The Eating Machine

My little girl has turned into an eating machine of mythic proportions. I know that periodically kids get into an eating frenzy of sorts when they hit a growth spurt. For Gabe, the frenzy would last a couple of days, and then he'd be back to his old self. As of today, SC has been feasting like a mad woman for four days. It's like she can't possibly be filled. A bottomless pit. All the cereal and milk in the world is just not quite enough. She is typically a good eater, but everyone has noticed the dramatic increase (I thought perhaps I was imagining things). She may soon eat the dog if we're not careful.

On the other hand, I have gotten quite into the groove of WW and have been finding it pretty easy to stay within my daily allotment. Yes, I am aided by the nursing (10 extra points per day- yee haw!), but I am still trying to make sure those extra points go into something nutritious and not just into a killer ice cream sundae. (As a side note, a float made with low fat ice cream and diet root beer totally rocks my world.) This week I was even able to bump up the weight loss a little. I had been losing exactly 1.6 pounds per week for the last three weeks. This week I lost 2.2 pounds. It feels good to be past the five-pound mark (finally). The only sad part is that I need to lose another 22.4 pounds to have my BMI qualify as "overweight" instead of "obese." Well, that's just my current total loss times three-ish. Can I do it? YES I CAN (we watch a lot of Bob the Builder). I can already feel the difference in my clothing with seven pounds gone. Ten more and I might just be able to get into those 16s!

R.I.P. Gary

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If you understand this image, you may be interested to know that Gary Gygax has died.

I did not embrace the RPG world until graduate school, but I have taken many a fantastic journey through the realm of "creative group storytelling with dice," (how I describe gaming to non-gamers).

May all your hits be crits, Gary.

Patience, my dear Watson

So, um, yes- I may have been delerious when I wrote that last post. Sorry 'bout that. Really.

Anyway, we're into a new week that, so far, has been illness free. Ok, puking free. I still have a cough that is taking up squatters rights in my lungs. Mr. D keeps telling me to go to the doc's, but I'm not listening (laa, laa, laa...can't hear you). I guess I just don't feel sick enough to (a) take the time from my schedule to go to the doctor's office and (b) bug the doctor. I know that it's their job to see sick people, but I like to be, oh, dying or at least limping or something (the last time I went for a sick visit was the day Mr. D ran over my foot with the car).

Today was my WW@work meeting and I am down another 1.6 pounds for a total of 4.8 in three weeks. It's a good number and I'm moving in the right direction, but I keep thinking back to when I started WW a few years ago. The first week I managed to lose 5.6 pounds. Shazaa! Then I lost almost five the second week. In other words, I got that initial "bonus" weight loss that typically happens when you start a new eating plan. But this time, I'm seeing a consistent 1.6 pounds/week. No bonus. No shazaa. Hmmm. I know that the loss has to be slow to maintain my milk, and I know that a nursing mom gets to eat a whole 10 points per day more than a non-nursing mom. But I am, of course, getting antsy about the pace of the loss. Forget that I put a freakin' turtle as my ticker on purpose because I know it's a slow process. Forget that I am actually losing more than a pound a week. I'm just fixated on the fact that it's been three weeks and I'm not yet at five pounds. I just have to remind myself that the slower it comes off, the more likely it will stay off. And this mamma is going to keep it off, darnit!

The other factor contributing to the apparent slowness is that when I last weighed what I do now, I was in a smaller size. But I was also pre-kid#2. My body shifted around a lot more in my second pregnancy, and I need to remind myself of that fact, too. The size 16 pants are hanging there waiting patiently. I just wish I could be a bit more patient about wearing them.

Flu-a-palooza

Welcome to the festival that really rocks the house! We got it all, I tell ya. Not only are you gonna feel the heat baby--like a fever, oh yeah--but then you're gonna hit the flipside with some monsta' chills. You be illin' if you be chillin', right? And then...oh, yeah, when you don't think you can take no more...you're gonna take a wild ride on the porcelain express! Heck, you'll be so messel won't know which end to be pointin' in the vessel. Oh, yeah.

Share it with all the family, too. 'Cause I know yo' mamma taught you to share.

Note to Self: milk = milk

SC had her first bout of vomitus maximus last night at bedtime. I’m not sure what triggered it, but she was eating cereal like crazy yesterday, so it could have been either the sheer volume of food, the fact that I added a small spoon of sweet potatoes for flavor on the last feeding, or a tummy bug thingy. I was ruling out the last one merely based on the fact that after she threw everything up all over her crib, she was all happy and giggles and coos. The most upsetting part for her was confusion about why the food was coming back out and why it had to be so forceful.

Then she was just so darn pleasant about the whole thing that I decided to cuddle up with her in the chair and just sleep that way in case she needed me again.

Well, at about 2am, she woke for a bit and seemed to be a little peckish (of course), and I decided that I should at least keep her hydrated so a little drink would be a good thing. So, I let her nurse because, of course, at 2am one’s brain doesn’t process that milk, in any form, is probably not the best idea for a kid that threw up a few hours prior. ‘Cause, you know, it’s breastmilk...so it’s not really milk.

30 minutes later...baaaaaaaaaaaaaarf.

Yeah, ok. Logic at 2am is not logic- it’s a recipe for more laundry.