Snack vs. Treat

Included in a recent post I talked about how my children, or more accurately their grandparents seem to be confused by what is a snack vs. a meal.

We often have umm.."discussions" with the children about what they should have as a snack.

When they are out from under the influence of junk food wielding grandparents, err..umm... I mean when they are home with us we don't often have the snack portion argument. I think they get it now that we are not offering after school meals.

However....

we have a lot of ummm..."discussions" about what is an appropriate snack.

Our first question to the children when they ask for a snack and then follow up with, "Can I have this bit of junk, or not so healthy option?" our response is, "How many servings of fruits and vegetables have you had today?" The answer to this question on a good day will usually be, "One." Unfortunately the answer most days is, "None." We are then forced to insist that the snack be of the fruit or vegetable variety, which is met with much grumbling, huffing, vulture posturing, and various other ways they like to make their unhappy feelings known. (My personal favorite is a note with a mad face sticking it's tongue out. That is a favorite #2 way of expressing anger. It always makes me laugh, and well if you have children I don't need to finish this story for you.)

The children will grudgingly get their fruit/veggie and then invariably ask if they can have the earlier requested junk/not so healthy option after consuming the fruit/veggie.

By now we are typically a bit worn down and just so damn happy that they are actually eating a fruit/veggie that we say ok.

So I guess the grandparents aren't the only ones to blame for all this. Damnit. I really wanted it to be all their fault.

BH was reading the US Today insert in the paper yesterday. He found a little article that discussed snacks vs. treats.

In a nutshell the article said that most people now don't know the difference between a snack and a treat. They pointed out that a snack is for warding off ravenous hunger bewtween meals. A treat is something like cake, ice cream, chips, candy bars, etc. that you eat every once in a while. The problem is that many people eat treats for snacks every day.

Hmmm...this sounds familiar.

So we had a bit of a discussion about that article last night.

Went over pretty well.

We decided that our treat this week would be shakes at the Fork and Dine movie experience we are planning for Saturday.

Tonight #1 asked if she could have the last of her chocolate Easter Bunny today. At first I said ok, because I honestly want the temptation gone. THEN #1 stopped and said, "Oh, but will that be my treat then?"

After I picked myself up off the floor, I said it would, and suggested that she save it for another time. She agreed without fuss.

Victory may be within grasp.

Cryiyiyiyiin...

#1 will be making the transition from elementary school to middle school next year.

I don't need to expound any more about fears and anxities.

Let's talk instead about my immense distaste for crying in public.

With the abovementioned transition comes the obligatory ceremonies and celebrations.

All to remind me that my baby is not a baby anymore and soon she will be a grownup and move away and and and and....

Waaahhhhhh!

Tonight I successfully made it through her final elementary school orchestra concert. This was really not difficult at all beause first, she will continue to play next year so it is not her last concert ever. Two: they made no mention of this being the last show for the 6th graders, so there was no trigger there either.

In a few weeks however will be the dreaded promotion ceremony.

Oy. I get teary just thinking about it.

This disturbs me greatly. I HATE crying in public.

I know I know, I am a therapist I should be comfortable with expression of emotion, blah, blah, blah.

At any rate it doesn't change the fact that I prefer my most profound emotional expressions to be in a private arena.

I am on the committee for the promotion celebrations, and so will have some work to do to keep me distracted, but all of that work is pre and post ceremony. There is nothing to keep me distracted during the ceremony when the power point with baby pictures comes up and all that other goodbye stuff.

Those baby pictures come on and somebody better pass the puffs.

Maybe I will use the ol' Twitter account and tweet my way through it.

(I would never be that rude, by the way!)

Maybe I better just get used to the idea that I am prolly gonna cry and I likely won't be the only parent to do so and it is ok.

I still hate it.

Pet Healthcare Reform Needed Here AND I now am diagnosing cat anxiety.

We have had more pet health issues in the past year than I can recount at this point.

I don't think I would be in danger of exaggerating if I were to say that I bet we have not gone longer than two months without a vet visit.

We will be making another visit for our middle cat, who seems to have some serious anxiety issues.

Because ceiling fans are evil dastardly beasts that are out to get her!

This means she won't come upstairs.

Which means eating and drinking has likely been limited, and don't get me started on the pee...

I think she should meet criteria for Kitty Prozac. Serious anxiety that is impairing her ability to carry out daily functions.

That is my professional opinion and I am sticking to it.

Teen Angst

So #1 is going to be a teenager soon-ish.

I can not honestly say that I am excited about this.

Unfortunately #1 is not excited about it either.

She really has nothing good to say about aging. This has become somewhat bothersome to her father and I.

Right now #1 seems only able to focus on what she can no longer do because she is getting older, and sees no benefit to becoming a teenager at this point.

This MIGHT be a teeny bit our fault. Maybe.

Could it be that she took all of our tease intended moaning and groaning about having a teenager to heart?

OR is it that we are just having a hard time figuring out how to let her grow up?

The world is scary. There are scary people out there who want to do bad things to unsuspecting young girls.

#1 is cursed with an anxious mother who has a unique ability to ferret out every possible danger out there.

I am finding it REALLY REALLY hard to decide what freedoms are ok. I have to sort through all my anxiety and be REASONABLE for God's sake.

That is a lot of work my friends. You just have no idea.

BUT the good news is that I am working on it.

This weekend BH and I were able to nail down a few perks and incentives to help #1 see some benefit from growing up.

The incentive package was small, but well received.

Baby steps to teenagedom.

Did I also mention that I have recently discovered several new gray hairs?

Wonder if there is any correlation here?

It is wrong to throw out cupcakes. Right?

I am trying really hard to be vigilant about eating, so's I can drop the couple pounds of winter weight I put on.

SO WHY IN THE HELL DO PEOPLE BRING THINGS LIKE CUPCAKES TO MY HOUSE?

I have been pretty vocal about my work here. I have been equally vocal about what seems to be my total inability to ignore things like baked goods when they are in my house.

Just two days ago I announced a ban on such things until these few pounds are gone.

Yet today here comes my MIL fresh from the dessert auction at church with a beautiful plate of cupcakes. (Proclaiming that she knows we don't want them, but she couldn't resist buying them because they were so pretty. We try to be good children. Why WHY, does she insist on punishing us like this? BH is watching his eating too. His goal is to get below Spiderman weight. How I love my geeky man.)

Jesus Mary and Joseph.

They are very prettily decorated and delicious looking.

AND those evil bastards are taunting me all the way up here in my bedroom.

They don't respond to my firm, "Shut the hell up cupcakes!"

I just may have to go all trashcan on their asses.

Running Marathons at inopportune times.

So the stomach ache has apparently migrated.

Here is what happened at ridiculous o'clock last night/this morning ohwhothehellknows?

(Knocking on our bedroom door)

BH: (mumbles something that resembles, "What is it?" I think)

#2: My feet are hurting really bad and I can't even think.

Me: It is sleeping time. There is no thinking required.

#2: They hurt so bad I can't even sleep.

Me: What would you like me to do?

#2: I don't know. (Said as she climbs in next to me. Always next to me. Her dad is a cuddly guy, I think she needs to share the love.)

Me: Zzzzzzzzz

Me: (At some point later hopefully it really was only the few minutes I thought it was) Are your feet better now?

#2: Yes, only one hurts just a little.

Me: Will you be able to sleep?

#2: Yes.

Me: Get out.

BH's lines throughout this entire exchange: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Since the pain has migrated to her feet, let's hope toenails are the last stop before we are pain free.

If we were on an episode of House I would have a tantrum until we got the full body scan

#2 is about to do me in.

For reasons I fail to comprehend she has to tell us about every little tweak, squeak, and possible malfunction her body makes.

This leads us to make very little of it when she complains about not feeling well.

This has lead to us blowing her off at times when she really was sick.

This has lead to me having one foot in the door of the looney bin.

Our latest issue(s) have been that good old standby the stomachache.

She complains that her stomach hurts, but it never seems to slow her down. (Except at those most opportune times such as chore time or getting ready for school in the morning.)

There is rarely if ever anything else that goes along with these stomachaches, such as diarrhea, vomiting, and the like.

So I give her a Tums, and send her on her merry way.

This child's eating habits as I have discussed numerous times on this blog are atrocious. I believe that these poor habits may indeed be part of her problem.

So I told her that I did some research about stomach problems and determined that what we needed to do was make sure that she was eating healthy food most if not all of the time.

This includes after school snack at grandparents homes. (A grandparent who shall remain nameless took her to McDonald's last week for a "snack" after school. The "snack" consisted of an ice cream cone AND a medium order of french fries. That is a crappy meal, not a snack. This happens more than once a week too. Makes my head EX-PLODE. Another grandparent who shall also remain nameless regularly makes a huge bowl of excessively buttered popcorn AND a bowl of ice cream for the "snack." Then has the audacity to comment on the fact that the child does not eat dinner. Makes me say BAD BAD BAD words. No amount of straightforward comments or requests to stop make a difference either. Not even if I say them while beating my head against a brick wall at the same time.)

So we are going to try eating healthy food for a while (Hoepfully. Maybe the threat of illness will help curb the grandparents ridculousness.) and see if that doesn't end the complaints. I am also insituting an early to bed rule on days that she complains of stomach problems. She needs rest so that she can get better.

If after a week or so we see no improvement, then I guess it is to the doctor we go.

I just hope this doesn't turn in to one of those my disbelief that there is truly an issue biting me in the ass situations.

Parenting is hard sometimes.

The Demon is Out!

Because I knew you were all waiting with bated breath...

After test driving EIGHT vehicles, and one failed deal....

I am happy to inform you that my demon has been exorcised.

It came out in the form of a 2011 Hyundai Sonata.

It is shiny, black, sporty, with SIX SPEED MANUAL TRANSMISSION. (This makes me feel like a race car driver!) It sports a 200 horsepower engine which ain't too shabby for a 4 cylinder. The extra power will take some getting used too. I was way over the speed limit all the way home and didn't realize it.

I am VERY happy with my purchase.

So who wants to go for a ride?

Ready to exorcise the demon

Holy shit I hate trying to by a car.

I um have been a bit occupied, nay obsessed by the notion. (I wish I knew how to do that strike through the word thing that the cool bloggers do. I don't have many appropriate occasions, but this was one of those times. If you know how to do it please educate the ignorant, err.. one who wants to be in the know.)

I have now test driven 6 different cars. Yes you read that correctly 6.

I have pretty much officially ruled out 4 of the 6. 3 SUVs and one car that while fun and sporty, was just a wee bit too small.

I had high hopes for one of the SUVs last weekend, but they would not come down a measly $1000 so we had to say no. However apparently the salesperson was a toddler. Or at least it felt that way to me, as I had to explain about 200 times that unless they came down that measly $1000 we could not buy the car. Not didn't want to, COULD.NOT. No matter how great the deal was it was still $1000 more than we could pay. I was about to go all preschool teacher on the dude, but he finally got the message.

So I have officially ruled out SUVs. I originally wanted one because I thought I might get a third row of seating, but those are out of my price range. If I can't get the extra seating, then it is a bit hard to justify the purchase for me.

I am now looking at Sedans.

Sigh.

So. Boring.

So....not me.

The problem is I grew up in a family with some pretty serious car guys. I paid attention enough to develop a strong affinity for sports cars. I have had the privilege of owning two.

My favorite....was a 1988 red Dodge Daytona. 5-speed, turbo engine. God I loved that car. Bought it my sophomore year of college, and gave it up not long after #1 was born. Her car seat did not fit well in the rear bucket seats and trying to wrangle her in and out of it was a chore.

So I delved in to the land of the 4-door sedan, and there I am apparently going to stay for the forseeable future.

I have found a couple that don't look like something my grandma would have driven, so that is helping.

Now I just have to make my decision and then go try to buy it.

Honest to Sweet Baby Jesus I would rather scoop my eyes out with a spoon and feed them to myself.

I do not do numbers. They freak me out. I get paralyzed and can't think when numbers and math get involved.

This is why I am a therapist. Limited if any math.

So when the sales person starts flinging those numbers around like it is nothing, my head starts to spin, and I become a robot, a really defensive and angry robot who is only capable of repeating the price BH and I agreed upon before we leave the house. I am sure that they are out to take horrible advantage of me and that coupled with my numbers phobia makes for some bad situations.

So I have been test driving cars, and deciding what I want. BH who could care less what he drives as long as it gets him where he is going is my numbers man.

I have almost done my part. Now it is BH's turn. I will strive not to be an angry defensive price spouting robot. I will be quiet bystander, who confers privately with her numbers man before making any statements during the negotiating process.

It is better for everyone.

Now I just want to get this done, so that I can get other things done.

Stay tuned.

Demon be GONE!