It's What's For Dinner

Just an average family dinner at my house.

It's 6 a.m., so I've obviously got one thing on my mind.

What's for dinner tonight?

Food.  I eat it everyday, so, I'm pretty much a fan.  Everyone has a personal philosophy about food, conscious or otherwise, because they make food decisions several times a day.  Some people even think their ideas about food are the ideas about food for everyone. Since I'm a little funny about others telling me what I should eat (not a pride thing, just a natural consequence of having food allergy kids and being a woman that has lost 100 pounds and is terrified of gaining it back)  I adopt a bit of a free-lovin' hippie-esque view of personal diet.  My current food philosophy is:  everyone is different, discover your needs and your wants, and exercise balance (in your diet, not on the Wii board) (although that's okay, too) (geez, stop being so touchy).

In 2004, a documentary called Super Size Me prompted Brian and I to try thirty days of whole foods, which is as close to clean eating as I have ever done.  We should have known this challenge was doomed from the start, when 45 minutes into a documentary showcasing how revolting the fast food industry is we broke for a Big Mac run.  We committed to the "Whole Foods Challenge" on a whim, even though my idea of healthy food was iceberg lettuce and the occasional apple. I guess you should theoretically know how to cook before you embark on a whole foods diet.  It was my practice to pass over any recipe that started with "chop one onion" because it was too much work.  So, you can see how prepared we were to go all whole foods for a month.

It did not go well.

Starting with the twenty-four ingredient Stuffed Portabella Mushroom Burgers was probably a bad choice.  The menu sounded wonderful to Brian until he came home from work to discover me crying in the kitchen because I was so overwhelmed mostly because I didn't want to touch the mushrooms, and prompt me to leave him with a 19 month old, a 5 month old, and an unfinished recipe while I took a long drive to recover from feeling like the worst wife/mother/chef ever. And maybe stopped to buy myself some "therapy" Subway.

Eventually I learned to cook,  which came in handy when God gave us a child that is allergic to milk.  And eggs.  And peanuts.  And tree nuts.  And sesame seeds.  And berries with seeds on the outside.  And citrus.  And high fructose corn syrup. (Up until that last one you were all, "That's not so bad, we could manage that."  But then I dropped the HFCS bomb and you were like, "WHAAAA?  HOW DO YOU FUNCTION?" I know, right?)

Actually, with that last allergy we are perfectly set up to eat a clean diet.  There is just one problem.  Taco Bell is delicious I am so lazy.  That's not 100% true.  It's more like 75% true. There are so few convenience foods our family can eat that when I discover that generic Fruit Loops are free of any of our families allergens, I'm all (and say it like you are a queen bestowing favor upon the land), "FRUIT LOOPS FOR BREAKFAST FOR EVERYONE!"

Which actually sounds like tonight's plan for dinner.  Full circle.  Done.

Totally not our generic Fruit Loops.  And I am so jealous.  These have an angry eagle throwing up a rainbow of cereal.  It's almost downright patriotic.

"LEECHES!"

Confession:  Lake water freaks me out.  This is a fear I really need to overcome in order to do my triathlon.  Which is in Lake Huron.  Not an ordinary lake.  One of the five Great Lakes. A lake so great it can be seen from outer space.  
It's not so much the actual lake water that scares me, but more what is without question dwelling in the water unseen that is ready to slay or maim me that I am bothered by.  I can handle being in any lake depth I can clearly see the bottom of, as long as there is no other living being, plant or animal, in sight.  Even now, as I write this, I know that statement is suspect, because - leeches. You can't always see leeches, but they are there.  It's at this point that I hear several friends laughing and saying (in British accents, I don't know why)(I don't have any British friends)(which is a shame)(Although I do pretend to be Adele at least once a day while I'm performing in the shower), "There aren't any leeches in Lake Huron. You are quite ridiculous."  But guess what, British Friends I Don't Have Who Are Mocking Me?  I googled it, and according to Wikipedia, the most trusted name in information since Perez Hilton, Lake Huron is infested could possibly be home to some leeches.

Information from Wikipedia that is UNQUESTIONABLY TRUE:

"The majority of leeches live in freshwater environments"  (A.K.A. Lake Huron)

Wikipedia, what kind of leeches might I find in freshwater (like Lake Huron)?

Gnathobdela: In this order of "jawed" leeches, armed with teeth, is found the quintessential leech: the European medical (bloodsucking) leech, Hirudo medicinalis. It has a tripartite jaw filled with hundreds of tiny sharp teeth.  (WHEN DID LEECHES GET JAWS?  Like I needed another reason for the Jaws theme music to play in my head during the tri?  Also, leeches are "armed with hundreds of tiny sharp teeth".  Awesome.)

Rhynchobdellida are "jawless" leeches, armed with a muscular, straw-like proboscis puncturing organ in a retractable sheath. (This joke writes itself.)


Most leeches are hematophagous, as they are predominantly blood suckers that feed on blood from vertebrate and invertebrate animals. (Coincidentally, I am a vertebrate animal.  And apparently I am below leeches on the food chain.  Leeches are legitimately hunting me.)

Wikipedia, what should I do if, heaven forbid, I get a leech on me?
.
Common, but medically inadvisable, techniques to remove a leech are to apply a flame, a lit cigarette, salt, soap, or a chemical such as alcohol, vinegar, lemon juice, insect repellent, heat rub, or certain carbonated drinks. These will cause the leech to quickly detach; however, it will also regurgitate its stomach contents into the wound. The vomit may carry disease, and thus increase the risk of infection.^[24][25][26] (To recap, if a leech attack wasn't bad enough, if removed improperly, said leech could vomit into your open wound and infect you with Weird Leech Disease, which I'm pretty sure is how people turn into vampires.)

I never planned on being a vampire.  All I wanted was to stretch the limits of my physical endurance by competing in a triathlon.  This is suddenly becoming way more dangerous than I anticipated.  If my post on Monday seems all, "Hey Blog Friends, come over to my house so I can feed on your blood," you can probably assume I was hunted by armed leeches in Lake Huron during my triathlon and caught a Weird Leech Disease that turned me into a vampire.  Heads up.

Vitamin B is a Jerk

Facebook Status: ‎"Mama takes pills EVERYDAY to help her stay awake" -Esther to the lady at the bike shop. I should probably explain the Vitamin B and Iron supplements a bit differently.

I run in circles where kombucha, wheat grass, and Dr. Fuhrman are vocabulary words used in casual conversation.  However, I'm more of a foreign exchange student in these conversations, offering helpful tidbits like, "Dude, Burger King has sweet potato fries*!"

Since my diet is the very definition of balanced, imagine my surprise when, after baby #4, I was found to be anemic.  And crabby.  And tired.  And a titsch moody.  My doctor suggested an iron supplement and a supplement of "the B's" for good measure.

I realized I hate supplements.

It was supposed to take a while to feel the desired effects of the supplements.  Unfortunately the undesired effects were felt sooner.  In order to be a good steward to my body I would need to persevere and keep taking the pills ...

...but.

There's the crux of the matter.  Butt. Iron quickly works it's charm, and you are left desperately looking for an iron cure.

There is a delicate balance in formulating just how much fiber you need to combat all that supplemental iron.  Benefiber in your apple cider is probably overkill.  But only eating an apple - Mama might be a bit *cranky*.  And quite frankly, I'm not that patient.  Or that skilled at trial and error.  Or that ready to be my own 'finding a good formula for consistent pooping' guinea pig.

After much scientific hypothesizing, testing, and reflecting not thinking about it at all, this is the method for taking supplements I have decided works best.

I take the supplements with renewed commitment for as long as it takes me to become constipated. I stop taking them until Brian says, "Are you taking your supplements?" in response to my completely (un)reasonable tearfulness, incessant need to nap, and endless complaints about brittle fingernails.  So I start taking them again with renewed commitment ... this cycle goes on until the supplements expire, and I throw them away.

So far, this is a stellar plan.  And it doesn't waste money at all.

If all that drama weren't enough reason to personally hate supplements, here's one more you may not have thought about obvious one.
  

When you completely on accident pee in the group shower at the gym, supplements like Vitamin B and Iron turn what should have been a private faux pas into a literal neon stream trumpeting your blunder to the world.  (Now, I'm not saying this has ever happened to me, because it would be too mortifying to admit.) (Also? Gross and unsanitary.  Probably it's safe to also throw 'inconsiderate' in the mix even if it was completely out of your control.)  But I will say that if it ever happened to anyone else I wouldn't judge her.  Because I have been there, being a mom with incontinence issues, when you have absolutely no control over your bladder.  Especially in a warm shower.  But way to go, Vitamin B, for outing a girl.


So, yeah, in conclusion, Vitamin B is a jerk. 

*The BK sweet potato fries are totally a let down.  Huge.  But the brownie sundae?  Dude (say it like your mind's blown).

My Siamese Twin and I have a Special Connection

Me and Ezra.  If we were elephants.

I'm pretty sure I'm a Siamese Twin.  I know this is the sort of thing you usually discover before you are 33.  It's not like being adopted.  Or a werewolf. Those things can be kept from you your whole life and BAM! the Cullens move to town and your whole identity is different.  I think my Siamese Twinism is like that.  Life was totally cool and BAM! two years ago I gave birth to a little boy who never.detaches.himself. from my body.  The only logical explanation is, of course,  that we are Siamese Twins separated by thirty-one years.

I know what you are thinking, "Why isn't there a made for t.v. movie about your life yet?"  I know. I'm a little disturbed myself.  I guess more people care about the Bachelorette (*spoiler* - they don't stay together - I have this on good authority based solely upon COMMON SENSE) than a modern day medical miracle.

The weird thing?  We are not connected at any specific point.  We don't share any major organs, veins, or appendages.  We often do, however, share my meals.  We have Roving Siamese Twinism, which I just made up and does not exist but I bet I could find on Wikipedia if I put it there.

One time we are consistently separated is when I (think I) sneak out the back door to grill our dinner. I slide closed the glass doorwall, feeling like a stealth ninja, and do my business.  Alone. (Not that business.  I never do that business alone.)

This is incredibly awesome and freeing until I try to reenter the house and realize my Siamese Twin is sitting on the floor behind the now closed and locked doorwall, laughing hysterically because he is 23 and 3/4 months old and knows how to lock and deadbolt Mama outside.

This is when I usually question my life decisions that have brought me to the point where I am saying, "Ha-ha, Dude, you're hysterical.  Now let Mama in.  Ezra, honey, unlock the door.  (Enter logic/reasoning with an almost 2 year old) Dude, your hot dog* is getting cold, Buddy.  (He totally doesn't care.  Hot dog?  He holds the power.)  Let Mama in, Bud.  (Switching tactics)  Go get Eve, Dude. (Because he obviously wants to let me in, he just doesn't remember how locks work and needs help from an older sibling) Bud! Open. the. door. (He is still giggling because maybe he didn't hear me.)  EZRA, DUDE.  UNLOCK THE DOOR AND LET MAMA IN!"

We make awesome neighbors.

*Don't judge me.  I grilled it.  It's practically health food now.

Apparently "clean eating" has nothing to do with the Five Second Rule

This is hilarious if you know
Bear Grylls.  If not, it's probably
disturbing in view of
 my SuperNanny post.
Google Bear Grylls immediately.

Which is both disappointing and embarrassing, as I have been liberally applying the rule and claiming to "eat clean" for years.

It's all the rage for triathletes (well, I'm pretty sure all athletes, but triathletes are the people whose blogs I am currently stalking) and after about 20 billion references to "clean eating", I decided to do some research (i.e. Goggle it) and truly define what it is.

Turns out no one knows.

There are so many different ideas about clean eating my head started to spin after visiting just two pages.  Like with any idea that is simple in theory (eat only things found in nature) but hard to apply (because Nutella is delicious) people have added rules and amendments to make their struggle seem more legit.*

*which is fine, I'm not judging.  I'm all about justification and Lord knows I have eaten dozens my share of cider mill donuts on the premise that I can't let them sit on the counter and get stale. Because that would be morally wrong.

With clean eating some people focus more on unprocessed foods, some mostly on the way you view food and how and when you feed your body, some on avoiding preservatives and artificial ingredients.  The hardcore people do all three.  And more, maybe.  As I said, I actually know nothing about this.  Some tout* the benefits of veganism, while others wouldn't dream of cutting out fish, chicken, or eggs.

*random linguistic fact not at all related to this post:  "tout" actually has connotations with horse racing (like to solicit bets on a race horse) so it's kind of the most inappropriate word to use when applied to the benefits of veganism.  Which is both ironic and useful information.  BAM! - you're smarter.


I have dabbled in the thought of trying to eat clean.  And by dabbled I mean I thought, "That would be a lot healthier," as I noshed on Cracker Jack.  Also, every morning I vow to drink all eight glasses of water I'm supposed to be drinking, so there's that.  I also own wheat germ.  I'm practically the poster child for the Food Pyramid.  Not that I trust/believe in the Food Pyramid;  we all know it's totally the secret love child of Big Food and the U.S. Government.  (And THAT'S how you get put on watch lists.)

If I designed the food pyramid it would look a lot different. Like 30 40 45 percent would be International Delight Mocha Iced Coffee, 10 percent would be refrigerator oatmeal and/or Special K with red berries, and the rest would be Eat Whatever You Want because I Am Not Your Mama. (UPDATE: hubby just informed me they've gotten rid of the Food Pyramid, and it's now a plate.  As a child of the '90's, I have to say the Food Pyramid is a part of my youth of which I can not easily let go.  It's like asking me to picture Michelangelo of Sistine Chapel fame without thinking of the Ninja Turtles.)

I think my main problem with eating clean is that sometimes you just need chocolate.  And not a small square of dark chocolate filled with antioxidants.  You need a big piece of sugary milk chocolate filled with peanut butter.  Or caramel.  Or some sort of nougaty goodness.

Also?  Fast food.  Anyone who has experienced the blessed silence that descends upon the minivan after the drive-thru meal has been handed out  smell of french fries promises a delectable meal served around the kitchen table at home because we are not savages who eat in the car, understands the power of the McNugget. Fast food is not very clean.  By any definition.

So, to hijack a potentially helpful and encouraging blog entry about clean eating and healthy living from a woman who has lost some weight, let me say, thank God for processed/unclean/junk food. Because some of us are premenstrual.  Still. 


P.S. As far as the "eating foods found only in nature" part of eating clean, I'm pretty sure the Lord meant to create a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup Bush, he just got distracted with kudzu, and that's why it is so out of hand today.  Which is why all you clean eaters can now add Peanut Butter Cups to your diet.  You're welcome.

Kelly's guide to Clean Eating.
I will add that anything chocolate gets an extra 5 seconds when dropped.