Mad

I am mad. I am spitting nails angry.

What am I angry at? Conventional Wisdom. The conventional wisdom that told me at 17 and 5'11 I should weigh 113lbs. The conventional wisdom that has told me throughout y adult life that I must be a lazy glutton because I could not eat little enough or workout long enough and hard enough to lose weight.

The conventional wisdom that constantly tells me that I can save money by cutting back on my credit card spending (don't have any), go out to eat or for entertainment less each month (haven't gone out to eat in except for with family that picked up the bill in 4 or more years, haven't seen a movie in 5) by cutting back on things like TV and internet (haven't cut back on internet, no cable, no satellite TV...).

I am mad at the conventional wisdom that never told me that the problems I have had with my teeth and my nails for the last 20 years have a direct correlation to my weight, energy, overall health...

I wish I had found and stuck with primal style eating 15-20 years ago. I am happy that I have found it now, and I am glad that I will be rebuilding the next 2/3rds of my life to be optimally fit and healthy, but I am angry that it took so long. I am going to use this angry to change me, change my family, and eventually change the world!

Mmm, Chicken Fingers

My boys are not all that different from your average toddlers/preschoolers. They want to run and play and jump around. They are super stubborn and that stubbornness will often show its face at meal times.

Not tonight! Earlier this week I discovered an excellent trick to making chicken nuggets from scratch instead of relying on store bought packaged nuggets chock full of things I do not want my kids eating. Yogurt, specifically Chobani yogurt (of course). I made the nuggets as chicken fingers tonight and had another successful batch, and thought it was time to share :)


Ingredients:

• 2 eggs
• 1/2 - 1 C Chobani 0% plain yogurt
• 3 chicken breast, sliced into strips or nuggets
• 1-2C whole wheat bread crumbs
• 1C rolled oats
• Garlic, pepper, onion flakes or other spices to taste
• 1T oil to fry the chicken in (I used coconut oil)

Direction

• Preheat oven to 425
• In one bowl combine bread crumbs, oats, and spices, set aside
• In a separate bowl whip together yogurt and eggs
• dip chicken pieces in egg/yogurt mixture - be sure to coat the chicken completely
• place coated chicken pieces in the bread crumb/oat coating - shake and mix to cover completely
• once all the chicken pieces or "breaded" fry lightly in oil, 1 min max on each side
• put all the chicken in an oven safe dish and bake for 10 minutes at 425 
• serve and enjoy!

The yogurt really keeps the breading on the chicken and the chicken itself moist. Monkey ate most of his (inhaled really) and Moose ate 1 finger before falling asleep in his chair :) I ate four (or um, maybe 5) myself and they were yummy! I am so glad to have a crowd pleasing chicken nugget/finger recipe that is so easy to make.

Oh - and the ranch dressing Monkey has to dip his finger was made with half mayo / half Chobani yogurt :)

Are there any family or kid-friendly favorites you have remade into a healthy meal?

Teddy Bear Love

My 3 yr old has a teddy bear - "Bear" - that he has had his whole life. It was a gift from a coworker to me shortly before he was born. Bear came to the hospital and rode home with the Monkey in the car seat. It is a tan colored bear that once upon a time played music, nature sounds, and a heart beat. As my mother and I drove across country with my 2 week old Monkey in the back seat (My husband and I were moving) Bear was propped on the Monkey's feet, with in easy reach to turn on the heart and soothe a crying infant.

Bear slept in the bassinet and in the crib. Early on the Monkey learned that if he hugged Bear, Bear made music. The Monkey loves music. At odd times throughout the night Bear's music could be heard through the baby monitor - most often when the Monkey woke up and needed help to get back to sleep.

The Monkey's love for Bear has not diminished as he has gotten older. No other flashy stuffed animals have manged to take Bear's place. Bear is not shared - and he is the only toy the Monkey will not let his little brother hold. Bear's music died last summer thanks to a trip into the pool. The Monkey thought Bear would like to go swimming with him. Bear's once robust and cuddly figure is noticeably flat and limp due to a tear in his back that leaked fuzz into the washing machine... Bear has seen better days, but the Monkey does not care. His love is constant.

Seeing the perfect love my child has for his frayed and beaten teddy made me think - why can't we have that kind of love for ourselves? Why is it so hard for me to love myself, to love my body despite all of its flaws. Why can't I love my body for the things it has done well, done without complaint, and often done in spite of the abuse I have given it.

My body faithfully carried, protected and housed the monkey for 41 weeks (he has always been stubborn). It fed him for 7 months after he was born. My body healed itself from the loss of the baby it could not keep. It quickly nurtured and grew my little Moose baby shortly there after. My body can rejoice in a kiss or hug from my children or a caress from my husband. My body carried me on shaky legs done the aisle and stood proudly as I married my husband.

My body has taken me skiing, horseback riding, running, and walking. My body used to be able to do cartwheels (and will again someday). It can play volleyball, and softball. It can take a spinning class, or Zumba, or Kickboxing. It can lift weights - heavy weights. My body has healed quickly from injuries and illness. It has provided the strength my heart required to do ever more - more than I thought it possibly could.

I love my body! I love the strength in my muscles. I love the delicacy of my hands. I love my height. I love my eyes. I love my hair - even the grey. I love my breasts, and the gently curved hourglass of my shape.

And I love my stretch marks. I love my c-section scar. I love the scars on my arms and my legs that are the badges of honor, the chronicle of my life. I love my thick waist and my big thighs and my flabby bottom. I even love my flappy "grandma" arms. I love my imperfections They are proof that my body is strong, that my body has been there for me, supported me, and loved me without questions since the moment we were born. My body has loved me even when I have treated it badly. When I have fueled it with junk. When I have not given it the movement it craves, or the sleep it needs.

My body has loved me the way my 3 yr old loves his bear. And I promise that from now on I will love it the same way.