Friday, March 18, 2011

My Name Is Rebecca and I Set Goals...



It is March 18th. I just ate my first pretzel M&M since January 31st. It was delicious... and brown. Then I ate an orange one, and I am still savoring it... Oh, I just ate a red one. They are as yummy as I remember them. I am about to pop a blue one in my mouth. There it goes. Oh, yum. Now green. How did I give those little beauties up for 46 days? It just goes to show that I am the epitome of self control. Well, sure I could have gone 47 days, but what would have been the point? I mean, what am I trying to prove anyway?

On March 10 I actually broke down and ate candy. Chocolate covered cinnamon bears. I was sending 40 of them to my friend in honor of her 40th birthday, and I wanted to make sure they tasted, well, fresh. You know me--always willing to take a hit for the team. It was delicious... and fresh. Consequently I have managed to consume an entire bag of them since then.

All candy is not really a temptation to me, believe it or not. I tend to be very selective. For example, I say "pass" to hard tack candy and cheap chocolates. No problem. Most candy bars will grow stale in my cupboard--unless I think of a good reason to share them with my children. Frozen miniature Reese's peanut butter cups are a delicacy, but the thought of eating a Reese's peanut butter cup shaped like an egg sort of grosses me out. Not sure why--I think the chocolate-to-peanut-butter ratio is a little off.

So I conquered February's goal and practically attained Warrior status by sticking it out NINE extra days. March's goal to do my own paper route every single day is coming along nicely as well... except that I am tired. Very tired. I am starting to believe that mothers of six were never intended to rise at 4:30 every morning... and neither was anybody else, for that matter.

My husband quit offering to get up and deliver my newspapers after our friends spilled the beans about my goal. They had been reading my blog; he had not. He still WANTS to do me a favor, but now that he knows about my goal, he also knows that offering is a moot point. Besides, it just adds to the torture of putting my feet on the floor every morning, because then I lay there and am reminded of what I stupid goal I set this month. On the other hand, every morning it proves a little triumph as well. "I am Warrior--hear me ROAR!" Or something like that.

Now it is March 31st. I have done my paper route every day. All by myself. (Except for the time it was raining outside and I was behind schedule and I took the papers back to my garage and my dear husband came out to help me fold them... except for that.) For 31 days. Can you believe it? So I can sleep in tomorrow, right? Not quite. Would you believe one of my associates (I'm sure that's what they are called) asked my husband to substitute his paper route for SEVEN days. Starting yesterday. How is he supposed to do my route and somebody else's too? I guess I know what it means to do my own work. Sigh.

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