So I'm doing okay on building new eating habits. I haven't cut sugar out, but I'm taking baby steps. Here's the progress I see:
1. I've stuck to my commitment to stop buying refined sugar products.
2. I'm not denying myself sugar, but I'm stopping to ask myself if I really want it, and I'm surprised at how often I can say no. If I do want it, I go ahead and don't feel guilty.
3. My main focus has been increasing my protein intake, particularly at breakfast. It reminds me of when I was pregnant with Ian and obsessively tracked what I was eating to make sure I had enough protein every day. I bought some whey protein powder today to start using in the morning because that's been the hardest part.
What's interesting is that as I've been reading and researching on the Internet, I've realized that changing my diet could also be beneficial for my ulcerative colitis. I've had a hard time getting it under control lately, but I really don't want to go back on Prednisone. I'm looking forward to seeing how I start feeling as I form new eating habits.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
gathering and learning
So it's been a few days, and there's not much to report. I'm still working my way through the pantry. I did talk to Eric a little about what I'm thinking as far as my attitude towards sugar, and while he didn't seem to really get it, he didn't dismiss it either. I've read a few articles on the Internet, and today I checked a few books out of the library. Right now I'm reading Little Sugar Addicts by Kathleen DesMaisons. It's more geared toward parents trying to help children who are "sugar sensitive," but I'm learning a lot. Namely, it's confirming what I was thinking about myself, and I'm even seeing how my sugar sensitivity was present even as a kid. I ordered her first book Potatoes, Not Prozac off paperbackswap.com and am looking forward to reading it as well.
Two things stand out in my mind. First, that I have a lot to learn. Second, that this is going to be a long process. I want to be sure to build a good foundation. I know myself too well to think I can just quit. But I am excited to get started, not only for the positive changes I hope to bring about in myself, but also for the way it will affect my kids.
Two things stand out in my mind. First, that I have a lot to learn. Second, that this is going to be a long process. I want to be sure to build a good foundation. I know myself too well to think I can just quit. But I am excited to get started, not only for the positive changes I hope to bring about in myself, but also for the way it will affect my kids.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
A new quest
Ok, so I haven't been much of a blogger, and that probably isn't about to change, but for some reason I felt inspired to write a little about something that's starting to bug me. Over the last few days, I've come to realize that my eating is getting out of control (again) and it hit me today that I'm a sugar addict. I remember hearing some people talk about sugar addiction a few years ago (when I was trying to overcome my long history of bulimia) and I have to admit, I thought they were somewhat ridiculous. Or at least obsessive.
But it has become obvious to me that I am not really in control of my sugar binges. If it's in the house, I eat it. If it's not in the house, I go out and get it. I have almost zero self-control when the craving hits.
So where do I go from here? I should probably clean out my pantry and throw a lot of stuff away, but I'm too much of a spendthrift for that. But I'm willing to make this Commitment: I will not buy any more refined sugar. Not exactly a huge leap, but at least it's a baby step.
And here's where I run into problem number one: my husband. Eric doesn't seem to have any food issues. He is a creature of habit, one of which is packing little storebought cookies in his lunch. Okay, so maybe I can ask him to take the whole package to work with him. What about his ice cream at night? What? No more ice cream? Well, I should probably stay off it for at least a while. Will he go for this? Well, maybe. He's so supportive of me, and he knows of my past food issues, so maybe he'll be game. I'll have to check with him.
As a final note, this is not about losing weight. No, seriously it's not. Sure, I could stand to lose a decent chunk, but honestly, I'm perfectly comfortable with my body as it is. What I'm not okay with is letting some craving make my decisions for me, especially decisions that are really bad for me physically. God wants us to control our appetites, rather than letting them control us.
Over the last few years, the "fruit of the Spirit" I've been trying to cultivate the most has been patience. Maybe it's time to start praying for some self-control as well.
"But I say, walk by the Spirit and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh." Galatians 5:16 (NASB)
But it has become obvious to me that I am not really in control of my sugar binges. If it's in the house, I eat it. If it's not in the house, I go out and get it. I have almost zero self-control when the craving hits.
So where do I go from here? I should probably clean out my pantry and throw a lot of stuff away, but I'm too much of a spendthrift for that. But I'm willing to make this Commitment: I will not buy any more refined sugar. Not exactly a huge leap, but at least it's a baby step.
And here's where I run into problem number one: my husband. Eric doesn't seem to have any food issues. He is a creature of habit, one of which is packing little storebought cookies in his lunch. Okay, so maybe I can ask him to take the whole package to work with him. What about his ice cream at night? What? No more ice cream? Well, I should probably stay off it for at least a while. Will he go for this? Well, maybe. He's so supportive of me, and he knows of my past food issues, so maybe he'll be game. I'll have to check with him.
As a final note, this is not about losing weight. No, seriously it's not. Sure, I could stand to lose a decent chunk, but honestly, I'm perfectly comfortable with my body as it is. What I'm not okay with is letting some craving make my decisions for me, especially decisions that are really bad for me physically. God wants us to control our appetites, rather than letting them control us.
Over the last few years, the "fruit of the Spirit" I've been trying to cultivate the most has been patience. Maybe it's time to start praying for some self-control as well.
"But I say, walk by the Spirit and you will not carry out the desire of the flesh." Galatians 5:16 (NASB)
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sheep
"Do not blame Caesar, blame the people of Rome who have so enthusiastically acclaimed and adored him and rejoiced in their loss of freedom and danced in his path and gave him triumphal processions. ... Blame the people who hail him when he speaks in the Forum of the 'new, wonderful good society' which shall now be Rome's, interpreted to mean 'more money, more ease, more security, more living fatly at the expense of the industrious.'" --Roman statesman Marcus Tullius Cicero (106-43 B.C.)
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Am I nuts?
I never thought I'd be attempting to potty-train an 18-month old, especially not a boy. Yet we seem to be beginning. I first bought a little potty chair for Ian before his 1st birthday because since he was 10 months old he'd go #2 in the big toilet almost every morning if I offered him the chance, and I thought it would be easier than holding him on the seat. Then I got pregnant and felt so miserable I got out of the habit. I didn't want to even try potty-training until after the baby came since I thought Ian might just regress and want to go back to diapers at that point anyway. So I figured we'd wait until at least his 2nd birthday in February.
Then in the last few weeks he's really started showing signs that he knows what his body's doing. He tugs on his diaper and tells me, "Poopy!" When I check then, it's always either dirty or very wet. Sometimes he seems to be telling me as he's going, like he wants me to do something before he messes his diaper. And every night as we run his bath water we'll have him sit on the potty and it's a rare event that he doesn't go.
So I decided I better take advantage of his seeming readiness, rather than ignoring it and regretting it later after I'd sent him the message that it was better just to go in his diaper. I bought another little potty to keep in the living room to have on hand while he's playing. Until this morning he'd just enjoyed sitting on it but hadn't done anything else. I don't know if it was playing with the recently potty-trained Jack Webster yesterday or what, but this morning he was all gung-ho about the potty.
First he sat on it just playing with a little car, and the next thing I know, he's standing up and he'd gone #2. So I dumped it in the toilet, let him flush it down, and then put a diaper on him, figuring that was enough success for one morning. He promptly sat back down on the potty even with his diaper on. But then 5 minutes later, he popped up and came to me tugging on the front of his diaper. I checked to see if he was wet, but no. Could he be telling me something? I took the diaper off and let him sit back down naked. Lo and behold, he went! It was only a little, but I was pretty shocked. I figured he wasn't really done, so I put the diaper back on him and sure enough, a few minutes later he was wet. I changed him and set him down to run around and play.
Not a minute later he started crying. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I just picked him up to cuddle. His diaper was wet again! It was the only thing I could think of that was bothering him. Another change, and he was a happy camper.
So what's up with all this? It seems early for a little guy to be so insistent about using the potty and getting upset about wet pants. I'm not complaining, but I do wonder if it will last. I'll try to be consistent, and I guess we'll just see. Could it be I won't have two in diapers after all?
Then in the last few weeks he's really started showing signs that he knows what his body's doing. He tugs on his diaper and tells me, "Poopy!" When I check then, it's always either dirty or very wet. Sometimes he seems to be telling me as he's going, like he wants me to do something before he messes his diaper. And every night as we run his bath water we'll have him sit on the potty and it's a rare event that he doesn't go.
So I decided I better take advantage of his seeming readiness, rather than ignoring it and regretting it later after I'd sent him the message that it was better just to go in his diaper. I bought another little potty to keep in the living room to have on hand while he's playing. Until this morning he'd just enjoyed sitting on it but hadn't done anything else. I don't know if it was playing with the recently potty-trained Jack Webster yesterday or what, but this morning he was all gung-ho about the potty.
First he sat on it just playing with a little car, and the next thing I know, he's standing up and he'd gone #2. So I dumped it in the toilet, let him flush it down, and then put a diaper on him, figuring that was enough success for one morning. He promptly sat back down on the potty even with his diaper on. But then 5 minutes later, he popped up and came to me tugging on the front of his diaper. I checked to see if he was wet, but no. Could he be telling me something? I took the diaper off and let him sit back down naked. Lo and behold, he went! It was only a little, but I was pretty shocked. I figured he wasn't really done, so I put the diaper back on him and sure enough, a few minutes later he was wet. I changed him and set him down to run around and play.
Not a minute later he started crying. I couldn't figure out what was wrong, so I just picked him up to cuddle. His diaper was wet again! It was the only thing I could think of that was bothering him. Another change, and he was a happy camper.
So what's up with all this? It seems early for a little guy to be so insistent about using the potty and getting upset about wet pants. I'm not complaining, but I do wonder if it will last. I'll try to be consistent, and I guess we'll just see. Could it be I won't have two in diapers after all?
Monday, March 2, 2009
Love those little lines!
This morning I got a positive pregnancy test! I’m 10 DPO, and the line was faint but at least as dark as the one I got with Ian 11 DPO.
I had a really hard time falling asleep last night. I’ve been fighting off a sore throat for two weeks, and yesterday I could feel some fluid in my lungs. By bedtime, it was starting to make me cough. I didn’t want to take anything to help me sleep because I was hoping I might be pregnant, though the only symptom I had was a little cramping around implantation (which I just didn’t trust after the way I felt last month). I ended up having some chamomile tea with honey and settled on the couch with my iPod lulling me to sleep to Spurgeon’s All of Grace audiobook.
When I woke up, I was coughing really badly, and Eric brought me some cough syrup, but I told him I didn’t want to take anything because I might be pregnant and this would be the worst time to take something. I don’t think he believed me (not that I blame him, since I was so sure last month and it turned out to be nothing.) Then I called mom to ask her if she’d come over this afternoon to help me with Ian. She wanted to take me to the doctor as well, but I told her the same thing.
After I hung up with her, I realized I was 10 DPO and there was a chance of getting a positive. I’d been so distracted by everything last week with the funeral and Eric’s car getting stolen that the time had passed without me thinking much about when I could test. I took the test and then went to take care of Ian so I wasn’t watching it. When I came back a few minutes later, there was a line! It was hardly anything, but I’ve taken enough negative tests to know that it sure something! I got out my pregnancy scrapbook to look at the test I’d taken with Ian, and I think this one may even be darker than that first sign that he was coming.
So in spite of my cough and sore throat, I’m feeling pretty elated today. Ian’s taking his morning nap, and if I can just get through until this afternoon, I’ll have a time to rest. Yesterday I was 3 weeks pregnant, and according to my calculations, my due date is November 15.
I had a really hard time falling asleep last night. I’ve been fighting off a sore throat for two weeks, and yesterday I could feel some fluid in my lungs. By bedtime, it was starting to make me cough. I didn’t want to take anything to help me sleep because I was hoping I might be pregnant, though the only symptom I had was a little cramping around implantation (which I just didn’t trust after the way I felt last month). I ended up having some chamomile tea with honey and settled on the couch with my iPod lulling me to sleep to Spurgeon’s All of Grace audiobook.
When I woke up, I was coughing really badly, and Eric brought me some cough syrup, but I told him I didn’t want to take anything because I might be pregnant and this would be the worst time to take something. I don’t think he believed me (not that I blame him, since I was so sure last month and it turned out to be nothing.) Then I called mom to ask her if she’d come over this afternoon to help me with Ian. She wanted to take me to the doctor as well, but I told her the same thing.
After I hung up with her, I realized I was 10 DPO and there was a chance of getting a positive. I’d been so distracted by everything last week with the funeral and Eric’s car getting stolen that the time had passed without me thinking much about when I could test. I took the test and then went to take care of Ian so I wasn’t watching it. When I came back a few minutes later, there was a line! It was hardly anything, but I’ve taken enough negative tests to know that it sure something! I got out my pregnancy scrapbook to look at the test I’d taken with Ian, and I think this one may even be darker than that first sign that he was coming.
So in spite of my cough and sore throat, I’m feeling pretty elated today. Ian’s taking his morning nap, and if I can just get through until this afternoon, I’ll have a time to rest. Yesterday I was 3 weeks pregnant, and according to my calculations, my due date is November 15.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Life and Death
I am in a strange place right now. It turned out I wasn't pregnant, but now I'm in that odd two week window again, so I could be. Even if I'm not, I hope to be soon, so my mind is full of thoughts of new life.
Ian's turning one in two two days. What an amazing year it has been! He is so bubbly and full of life. He brings so much joy to our family.
But in the midst of these fresh young lives, I am surrounded by the dying. Obviously we're all dying to some degree, but there are three important people in my life who are face to face with their own mortality.
Last weekend we visited Eric's paternal grandmother, who's days are winding down. She's 87 (I think) and has lived a long life. Even so, it's hard to say good-bye.
Tonight, Eric got a call from his dad letting him know that my mother-in-law, who has been nearing the end of her 5-year battle with cancer, is having trouble breathing. The doctor told him she won't live more than a couple days. It seems like such a waste for a woman not yet 60.
But my heart breaks most for one even younger. My friend Heather, only 31, is also fighting a losing battle against cancer. She's trying to enjoy what time she has left with her precious young children and the rest of her family. Heather will forever live in my memory as an 11-year old girl flying across the stage in our ballet recital. We weren't old enough to begin pointe work before the recital, so she and I took turns leaping across the stage during the instrumental breaks of the dance for the pointe class.
It makes no sense to me. I want to celebrate life, but I feel like death is knocking at my door.
Ian's turning one in two two days. What an amazing year it has been! He is so bubbly and full of life. He brings so much joy to our family.
But in the midst of these fresh young lives, I am surrounded by the dying. Obviously we're all dying to some degree, but there are three important people in my life who are face to face with their own mortality.
Last weekend we visited Eric's paternal grandmother, who's days are winding down. She's 87 (I think) and has lived a long life. Even so, it's hard to say good-bye.
Tonight, Eric got a call from his dad letting him know that my mother-in-law, who has been nearing the end of her 5-year battle with cancer, is having trouble breathing. The doctor told him she won't live more than a couple days. It seems like such a waste for a woman not yet 60.
But my heart breaks most for one even younger. My friend Heather, only 31, is also fighting a losing battle against cancer. She's trying to enjoy what time she has left with her precious young children and the rest of her family. Heather will forever live in my memory as an 11-year old girl flying across the stage in our ballet recital. We weren't old enough to begin pointe work before the recital, so she and I took turns leaping across the stage during the instrumental breaks of the dance for the pointe class.
It makes no sense to me. I want to celebrate life, but I feel like death is knocking at my door.
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