I am not putting any money on the line, but I am putting my reputation on the line. Like so many people during this time of year, I am going to challenge myself to be more healthy. Stress reduction is one crucial way I can accomplish this, but, hey, that ain't going to happen - right now anyway. Instead I am going to try to kick-start good eating and exercise habits which will inevitably eliminate stress and this always a good thing.
When do I start? Today? Not necessarily. Tomorrow? Probably not. So, when? January 2 is when I will "officially" start my self-created detox program. The reason I chose January 2 to begin fully embracing "the new way" is that I want to give myself a break until after the holidays are officially over and the celebration continues until after New Year's Day - January 2.
In the meantime, I will embrace elements of the program, but allow myself wiggle room for indulgence. As long as I don't over do it, it is important to eat, drink, and be merry during this time of year when so many of friends and family members are around to join in the conviviality of the season. Laughter and merriment is crucial to good health or at least to my good health.
Another reason I am delaying jumping into the program is that my family and I are just getting over the stomach flu. You do what you gotta do to survive the bug and its aftermath even if it includes eating white toast with butter. Being gentle with ourselves, being gentle with myself is a part of my program or any program worth considering.
The saying "be gentle with yourself" is one that I constantly remind myself, friends and family members. It is so important to remind ourselves that most everything we stress and agonize about now will not register a blip on the map of our lives. The reason I am not *that* nervous about embarking on 'the program' is because I will falter and I will get up. This a part of the process. The key is to get up whether it is that very minute, an hour later, the next day, or a month later. Getting up is success.
Thankfully I have not had to diet much in my lifetime due to good genes more than anything else. After I had my second child and while I was still on maternity leave, I decided to try Weight Watchers and begin Pilates to lose baby weight. It was amazing and I lost all of my baby weight, plus some. A couple of months later, I decided to embark on losing 5 lbs which would bring me to just about where I was before I had kids. Weight Watchers and Pilates worked again. Like others, after accomplishing my goal, I stopped the program. Some of the weight, about 5 - 9 lbs of it came back, and this is where I am now. I want to lose about just under 10 lbs and as importantly I want to approach the loss in a healthy and strategic way. (More about what this means to me later.)
So, why not go back to Weight Watchers and Pilates when it worked so well before? I loved Weight Watchers and would highly recommend it to anyone. I loved Pilates as well and can honestly say it is the only exercise program I have ever actually enjoyed. I would go back to either program in a minute, which brings me to the reason I am not going back on Weight Watches or joining a Pilates studio: money. Each of these programs cost money, money that I do not have right now. So, I am going to try to use resources that are free or are of minimal cost. If my self-directed program does not work, then, I know I can always go back to what has worked in the past.
Stay tuned.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Pine Street
Fleeting it may be
the moment is now
to notice
to embrace
to listen
to believe
to stop
to play
In that space between that which defines the dailiness of our days, I am want to remind myself that this is *it*.
This is the "ever after", the "someday", the "if only".
Time to plant flowers and leave dishes.
Bake bread and ignore laundry.
Build tents out of blankets and make a sleep-over with my family.
The dream exists. It is here between me and you and them and us.
Write now.
Paint now.
Absorb now.
That which we pine for is here.
It will never be perfect.
Weeds will always need tending.
Paint will need to be peeled.
Baby clothes need to be rotated.
Dinner to be made.
Laundry to be folded.
The key, it seems, is to carve out space within our reality and challenge ourselves to enjoy it ...
the bubbling water, the stained, yet, clean t-shirts, the rocks and sand that artfully litter the backyard, and the strewn about DVDs with mismatched cases.
This is what I will yearn for now. 10 years from now, 10 days from now, 10 minutes from now. I yearn now.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
My kid is creepy
Houses creak. House's crack. House's hopefully don't crack open.
One son is asleep (he is easy) and the other is awake (he used to be easy). I know the boy is awake, but I am not sure if he is in his bed or if he is roaming around upstairs. I went downstairs to write a blog entry, only to realize that the laptop was upstairs and I would need to pass his room in order to get it. I knew that it was going be risky, but I am a grown-up. I am the parent. Besides, I do not want to watch re-runs tonight and I am too lazy to walk 500 ft. to get the cell phone out of my car. So, I decide it worth the risk.
If the boy sees the computer he will come out of bed and inquiring "COMPUTER!?" wanting to play on it. Confidently, yet quietly, I walk pass his open door, pick up the computer, place it under my arm - like a book - and walk downstairs. Success.
I boot up the goods and begin to write. I hear him at the top of the stairs. I can feel his presence. I can almost hear his thumb in his mouth and his blanket in his arms. I called to the top of the stairs "Bedtime ... time to go back to bed!". I did not hear the pattering of footsteps or a frantic "Noooo!" coming from the stairwell, so I knew I needed to get up and help him to bed.
After a short pep talk about all the fun things ahead of us tomorrow (the splash pad and lunch with friends), I explained that he would need to stay in bed or I would take away his blanket. I said good-night and went back downstairs attempting to continue where I left off.
I heard a noise at the top of the stairs again. I was startled because sometimes when I am writing or watching television downstairs with my back to the door, I do not hear the boy come into the room (he *is* only 30 lbs and less than 3 ft tall, so it can happen) and when I do see him, in the corner of my eye, standing behind me smiling silently with his blanket in hand, I yelp. So, I yelled upstairs, "OK, I need to take away your blanket! Go back to bed!". I did not hear any footsteps, so I yelled up, again, and no word. That was it, I was going to go upstairs and put him back to bed again and possibly take away his blanket! I got up off the couch and looked at the top of the stairs. No one was there. I called his name. No answer. He was never there. Creepy.
I went back to work and got a couple of paragraphs in when I heard it again. I yelled "What are you doing up? Go back to bed!". I did not hear anything. Quickly and without grace, I hurriedly tried to put the laptop down on the couch and run upstairs while yelling both boys names and pleading "That's it; I am taking your blanket away!". I am very much hoping that I see the boy at the top of the stairs and not a ghost or something.
I see the boy at the top of the darkened stairs with his blanket in his arms and his thumb in his mouth. I call his name. He says nothing. I call again. He says nothing. He walks slowly down the stairs toward me. Not answering me. When he reaches me, I bend down to look at him (maybe he is sleep walking? maybe he is possessed?). My heart is racing. I look into his eyes and he smiles. He is fine. Asshole.
I put him back to bed again. I go downstairs again. I try to write again. I hear the noise again. I feel the presence again. I look upstairs and see no one. Curious, I tiptoe upstairs and peak behind the bars of the railing and hoping to see the boy walking around upstairs. Instead I see the boy fighting sleep. Freaky.
One son is asleep (he is easy) and the other is awake (he used to be easy). I know the boy is awake, but I am not sure if he is in his bed or if he is roaming around upstairs. I went downstairs to write a blog entry, only to realize that the laptop was upstairs and I would need to pass his room in order to get it. I knew that it was going be risky, but I am a grown-up. I am the parent. Besides, I do not want to watch re-runs tonight and I am too lazy to walk 500 ft. to get the cell phone out of my car. So, I decide it worth the risk.
If the boy sees the computer he will come out of bed and inquiring "COMPUTER!?" wanting to play on it. Confidently, yet quietly, I walk pass his open door, pick up the computer, place it under my arm - like a book - and walk downstairs. Success.
I boot up the goods and begin to write. I hear him at the top of the stairs. I can feel his presence. I can almost hear his thumb in his mouth and his blanket in his arms. I called to the top of the stairs "Bedtime ... time to go back to bed!". I did not hear the pattering of footsteps or a frantic "Noooo!" coming from the stairwell, so I knew I needed to get up and help him to bed.
After a short pep talk about all the fun things ahead of us tomorrow (the splash pad and lunch with friends), I explained that he would need to stay in bed or I would take away his blanket. I said good-night and went back downstairs attempting to continue where I left off.
I heard a noise at the top of the stairs again. I was startled because sometimes when I am writing or watching television downstairs with my back to the door, I do not hear the boy come into the room (he *is* only 30 lbs and less than 3 ft tall, so it can happen) and when I do see him, in the corner of my eye, standing behind me smiling silently with his blanket in hand, I yelp. So, I yelled upstairs, "OK, I need to take away your blanket! Go back to bed!". I did not hear any footsteps, so I yelled up, again, and no word. That was it, I was going to go upstairs and put him back to bed again and possibly take away his blanket! I got up off the couch and looked at the top of the stairs. No one was there. I called his name. No answer. He was never there. Creepy.
I went back to work and got a couple of paragraphs in when I heard it again. I yelled "What are you doing up? Go back to bed!". I did not hear anything. Quickly and without grace, I hurriedly tried to put the laptop down on the couch and run upstairs while yelling both boys names and pleading "That's it; I am taking your blanket away!". I am very much hoping that I see the boy at the top of the stairs and not a ghost or something.
I see the boy at the top of the darkened stairs with his blanket in his arms and his thumb in his mouth. I call his name. He says nothing. I call again. He says nothing. He walks slowly down the stairs toward me. Not answering me. When he reaches me, I bend down to look at him (maybe he is sleep walking? maybe he is possessed?). My heart is racing. I look into his eyes and he smiles. He is fine. Asshole.
I put him back to bed again. I go downstairs again. I try to write again. I hear the noise again. I feel the presence again. I look upstairs and see no one. Curious, I tiptoe upstairs and peak behind the bars of the railing and hoping to see the boy walking around upstairs. Instead I see the boy fighting sleep. Freaky.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
To Potty or Not To Potty
My eldest son is battling and battling hard. His opponent? The Potty. After months of encouraging the boy to pee in the potty with no luck, he finally got there. He was a peeing champ, getting up and going to the bathroom all on his own, like a big boy. Mom and Dad were so proud. We thought that the day would never come. However,the toilet training process was not over.
While the boy mastered peeing in the potty, moving onto the next stage: going No. 2 in the potty was a whole different story. He would not go there. Period. We tried it all - we sat with him, rubbed his back, read to him, bought Gummy Bears as a reward, offered to buy him any toy or game he wanted; nothing worked.
After consultation with the Pediatrician, we provided him the "OK" to continue to go No. 2 in his Pull Ups, but there were restrictions. We were not going to let him rule the roost ... completely.
His part of the deal dictated the he go upstairs to the bathroom, put his Pull Up on, turn the fan on, and come get us when he was finished. The Doctor said that he would find these steps to be too laborious a process and decide to do it our way - the easy way. He liked the set-up and would not budge.
My husband and I decided this was the end of the game, something needed to happen. He would soon be four, starting preschool, and we needed to help him get over the hump. We stopped buying Pull Ups. He stopped going No. 2. He is a Leo. It was three days and nights of him jumping around like a chimpanzee, trying to repress his bodily functions. We consulted our Doctor again and she said that we can't go back; we must follow through. No more Pull Ups. Finally, he went. We were all so proud. We bought him presents and treats and were thrilled. He did it! We all did it! Sigh.
The joy did not last for long when he resorted his old tricks of holding *it* in. Then, it happened: the stomach bug. Three days and nights, 3-5 pairs of underwear a day. In his pants. Still, he would not go near The Potty. Five days later, the stomach bug has seemed to its course and we are grateful. However, he still going in his pants. This is not to say that there has been no successes.
He has gone in the potty 3 -4 times in the last two weeks. The rest of the time, we have not been so fortunate. He will get there. I know it. I am patient. I try to be patient. My husband is not patient. I don't know how the boy feels. He says he is scared. He does not tell me exactly what about going No. 2 in the potty scares him, but, clearly something does. I know that he will move forward and get to where needs to be. He is still three years old and has a lifetime of pooping in the potty (or so we hope).
While the boy mastered peeing in the potty, moving onto the next stage: going No. 2 in the potty was a whole different story. He would not go there. Period. We tried it all - we sat with him, rubbed his back, read to him, bought Gummy Bears as a reward, offered to buy him any toy or game he wanted; nothing worked.
After consultation with the Pediatrician, we provided him the "OK" to continue to go No. 2 in his Pull Ups, but there were restrictions. We were not going to let him rule the roost ... completely.
His part of the deal dictated the he go upstairs to the bathroom, put his Pull Up on, turn the fan on, and come get us when he was finished. The Doctor said that he would find these steps to be too laborious a process and decide to do it our way - the easy way. He liked the set-up and would not budge.
My husband and I decided this was the end of the game, something needed to happen. He would soon be four, starting preschool, and we needed to help him get over the hump. We stopped buying Pull Ups. He stopped going No. 2. He is a Leo. It was three days and nights of him jumping around like a chimpanzee, trying to repress his bodily functions. We consulted our Doctor again and she said that we can't go back; we must follow through. No more Pull Ups. Finally, he went. We were all so proud. We bought him presents and treats and were thrilled. He did it! We all did it! Sigh.
The joy did not last for long when he resorted his old tricks of holding *it* in. Then, it happened: the stomach bug. Three days and nights, 3-5 pairs of underwear a day. In his pants. Still, he would not go near The Potty. Five days later, the stomach bug has seemed to its course and we are grateful. However, he still going in his pants. This is not to say that there has been no successes.
He has gone in the potty 3 -4 times in the last two weeks. The rest of the time, we have not been so fortunate. He will get there. I know it. I am patient. I try to be patient. My husband is not patient. I don't know how the boy feels. He says he is scared. He does not tell me exactly what about going No. 2 in the potty scares him, but, clearly something does. I know that he will move forward and get to where needs to be. He is still three years old and has a lifetime of pooping in the potty (or so we hope).
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