Alternatively titled: Overuse of parenthesis. Whatev.
(Curried Lentil Soup and homemade whole wheat bread. Surprisingly good- however still not what I am hankerin’ for at 8pm)
About a month ago, I wrote myself a letter.
It went a little something like this:
If you want to lose weight, eat less.
And so began my diet.
I have been doing a really good job! No more cinnamon sugar toast at 9pm, portion control at meals, cutting back on my sugar intake and lots more fruits and vegetables!
Really, I have been a very, very good girl.
Until last Thursday.
The boys and I were taking a make-up music class that was in a town I have never been in before.
We were already running late (two words: blow out) and coupled with the quirky habit North New Jersey has of not labeling their streets at intersections …well…the stress-sweat was beading.
I finally found the general area of the music studio and, heavens rejoice!, a free parking space, only to find that we actually had to walk 6 blocks to get to class.
After a delightful music session (the boys both love it!) we started our trek through the ice and snow back to the van.
At that point, Joseph declared that he “Is a baby and can’t know how to walk anymore” and flung himself onto the ground.
(did I mention that I forgot my stroller at home?)
(Cue stress-sweat part deux)
It turns out that you can only drag your three year old across an icy sidewalk for so long before you start to get dirty looks.
Or you hit a rock.
You know how it goes.
After many whispered threats, Joseph allowed himself to be dragged (drug?) in a standing position the rest of the way, while I smiled brightly at passers-by and tried to make conversation with Joseph
(“what was your favorite part of music class, joseph?”
End of conversation.)
Upon arrival at our van, I noticed that we were parked right next to a grocery store, and decided (in a shockingly amateurish move) to take the (tired) (cranky) boys in to grab a few things that we needed.
The store itself is a blur- I seem to recall me careening down the aisles and my children crying constantly despite the bribe-food I was throwing at them (Pirates booty! Chips ahoy cookies! Crackers! Take it!!!! Take it ALLL!!!!!)
A million years later, on the way out to the car, Joseph smashed 14/18 eggs with his snow boots when he stood on the carton to reach his brother’s head for a game of “shakey-shakey.”
(note: isaac hates “shakey-shakey”)
Back at the van, the groceries loaded up, and me quivering from starvation I found myself karate chopping Isaac’s midsection (gently, lovingly) while he played “stiff-as-a-board” and refused to bend, and sit, and be strapped in.
I took a deep breath, tried to pull it together, and asked Joseph gently if he would please climb into his car seat.
He refused politely.
Well, actually he shouted “NO! I’m never doing that!”
I made an other-wordly “AIIIIIIEEEE!” type sound and screeched “IF YOU DON’T GET IN YOUR CAR SEAT RIGHT THIS MINUTE SO THAT MOMMY CAN GET SOMETHING TO EAT I AM GOING TO DIIIIIIIIEEEE!!!!”
He complied immediately
I took several heaving breaths and decided Woooo doggies. Mamasita needs some chocolate!
Let’s just say Chips Ahoy and I got re-acquainted on the way home.
And he is an excellent kisser.
Since that incident, I have come to the conclusion that sometimes chocolate makes me a better mommy.
But a better mommy too.
So, my new diet policy is: Everything in moderation
(Fun fact: this sounds like “schmmemyshming hin mosherashion” with your mouth full of m&ms.)