It’s very possible that tonight or sometime tomorrow I feel be filled with remorse for what I’m about to do. It’s equally possible that I will feel no such guilt. After all, it isn’t called self-medication for nothing, obviously there are some benefits to drowning one’s sorrow in ice cream.
It’s been five weeks of diligently watching what I eat, cutting out sweets, cutting down on white things (starches,) ramping up the produce and upping the water intake. It’s been two weeks of hard workouts five days a week. It’s safe to say that I have boot-camped myself and shocked my body into changing. I feel stronger, I stand up taller, and my clothing fits differently. The scale, however, hasn’t changed at all, if anything I’m very slowly gaining. I’m still fluctuating up and down the same two pounds. I’m trying not to get discouraged, and instead focus on all the reasons why I’m happy to be exercising. I feel good, I have more energy, I know my body is grateful that I’m taking better care. But I can’t escape the fact that my BMI still places me in the obese category. It doesn’t matter how healthy I’m getting, if I’m obese, I’m not healthy. I’m not willing to take those crazy pills and I’m not a crash diet kind of person, but not seeing any results is stressing me out tonight.
It’s not the only thing stressing me out. My four year old is really challenging what I thought I knew about myself as a parent. I used to think I was a slightly-above-average parent, doing a pretty good job. Recently I’ve had to come to grips with the fact that my sweet little baby has some real anger issues. I’m starting to put the pieces together but I’m far from finding an answer. Basically all of his friends are incredibly high-strung, moody, tantrumy children themselves (I don’t remember Little Red’s four- and five-year old friends being like this at all! Is it just perspective?) and I’ve seen and heard him practice the things modeled by his friends., This is more than just trying out his friends’ behaviours, however, (and as much as I’d like to blame this on the ubiquitous other people’s children, these bad behaviours are springboards for the underlying distress in his life, and his temper can turn on a hairpin. Of course I blame myself, and of course I’m trying to come up with solutions to turn this around. But there’s no denying that after an afternoon of me working really hard to keep everyone happy (and not letting them scream while the piano tuner worked on our piano in the same room) only to have our framed Jesus print broken, which also broke the shadowbox holding an art object Paul made as a young boy, and to receive notes from the older informing me that the younger would like to throw me in the trash … I’m just tired.
Tonight I choose to fail at my diet because I need to soothe myself for failing as a parent. Tonight, as soon as I can no longer hear the noises of the boys not sleeing in their beds, I’m going to march myself to the freezer. Tonight, instead of readying our small, cluttered home for three guests (my aunt, uncle, and cousin) I’m going to eat junk, watch tv, cry a little, and go to bed. Tomorrow is another day and it’s going to be a long one. I know that the ice cream isn’t going to give me any useful energy, or anything helpful at all, but tonight I’m going to eat it anyway.