Thank GAWD For The Neighbor's Kid

The world just isn't what it used to be. As kids, we all used to leave the house on our bikes at 8 am, and not come home until dark for dinner. (We would stop at the 7-11 and eat Slim Jims and Slurpees for lunch, of course.) You knew all the kids on your street, and all their parents. And their parents knew you. The boy across the street's older sister was your babysitter. So-an-so's parents played cards with your parents. You ALL went to the same Elementary School, where your Mom was the Secretary. Your Dad would routinely pile all 17 neighborhood kids into his 1962 Chevy Camper pick-up, and take you all to the beach. No seatbelts, no car seats. So was life in Pensacola, Florida in the 1970's.

It's not like that today. We live in a neighborhood that has remained surprisingly steady over the past 5 years. There are a lot of kids in the neighborhood, and a fair number on our street. But the kids across the street choice to a different Elementary School. The kids 2 houses down go to Private School. The kids on the other side stay at the after-school program, and then have baseball/cheerleading etc. You can't let your kids ride their bikes for risk of bodily harm, because as a general rule motorists don't pay attention, and you risk your kids getting splattered all over the street. And no way can they leave the neighborhood - we have a 4-lane highway our front with no sidewalks on this side of the street. And don't even get me started on the potential kidnapper/child molester/scary bad people that probably are out there. It's enough to make you want to lock your kids inside the house and NEVER let them leave.

But that's not realisitic, is it?

The point is that although we know the kids that live near us, you never see packs of neighborhood kids running around and playing together. For the past 3 years, there has been a girl who lives across the street and 5 houses down from us. She's in the same grade as Karlin, at the same school. They were in chorus together for 2 years. They have Science Club together now. I tried to strike up a conversation with her Mom once, but was unsuccesssful. We see them occasioanlly walking their dog, but that's about it.

So imagine my surprise when the other day, the little girl turned up on my doorstep wanting to know if she could play with Karlin. This is H-U-G-E for a few reasons. First, because I don't think it's ever happened before. But second, because I am (as always) worried about my baby girl.

It's not that she doesn't have friends. She has a few. She functions well in a social setting (like Girl Scouts) when she has to. But given the choice, she prefers books to people. I have noticed lately when I peek into the lunchroom (I'm at the school all the time) that Karlin isn't usually talking to anyone. No friends wait on her as she packs up her lunch. The worries me to death, being the social creature that I am.

So a new little girl coming to the house to play? AWESOME! And we hung out with her Dad a bit at the neighborhood Halloween Festival, and let him know how much Karlin enjoyed her company. So the little girl asked if Karlin could come over today.

So this morning at 10:17, I watched my baby girl walk across the street and 5 houses down to her friend's house. We told her to be home by Noon, and she was dead on time. VERY responsible.

I'm just so excited for her. It seems so normal, so much more like what I grew up with. For just a few minutes I can pretend that maybe the world isn't as scary as it is.

But I'm still not letting her eat Slim Jims for lunch.

OK. I'm Better Today.

No really. I am. I still hate the diet, but I'm truckin on through. Maybe it's because I spent 4 hours today going through crap, putting crap away, throwing crap away, and giving crap away. Maybe it's because I got to doze on a giant alligator float in the pool for about an hour and a half. (Fall? What Fall? No Fall here...) Maybe it's because I got to help my daughter make a model of the hotel in "The Mouse and the Motorcycle."

(Side note here: I just LOVE school projects! I wish I could be a third grader again so I could do more school projects! Now before you all freak out, I should tell you that I don't do the work for her. I do all the cutting with the knives. I provide the materials she needs. And I give her a little guidance. It's important that she knows that she doesn't really have time to stain 150 Popsicle sticks and glue them to the bottom of the box to make wood flooring. "Hey! How 'bout we use scrapbook paper that looks like wood paneling?" For the life of me I can't remember why on Earth I didn't do MORE school projects when I was a kid. Now I'm forced to live vicariously through my kids, and occasionally decorate a classroom door or two.)

Anyway - the PMS/Dieting Demon has been shoved back into the box for the time being. My daughter doesn't have swine flu, I can see the playroom floor, the dog had a bath and doesn't smell, and husband is at a hockey game and the kids are asleep. All is nice and quiet in my world at the moment.

I would really like a nice glass of wine, though...

I Am A Prisoner In My Own Home

Let me tell you why I am a prisoner in my own home. It's the diet. The stupid, pain-in-the-ass, expensive diet that I hate. The stupid diet that my friend loves and has had so much success on. The stupid diet that I want to quit already, even though it's only been a week and a half. Is it the beer I miss? Bread? Cheese? Butter? Coffee? YES. But it's also because I feel like I can't even leave my own home. And if I stay home, the food comes here.

Have you ever thought how many social events in America revolve around food? Or have food as a major component? A friend emails you: "Lets' have lunch next week." Or your in-laws call and say "We'll pick up Chinese on the way over and we can all watch the game." Or you get "Let's have that meeting at so-and-so restaurant over dinner." It sucks. And I mean totally and completely sucks.

I can't go out to eat at a restaurant. I can't go to lunch. I have no desire to sit around and WATCH everyone else eating luscious Chinese food. I don't want to watch the game, because everyone else will be drinking ice cold beers and eating chips and queso. I go to the store, and what do I get? Hit in the face with the smell of fresh-baked break in from the bakery. I go for a walk/jog and what happens? My deep breaths inhale the scents of either the Italian Pasta place across the street, or the big fat burgers from the 5 Guys located behind my neighborhood. Go look on Facebook on a Saturday evening and see how many people are posting about FOOD. "Heading to the Seafood Festival - Yum!" "Getting food from our favorite take out!" "Grilling steaks for the game!"

This is miserable, and I mean want-to-break-into-tears-every-15-minutes miserable. The stupid shots aren't helping, and they won't give me the pills that are supposed to help because someone in the Healthcare System seems to think I'm about to have a heart attack. (But that's another story...a long one) I've lost 7.3 pounds, and most of you would probably be motivated by that. I'm not. What is 7.3 pounds to me? I don't look any different. My clothes don't fit any better. Not only do I not feel better, but I feel AWFUL. I don't have much energy to do anything. I can't even watch TV, because every commercial is about food. The doctor's office where I took my daughter today (swine flu negative, thank goodness) was next to an Outback Steakhouse. Talk about good smells.

And the bad news? It's not going to get any better. Not for months and months and months. There is quite literally no end in sight. I have more than 50 pounds to lose. 7.3 pounds is not even a dent in that. AND I still have to get through Halloween (no Resse's Peanut Butter Cups this year - my favorite), Thanksgiving (a pig-out festival if I've ever seen one), Christmas (pig-out round 2), and New Years. And think about all of the parties and events we all go to every year around Christmas time. I am never going to make it.

So where's the silver lining? There isn't one, and hubby doesn't seem to get that. Hubby who probably couldn't gain 5 pounds if I tied him to a chair and fed him Big Macs every 2 hours for a week. He says "You're healthier! You're making a major life change!" And I just want to beat him with something. None of that makes me feel better, not even a little.

Is it really worth it to "be healthier" and live longer if every stupid second you live you are miserable? And cranky? And irritated? And you start to hate your kids because they are eating ice cream and you can't have any?

I am pretty much about ready to quit. I hate this, and I don't really care if I'm fat. And who cares if I have a 12% higher chance of having a heart attack when 1 doctor thinks I already had one anyway? (back to that same long story) I can't even get drunk to escape my misery - no alcohol allowed. I can't sit on my lanai in the morning and drink a cup of coffee. I can't order pizza when I don't feel like cooking. I can't drink a beer and watch the football game. My whole life right now is a giant list of things I can't have and can't do.

And the Ice Cream Truck is cruising the neighborhood as I type this. GREAT. It's like the whole world is mocking me, I swear.