The delay and subsequent backup is entirely the fault of the coleslaw. I was temporarily incapacitated, rendered unable to write or function due to shock. I just ate coleslaw, for crying out loud. As I sat down to eat it, my husband just stared at me. "I've been waiting for this day for a long time," he said, as though I just mainlined Miracle Whip in front of him. (seriously, the Miracle Whip/Mayo debate is the thing that keeps our otherwise solid marriage in a precarious balance)
I'm sure coleslaw is very good for you. I am also sure, that after this first week is over, I will never make it again. Fuck a coleslaw. That is rude to my tastebuds and offensive to my chewing muscles.
That's enough of that. Let's move on to the last couple of days apart from the Coleslaw Offense of 2017.
We ate the spaghetti squash and ground beef/turkey mix for breakfast, because the Whole30 believes that, if you put a fried egg on anything at all, it's breakfast. I am in complete agreement with them here, so we can stop fighting for a moment. The only part of it that looks strange is the sheer amount of food.
It's a lot. Sure, it's mostly vegetables, and lord knows I can eat it, but man... heaps of food runs counterintuitive to "getting into better shape." Before you come at me and tell me why it works, let me assure you that I know. I'm just saying it feels strange when you sit down to a super-sized food heap and think, "I'm doing this for my body!"
The waitress special-looking salad in a hollowed out pepper was eaten right before I unsuccessfully tried to get my child to nap. It was so fun. I ate delicious food, drank all my ranch up like a good girl, and then proceeded to snap at my kid for not being still and quiet while she tossed and turned and kicked me. I am winning this whole healthy parenting thing by a mile. Don't tell me it's not a competition. I WILL FUCKING WIN THIS TAKE A NAP, DAMN YOU.
My husband came home early from work so I could meet some writing deadlines and maybe not throw myself in the oven. That was nice of him.
We took the Bird to Pickle's Playroom so she could blow off some steam and get a haircut, and I took myself to a coffee shop to work. I was all excited that it was a vegan and gluten free joint. I'm never excited for those things, so it's safe to say this plan is already changing me. They had their own homemade nut milk, which is a thing I cannot say without giggling. I never will. So I was about to get a latte, and was asking the difference between their pistachio milk and pecan milk. I was about to get samples and everything.
"Since these are made in-house, there's no carrageenan or anything, right?" I asked, becoming the white lady I never wanted to be.
"Nope," said the dude with the expected ear gauges and beard. "Just nuts, coconut sugar, and --"
"Oh. Sugar?" I asked, crestfallen and pretentious as fuck.
"Yeah, but it's coconut," he offered, trying to appease my newly picky bullshit self.
"Yeah. I still can't have it. So. Large cold brew, then?"
And then I sat down to have a video conference and sip my sadness. I usually reserve that phrase for booze, but...none of that right now.
I also had an RX Bar, as they're approved on the plan and are largely chewy bricks of dates, egg whites, and whatever else they wanna charge me $3 to make me feel like I'm better than everyone. A man sipped an iced coffee nearby with a lot of milk in it. I wanted to punch him and take it. Not out of desperation, as I wasn't craving it, but just out of spite. It was interesting to be out, and for my husband and I to notice the number of times we defaulted to thinking about grabbing food and drink. "Oh, we can just all go out to dinner - nope. We can get ice cream - nope." I'm not saying we can't go out ever, nor am I saying we usually give in to every impulse. But I spent our life savings at the grocery store and we're not going out and being even pickier before we have a handle on this plan. We weren't judging the impulses, but we were noticing how often they popped up. It's preeeeetty much every time we leave the house.
Dinner was simple chicken breast with roasted red pepper mayo (I think a bell should go off every time we eat mayonnaise on this plan, like Pee-Wee's special word of the day). And, of course, the coleslaw. Everything was delicious, except for the shredded jerk salad. That's what coleslaw is. Don't kid yourself.
We slept the sleep of people who have pooped a lot.
Next morning was supposed to be leftover chicken and potatoes by itself, and that's weird. But chop it all up and make it hash, put an egg on it, and serve it with fruit, we have breakfast. Says me.
While attending a virtual voice coaching class, I defatted the Christ Juice...I mean bone broth...I couldn't believe how easy it was to get the fat off. Namely because it was a thick layer, and bone broth looks like the worst Jell-O ever when refrigerated. This made for easy removal.
So I threw that, a brisket, and some veggies into the crock pot. I notably did not throw the cut up butternut squash in there, because I had it all prepped and completely forgot to throw it in. Good job.
I went out with the Bird on the most beautiful day in recent memory, We joined her best friend and her mama at the park. Surprise, there was an impromptu picnic!
I couldn't have most of it, and neither could the other mama. So we just ate the fruit and veggies. She had some cheese. Overall? I was damn proud of me.
The girls played and ate ice cream, which the Bird asked me to try. I basically faked putting my tongue on it. Normally, this would be hard to resist, sure. But this?
It wasn't really a problem to skip it. Fucking hell.
We got home, and I served us all the leaves ever on a plate. Essentially, it was chicken with avocado, jalapeño, lime juice, onion, and spices, wrapped up in romaine leaves. Aaaaand the damn side of slaw.
We chewed this for about three hours.
We then went to a gathering that a school friend's mom invited us to. Too bad it wasn't a sentence structure class, as I could have used that just now.
There was a bounce house and face painting, the latter of which the Bird was super stoked about. Fortunately, she got the face paint while they took down the bounce house. We arrived late due to the aforementioned chewing. Bird won an easter basket, and her friend did not. Her friend cried a lot, and we felt terrible ALMOST as terrible as the part where we were reminded it was a church gathering and the raffle wasn't announced until they told all the kids in the "coolest" way possible about Jesus' death. Later, my kid said, "I don't know about any of that stuff." Nope. You don't. Because your parents are heathens. Let's go find eggs!
At home, we had brisket and some squash that I nuked for a minute and then threw into the crock pot for half an hour. It wasn't bad, but it needed more flavor. Oh look! Red pepper sauce I made! Saved it. We also had a greek salad, which seems like a lie to me since there is no feta. So we had a lying greek imposter salad. It was delicious, but lies usually are. I then took the broth that was simmering all day, poured it into two cups, and served it to my husband and myself. He blinked a few times, sat silently, and then finally said, "I was thinking about coffee, but ok." He mercifully said nothing else, and drank the strangest thing I've ever wordlessly served him. He's a good man.
For prep, I did absolutely nothing. That was the best part, really. However, the next day is Easter, so the prep is stuffing a bunch of candy I cannot eat into a basket and pretending I'm a rabbit while my child sleeps. If I thought the plan was weird, I must have forgotten about the entire concept of Easter.