I should know by now. I mean, I've lived with myself, literally, my entire life and normally I am brutally honest about things. I look at all my figurative and actual warts and I work on them, confront them so I can constantly improve my behaviors, thinking patterns. Wine and beer consumption.
Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Because clearly I have an enormous blind spot when it comes to food and my brain functioning. Specifically I am convinced that I am lucid no matter how low my blood sugar goes.
Patently this is not the case as you will see from the following incidents. Now I don't like to blame my poor judgment on hormones or whatever people always point to when they describe women who are a) mothers and b) spend most of their time fulfilling the myriad activities entailed in that role and appear slightly scattered. I reject that. It is not hormones. It is a lack of food.
It's been occurring with an alarming frequency of late. The first time I met some friends and their children at the local park so we could all play. In parental parlance that means the older folks sit around and chat about how they were once cool, before children, while said children actually do play. I suggested a picnic because I wanted to share this great Mediterranean sandwich recipe and I also make these amazing chocolate cupcakes that are like ding dongs except they're filled with chocolate ganache. Well the meeting was at lunch to accommodate one of my friends who is perpetually late.
Of course I'd eaten nothing since I planned on immediately attacking the food upon arrival.
Mistake. One should not forgo food when one has two children to look after. Especially not until eleven-thirty. This is a rule. One that I seem to constantly forget.
After meeting my friends, I was informed by my daughter that she wanted her scooter. This was right after I'd asked her at the car if she wanted it and she'd said no. Obviously.
"Well, okay, but you're going to have to wait while I put this on the table, alright?"
"Okay," she answered angelically. I do hate being manipulated.
I pushed my other daughter, aka Bustle Butt, towards along the sidewalk ringing the large sand area and aimed for the picnic table. Now, the grass that surrounds the actual picnic table has grown very thickly, and its created this "curb" that is about four inches higher than the sidewalk. I'm smiling, rather stupidly, at one of my friends who had arrived at the same time as us. He's waiting next to said table. I observe the grass curb and think, "Well, we bought this ridiculously expensive stroller to roll all over the uneven streets of Beijing. Surely it can take this measly little grass curb."
Nope. Instead, I ram head-on into the curb and literally jolt my babe out of her chair. Thank heavens for safety straps.
I'm not certain if my friend laughed, but I was quick to defend what was clearly a stupid move, "It's not my fault!" I proclaim, "I'm experiencing low blood sugar!"
Now, this occurred only a few weeks ago and you'd think that I'd keep this in mind. But you see, I think my brain has slowly deteriorated over said weeks because I have since that time embarked upon a slight calorie reduction program. Only slight, mind, but given that my body is really sensitive to this sort of thing evidently, the results have been dramatic.
To wit, I've had several more episodes of "Low Blood Sugar Stupidity." Oh, the diet? That's working too. Sort of.
The other day, for example, I was driving my friend and myself to Ktown for some twice-fried in Olive Oil chicken at the original LA Kyochon, of which I've written about earlier. Seriously. The best ever. As a salve to my conscience, I first drove us to the Galleria to go food shopping. I think I bought seven items (in my defense, I may be experiencing said LBSS right now).
I go to fast. I'm driving along Western Ave towards the mall where the grocery store is located.
"So you know you can turn right here," my friend points right.
"Oh, yeah, okay."
And then I drove right past the turn.
"Uh, okay, you can turn right here, too."
"What? Oh! Whoops! I mean, I knew that I turn right right there and I meant to, but"--in case you haven't already gathered, I tend to chatter on LBSS--"I just, well, obviously I blazed right by it. Not my fault! Low blood sugar!"
He began laughing. At me. "That's okay! A little comedy relief, too: 'Turn right, turn right!'and then you just keep driving, dude!"
I was laughing to hard because I knew that I was being a bit ditzy.
After picking up a few things at the Korean market, and mind, this was merely an excuse to visit the local Kyochon after, we quickly finished our shopping and headed to my car.
"Okay," I confessed, "you better tell me how to get there. I know, but given my current state [the blood sugar was getting ever lower], you'd better direct me."
"Well, at exit, you turn right."
Now, in my current state of mind, what this sounded like was, "Look right to see if there are any oncoming cars and then turn left."
So, that's what I did. I looked right. For whole minutes. You could have hummed an entire song during that time.
Clearly, my friend was being polite. He waited patiently. Finally, he could stand it no longer. "Uh, yo. You can turn right, you know."
"Huh? Oh, right! Turn right! Of course." I had no idea why I was looking left except for that aforementioned explanation.
Thank goodness the local eats was only three blocks away because I probably would have driven us to goodness-knows-where otherwise.
Of course, for the rest of the ride there, my friend kept ragging me: "Turn right here! Turn right, turn rigggggghhhhttttt!"
The third time in as many days I experienced LBSS and I have learned my lesson. We, all four of us, were at LACMA, LA County Museum of Art, that is. Again, I had deluded myself into thinking that, after all, we were going to arrive and soon after, hit the Patina Group-run cafe. I was excited. I happen to like the Portobella Mushroom burger with Garlic Fries. Yum.
Well, it was inevitable that my daughter wanted to play in the installation outside in the courtyard. For half an hour. By then it was 11 and I hadn't eaten anything since I'd arise, around 6 that morning. I'd just had some milk because I was "saving myself" for that "burger." To stave off my dizziness, I went to the Milk shop (or some similarly pretentiously-named cafe) that serves pastries, coffee, and milk, and I acquired a three-dollar chocolate chip cookie.
Mistake. This did nothing except make me cranky. Because it reminded me how hungry I was for real food.
I put my foot down and announced to everyone in close proximity, regardless of whether they were related to me or not, that we were going to the cafe that instant for food. With a smile, of course.
When we got there, I told my husband what I wanted so he could order while I took the baby and my other daughter to a table to get them situated. Because the floor is carpeted, and no, I don't care about germs, I let the Fussy Fatso down so she could crawl. She immediately espied what was clearly a forgotten baby container, I assumed a sipper (we don't use those things) so initially I scorned it.
Then I realized it was one of these snack containers that have a lid that keeps snacks inside unless a stubby little paw reaches into the opening and extracts said snack. Ooooooo! Cool! Free snack dispensary! Because I am wayyy too cheap to buy those things and besides, I always thought they were stupid and basically were "Idiot Indicators" for parents who are easily sucked into the whole "Buy your way to better parenting" cohort.
Unless, of course, the thing is free. Then I'm all for it.
I was thrilled and immediately extracted the plastic container with her snacks from the beach bag that doubles as our diaper bag (hey, it's a cool Land's End tote with pink trim, what can I say?). I looked at the opening and this seemed like a completely rational thought: "Hey, I can just pour those snacks into the top!"
Which I proceeded to. The cereal then proceeded to spill all over the container and onto the floor.
My husband returned at precisely this moment to witness me fumbling with the lid and wondering why my insertion technique was not working. After he stopped laughing, he said, "Here, why don't you go sit down. I'll do this."
He gathered all the snacks off the floor--did I mention how we are not overly germ-conscious like lots of other crazy parents and consequently our children are inordinately healthy--took off the lid to the container, and then put all the cereal into it.
Well, I've learned my lesson. First, I provide an inordinate amount of humor for friends and family on LBSS. Secondly, eat breakfast.
Duh.
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