Goodbye, my lovely bubbles

Consider yourself warned: I have decided to give up diet soda for Lent.

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Run! Run while you can!

Last night:

Me: Oh, and just so you know, I'm giving up soda for Lent.

Hubby: Um, are you going to be able to do that?

Me: Well, I'm going to try my hardest. I'll probably be pretty cranky and angry.

Hubby: So... you'll be more cranky and angry than you've already been, then, is what you're saying?

So, yeah. Join the hubby as he runs, runs while he can.

I've given up soda twice before. Once, post gastric-bypass because I literally couldn't drink it.  The carbonation filled me up painfully after one sip. If I drank soda, I felt uncomfortable AND I couldn't eat a single bite of food. Did I miss soda? Absolutely, but eventually I kicked the habit.  But then, as with any habit I have, I went back.

The last time I (mostly) gave up soda was when I was pregnant. I can't drink regular soda (too much sugar) and I didn't want to drink artificial sweeteners while I was pregnant (or much caffeine) so I gave it up then, mostly. I would buy the little mini cans (they're the size of half a regular can, I think) and would allow myself one a day in the 2nd and 3rd trimesters.

But then Nate was born. And he would wake up at 5:30am and I would be dead tired, but he would be crying so I didn't want to make him wait for his bottle while I made some coffee and I feared spilling hot coffee on him, so I started drinking caffeinated diet soda. All day. Starting at 5:30am.

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I remember panicking one day because I finished my last can of Coke Zero. It was a zillion degrees outside but I packed up Nate in the car and headed to the drug store for some soda. I wasn't going to make it through the day. It had honestly become an addiction - I needed it to calm my frayed, early motherhood nerves. Plus the caffeine. My battery basically was running on caffeine.

And so it still is. I realized recently that I pretty much do not consume a non-caffeinated beverage ALL DAY. I go from coffee to soda to more soda to much more soda to maybe a cup of tea to soda. For someone who is fairly well educated in regards to health, this is quite stupid and I know it.

Diet soda is bad for the body for so many (alleged) reasons. (I say "alleged" because I'm pretty sure none of these are proven 100% but I've read them all in several places and, really, when it comes to one's health, better safe than sorry, I say.) So, from what I've read, the artificial sweeteners trick your body into thinking it's getting something satisfyingly sweet, but then it doesn't and so you crave snacks. The carbonation robs calcium from your bones. The caramel coloring is carcinogenic. The caffeine... well, I don't know anything about what too much caffeine does, I just assume it can't be fantastic.

So I'm going cold turkey for Lent with the goal of allowing some soda into my life, on occasion, after Easter. I've been thinking about this for a while (a month or two) so I've mentally prepared myself. I actually feel really ready to do this, although I will admit that my first thought upon waking this morning was, "Soda." Nothing in particular about soda, just, "Soda."

To help with the caffeine so I don't fall asleep at work, I have stocked up on coffee and tea. I have my travel mug with Newman's Own Extra Bold (pow!) and I have some Stash mojito mint green tea and some fusion green and white tea with me for later. (Have you had Stash tea? It is heavenly. And it's hard to find caffeinated mint tea. This one is incredible.)

The drink machine at work does have diet iced tea in it as well as water. I also have a liter bottle of water with me since it's time to become reacquainted with my friend water again. I've been thinking maybe I'll start putting some slices of lemon and lime in my bottled water for daytime, just to perk it up a bit.

Have you ever quit a food or beverage you loved because you felt better off without it? Do you give up anything for Lent (even if, like me, you're not exactly religious)?

Moving, tears, and joyous gratitude

Yesterday I posted about our impending move (we'll be all in by October 15th at the latest!).  But I didn't finish the story.

In short, our new apartment has space.  We have a roomy living room, a dining room, bigger bedrooms, more bathrooms, more cabinets, more counter space, laundry machines, and parking.  It's all just more.  More of everything we need for our home.

And here's where I begin to cry.

I have a difficult to describe relationship with faith.  Being an academic, I know a lot of atheists and agnostics (the world of academia has a significantly higher percentage of non-believers than most other fields) and I also know a lot of people who disparage religion.  I grew up, though, surrounded by many people of faith.  Regardless of my personal relationship with faith, I have never disparaged religion because I was lucky enough to grow up with a church family that is nothing but warm, welcoming, down to earth, funny, and very inclusive.  I grew up going to Sunday School and church regularly but haven't truly had what I'd consider faith since my teens.  I have a very difficult time believing.  But I have always enjoyed going to church once I'm there and I don't necessarily connect going to church with actually having faith, as illogical as that seems.  I like the feeling of security the church gives me, I love the music, and I love the community offered by my family's particular church.

There isn't much faith in my daily life, though.  I don't pray, and I don't think about faith regularly.  But there are times that I am moved.  The first time I was ever in a synagogue, for example, I was so moved that I was brought to tears.  To this day I can't fully determine why (although at least part of it has to do with my love and admiration for the Jewish faith and Jewish culture).

I had Nate baptized because I'm not strong enough of a non-believer not to.  I didn't see the harm in it and it's a part of my family's culture.  During the ceremony, I had to not concentrate on the words we were speaking and singing because it was too moving and I started to cry.

I was there to hear your borning cry,
I'll be there when you are old.
I rejoiced the day you were baptized,
to see your life unfold.

So I have these moments.  And when I was home on maternity leave, I would sit and rock Nate and cry because I was so sad that we couldn't live somewhere bigger and better for him, that we decided to bring him into our family in a space that wasn't adequate for his extremely quickly growing needs.  (And if that isn't sad enough, I sit and rock him in a squeaky office chair because we don't have the room for an actual rocking chair or glider.)

So I would sit and rock with him and cry ... and pray.  I would pray so hard, apologizing for not praying more often and for not really believing in praying, but praying anyway because I felt compelled to.  I needed to ask for help.  I didn't want a miracle.  I wasn't asking to win the lottery so I could pay off my student loans and buy a house.  I just prayed for a way for us to get more space in the town we wanted without breaking our budget.  I prayed for some way to move without having to move all in one day or pay two rents for a month plus a security deposit.  I prayed for this more than once and I cried often, wondering if somehow Nate would one day remember that his mother cried this much, if somehow I was creating a sadness in him.

But the prayers were answered, all of them, in their own ways.  Our rent is going up, but only a little because my brother offered to live with us (he actually came to me with the idea).  We found an apartment through a friend of the family, so they reduced the rent and are letting us pay the security in two parts.  Our current landlord is letting us pay half a month's rent for October.

We are getting everything we need and the gratitude and joy I feel over this is overwhelming.  I still cry, but now it's from joy and relief.  Is our new home perfect?  No, of course not.  Are all our problems solved?  Far from it.  But do we have what I wanted for Nate?  Yes.  Could I care more about anything else?  No.

This is why I didn't want to talk about the move until I was absolutely sure it was happening - because it all felt too good to be true.  People don't get the things they ask for.  We don't get those things.  We couldn't possibly be getting all of this.

But we are.  And I am overwhelmingly grateful and excited.  Maybe when what you ask for isn't too big or outrageous, it can happen.  I don't know.  I don't have any more answers now than I did before.  And I don't believe/disbelieve any differently than I did before.  But none of that changes the joy and gratitude I am feeling.

Our new living room windows face the main street in town and the ceiling is pretty high (one of the benefits of an older house) so one of my first thoughts was, "I can't wait to put our Christmas tree there."  I cannot wait to decorate for Nate's first Christmas, to have space for presents, space for him to crawl around and explore, to sit on the floor and rip wrapping paper while wearing footsie pajamas.  Christmas is nearly three months away, but my gifts are complete.

Hoping breakfast lingers longer...

When the Pioneer Woman (What, I'm mentioning her again? Unheard of!) recently posted variations of her famous cinnamon roll recipe, I became a bit more excited to try this out.  Because, really, what's better than taking on an intimidating recipe than taking on TWO intimidating recipes in one?

But first, let me backtrack a bit since one cannot live on sweet rolls for breakfast alone.  Maybe you'd like to, but you really shouldn't.  You shouldn't live on pancakes alone, either, but they're fantastic once in a while.  Unless you've had gastric bypass and they tend to feel like half a brick in your stomach because the primary ingredient is white flour, which you then mix with sugar (and other things) and later top with butter.  While yummy, it just doesn't add up to a breakfast that makes my tummy happy.

Then I got The Pioneer Woman's cookbook and came across Edna Mae's Sour Cream Pancakes recipe (Edna Mae being the Marlboro Man's grandmother).  Instead of flour, the primary ingredient is (spoiler alert) sour cream!  The recipe, which PW said makes 12-14 pancakes but yielded me 9, only has 7 tablespoons of flour and one tablespoon of sugar.

The result is a light, fluffy, airy pancake that holds up well to syrup or jam.  (Am I the only one who puts jelly or jam on pancakes?  It's something my dad does and I wonder if other people do, too, or if it's a holdover of his from growing up in Sweden?)  The hubby makes fun of how much syrup I use, but I love it (and I use Splenda-sweetened, of course - real maple syrup does not sit well with me - even worse than Sprite).

So along with her egg-in-a-hole recipe, this has made the list of my favorite breakfasts.  I hate sour cream on its own, but it is simply magical here.

Now back to those cinnamon rolls.  When I first showed my mom The Pioneer Woman's cookbook (copies of which she has now purchased for herself and her best friend), she requested I make the cinnamon rolls for her next coffee hour at church.  Oh sure, one of the most intimidating recipes in the book?  Suuure, no problem.

Eep.

But after I made the first batch, I have to say - I forgot what was so intimidating, really.  Sure, it uses a ton of butter and I made a mess of my kitchen floor.  Sure, I suck at rolling out dough and then rolling it up, too.  But I made it through, both the cinnamon roll batch and the chocolate chip cookie sweet roll batch.

I told my parents how the Pioneer Woman wrote that her church coffee hour used to be called Linger Longer, and they really liked that idea, so Sunday night I got an email of photos titled "Linger Longer Coffee Hour".  I was recovering from Danielle's bachelorette party and was really pleased to hear that the rolls were such a hit that people came back afterwards to pack up the extras to take home with them and that everyone liked the idea of calling Coffee Hour "Linger Longer".

And the PW obsession spreads...

Mmm, sugary frosting goodness - the darker rolls are the maple cinnamon
and the rolls with the white frosting are the chocolate chip sweet rolls

I have to say, I liked the chocolate chip rolls better than the cinnamon ones, although I literally could only eat one bite of the chocolate chip roll before starting to feel the sugar rush.  But it was one heck of a single bite.

Next up?  My PW enchiladas attempt.  We're going from flour and butter/sugar mixture on the floor to canola oil and enchilada sauce on the floor.  My Swiffer hates this project.

This post is another in a series where I attempt to make every recipe in The Pioneer Woman's cookbook.  You can click on "Pioneer Woman" in my tags to read the other attempts.  

7 Quick Tuesday Takes

Don't you hate when Monday walks up to you, smacks you around, steps on your lunch, and walks away laughing? Yeah, that was my Monday. I feel like the rain today (after a good span of beautiful sunny days) was brought on by me because I felt like rain when I went to bed last night.

1. My friend Nicole's brother had a heart attack and died over the weekend. I don't know his exact age, but it was around 40. I feel so sad for my friend and her family; this must be an unbearable shock. Beyond that, being nearly six years from 40, myself, this is terrifying.

2. I was passed over for an opportunity that I wanted very much. Can't say much more other than to say that I am significantly bummed out.

3. Not doing a good job in my battle with the scale. Need to get a grip and just... friggin... focus.

4. Attended my first Catholic wedding over the weekend. Wow, talk about the land that women's lib missed. The ceremony was full of statements about being overjoyed with all the children God grants you (no "if" statements, all very "you WILL procreate!"), about how the husband needs to "be patient with" the wife and how the wife needs "to be nice" to the husband (ohhhhhmg, my head almost exploded), about how the families will be concerned whether "he spoils her as she should be" and whether "she will cook like his mamma". OH. MY. F'ING. GOD. I don't live in a bubble; I know there are issues with the Catholic church but I never experienced it before. Holy jeez indeed.

5. Speaking of women's lib, check out this really insane idea: basically, an Ohio bill is proposing that women get a note from a man before they get an abortion. You know, like getting a note for skipping gym class or missing school because you don't feel well. If you don't know who the father is, no abortion for you (sexually liberated women must just suck it up and deal). If it's rape or incest, you have to prove it first. Sure, no problem - that's always easy to do. Every bit of this makes me sick.

6. That said, I'm reaching a negativity limit. I can't take all the complaining and soap-boxing and criticism I run into online every day. I'm sensitive to criticism and to argument and it's getting really wearing to read this stuff every day. Is there a website where people talk about life with a hopeful and optimistic, but still funny and snarky tone?

7. On a lighter note, the hubby and I have been living in our apartment for five months now and we still have only hung up one picture (and that one only because it's huge and it behooves us to have it hanging on the wall rather than in the hallway, on the floor). I want to do a little craft project and do a fabric cover for my corkboard and finally figure out what wedding photos I want to print and frame around the apartment. Just need money and time. Anyone got some to spare?