Anyone hungry?

While I was eating lunch during Little's nap, I realized that I spend a lot of time thinking about food. I think about what I eat, what she eats, what I'm going to cook... Granted, I need to think about these things, but most people don't record everything they eat each day (ok, so neither do I; I confess that I cheat when it comes to chocolate), nor what their children eat. Unfortunately, in both cases, it's a need, and ironically, the need to do it is for two polar opposite reasons. I record what I eat because it's helping me lose weight. After giving birth, I was well on my way to losing the extra pounds pregnancy puts on, but then a series of unfortunate events led to my weight gain. In short, I couldn't cope, nor did I have the time, so I didn't really watch what I ate (well, I watched it go into my mouth). Anyway, I digress. Point is, when I did realize that I had to make a change, a nifty little program for my Palm Centro became my main weight loss tool, and here I am, about thirty pounds lighter. Little, on the other hand, needs to gain weight. After six months of no weight gain (and little physical growth), she had an even worse spell of no eating, which drove us to the brink, and left us no choice but to count her calories and shake our heads in dismay. After all, you can't really force a toddler to eat. She is due for a weight check at the doctor's, and I decided I needed to have some evidence that I was feeding her, so all this week I've kept a food diary for her, and what do you know? The little bugger is actually eating pretty well. Don't get me wrong; I'm thrilled! We weighed her today, and she was up a pound. *pause for applause* I guess she's hitting a growth spurt finally, or got over whatever it was that was making her not eat (maybe lactose intolerance?). It's a tricky business, let me say. So food has been on my mind. I could really go for those delicious cheese puff pastry things they have at Chabuca's and Fogo, and just about any of those Brazilian meat-on-sword restaurants. Too bad it's past my food curfew (other weight loss tool adopted later in the game). And too bad I don't know how to make them.

What a way to start a new blog. Blog. I'm not particularly fond of the word, but I like writing, and since I quit my job to become a full-time mom, I've been fearing mental stagnation. I am fearing a loss of my writer's voice. If I even have/had one. So we'll consider this an experiment in that sense. Writing a blog, to me, requires one to have that inner voice that almost seems to narrate one's life or at least make witty, off-hand remarks about the small (and large) everyday happenings. I remember when I was an avid journaler, at places like Diaryland and Livejournal, sharing my deepest thoughts and feelings in a clever, albeit self-important way, pretending I had an audience and that what I had to say was of any real meaning or value. I guess it did. It still does. To me, if to no one else. I had some good zingers back then. I was also an idiot. It's like I had to have pain, or sorrow, or conflict, or something else that made me listen to music all the time and be slightly emo in order to have good material to write. Each day, I would carry around slivers of paper, backs of napkins or post-it notes with key words to remind me of the different topics I planned on discussing in my journal as I wrote that evening. I even *gasp* made multiple posts a day sometimes, usually when my heart was particularly heavy with words. That, of course, was a long time ago, when the angst-ridden young adult I was in college had too much to say and not much to show for it.
Today, the angst is gone, but I make no promises about anything else.