My Ebenezer

Admittedly not the most flattering picture of anyone or anything, but you'll see why I chose it The baby is fussing fitfully as I change her diaper, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her chubby, dimpled fists.  She's ready for a nap, if I can just get her changed.  I hear some sort of large liquid spill transpire in the dining room, and simultaneously a fight breaks out among the older two kids over whose fault it was.  My husband is in our bedroom, calling out to see if I know where any clean work shorts are because he's trying to leave like 5 minutes ago.  I glance up and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror above the changing table; hair a mess, glasses on, no makeup, rocking the I've-been-up-for-three-hours-and-I-haven't-had-a-shower-yet look. And I need to use the bathroom.  I close my eyes and sigh. I'm in the weeds. This may sound like hyperbole to you, but it's a reality more often than I'd like to admit.  I feel like so much of my

I'm 9 days into a Whole 30  .  You can click that link if you want to know more about it.  Meanwhile, this is me, desperately craving bread/chocolate/cheese/coffee creamer, and not getting any of it.  Hating my life and loving it all at the same time.  Because, while I can't have any of my usual favorites, I do get to eat healthy food like this:   Grilled Citrus Chicken with Cauliflower Mash and a salad with homemade Ranch dressing.  And almondmilk to drink.  So there.  It was all delicious, but an hour later I was staring into my cookie cupboard, mouth watering.  I've even stooped so low as to open a bread bag or a cookie jar and smell the inside. Free smells, right?  Why do I do this to myself? Once upon a time there was a girl who had health problems even though she was only 36.  Her hormones were messed up, her iron was way low, and she was tired.  Dead dog tired.  All. The. Time.  Not to mention the fact that 6 months after her last baby was born, she stil