A year of firsts; or how parenting is affecting my pants...

I'm experiencing a bit of brain fog. I get this way every now and then. I try my damnedest to be productive and the more I try the more I fail. Why is it that some days we are able to produce copious amounts of work, all of it brilliant, of course, and other days we can simply manage to stare into space? I know what I want to achieve today. I know what my brain is telling me to do. My body is simply not cooperating. It's frustrating. Frustrating as all heck. I'd love nothing more that to rest my head and close my eyes. But I can't. But I should. Maybe I would actually be productive afterwards. A little siesta. Just like in Barcelona. That's what I need. I could do that so easily as I work from home and no one would know about it, but I can't do it because I do work from home and I feel I really need to be productive. Never mind that the laundry beckons. As do the chocolate chip cookies that have been not so quietly been calling out my name from the cupboard I have recently dubbed The Junk Cabinet.

I have two in school today. I have one home sick. Yesterday I had one in school and two home sick. This is the second week of school and I've only had all three kids in school for three days so far. I should be working and I should be focused. I've been dying for this quiet and productive time since June and now it's here and I can't do a blasted thing.

I wanted to blog last week but I had too many other projects to tackle. Paying projects. As well as back to school, as well as my youngest's Birthday. So of course those all came first in no particular order. I'd love if this would be a paying project, then I would write to you every day of the week... every day that I am not suffering from brain fog that is. It's debilitating. Seriously. It's not a matter of procrastinating. It's not a matter of being lazy. There's some real, viable and rational reason as to why I cannot write. Or concentrate. Or think. And I'm probably not making a lot of sense to any of you. Unless you too suffer from this ailment. I'm calling it an ailment because when I refer to it as an ailment I feel better.

My pants, however, do not. They are tight. They all are. A wee bit snug through the middle. Muffin tops are so unappealing. I wish I had a Muffin Top. I think I have a coffee cake top. Ugh. And no matter how much running/walking/dancing/Zumba-ing the coffee cake continues to rise. Some refer to it as middle age spread. Cream cheese is a spread. Jam is a spread. My waistline is no such thing. Though clearly, it's spreading. It's not fair. So in retaliation I ate an apple and some grapes for lunch and then picked at a little bit of chicken.

And then the cookies started calling to me. They started singing my name. I don't keep junk in my house. Just ask my kids. At least I didn't until my youngest started his new school. The older two get school lunches that are local and farm grown and simply magnificent. My youngest had school lunch and came home telling me that he was never ever ever going back to that stupid school because they can't cook broccoli properly. I allow him to make this statement with authority. He knows his broccoli. He loves his broccoli. He knows good food. He likes good food. Unfortunately he's also a kid and he likes all that kid crap I swore up and down I would never buy. Lesson # 4 in parenting. Never say never.

Now we have our lunch box. Filled to the brim. No broccoli in sight.

My youngest hates his new "stupid" school. And the only way I can get him to go without a fight -and trust me, he still does fight me, is by filling his lunch box with the most un-nutritious items available. I came home from the grocery cart with someone else's shopping cart. In it was baloney, Chips Ahoys, Oreos, sugar-filled yogurts that are not really yogurts, more sugar-filled yogurts that are not really yogurts. And now my kid hates school but he likes his sugar and chemical lunches. Shoot me. Now. And so the box of Chips Ahoy  cookies has been opened.

And when I suffer from this brain fog all will power goes down the toilet and I'm left with none. None at all. I don't think it's terribly funny that I can't seem to focus on my assignments and yet I can't seem to take my mind off of that goddamned box of cookies.

So in addition to all of our many and varied issues and problems we are now going to have to add junk food detox to our list of things to do as I certainly cannot and will not keep filling his lunchbox with this garbage all the time as much as he would love me for it! One thing at a time first. We're supposed to pick our battles, right? Well, my most immediate concern is getting him to school since he still has his screaming, kicking, crying "I'm never going back to that stupid school" meltdowns. They are exhausting. Draining. Every day I think it will get better. Every day I think to myself, tomorrow will be a better day. And it is. Incrementally. Baby steps. One foot in front of the other. He doesn't have to like his school. I only ask that he tolerates it. Until then his lunch box will be filled with American cheese and baloney and Oreos and whatever else it takes to get him through the day. We do what we have to do. If Cheese Doodles is what I will have to do then I will. What's a bit of artificial food coloring on top of sugar and chemicals anyhow? Don't judge unless you want to get my kid out the door in the morning. Be prepared to use your boxing gloves if you are prepared to do so. My 56 pound 7 year old will take you down. Trust me. He's taken me down. It ain't pretty.

This whole new-lifestyle-year-firsts-and-year-of adjustments can really suck it. I wish my kid could go back to his old school. He was truly happy there. He loved school. He ate better there. I ate better when he was there. I can't wait until we are back to wholesome eating. Legumes and low fat proteins will not become foreign words to my kid.  My waistline can't take much more of this... Meantime, care to join me for a cookie or two, or bag?