Failure is So the Option

I am working my way through November,  in the midst of trying to overhaul my eating habits, my exercise routines, my writing regimen…

You know, the whole shebang. I want to change my utter existence.

Ok, that’s not true. I think my life has a lot of solid footing, really. But here’s the thing: when we start out (ok, when I start out) on a Make It Better routine we (I) tend to get a little nuts.

Honestly? I am an all or nothing kind of girl. Kinda like this:

You see what I’m getting at here.

I failed.

Here is why:

I LOVE APPLE COBBLER. AND THEN I MADE SOME, FOR MY BOYS, AND I HAD A LITTLE SMIDGEN OFF THE CORNER, JUST A TEENSY BITE I PROMISE.

And I was off to the cobbler races. If there was such a thing. And evidently, there was for me.

Sugar and me are still working it out. Sugar’s all like, “It is clear that you and I will NEVER BE APART. You need me, girl. And IIIIIIIIIII will always love YOUUUUUUUUUUU!!”

Etcetera.

And I’m all, “I am a horrible lump of lumpy badness. Bad Momsie! BAD! I need to go eat a molten chocolate cake to feel better.”

Ok, I’m working on this. I have some ideas for yummy treats to help with the cobbler urges. I also need to embrace the mind blowing idea that having a wee portion of said cobbler CAN ACTUALLY be done. I know, right? Do you mean to tell me that you can eat just a SMALL BIT of something tasty? And that’s IT? That’s just weird.

What can I say? I have issues.

What do you tell yourself when you mess it all up? Do you throw in the towel? Do you keep going? Do you vow to be good in ALL the things? Do you drive yourself crazy? Do you ask a lot of questions and irritate your readers??

 

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How to stop eating your kids’ candy.

I see you there, Reese’s Peanut Butter cup. I see you. Mmmm-hmm.

I know you are chocolatey goodness. I know this ALL TOO WELL.

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Halloween is over, friends. Did you know? Last night, as I walked from house to house, holding my hot tea and trying not to stumble over curbs (It was dark! And cold! And I think people who I chatted with thought I was drinking! Because I tripped about five times! But only in their presence! When it was just me, I could walk like a Victoria Secret Model on the runway! But, with more clothes!)*

Halloween is OVER.

PRAISE THE LORT.

Our house currently looks like Willy Wonka blew up all over it. Both children seem to have the genes of their papa, because they have actually acquired more Reeses than I think is even polite. I know at one point that Red actually said, “TRICK OR TREAT WHERE ARE YOUR REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS, LADY?” whilst we were out last night. Because, you know, he is so polite and well-mannered.

It’s possible we had to stop all trick or treating for a full-on lecture that went like this:

Me: YOU SHALL NOT ASK FOR CERTAIN THINGS. YOU SHALL SAY THANK YOU. YOU SHALL NEVER EVER ASK SWEET LITTLE OLD LADIES FOR SPECIFICS, OK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

Small costumed Star Wars cherubs: Yes ma’am. We will agree to basically anything as long as we can resume our chocolate safari, ok?

Me: Then perhaps I should also add that you two will detail my car tomorrow, ok?

Small costumed Star Wars cherubs: SURE. WE DON’T KNOW THAT THAT MEANS BUT OK.

Anyhow. We carried on. We got home, cold and tired, after a hard day at the chocolate mines, and proceeded to lose our ever-lovin minds. (Red: sobbing. Blonde: sullen. Me: grim.) Such is the way of Halloween. It always ends with the monsters coming out.

But NOW, I am sitting here, eyeing all that candy, and thinking, if I start in on it, I will proceed to eat my way through my feelings and the feelings of everyone else here, and end up in a pile of fluttery orange wrappers and despair.

I am telling you true; I really need to lay off the candy.

Last week a friend of mine worked on filming me for a promo video for a speaking gig. It was awesome and fun and funny and even involved SOCK PUPPETS. AND ALCOHOLISM. I KNOW. HILARIOUS.

But, as I was watching the video’s final edits… I couldn’t focus on the message at all. In fact, I couldn’t really focus on much of anything except that I had about fourteen CHINS.

I do realize that the camera adds some yardage, but… does it add thirty pounds? and fourteen chins?

I asked the husband: “I look fat. Do I look fat?” He blinked a few times, knowing full well taht answering this will not go well whatever angle he takes, so he simply kissed me and said, “I love you.” Which of course means I am a freaking hippopotamus. But a well loved one.

Sigh. I know. You’re going to say: “Dana, embrace yourself no matter what. You are a child of God. You are beautiful inside and out. Don’t even.”

Well. I KNOW that. Duh.

But. I don’t feel good. And sometimes… do you find yourself inhaling Nutter Butters and they don’t even TASTE all that good? I think I have just lost my tastebuds. They are buried under processed sugar and carbs, y’all.

November. I see you. You are my month to reset, renew, re-imagine…

Resolve some food issues. And I’m gonna do it all here with you as my audience. Because, accountability. Plus, maybe… just MAYBE there are a few of you out there that want to join me?

So, stay tuned! I’ll unveil my FABULOUS NEW NOVEMBER PLAN-O-RAMA FOR…NEW FABLOUSNESS.

(Perhaps the first thing I need is to come up with a new title for this. I’m a work in progress. 🙂

Love all of y’all. Anybody out there (*taps mic) feeling tired? Feeling like sugar is taking over? Feeling like you need a little Re-new? What are your best tips for tackling such issues? I’d love to hear from you!

 

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*Halloween so used to be a drinking thing. But, not anymore. We alcoholics in recovery don’t drink on Halloween. Or any other day, for that matter. Just so you know.

Who needs mind-altering substances when you have children?

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This is your Brain. This is your brain on six-year-olds.

Recently my kid got to have pop. For the first time. Like, ever. For those of you not stuck here in the midwest this could also be termed “soda” or “cola” or “a coke.” Whatever. We all know the proper term is “pop” and if you call it soda that’s just weird.

Anyhow, up until now, in his poor deprived six year old life the kid thinks that Gatorade is the BEST THING EVER and basically dessert.

Red plays with one of my old cell phones and tells me he’s doing his video games. I know. We don’t get out much. It’s almost kind of embarrassing, when he shows his friends his new fangled video game. They look at him with such pity and confusion.  But, you know? He has no clue. At this point he only thinks video games are things that Other People have at Their Houses. This is ok, but the other day he did tell me he was ready to move into his pastor’s basement and he would see me later.
They have a Wii. So, I get it.

Anyhow, the other day, my sweet son got to have a Pepsi.
We all know this is the gateway drink.
Before we know it, he’ll be cracking open the hard stuff. Mountain Dew.

The Night of the Pop, we had a baseball game which was about the fifty seventh of the season. We had baseball on every day of the week since like forever and maybe also some practices smushed in there too somewhere, I forget, because after a while I kind of gave up my will to live, and just packed fifty thousand snacks in the car along with two mitts and a baseball bat and just drove  around all summer.
But ANYHOW, the Pepsi thing happened after a late game, and also after this menu:

1.  Gatorade (almost crack)
2. 3 packages of those gummy fruit treats with REAL FRUIT in them (fruity crack)
3. Doritos (don’t judge. We all love them. Cheesy crack)
4. I think perhaps half of a cheese stick but I’m not sure. So, protein? Not crack?
5. Skittles (A mom gave him some. I dunno. I wasn’t able to intercept this shady deal that went down but evidently he seduced a mom at the ball park with his dashing good looks and she handed him a package. I do KNOW the mom so I am going to at least establish that my kid is not walking around taking candy from strangers. He did ask some strange man if he could try his dill pickle sunflower seeds, which he now LOVES, so baseball crack, I guess.)

And then, the can of Pepsi (the gateway crack)

And THEN, my kid lost his ever loving little tiny mind. All that sugar and caffeine headed straight for his oversized noggin, and his teeny tiny synapses started sparking out all over the place, and his brain tried, really, to connect the dots. I mean, it really tried. But instead? This is the conversation we had on the way home:

Red: DASHING THROUGH THE SNOW. INA ONE FORK OPEN SLEIGH! 
Mommy? MOM? mom? MOTHER? MOTHER? MOTHER? MOTHER?? MOMMMMMYYYYYYYYY?

Me. WHAT.

Red: What? What’d you want?

Me: Don’t worry dear. We’ll be home soon. Stay with me. Don’t go toward the light.

Red: I CAN SMELL COLORS!

Mommy? Do you know what I love? Do you? Do YOU? Do you KNOW??

Me: I want to start singing that Diana Ross song but it makes me weepy. You don’t really want weepy, do you?

Red: I WANT ALL THE THINGS NOW. AND WHEN I GET HOME? I’M GONNA PLAY WITH EM.

Also, Mom? I will now enter total monologue zone. Don’t speak, mommy. Just watch and learn.

Mommy, don’t think it would be really cool if we could hear out of our belly buttons?

Don’t answer that. It would be cool, though?
Also, I wanted to tell you how much I love my cat. I just really love him. We need to keep him forever. Even after he dies. You know? He can stay with us. I wish I had fur.

Kylo Ren, by the way? He could be my friend. But, he’s got to be a good guy first. We’ll see. Maybe. He killed his dad. That is NOT GOOD, I tell you.

I have the BIGGEST TAPE MEASURE EVER. IT CAN MEASURE ALL THE THINGS.

I AM SO HUNGRY. I SEE FRIES ON THE FLOOR I AM GONNA EAT THEM.
But now now, mommah, because I won’t unbuckle. I know that’s not safe.

Wait for me, fries.

Mommah, I WANNA GIVE YOU HUG! HUGGIEEEEEEE!

When we get home I’m going to draw a picture of Steve and you, mommy. You are both my favorite things.
And I think also pickles. For Halloween I’m gonna be a pickle. Because you can do that. On Halloween.

Not any other time though.

DID YOU SEE THAT? CHRISTMAS LIGHTS! CHRISTMAS LIGHTS! CHRISTMAS LIIIIIIGHTS!
(It was a liquor store sign. And no, I did not park the car and go IN to the liquor store. But by God, it did seem like a good idea for two seconds. Two seconds was all I got until:)

Do you know why I can’t hear out of my bellybutton, mommah?
Because I just pulled a bunch of grey stuff outta it. Here. Let me give it to you.
And then we got home. And I tucked my little sugarpnants into bed and listened to him sing Christmas carols to himself until about eleven thirty. It’s also possible he tried to play video games with some tinker toys. He named the cat Kylo Ren and tried to make him play. Video games. With tinker toys.

The cat won, by the way.

The husband and I just laid in bed, next door, holding hands, silently laughing so hard that the bed was shaking. And then, the husband just told me he’s gonna try the tape measure bit on me later. He says it sounds like a great come-on line.

This tells you that Red is not the only delusional one in our family.
But that’s another blog, for another day. Aren’t you glad?

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