Alcohol Is Heavy

So this month I haven't been drinking alcohol.  Or for the most part I haven't been.  There was the champagne toast and the unfinished champagne bottle.   (Let's not ask my husband about that one, he may have some choice words for me.)   There was the, "let's go to a bar before we go to dinner so we can have drinks" birthday event that I felt obligated to have a beer at to be social.  But other than a few specific instances, I haven't had any alcohol at all. 

It's interesting how your mind just doesn't care about alcohol when you haven't had any for a while.  I hear it's like that with lots of things, such as fatty or salty foods and candy.  Maybe it's like that with reality television.  I know I don't have any desire to watch any, but that could be because I've never gotten interested in it.

Back to the alcohol though.  Last month it seemed like I had to pay attention to my weight and I was even considering going on a restriction of calories for a week or two because I had seemed to be going up a tiny bit for a while. 

This month with no alcohol and I'm back to where I expect my weight to be.  I don't know if it was the calories in the alcohol or the food I ate because alcohol makes me hungry that made the difference. 

The Big Boy Update:  "I want to be good."  This was one of those things that just about made me cry.  I had a phone call and was working on something today and my son wanted the iPad so I gave it to him so I could work on the computer for the duration of the call.  I came back after the call to find him lying on our bed with very wet pants.  This means our comforter was wet with urine as well.  I was so mad that I yelled at him.  He really does know better and he's so good at toileting at this age, but sometimes he gets too focused.  I kept yelling at him and telling him I was so mad and that I was disappointed in him because he knew better.  He was sitting forelornly on the bridge with his legs dangling through the pickets in the railing when I had calmed down.  He looked at me and said in a sad voice, "I want to be good."  And I know he does want to be good.  I picked him up and hugged him and told him I knew he wanted to be good and I knew he tried and I was so proud of him for trying.  We then had to wrestle around on the floor until we both got the giggles.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  Change of roles.  Tonight, my son calmly got out of bed after an unexpected nap, walked downstairs and sat in the chair waiting for dinner.  My daughter, on the other and very uncharacteristic hand, threw a tantrum like I've never seen her do before.  She was unable to comfort herself and she didn't want my help either.  It went on for twenty minutes.  When daddy got home and had chocolate, I gave her a mini candy bar out of desperation because she needed some calories and nothing was working.  She sat on the floor, at the candy and then my daughter returned to normal.