I don’t know about you but sometimes all of my domestic motivation goes away somewhere and I have no drive whatsoever to feed my family. On those days I would pretty much rather do anything other than cook dinner.
My domesticity has its limits, you see. Just ask Brent who, years ago, made the mistake of asking me what I did all weekend while he was at work. When my response was laundry he snorted and said, “That’s not a lot of work. You could have done more.”
Guess who ended up washing his own undies… for a year?
That was early on in our marriage and he’s learned since then. I think it kind of scarred him because now he won’t tell me if I make a crappy dinner for fear of hurting my feelings… or having me go on strike again. (It could happen, you know.) So, I never know if he’s enjoying what I’ve made or not. That all changed the other night when I made Lighter Sesame Chicken. I could tell that he was really enjoying it and Bridget liked it too even though there was broccoli in every bite. The best part was that it really wasn’t as much work as I thought it would be.
All of the chicken is coated in a tempura like batter that is actually made of egg whites and corn starch. All of the chicken is fried in only 1 tablespoon of oil. Not bad! I served it over brown Jasmine rice which I have learned to cook ahead of time and keep on hand for dinners like this. I’ll also use it to make Bridget’s favorite breakfast…Papa’s Breakfast Rice.
My Grandpa used to make it for me when I would visit using white rice and cooking it with milk, cinnamon and sugar. The tradition has continued and my dad makes it for Bridget when we go back to Wichita Falls, TX. So when we miss my dad and get a little home sick I make her my healthier version. I just reheat the rice with almond milk, brown sugar (less than the Grandpa’s use), cinnamon and top it off with raisins and sliced almonds. My version of comfort food.
Anyway, not only have I forced myself to wear my apron and put dinner on the table all week but I’ve also been really active. My favorite time of the day to go out and play is right before sunset. I’ve been taking Penelope out on bike rides during this time and let the crickets and sprinklers serenade her until she’s ready for bed. As the breeze blows through my hair I can’t help but think about when I was a kid and practically lived on my bicycle.
The first time I learned how to ride my bike I felt like I had obtained a new super power. I remember practicing in an old school parking lot with my dad as two older boys walked by. I heard them talking about me as I sped by on my bike. When I looped around toward my dad I said, “Hey Dad, did you hear what they said?”
“What did they say?”
“They said… ‘Boy, that girl sure can speed!'”
Later on, my dad told me with a chuckle that he actually did hear what they said and it was more along the lines of “Hey Steve, wait for me!”
So, apparently my delusional over-confidence manifested early in life… that’s okay, it does leave me feeling like I have secret powers. For instance, while I did box jumps today I felt like I was a ninja landing gracefully on the weights stacked up to my waist.
I managed to clear 31 inches. I probably could have done more but then something humiliating happened…
I heard a resounding slap sound emit from my body. The left over hanging skin from my stomach somehow slapped against itself. Brent and my friend Amanda asked me what the noise was and my face turned red. You would have thought I farted or something. I told them I just popped. “What popped?” Shut up! It was My foopa, “Umm, my hip.”
That’s right, I lied… I stuck to my lie and continued to workout and cried about it later after I told Brent what really happened. But at the time I didn’t stop to let it bother me because I wasn’t done with my workout yet.
In fact, that’s what I keep on doing. Pushing through all of the things that bother me about myself. Picking at the things that I hate about my body doesn’t do anything but drag me down. It starts off innocent enough but before you know it you’re getting sucked into a whirlpool of low self-esteem. It’s so hard to get out of that cycle. So instead I’ll continue to focus on the aspects that make me proud. I’m strong. I’m agile. I’m flexible. And I’m healthy, finally… I’m healthy.
With that knowledge I keep pushing on. So tomorrow when I strip down naked to weigh myself in front of the mirror I’ll look past that empty pocket of flesh that used to hold a baby and instead focus my eyes on the curve of my waist that is starting to make its girlish reappearance. I’ll look at my legs that are getting strong and lean. Then I’ll straighten my broad shoulders, look myself straight in the face, involuntarily pucker my lips out (it’s my go to mirror look) and fluff my hair. I’ll look at my bright blue eyes and focus on the determination that is staring back at me. Because I’ve got this… foopa and all 😉