The Scholastic catalog came home with Emily a few months ago. She picked a few books to order, which we did. And there it was – a Judy Blume section. How I loved Judy Blume as a kid! I added Super Fudge and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing to the list. She asked me why and expressed a strong desire to not get them. I listened but asked her to humor me. I wanted to read them to and with her. It didn’t take me long into Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing to feel like I was transformed back into my ten year old self. I know I’m not alone. Judy Blume is a treasure. She’s also somewhat timeless. Well, except for maybe belted maxi pads. I first learned of those in Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret. I read it, like you know, all the other straight twelve year old boys did. Not. Boy, was I glad I wouldn’t be getting my period. Now I realize that I was wildly wrong.
You see, I definitely
What I’m saying is, for me, right now, I’m having my period. I have days where I’m just sort of in a funk. It doesn’t happen every 28 days. It’s also not for a week. And thank heavens, Brenda Vaccaro doesn’t heavily breathe about Playtex tampons inducing an asthma attack in me. But I get moody, and sometimes unpleasant. Ask G. He’ll tell you.
Most people do “Drynuary.” For those who have not heard of this, it’s when you don’t drink alcohol for the month of January. The idea is to shed the excesses of the holiday season along with some weight whilst also giving the liver a well needed break. While I get this, and think it’s a great idea, have you ever been to Chicago in January? The last thing I wanted to do in January was not have a drink. Dark, cold, dreary miserable days that seem to go on longer than the last season of Dexter. Add to that having to do most runs indoors and the general stresses of raising kids and I, for one, was not ready to hang up my corkscrew for a cozy cup of camomile.
Flash forward a few months into the year. The weather is slowly improving. Things outside are coming to life. Running season is basically upon us. I have lost about 10 pounds since January. While I am pleased with that, and it’s healthy weight loss, I know I can do better. My BMI, scale, mirror all tell me so, almost daily. I have the added problems of being Italian and liking food. Neither are ones that I’m likely to shed. On more than one occasion, I have floated the idea to my endocrinologist husband that maybe I have a cortisol problem? He tells me that I don’t and then throws around his buzzwords like “board certified endocrinologist” and “Harvard.” “Harvard, Shmarvard,” I think., “I have a cortisol issue and nobody wants to believe me.” (I really don’t but I want a quick answer. Actually not a quick answer. I want to be thin. Yesterday.)
So that brings us to Dry April. I figured if I watch my diet and cut alcohol calories, it should result in more weight loss and may also improve my sleep and hopefully all of these things will translate to better running.
Overall, it’s not really a big deal. I’m 13 days into the month. For the most part, I don’t miss it. Except for when I do. Funnily, it’s not always the most obvious times. I went out with friends for dinner last Friday. It was the first foray since I had started. I initially thought it would be tricky. Drinks before dinner, wine in a French restaurant. And there was me with my alcohol free beer and a mocktail. It was actually fine. Would I have enjoyed wine with my dinner? You bet. Was I happy when A woke me up at 6:30 and I didn’t have a hangover? Yup!
Funnily, it’s the random nights that I’ve found more frustrating. The nights when G is traveling and I’ve been
Running has been the main thing to help ground me. It’s become my compass. I ran four miles around a track today while the girls rode bikes and played. I decided even though I would have to do forty some odd laps around a track which at times was as dull as one might imagine, I was able to multi-task and give them the ability to play. I ran, they biked. Playmates came and went. I even got to chat with another grown up after my run. I also wanted to get us all outdoors today while it was sunny because tomorrow we are back to 32 degrees and snowy. I have 10 miles to log. Ten miles that will be on a treadmill. Blech. For those running the Boston Marathon on Monday, like G, that would be a short, welcomed run. For me, it’s a bit of a dread right now. But I will do it. And because of that, I don’t miss having a drink tonight.
I’m typing this in a restaurant waiting for the girls to finish a gymnastics night. They are burning some more energy, hopefully tiring out. We will go home, read a few pages of Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and cuddle. I’ll probably let them sleep with me because G is away and I know that their childhoods are fleeting. This morning A jumped up onto my lap, moved my arm around her waist and snuggled herself into a cuddle. Shortly after, E took a moment to do the same. Later in the day, when they were at each other and A broke her glasses by stretching the two arms to “make them tighter” and E kept nagging her ultimately leading to me putting myself in a time out only to have them drop in on me via Alexa a bunch of times.