The Elf on the Shelf landed at our place

For those of you who don't yet know it, The Elf on the Shelf is a gorgeous Christmas tradition that helps Santa know who to put on the Naughty and Nice list. At the start of each Christmas season, the elf appears to serve as Santa's eyes and ears, travelling back to the North Pole each and every night to make a detailed report of the day’s activities.  Visit www.elfontheshelf.com 

We started this gorgeous tradition this year.

Upon our return from a long weekend away, Santa, had left a present on our coffee table.  Master 4 opened it and it was our Elf with her explanation book.

Part of her magic and what binds her to us, is that we had to give her a name.

So we brainstormed.

Master 4 wanted to called her Elfie (very creative) or Fire Truck (she is a red elf so during the brainstorming, I asked him to think of something red to help us along!).  

We eventually decided upon Daisy.

So Daisy it is.

Daisy was in a different place every morning.  We have had such fun with her.  She is pretty cheeky.  Here are a few of her places:

Brushing your teeth is important

Playing with Lego
(she made a sled for
Master 4 to play with)

Peekaboo out of the drawer

Yummy banana

Weeeee! Having a ride

Upside down in the Kitchen

Calling the North Pole!

Hungry for breakfast

The boys loved it!  Every morning they would scramble out of bed to see what Daisy had been up to last night.  I'll admit that the "Don't forget, Daisy's watching" also came in handy a few times!  On Christmas Eve, when Santa came, Daisy flew back with Santa to the North Pole.  We'll see her next year.

Can't wait to see what she gets up to in 2013!

Happy New Year to you, may 2013 be filled with laughter, health and happiness.

The 5kg mission: Weeks 3 & 4

It's been four weeks of The 5kg mission.  

Follow the mission here:
The 5kg mission: The 5 step plan
The 5kg mission: Weeks 1 & 2

Week 3, I lost 1.8kg

Week 4, I put on 500g

So I am still ahead.

Four days of Week 4 were spent in New York City on a long weekend away with friends.  I found it difficult to maintain a low calorie regime while eating out for lunch and dinner.  Luckily in the US, many places list the amount of calories in each menu choice which I am finding really useful (and insightful).  Lucky we walked and walked and walked while we were there.

One thing that working in the health and fitness industry for five years has taught me is that the equation for successful weight loss is pretty simple - burn more calories than you consume.  Yes, there are sometimes genetic and medical factors that prohibit this from happening but for the majority of people there are two choices 1. Consume less calories or 2. Move more.

I know that I could lose weight quicker by taking up running or completely cutting out skinny latte's but the truth is - I don't wanna!

For me, this process needs to be realistic and sustainable.  Something I can follow and maintain.  I have already learnt things about this process just from keeping a food and exercise journal:

• The amount of cheese I was eating was a contributing factor to not being able to budge weight
• A couple of vodka and diet coke's on a Friday night is better than half a bottle of red wine
• Just get a coffee - don't get that muffin aswell - even if it is banana and blueberry (which sounds healthy but is full of calories)
• I love walking (and it does count as exercise)

These 5kg are annoying and I knew they were going to be. But, they will come off and I know that by doing it this way, they will STAY OFF and that is the shining beacon that keeps motivating me.

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Image courtesy of www.stockfreeimages.com

Public toilets and kids: a germ recipe for disaster

I am not over the top about germs or anything but public toilets are just GROCE.  Admittedly, some are worse than others.

Now that I have two little kids, using a public toilet has a completely new set of obstacles for all of us to overcome.

Master 4 has been toilet trained for some time but he is still not germ trained.  Master 1 thinks germs are delicious.

This is usually how it goes.

"Come on boys, lets go to the toilet before we leave"

I have each of my boys by the hand.  Ok, choose a cubicle.  I usually go to the one nearest to the entrance because I was once told that this is the cleanest.  The theory being that everyone else thinks that the first one gets used the most and go to the second or third cubicle.  Now that I write this, that seems like a load of crap and it makes no difference whatsoever, but it makes me feel better.

I usher both of them in.

Stepping in front of them so they don't both rush to touch the toilet seat, I lift up the toilet seat with my pinky finger so Master 4 can go.

"Off you go, bub", I say to him.  "Remember lean forward, watch what you are doing, don't rest your willy on the toilet bowl and don't touch ANYTHING". 

Poor kid - what a ridiculous set of instructions.

Meanwhile, I have Master 1 pretty much pinned against the cubicle door so that he can't touch anything.

After Master 4 is finished and pretty much before I can stop him, he grabs the toilet seat, not with his fingertip (like I have asked him to do a million times) but with both hands wrapped around the seat and slams it down. 

I tell them both to stand against the cubicle door and "Don't touch ANYTHING".

It gets infinitely worse when I need to go as well.  I start to do my business without touching any part of the toilet. But whilst I am hovering the following is happening:

Master 4 finds a bit of cream cheese on his hand left over from lunch and begins to lick his hand.  Master 1 has two hands on the toilet floor and is trying to look under the door. 

"Don't lick your hands", "Stand up please", I say.

Master 1 wanders past me to get a good look "back there" to see what's happening.  

Master 4 is playing with the lock.  "Don't..." too late, the door starts to swing open and I grab it from underneath with my foot, just in time, before I have more witnesses than one generally needs when peeing.

"Mumma, why do you have to sit down to do wee's?" Master 4 asks.  Still with one foot under the door, I cringe, do we have to do the differences between boys and girls talk right now?

I finish and stand up, trying to sort myself out.

Like a lightening bolt, Master 1 has squeezed past me to the sanitary napkin bin.  "Bang bang bang", he says grinning, opening and closing the lid.  

"No touching", I hiss, between clenched teeth.

Please get me out of here.

It amazes me that in the space of a couple of minutes, they have touched, wiped, stuck their fingers in or licked pretty much every part of that cesspool that they could.

Eeewwww....  I think I need to carry those chemical protection suits for each of them.  Bit far maybe?

I proceed to soap, wash and dry their hands.  Then sanitiser spray (just for good measure).

I think I might be a germaphobe after all?

Ready to go? Not with a toddler in tow!

Its date night! Yippee!

Dinner is booked. We have our babysitter coming. Can't wait.

Right, now to get ready.

The trick is to allow the exact right amount of time.  

Too little time and I am running around the place in my undies just as there is a knock at the door.  Too much time and I have my dress tucked into my undies so that it won't get snot/yoghurt/other sticky mess on it that little boys, with fingers pointed in the air, present to me "Mumma, yucky".  Either way, there is too much undies.

I am on schedule tonight.  I start the process at 4.30pm.  Have a shower and wash my hair.  Kids are coming in throwing books, cars, lego in the shower and Master 1 is incessantly playing with the toilet brush but hey, this is all normal.

Get the kids their dinner early so if they fuss and carry on, I have enough time not to get cranky about it. 

Ok, dinner went well.  Its now 5.30pm, babysitter is coming at 6.00pm. I am feeling smug at this point.  Got this getting ready thing all wrapped up.

Now I have 30mins to dry my hair and put my makeup on.  Normally this takes me about 15mins so I have double the time to make everything look a bit more special.  All good.

I slink off into the bathroom whilst the boys are playing on the floor.   

Then it all goes pear shaped.

I hear them starting to fight over a toy, I ignore it and start drying my hair. Over the hairdryer I can hear the fighting escalating and resist the temptation to go and referee.  "They are just going to have to work it out themselves" I say to myself.

Then I hear the thud thud thud of angry little feet. Uh oh. 

In they both tumble "Mumma, he took this...", "Mumma, he's not playing nicely..." "Mumma, he won't share...".  Here we go.

A tear streaked face comes between me and the bathroom cabinet "Mumma, up, up, up peeease".  I look down at him and brush in one hand, hairdryer in the other, give him a cuddle.  Oops forgot to turn the hairdryer off and my hair goes flying into the hairdryer, ripping about ten strands out of my head. "Owwwww, shhhiii....vers", I say.

I start to put my makeup on.  Master 1 goes into the bathroom cabinet drawers, gets out my stick of deodarant, pulls the top off and starts licking it. "Nooooooo, yucky" I shout.  

I put one knee against the drawers.

Master 4 starts with questions "How many stories is she going to read me?", "Is she going to give us a bath?" "I am going to tell her how to put the tap on, like this Mumma, look, MUUMMMMMAAA LOOOOOKKKKK" I ask Master 4 to go and choose the books for the sitter to read.

I can do this, I can do this, I'm almost there - I am chanting to myself.

Apparently the cuddle wasn't enough.  A little face comes between me and the bathroom cabinet again. "Mumma, up".  "Sorry bubba, can't pick you up right now, how about you go and find some books too".  "Mumma, up".  He is starting to push me away from the cabinet and the mirror.

By this point, I have one knee against the cabinet drawers and am almost bent in half, straining to see myself in the mirror to get my damn mascara on.  "MUMMMA, MUMMA, MUMMA UUUPPPPP, UUUPPPP, PEEASE, PEEASE, PEEASE".

This is a nightmare.

Giving up, Master 1 walks out of the room.  I feel bad.  Time check, its 5.55pm.  Arrgghhh, I rush through the rest of my makeup, jump into my dress, just as the the sitter knocks at the door.  I manage to pull my dress out of my undies just as I open the door. Phew.

Mr Jones arrives home a few minutes later, "You ready to go?" he asks.

"Yep, all good", I lie.

As I walk out the door, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and realise I have only put mascara on one eye...

I am getting a lock for the bathroom door.

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Image courtesy of www.stockfreeimages.com

The 5kg mission: Weeks 1 & 2

It has been two weeks of the 5kg mission.

I have been sticking to my plan - The 5kg mission: The 5 step plan

Week 1, I lost 1.5 kg - YAY!

Week 2, I put on 1.5 kg - BOO!

Right now, I feel very pissed off frustrated.

I have been meticulously recording every morsel of food consumed and exercise completed.  I have kept within my daily calorie allowance for losing a healthy 500g per week.  I have increased my water intake and I have been adhering to my regular weekly exercise.

Week 1 was great.  After weigh in day, I was excited and proud that my will power and determination was working and my hard work was paying off.

What happened in Week 2, I hear you ask?  Well, I don't want to make excuses but there was Thanksgiving (aka food induced coma) and our 10 year wedding anniversary meaning there was a calorie blowout.  Weigh in day was also two days before my period was due (sorry for the detail but I blow up like a puffer fish with water retention around that time, so I think its relevant!).

So, I guess, that is what happened.

There is one thing that I am finding the hardest - no/limited cheese.

Cheese is the thorn in my side.  I LOVE IT!  Especially around that 5-7pm time.  All I want is cheese.  I could eat slabs and slabs of it.  I could give or take chocolate, biscuits, ice-cream or anything else sweet but cheese gets me every time.

The 5kg cheese monster has knocked me down but I am picking myself up again and getting back on track.  Still, weight gain is a blow to the motivation.  Having said all this, its not just about the scales.  My pants are feeling looser and that is always a good sign, right? Hang on, these are actually my stretchy, bloated, period pants.

Oh well, I am determined that next weigh in day will be different...
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Image courtesy of www.stockfreeimages.com