I've lost my mojo. Again. This seems to be chronic with me. Only this time it's not just my bloggy mojo I've lost. I've lost it in the kitchen, too. I was doing so great, making everything homemade, almost completely from scratch (my dad had the nerve to tut-tut at me when I admitted the noodles in my otherwise "from scratch" lasagne were not homemade) and providing my family with tasty, wholesome, nutritious meals every day.
And then, not to blame it him at all but, The Viking joined Weight Watchers. This knocked the wind out of me, I have to tell you. I had been contemplating joining WW for some time. I had been working myself up to it and has just about talked myself into spending the money and taking the time to do it when The Viking came home from work one day and gleefully announced he'd joined at work a week before!
Whaaaa....??? Wait, that was supposed to be me! The money allocated for WW was supposed to go toward my weight loss plan, not his! I was finally going to stop putting myself last and justify spending money on myself and not on sports for the kids or new plants for the house or new sheets for the beds. And he took it! Don't worry, we've discussed this very amiably and sorted it all out and we're good. But that's what happened.
He's been bringing home his materials and I've been trying to do WW vicariously through him but it's not going all that well. Apparently, I have several obstacles to overcome which could very well explain why I look the way I do.
1. I love food. Is that wrong? I have had a very hard time admitting that because GLUTTON keeps ringing through my head. It's one of the seven deadly sins, you know, though considered one of the lesser of the seven. But I love it. Good food, prepared well, with good ingredients is a top pleasure of mine. It's important to me. I cannot stand eating the same thing all the time. I cannot, for example, eat salad twice a day every day. I cannot subsist on drinks from a can as a meal. I can't make powder a large portion of my diet. The Viking went through a few weeks where he was drinking Slim Fast a few times a day, SLIM FAST! THAT is not a diet, that is a punishment! He's also eating salads all the time and it's driving me a bit mad.
2. Related to this: I can't stand things that have been manufactured or messed with. Now, I can enjoy a bag of Cheetos, sleeve of Oreos, or pouch of french fries like the next girl, but in general, give me butter, whole milk, sugar, real cheese, fresh bread, a joint of meat and fresh fruits and vegetables! You can keep your margarine, soy butter, skim/soy/rice milk, artificial sweeteners, low-fat cheese food, white sandwich bread, canned meat product and fruit snacks! The Viking showed me a recipe for an omelet that called for egg whites, low-fat cheese and cooking spray. It made me want to cry. It sounded like prison food. And he's brought all kinds of food substitutes into the house. Like Splenda. And sugar-free pudding and yogurt. Gag me.
3. I had finally learned to cook. FINALLY. And I had gotten good at it. A large portion of my life revolved around our menu: planning it, procuring the goods necessary for it, preparing it and serving it. The Viking was so very appreciative. He would come home in anticipation of what I would be serving each night. He would sit down at the dining room table with delight on his face. He would dive in with gusto and savor each dish (okay, maybe not when I tried another meatloaf, but most of the time). He would sigh after dinner and praise my efforts. He would brag to other men about the good cook he had at home. And I loved it. I felt like I was successfully meeting one of my husband's vital needs. And now, he's picking over his food, even abstaining from some of the things I'm making. I made burgers (a family favorite). He went and made some tilapia for himself to eat instead. I took that very personally, though he insists I shouldn't. Several times I have had dinner almost ready and he has come in and put together a salad to supplement the meal. I didn't like the idea that my meal needed supplementation. I bit the bullet and served Mediterranean Veggie Sandwiches (a la Panera) for dinner one night. They were dang good. But later, I heard The Viking tell Redheaded Snippet she was hungry because we hadn't really had a meal that night. Say what now?
4. I hate being hot and I hate sweating. Hate it! I hate it almost more than anything! And you cannot exercise to any good purpose without getting sweaty. So this is a major problem and quite possibly the biggest reason I have the appearance I do. And The Viking is now running three miles a day. I know, I know, it's good for him! And I'm glad he's getting healthier so he's with us longer, I am! But he's getting home from work at 6:30 and then going right out and running. And then he's so sweaty and gross he has to take a shower before we eat. So dinner is even later and time with us is even less and I hate that. He is also trying to get me to with him and doesn't understand that I have a meal to prepare and would rather eat glass than run anywhere.
So, I sit down to prepare meals and I don't know what to do anymore. It was hard enough to prepare things that the kids wouldn't go into convulsions over, would fit within our budget, that I had the time to make (depending on games, practices, church, etc), would be tasty and what I thought was healthy. Now I have to plan dinner an hour later (which is a problem when you've got piano lessons at 7:30 two nights a week) and try to plan around what The Viking will eat now. He wants fish and fresh veggie salads all the time. I hate fish as much as I hate sweating. And if I have to eat more salad I'm going to wind up throwing it against the wall. I made shrimp scampi the other night in an attempt to compromise in the seafood arena. The Viking commented that it still wasn't all that healthy for you, despite being seafood.
I put my foot down last night and bought steak for dinner. It's been so long since we've had it and it's finally nice enough to fire up the grill and Wegman's had strip steak on sale. It was the perfect storm. The Viking cooked it to a turn and we boiled some potatoes and steamed some peas and it was a decent, relatively healthy meal. Even The Viking loved it. But he complained the rest of the night about having to run extra today and gaining back 5 of the 20 lbs he's lost. I wanted to throw his box of Splenda at him.
Otherwise, I have no weekly menu made. I am at a loss as to what to prepare. I had just gotten into a groove and now it's worthless. All the plates I was spinning have crashed to the floor and I don't know where to start in picking up the pieces. And I suspect I just might be being a huge, snotty-nosed baby about this. But this is what I do when faced with change. It's not very effective, but it's what I do.
Add to that trying to decide if we need to move sometime in the next 4 months and you've got one very stressed-out Pippa. I probably don't have to tell you that the moving idea is still a secret from the children. Redheaded Snippet would be most traumatized if she knew we were even entertaining the notion, let alone if she knew just how seriously we're considering it. I can't go into details here and now, but it's definitely a distinct possibility at this point. And I can hardly think about it without feeling the desperate need to lose myself in some escapist behavior (like online jigsaw puzzles at puzzlehouse.com).
I know there are no photos to accompany this long rant and I know it probably isn't a very well-thought out or organized post, but this is what I'm chewing on and it's all I've got at the moment. It was this or wait another week in hopes the the storm clouds in my brain clear.
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