My Own Worst Enemy

I really wanted this weekend to be different; to be one of those weekends I'd sail through, rising above the temptations and controlling what I ate.

So much for that.

I tried, both Saturday and Sunday. Both days started out well. But my oldest enemy was at it again -- my inability to deal with emotions.

In my defense, it was a pretty stressful weekend. There was a lot going on, a lot happened, and my emotions were all over the place. Unfortunately, I went to my old standby reaction -- eating -- to deal with them.

A lot of the problem stems from what I wrote about in the past -- my lack of routine on the weekends. Monday through Friday is no problem -- my routine is nearly cut in stone and it feels almost easy. Then on the weekends my schedule and my control over food falls to pieces.

So needless to say, it's Monday and I'm back on track. I walked my 2.6 miles, ate my healthy breakfast and lunch and really have no desire to go attack the "dangerous" food that I couldn't resist less than 24 hours ago. Why is it that Monday through Friday I can resist, but Saturday and Sunday I am so weak?

Again, it goes back to routine. I am definitely a person who needs structure and planning to do well, whether it's at work, housekeeping, a project or losing weight. Without a routine my focus fades, my attention drifts, and whatever I'm working on falls apart.

So I guess the only answer is to come up with a weekend routine. Part of the problem is our often chaotic weekends, so it's hard to apply the same routine for each turn of events. I guess the big thing is to come up with a game plan each Friday that outlines my schedule, pinpoints my area of weaknesses and lists some reasonable methods to avoid overeating. I can have a list of objectives and strive to meet them. That's settled, then; I promise to you on Friday I'll report in with my Weekend Game Plan.

The funny (or not so funny thing is), the stress that set me into the bowl of ziti last night is still around today, if not more so. Here's the deal: for some time Hubby and I have talked about relocating, either buying another house or building from scratch. While we like the house we're in, it's cramped, and as my sister-in-law so perfectly said this morning, "it's like there's no room to escape." If I want to go read a novel by myself, there's really nowhere to go to get some real peace and quiet. Our only "extra" room is my husband's den, and it's full of computer stuff and paraphernalia from his hunting and fishing hobbies.

While the thought of building a new house is alluring, the cost is prohibitive, and in my opinion, there's nothing like the charm of an old house. To me there's something kind of soulless about new houses; they feel like they've been pressed out of a cookie cutter and lack the craftsmanship of yesteryear.

One such house is located not far from us, and two doors down from some very good friends of ours. Hubby's ex-aunt rented the house from a woman I babysat for (life in a small town!), and we heard through the grapevine that the house was going up for sale. On October 15 ex-aunt told Hubby the house was still available, and out of curiosity, we called about it. The owner called me and said she had a couple make an offer on it, and they were working on the financing. She said if the deal fell through she would call us back, but I figured our chance was gone.

But... this past Thursday the owner called me again and said the offer fell through (the financing was a go, but the wife couldn't talk the husband into moving into town -- this is a town of 1,700 people and two blinking traffic lights -- but apparently too urban for this guy). So Hubby and I took our daughter to look at the house on Sunday afternoon.

Oh my... the woodwork is gorgeous, the rooms are big and spacious, there are four bedrooms, plus a huge attic that could easily be converted into another bedroom or a den. Plus the basement is huge and has lots of potential, too. The house is located on a nice quiet street (we currently live on the main drag in town, subject to large volumes of coal trucks, tractor trailers and weekend motorcycle groups) and has a fantastic view of the valley. There's a much bigger yard for Mabel to play in and more kids her age nearby for playmates. In addition, the amount the owner is asking for is just great.

So Hubby and I have been grappling with this major decision all weekend. We've been weighing all the pros and cons, wrestling over our budget, and debating the sanity of trying to move in the winter. After all of this we're pretty darn sure we want it. Today, however, I'm dealing with the financial end -- seeing if we can get an OK on the money. There's a lot of complicated details I'd rather not get into here, but I'm waiting on some phone calls from the bank and my father (who is a financial whiz and helps me with all my money issues). While Dad says not to worry, it's going to go through, there are still some issues that need to be ironed out. Hubby and I told the owner we'd let her know by tomorrow, and it'd be nice to have a definite YES before we tell her we want it.

So I'm sitting here on the computer, reading blogs, typing my own, waiting for the phone to ring. I am so horribly bad at this! It would be so easy to escape into a pan of chocolate chip cookies (or a bowl of the dough!) to numb this stress and uncertainty. But it's not Sunday anymore; it's "In Control Monday" and my routine doesn't allow for that kind of behavior. So guess what? My internal mother is giving me one of those smirks and saying, "You're stuck with this now, so deal with it!"

And guess what? It's really not that bad. I actually feel a little better about myself as I find non-eating methods to distract myself (goodness knows I have a lot of laundry to put away). And I keep telling myself Father Knows Best: if he says it's going to work out, then the odds are pretty good it will. And if it doesn't? Then perhaps it just wasn't meant to be and something else will fall into place. Either way we live to see another day.

And wouldn't it be silly to eat 5,000 calories over it? Honestly, in the clear light of (Mon)day, it all makes perfect sense.