Today I got to cut an entire tray of chocolate-frosted brownies for my darling class. With sprinkles. And I'm back on the wagon. Oh, and in case you didn't read in the last post, I have PMS. I'm expecting a serpent to appear with an apple any minute now.
But I didn't have a brownie. So I am back to laughing in the face of sugar! Unless, of course, I am still on this ridiculous no sugar kick when Aunt Flo visits, next month.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Sugarless Update: A Friday Math Equation
PMS + Hubby working late (= no supervision) + Girl Scout Thin Mint cookies in freezer = All sorts of bad things.
And I'll just leave it at that.
And I'll just leave it at that.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
My Kind of Dinner
I've written this before and have said it dozens, if not hundreds of times - I hate to cook. I get no enjoyment out of it and look at it as a waste of time. I cook for 2 reasons - 1) The health of my family - I refuse to do fast food and take out on a nightly basis 2) So that Monkey Man doesn't tell his teachers that he had frozen waffles for dinner again (for many families, this might be peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, but he's allergic to nuts - or cereal, but he is the only child in America that does not eat cereal. He can't even stand the smell of someone else eating it. I know, weird kid).
Tonight, Hubby is working late and Monkey Man is at my parent's house because I have a hair appointment to get my blonde back. I am a natural blonde, and every winter my hair gets too dark for my liking, so I get highlights. There are 3 things I like about my physical appearance: I love my blonde hair, I like my smile, and I like that I'm tall. All the rest depends on the day, but if I only like 3 things, then you betcha I'm getting one of those fixed ASAP!
Blonde stuff aside, I'm home alone for dinner. Which I LOVE, because I just had a gourmet meal of Vanilla Greek Yogurt with Granola. Now THAT'S what I call dinner.
Tonight, Hubby is working late and Monkey Man is at my parent's house because I have a hair appointment to get my blonde back. I am a natural blonde, and every winter my hair gets too dark for my liking, so I get highlights. There are 3 things I like about my physical appearance: I love my blonde hair, I like my smile, and I like that I'm tall. All the rest depends on the day, but if I only like 3 things, then you betcha I'm getting one of those fixed ASAP!
Blonde stuff aside, I'm home alone for dinner. Which I LOVE, because I just had a gourmet meal of Vanilla Greek Yogurt with Granola. Now THAT'S what I call dinner.
On the 7th Day
I had a very busy day yesterday, or Day 7 of the Sugar-less / Write-a-Post Everyday Experiment. I spent all morning invoicing newspapers for Doug's comic then headed off to work. After work, I went directly to a friend's Daisy Troop meeting and spoke to them about exercise and then we did some kickboxing. I raced home, made dinner and then went back out to teach two kickboxing classes. I got home at 9:30 p.m. and was starving.
There was not an apple, yogurt, or sensible snack to be found in this house. Therefore, I am ashamed to say, Animal Crackers cracked me. They aren't even chocolate. But I ate them with a big glass of milk, so that kind of counteracts the non-nutritional value of them. And I missed my blog post last night - BUT, as long as I write 40 posts in 40 days, I've succeeded. Those are my rules, anway.
Well, back on the fruit and veggie bandwagon...Here's to 33 more days!
There was not an apple, yogurt, or sensible snack to be found in this house. Therefore, I am ashamed to say, Animal Crackers cracked me. They aren't even chocolate. But I ate them with a big glass of milk, so that kind of counteracts the non-nutritional value of them. And I missed my blog post last night - BUT, as long as I write 40 posts in 40 days, I've succeeded. Those are my rules, anway.
Well, back on the fruit and veggie bandwagon...Here's to 33 more days!
Monday, March 14, 2011
Chocolate Frosting & Thin Mints: A Dangerous Duo
There is a can of chocolate frosting leftover from Monkey Man's birthday bash this weekend that is sitting in my refrigerator. It has been sitting there since Friday night. And I have not touched that can. Now, in my saner, sugar-eating days, I would have slaughtered that frosting with my mighty spoon and made up for it the next day at kickboxing. But instead, each time I open the fridge, I give it a quick once-over, a cocky "whatever," letting it know it has no power over me and can sit there until April 24 (when I will eat chocolate until I am comatose. If my grave reads "Death By Chocolate" then I have led a rich and full life).
And then there are the Girl Scout Cookie Thin Mints in my freezer. I have been known to inhale a box of these puppies in one sitting, my belly aching afterwards and wondering why these evil little girls must raise money for their organization in the form of freakin' chocolate mint cookies. They are all so innocent in their, "Won't you buy a box to help us girls contribute to society, participate in wholesome activities, and ensure that we don't procreate at the age of 14 because we didn't get an abstinence badge?" Okay, that part I have no idea about, but you get the idea. You HAVE TO buy the cookies.
But they are sitting in my fridge, heckling me each time I reach for my veggie burger or frozen mango.
If only the frosting and Thin Mints knew how I could totally dip one into the other and show them who's really boss. They seriously have no idea of the chocoholic they are messing with. But my chocolate badass-ness will have to wait another 5 weeks.
And then there are the Girl Scout Cookie Thin Mints in my freezer. I have been known to inhale a box of these puppies in one sitting, my belly aching afterwards and wondering why these evil little girls must raise money for their organization in the form of freakin' chocolate mint cookies. They are all so innocent in their, "Won't you buy a box to help us girls contribute to society, participate in wholesome activities, and ensure that we don't procreate at the age of 14 because we didn't get an abstinence badge?" Okay, that part I have no idea about, but you get the idea. You HAVE TO buy the cookies.
But they are sitting in my fridge, heckling me each time I reach for my veggie burger or frozen mango.
If only the frosting and Thin Mints knew how I could totally dip one into the other and show them who's really boss. They seriously have no idea of the chocoholic they are messing with. But my chocolate badass-ness will have to wait another 5 weeks.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Dover Dairy Open for Business. Sucks to Be Me.
In continuation of Monkey Man’s birthday WEEKEND, we took him for ice cream last night. Since I am on this ridiculous no-sugar experiment for 6 weeks, I went along to torture myself. I L-O-V-E ice cream and to go along for the ride and watch 2 people thoroughly enjoy the neighborhood ice cream joint's season opening is just masochistic.
When we pulled up, Hubby noticed the gigantic sign in the window that said, “Fat Free and Sugar Free Yogurt.” We halla-freakin-lujah! Someone give me a “Loophole Amen!” Clearly, the good Lord was intervening, showing pity on my sugarless soul. The loophole? No sugar, and some nutritional value – calcium and yogurt cultures. Of course, I would have to forfeit my chocolate sprinkles which are really the only reason people should eat ice cream. I have to say, though, I did struggle with the decision to get the yogurt even though it was fat free AND sugar free. Was this cheating? I finally decided that if it had no sugar, then it was okay. I ordered my naked yogurt in a cup (I’m also totally a cone girl, cups are pretty worthless). I also asked the ice cream girl for the nutrition information just out of curiosity.
I read it over, and I’m not sure if she gave me the wrong information, but this paper said “no sugar ADDED” and had 8 grams of sugar. SON OF A *$@&! I sat in the car with my stupid, sprinkle-less, cone-less yogurt and wept.
I brought it home, put it in the freezer and saved it for Monkey Man. Clearly, there is something wrong with me that I went as far as to purchase this “sugar-free” product then NOT EAT IT.
I prepared Monkey Man a treat tonight with my ice cream covered in chocolate syrup and crushed Thin Mint cookies. But I have to tell the truth – I took a few crumbs of the cookie. C’mon people, I have been looking at and touching sugary birthday delightfulness all week, it was just a few crumbs!
When we pulled up, Hubby noticed the gigantic sign in the window that said, “Fat Free and Sugar Free Yogurt.” We halla-freakin-lujah! Someone give me a “Loophole Amen!” Clearly, the good Lord was intervening, showing pity on my sugarless soul. The loophole? No sugar, and some nutritional value – calcium and yogurt cultures. Of course, I would have to forfeit my chocolate sprinkles which are really the only reason people should eat ice cream. I have to say, though, I did struggle with the decision to get the yogurt even though it was fat free AND sugar free. Was this cheating? I finally decided that if it had no sugar, then it was okay. I ordered my naked yogurt in a cup (I’m also totally a cone girl, cups are pretty worthless). I also asked the ice cream girl for the nutrition information just out of curiosity.
I read it over, and I’m not sure if she gave me the wrong information, but this paper said “no sugar ADDED” and had 8 grams of sugar. SON OF A *$@&! I sat in the car with my stupid, sprinkle-less, cone-less yogurt and wept.
I brought it home, put it in the freezer and saved it for Monkey Man. Clearly, there is something wrong with me that I went as far as to purchase this “sugar-free” product then NOT EAT IT.
I prepared Monkey Man a treat tonight with my ice cream covered in chocolate syrup and crushed Thin Mint cookies. But I have to tell the truth – I took a few crumbs of the cookie. C’mon people, I have been looking at and touching sugary birthday delightfulness all week, it was just a few crumbs!
Saturday, March 12, 2011
It Pays to Spring Forward!
Hubby and I are hoping that his genius, coupled with my monetary bribes, will get us some sleep tomorrow morning. As we all know (or maybe not, so you are finding out now) we have to turn the clocks ahead one hour tonight, so everyone loses an hour of sleep. For parents of children that think they are roosters and must wake up the whole freaking farm at the crack of dawn, daylight savings sucks.
Monkey Man has been getting up at about 6 a.m. every morning. He doesn’t care if it’s a school day or a weekend, he is up and at ‘em. His motto is that of a hardcore, 20-something rockstar, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He’s got too much to accomplish in a day, why sleep away the hours that could be devoted to Wii Lego Batman, Spongebob, writing and illustrating books, playing basketball, jumping on the trampline, doing flips in the living room, and just generally exhausting his mother and father?
The past few weekends, I have offered to pay Monkey Man $1 if he lets us sleep in until 8 a.m. He will do anything for money – he is saving for an iTouch and a car (gotta give the kid some credit on the short and long-term financial goals – Suze Orman would be proud). Between his birthday, allowance and weekly extortion from his one set of grandparents (my sweet and growing ever-poorer parents) he is almost about to get an iTouch. He has wanted one for months now, and we refuse to buy him one. But if this is what he chooses to spend his hard-earned money on, then so be it.
Now we pair my bribery with Hubby’s sinister and truly brilliant plan to allow us to sleep in tomorrow morning. Hubby approached me after Monkey Man was safely into slumber and said, “Let’s not turn the clocks ahead tonight. We’ll wait until after Monkey Man wakes up. So when he gets up at his usual 6 a.m., it will really be 7 a.m. One of us will get up and get him breakfast, then we can sleep until the clock says 8:30, and it will really be 9:30!” He was practically peeing himself with glee and pride at this revelation.
If this works, we may never have a clock in this house that works again!
Monkey Man has been getting up at about 6 a.m. every morning. He doesn’t care if it’s a school day or a weekend, he is up and at ‘em. His motto is that of a hardcore, 20-something rockstar, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” He’s got too much to accomplish in a day, why sleep away the hours that could be devoted to Wii Lego Batman, Spongebob, writing and illustrating books, playing basketball, jumping on the trampline, doing flips in the living room, and just generally exhausting his mother and father?
The past few weekends, I have offered to pay Monkey Man $1 if he lets us sleep in until 8 a.m. He will do anything for money – he is saving for an iTouch and a car (gotta give the kid some credit on the short and long-term financial goals – Suze Orman would be proud). Between his birthday, allowance and weekly extortion from his one set of grandparents (my sweet and growing ever-poorer parents) he is almost about to get an iTouch. He has wanted one for months now, and we refuse to buy him one. But if this is what he chooses to spend his hard-earned money on, then so be it.
Now we pair my bribery with Hubby’s sinister and truly brilliant plan to allow us to sleep in tomorrow morning. Hubby approached me after Monkey Man was safely into slumber and said, “Let’s not turn the clocks ahead tonight. We’ll wait until after Monkey Man wakes up. So when he gets up at his usual 6 a.m., it will really be 7 a.m. One of us will get up and get him breakfast, then we can sleep until the clock says 8:30, and it will really be 9:30!” He was practically peeing himself with glee and pride at this revelation.
If this works, we may never have a clock in this house that works again!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)