I Blame It On The Blue Ones

I have a confession....I've gained weight in a bad way. It's one thing to pack on poundage if you're pregnant, trying to quit smoking or competing in the NFL combine. I am none of those. The truth is, chocolate is my weakness and I am like every kind of bad hormonal woman when I am stressed and can't find an ounce of chocolate in the house. And it straight up needs to be milk chocolate, not that dark healthy stuff.

There have been a number of things the last five weeks that have spurred on this self soothing method o' mine...stress over the stomach bug that attacked my whole family and even sent Tyler to the ER, the loss of a pregnancy, Noah's thumb surgery, setting up the Africa exhibit at church, planning for the Children of the World Choir and...potty training.

I confess, I am that mom that rewards her child with candy for peeing in the pot. I said it and I own it. Now, just so you know I've got a little bit of good mothering in me, I've done the sticker charts, the high octave praise, the high fives, the over-exuberant jumping and the hugs. But sometimes a momma has to have a little more ammo in her stockpile. Because, I ask you, what is more motivational than a milk chocolatey gem all wrapped in a high fructose, colorful shell?

It only becomes a problem when Momma finds her way to the 42 oz. bag of pure heaven around 3:00 every afternoon, when two little men have been played out with bike rides, trampolining, tickle wars, playground visits and hide and seek and yet still find it pure insanity that said Momma expects them to nap. So that she can also nap. Because - read that run-on sentence again - just the thought of all that energy expenditure makes me tired!

I wish I could tell you the 42 oz. bag was in our house way back in 2008, but that would be a straight up fib. Because my people know that T wasn't potty training way back then. And, while T has been doing pretty well in his training, he ain't no potty training whiz (I couldn't wait to use that pun). And, since I'm not rewarding myself for my own potty habits, it all comes down to the 3:00 crazy hour when I need me some sugar.

I've always believed "everything in moderation." If heaping handfuls of M&M's is doing it in moderation, I'd better start doing some moderatin' in this:

And find a better stress busting weapon in this: