I honestly have completely mixed feelings about this “new me.” I am happy that I am making healthier choices, and proud of the will power I have somehow accrued, but sad that so much of my life needs to be spent thinking about when and what I can eat.
I listen to them cry, or whine, or pout over our nightly dinner, and mostly, I ignore it. Sometimes, I become frustrated (after all, I did not really want to cook after working all day only to hear them complain about it). I keep telling myself that with consistency, increasing maturity, and growing palettes, this will all get better over time. But, in the meantime, is it really supposed to be torture for everyone?!? I have often wondered if I am handling my picky eaters well…
Walking in the door from a long day at work, pre-K in tow. Drop my bag, her backpack, my empty travel coffee mug, unload about 56 empty grody Tupperware containers from said bags into previously clean and empty sink. Shoes off, jackets off. Entryway littered with all of our stuff. Clock says 6:10. My mission
My son has had two full weeks of school since the Winter Break ended after New Years Day. Between snow days, sick days and holidays, we have been homebound…and that means a lot of cooking for a hungry 11 year-old boy and his friends. Since they insist on going outside first thing in the morning
There is a lot of chatter on here about how hard it is to make peace with our bodies as working moms. We haul around our (irrational, burdensome) guilt with us wherever we go, including at the gym and during meals. Michelle and Sharlene have delved into the difficult topic of body image recently, as