As I had mentioned in my last post, I haven’t been feeling 100% for while. It all started when we left New York. We rounded up all our gear, got the girls squared away and checked out of the hotel. We hit the Holland Tunnel by 10am and were making good time. Everyone was a little bleary from the late nights and the non-stop activity, so it was relatively quiet and some time passed before anyone thought to mention breakfast. When we did stop, we were well down the New Jersey Turnpike and our options were limited. I was hoping we would just cruise right into Delaware where I know there were some Dunkin’ Donuts waiting to greet us in the neon pink and orange fanfare, but the wee ones were ravenous and the Hubs and I both were eager to get them topped off and back to watching DVDs. So we stopped at the Clara Barton or Molly Pitcher rest stop and tried to grab something relatively worthwhile.
The girls and I bee-lined for Starbucks, while the Hubs headed towards whichever Bob’s Big Boy/Roy Rogers/Arby’s type fast food place was slinging heat lamp warmed breakfast sandwiches and such. Surprisingly (at least I was surprised), there was a larger upright cooler with healthy option. I forget the name, something about health or nature or organic, but they offered fruit, granola, yogurt and assorted salads. It was no Prêt-A-Manger (few things are), but it was offering much better options that it’s fast food neighbor. We grabbed some fruit, but the lure of bacon grease proved no match for us and we waited to get the attention of the attendants to in order to get some newly made sandwiches. Too bad for us, the Cranky Twins — Grumpy and Grouchy — were working that day. In no unceratin terms, they told us they weren’t making any more breakfast sandwiches and that we could take what was already out there. Now, you know me and cheese don’t get along, so I wasn’t about to get a cheese covered breakfast sandwich that had been probably sitting out since last breakfast. I turned on my heel and went back to the ‘bucks. The Hubs toyed with it for a bit, trying to gauge just how hungry he was before he made his decision. In all truth, I don’t remember what he ended up eating; I was too hungry myself and shortly thereafter, my stomach started doing the ring-dang-do.
We got our provisions at the ‘bucks — a tall caramel mocha for me with a banana nut muffin on the side — and hit the road. My drink tasted a little strange and it wasn’t until I was able to remove the sleeve that I noticed they’d given me a light version of the drink. No wonder! The aftertaste was terrible; I felt like I could peel the paint off the fender, my breath was so rank. Whatever they use to make the drinks “light”, can’t be good for you. That was the beginning of my stomach mutiny.
Somehow we made it further on down the road with the Hubs and I trading off driving responsibilites. SHortly before we hit the last 20 mile leg to the house, I doubled over in discomfort. It was the coffee playing Marco Polo with my guts, the nausea was so bad, I thought I might be gazing over the prow of a ship instead of the hood of a car. I honestly don’t know what it was, it was just bad.
We made it home, got the girls inside, got the car unloaded and hit the ground running to get back on track for the remainder of the week. We still had to get Vivi from my mom, the Hubs had to attack some emails and phone calls that had piled up while we were en route, and I had to get the girls back into the regular routine. My stomach wasn’t having it.
For the next several days, it was just nausea and aching. It felt like there was this tight band wrapped around my upper ribcage that would squeeze and release, squeeze and release in random intervals. It was almost like hunger pains, but instead of low in my tummy, it was high in my sternum. And like a dummy, I soldiered through it, not wanting to ask for help (hello, I know), and not wanting to “waste using a babysitter” by going to the doctor. I tried Alka-Seltzer, Tums, and Pepto (which turned my tongue black, scaring me half to death). When the pain was enough to wake me out of a sound sleep, I decided I needed to do something before I inadvertently caused myself serious damage by being an idiot.
Suffice it to say, I’m much better now. The doc took care of me, and though her officially diagnosis was heartburn, we both know she didn’t know what the hell it was. She did say that I needed to eat more frequently. Instead of three meals and two snacks at set intervals, I need to eat the same amount of food, just basically grazing on it over the course of the day. That’s been a challenge, but I’m working on it. I’m just hungry all of the time, I’m afraid that if I eat a little something everytime I pass through the kitchen, it’s going to go all downhill. I guess in addition to exercising my bod, I’ve got exercise some self-control.
And with that, I’ll leave you with today’s recipe that has absolutely nothing to do with self-control, which is why I will be enjoying it on my cheat day!
Happy Friday, y’all!
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Ingredients
1 box brownie mix, 8×8 inch size
24 Oreo Cookies
1/2 cup creamy peanut butter
Directions
Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line a 12 muffin cup baker with paper liners.
Prepare brownie mix according to package directions. For each cupcake cup spread 1 teaspoon of peanut butter over 2 Oreo cookies and stack them on top of each other. Place oreo stacks into the cupcake lined muffin cups. Spoon 2 tablespoons of brownie batter over each stacked oreos and let it run down the sides of the cookies. If you have left over brownie batter, bake separately in a separate baker or muffin tin. Bake cookies and brownies for 18 to 20 minutes, until brownies are cooked through. Let cool completely then serve.
Makes 12 servings
Recipe from picky-palate.com
foodsnots.com
