Of Bats & Triglycerides.
Mood:  happy
It's six a.m., that most famous hour, and I am nursing Matt when suddenly Sam, sound asleep, speaks up from beside me.

"It's like . . . it's like a bat. It's a bat. . . . Mommy? . . . Mommy?"

"Yes, honey."

"Winnie the Pooh has a bird, and it's like a bat."

"It's all right, sweetheart."

"Okay. Mommy, it's okay." He turns to his father and pats him comfortingly on the arm. "It's okay."

Having thus reassured us, he rolls over and goes back to sleep.

* * *

Meanwhile, we have been confronted with the issue of triglycerides, middle age, and the need for a purer life. Ben had a physical a week ago, and his blood work revealed that he has dangerously high triglyceride levels. Now, this is something of which I knew virtually nothing before yesterday, but triglycerides are fats in the blood, and at high levels, they pose a serious risk of heart attack or stroke. My husband is 48 years old and, honestly, has probably put on too much weight since we've been married. So these are things of concern. We have two small boys to raise.

So, what now? Oh, simple. A diet containing no alcohol, no sugar and virtually no fat. Meaning we are basically looking at lean protein, vegetables and whole grains. And no wine. No wine! We are the sort of people who go on wine tasting trips, and love to have a bottle of a good California red with dinner, so this is a tall order. Once his levels go down, a glass of wine a day is permissible, but this is the upper limit.

And I'm going to go ahead and do the entire regimen with him, because would there be anything quite so obnoxious as your wife smirking at you over her glass of wine and plate of pizza as you drink your green tea and eat your skinless chicken breast, steamed veggies and brown rice? No, something like that could hurt a marriage. So it's a life of virtue for us.

And it got me thinking that you really don't think, before having kids in your 40s, about the sacrifices involved. (Hell, if we had, they might not be here.) Before the boys came along, we were jet skiing, wine tasting, gourmet restaurant, partying kinds of people. And then came the boys, and we had no life, but we sort of knew that was coming. So we sold the jet ski, invested in a serious cable television package, and enjoyed family life. But we still had wine! And pizza!

But it's important not only that we spend time with our kids, but that we ensure we live long enough to raise them. So, another sacrifice: We take care of ourselves. Which I guess is not such a sacrifice if you look at it the right way, but no wine? And no pizza? Someone just gag me with a head of steamed cauliflower.

Well, as Ben puts it, we are just going to have to look for other pleasures in life, and I guess we've found them. Those would be the two little bundles of little boyness who bring us such joy. Now pass the pizza. But hold the crust. And the cheese. And the pepperoni. And if you've got a recipe for skinless chicken breast that doesn't taste like absolute cardboard, drop me a line.