Goodbye, my lovely bubbles

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

source

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.

source

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)?

Old enough to know better ... maybe?

This past Saturday night was my friend Danielle's bachelorette party.  Danielle's sensitivies are similar to mine, so I knew it wouldn't be a completely crazy night, but it was going to be fun and be a bit "more" than any of our ordinary times out and about.

We started out at Lucky Cheng's which, if you're not from the NYC area, may not be familiar to you. Their website calls it a "drag caberet dinner theater" which seems exactly right.  Basically, it's a restaurant where, while you have dinner, drag queens sing and dance and perform lap dances.

Yes, drag queen lap dances.  I know, it doesn't entirely make sense for a bachelorette party, but somehow it's become a bachelorette party staple.  This was my second time there for one (the first time being for my sister's bachelorette party seven years ago).  The last time, they had the bachelorettes participate in a banana eating contest.  (Get it?  A banana eating contest??)  This time they called up a random gay guy from the audience and had some of the bachelorettes/birthday girls give him lap dances and then had the rest of the audience choose the winner for best lap dance. 

It's all in good fun, although if you're easily embarrassed, it's so not the place for you.  The balloon maker made a big girl parts balloon for Danielle to wear on her head and her aunt bought her one of the lap dances, pictures and video of which will not be posted (you're welcome, Danielle).

Afterwards, we headed out to find a bar to spend a few more hours since it was still early, even for us young/new moms in the group.

Here's where I got in trouble.

I wanted a mojito.  For the love of all things fermented, I have not been able to have one since Nate was born.  Every time I try, they don't have what's needed or they simply don't make them.  This place simply didn't make them.  So I asked the bartender to make me something "simple with lime."  She mixed something up and it was delicious.  So I had two more.  Yum yum.  I had also had a Jack and Diet Coke and two drinks at Lucky Cheng's.

When I go up to the bar and finally think to ask what was in them, the bartender says, "Oh, it was just vodka and Sprite with a splash of lime."

Sprite?  Crap.  While there are many, many things I can now tolerate that I couldn't in the immediate years post-gastric bypass, regular soda is not one of them (or any other sugary liquid).  I can process food with sugar, to an extent, but not beverages.  And I had basically just drank the equivalent of a full can of Sprite.

I had also had a good amount of vodka.  However, I hadn't eaten much all day because I spent all day working on The Pioneer Woman's cinnamon rolls (more on that another time) and then getting ready for the party and heading out early, only to find out that my car wouldn't start and I needed a ride... and on and on and on.  It was a day - and what that ended up causing was no meals before dinner, which I never do.  I wish I was the sort of person who "forgets" to eat sometimes.  Ha.  I never forget to eat.  And then our dinner at Lucky Cheng's was very light, too light for me to be able to drink and handle that sugar onslaught.

So I ended up getting sick.  Really sick.  I was drunk and experiencing the worst dumping syndrome I've had in a long time.  I was sweating significantly, extremely exhausted, sick to my stomach, and dizzy.  What does that all look like, though?  Just being drunk, really sloppy drunk.  I ended up in the bathroom at the bar, trying to get some of those drinks out of my system, but the "problem" with gastric bypass is that if you don't throw up immediately, you're not going to because it all moves through quickly.  So I just dry heaved.  And I was so sweaty that my hair was wet from root to tip.  I must have looked like I had a drug problem or something.  It was so ridiculously embarrassing.  How do you explain at a bar that it's actually the Sprite, not the vodka, causing the majority of your problem?

By the time I got home several hours later (it was a long ride home after dropping several people off), I was feeling a bit better.  Again, typical dumping syndrome working itself out.  When it happens, all I can do is try to get any of the offending food/drink up and then give my body time to rest.

So I went to bed and asked the hubby to get up with Nate when Nate woke up at 7am.  Because he's wonderful, he did.  Nate dozed but re-woke at 9am and by then I was ready to get up.  I had some water and Advil, we played on the floor for a while, Nate had a bottle, and by the time he went down for a nap, I was ready for some coffee and an English muffin - and, basically, I was good to go.

Here's my proof, then, that this was a sugar issue.  If I drank too much, there's no way I would have been fine after only five hours of sleep and a small breakfast.

But I had my gastric bypass in 2004, so what happened here?  It's not like I'm new at this.  I'm certainly not new at drinking, period, or at drinking as a post-bypass person.

I think I was just out of practice at being that person.  I was a pregnant person for the past year, which superseded all other decisions.  I forgot that I have to really think about what components go in my mixed drinks, that I have to ask the bartender for specifics, not let him or her decide for me.  I forgot that I should eat substantially throughout the day and especially before a night out.

I know all that.  I know better.  I simply forgot.  I re-learned, though.

But I still had fun, as did all the other ladies, and that's what counts most.  And the other bar patrons have a good story about the strung out bridge-and-tunnel chick who couldn't even handle three vodka and Sprites.  And I have pictures of one of my good friends with a drag queen upside down in her lap.  I mean, really, I cannot complain about the night.

Oh sweet coffee caffeine

I nearly weaned myself off caffeine during my pregnancy.  If anything, I allowed myself one Coke Zero per day.  I had crazy cravings for cola and needed a little caffeine push during the afternoon (remember, I continued attending grad school and worked up until the Friday before my c-section - I was one tired mama-to-be).

Yet even the tiniest bit of caffeine really got me wired.  One day, I'm pretty sure someone switched the decaf for regular at work and I felt completely out of sorts for a few hours: jittery, angry, on edge.  It was then that I really saw just how much I kicked my caffeine habit.

But I missed coffee.  I adored Starbucks' decaf VIA (instant) coffee but it still wasn't the same.  I couldn't have a Frappuccino or order a cappuccino at a restaurant (in theory I could order the restaurant cappuccino, but I swear they don't taste the same with decaf).

And then there was yesterday.  Yesterday the hubby stayed home on Nate duty and I went out.  OUT!!  By myself!  With the car!!  I got a pedicure, went to Target, ran some errands - it was glorious.  And the glorious afternoon started with... a light caramel Frappuccino.

It might seem silly, but it was amazing to order something at Starbucks and not have to worry that they wouldn't get the decaf right.  It was so easy and felt normal again.  And the Frap tasted magnificent.

Then today, I made coffee at home - something I haven't done in many, many months.  I was making half decaf and eventually full decaf coffee at home for a while - but, frankly, it tasted like crap so I stopped.  But today I have regular coffee and it's so, so very good.  And, being a new mama with a little munchkin who's had his first cold since Tuesday, I am exhausted so the caffeine is doing me a lot of good.  None of us are sleeping enough these days.

Danielle recently got Keurig and I could not be more envious.

The hubby doesn't drink coffee, so the ability to simply make myself one cup at a time would be super convenient and I would love to be able to have different flavor coffees easily and not have to always be measuring out and scooping grounds.  Want want want.

But, really, I'm just enjoying having regular coffee right now.  There'll be time to get fancy later.  My regular ol' cup o' joe will do for now.

To all the cocktails I've loved before...

I don't remember when I found out that the new guy I liked/was dating didn't drink.  It's quite possible that it came up in one of our early IM conversations or on our first date but I truly don't recall.  This shows you  how much I love him because I'm sure it was a moment of, "Oh, well, this won't work then but he's sweet, so we'll just see where it goes for now."

It's not like I am or ever was an alcoholic, but I enjoy my frosty beverages (or in the case of the pints of Guinness I had in Ireland, my beautiful room temperature beverages).  Someone who didn't drink by choice was definitely a deal-breaker to me in my 20s.  Passes were given to recovering alcoholics; I certainly wasn't about to fault them for foregoing the bubbly at New Years.  But someone who chose not to drink for no reason other than, "I don't want to" ... ???  Completely foreign and distrusted concept to me.

You see, my best friend is Mike.

Kate's Converse, Mike's dress shoe, and my reception Converse at my wedding reception

Like, very very best friend.  So best that he was my "man of honor" at my wedding. 

But Mike is what I call the human tonic.  Not only is Mike an enthusiastic drinker, but he somehow has the magical ability, as if he is tonic, to allow you to drink more in his presence.  I kid you not.  Let's say my normal drink tolerance before I start to feel tipsy is three beverages.  If Mike is there, it easily becomes five or six - and then it'll be another three or four before I actually feel drunk.  I don't know how this works, but I swear to all that exists that it's true.

And it's not that Mike is your keg stand, beer funnel type of drinker (although I do recall a funnel in his dorm room, but that was for other people to enjoy).  Mike doesn't even actually enjoy beer that much; he's strictly a Jack Daniels man, with the occasional foray into good wines and exceptional cocktails like a fantastic bloody mary (he makes a great one).  Because of Mike, I have what can be best described as near-romantic feelings for Jack Daniels.  Just writing that, I can smell it so strongly it's like I have a glass right next to me.  It's real love.

But then along came the hubby and his "I don't drink" stance.  He doesn't like alcohol and it never gets him tipsy, nevermind drunk.  It's like he's impervious.  That kind of existence was beyond my comprehension and, for a while, beyond what I was willing to join myself to.  I dreaded telling Mike that my new boyfriend didn't drink just "because he doesn't want to."  I knew Mike's response: "That won't work, so long to him."

But somehow, we both (Mike and I) came around.  The tipping point occurred when I realized that this meant I had a guaranteed designated driver for life.  See, I'm a terrible, terrible designated driver.  I have a really hard time not drinking when others are imbibing - to the point that I'd rather just not go to whatever function it is than go and abstain.  But now, linked to the hubby, it was no longer a problem, ever!  (Even my parents have put his permanent designated driver status to use after family gatherings.)  Mike has made a quiet peace with it as well, although that doesn't mean he hasn't stopped trying to get the hubby to do car bombs or some shots of JD.  What happens then is that since the hubby won't do them and I'm his spouse, they default to me.  (Don't you love Mike's rules?)  So I end up with extra drinks, which I don't mind.  I know when to stop, anyway.  And I can slam a car bomb with the best of the boys.

And there have been compromises.  Apparently there was quite a bit of drinking at the hubby's bachelor party (I swear he came home a bit tipsy but he says no even though he drank a ridiculous amount of liquor) - and he sipped from the champagne for the toasts at our wedding - the only time I've specifically asked him to do such a thing and the only time I can think of that I ever will.

And, now?  Now I find myself in his boat since The Force is clearly not of drinking age.  I know people who have enjoyed the occasional glass of wine during their pregnancies, but I just can't do it, even though sometimes my mind is screaming for it.  Going out to our favorite restaurant (P.F. Chang's) has become torturous as I stare longingly at the drink menu, wanting a pear mojito like a junkie needs a fix.  When people ask me how the pregnancy is going and we have more than a 30 second conversation about it, I tend to say that the hardest thing is not having the occasional alcoholic beverage.  It's been nearly six months since my last drink - most definitely the longest I've gone without one since I turned nineteen or twenty.

Not that the peace of mind isn't worth it.  It definitely is, for me.  I'm a worrier and if The Force comes out with simply a hair out of place, I'm going to feel like it's my fault - that I did something during this pregnancy that affected him negatively.  And now, it's been remarkably helpful that the hubby is a teetotaler.  I've read too many posts about pregnant women having to watch their partners enjoy alcoholic beverages in their presence.  I'm not sure how well I would have handled that.  It's not that I need the alcohol, but it's kind of like a diet - simply because I can't have it, it makes it seem just all that much more tempting and lovely.

So as much as it's driving me bonkers, no wine and certainly no other alcoholic beverages until The Force sees the light of day.  I already told the hubby that our first post-baby dinner out will be to P.F. Chang's so I can have one of those pear mojitos.  Our first trip out of town will be to Baltimore, where Mike lives, so we can go to our favorite bar there and I can have the best espresso martini I have ever found.

Because after ten months of clean living, what could be better than coffee AND vodka?

This post is a part of Genie Alisa's Living Out Loud (LOL) series.

Burned by an unidentified sleeping injury?

Remember the good ol' days of college when you'd joke about UDIs? The Unidentified Drinking Injury, of course!  You'd have a good time at a party but wake up with bruises you don't recall getting (because you probably tripped and fell on something on your way back to your dorm).

Well, I didn't drink any alcohol last night but I woke up with a USI... unidentified sleeping injury.  What?

I felt the bruise (?) as soon as I woke up and was immediately puzzled.  I don't sleep with my rings on, so that's not it.  And it's really not a bruise.  In fact, it feels like a burn, except there isn't anything hot near my bed (well, except the hubby, ha ha, but he hasn't singed me yet).

And, of course, the ONE finger that's hurt is my ring finger.  I don't wear any other rings than my wedding rings and, of course, this injury is exactly where my rings rest.  I'm not wearing my engagement ring today because I don't want to further aggravate the "bruise/burn" by accidentally pinching it or chaffing it.

I couldn't go without my wedding ring entirely, though, so I am wearing it and so far, so good.  No pain, no added irritation, but . . . what is this?  Is it coincidence that I get some weird irritation right where I wear my rings?  You can't develop a metal allergy out of the blue, can you?

And, yes, if my fingernail beds seem a bit blue, that's because they are.  It's that cold in here.  (Or, closer to the truth, I'm just always cold and it's a smidge cold in here.)

And it's never easy to take hand pictures, is it?  My hands always end up looking like mitts to me.