So I was at the mall yesterday stocking up on bath gel when the kids started clamoring that it was time for lunch.  I headed to the food court and asked them along the way what they would like to eat.  I was prepared for the usual response of pizza all around when to my amazement my second born said she didn’t want pizza.  She asked what there was to eat.  I rattled off the usual things she likes.  Chicken nuggets, tuna from subway, and Chinese noodles.  She said she didn’t want any of those and asked if there was anything else she could get.  I told her that the rest of her options consisted of things she had turned down repeatedly in the past.  I told her she could have salad or tacos or a hamburger.  To my amazement she said that she would like salad as long as it didn’t have any dressing on it.  Her younger sister (who’s never had a hard time eating greens) followed her example and shared a salad with her. 

I kept hearing from the “experts” that if you expose your child to a food often enough they will eventually learn to accept it.  After 10 years of parenting I was beginning to doubt.  I was so proud of her for choosing something so healthy.  Another testament to the fact that miracles still happen today.

It’s official.  My daughter is a celebrity.  Ok, so most people in America still don’t know her name, and wouldn’t recognize her if she walked past them on the street.  But I’m a very proud parent right now. 

After the fiasco of the casting call for Fischer Price, I wasn’t sure if I was really committed to the whole modeling thing.  I decided to see if any of the other kids got a call.  Well, last week Thursday we finally got another call.  This time it was for Deborah. 

Just a note, Deborah was the one we originally thought would do the best at the business.  We have prayed that God would make it clear whether or not to get her involved in the business and that He would close the doors of opportunity if He didn’t want us taking her down this path.  When we signed her up with the agent she warned us that we were getting into it during the slow season and that things would basically come to a standstill over the summer.  So I wasn’t expecting very many calls right away. 

Friday afternoon I loaded the kids up and drove to Miami Beach for a casting call for Play-Along toys.  This call was completely different than the last one.  This time it was Deborah who they wanted to see.  We arrived on time and signed her in.  Within a few minutes they called her name along with about 3-4 other girls.  They all did a little dance and played with some dolls and then were dismissed. 

The casting call was held in an office suite of a casting company rather than a hotel, and there were probably only about 12 other parents there.  The environment was much more calm, although there was definitely a note of tension in the air.  I can’t imagine a casting call without the anxiety of every parent wondering if their child will do well.  I forgot to bring along Deborah’s comp card and was worried that she wouldn’t get a call back simply because of that. 

I rounded up the kids and headed home thankful that it didn’t take all afternoon.  I really didn’t want to be stuck in traffic and end up late to church that night.  Then I put the whole experience out of my mind.  I knew not to expect a call for another week or so.  Unlike the previous casting the company had put down a specific call-back date on the information sheet in the office. 

Imagine my surprise when I answered the phone the following Tuesday and heard my agents voice congratulating me.  Although the casting call was for a toy ad, one of the casting directors saw Deborah’s picture and decided that she would be perfect for a role in a movie she was casting for.  She got on the phone right away to inquire if Deborah would be available for a scene.  It turns out that my little red-headed green-eyed girl was the spitting image of the principal actress in a film. 

I’ll have to continue this story in another post… more details to come.

I’m overwhelmed at the grace of God.  There are a few things that I have always been passionate about.  One of those things is children.  I’ve been wanting to adopt ever since I knew the option existed.  I’ve also wanted to have a large family.  With this in mind, I was very frustrated when I realized after my second pregnancy that I would never be able to deliver naturally under the current medical system. 

After my 3^rd c-section my husband and I mutually agreed that we didn’t want to go through another painful recovery.  So we agreed that if we didn’t conceive #4 by my 30^th birthday he would undergo permanent birth control, and we would consider adoption.  After my birthday we set up the date for his surgery. 

I prepared myself emotionally for the prospect of only having three children.  I followed the same mental-emotional track as I had followed when we thought we were destined to only have one.  I started making plans for when the children were older.  Plans for a future career, or perhaps further education.  I thoroughly enjoyed the prospect of potty-training for the last time.  Of watching my baby girl grow up slowly, savoring her childhood since it would be the last.  There are no guarantees about adoption and although I still pray for it, I’m not so naïve as to let Hannah grow up constantly pining for another one who may never come.

I think I crossed the line a bit when we were visiting family this Christmas and I was exulting about the fact that I was done with changing diapers and getting up for 2:00 feedings.  My 3 brothers were all expecting this year, and I came across perhaps a bit too “older and wiser” than necessary. 

I thought I would feel some remorse about the surgery, some sort of depression about the loss of ability to create another life.  But, every time I thought about it, I would envision my last recovery.  Weeks of incision pain, the trauma of surgery.  I knew that I wanted more children, but I didn’t want to undergo that kind of pain again.  Besides, I kept reminding myself that there are so many beautiful children in the world with no loving parents.  God could certainly use us to show His love to one or two of them. 

The only thing I was truly disappointed about was this little muse I had when I was a teenager.  I knew that it would never come true.  I wanted to be the first to find out that I was pregnant.  Then I wanted to plan some elaborate way of telling my hubby that he was going to be a papa again.  I could do it with our first because he was in the room when the Dr gave us the news.  With the second I didn’t believe it could happen and he insisted I take the test.  He was standing over me and was the first to see the result.  With the third he insisted on being present and although I took the test of my own volition he was in the room and knew immediately.  Now I would never get the chance to surprise him with the coy, flirty “honey, I have something to tell you,” that I had mapped out in my brain so many years ago. 

My husband’s appointment  went well.  It was this past Saturday, only 2 days ago.  He was in and out in 15 minutes.  We joked about how funny it would be if I found out I was pregnant now.  We mused over the possibility of conceiving during the first week “post-snip”.  I was already late, but with my cycle being the ever changing length that I’ve become accustom to, and the number of times I’ve felt pregnant only to start my cycle the day after an expensive test is ruined I really didn’t consider the possibility.  After all, we went an entire two years + without birth control and nothing happened.  It was obvious I was not meant to conceive a 4^th time. 

And yet, there was something nagging at the back of my mind.  I’ve been on a diet for over a year now and I’ve never had a weight gain that I couldn’t explain.  My lack of self control was the cause of every pound.  And yet, just a week ago at my weigh-in I had jumped 5 lbs.  My consultant asked me if I was expecting my period.  I told her yes (I had been expecting it for a while now).  She was satisfied with the answer but I was not.  The next morning I woke up with the thought, “I can’t be pregnant.  If I was I would feel sick right now.”  Then the next morning I had dropped down another 2 lbs.  I was getting back on the wagon, still not sure what I had done the week before.  Then, the night after the surgery I started to feel sick.  Really truly sick.  Not just hungry, ravenous.  Deep down I knew it had to be more than PMS. 

I have this magnet on my fridge.  I bought it because it describes my life so perfectly.  It says, “We plan, God laughs.”  You’ll never guess how many lines were on the test I took Monday morning. 

So I signed all three of the kids up for modeling.  I was only going to sign Deborah up, since she seems to be the most natural poser and very compliant.  Then I followed a lead and called a manager and she said that 10 yr old boys are very much in demand.  The fact that mine is a red-head is a plus.  Then I found out that her fee is $45.00 for the first kid and $10 dollars for the each additional kid.  So we ended up signing Hannah into the contract as well. 

It’s quite a journey.  We got our first casting call last Wednesday.  The call was for Fisher Price, and it was for 3 yr olds, so Hannah was the chosen one.  The manager also recommended that I take Deborah since she’s a very tall 5 yr old and they were also looking for 6-7 yr olds. 

It was a fiasco to begin with.  I really don’t think anything will come of it, but I can pray.  I showed up at the hotel (an hour away from home) and the hotel had posted a notice that the casting was closed due to the large volume of respondents.  So they sent me away.  I called the manager to ask if this was common.  She said it certainly was not.  Then she advised me to try to get the comp cards in to someone.  So I went back in the hotel a second time and gave them to one of the hotel employees.  As we were buckling our seatbelts and pulling out of the parking space I realized that the comp card didn’t have the phone number on it.  So we went into the hotel for the third time.  I told the same employee that I needed to write the phone number on the comp cards and then I would leave her alone.  As I was standing in the hallway waiting for her to come out of the room a man poked his head out the door across the hall and asked if I was next.  I told him I wasn’t and he told me to go in and sign the waiting list.  Fortunately the lady who was helping us had just come back at that moment and heard what he said.  She sent me into the room right away and I was able to stay for the rest of the casting. 

Of course, since I was only coming back in to write down a phone number, all my well laid plans for the waiting process were bungled.  I had only brought a pen and my car key with me.  The girls each had a toy from their kids meal with them (not particularly age appropriate since it consisted of a large amount of fact reading and neither girl can read).  The nice little box with their coloring books and stuffed toys had been left in the car and I didn’t know how long it would take for us to be called.  The room was crowded thus the reason for the hotel trying to close everything down.  My cell phone was in the car making me uncommunicable (as my hubby would say).  It was a very long and boring hour and 45 minutes ending with a 3 second picture taking session. 

I called my manager this Monday to ask her what a realistic time frame for a call back would be.  She said it could be the next day, the next week or the next month.  She hadn’t heard anything from Fisher Price yet, so I should just be patient.  They never did take Deborah’s picture.  They said she was out of the range. 

I just got the comp cards for Richard and Hannah in the mail today.  I printed a head shot at Walmart for Hannah to take to the casting call.  I’ll be sending a bunch of them off to my manager today.  I’m so new to all this.  It’s a lot to take in.  Driving through Miami was an experience in itself.  I can’t wait for another opportunity.  I (along with a million other moms) hope to hear back from Fisher Price very soon. 

so I knew it was inevitable.  Every kid cheats at some time or another (imho).  I think it's part of being a sinful being.  I found out today that my son has been working the system so to speak for a couple of days now.  hopefully I will nip it in the bud and show him that I'm not so easily fooled. 

I cheated in high school, and got away with it for a while.  For most of my 11th grade year I cheated in most of my math and all but the first chapter in my Latin  book.  I guess the sins of the mother are likely to be visited on the 3rd and 4th generation.  I'm going to be praying for the breaking of this curse. 

He didn't look at the answers, he just figured out that with his school program there is a key he can hit that allows him to skip a question, but still show a grade of 100% on the assignment.  I had to check back over the past 3 days work (a total of 6 assignments in 4 subjects) and clear them all out.  in a sense he got 3 days off of school.  Unfortunately he will ave to make them up by this weekend. 

I wish I couldn't empathize with him.  I know exactly how he feels.  That school is boring and annoying and he'd much rather be playing games or watching cartoons.  I wish I wasn't like that a lot.  (eg. if I skip my leg exercises but still do cardio 4 times a week it till accomplish the same goal... not!) 

I want to ask him if he enjoyed the feeling of guilt knowing he had tricked the system and would have to hide the fact from me.  I certainly would love to lecture him about it.  But the simple truth is, it would go in one ear and out the other.  I just have to discipline and move on.  I might bring it up later, but I think I'll play this one by ear and hope the Holy Spirit inside him will lead him to realize the repercussions of his actions.  I'll certainly pray for his spiritual growth through this.  That's the most important lesson to learn.

I'm sure I'm the only mom out there that has ever had to deal with this. (laughing at my own sarcasm). 

My first born son is about to turn 10.  I still can't believe it.  I'm having a hard time with this birthday for some reason.  I laughed when my best friend struggled with her son's first birthday.  I laughed when another friend struggled with her daughter turning 13.  I laughed when yet another friend shipped her son off to college.  I laughed at my friends (lovingly of course) when they had a hard time accepting the fact  that time marches unrelentingly on, and our children eventually get older. 

Now I'm getting choked up about a decade of childhood that is coming to a close.  I couldn't wait for him to reach the past nine birthdays... what is it about this one that is so hard.  I'm I just getting soft?  Although I'm sure there's a smidgen of truth in that, I don't think that's the main reason.  I think there are a myriad of things happening all at once that contribute to this melancholy. 

I can remember my 10th birthday.  I remember telling the guy at Chuck E. Cheeses that I was a decade old.  I had just learned what a decade was, and I was so happy to be able to boast my newfound knowledge (a trait that apparently doesn't diminish with age).  I remember realizing at that little party, that I was getting too big to really enjoy Chuck E. Cheeses the way I had in the past.  I was getting too big for most of the rides, and I wasn't really interested in the arcade games.  I ended up using most of my tokens on skee-ball, and buying some rinky-dink toys with my tickets. 

Another thing to note is that I'm noticing some changes in my son's outlook on life.  Over the past year he has all but stopped asking to play outside and his attention has shifted to video games and TV shows.  He used to beg to play outside for hours and now I have to force him out the door to play with the dog. 

On a lighter note, there are some milestones that I have long awaited that are coming to pass.  He's starting to be more interested in his appearance.  Although the desire to be comfortable still outweighs the desire to look good.  Still, there are little snippets of awareness that I see in him.  He's stopped making the little boy groans of disgust at displays of affection.  He has commented on things he's seen as being cute or pretty, whereas a year ago those words were forcefully ejected from his vocabulary.  Besides being responsible for his own fingernail clipping, the other day he asked me for a comb so he could fix his hair (not that I let it get long enough to need much attention).  And finally, the last time I took him for a haircut he wanted some say in how it looked. 

I guess part of it is an underlying fear of parenting a teenager, and although I know I still have a few years before that happens, I'm still wary of the struggles that will entail.  I'm afraid all my shushing him will result in a breakdown of communication.  I'm afraid that his "satiable curiosity" will land him in a mess.  I'm afraid of every pitfall every teenager has ever fallen into manifesting in my son's life.

If I were to put my finger on the crux of the matter.  I think it boils down to the fact that I truly love him and although I never thought I'd feel this way, I don't want my only boy to leave me.  I feel like I'm passing the halfway point in his childhood and from this point on it's a swift countdown to the day he leaves.  Somehow that day is easier to stomach when it seems farther in the distance.

Don't get me wrong... I'm very happy for him.  I'm excited that he gets to celebrate another milestone.  I just wish I didn't feel so sad about it this time around. 

So I won't stoop to grumbling and complaining, but I'll simply state the facts.

Bellsouth Deleted my email account thus making it impossible to contact any of my business associates to officially change my email address.  They lied to my husband and me. 

I'm on dial-up because I still have no internet connection at home, and I'm using my husbands wireless card from work.

I've now lost 30 lbs, but I gained one back while my sister in law and her husband were visiting (and boy was it fun). 

I will return to normal blogging when I get a decent internet connection.

Love you all!

P.S.  I just finished watching Survivor Australia on DVD (Started watching the show a couple years ago).  It was great!  I'm going to netflix season one!

Ok, so I decided to take a break from my diet.  Due to new airline regulations I won't be able to take my diet food with me to the women's conference like I had hoped.  So I decided to just take the weekend off and try not to go crazy. 

Here is a picture of my progress.  I realize that a lot of you don't know what I looked like before, so you'll have no reference. 

I won't be weighing in this week.  I've had to cancel my appointment because I'm being picked up for the airport earlier than I expected.  I'm very excited.  I know I won't be able to blog all that happens to me while I'm gone, but perhaps you'll get a hint of it nonetheless. 

See you later

So only 2 weeks after the last rant I was back under the weather again.  I'm still thinking something is fishy about the "healthy" food I'm eating.  It's just wrong that I can be so unhealthy while on a diet to change my eating habits to be more healthy.  And don't talk to me about the whole "de-tox" thing.  I'm not eating healthy enough to send my body into a de-tox. 

So I lost another 2 lbs again.  I was very happy about that even though I had to spend all of yesterday in a bed.  I couldn't talk because the back of my throat was so swollen it was almost hard to breath.  My weigh-in was on Wednesday (I switched it so my friend wouldn't have to use as much gas). 

Yesterday was awful.  It hurt everywhere in my body.  Like every inch of my skin was part of a giant bruise.  Joel tele-worked and watched the kids while I rested.  It hurt to type. 

I cheated worse than I have since I started the diet.  I made up for the calories I didn't eat on Wednesday.  Then I ate even more.  I had half a slice of Papa Johns cheese pizza.  I had 1/2 a cup of coffee ice cream and washed it down with a Hershey's milk chocolate with almonds bar.  I kept thinking that I shouldn't be eating all this junk because it's not going to help me get over the sickness.  Of course, after indulging myself and not counting the calories, I feel much better this morning.  Perhaps it was the stress of trying to be strict that was messing up my immune system. 

On a lighter note.  Yesterday every time I whispered to one of my kids they whispered back.  It was pretty cute.  It was like we were planning some secret operation.  A couple of times Deborah told me that I "have to talk loud."  I whispered to her that I couldn't and she gave me this I-think-you're-trying-to-put-one-over-on-me look.  Even Richard was whispering.  He told me I should use sign language.  Then when I did he could understand what I was saying. 

So I am feeling better, so I'm headed back to my new house to paint.  I realized last night that I could have rinsed out the paint brushes and they would have been dry by now. 

Have a great day.  P.S. for those of you who were waiting to hear about our closing.  We closed on Monday.  If you want to hear more, just pick up the phone and call.  Those lines run both ways you know.  Or send me an email and I'll fill you in.  When I get a minute I'll post a blog about moving (instead of weight loss).  I'm also going to be putting up some info about the house on my website soon (www.bethimus.com).

signing off now...

so, I lost another pound. 

Packing makes me forget that I'm supposed to drink water, but I'm going to do better today.

Oh, and they told me I'm supposed to start eating 1200 calories a day (instead of 1500).  I'm excited... and a little nervous.  Less dessert for me.

That's all

Sooooo, I'm moving.  Yeah, that's right, I'm moving.  For the 12th time in my life (that I can remember), I am changing my place of residence. 

I noticed when I moved into this house that it took me 3 years to start decorating it.  It was this inner voice saying, "don't spend too much time and energy on something that you're just going to leave behind." Now that I've wallpapered and painted, and hung pictures and installed shelving I'm moving. 

My house is quickly becoming a jungle of boxes.  I cleaned out a closet yesterday.  I'm finding so many things I forgot I had.  I'm throwing out big, black trash bags full of stuff.  Papers and half used notepads and empty boxes and egg cartons that I was going to use for… well for something anyway. 

There is still this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, like the deal will fall through at the last minute.  Something in me that hates disappointment, and disappointing others keeps telling me to stop telling people that I'm moving.  My excitement seems to be in check.  I haven't officially called the parents.  Of course, they read my blog and found out for themselves that I am moving.  I guess I didn't want to call them too early and tell them we were moving before it was official. 

I am very excited.  The work of re-organizing an entire house seems to be a lot more do-able when I'm prepped for it with dozens of boxes to sort everything into.  I have boxes with only a few things in them because I know I have stashes of things everywhere in this house.  The extension cords that were in the hall closet will soon be joined by the ones in the garage. 

There's also this "New Years" sense of resolution in me.  I WILL BE ORGANIZED IN THE NEW HOUSE!  That's what my mind is screaming.  I will organize everything before I go and I will keep it that way once I move in.  I can see all your eyes rolling. 

There is a phrase that the great "Mix Master Mighty White" told me once.  "A Pessimist is and Optimist with experience."  This phrase keeps playing in my mind whenever I get these thoughts rolling around in my head.  The organization rule only works as much as the other members of the house are willing to comply.  Somehow I don't think they hold organization at the same level of importance as I do. 

Then again, I'm the mom.  I'm the one who volunteered for this job.  The one who is passionate about it.  I can't expect those who didn't sign up for the position to try to fulfill it. 

Well, we sign on Monday… unless something goes wrong.  Then it will be Tuesday… or Wednesday.  Who knows.  Is anything in life certain? 

          And now I have a word for you who brashly announce, "Today—at the latest, tomorrow—we're off to such and such a city for the year. We're going to start a business and make a lot of money." You don't know the first thing about tomorrow. You're nothing but a wisp of fog, catching a brief bit of sun before disappearing. Instead, make it a habit to say, "If the Master wills it and we're still alive, we'll do this or that." (James 4:13-15 The Message)

First let me start by saying that my weigh-in for last week was moved to Saturday.  The good news is, I lost 2 more pounds.  This brings my total to 21 lbs lost in a little over 2 months.  For that I am happy.  On with the chloroform...

Ok, so I know I'm opinionated.  I know that I'm not perfect, but I have these ideas about what is healthy and what is not.  I think that aspartame is poisonous, but taken in small enough doses, it is not fatal.  I think that over time it builds up in your system and that it can mess you up. 

I think that God created food for us to eat, and the more man tampers with God's creation the less healthy it is for you.  I think that there is a difference between chemically altering a food, and just creating an environment in which the naturally created food alters forms (for instance, Yogurt is natural, Brownie mix is not). 

So I started this diet, and with all the stuff I've been told, I should be eating pretty healthy.  I was told that fat is bad.  That it's necessary in small doses, but excess fat is evil.  I was told that I should be eating fat free milk, fat free (aspartame sweetened) yogurt, and that Bananas are bad because they are too fatty.  Eggs are also a big no-no because the yolk is bad.  I haven't even asked about Avocados. 

All of this is chafing.  I hate the fact that I'm encouraged to order chocolate brownies from "Jenny" but discouraged from eating all natural foods.  I eat mango and it's got 100 calories in a cup and half a gram of fat, but the diet plan tells me I should eat a cup of canned pears in light syrup because it's fat free. 

Now I'm sick.  This is the second bad case of post-nasal drip I've had since starting my diet.  I was corrected when I called the "vitamin bars" snack bars.  I was told they aren't just a snack, they are my source of vitamins.  So, my vitamins come in the form of a compact bar whose first three ingredients are soy protein isolate, high fructose corn syrup, and evaporated cane juice.  Yeah, that's so much healthier than getting vitamins in the form of fresh fruit and home-made whole wheat muffins.  Anyone else see the irony in this?

So I'm happy that I'm losing the weight, but some of this crap is weighing on me.  I've stopped ordering breakfast from "Jenny."  I've cut out most of the snack foods.  My next item of business is to stop ordering the "vitamin bars." 

I was a bad girl this morning.  I ate a 6 oz serving of low-fat yogurt sweetened with sugar instead of aspartame.  Of course, sugar is the third ingredient instead of the second and third.  But I'm sure when my consultant sees what I've done she'll flip. 

I'm going to eat more fruit today, and take some silver and eat a bunch of cough drops, and hopefully start feeling better before I have to sing tomorrow night.  I hate being sick.  I'm going to have to start eating healthier even if my portion size is smaller. 

Sorry if I dragged anyone into my pit of depression.  Love you all.  Next time I'll rant about aspartame.

I lost another pound.  My Gap jeans that I was so excited to get back into are starting to get loose.  At this point I’m starting to wonder when I’m going to actually be dropping back to a 14.  I’m very happy about it.  I have a pair of black dressy pants that are about to fall off of me.  I think I’m going to save them and take a picture in them when I reach my goal weight.

I’m a little frustrated because My thighs seem to be as big as ever.  I don’t mind being curvy, but I don’t want to look too much like a pear.  I know that I could use some toning, but I don’t really want to exercise.  Perhaps when we move into our new house I’ll run up and down the stairs enough to help tone my thighs a bit more. 

I haven’t lived in a house with stairs since I lived in Pittsburgh.  It’s been almost 10 years since then.  My legs were in great shape then.  I remember the first time I went roller blading here in FL.  I remember thinking “This is so easy.”  I could believe how much easier it was to rollerblade on a flat surface than it was in PA with all the hills. 

Speaking of exercise.  I really have been thinking about getting a bike.  I want to start getting out on a bike more.  I wonder if it is too long of a trek to start going to walmart on a bike.  I’ll probably look pretty geeky on a bike with a big basket in front to carry whatever I happen to pick up while I’m there.  Actually, I’d like to get a trailer that the girls can ride in.  Then I can leave the kids with Joel and take the bike to walmart and get groceries and put them in the trailer and all that.  I doubt this will actually happen though. 

Why does it seem that I’m plagued with all these ideas of what I “could” do, but I never really get out and do them.  This too shall pass.  Someday I’ll have older kids and I’ll be able to get out more and do some of these things and not have to worry about leaving them at home. 

I guess that’s all for this time.

This is why I haven’t posted my weigh-in for last Thursday.

My hubby had the day off on Friday (the day I usually blog) and I spent the day out and about doing things instead of sitting in front of the computer blogging.  We went to the Miami Metro Zoo.  It was a lot of fun.  Very cold for a south Florida day, but we had our jackets and we were walking around the whole time, so we stayed warm enough.  It’s so funny to see my kids (who have never had to live in a really cold climate) complain about how very cold it was.  Richard looked at the temperature thingy in the car and was shocked to see it at 57 on the way home from the zoo.  This was of course, the warmest time of day (around 2:00).  I explained to him that by the time we went to church that night it would probably be in the forties.  He seemed even more shocked at that thought.

After the zoo, we went to look at a couple of houses.  It looks like we are staying in south Florida for several more years.  Due to this fact, we decided that we are going to get a house that is more functional for us.  We are ditching the pool in favor of a grassy backyard.  It’s hard to find a house that really fits our desires these days.  Everything seems tailored to people who have no children, or people who don’t really cook, or people who have older kids or people who don’t like dogs.  You get the idea.  We found a house with more square footage than the one we currently own, but it seems like most of that space is taken by a large hallway and a half bath.  The nice thing is that it has a large backyard (compared to others in this part of the country).  It has a very nice screened patio, and it has an open floor plan that will eventually allow for a decent kitchen upgrade. 

After that we ate dinner and rushed off to church to begin an entire weekend with Suzy Yaraei. 

Saturday I spent most of the day at church in a worship workshop with Suzy, Kameron (her husband), and Paulette Wooten (best friend and technical coordinator).  It was amazing.  I am so glad I was able to go.  I learned a lot about tapping into the flow of the spirit and although I didn’t try any prophetic singing, she gave me encouragement and direction.  We learned 3 new songs and were able to worship with her at the Saturday night service, and the Sunday morning service the next day. 

Saturday night I was able to go the church by myself, thus avoiding the pressures of parenting during the service.  I reached a different level of freedom.  I won’t use the technical term used in my denomination for how I felt because I wouldn’t want to offend some of my readers.  Let’s just say it had something to do with the pouring out of new wine. 

Sunday we had an awesome service, and I suppose I’ll have to buy the tapes because I’m not sure I really absorbed all of the words Suzy spoke over the “Levites.”  I crashed when I got home and slept till 5:00.  Then we got up and drove out to our prospective new house.  After that we went to home depot, and then taco bell (I love the new Fresco style stuff that has half the fat of the regular entrees). 

So here I am finally sitting down to blog on Monday afternoon.  The house is quiet and we are going to put in an offer on the house later, when the girls get up from their nap.

P.S. I lost 3 lbs this week.  I’m very happy that I was able to do so well with my own breakfasts.  That’s all.

I didn't lose any weight this week.  I'm not beating around the bush about it.  I'm very dissappointed, but I'm not really surprised. 

I got to the end of my week and I had about 12 items leftover from what I ordered.  This means that I either skipped meals without realizing it, or I wasn't eating the right kinds of foods.  I know I completely went off my diet on Saturday.  I thought I was eating the right portions, but I probably went way over my fat count.  Then Sunday was the super bowl party.  Now I'm reconsidering how important it was to me to eat the garlic pork (even though I ate a tiny portion).  Oh well, tomorrow is another day. 

I will do better this week.  I am being much more careful since I can see what happens when I start to revert back to old habits. 

I am going to be a bit more brave this week, however.  I told my consultant that I wanted to do breakfasts on my own.  She told me that I need to write down every calorie and fat gram.  This morning I had 1 packet of unsweetened instant oatmeal with half a cup of blueberries and a cup of milk.  I hope that isn't too bad.  I need to be drinking my water.  I also made muffins yesterday and they're in the freezer.  I saved myself about $15.00 by doing my own breakfast this week. 

So here's to losing weight next time.  I'm still on board.  I haven't jumped off because of this little bump in the road. 

K, so I know you have all (yes all of you) been thinking, “I can’t believe it’s already almost 4:00 and Beth still hasn’t posted her weight for this week.”

I know I’m rude for leaving you hanging like this.  I’m sure you’ve been sitting on your hands all day long waiting to read my blog

(for those of you who don’t know me well enough or accidentally happened upon this particular blog, the above should have been read as dripping with sarcasm)

So I lost another 4 lbs!  I went over my weight loss goal for the month.  I wanted to lose 10 lbs for my first month.  I figured they said most people average around 2 lbs a week, so I wanted to see if I could do more than that the first month.  I have lost a total of 13 lbs since I started.  

I can tell a difference already.  I still want to binge on sweets like crazy.  I still find myself gritting my teeth when a chocolate craving comes on.  But I know one thing.  I am enjoying the excitement of victory.  I am feeling my energy rise and I am already feeling more confident about how I look.  

I like the fact that my pants no longer suffocate me when I sit down.  I like the fact that I have found more fullfilling pasttimes than sitting around eating chocolate.  I like the fact that I can create a delicious meal for family and friends and feel confident about how much of it I can enjoy.  I like the fact that, although I’m eating a much smaller portion, I can taste my food and really savor it.  I like the fact that I can look at myself in the mirror and know that things are getting better.

My life isn’t all rosy, but at least there’s one area where I feel like I’ve finally gotten things right.  I have the confidence of knowing that I’m doing what God wants me to do.  Other areas of my life might be hectic, but at least there’s one area where I have some sense of peace.

By the way, I bought myself something as a reward for reaching my goal.  I found the sweetest peppermint stripe Converse All-Stars at TJ Maxx.  They were just my size.  

This week I lost 1 lb.  No drum roll or Ta-Da.  I have to admit I was a little disappointed.  

I know that losing 9 lbs in 3 weeks is a really good average, but I’m still bummed.  I hate being average.  I want to be better than that.  It’s an obsession of mine.  

My first thought was, this is pointless I might as well gorge myself on chocolate.  But I couldn’t help but remember how I felt before I started the diet.  I remember feeling nauseous every time I put a bite of food in my mouth.  I remember thinking that I was ugly and that I was stupid because I couldn’t even figure out how to eat properly.  I remember feeling tired and grouchy a lot.  

After only 9 lbs of loss I can already tell I have more energy.  I’m not as depressed because I feel like I’m at least getting somewhere.  I feel like I’m succeeding.  I just have to stick with it and realize that I’m not going back to what I was.  

I’ve read that in order to really succeed in a diet you have to get to the point of wanting a change at all cost.  You have to get to the point where you’re so sick of being where you are, that you’ll do anything to change.  If you have even a little bit of hesitancy about it, then it’s a ***** in your armor that will ultimately lead to failure.  I really believe I’m at that point.  

All I’ve done so far in life has led me to become who I am now.  All my own efforts got me to a size 18 (I think I was actually a 20, but my size 18 jeans still fit).  That’s what my my actions led me too.  Now I’m ready to give up trying to do things my way, and shrink back down to a size 12.  

That’s not to say I’m not still battling my indiscretion.  I’m just done letting my indiscretions dictate what I do.  

I think I must be in the most mind-numbing stage of parenting.  

My youngest is two.  I’m past the stage of excitement over the “new baby”.  She’s into everything, and hasn’t quite figured out how to put stuff back when she’s done.  

My 4 year old is too young to start school and my 2 year old is too high maintenance to spend one-on-one time with the 4 year old

My 9 year old is frustrated because he can’t go out and do things that are age appropriate for him because his 2 little sisters are too young to handle those things.  

My 9 year old doesn’t have a sibling to play with and he can’t always be at his friend’s house.  

My 4 year old is ridiculously smart and seems very talented, but I can’t channel that talent into anything without ignoring the other kids.

My children are all too young to be left by themselves while I go out and do something.  My 9 year old is too young and too immature to be expected to babysit them.  

My 4 year old is potty trained, but my 2 year old isn’t ready yet, so I can’t really work on that.

The younger 2 are at that stage where I have to repeat everything a million times a day.  I can’t just say go clean your room.  I have to actually go in there and say, “pick that up… now pick that up… now pick that up.”  You get the picture.  

My 9 year old is still in the younger grades and cannot work on his schoolwork independently yet.  The work he has to do is relatively basic, and I’m not really excited about helping him spell words and do basic math.  (I never really wanted to be an elementary teacher).  

I can’t read a book to better myself without becoming too absorbed in it and tuning out my kids.  If I do so, they will trash the house.  I’m not the kind of person who can read a paragraph here and there and really keep a firm grasp on where the book is going.  

I can’t afford to subscribe to a lot of magazines, so I only have a few that can fill that desire to better myself.  

I don’t like to start sewing projects because I either get too absorbed (like reading a book), or my little darlings run off with my tools or spill my pins, or play with my scissors.  

I hate to watch TV, because there’s nothing good on during the day (well, almost nothing).  I don’t want to subscribe to cable because it’s expensive and I’d rather save up the money to improve my house.  

I can’t start projects on the house because they’re either hazardous to my children (although I found out through a friend that most indoor paint is non-toxic), or I’m afraid they’ll run off with things (like sewing).  

So my day consists of babysitting my children while doing mundane things like playing solitaire on the computer and wondering if I’m really contributing to the family.

Even typing this I am bombarded with a million mindless questions.  My 2 year old spilled her water under the table.  At least it’s just water… I love tile floors.

I used to be so high and mighty.  I used to be so pious in my motherhood.  I used to look down on women who went to work and left their children in childcare.  I used to think it was ridiculous how women could waste so much time watching soap operas.  

Now I understand how so many women become obese during their children’s early years.  Food is such an easy thing to entertain oneself with.  Now I understand how a woman could get fed up with her marriage and her home and run off with a lover.  The pay sucks, the work is mind-numbingly boring, and the people you work with are a pain in the neck.  

I’m not saying I’m giving it all up.  I’m just saying that God has certainly worked the holier-than-thou out of me on this one.  I love my children, but I have to say I can’t wait until I’m past the stage of having young children.

My hubby can be so romantic sometimes. 

He is very picky about movies.  He and I have separate netflix queues, so we don't get frustrated with each other's movie choices.  He doesn't like most of what I put on my queue and I think his tatste is very limited. 

Well the other day he started putting movies on his queue that he thought I would like.  Now He and I are playing this game.  I'll put something on my queue that I think he'll like that he otherwise might not have picked, and he does likewise. 

Last night we watched "Chocolat".  Now, I've been on this diet, and I know I've posted about my chocolate addiction.  He told me to save some calories during the day so I can eat chocolate while I watch the movie he picked for me.  I didn't know that he had picked "Chocolat".  I had saved this dark chocolate bar from my stocking for a special occaision.  It has just the right balance of bitter and sweet and it's so smooth.  I've had some bittersweet chocolate that tasted a bit brittle.  This one melted in the mouth so nicely. 

So we were sitting on the couch and I must say it was one of the best chocolate experiences I've ever had.  Every time we saw chocolates being made on the movie he would put a piece in my mouth, so it was like I was tasting the movie.  I know he probably thought the movie was lame.  I thought it was sweet (no pun intended). 

I just thought it was so romantic of him.  I really appreciated his willingness to spend time with me and treat me like I was so special.  This is my round about way of thanking him.  To tell the world how wonderful he is. 

p.s. The movie "Chocolat" is rated PG 13.  Don't be offended by the fact that I watched it and enjoyed it.  There is swearing and sensuality.  There are two semi-sex scenes.  One shows partial nudity and the other doesn't.  There is an illegitimate child, and an abused wife.  I would not recommend this movie unless I knew that you wouldn't be offended by it.  You must decided for yourself if you would like to see it.  Don't go and watch it and then blame me for your decision.  But I really enjoyed the experience of seeing chocolate on the screen and actually tasting it at the same time. 

So I was watching "A Hard Day's Night" with my hubby the other day and we couldn't help but notice a striking resemblance between my brother Joel and Pal McCartney.  There were several times during the movie when I was surprised at the similarity.  so I decided to see what I could do with some face recognition stuff.