Seems to be working. Makes sense really , the less you eat the less your body expects. My body is still screaming CHOCOLATE at me but only occasionally rather than incessantly. The next hurdle is trying to stop my life from revolving around mealtimes. Everyone in our house is always hungry - comes with the territory I suppose - teenage boys. Everything seems to involve food. If I'm not preparing it then I'm planning what to do with it , shopping for it or clearing it away. The kitchen is filled with the stuff - fridges, freezers, cupboards, wastebins. It's everywhere . There's no getting away from it.
As my husband left for work this morning and asked what I was doing today I replied "Sainsbury's" to which he said " Have fun". Does he think it's some kind of club or something ? Possibly, as he hasn't stepped foot inside a supermarket since I don't know when.
Monday, 27 April 2009
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Change
As I labelled up all of youngest son's news school uniform last night, I realised that this would be the 3rd time I had done this for him.
We've been through white, black, red collared and now red polo shirts for gym, a rainbow array of coloured rugby shirts and football jerseys and every conceivable style of school bag from vinyl book folder to industrial sized backpack. We started out with cute black pumps from Woolies and have now reached the stage of trainers the size of small boats.
God willing this will be the last new school we'll ever have to get used to. New buildings, new route, new classrooms, new friends, new mums, new teachers - all change , yet again.
As I watched his little blond head bobbing along the corridor heading off for an induction talk in the refectory, I marvelled at his stoic smile as he waved goodbye, a long way from home, then turned and headed back to the car. In the quiet of the front seat I shed a quiet little tear at the newness of it all . You see - some things never change.
We've been through white, black, red collared and now red polo shirts for gym, a rainbow array of coloured rugby shirts and football jerseys and every conceivable style of school bag from vinyl book folder to industrial sized backpack. We started out with cute black pumps from Woolies and have now reached the stage of trainers the size of small boats.
God willing this will be the last new school we'll ever have to get used to. New buildings, new route, new classrooms, new friends, new mums, new teachers - all change , yet again.
As I watched his little blond head bobbing along the corridor heading off for an induction talk in the refectory, I marvelled at his stoic smile as he waved goodbye, a long way from home, then turned and headed back to the car. In the quiet of the front seat I shed a quiet little tear at the newness of it all . You see - some things never change.
Thursday, 16 April 2009
Do these sorts of things happen to other people or is it just me ?
Most people would remember their trip to the Royal Horticultural Society's Wisley Gardens with a certain fondness .... maybe for the riot of colour sprouting from the herbaceous borders or the neatly manicured lawns.
I will remember it for the hour I spent knee deep in other people's baked beans looking for my youngest son's brace which we'd inadvertently left on the cafe table only to be cleared unwittingly by a member of staff after we'd departed.
Half way back up the M3 , youngest son asks me if I remembered to pick up his brace. About turn to Wisley. An hour later, having trawled through 18 bin bags full of food waste destined for something called a macerator, I emerged semi triumphant having found only half of it.
Half an hour later I'd managed to locate the other half back out on the cafe terrace. As I punched the air in triumph a loud cheer erupted from the remaining diners. Head throbbing and covered in tea leaves I re-joined the rest of my party waiting patiently in the car park. Fortunately I was allowed back in the car despite looking like a tramp and smelling like a school dinner.
Two days later I was still finding stray tea leaves. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to eat another baked potato with baked beans nor visit Wisley without breaking into a sweat.
I will remember it for the hour I spent knee deep in other people's baked beans looking for my youngest son's brace which we'd inadvertently left on the cafe table only to be cleared unwittingly by a member of staff after we'd departed.
Half way back up the M3 , youngest son asks me if I remembered to pick up his brace. About turn to Wisley. An hour later, having trawled through 18 bin bags full of food waste destined for something called a macerator, I emerged semi triumphant having found only half of it.
Half an hour later I'd managed to locate the other half back out on the cafe terrace. As I punched the air in triumph a loud cheer erupted from the remaining diners. Head throbbing and covered in tea leaves I re-joined the rest of my party waiting patiently in the car park. Fortunately I was allowed back in the car despite looking like a tramp and smelling like a school dinner.
Two days later I was still finding stray tea leaves. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to eat another baked potato with baked beans nor visit Wisley without breaking into a sweat.
The Teenage Years
I've just listened to a radio 4 programme about horror stories from parents of teenagers and thanked my lucky stars that I'm not having to endure what some of these poor mothers are having to survive.
As the programme ended my 14 year old arrived home from a sleepover at a friend's house, greeted me with a smile and asked me how I'd slept last night and was I having a nice day . Aww ... bless.
Minutes later he sheepishly asked if I'd mind driving him and some friends to Thorpe Park. This boy will go far. I only wish they did GCSEs in charm and the powers of persuasion.
As the programme ended my 14 year old arrived home from a sleepover at a friend's house, greeted me with a smile and asked me how I'd slept last night and was I having a nice day . Aww ... bless.
Minutes later he sheepishly asked if I'd mind driving him and some friends to Thorpe Park. This boy will go far. I only wish they did GCSEs in charm and the powers of persuasion.
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