I’ve got some bad habits. The one I am talking about today is my addiction to sugar.
I tried to quit sugar a couple of months ago, I bought the sugar-free recipe book, threw out the chocolate syrup, finished off my maple syrup (hey I buy the premium maple syrup!) and even bought Stevia. And coconut milk to cook with. And Cocao – which is like cocoa but less processed (and sugar-free). I proudly made my first (and last) batch of sugar-free granola.
Like wearing a parka in a snowstorm with a huge hole in the back. Something critical was missing. Something magical and wonderful and delicious. I optimistically froze some, and then after about a day of a brutal inner war (or a few hours anyway) I dumped the granola on a big bowl of ice-cream. With chocolate chips. And whip cream. I WISH that were an exaggeration for comedic affect. Sadly, it is all too true. So is the fact I bought Toblerone’s at Costco ‘for Christmas gifts’. HA. I am the master of self-deluding lies. I had a Toblerone a day all this week. Except for today. And like the addict I am, my body is screaming for it’s dopamine hit. #Must.Bake.Cookies.
I did switch to Cheerios – it has the least amount of sugar grams of all the breakfast cereal’s I looked at. (Not counting the straight bran stuff…ew). I think maybe if I stop putting sprinkles on top I may be on to something.
Our goal as an average human is something like 6 TEASPOONS of sugar daily. There are about 58 grams of sugar in one Toblerone bar – every four grams is a teaspoon…calculator please…about 14 teaspoons of sugar. Ugh. Ignorance is sweet, sweet sugary bliss. Excuse me while I drown my sorrows in the left-over chocolate frosting from Bill’s birthday in April. Girl’s gotta have her fix…
One of Bill’s sisters dropped by yesterday to pick up some things we had ordered her from Amazon. She looked fantastic – she had dropped by straight from work. Her make-up was done great, her outfit chic and modern. Did I mention she’s a part-time aerobics instructor? And instead of telling her how awesome she looked, all I could think was, ‘I remember when I got dressed and wore make-up and looked nice for work….!’ I was jealous! Ugh, worst emotion ever. Especially since she is so nice, such a genuinely wonderful person.
Today I don’t complain or bemoan my lack of natural mommie-skills. Today, exactly one week from Christmas Eve, I will be thankful. I am healthy. (An amazing miracle all on its own). When they told me I had Leukemia when I was 16 I thought briefly of that episode of Degrassi High where the girl had cancer and then died. But then I thought, that could never happen to me. This is just going to put a crimp in my plans, and give me something to write about when I’m older. When I was diagnosed a second time and got shipped off to Toronto Sick Kids for a bone marrow transplant I thought, well if I’m going to die anyway I hope I get smucked by a bus before we get there. Wouldn’t want to go to all that trouble if I wasn’t going to make it anyway. But, amazingly, miraculously, I did make it. Am still ‘making it’ just fine twenty years later. I digress. I talk about a lot of ‘small’ miracles if there are such a thing as ‘small’ miracles but me being here, just here on my computer in my pajama’s, drinking tea and eating cookies, that’s a HUGE miracle.
My family is healthy. We don’t think about it but we abound in small miracles every day. Einstein said there was only one way to live, one as if EVERYTHING is a miracle, and another as if nothing is. I choose to live in recognition of the thousands of miracles that surround us every day. I’m alive and healthy, my family is alive and healthy. I have a warm place to sleep, the ability to give my child what she needs to not only survive but thrive. There are millions who can’t claim that particular miracle for their little ones. I was born and raised in a beautiful, free country, and when I married a wonderful man from another country, I got to move to another beautiful, free country. These countries are places I can raise my daughter and know she will be just as encouraged on the soccer field as she is in math class. Places she can grow up and literally be anything she wants, from an astronaut to a fighter pilot to the president of the United States. I’m so grateful I can encourage any darn dream she has and know it is possible, and it may not even be that difficult, at least, not more difficult just because she is female. I’ve got money in my pocket, enough to pay the bills. I don’t have to work right now, I can stay home and soak up these young years with her and we are ok. Another miracle.
Bill and I have one more try on the IVF roulette wheel, a chance at yet another miracle. I have so many miracles in my life sometimes I worry about when the other shoe will drop. I also worry that I’m not giving back enough to this world I have been given a second chance at. Wait, how did my ‘thankful’ day turn into a worry day again? I’m eerily good at that.
So, thankful we have another chance to expand our little family when we are ready. And if we don’t get lucky a second time, I am thankful we had the chance in the first place. Lastly, I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also say I am very thankful for mom’s double layer chocolate cake, sappy Hallmark movies, smutty romances, and a good glass of smooth red wine. Oh, and very thankful my very good friend Sarah is pregnant right now! Maybe you’ll have a boy! Maybe he’ll fall in love with my Ellie! Maybe they’ll get married and live happily ever after and we’ll be mothers-in-law together! So fun! Thank you world! (Both the fantasy one I live in, and the real one I visit from time to time.)
I have no idea what I’m doing. Really. No clue. I can’t believe they just let us walk out of the hospital with this delicate, LIVING HUMAN BEING. What is wrong with those people!? I’m still breastfeeding at almost eight months. People think I’m doing it for her future health (well yes) and to keep the weight off (well that is helping) but mostly, its because I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M DOING! I’m terrified of having to figure out for myself what and how much to feed her! At least when she’s nursing I know my body is taking care of things and it’s hard to muck that up as long as I stay away from wine and caffeine. Small price to pay for peace of mind.
Ellie is calling me now, crying a little, chewing on that worrisome polyester blanket, the watery oatmeal in her tummy, and probably some poo in her diaper that is leaking a little because I still haven’t figured out how to get the diaper on correctly. Really, they should have a license for this mommie business. I’d fail it the first time but when I DID pass, I’d know I was certified at least, instead of just feeling certifiable.