Mid winter resolutions

I have a new doctor. This is significant because I have limped along with a series of absolutely USELESS doctors for the last four years – different every time – in an effort to stay with my clinic which was highly recommended because it is holistic. In an effort to find balance and health care that wasn’t too toxic and blah blah blah my cringing hipster self put up with sub-par health care, lazy disinterested locums and EXTREMELY high fees. (think $145 for 20 minutes one time!).

What finally made my mind up to leave was my last email exchange, with a new receptionist where I tried to book a long overdue appt (my fault not theirs) and they needed to charge me double because it was all new Docs since I was last there and it would be like an ‘initial consultation’.  I should have left the last time I got bloods and they didn’t bother to send me my results until I finally asked for them weeks later. I should have left the millions of times I said to various doctors that I was having issues – visible issues – with my skin, unexplained constant weight gain, stomach pain etc all since going gluten free – and all they did was tell me not eat yet another thing. I should have left when they took my kids off the books because they hadn’t been in in a while (and been able to charge us money) I’m sorry my kids are generally healthy. AND – you guessed it – it would have cost another enrolling fee to get them back on. So I finally did.

And my new doctor is great! In half an hour she did more for me – asked more questions and gave me more explanations – than I’ve had in years at the old place and I finally feel like there might be light on the horizon! Wahay!

So, I’m all revved up and raring to go (sort of, I mean I bathed and napped on Tuesday and nothing else and I have no guilt whatsoever) I am heading out there and running again (3 times this week plus boot camp so there), I’ve quit sugar (again) and am quitting booze (again) AFTER my grrl visits to help me celebrate tattoo finishing session on Saturday. Again, again, again. But you know – with the twin pronged approach with the Doc helping me medically I might actually see results this time! Instead of denying myself ALL THE GOOD THINGS and still feeling crappy which was my downfall last year. And I will try to blog too. Not just about the boring self-centered woe is me coeliac stuff but also about my sub-par parenting and fashion fails. You love it.

Now all I have to do is get through the last few days of the hell of school holidays (my youngest has not raised his voice above a whine in DAYS and this Mamabear is ready to snap) and settle back in to school and maintain good habits. Wish me luck!

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Posting two nights in a row bitches. Small steps. Small goals.

I am the proud mother of a five-year old, an eight year old and the belly of a seven month pregnant woman. Alas I am not pregnant. Just round. Just in time for the holiday we have looming on the horizon in Aus.

We head to Australia this year to celebrate Xmas with the extended Dutchie clan (from Germany as well as Aus) and I am very much looking forward to seeing my Sis-in-laws again and all the wee cousins (some of whom were very little when I last saw them and now are nearly teenagers – fark!). I am looking forward to the HEAT and the beaches and generally hanging with my little family too with no work to interrupt us.

What I am just plain dreading is the summer clothing/swimsuit factor. Normally I love a good shorts/mini skirt + singlet combo but with the weight I have put on this year I am not feeling the look at all. It took me a while to even be a heat/summer type person – a whole lot of exercise in my early twenties and just plain growing up a bit and not giving as much of a shit about what people thought meant that I started showing more skin than just the gap between my jeans and ankles. In my teens I wore black jeans, long skirts, tights – general cover up and sweat to death type stuff – but it was the 90’s and we were ‘alternative’ – we could look as ridiculous as we wanted to and people just thought we were nuts anyway.

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Yup that’s me in summer wearing a full length pink, long-sleeved top/dress thing over jeans with a leopard print fur jacket. Because, you know, pretending that you are not melting simply because you don’t wanna show any skin is really cool.

Obviously I didn’t die of heat stroke. But it was close.

Small steps – tomorrow I am doing a spin class to see if I can still do it. It’s been over a year since I did Spin so I reckon I might die. Stay tuned!

251 – Wednesday weigh day

Oh faaaaaark. I am one tired mother. Last night we had academic pathway interviews at school and I didn’t get home until after eight, this morning bounced out of bed (more like staggered) and was at boot camp by 6am. Add to that no sugar or coffee or dairy this week and I am a fucking zombie. I keep having to apologise to peeps this week as I yawn IN THEIR FACE while they are trying to impart vital information in my direction.

And you know how I was feeling bleurgh following those PMT thingys? Well one of the feelings that was lingering was the weight gain. I was feeling distinctly ‘pregnant’ and round which wasn’t fun and everyone I talked to said that I didn’t look any different – but remember my fave item of clothing at the moment is the silk sack. So anyway I bought a set of scales. I feel a bit ashamed to admit it.

I really wanted to subscribe to the whole ‘ Your body is not a number, feel good and be happy and ‘the weight will fall off’ blah blah blah. Stress and all that obsessive weighing being bad for your state of mind I totally get it. BUT the reality is that weight does NOT EVER fall off me. Some people lose weight when they are stressed – I am the opposite. I always have to work for it. I always have to watch my output (exercise) and input (food) and in order to stay comfy I need to be in a constant state of vigilance. Sounds tiring huh? Well it is actually. And the bloody GD is the opposite – he has to make sure he is eating ENOUGH because he does get too skinny – poor us huh. Worlds smallest violin.

I really wanted to believe that if I did yoga and ate what ‘my body wanted’ and did all that zen shit that I would find a natural ‘healthy weight’. Big FAT fail.

We know I failed at the yoga – who has time?!? I don’t have time. I am still boot camping, and I had to stop running for my poor old knee but I am going to try to work it up slowly (and carefully) back to being able to run 5 kms every second day.

And that PMT stuff definitely fucked with me.

So I bought scales. This morning before boot camp I stood on them. And then (think american teenager voice) I LITERALLY DIED.

I haven’t weighed myself since February, and it was a BIG shock. I am not going to tell you because numbers are boring but it was enough to have me tying my shoes on quick smart and running out the door for boot camp. I had grilled chicken and steamed veg for dinner and I have a goal motherfuckers.

I wish I could say that I feel invigorated but I think at the moment it’s a grit your teeth and go in hard type situation. I am shattered but I know that’s the sugar withdrawal and I will feel better in a couple of weeks. Someone remind me of this please in a week when I think I am dying?

You know, when one of my year 12’s greeted me at the door today with ‘Miss have you GAINED?’ (loud voice) a little part of me wanted to smack her. But it’s all motivation eh? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?

200 – that’s a big number

I wish I could say that my experiment had been a solid 200 days of avoiding food that damaged my gut and that I have been doing Yoga and getting mindful daily and all that good stuff. Oh well. I have 165 days left to try.

This term my goal is to get back on track – and I feel like because we are heading back up to summer it will be easier to maintain some focus.

That is once I get some sleep and can actually function like human being. I did NOT sleep last night. I woke up hours before the alarm for boot-camp. I spent most of the night thinking about work and what I needed to do when I eventually got there. And of course it was a fine day. I have a lot to do – don’t we all – and didn’t get it all done today (tell ‘er she’s dreaming!) but  am back on track.

And there you go, back to school, back to work, back to sugar-free – back to routine. Time to lose this sugar belly and focus on some long-term goals (swim suits and short shorts in Australia for xmas for one thing!).

I tell you what I am enjoying – it’s a bit drippy and the GD will enjoy mocking me I am sure – but I was reading something random online and they mentioned an app called ‘Gratitude!’. Ha ha – I can already hear him groaning. It is simply a little digi diary for your phone or whatever that reminds you at regular intervals just to stop and record what you are grateful for. I’m only 4 days in and of course it doesn’t feel like a chore yet (I have the attention span of a toddler though so it’ll be interesting to see if I’m still going in a month). Practicing gratitude has got to be good for me eh. Even if it is just another exuse to play with my phone ha ha

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158 – Nearly halfway through the year.

At the end of this month it will have been six months through my year of restrictions and I would say that I have, honestly, managed to keep it together for maybe four months but am not in any way able to claim to have been sticking to my self-imposed rules for the six months. I think part of the problem is that I am an all-or-nothing type of gal.

I have stated this before but it tends to be something that I can’t avoid. I am not a fan of in-betweens, compromises, half-assed solutions, or the same shit every day. So I get going all great-guns, get excited and jump on my challenge and go ‘THAT IS IT I AM NEVER GOING TO LET SUGAR/DAIRY/COFFEE/ANYTHING GOOD PASS MY LIPS AGAIN DAMNIT. HEAR ME WORLD. THIS IS NOT A DRILL’.

And I convince myself that it is the best thing I can be doing (I’m very persuasive and also easily convinced by a smooth talker – the perfect combination to be lead astray by my-self) and tell anyone who will listen about why I’m doing, why it’s the best thing I can be doing ‘It’s not fucking rocket science man – it IS the right thing to do you know?’ and three months later and SO FUCKING BORED with the sound of my own proselytizing that I will catch and kill an Easter bunny just for his stash. And then the wheels are off baby – because if I’m going off the rails it better be worth it right?

So I am eating dairy, the occasional salad (ooooh yeah raw greens mmm), crunchy scratchy, apples – you name it – I’m a bad bitch rebel with no limits. yeah. And what it comes down to is that I did start the year off doing this for the right reasons, and I felt better – you remember I had more energy? and felt good pretty much every day and all of that stuff.

The seriously de-motivating bit is the complete lack of change in my skin, still red-faced and flakey, raw and prone to breakouts (and no weight loss whatsoever but I am trying not to think about that and I’m on the downhill to 40 so apparently that happens). Doesn’t seem fair really. It’s enough to drive a grrl back to drink.

Interestingly, aside from Gluten which I will never eat knowingly again, Alcohol is the only other one that I haven’t touched. That is becoming a personal point of pride. And actually – once you get past the first 7 days it ain’t no big thang. I am looking forward to my new year Cider date with Yas, and a good catch up over a glass of red (I might be salivating a teeny tiny bit) with my grrls one night, but I don’t miss hangovers, I don’t miss the anxiety from wondering if calling my sisters bosses wife a racist at dinner went too far (it did but she was and I’m not sorry) and I know that if I had kept the wine up I wouldn’t even have managed the 3.5 months of sugar-free-ness because hangovers.

I haven’t written for four days because I got my period. TMI. Whatevers you can handle it. But the reason I bring it up is because for the first part of the year I haven’t noticed them as big deals, I might be a bitch for a couple of days but I don’t remember particularly (you’d have to ask the GD and the little Dutchmen if that’s accurate of course). However this time though I had a low week.

A whole week of second-guessing myself, feeling like a whale, hatin’ on my legs, I was grumpier than the grumpy Dutchman (and that’s a feat) and I have had terrible bloating and pain since friday. Over-sharing too. That must be a side effect. And do you eat everything in sight when you are PMS-ing? I do. It’s like I’m loading up in order to, um, shed the excess. I am sure it was better without the sugar and coffee. I am sure I was nicer to my boys. And I know that I haven’t felt so unsure of myself in months. Maybe since last year.

So what to do about it? I don’t fucking know. I’m still ruminating on it. I’ll get back you when I have a plan.

152 – My jeans are judging me.

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After nearly two months of eating any-fucking-thing I want. It came to a head this morning after a walk in the beach. Gumboots, jeans and a giant jacket should have been perfect for the job but by the end of the (really lovely) walk I was feeling like I was in danger of being rolled back out to sea. Actively avoiding anybody with a ‘save the whales’ glint in their eye or Greenpeace bumper stickers on their car.

I know that this is mainly in my head – but unfortunately I am in my head too and I can’t escape it. So I might have finally found my resolve to get back on track properly – no folks not in fact for my health – but my vanity! Ha! After eating some chocolate to steel my nerves I got organised and cooked my lunch for tomorrow – random and varied vegetables from the fridge combined with salmon and an avocado to up the ‘good fat’ quota for my skin. I have just now joined Junk Free June – search for me as nzmockingbirdgrrl.com and feel free to donate to Cancer research – no pressure. I work well when I have an obligation or commitment outside of myself so hopefully it’ll be the push I need. If you are in NZ you should totally do it too – we can suffer together ha ha.

Tomorrow breakfast will be poached egg on toast and the wonderful, aromatic, best friend that is a hot flat white in a cold hand on a winter morning is hereby banished to the occasional Sunday morning treat. There is no escaping the 3pm slump when you are coming down from a decent coffee.

Good intentions. Meanwhile I am focussed on the good fun of meandering along the beach with the three Dutchmen and the dog this morning, and the joy that is a long weekend to ourselves to just hang out. We live in a beautiful part of the world.

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132 – bleurgh

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Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. I’m fucked. Sorry for the potty mouth straight out of the gate. But man. I am faaaaaaarked. A combination of hard-core work stuff, extra grumpy Dutchman (not smoking so he’s SO grumpy) and sugar withdrawal. I am not sure how I am sitting here right now awake after 8pm.

That’s a lie, I do know how I am still awake. The GD went and bought cigarettes didn’t he, and in his guilt(?) he has offered to go and get something sweet for me to have with my cup of tea after the boys are asleep. I am waiting for this treat to materialise in front of me. Because I’m weak. And although I nearly died from my head-splitting headache on Thursday – first day without sugar – and have suffered since; and I when I talked about it I said stuff like ‘the headaches are good because it reminds me what I have started and what I don’t want to start again‘ and other optimistic things. But I am weak.

I bought myself pity chocolates on Mothers day because no one else had. I received beautiful hand drawn cards from my children but apparently I am still a four year old at heart and wanted a ‘proper’ present. It was just an excuse. I ate them all over the course of the afternoon and evening (a small box mind you). And I was kind to myself but disappointed. Because I had survived three days added sugar-free at that point. Not fruit or high fructose free but all of the added crap.

There are side effects to the lapse in diet of course. I have a preggy belly again, and the silk muu-muus are good but I have seen my students looking sideways at me again and I can feel a ‘Are you pregnant miss?’ coming. My skin is farked. My energy levels are all over the place and I am slower at boot camp. My head is covered in allergic sores under my hair. I feel pretty. Oh so pretty. These are all good reasons to stick at it.

I am eating better though in general, and am resolved to be sugar-free again by Friday. Wish me luck!

107 – Home again, Home again

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Ahhhhh Home. I flew in this afternoon and the GD picked me up before we collected the lads. You know that lovely feeling of coming home to see your fam, walking in to a clean house, the familiar smells and fur children all lined up ready to greet you and purr/wag themselves silly?

Nah. Not so much. The house smells like a mixture of farts and vomit. It looks like a fucking tornado hit it, and the fur children were only interested in me as long as it took for me to nag the GD to feed them. The wee lads were pleased to see me though ‘What did you bring us Mum?’ and the poor grumpy Dutchman who WAS pleased to see me was greeted with me saying ‘WHY did you bring the van for fucks sake?’ (I don’t like sitting in the dogs spot). Poor man was rushing to get to me on time from work and did not get the grateful wife he expected. The Bitch is baaaaaack!

The poor buggers had a rough week. I arrived in Chch on Sunday night and I got a phone call on Monday from the GD to say that he had left work and was on his way to Daycare to collect Master 4. He wasn’t well and couldn’t stay. This led to a really grumpy Dutchman because he was missing work to take him home. Updates through the next 24 hours revealed that he was contagious – the GD soon caught the lurgy and then both of them had the throw ups. Poor Master 7 was so bored at home with them both. And I was in Chch completely unable to help….

Oh dear how sad! I had a wonderful week of baby snuggles and leisurely walks with the dog Dave. My sister really just needed me as a pair of extra hands – the first time her husband has gone away for work since their daughter was born – and I was very glad to help. Is there anything more snuggly than a teeny weeny baby? Variously sucking her thumb, a bottle or my arm in our cuddles she was a lovely little pink bundle (baby girls get dressed in SO MUCH PINK) and we had many a lovely chat – me chatting obvs and her just sort of gurgling and exclaiming. She is my sister’s first baby and she is still in that mode where she can’t do anything when the baby is awake. I am a very willing baby holder.

I flew down with the intention of using my time down there to withdraw from all the naughties I had picked up again over Easter. Sugar, Dairy, Coffee, Crunchy and Raw. Along with them I had taken with me – Itchy, Flakey, Achey and Redface.

But you know what? Withdrawal didn’t happen. I fell in to the ‘new baby survival’ habits that my sister was already in – grabbing a snack of whatever you could whenever you could, ‘treating myself’ to coffee when exhausted and wanting a pick me up, I ate her entire supply of apples. I am not meant to eat Apples. I was out of control man. And the more I told myself that I had a handle on it and could stop anytime – the more I couldn’t. I even found myself eating chocolate in the car on the way home from doing a food shop for her. In secret. I don’t eat food in secret! I normally roll around in my food shame in public! All out there and ridiculous for all the world to judge. Bizarre behaviour.

And all those side effects of my damaged guts that I was getting a handle on have started to rear their ugly heads again; Fucked up skin, exhaustion (when doing absolutely nothing!), bloating, headaches and feeling like shite warmed up. You know that not very ‘clean’ feeling you get inside when you don’t eat enough veges? I used to get it flatting – I’d be jonesing for some broccoli after too many days of two-minute noodles and beer. That’s pretty rock and roll eh? Craving broccoli? That’s me baby – I get all excited about leafy greens.

Anyway. I had a lovely time in Chch. I didn’t blog because I spent my evenings cuddling my wee niece or sleeping ha ha. But I am very pleased to be back as the bosom of the family again. I have had some lovely cuddles with my big boys this evening and they were actually pleased to see me too – not just the pressies ha ha.

Moving forward my plan is to do a really good food shop, clean the house and get my shit prepped for school to start on Monday. I need a clear space in my head and my house to get back on track. Start as I mean to go on – Term two will be the start of something good.

Here are some pics from my wanderings round Christchurch – mostly nature and shit – if you’re in to that;

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Day 99 – school holiday hell

It speaks to the state of your parenting when you go to a Psych ward – with actual unwell people in it – and the most out of control people there are your children. And no matter how delicately a threat I posed or delicious the bribe I offered they blithely ignored me and my distress at their wild animal antics. Luckily the birthday grrl – Nana – was completely oblivious and the only person who noticed their antics was the wide-eyed, quiet, perfectly behaved 10 year old – my cousins daughter – who clearly had not seen anything quite like them. That’s right – I was so grumpy that I allowed myself to be shamed (in my head) by a perfectly lovely child. Who was behaving perfectly. And not at all like an animal.

Nana didn’t notice of course. Mostly she just wanted to tell us how much her birthday had sucked so far and how she couldn’t eat the birthday cake that Mum had thoughtfully provided. (A big thanks to Mum for not getting a GF one – she normally would bust her ass trying to find something I could eat but this time she was too busy and it was perfect because if it was GF I would have EATEN IT ALL).

Conversation went round in circles with Nana in the middle ‘Has everyone had a piece of cake?’ Yes Nana. ‘I’ll have my piece tomorrow because I’m unwell’ we know Nana. ‘Have the boys had a piece of cake?’ Yes Nana (Boys look hopeful at their great Nana). ‘It’s my birthday and I’ve had a sore tummy all day, it’s not fair’ We know Nana that truly sucks. ‘Has everyone had a piece of cake?’. Yes Nana. ‘Your mother got me this beautiful necklace…. am I wearing it Kathleen?’. Yes Nana it’s lovely. ‘Do the boys want a piece of cake?’ ‘Has anyone seen my necklace?’ And so on. It was good to see her. She has been allowed out of the 24 hour watch bit and is now allowed to mingle with the others. She usually waits until one of the other women or men walk past and says in a stage whisper ‘It’s so sad Kathleen, They are all so bad in here – really doolally’. I’m not sure she is making many friends to be honest. But she might be out soon on good behaviour.

The school holidays used to be such a wonderful time for me when I was a young, childless teacher. I could lie in bed, be kissed on the forehead by an envious grumpy Dutchman as he left for work and then spend my days slothing about, taking photos, watching shit TV, op-shopping and catching up with my grrlfriends. Ah the good old days.

Not so now I am a mother. I have one child in school so guess what? He’s on holiday with me. And the other one is old enough now to notice when his brother gets to stay with Mummy so I have to let him stay home more during the hols.

I like my kids. Really I do. They are both bright and inquisitive and opinionated and totally rock and roll. They are the best little team a mother could ask for. In small doses. And not so much together as separately – special ‘Mummy and me’ time is good. We have a great time when they are not competing for anything. Yesterday the seven year old and I had a lovely time doing errands and talking about nothing. I learned an awful lot about computer games I will never play. And if I think about it – I had both of them on Tuesday and we went to the zoo and it was lovely. So it is possible I will admit but in small doses.

Today I just gave up. When we got home from the hospital I just let them do what they wanted. They built a fort for the kitten. They forced the kitten to ‘enjoy’ it. I rescued the kitten so they went to the TV lounge and wrestled. I shouted ‘Get OFF your brothers head!’ more than once. They threw themselves around the music lounge in an attempt to get the dog to wrestle with them. They played the drums. Briefly. They helped themselves to food and milk. They followed me out on to the road to speak to a friend and dragged the kitten up and down the street to meet the neighbours. They nearly fell asleep in the car when I played my Terry Pratchett audio book with the express purpose of getting them to sleep. Damnit.

I mostly craved sugar and tried really hard to ignore it. I was grumpy and impatient. I threatened to give the kitten to someone nice. I tried to bribe them with delicious treats which they declined. I gave up and pulled out the classic ‘When your father gets home he will hear about this!’. They didn’t care. You’ve got to admire that kind of confidence really. I gave up parenting and retreated to my bed. I painted my nails. I read a trashy magazine. I read the first chapter of my Willpower book (it says to only read a chapter a week and try to do the ‘experiments’). This week I am meant to try to ‘be in the moment and notice my breath’ for five minutes a day. HA! I’d like to be in any moment and have the energy to notice my breath at all. I’ve always been a shit breather.

Tomorrow the smallest child will go to daycare, and the eldest will come with me to work. I will put him in front of a computer and he will happily get screen stoned while I mark assessments and panic about un-written assessments for next term. But at least I will be distracted my body aches, headaches and sugar cravings.

Knowing I did (all) of this to myself doesn’t make it any more fun.

96 – The day before the day it begins. Again.

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I’m standing in the ditch. My shoes are ruined. My nails are broken and torn but I am determined to get the fucking wheels back on the wagon. The family is nearby but not talking to me. There was a short-lived moment where they LOVED me but I put paid to that with my wild mood swings and Tourette’s like outbursts.

Ok. The wagon doesn’t exist. My nails are immaculate as ever – natch. But it’s true that I have been a crazy unpredictable mamabear all weekend. Sorry I mean four days. Mostly I have been lovely. A little bit sweary but that’s normal. And I have been funny – I am funny. I made the GD laugh all weekend, a mean feat on a good day – I even made my Nana, in a psych ward because she’s so miserable – laugh when I called her anorexic. …Maybe that’s not a great example. But I have been ‘mostly’ nice and mostly funny and a little bit sweary.

It’s the lows that were scary. The bits where I crawled back in to bed in the middle of the day just to get some quiet Mummy time. The bits where I shouted at the top of my lungs that the boys were ‘hereby banned from our room FOREVER!’ and they just blithely carried on jumping on me and the book I wasn’t reading. (They aren’t scared of me. Really – why aren’t they scared of me?) The bit where I made a playlist of rock and roll hits and Snoop dogg especially for the boys one minute and then just wanted to listen to Frozen on repeat. That was a pretty low moment. FYI Frozen is now officially uncool in our house and when I was singing along the lads had me voted off the island.

It turned out that in a sick twist of fate the very same weekend I decided to give myself carte blanche to mindfully  ‘enjoy easter with my family’ I was, unknowingly premenstrual (and before you scoff ‘how could you not know?’ I have never kept track of this shit – I have too much to do alright? It always takes me by surprise and just seems to have it’s own schedule, one minute I’m happily floating along no worries and the next I am doubled over in pain and eating whole boxes of neurofen like they are lollies). I thought I could handle just one egg.

Just one little chocolate egg to celebrate the end of term and stuff. But I couldn’t handle that jandal. One little egg turned into convincing the grumpy Dutchman that he wanted to share his egg stash with me on Friday night. The next thing you know I’ve got my mum sharing her egg from the lads with me. Waiting until the kids went to bed so I could eat the secret creme egg I had hidden in the car. All I could think about all day was that creme egg sitting all by its lonesome in the glove box. All day.

Add to that coffee. FUCK I LOVE COFFEE. I couldn’t have hot cross buns without coffee could I? Sacrilege. I found some decent GF hot cross buns. So I have been having hot cross buns with butter on them with coffee. Coffee in an ‘UNT’ mug for the win. Ahhhhhhh coffee my old friend.

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In terms of activities and stuff we have had a lovely weekend. I went paddle-boarding for the first time. Talk about blissing out. It was AMAZE. I NEED to go again. We (the four of us) spent quality time with the wider fam. We took the lads to the Easter show. We were lucky to get out alive. I only suggest it every year to see the farm animals but this year the poor piglets and lambs had a trapped wild-eyed look about them and I couldn’t enjoy their wooly wonderful snuffly-ness. The boys wanted to ride stuff and win stuff, the GD wanted to eat stuff and the rest of Auckland was jammed in there with us trying to do the same thing. Every time we put the boys in the car they tried this new thing they have where they each try to imitate a peacock in heat at the top of their lungs. Master 7 thinks it makes him sound like an electric guitar. It doesn’t. Weirdly this didn’t make me or the GD want to leave them on the side of the road – we laughed – but then, this makes sense because I was FUCKING HIGH ON ALL THE SUGAR.

And now I am not. I have however got a slow burn on thanks to this ginger loaf I am ‘finishing off’ before tomorrow. It’s keeping the edge off.

So. Tomorrow marks the beginning of the withdrawal again. Tomorrow I will start ‘crowding out’ the sugar cravings again with all the cooked veges. I will go back to rice milk in my smoothies. My hot drink of choice will once again be a green tea every couple of days. No more raw food. No more crunchy food. No more self harming with food. More quality time with my children outside. More running with the dogs. More reading of the books I have bought and never read.

I apologise in advance if my blog posts go to a dark place in the next few weeks.