And Holy Hannah, the humidity!!! How can you have 99.9% humidity? Isn’t that pretty much rain? Oh, well. At least it’s not a dry heat. Arizonans can tout that advantage all they want, but lifetime residents look like they’ve been freeze dried. At least in the south, we may be sweaty, but we’re relatively wrinkle free.

Now I’m off to try and entertain the kids for the rest of the day. If we swim in chlorinated water, does it count as a bath? Not that I’d ever DO that of course. I was just checking…for a friend.

Today is the second day of my road to recovery. I’ve signed up for Weight Watchers Online — and I’m actually logging every bite that goes in my mouth. Since yesterday, I’ve discovered a major source of previously unidentified calories — the boys’ leftovers. Case in point: I had to force myself to march to the garbage with a completely untouched warm brownie earlier today. Sam insisted it was the only thing he could stomach for lunch, then took one look, wrinkled his nose and asked, “It’s chocolate?”

“Yes, son…It’s a brownie,” I said flatly. “They’re always chocolate.”

“I not like it,” he shrugged. Turning away, he tossed over his shoulder, “Just throw it away.”

I stared down at its warm, gooey, goodness. It begged me to take just one tiny bite. I picked up the carton and read the completely sickening nutritional information. How many calories for this one (giant) brownie??? One forkful would pack at least 50 calories. Hmmm…I grabbed a fork, took one quick bite (What? Am I made of stone?), then I flipped the bowl upside down and squashed it deep into the garbage can. Disaster averted. Well…mostly. It could definitely have been worse.

Tonight we’re having a Mexican-inspired brown rice casserole with grilled pork tenderloin. Tomorrow night, I think I’ll add a few veggies, the leftover pork, some garlic, ginger and soy sauce to the plain rice I set aside and tell the boys it’s pork fried rice — while I make do with mostly veggies.

With a little luck and a LOT of willpower, I plan to be back in my cute jeans by fall. Twenty pounds is a big scary number, but at least I’ve stopped the downhill slide and am on my way back to a healthier, more comfortable me.

Got any favorite healthy recipes or diet tips? I’m all ears. In the same boat and want a buddy? Shoot me an e-mail and we’ll suffer through together. I may be too late to salvage swimsuit season, but just watch me rock a turtleneck this winter.

Not that I’d been completely catatonic for that time, but it’s safe to say I’ve been a little detached. Responsibilities shirked until the last possible moment (when was tax day again?). A series of appointments double-booked or simply forgotten. Just a general fuzzy drift through the dark days of February, a plodding slog through the rain-soaked grey of March, and a limping jog through the first few weeks of April punctuated with little lungs wheezing and tiny noses running for dear life.

But now the boys are (for the most part) well and happy, a week’s worth of sun has soaked clear through to my bones, and it’s finally clear that another gorgeous Southern Summer has come to Alabama. As I watch the buds swell on my gardenias and furtively spy on Jason’s loving ministrations to his tomato plants, I’ll forget for months on end the fact that winter always returns, and focus instead on the sun-baked, watermelon-flavored truth of today. Carpe Diem, everybody!!!

Fill the reservoir with straight vinegar, let it go through a brew cycle, then turn off the coffee maker. Put the hot vinegar back in, let sit for about 20-30 minutes, then run through one more time. Run fresh cold water through several times, and you are all set. Don’t waste that vinegar! Pour it down the drain to kill bacteria. — via Houston Chronicle

What Heloise FAILS to mention is the resultant nasal napalm will pretty much render your kitchen unusable until this little experiment is concluded. I made it through one cycle with eyes watering and nose running, and have vowed I’ll buy a new coffee maker before I suffer through this again. Happy Tuesday!

I used to work in TV news, and during that time, I developed an ear for “sound bites.” I could instantly detect when the person I was interviewing said something meaningful in 15 seconds or less. It didn’t matter what they said before and after that; if I got the sound bite, I was good to go.  So today, when someone asks me, “What do you do?” I feel the pressure to answer in a simple sentence, before their eyes glaze over and they start searching for a stiff drink and someone more interesting to talk to.

The short story is I’m a mom of the 3-year-old and 3-month-old, and I’ve finally figured out I want to be a writer when I grow up. The whole story is so much bigger than that, but I want you to stick around, so I’ll spare you the gory details. I guess this is my payback for cutting out huge chunks of other people’s stories to fit the allotted segment time.

In my late 20’s, I left my TV news job in the pursuit of happiness. I didn’t have kids yet, but I knew I didn’t want to be married to my pager and forced to work nights, weekends and holidays after I started my family. At the time I was clueless that having kids was also a round the clock job.

I’ve been self-employed ever since. This is the part where I leave out a lot of details. Come to think of it… it looks like I’ve had a few stiff drinks when I wrote my resume. As I’ve tried to find balance between living the dream and paying the bills, I’ve changed my mind, and my direction, a lot.

Life teaches me something every day. One thing I’ve learned, balance is overrated. The older I get, the more I realize life is messy. It’s one thing to say I want it all, and it’s another to determine what that really is. Each day I must choose what’s really important and let go of the things that are not. To me, it’s like a dance. Feeling the rhythm, not controlling the steps.

The occasional cocktail helps, too.

You can follow my journey and join the conversation at my blog, Under the MAC.

“Guess what, boys? You get to wear your new long-sleeved shirts today!”

A happy chorus went up. Ever since the mail order arrived last week, Will’s been bugging me to wear his choo choo shirt, Jack’s begged to wear his dinosaur shirt and Tom has asked about his “green one” — which I picked because of his obsessive love of ALL things green. Sam wasn’t all that interested. Despite the fact that he looks like a young model for Abercrombie and Fitch, he’s only interested in clothes sporting Lightning McQueen, Mickey Mouse, or pretty much any other Disney creation. As his new shirt had an appliqued sailboat, he was only marginally interested in the proceedings.

But as for me, I. Am. Stoked. I’ve always loved Fall. It’s my very favorite time of year. I love the way the whole world is gilded by a newly slanted sun. I love the crisp bite of the morning air and the crunch of leaves underfoot. I love new clothes and fresh school supplies. The pleasure of hot soup and crusty bread. It’s all I can do not to hug myself, I’m so happy today.

I’ve just been ordered to go get dressed myself. Jack doesn’t want to be late and miss out on getting to show off his vicious T-Rex shirt to all his friends before school.

Wishing everyone a day as wonderful as this one has begun for me!

Bullies Confronted by Pink Power « SHADMIA’S WORLD.

Saturday is the triplets third birthday and we spent a good bit of the morning putting together this little bit of high-octane fun while the kids were away at pre-school. I had things to do, so I left Jason to put on the finishing touches while I ran around picking up dry cleaning, buying party favors and various and sundry other mundane tasks. By the time I got back, he’d already hidden it away from curious little eyes to ready it for a surprise unveiling at their birthday party on Saturday. I was a bit disappointed not to see the end result of our handiwork, but forgot all about it in the rush of the day.

Tonight, after we’d gotten everyone bathed and in bed, he wordlessly nodded toward the downstairs garage. Flicking on the light, we both gazed in awe at The Stinger in all its blinding orange glory.

“How badass is that?” Jason asked reverently.

“Pretty badass,” I replied, grinning. “Have you tried it out yet?”

“Nah… the weight limit is 135.”

I love that he knows that. It means he’s enough of the kid to think about taking a joy ride in the boys’ car, but responsible enough to have checked the manual before accidentally breaking it into a million pieces two days before their birthday. If there is a more perfect man out there, I haven’t seen him.

But now, I really feel compelled to do more drinking posts where I share cool cocktail recipes and such, but lately it’s been more like

Wine? Check.
Recliner? Check.
Laptop? Check.
Party in my head? Always!