Tomorrow I’m leaving my mother-in-law’s house and heading home with the kids.

I’m feeling strange about it. I haven’t been home, really, in months. I left June 22nd and tomorrow I’ll be back.

My daughter starts at a new school on Tuesday and on Wednesday my son is going back to an old school he was away from for a year.

Wednesday morning will be the first time since June 3rd that I’ll be away from my children for more than 4 hours at a time.

Tuesday morning I’m having construction begun on my kitchen and dining room. It’s minor construction but still, I’ll have workmen in my house for a couple of weeks.

All I want is a day to myself.

But, I feel as though I’m going home to be shot out of a cannon.

I did this to myself, and yet… I wouldn’t sacrifice a single day of my summer in exchange for feeling more “prepared” for what the next few weeks are going to bring me. I need to acknowledge that this is progress. I can’t remember feeling so ok with feeling “unprepared”.

Oh, don’t let me forget, Wednesday morning I am going to weigh myself for the first time in what will then be 2 weeks.

The drive tomorrow will be broken up into chunks with breaks to stop for lunch and do a little shopping to get ready for school. But in the end I expect to be on the road with a 7 year old and a 4 year old from 9am until 4pm. It will tax my energy (and theirs), test my patience (and theirs), and be exhausting (for them too).

I have to remember that this is going to be hard for them too. I think I forget that too often.

This afternoon I prepped food for myself for tomorrow. This way my lunch is packed and I don’t have to worry about what to eat if I need a snack in the car and I don’t have to worry about what will be available to me when we stop for lunch.

I’m proud of myself for being prepared. It felt good to prepare for myself. I felt like I was being taken care of. And I was.

I ate more peanut butter today. Just two spoonfuls and part of me thinks that I really have to stop doing that and then part of me thinks that there is a reason I keep wanting it. Some afternoons it’s the only thing that keeps me on track. It might be slowing down my progress. I don’t know. I’m really not eating much of it at all. Once a week or so I’m having a spoonful or two and for some reason it’s helping me emotionally and psychologically stick to the overall plan and I don’t feel after effects that I know I would if I caved in and ate refined carbs. I suppose since I’ve been willing to do whatever it takes on this diet I will give it up if it becomes clear that I have to, but I’m not sure that’s necessary.

My food’s been really clean this week. I’ve done 7 days in a row of protein + vegetables and it feels fine. Tomorrow marks my return to pure protein and I’m planning to follow that for 5 days at which point I’ll return to the proscribed routine.

I just hope next Wednesday’s weigh-in shows some movement in the scale. Really, I’m looking for anything 1 pound or more, but I’m not needing to see anything huge. I just want to know the plateau is broken through.

I’m rambling a bit but I think it’s going to help me sleep to get this out of my head… so… there it is. I’ve got more thoughts swirling in there, but they are too full for tonight’s post.

I think I’m going to have to make a list of issues I need to write about so that I know I can sort through it all.

Abstinence feels good. It’s showing me who I am and what needs to be worked out. This is a blessing.

 

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