I didn’t want to do it.  But you gave me no choice.

I mentioned I had a workout routine that was helping me sleep like a baby, and in response, I got over 117 comments, emails and Tweets asking for details on what I’m doing at home to keep in shape, keep my sleep cycles in rhythm and keep men who are addicted to root beer and overpriced resort wear interested.  Okay, I added that last part.  Wishful thinking.

I hesitated to post my workout plans because I’m not a trainer.  I’m not a doctor.  I’m not a fitness model.

But it’s Wacky Wednesday, and rather then return 117 emails, I decided to go ahead and post the details here.  And for those of you who could care less how I sweat on my living room floor, I promise I’ll have an amazing dinner recipe tomorrow you’ll want to come back for.

Please note: the information on this website and in the training program are my opinions and are not a replacement for medical advice. You should consult a physician before starting any diet or exercise program. If you choose to follow this workout program without consulting your physician, you are doing so at your own risk. We claim no responsibility for any injuries you might sustain.

I formulated this workout based on workouts I’ve found in Oxygen magazine and fitness books and DVDs I enjoy.

As far as equipment goes for my “home gym,” I have:

• A watch with a timer to set for intervals (I have a Nike Triax)
• Dumbbells with adjustable plates (though SelectTech adjustable dumbbells are on my wish list)
• An iPod with headphones
• My favorite weight workout DVDs (Jackie Warner Power Circuit Training DVD or Chris’ Freytag’s 10 Pound Slim Down DVD)
• A stability ball
• My DVR, packed with Bethenny Ever After and other shows that no one else will watch with me
• A six-year old Epic treadmill from Costco that is crammed between my car, tricycles and Christmas decorations

This is where the magic happens.  Pea Daddy is cringing that I’m showing you our garage right now.

At first glance, the workout plan looks like a lot, but really, each daily workout takes about an hour, so it’s only around 6 hours a week.

Here’s what I’m doing:

Day 1: HIIT (20 min.) + full body/moderate weight (I’m using this day to do the total body workout on my Jackie Warner Power Circuit Training DVD)

Day 2: Steady state cardio (I’m running at ~6.0 mph/0 incline for 30 minutes, then walking at 3.5 mph/10.0 incline for 30 minutes) + ab work (10 min.)

Day 3: HIIT (20 min.) + heavy lower body weights (30 min.) + ab work (10 min.)

Day 4: Steady state cardio (30 min. either running or incline walk) + light upper body weights (30 min.) + ab work (10 min.)

Day 5: HIIT (20-30 min.) + light lower body weights (30 min.) + ab work (10 min.)

Day 6: Steady state cardio (30 min. either running or incline walk) + heavy upper body weights (30 min.) + ab work (10 min.)

Day 7:  Rest

Here are the weight routines I’m using on days 2-6.  On the heavy days, I do 3 sets of 8-10, as heavy as I can go to failure.  You can determine your own weights used on your personal fitness, but don’t be afraid to go heavy!  On the light days, I do 3 sets of 12-15 with lighter weights for sculpting or else I do either the upper or lower body weight workouts, respectively,  from the Jackie Warner Power Circuit Training DVD or Chris’ Freytag’s 10 Pound Slim Down DVD.

Lower body:

Squats (wide stance)

Deadlifts

Lunges

Squats (narrow stance)

Ham curls on stability ball

Single leg squats

Upper body:

Bicep curls

Dumbbell bench press

Lying tricep extensions

Hammer curls

Shoulder press

Concentrated preacher curls

Ab work:

1) 40 straight leg crunches

40 raised legs crunches

40 overhead crunches

+ 1 final superset of 20 each

2) 40 reverse crunches

40 tummy tucks (hands by your side, crunch in and out with legs in and out)

40 gorilla swings

+ 1 final superset of each

For cardio, as I mentioned, I like to do High Intensity Interval Training workouts three days a week. HIIT means doing a number of short bursts of intense exercise with short recovery breaks in between.  Not only are the workouts efficient for those of you who have to make Second Breakfast for the kids, but they are also proven to be more effective at burning calories and fat.

There are several different types of HIIT workouts you can do on the treadmill, ranging from walking on an incline to sprints.  Here are three of my favorites.

The Body for Life HIIT is based on the Rate of Perceived Exertion, in other words how hard you feel you are working.  For me, a “5” is a light jog and a “10” is a full-on sprint.  But you could technically do this entire workout walking.

This workout is from my friend Brittany and was featured on FitSugar. I like it because it incorporates walking and running and switches it up frequently.

This sprinting/jogging workout is probably my favorite and the one I did this morning.  You can adjust the speeds as your fitness level improves.

That’s it!  I’ve been using these workouts for about a month and have noticed a big difference in my moods, sleep behaviors and muscle tone.  It’s key to make sure you are getting enough calories and protein when taking on a new exercise program, especially one as weights focused as this one.  I aim to get between .8 – 1 gram of protein of body weight per day and I always fuel properly before and after my workouts.  (For ideas on balanced meal plans, you can check out the Pealightful Plans.)

Wacky, eh?

And as promised, I’ll be back tomorrow with a dinner recipe that you’ll love, (that happens to be high in protein)!  You may want to press your tofu tonight in preparation…

1.  Don’t hit your sister with an umbrella for calling Wednesday “Wacky Wednesday.”

2. Pea Daddy isn’t allowed to fold towels.  Ever.  When you open the linen closet and nearly drown in an avalanche of terry cloth, you’ll understand why.  “Towel wads” don’t stack.

3.  Don’t say the “B” word. (Butt)

4.  You must wear some sort of pants or skirt underneath sheer tutus.  No one wants to see your “B” word.

5.  Don’t take your umbrella into the post office on a day when it is not raining, but if you must, at least make sure it is closed.

6.  Don’t hit your sister with an umbrella for a second time for beating you to and pressing the assisted entry button at the post office.

7.  No Tosh.0 while I am blogging.  Pea Daddy laughs so hard that I get distracted, lose my train of thought and wind up watching ridiculous people do moronic things on video right along with him.

I’m inviting you to do the same.

And if that wasn’t good enough.

They don’t call it Wacky Wednesday for nothin’.

Surprised that today was the first time I’ve cleaned a toilet and mopped the floor (we’ve been busy!).

Surprised that Gigi was playing “Disneyland” this morning and was almost in tears because there was a “20- minute wait for the Teacups!”  I love the imagination, but she needs to learn to have it work for her instead of against her.

Surprised that I have yet to provide you with a proper food recap that consisted of more than the girls eating giant pickles.

So instead of showing you pictures of me scrubbing the porcelain or Gigi distraught about the crowds in her mind, I’m going to give you a little look back at our trip from a food perspective.

Disneyland, in a word, was surprising. (I promise, that’s the last time I’ll use that word)

In a perfect world, Gigi would actually have her eyes open in this picture, but at least we are all happy.  I think Gigi’s closing her eyes tight in fear that her “Fairy Godmother” is going to come running out of the Bibbidy Bobbity Boutique with the hairspray can again.

But back to the food.  It seemed like every restaurant we visited in the park had at least a vegetarian option, and many times a vegan option too.  Had I been extremely discerning, I may have found that there was hidden dairy in some of my meals, but I felt pretty good about the choices I made.

The obvious choice, at least for breakfast, was Jamba Juice in Downtown Disney.

We’d swing by here nearly everyday on our way into the parks.  Jamba Juice has a line of all-fruit smoothies, my personal favorite being the Five Fruit Frenzy (strawberries, blueberries, banana, mango and peaches).  My real love at Jamba Juice, though is their Steel Cut Oats.

Creamy, nutty, and delicious, they are totally vegan (they are cooked in soy milk).  Be wary of the add-ins if you eat dairy-free, because the brown sugar crumble and apple cinnamon toppings have milk.  I brought my own brown rice protein powder and almond butter to add to mine.

An extra bonus was that my oats were only $1 when someone else in our party ordered a smoothie, so you can bet I was coaxing the girls into some daily Mega Mango action.

Suck it down, my beauty.  Mama loves a bargain.

In a perfect world, my protein powder wouldn’t have been quite so messy, but I was happy.  I’m pretty sure people were on the lookout for Lindsay Lohan when they came across my breakfast bench.

Another meal I enjoyed in Downtown Disney was from the La Brea Bakery.

This was the Asian Salad with romaine, Napa cabbage, roasted corn, carrots, bell peppers, wontons, green onions, mandarin oranges and sesame dressing.  The serving was huge and it was really delicious.

I also liked that they offered vegetarian choices on their kids’ menu beyond the usual chicken fingers and hot dogs, including spaghetti with marinara that the girls gobbled up.

In a perfect world, my salad would have had tofu or at least some sort of beans for some extra protein…and Lulu wouldn’t have peed at the dinner table, but I was a happy, if not slightly damp.

When it came to food in the park, the choices were even more varied.  I nearly peed at the dinner table myself when I found tofu.  Tofu in Disneyland!!!!

This is the teriyaki tofu bowl from The Lucky Fortune Cookery at the Pacific Wharf in California Adventure.  I wolfed this down two nights in a row for dinner.  The veggies were fresh and crisp and the sauce was light and tangy.  In a perfect world, there would have been more veggies and tofu and less rice, but I was happy.

Pea Daddy was excited to find a Veggie Burger at the Hungry Bear Restaurant in Critter Country in Disneyland.

While the option was admirable, I had no problems with bladder control on this one. It was no Stuffed Bean Burger.  I was, however, pleased that the burgers came on whole grain buns, that they were made of distinguishable vegetables, chickpeas and brown rice, and that you could sub fries for apple slices.  In a perfect world, they would have offered more vegetable toppings, like pickles, lettuce and maybe an avocado slice (this is California, after all), but it wasn’t the worst veggie burger I ever had, and I was happy.

A real winner that we also found at the Pacific Wharf in California Adventure was a vegetarian chili in a bread bowl.

Delicious.  I simply requested the bowl without the cheese and was given a doughy, delicious breadbowl full of rich tomato base, pinto and kidney beans and corn, with just a hint of spice.  You can get a similar meal in New Orleans’ Square in the Disneyland park with a vegan gumbo, but I never got to try that.  For the love of all that is holy, do not ask.  In a perfect world, the bread would have been whole grain, but this filled my belly and I was happy.

Another great find in California Adventure was the Mediterranean Platter from the Picnics restaurant.  This restaurant was created in conjunction with the World of Color show that goes on each evening, but I just walked right up to the counter and ordered this platter for lunch.

On the plate were “marinated grilled vegetables in a whole wheat wrap with roasted garlic hummus, raw zucchini and squash spaghettini with  lemon-infused olive oil, vegetable couscous with toasted coriander vinaigrette, and lemon layer cake.”  The wrap was perfect, and even inspired a quick weeknight dinner once we returned home.  In a perfect world, the sides would have been dressed more lightly and I wouldn’t have handed over the decidedly non-vegan cake over to Pea Daddy for dessert, but he was happy, and so was I.

One of the best meals I had on the trip came from Ariel’s Grotto on Paradise Pier in Downtown Disney.

I was actually quite concerned about this meal, because nothing on the menu looked like anything I could work with.  There weren’t any salads and the only meat-free option, a pasta dish, was a cheese-filled agnolotti (which Pea Daddy ordered and said was quite delicious).  I called the Disney Dining Line the night before, though (714-781-DINE), and was astonishingly given the chef’s private line!  When it went to voicemail,  I told him when we would be dining at the Grotto and my request (something meat and dairy-free).  Then I crossed my fingers.

When we got to the Grotto, I explained to our very friendly waitress my request.  The chef came out to greet me, told me what he had planned and then set this beautiful dish in front of me.

This was one of the most delicious vegan meals I’ve had, Disney or not.  It consisted of rice noodles, stir-fried vegetables, including bok choy, sundried tomatoes and portabella mushrooms, and a light, slightly spicy sauce.  I ate all I could, and it was incredible. The atmosphere didn’t hurt any either.

In a perfect world, they would have thrown me a handsome prince or two (besides my own Pea Daddy), but a couple little princesses and I were happy.

Speaking of princesses, the girls were able to get apple slices, baby carrots, peanut butter and jelly, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, cheese pizza, and string cheese at most restaurants in the park.  In a perfect world, there’d be more options involving vegetables and the dairy choices would be organic, but their meals were meatless, so I was happy.

With all these healthy choices, you’d think we never indulged in some typical Disney treats.  You’d be wrong.

Fresh popped popcorn,

Mickey Mouse shaped ice cream sandwiches,

giant pickles,

and rice krispie treats.

Sure, not what we’d choose at home, but we got to take a fun vacation in a magical place.

We made some great memories.

Only slightly regretting a few.

(I loved it.  Gigi did not.  I am the world’s worst mother.)

And we got to have a wonderful time with the ones we love most.

And that to me…

is a darn near perfect world.  And I was happy.

(source)

That’s a little frightening.

I stayed true to my word and kept the celebrations to a minimum, but I was determined to find some time this weekend to bake Lu some birthday cupcakes.  Finding time proved harder than it seemed.

I’m told Lulu appreciated her birthday post as Pea Daddy read it to her the next morning.  I had gotten up when it was still dark outside and was busy rooting on my absolutely amazing friend Melissa as she ran her half-marathon in Wine Country.

I went for a quick run myself while Melissa was tearing up her 13.1 miles in a new PR.  I figured as long as I worked up a decent sweat I’d be entitled to a free bagel and a glass of Pinot.  Maybe I’d even talk my way into a medal.

No such luck on any of those counts.  But I had a beautiful, hand-crafted “medal” waiting for me at home.

“Moderation” is not in any of the Peas’ vocabulary.

My kitchen floor looked like a cross between an Adam Lambert video and a strip club for the rest of the weekend.  I’ll be selling these beauties in an Etsy store for $89.95 next week.

By the end of this post, you’ll want one too.

Between glitter cleanup and the “medal ceremony,” I didn’t get a chance to make cupcakes, but we did make it to the carousel.

And we let Lulu choose anywhere she wanted to go out to dinner.  Did she choose a trendy vegan cafe in an upscale Portland neighborhood? Nah.  But she didn’t choose Chuck E. Cheese’s either.

She, of course, chose a salad bar buffet known as Sweet Tomatoes.  There was obviously no shortage of cheese, though.  What’s “moderation” mean again?

Gift opening at Mimi and Poppy’s was also reminiscent of Chuck E. Cheese.

Whac-a-Mole!  They’ve had a display version of the game out at Target for the last few weeks, and when I asked Lulu what she wanted to do on her birthday, she said, “Go to Target and play Whac-a-Mole!” Thankfully Mimi and Poppy hooked her up, or I might still be on the toy aisle watching my toddler giggle and scream while she simulates animal cruelty.

She gets so into it that she uses two mallets.  Go hard or go home.  PETA is waiting outside my door with a can of red paint and a megaphone.

The Whac-a-Mole tourney went late into the night.  I’m beginning to think Mimi and Poppy had ulterior motives in buying the game.

Once we finally weaseled the game out of Mimi and Poppy’s white-knuckled clutches and made it home, it was too late to bake cupcakes.  But no one ever said you can’t have cupcakes for breakfast.

Except for that one time I did.  Oh well, some rules are meant to be broken…in moderation.

Chocolate Covered Strawberry Cupcakes

Makes 12 cupcakes

• 2 c. whole wheat pastry flour
• 1 c. organic sugar
• 1/2 c. cocoa powder
• 1 t. baking soda
• 1/2 t. salt
• 1/3 c. canola oil
• 1 t. vanilla
• 1 t. white vinegar
• 1 c. non-dairy or organic milk
• 1/3 c. strawberry preserves
• thinly sliced strawberries and organic powdered sugar for garnish

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine flour, sugar, cocoa, baking soda and salt in a large bowl.

In a measuring cup, combine oil, vanilla, vinegar and milk.  Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until combined.

Fill prepared muffin cups with batter until 2/3rds of the way full.

Bake cupcakes for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center of a cupcake comes out clean.  Allow cupcakes to cool.

Insert the end of the knife into the center of each cooled cupcake and turn to make a small hole.  Place strawberry preserves into a pastry bag with a medium wide tip.

Place the tip of the bag in the center of the cupcake and pipe the preservers into the hole.

Top each cupcake with a thin strawberry slice.

Dust cupcakes with powdered sugar.

I think they were worth the wait.

Cupcakes for breakfast?  At-home arcade games?  A trip to Disneyland?

Happy Birthday, indeed.

Let’s just hope for Mickey’s sake those mallets don’t work their way into the suitcase.  You know I won’t leave home without my medal, though.

Growing up, sports were something I always felt like I should do, but never really something I wanted to do.  I was perfectly happy to sit in an empty refrigerator box and read stories about babysitting clubs, blond twins from Sweet Valley and a red-haired orphan’s adventures on Prince Edward Island.  I’d plow through books faster than my mom could buy or borrow them and as a result, I’d read the same stories over and over again.  Or else I’d write my own, hunting and pecking away at my grandma’s electric typewriter.

Even though my parents always cultivated my love of reading and writing, I was also encouraged to try something a little more physical.  Anything.  “Just get out and get some color on those cheeks!”  I was lazy.  I was clumsy.  I was slow. I wished someone would assassinate the president if it meant we’d get out of his stupid fitness tests with that torturous arm hang.  And the jog-a-thon, the school fundraiser wherein we’d hit up our neighbors and relatives for money per lap we’d run in an hour, was a nightmare.  My hard sell was, “Listen, Grams, we know I’m not going to be setting any records here.  Why don’t you just give me a flat $5 and call it good?”

I’m sure my lack of athleticism was only magnified by my brother’s ability to turn even a race to the mailbox into a gold-medal winning event.  They didn’t call him “Fast Eddie” for nothing.  He even went to the Junior National Olympics in the sixth grade, and medaled on his 4×400 relay team.  I stayed home and read in my box.  And though I was well-read and becoming a skilled writer, it didn’t earn me medals, accolades or popularity.  It simply made me different and introverted.

I pretty much stayed in my box until the summer when I was thirteen and I grew a foot.  Then, instead of being encouraged to run, I was constantly told, “You should play basketball!”  Yes, Shorty, and you should play miniature golf.  But I quit fighting it and got out in the driveway with my brother, who quit running long enough to show me how to shoot and dribble.  And through a lot of hours, shoveling snowy driveways, spending summers at camps, sprained ankles and jammed fingers, I actually became pretty good.  Good enough to earn a little money to play in college.  I felt accomplished and proud.

Not so proud of the red lipstick and Aqua Net bangs.  Yeesh.

My sports story could have ended there.  Sometimes I wish it had.  But something in me wanted to prove that I wasn’t that awkward little girl struggling around the grade school track during the Mile Run.  I wanted to not be the outcast trying to catch the “mean girls” that I tried to befriend as they’d walk around the track at recess, only to have them take off running when I’d get within about 15 feet of them.  I wanted to catch them and prove that I was good enough.

And so I started running.  I didn’t love it.  It wasn’t a passion.  But I felt redemption when I finished my first and second half-marathons.  I had turned myself into a runner, surprising everyone:  my family, my friends and mostly myself.  I felt accomplished and proud.

The problem is, I just wasn’t meant to be a runner.  Not everyone is.  Some people don’t have the joints, the lung capacity, the right arches in their feet or even the right spine structure, for goodness sake.  And I promise, it doesn’t make you any less of an athlete, it doesn’t make you lazy and it doesn’t mean you don’t have ambition.  It just means you aren’t a runner, and that is that.  I’m just sorry it took a ruptured disc and some surgery for me to realize that.

And now, as a mom, I see Gigi’s sports story beginning.  She’s seen me run.  She knows I played basketball.  And she has the added benefit of looking to other women for inspiration.

I’m proud that my daughters are alive at a time when they can see women’s college soccer be celebrated.

A time when men will take their shirts off for the women.

You can take yours off too, Pea Daddy.  I won’t complain.

It’s exciting that women’s sports warrant a mascot, as creepy as he may be.

I’m glad my girls can be a cheerleader,

and concessions-tester,

or they can participate themselves,

if they so choose.  But if they want to write, sing, paint or cook, I hope that with our encouragement and support, it will give them just as much pride and confidence as scoring a goal or winning a race.

As for my own sports story, even though I’ll never run a marathon, or even another half-marathon for that matter, I know there’s got to be a new ending for me.  I’m ready to find a new challenge, be it on foot, on bike or in the water.  Or maybe I’ll just be on the sidelines, happy to coach, cheer and peck away on my keyboard.

I have a feeling I’ll still feel accomplished and very, very proud.

I usually head out for a run or to lift weights pretty early, but I like to make sure the fort is held down before I leave.  Today that included breakfast appetizers.

There’s always time for a quick warm up with the old Cheerios toss.

It may be a choking hazard.  It may entail eating dropped cereal off the floor.  It may not be teaching “good manners.”  But it sure is fun.

After I put on my shoes to depart, it prompted the most logical activity for the girls: a “new school shoes” walk-off.  Stomp to the death, ladies.

Lulu calls these shoes “Twinkle Toes.”  Her toes have been twinkling for about 36 hours straight now, and if you’ve never tried it, sleeping in shoes isn’t easy.

There is no more appropriate time for synthetic suede, fuchsia pom pom boots than a 90-degree day in August.

After a sweaty half an hour or so, I returned to make breakfast.  Cat-haired covered Cheerios only curb hunger for so long.  Of course there were activities planned for the interim.  Like painting.

And deep conversation.  The topic at hand was  coveted “Pillow Pet” that Gigi and Lulu won’t stop talking about.

After Pea Daddy asked what a Pillow Pet was, Lulu explained,”It’s a pillow…that’s a pet, Daddy!”

Duh.

If I get her one, can we exchange it for the pet we already have?

Just asking.

At one point during the intellectual discourse, someone dropped the paints on the ground.

Naturally this led to a rousing version of “Pants on the Ground,” with the lyrics changed to “Paints on the Ground.”

You can’t hear that song and NOT dance.

Paints on the ground…paints on the ground…

Looking like a fool with your paints on the ground…

Wait, who’s making breakfast?

Ginger Peach Pancakes

Makes 8-12 large pancakes

• 1 1/3 c. whole wheat pastry flour
• 1 T. baking powder
• 2 t. ginger, finely minced (you can grate, if you prefer)
• 1/4 t. salt
• 2 t. stevia or sweetener of choice
• 1 1/2 c. non-dairy or organic milk
• 1 t. vanilla extract
• 2 T. canola oil
• 1 large peach, peeled and chopped

In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, ginger, salt and stevia.  In a separate bowl, combine milk, vanilla and oil.  Pour wet mixture into dry and stir until just combined and let batter rest.

Place a skillet sprayed with non-stick cooking spray over medium heat.  Pour batter into pan to form pancakes.
Sprinkle chopped peaches on top.

Let cakes cook on one side for several minutes, until bubbles start to form and pancakes are golden brown.  Flip pancakes and cook for an additional 1-2 minutes.

Serve with maple syrup and Earth Balance, if desired.

Then we ate!

Bliss is eating ginger peach pancakes in fuchsia boots.

I am a responsible parent and we waited at least sixty minutes before departing for our now daily swim.  I’m just grateful I was able to pry the Twinkle Toes from Lulu’s feet.

If I only I had convinced Gigi.

If you haven’t tried it, swimming in fuchsia boots isn’t easy.

Our church offers three services: 8:15, 9:45 and 11:15 a.m.  You can bet we are always at the 11:15 services…exactly at 11:30.  I could blame it on the fact that we refuse to set an alarm on the weekend, but the truth is, we haven’t set an alarm since May 2005.

I’m having a hard time recalling at exactly what age I stopped wanting to get up at 4:30 a.m. to watch cartoons.  I’d creep into my parents’ room in my pink Winnie the Pooh footies from which, unfortunately, the little piggie who “went to market” was trying to lodge his escape from.  I’d get no more than three centimeters from my peacefully sleeping mother’s face, wait exactly eight seconds to see if she was breathing and then shout, “Are ‘tartoons on yet, Mom?!” Once my father had grabbed the paddles and shocked my mother’s heart back into rhythm, she’d point out that it was still dark outside and that the only thing on TV were the test patterns.  Of course, I already knew this because I’d taught myself how to turn on the TV about six months earlier and had been awake for an hour already, staring at “the rainbow” and trying to pick out my favorite color.

The insomniac doesn’t fall far from the tree, and now it’s Gigi who is karmically waking at inappropriate hours.  Fortunately, Pea Daddy’s side of the bed is closer to our bedroom door, and the girls have been appropriately conditioned to wake Daddy and Daddy alone.  Yogurt covered raisins aren’t just for potty training, my friends.

Our tardiness for church lies not in oversleeping, but in the need to try to cram as many things in before church as possible.  Yogurt covered raisins also apply here.

Lawn maintenance?  Check.

His and Her Workouts?  Check.

Laundry?  Check.

Ballet recital/fashion show/tea parties/”pedicures?”  Triple check.

Showers?  Um…check?

Quick breakfast?  Check.

(smoothie made of protein powder, almond milk, spinach and blueberries + 1/2 an Ezekiel muffin with Tofutti, cinnamon and raisins)

Even on days like today, when we were out of the house at 10:45, there’s always something that makes us late, be it an argument about which of the three carseat buckles Lulu is going to fasten BY HERSELF or a near empty gas tank from repeat excursions to the Old Man Store.

So when we roll into church at 11:30 each week, our usual pew is waiting for us, our pew neighbors have programs ready to hand us and the pastor, mid-prayer, throws in a statement about “being diligent in the Lord,” as his eyebrow raises in our direction.  We would surely be forgiven if we sat quietly, sang on key or did not shriek, “I WANT GUM!!!” while pushing a gigantic purse that sounds as if it is filled with metal chains, maracas and janitor’s keys off the pew bench and cascading to the floor.  Then there are the eleven trips from our pew to the bathroom, the library, the Children’s Message, the nursery and back again to retrieve a clean diaper and the entire contents of the wipes container thanks to the lovely “offering” that Lulu has made to the child care workers.  I take solace in the fact that there was mention of “sweet Jesus” as I tended to that beauty.

Actual time spent at church today: 1 hour and 13 minutes.

Actual time spent in prayer, meditation or connecting to God: 47 seconds.

I like to believe that God is a big believer in “better late than never.”  When it comes to Sunday breakfast, I know I am…like for Sunday dinner.

Tofu Scrambles

• 1 block organic firm tofu (crumbled, drained and squeezed dry)
• 1 tsp. minced garlic
• 1/2 t. cumin
• 1/2 t. tumeric
• 1 t. lemon juice
• 2 t. Braggs amino acids
• 1 t. soy sauce
• 1 T. nutritional yeast
• any steamed veggies desired (mushrooms, kale, red pepper, zucchini, etc.)

Drain, crumble, squeeze and pat dry tofu.  Add all seasonings.

Stir until evenly coated and set aside for at least ten minutes for flavors to absorb.

Add tofu to a preheated skillet sprayed with cooking spray.  Cook over medium high heat, until tofu is warmed through and golden, about five minutes.

Remove any tofu that certain family members may want without veggies, then add desired veggies and stir through.

We served it up with some tempeh bacon and enjoyed a nice Sunday breakfast…at 6 p.m.

This is virtually indistinguishable from scrambled eggs, I promise.  After a year and a half of trying, I finally found a way Pea Daddy likes tofu.

I’ll try to remember to thank God next Sunday.

I wasn’t looking to lose weight at the time, I’d already lost all my baby weight and then some, through skipping meals and acting as a personal all-you-can-eat buffet to a nursing baby. I had no balance in my life, and was basically at a colicky infant’s beck and call, so discovering this way of eating (and exercising in the accompanying book, Body for Life) was a godsend for me.

The general premise of the plan is shorter, more intense workouts (high intensity interval training three times a week and strenuous weights three times a week), coupled with a nutrition plan comprised of six mini meals, each containing a balance of good carbs, protein and fat (you can read more about the benefits/details of the plan with Janetha‘s great description here).

While the plan is generally a weight loss plan, and boasts some Biggest Loser worthy transformations in twelve week challenges,

I actually had a different, yet wonderful, effect of gaining some weight and specifically lean mass.

Great, right? The problem is, my typical day of eating, while balanced on a macro nutrient level, included several chicken breasts, a couple cups of cottage cheese, and many scoops of whey protein. I feel the mucous creeping into my throat right now. I also wasn’t eating many green vegetables and my “free days” were spent with a Burgerville bacon cheeseburger and chocolate hazelnut shake. I was very committed to the lifestyle, though, and I even started my own small business out of my home preparing BFL friendly meals and helping several people lose a lot of weight.

At some point, though, I got away from balanced eating again. I suspect it had something to do with feeling insecure about my more muscular physique.

Who’d win at an arm wrestle there? I’m just not sure.

I lived in dietary limbo for awhile, had another baby, as you all know, and then I found food blogs. After reading Skinny Bitch and Diet for a New America, I became vegan.

While I’ve experienced some great health effects of veganism, including better energy overall and increased immunity to colds and flu, I’ve also experienced loss of muscle tone and an increase in yeast and bladder infections, becoming more of a “Fluffy, Antibiotic Dependent Bitch.” I don’t fault veganism, per se for this problem, but more specifically the way I’ve been doing veganism: lots of fruits (fresh and dried), moderate amounts of nuts, minimal grains and legumes, abundant vegetables, yet insignificant amounts of protein. While I do feel a high amount of protein is not essential to good health in general, for the type of workouts I do and my natural build, I think it is beneficial.

Mmm…sugary.

I also feel I’ve become a little out of whack with that “balance” aspect with both my workouts and meal timing. My weight workouts have become less productive, my cardio has become for a longer duration and less intense, and my eating has become nearly constant, which I believe is my body’s way of trying to capture the nutrients it’s been lacking. I’ve felt a bit weighed down physically from the constant digestion, because while breaking down meat and dairy is more taxing, breaking down two pounds of carrots and a pound of broccoli each day is also work.

So where does that leave me? I find myself being drawn to the Body for Life workouts, the balanced eating and meal timing, but in no way do I want to start consuming meat or animal products again. Though many people have found success with BFL with a vegetarian diet, aside from specifically vegan body builders and triathletes, I have yet to find an example of someone achieving great results in everyday life with a vegan diet. I’d like to try.

For the record:

• I’m not going on a diet and I’m not looking to lose weight. I have no idea what I weigh, nor do I care to know.
• I’m not cutting calories. I’m simply exchanging the macro nutrients of where those calories come from, swapping some fruit and nuts for more grains and lean protein.
• I will be eating more soy, which though controversial, I feel is safe for me. I intend to use soy in its’ least processed forms whenever possible (more organic tofu and tempeh, less Morningstar Chick’n Nuggets), yet look to alternative protein sources as well, like rice, pea and hemp protein, nutritional yeast and sprouted grains (and I’ll be dusting off my copy of Thrive).
• I will be working out less frequently, but with higher intensity, and specifically the HIIT and weights workouts in the book. I’m done grieving the loss of my long distance running days and have accepted that I just physically am unable to do that anymore. I am hoping these shorter workouts will also give me more time to spend with my family and to figure out who these teeny boppers were on American Idol last night.

So what do you think? Have you ever tried the Body for Life approach to fitness and nutrition?

I have Day 1 of this revamped approach to eating under my belt and am ready to share, if you all are interested in a food diary style post. I still intend to have my usual posts of recipes and stories, but if you want to see my own personal changes as well, I can throw those in sporadically too.

This is like those fun Choose Your Own Adventure books from grade school:

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Though Daylight Savings Time wasn’t instituted until WWI, Franklin is credited for having come up with the concept far earlier (that is the most educational information you may ever get out of this blog, so savor it).  Yes, today I’m cursing old Ben for robbing me of an hour of sleep.  You might as well take my Wonderbra, coffeemaker and stroller flask while you’re at it and then send a marching band through the girls’ bedroom right after I’ve finally nodded off.  This comes at a time when I’m already strapped for every spare minute and all the sleep I can get, thanks to our readjustment to our time zone from our Hawaii trip and my ridiculous notion/good fortune to get to move on to Stage Two of this secret project I’ve had in the works for awhile.

You too can blame Ben Franklin for the lack of meaningful message or creative format for this post.  We are going old school food journal style.  VIP, let’s kick it!

I was up until 2 am Saturday working, and while my notions of getting up early for a workout were pure in intent, between emails and staging a Magic Marker lottery (the girls came to blows over the only pink marker henna tattoo making instrument), I didn’t get my workout in until 10.

Breakfast was far later than I’d have liked.

(Green smoothie: almond milk, spinach, frozen peaches, frozen pineapple, stevia)

I had about just enough time to clean up the breakfast dishes, shower and sandblast Magic Marker off the girls before it was time for lunch.

Like everything in my closet, this lunch was neither timely or innovative.

(Hugh Jass salad: spinach, broccoli, carrots, hummus, almonds, meatless meatballs, barbecue sauce)

Lunch dessert arrived right on time.

(Tropical nut oatie)

Pea Daddy took the girls out so I could get some writing done without the necessary interruptions of nose blowing, snack fetching and removing stickers off of the cat.  I sat down with a cup of tea, jazzed up with a fantastic new find.

(Stash organic Earl Grey tea with Silk Almond Milk, which is so thick and wonderful!)

I was busting out page after page while the family visited the carousel, ran errands and again desecrated their bodies.

I did take a brief stop for a late afternoon snack.

(Carrots and peach mango salsa)

Any chance of continuing to write once they got home was dashed, as I had to transition from thoughtful, productive silence to putting Lulu in the Naughty Corner for intentionally flooding the kitchen table with my water glass and proceeding to body surf in it.  It was time to start dinner anyway.

(Burrito bowl: steamed spinach, sauteed mushrooms, carrots and zucchini, black beans, sliced olives and Super Quick Guacamole, served with half of a toasted Ezekiel pita cut into chips)

But there was still time in the day to accomplish more!  I whipped up a recipe for my writing project, which of course had to be sampled.

(PB&J Filled Vegan Cupcakes)

While Pea Daddy delivered the first experimental batch to the neighbors (sorry you got the rejects, Mark), Lulu took the time to finger paint on the kitchen table with the remnants of her sample.  I’m sure Cezanne got his start the same way.  Obviously it was time for me to spend some time with my family put the girls to bed.

Pea Daddy and I settled in with the DVR, where I was immediately brought back to the anxiety of new parenthood by watching Jim and Pam struggle with breastfeeding.

I broke out in a cold sweat and chest pains, and felt like I was suffering from PTSD, as for the entire sixty minutes I kept turning to Pea Daddy and saying, “I can’t take this….it’s too soon!”  (Note: for as difficult as the episode made breastfeeding seem, in my experience, it’s about 50 times harder.  Truly.)

I tried to wash away the memories of another sleep deprived period in my life with a snack.

(Chocolate strawberry “ice cream”: frozen almond milk, frozen strawberries, cocoa powder, stevia, xanthan gum)

It helped a little, but as I went to bed, I promised myself that even if I don’t have time to pee, blowdry my hair or remove cupcakes, markers and the Great Spring Flood from our breakfast nook, I would spend some more time with the family today.

And thanks to Ben Franklin, at least there’s one less hour for maternal guilt.

One such moment for me is from an average day in my first year of practicing law. I’d gone to the next town over for a child support hearing (seems “Dad” couldn’t pay his support, but yet could afford the smarmiest family law attorney in the mid-Willamette Valley to lie explain why). On the way back to my office, I’d stopped at a grocery store to pick up my “lunch,” a Diet Coke and a Balance bar.

As I traipsed down the aisle in my high heels and pink fitted suit, looking more like Elle Woods than Gloria Allred, I passed a mom pushing a grocery cart with two kids. The kids were all smiles, happily chomping on their free bakery cookies, with half of the chocolate chips smeared across their faces rather than in their mouths. Their mom was dressed in jeans and a frumpled sweatshirt, her hair casually thrown back into a ponytail as an afterthought, and though she looked a bit tired, her eyes gazed lovingly at her shopping cart “cargo” and then up at me. She glanced at my shoes, up to my briefcase and then my suit. In the moment that our eyes met, it was if we both had the same thought, “I wish I could trade places with her.”

Before you start thinking I’m going to launch into some LOST/Sliding Doors/Freaky Friday type scenario, I’ll tell you why I was reminded of this scene. I had the glaring reminder today because Grocery Mom should have told me they’ll be days:

When you wake up with a sore throat and forty minutes to work out before your husband leaves for work.

You’ll make a green smoothie for breakfast, if only just to extinguish the inferno raging over your tonsils.

You’ll have to call the pediatrician AGAIN, because your preschooler has taken her 10 day course of antibiotics for the cold that never ends and is no better.

You’ll have another forty minutes to get ready to go, so woman’s lib is out the window as you occupy the girls with Barbie so you can shower.

Forget showering, you’ve got to clean smoothie up off the carpet, and find a new outfit for your preschooler, who got toothpaste all over her dress, AND a new outfit for your toddler, who has had an accident. AGAIN.

Your hair looks like a bird’s nest, but you’ve got no time to wash it or straighten it, so you “shower” with a washcloth, deodorant and body spray, throw on your jeans and T-shirt from yesterday and STILL wind up fifteen minutes late to the doctor.

You’ll wish you’d looked THAT good.

Your preschooler STILL has bronchitis and a sinus infection, meaning she now has an inhaler and antibiotic #2. Your overnight Valentine’s Day plans are in the toilet, along with, for some mysterious reason, your toddler’s sock, but you’re in tears because you have to break it to your preschooler that she has to miss her Valentine’s Day party at school tomorrow.

You come home to grab another squirt of body spray and eat some cold, leftover jambalaya straight from the fridge,

before heading off to Target to pick up all the necessary medications, including a Diet Coke and maybe even a Balance bar.

You fully intend on stopping the first 20-something woman in professional looking clothes who looks longingly at your children…and telling her EVERYTHING.