As promised, like three months after I promised it… “the
world’s most okayest mommy blog.” Yup, that’s me! No super mom over here… we’re just
gettin by. Yah, that’d be super rad to sit down to dinner together every night…
and I get to feel guilty every time I read the hand out at my pediatrician’s
office that says “continue to eat dinner together each night” …. but let’s get
real. We’re lucky I make it to the store once this week and even have food to
consume in the house, at all. Not to mention, the little monster is hungry at
5:30, I’m hungry on an unpredictable basis, and daddy is hungry the minute he
walks in the door which, thanks to traffic, is unpredictably predictable each
night. Soooooo, if we can all be in one room talking about our day, at one
point in the night… I’d consider that a success. Sorry June Cleaver, or
whatever mommy role models I should look up to, that’s all I got.
In addition to the fact that I don’t aspire to be a famous
chef, I admit that I’m not, AND I’d rather get a run in than cook a feast. Luckily,
I married a man who feels that same way. Additionally, he has on more than one
occasion, turned down my home cooked meal for a whisky drink and working on a
project in the garage. So I no longer feel bad about not cooking. Even though
my grandmother likes to guilt me about it. I CAN say (with me chest puffed out)
I made ALL of Taytum’s baby food. BAM! Take that! Okay, so it wasn’t that hard.
And I still make her apple sauce because it’s ridiculously easy and tastes
better than anything you can buy. So really the moral of that story is… if I
can do it….literally anyone in this world can do it. So that’s my claim to fame…
baby food… yup. And she’s a picky eater now, so that worked out well. She’s
challenging me at 18 months, super, can’t wait until she’s a teenager, if she’s
half as moody as I was we will be lucky.
Which brings me to the asinine picture that goes with this
blog. Everyone out there is promoting something that will change your life! Give
you more energy! Make you lose weight! Give you more self esteem! I, too, have
that secret. And it’s bound to make me some enemies. It will cost you nothing,
but if you’d like to send me a check for $29.99, be my guest. It’s called stubbornness,
competitiveness, and desire. But mostly competitiveness. And competitiveness
with myself… for the most part… except when my husband is running 1.5 steps in
front of me and I’m debating A) trip him or B) yell at him. I digress. Anywho, I
gained 19 pounds when I was pregnant. And I kept track of every… single… thing…
I ate. Why? Not because I didn’t want to get fat…. Okay maybe a little… more so
because as much as it was in my control, I was going to make a strong, healthy
baby. I made sure to consume X grams of protein (and I literally can’t remember
how much that was) and all the other recommended what nots. And with any extra
calories… I ate ice cream. Like almost every night. It was awesome! Not an
awesome habit to kick, after the fact, but in the moment, AWESOME!
So off of the ice cream talk and back to my secret to being
fit….. EAT WHAT YOU FREAKING WANT! Some times, and in moderation. But then,
like, the rest of the time, control yourself. I guess you could call this
balance…. “behave during the week and party on the weekend.” You see, I run to
eat… Not eat to run… eating to run is not fun! Brown rice and chicken breast and
veggies IS… NOT… FUN… 24/ 7. Even you health nuts can admit that! It’s just
not! My first question when I’m on a long run with my husband is “what are we
eating for lunch?” I need a goal to run towards. Chicken breast is not that
goal! Pizza? Billy Bob’s Hamburgers? Now that’s something to run for!
Disclaimer… this diet plan will never be published anywhere
that matters because selective readers just read “eat ice cream and pizza and
trip your husband and you’ll be skinny!”
Disclaimer continued… No, I do not think I have the best
bod. I think I’m decently fit and healthy and I’m good with that.
Okay, so in summary, because I like there to be a summary to
the madness….. life’s short, eat what you want… in moderation. BUT STILL
EXERCISE. And don’t smoke. The end. Oh and my family is surviving. The end end.
Tales of the most okayest mommy to continue… because folks,
this is an ongoing battle.
