Peace at last.

Blogging hasn't been very high on my list of priorities the last few days. Surviving each set of 24 hours without killing anyone has been on the agenda instead.

Today we waved Mother off to her own home again after having her here for the last ten days or so. She was starting the recuperation period after a hip replacement operation. It was her suggestion that she stay here with us. "It will be easier." For her? Maybe. For me? Not so much.

I don't have an easy relationship with my mother. She pretty much disapproves of everything. Not just me, but everything. It is hard to stay positive around someone who can find negativity in even the most joyful of occasions. I do love her, very much. But I find it easier to love her when she isn't at too close quarters. Especially when those quarters happen to be mine.

So now I can breathe a sigh of relief, no? Well sort of. My aunt has come up for a week to take over care duties, but after that I'll be on my own again. Mother is not coming back here. Not unless I get to move out first. So this means daily trips to her house five miles away to keep her company and bring her shopping and try to get her to go out and about a little bit. It's fair to say that she will resist all these efforts and we may well fall out. Again.

All of which made me ponder the relationship that I have with my own children. Am I as disapproving? Do I make them feel like their opinion is worthless? Do I expect them to cater to my needs above and beyond their own? I hope not, but I'm sure in years to come they'll have their own complaints about my parenting. I just pray that whatever life chucks at us we'll still be able to find the time to see something beautiful and smile, to laugh at our foibles instead of berate each other for them and hug each other. Lots.

The long haul

Starting Weight: 14 Stone 11 lbs
Today's Weight: 13 Stone 2 lbs
Total Lost: 23lbs

Can you believe I started this diet in September 2008? (As opposed to all the other diets that I have been attempting since about 2005) I should be the size of a pencil by now.

All those endless months ago, I weighed 14 Stone 11 lbs. 19 weeks of hard slog shrank me down to 12 Stone 9 lbs, and then Christmas happened. I took the stance that life was too short not to enjoy a mince pie and promptly slapped on ten pounds. (Some mince pie!) That same ten pounds have been coming and going ever since.

I justified all this consumption by stating that I had been trying to "not" diet. In other words, I had stopped blogging, stopped completing a food diary and stopped "depriving" myself - if I fancied a bit of butter on my toast, I had it. If I felt like having custard with my apple and blackberries, I had custard. I think I was hoping that the generally healthy diet that I provide for my family, with no sense of deprivation for me, would stop the binge/diet cycle. It sort of worked. I didn't feel deprived! And actually, it seems that the weight I am now is where I would naturally hover if left to my own devices. Trouble is, I don't like that weight very much!!

So it's back to the hard slog. Or at least, a version of it. I am not convinced that the very strict approach is working for me. It works for a bit, but then I get invited out for dinner and the 4% or less fat rule gets broken. This results in a guilt/sod it cycle and I'm back to looking less like a pencil and more like an overstuffed book bag. I need a more relaxed approach - just not too relaxed!!

Head Games

I am having one of those dreadful diet days where I can't stop thinking about eating. I'm not even particularly hungry. Cold? Yes. Headachey? Yes. Fed up with having to listen to the rugby while dh snores his way through a frankly dull game? Heck yes. I know in my heart that a great big cheese and chutney sarnie isn't going to make any of that go away, but it doesn't stop me from dreaming!

I may have to resort to ironing as a distraction technique. I don't much love ironing, even with my new super duper steam machine, but at least it would get me out of the kitchen and away from the fridge. And it might warm me up somewhat too. I know some people swear by drinking a glass of water whenever they're tempted but I've already consumed enough water for three days and seem to be permanently needing the loo. All in all this has not been a good day - apart from the fact that thus far I haven't yet given in to the temptation so I suppose I'll have to comfort myself with that and remember that tomorrow is weigh-in day so it had better all be worth it!

Can I sneak back in here?

Someone (Harridan) made the point a few days a go that I haven't updated my blog in a while. And we all know why, don't we? Because I'd fallen off the dieting bandwagon and didn't wish to admit it. As much as I hate the idea, it seems as though I really do need the discipline of a food diary/diet diary to help motivate me keep the focus going. So this blog might be about to get a whole lot more dull than it already is - yup, I think any existing followers will be running away in droves once the weekly stat post starts! On Monday. I hate starting things when it isn't the beginning of the week. (Is it really any surprise that Kid-the-Eldest has aspergers? I found myself getting quite irritated in Starbucks the other day because people had mixed up all the coffee beans!)

In all honesty, I had given myself a bit of a kick last week. I was aware that I was sliding back "up" the scales again and given that, in a few short weeks, I'm going to be meeting up with some friends for a weekend away, it would be good not to be the blob at the party. I haven't regained everything that I had previously lost, but I had gained more than ten pounds of it, so something had to be done. I've been as good as gold this last week, even taking into consideration lunch out with friends, so I'm hoping for good things.

Meanwhile, family life continues around me. Mother is going into hospital next week for a hip replacement. I may have more to say about that when she comes out of hospital as she's due to come here to stay. That could be fun. Kids eldest, middle and at the bottom of the heap all providing the usual levels of laughter, tears, stress and mess, and the man I married has Man Flu. I don't think he appreciates the fact that Man Flu is an ironic term for a piffling cold, coined by women to illustrate the weakness of men. I know in fact that he believes it to be a higher, more potent strain of flu, the likes of which I could never possibly hope to suffer nor understand. Apparently, it's so bad that no-name paracetamol and a hot toddy can't possibly be the cure. Only a skipful of branded over-the-counter medicine (with the name "Extra" on the packet) could possibly be effective in the fight against the super-germs. I so need a rolly-eye smiley on this blog!!