We had some long-time friends over for dinner last night with their little girl. We enjoyed a nice meal, had some great conversation, shared some wine and the kids happily played together. When they were leaving, my friend said next, we come to her house. We both looked at each other and sort of laughed.
A nice life they have indeed, a beautiful and sweet mild-mannered two-year old in a pretty house--all seemingly manageable. Here? Three boys in often loud, chaos that involves weapons, a sharp eye for anything breakable, plenty of wrestling and always farts. Do you really want to have us over?
While I concede we don't always make great company at "your house" it isn't just the kids. I spend my entire visit at someone else's house scanning the room for potential towering launch pads for bodies, breakable treasures that seem to have blinking lights on them flashing "Get me, Sam!" and apologizing profusely. A good time had by all? Most often not.
Maybe we should go more places so they learn to behave, but I am sure that will come in time. For now, they are little boys and too many rules just makes for lots of conflict. Conflict makes for frustration and frustration makes for punching! Don't even ask me to take them to a restaurant, I will likely laugh right in your face (unless there is outdoor seating).
While I don't usually enjoy myself at the home of others (unless the kids are home with the babysitter), it sure is nice to be invited. We do a fair amount of entertaining here, which I love. I have shared before how much I love to have a great meal with friends. But, it seems as most often, the invitation to someone else's house is never extended.
I try to think that not everyone likes to entertain like I do, but then, being the obsessively-insecure-about-any-kind-of-relationship-outside-of-my-marriage kind of girl that I am, I obsess and think they don't like us. I think they came over here, we chatted over dinner and they didn't have a good time and decided they didn't like us. But really, I think it is more that people just don't like to have people over any more.
Do you keep score? (That is a hint to comment, all you stealth blog-readers). Do you expect a return invitation if you welcome someone in your home? I certainly don't want the invitation if it is nothing more than a formality, a "now we have to have them over to our house." Trust me, it is no picnic in the park to have us over (unless we are outdoors, then all of the above doesn't apply and the boys are great). So, the invitation itself has become just as good as the actual event.
In other words, just getting invited makes me feel validated. Then, I usually talk them in to coming back over here. Not a martyr, just want to actually enjoy myself and that is most often done in our own home where anything they break, I know I already paid for.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Monday, September 18, 2006
More Summer Vacation
I had intended to update this sooner and finish out the discussion about vacation...but I should know better by now. I am just not reliable! Here are some more photos of summer vacation.
The weather was not great, rarely any sunshine all week, which made the lake seem very cold (and it was). The overcast skies and strong wind made the surf extremely rough, the beach was red-flagged every day we were there (that means no swimming). Of course, the boys swam some along the shoreline. I love this picture Jeff took at Tunnel Park beach.
One day, while Samuel was off with Oma and Grandpa, Jeff and I took a very long bike ride along the south shore of the lake with Phillip and Andrew in my bike's trailer (a heavy load indeed). The bike ride ended at the marina only to discover, thanks to some local folks, that there was a foot path all the way out to the lighthouse, Big Red. We walked, played a little in the water and rode home. A great morning!
The dune was beautiful and the lighthouse was worth the walk. Nice little beach to wade in the water (unless you're Phillip, who almost always gets all the way in).
A trip to the dune rides just outside of Saugatuck was beautiful. We saw deer, wild turkeys and beautiful views of the dunes with a backdrop of Lake Michigan.
A three mile round trip hike in the woods brought us on to this beautiful beach on Lake Michigan in Dunes State Park. Rough and cold water, but boys who were soaking wet and sand-covered.
Here is how Andrew spent most of his vacation...doing the Neste plunge into the sand, followed by several roles around in it. It was funny, but made for a messy boy every day we were within 50 yards of sand. It took a few days to get all of the sand out of his ears.
We left Holland after five days and headed to our second stop, Oscoda. Let's just say it sucked. I could give you a long list of all of the disastrous things about Oscoda (one of which is the "keep out" sign and mysterious puddle on the beach at the house next to us--can you say combined sewer overflow?), but we will wrap it up by saying we stayed one night and headed to a Westin in Detroit (with a full refund from the spot in Oscoda).
Detroit was fantastic! A ton to do, including the Motown Museum which gives you a tour of where it all started, up close and personal. You tour Barry Gordy's apartment, see the desk where Diana Ross answered the phone and then into the recording studio where it ALL happened. You can touch the piano little Stevie Wonder played, we stood where the Jackson 5 recorded, and much more. A fantastic tiny museum and a really big deal to me--a huge Motown fan.
The Detroit Zoo is beautiful and huge. We stayed there for two nights, but still didn't do everything we wanted to. The highlight was certainly The Henry Ford, an amazing complex created by Ford, including Greenfield Village--worth every penny. It is simply amazing. We didn't get to see everything we wanted to there, so will certainly go back (I discovered a Ritz right near by :)). Our Henry Ford experience ended with an amazing tour of the Rouge, the largest manufacturing facility and the site of much of Ford's history, as well as a tour of the new F-150 plant. I am not a Ford girl, but it is moving to see industry at work in the U.S. I am certainly very intrigued by Ford and have added a book about him to my must read list.
Here are Jeff and the boys at Greenfield Village in the artisan part, we watched medal smithing, glass blowing, printing, pottery, and much more! This is a very special place.
One of my nicknames bestowed upon me by my loving husband is Leona Helmsley. Yes, the witchy hotel owner who practically whipped her staff if standards every fell below perfection. I am a serious hotel snob, thanks to my childhood days. I feel most at home in anything with four stars and above.
The Westin was great, with its plush robes, heavenly beds and heavenly shower heads. And of course, the best thing in life...room service! The boys had their own room adjoining ours and loved it to pieces. Just like I did when I was little (only I didn't give them the minibar key so they could eat a $3.00 package of M&Ms). Ahhh....
We had so many great pictures from the trip. You really cannot go wrong with the Nikon D70, it makes everyone feel like a pro photographer. For more vacation photos and for photos of Samuel, not even four yet, now riding his bike without training wheels, visit Jeff's blog at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com.
Good news on that front--he returns to light duty today. More later (well, maybe more soon..).
The weather was not great, rarely any sunshine all week, which made the lake seem very cold (and it was). The overcast skies and strong wind made the surf extremely rough, the beach was red-flagged every day we were there (that means no swimming). Of course, the boys swam some along the shoreline. I love this picture Jeff took at Tunnel Park beach.
One day, while Samuel was off with Oma and Grandpa, Jeff and I took a very long bike ride along the south shore of the lake with Phillip and Andrew in my bike's trailer (a heavy load indeed). The bike ride ended at the marina only to discover, thanks to some local folks, that there was a foot path all the way out to the lighthouse, Big Red. We walked, played a little in the water and rode home. A great morning!
The dune was beautiful and the lighthouse was worth the walk. Nice little beach to wade in the water (unless you're Phillip, who almost always gets all the way in).
A trip to the dune rides just outside of Saugatuck was beautiful. We saw deer, wild turkeys and beautiful views of the dunes with a backdrop of Lake Michigan.
A three mile round trip hike in the woods brought us on to this beautiful beach on Lake Michigan in Dunes State Park. Rough and cold water, but boys who were soaking wet and sand-covered.
Here is how Andrew spent most of his vacation...doing the Neste plunge into the sand, followed by several roles around in it. It was funny, but made for a messy boy every day we were within 50 yards of sand. It took a few days to get all of the sand out of his ears.
We left Holland after five days and headed to our second stop, Oscoda. Let's just say it sucked. I could give you a long list of all of the disastrous things about Oscoda (one of which is the "keep out" sign and mysterious puddle on the beach at the house next to us--can you say combined sewer overflow?), but we will wrap it up by saying we stayed one night and headed to a Westin in Detroit (with a full refund from the spot in Oscoda).
Detroit was fantastic! A ton to do, including the Motown Museum which gives you a tour of where it all started, up close and personal. You tour Barry Gordy's apartment, see the desk where Diana Ross answered the phone and then into the recording studio where it ALL happened. You can touch the piano little Stevie Wonder played, we stood where the Jackson 5 recorded, and much more. A fantastic tiny museum and a really big deal to me--a huge Motown fan.
The Detroit Zoo is beautiful and huge. We stayed there for two nights, but still didn't do everything we wanted to. The highlight was certainly The Henry Ford, an amazing complex created by Ford, including Greenfield Village--worth every penny. It is simply amazing. We didn't get to see everything we wanted to there, so will certainly go back (I discovered a Ritz right near by :)). Our Henry Ford experience ended with an amazing tour of the Rouge, the largest manufacturing facility and the site of much of Ford's history, as well as a tour of the new F-150 plant. I am not a Ford girl, but it is moving to see industry at work in the U.S. I am certainly very intrigued by Ford and have added a book about him to my must read list.
Here are Jeff and the boys at Greenfield Village in the artisan part, we watched medal smithing, glass blowing, printing, pottery, and much more! This is a very special place.
One of my nicknames bestowed upon me by my loving husband is Leona Helmsley. Yes, the witchy hotel owner who practically whipped her staff if standards every fell below perfection. I am a serious hotel snob, thanks to my childhood days. I feel most at home in anything with four stars and above.
The Westin was great, with its plush robes, heavenly beds and heavenly shower heads. And of course, the best thing in life...room service! The boys had their own room adjoining ours and loved it to pieces. Just like I did when I was little (only I didn't give them the minibar key so they could eat a $3.00 package of M&Ms). Ahhh....
We had so many great pictures from the trip. You really cannot go wrong with the Nikon D70, it makes everyone feel like a pro photographer. For more vacation photos and for photos of Samuel, not even four yet, now riding his bike without training wheels, visit Jeff's blog at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com.
Good news on that front--he returns to light duty today. More later (well, maybe more soon..).
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
What I Did on my Summer Vacation
Instead of one long post about our vacation, which I really rather not rehash in full detail and in response to my husband who thinks my blog entries are too heavy, I will provide a series of entries that chronologically document our vacation in photos (with a little narrative).
So here are the first few days...
We headed to Holland, Michigan. The drive was about 4 1/2 hours. Jeff thought the drive was great, but I thought it was an eternity, as I heard my name more than 1,000 times in that 4 hours. Mom, mom, mom, mommy, mom, mama, mama, mommy, mom. And, the car was packed--oh, I am sorry, the van was packed, so that should be a pretty good indication of how much stuff we took.
I usually don't take this much stuff, but figured since we were only going four hours away, instead of the usual 16+ to the west coast of Florida, I could take more--including a ton of food so I didn't have to buy it there and I could help ensure we continued to eat pretty healthy stuff. The food took up a lot of room. So did all of the beach crap (where we go in Florida, we know what they have--chairs, umbrella, etc. so we don't take anything). And we took our bikes on the new bike rack. We were totally loaded down.
We arrived safely and the house we rented turned out to be rather nice. We arrived around 4:00, so we settled in a bit and then headed off for a dinner out and to the grocery store. The next day, we spent shopping in downtown Holland. They have a street of very cute and unique stores with stuff you would actually want to buy (not just vacation/tourist crap). We had lunch at a local micro brewery and eventually headed back to the house for exhausted Andy to nap and to meet my dad and his wife who were joining us.
So here are the first few days...
We headed to Holland, Michigan. The drive was about 4 1/2 hours. Jeff thought the drive was great, but I thought it was an eternity, as I heard my name more than 1,000 times in that 4 hours. Mom, mom, mom, mommy, mom, mama, mama, mommy, mom. And, the car was packed--oh, I am sorry, the van was packed, so that should be a pretty good indication of how much stuff we took.
I usually don't take this much stuff, but figured since we were only going four hours away, instead of the usual 16+ to the west coast of Florida, I could take more--including a ton of food so I didn't have to buy it there and I could help ensure we continued to eat pretty healthy stuff. The food took up a lot of room. So did all of the beach crap (where we go in Florida, we know what they have--chairs, umbrella, etc. so we don't take anything). And we took our bikes on the new bike rack. We were totally loaded down.
We arrived safely and the house we rented turned out to be rather nice. We arrived around 4:00, so we settled in a bit and then headed off for a dinner out and to the grocery store. The next day, we spent shopping in downtown Holland. They have a street of very cute and unique stores with stuff you would actually want to buy (not just vacation/tourist crap). We had lunch at a local micro brewery and eventually headed back to the house for exhausted Andy to nap and to meet my dad and his wife who were joining us.
Friday, September 01, 2006
A Revelation
At the close of my last entry, I think I had a revelation about my body image issues. It isn't so much about wanting to be accepted by boys (although that period in my life was still traumatic and difficult), it is more about wanting to be accepted by girls.
I have always had a difficult time maintaining friendships with females. I don't know why, but I just sort of suck at it (and I am sure if I thought hard enough about it I could figure out some reasons why I suck at it). I was one of those girls who my best friends in high school were always boys. I had a hard time relating to girls my age, and I still find successfully maintaining female relationships one of my greatest challenges.
So, now I see that perhaps feeling skinny makes me feel more powerful than other women in the room, sending a message that I don't need them to like me. Hmmm. This sounds a bit crazy, but I think I am on to something. In fact, I am certain there was a point in my adult life when I picked friends who were "worse off" than me because I felt they needed me more and wouldn't leave me for better opportunities.
That said, this also goes back to that same period of my life (around 5th to 7th grade) where I had a huge and devastating shift in friends. The move from fifth grade in our elementary school to sixth grade in the junior high merged our small group of friends with kids from other elementary schools. Somehow, lots of them knew each other and new clicks formed, that did not necessarily include me. Then, my life-long best friend that had moved away (and we were still friends long distance) moved back, and for some reason, we were not really friends again. My only other friends developed interests that I did not share and I sort of found it difficult to fit in there too.
Like I said, I am still challenged by my female friendships. In fact, in my mind, I seem to always wait for my friends to leave me. I worry and fret over the state of friendships and work hard to do the best I can in them, but I still feel as though things are temporary and investing is dangerous. Sometimes I think I invest too much too earlier and I scare friends away, then I think that is crazy, just follow the path of the relationship as it naturally develops and I do that (sometimes with success, sometimes not).
I do think I have made significant progress in this area over the past few years and now have several successful friendships (but, I will confess that this issue was a topic of some counseling while I was pregnant with Samuel and I have only recently succeeded in the past few years due to conscious effort). Anyway, the point is is that I really think that my body image issues stem from my need or desire to be accepted and included in that mainstream "girlfriend" culture, which I feel I have always been on the outside of. Enough.
I have always had a difficult time maintaining friendships with females. I don't know why, but I just sort of suck at it (and I am sure if I thought hard enough about it I could figure out some reasons why I suck at it). I was one of those girls who my best friends in high school were always boys. I had a hard time relating to girls my age, and I still find successfully maintaining female relationships one of my greatest challenges.
So, now I see that perhaps feeling skinny makes me feel more powerful than other women in the room, sending a message that I don't need them to like me. Hmmm. This sounds a bit crazy, but I think I am on to something. In fact, I am certain there was a point in my adult life when I picked friends who were "worse off" than me because I felt they needed me more and wouldn't leave me for better opportunities.
That said, this also goes back to that same period of my life (around 5th to 7th grade) where I had a huge and devastating shift in friends. The move from fifth grade in our elementary school to sixth grade in the junior high merged our small group of friends with kids from other elementary schools. Somehow, lots of them knew each other and new clicks formed, that did not necessarily include me. Then, my life-long best friend that had moved away (and we were still friends long distance) moved back, and for some reason, we were not really friends again. My only other friends developed interests that I did not share and I sort of found it difficult to fit in there too.
Like I said, I am still challenged by my female friendships. In fact, in my mind, I seem to always wait for my friends to leave me. I worry and fret over the state of friendships and work hard to do the best I can in them, but I still feel as though things are temporary and investing is dangerous. Sometimes I think I invest too much too earlier and I scare friends away, then I think that is crazy, just follow the path of the relationship as it naturally develops and I do that (sometimes with success, sometimes not).
I do think I have made significant progress in this area over the past few years and now have several successful friendships (but, I will confess that this issue was a topic of some counseling while I was pregnant with Samuel and I have only recently succeeded in the past few years due to conscious effort). Anyway, the point is is that I really think that my body image issues stem from my need or desire to be accepted and included in that mainstream "girlfriend" culture, which I feel I have always been on the outside of. Enough.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
A Response
A post in response to several comments I got from my post on body image (several were via email instead of posting comments on Blogger). Of course I know the weight and body image is not the real issue...I watch Oprah, you know.
But, the deeper image still focuses on my physical body. Trust me when I say I am confident with the person I am, despite how others may feel about my personality "challenges," I am happy about who I have become and recognize those very things others may find offensive, worrisome, etc. are the same personality traits that make me determined, successful, creative, and passionate.
Now, that doesn't mean I am always proud of my behavior or think I always act the way I should--not so. I do get embarrassed about some of my choices, stressful moments, snaps, and grumbles (examples of this will be found in upcoming posts about our recent vacation). I am happy with me. I am still working on many things, and always will be, but I like me. What I don't always like is my body. Why? Because early in adolescence, I was quite the short and fat kid, and quite frankly, a late bloomer. I remember 7th grade as the worst year for this and I believe that much of my body image issues relate to this time in my life--coupled with choices later in my early years to confuse sex for love (have we had that conversation yet? Maybe not...my dad reads this blog).
In 7th grade, I started to like boys. But, one boy (who I didn't like) was particularly cruel to me. Andrew Cassis, I am sure he is a loser today, but at the time, he was one of the ring leaders of the popular group of athletic boys (I grew up in a very sports focused town). 7th grade is the first time I wore a bra. One day, Andrew Cassis went to snap my bra strap (a favorite past-time of junior high boys) and there wasn't anything there. He took that and ran with it. I finally convinced my mother I needed a bra (even though I really didn't) and she bought me one.
I remember the first day I wore it as I spent probably almost an hour picking out the perfect shirt to wear with it (it was a pink oversized oxford with printing on the back--hey, it was the 80's). I wanted it to show a little, I really did--this was a big moment--but I didn't want it to look like I wanted it to show. I waited for Andrew to see it and he did, and I couldn't wait for him to snap it, hoping I would meet the threshold of acceptance and the taunting would stop. He snapped...and then, taunted me for weeks that I was wearing a bra.
Meanwhile, (on the homefront, I was watching my horny teenage brother treat women like meat and focus on their physical appearance. I would hear him and his friends talk about girls, bodies, boobs, and football--that was it (until one day he became a serious Christian...yet another story for another day). I wanted so bad to have that level of acceptance that the popular kids did and I thought for sure if I was just taller and skinnier, I would. But, I was always on the fringe of the popular group, never right in it. We lived in a very middle to upper class community and competition for material things was steep. I often had many of my schoolmates beat in that department, but somehow got made fun of for it instead of accepted for it.
For example, Jordache jeans were the thing...everyone wore them very tight and cut off with scissors (fringy) on the bottom. My mom wouldn't buy them for me. Instead, I wore Guess jeans, which at the time we had to drive to Chicago to buy. And, the result...they made fun of my jeans. I swear. One day, my dad picked me up at school in his car and an Andrew Cassis groupy happened to see it and guess what? They teased me because my dad's car was an expensive foreign car.
Things continued to get worse during 8th and 9th grade, until I resolved that I couldn't go to the big public high school with these dicks. I didn't play sports, wasn't a cheerleader, had become a terrible student and feared the social pressures of the high school. My parents were very supportive and we investigated several alternatives. Found one and I went. But, some of the same problems persisted (at least in my head). The small private school had a much different culture, but I still was stuck with the mindset that I needed to look a certain way to be popular. While this time I was more in the popular group, I was still a bit fringy because I joined late (these folks had been schooled together at private schools for years). To me, it was most likely my physical appearance that kept me on the fringe.
This sort of started my path during my late adolescence and early twenties of confusing sex for love and acceptance. Not to say I didn't have any successful relationships with guys before getting married, they were not often rooted in love, but rather gaining acceptance. I am sure by now, you get the point and further details forward won't be possible at this point or on this blog because my dad reads this. Maybe one day I can share more about this challenging journey I embarked on from this point forward, which still leaves me concerned about the appearance of my body as a measure of acceptance--and quite frankly, as a means to separate myself from other women in the room, who I have always felt less than accepted by.
P.S. I thought Nicole Richie looked good, but in a recent photo, she now looks horrible and far, far too skinny even for me!
But, the deeper image still focuses on my physical body. Trust me when I say I am confident with the person I am, despite how others may feel about my personality "challenges," I am happy about who I have become and recognize those very things others may find offensive, worrisome, etc. are the same personality traits that make me determined, successful, creative, and passionate.
Now, that doesn't mean I am always proud of my behavior or think I always act the way I should--not so. I do get embarrassed about some of my choices, stressful moments, snaps, and grumbles (examples of this will be found in upcoming posts about our recent vacation). I am happy with me. I am still working on many things, and always will be, but I like me. What I don't always like is my body. Why? Because early in adolescence, I was quite the short and fat kid, and quite frankly, a late bloomer. I remember 7th grade as the worst year for this and I believe that much of my body image issues relate to this time in my life--coupled with choices later in my early years to confuse sex for love (have we had that conversation yet? Maybe not...my dad reads this blog).
In 7th grade, I started to like boys. But, one boy (who I didn't like) was particularly cruel to me. Andrew Cassis, I am sure he is a loser today, but at the time, he was one of the ring leaders of the popular group of athletic boys (I grew up in a very sports focused town). 7th grade is the first time I wore a bra. One day, Andrew Cassis went to snap my bra strap (a favorite past-time of junior high boys) and there wasn't anything there. He took that and ran with it. I finally convinced my mother I needed a bra (even though I really didn't) and she bought me one.
I remember the first day I wore it as I spent probably almost an hour picking out the perfect shirt to wear with it (it was a pink oversized oxford with printing on the back--hey, it was the 80's). I wanted it to show a little, I really did--this was a big moment--but I didn't want it to look like I wanted it to show. I waited for Andrew to see it and he did, and I couldn't wait for him to snap it, hoping I would meet the threshold of acceptance and the taunting would stop. He snapped...and then, taunted me for weeks that I was wearing a bra.
Meanwhile, (on the homefront, I was watching my horny teenage brother treat women like meat and focus on their physical appearance. I would hear him and his friends talk about girls, bodies, boobs, and football--that was it (until one day he became a serious Christian...yet another story for another day). I wanted so bad to have that level of acceptance that the popular kids did and I thought for sure if I was just taller and skinnier, I would. But, I was always on the fringe of the popular group, never right in it. We lived in a very middle to upper class community and competition for material things was steep. I often had many of my schoolmates beat in that department, but somehow got made fun of for it instead of accepted for it.
For example, Jordache jeans were the thing...everyone wore them very tight and cut off with scissors (fringy) on the bottom. My mom wouldn't buy them for me. Instead, I wore Guess jeans, which at the time we had to drive to Chicago to buy. And, the result...they made fun of my jeans. I swear. One day, my dad picked me up at school in his car and an Andrew Cassis groupy happened to see it and guess what? They teased me because my dad's car was an expensive foreign car.
Things continued to get worse during 8th and 9th grade, until I resolved that I couldn't go to the big public high school with these dicks. I didn't play sports, wasn't a cheerleader, had become a terrible student and feared the social pressures of the high school. My parents were very supportive and we investigated several alternatives. Found one and I went. But, some of the same problems persisted (at least in my head). The small private school had a much different culture, but I still was stuck with the mindset that I needed to look a certain way to be popular. While this time I was more in the popular group, I was still a bit fringy because I joined late (these folks had been schooled together at private schools for years). To me, it was most likely my physical appearance that kept me on the fringe.
This sort of started my path during my late adolescence and early twenties of confusing sex for love and acceptance. Not to say I didn't have any successful relationships with guys before getting married, they were not often rooted in love, but rather gaining acceptance. I am sure by now, you get the point and further details forward won't be possible at this point or on this blog because my dad reads this. Maybe one day I can share more about this challenging journey I embarked on from this point forward, which still leaves me concerned about the appearance of my body as a measure of acceptance--and quite frankly, as a means to separate myself from other women in the room, who I have always felt less than accepted by.
P.S. I thought Nicole Richie looked good, but in a recent photo, she now looks horrible and far, far too skinny even for me!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
New Post, but Old News
I posted my previous entry that I had drafted and hated. But, because I saved it as a post, it was sort of archived and you will need to scroll down past the two most recent entries to find it. I titled it Old News (which, at this point is exactly what it is).
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Celebrity Weight Loss Secrets
I must find them out.
Remember the first time you heard your own voice on the telephone…maybe you listened to a message you left on an answering machine (back in the day), or tape recorded your voice with a cassette recorder (that is really back in the day). I remember. And, I remember thinking that is not me. No way, that is not my voice. I hear my voice differently than everyone else.
Just like my voice, I see my body differently than others. When I was growing up, my two best friends were A) a girl who was a bean-pole and B) a girl who was almost a tiny doll. Here I was short and chubby. I remember being in the doctor’s office and him telling my mom that she had to cut the Pepsi (which was the one junkie thing we were allowed to have). I also remember it helped. So did growing four inches my freshman year in college.
But still, I had body issues as an adult. Then came pregnancy and child birth. I have weighed within ten pounds of the same weight since high school (obviously not while pregnant, but I always lose the weight). But, the parts of my body that bothered me then, still bother me now: my Jewish booty, my birthing hips, and my thunder thighs. I hate them, or at least am obsessed with stewing over them.
Every day is a constant battle for me not to eat everything I want to—which would be any kind of baked good and a daily maybe pint or so of ice cream. I don’t eat fast food—that is not a struggle for me—and I don’t eat candy, unless you count chocolate. If it involves chocolate, I love it. I have had periods where I eat everything I want, and even still I gain about 10 pounds when I should be a whale. But, being a whale isn’t really in my genes (on either side); I am blessed with a high metabolism, a strong need to stay busy, and a family who wouldn’t tolerate of a fat person (literally, my grandpa used to have a license plate cover that said “Weaver Rules: No Fat Chics,” my grandpa!)
I keep a daily food journal that shows how much water I drink (at least 100 ounces a day), how much coffee I drink, what I eat for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I skip at least one meal a day, with one meal being pittance and the third meal (usually family dinner) being my only real caloric intake. I did institute the food journal for other reasons too, like to track what foods or how much coffee leads to have heartburn and the other digestive upsets creeping in with age.
But, the bottom line is that I have a huge problem with portion control. Despite the fact that I made the meal, I have a hard time, while eating the food, convincing myself that this yummy food (or even sometimes not so yummy food) will be here tomorrow or that I can make the dish again another time. I often just cannot get enough food at a sit down meal. I am trying to work on that, but my mom will tell you I had a love affair with food even as a baby. I love everything about food—the smells, the textures, the tastes. I love preparing it, cooking it, sharing it with friend and family. For me, there is nothing in the world like a good meal. Food is love.
I weigh myself at least once a day. I track my daily weight in my journal. I am struggling to lose the 7 pounds I gained when I finally stopped nursing Andrew in the spring. I really want to weight 128, but I know my body likes to weigh 130. But, 130 doesn’t seems skinny enough for me. I want to be skinny. So, maybe I am warped on this one. I know whenever I see a picture of myself I am studying my body—do I look fat? Maybe my perception is a bit skewed. I stand in line at the grocery store and read the trashy magazines to try and find out how these celebrities do it because I think they all look great (well, some really are skin and bones).
I love it when people use words like tiny and skinny to describe me; I replay that in my head over and over…often while I am having a conversation with myself about whether or not to eat a giant bowl of ice cream. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. But, it is a constant struggle and a constant conversation in my mind. “I really want ice cream. Yeah, but don’t you want to be skinny more than you want ice cream? Not today…today I deserve ice cream.” I have lots of conversations with myself about food. On the way to the fridge in the morning when I am starving, I say to myself over and over, “…protein, protein, protein” to ensure I end up with a small piece of whole grain bread with a bit of almond butter on it instead of strawberry preserves, which I would then have to write down in the sugar column.
Okay, enough…you get it, right? I am obsessed with my weight and my body and I have serious food issues. I am Oprah! In fact, I think I even know where my food issues come from…but that is a whole other blog entry. Wish me luck on accepting 130 when I hit it (about three pounds to go) and the ability to maintain it and let go of all of this craziness associated with my body. Really, I thought I had a positive body image, but post-babies, I realized I am nuts.
Remember the first time you heard your own voice on the telephone…maybe you listened to a message you left on an answering machine (back in the day), or tape recorded your voice with a cassette recorder (that is really back in the day). I remember. And, I remember thinking that is not me. No way, that is not my voice. I hear my voice differently than everyone else.
Just like my voice, I see my body differently than others. When I was growing up, my two best friends were A) a girl who was a bean-pole and B) a girl who was almost a tiny doll. Here I was short and chubby. I remember being in the doctor’s office and him telling my mom that she had to cut the Pepsi (which was the one junkie thing we were allowed to have). I also remember it helped. So did growing four inches my freshman year in college.
But still, I had body issues as an adult. Then came pregnancy and child birth. I have weighed within ten pounds of the same weight since high school (obviously not while pregnant, but I always lose the weight). But, the parts of my body that bothered me then, still bother me now: my Jewish booty, my birthing hips, and my thunder thighs. I hate them, or at least am obsessed with stewing over them.
Every day is a constant battle for me not to eat everything I want to—which would be any kind of baked good and a daily maybe pint or so of ice cream. I don’t eat fast food—that is not a struggle for me—and I don’t eat candy, unless you count chocolate. If it involves chocolate, I love it. I have had periods where I eat everything I want, and even still I gain about 10 pounds when I should be a whale. But, being a whale isn’t really in my genes (on either side); I am blessed with a high metabolism, a strong need to stay busy, and a family who wouldn’t tolerate of a fat person (literally, my grandpa used to have a license plate cover that said “Weaver Rules: No Fat Chics,” my grandpa!)
I keep a daily food journal that shows how much water I drink (at least 100 ounces a day), how much coffee I drink, what I eat for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I skip at least one meal a day, with one meal being pittance and the third meal (usually family dinner) being my only real caloric intake. I did institute the food journal for other reasons too, like to track what foods or how much coffee leads to have heartburn and the other digestive upsets creeping in with age.
But, the bottom line is that I have a huge problem with portion control. Despite the fact that I made the meal, I have a hard time, while eating the food, convincing myself that this yummy food (or even sometimes not so yummy food) will be here tomorrow or that I can make the dish again another time. I often just cannot get enough food at a sit down meal. I am trying to work on that, but my mom will tell you I had a love affair with food even as a baby. I love everything about food—the smells, the textures, the tastes. I love preparing it, cooking it, sharing it with friend and family. For me, there is nothing in the world like a good meal. Food is love.
I weigh myself at least once a day. I track my daily weight in my journal. I am struggling to lose the 7 pounds I gained when I finally stopped nursing Andrew in the spring. I really want to weight 128, but I know my body likes to weigh 130. But, 130 doesn’t seems skinny enough for me. I want to be skinny. So, maybe I am warped on this one. I know whenever I see a picture of myself I am studying my body—do I look fat? Maybe my perception is a bit skewed. I stand in line at the grocery store and read the trashy magazines to try and find out how these celebrities do it because I think they all look great (well, some really are skin and bones).
I love it when people use words like tiny and skinny to describe me; I replay that in my head over and over…often while I am having a conversation with myself about whether or not to eat a giant bowl of ice cream. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. But, it is a constant struggle and a constant conversation in my mind. “I really want ice cream. Yeah, but don’t you want to be skinny more than you want ice cream? Not today…today I deserve ice cream.” I have lots of conversations with myself about food. On the way to the fridge in the morning when I am starving, I say to myself over and over, “…protein, protein, protein” to ensure I end up with a small piece of whole grain bread with a bit of almond butter on it instead of strawberry preserves, which I would then have to write down in the sugar column.
Okay, enough…you get it, right? I am obsessed with my weight and my body and I have serious food issues. I am Oprah! In fact, I think I even know where my food issues come from…but that is a whole other blog entry. Wish me luck on accepting 130 when I hit it (about three pounds to go) and the ability to maintain it and let go of all of this craziness associated with my body. Really, I thought I had a positive body image, but post-babies, I realized I am nuts.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Blame it on the Rain
I don't know what it was, maybe it was the rain, but yesterday was a day that just couldn't end fast enough for me. I know, every day is a gift from God, blah, blah, and should be cherished, blah, blah, and watch my kids discover, blah, blah.
The day actually started as a carry-over from the night before. We had an adventurous Sunday and spent most of the day away from home. We got back home at 8:15, way past bedtime. We rushed Sam and Andy through bath (PJ was spending the night at my cousin's house), read stories and tucked them in. Now, sometimes when we do a rush bedtime job like that, it takes the kids a little longer to settle down and fall asleep. Understandable. Sam finally drifted off after about an hour or so, which would mean he was up past 9:30.
Andrew, my dear baby-or I am not such a baby anymore, more like a full-fledged terrible-twos, couldn't pull it together and fall asleep. Talking and whining turned into screaming and crying. And 9:30 turned into 10:30 in to 11:30 into 12:30 and so on. I brought him in my bed and he was so restless, he couldn't sleep--and neither could I. Jeff came to bed around 10:30 and I had him take him back to his bed. He didn't sleep, neither could I.
I tossed and turned and then he reappeared in my bed around 12:30. I snapped at Jeff and told him to get him out of our bed because I couldn't sleep with him being so restless. Now, there are three of us who have "missed our window" for getting to sleep. Laying there troubled with the thought that my alarm will go off in five hours or less, I finally took something to knock me out and it did, and I don't know what happened past 12:45.
I woke up, spent about an hour and a half on a blog entry and then realized I hated it. It is just a bunch of crap about what I did and when. I don't know...doesn't seem like very interesting stuff. Yet, those are my favorite blogs to read. I usually skip over the entries that start like, "Depression has left me a hostage in my own life." Snore. Just as I almost never watch a movie these days that will require me to think (and, I am in luck as there aren't many), I can often not bring myself to read such heavy stuff from a stranger. Just tell me some funny nursing story or about your husband's recent inheritance.
After that, I rushed out the door to an 8:15 meeting way on the north side of Carmel. Have I ever mentioned before how much I hate rush hour traffic? But, it went rather smoothly and I arrived right on time. A good sign, I thought. Finished the meeting, drove home to check in for an hour or so before heading downtown for a lunch meeting with someone from the lieutenant Governor's office for lunch.
I am checking email, when my computer locks up and the screen goes black, then blue with a serious warning/error message. This is the second time this has happened in two days. I call the computer guy, we start discussing. He accesses my system remotely and works for about thirty of my fifty minutes home. We chat briefly by phone, he says he might come by today to look at things. I love this guy, by the way, he is fantastic. I get ready to leave, try to finally check my email and the screen goes blue again. I call, he says he will be over shortly.
Then, Samuel has a total meltdown--and I mean total. With the new nanny still sort of "in training" I felt like I needed to intervene on this one. By now I am going to be ten minutes late to this important meeting. I try to calm Samuel, but with no success. I get frustrated and carry him up to his room and put him on his bed and tell him to wait for his dad, who I just saw drive down the street. I leave. I race downtown, find a perfect parking spot right in front of the restaurant.
I figure God is really trying to turn this day around for me and try to let him. I try to change my disposition and smile, find something to be happy about. I head into the restaurant and they say my party isn't there yet. I think that is weird because I am 15 minutes late. I sit at a table and wait. Maybe it was at noon and not 11:30. I wait some more. I call. I wait some more. I decide to leave, thought maybe something changed and she tried to email me but given my technical state, I didn't get the message.
As I am walking out the restaurant, I see her sitting at another table--with three other people. I approach her (she is one of those people who seems a bit crabby anyway, who I am never quite sure what she is thinking or if she likes me), and inquire about our lunch date. She says it was last Thursday and I didn't show. Of course not, I am showing now! Shit. Way to go. I apologized over and over and asked to reschedule. Sent an email to schedule, but haven't heard back yet.
Then, about two blocks from my house, I hear a horn as I pass these two cars and I see one smack into a telephone pole, flip on its side in a ditch, then back on the ground and heading toward a house. I kept going as several other people stopped and turned around. I wanted to see, but that was all I would be doing at that point was watching. There were enough people already at the scene. Another moment of me thinking God is trying to tell me to snap out of this and quit feeling so sorry and down on myself.
I come home, trying to have a new attitude, but guess what...more technical difficulties. The computer guy is here, at my desk. It is necessary, but frustrating. A few hours later, he instructs me to significantly clean out my email box and teaches me how to save email messages in my client files (fascinating stuff for a techno-idiot like me). He leaves, I spend an hour and a half going through A-D in my emails, filing what I can, deleting the rest.
I start dinner. Much of the fresh corn I bought in the country has grubs, no big deal, I break it off. I go get Andrew up from his nap. His room is a disaster and he is sleeping standing up, folded in half with his torso and head laying on his bed-if that makes any sense. He is a crab. He cries and cries. The other boys are outside and come in and out, whining with various requests. I keep pushing them back outside. It's hot they say, it's summer I say. The final step after a challenging evening is to put dressing on the salad. I grab the bottle, give it a shake in the air and dressing flies everywhere. This is it...this is my day.
I call the computer guy again after dinner, as the computer locks up again and won't even let me in to clean things up and install service packs as he suggested. He hops on again. We get the kids off to bath and in bed early. Once again, an hour later, two are still awake--Andrew and Sam. I am considering suing lawmakers over daylight savings time. It has really screwed our bedtime into a heaping pile of conflict.
I head to bed at about 8:30. Kids still awake, I tell (well, I yelled) Samuel that he will have to take a nap tomorrow because he is up so late. I am going to stick to that, too. He had a horrible day as well and I am certain it is because he is tired. I am ready for school to start, but not for summer weather to be over. I am already dreading winter.
What a lousy day. I am optimistic about today and look forward to starting over. Now, must get to work. I will probably go through the other post I wrote, clean it up and post it soon, it will be out of chronological order--but hey, it includes pictures!
The day actually started as a carry-over from the night before. We had an adventurous Sunday and spent most of the day away from home. We got back home at 8:15, way past bedtime. We rushed Sam and Andy through bath (PJ was spending the night at my cousin's house), read stories and tucked them in. Now, sometimes when we do a rush bedtime job like that, it takes the kids a little longer to settle down and fall asleep. Understandable. Sam finally drifted off after about an hour or so, which would mean he was up past 9:30.
Andrew, my dear baby-or I am not such a baby anymore, more like a full-fledged terrible-twos, couldn't pull it together and fall asleep. Talking and whining turned into screaming and crying. And 9:30 turned into 10:30 in to 11:30 into 12:30 and so on. I brought him in my bed and he was so restless, he couldn't sleep--and neither could I. Jeff came to bed around 10:30 and I had him take him back to his bed. He didn't sleep, neither could I.
I tossed and turned and then he reappeared in my bed around 12:30. I snapped at Jeff and told him to get him out of our bed because I couldn't sleep with him being so restless. Now, there are three of us who have "missed our window" for getting to sleep. Laying there troubled with the thought that my alarm will go off in five hours or less, I finally took something to knock me out and it did, and I don't know what happened past 12:45.
I woke up, spent about an hour and a half on a blog entry and then realized I hated it. It is just a bunch of crap about what I did and when. I don't know...doesn't seem like very interesting stuff. Yet, those are my favorite blogs to read. I usually skip over the entries that start like, "Depression has left me a hostage in my own life." Snore. Just as I almost never watch a movie these days that will require me to think (and, I am in luck as there aren't many), I can often not bring myself to read such heavy stuff from a stranger. Just tell me some funny nursing story or about your husband's recent inheritance.
After that, I rushed out the door to an 8:15 meeting way on the north side of Carmel. Have I ever mentioned before how much I hate rush hour traffic? But, it went rather smoothly and I arrived right on time. A good sign, I thought. Finished the meeting, drove home to check in for an hour or so before heading downtown for a lunch meeting with someone from the lieutenant Governor's office for lunch.
I am checking email, when my computer locks up and the screen goes black, then blue with a serious warning/error message. This is the second time this has happened in two days. I call the computer guy, we start discussing. He accesses my system remotely and works for about thirty of my fifty minutes home. We chat briefly by phone, he says he might come by today to look at things. I love this guy, by the way, he is fantastic. I get ready to leave, try to finally check my email and the screen goes blue again. I call, he says he will be over shortly.
Then, Samuel has a total meltdown--and I mean total. With the new nanny still sort of "in training" I felt like I needed to intervene on this one. By now I am going to be ten minutes late to this important meeting. I try to calm Samuel, but with no success. I get frustrated and carry him up to his room and put him on his bed and tell him to wait for his dad, who I just saw drive down the street. I leave. I race downtown, find a perfect parking spot right in front of the restaurant.
I figure God is really trying to turn this day around for me and try to let him. I try to change my disposition and smile, find something to be happy about. I head into the restaurant and they say my party isn't there yet. I think that is weird because I am 15 minutes late. I sit at a table and wait. Maybe it was at noon and not 11:30. I wait some more. I call. I wait some more. I decide to leave, thought maybe something changed and she tried to email me but given my technical state, I didn't get the message.
As I am walking out the restaurant, I see her sitting at another table--with three other people. I approach her (she is one of those people who seems a bit crabby anyway, who I am never quite sure what she is thinking or if she likes me), and inquire about our lunch date. She says it was last Thursday and I didn't show. Of course not, I am showing now! Shit. Way to go. I apologized over and over and asked to reschedule. Sent an email to schedule, but haven't heard back yet.
Then, about two blocks from my house, I hear a horn as I pass these two cars and I see one smack into a telephone pole, flip on its side in a ditch, then back on the ground and heading toward a house. I kept going as several other people stopped and turned around. I wanted to see, but that was all I would be doing at that point was watching. There were enough people already at the scene. Another moment of me thinking God is trying to tell me to snap out of this and quit feeling so sorry and down on myself.
I come home, trying to have a new attitude, but guess what...more technical difficulties. The computer guy is here, at my desk. It is necessary, but frustrating. A few hours later, he instructs me to significantly clean out my email box and teaches me how to save email messages in my client files (fascinating stuff for a techno-idiot like me). He leaves, I spend an hour and a half going through A-D in my emails, filing what I can, deleting the rest.
I start dinner. Much of the fresh corn I bought in the country has grubs, no big deal, I break it off. I go get Andrew up from his nap. His room is a disaster and he is sleeping standing up, folded in half with his torso and head laying on his bed-if that makes any sense. He is a crab. He cries and cries. The other boys are outside and come in and out, whining with various requests. I keep pushing them back outside. It's hot they say, it's summer I say. The final step after a challenging evening is to put dressing on the salad. I grab the bottle, give it a shake in the air and dressing flies everywhere. This is it...this is my day.
I call the computer guy again after dinner, as the computer locks up again and won't even let me in to clean things up and install service packs as he suggested. He hops on again. We get the kids off to bath and in bed early. Once again, an hour later, two are still awake--Andrew and Sam. I am considering suing lawmakers over daylight savings time. It has really screwed our bedtime into a heaping pile of conflict.
I head to bed at about 8:30. Kids still awake, I tell (well, I yelled) Samuel that he will have to take a nap tomorrow because he is up so late. I am going to stick to that, too. He had a horrible day as well and I am certain it is because he is tired. I am ready for school to start, but not for summer weather to be over. I am already dreading winter.
What a lousy day. I am optimistic about today and look forward to starting over. Now, must get to work. I will probably go through the other post I wrote, clean it up and post it soon, it will be out of chronological order--but hey, it includes pictures!
Monday, August 14, 2006
Old News
Here are bits and pieces of the update post I did a few weeks ago after a long absence of posting. I have cut out a lot of meaningless ramblings and excessive details (I am virtually obsessed with details).
The past few weeks have been some of the most challenging for me in recent years. Things are smoothing out as I sail towards vacation (five days on Lake Michigan, four days on Lake Huron, or what I kept saying was Lake Ontario), but some of the recent weeks testing me in new ways.
Jeff had his knee surgery on July 20th and I cared for him after. I also cared for the three kids as he was totally immobile and we had no child care that week. I prepared meals for everyone, bathed everyone, kept the house up, tried to work my normal 50-60 hours (but barely managed 25), did all the errands (Jeff usually does a lot of those) and crawled in bed every night exhausted. Many nights I shared my bed with visitors for various reasons (nose bleed, teething, bad dream), as Jeff was nesting in the guest room as to accommodate his many medical devices and odd sleep schedule.
It was exhausting and I had many days when I could hardly exhale. Those were the days I should have been blogging, but was too busy to even find ten minutes for that. I was often totally overwhelmed, but despite it all, somehow managed to do a pretty good job. I did loose it a few times with the kids, but as to be expected. The boys and I had some good summer fun together and some much needed time spent playing, chatting, running errands and cuddling.
By then end, I really felt a sense of a reconnection with the kids and my parenting skills were refreshed in a good way. This was a good thing because we had a new nanny start on July 31 and it was important that I model the way I want her to communicate with our kids. And, speaking of kids...looks like this is it for our clan. While under the knife with the knee, Jeff also had a vasectomy.
I am not 100% positive I don't want more kids, in fact I do want more--two more. But I am about 95% positive that I cannot do it again. I can do pregnancy again, labor, delivery, newborn babies, etc. But, I don't think I can do another cold/flu season in Indiana with the smallest of children, I don't think I can do another toddler emptying every cabinet in sight (even the ones that are "childproofed"), I don't think I can do another terrible twos or potty training. Jeff and I joked and said if they came out at age five, we would both be all for more...but they don't. And, that journey to five is very special and valuable, but just plain exhausting.
Back to the course of time over the past few weeks...so, Jeff is on the mend. He sent me flowers thanking me for taking care of him. The new nanny started and seems to be slowly getting it. The first day, I was so disappointed and ready to give up. But, optomistic Jeff said we needed to give it more time and he was right. She is learning, trying and definately succeeding. The good thing is is that she sees how great our style works for our kids. She has helped the boys peacefully resolve conflict and talk things out, she has ended one of Sam's fits, and turned the tables on a bad day. She is open to learning and trying to get the hang of it. Every day is getting better and better. I also think maybe it is a good thing that I am not totally blown away in the first few weeks. I was with our old nanny and then, she pooped out and totally disappointed me.
We have spent a lot of time together as a family over the summer and it has been terrific fun. However, I think everyone is ready to get back into the swing of school, work, etc. Our garden has been tremendously successful. Tomatoes abound. I canned home-made marinara sauce the other day with herbs and tomatoes from the garden. We ate our carrots, have had an endless supply of cucumbers, enjoy watching our pumpkins and watermelon grow and wake up every morning to look out the back window and see our giant sunflowers.
Many new starts recently too. Jeff started a blog at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com. Phillip took a pottery class at the Art Center and just loved it. I had Jeff buy some shelves for our room where I can display the boys' creations and see them everyday. Samuel started Karate, he was in heaven, but as we were all celebrating his success, he decided he didn't want to do it anymore. Stubborn boy. Andrew has started...well, being two as his birthday gets closer and closer.
Yesterday (now a few Sundays ago) we went to my new nephew's dedication at my brother's church (he is a pastor of a church in Carmel) and then out to lunch with family afterward. The night before, Samuel told Jeff we were going to "his cousin's church to see him get advertised." And we did. It was great fun. The boys were great and enjoyed the time with family. They each took their new back packs with a few toys to play with in church, if needed.
In fact, Phillip went to spend the night at my cousin's house last night. His first sleep over at someone's house other than grandparents. Of course, Jeff reminded me, they are still family as it is my cousin. I am not surprised that we didn't get a call last night. He has been dying to spend the night at someone's house. My cousin has lots of kids, lots of land and lots of toys. His son that Phillip spent the night with has, according to Phillip before we left, "lots of Legos with lots of weapons." A slice of heaven for PJ.
The past few weeks have been some of the most challenging for me in recent years. Things are smoothing out as I sail towards vacation (five days on Lake Michigan, four days on Lake Huron, or what I kept saying was Lake Ontario), but some of the recent weeks testing me in new ways.Jeff had his knee surgery on July 20th and I cared for him after. I also cared for the three kids as he was totally immobile and we had no child care that week. I prepared meals for everyone, bathed everyone, kept the house up, tried to work my normal 50-60 hours (but barely managed 25), did all the errands (Jeff usually does a lot of those) and crawled in bed every night exhausted. Many nights I shared my bed with visitors for various reasons (nose bleed, teething, bad dream), as Jeff was nesting in the guest room as to accommodate his many medical devices and odd sleep schedule.
It was exhausting and I had many days when I could hardly exhale. Those were the days I should have been blogging, but was too busy to even find ten minutes for that. I was often totally overwhelmed, but despite it all, somehow managed to do a pretty good job. I did loose it a few times with the kids, but as to be expected. The boys and I had some good summer fun together and some much needed time spent playing, chatting, running errands and cuddling.
By then end, I really felt a sense of a reconnection with the kids and my parenting skills were refreshed in a good way. This was a good thing because we had a new nanny start on July 31 and it was important that I model the way I want her to communicate with our kids. And, speaking of kids...looks like this is it for our clan. While under the knife with the knee, Jeff also had a vasectomy.
I am not 100% positive I don't want more kids, in fact I do want more--two more. But I am about 95% positive that I cannot do it again. I can do pregnancy again, labor, delivery, newborn babies, etc. But, I don't think I can do another cold/flu season in Indiana with the smallest of children, I don't think I can do another toddler emptying every cabinet in sight (even the ones that are "childproofed"), I don't think I can do another terrible twos or potty training. Jeff and I joked and said if they came out at age five, we would both be all for more...but they don't. And, that journey to five is very special and valuable, but just plain exhausting.
Back to the course of time over the past few weeks...so, Jeff is on the mend. He sent me flowers thanking me for taking care of him. The new nanny started and seems to be slowly getting it. The first day, I was so disappointed and ready to give up. But, optomistic Jeff said we needed to give it more time and he was right. She is learning, trying and definately succeeding. The good thing is is that she sees how great our style works for our kids. She has helped the boys peacefully resolve conflict and talk things out, she has ended one of Sam's fits, and turned the tables on a bad day. She is open to learning and trying to get the hang of it. Every day is getting better and better. I also think maybe it is a good thing that I am not totally blown away in the first few weeks. I was with our old nanny and then, she pooped out and totally disappointed me.
We have spent a lot of time together as a family over the summer and it has been terrific fun. However, I think everyone is ready to get back into the swing of school, work, etc. Our garden has been tremendously successful. Tomatoes abound. I canned home-made marinara sauce the other day with herbs and tomatoes from the garden. We ate our carrots, have had an endless supply of cucumbers, enjoy watching our pumpkins and watermelon grow and wake up every morning to look out the back window and see our giant sunflowers.Many new starts recently too. Jeff started a blog at www.cu-copper.blogspot.com. Phillip took a pottery class at the Art Center and just loved it. I had Jeff buy some shelves for our room where I can display the boys' creations and see them everyday. Samuel started Karate, he was in heaven, but as we were all celebrating his success, he decided he didn't want to do it anymore. Stubborn boy. Andrew has started...well, being two as his birthday gets closer and closer.
Yesterday (now a few Sundays ago) we went to my new nephew's dedication at my brother's church (he is a pastor of a church in Carmel) and then out to lunch with family afterward. The night before, Samuel told Jeff we were going to "his cousin's church to see him get advertised." And we did. It was great fun. The boys were great and enjoyed the time with family. They each took their new back packs with a few toys to play with in church, if needed.In fact, Phillip went to spend the night at my cousin's house last night. His first sleep over at someone's house other than grandparents. Of course, Jeff reminded me, they are still family as it is my cousin. I am not surprised that we didn't get a call last night. He has been dying to spend the night at someone's house. My cousin has lots of kids, lots of land and lots of toys. His son that Phillip spent the night with has, according to Phillip before we left, "lots of Legos with lots of weapons." A slice of heaven for PJ.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Still Looking for a New Post?
Are you checking back only to find the same old post? A new one is coming soon...I promise. Right now, just getting through each day, trying to get caught up with work, etc. I have had many days lately where I have composed great blog entries in my head, but never found the time to transfer those ideas into words on the page. Instead, faithfully plugging away at work in hopes to get caught up or regain a sense of control! More soon, for real. (oh great, and now Blogger's spell check is whacked out and not working).
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
The Garden Grows and Other Adventures
A full entry follows the photos. And, for some reason I put the comments about the photos above instead of below this time.
The garden grows...Cucumbers are plentiful!
Yes, that is basil behind Samuel! It's huge...
The garden grows...Cucumbers are plentiful!
Yes, that is basil behind Samuel! It's huge...
Andy next to the corn, peas, pumpkins and peppers. See all of those green tomatoes behind him? Soon we will be swimming in juicy Indiana tomatoes!
The 7+ foot tall sunflowers, finally starting to flower.
More of our veggies.
The White River...about 45 minutes north of Indy, a much different river than what we are used to! Going canoeing with PJ and Sam.
Riding in the canoe places van up to the drop-off spot. In the van, no car seats--a first for these guys, they thought it was pretty cool.
Loading in the canoe
We survived (well, I almost didn't). Playing the river after we arrived at our destination. More on the canoe trip later.
Is that mom in the river?!? Well, it is only about 8 inches deep and I can see the bottom.
Looking like I enjoyed myself. I guess I did, after I got through the panic attack! No, it wasn't that bad, but I certainly am not a river girl.
My master Lego builder's latest creations. Pretty ingenious stuff for a five (almost six) year old.
Ooops, I Did it Again
Okay, now I am not defending the car-seatless driving of Britney Spears or the diaper-changing-on-a-restaurant-table that I read about on another mother's blog, but I am defending some of her stuff. For example, when she almost fell carrying Sean Preston (no, I didn't know that name off the top of my head, I had to Google it). First of all, she was actually carrying him, a novel thing for some celebrity moms.
I remember once carrying Phillip to the car when he was just a few months old. I had stopped carrying the infant seat in the house and had started just carrying him to the car instead. I was walking along the tiny cement strip in between the car and the brick side of our old house and fell, twisted my ankle and nearly dropped him on the driveway. I miraculously fell on top of him, but with the arm that was holding him offering enough cushion between his body and the concrete that he didn't even cry--but I did.
I make a lot of mistakes as a parent. Some big, some small. But last night I was once again not the parent I want to be to Samuel. He frustrates me so much some times. I am watching my behavior, begging myself to get it together, and I just cannot snap out of my frustration. He was crying and crying, and not listening as I was trying to explain why he was in trouble--he just would not listen and his fit got bigger and bigger and more out of control.
I was as nice as could be and then when all the tricks I knew were not working, I got frustrated, yelled and increased the punishment. Now, instead of just having to go to bed early, I revoked bedtime stories. He screamed more. Then, I said I would close the door because Andrew was trying to sleep (was sleeping until the screaming started) next door. He screamed some more. I closed the door. He screamed even more.
I yelled instead of talked, reacted instead of listened, and put more distance between us instead of holding him. I hate that. And, I am so hard on myself when I screw up. Only my mom makes me feel okay about it. She reminds me that everyone screws up as a parent. Oh, I am sorry...everyone except for you, I am sure you are a perfect parent all the time. She reminds me that she lost it sometimes too--overwhelmed, tired, at her wit's end with a stubborn child (me, maybe?) and asks me if I remember or if I now think she doesn't love me. I don't remember and I know she loves me.
But, Dr. Phil and others always talk about how you "change who your children are" with episodes like that. My inability to control my emotions changed who my child is. Now that is a lot of pressure--and guilt. And other mothers always seem to share stories of how together they are, rarely does anyone confess to their parenting short-comings. I hold on to those tiny glimpses of those moments some have been brave enough to share.
Like my friend, who I think is the most wonderful parent and who has taught me so much about parenting. I sometimes hear her voice when she responded to a complement I gave her about what a wonderful parent she is and she said some days she threatens to throw all O's baby dolls in the trash even before noon. Ahhhhh. Not that I am happy for her frustration or loss of control, and not that I am happy that she had a moment of being the parent she doesn't want to be (wait, I am a tiny bit happy about that), but she validated my feelings of frustration. She probably doesn't even ever remember saying that, but I save it for when I need it most.
I have to remember it is okay to screw up and be mindful and thankful that God gives me another day to start over. I screwed up. I apologized this morning for yelling and not handling the situation better. He apologized too for the big fit. I will try again today and remind myself that I can be the parent I want to be and the parent that Samuel needs. I love those guys like nothing else in the world.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Smells of Life
We are all on the couch before heading up for bed, having some fun family time, giggling, talking, you know--one of those good moments.
I smell something and realize I think it is Jeff's feet. I go in for a closer smell and let out a big, "Eeeewwww, I don't think your feet have ever smelled that bad!"
Okay, I know there are several things wrong with this comment. First, I smelled the feet to confirm what I already knew, as the smell of stinky feet is unmistakable. Second, I say "have ever" which indicates I have smelled his smelly feet, probably up close, on more than one occasion. And third, they are feet--of course they stink.
Part of why this is such a big deal is that I am the queen of stinky feet in our house. Yes it is true. My sweaty feet are the main reason I cannot stand to bind my feet in the inner housings of those God-awful coffins called shoes. I would wear flip-flops all year if I could, and I do most of the year, but we do have snow in Indiana. I need to let my feet breathe and roam, explore their environment. Otherwise, like an angry skunk, they retaliate with a mystifying scent that is unmistakably mine.
So, back to last night, as I am certain that is too much information about me. Now the tables have turned and Jeff has stinky feet. The boys laugh and laugh and Phillip says, "let me smell." See? This is life with a house full of boys--let's all take turns smelling gross stuff and then laugh about it for 20 minutes!
"Eeewwwww, those smell like cock!" he says. Jeff and I are like, "WHAT? They smell like WHAT?" He says it again. We are rolling on the floor, tears running down my eyes.
Finally, after we pull ourselves together, we ask what he meant by cock. "You know, the caulk that Daddy squeezes out with that gun." The CAULK gun....oh. That's better!
And then, Phillip farts in Jeff's face.
I smell something and realize I think it is Jeff's feet. I go in for a closer smell and let out a big, "Eeeewwww, I don't think your feet have ever smelled that bad!"
Okay, I know there are several things wrong with this comment. First, I smelled the feet to confirm what I already knew, as the smell of stinky feet is unmistakable. Second, I say "have ever" which indicates I have smelled his smelly feet, probably up close, on more than one occasion. And third, they are feet--of course they stink.
Part of why this is such a big deal is that I am the queen of stinky feet in our house. Yes it is true. My sweaty feet are the main reason I cannot stand to bind my feet in the inner housings of those God-awful coffins called shoes. I would wear flip-flops all year if I could, and I do most of the year, but we do have snow in Indiana. I need to let my feet breathe and roam, explore their environment. Otherwise, like an angry skunk, they retaliate with a mystifying scent that is unmistakably mine.
So, back to last night, as I am certain that is too much information about me. Now the tables have turned and Jeff has stinky feet. The boys laugh and laugh and Phillip says, "let me smell." See? This is life with a house full of boys--let's all take turns smelling gross stuff and then laugh about it for 20 minutes!
"Eeewwwww, those smell like cock!" he says. Jeff and I are like, "WHAT? They smell like WHAT?" He says it again. We are rolling on the floor, tears running down my eyes.
Finally, after we pull ourselves together, we ask what he meant by cock. "You know, the caulk that Daddy squeezes out with that gun." The CAULK gun....oh. That's better!
And then, Phillip farts in Jeff's face.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Two things I forgot
Two funny things I wanted to share...
Phillip recently played at his friend Graham's house and accidentally (or so he says) brought one of Graham's toys home, as he had it in the basket on his bike.
"Is that a sword?" I asked of this cell-phone looking device that transforms into some sort of weapon.
Knowing how I can be about weapons, he quickly and emphatically replied, "No, its a wand," and made me listen closely to the magical wand noise it makes.
"Okay, you sold me," which he knew meant he passed the test.
Next, Samuel called down to us last night after he went to bed that he had to poop. Okay, call us when you are done we said. He did. I go up to help him (despite the fact that he wants to wipe on his own, he isn't ready to do that).
We are washing our hands when I see something on his pajama shirt. "Sam, is that poop on your shirt?"
"No," he replies. "I think it is a gas pain."
Phillip recently played at his friend Graham's house and accidentally (or so he says) brought one of Graham's toys home, as he had it in the basket on his bike.
"Is that a sword?" I asked of this cell-phone looking device that transforms into some sort of weapon.
Knowing how I can be about weapons, he quickly and emphatically replied, "No, its a wand," and made me listen closely to the magical wand noise it makes.
"Okay, you sold me," which he knew meant he passed the test.
Next, Samuel called down to us last night after he went to bed that he had to poop. Okay, call us when you are done we said. He did. I go up to help him (despite the fact that he wants to wipe on his own, he isn't ready to do that).
We are washing our hands when I see something on his pajama shirt. "Sam, is that poop on your shirt?"
"No," he replies. "I think it is a gas pain."
Below are the photos I promised earlier. As for other goings on...we finally go see the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow, who will hopefully schedule surgery for Jeff. At this point, it seems as if we are just delaying the inevitable. We are both anxious to just get on with it already and start moving forward.
Other news...the new nanny we hired has decided to move to California with her husband and work for the family she just left (they moved to California and asked her to go with them, apparently they have wooed them out there). So, we are back to square one. She is coming for the next two weeks as needed to fill the gap. I am so bummed about it, but am trying to move forward.
I have been in such a funk lately. I am not sure what my problem is, but certainly not feeling like my normal high energy, optimistic self. I think I am just way overloaded with many, "have-tos" and constantly feeling like I am just spinning my wheels, moving from one thing to the next. It don't think I do well with disruptions in my normal routine and the last three weeks have been all about that. Between Jeff's being off and home, and the nanny transition, I don't think I have had a single day of "normal" work and being sort of in my regular routine. I am hoping to return to that this week.
On the nanny note, the old nanny stopped by to drop some stuff off and she just irritates the living shit out of me. Jeff and I were talking over dinner of how she just totally morphed over the last few months into someone so different than when she started. Granted, I am sure she was pissed at us a lot of that time because I didn't want her drilling the kids with "Hooked on Phonics" like her last family let her. And, as she told my cleaning lady, she thought it was horrible that Samuel, almost four cannot count to ten. While I disagree (and know he can if he wants to, but gets a kick out of doing anything other than what you ask him to), she could certainly have take him outside and teach him to count to ten by counting leaves on the tree or berries on a bush, or birds in the sky. Ugh...I get so worked up about it. And, we were so generous with her and she still acts like we weren't. I am trying to make this parting amicable (if you remember, she quit--but it was a good thing because we already had an ad in the paper) and not to waste energy on it, but I think I will need like a year before I can see her again without having to hold back on just totally going off on her! Which, I have avoided up until this point as I recognize, my opinion won't change her--it will only make me feel better to say stuff to her for the moment, then feel bad for being so judgmental and downright hateful.
Okay, she is sucking my energy out even now, so I am going to stop and move forward. But, one day, oh the stories I can tell that you just won't believe what an idiot she was! Why, then, you ask did we keep her on so long? Because for the most part, the kids really enjoyed her and she was good with them, this is all "our" stuff: adult to adult stuff.
Kids are stirring upstairs..Finally--it is 8:25--I thought they were never going to wake up!
Other news...the new nanny we hired has decided to move to California with her husband and work for the family she just left (they moved to California and asked her to go with them, apparently they have wooed them out there). So, we are back to square one. She is coming for the next two weeks as needed to fill the gap. I am so bummed about it, but am trying to move forward.
I have been in such a funk lately. I am not sure what my problem is, but certainly not feeling like my normal high energy, optimistic self. I think I am just way overloaded with many, "have-tos" and constantly feeling like I am just spinning my wheels, moving from one thing to the next. It don't think I do well with disruptions in my normal routine and the last three weeks have been all about that. Between Jeff's being off and home, and the nanny transition, I don't think I have had a single day of "normal" work and being sort of in my regular routine. I am hoping to return to that this week.
On the nanny note, the old nanny stopped by to drop some stuff off and she just irritates the living shit out of me. Jeff and I were talking over dinner of how she just totally morphed over the last few months into someone so different than when she started. Granted, I am sure she was pissed at us a lot of that time because I didn't want her drilling the kids with "Hooked on Phonics" like her last family let her. And, as she told my cleaning lady, she thought it was horrible that Samuel, almost four cannot count to ten. While I disagree (and know he can if he wants to, but gets a kick out of doing anything other than what you ask him to), she could certainly have take him outside and teach him to count to ten by counting leaves on the tree or berries on a bush, or birds in the sky. Ugh...I get so worked up about it. And, we were so generous with her and she still acts like we weren't. I am trying to make this parting amicable (if you remember, she quit--but it was a good thing because we already had an ad in the paper) and not to waste energy on it, but I think I will need like a year before I can see her again without having to hold back on just totally going off on her! Which, I have avoided up until this point as I recognize, my opinion won't change her--it will only make me feel better to say stuff to her for the moment, then feel bad for being so judgmental and downright hateful.
Okay, she is sucking my energy out even now, so I am going to stop and move forward. But, one day, oh the stories I can tell that you just won't believe what an idiot she was! Why, then, you ask did we keep her on so long? Because for the most part, the kids really enjoyed her and she was good with them, this is all "our" stuff: adult to adult stuff.
Kids are stirring upstairs..Finally--it is 8:25--I thought they were never going to wake up!
Amazing July Day!
A day like yesterday is a rare thing in July, in Indiana. By now, we are usually knee-deep in humidity. It was amazingly beautiful, and no humidity.
Feeling a need to be outside and do something fun, we headed to the canal. We had lunch at the Eiteljorg outside overlooking the canal. They have really tried to pump up this new cafe there, but after a $30+ lunch, I must say they have again missed the mark. Nothing spectacular. Then, the boys rode their bikes along the canal, stopping to play in the fountains and feed the fish and ducks. They loved riding over the wooden bridge like in Three Billy Goat Gruff at the north end (near the USS Indianapolis memorial). We all wish we could have done the surrey bikes, we love those! But, with Jeff still hobbling around with a torn ACL, it wasn't possible. When I was pregnant with Andrew, I rented one by myself with Phillip and Samuel. I could do that, but I couldn't peddle all five of us around, I know that! Then, a stop at Ritter's on the way home (first a stop at a gas station for fuel, where Samuel thought he saw "Fat Alvert," or as you may know him by, Fat Albert). What a day!
Feeling a need to be outside and do something fun, we headed to the canal. We had lunch at the Eiteljorg outside overlooking the canal. They have really tried to pump up this new cafe there, but after a $30+ lunch, I must say they have again missed the mark. Nothing spectacular. Then, the boys rode their bikes along the canal, stopping to play in the fountains and feed the fish and ducks. They loved riding over the wooden bridge like in Three Billy Goat Gruff at the north end (near the USS Indianapolis memorial). We all wish we could have done the surrey bikes, we love those! But, with Jeff still hobbling around with a torn ACL, it wasn't possible. When I was pregnant with Andrew, I rented one by myself with Phillip and Samuel. I could do that, but I couldn't peddle all five of us around, I know that! Then, a stop at Ritter's on the way home (first a stop at a gas station for fuel, where Samuel thought he saw "Fat Alvert," or as you may know him by, Fat Albert). What a day!
4th of July
Here are photos of our 4th of July. Our neighborhood has an annual parade and cookout, planned by Jeff this year. It is always great fun. The boys decorated their vehicles themselves, I pushed Andy in the stroller. I had it decorated, but he screamed when he saw it and ripped everything off he could reach.
Snow cones, hot dogs, clowns, games, candy, the works! They had a great time. Then, Grammy took them to see Cars (all but Andrew). She joined us for dinner and then fireworks. But, by the end of the night, Samuel had the fever Andrew had had two days before. Just a fever and some complaints about his head and stomach, but like Andrew's, it left as quickly as it came. DST made for a long day, with our big fireworks not starting until almost 10PM. I think that is the latest my kids have EVER stayed up.
Snow cones, hot dogs, clowns, games, candy, the works! They had a great time. Then, Grammy took them to see Cars (all but Andrew). She joined us for dinner and then fireworks. But, by the end of the night, Samuel had the fever Andrew had had two days before. Just a fever and some complaints about his head and stomach, but like Andrew's, it left as quickly as it came. DST made for a long day, with our big fireworks not starting until almost 10PM. I think that is the latest my kids have EVER stayed up.
Whipped Cream Fight
A summer tradition at our house...whipped cream fights. A pie in the face! Mmmmmmmm, whipped cream!
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