Meal Planning Monday (7/5/12)

Better late than never, I'm linking up with Mrs M again with her meal planning Monday linky. Not that I've given this weeks eats much thought so fingers crossed Grace and Matt the Husband forgive this lacklustre effort (and hopefully you will excuse me too!)

Monday: Mummy's lasagne bumped from last week made special with a dash of worcester sauce and a teaspoon of marmite. Mmmm. Love it or hate it!

Tuesday: leftover lasagne for Grace and me... the Husband is away in the Big Smoke. I'm determined Grace will learn to love pasta with tomato based sauces - at the moment she turns her nose up nine times out of ten.

Wednesday: quick rice, basmati tossed with whatever vegetables are in the fridge begging to be used.

Thursday: Beans on toast with an egg on the side. Quick and easy after work on the day Grace is tiredest after being in childcare for three days on the trot.

Friday: Carrot and chickpea curry with rice. Low GL, tasty and filling.

As for the weekend, we have plans so I'm leaving that open... Must dash, food to cook, treats to eat!

Ciao for now x

Bank Holiday Bonking...

Works every time. Filthy minds the lot of you!

Grace treated the rainy day bank holiday like a sullen teenager would do. Crawling out of her pit around 11am, to eat a breakfast without so much as eye contact or a thank you for the waitress attending to her every whim. Weetabix, toast (hold the peanut butter), banana (sliced). She then decided to dump the last few bits onto the floor with a look that said don't mess with me, the dog's on my side...

We had a battle getting her into the car to go the park - convinced she was being conned, she gripped onto the garden gate for dear life and I literally had to peel her fingers off one by one. Not a great start to the outing.

Frozen to the bone, we endured the park at toddler pace. Even the dog looked cold. It didn't get any better...

Bonk #1 the crash and burn - tripping over her own foot while picking dandelions - graze to the left knee.

Bonk #2 the roll - busy stomping on the gravel, not sure what caused it, only know the gravitational pull was too strong - sent her flying nose first, graze to side of face, mouthful of dirt.

Bonk #3 the back bash - sitting on the floor playing, decided to throw herself backwards to bang her head for no reason other than to finish the day with a hat trick and a desperate need for calpol.

Some days are best left as duvet days. Today was one of them. Grace went to bed with her tail between her legs when we got home, slept until 5, and was asking to go to bed before 7. Hope she's not coming down with something.

How did you spend your extra day?

Silent Sunday

Uh-oh!

Appropriate it seems that on the day Grace masters the linguistics of 'uh-oh!', I find myself peering down a 13 week long tunnel to what will be my first road race... Without dwelling on the nitty gritty of this milestone, if you set me off with the start gun now, I'd be stopping in a little under two miles. Rounded down, I make that a good 4 miles short.

Uh-oh indeed.

Now for those who know me well, running is something one does only to catch the ice-cream van as it pulls away with my chocolate oyster still tucked nicely in his refrigerated tuck-box. I am not a runner. Nor am I particularly interested in exercise or fitness in general. I like my food and lots of it. Generally I dish up healthy family eats as we have a marathon runner and a toddler at the table. And as much as I love to eat healthy food, I like my portions big, and I like a free rein to nibble away at something 'naughty' like chocolate, ice-cream, chips and dips, or whatever the fancy might be.

Step forward the new Heather.

(Yeah right!)

Instead I send her substitute to the podium. Fitness mad, burning calories like crazy and training training training to get a personal best when taking part in Jane Tomlinson's Run for All in York, 13 weeks from now on August 4th.

(The personal best won't be hard, it's my first).

I also want to shift this baby-weight (*read combination of baby-weight and over-indulgence weight*) once and for all. I can't blame it on the baby forever, she's weighing in at 1 stone 8 pounds herself, roughly what this Mummy needs to lose. Holy crapola!

So what's the plan Stan? Well, Stan says I need to kick my butt into gear, set a weekly goal and jolly well stick to it come hell or high water. So here it is. I'm going to start running again TOMORROW. Watch this space for proof. I'm aiming to run 3 days a week minimum and although this will be short distances to begin with (starting at 1.5 miles again), I will be working this back up in the right direction slowly. I'm also sticking with Jillian Michael's 30 day shred DVD which is giving me 20 mins intense work out every night before bed. I'd also like to commit to one swim this week and one yoga session just to mix it up a bit.

I have my weigh in tonight. I've been pretty much on it this week, stuck to plan, eaten moderately, and only tucked into the biscuits once and even that didn't really tip me over the syn count too badly. I'll check in with an update soon, wish me luck!


Let the fitness training commence!

Curiouser and curiouser

I have started a trend. For several days now, bedtime routine has gone like clockwork. The putting to bed of the hair clips into the little bowl in the cupboard has worked a treat. But much like opening a packet of chocolate Hobnobs and eating one, you just know there is more to follow.

Tuesday night, Grace took her shoes to bed with her. She wore them in bed until the wee hours when she woke in a panic with hot-foot syndrome which sent Matt the Husband flying in a panic to remove said shoes before she work up proper.

Last night, we said 'goodnight' to just about every toy in the house. Three times she checked the doors were closed on her Happyland school house, just to make sure all the little people inside were safe. Twice she stopped to kiss 'Sheli', one of her favourite characters. Shooing her up the stairs, she look at me as if to say, 'this is just how it has to be Mama!'.

I wonder what tonight will bring?

One thing I know for certain, Grace likes things a certain way. Just like me. Curious.

Grandpa's Bottom

My father has a lot to answer for. Ignoring the fact I am an end of line item with built in kinks and glitches, he isn't a bad man.... except when it comes to passing wind.

For us regular folk it's a natural occurrence. We might not shout about it, we might not want to own up to it when we do it, but we all do it. It happens. It's called farting. And although it mightn't be the politest of pastimes, one tends to turn a blind eye to it assuming one can keep a straight face and ignore the aftermath.

We ignore these little subtleties with Grace as much as we can. She farts like the rest of us. Quiet ones, cute ones, smelly ones. You get the gist. The point I'm making is that most of us do it, say 'pardon' and move on. No big deal.

Not so my father. He has the full range in his back pocket (pardon) ready to unleash at the speed of light if the need arises. And alas, this habit has rubbed off on Grace. A picture of politeness, Grace's cheeky grin might be a red herring.... it's confirmed... she has Grandpa's Bottom.

I'll paint the scene.

We're playing together, reading a book with Laura, Grace's godmother. All is going well. Grace is attentive, enjoying the interaction. Engaged even. I see the moment change. She stops listening, her brow furrows. She pushes the book away, walks over to me and squats as if she's working out with Jillian Michaels. And then she farts, grinning, positioned perfectly over my lap.

I'm horrified. This wasn't an unexpected 'pop'. This was a calculated, well timed fart. She knew it.

I have failed. Grace has Grandpa's Bottom and she's not shy about it either.

Say Goodnight, Hair Clip!

A friend once told me I'd never get hair clips in Grace's hair as I hadn't started the practice early enough. Cut to visions of screaming fits as the unruly toddler pulls at the little article, trying frantically to pull said metal accessory out of one's fluffy chicken hair.

Not so.

What I am actually faced with is the reluctance to give up the hair clip at the end of the day. She likes it, and does not want to release the item from her possession. Cue tantrum.

Rooting around in my back pocket for a dose of magic, I pull out a new bed time routine.

Before climbing the stairs to run a bath, Grace and me, we put our hair clips to bed. Hers and mine, disengaged from tangled hair, we un-clip in unison, say goodnight hair clip, and pop the clips together in a little bowl that lives in the cupboard by the fridge. She gives me a hug and nods her head in agreement.

They're safe in there Mum!



For more on bribery and influence in toddlers, click here