After both kids, I had a few people remark on how good I looked. Not in a “wow, you look so well-rested and you have no gray hair or bags under your eyes” way, but in a “boy, for someone who ate two burritos a week for 40 weeks, you don’t look too bad.” And here I am, sharing the secrets of my success.
Full disclosure: The only exercise I get is chasing a toddler around (which is the equivalent of P90X, to give my childless friends an accurate comparison) and hauling an 18 pound meatloaf of an infant (which is some Crossfit worthy stuff, trust). So just because I fit into my jeans doesn’t mean I have abs. Well, I do have abs, they’re just hibernating for the winter (and all winters to come…
Before we had Grant, my husband worked most Saturdays and it was just Miles and me at until late afternoon. With a day booked with important activities, it was important that I develop a weekend diet that would keep me on track. Here we have…
The Mom Diet
5am – Wake Up Call
FIRST BREAKFAST: Your first mom meal of the day will be four cups of extra bold dark roast Colombian something or other, with a splash of cream (or your toddler’s leftover milk from dinner the night before) and some sugar. Okay, lots of sugar. We need to be firing on all engines here, people.
8am – Did I eat any food yet?
SECOND BREAKFAST: Half of a cinnamon raisin English muffin, with all the raisin picked out. Left over vanilla yogurt from a yellow bowl with a yellow spoon. Orange segments with the juice sucked out. It’s worth noting that this meal coincides with the kid’s breakfast.
10am – Now my blood sugar is getting low.
FIRST SNACK: Six Chips A’hoy cookies eaten while hiding behind the couch. BE SURE TO GET THE CHEWY ONES. Otherwise your kid will know about your secret stash.
11am – Lunchtime!
FIRST LUNCH: Annie’s Homegrown Mac ‘n Cheese, served cold and with blueberries mixed in. You may also enjoy the green beans, pre-chewed for maximum efficiency to ensure you are able to resume playing trains as quickly as possible.
12pm – THE KID IS NAPPING. What happens next?
12:17pm: Eat handful of goldfish crackers. Fold laundry. Try not to get crumbs on the laundry.
12:33pm: Eat an apple. Watch “Golden Girls.”
1:02pm: Wash dishes from first half of the day. Wait, is that hummus? Where is my pita?
1:45pm: Realize that you’ve eaten half a tub of hummus and two pita loaves. Also realize you forgot to finish folding the laundry because you were too busy watching Blanche try to juggle men.
2:07pm: Eat another cookie.
2:12pm: Decide you need to eat something healthy. Eat some salad mix directly from the bag, alternating with squirts of Italian dressing.
2:30pm: Put remainder of unfolded laundry back in the dryer to de-wrinkle.
2:37pm: Eat a cookie. Decide the laundry can be folded tomorrow. Lay down on the couch.
3:07pm: Kid is up. Eat a cookie. Get kid.
3:30pm – Sesame Street
SECOND SNACK: All the mashed/bruised/unacceptable parts of a banana, and some peanut butter.
4:00pm – DAD IS HOME!
THIRD SNACK: Glass of wine while “cooking dinner.”
6:00pm – Knock three times…
DINNER: Pay the pizza guy. Everyone to the table for dinner. Your meal consists of pizza crust, cheese that “looks funny” and a dinosaur chicken nugget.
7:15pm – Bathtime
THIRD SNACK: Glass of pinot grigio and the last dinosaur chicken nugget.
8:00pm – Bedtime
FOURTH SNACK: Cookies. Wine. Hummus. Cheese. Salami. Realize you need something green…decide pistachio ice cream will do the trick.
9:30pm – Snoring on the Couch
During the week, I’m much more organized and cognizant of what I’m putting in my body, because I’m cooking real food for my family at dinner time and because my breakfast and lunch are eaten sans children. But once the weekend hits, all bets are off, because I’m subject to hostage negotiations and playing trains. We very much enjoy eating dinner as a family, but I have also found that my husband and I very much enjoy eating hot food. So, once a week, we get take-out after the kids have gone to bed and I am allowed to sit on the couch in my pajamas with a glorious plate of Thai and an enormous glass of wine and no one is asking me for a bite. It’s all MINE.