Look What the Easter Bunny Left Us

Months after I swore that I will not hold any more parties at my place I ate my own Easter egg and caved in on hosting a small Easter get-together with my friends. Justification #1: It's going to be a potluck party. Justification #2: The kids can play in the backyard instead of turning the house inside out.

Hitting one out of two shouldn't be too bad, right? With just three other families in the party, we had a good, intimate crowd, and I didn't have to slave in the kitchen for far too long. On the other hand, aside from venturing out for a quick Easter egg hunt, the kids --- six in all, with ages between 15 months (AT) to seven years --- still managed to leave no toy intact. Hey, but at least everone had fun!

Good thing that my dear hubby got the day off today. If he thought that he'd have this day to relax and enjoy, he had another thing coming! He took care of the kids when they got up, giving me another 30 or so minutes of shuteye; and from then on, the only time he got to sit was when he was lording over imaginary subjects while seated on the "throne". There's no one to blame but himself though. I was fully prepared to spend the rest of the day doing the laundry and squeezing in a bit of cleaning in between. Afterwards, we could all have just taken long naps and wasted the day away. But he had to say that he wanted to get some stuff from Home Depot (another DIY heaven) during breakfast.

This brought out the nag in me that I listed down the stuff that he bought from either Lowe's and Home Depot that were still in their bags and needed to be brought out. But since we were all dressed and ready to go, poor hubby couldn't just get out of the trip that easily. Now, truth be told, I actually enjoy going to these Home Improvement stores. It's like a trip to Sephora where I can mentally make a list of things that I wish I had to make me, or in this case my house, look better.

Well, true to our imperfect timing, the promotion for extended interest-free credit has run out. We had to trim out already much-edited wish list further and just ended up with stuff for the lawn. Ha, the holy grail of suburban neighborhoods, thick, weed-free and ultra-green lawns with picture perfect landscaping. We may not be able to afford the landscaping, but we sure as heck can try not to embarrass ourselves by propagating more weeds than grass in our lawn!

Thus, my idyllic afternoon of relaxation turned into getting down on my knees to weed and cover up some bare patches. Naturally, this was done while the washing machine was churning and after helping hubby out with his already backlogged honey-do list. Fortunately, AT took it upon herself to indulge in a long nap (maybe on our behalf?) and AJ wasn't going about like a banshee this afternoon. So, hubby fertilized the lawn while I weeded and patched. For such a tiny strip of land, we spent close to two hours and $120. Yikes!

Tomorrow, armed with my new gardening tools (just a tiny spade and rake really), I will once more attempt my elusive dream of an herb garden. Well, maybe not a garden right now, just a tiny plot behind the house where I can grow some basil, cilantro, and other herbs that I usually cook with. With my "sore" thumb though, let's see how short I've cut these saplings' lifespans! However, if I manage to grow these, I may turn my sights into a (notch) loftier goal, planting some rose shrubs beside my house. Visions of moi peacefully cutting rose blossoms for a perfect centerpiece arrangement on the dining room table are going in my head now! But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Way ahead of myself. I'm more likely to be shredded by the thorns by all the weeding I have to do to save my dying roses. Let's take it one day, or more precisely, one nap (AT's), at a time then.

Farewell My Hyper Metabolism

For the first time in my thirty odd years, I am actually losing the battle of the bulge. Lack of any decent exercise and my deplorable choices in food (the higher in fat the better!) have finally taken their toll on my childbirth-beaten body. I have far surpassed the accpetable one-year mark for carrying my "baby" weight. Aaaaargh, in other words, I'm a walking and talking mass of love handles! Pick a spot on my body and there's bound to be a handful that you can squeeze there.

It's all my fault really. On my second pregnancy, I swore that I'd maintain a respectable weight gain this time around. For a reference point, I gained 55 pounds when I was pregnant with my first child, AJ. That's half of my original 110-lbs. frame! Hence, the resolution on my second pregnancy. Maybe I should've been more specific with my resolution. Fate was such a tease in that, yes, I "only" gained about 30 pounds while I was pregnant with AT. I ate about as much as I did, yet, the scales proudly displayed that I was still within the reasonable bounds of prenatal weight gain. Alas, fifteen months after my precious daughter's birth, I am still carrying five, okay maybe ten, out of those thrity pounds!

The sad thing is that I am out of excuses. I used to have my round-the-clock breastfeeding as a clutch not to go on a diet (I am still eating for two, mind you!). There were the holidays with all the mouthwatering food at parties, plus leftovers. Then there were the darned two weeks in February when I felt close enough to death that I ate like I was getting my last meal weeks after I felt better. And now that I have a wedding to attend at the end of the month I am pulling my hair as to how to squeeze into that dress that I got. Why oh why did I have the audacity to get a size 4?!

A passionate food lover that I am, I just cannot bring myself to crash diet. And I also, for the life of me, cannot completely eliminate major food groups from my diet. That pretty much takes out the Atkins and other similar low-carb diets that promise fast results. Instead, I've been hoping that a sensible eating approach will bring back my erstwhile fast metabolism (and hopefully, my former waistline with it) back in gear. Boy, was I wishful thinking!

Since I am fast running out of options, I have imposed a strict before-nine o'clock diet for myself. I know, I know, it's ideally a before-six diet, but with two wailing kids that need to be fed, bathed and put to bed by eight, I've got to give myself a break! I have been on this diet for nearly three weeks now, and out of 21 days, I've cheated about 18. Ha! I guess that my EQ on self-control went out the window together with my hyper metabolism!

So, here I am, clicking away at the keys to fill this blog instead of raiding the fridge and filling my (flabby) stomach. In these times of desperation, I've also begun "training" with Matt, my personal trainer (ahem!) on Kinetic. Hahaha! Thought I finally had the free time and energy to trek to the gym? For clueless folks out there like me, Kinetic is this interactive game for PS2, that's supposed to get your body moving through a series of exercises. If you don't give up on the three-month program (like I'm close to doing... giving up I mean), you're supposed to see results. I've been on it for two weeks now, and the only results I've seen is an even more ravenous appetite. Still flabby, but hungrier. When the clock strikes nine, I suddenly feel the strong urge to eat. I'd probably eat my throw pillows if they were fried and salted.

Let's see how the rest of the month goes with this self-inflicted torture. Right now I have to sign off and just take a tiny peek at that yummy-looking sapin-sapin that ED's mom brought for me from New Jersey. At this stage of my food withdrawal, I'm tempted to rebuff the image of me looking like an overstuffed sausage at the wedding. It's not my wedding anyway!