You Are What You Eat

Food has always played an enormously important part in our family life - and not always in a good way! The Husband, having pursued many, many years of weight training before his reinvention as a rower, has always been meticulous about the composition of his diet. He knows precisely what he has eaten, the percentage of protein/carbs/fat in most common foodstuffs, what to eat, and when to eat it for maximum benefit. Even when he lived at home (before he was let out and married me) his most excellent mother catered for his every nutritional whim to the extent of making packed lunches at 5am before he set off for work and popping to the shop to pick up extra gallons of milk for the protein milk-shakes if required. Bit of a shock then when setting up his own home to realise that a good diet required a great deal of forethought, effort....and money! Still, in those days we were both working, young(ish) and idealistic and as a couple still managed to hit the gym three or for times a week and eat a pretty healthy diet. Photos from our first foreign summer holiday together show us lean, toned and muscular. To be quite honest, we were pretty vain and narcissistic and probably bored the pants off everyone around us.
All that was to change with the arrival of our first child, a bonny bouncing thing who - having turned up with a bit of difficulty two weeks late - decided that sleeping was a Bad Idea. We became drawn, irritable and haggard and comforted ourselves with the thought that the second baby (who arrived placid and smoothly two years and two months later) could NOT POSSIBLY sleep less than the first.
How wrong we were! The Bright-Eyed Boy was not only just as bad at sleeping, but much worse, had some sort of hair-trigger motion-detector that sensed breathing three-foot distant and roused him in inconsolable wailing. Night and day this continued, one setting off the other in a constant round of baby-noise. Unsurprisingly NOTHING got done. I'd given up going to the gym as I was constantly shattered and, more than likely, somewhat depressed. The Husband still went occasionally as far as I remember (I'm not really sure) but when we had a major extension built on the house (cheaper than buying something bigger) he spent two years decorating and fitting stuff whilst I sat zombified and minded the babies. Pretty grim actually. The Husband looked like a skeleton, and I piled on the weight through exhaustion and an inability to care. At the same time the Bright-Eyed Boy developed some sort of digestive problem that made him throw up constantly: every night I'd have to strip off next to the washing machine, carefully pulling jumpers over my head that were covered in vomit. Just as the spewing got better he decided that eating was a Bad Idea altogether, and it was all we could do for a year to coax him to eat custard creams. This aversion to food persisted until he went (kicking and screaming) to nursery and saw that hey! Other Kids Eat! So he started to join in and although he still had quite rigid ideas about what he liked, he has got better and better and now at age 12 has a fairly sophisticated palate. I think the root of the problem is that he has an extra-sensitive sense of taste/smell so that what we would count as fairly bland and unremarkable flavours seemed to him outrageously bitter, sweet or sour, hence his insistance at age 5 on having a pizza that consisted only of the base and the cheese (I think they are now quite trendy and called 'pizza bianca' or somesuch) - absolutely NO tomatoes in ANY shape or form. The Daughter has always eaten like a horse and her diet as a rower needed only minor tweeks to make it fit for purpose (e.g.porridge for breakfast, lots of pasta, tuna, chicken etc.). Even the BEB, having taken up rowing this summer, has taken to eating more, although quite often this consists of attempted raids on the cupboard for chocolate biscuits before tea.
Anyhow, in our home food has gone in a complete circle: the Husband started really taking an interest in nutrition again when he took up competitive indoor rowing a few years ago (before 'proper' rowing was even a twinkle in his eye) and his interest rekindled my interest. Being told by the practice nurse that I had the beginnings of hypertension spurred me on to take stock and radically rethink and reform my diet. Drawing on all my former knowledge, which up until that point had been buried under the quotidien family crap that all families wade through, we decided to pull our socks up and Get Serious about nutrition.
Not that it's been easy - it's really hard to plan ahead for healthy dinners if we don't know who's going to be around at tea-time and who's got an activity organised. The slow-cooker is an absolute boon (thanks Sam!) allowing for stews, curries, pasta sauces, and chilli to be taken out as needed, but sometimes the best-laid plans fail and there is a certain amount of nutritional compromise. As I am the one who works on academic research from home, it falls to me to prepare the vast majority of the meals and although I am mostly OK with that, I have to admit that occasionally this particular worm turns. Hence fish and chips. But there was no excuse for my lunchtime lapse today when I am ashamed to admit I actually ate a Pot Noodle. I'd just come in from town, needed to fire up the computer for work and just could not be bothered to sort out something healthier. At least I know precisely how many evil calories I have ingested (392) and comfort myself that had I indulged my appetite with a panini, brownie and latte whilst out, the total would have been a great deal higher than that. On the upside, Friday night is sirloin steak night, eaten with mushrooms, salad, a few oven chips and a big glass of red wine. Food of the gods! And rowing training tomorrow to burn it all off....

Milandering About

Milan was an absolute revelation! Completely unlike anywhere we've been before. It's a real working city that keeps its treasures quietly to itself unlike say, Rome or Venice, which have their wares conspicuously on display around every corner. You have to WORK at Milan, rifling through the side streets and the guidebook to unearth delights which reveal themselves unexpectedly, like the cool green courtyards glimpsed from the outside of four-square, hulking buildings. Milan is turned in on itself, but in a good way, and we loved it! The Duomo square is, of course, spectacular and the Galleria Vittore Emmanuel II fascinating in its unashamed slavery to image and expense, but the things we enjoyed were a little further off the beaten track: the Navighlie area, Bohemian bars with lavish buffet snacks looking out onto the canals (yes! Milan has canals); the darting, wheeling house-martins around the 4th century basilica of San Lorenzo alle Colonne; the jasmine hedges that lined the streets near our hotel; the pasticcerie with their displays of tarts, cannoli and barquetini.

We did make it up to Lake Maggiore: the weather improved rapidly throughout the morning of day two, so we hoofed it to the station and found ourselves on the 12.43 Domodosula (sp?) train and disembarked at Stresa. It had got hot, so we were content to stroll along the panoramic promenade taking in the (only slightly misty) mountain and lake views, stopping for a cold beer and paddling in the icy waters. After arriving back in the centre of Milan in the early evening, we had a minor restaurant crisis. This involved seating ourselves in an interesting looking place near the canals (recommended in the guidebook!) asked for the menu over our aperitives and found....NOTHING we fancied eating!
The evening before we had gone to a lovely restaurant and sitting in the vine-hung courtyard, eaten local specialities such as osso buco and risotto Milanese (made with saffron, totally delicious). This canal-side restaurant seemed to have had...shall we say an 'Experimental Chef'. Finding that there was nothing that the children would even contemplate (and they are good, hearty eaters) we made our excuses and sidled out after settling the drinks bill. By this time we were really hungry as we'd last had a sandwich on the train up to the lake many hours ago. It's never good trying to decide on where to eat when you're tired and hungry, plus the restaurants were fewer and further between than in Rome. We ended up walking a couple of miles to one that the Husband had read a favourable review of in the 'cheapies' section of our book, but we were SO glad we did! Named L'Oca Giuliva (The Happy Goose) it was an homage to all things goose-like. Small, with dark wood cabinets housing the desserts (typically Italian), cosy tables, goose figurines and images everywhere, and a most attentive maitre d' who seemed to come from another era in his long white apron and neat moustache. The food was gorgeous, none too expensive, and the wine copious and intoxicating. We must have spent sufficient as the waiter brought us a digestivo on the house before we wove our way, via the metro, to our hotel. Alas, it was over far too soon! But we decided there and then that we most definitely WOULD be returning to Milan before too long.

Feeling Fat and Quite Grumpy

Same as last year, the season of self-loathing is here again. Fortunately, this time I can recognise it for what it is: a temporary blip on the radar. Christmas has seen a ridiculous amount of gorging on food and drink, plus inactivity that has (if I am honest) stretched right back to before the summer holidays. I definitely need a goal to aim for. Last year it was to lose a stone or so before I bared my scary carcase on the beach and to get fitter before I carked with a bloat- or stress- induced MI or stroke (mainly at my husband's behest - I am supremely lazy).

So... I am not q u i t e back at square one - I think that, although I have certainly put some of my lost weight back on in the past few months, I probably weigh less than I did at this time last year and I have got a bit more muscle visible than in my most whale-like days (my triceps are a good indication). I just need to get back down to it. Luckily we scraped another year at the gym, so I feel pretty well obliged to get my money's worth: anything else would just be ungrateful. But I do really want to change my training routine - less heavy weights and more toning/stretching/cardio as befits a lay-dee of my inexorably advancing years! I've got an induction on those Pilates-wobbly machines, which look a bit daft, but I'll give it a go. I don't know that I fancy getting back into the Tai-Chi - it just seemed to go nowhere and although the idea appeals, the mid-day timing bisects the working day too radically.

The key to success is, as the husband suggest, making a regular commitment to exercise which is what I have been sorely lacking in the past few months. Thinking back I can see where it all went pear-shaped: the summer holidays past, I had no definite goal or plan, plus the boy breaking his wrist meant that the two times a week that I went with the children were dropped until he healed, by which time I was out of the habit of scheduling gym-time. We MUST get back into good habits - and that's ALL it is - GOOD habits. As a couple we're going to cut out alcohol for a few months as from tomorrow: him because he's in training for the Indoor Rowing Championships and me because it's really fattening and I'm getting a bit concerned about all this talk of a link with breast cancer and I must start looking after myself more as the menopause hits. Foodwise I shall cut back on the usual suspects:chocolate, butter and wheat-products which have an adverse effect on my gut in more ways than one. I thought about following Michael Winner's approach to eating - just Eat Less! I am considering the half-portion approach: whatever I would normally eat, eat half that amount, but eat it more slowly and with more appreciation. Wish me luck!