Calories be damned

I don't know about you, but I'm a cold weather chick. It might simply be due to the fact that I was born in autumn, but I much prefer cool weather to hot.

I love it when it's cold enough in the afternoon to have a fire (or at least put the heater on).

I am a layering officionado (is that a word, or did I just spell it weird?), preferring jeans, Birks, and a fleece whenever possible. And no, it's not because I can get away with unshaved legs in this ensemble...although, that is definitely one of the perks.

In my eyes, there is nothing better in this world than hopping under the doona with a hot water bottle, a cup of tea, and a good book. It's just unfortunate that my children do not share my passion, and feel it necessary to ruin my attempts at such bliss. Every time I begin to think I may indulge in an evening such as this...someone gets a cough, or a runny nose, or has a nightmare. Y'know? Pfft. Children.

 (You may have noticed that thus far I am ignoring the not-so-great elements of the cold weather...like washing that just won't dry...cold viruses that do the rounds of the household again, and again...the inability to use a backyard that has turned into a quagmire...wet dogs...however, these things are not enough to dampen my innate enthusiasm for autumn and winter. Yeah, yeah, summer and spring, fresh breezes, beachy days, cool drinks, green grass - all terrific. It's the sweatiness, the flushed cheeks and the inability to go outside without applying half-an-hour's worth of sunscreen that puts me off somewhat...)

But, as always, I digress.

D'you know what my fabourite (thank you Ballerina!) thing about the cold weather is? The food. (Well, duh.)

On chilly days, when the house is toasty, and the kids are being all snuggly playing games in the lounge room, there's nothing better than stoking up the crockpot and making a slow-simmered casserole. Or roast chicken and vegies. Or a deep, rich, velvety lasagne. Mmmmm.

Now, my one regret from my university days is that I chose biochemistry instead of "inventing calorie-free foods that actually taste good". Let's be honest - if my body could burn 10,000 calories a day, I'd be able to indulge in all of my favourite winter foods without missing a beat. Hot raisin toast with butter for brekkie; toasties for lunch with ham, cheese and tomato; and something for dinner that had slow-cooked for several hours, topped off with something baked with apples and cinnamon.

But I am (as previously stated) not a fembot able to consume unlimited amounts of deliciousness. As a result, in the winter months I choose my indulgences carefully. Most of the time, I am able to curb my appetite for warming, comforting foods relatively well (and indeed, my new Tupper fetish is my Cafe Out cup, which is not only satisfyingly pink, but holds a lovely hot Milo on the way to the school pick up on icy afternoons). Yesterday, however, my will power failed.

I had had one of THOSE days. You don't need to know the details. Let's just say it was *ahem* busy. And since Christian was going to be out at school debating until very late, I knew I was looking down the barrel at a potential debacle. I had taken the girls to Jack's classroom at the end of the day for Open Day, and we enjoyed a lovely time singing on the floor and seeing the Preppies at work. At the end of it all, Jack was a bit overwhelmed by all the people and got teary, so I knew I had to change the tone of his afternoon, and fast.

So as I walked back to the car, I made an executive decision. I stepped boldly into "bad mummy" mode, and drove straight to the nearest Old Macdonalds for emergency drive-thru fries and apple juice pop-tops. Despite the fact that it was 4pm on a school night, and that we would be heading home for dinner very soon, and that my adipose cells most definitely did NOT need any Maccas lovin', we did it. And oh, they were good!!!! Warm, crispy, salty chippies, washed down with apple juice (or diet Coke, for those old enough to understand the pathetic anomaly in my choice). I know I enjoyed them, and the contented silence from the back seat indicated that the kids weren't hating it, either. (And just on an allergy-related note: fries and apple slices are the only two items my son can eat from any fast food outlet. Full stop. So, it's a huge treat - but a safe one.)

We arrived home happy, if a little greasy-fingered. And those kids played, bathed, ate their dinners, and went to bed like angels - and there was no knock on the door from the parent-police, ready to lynch me for child abuse via deep fryer. Not only that, but my pants still fitted me the next morning. Miracle of miracles, right? Now, I'm not suggesting that we all go out and slaughter ourselves by stuffing our gobs every single day with fast food. Heaven forbid. It'd cost a small fortune.

But oh, just for half an hour on an icy autumnal afternoon, those chippies hit the spot. And to top it all off, my kids were so stoked by Mummy's relaxing of the health food reins that they behaved magnificently for a full 15 hours afterwards. I think they were hoping for a repeat performance. Fat chance.