I won’t keep you waiting any more. The news is GOOD GOOD GOOD. Well, at least as good as it can be, considering that my hubby got this eye condition in the first place. But it turns out the MRI showed ZERO lesions on his brain, which means — a study says — he has only a 16% chance or so of developing MS within 10 years. So it’s really the best possible outcome, which is such a wonderful relief.

I’ve been quite busy with work, etc. in NYC, then flying back to CA (hubby took the boy on HIS flight, which made flying — with a 3 hour delay — about as good as it could be). Then we flew to TX for the holidays. And here I sit, grabbing a few minutes at my cousin’s, while hubby is upstairs asleep (nursing a cold), and the boy is out on a walk with my cousin, her husband, and their two dogs. He’s in his pyjamas, with a fleece jacket, and looks cute enough to eat.

The good news, Fatblog-wise, is that my other cousin and I are to go for a real fitness-type walk in the next few minutes. Yippee!

I’ve given a lot of thought this holiday to the idea that I need to take more time for myself — even if it means getting a babysitter — to preserve (or restore) my own mental health. Want to look into taking Pilates classes or something similar. And maybe I should start waking up earlier (like 5 a.m.?) and hitting the treadmill. I’ve been thinking of this in terms of parenting — one of my major foci these days — because I know it sets a terrible example for my son if I put myself last all the time. Me being unhappy and miserable is NOT a good thing for him to see, growing up.
They are back. gotta go!

Well, I am in NYC and all seems to be going well with one of my boys — the little one. He’s settled into his new day care OK and I think he’s now officially on Eastern time.

As for the big boy, we don’t know. He went in to get his MRI yesterday evening. I wasn’t even able to be in there with him, because we had the (little) boy with us. But it was mostly uneventful. Just a test. And the results are delivered to his doctor. So we wait.

Meanwhile, his general practioner called him last night, and left a message, which we didn’t get until this morning. The doctor left his cell phone and said for DH to call as soon as he could. He said he had some results from the eye doctor. So he called this morning and got voice mail. We are on pins and needles waiting for the return call, wondering what’s so important that a doctor gives his cell phone and says to call right away. Deep breath.

Tomorrow I am off to NYC. I’m just home from the office xmas party, and am full of a bit of wine (and amazing food), so I’m a bit sentimental. (Yes, I’m committing that sin, blogging while under the influence.) And, really, I’m just so happy to be where I am. I have an amazing family, with a loving husband and a gorgeous son. Yes, we all need to spend more time together, but we are getting there… starting tomorrow. My company is great. I’m so pleased (in some ways) with the work I’m doing. I love our house, our home. It’s the festive season. So, all this just to say I’m so thankful — and I want to work to be MORE thankful, all the time, for all of the things with which I’ve been blessed. Amen.

P.S. In case you haven’t noticed, I am still a bit in denial of the MRI upcoming (mentioned below). Hubby didn’t get it scheduled until Tuesday of next week, so I’m unsure when we’ll actually get results — maybe on the phone while we are visiting family for Christmas? Goodness. I desperately hope — cannot imagine the alternative — that he can travel for the Christmas holidays.  Whatever comes, we will be together… and that’s what’s most important.

It was one morning last week. I was getting the boy ready for day care, and myself ready for work, and the phone rang downstairs. It was my husband, which wasn’t surprising. He often calls, or I call him, in the mornings, when we’re just starting our day and he’s a few hours into his, way over there in NYC. What WAS surprising was what he said next. He told me his left eye was "out of commission." "What?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

It turned out he’d awoken to blurry vision in his left eye, accompanied by a terrible headache, which was exacerbated whenever he moved his eyes from side to side. He felt like there was serious "pressure" in his head, and now it was coming down into his eye. He’d been having headaches for the last few days, but attributed it to a residual hangover from a big night out earlier in the week.

I’m sure you can imagine the thoughts that went through my mind. Could it be a brain tumor? Migraines? A brain tumor? Two doctors later, he’s still in the process of being diagnosed, but there’s an slight chance that this is the first symptom of multiple sclerosis. Then again, it could just resolve itself, no problem. Yes, that’s what the eye doctor told him. And you should have heard his voice, the catch in his throat, when he told me about the chance of MS. He’s going in for an MRI this week, we hope.

I’ve pretty much spent the last few days forbidding myself to think about it, sort of putting reality (or possible reality) on hold, as I focus on logistical details. He was told not to travel by air, if he could help it, so that nixed a planned trip here last weekend. I wanted immediately to go to him to be by his side. But that’s ignoring the financial realities of our situation. We have a child to care for. We  have a house to care for. We both have jobs. And flying at the holidays can be outrageously expensive, especially last minute.

So I threw myself into working, into planning, into getting ready to fly to be with him NEXT week, when he’ll get the MRI results. And pretending that this is all just a vacation. Just a pleasant trip to NYC, not a worry-filled journey with an unknown destination. And now, we are pretty much set, though I still have to arrange a cat sitter. We’ve got flights, a hotel (with kitchenette), a day care for the boy, and I’m scheduled to work from our New York office.  So now the waiting, and the worrying begins anew. Send prayers our way.

I almost hesitate to blog, because I always blog in the early stages of a new effort, and then everything falls to pieces and I stop updating, in part out of sheer despondency and in part out of the busy-ness that usually threw my life (and my plan du jour) out of balance in the first place. Still, I feel inspired.

I’m sitting here sipping a glass of red wine, and I’ve got some lovely whole wheat bread in the bread machine (yes, people do still use those, at least I do), set to start baking tonight while I’m asleep, so the boy and I wake to the scent of fresh-baked bread. You see, this is the life I long to live, so I might as well start now. I don’t want to be a slave to Burger King and Cold Stone Creamery, nor do I want to be a slave to Weight Watchers or Skinny Cow. I want to eat the good stuff, the healthy stuff, in moderation.

Ah, there is the key, the elusive key. Because moderation  must be a conscious choice, and most of the time I eat unconsciously. I slurp down my lunch at my desk as I stare at the computer and click around. At dinner, I’m too often watching TV or flipping through a catalog, or just shoving food in my mouth while I’m feeding the boy. Not a good practice and not a good example.

So I heard an interview, I think on NPR, with the author of  this book, which I guess is getting a lot of press nowadays. He’s a scientist at Cornell and has a few tips to basically "trick yourself" into eating less. Some of these are straight out of WW, like choose a smaller plate or bowl. But it got me thinking about how I set myself up for failure sometimes. I serve myself too much (hubby contributes to this when he serves me, so I should serve myself) — that’s the main thing. I also eat mindlessly in front of the TV or computer. And I have this whole "all-or-nothing" mentality I’ve discussed before.

How to conquer all of these habits? Well, this week I’ve been tracking everything I’ve been eating, but I’ve consciously tried not to limit myself. I can eat whatever I want, and I won’t say no just to stay below points. I just have to write it down. I’ve consciously tried to serve myself smaller portions. I’ve cooked at home every night (and made enough for leftovers). I’ve also indulged my love for food. I had butternut squash ravioli, for one thing. Yum. I’ve sipped on wine here and there in the evenings. I made some great beef stew with potatoes. And I’m baking this bread for in the morning. Somehow, it’s all OK.

I’m trying to take my cues from a few people I’ve been reading online, including Dietgirl and Meg, who seem to have developed a more long-term view of healthy eating. Like… it’s really not a diet (and I’m not just saying that). It’s a healthy lifestyle. Mmm… nice Pinot Noir. And with that, to bed I go.

I just won’t give up. I almost feel sorry for my small number of readers, who’ve followed me through diet plan after diet plan. And now? The non-diet diet. The idea with this is to shooot for healthy choices and small portions — using WW online as a guide — but not to freak out when I go a bit overboard.

I’ve just determined that being on a diet just doesn’t work for me. It just freaks me out, mentally, and I get in this all-or-nothing mindset, where I’m either on the diet, or off the diet. When I’m 100% perfect, I am on the diet. And when I’m off, even a little bit, I just start to have a blow-out and eat anything and everything. So, now, I’m not on a diet at all. Love it!
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Things now are generally pretty insane, as usual. My husband is back in NYC, so the single parenthood adventure continues. *sigh*  Things are just so up in the air right now, which is driving me a little mad. Like there’s still a chance that we will move back to NYC, and I’m trying to get accustomed to the idea. It would probably be the best thing for us as a family, in the end, but, given we’ve lived in 4 different places in 4 years of being married, I’m ready to settle down, like… yesterday.

I love our neighborhood. I love our house. I love the weather in California. But part of it, I think, is that I really just can’t picture any alternative. I can’t imagine a great life in some suburb of NYC. But I know there are plenty of lovely places, and I really enjoyed living in the area for around 8 years. I still have good friends there. So I’m thinking maybe we should take a week to go to NYC and try on that life — with visits to neighborhoods with realtors and such, to get a sense of where we might live and, very importantly, what housing costs. But to do that, I need to figure out some kind of child care solution, too. Hmm…

1. I actually LIKE to cook. I mean, I knew this before, but I’m discovering I actually really like to cook. Like enough to miss it when I don’t have to do it. I find myself fantasizing about roasting chicken, or idly leafing through AllRecipes.com. Hmm…

2. The boy really likes vegetables… if I give them to him when he’s hungry. You should have seen him wolfing down the broccoli and cauliflower at dinner tonight. Amazing stuff. He likes those tree-like veggies much more than carrots and green beans, which I always liked more.

3. Single parenting is hard. We are going on week 3, with just a weekend respite (visit from hubby/dad). T-giving week should be back to normal, save for travel to visit family. Until then, we muddle through.

It started maybe around 2 in the morning, the day of the race/run. The boy was crying in his room, in his crib, so I went in to check on him. The first thing that greeted me was the smell. He’d been sick in his crib, and it was all over the bed and his hair. It was the first time he’s ever been sick (except maybe spitting up when he was really little), and he was miserable and frightened. Wouldn’t you be, if you’d never experienced it before? He screwed up his little face, which turned bright red behind the tears, snot and vomit, as he screamed with fear and discomfort. Mommy’s comforting hug helped, but it didn’t take away the pain entirely.

Before it was through, he’d been sick 3 or 4 more times, and the smell was everywhere. We both finally got back to sleep an hour or so later, after a lot of tears and clean-up, etc.

It wasn’t an auspicious beginning to the day. What was I thinking, considering hauling the boy all the way out to Lafayette to sit in his jog stroller? Would I end up cleaning puke from the stroller, and the car, all day, rather than enjoying the run?

Long story short, I decided I’d rather regret taking him than regret staying home. As I drove to the race start, visions of the starts of races past — half-marathons, triathlons, 5Ks — danced through my head. We’d remembered to turn back the clocks, but it still seemed so early and quiet on a Sunday morning. It’s such an amazing feeling driving smoothly through quiet streets on the way to a race. I was so thrilled to be bringing the boy along with me. I think he caught some of the adrenaline in the air.

The run itself wasn’t so fantastic. I had to stop twice to get him into warmer clothes, as the autumn wind blows chilly even in the Bay Area. It was all along one of the town’s main drags, though the name of the run "Reservoir Run" had promised more natural vistas. And I wasn’t feeling too energetic. I hadn’t trained hardly at all, and I had a big Domino’s binge the night before the race (oh, boy. better not even mentioned). But I did run a decent amount of mile 2 (downhill) and felt like I at least got some much-needed exercise. We crossed the finish line in style, running strong.

After we finished, I let the boy out of his stroller and he ran around, getting such joy from things like stepping up and down curbs. Not to mention all the dogs, which he is crazy about. He’ll chase after a dog for miles. Ah, the joys of running. And family. And the amazing autumn weather. So glad we went…

We have family in town for a couple of weeks, which has meant lots more walking and informal exercise… but also lots more eating. Gotta nip that in the bud.

I’d inched up a little bit, weight-wise, but have now begun to inch down again. It’ll come. I know what I need to do.

It’s interesting how being around these two teenagers (my niece and nephew) have awakened in me all my feelings of adolescent inadequacy. They are absolutely everything I wasn’t as a teenager. The 14-year-old boy describes himself as "a natural athlete," and he is in really good shape. He’s handsome, he’s fit, and he’s quite arrogant. The 17-year-old girl is tall, around 5′10", and has a model’s figure. She’s confident in her body, and dresses stylishly, raiding Abercrombie and Fitch for lots of new togs, which she wears well. Hmm… obviously these are my relatives by marriage, because I feel like I share no blood with them at all.

It’s a little ridiculous, but I sometimes think about my adolescent self, and how she would never have been accepted by these two. I was chubby-to-fat, had no athletic inclinations, and kept my head , full of insecurities, buried in a book a lot of the time. But, then again, I had so much more going for me, and I still do, so why should their approval matter to me in the least? I suppose I’m just sad sometimes at how much time I wasted being insecure and self-doubting, when I’m really quite capable and should be more confident. Ah… you live and learn.

P.S. DietGirl has posted the most amazingly encouraging entry, aimed at all of us who get discouraged by the long weight-loss road ahead. Thanks, DG, for the lift in spirits.

Well, as usual I have hit a roadblock. When I first ordered the food delivery service, I was pissed off because they wouldn’t let me exclude certain foods (those with green/red/yellow peppers, which I hate). Well, they would let me exclude them, they just wouldn’t tell me which of their dishes had these ingredients, so I wasn’t able to pre-emptively avoid them. I had to order them, and receive them, and then discover they had the forbidden ingredients therein. Then I could avoid ordering them again. Totally lame.

Anyway, in a huff I called up to cancel the program. But I ended up liking the food, and very few items contained the yucky peppers. When I looked online it looked as if I was going to receive week 2 of food, and it allowed me to configure my choices for the week. So I got all psyched for the delivery of week 2… which never came, of course. It was just a very sucky online interface, not a failure to cancel my order.

So, all this to say that I’ve been eating on my own for about a week, and haven’t been doing so great. It’s crazy because I really have convinced myself that I’m incompetent and incapable of preparing food on my own that satisfies me and helps me lose weight. God, talk about negative self talk. I’m starting up the delivery service again tomorrow, I believe (just in time for guests to come in town for 2 weeks… but I’m sticking with it anyway!). So I’m excited about that.

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I haven’t mentioned my fitness breakthrough. I ran 1 mile straight on the treadmill, at 5.3 mph, this past weekend. Yippee! I mostly walked (all but 5 minutes more) of my 30 minute treadmill workout, but it was a huge milestone (yuk yuk) for me. I also entered a fun run (jog stroller friendly) for October 29. I’ll probably do the 2 mile distance and make my goal running the entire time. DH will probably have a soccer game that morning, so I actually signed up for Zipcar (car sharing service) so we can both transport ourselves (we only have 1 car) if our events overlap. So empowering, rather than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself because I don’t have a car. And the stroller-friendliness of the event means I can make it a fun outing for me and the boy.