What's Cookin', Good-lookin'?

Is this a midlife crisis? Is it menopause? Is it premenstrual premenopausal problems? Is it early onset dementia? A.D.D.? Heatstroke?

Seriously, there is something wrong with me. I'm excited about buying a cookbook.  A cookbook!! I don't cook, folks. I really don't.

This confession made to another Roaring Mom nearly ended our friendship.

Me: I don't cook.
Friend: That can't be true. You feed your kids something. What did you have for dinner last night.
Me: Cereal.
Friend: Cereal? That's it?
Me: (Proudly) No, that's not it. I thought we should also have some lean protein, so we had shrimp cocktail, too.
Friend: (Dead stare) Cereal and shrimp cocktail? I don't think we can be friends anymore.

My dear children still remind me of the time I did try to cook dinner and had to bring out my Emphatic Voice (you know, the one they say sounds a lot like my Angry Voice) when they kept interrupting me. What can I say? I was putting a lot of thought and effort into it. I had purchased those Tostitos Scoops chips. I carefully spooned a bit of canned refried beans topped with a dab of pre-shredded cheese into each one. I placed the plate in the microwave, set the timer, and kept watch so they wouldn't over heat. No one likes cheese that's been over-micro melted into plastic. The kids had no respect for my slaving over this creative cooking.

While I stood watch, I heard from beyond the kitchen: Where's my cleats? What time is practice? Can you help me with my homework? I need poster board for school tomorrow.


Finally, I had HAD it! I yelled...er, uh, said emphatically..."Can't you see I'm trying to make dinner here?!"

"Mom, it's nachos."

"It's fancy nachos!!"

Ungrateful kids.

So the fact that I am now excited over the launch of a new cookbook is kind of...weird. Something strange happened to me this summer. I got hooked on eating. I mean really eating. Not stuffing my face. Not grazing. Not snacking. Not snarfing. Just eating for nutrition, to fuel my body, to create a healthy  me.

So far, I've been able to get by without actually cooking. The grocery store makes a mean roasted chicken and the deli sells delicious shredded turkey. These foods fit beautifully into the 21 Day Fix program I've been using as a guide to better health. Now Autumn Calabrese has created the Fixate Cookbook full of 101 recipes for my 21 Day Fix. They include vegan, vegetarian, Paleo, healthy meals for a healthy me. For a healthy family!

My Roaring Mom Friend has often told me that sometimes she thinks food = love. Some moms overfeed and under nourish. Some try a special show of affection with fancy nachos. Some get it right and fuel their kids for health, success, fitness, and all that good stuff. I might be a little late getting on that band wagon, but at least I'm getting on.

The 21 Day Fix has lasted a lot longer than 21 Days. It has certainly fixed a lot of what I didn't want to realize needed fixing. I feel better. I have more confidence and more energy and now a new interest in learning a new skill--cooking! The best thing, however, is hearing my kids say, "Mom, we are so proud of you!" Those are just about the sweetest words a Roaring Mom can hear.

Interested in starting your own 21 Day Fix? Comment below or click here to order your own Fix!

Fighting the Good Food Fight

We try. We really do. We understand our food obsession and we fight against it. And then most of the time, we fail.

I remember when I realized this food issue of ours might be a little more serious than I originally thought. I was watching one of those extreme weight loss shoes. The man on the show simply could not lose the weight. He was sabotaging himself with drive-throughs and doughnuts stores. In the end, they said he had a food addiction. Food addiction, they explained, was characterized by eating even when you're not hungry and continuing to eat past the point when you are full on a regular basis.

Uh-oh.

In our home when someone answers the question "Do you want something to eat?" with "No, I''m not hungry," it confounds us. Uh, since when do you have to be hungry to eat? And since when do you stop just because you are full?

But we do try.

There was the time I tried the cabbage diet: 7 days of cabbage soup. I like soup.

By Day 2, I was ready to eat my desk, I was so hungry.

So the Quiet and Calculating One thought she'd give it a try. Show mom how it's done, right?

She started on a Monday, which is consequently the day they return from their father's. That evening, she came home starving, with a side of food anger! I told her to have a bowl of her soup. She could eat as much as she wanted. She informed me she hadn't made the soup. Her dad didn't have the ingredients. So she'd eaten nothing all day because she wasn't supposed to eat anything but soup, and she didn't have any soup, so she ate nothing. Then the food anger kicked in, and she ate everything!

She lasted a bit longer when she decided to become a vegetarian because it was healthier. So I was confused when she picked all the veggies off her Jimmy John's veggie sandwich. She explained, she doesn't like veggies on her sandwiches. The next day, it was back to her usual #4 Turkey Tom.

The kid with the longest success rate is my Food Nazi daughter (and former peanut butter addict) who comes home from college and goes through the pantry describing every single noxious chemical in every single food item.She guilts us into eating nothing but bean sprouts and air--as long as the bean sprouts are organic--while she sneaks Jiff by the spoonful behind our backs!

We should all weigh 500 pounds. Luckily, we aren't afraid of exercise--even if we have been known to go the extra mile only so we can eat the extra cookie.

If there is something I've learned through our food trials, it's this: Life is too short to eat only bean sprouts and air, even organic ones. Also, I'm kinda glad there's a doughnut store on the way to the Y. It gives me incentive to go the extra mile!

She Chose...Wisely

I've heard it said that what we are today is a result of our past choices. And what we will be tomorrow will be a result of the choices we make today. It's a simple idea. Kind of a no-brainer, in fact. But it's genius to someone like me who feels like a walking "no-brainer" most of the time.

So yesterday, at Target, the perfect profoundness of that statement hit me like a ton of...chocolate fudge! In fact, I was craving chocolate fudge at the time, contemplating which commercial grade chocolate confection could possibly tame the craving, wondering if this Target (not a Super Target) would have all the ingredients necessary to make my most delicious, mouth-watering home-made fudge since I had no ingredients at home since I had announced after the last batch that it would, indeed, be the last batch. My face grew hot. My vision blurred. My hands began to shake and my head got dizzy. Must...have...chocolate...

Then, suddenly, it was as if God or Tony Horton or a leg-warmer-wearing 1980's clad Jane Fonda intervened to save my soul. Or at least my waistline. There, at the corner of women's shoes and Valentine candy, was a bright, shining display of physical fitness: Buns of Steal, Power Yoga, Hip Hop Abs, Beach Body, Biggest Loser Body Make-Over, and yes, even an all-new Jane Fonda Fitness video!

I stood frozen to that spot as the display seemed to glow like a heavenly vision and a chorus of angels began their serenade. Only instead of the Hallelujah chorus, the Jello theme song sounded in my ears. "Watch it wiggle. See it jiggle..." And I realized they weren't referring to Jello brand gelatin, but instead they sang of the result of too many bowls consumed of that fruity dessert. Ah, hell, too many bowls of the whipped topping that was supposed to go on the fruity dessert but was sucked straight from the nozzle instead. And the pumpkin pie, and the peanut butter cookies. AND THE FUDGE!!!!

Quickly, before I could even acknowledge the sweet-talking devil on my shoulder, I grabbed one of the work-out videos that promised results in only 10 days and ran (jiggling all the way) to the check-out counter. I ignored the mocking siren calls of the Kit Kat Bar and the Reese's. I turned my back to the shiny temptation of the Hershey's Kiss and bolted out the automatic doors. I was free! I had made it through the entire Target store without a single break down.

So I made a choice yesterday for a better today. And today I choose an even better tomorrow. And in 10 days (because I really only have about 10 days worth of will power I'm sure) we'll see what that tomorrow looks like.

About Those Overachievers...

First of all, I don't really like the term. Overachiever implies that someone has accomplished something that should be over and above her talent and skill level. I live with someone who could possibly be considered an Overachiever by some, but clearly she is working within her talent and skill level. She is brilliant and talented and organized and wonderful. Just wanted to make that clear.

I wondered early on if there wasn't some kind of gene mutation at work. She was still in grade school when it was discovered that she didn't like chocolate. Then, by fourth grade she was setting her own alarm in the morning and getting up without hitting snooze. By fifth, she was organizing her closet by outfits in order of the days she would wear them. In sixth grade when Sophie joined the track team and actually enjoyed running, I ordered the DNA test.

So last night she texts me from her dad's wanting to know if she can come by early the next morning to get her running shoes. I knew what this meant. Not only was she up studying for some test that wouldn't take place for a week or reading ahead in her Government text, she was planning on rising early on a Monday to...get ready for this...exercise!

Gasp! I know! And she's not even currently on a team, so she doesn't have to. It's just because she wants to.

The thing about living with overchievers is that they have this cheerful and oblivious way of making people like me either feel like a complete loser or want to be a better person. Since I'm making myself my own priority this year, I chose to want to be a better person. I offered to go with her to the gym. When that alarm rang at 5:00 this morning and I realized I had been up way past midnight folding the 90 tons of laundry my children seem to create on a weekly basis, I realized I may be a bit of an Overachiever myself. Because working out this early on so very little sleep is waaaayyyy past my talent and skill level.

Can I just say that I had no idea how many Overachievers work out at 5:00 on Monday mornings? It almost makes me want to go back tomorrow if only to see if they will all show up again. Almost. Sophie greets the brightly lit gym full of torture devices and sweaty bodies with her usual spirit. My eyes squint against the glare as I stumble for the vending machine. Surely I can face the reality of my situation better with something in my stomach. Next to the vending machine is a comfy chair and pile of magazines for people like me who need to ease into morning.

By the time I finish the ganola bar, read a couple articles and talk my legs into heading for the torture device, I'm feeling pretty good about myself. This isn't so bad. Think of how accomplished I will feel knowing my workout is done for the day rather than dealing with the guilty mantra that normally runs through my mind--"I should work out today. I should really work out today. I really need to work out today. "

I step up to the task, push the buttons for the weight loss program, enter my age, lie about my weight (does the machine know?) and start stepping. Three minutes later, Sophie appears, glistening and happy. "I'm done. Let's go, Mom!"

Really?

I'm seriously not cut out for Overachieving.

There are moments when my children make my feel as if I've done something right as a parent--even if that something is nothing more than passing along a genetic mutation.