Mary Grace learned something today. One of the books they read at school was an alphabet book, and there were two towers in a picture of New York. I guess one of the other students must have pointed it out. MG said that Mrs. W had never noticed that there were two towers in that picture before. Mary Grace knew that something bad had happened in New York in 2001, and that it was before she was born. She was too anxious to go outside and play to tell me any more about what was said at school.
We haven't talked to our kids about 9/11 because they're little. It doesn't affect them. To them it'll be like our parents talking to us about where they were when Kennedy was shot - Kennedy's assassination was a linchpin moment in our parents' lives, but to us it was history. 9/11 was a linchpin for us (as was the Challenger disaster, Reagan being shot, the Berlin Wall coming down...) but it is part of history for them. It's not relevant in our daily Midwestern lives, and it has never come up before today.
I feel like she's more worldly now - as though learning about the things that happened 11 years ago today is another step along a long path from the pure innocence of infancy to mature adulthood.
30 years ago today my grandfather died. I was in first grade, too. I guess September 11 is a day for leaving behind innocence, in our family. It's a day that we take a step forward toward adulthood.
Why is it that so many of those steps hurt?
Showing posts with label Circle of Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Circle of Life. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Louise Payne, 1912 - 2012
BJ's grandmother died yesterday. She was a very neat person - she loved music and swimming and her family.
These photos were part of the memory board that BJ's mom made for her 100th birthday celebration in April. I love the one on the upper left. I think she looks mischievous.
Rest in Peace, Grandmother Payne.
These photos were part of the memory board that BJ's mom made for her 100th birthday celebration in April. I love the one on the upper left. I think she looks mischievous.
Rest in Peace, Grandmother Payne.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
An Open Letter to My Parents
Dear Mom and Dad,
Today Claire was grounded. The infraction wasn't terribly important. What I learned, though, is that you weren't kidding when you said, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." It really is more of a punishment for me to have her here whining at me, looking out the window at her sister and her friends like a sad puppy in a shop window, and crying about how mean I am. I would rather just spank her and get it over with (which also hurts me more, but only lasts a couple minutes). Too bad we parents aren't allowed to say, "Go cut a switch!" anymore, because it sure beats a whole day of complaining. Also, now I know why I wasn't grounded very often as a child. I only lasted a couple of hours before I told her, "I think you've learned your lesson," and let her go play.
All those times you said, "Someday you'll have a daughter just like you..."? You win. Sorry.
Love,
Amy
Today Claire was grounded. The infraction wasn't terribly important. What I learned, though, is that you weren't kidding when you said, "This hurts me more than it hurts you." It really is more of a punishment for me to have her here whining at me, looking out the window at her sister and her friends like a sad puppy in a shop window, and crying about how mean I am. I would rather just spank her and get it over with (which also hurts me more, but only lasts a couple minutes). Too bad we parents aren't allowed to say, "Go cut a switch!" anymore, because it sure beats a whole day of complaining. Also, now I know why I wasn't grounded very often as a child. I only lasted a couple of hours before I told her, "I think you've learned your lesson," and let her go play.
All those times you said, "Someday you'll have a daughter just like you..."? You win. Sorry.
Love,
Amy
Monday, January 9, 2012
Circles
Dear Jack,
Your namesake, John Paul, loved music, and he loved to dance. Swing dancing was his thing. And whenever the band U2 came on the radio, he would crank it up and sing like no one was listening.
Last night we went out for dinner, and when a U2 song came on you danced in your high chair.
I hope you always remember that you learned to dance before you could walk.
Love,
Mommy
Your namesake, John Paul, loved music, and he loved to dance. Swing dancing was his thing. And whenever the band U2 came on the radio, he would crank it up and sing like no one was listening.
Last night we went out for dinner, and when a U2 song came on you danced in your high chair.
I hope you always remember that you learned to dance before you could walk.
Love,
Mommy
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
A Pet's Ten Commandments
I found this among the adoption papers for Penny. I thought it was good enough to share.
A Pet's Ten Commandments by Stan Rawlinson
1. My life is likely to last 10-15 years. Any separation from you is likely to be painful.
2. Give me time to understand what you want of me.
3. Place your trust in me. It is crucial for my well-being.
4. Don't be angry with me for long and don't lock me up as punishment. You have your work, your friends, your entertainment, but I have only you.
5. Talk to me. Even if I don't understand your words, I do understand your voice when speaking to me.
6. Be aware that however you treat me, I will never forget it.
7. Before you hit me, before you strike me, remember that I could hurt you, and yet I choose not to bite you.
8. Before you scold me for being lazy or uncooperative, ask yourself if something might be bothering me. Perhaps I'm not getting the right food, I have been in the sun too long, or my heart might be getting old and weak.
9. Please take care of me when I grow old. You, too, will grow old.
10. On the ultimate difficult journey, go with me please. Never say you can't bear to watch. Don't make me face this alone. Everything is easier for me if you are there, because I love you so.
***
*sniff*
Confidential to Rocko - poop, baby, poop! You can do it, buddy. And for God's sake, quit eating rocks.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Newest Pretty Baby
I'll bet you didn't even know we were expecting! Here is our newest pretty baby. She came with the name Jessie, but we might change it to Penny, or Rose, or Little Lady, depending on who wins. She's a German Shepherd mix. She and her brother and her mom were surrendered to a kill shelter in Illinois, and the outstanding group Magnificent Mutts rescued them. Her brother went home yesterday to live with a 9 year old boy and his family, and she came home to us today. Hooray for happy tales (tails?)!
If you're nearby and you're looking for a new dog, I can't recommend Magnificent Mutts (out of Hillside, IL) enough. They've been wonderful to work with.
The girls are madly in love. They've been very good with her - keeping an eye on her in the house, giving her treats, playing with her, and taking her for walks They're going to be excellent dog-moms someday.
When Max died, I felt like our house lost its soul. It was so strange to come back to an empty, quiet house. Aside from when I lived in the dorms, this has been the longest I've ever lived without a pet. We've missed Max so much, and I have missed the security of having a dog more than I ever thought I would. I'll happily trade clean floors for the peace of mind that comes with knowing that someone with keen hearing and sharp teeth is looking out for us. Of course, she won't be much of a home security system for a few months. I think she'll be between 50 and 60 pounds when she's grown (heh, that's what they told us about Max, too, and she topped out at 90!).
So many people have cautioned me that we can't replace Max, and I know that, I really do. But there are so many great things about Shepherds, and so many great things about mutts, I can't imagine having any other kind of dog. My last three cars have all been Hondas. I tend to stick with what works, once I find it. It's honestly a coincidence that she looks so much like Max. I had already agreed to her before I saw a picture, based on the description of her from the lady with the rescue organization.
She asserted her individuality tonight when I gave her a pill (I think it's a dewormer - it gave her terrible gas!) in peanut butter, and she refused to take it. It was as if she was telling me, "I'm a new dog, Mom, and your old tricks won't necessarily fly." Tomorrow we'll try cheese.
I know that Max would be glad that we're welcoming a new dog into our family - particularly because she doesn't have to put up with her. Max was never much of a dog-lover. She greatly preferred the company of people.
, She's been sleeping on my legs as I've written this post. It would be very cozy if she would quit farting.
She is not a replacement, but she's a very welcome addition. Our house feels like home again.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thank you
All of the support that you have shown our family this week means so much. We've received so many calls, texts, emails, comments, and cards. So many of you have offered your love and support. It truly touches our hearts to know that Max was loved by so many of our friends and family, too.
I wanted to share a couple of special stories...
Our neighbor, J, is 11. He and his parents and his baby sister live two doors down. He mowed our lawn for us while we were gone last weekend, and with everything that happened, BJ and I both forgot to pay him. I called him after school yesterday and said, "When the storm is over, come down so I can pay you. I'm so sorry we forgot."
J's mom came down after work and told me that J had asked her if, instead of paying him to mow the lawn, if it would be ok if he asked us to donate the money to the Humane Society in Max's memory, instead. And his little sister, who is 3, told her mommy that she's going to grow up and be a vet so she can make Max strong and healthy again.
What wonderful kids, and what a lovely family.
Other friends of ours have also made donations in Max's memory. It just blows me away. I've never been on the receiving end of memorial donations, before. I had no idea how much it would mean to me. What a beautiful thing to do.
Our vet, Dr. Miller, called me last night to check on us. We spent 15 minutes on the phone, with her reassuring me that we had done the right thing, that we couldn't have known any earlier that anything was wrong with Max, and that even if we had known, there was nothing we could have done to fix it. It really helped ease my mind, because I had started to question whether or not we had done the right thing, whether or not it was really painless when we let her be euthanized, and whether or not we missed some sign in the last month or two that something was wrong. I'd spent a good part of yesterday Googling. Google is sometimes not my friend.
BJ and I are surrounded by such loving, wonderful, generous people - from our family to our neighbors to our friends and colleagues to the professionals we've chosen to work with our family (teachers, doctors, dentists, vets, insurance agents, accountants...) - we are truly, truly blessed. Thank you so much for loving us so well.
I wanted to share a couple of special stories...
Our neighbor, J, is 11. He and his parents and his baby sister live two doors down. He mowed our lawn for us while we were gone last weekend, and with everything that happened, BJ and I both forgot to pay him. I called him after school yesterday and said, "When the storm is over, come down so I can pay you. I'm so sorry we forgot."
J's mom came down after work and told me that J had asked her if, instead of paying him to mow the lawn, if it would be ok if he asked us to donate the money to the Humane Society in Max's memory, instead. And his little sister, who is 3, told her mommy that she's going to grow up and be a vet so she can make Max strong and healthy again.
What wonderful kids, and what a lovely family.
Other friends of ours have also made donations in Max's memory. It just blows me away. I've never been on the receiving end of memorial donations, before. I had no idea how much it would mean to me. What a beautiful thing to do.
Our vet, Dr. Miller, called me last night to check on us. We spent 15 minutes on the phone, with her reassuring me that we had done the right thing, that we couldn't have known any earlier that anything was wrong with Max, and that even if we had known, there was nothing we could have done to fix it. It really helped ease my mind, because I had started to question whether or not we had done the right thing, whether or not it was really painless when we let her be euthanized, and whether or not we missed some sign in the last month or two that something was wrong. I'd spent a good part of yesterday Googling. Google is sometimes not my friend.
BJ and I are surrounded by such loving, wonderful, generous people - from our family to our neighbors to our friends and colleagues to the professionals we've chosen to work with our family (teachers, doctors, dentists, vets, insurance agents, accountants...) - we are truly, truly blessed. Thank you so much for loving us so well.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Mother's Day Spookiness
Yesterday was a super busy day. I ran errands while the girls were at school (car wash, Hobby Lobby, pharmacy, accountant's office, picking up keys for the new intern at work...), then I came home and made them lunch, then Dad watched them for a while so Jack and I could go to work. I got home about 3:30 and started frantically cleaning, since we're still in post-vacation-mess mode and my father-in-law and his wife were coming over for dinner.
As I was rushing around, I got warm so I opened up the screen door to let in some fresh air. I looked outside and there was a car full of people, talking animatedly and pointing at my house. Their windows were down, so I shouted, "Ya wanna buy it?"
A man shouted back, "We already did!"
Huh?
I said, "Oh?" because I couldn't think of anything witty. He said, "We were the first owners of this house, back in the 60s!"
"Really! Well, come on in!" I said.
"Seriously?"
"Of course! I'm sure you'd love to see it!"
So they pulled around and parked in front, and came inside, everyone talking at once.
It turned out that the father had been president of the bank, and they had three kids when they moved in here - a girl, another girl, and a boy. Spooky, because we have the same arrangement of kids! They teased me that we were going to have another girl, because they'd brought their youngest sister home when they lived here (she wasn't with them yesterday). If we do, we'll have to name her Betsy. Speaking of names, the oldest daughter said that she has a granddaughter named Mary Grace! Another bizarre coincidence - their bedrooms were in the same places that ours are now - the boy had Jack's room, the parents slept in ours, and the girls were upstairs. They even had a baby changing area in the same place we have one now for Jack!
Of course, a lot has changed. The kitchen is arranged completely differently from the way it was when they lived here. The fireplace was added (I never knew that, I figured it was original). The tile in the upstairs bathroom is original (and not too bad looking for 48 year old tile!).
They stood in the kitchen and pointed at the corner where they'd had their TV. "Do you remember sitting right here and watching the Beatles on Ed Sullivan?" they said to each other.
After they'd been here a little while they said that their mother had died this past year, and that their father was having a hard time, so even though they live all over the country, now, they'd come back here to remember, and to feel like they were near her. She and their dad were married for 58 years.
I was so pleased to be able to let this family into our home, so they could feel close to their mom again. They were so lovely. It was obvious that they are a close-knit family - exactly how I hope my kids will be when they're grown.
When I said, "How funny that I just happened to be at the door when you stopped! I'm usually in the kitchen. And how odd that I felt moved to say something to you!" They replied, "Oh, I'm sure that was Mom, making sure that we got a chance to visit our old home."
I hope so.
Happy Mother's Day. I hope that you feel close to your mom tomorrow, wherever she is.
As I was rushing around, I got warm so I opened up the screen door to let in some fresh air. I looked outside and there was a car full of people, talking animatedly and pointing at my house. Their windows were down, so I shouted, "Ya wanna buy it?"
A man shouted back, "We already did!"
Huh?
I said, "Oh?" because I couldn't think of anything witty. He said, "We were the first owners of this house, back in the 60s!"
"Really! Well, come on in!" I said.
"Seriously?"
"Of course! I'm sure you'd love to see it!"
So they pulled around and parked in front, and came inside, everyone talking at once.
It turned out that the father had been president of the bank, and they had three kids when they moved in here - a girl, another girl, and a boy. Spooky, because we have the same arrangement of kids! They teased me that we were going to have another girl, because they'd brought their youngest sister home when they lived here (she wasn't with them yesterday). If we do, we'll have to name her Betsy. Speaking of names, the oldest daughter said that she has a granddaughter named Mary Grace! Another bizarre coincidence - their bedrooms were in the same places that ours are now - the boy had Jack's room, the parents slept in ours, and the girls were upstairs. They even had a baby changing area in the same place we have one now for Jack!
Of course, a lot has changed. The kitchen is arranged completely differently from the way it was when they lived here. The fireplace was added (I never knew that, I figured it was original). The tile in the upstairs bathroom is original (and not too bad looking for 48 year old tile!).
They stood in the kitchen and pointed at the corner where they'd had their TV. "Do you remember sitting right here and watching the Beatles on Ed Sullivan?" they said to each other.
After they'd been here a little while they said that their mother had died this past year, and that their father was having a hard time, so even though they live all over the country, now, they'd come back here to remember, and to feel like they were near her. She and their dad were married for 58 years.
I was so pleased to be able to let this family into our home, so they could feel close to their mom again. They were so lovely. It was obvious that they are a close-knit family - exactly how I hope my kids will be when they're grown.
When I said, "How funny that I just happened to be at the door when you stopped! I'm usually in the kitchen. And how odd that I felt moved to say something to you!" They replied, "Oh, I'm sure that was Mom, making sure that we got a chance to visit our old home."
I hope so.
Happy Mother's Day. I hope that you feel close to your mom tomorrow, wherever she is.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Mission Accomplished
I'm feeling a lot more confident about our impending trip to Florida. Yesterday BJ had tickets for a lecture, and I knew he wouldn't be home until midnight, so I packed the girlies and Jack in the van and we headed for Grammaland.
First we went to Uncle Stu and Aunt Kathryn's, where Jack had the most epic diaper ever. It was so bad that we put him in the shower with Uncle Stu to hose him off (Uncle Stu had been working out when we arrived, so he was getting ready for the day). Fortunately Jack loves the shower which is funny, because the girlies always acted like we were waterboarding them when we tried to shower with them. Jack, on the other hand, hates the bath. Can't say that I blame him. It looks cold. I hate to admit this, but the outfit he had on when the hazmat event occurred was so gross by the time I got home that I just pitched it! It was almost too small, anyway, and it just didn't seem sensible to try to deal with the stain. He has more than enough clothes. I guess I am not frugal.
Speaking of not frugal, the girls decided what they want for Christmas:
If Kelly and Ian are my first cousins, are they my kids' second cousins, or are they first cousins once removed? Genealogy is both confusing and difficult to spell (it should have an o before the l, shouldn't it? Isn't the suffix "ology," not just "logy"?) (Wikipedia is confusing, but I think they're first cousins once removed). I got some cute pictures. This is the longest I've ever seen Ian hold still:
Kathryn says, "Just you wait!"
We all went to Red Robin for lunch
...then we went to Uncle Stu's museum.
How cool is that? Clyde McMillan was my Papa - my mother's father. I've always been so proud of my family. My favorite part of the museum was the mural by the stairs (not shown in the video) where there's a painting of my Uncle Stu looking out a window, and a painting of my Papa as a young man, headed toward the pole (and yes, you can slide down the pole). Somehow I didn't get a picture of it. This one is from the artist's website.
The kids had a fun time posing for pictures on the fire truck:
After the museum we visited Mimi at work, then we went to Grandma Susan's house for a visit. The girls had a great time playing with the toys there. I had to put the crayons from the new box of 64 in spectral order, which Grandma Susan thought was very weird. It wasn't long before the girlies dumped out the box of crayons and messed up the order. I tried not to get mad.
Uncle Chuck came over when he got done teaching, and we hung out for a while.
Then I took the girls to visit Grandma Denna at work before we headed back home. All three kids fell asleep in the car on the way home, which was nothing short of a miracle.
I was so tired that I went to bed as soon as I got the kids settled for the night.
I hope you had a fun April Fools Day too!
First we went to Uncle Stu and Aunt Kathryn's, where Jack had the most epic diaper ever. It was so bad that we put him in the shower with Uncle Stu to hose him off (Uncle Stu had been working out when we arrived, so he was getting ready for the day). Fortunately Jack loves the shower which is funny, because the girlies always acted like we were waterboarding them when we tried to shower with them. Jack, on the other hand, hates the bath. Can't say that I blame him. It looks cold. I hate to admit this, but the outfit he had on when the hazmat event occurred was so gross by the time I got home that I just pitched it! It was almost too small, anyway, and it just didn't seem sensible to try to deal with the stain. He has more than enough clothes. I guess I am not frugal.
Speaking of not frugal, the girls decided what they want for Christmas:
 |
| I know how to iPad, Mommy. |
If Kelly and Ian are my first cousins, are they my kids' second cousins, or are they first cousins once removed? Genealogy is both confusing and difficult to spell (it should have an o before the l, shouldn't it? Isn't the suffix "ology," not just "logy"?) (Wikipedia is confusing, but I think they're first cousins once removed). I got some cute pictures. This is the longest I've ever seen Ian hold still:
Kathryn says, "Just you wait!"
We all went to Red Robin for lunch
 |
How cool is that? Clyde McMillan was my Papa - my mother's father. I've always been so proud of my family. My favorite part of the museum was the mural by the stairs (not shown in the video) where there's a painting of my Uncle Stu looking out a window, and a painting of my Papa as a young man, headed toward the pole (and yes, you can slide down the pole). Somehow I didn't get a picture of it. This one is from the artist's website.
The kids had a fun time posing for pictures on the fire truck:
 |
| Hang on, Claire! I'll drive! |
 |
| These are my grandparents. This picture makes me wonder if there will ever be portraits of us in our company's corporate headquarters someday. And it makes me wonder if my grandparents knew what they were starting when they were my age. Probably not! |
After the museum we visited Mimi at work, then we went to Grandma Susan's house for a visit. The girls had a great time playing with the toys there. I had to put the crayons from the new box of 64 in spectral order, which Grandma Susan thought was very weird. It wasn't long before the girlies dumped out the box of crayons and messed up the order. I tried not to get mad.
Uncle Chuck came over when he got done teaching, and we hung out for a while.
Then I took the girls to visit Grandma Denna at work before we headed back home. All three kids fell asleep in the car on the way home, which was nothing short of a miracle.
I was so tired that I went to bed as soon as I got the kids settled for the night.
I hope you had a fun April Fools Day too!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Chapter Books!!!
The age I've been waiting for since I got pregnant in 2004 has finally arrived. Mary Grace is old enough for Chapter Books!
Up until recently, she hasn't had the attention span to read books without pictures, where the story spanned several days of reading a chapter or two at bedtime, but her cousins gave her a stack of their old Junie B. Jones books
, and she is hooked. Claire is a little less into them, but she'll get there.
Actually, we sort of screwed up with Claire and reading - we have always read at Mary Grace's level, which meant that the books were above Claire's head and she was completely uninterested. We didn't figure it out until she was about 2-1/2. As soon as we got out Mary Grace's old books and started reading at Claire's level, she got interested. It's really important, with multiple kids, to make sure you're reading to each child at their own level (or just a smidge above their level). Claire still loves books that teach the ABCs, with big pictures, and shorter books with lots of rhyming and meter, and that's fine. There's no better way to ruin a kid's love of reading than to push them too far too fast, IMHO. There's plenty of time for War and Peace later. (She'll listen to the chapter books, but she gets bored quickly and wanders away. I think she listens as long as she does because she wants to be like her big sister. If she were an only child, she wouldn't sit still as long as she does for them).
Anyway, back to chapter books... the first thing I did was order the Little House books (see convenient picture ad, above). These were my favorites when I was a kid. I must have read them a hundred times, and I was Laura for Halloween more than once. They shipped today, and I can't wait to start them. (Plus, Laura is a better role model than Junie B. Let's face it, that Junie B. is a brat. We've already had lots of discussions about how Junie B. is NOT someone we want to emulate.) I also want to read the Madeline L'Engle books to her. I remember that I loved A Wrinkle in Time
even though I have no idea, now, what it was about.
I know a bunch of you are teachers, and a bunch of you are book lovers. Some of you are both! Help me build a good list. What are your favorite books for little girls just starting chapter books?
(The links above are Amazon Associates links, which means that if you click them and buy stuff I get a penny or two added to my own book fund, so thanks!)
Up until recently, she hasn't had the attention span to read books without pictures, where the story spanned several days of reading a chapter or two at bedtime, but her cousins gave her a stack of their old Junie B. Jones books
, and she is hooked. Claire is a little less into them, but she'll get there.Actually, we sort of screwed up with Claire and reading - we have always read at Mary Grace's level, which meant that the books were above Claire's head and she was completely uninterested. We didn't figure it out until she was about 2-1/2. As soon as we got out Mary Grace's old books and started reading at Claire's level, she got interested. It's really important, with multiple kids, to make sure you're reading to each child at their own level (or just a smidge above their level). Claire still loves books that teach the ABCs, with big pictures, and shorter books with lots of rhyming and meter, and that's fine. There's no better way to ruin a kid's love of reading than to push them too far too fast, IMHO. There's plenty of time for War and Peace later. (She'll listen to the chapter books, but she gets bored quickly and wanders away. I think she listens as long as she does because she wants to be like her big sister. If she were an only child, she wouldn't sit still as long as she does for them).
Anyway, back to chapter books... the first thing I did was order the Little House books (see convenient picture ad, above). These were my favorites when I was a kid. I must have read them a hundred times, and I was Laura for Halloween more than once. They shipped today, and I can't wait to start them. (Plus, Laura is a better role model than Junie B. Let's face it, that Junie B. is a brat. We've already had lots of discussions about how Junie B. is NOT someone we want to emulate.) I also want to read the Madeline L'Engle books to her. I remember that I loved A Wrinkle in Time
even though I have no idea, now, what it was about.I know a bunch of you are teachers, and a bunch of you are book lovers. Some of you are both! Help me build a good list. What are your favorite books for little girls just starting chapter books?
(The links above are Amazon Associates links, which means that if you click them and buy stuff I get a penny or two added to my own book fund, so thanks!)
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Dinner with Santa
When we arrived, they seated us with a Christmas ornament craft. It was a Christmas tree with sticker ornaments. Then we went up to tell Santa what we want for Christmas. MG drew a picture for him, which I thought was so sweet. After that, there was a nice buffet dinner. The best part, though, was the dancing. A woman played the keyboard and sang Christmas songs - Santa even danced with the kids for one song. He must have been hot in that suit! It was a great time.
I clouded up because my Papa and my uncles used to take me to the Kiwanis Lunch with Santa, and I was about MG's age the last time I went with Papa. Being there with my own kids was a real "circle of life" moment, and it brought back that memory (one of the few authentic memories of him that I have - he died when I was 6) so clearly. I told one of the waitresses, as I choked up, that attending Dinner with Santa was one of the best things we ever did. She must have thought I was nuts!
Anyway, if you're local you'll know what LBC is (e-mail me if you don't), and if you have kids I HIGHLY recommend that you go next year. It was only $5 for kids and $13 for adults - what a deal! It's definitely going to be a Pretty Baby Family Tradition.
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| Later, this boy gave his big candy cane to Claire. She's already a heartbreaker at age 3! |
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| SO excited to dance with Santa!! |
Sunday, November 14, 2010
No Big Thing
Well, that was manageable!
Scarlet fever sounds like a big freaking deal, especially when you've read a lot of books set in the 19th century, but it really wasn't. We treated the itching with Benadryl (orally) and Calamine lotion (externally), the fever with Tylenol and Motrin, and the infection with antibiotics. Two days later, and she's fine. We didn't even have to take all her toys out back and burn them.
I think we tend to forget how lucky we are to live in a time of abundant and accessible medicine. We get so caught up in the health care crisis (and believe me, with as much as our health insurance costs - more than our mortgage - there's no doubt that it's a crisis!) that we forget how very very lucky we are that we don't have to sit and wait for our children to die of simple infections. 100 years ago, they didn't even have Tylenol. The best you could do for your sick kid was to liquor (or coke!) 'em up and hope for the best. There was no FDA to make sure that whatever snake oil you were giving your kids was even safe. But I can easily imagine that trying something would've been preferable to doing nothing.
Parents then didn't love their children any less than we love our kids now. They weren't less attached to them. The only insulation they may have had against the heartbreak that would come from losing a child was that it was such a common experience back then. Walk through any old cemetery and you'll see dozens and dozens of tiny headstones with a single date on them, or with a horribly short span between two dates.
And here we are, a century later, and parents can and do elect to refuse vaccinations that our great-grandparents couldn't have imagined, and would have given anything to have for their kids. We've never seen an iron lung, and if we see a kid with leg braces or in a wheelchair, it's unusual. Few people walk around with scarred skin or rotten teeth. And while children still die young, it's a rare and unexpected tragedy. I've heard so many people say, "Parents shouldn't outlive their kids," when someone dies young, but the truth is that up until quite recently in human history, it was actually more common for parents to lose a kid or two (or several) than not.
Geez, for a post that started off with "everything's fine!" this has gotten awfully maudlin. But this is what I'm thinking about today. I'm thinking about how lucky we are that we can run out to the store and grab a bottle of Tylenol or an antibiotic for a couple bucks. I'm thinking about how sad it is that not everyone in our modern world enjoys the same access to medicine that we do. And I'm wondering what kinds of advancements the next 100 years will bring. That will really be something...
Scarlet fever sounds like a big freaking deal, especially when you've read a lot of books set in the 19th century, but it really wasn't. We treated the itching with Benadryl (orally) and Calamine lotion (externally), the fever with Tylenol and Motrin, and the infection with antibiotics. Two days later, and she's fine. We didn't even have to take all her toys out back and burn them.
Parents then didn't love their children any less than we love our kids now. They weren't less attached to them. The only insulation they may have had against the heartbreak that would come from losing a child was that it was such a common experience back then. Walk through any old cemetery and you'll see dozens and dozens of tiny headstones with a single date on them, or with a horribly short span between two dates.
And here we are, a century later, and parents can and do elect to refuse vaccinations that our great-grandparents couldn't have imagined, and would have given anything to have for their kids. We've never seen an iron lung, and if we see a kid with leg braces or in a wheelchair, it's unusual. Few people walk around with scarred skin or rotten teeth. And while children still die young, it's a rare and unexpected tragedy. I've heard so many people say, "Parents shouldn't outlive their kids," when someone dies young, but the truth is that up until quite recently in human history, it was actually more common for parents to lose a kid or two (or several) than not.
Geez, for a post that started off with "everything's fine!" this has gotten awfully maudlin. But this is what I'm thinking about today. I'm thinking about how lucky we are that we can run out to the store and grab a bottle of Tylenol or an antibiotic for a couple bucks. I'm thinking about how sad it is that not everyone in our modern world enjoys the same access to medicine that we do. And I'm wondering what kinds of advancements the next 100 years will bring. That will really be something...
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Kid Drama
Claire comes in crying. "Cammie won't let me be a teenager!" she says.
I clean her up, take her back to our backyard and say to the big kids, "Guess what. Claire gets to be a teenager now, ok?"
"Ok," say the kids. And that was that.
"You really want to get in the middle of that?" asks B.J. when I come in.
"They always make her be the baby, because she's little, and she hates it," I reply.
Do you get involved in your kids' spats with the neighborhood kids? It seems like we're having more friction on our street lately than we had at the beginning of the summer. I think everyone was so relieved to be outside after the winter that they all played in peace and harmony in the beginning. But now, after months and months of togetherness, tempers are starting to flare and patience is wearing thin.
I think we need a good snowstorm.
I know some of the drama stems from my kids misunderstanding - like the day that MG got mad that Maddie's mom was watching Cammie and not her. "It's not fair!" she sobbed, even though I was home at the time and she didn't need to be watched... She just wants to hang with the big dogs, even when it doesn't quite make sense. So I told her, "Ok, Miss Chelsea's watching you. Bettter?" She beamed, and ran back out to play.
I know sometimes the big girls on the block don't want to play with the little kids, and I'm trying to get my little kids to stop expecting the big kids to play with them all the time. "Play with the girls who are your own age, and let the big girls be big girls," I tell them, knowing that the big girls will want to play with the littler kids tomorrow.
It doesn't help that Mary Grace can be bossy. "I gave Maddie two choices..." she'll tell me. "Well, no wonder she didn't want to play with you anymore, honey. You're not her mom, you don't get to give her choices!" She's bossy with Claire, too. "When you're the Mommy you can tell other people what to do," I tell her at least 5 times a day, "But right now you're a kid and you only need to worry about your own choices."
I did the exact same stuff when I was a kid, and suffered socially for it. It may just be part of being an oldest sister. She'll learn. I did. I haven't given any of my friends a time out in quite a while. But the learning is hard. And sometimes I don't know if I'm navigating them through it very well. Those precocious behaviors that we've been telling her are "so cute" for the past five years aren't cute to her peers - they're obnoxious. And learning that hurts.
So, yeah, I get involved, even though I know that the kid we picked on most when we were kids was the one whose mom got the most annoyed with us (sorry, Kevin and Debbie - they're both Facebook friends now, so I'm hoping they both have forgiven me at this point).
Claire just came back in, "Nathan's mad at me too..." and something about him not letting her grab his swing. "Why don't you just stay inside?" I ask her. But 10 seconds later she's on her way back outside.
I clean her up, take her back to our backyard and say to the big kids, "Guess what. Claire gets to be a teenager now, ok?"
"Ok," say the kids. And that was that.
"You really want to get in the middle of that?" asks B.J. when I come in.
"They always make her be the baby, because she's little, and she hates it," I reply.
Do you get involved in your kids' spats with the neighborhood kids? It seems like we're having more friction on our street lately than we had at the beginning of the summer. I think everyone was so relieved to be outside after the winter that they all played in peace and harmony in the beginning. But now, after months and months of togetherness, tempers are starting to flare and patience is wearing thin.
I think we need a good snowstorm.
I know some of the drama stems from my kids misunderstanding - like the day that MG got mad that Maddie's mom was watching Cammie and not her. "It's not fair!" she sobbed, even though I was home at the time and she didn't need to be watched... She just wants to hang with the big dogs, even when it doesn't quite make sense. So I told her, "Ok, Miss Chelsea's watching you. Bettter?" She beamed, and ran back out to play.
I know sometimes the big girls on the block don't want to play with the little kids, and I'm trying to get my little kids to stop expecting the big kids to play with them all the time. "Play with the girls who are your own age, and let the big girls be big girls," I tell them, knowing that the big girls will want to play with the littler kids tomorrow.
It doesn't help that Mary Grace can be bossy. "I gave Maddie two choices..." she'll tell me. "Well, no wonder she didn't want to play with you anymore, honey. You're not her mom, you don't get to give her choices!" She's bossy with Claire, too. "When you're the Mommy you can tell other people what to do," I tell her at least 5 times a day, "But right now you're a kid and you only need to worry about your own choices."
I did the exact same stuff when I was a kid, and suffered socially for it. It may just be part of being an oldest sister. She'll learn. I did. I haven't given any of my friends a time out in quite a while. But the learning is hard. And sometimes I don't know if I'm navigating them through it very well. Those precocious behaviors that we've been telling her are "so cute" for the past five years aren't cute to her peers - they're obnoxious. And learning that hurts.
So, yeah, I get involved, even though I know that the kid we picked on most when we were kids was the one whose mom got the most annoyed with us (sorry, Kevin and Debbie - they're both Facebook friends now, so I'm hoping they both have forgiven me at this point).
Claire just came back in, "Nathan's mad at me too..." and something about him not letting her grab his swing. "Why don't you just stay inside?" I ask her. But 10 seconds later she's on her way back outside.
Friday, June 11, 2010
Mommy, Is Kitty Still Died?
I have a lot to say on the topic of kids and death tonight, so if you've recently experienced a loss of any kind, from a cat to a loved one, you might want to proceed with caution or come back later. I don't want to say anything that's going to cause you pain, but since I don't know your particular situation, I'm just going to have to trust you to click that red X if you can't handle a (fairly irreverent) monologue about death right now.
First of all, all the books about death for kids suck. I need to write my own. I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday after endless questions about the cat to try to find something to help the girls understand that Daddy couldn't fix kitty (after all, he fixes their toys, he is the Fixer of All Things, why wouldn't he be able to fix kitty?!) and that death isn't something you get better from (Claire said, as she patted my arm, "Kitty be all better tomorrow, Mommy.")
I was looking for Elmo's Pet Frog Croaks or something. Instead I got to read a bunch of books that were way above my kids' pay grade. One memorable one even had a line that said something like, "Sometimes someone you love may get really sad and kill himself or 'take his own life.' This is called 'suicide...'" Um, no. Not for the preschool set, obviously.
I eventually settled on Lifetimes
, a rather artsy-fartsy description of how everything is born and everything dies, and the in between part is called living. It was repetitive (like a board book, so a familiar presentation), but light on actual concrete information such as, "Kitty isn't going to rise again in three days and have a big party with an egg hunt and lots of chocolate." What? Easter is their primary experience with talking about dying at this point.
I also bought When A Pet Dies (Mister Rogers' Neighborhood First Experiences Book)
. It was the 1970s disco version. I found it oddly comforting, since Mister Rogers was practically family, and since the leisure suits and mustaches of the 70s still speak to my inner child. The kids, however, were less than enthralled.
(By the way, those are affiliate links. I'm shamelessly profiting from my cat's death and the grief of my children. This is probably a new low, but hey, you guys haven't been clicking through like you used to and Mommy's e-book budget is thin).
Where was I? Oh, so the books sucked, but what sucked even more was standing in B&N reading all of the options to find the best (or the least horrible) one, bawling my eyes out. I seriously went through a half a pocket pack of Kleenex. The front of my shirt was all polka dotted with tears. Fortunately they weren't busy, because I made quite the snotty fool of myself.
The other part of yesterday that profoundly sucked was the endless interrogation. I mean, I expected questions. I was prepared for a conversation. I didn't expect the conversation to go on for the entire day. Just when I'd put it out of my mind, they'd ask me some question they'd already asked 50 times, and it would all come back like a Mack truck. I know, it's a cat, and I even said several times, "I understand that this is a disproportionate response..." to BJ, but I didn't get a single minute to put it aside all day.
And it didn't help that when the kids asked things like, "What is the vet going to do with Kitty's body?" my mental imagery immediately went to some Nazi-mustached vet tech throwing Kitty's stiff, lifeless corpse onto the top of a blazing inferno of other animal corpses. (We had her cremated. I didn't want to bury her in the yard only to have some neighborhood critter come and dig her back up again. That would be traumatic. So, the vet's office sent her off to be cremated in a batch and not returned to us as ashes because I am not the ashes-on-the-mantle type. No offense to those who are, it just gives me the creeps.) So, the kid asks a perfectly reasonable, innocent question, and my mind's eye goes to a perfectly unreasonable (although now that I think about it, after that Mister Rogers book, the mustache thing kind of makes sense), perfectly un-innocent place. And I would ugly cry.
Of course I didn't say, "They're going to burn it up into ashes," but that's what I thought, and since I'm not really all that comfortable with cremation (let's face it - all of the options for disposing of remains suck. I don't want to be buried or cremated. I think I want to be made into jewelry, to be honest...). Instead I sobbed and tried to choke out something about, "The vet is going to keep her body someplace safe, but Kona doesn't need her body anymore..."
Before you have kids you have this image of how you're going to handle these sorts of things, these Major Life Conversations. I imagined myself getting down at their eye level, earnestly taking them by the hands and saying something poetic, comforting, and beautiful. Maybe prettily wiping away one errant tear... That's not at all how this went. By the end of the day I was laying in Claire's bed, sobbing, while she interrogated me about feline mortality. I finally cried "uncle" - went into the bathroom to wash my face and blow my nose, then I got into Mary Grace's bed for a snuggle, only to have her to start in with the questions. At that point, I kind of lost my cool. I was tired and sad and I'd been answering questions ALL DAY, and I said, "That's it. I quit. I'm done for the night. No more questions. I need to go to my room," and I just sat down and cried. By that point I had a splitting headache and more than my fair share of hormones, and I was finished.
Fortunately, today, the kids went to the neighbor's while I went to work. It was just the break that all of us needed, and I've been much more accepting of the situation today. She was a good cat. She had a good life. BJ and I talked about some of our funny memories of her - the time that she stuck her head down into my glass to drink my water and got stuck, or the way she used to climb the screens when she was a kitten and just hang from the top, looking out at the world. That was what I needed, and now I can heal.
I'll tell you what, though... I'm glad that my kids' first close-up experience with death was a cat, and not a person they loved and had a relationship with. That would be brutal at this age. I don't know how people handle preschoolers who've dealt with a profound loss, like MG's friend from school whose mom died this spring. I hope I don't ever have to find out how that works.
If I had it to do over again, I'd probably do everything I could to distract the kids and give myself time to get over it before I talked to them about it, just so I'd be a little bit more calm and less soggy. If you're dealing with the loss of a pet, my advice is to take your kids out of the house somewhere (but not to the bookstore) and get everyone's mind off of it. It'll be a little easier tomorrow. If you're dealing with a more difficult loss, I've got nothin'. Sorry.
So, that's how yesterday went.
I feel like I should end this on an up-beat. While the kids were at the neighbor's today, my friend Chelsea was getting them into swimsuits to go play in the sprinkler. She was putting her youngest kid's suit on, and MG said, "My father would KILL my mother if she bought me a bikini like that!" Fortunately Chelsea thought it was funny. Our next big talk is apparently going to have to be about tact.
First of all, all the books about death for kids suck. I need to write my own. I went to Barnes and Noble yesterday after endless questions about the cat to try to find something to help the girls understand that Daddy couldn't fix kitty (after all, he fixes their toys, he is the Fixer of All Things, why wouldn't he be able to fix kitty?!) and that death isn't something you get better from (Claire said, as she patted my arm, "Kitty be all better tomorrow, Mommy.")
I was looking for Elmo's Pet Frog Croaks or something. Instead I got to read a bunch of books that were way above my kids' pay grade. One memorable one even had a line that said something like, "Sometimes someone you love may get really sad and kill himself or 'take his own life.' This is called 'suicide...'" Um, no. Not for the preschool set, obviously.
I eventually settled on Lifetimes
, a rather artsy-fartsy description of how everything is born and everything dies, and the in between part is called living. It was repetitive (like a board book, so a familiar presentation), but light on actual concrete information such as, "Kitty isn't going to rise again in three days and have a big party with an egg hunt and lots of chocolate." What? Easter is their primary experience with talking about dying at this point.I also bought When A Pet Dies (Mister Rogers' Neighborhood First Experiences Book)
. It was the 1970s disco version. I found it oddly comforting, since Mister Rogers was practically family, and since the leisure suits and mustaches of the 70s still speak to my inner child. The kids, however, were less than enthralled.(By the way, those are affiliate links. I'm shamelessly profiting from my cat's death and the grief of my children. This is probably a new low, but hey, you guys haven't been clicking through like you used to and Mommy's e-book budget is thin).
Where was I? Oh, so the books sucked, but what sucked even more was standing in B&N reading all of the options to find the best (or the least horrible) one, bawling my eyes out. I seriously went through a half a pocket pack of Kleenex. The front of my shirt was all polka dotted with tears. Fortunately they weren't busy, because I made quite the snotty fool of myself.
The other part of yesterday that profoundly sucked was the endless interrogation. I mean, I expected questions. I was prepared for a conversation. I didn't expect the conversation to go on for the entire day. Just when I'd put it out of my mind, they'd ask me some question they'd already asked 50 times, and it would all come back like a Mack truck. I know, it's a cat, and I even said several times, "I understand that this is a disproportionate response..." to BJ, but I didn't get a single minute to put it aside all day.
And it didn't help that when the kids asked things like, "What is the vet going to do with Kitty's body?" my mental imagery immediately went to some Nazi-mustached vet tech throwing Kitty's stiff, lifeless corpse onto the top of a blazing inferno of other animal corpses. (We had her cremated. I didn't want to bury her in the yard only to have some neighborhood critter come and dig her back up again. That would be traumatic. So, the vet's office sent her off to be cremated in a batch and not returned to us as ashes because I am not the ashes-on-the-mantle type. No offense to those who are, it just gives me the creeps.) So, the kid asks a perfectly reasonable, innocent question, and my mind's eye goes to a perfectly unreasonable (although now that I think about it, after that Mister Rogers book, the mustache thing kind of makes sense), perfectly un-innocent place. And I would ugly cry.
Of course I didn't say, "They're going to burn it up into ashes," but that's what I thought, and since I'm not really all that comfortable with cremation (let's face it - all of the options for disposing of remains suck. I don't want to be buried or cremated. I think I want to be made into jewelry, to be honest...). Instead I sobbed and tried to choke out something about, "The vet is going to keep her body someplace safe, but Kona doesn't need her body anymore..."
Before you have kids you have this image of how you're going to handle these sorts of things, these Major Life Conversations. I imagined myself getting down at their eye level, earnestly taking them by the hands and saying something poetic, comforting, and beautiful. Maybe prettily wiping away one errant tear... That's not at all how this went. By the end of the day I was laying in Claire's bed, sobbing, while she interrogated me about feline mortality. I finally cried "uncle" - went into the bathroom to wash my face and blow my nose, then I got into Mary Grace's bed for a snuggle, only to have her to start in with the questions. At that point, I kind of lost my cool. I was tired and sad and I'd been answering questions ALL DAY, and I said, "That's it. I quit. I'm done for the night. No more questions. I need to go to my room," and I just sat down and cried. By that point I had a splitting headache and more than my fair share of hormones, and I was finished.
Fortunately, today, the kids went to the neighbor's while I went to work. It was just the break that all of us needed, and I've been much more accepting of the situation today. She was a good cat. She had a good life. BJ and I talked about some of our funny memories of her - the time that she stuck her head down into my glass to drink my water and got stuck, or the way she used to climb the screens when she was a kitten and just hang from the top, looking out at the world. That was what I needed, and now I can heal.
I'll tell you what, though... I'm glad that my kids' first close-up experience with death was a cat, and not a person they loved and had a relationship with. That would be brutal at this age. I don't know how people handle preschoolers who've dealt with a profound loss, like MG's friend from school whose mom died this spring. I hope I don't ever have to find out how that works.
If I had it to do over again, I'd probably do everything I could to distract the kids and give myself time to get over it before I talked to them about it, just so I'd be a little bit more calm and less soggy. If you're dealing with the loss of a pet, my advice is to take your kids out of the house somewhere (but not to the bookstore) and get everyone's mind off of it. It'll be a little easier tomorrow. If you're dealing with a more difficult loss, I've got nothin'. Sorry.
So, that's how yesterday went.
I feel like I should end this on an up-beat. While the kids were at the neighbor's today, my friend Chelsea was getting them into swimsuits to go play in the sprinkler. She was putting her youngest kid's suit on, and MG said, "My father would KILL my mother if she bought me a bikini like that!" Fortunately Chelsea thought it was funny. Our next big talk is apparently going to have to be about tact.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Marly Update
"Marly's" mom died this afternoon. I'll talk to Mary Grace before she goes back to school on Tuesday, but not today.
If anyone has any suggestions for something I could do for Marly (she's four, she doesn't want a casserole or flowers), keeping in mind that she and MG are friends but I don't know her or her family very well, please let me know. If you know of a book or something, or if you have an idea for a small gift we could leave in her cubby at school...
I'm completely at a loss. All I know is that I'm 33, and I'm not ready to lose my mom. I can't imagine what it must be like to suffer such a loss when you're four. Please keep this lovely little girl and her family in your hearts.
If anyone has any suggestions for something I could do for Marly (she's four, she doesn't want a casserole or flowers), keeping in mind that she and MG are friends but I don't know her or her family very well, please let me know. If you know of a book or something, or if you have an idea for a small gift we could leave in her cubby at school...
I'm completely at a loss. All I know is that I'm 33, and I'm not ready to lose my mom. I can't imagine what it must be like to suffer such a loss when you're four. Please keep this lovely little girl and her family in your hearts.
Friday, February 12, 2010
No More Babies
No one sleeps in a crib in our house, anymore.
And, except for nighttime, no one wears diapers anymore, either.
I don't have a baby in the house, for the first time since August, 2005, and it feels so weird.If I could go back and talk to Amy the New Mom, I would tell her so many things -
Don't worry so much about the details, they'll work out. The sink will not always be full of dishes and the house won't always be a mess. And if it is, it doesn't matter, anyway. The only person who cares is you. All of the things you think are so important - what the baby eats, where she sleeps, all the things you worry over - they're not that big a deal. Just relax and do whatever feels right to you and your husband.
You won't always have to be with them every second of every day. You will sleep again, and once you do the sleep deprivation won't seem so bad. It won't always be this hard. There will be moments when it's really great - probably more than your fair share - so quit your bitching and just go with it, already. You're doing fine. You're not as bad at this as you think you are. Your babies are going to turn into great kids. And this baby stuff, it's only a short season in your life, in their lives, so try to enjoy the snuggles and having them all to yourself, instead of feeling stuck and resenting that they need you so much. It goes so fast, and believe it or not, you're going to miss it when it's gone.
In other words, I would say everything that other people said - all the things that annoyed the crap out of me when I was in the midst of it. But seriously, if you're a new mom and you're reading this, and you are overwhelmed and you think that motherhood is just endless work, and you're wondering what you've gotten yourself into - know that all the stuff that people say that annoys you, about how you'll miss it someday, all of it's true. Sorry.
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Why
I've always been an "all or nothing" person. So, one random Tuesday I'd decide to finally Get Fit! I'd buy a new outfit, join a gym or buy equipment for the house, go to the gym or use the equipment religiously for three days and work out for an hour and a half, buy a grocery cart full of diet food, quit smoking, hate life, and quit all of these healthy new ways by the weekend.
I can't tell you how many hundreds of times I've lived that sentence. Probably every 4 - 6 months since I turned 18. I am not exaggerating at all - ask BJ how many gym memberships we've paid for and never used!
"I can't do it," I'd think. "I'm not meant to be fit. My body was designed to weigh XXX pounds. Look at my family! They all weigh XXX pounds or more, too! I'm never going to look different. Other people are better, stronger, smarter, more worthy, etc. than I am because they can exercise and I can't..." On and on would go those horrible "mind tapes" that I talked about the other day.
Well, this time I decided to be less of an idiot.
I quit smoking in October. I let that sit for a while - about 30 days - before I started eating better. Then I kept that up for 30 days (a little more, actually, because of the holidays). Then I started exercising when Brandon gave us his elliptical.
During the time when I was eating better, and losing weight, but not exercising (yet) people kept telling me, "You have to exercise!!" but I resisted until it was time to implement what I called "phase 3," because I knew that this time I wasn't going to bite off more than I could chew. And it's working...
The first night, about two weeks ago, I tried the elliptical. I stayed on for 5 minutes and had an asthma attack. But instead of playing all of my "I can't..." tapes, I decided, "Well, ok, that was 5 minutes. I'll try it again tomorrow."
That day I did 10 (with my inhaler close at hand). No asthma attack.
A couple days later I did 15 minutes. Then 20. Then 25. Then I added 5 minutes of "cool down" on the bike.
Today I did 30 minutes on the elliptical and 15 minutes on the bike. Was it hard? Yeah, a little. It'll be easier tomorrow. And when it gets too easy, I'll add another 5 minutes (or I'll up the resistance on the machine).
The thing I've learned, the thing that took me 33 years to learn, is that you can't just up and change EVERYTHING on some random Tuesday. You have to give your body and your mind time to adjust to new practices. It's all about gradual, incremental changes.
If I had tried to do 30 minutes on the elliptical and 15 minutes on the bike two weeks ago when Brandon brought the elliptical over, I would've been in pain (I probably would've been in the hospital, actually. Stupid asthma...). I would've hated every second of it, and I would be hanging laundry on the damn thing by now.
Gradual, incremental changes. That's not so hard. Why did it take me 33 years to figure it out?
It's really hit home for me this week that the changes I'm making are going to prolong my life. My aunt Ann is in the hospital in Tennessee. She had chest pain yesterday, and is having an angiogram today. She is in her early 60s. Heart disease is the #1 killer of both women and men in the United States - it kills more people every year than all forms of cancer combined. My dad has had a quadruple bypass a couple years ago. My mother's father died of heart disease. High blood pressure, obesity, and diabetes run rampant through my family tree.
...and my kids' family tree.
With every step I took on the elliptical today, I thought of Ann. And I thought about how, for the first time, my kids are starting to play "exercise." Mary Grace will run in place, and I'll say, "What are you doing?" and she'll say, "My exercise!"
I'm not just changing my future.
I hope that if you're reading this, and you've been thinking about changing your own unhealthy habits, regardless of what they are, that you'll try what I suggested above. Just start with 5 minutes. And in a couple days, when you're stronger, try 10. Just start with one meal a day. Try making dinner truly healthy. Worry about lunch next week, and breakfast the following week. Just add one vegetable or one fruit to your daily diet.
Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself. Do it for your kids.
I love you, Ann. Get well soon.
Updated to add: Ann is going to be fine. It wasn't a heart attack, thank goodness.
I can't tell you how many hundreds of times I've lived that sentence. Probably every 4 - 6 months since I turned 18. I am not exaggerating at all - ask BJ how many gym memberships we've paid for and never used!
"I can't do it," I'd think. "I'm not meant to be fit. My body was designed to weigh XXX pounds. Look at my family! They all weigh XXX pounds or more, too! I'm never going to look different. Other people are better, stronger, smarter, more worthy, etc. than I am because they can exercise and I can't..." On and on would go those horrible "mind tapes" that I talked about the other day.
Well, this time I decided to be less of an idiot.
I quit smoking in October. I let that sit for a while - about 30 days - before I started eating better. Then I kept that up for 30 days (a little more, actually, because of the holidays). Then I started exercising when Brandon gave us his elliptical.
During the time when I was eating better, and losing weight, but not exercising (yet) people kept telling me, "You have to exercise!!" but I resisted until it was time to implement what I called "phase 3," because I knew that this time I wasn't going to bite off more than I could chew. And it's working...
The first night, about two weeks ago, I tried the elliptical. I stayed on for 5 minutes and had an asthma attack. But instead of playing all of my "I can't..." tapes, I decided, "Well, ok, that was 5 minutes. I'll try it again tomorrow."
That day I did 10 (with my inhaler close at hand). No asthma attack.
A couple days later I did 15 minutes. Then 20. Then 25. Then I added 5 minutes of "cool down" on the bike.
Today I did 30 minutes on the elliptical and 15 minutes on the bike. Was it hard? Yeah, a little. It'll be easier tomorrow. And when it gets too easy, I'll add another 5 minutes (or I'll up the resistance on the machine).
The thing I've learned, the thing that took me 33 years to learn, is that you can't just up and change EVERYTHING on some random Tuesday. You have to give your body and your mind time to adjust to new practices. It's all about gradual, incremental changes.
If I had tried to do 30 minutes on the elliptical and 15 minutes on the bike two weeks ago when Brandon brought the elliptical over, I would've been in pain (I probably would've been in the hospital, actually. Stupid asthma...). I would've hated every second of it, and I would be hanging laundry on the damn thing by now.
Gradual, incremental changes. That's not so hard. Why did it take me 33 years to figure it out?
...and my kids' family tree.
With every step I took on the elliptical today, I thought of Ann. And I thought about how, for the first time, my kids are starting to play "exercise." Mary Grace will run in place, and I'll say, "What are you doing?" and she'll say, "My exercise!"
I'm not just changing my future.
I hope that if you're reading this, and you've been thinking about changing your own unhealthy habits, regardless of what they are, that you'll try what I suggested above. Just start with 5 minutes. And in a couple days, when you're stronger, try 10. Just start with one meal a day. Try making dinner truly healthy. Worry about lunch next week, and breakfast the following week. Just add one vegetable or one fruit to your daily diet.
Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself. Do it for your kids.
I love you, Ann. Get well soon.
Updated to add: Ann is going to be fine. It wasn't a heart attack, thank goodness.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
A Bunch of Disjointed Fragments of Thoughts
1) I was reading an article about body size and the "ideal" body women should aspire to, and it struck me as interesting that the "ideal" for women, right now, is to be a size zero.
Nothing.
Zip.
0.
Zilch.
Is that really what we want for ourselves, and for our daughters? To aspire to be something that is synonymous with nothingness? (Not to mention extremely unhealthy for 99.9% of women).
Can't we do better than that? In our post-post-feminist world, can't we give our kids something better to aspire to than nothing?
I'll tell you what, I'd rather have daughters who are a healthy size 10 or 12 or 14 with happy, productive, fulfilling lives than a couple of coat hangers who spend every moment obsessed with not eating. (And I say that as someone who is dieting, and therefore currently obsessed with not eating).
1.5) But the thing is, I'm dieting because my starting weight (SW) was unhealthy. I don't give a rip what I look like, honestly. As long as BJ can still stand to see me and be seen with me, I'm fine. I'm looking forward to buying clothes that look better (because they're all designed to be worn by those size zeroes, right?), but not as much as I'm looking forward to being able to breathe at the top of a really long flight of stairs. If someone could promise me that my SW wouldn't kill me, I would've stayed there. I'd still smoke if someone could promise me that I wouldn't get cancer. But just like smoking, being heavy will kill you eventually, so I want to be less heavy so that I can live to see my grandkids.
I think I had to get to the point where it was about health, and not looks, for all of this self-improvement to work, to be honest... which brings me to point #2.
2) Healing High School
Facebook is a seriously interesting cultural phenomenon for people my age. Someone could write a book.
I've been out of high school for 15 years (where did that time go?) and I stayed in touch with very few people from that era. It wasn't deliberate, people just drift apart. But now people drift back together, through Facebook, and I find myself "friends" with people I'd left behind, and who had left me behind.
And you know what? It's amazing.
It's amazing to have reached a place of maturity, where we can come together and one person can say, "Hey, I'm sorry I was an asshole," and the other person can say, "We were kids, it's all good," and we can let go of all those old hurts that we all carry around. We all carry them because high school is brutal (and middle school is worse). That's why movies like The Breakfast Club are so timeless and classic - because what we go through in school, those rights of passage, are universal. They happened to all of us, whether we're "preps" or "jocks" or "geeks" or "nerds."
Even if it's never said aloud, a few cautious, friendly comments back and forth, and I no longer feel hurt over the girl who totally ditched me for a new set of friends when we left elementary school for middle school, because I'm too busy talking with her about her baby's fever, and which kind of sling she likes best, and a recipe for amazing butt paste. (Not that I sat here and agonized every day over what happened when I was 11 - that makes me sound pathetic and I'm not, I really have a full, productive, busy life where I don't obsess about things that happened 22 years ago, I promise - but those sad, hurtful memories are being replaced. My tape of that girl that used to play in my head every time I drove past her house in Grammaland or heard her fairly common name has been replaced by more current tunes - songs of us being adults, and moms, and it's better now because there's new data to replace the old. I sure hope that makes sense. That's why I called this "disjointed fragments of thoughts," because it may not...).
So now here we are, and we're all playing Mafia Wars and Farmville together. We've all gotten older and wider (no, that's not a typo) and we've all become our parents. And we're all ok. That girl who hated the world, and me in particular? Well, it turns out she had a lot of good reasons to - she had things going on at home that were horrendous. I mean, really, really bad. Now I can see everything she did through adult eyes, and through the lens of new knowledge. Suddenly it all makes sense, and it's all ok. The boy I always crushed on has finally said to me, "I didn't try to date you because I figured you were too smart for my bullshit!" and suddenly all the old feelings that screamed "I'm not good enough!" are gone. I could give a dozen examples, but I'm sure you see my point. In lots of small ways, all those little high school hurts are being healed. All the scars I've carried (that we've all carried, if we're brave enough to admit it) are disappearing.
Which brings me to #3...
3) Is it possible that in order to get healthy (finally) and to achieve meaningful weight loss (SW-20 with good batteries this time) for the first time in my life, I had to heal from high school? Could it be possible that I finally believe I'm worth it - healthy food instead of fast food, nice clothes instead of jeans and t-shirts - because I'm healing all these tiny ancient wounds?
I strongly dislike it when Dr. Phil says, "You're fat because you're a psychological train wreck!" I've always thought that's bullshit. I've maintained for years (about 15, to be honest) that I'm not a size 10 (screw size 0 - I'm Scot/Irish, that will never happen for me) because I like to cook and I hate to exercise, and I'm sticking to that... But I can't help but notice the correlation between all of these old hurts evaporating and my increased ability to stick with it this time. I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Dr. Phil is a little bit right (even a broken clock is right twice a day, right?) and that Facebook, of all things, has helped me deal with all of the dysfunctional tapes in my head that used to say, "You're not good enough!" Now they're starting to say things like, "You're really funny," and, "You really care about people," and, most importantly, "You're worth the effort that it takes to change."
Could Facebook be curing me of a lifetime of low self-esteem, which has led me to overeat and not make the effort to keep my body healthy? What do you think?
Finally, 4) I thought your answers to the question I asked Monday were great! If I could say it out loud, I would tell several people in my life, "The way you treat your family makes me absolutely sick. You really need to grow up."
Maybe the folks I'd say that to really need Facebook!
Maybe these thoughts weren't so disjointed after all.
Nothing.
Zip.
0.
Zilch.
Is that really what we want for ourselves, and for our daughters? To aspire to be something that is synonymous with nothingness? (Not to mention extremely unhealthy for 99.9% of women).
Can't we do better than that? In our post-post-feminist world, can't we give our kids something better to aspire to than nothing?
I'll tell you what, I'd rather have daughters who are a healthy size 10 or 12 or 14 with happy, productive, fulfilling lives than a couple of coat hangers who spend every moment obsessed with not eating. (And I say that as someone who is dieting, and therefore currently obsessed with not eating).
1.5) But the thing is, I'm dieting because my starting weight (SW) was unhealthy. I don't give a rip what I look like, honestly. As long as BJ can still stand to see me and be seen with me, I'm fine. I'm looking forward to buying clothes that look better (because they're all designed to be worn by those size zeroes, right?), but not as much as I'm looking forward to being able to breathe at the top of a really long flight of stairs. If someone could promise me that my SW wouldn't kill me, I would've stayed there. I'd still smoke if someone could promise me that I wouldn't get cancer. But just like smoking, being heavy will kill you eventually, so I want to be less heavy so that I can live to see my grandkids.
I think I had to get to the point where it was about health, and not looks, for all of this self-improvement to work, to be honest... which brings me to point #2.
2) Healing High School
Facebook is a seriously interesting cultural phenomenon for people my age. Someone could write a book.
I've been out of high school for 15 years (where did that time go?) and I stayed in touch with very few people from that era. It wasn't deliberate, people just drift apart. But now people drift back together, through Facebook, and I find myself "friends" with people I'd left behind, and who had left me behind.
And you know what? It's amazing.
It's amazing to have reached a place of maturity, where we can come together and one person can say, "Hey, I'm sorry I was an asshole," and the other person can say, "We were kids, it's all good," and we can let go of all those old hurts that we all carry around. We all carry them because high school is brutal (and middle school is worse). That's why movies like The Breakfast Club are so timeless and classic - because what we go through in school, those rights of passage, are universal. They happened to all of us, whether we're "preps" or "jocks" or "geeks" or "nerds."
Even if it's never said aloud, a few cautious, friendly comments back and forth, and I no longer feel hurt over the girl who totally ditched me for a new set of friends when we left elementary school for middle school, because I'm too busy talking with her about her baby's fever, and which kind of sling she likes best, and a recipe for amazing butt paste. (Not that I sat here and agonized every day over what happened when I was 11 - that makes me sound pathetic and I'm not, I really have a full, productive, busy life where I don't obsess about things that happened 22 years ago, I promise - but those sad, hurtful memories are being replaced. My tape of that girl that used to play in my head every time I drove past her house in Grammaland or heard her fairly common name has been replaced by more current tunes - songs of us being adults, and moms, and it's better now because there's new data to replace the old. I sure hope that makes sense. That's why I called this "disjointed fragments of thoughts," because it may not...).
So now here we are, and we're all playing Mafia Wars and Farmville together. We've all gotten older and wider (no, that's not a typo) and we've all become our parents. And we're all ok. That girl who hated the world, and me in particular? Well, it turns out she had a lot of good reasons to - she had things going on at home that were horrendous. I mean, really, really bad. Now I can see everything she did through adult eyes, and through the lens of new knowledge. Suddenly it all makes sense, and it's all ok. The boy I always crushed on has finally said to me, "I didn't try to date you because I figured you were too smart for my bullshit!" and suddenly all the old feelings that screamed "I'm not good enough!" are gone. I could give a dozen examples, but I'm sure you see my point. In lots of small ways, all those little high school hurts are being healed. All the scars I've carried (that we've all carried, if we're brave enough to admit it) are disappearing.
Which brings me to #3...
3) Is it possible that in order to get healthy (finally) and to achieve meaningful weight loss (SW-20 with good batteries this time) for the first time in my life, I had to heal from high school? Could it be possible that I finally believe I'm worth it - healthy food instead of fast food, nice clothes instead of jeans and t-shirts - because I'm healing all these tiny ancient wounds?
I strongly dislike it when Dr. Phil says, "You're fat because you're a psychological train wreck!" I've always thought that's bullshit. I've maintained for years (about 15, to be honest) that I'm not a size 10 (screw size 0 - I'm Scot/Irish, that will never happen for me) because I like to cook and I hate to exercise, and I'm sticking to that... But I can't help but notice the correlation between all of these old hurts evaporating and my increased ability to stick with it this time. I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Dr. Phil is a little bit right (even a broken clock is right twice a day, right?) and that Facebook, of all things, has helped me deal with all of the dysfunctional tapes in my head that used to say, "You're not good enough!" Now they're starting to say things like, "You're really funny," and, "You really care about people," and, most importantly, "You're worth the effort that it takes to change."
Could Facebook be curing me of a lifetime of low self-esteem, which has led me to overeat and not make the effort to keep my body healthy? What do you think?
Finally, 4) I thought your answers to the question I asked Monday were great! If I could say it out loud, I would tell several people in my life, "The way you treat your family makes me absolutely sick. You really need to grow up."
Maybe the folks I'd say that to really need Facebook!
Maybe these thoughts weren't so disjointed after all.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Family, Food, and Language
When I was a kid, we were so poor my mama had to stretch a box of macaroni and cheese.
Ok, not really... But my mom did make tuna casserole from Kraft Dinner (for all you Canadians) often. When my dad came over the other night to watch the kids so that BJ and I could have dinner with a new friend, I asked what he wanted, and joked, "Mush McPuna?"
Mush McPuna, for those of you not related to me, is a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese, plus some extra elbow macaroni, plus a can of cream of mushroom soup, plus a can of tuna, plus some frozen peas. Instead of adding the butter and milk as you would if you were making the Mac and Cheese according to the package, you omit the butter and add a soup can's worth of milk. So, cook the noodles and peas, drain, add the cheese sauce powder, the soup, the milk, and the drained tuna. Voila. If you're feeling fancy you can crumble potato chips on top of it.
Dad said, "Sure! I haven't had that in years!!" But I don't eat tuna anymore (due to a bad food poisoning experience - don't eat those tuna pouches. This has been a public service address. You're welcome), and I don't keep cream of mushroom soup in the house (BJ hates mushrooms, even the tiny fake ones in cream of mushroom soup), and I didn't have any peas.
Instead I made it with diced, cooked chicken breast, cream of celery soup, and frozen broccoli.
"Chuck McPockley."
I was thinking about posting all this today while I was re-heating some Chuck McPockley for lunch. The kids wouldn't eat it, so they got PB&J, Goldfish Pretzels, and apple smash.
Apple smash is apple sauce, for those of you who aren't related to Claire (or haven't heard her call it apple smash, yet).
I started thinking about how food and language are such integral parts of family. I thought about how language, particularly language about food, defines a family to a small, probably insignificant but still a little interesting extent. I mean, it's not like the Pretty Babies family is its own culture with its own food that's as separate from your family as Indian food is from Japanese food... Not quite. But still, there are little Us-isms that set us apart.
My step-mom makes orange bow-knots, especially at Easter but often for Christmas or Thanksgiving, too. BJ's step-mom's entire family puts chicken and noodles on their mashed potatoes, and they eat sugar cream pie and take it very seriously. My dad eats cold pizza for breakfast, and popcorn is his favorite (only?) vegetable. My mom and my aunts make great-grandma Shank's peanut butter cookies at Christmas. BJ's mom drinks coffee with dinner, and her mom does, too.
When BJ and I got married, I asked his mom for her meatloaf recipe, I think because I wanted to learn to speak his language, and cook in a way that said "family" to him - even if I didn't realize it at the time. But he still won't eat my Mush McPuna - those pesky mushrooms!
Together, though, we're creating our own little nation - our own heritage for our kids to carry forward. We're adopting the best traditions from each of our families, and we're adding our own weird little touches, like apple smash and Chuck McPockley.
What foods and food related words mean "family" to you?
Ok, not really... But my mom did make tuna casserole from Kraft Dinner (for all you Canadians) often. When my dad came over the other night to watch the kids so that BJ and I could have dinner with a new friend, I asked what he wanted, and joked, "Mush McPuna?"
Mush McPuna, for those of you not related to me, is a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese, plus some extra elbow macaroni, plus a can of cream of mushroom soup, plus a can of tuna, plus some frozen peas. Instead of adding the butter and milk as you would if you were making the Mac and Cheese according to the package, you omit the butter and add a soup can's worth of milk. So, cook the noodles and peas, drain, add the cheese sauce powder, the soup, the milk, and the drained tuna. Voila. If you're feeling fancy you can crumble potato chips on top of it.
Dad said, "Sure! I haven't had that in years!!" But I don't eat tuna anymore (due to a bad food poisoning experience - don't eat those tuna pouches. This has been a public service address. You're welcome), and I don't keep cream of mushroom soup in the house (BJ hates mushrooms, even the tiny fake ones in cream of mushroom soup), and I didn't have any peas.
Instead I made it with diced, cooked chicken breast, cream of celery soup, and frozen broccoli.
"Chuck McPockley."
I was thinking about posting all this today while I was re-heating some Chuck McPockley for lunch. The kids wouldn't eat it, so they got PB&J, Goldfish Pretzels, and apple smash.
Apple smash is apple sauce, for those of you who aren't related to Claire (or haven't heard her call it apple smash, yet).
I started thinking about how food and language are such integral parts of family. I thought about how language, particularly language about food, defines a family to a small, probably insignificant but still a little interesting extent. I mean, it's not like the Pretty Babies family is its own culture with its own food that's as separate from your family as Indian food is from Japanese food... Not quite. But still, there are little Us-isms that set us apart.
My step-mom makes orange bow-knots, especially at Easter but often for Christmas or Thanksgiving, too. BJ's step-mom's entire family puts chicken and noodles on their mashed potatoes, and they eat sugar cream pie and take it very seriously. My dad eats cold pizza for breakfast, and popcorn is his favorite (only?) vegetable. My mom and my aunts make great-grandma Shank's peanut butter cookies at Christmas. BJ's mom drinks coffee with dinner, and her mom does, too.
When BJ and I got married, I asked his mom for her meatloaf recipe, I think because I wanted to learn to speak his language, and cook in a way that said "family" to him - even if I didn't realize it at the time. But he still won't eat my Mush McPuna - those pesky mushrooms!
Together, though, we're creating our own little nation - our own heritage for our kids to carry forward. We're adopting the best traditions from each of our families, and we're adding our own weird little touches, like apple smash and Chuck McPockley.
What foods and food related words mean "family" to you?
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