Today some scientists who used some scientific methods by which they surmised a giant-ass dinosaur the likes of which all of planetary history has been to this point unaware, (well, except for its compatriots, I suppose) announced said creature to the world. World, I give you dreadnoughts. Sometimes I listen to NPR, and other times I click on interesting links about astronomy and geology because science! (Which I’m actually kind of unclear on, at least as far as physics and chemistry go…) But back to the dinosaur. I couldn’t help but feel, as I noted on ye olde Facebook page, a kind of deep, spiritual connection with this marvelous beast who could, apparently, (though how in God’s name anyone could know this is unfathomable by this proud bachelor’s degree holder in mental health and human services) “would have potentially adapted to be able to eat 24 hours a day, nonstop, with a minimal amount of sleep.” How could I not feel immediate and irrevocable kinship with such a creature? Needing to eat 24 hours a day and surviving on a minimal amount of sleep?
Call me, Dreaddie, we’ll go to happy hour when September ends. So day 6 dawned today, and I was not too exhausted upon waking, which was a really great change from being so, so angry at the rising of the sun that I could hardly even look anybody in the eye until 8:40 am. Really nice change. Fast forward to lunch time and I found myself happily serving up quesadillas and goldfish crackers (nothing but the best for my snowflakes) and not twitching and slapping my own hands away from my mouth. Then, in the really craziest part of it, I waited until baby was fed, naps were started, and preschooler was occupied with quiet time before assembling and eating my own lunch…at 1:24 pm. That is literally the longest I’ve ever waited to eat lunch in my entire career as a stay at home mom. Usually I’m eyeing the stove clock as it flips from 10:59 to 11 am, one hand poised over the grande bag of Veggie Straws and the other hacking cheese into cubes. I mean I live for lunch. It’s this beautiful intersection of savory carbs, uninterrupted internet browsing and sweet, sweet (short lived) silence during the nap/quiet time hour(s). Whole 30 lunches are not those kind of lunches. It’s hard to get excited about lettuce wraps, especially when there’s no cheese involved. The silence was still golden, but there were no tortilla chips to keep me company. This post is wandering but I promise I’ll tie back to that super weird intro. Promise. By 6 pm I was getting into hangry territory when I burst in the garage door with all kids on deck and found my sweet, sweet husband leisurely gathering the ingredients for paleo spaghetti (squash) and meatballs and I might have snapped a bit. We persevered though, and 45 minutes later our flourless Italian feast was on the table.
Five minutes into that delicious dinner, a decidedly unfamiliar sensation knocked on the door of my subconscious. Hey, stomach, you’re full now. You can stop. I looked down at my half empty plate in wonder, and I realized that without the soft, crusty baguette accompanying a bowl of seasoned olive oil and balsamic, there was nothing pushing me onward to finish this meal. Weird. And so freeing. So I boxed it up for tomorrow’s lunch and went about our evening routine and then some. I actually dismissed daddy from bedtime duties and KP to go watch some football, so good was I feeling. “I got this, babe,” I smiled and shooed him out the door. I think he half walked, half ran to his car, looking over his shoulder to see how long it would take me to start sobbing and begging him to come back because “I’m so tired! I need more help!” But it didn’t happen. And I feel fine. I guess I’m not a dreadnoughtus any more. I feel more like a human, albeit one who needs probably more sleep than the average person, but who can feel pretty great on 8 hours, a single shot of espresso and a whole lot of vegetables and bacon. Day 7, I’m looking at you. (I should note, while I’ve attempted the Whole30 a couple times before, this is the furthest I’ve ever gotten without cheating. The slope is slippery, but I’m treading cautiously onward, interested to see what another week or two on the plan feels like. And there’s a reason it’s got a “30” tacked on to it: it’s only a month. I mean, you can do anything for a month. I think. I can.)