Monthly Archives: January 2009

thirty-three

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Tomorrow is my birthday. (Well, it’s 11 p.m., so actually it’s about an hour from now.) I’ll be 33 years old. Which, quite honestly, is really not a big deal at all. It seems as though you reach a point in life where the only birthdays you pay attention to are the ones that either end in a 5 or a 0, and all of the in between ones are sort of… whatever. Yeah, it’s my birthday. Meh.

The only significant thing I can come up with about this particular birthday is that I’m now the age that my dad was when he & my mom got married. (My mom was a young lass of 23 at the time; 10-year age gap between them.) When I was little, I thought he was soooo old. I mean, eww gross, my mom married an old man. Nice, right? Actually, come to think of it, 33 is also the age that Dave was when he and I got married. Huh. Weird.

Dave has made some noises about my present, so I’m not sure what he’s going to have in store for me. I haven’t even tried to guess, because if someone has gone to the trouble of planning a surprise, I don’t want to guess and ruin it. I told him he didn’t have to get me anything, because I’m a good wife like that. (He’s totally laughing at that sentence, btw.)

The only big thing happening for my birthday is that my brother and his girlfriend are driving over from Charlotte for the weekend. I’ve never met her, but she sounds nice, and I’m sure it’ll be a fun visit. Technically they aren’t coming until Saturday morning, which is the 17th, so really, it has nothing to do with my birthday and everything to do with the fact that they wanted to go someplace for the weekend since they have Monday (MLK Day) off from work. But it should be fun. Even though it means I’ll be frantically cleaning the house all day tomorrow in preparation for their arrival (sheets need to be washed, guest bath needs to be scrubbed, etc.). Not exactly my ideal way to spend my birthday, but oh well. A spotlessly clean house can be my birthday present to myself, right?

So, yep. Thirty-three. There it is.

toddler party planning

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In a mere two and a half weeks, my little baby girl is going to be 2 years old. That alone is sort of mind-boggling, but I’ll leave that topic for a different post. For now, let’s talk about the thing that’s been occupying the majority of my brain space this weekend: the birthday party.

Under normal circumstances, I would think that it’s a bit silly and self-indulgent to have a huge party for a 2 year-old who isn’t old enough to understand or care that it’s her birthday, and who won’t even remember the party a year from now. For Catie’s first birthday, we had a mini-party that consisted of the three of us and some cupcakes. It felt like a party would’ve been more for us than for her, so we didn’t have one.

However, soon after we moved into this neighborhood and Catie started to get acquainted with the kids who live around here, they all started asking me when her birthday was, and what kind of party she was going to have. Um…? I guess it makes sense, nothing is a bigger deal than a birthday when you’re a little kid (except maybe Christmas). But since I was talking to little kids – who, let’s face it, don’t have much of a sense of tact – it quickly became obvious that they all expect to be invited to Catie’s birthday party. Hmm.

Here are the problems I’m facing:
(a) our guest list consists of about 12-15 kids, plus their parents – I know that probably seems like a ridiculous amount, but that’s actually leaving out some of the kids that we don’t know that well or who very rarely play with Catie. These kids range in age anywhere from one to 12 years old. Yikes.
(b) Catie’s birthday is on January 27th. Late January is typically not the best time of year for an outdoor party, so inviting the kids over for a big backyard shindig isn’t really an option.
(c) I don’t want all those kids (plus their parents) in my house. It’s too much, I would be ridiculously overwhelmed.

So that leaves me with only one option that I can see, and that’s to have the party somewhere else. After much investigation, we’re thinking about having it at Chick-Fil-A; it’s relatively cheap, there’s an enclosed play area, and they handle pretty much everything for you. They provide meals for each kid, decor (plates, hats, cups, etc.) based on the theme you choose (I don’t think Wonder Pets party supplies exist, so I’m torn between Winnie the Pooh and Thomas the Tank Engine, Catie’s other two favorites), balloons, cake, ice cream, everything. Oh, plus we get a visit from the Chick-Fil-A cow mascot, who I imagine will absolutely terrify Catie. But still, big scary cow mascot not withstanding, it’s a really good deal.

I was talking about this with Meredith, the mom next door, and she said that the kids usually love parties that take place anywhere outside of the neighborhood. There’s something about seeing their friends outside of their normal context (i.e., at each other’s houses) that gets them all jazzed and excited. So I think that’s probably what we’re going to do.

What do y’all think? Is it too white trash to have a birthday party at a fast food restaurant? Or too over the top to have a big birthday bash for a two year-old?

recipe sharing time

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I don’t think I’ve ever posted a recipe here – I don’t love to cook that much, it’s kind of just not my thing. But since we started this no-sugar, no-white-flour diet, I’ve been looking around for creative meal ideas. I dug out my old South Beach Diet cookbook, and found something that we’ve never tried before. I modified it a bit (added chicken, since the original version was vegetarian), and the end result was awesome. Seriously, Dave and I both couldn’t stop talking about it, and we loved it just as much when we had the leftovers tonight. It was fantastic. So, just in case any of y’all are also trying to eat healthy, here you go:

Whole Wheat Pasta with Eggplant and Ricotta

* 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
* 1 1/2 pounds eggplant, cut into 1-inch cubes [note: this is where I messed up; I sliced the eggplant way too thin and it basically shriveled up to nothing. So make sure you cut them into nice big chunks.]
* 8 ounces whole-wheat penne pasta – you can use regular if you want, whole-wheat is just how we roll at our house
* 1 small onion, thinly sliced
* 3 garlic cloves, minced
* 1 (14.5 ounce) can of chopped tomatoes
* 2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
* 1 cup part-skim ricotta cheese
* salt & pepper
* fresh basil (optional)
* My addition: 1 pound of chicken breast tenders, cut into bite-size pieces. I think pork would also work (maybe pork tenderloin?), but probably not beef or fish.

1. Pre-heat oven to 450 degrees.
2. Lightly coat a baking pan with oil (or spray with Pam). Place eggplant in the pan, drizzle with 1 tablespoon of olive oil, season with salt & pepper, toss to coat, and spread in an even layer. Bake, stirring once, until eggplant is lightly browned, about 25 minutes.
3. While eggplant is roasting, cook pasta according to the package directions.
4. Meanwhile, heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. In my version: add the chicken (or your meat of choice) and brown it. Of course, it’s not mandatory, this was just something I added, since for Dave and me, it doesn’t really feel like dinner if there isn’t meat involved.
5. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened – about 5 minutes.
6. Add garlic, cook one minute more.
7. Add tomatoes (with juice) and bring to a boil. Then reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer for 3 minutes.
8. Stir in vinegar and season to taste with salt & pepper. You can also add basil if you like. I tore up a few fresh basil leaves and added them, and I think it really improved the flavor. (Plus the touch of green made the dish a little prettier.)
9. Drain pasta and place in large bowl. Add tomato mixture, eggplant, and ricotta cheese. Toss to combine, season with salt & pepper (maybe – I thought it seemed unnecessary after salting both the tomato mixture and the eggplant), and serve.

It really was fantastic. My only gripe is that it isn’t exactly a toddler-friendly meal. Catie didn’t like the whole-wheat pasta, and the sauce was a little too “herb-y” for her (the combination of onion, basil, and balsamic vinegar – it’s a very strong taste for a little one). She ate a little bit of the chicken, and then I had to find something else for her to eat for dinner. But if you aren’t cooking for a two year-old, go forth and godspeed. Let me know if you try it, and what you think of it!

Random Updates

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Diet Update: I still haven’t cheated, while Dave is being much more lax about the whole no-sugar, no-white-flour thing. Which is fine for him – he’s a guy, he can probably drop ten pounds just by thinking about cutting sugar out of his diet. Grrr. (Ok, full disclosure: I did have one roll of Smarties, but I was getting the low blood sugar shakes, so I panicked and went for the candy.) Anyway, I’m starting to feel better, which I guess means my body is almost finished with this whole sugar detox process. And I’m coming up with some interesting dinner recipes, which has been challenging (no mashed potatoes or pasta on the side? what are we supposed to eat?!?!), but we’ve found some things that we really like, so that’s good.

Sippy Cup Update: I think I won this particular battle in the Toddler War. Yesterday and today, every time Catie was thirsty and asked for a drink, she took the sippy cup from me and drank it on her own with no objection at all. Awesome. Mommy FTW!

Weather Update: We’ve had this crazy wind/rain storm off and on all day today, and it knocked out our power for about two hours. I was bitching and moaning about it until I heard about the flooding out in Seattle, looked up road closures for King County, and found out that sure enough, if we were still in our old house, we’d be flooded in and not able to go anywhere. So now I’m shutting up because I am just ever so thankful that we don’t live there anymore.

Employment Update: I had a job interview today, which was for a job that I’d feel totally indifferent about (it’s fine, I wouldn’t hate it, but it isn’t my passion, so… meh?), but the salary is really impressive, so I’m sort of confused and trying to wrap my head around it. If I get the offer, I’m sure I’ll end up taking it, just because it would be a really good opportunity. But it’s kind of a moot point for now, because all I’ve had at this point is a preliminary interview with an HR person. If they decide they like me, I’ll still have two or three more rounds of interviews to get through, before I maybe, possibly, get an offer. So absolutely nothing is decided at this point. I’m trying not to worry about it, and just know that whatever is supposed to happen, will happen. You know, que sera sera or something like that.

The Sippy Cup Wars

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So far on this diet, I’m doing… ok. I’m managing. I mean, I haven’t cheated at all, but I feel like crap on a stick. I’m basically trying to re-train my brain to break some of the bad habits that I’ve gotten myself into. And it’s hard, because my brain is still trying to tell me, “no no, after breakfast, you need that oatmeal cookie.” And of course I don’t need it, so I don’t eat one. But that leaves me with the craving, which sucks. So until my brain gets out of these bad habits, I’m just feeling sort of scattered and very, very crabby. And a little weepy. Is this what it’s like when people quit smoking? Because it sort of feels like I’m trying to fix an addiction here. And I don’t even have Dr. Drew to pat me on the shoulder and tell me I’m doing a good job. (Hmmm, Dr. Drew and an oatmeal cookie, now that is something I could really go for right now… But I digress.)

Since I’m already grouchy and miserable, I decided to go ahead and take on another challenge that’s been annoying me for a while. Catie is off the bottle completely, and has been since she was about 15 months old. She is an all-sippy-cup, all-the-time kind of girl, and that’s honestly fine with me. Yes, I realize that she will soon be two years old, and I should be teaching her how to drink from a regular cup, but I’m procrastinating about that because I know it’s going to involve a lot of clean-up. And I’m lazy. She can drink from a cup with a straw, but she prefers the sippy.

The problem? She expects me to hold the sippy cup for her. She absolutely knows how to do it herself, she does it all the time when I’m not around, or say, when she’s in her car seat and I’m driving. I think she wants me to hold it because it’s her way of making sure she has my undivided attention. And you know, she already has my attention pretty much every waking minute of the day. As it stands now, every time the kiddo is thirsty, she expects me to stop what I’m doing and hold her sippy cup for her. I don’t mind doing it when she first wakes up, or before bedtime, because that’s our quiet snuggle time. But for every beverage requirement (approximately once an hour) all day long? No. Enough is enough.

So since yesterday, when she asks for her juice, I’ve been handing her the cup instead of holding it for her. She screams and throws the cup at me, and I ignore her and go about my business while she throws herself on the floor howling about what a horrible mommy I am. After a few minutes, she relents, picks up the cup and takes a drink all by herself. At which point I applaud, tell her what a big girl she is, give her a hug and a kiss on the head, and basically praise her like crazy for doing something she’s been able to do for the past year. Eh, whatever works, right?

After this, I might start working on teaching her how to drink from a regular cup. But I’m not looking forward to that at all. Can’t she learn how to do that in preschool or something?

Diet Time

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Announcement: Dave and I are starting a new diet. Well, technically Dave’s already been on one for a while – he lost 30 pounds before the holidays. He’s been doing great, I’m really proud of him. But he got off track during the holidays, and now that he’s trying to start back on his diet, I’ve decided to join him. It’s always easier to tackle a challenge with a partner, right?

And this doesn’t count as a New Year’s resolution, because I don’t believe in them. Besides, I’m starting this on January 3rd, so it has nothing to do with New Year’s, and everything to do with not liking the way my clothes feel on me. Yes, my size 12 jeans still fit, and I only weigh maybe five pounds more than I did when I got married, but I’m feeling decidedly flabbier. I figure it’s better to tackle these things when I have a small, manageable goal in front of me, rather than waiting until my size 12 jeans don’t fit me anymore, or waiting until I hit 200 pounds or something. So, I would like to try to lose ten pounds. Maybe 15, but that would put me at the peak of my weight loss after my gastric bypass, and I think I only stayed at that weight for a few months, so I’m not terribly optimistic that I can maintain that again.

It’s awkward for me to write about this because I don’t like talking about my body image issues. I feel like I’m probably going to get one of two reactions: (a) people who don’t have a problem with their weight can’t believe that I’m happy being a size 12, and they wonder how I can stand to look at my fat ass in the mirror every day; or (b) people with real weight problems can’t believe that I’m whining about wanting to lose a measly ten or fifteen pounds. What do I have to complain about? The latter reaction is probably how I would’ve felt myself before my gastric bypass, so maybe I’m projecting a little bit of my past there.

The thing is, I have accepted that I will never, ever be super-skinny. Even after surgery, a size 6 is just not in my future. It’s not in my genetic make-up. And that’s fine, I’m totally at ease with being the size of the average American woman. I don’t have to be perfect. I can walk into pretty much any clothing store and find something that’ll fit me, and that alone is more than I ever dared to hope for, before my surgery. So I’m really not complaining, I’m just scared to death of regaining the weight that I worked so hard to lose (seriously, if you think surgery is the easy way out? You are dead wrong), so I’m trying to be proactive about nipping this flabby feeling in its proverbial bud before it becomes an issue.

I think part of the problem is that having a two year-old in the house makes it impossible for me to eat healthy all the time, so I’ve just given up on even trying. If I make a peanut butter & jelly sandwich for Catie, and she only eats a quarter of it, I figure that heck, I went to the trouble to make the sandwich, and I don’t want to just throw it out, right? It seems so wasteful. So I eat it. Or when she gets a free cookie at the grocery store and decides that she doesn’t want the last two bites of it, she hands it to me, and what am I supposed to do with a piece of a cookie while I’m trying to push a grocery cart? I wolf it down and move on. And what I should do is find a trash can and toss it.

I hesitated to even mention anything about this diet on the blog, because like I said, I’m not really comfortable talking about my weight issues. But I was worried that some of my posts over the next few weeks might have sort of a cranky, “grrr I will kill the first person who crosses my path in exchange for a cookie” vibe, and I thought that might warrant some explanation. So that’s what’s going on. I don’t suddenly need Prozac, I’m just suffering from junk food deprivation. Poor widdle ol’ me.