Motherhood Uncensored

A diet and exercise plan for moms

Playing the Hunger Games with my kids at every meal means that my own tend to get sacrificed. I eat sporadically throughout the day but but then end up so utterly famished by dinner time that I just eat everything in sight, not stopping until my head is firmly planted on my pillow.

This wasn't such a big deal when I was running a bunch of miles every day, but I'm not. And the binge eating is adding up.

So with summer and shorts and my desire to get a little more control back into my life, I decided to count calories.

I've really only done this one other time in my life when I did Weight Watchers while breastfeeding Bridget, which ended up being a total milk-drying disaster, though eye-opening nonetheless. 

I did like the Weight Watchers point system, mostly because I could eat all the free (aka zero points) fruit and veggies I wanted. I mean a banana is 100 calories? That just doesn't seem right.

Even though I'm a healthy eater, my sense of portion control is completely fucked. I cannot tell you the shock and horror I experienced when I learned what a serving size of pasta was.

You mean I can't eat the entire bag of Swedish Fish? Bullshit.

So, learning how much I can consume to maintain a 1550 caloric intake per day is pretty eye opening. Okay, it's utterly mind boggling.

But with the help of the My Fitness Pal app, it's ridiculously easy.

Except that I'm a mom. And we don't eat or exercise the way most people do.

How do you notate half a Starbucks egg white and turkey bacon sandwich (no cheese) with half the egg eaten by your 3-year old and 2 of the 3 pieces of bacon fought over by everyone else?

Or the four bites of organic beef sloppy joe that you ate off your 18-month old's plate before she tossed it on the floor.

Then there's the barely 1/4 cup of oatmeal that's leftover from breakfast, the three carrot sticks you ate while preparing lunch for four kids, and pizza crusts that everyone left in the box.

And coffee with cream? That should be zero calories. Also, booze.

And don't even get me started on the exercise portion, which lately involves "Chasing an 18-month old around the house so she can put butt creme on her for 10 minutes" or "Wrestle 5-year old who begged you to play ninja warriors for 15 minutes."

The other day I walked on the treadmill for the duration of Elmo's World on Sesame Street. I don't know how long that is, exactly, other than way too freaking long to be listening to Elmo.

Hell, if people can put housecleaning down as exercise then I'm totally adding "getting toddlers dressed."

Even if I sit down and enjoy my breakfast, which lately I've been forcing myself to do much to the chagrin of my children who look at me like I'm telling them there are aliens living in our basement when I say "Mommy is eating her breakfast right now," I still have someone asking for something off my plate.

And don't get me wrong. I'm all for making the time to eat a meal bla bla kids need to know boundaries bla bla I'm the adult bla bla I should be taking care of myself bla bla they need me to set a good example.

But in my current reality, it's not possible.

By the time I sit down to eat lunch, someone is already done and climbing out of the their seat. Then someone else needs more water to drink or more ketchup. And right when I'm about to have a conversation about Polly Pockets or Ninjago, somebody spills something.

So if you're on My Fitness Pal and wondering who made all those weird entries for trail mix minus all the dried cranberries, 7 Goldfish, and pizza crusts, it's me.

And yes, I actually added "lego clean up" as an exercise.

Now who's going to make a food and fitness diet plan just for moms that doesn't involve breastfeeding or pushing out babies? Because we need it.

{If you use My Fitness Pal, I'm ThatKristen. Same as Twitter. And no, I wasn't paid to like My Fitness Pal. My BFF uses it and I basically do everything she says.}

The Hunger Games! Otherwise known as "Mealtime" in my house

With all this Hunger Games hype, I feel pretty late to the party, considering the last book I read was "Bossypants." As an audio book.

For the record, I did download The Hunger Games trilogy to my NOOK Tablet, but ended up using it to catch up on Downton Abbey instead.

So, that means while everyone is squeeing excitedly about Katniss and her braid, I'm enjoying The Hunger Games of my own, at every freaking meal time.

Granted, there's no actual killing, but it is pretty dangerous feeding four hungry, demanding children.

One wants the lettuce NOT THE TOMATOES BECAUASE EW THEY ARE SO YUCKY HEY CAN I HAVE SOME KETCHUP ON MY PLATE?

The other wants the tomatoes but not the seeds, while another doesn't want anything but a bowl of ranch dressing because isn't that salad, mommy?

And then there's the one who just tosses everything on the floor.

And boy with the bread? How about my kids, who want bread with the sloppy joe, no not on the bread, wait no just half the bread, oh forget it EW GROSS BREAD!

Between cooking, cutting, heating, and serving, it's like the freaking Olympics. Except there are no medals, just little children acting like French and Russian figure skating judges plotting against me.

"She missed the last half turn of that triple salchow while she was serving our macaroni and cheese. Minus 10 points!"

So you go ahead and enjoy your Hunger Games workouts and hair styles and crazy outfits this weekend.

I'll be here enjoying my own Hunger Games.

May the odds be ever in my favor.

The Kristen Chase Show. Yes, it's just as ridiculous as it sounds. And by ridiculous I mean awesome.

So when the cool folks at Cafemom asked me if I'd like to try my hand at hosting a talk show on their new YouTube channel, I said "Do I get to shit without being interrupted by nosy children?" 

Okay. I didn't really say that. But seriously, three days of private bowel movements = pretty freaking amazing. (Though they did offer to interrupt me so I'd feel more comfortable).

Okay. They didn't really offer that but they were really nice and probably would have done that if I had asked them.

But really, I love to talk! 

Except then they told me that it could only be 4 minutes long. And well, I have conversations with myself that are longer than that let alone talk to fascinating, interesting people.

But hey, that's why there's editing. Also, hair and make-up.

You watch the video and tell me if I looked like I puked on the plane just the day before? I think not!

Then they told me I could only wear black and that the set had hot pink chairs "WHICH IS SO YOU, KRISTEN!" and I thought "OH GOD WHAT HAVE I GOTTEN MYSELF INTO?"

Do I really say "Hot Pink Chairs?!"

But holy shit, people, the set was amazing and I would have stolen everything except it was rented and also I couldn't fit the damn chairs in my suitcase.

I really tried.

Okay, so I didn't really try but I was mighty tempted.

The only thing they didn't do is get me Ryan Reynolds. But that's okay. The sound guy kept putting his hand down my shirt and that was totally a close 75th.

So the shows launch on April 3, and will be released every Tuesday for 10 weeks. I hope you'll subscribe to Cafemom Studios on YouTube and tell all your friends so you don't miss a single episode because OMFG what would you do if you missed The Kristen Chase Show? 

You would cry because it's fun and funny and I talk about all sorts of fun things that I talk about here. Like vaginas. My boobs. And my mother-in-law.

How could we leave her out of the fun?

And it's only 4 minutes long. Think of all the things that you do that you hate that take waaaay longer than that.

Even if you only mildly enjoy the show, it will be better than doing those things. THAT I can guarantee.

 

I'll never be a tiger mom. And that's okay.

 "I only wanted to play so I could be like you," she told me, through her sobs.

Every violin practice for the last month has ended in tears. Hers and mine.

She asked to take lessons a couple of years ago, so I obliged her, thrilled that she was interested in learning the instrument I'd spent most of my own life playing. Even more thrilled that she was so good at it.

But then it got harder, as these things always do. And the practice sessions became fewer and farther between, as these things do when you're the one left in charge of the kids, the house, the whereabouts of everyone's shit.

And when you're doing something because you want to be like your mom and not because you actually like it.

At first, I'd get frustrated when she wouldn't get something. Then she'd get frustrated when she didn't get something because she thought I'd get frustrated with her.

"I just don't want you to get mad at yourself when you mess up because it's okay to mess up. I lived my whole life believing it was bad to fail. I missed out on so much. Learn from my mistakes." 

It sounded like a poorly written screenplay, overracted. Desperate.

I remember hating to practice, my own mom yelling at me, the timer in her hand, the countless hours I spent holed up in my room playing music I'd much rather be dancing in pointe shoes to.

I was really good at ballet, close to professional even, and I loved it with every ounce of my being, but one day, when I was about 15, my mom decided that I couldn't dance anymore.

And music was all I had.

Music filled with the anger and longing I had for ballet.

I played the violin because I was good at it, not because I loved it. And since I've had kids, I haven't picked it up.

I don't miss it. At all.

Quinlan practiced alone in her room for awhile, with a list I'd write of things she needed to cover, but inevitably I'd hear her start and stop the same measure of music 45 times, mostly because she's not practicing consistently because I just can't do and be everything that I want to or am supposed to or whatever it is that a homeschooling, sometimes single, full time work at home mom "could you try to remember to return the clothes to Sears when you get a chance, hon" GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK ALREADY ARE THEY GOING TO MELT IN THAT BAG IN THE CLOSET? Do we need the $30 right this second?

It's me, not her.

She's good at it but she doesn't really like it.

And so I let her quit. 

I worry that she'll regret it. That she'll learn that you give up on things that are hard for you, things you just don't like.

But what's so wrong with that?

She'll eventually learn that things will get challenging and that you can't always quit them. She'll get over the regret.

But will she forgive me when she digs out from under the piles of my unresolved shit?

"It's just a wooden thing in a box," I told her, as I held her tightly in my arms. "It's not worth shedding tears over anymore."

Hers. Or mine.

Female Hormones: A primer for men

I realize that as much time I spend with men, there are many aspects of their behavior I will always find mysterious. 

The ball grabbing. Because they might just disappear without you knowing!

The half-assery. Why put a bowl in the sink when you can just leave it right next to the sink!

The stupid comments. Because when did telling me my ass looked bigger ever get you laid?

And even though I think women are pretty easy to read, I realize that women have their own mystique that the male species will never quite understand.

Like, hormones.

I mean, if getting dirty underwear into an actual basket is hard, then I understand that women with enormous amounts of hormones running through our body that affect them physically and emotionally can be confusing. Mind boggling.

Like laundry.

So I figure, why not provide a handy primer to assist my male readers in living with female hormones.

If you can keep track of a NCAA Basketball bracket, your NFL Fantasy Football team, or your balls, then this should be a no-brainer.

1. Female hormones generally make a surge for the same amount of weeks you have children.

1a. Or on every other Tuesday and 3rd Friday.

1b. Or when you're being an asshole.

2. Flowers make everything better.

2a. Except not those fucking flowers.

2b. They can also indicate that you've done something that requires forgiveness.

2c. Just sayin'.

3. Time alone can be therapeutic.

3a. It can also say that you think she's not a good enough mother and needs to have her children taken away from her.

4. Copious amounts of chocolate helps.

4a. Except when you buy it for her.

4b. That just means you think she's a fat ass.

4c. You seriously think your wife is a fat ass? What an asshole.

5. Hormones can make a woman extremely horny. Or bitchy.

5a. If you can't tell the difference, try grabbing her boob.

5b. Hahaha. Idiot.

6. Weepiness is inevitable.

6a. This is not, however, a come on.

6b. But it could lead to sex if you play your cards well.

6c. There are no rules to that card game.

6d. Only that it does not involve actual cards.

6e. Unless you're a kinky bastard.

7. Booze and coffee can exascerbate hormonal symptoms.

7a. They can also make help them.

7b. Sometimes.

7c. Depending on the woman.

7d. Or the kind of booze or coffee.

8. Bloating is normal.

8a. That doesn't mean you should point it out.

8b. Or empathize that you feel the same way when you drink too much beer or eat beans. 

8c. Or ask for a blow job.

9. Her face make break out.

9a. No, it doesn't make her feel better to tell her it makes her look young.

9b. Or show her the zits on your back in solidarity. 

9c. Or tell her that you don't notice them.

9d. Liar.

10. Prescription medication is available.

10a. You'll need it.