But what I really want to talk about is the day I had. It was rough. And I'm going to talk about it by going back in time a bit.
I started working with a personal trainer just before the start of January. It has been one of the best investments I've made in myself. I love my trainer and love working with her.
The one fly in the ointment was my love affair with sugar.
As you may recall, it's been mostly an abusive, ugly, co-dependent relationship. There is little that is beneficial and yet I haven't been able to quit it.
In February, I attended a Wildtree workshop at a friend's house. There were some ladies there from MOPS that I had seen but not gotten to know. I struck up a conversation with one of my tablemates. We'll call her Bre (because that's her name).
I'm going to go out on a limb and say we hit it off right away. She is a lovely woman and I highly recommend getting to know her if you don't already. She is funny and sharp-witted and kind.
She sent me a FB request that night. I happened to be on FB at almost that exact moment and accepted her request without hesitation. She sent me a message worrying that it was too soon but then she was relieved to see I accepted the request so quickly.
Over the next few weeks, I saw that she was doing a sugar fast. This piqued my interest and I started to root for her. A couple of weeks later, when her fast was over, she admitted that while she had success during the fast, she spent the two weeks post-fast having dessert every night.
I have had many false starts with accountability partners over the past several years. I don't know why, but I thought I would ask Bre if she would like to give it a try. (As an aside, I had a huge anxiety attack just writing the message to her. She and I still can't figure out why.)
We agreed on ground rules. We were going to allow ourselves two desserts a week. She was going to have a piece of dark chocolate every afternoon. I opted out of that because I knew I would lack total self-control.
In the beginning we checked in almost every day. The dessert nights don't have to be the same every week but for me they usually fall on Sunday and Friday nights. In between, we battled with the enemy-sugar-pretty regularly.
I tell ya what, we didn't know each other very well before that party but we got to know each other quick. It seems like it's the bonding that would happen with soldiers in a bunker. You become close because you are both fighting a mutual enemy.
Some things have happened as a result of this relationship.
First, I am damn choosy about my desserts. I am not going to have a bag of M&Ms mindlessly while leaving Joseph's. I am going to pick something rich and delicious and enjoyable.
Second, I do not feel guilty about my dessert. Whether or not my dessert night corresponds to a day I've worked out, I do not feel the slightest twinge of guilt. I sit quietly and enjoy my just reward.
Those are pretty hard and fast rules for me. There's been a lot of freedom in those rules.
Here are some of the benefits.
First, I don't obsess about dessert. I know on what night I'm eating it and I know it's going to be good. I don't worry about that my kids are having birthday cake. I can't vouch for the cake and I don't want to squander a dessert night on a sub-par dessert. (It has happened and it's been very frustrating. So I stopped doing it.)
Second, my portions have shrunk. There was a Sunday when Brian and I decided to have Concrete Mixers from Culver's. I got a large, like always. Two thirds of the way through it, I realized I didn't need a large anymore. The next week we got mediums. From the beginning, one of the dessert nights was 2 chocolate-covered cannoli from Joseph's. Just a few weeks ago, I realized I don't need 2. One is enough.
Third, (and here comes today's battle), I've come to realize that sugar is not the answer to my problems today.
Last night, Jeremy started running a fever. This hasn't happened in at least two years. This week is one of the most hectic of my life. Lots of non-negotiable meetings and appointments. I do not have time for a fever.
I didn't want to take him to the doctor. I was afraid as was the case with Bekah in December, that I would take him in before the infection was really showing and would have to take him back. At $20/visit (copay), not an attractive option.
The problem was that if he needed antibiotics, I wanted to have him start ASAP. So reluctantly we went to the doctor.
Ugh. Just ugh.
You know it's a problem when the receptionists recognize your son as the one who (previously) ran away and was discovered in the OB/GYN part of the floor. Doug is a crazy man when it comes to escaping, so I had to wrestle him while trying to pay the copay. Then I had to monitor his movement in the waiting room, exam room, bathroom and elevator. He broke out of the exam room twice and the bathroom once. (I am beyond grateful that all of the doors in our home have doorknobs and he can't work them quite yet.)
Meanwhile, I found out that Jeremy has a virus. Fluids, Motrin/Tylenol, rest, don't share cups. Sure, because that's the week I have planned. A rest/relax week.
Double ugh.
Then we had to go to Jewel. Because even though I was there the day before, I forgot to purchase milk and lettuce for our BLT sandwiches. So I had to take three people through Jewel.
Needless to say, by the time I hit Jewel's doors, I was ready to pitch it all, buy a dozen donuts and go to town. I would have normally reached out to Bre but was too busy taming the circus. So instead I tried to take a deep breath. I thought about whether or not the dozen donuts would solve anything. I decided they wouldn't. I knew I would awake from my sugar haze in a morass of self-loathing. There's no need for that.
Months of preparation, of texts being traded with a stranger-turned-ally, of my husband's gentle "did you talk to Bre about that?" helped me walk by the donut case and on home.
I wish I could say the rest of the day was red-letter, I had a party for myself and rode the feeling until Brian got home.
No such luck.
The van dinged at me that it needed gas (a day and a half before I thought it would). I ended up buying a frozen pizza at Jewel (it's the second I've bought in a year a half, but still felt like a fail). Jeremy was so miserable and yet didn't want to take Motrin or Tylenol. Doug got no nap because the appointment was at 1:35 PM. I forgot to change his diaper and he got a bad rash.
In short, I felt flat and defeated in the face of a victory. The point is, though, it was still a victory. I didn't drown my flat feelings in sugar. I didn't check out by snoozing off a binge. I showed my kids that sugar is not the answer to a bad day.
I don't feel like it was a major strategic victory, but at least I didn't lose any ground. And that's something.
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