet Potatoes

1 medium onion, chopped
1 lb lean ground beef
1 cup Rice Select Whole Grain Royal Blend® Texmati® Brown & Red (though just brown rice or any whole grain blend will probably do)
2 cups chicken broth
3 cubes beef bullion
salt and pepper to taste
5 sweet potatoes

This is actually a sort of three part dish that gets mixed together. Basically, you cook the rice, using chicken broth instead of water. You bake the sweet potatoes in the oven (1 hour at 375 degrees). Then you saute the onions, add the ground beef and brown that. Then add the bullion cubes, salt and pepper, to beef-en up the flavor. Once the rice is done, you mix it with the cooked ground beef. It makes the beef go further and produces a really great texture. Peel and mash the sweet potatoes. You can either serve them as a side dish or mix them with the rest of the stuff. Alternatively, use butternut squash for the “orange portion” of this recipe.

Ok, I have succeeded in wasting my only blogging time for a while in inputting a recipe. *Sigh*

I feel so pressed for time (and money) these days, and the requirements of the Christmas season are only making things more intense. Join the club, you say. Yes, I know this probably applies to pretty much everyone this time of year. I’m just so glad we’re home this weekend — with no houseguests — so we can get a few things accomplished and enjoy each other’s company. (With no nasty colds!) My big goal is to get my hair cut, which I haven’t done since before the boy was born. Hope to also get in some exercise. Of course, weigh-in is tomorrow. My goal there? I hope to stay the same and not gain. Considering Thanksgiving and illness and all, it’d be a pretty significant accomplishment.

First the boy was sick. Then DH and I caught whatever it was. Then we travelled to visit family for Thanksgiving. I’m still ill. Yuck. Crazy how even though I have very little appetite (and nearly no sense of taste), I still want to scarf down any number of things. In fact, I convince myself it’s OK to eat the high-calorie good-tasting stuff when I’m ill, because it’s the only thing I can motivate myself to eat — and I need some nourishment, right? I know it’s BS, but I still do it.

Well… week 3 at the same weight. That’s according to today’s weigh-in. I must say that interim weigh-ins this week seem to indicate that I’m actually coming closer to losing, so I’m trying to keep my chin up. More later this weekend…

A day in the life… I arrived yesterday morning at the day care, the boy in tow. He was pretty grumpy — not his usual smiling morning self. He’d had a pediatrician’s appointment the day before, where he got stuck with big needles (4 in number) for the usual immunization routine. That got him pretty cranky and teething woes also seem to be increasing in intensity lately. This means he pretty much wants to be held, and bounced, constantly, and even that doesn’t guarantee he’ll stop crying. (Pretty much the only guarantee is to nurse him, because he can’t cry when his mouth is full.)

So I was reluctant to hand him off, but included some Tylenol in the diaper bag, hopefully to be used only as a last resort. I had to fill out a form saying it was OK to dose him, much to the disapproval of the day care dad (DCD). (Thankfully, I agree we should avoid medication if at all possible so disapproval was actually great.)

As all this was going on, DCD was rummaging through the diaper bag to find the bottles we usually make up for the boy (filled with pumped milk). He came up empty. Aargh. We’d forgotten to pack the milk. Worse, we’d forgotten to pack bottles. We had formula at the day care as a back up, but now nothing to feed him with. We are terrible parents. (I should mention that this is DH’s job to pack the milk so there was a twinge of anger there, though we all make mistakes and it had been a hectic morning.) I was late to work.

Super mom springs into action. I realize our houseguest from the weekend is still at home, and planning to come into San Francisco later that morning. If she could bring the bottles (with milk), I could meet her — she was using public transportation — grab the precious cargo and drop it off at the day care. To make this happen, I have to call and call and call our home phone number, until she actually answers. (She has no cell phone and I can’t think of any other way to indicate to her that it’s me calling and that she should answer.) Thankfully, she does, after about five calls.

Then I have to map out a route that has her coming to a BART station near us. Of course, I have no clue what BART stations are nearby, or which have accessible parking. So I begin research. (Meanwhile, of course, I am supposed to be working, as well as pumping milk for the next day at day care.) A couple of hours later, I meet her at the BART station, she hands the bottles to me over the turnstiles, and I jet back to the day care. Mission accomplished. But my breasts are about to burst from lack of pumping and I have gotten very little work done. And all along the way there were obstacles — what if she didn’t answer the phone? what if I got lost going to the BART station? — that could have resulted in a much less pleasant outcome. Disaster averted. *Sigh*

——-
Stress like this isn’t great for my eating but I didn’t do too terribly bad — other than eating the leftover pizza we bought for the guest’s visit. Last night we hit the Berkeley Bowl (grocery store with tons of produce and healthy options) and I stocked up on whole grains. The boy seems in better spirits today. And all is right with the world…. until the next catastrophe.