food

Husbandly Drunkenness

This post is about husbandly drunkenness.

But before we get to the booze, the arguing, the complaining about small portions, and the snoring, we have to get to the more snore-worthy matter of privacy.

Oh my God!

I’ve had a 100 emails about this, and this post might be your 101st.

Broadly, there is an ‘Unsubscribe’ button at the end of each email. It does what it says on the tin: goes to MailChimp which will then automagically unsubscribe you.

And it happens without my having to do anything (easy-peasy!).

Please, to unsubscribe from the emails, click ‘Unsubscribe’. 

And if you don’t, then you haven’t, and MailChimp won’t.

The End.

So, the husband is complaining about a shortage of husbandly drunkenness. “A grave deficit”, he says, emphasising the middle word in a thirsty gravel.

Is this justified?

Does your husband complain about such an undersupply? And men, do you complain to your wives (and in a few cases, husbands) about the global husbandly-drunkenness shortfall?

What should the UN do about it? 

(’Cause sure as biscuits, Donald Trump isn’t going to help.)

See you at your next adjustment!

— Dr MaryAnne

How my trip to the pub was ruined by the British government

We're usually not organised.

My husband and I.

When it comes to our anniversary (12 years today), we usually forget to book anything, let alone get a babysitter in advance.

So for dinner tonight, we just decided to take our whole brood to the pub up the street.

We were starving.

Pub food isn't my usual thing, even thought I love a good burger, and it's been a while since I had a humongous meal with fries and lots of comfort food.

Plus, I've been training like crazy, lifting more weights, and my trainer told me I have to eat more to increase my muscle growth and recovery.

Win for me!

Anyway, my husband went up to the bar to order our food.

Burgers.

Ribs.

The usual.

We scarfed down our food.

(I'm still amazed, and will always be amazed, at how much food my kids can put down, especially my son, and be super lean. I mean, where does it all go?)

We all finished, and then I was in the mood for dessert.

(Right? What girl doesn't want to at least look at the dessert menu?)

Mmmmmm.

Yummmmm.

Millionaire's ice cream sundae.

Oh My God.

Yes please.

(Cue in shock horror music)

Then, in italics it says,

"1050 calories"

Wait, what?

I kept reading down the list.

Brownie hot fudge sundae:

1200 calories.

Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me?

Caramel Toffee Pudding:

985 calories.

I look at my husband with a really pissed off stare.

He looks at me like he's done something wrong.

I blurt out, "One thousand calories? Really? Why the hell are they telling us?"

He answers in relief thankful that it's not his fault this time,

"Oh yeah, blame the British government. It's sort of becoming the law."

Really?

Oh, for feck's sake.

Let's order three.

Yes, I ate my share.

Live and let live.

Life's too short.

Carpe diem.

Oh yes. It was goooooood.

Happy Anniversary to us!

Have a great long weekend.

— Dr MaryAnne

It's called the whip nae nae, mom.

Spending time with my girls in Paris has been a chock full o' fun.

(And lots of learning about the latest trendy stuff. My daughters talk even more than I do.)

My 11-year-old is practically a teenager and she's teaching me a lot of songs, dance moves, and new ways to speak.

Frankly, I don't remember being like this when I was eleven.

(I probably was though.)

Kids these days seem to grow up much faster than when I was a kid.

(Is it technology that accelerates it the maturity process?)

Anyway, since we used to live in Paris, I still have a few friends living here so we went to have lunch with a close dear friend of mine.

She's a little bit younger than me, and my daughter really loves her too.

I hadn't seen her for a couple years, so it was great to see her.

The last time I saw her, things were a little sketchy in her life, and she was not doing very well causing her to resort to anti-depressant drugs.

When she told me this at the time, I did whatever I could to help her remotely, chatting with her online, texting, and emailing. 

I always told her that I knew she had it in her to fight this tough time in her life without using the drugs. I was confident that she didn't need them.

Unfortunately, so many women (1 in 7 women in the US) are taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety drugs for their emotional states of depression.

And these women have no idea that almost all cases can be remedied and healed 100% naturally.

Take a look at this awesome interview with Marie Forleo and Dr Kelly Brogan.

Dr Kelly is a board-certified psychiatrist, who specialises in women's health, specifically depression and anxiety.

She just released this book all about healing depression naturally through exercise, diet, mindfulness, and meditation.

It's a phenomenal book.

I love it.

She's a big supporter and advocate for chiropractic care as well. 

I highly recommend learning more about what she teaches, how diet, foods, exercise and meditation can help clear and heal so many diseases, including depression.

As for my friend, over lunch with her, she was glowing with happiness, and she was so proud to tell me that she was doing fantastically well and she was able to get off the anti-depressants and heal herself naturally. 

Awesome. 

It is absolutely possible to make this happen. I know this and I'll always stand by that truth!

Healing naturally is how you will be healthy. Not the drugs.

Check out Dr Kelly Brogan's website to see what she's saying about it.

In the meantime, make sure you book your massage at this amazing price of £25 for one hour!

Remember, you can book the massage now for a date later on in the future.

You pay now, and have the massage in a few weeks if that makes it easier for you!

See you next week!

Have a wonderful Easter weekend.

— Dr MaryAnne

My kids speaks this strange alien language that I don't understand

As someone who was raised in America, I've always been amazed at how easy it is to travel to a completely different country within a couple hours from London.

Plane or train.

Doesn't matter.

It's very cool.

A two-hour train ride in America, and you're still in the same State (most of the time). 

I can't believe more Londoners don't take advantage of living so close to Paris!

It's so great to be able to hop on a fast train, and then BAM, you're in frogland.

Oui! Oui!

C'est magnifique!

Anyway, on the very crowded train, I met this very sweet young mother with her toddler daughter.

I couldn't help but offer my assistance because there was a jumble of seats with a big family of overgrown loud teenagers, and I could tell that this mother just wanted a comfortable seat with her little girl.

So I managed to talk the other people into rearranging their seating plan, and the young mother was able to sit next with us in the quattro seating (with the table in the middle).

Much better outcome.

She was very grateful.

It was simple to do. 

Little effort.

Big payout.

Stressless journey with children.

(Is that really possible?)

We had a lovely ride into Paris.

My kids played with the little girl, and everyone was happy.

I was probably the happiest because my eldest kept on talking in the strangest accent. I think she picked it up on YouTube. She contorts her face and has this annoying rhythm, tone, and intonation. 

Very strange.

So I basically ignored her. I had to. Instead, I focused on having a nice conversation with the young mother sitting next to me.

She asked me if I work and what I do.

Sure enough she became very interested when I told her that my special interest is with babies' and children's spinal health.

Most people have no clue what chiropractic paediatrics is.

"What does it mean for a child to go have a chiropractic check-up?"

I explained to her how important it is for all newborns to have their spines check shortly after birth.

Doesn't a paediatrician check the baby's heart, breathing, ears, genitals, etc?

How about one of the most important organs in the body?

The brain and the spine - the central nervous system?

This mother was totally fascinated.

"Yes, that makes sense!"

She even explained to me that her baby was born with forceps because she was twisted in a strange position stuck in the birth canal.

(Do you know how often I hear mothers say this?)

Listen, I love what I do. And if I can speak to one mother a day to show them how important it is to have her child's spine checked, then I feel that I've helped make a positive change in that child's (and mother's) life.

Because a healthy child is what we all want.

Healthy children lead to a happier world for the future.

Do you get it?

Good.

Now, I'm off to go eat some delicious French food.

Au revoir et a bientot!

See you next week for your adjustment!

(Don't forget to book in your £25 massage! Only ten days left at this price.)

— Dr MaryAnne

Do as I say, not as I do. Mostly.

I like comfort food. 

And red wine.

Sometimes I need them badly.

Like tonight.

Here's a picture of me really pissed off at my husband taking my picture over dinner.

 

 

Here are the other two just before that moment.

This one:

 

 

And this one:
 

IMG_2371.jpg

 

Let's rewind a few hours more so I can explain.

You see, it was my 8-year-old son's birthday party today.

Everyone was all very excited.

I was even proud of myself for being so on top of things, being organised, as I had booked everything way in advance for this party.

(We even had my daughter's birthday party the day before! Actually, that probably just shows how insane I am. Why do I do this to myself?)

Thirty minutes before the party was supposed to start, my phone rings.

It was the Go Kart company.

"Uh, hi MaryAnne. This is ___ from the Go Karts. Yeah - we, um, can't get into the school grounds. No one is letting us in. Not sure if anyone is here."

Oh shhhhit.

I suddenly had a BAD feeling about this.

"OH. OK. I'm almost there. I'll meet you and hopefully we'll get in."

Twenty minutes later, we arrive, and they are still waiting outside the gate, unable to get in. 

No one is 'home'.

Double shit.

After about an hour of waiting and trying to work something out with a security person, we realise the best thing to do is just leave.

Nothing could be done.

Go Karts go home (they were very understanding about the situation).

So I made the instantaneous decision that we bring the party to my house.

Triple shit.

14 children in my house.

Do I need to keep telling you the story?

Do the photos explain why I had an empty glass of wine, some sweet potato chips, with mayo and ketchup in front of me?

Yes, this evening, after everyone was gone, I was stuffing my face and trying to numb myself silly.

What a day.

It actually all turned out fine.

The no-show at the venue turned out to be the worst thing that happened, luckily.

The kids all had a blast.

The cake was stellar and delicious. 

(Chocolate cake with chocolate buttercream frosting. So good. The whole thing was devoured in minutes.)

And best of all, my son was happy as a pig in shit.

He loved it.

Phew!

Now on to my preparations for my week to follow.

Who am I adjusting this week?

Are you getting an adjustment?

You bet I certainly am!

After a weekend like this one, I need at least 2!

What about you?

See you soon - book your adjustment tonight!

— Dr MaryAnne

Husbands are both correct and wrong

Marriage is many things.

Sometimes it feels like the greatest thing in the world.

Sometimes it feels like the shittiest thing in the world.

And there's all the rest of what's in between those two realities.

For me, personally, marriage has been more challenging than I thought.

But don't get me wrong.

That's not a complaint.

It's just the nature of the beast.

Having and creating a marriage that is engaging, fun, happy, and fulfilling is a constant effort.

And sometimes I just don't wanna play.

It wasn't really until closer to my 10th year of marriage that I realised I really wasn't going to be able to change my husband (AKA My Brit).

After all, wasn't it Samuel Pepys, a famous diarist who once said,

"A woman marries a man because she thinks she can change him. A man marries a woman because he thinks she won't change. Both will be disappointed."

People who know both my husband and me know that we are very different from one another.

The topic of health is a constant debate in our household.

It definitely wasn't My Brit's healthy ways that attracted me to him.

(It was actually his accent that got me swooning and smitten. But that's another story to tell.)

My Brit loves food. 

The higher the fat and salt the better.

Add the alcohol and you have a near perfect meal.

My Brit believes in these essential food groups:

Fat; salt; sugar; butter; cheese; mustard; coffee; and alcohol

My husband is, as is the nature of husbands, both correct and wrong.

What about ice cream and chocolate?

Really!

In all seriousness, my Brit does love to push my buttons and tease me a lot, only because I get so easily worked up about this subject.

We're not anywhere near being a perfect couple.

We argue.

A lot.

And it's quite tumultuous.

But luckily, it's balanced out with the good times out-numbering the not-so-good times.

Like 75% good, 25% bad.

Plus, I adjust him regularly.

Now, I'm convinced that's a plus.

He's lucky.

In more ways than one.

(I am too.)

See you at your next adjustment!

— Dr MaryAnne

I don't think you're ready for this jelly

Oh yeah.

It's happening today.

My trainer and I have been talking about this for months.

See, each week, at nearly every training session, we have these in-depth conversations about everything.

Well, nearly everything.

We don't talk about astronomy and how many moons Jupiter has.

Well, at least not yet.

(That's my 8-year-old son's job to discuss that.)

The discussions with my trainer range from totally silly to downright controversial.

In fact, most of them are controversial.

Debates ensue.

And with his passion and stubbornness combined with mine, sometimes it gets loud.

So the rest of the girls in our group just stop and listen. Because we don't let much more get another word in.

That's why we decided to start podcasting.

We'll talk about nearly everything. 

(Except about Jupiter's 67 moons and how big the Universe is, and all that jazz.)

It's called "Confessions of a Personal Trainer".

This is going to be fun, because at the end of the day, why not do anything if there isn't even a little fun in it?

Some topics will probabaly piss me off, and I know some will piss him off too. We'll get at each others' throats, and maybe one of us will storm out because it's just too much!

As Beyoncé chants, "I don't think you're ready for this jelly." 

That could very well apply in these territories of podcast debates!

So stay tuned for our first episode!

We're recording today!

Don't forget to get adjusted in the meantime!

See you soon.

— Dr MaryAnne