I'm torn between post topics, and I don't know exactly what's going to happen here, so I apologize in advance for any rambling that might occur. I'm also working under the pressure of knowing that I really should be doing about three loads of towels and sheets so I can at least ATTEMPT to find the pair of Andrew's shorts that have been completely MIA for three weeks. I'm going to be seriously pissed when those little effers show up in November and it's too damn cold for him to wear them.
Speaking of which, it's September. Damn. And just to reinforce that fact for us, it was unseasonably cool today (Andrew had to wear a jacket so I didn't look like a bad mommy for the second day in a row.) and tonight it's supposed to be 48 degrees! What the heck? I'm all for turning off the air conditioners, but seriously.
I've successfully survived 15 days of "no" carbs (and by none, I mean, less than five a day, because sometimes there's a little bit you can't get rid of), and it's actually getting easier. It was hard at the lake over the weekend, because my sister and I wanted to drink beer on the boat, just because...it's what we do. The hubby, the sister, and I drank liquor in the evenings because there are no carbs in distilled liquors (BONUS!), and we mixed it with Crystal Light orange-flavored drink and Diet Sprite. Yum. Note to self, though: When you have NO carbs in your system, every single drop of alcohol goes straight to the brain and causes stupidity like drunk texting everyone you know at 1:00 a.m. So watch it.
Anyway, there's a Burger King next door to Andrew's preschool. Yes, the same Burger King that was the site of the birthday party. Andrew had been begging for days to go to Burger King, and I finally relented, because they have a playground, and because Andrew shouldn't have to suffer because James and I are. So we went tonight, and to "celebrate" or reward myself for 15 straight days of sheer anguish, I actually ate a few french fries. About a third of the order. And a Whopper. Although, just to continue the ALMOST carblessness, I sacrificed the bun to the fast food gods (i.e., didn't eat it), which brought the carbs down from 51 to about 9. Not terrible. But the King has this new secret weapon: The Oreo Shake. Duh-duh-duh. I wanted one, badly. Fortunately, the brain and the guilt got the better of me, and we asked for the nutritional information pamphlet. Next time you're in a fast food restaurant, ask for one and READ it before you order. You will think twice about even eating, I promise. So, the BEST thing on the dessert menu was the Sundae Pie...at 32 carbs it was a MUCH more appealing choice than the shake, which was 161 CARBS, and I didn't even look at the calories or fat. HOLY MILKSHAKE, BATMAN! Anyway, the little triangular pie slice was 32 grams of sexual chocolate, and I was very satisfied with my choice. And now I think I can hold out another two weeks without going completely berserk.
On a completely unrelated topic, I hope that carbs don't really aid the immunity much, because we have a tiny little epidemic of SWINE FLU at my school. Okay, I know the real name is now H1N1, but SWINE FLU is much catchier. We also have the "normal" flu going around, along with all kinds of other little cold viruses and other yuckiness. We have had record numbers of absences for the first few weeks of school, and we've gone into heavy sanitation mode. Gallons of hand sanitizer sitting on teachers' desks, cleaning desks between classes, and 7th graders being treated like preschoolers while we harp on them to wash their hands and cover their mouths. I keep expecting the health department to swarm in with a plastic dome and men in space suits (kind of like the end of E.T., in my brain) to quarantine and de-brief us. Thankfully, I think we've avoided the panic that could have been ugly, but meanwhile, it's really putting a crimp in the teaching. I mean, we're teaching, but it's no good if no one's there to see it, right?
Okay, off to throw the laundry in the machine and the four year-old in the bed so I can collapse in a heap and try to ignore the tickle in my throat and the headache that's either a sign I'm getting sick or my payback for the sugar overload at dinner. I don't know which to hope for.
PS: Just a MINUTE after posting this, the lost pair of shorts miraculously reappeared--they had been dropped, clean, in the laundry room between the washer and the dryer. I swear I looked there, but YIPPEE! He's wearing those babies tomorrow!