One of the beautiful things about having children in school during the daylight hours is the freedom. Once the kids leave the casa, time is my oyster.
Generally, between 8:30-2:45, there is lots to get done. Now, I'm not saying I GET it done, just that there's a lot that I SHOULD be getting done...laundry, dishes, straightening/cleaning, budgeting, shopping, blah, blah, blah.
And that's all fine and well because it is what I signed up for when I accepted the "Homemaker" title.
But, lately, I've found myself slipping into the comfortable mode of spending half of my morning, three days/week, at the gym.
Before you go getting all impressed, let me add that about 45 minutes to an hour of that time is actually spent working out. The rest is in the dry sauna, chatting with my workout partner.
I love this time more than I can express. I realize that the other things on my list get shoved to the side so I can be a lot self-indulgent. And it also means that some of the time I am working into the wee hours of the night to get stuff accomplished that I could have done in the morning.
So I decided it was really time to revisit my to-do list and figure out how I can make this all work so I can actually attempt to get a decent amount of sleep instead of trying to survive on way too little.
But this week? The last of my "freedom" from the confines of a "scheduled" calendar? We've been kicking back in the dry sauna a little longer than usual. Soaking it in, if you will. The same way I will soak in a five pound bag of sugar via the sweets binge I'll go on the night before Mike and I do our next cleanse.
There was so much soaking going on that I had time to notice something I'd never seen before. That's when FBS entered my life for the first time.
See, the "seasoned"* ladies work out in the pool during the time we are at the gym. Most of the time they finish their class after we've left, so all we see of them are their cute little heads.
Today proved different. All but two of the ladies exited the pool while we were still sitting chatting in the heat. Many of them headed straight for the whirlpool, which sits right outside the sauna. And I had a perfect vantage point from which to watch them.
I noticed almost immediately that the two women who had on the same swimsuit and had lined up next to each other and were doing elderly high kicks** both had really flat butts. When they turned to move toward the whirlpool, they had large abdomens.
Interesting, I noted.
Then a gaggle of waddling senior ladies passed by the sauna. Flat butt? Check. Big tummy? Yup.
Oh.my.goodness. It was all of them! And these were the women who were actively exercising. I can only imagine what the passive, stationary ones must look like!
I pointed this out to my workout buddy, who was all "REALLY? I've never noticed that."
As we did a little more surveillance on our way out of the sauna/pool area, we were both shaking our heads in wonder. Specifically, I was thinking "Does gravity just take your butt down like that? Kind of like the hair on a man's head tends to migrate to his ears and nose when they get old?"
Neither of us was very excited at the prospect of losing our posterior padding. In fact, if the stupid StairMaster can somehow save my butt from falling down the back of my legs in 40 years, I'm going to seriously consider buying one of those things.
Flat Butt Syndrome? Not on my watch.
*Nice attempt at disguising that they are old.
**No joke. Just keep in mind that "high kicking" for a person in their 80's is about shin high. On a toddler's shin, that is.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Lunch Line Obsession
What is it with kids when they get an idea in their head?
The Babe, in combination with obsessing over details of his months-away-birthday-bash, is now completely engrossed with the hot lunch line at school.
In carpool this morning he started in again. Hooman just shook his head and, in a very defeated tone, said "It's like his birthday party, Mom."
It took everything in me not to laugh and then reply, "You haven't heard the half of it. I feel your pain. Multiplied by like five trillion."
Isn't there something worth ruminating that's better than cheap, rubbery spaghetti noodles and watery pasta sauce?*
It seems, since Hoooman admitted he went through the line and bought an orange** last week, that The Babe can no longer function without being allowed to get his share of the pie.
Incidentally, I know that's what this is all about: the fairness doctrine of siblings everywhere. "He got something and I didn't. That's not FAIR!"**
I've already reminded The Babe that I brought him a Subway lunch just a scant two weeks ago. Didn't matter.
I've reminded him that, come the last day of school, he'll be sporting his choice of any of the nutritionally-devoid Lunchables on the shelf at our local Walmart.*** That's not good enough.
No. Short of getting to grab a heavy, plastic tray and having a stubby lady with a large wart throw something indistinguishable from "hash" on his plate, he is going to continue on with this inquisition of fairness.
I'm reminded of a pillow I recently saw at Home Goods. It pictured a crown and the phrase "Smile and Carry On".
Maybe I'll adopt that annoying little royal wave and utilize it every time he starts down this path of insanity. Maybe that will look so completely ridiculous that he'll be shocked out of his line of thinking and forget, temporarily, that he is obsessing. Maybe, standing there waving like an idiot will even magically transform me to the land of no worries and perfect children.
Wait. What's that in the distance? Oh, yes. Of course. That's REALITY. Calling me back.
When this starts again, and IT WILL, I am going to take about three seconds to remember "This too shall pass. There will be a new, entirely different obsession coming down the pike REAL SOON."
If I'm lucky, "Obsession"**** by The Babe, edition 2011, volume 3, will have something to do with parenting and my utter lack of equality in anything related to my boys.
*Apparently, not when you are five. Going on six. And planning your party way-far in advance.
**Memo to the sub-60 inch set: MommaJ don't play dat. In fact, I am working extra hard to be sure you are all treated with complete inequality. That is actually more fair to you in the long run because that is EXACTLY the way life is going to treat you. Get used to it and please, when you are 45 years old and realize I'm right, let me know all the years of listening to you gripe about how unfair I was were worth it.
***That's my deal with the kids: eat a good lunch, that I pack, most of the days of school and you can eat complete crap on the last day. So far, so good.
****Place your orders early for the Kindle edition of the book.
The Babe, in combination with obsessing over details of his months-away-birthday-bash, is now completely engrossed with the hot lunch line at school.
In carpool this morning he started in again. Hooman just shook his head and, in a very defeated tone, said "It's like his birthday party, Mom."
It took everything in me not to laugh and then reply, "You haven't heard the half of it. I feel your pain. Multiplied by like five trillion."
Isn't there something worth ruminating that's better than cheap, rubbery spaghetti noodles and watery pasta sauce?*
It seems, since Hoooman admitted he went through the line and bought an orange** last week, that The Babe can no longer function without being allowed to get his share of the pie.
Incidentally, I know that's what this is all about: the fairness doctrine of siblings everywhere. "He got something and I didn't. That's not FAIR!"**
I've already reminded The Babe that I brought him a Subway lunch just a scant two weeks ago. Didn't matter.
I've reminded him that, come the last day of school, he'll be sporting his choice of any of the nutritionally-devoid Lunchables on the shelf at our local Walmart.*** That's not good enough.
No. Short of getting to grab a heavy, plastic tray and having a stubby lady with a large wart throw something indistinguishable from "hash" on his plate, he is going to continue on with this inquisition of fairness.
I'm reminded of a pillow I recently saw at Home Goods. It pictured a crown and the phrase "Smile and Carry On".
Maybe I'll adopt that annoying little royal wave and utilize it every time he starts down this path of insanity. Maybe that will look so completely ridiculous that he'll be shocked out of his line of thinking and forget, temporarily, that he is obsessing. Maybe, standing there waving like an idiot will even magically transform me to the land of no worries and perfect children.
Wait. What's that in the distance? Oh, yes. Of course. That's REALITY. Calling me back.
When this starts again, and IT WILL, I am going to take about three seconds to remember "This too shall pass. There will be a new, entirely different obsession coming down the pike REAL SOON."
If I'm lucky, "Obsession"**** by The Babe, edition 2011, volume 3, will have something to do with parenting and my utter lack of equality in anything related to my boys.
*Apparently, not when you are five. Going on six. And planning your party way-far in advance.
**Memo to the sub-60 inch set: MommaJ don't play dat. In fact, I am working extra hard to be sure you are all treated with complete inequality. That is actually more fair to you in the long run because that is EXACTLY the way life is going to treat you. Get used to it and please, when you are 45 years old and realize I'm right, let me know all the years of listening to you gripe about how unfair I was were worth it.
***That's my deal with the kids: eat a good lunch, that I pack, most of the days of school and you can eat complete crap on the last day. So far, so good.
****Place your orders early for the Kindle edition of the book.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Is She a Mom or a Raging Case of ADD?
I figure I'm not the only one who has issues with attention. (Squirrel!)
So, to prove my point, I started to copy a quiz to demonstrate that we ALL have some tendencies toward ADD/ADHD.
But, midway through copying the thing it in its entirety from another website (don't sue me--I'm not claiming credit...for the SQUIRREL!*), I realized that wasn't necessary.
Why? Because it dawned on me, about Q5, that the diagnosis of ADD/ADHD could also be the diagnosis of Mommyhood.
Follow me.....
--------------------------------------------------------------
Is your desk piled high with files, publications, and unfiled documents?
Yes. Did I miss a memo that said "Desks aren't for piling"? Who has time to read, sort, and file anything when every minute is about wiping dirty bottoms, preparing meals, washing clothes, driving carpool, etc, etc, etc.
Do you stack materials on all available surfaces, including the chairs, sofa or floor?
Let's see. I put clean, dry laundry on the chairs and sofa and dirty laundry on the floor. Though, honestly, sometimes I lay dirty clothes at the bottom of the bed when I'm really tired. Oh! And the kids sort through the clean clothes and some of them end up on the floor mixed with the dirty stuff.
And, I consider anything horizontal, beyond the length of the longest arm of my oldest child, a logical place to stack stuff.
I guess that's a resounding YES.
On a typical day, do you tend to handle whatever comes up rather than following a schedule or prioritized to-do list?
Hmmmmm. Sign a permission slip that has to be retrieved from beneath the seat of the very back of the car and signed THAT INSTANT or child won't go on trip vs. get out the door on time???** Deal with a complete meltdown in the chip aisle at Kroger or be home on time to get dinner on the table by 6pm????
Do I get points for having a list, even though it is on the bottom of the pile on my desk?
Do you "do your best work" under pressure at the last minute?
I can clean an entire mouth full of five-year-old teeth in .0000008 seconds flat if I know that I only have five minutes to complete the bedtime routine before The Middle comes on. So, YES!
Do you get distracted easily?
What? I'm sorry, did you say something? I can't hear you over the children. BOYS! STOP IT!
Does your mind wander in meetings or even during one-on-one conversation?Yes. It takes wild trips to the days when Mike and I actually had personal space, unlimited time for showers, and mornings to sleep in.
Do you spend a lot of time hunting down lost papers or files?
No. They are piled high on my desk next to the publications and unfiled documents.
Apparently, SOMEONE has a little issue with memory. Ahem.
Do you reschedule business and social appointments frequently to accommodate spur-of-the-moment changes?
I have nothing remotely businesslike or social to really reschedule, unless trips to the bank to deposit Mike's check or meeting a girlfriend and her kids at Chick-Fil-A count.
Those things? I try NEVER to reschedule. They help me keep my personal sanity.
Do you have repeated conflicts with co-workers, family members, waiters, or other service people?
Are you kidding me? I have three CHILDREN. If you record the word children and play it backwards on a turntable, the word "conflict" plays over and over and over again in a really dark, evil voice.
Are you easily frustrated? Do you routinely get upset in traffic, or waiting in lines at the store or bank?
I count it as the most exciting time of my life when the person ahead of me thinks my children are impatient because s/he chose to get in the 20 Items Or Less line with a month's worth of groceries. Doesn't everything think that's fun and invigorating?
Do you listen until someone completes their thought, or do you frequently interrupt them because you're sure you know where the conversation is headed?
Listen, buddy. I'm a Mother. Part of my job description is "eyes in the back of my head" and "mind reader". I frequently interrupt because NOT interrupting would be a complete waste of my time.
Do you find you're sleeping too much or too little?
As if there is a CHOICE?
Are you subject to mood swings?
Let me introduce you to them: Cranky, Bitchy, and Spiteful. I borrowed them from my Mother, who borrowed them from hers, and so forth, up the family line. They are kin to me and I would appreciate it if you would learn to embrace them, instead of trying to move them out of my life.
Are you distressed, anxious, or upset, sometimes out of proportion to the situation?
If catching a child's poo with your bare hands in the drive-thru of a Dairy Queen in podunk East Texas*** doesn't count as distressing, anxiety-producing, and upsetting, in complete proportion to the grossness factor then, NO. Never.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once my children have left the building and I am no longer responsible for anybody but my mood swings, I may consider retaking this quiz. Maybe even in its entirety. Because I'll have time.
Then, and only then, will we truly know if it's just me being a Mom or a true attention problem.
*UP. Still can't bear to watch it. But, the dogs are greatness, even if I'm watching them through tear-filled eyes.
*"Hump. Death. Hump. Death." Classic from History of the World, Part I.
**For more information, please see "Baby Playdoh Machine" post on 7/25/09. NOT for the squeamish.
So, to prove my point, I started to copy a quiz to demonstrate that we ALL have some tendencies toward ADD/ADHD.
But, midway through copying the thing it in its entirety from another website (don't sue me--I'm not claiming credit...for the SQUIRREL!*), I realized that wasn't necessary.
Why? Because it dawned on me, about Q5, that the diagnosis of ADD/ADHD could also be the diagnosis of Mommyhood.
Follow me.....
--------------------------------------------------------------
Is your desk piled high with files, publications, and unfiled documents?
Yes. Did I miss a memo that said "Desks aren't for piling"? Who has time to read, sort, and file anything when every minute is about wiping dirty bottoms, preparing meals, washing clothes, driving carpool, etc, etc, etc.
Do you stack materials on all available surfaces, including the chairs, sofa or floor?
Let's see. I put clean, dry laundry on the chairs and sofa and dirty laundry on the floor. Though, honestly, sometimes I lay dirty clothes at the bottom of the bed when I'm really tired. Oh! And the kids sort through the clean clothes and some of them end up on the floor mixed with the dirty stuff.
And, I consider anything horizontal, beyond the length of the longest arm of my oldest child, a logical place to stack stuff.
I guess that's a resounding YES.
On a typical day, do you tend to handle whatever comes up rather than following a schedule or prioritized to-do list?
Hmmmmm. Sign a permission slip that has to be retrieved from beneath the seat of the very back of the car and signed THAT INSTANT or child won't go on trip vs. get out the door on time???** Deal with a complete meltdown in the chip aisle at Kroger or be home on time to get dinner on the table by 6pm????
Do I get points for having a list, even though it is on the bottom of the pile on my desk?
Do you "do your best work" under pressure at the last minute?
I can clean an entire mouth full of five-year-old teeth in .0000008 seconds flat if I know that I only have five minutes to complete the bedtime routine before The Middle comes on. So, YES!
Do you get distracted easily?
What? I'm sorry, did you say something? I can't hear you over the children. BOYS! STOP IT!
Does your mind wander in meetings or even during one-on-one conversation?Yes. It takes wild trips to the days when Mike and I actually had personal space, unlimited time for showers, and mornings to sleep in.
Do you spend a lot of time hunting down lost papers or files?
No. They are piled high on my desk next to the publications and unfiled documents.
Apparently, SOMEONE has a little issue with memory. Ahem.
Do you reschedule business and social appointments frequently to accommodate spur-of-the-moment changes?
I have nothing remotely businesslike or social to really reschedule, unless trips to the bank to deposit Mike's check or meeting a girlfriend and her kids at Chick-Fil-A count.
Those things? I try NEVER to reschedule. They help me keep my personal sanity.
Do you have repeated conflicts with co-workers, family members, waiters, or other service people?
Are you kidding me? I have three CHILDREN. If you record the word children and play it backwards on a turntable, the word "conflict" plays over and over and over again in a really dark, evil voice.
Are you easily frustrated? Do you routinely get upset in traffic, or waiting in lines at the store or bank?
I count it as the most exciting time of my life when the person ahead of me thinks my children are impatient because s/he chose to get in the 20 Items Or Less line with a month's worth of groceries. Doesn't everything think that's fun and invigorating?
Do you listen until someone completes their thought, or do you frequently interrupt them because you're sure you know where the conversation is headed?
Listen, buddy. I'm a Mother. Part of my job description is "eyes in the back of my head" and "mind reader". I frequently interrupt because NOT interrupting would be a complete waste of my time.
Do you find you're sleeping too much or too little?
As if there is a CHOICE?
Are you subject to mood swings?
Let me introduce you to them: Cranky, Bitchy, and Spiteful. I borrowed them from my Mother, who borrowed them from hers, and so forth, up the family line. They are kin to me and I would appreciate it if you would learn to embrace them, instead of trying to move them out of my life.
Are you distressed, anxious, or upset, sometimes out of proportion to the situation?
If catching a child's poo with your bare hands in the drive-thru of a Dairy Queen in podunk East Texas*** doesn't count as distressing, anxiety-producing, and upsetting, in complete proportion to the grossness factor then, NO. Never.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once my children have left the building and I am no longer responsible for anybody but my mood swings, I may consider retaking this quiz. Maybe even in its entirety. Because I'll have time.
Then, and only then, will we truly know if it's just me being a Mom or a true attention problem.
*UP. Still can't bear to watch it. But, the dogs are greatness, even if I'm watching them through tear-filled eyes.
*"Hump. Death. Hump. Death." Classic from History of the World, Part I.
**For more information, please see "Baby Playdoh Machine" post on 7/25/09. NOT for the squeamish.
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