I got nothin'.

Today's weight: 158 lbs, holding steady.

What I've learned this week: I seem to have one day a week where I just blow it, calorie-wise. Blow. It. The good news is that I found out that a one-day a week food freak-out isn't a bad thing, what's important how it averages out over the week. All within moderation, of course. THis is one of the ideas behind the Weight Watcher's "flex points" plan.

My average has been about 2100 calories a day, at about a 53/28/19 (carb/fat/protein) ratio, and I'm looking to drop it a bit lower to average at 1800 calories. I'm still going through an adjustment period as I discover what a 50/25/25/ ratio feels, looks, and tastes like. I'm eating dairy (low-fat) and eggs (egg-beaters) for the first time in about 7 years, and it's taken some getting used to.

I'm also getting used to working out after work each day. Mini-baboo isn't in winter sports, so I am free to head out after work and either dance (Mondays) run down by the river (Tuesdays-Thursdays) or swim and spin at the gym (Wednesday-Fridays). I've been getting used to the self-imposed guilt of not being here to cook for my family, and also getting used to having to plan my days carefully so that the stuff I need is in the car.

I can't stress enough how light my training has always been, that's my dirty secret. Only Baboo has known about this. I joke about being really lazy, but truthfully, I'm a bit agoraphobic. With some practice, I'm getting used to going across town to the gym, and it will just be part of my routine. I have already noticed that although I get home later, I feel calmer and happier when I get to go to the gym a few times a week after work. I'm not stomping around the house muttering things like, "When do I get to go play? When is it my turn?"

See? When Mom's happy, everybody's happy.

Since Sweet Baboo is gone, I'm eating in bed and watching LOTS of TV. Shh. Mini-baboo tried unsuccessfully to get a ride the two miles to the high school, where he volunteered to help out at the state track meet, and then sulked and whined when I declined. He finally got on his bike and went, complaining the whole time.

Take a moment to think about this.

Mini-baboo, who is 16, large and healthy, was sulking because I would not drive him two miles. This is the same 16-year-old who has done an Olympic Distance Triathlon and an untold number of sprint tris and duathlons. It's a beautiful day, too. Sixty-eight degrees, 18% humidity.

He'd better watch it with the grumbling AND the attitude when he gets home. I've been known to go into great detail about how large he was at birth (10 pounds) and the resulting episiotomy. Seriously. Ladies, if you have sulky male child, this works wonders. I've driven him out of the room with his hands clamped over his ears. Sometimes it works for girls, too, particularly the ones that say "ew" when you talk about childbirth.

Later I shall grade Algebra tests. (Sigh.) I'm bored. I'm crossing my fingers that Sweet Baboo has a good race at the Silverman tomorrow, and will then hurry up and come home.

...