Low Sodium, Low Carbs, A New Diet…Oh My!

Before I begin, let me remind you that I am 98 pounds soaking wet. I have had 4 children by c-section and 2 tubaligations and still I am 98 pounds. I am a vegetarian and I do not eat much at all. I say this because I would like to let you know that we are on yet another diet in my house. Why oh why do I have to subject myself to these diets? I could use a little more exercise, but diet? This is a lot of work for a skinny girl!
We are already low sodium because of B’s medical issues. I have this under control and this is a good thing, I hate salt anyway but the label reading at the beginning of this life change was a bitch to say the least. I’ve never had to watch labels. But now it is old hat so it’s all good. Then, about a week ago my husband tells me that his ever-increasing waistline is not acceptable to him at the ripe old age of 32 and he wants to do something about it. So being the expert that I am, I Googled it. Cut carbs, hands down! I explain my “professional” findings to him, and he’s in, even started an exercise program that evening. He is a gung-ho kind of guy! All or nothing! No bread, no sugar, no fried foods, no fast food…this was going to be hard, but the overly-salt-everything-king had made it through the sodium switch, so we got this!
Day one did not go so well. Texts started coming through at about 1:00 pm. “I’m starving”, “I’m not going to make it through the day”, “I feel sick”, “I’m so hungry I could die”, and “Let’s hope I can stay awake on the drive home and not wreck and die”. Yes, this was a little dramatic I thought, and I know he was kidding at some level, but this all or nothing thing was not working for sure! So, of course, as any professional would do, I went back to Google. Apparently, brown is better than white. No white bread, no white rice, no white flour so I decided to head to the grocery store! My usual one-hour shopping excursion turned into a two-hour ordeal. Apparently, low sodium conflicts heavily with low carb. You can buy baked crackers with 0 carbs but they are loaded with sodium, you can buy no salt added beans but they are loaded with carbs. Look at the labels yourself, it was rough, but the babies and I got through our shopping ordeal and came home with $80 worth of groceries that would accommodate all of these new dietary needs. So we are day 3 on this diet and he doesn’t come home pale, he is still exercising, I’m working my ass off, but he’s happy. The things we do for love!
Tonight, after cleaning all morning, showering, getting ready (damn my hair looked good today), going to the dollar store (I loves me some dollar store), then going grocery shopping, I got home late so I whipped up some tilapia, brown rice, and green beans. I fixed their ever so bland looking plates and set them all up at the table where they feasted like kings (and a little bug princess). Then I heated a four-cheese hot pocket in the microwave for myself! I was very sensitive not to sit at the table with them though, that would just be rude, so I ate by myself in front of the TV! So I’m really hoping this diet works quickly, he drops these few extra pounds, and the exercise regime sticks. I don’t know how much longer I can handle this diet! I’ve decided a low-carb diet is not for sissies and I’ve decided that I am, in fact, a sissy! Wish me luck!

Problems With The Others

I know I’ve mentioned the others in the past, the two little ones I watch for peanuts during the week. Well Lucifer we’ll call him is 2.5 and his sister Mischief is 8 months old. From the moment I met these kids, I pegged Lucifer for a trouble-maker. He hits, pitches fits, breaks things (oh does he break things), he screams for no reason, looks at me like I’m speaking in a foreign language when I get on to him, refuses to clean up, eats like a slob, spills drink all over the floor, and his favorite words are “MINE” and “NO”. Oh, and he’s a snatcher, I hate snatchers! His sister was good to start with but then again, she was only 5 months old at the time. I truly felt sorry for their mother as she is very young and I had hoped that I could help her out in some way. I mean some kids are just bad right and with my experience with my old children, certainly I could help (so I thought).
As the days, weeks, months have unfolded, Lucifer has broken 4 drawers, countless toys, bruised my son’s face on many occasions, and even broke a window. Yup, this kid is just bad. His sister has now begun showing the same signs that lead to the path of destruction. She is 8 months old and is stubborn as the day is long. If you tell her no, she just continues to get into whatever you are trying to reprimand her for and she continuously has a bruised forehead (mostly from home) for doing it. She cries A LOT, especially when the simple word “no” is used or if you don’t hold her constantly. Truly, I was feeling sorry for their mother, her life was chaotic and full of broken and bruised things. It was sad and it’s not her fault her kids are just bad!
Well, the pity-party is over, it is her fault! I believe in discipline and rules. This is not to say that I am the best at adhering to my own rules with my children, or that my children are fantastically mannered (they are not as I’m sure I’ve already pointed out). They do however know the rules (all 6 of them) and although on occasion they break these rules, they know they’ve done wrong. They are reprimanded and the behavior tends to subside. For the most part, my children do not chew with their mouths open, they do not make a major mess at the table (or on the floor), they flush the toilet, they pick up their toys, they say please and thank you, yes sir and yes ma’am, and they do NOT talk back. They have been conditioned to know that these things are bad and if they partake in any of these behaviors, there will be consequences. So as I stated, I was trying to help out so as Lucifer and Mischief cause trouble or break the rules, they receive age-appropriate discipline, but it’s really not working. I mean, it works for a little while but then they go right back to the original bad behavior (especially on Mondays….Mondays are really bad). I kept wondering what I was doing wrong and why they weren’t learning like my own children, then I started paying attention to their mom and I figured it all out and now I’m just mad and feel sorry for these children and am certain that I will see them on a wanted posted one day. Harsh I know, but I call them like I see them!
You see, every day their mom would come to pick them up (usually late since she had to get gas or go grocery shopping or run an errand, and by the way, these are all things I do with my children so this bothers me in itself). Anyway, she would ask how the day went, so of course I would tell her. She seemed unphased initially and said nothing about all of the broken drawers (all 4 had been broken in a 2-week period) but I just figured she didn’t know what to say and probably handled it when she got home. When Lucifer blackened Bubby’s eye with a toy, I showed her the damage and expected her to do something, anything. She literally said, “Lucifer, that’s not nice, now tell Bubby you’re sorry”. Again, I just figured she was embarrassed so she would handle it at home. When he pushed Mischief down and bruised her forehead, I told her and she pulled him aside and said “Now Lucifer, that’s not nice, tell Mischief you’re sorry”. Surely she was doing something else at home. When he broke my dining room window, I called her at work. This one was pretty serious, he pitched a fit and threw the chair back with himself in it and it went through the window. Had I not been standing close and run over to catch him, he could have seriously been hurt. It was an hour and a half before she got off work but had that been me, I would have immediately left work and handled the situation, but I wasn’t surprised that she just apologized and said she would talk to him when she got here. She of course was over a half hour late and when she did get here, she handed me $40 and pulled him over to the window and said “Lucifer do you see that? That’s bad, now tell Christy you’re sorry”. WOW…this was getting to be too much. Just unbelievable! I have a strong no-kitchen rule (always have) for the children’s safety. There are chemicals, sharp objects, and stove tops in there, no place for children. So when she was here the other night (my husband was actually here this time), Lucifer was in the kitchen. I sternly told him to get out, he knew the rule! She looked at ME like I was in the wrong and got down on one knee to talk to her son and said “Lucifer, are you being silly? You aren’t supposed to be in there”. Silly? Did she just say silly? I saw my husband cringe. This wasn’t silly at all, this was a broken rule, one of many rules broken on that particular day I might add. All she had to say was silly! Yes, this was her fault that her children were on this path to a life of doom and gloom and I stopped feeling sorry for her the moment she said “silly”. That was my breaking point. Some people were just not meant to be parents at all, let alone at such a young age!
I am still watching her children for her but have been contemplating seriously terminating this arrangement. The money is not worth it and the bad habits my own children are picking up are bothersome at best (they are both hitting now). I have spoken with her about all of the problems and have been very clear about my concerns, but as you can see, it just keeps getting worse. But now I am actually worried about the kids (even though their mere presence stresses me out) so I’ve been hesitant to let them loose. Tell me, what would you do? I would welcome some feedback on this one!

And You Think You Had A Bad Day!

It all started out innocently enough, I have one day off a week, Wednesday, so that is the day I schedule appointments. And by “off” I mean, I don’t have the others, I still have my two little ones so “off” might not be the right word, but that’s what we will use here. I had scheduled my “second opinion” dental appointment for today since the first appointment did not go so well. Basically, the first dentist was the devil incarnate. She put down my kids, she wouldn’t listen to me, she basically just didn’t care much about anything other than herself and her makeup (which I might add was caked on way too thick and it did not make her look young as she had suspected it would). She had the nerve to mention that she noticed that I had kids “late in life”. Are you serious lady and now you want me to listen to anything after that? Wah wah wah wah wah (Charlie Brown teacher talk in case you didn’t catch on). So anyway….today was the day I was going to see another dentist, hopefully this would go better, I needed work done, and I needed it bad but not by that lady!
So appointment at 11:00 am, this should be easy right? Not so much, the babies did not want to cooperate, matter of fact, they wanted to do just the opposite. They decided to pick this morning of all mornings to beat the holy crap out of each other and referee was NOT on my agenda. It’s OK though, I have fruit snacks and juice so I bribe them (as all good mothers do) and they behave. We get out of here at 10:25 am which should be plenty of time, but it’s not. You see, we live on an island and none of the dentists (or doctors for that matter) are covered under our horrible insurance so I have to travel extensively to get to a “covered” practitioner. So as usual, I’m in a rush. I punch the address into the GPS (by the way, this bitch has a crush on my husband and HATES me so I’m always leery about trusting her, especially if I’m in a hurry). GPS says we’ll make it on time…and we’re off! UT OH…gas is extremely low and the idiot light is flashing but I know I can make it so no need to stop!
We’re almost there and all of a sudden I hear “recalculating”. Oh no, here she goes. GPS whore got jealous again and decided to get us lost. Gas light and dinger still blinking on a regular basis. So she put us 10 minutes behind with her round-about ways. It’s OK, we all make nice and pull into our destination. Enter dentist office…stage left. I sign in and the kids and I sit down. News on the TV and one of the nice ladies notices the kids are not happy and turns on PBS…YAY Barney! We sit, and sit, and sit, and sit, literally for half an hour. The lady behind the counter asks impatiently if I have finished my paperwork yet to which I politely reply that she never gave me any. Oops, her bad, she forgot. She brings it to me, all 7 pages, OK kids are getting restless now. I fill it out with a quickness and bring it up front. Now the fun really begins. I’m called back for x-rays, Bubby is NOT pleased. X-rays complete. Sit another 10 minutes. Called back for one more x-ray, wow, this can’t be good. Again, Bubby is not a happy little man. Settle back in the waiting room and the dentist is ready for me. We go back….cars, baby dolls, diaper bag and babies…all of us. At this point, they are anxious and ready to leave, it has been over an hour. I sit down, the dentist walks in. He is all of 12 years old and I’m thinking maybe the overly painted lady might have been a better choice. Much to my surprise, he is a very kind, soft-spoken, intelligent young man and he is OK with the babies being there. Asks his assistant to get them some paper and pens and proceeds to check x-rays. OK, now we’re talking, this is going great! Then the bad news starts trickling in. I need some work done, it’s been too long since I’ve seen the dentist and things have run a muck (damn recession). The kicker is the root canal that apparently is a must even though I have no pain in that tooth. The tooth that I busted long ago and far away while opening a beer bottle in college as a party trick, and although I knew the old cap breaking off was a problem, I didn’t know that the decay had become such a problem behind said cap. So after a little chit-chat, I head back out to the lobby to get my estimate (like I’m a broken car or something). Estimate total is $1177…WOW…the things I could buy with that! OK, so I broke down in tears in the lobby, but let’s not go there. We left and headed for Burger King, the kids deserved that!
They didn’t eat, of course not, there was a playground, so we packed the meals and headed out to try to do a little shopping (I seriously need some clothes, who can live with only one pair of pants that fits their skinny ass?). They were NOT up for that and they did NOT want to behave so we left and I figured I could look into that this weekend. I’m OK with that, but once I got them strapped in, I realized that I still had not gotten gas and the idiot light was blaring at me now reminding me of this every 5 or so seconds. Oh crap, so I plug in gas stations and the GPS whore tells me I’m only about 1.5 miles away. So we drive, then we sputter, then we stop. No, we don’t stop at the gas station because we didn’t make it that far, we glide into the off ramp, turn on the flashers, and we sit. Now what? I crank the car, nothing. Crank again, nothing. Don’t crank again because I might flood the beast and that will add a whole new myriad of problems. I turn off all electronics and I sit, sit, sit. A lady “across the way” asks if we’re OK. Of course we aren’t, but I tell her we are out of gas and she tells me she’s going to go get some and be right back, she never did…BITCH! Then an older gentleman in a yellow shirt drives up next to us and asks what the problem is, I explain. He tells me he has a gas can at home that already has gas in it. He’ll go get it and be right back (oh I’ve heard that before). Now I’m thinking he won’t be back either but what other choice do I have? So we sit and wait.
So I’m sitting there and see the police in my rear-view….great….am I going to get a ticket now too? Seems about right with the way things are going. Nope, he walks up and asks what the problem is. I say “just hanging out” then I laugh, what else would I do at this point? I explain that someone is on the way with gas assuming he will just drive off but he offers to stay; doesn’t like the babies and I sitting there on the side of the road. Much to my elated surprise, the guy in the yellow shirt drives up shortly with the gas! YAY! He seems a little uneasy that the po-po has joined the party and shakes a bit as he pours the gas in the tank (I’m beginning to believe he had some run-ins in his former life). But the gas is in the tank now and we are all set to go. I crank….tick, tick, tick. Are you kidding me? Pop the hood, battery is corroded, one of the downfalls of living on an island. Dude in the yellow shirt has Dr. Pepper in his car so he pours it all over the battery, corrosion gone (note to self: do NOT drink Dr. Pepper). And again we crank….tick, tick, tick. About this time, po-po #2 pulls up to the rescue. He saunters over to the car with some sort of tooly thing and starts poking around under the hood. The dials on my dash are going insane, but that’s about all the action this poking brought about. The guy in the yellow shirt is looking more and more nervous and decides to depart and why wouldn’t he? His work here is done. So po-po 1 and po-po 2 decide there is nothing else they can do except push me to safety (a little access road a ways up) where I will sit for another hour waiting on my husband. Bubby’s asleep and Bug is playing with her Burger King toy, we’ll be fine. They didn’t like leaving us there but I explained I was a big girl (why were they rolling their eyes?) and that I appreciated their help but they had done enough. So they reluctantly pulled away, giving me their cards just in case.
So I sit and I wait, make a few phone calls, update my Facebook status of course and then I see po-po #2 pulling back up with a tow truck behind him. He apparently had been thinking and decided that even if it was my alternator or solenoid, jumping the battery might be enough to get me home so he brought Friendly the tow truck driver to do the jumping. Positive to positive, negative to negative, crank and folks…we have lift off! The relief I felt at this point is simply indescribable, until of course I looked at that damned blinking gas light again and realized that I would not have enough gas to make it back to the island. Damn! Po-po #2 really was a very nice man who had been amused by my ramblings throughout this ordeal so after giggling at my last cuss-filled tirade, he offered to follow me to the gas station a mile away but instructed me NOT to turn off the car when we stopped for gas. I argued (because that’s what I do) that you are supposed to turn off the car, the signs say so. He rolls his eyes, I know what this means, I’m in trouble, so I get in my car and head to the gas station, po-po in tow. Put $15 in my tank (leaving the car running as instructed), I bid a fond adieu to my new friend and with butt cheeks clenched, I begin the long drive home to the island.
We made it, no sputtering, no problems whatsoever as a matter of fact. I didn’t stop at the grocery store as planned, I didn’t dare, but that’s OK because I was just happy to be home. I unload the kids who seem unphased by this whole ordeal and I go back out to check my car. Cranked right up first try. Go out a bit later, cranked again. Matter of fact, it has cranked every time since then. Not quite sure what the forces that be were trying to tell me but I think it must be something major. Karma is a bitch so let’s just hope I only did a little something wrong and this was the entire punishment. I just don’t think I could handle another one like this! So much for a day off, better luck next time!