It's hard being healthy

So after a few weeks of going at the diet and exercise hard I decided to give myself a “cheat week”. It is son number 2’s birthday week, so the house is full of naughty stuff and I knew would be spending my time sniggering and tying balloons into the obligatory two round one long configuration and picking up fluttering Argos receipts, far too busy to work out or think about healthy eating.

But after only four days I began to feel sick, exhausted, and had indigestion straight from the fiery pit of hell. I discovered that weirdly, the things I considered treats were in fact not what my body wanted.

As the designated chef of three demanding males, I have a hard time cooking in my house. Son number 1 is a picky eater who is only just coming out of the “I’m not eating that, it’s white” stage (especially not cheese), has a verging on compulsive obsession with things being cut up or not cut up in a certain way, god help anyone who cuts his sandwich into 4 instead of 2 and don’t even get me started on the square versus triangle argument. I admit I have probably pandered to his random demands too much, but if your kid is going to scream the house down for ten minutes because you cut his cucumber into sticks instead of rounds you get to the point where bad habits creep in, just for a quiet life.

The man is a bigger version of son number 1, and doesn’t see the point in eating anything that he doesn’t absolutely love. So if a meal isn’t at least 85% meat it has to be covered in cheese to make up for it and I have a very narrow selection of fruit and vegetables to work with. Healthy versions of favourites don’t appeal, why have berries and honey on your porridge when you can have cream and golden syrup, don’t bother making me packed lunches this week because KitKat Chunkys and Hula Hoops are on special at the garage across the road and for goodness sake woman, is full fat mayonnaise too much to ask for? It doesn’t help that he is one of those infuriating people that has a criminally perfect body despite never working out or watching what he eats, so there is probably a sneaky element of sabotage in the fact that I am so willing pour double cream down his neck, just to see if it makes a dent in his rock solid pecs (it never does).

I regularly find myself cooking 3 different meals every day to suit all the complicated dietary requirements of the brood.

Why slave for 3 hours a day cooking a healthy and delicious meal for people who are happy with sausages and chicken nuggets? So I’m often forlornly eating my healthy meals alone and rarely justify the expense of making myself a fruit salad, which has had to be washed and chopped, washing up created, before it can be enjoyed. It all seems like too much hassle for just me. By day 2 I have a huge bowl of unappetising spongy fruit taking up space in my fridge and I’m reaching for the mans secret KitKat Chunky hidden behind the ancient box of Trex on the fridge door.

Why can’t they make healthy food more accessible, and more importantly cheap? Why is it that it works out cheaper for me to buy kids yoghurts with reportedly over a teaspoon of pure sugar in each pot than it does to buy plain yoghurt and add toppings to it (which I now do, although still trying to move away from jam and nesquik powder as acceptable toppings)? You can buy a ready made lasagne the size of a small continent for around £4, make my own healthy version and I haven’t saved anything except fat and maybe pride, but it’s taken me three hours to convince them that I haven’t added anything “weird” (slightly worrying that my family trust Tesco more than me when it comes to food). Even the Expensive Cats prefer supermarket budget brand cat food, not even described as any flavour, just meat. It’s a conspiracy I tell you.

I know we should all be eating healthy but picky eaters make it so flipping hard for us family cooks to provide a balanced diet that everyone can enjoy. I don’t blame people for eating ready meals and cooking less, I get such a head ache from banging my head against the unhealthy brick wall that is my family.

But sometimes, even for a healthy food lover, only chocolate will do.

“Mummy, what’s that you’re eating?”

“Erm… it’s a brown cheese bar. It’s new, want to try it?”

“Urgh, I don’t like cheese."

"I know."

"I thought it was chocolate.”

“Nope, definitely cheese.” It’s probably no wonder that none of them trust me.

Hallelujah, Praise the DJ

In my ongoing quest for spiritual enlightenment I always seem to come back to the Buddhist philosophy as the model which sits most comfortably with my inbuilt natural ethics. Not answering to a certain God but to yourself, doing everything with a positive outlook, ensuring your actions do not harm other people, animals or your environment, loving everyone regardless of race, age, religion or background (comment if I’ve missed any or got anything wrong here), are, in my opinion, a pretty perfect set of answers for any situation.

In my limited understanding, Buddhism is a fairly solitary philosophy, with wisdom and inner peace sought through quiet meditation and vows of silence. But I can see why more organised religions have taken precedence, there is something thrilling about lots of people with a common belief system coming together to celebrate a mutually adored higher power.

You can see examples of mass worship in the most unlikely places if you look at things in a certain way. Take a football match for example. The pitch is the altar, the stadium is the church, players are the gods. They even have their own hymns (football songs) and a lively debate about the sermon afterwards (breakdown of the match over a pint). Not being a football fan myself I don’t really get it, but you can’t deny the sense of euphoria in the congregation when one team wins or scores a goal.

We had our regular bi-annual child free party this weekend. It’s the only time when we get the opportunity to come together in the same way as before we became parents and sensible overtook silly as the default setting. As I was throwing questionable mummy shapes on the dance floor, seeing nothing in the black light but the grinning teeth and sparkling eyes of my most beloved friends, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of spiritual energy, connecting us all like a holy light. We were worshipping the God of bass or maybe music, at the altar of the decks, with a DJ minister presiding over, providing a path to utopia through some seriously uplifting music.

Maybe it’s just me but it’s in those situations when I feel a total affinity with the smiley happy-clappy people on telly, grinning and raising their arms and shouting “Praise the Lord!” Because, ultimately, finding spiritual peace is as much about a connection with other people as it is about finding that connection within your inner consciousness.

Research suggests that spiritual people are happier, live longer and have better health than their atheist peers, which are good a reasons as any to seek some form of divine understanding. And it is times like Saturday night when I’m surrounded by people I love, bathing in the light and glory of a truly breathtaking sermon (set) that I feel most at peace, blessed and likely to raise my arms in a gesture of praise.

Or maybe it was just a group of people teetering on the brink of middle age, dancing to old tunes and reliving the glory days of their misspent youth.

Either way it’s the closest I’ve ever come to spiritual nirvana. God bless you father DJ(s).