McMama's Musings

Gratuitous catch-up post

2009-11-13T11:51:00.002-06:00

Oh, hi November. You've been deep and meaningful so far, haven't you? Kind of sucked the inspiration out of me for a minute there.

It's a good thing my posts are all buried in feed readers Internet-wide as souls braver than my own attempt NaBloPoMo (that sounds like something you shouldn't do in front of your mother, doesn't it?). That said, I got my VERY FIRST BlogHer ads check today. It's tiny. But I'm still excited. :)

I tell you what. Since I don't have anything interesting to say, I'll give you PICTURES! I know, Halloween was two weeks ago. I'm a slacker.

Quentin INSISTED on being a ghost again this year. Strangely, he seems to be tired of my photography already.

Another recycled costume, this one from Quentin's 2-year-old Halloween. Jude? Doesn't care. He's got pizza, yo.

That said, I cannot even BEGIN to explain to you how adorable it was to watch these two knock on doors together. Jude even seemed to completely grasp the concept that OMG STRANGERS GIVING ME CANDY!

Sadly, candy did not stop the tantrums which resulted from trick-or-treating on 1/2 hour of nap-sleep. It also didn't help Mommy's camera auto-focus in the dark.

At the end of the night, we were all happy to go home. See that bucket the ghost is carrying. That's the candy bucket the kids shared (I know, I'm awful). And it was gone in a week.

Happy Fall!

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Daily Gratitudes

- My son is almost 5. FIVE! It's bittersweet.

- My son is almost 2. TWO! It's mostly bitter. But also kind of sweet. Because, you know, he'll be civil soon, right? RIGHT?

- Grocery shopping alone. Even though it's kind of a pain in the ass, it's also kind of BLISS.

- Making plans for the future. No matter how everything turns out in the end, there's just this kind of hope that comes with making plans and having dreams. It's nice.

A crisis of faith

2009-11-03T08:35:00.001-06:00

Ok, so evidently I'm not that good at metaphor. On Sunday, I blogged something incredibly spiritual and heartfelt, after composing in my head, in my Moleskine, in my head some more, and finally here on blogger. I never do that.

But no one really seemed to *get* it. Everyone read it and kind of went, "man you really suck at writing fiction," but that's too mean to actually SAY, so they just kept their collective mouth shut, as their mothers taught them to do.

I considered explaining at the end of my "story" what it was I was writing about, but it was already so damned long, I figured a little confusion would be better than tl;dr, yeah? But now it's time to explain things to you, because dammit, no one ever comments. If you haven't read You Can't Go Home Again yet, please do so before you continue, otherwise it will make no sense.

Did you read it? No cheating, now.

Ok fine. Here you go. I suspect this is not going to be a whole lot more eloquent than Sunday's post anyway, which is why I put it in that form in the first place. Don't say you haven't been warned.

I am Mary, and Christianity itself is Christian. The story wasn't fiction so much as metaphor, and our relationship was very real and very tumultuous. I know that in the end, Christianity didn't change; I just discovered a part of it I never really knew before, and by that time, well, it was just too late for me. Even though I did attend with a friend an extremely liberal Christian church on Sunday, the kind that should have spoken to someone like me; even though I attended with the most pious of spirits and the most open of hearts, that love is lost and it's just not who I am anymore.

A few people I know and love dearly have asked me the usual questions atheists and agnostics get asked by Christians who just don't get it. "Why do you hate God?" "What do you have against Jesus?" "Aren't you afraid of going to hell???"

Well, in short, No. As you read on Sunday, I have no lingering bitterness for the religion itself (as a whole), and I certainly don't hate God or Jesus. I just don't, can't believe in the Christian god anymore (I tried, yeah?), and I don't love the religion the way I used to. As for Jesus, his mythos is far and away one of my favorites.

Something else I wrote in my Moleskine on Sunday, when I was purging the plethora of thoughts that had run through my brain all morning while I was at church, was, "What is a crisis of faith?"My crisis of faith wasn't when I left Christianity, because even then I wasn't sure what I believed about God. I still had a lot of lingering feelings and worries, as you do when a long relationship ends. In my mind would ring the idea I expressed to others so many times as a Christian - God's always waiting, and you'll never fill that hole inside with anything else.

My crisis of faith is right now. When I've opened myself up to the possibility, when I went to church, lost myself in it, and said "hey God, speak to me" and all I heard were the echoes of silence. The hardest part of all this, for me, is that I DO have a hole. I still hunger and thirst for spiritual fulfillment. But contrary to everything I believed ten years ago, Christianity and the Christian God can't fill that hole or fulfill that need for me.

I had fulfillment that reconciled with my current self, at one point, at my Unitarian Universalist church in Detroit. NWUU took excellent care of my mind and my soul and my spirit. I miss them dearly, but none of the UU churches I've attended here in Chicagoland have met that need or felt like home to me. They're all too intellectual, too focused on the mind, to focused on politics and the world. That's fine for some people, but that's a need I can fill on my own. That's not what I go to church for.

I had many more thoughts as I was thinking over my experience Sunday morning. Anger that I was raised in such a literalist version of Christianity (maybe if I hadn't been, I would never have left), sorrow at not feeling comfortable enough to join in communion, jealousy of the people who still had it in them to believe, a sense of longing for spiritual fulfillment and peace, hope for those I love to find a middle ground, curiosity as to where I'll go from here.

So many thoughts to organize, and the best way I could think to do it was in a poorly written pseudo-fictional blog post. It would have been so much easier just to pray!

You can't go home again

2009-11-01T18:57:00.001-06:00

Mary* had always had "men" issues. Her father abandoned her before she was born, and repeatedly thereafter. She never had a truly good father figure nor male influence as she grew up, and as a result always seemed to be trying to fill that gaping void.

Like most girls with "daddy issues," Mary fell for a string of "bad" boys. She always fell hard, and the endings were always devastating. Christian* was different, and also not different at all.

Christian was probably the only "boy" Mary's mother ever approved of. He seemed sweet and kind, generous, and protective. He made Mary feel safe, loved, and worthy, something rare for her since early childhood. Christian took good care of her, and she soon lost herself completely in her passion for him.

Though Mary's mother approved of Christian, some of her friends did not. They saw his behavior as controlling and jealous where she saw only safety and love, and a sense of self-worth. Mary was happy to change who she was for Christian - after all, he loved her. If Christian didn't like her music, she wouldn't listen to it. If he didn't want her spending her time with people who didn't like him, she wouldn't. If he had an opinion on the way she dressed and how she spent her time, he deserved to be heard and his opinions respected.

Christian became irritated when Mary talked to other boys, and positively irate if she attempted to befriend them. He seemed always to have something negative to say about the way other people chose to live their lives, and he insisted Mary stay away from the friends he deemed a bad influence lest they bring her down with them. If she questioned him, his motives or authority, he would brush her off with responses worthy of a politician. Sometimes he would even threaten her with pain, torture, and threats of leaving her to be alone forever.

Young and naive though she was, Mary soon became weary of this behavior and began to distance herself from Christian. He fought back with violent fury, causing tumult and upset in her relationships with her family. They still adored him and he seemed to delight in making them choose between himself and Mary. She was finally left so brokenhearted that even when she tried to move on and find solace or love with other men, she could only think of Christian and the hurt he had caused her. Inevitably, she would pull away and be alone again.

As she retreated into her self-imposed solitary, she still followed and studied Christian's life with an almost pathological curiosity. She watched others be taken in by his sly charm and protective facade. Sometimes she was angry for them for falling for the same tricks she had, but she often found herself defending those others when her friends would sneer at them. After all, she understood how easy it was for someone hurt and in emotional need to be taken in by Christian's seemingly genuine promise to love and protect them even if they weren't worthy of love.

Over the years, though, Mary began to slowly heal. Instead of being angry or defensive of those people falling for Christian's tricks, she found herself pitying them. She was sorry their lives were such that they needed his control over them to feel safe. She wished they - and she - could find someone to truly love and accept them just as they are and not to try and change them to suit his needs.

As she kept her finger on the pulse of Christian's life, Mary started to hear different rumors about him, rumors that he was changing into exactly that kind of man she had been wishing for. They said he was getting help, becoming more accepting, and letting go of his angry, violent ways. They said he was still making people feel safe and cared for, but without the controlling behavior. They said he was learning to truly love.

Then one day, Mary's friend Hope invited her to coffee with Christian. She was ridiculously nervous about seeing him again, after all this time, but she breathed deeply and opened herself to the possibility that things would be different now. She knew that those who were close to this new Christian truly loved him, and that it wasn't the dysfunctional love she herself had experienced all those years ago. She knew they felt safe and protected by him as she had, during their lovely beginning, that he was the best friend many of them had. And how she wanted that back for herself.

So Mary went to coffee with Christian and Hope, with a heart wide open to love him again. She was surprised that, despite her nerves, when she sat down and began talking with him, she didn't feel much of anything. She glanced at Hope and saw the radiance on her face when she looked at Christian or talked about him. She saw admiring glances tossed his way by others in the shop. But no matter how hard she tried, Mary couldn't seem to feel an inkling of the love she had once had for this man who had been her life.

She truly believed Christian had changed for the better, but she could see with a clarity uncertain to her before this day that he was no longer the man for her. Though she found herself mildly jealous of her friend's relationship with Christian, she new it wasn't him she missed, but the love and peace he had once brought to her. Whatever the reason, she thought, that relationship, that love was gone for her, never to return. She and Christian no longer belonged together.

Mary harbors no lingering bitterness toward Christian. She truly believes he has changed and for the better. Or maybe, she thinks, maybe it's not Christian who has changed but herself. Maybe somewhere during their long separation she lost whatever part of herself made her cling to him so desperately in the past, that had made her open to what he offered her. Perhaps if she had asserted herself sooner, she could have found the good in Christian for herself, while there was still love to be had between them.

But it's too late for "what-ifs" and Mary has to move on and find her own peace now, and her own place in the world, without him.

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*names have been changed to protect the "innocent"

Power of a Name

2009-10-25T09:14:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite things about having kids (and, silly as it sounds, one of the hardest things to let go of when we decided not to have any more) is naming them. It's a huge undertaking, but so meaningful. I'm not sure what it is about naming children (and pets, electronics, cars, etc) that speaks to me, but I know I'm not alone.

In nearly every culture, every religion, names are considered powerful and sacred, or at the very least, meaningful. In Korea, names are never to be written in red ink, because the color is associated with death and doing so would bring bad luck¹. In the Old Testament, G-d frequently changed a person's name to signify His promises to that person². For Navajos, names are so precious and powerful as to only be used during ceremonies³. Wiccans and Catholics choose names pertinent to their respective religions when they are initiated/confirmed, and Jewish and Hindu children are named in special ceremonies shortly after their births^{4, 5}.

Names can also be used to convey ownership. It is common in Western cultural tradition for a woman to adopt her husband's last name which may or may not have begun as a sign of a husband's ownership of his wife. More importantly, children have historically been given their father's last name, originally to prove paternity⁶ In France, America, and ancient Rome, slaves were named by their owners and freed slaves or their descendants often changed their names to express their freedom⁷.

In one apocryphal Jewish tale, Adam's first wife, Lilith, escaped her servitude to Adam in the garden of Eden by speaking the four-letter name of G-d⁸. Blogger (and 5-time baby namer) Swistle even has a separate blog solely to discuss baby name choices! Clearly, names are a huge undertaking - even twitter and facebook think so! Carrie Anne couldn't fit her process into twitter's 140 character limit (neither could I).

Mary used family names with special meaning,

and Sarah plans to follow her family's tradition and do so as well.

Amber wanted her children's names to sound good and be gender-appropriate.

Some people balk at naming their kids after people they know unless those people are meaningful to them. My friend Ei, however, just recognized good names when she heard them.

Literary names are a common theme for kids and pets alike. My husband's cousin, Kara, considered her baby's birth mother and her own (literary-based) name preferences when naming her daughter. His grandmother named her first daughter after a character in Les Miserables, Quentin's piano teacher named her cats after Harry Potter characters, and my friend John wants a puppy named Valentine (Ender's Game). Other facebook friends have used music (Luke's aunt named her chihuahuas "Sonny and Cher"), television, and even the alphabet ("but it's too long," says Uncle Bob) as inspiration for their children's and pets' names.

Some people prefer to use their child's birth or their own life as inspiration for their children's names. Elizabeth of Making it Fun named her premature first daughter Zoe, which means "life", hoping it would give her some extra spunk. Felicia of A Work in Process gave her son a middle name to symbolize her life's resurrection, and "used up" bad names on her dogs.

Even here in the blogging world, names are sacred - many bloggers give their children "blog names," nicknames or made-up names to conceal their children's identities and protect their privacy. Tanis from Attack of the Redneck Mommy and Jennifer from Playgroups Are No Place for Children each gave their children nicknames for their blogs. Tanis admits her choices were "the first things that popped into my head; not inspired by anything," and Jennifer's weren't particularly special. In fact, she eventually switched to "made-up" names instead of nicknames for her kids, blog-christening them with the unused names from her pregnancy short-list.

As for Luke and I, we are very methodical name-choosers. First, I pick up every baby name book I can find and scour the Internet. Then Luke and I try to find a comprehensive baby name book, and each of us go through it with a highlighter (I get one color, he gets the other). And that's just for our pets. We named our first cat Mallory because she would climb anything she could see (in retrospect, that would have been a good name for Jude!). Back to naming kids; if we have strong feelings about a name, we make a note of that in the book. When we're finished with the book, I make a spreadsheet, including columns for names, meanings, origins, each of our personal feelings on the name and, importantly, how the name is trending according to the SSA. We're pretty adamant about choosing unusual names, so anything in the top 100 is basically discounted from the get-go. Then we hem and haw and think and think and think.

The funny thing is, in the end, neither of our children's names were on our mutual "OMG we love that name" list. In fact, Jude isn't on that spreadsheet at all! And meaning ended up as a fairly unimportant consideration. Quentin is certainly not the fifth child, and while we are certainly thankful for Jude⁹, that meaning was not our prime consideration. Amusingly, despite neither of us being Christian (and in fact, I think the guy gets a worse rap than he deserves), we decided against "Judas" in large part because of the negative association with Judas Iscariot. We are fans of Quentin Tarantino, but neither was he our primary consideration for the name of our eldest; however, Hey Jude was a deciding factor in our naming of our second son (and Julia had prime consideration as a girl's name for a similar reason).

As into names as I am, of course our children have middle names. Quentin's follows Luke's family tradition - his middle name is Luke's middle name, Luke's dad's middle name, Luke's paternal grandfather's middle name, Luke's paternal great-grandfather's first name. Hopefully if Quentin ever has children, and has a boy, he will continue that tradition. Jude's middle name was one of many names we liked, but which was too trendy to use as a first name. Plus his initials sound like his grandfather's name.

What about you, Constant Reader? Do you love naming your children? Hate it? Is it all pressure or none? How did you decide your children's names? Do you like popular or trendy names, or do you go against the grain? Does meaning matter? What about nicknames and acronyms created by initials? What's your naming process?

Domestic Violence Awareness

2009-10-13T14:52:00.000-05:00

You probably noticed I decorated my blog for Halloween (ohai, October Blog Party friends, sorry I haven't posted about our cool holiday goings-on. I have my computer back now, so I can finally upload photos! COMING SOON!) but I also added a sidebar button for the National Domestic Violence Hotline. This is inspired by Domestic Violence Awareness Month (October) but will likely remain there indefinitely.

Preventing Domestic Violence and protecting its victims is my chosen cause and I've been wanting to get involved in my local shelter for a long time. My participation in the Family Shelter Service 5k is meant to be a kickoff of getting deeply involved in the shelter and other pertinent areas of this cause.

I've written a brief recap of my race and some information about the shelter for DuPage Mamas, and that's today's featured post there. Please check it out to find out a bit more about Domestic Violence, Awareness, and Family Shelter Service.

And please, if you or someone you know may be a victim of domestic violence, call the national hotline at 1800-799-SAFE.

The Plock Addict's Guide to Life

2009-10-10T12:19:00.002-05:00

Plock is a 1-minute game I play on Facebook, where you click blocks and when two or more of the same color are next to each other, they disappear and you get points. It sounds simple, and it is, but it's also intricate and complex and terribly addictive. I've clearly been playing to much because lately, I've started to make analogies between Plock and life. Since I often fancy myself an amateur philosopher and you have nothing better to do, allow me to present to you these hints for Plock and Life. If you have Facebook, I highly recommend you go play a few times before reading.

The in-game "how to play" guide only gives you the basics, and oversimplifies the patterns. It doesn't tell you all of the tips and tricks you really need to be good at the game (but that's what this strategy guide is for!)
At the beginning, it's easy to be overwhelmed by the number of options, where to start. Later on, it's easy to be frustrated by the lack of options. Just take it one click at a time.
Time is short; make the most of it.
Click fast and furiously, even if that means sometimes nothing happens when you click.
However, completely aimless clicking without vision for strategy will not get you very far.
Try to form a strategy as you click, but don't get too fixated; allow it to flow with the changes in the game. Also, don't stop to plan because it wastes valuable time.
The game is two parts luck of how the blocks fall, one part how fast you click, and one part strategy.
You must keep the big picture in mind; avoid tunnel-vision.
While multipliers are critical for a respectable score, becoming fixated on them will slow you down and do more harm than good. Besides, as long as you keep clicking, another one will come along.
Sometimes what seems like a good place to click ends up ruining your plans.
You will inevitably do something to completely screw up a perfectly good high scoring formation or worse, your entire strategy. Don't dwell on it, and continue on as best you can. Form a new strategy if you have to. Hindsight is 20-20.
Sometimes what seems to be a mis-click can end up bringing together an excellent formation.
Some games start off wonderfully only to fizzle out halfway through. Some games start off tough but you can bring it around and rack up some serious points before the end.
Sometimes the blocks fall in a way that really helps you, sometimes they do you no good at all. They're not out to get you, and you just have to make the best of it.
If you can help it, keep a safety net of at least one pair of blocks left un-clicked; these can come in handy if you get stuck.
Try not to back yourself into a corner. Sometimes this is unavoidable, but know that the game is designed so there is always at least one pair of blocks to click on so you can keep going. Even if it doesn't seem to do you much good, if you keep clicking this will often cascade into a game-saving formation.
Some games seem unsalvagable. If you keep playing anyway, you will sometimes end up better than you started. Sometimes, you will end up with a crappy score but valuable strategy for next time.
The best way to guarantee a terrible score is to challenge someone else to see who is better.
What seems like a good score the first time you play becomes a crap score once you've gotten a feel for how it's supposed to go.
Even if you have the best overall score of your friends, someone out there has a higher score than you do.
It's really easy to get so into playing the game and trying to get the best score (either a personal best or the best of your friends) that you ignore the important things in life.
Even if you get really really good, some games are just better than others.
The minute you most need to focus is when someone will walk RIGHT IN FRONT of your screen.
If you start to develop carpal tunnel, if you find yourself yelling at your children for interrupting, if you find yourself feeling conspired against by the creators of the game, if you start dreaming the theme song (ok I'm not sure how this relates to life but it's happened to me), take a little break. It will probably improve your overall performance anyway. Besides,
It's just a game. If you're not having fun, you're doing it wrong.
Just when you are really getting the hang of it, the clock will run out and it's "game over."

Done nothing?

2009-10-09T12:11:00.005-05:00

It seems the Internet is abuzz with self-important assholes this morning, who think they are more qualified than the committee who decided to give Barack Obama the Nobel Peace Prize this morning, or perhaps think they've done more to promote peace than has our distinguished leader. Personally, I think the only people with a right to whine are the other nominees (because you should always get to whine when you don't win) and the members of the Prize committee who cast their vote for other nominees - OH WAIT it was an unanimous decision.

A lot of what I've heard lately is, "but he hasn't DONE anything." well, maybe not compared to George W. Bush, who, in his first 8 months in office...

- signs executive order limiting access to presidential records from Reagan forward
- raises legal amount of arsenic in drinking water (overturning a Clinton-era regulation)
- gives large corporations & wealthy individuals a $1.65 trillion tax cut
- takes a month-long vacation while intelligence warns of Osama Bin Laden's impending attacks
- signed the "Patriot Act"
- opened Guantanamo Bay prison (ok, that was January 2002)

In Barack Obama's first 8 months, he

- revokes executive order limiting access to presidential records
- signs an order to close Guantanamo Bay prison within a year (that's January, folks)
- signs Lilly Ledbetter fair pay act
- renews economic sanctions against Iran
- attends a NATO summit
- eliminates limits on Cuban-American family visits & remittances
- meets with Israeli President and Prime Minister to discuss Israeli-Palestinian relations
- holds a summit with Pakistani and Afghan Presidents
- denounces assassination of Dr. George Tiller
- begins removal of troops from major Iraqi cities
- meets with Russian President to discuss diplomatic progress with regard to nuclear weapons
- meets with Russian Prime Minister in ongoing effort to restructure US-Russian relations
- meets with many other world leaders (including Muslim leaders) in attempts to foster diplomacy, peace, and general goodwill

and, as TrueMajority reminds me
- Obama de-escalated the conflict with Russia by ending Bush's needless missile defense programs;
- After years of bluster and military threats from Bush, Obama successfully re-reopened dialogue with Iran, including their nuclear program;
-In Egypt and Eastern Europe, where Bush's government was a symbol of tyranny and empire, Obama electrified young people and reformers while pointing the way to a nuclear-free future;
- And where Bush wanted to begin a new arms race, Obama has begun to bring sanity to the military budget by ending programs like the F-22 and missile defense.

Yeah, you're right, he's done nothing these past 8 months, certainly nothing to promote peace. *eyeroll*

"The committee cited Obama's "extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples."

The committee said Obama had created "a new climate in international politics."

"Only very rarely has a person to the same extent as Obama captured the world's attention and given its people hope for a better future," the ... Read Morecommittee said, in a news release. "His diplomacy is founded in the concept that those who are to lead the world must do so on the basis of values and attitudes that are shared by the majority of the world's population."

I, for one, hope this award lights a fire under Obama and renews his spirit and resolve to promote peace and goodwill in the world. After all, he's spent the better part of the last couple of months not signing good legislation and participating in peace talks and summits, but rather fighting off the ugly but prevalent lies and ignorance regarding healthcare reform.

Pass your torch to other talking heads, President Obama, and live up to that Nobel Peace Prize. Continue on the hopeful path you laid out so early in your Presidency, and make us proud.

Welcome to my Hallowed blog!

2009-10-01T16:35:00.001-05:00

Halloween is positively my favorite holiday season (yes, for me, it's a whole season), narrowly squeezing past the family fun that is Christmas/my birthday because OMGNOSNOW. And since it IS a whole season for me, and I'm jumping up and down with excitement at all of the fall/harvest/halloween decorations at my local SuperTarget, I decided I might as well participate in the October Blog Party!

As you can see by the nifty little button on my sidebar, I'll be celebrating Halloween/Samhain and my witchy roots all month long. I won't be posting every day (I can barely even manage that during NaBloPoMo), but I'll be keeping a photographic record of our holiday enjoyment for YOUR enjoyment.

For today, the First of October and the First day of the Blog Party (capitalization galore!), I've redesigned my blog in a somewhat slipshod fashion. Photographer, I am; graphic designer, I am not. But it's festive, what with the black, orange, purple, and the creepy tree/light thing, right?

I have big plans for eating out of Halloweeny-bowls, lighting Halloweeny lanterns, and watching Halloweeny movies. There may be Halloweeny books and decorations and cookies and more! Keep a watchful eye, folks, it's gonna be SPOOKTACULAR!

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Daily Gratitudes

Sweaters!
Blankets!
Tea and Cocoa!
ORANGE AND BLACK!

Guesting

2009-09-30T10:17:00.005-05:00

I know I've been neglecting you lately, faithful reader, but that's only because I've been slacking off and then killing myself trying to make up for it and a little overwhelmed by it all.

On Sunday, I'm running my very first 5k, which you can read all about on my guest post over at DuPage Mamas.

Hopefully I'll have more time and energy and clever things to say soon!

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Daily Gratitudes

My gym is open until 11 during the week. Phew.

Diego (also known as Way-woah). Diego, you have saved my sanity, even while you teach my child to make funny animal noises.

My awesome, amazing, one-year-older (yesterday) husband. Because he helped me scrub walls and do dishes and move furniture. On his birthday. ♥

Glucosamine chondroitin with MSM. Cause, ow.

Curriculum Plans

2009-09-17T11:33:00.002-05:00

We run a very informal homeschool ship around here (partly because Q is still of an age I think he should be playing more than studying and IL's compulsory schooling age is 7), leaning toward an unschooling approach (but don't tell the Doddites that, they'd never believe it!) You wouldn't know that we even try from our "curriculum" which is actually quite comprehensive! It's amazing what you do when you're not looking.

I also like the Charlotte Mason ideals of learning through "living books" rather than textbooks, and Quentin LOVES to be read to. Thus, I've kind of adopted (bastardized) that approach here. Most of the links below are Amazon affiliate links (meaning I get a small commission if you click and buy), but only because I HIGHLY recommend them all. Following are the "subjects" we cover and what materials we're using.

Music/Piano
daily practice am/pm, 1 lesson per week with Miss Stephanie)
My First Piano Adventure for the Young Beginner (Lesson Book B Steps on the Staff)
and
My First Piano Adventure Writing Book B (Steps on the Staff)
Math
1-2x per week for Q, daily for me
Rightstart Level A
(I'm re-memorizing multiplication tables and starting the "Life of Fred" books)
Science
daily
(whenever) Bill Nye the Science Guy
(bedtime) George's Secret Key to the Universe/George's Cosmic Treasure Hunt (these are written by Stephen Hawking and his daughter and are Quentin's absolute FAVORITE BOOKS OF ALL TIME right now, even though they're geared for 10 year-olds)
and
Uncle Albert series books
History
daily, afternoon
The Story of the World: History for the Classical Child: Volume 1
and
Magic Treehouse historical fiction (currently reading A Good Night for Ghosts, which ties into music education as well)
Latin
one day per week for Q, daily for me
Song School Latin
I'm using the Dowling Method and Latinuum
Independent Reading/Spelling
twice weekly or more as desired
Leapfrog Tag Books
Starfall and PBS Kids web sites
Step Into Reading series readers (we only have a couple of these but they're good readers, more interesting-and complicated than Bob Books)
Literature & Poetry
daily, am
various books, currently reading
Peter Pan (literature)
and
Where the Sidewalk Ends (poetry)
Mythology
1-2x/week
D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths
D'Aulaires' Book of Norse Myths
and either
The Children's Illustrated Bible
or
Does God Have a Big Toe?: Stories About Stories in the Bible (thanks to Dale McGowan of PBB for the recommendation)
Free Play!
And of course, this schedule leaves tons of time for unstructured play, as well as engineering (LEGOS! and train tracks!), phys-ed (playground!), health (eat your veggies, they'll help you be strong!), art (crayons!), technology (computers!), creative writing (Mommy, I dreamed...!), civics (voting!), economics (allowances and how to spend them!) and much more. (Can you hear me reading this list? It's funny)

The frequency is something I really want to make regular because I think it will be good for us all. For now, it's just a plan. But I thought some of you might be interested to see what it is we "do."

Runnin Down a Dream

2009-09-09T11:07:00.003-05:00

Have I already used that title? Ah well, I'm sure someone has.

Holiday weekends are always long. Long drives, long hours socializing with family, more long drives. Even so, I KNEW I could not afford to slack on my 5k training. As you probably know, I am gearing up to race on Oct. 4 in support of my local domestic violence shelter (if you can, sponsor me and help the battered women of DuPage county).

Thusly, I managed to get my week 5 day 1 couch-to-5k run in on Sunday. And, as it turns out, I ran more distance and walked less than I was supposed to according to the plan. This gave me hope for day 2, which increased the distance again.

I completed that run (W5D2) last night, and OHMIGODS did it feel ~~good~~ Great! I didn't end up getting to the gym until almost 9pm, after grocery shopping and feeding the kids. But once I was there, my music on, I started walking and warming up and watching some E! special about Jon & Kate plus 8. As an aside, I never watched that show, and was unaware of just how excellently good-looking Jon is. But then they switched it over to baseball. Sigh.

So the run was supposed to consist of a 3/4 mile jog, a 1/2 mile walk, and another 3/4 mile jog. After I finished my first jog, I was glad for that walk. But about 1/4 mile into it, I was like, "ok... this is ridiculous. Why do I have to walk an entire half mile? My heart rate is back down, my muscles are relaxed, let's DO this thing." so I did. I ran about .2 mile more than I was supposed to, in all. When I was finished, I was glad to be done, but I felt amazing. I felt strong and sure and successful and... other "s" words? Anyway, I was proud of me.

After that, I wasn't about to just get in the car and go home. The gym wasn't to close for an hour, so I stretched a bit then worked on the circuit my PT and I planned out during my free training session. It's mostly arm work, with a little bit of abs. Good thing, because my legs were NOT up for weight training. As I worked my way across the gym, I chugged the last of my water. By the time I was heading to the car, with "Jump, Jive, and Wail" playing on the Shuffle, I was dancing through the parking lot.

Thursday is Week 5, Day 3. This is the day people are terrified of, and I was definitely one of them. But after last night, I think I just might be able to handle it.

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Daily Gratitudes

* The gym is open until 11 pm. This encourages me to get there no matter what.

* My niece!! She reminds me how much I Do Not Want more children of my own while still being adorable and cuddly and fun and enjoyable.

* 21st Century Breakdown. I cannot stop listening to this album.

* Taking pictures again. And, on a related note

* Discovering the Mandie underneath wife, mom, etc. I never feel more like myself than when I am behind the lens, in my running shoes, or in the car alone, jamming.

Bless me, Marshall, for I have run

2009-08-29T20:34:00.001-05:00

Tonight's run was, for lack of a better term, a spiritual experience. Also? It was hard.

I don't mean, "gee that run sure was a toughie!" I mean first it felt like my run was cursed and then, from almost the first steps, I questioned whether or not I would be able to do it. But let me, as Julie Andrews would say, start at the very beginning. If you really want just the punchline, you can skip the next four paragraphs.

I knew tonight's run would be tough. It was my first run of a new week of the couch-to-5k program, and no matter how easy day three of the previous week was, day 1 of a new week is always difficult. This week, my distance and time both increased, so I knew it would be a bigger push than usual, and I spent the two hours before my run obsessing over it. I figured my warm-up distance, then calculated each distance marker for running and walking (e.g at .5 miles, run, at .75 miles, walk, at .87 miles, walk, and so forth). I wrote it all down so I didn't have to try to do math while running (cause, you know, I'm a photographer. I have a hard enough time doing math while sitting). I made sure I had everything gathered before I went to pick Luke up from work - water bottle filled, new ipod (a 2nd gen shuffle) in my purse, etc.

So I was all pumped up for my run, ready to drop myself off at the gym on the way home after picking Luke up (it's less than a mile from our house and on the way). Then, as we were waiting at the stoplight before the turn, I started swearing. I had forgotten my notebook. Can't run without those numbers. So I dropped off the boys, ran in for the notebook, and drove back to the gym. Ok, I told myself, you're ready now. I got myself all set up on the treadmill and started walking. I turned on my ipod, and a song I don't know well came on. Huh. That's weird. I skipped ahead. A slow song. Uh, oh... I skipped ahead again, hoping to find a good beat. No dice. FUCK. I got off the treadmill, grabbed all my stuff and walked back to the car. I can't run without my music.

As I'm driving home, I bemoan my bad luck today. This workout is doomed. I pull in, put my run playlist on the shuffle and get back in the car. Driving back to the gym, I think how lucky it was I had forgotten my notebook earlier, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have had the car in order to go back for my music and then I would REALLY have been screwed. Maybe this isn't so bad after all. Maybe I'll be ok.

Back on the treadmill, Cake beats in my ears. "Reluctantly crouched at the starting line/engines pumping and thumping in time/the green light flashes, flags go up/churning and burning, they yearn for the cup." Yes, I can do this. This will be a good run.

A tenth of a mile in, I realize I grossly overestimated my warm-up distance, the one on which all of my calculations had been based. My warm up was twice as long as usual (because no way was I going to be able to do that math in my head. See above.), and I was more burned out than usual by the time I started my first run.

Despite that difficulty, my first run was not so bad. A quarter mile, followed by an eighth of a mile fast-walk recovery. Then came the half-mile run. But I did it. I knew I had only one more "easy" run and one more half mile run and I was done. But then, I started running that easy run, my second quarter mile, and I was hurting. My knees were starting to get sore, and my chest was tight. Oh man. I am not going to be able to do this. Sure, sure you will. You haven't screwed any of these runs up yet. You've only got one run left today, you can do this. Oh man this sucks. I did my last walk (only an eighth mile again), and as I geared up for my final run, my second half-mile, a less-than-stellar song came on. I skipped it. A song I wasn't that familiar with came on, and I had my finger on the "skip forward" button, but then I realized what it was. I almost cried for that first 10 seconds with no music (if I ever have to run a race without music, I'm screwed), but I let the song play. And Marshall Mathers, aka Eminem, lifted me up.

Cause sometimes you just feel tired.
You feel weak and when you feel weak you feel like you wanna just give up.
But you gotta search within you, you gotta find that inner strength
and just pull that shit out of you and get that motivation to not give up
and not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face
and collapse.

How can you quit with those words in your ear? You can't. And as the song really began, in the background, I could hear, Yo left, yo left, yo left right left Yo left, yo left, yo left right left Yo left, yo left, yo left right left yo left, yo left, yo left right left... and I let my feet hit the treadmill again and again and again. I just kept going.

A quarter mile in and I'm dying. My lungs are screaming, my legs are burning, my abs are on fire, but Marshall is singing.

Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high burns out
I’ma rip this shit till my bones collapse.
Till the roof comes off, till the lights go out
Till my legs give out, can’t shut my mouth.
Till the smoke clears out and my high burns out
I’ma rip this shit till my bones collapse.

And I keep running. And just as I'm coming to the end of that half mile, He reminds me why I keep doing this.

I will not fall,
I will stand tall,
Feels like no one could beat me

Running is HARD. But when I'm done, when I've finished for the day, I am so proud of myself for pushing through. Running a half mile without stopping twice in 25 minutes (plus two quarter miles and the walks) probably doesn't sound like much to most people. But for me, it is HUGE. And Marshall was just what I needed to push me through. Having him singing to me, right at that moment, gave me the strength to carry on.

When I got off the treadmill and went over to the scale, I found out I've lost another 1.5 lbs and am now down 18.5 lbs since 7/28/09. Today, I burned 475 calories running (175 more than usual), and hit 2.6 miles.

See you Tuesday, treadmill.

--------------------------------

Daily Gratitudes

-- MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC. Does there need to be anything more?

Brief Humor Interlude

2009-08-26T09:10:00.001-05:00

At a bookstore the other day, there were four children at a train table. Quentin and Jude (4.5 and 1.5 if you don't recall) and another set of siblings, probably 3 (boy) and 2 (girl).

The 2-year-old girl's mother was constantly barraging her. "Pick that up Suzie*." "Put that back, Suzie." "Do this, do that, where are you going, come back here right now, young lady!" I was rolling my eyes inwardly, wishing she would just let the kids play and have them pick up when they were finished. If not for their sakes, for mine because this chick's voice was really grating on my nerves.

After the 3049th time the mom berated Suzie to "put that down right now!" Quentin looked at her and said in his earnest, sincere, wide-eyed way, "Why does she always do what you say?"

The mom stared. She sputtered. She guffawed. Then she spit out, "Well, because that's what she SHOULD do."

L. O. L.

I love my kid (who happens to be going through a small "princess" phase at the moment).

*name has been changed to protect the innocent

Every Moment

2009-08-24T11:00:00.001-05:00

It's midnight and I'm still awake.

From down the hall I hear an anguished cry; my four-year old is awake. He sleeps through most nights these days, so this is unusual. I get up and pad down the hall to his room.

He's sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes. I lay down next to him and give him a big hug. "Are you ok?" I ask. He nods and grips me tightly.

After a few minutes, he's seemed to calm down enough and I try to extract my tangled limbs. But he's not asleep and clutches me like he's drowning. "Cuddles, Mommy?"

No, buddy, Mommy has to sleep in her own bed. The words form on my lips, and then I remember and think, Why? Why can't I stay here with him? The baby is asleep in my bedroom, and Daddy is there if he needs anything. Why can't I stay here with my big boy tonight?

A few days ago, I read a heartbreaking story about a mom with terminal cancer. She had more or less come to terms with the fact she was not going to be around to watch her children grow up, and was just making the best of her time. She was writing letters to her children, to be read on special occasions, when she would not be there with them, and more importantly, trying to make sure her kids had great memories of her to hold on to when she was gone.

I don't have cancer. But for the most part, none of us knows how much time we have on this earth, with our loved ones. I am not trying to be morbid, but it's important for me to know, if I were to walk out the door and get hit by a bus tomorrow, that my children's memories of me would be happy ones. And while some bloggers use this platform to write letters to their children, mine doesn't usually fall into that category. So I made an agreement with myself.

I decided to try, every day, to imagine that I had a short time left to live. To make decisions with that in mind. Because it might be true. When I lay dying, what will I be thinking? What would I regret? What would I want them to remember? I would regret the minutes and hours I spend yelling every day and week. I would wish for more time to breathe in the smell of their hair. I would wish I had let that article go unread or that Facebook game unplayed so that I could cuddle up and read or sit down and play trains. I would wonder what their memories of me would be, and I would wish for happiness. I want them to remember that I was there for them when they needed me. I wish for them to know my love, always.

Why can't I stay here with my big boy tonight? There is no good reason.

So I don't say, "No, baby." Tonight, I whisper, "ok," and cuddle down with my baby, who is growing so fast. I pet his hair and watch him breathe. We fall asleep together, in peace, and I hope he remembers times like these.

Allowance plus school supplies equals fiscal responsibility?

2009-08-21T10:08:00.001-05:00

You know how it goes. The minute you step foot in the store, it's "MOMMY! I want this toy!" or "MOMMY! I want that toy!" For us, the two crack-stores are Barnes & Noble (who carry Thomas trains that fit on standard wooden tracks) and the Lego Store (who carry, duh, Legos).

So a few months ago, we decided to start giving Q an allowance. It was time, we figured, for him to spend HIS hard-earned money on the things he wanted, time for him to learn that to buy something, you must sacrifice something else. And it worked surprisingly well! That kid has a memory like an elephant. And while that may be a drawback when he remembers at 3 am that he was supposed to have ice cream for dessert but never did, it is really amazing to watch him forgo buying one toy because he's saving up for another.

School is back in session this month, and school supplies are everywhere. And call me a weirdo (my husband does), but I adore school supplies. Mandie in the school supply section is like a kid in a candy store. Somehow, I guess I've passed that on to my eldest. He LOVES, ADORES notebooks. We don't really do coloring books (I kind of think they stifle creativity. But also, they're expensive.) so notebooks are where Q does his coloring and drawing. And crayons, OH how he loves crayons.

So as we peruse the school supply section (for even though my kids don't GO to school, we have to visit that section to appease mommy's weaknesses), I am begged for notebooks, for crayons, and lately, for neat things like compasses and protractors. We turn it into a math lesson. "Ok, Q, you have $10 of allowance saved. The notebooks are on sale for $.10, so you could buy 10 of them for ONE dollar. Crayons are $.25 each, so you can buy four of them for a dollar. If you buy 10 notebooks and 4 boxes of crayons, how many dollars will you have left for that train you wanted to buy?" and so on.

Turns out, school shopping is less like shopping and more like school, with subjects including math, fiscal responsibility, and of course, negotiation tecniques.

Do you use school shopping time to instill fiscal responsibility in your kids? You too can participate in this Parent Bloggers Network blog blast, sponsored by Capital One's Moneywi$e E-Learning Tool. Just post about the subject (school shopping and teaching kids fiscal responsibility) between now and Sunday and be sure to include links to PBN and Capital One. You could win an Amazon Kindle or a $150 Visa gift card! For more information, visit the blog blast info page.

Facing the Fear

2009-08-20T23:55:00.002-05:00

For some reason I couldn't quite put my finger on, I was nervous today. Every time I thought about my impending run, I got butterflies, and my inner 3-year-old whined, "I don't wanna!" Sure, my knees were sore from last night's kickboxing class but they usually are sore these days. Three 20-minute runs and two 1-hour kickboxing classes a week, plus the 30-day-shred once per week... well, that regimen is hard on the knees! Even as I dressed for the gym, I was bitching and moaning to Luke about how I didn't feel like running today.

Maybe I knew going to the gym would push back grocery shopping (and thus sleep!) by an hour. Maybe I am a champion self-sabotager and needed a reason to fail. Maybe I was afraid of the new routine (C25k week 3 involves, for me, switching from time to distance). Maybe I was just feeling lethargic; I ate way too much yesterday and almost didn't even make it to kickboxing. But I DID make it to kickboxing last night and that (along with the other 6 running sessions I've done so far) helped get me off my ass and to the gym.

There were about a hundred thousand people there tonight, for some reason, and as I walked in, I sighed inwardly. I donwannaDOthis, I muttered (in my head, of course). But I walked from one side of the gym to the other, searching for the kind of treadmill I like (with the speed buttons on the front grips, great for intervals). I ended up having to be RIGHT NEXT to some skinny chick who was also running, and wah wah wah.

Come on, I said to myself, it's only four runs today. Tuesday you did six runs. And I whined back to myself that they were shorter runs on Tuesday. Then I turned on my music. And the announcer said, "The Violent Femmes... they bring ALL their equipment on the bus. And you can't FUCK with the Violent Femmes. You Cannot Fuck With This BAND." And I thought, Damn straight, and you can't fuck with me either. I'm going to DO this. And I did.

After all that bitching and moaning, I think today's run was actually EASIER than Tuesday's. It's kind of like going to the dentist or getting a shot. You work yourself all up thinking about it, anticipating it, and when it's over, you're like, "That was it??"

I ran my usual 1.7 miles and burned my usual near-300 calories. But I only had to run 4 times, and two runs were longer than I've done so far. I finished feeling strong and accomplished, with sore knees and a lifted heart. I could get used to this.

--------------------

Daily Gratitudes
-- 80s alternative. Because, seriously? You really CAN'T fuck with the Violent Femmes.
-- Meijer, for being open 24 hours so I didn't have to rush to the grocery store after my run, and could kiss my babies goodnight.
-- Luke, again, for being happy to stay home and put the kids to bed while I shopped
-- The Couch-to-5k Facebook people, who post informative and motivating links daily.
-- My slightly (ok, severely) Type-A personality (Luke calls it anal-retentive) which, for the most part, Will Not Let Me Quit or Fail.
-- YOU, dear reader, yes YOU the ONE person who reads this blog regularly, for reading to the end, for caring about me and my family and my journey.

Sabotage

2009-08-19T20:46:00.002-05:00

(You're welcome, 80s children, for that Beastie Boys audio-visual)

I know I've been writing a lot about my fitness routine and weight loss efforts lately, and I hope you're not tired of it. Aside from my children, it's pretty much consuming my life right now. For a plethora of reasons, I'm not in classes this semester, and my "me" time is spent at the gym. This is my life, and this is my blog.

I started my current weight-loss and fitness journey on July 28. Since then I have lost 13 pounds, which boils down to about 4.3 pounds per week. And that sounds great! I keep pulling out my calculator and doing the math to see how much weight I will have lost by "x" date if I keep up this pace. Turns out, I could lose 78 lbs by the beginning of February. BUT, when you consider birthdays, holidays, and slowing metabolism from lower calorie intake and weight, you know a pace like this is hard - nigh on impossible - to maintain. That doesn't stop me from thinking about it.

This weekend, though, I realized that, while the average sounds great, the truth is I have only lost 4 lbs in the past 2 weeks. I had an initial burst of weight loss (probably mostly water weight), and have already slowed down. That hit me hard, psychologically. I decided I'd have to change something. I was already working out 6 days a week (running, kickboxing, and shredding), and eating only about 1000-1200 calories per day, depending. I had the brilliant idea to do maintain my workout program but switch to interval eating, keeping my current diet as an "up day" and adding in a super-low-calorie "down day" where I would consume only 600 calories or so. Yesterday was my "up day" and I ate "normally." Today was supposed to be my "down day."

I ate my shake for breakfast, around 8 am. I ate some grapes around 10:30. At noon I had another shake, for lunch. I was still hungry. An hour later, I was quite hungry. So I ate a 140 calorie, protein-rich snack. An hour later I was hungry. At around 3, I decided to make zucchini bread, since everyone and their brother had been talking about it. I went through the effort, substituting flax for eggs, tossing in some protein powder, waiting an hour for baking and cooling. And yes, I was still hungry. I wolfed THREE pieces of zucchini bread with smart balance (which has - OMG - NINE grams of fat per TABLESPOON).

I thought I was done. I knew I could recover from this, but I truly thought the day was a wash. I've already fucked up the day, I said to myself, I might as well enjoy it and eat some other things I've been denying myself. I planned take-out pizza for dinner and ice cream for dessert. I was even going to skip kickboxing and go see Thom Hartmann at Frugal Muse in Darien.

Then it started to rain. There was a hail warning. I thought, Maybe I'll skip Thom and go to kickboxing after all. Then I won't feel so bad about having pizza for dinner, anyway. So at 6, I geared up for class, laced up my shoes, and waited for Luke to come home. On the way to the gym, I was thinking of pizza. I was also thinking do I really want to sabotage my whole day because of a few pieces of zucchini bread? I went to my class and kicked and boxed. It was a half-empty class due to the aforementioned weather and I had to do something I HATE. I had to look at myself in the full-wall mirror at the front of the room. Usually, I position myself carefully behind someone so as not to have to do this. Tonight, there was no one. And I looked awful.

By the time class was over, I was exhausted, sore, and proud. I was also no longer in the mood for pizza. What might have been a full-day sabotage turned into one moment of weakness followed by redemption. Thank goodness for kickboxing.

------------------------------------

Daily Gratitudes

-- Ewan McGregor. Not to undermine my boys, but his very existence makes life a little more worth living.

-- Child's Pose. It is such a nice, relaxing stretch.

-- Zucchini bread. Because really? Despite the cup of sugar per loaf, there are worse things to binge on.

-- Luke. My cheerleader, my support system, my babysitter.

9 is my favorite color

2009-08-07T00:15:00.003-05:00

For reasons as yet undisclosed, I was told just over a week ago that I had to lose about 20 pounds FAST. This seemed to me, at the time both daunting and easy-as-pie. While 20 lbs sounds like a lot to someone who is many sizes smaller than I, I can gain 15 lbs and barely notice, and sadly, the same goes for losing.

But I was determined. I'm already a fairly healthy eater, so I knew just cutting out junk wouldn't cut it. I needed to go drastic, at least for awhile. I started doing Slim Fast combined with Alli pills, and we gave in and joined the gym like we've been meaning to for months.

8 days, 20-odd Slim Fast Shakes and Alli pills, 5 salads, 3 healthy choice meals, innumerable grapes and sugar snap peas, 2 elliptical sessions, 20 pushups, 100 crunches, 1/2 a kickboxing class and a 1.5 mile run later, and I am NINE pounds lighter than I was when I started. NINE! That's almost halfway! AND, I was sick for a couple days and unable to work out (and desperate to do so by day 3). Not to mention my huz's family's annual pool party, wherein everyone brings a billion foods. I stuck to Slim Fast, veggies, and Jello-shooters. Hey, a girl's gotta indulge.

I am so freaking proud of myself. And tonight, after my run? I felt like I was FLOATING, FLYING. Maybe it was the sugar-free redbull I consumed an hour before, or maybe it was endorphins. Either way, it felt SO. GOOD. to complete that first couch-to-5k workout (again), to know I'll be going back to do it again Saturday, back to kickboxing Monday, and that I now have a plan for myself (I made a google spreadsheet. I am teh geek).

I feel great. Yes, it's losing weight, but I know this pace will not last (it wouldn't be healthy if it did). More than that, it's actually accomplishing this thing I've been telling myself to do for 5 years. It's GOING and DOING and HOPING and BECOMING. It's wonderful. (I really hope I don't burn out like I usually do with this sort of thing. My motivation is better than usual this time, though, so my fingers are crossed)

Tonight's Run:
C25k W1D1
30 minutes (including 5 each for warm up/cool down)
1.63 miles
289 calories
Pace: 2.0 MPH warm up/cool down 4.5 MPH run/3.3 MPH recovery - final run at 5 MPH

----------------
Daily Gratitudes:
-- Jude singing along with the Beatles (I am the eggman WHOO, they are the eggmen, WHOO and also maybe you an drive my car, and maybe I love you BEEP BEEP YEAH!!)
-- Lily Allen (OMG running to Lily rocks)
-- Jack Johnson (please come sing me to sleep - "Bubble Toes" is my cool down song and it takes me to my happy place)
-- Endorphins
-- and of course, 9

Finding My Calling

2009-07-10T15:55:00.005-05:00

I've been whining everywhere lately about runners. EVERYONE seems to be doing c25k or interval training or something. Everyone's talking about "my run." And while I tried to start C25k , even buying nice new running shoes (sorry, honey), I have not done well. And I've been loathing runners.

See, the thing is, I WANT to be a runner. I listen to runners talk about how it makes them feel, how they float, how they get this endorphin rush and just fly. I want that desperately. But when I run? I feel crushed. My body hurts. It cries. It SCREAMS. Even starting slow.

...

I am a chronic buyer of exercise videos. I own VHS tapes (huh? VHwhat?) of Billy Blanks' Tae Bo, Leslie Sansone's Walk Away the Pounds, Tony Horton's Power 90, etc, etc. I also have Denise Austin's Slim in 6 and of course, Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred (why do all these workouts have names attached? Maybe a hint they're not good enough on their own merit? Megalomania?). The only one of these I ever did consistently for more than a couple weeks at a time was Tae Bo. I love Tae Bo. I have considered finding a VHS player just so I can copy my Tae Bo tapes. But I digress.

I SUCK AT BEING MOTIVATED TO EXERCISE! Oh, sure, I start off all gung-ho. But two days or two weeks in, I start slacking off and, as the conservatives say, it's all downhill from there.

...

McCathy had some interesting insight to this issue. She suggested that maybe we should just lay off the crap we can't make ourselves want to do and stick with what we love. Great advice, but WHAT do I love? Cause honestly, I can't seem to stick with anything! I've considered a kickboxing class, especially at AndreAnna 's prompting, but getting dressed and to the gym just so I can huff and sweat in front of a bunch of lithe women is NOT something I can count on myself to be motivated to do.

---

Recently, though, I've been biking. It started off as something we did for fun with the kids. Then one day Luke suggested I go for a bike ride so I could stop hating myself in the face. And it felt SOOOO good. A couple of days later, I convinced him we should ride downtown for dinner. It was a 7 mile out-and-back (and guess what? like 700 calories), with dinner and some hanging out at Barnes & Noble in between. At dinner, I was more than satisfied with an apple/walnut/gorgonzola salad. By the time we got home, I felt like I was floating. Sound familiar?

So I think I've found my niche. And the neat thing is, after biking, I don't feel like dying the way I do when I try to run or Shred. In fact, I feel like I could go all day. So maybe I can get it a 20-minute shred after a shortish (5-10 mile) bike ride. Maybe not. Either way, the road is calling and I'm listening.

--------------

Daily Gratitudes

-- homemade hummus, especially the cost

-- kids who cooperate at the grocery store and OMG the mall

-- Naptime

-- Brotherly love, those random huge hugs between my boys

-- The way Jude grabs my arm or leg for a big hug and says, "mama, mama, mama, mama"

I hate me in the face

2009-07-07T20:22:00.002-05:00

I've been feeling pretty "BLECH" lately. I haven't managed to run since my last post about running (also my first...), and haven't done much else useful in that time either. Oh, I found my Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred dvd. Does that count?

I keep telling myself I *should* work out, I *should* watch what I eat a bit more carefully... But when it comes down to it, I just don't. I have great excuses for not exercising: I almost killed myself trying to run and am SO SORE and I need to recover; It's "that time of the month" and I'll be DAMNED if I'm going to drag my ass to the computer and Shred or worse yet drag myself out on our very public road to run; it's too hot; it's too cold; the kids are awake; the kids are asleep... well, you get the idea.

So all weekend I've been super cranky and feeling super fat and, as I said, "BLECH." I was hungry at 4:30 so I ate some leftovers, knowing dinner wouldn't be for a couple of hours. Then I made myself impromptu fudge s'mores using marshmallows, a chocolate bar, peanut butter, and stale ice cream cones. Luke helped me eat that, but yeah, I felt even slothier after that. And also not hungry.

By dinnertime at 7, I was still not hungry and having major guilt over my "snack." So I moped. I helped Luke cook tacos for them and moped. He, wonderful guy that he is, hugged me and told me he loved me and he was sorry I was feeling so shitty lately (I wonder if, just a teeny bit, that didn't mean he was sorry he had to deal with my shittiness too. I wouldn't blame him, I've been pretty shitty). He asked if there was anything in particular that was causing it and I said no. Because really, feeling fat shouldn't be enough to cause the kind of dark cloud that's been overhanging me for the past few days. I did mention my self-loathing "I hate your stupid fat ugly face" feelings to him, as an aside, and he suggested I go for a run. HA! Like I wanted to subject myself to pain and torture on top of my bad mood. So he suggested a bike ride, even though we'd taken the boys on one earlier. "A real bike ride," says he.

I whined inside. I thought about my soft comfy bed and my next Percy Jackson book. Then I decided to Suck It Up Already, Woman and, in the words of Nike (the brand, not the goddess), Just Do It. I installed my new bike computer (with the help of my super-helpful guy), donned my ~~duncecap~~ bike helmet, and rode.

Time: 21:30
Avg. Speed: 10 mph
Distance: 3.5 miles
Calories: 150

So it's not much, but it's a start. It's more distance than I've done in a single, respectably-speeded go. And I'm amazed how long it didn't take me. I'm thinking I definitely want to start riding the boys to town, since it's only about 2-3 miles away, but the busy streets make me nervous.

I'm also amazed how good I feel. I shouldn't be amazed, because I ALWYAS feel awesome after exercising. It's just the BEFORE exercising crappy feeling is so convincing. I'm not sure what to do to get myself to do this with consistency. But for now, I don't hate me in the face anymore.

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Daily Gratitudes

-- Clouds and almost rain on a just-too-warm day

-- BOOKS, specifically YA fantasy

-- My public library, #1 per capita in the country. ♥♥

-- Suburbia, where I can ride on paved roads and sidewalks and feel safe

-- Endorphins

Nothing to see here

2009-07-02T08:57:00.001-05:00

Oh. Um, hi there, Internet.

I know the grandparents are waiting for a post about our camping trip last weekend, complete with pictures-I-haven't-even-uploaded-yet and that the other two people who read this blog are just like, "hey, don't you have anything interesting to say?"

Well, not really. I mean, I've been enjoying my summer. And by enjoying, I mean hiding out in the house for the past week because it's been stiflingly hot and humid outside (YES I am a wimp and NO I can't handle 95º and 90% humidity). As mentioned, we did go camping last weekend (among other adventures).

The truth is, I just haven't had anything interesting to say. And while I'm feeling pretty upbeat, on a mental and emotional level, I'm also feeling very whiny. And no one likes to listen to a blogger whine. I mean, I could tell you how I feel tired all the time, even though I've been sleeping better the past couple of weeks. I could tell you how I want desperately to lose some weight and feel healthier but can't seem to motivate myself to consistently exercise. I could tell you how I have come to LOATHE runners because I want so desperately to be one of them and can't seem to do it. I could tell you how I hate having no money left at the end of each paycheck to do things like join a gym, get a haircut, or fill in my way-too-long gel nails I treated myself to for a belated Mother's Day gift (um... 4 or 5 weeks ago. Yep, they're ugly now).

But like I said, no one likes to listen to a blogger whine. So I talk about my life in short 140 character bursts while my blog gathers cobwebs, along with my house, my body, and my brain.

Daily Gratitudes:

-- Audiobooks, the only way I keep my house moderately clean

-- Lego Duplo, hours of choking hazard-free entertainment

-- Percy Jackson and the Olympians, 1-day reads that help me brush up my mythology

-- My kids being CHAMPION travelers. We spent probably 12 hours in the car last weekend and they hardly complained.

Warning: Serious Bitchfest Ahead

2009-06-17T19:08:00.003-05:00

Oh. My. Gods.

Ow.

I just got home (literally, walked through the door 5 seconds ago, so my pain is still RAW and FRESH) from my first Couch-to-5k "run." For the uninitiated, this program is supposed to do just what it sounds: get you from literally no exercise to being able to jog/run 5k in 9 weeks. Three "runs" per week, starting the first week with a 5-minute warm-up, followed by intervals of 60 seconds jogging/running and 90 seconds of "brisk" walking.

In short, I suck.

My first 5 minutes were great. I was walking along at a great clip, about 3 mph according to Sanoodi, my Blackberry tracking application (which, incidentally, I highly recommend for Blackberry, iPhone, and Windows Mobile users. It's free, GPS tracks your route and other info -see end of post- and uploads it automatically to your account!). I got sidetracked waiting for a stoplight, but did my first few runs without much trouble. Except that my ankles started to ache a bit.

By the time I was through, I had skipped one run altogether (another stoplight snafu) and walked the last 10 seconds of one. And my "brisk" walks? HA! It was all I could do not to drop to the ground and CRY for 90 seconds. But I kept moving, at least.

In the end, I walked about 1.5 miles in about 33 minutes. I think I might have done better if I'd just WALKED the entire way, rather than the combination. My body hurts so much. My calves felt, for my last 5 minute walk (cool-down) like they had lead weights attached. My ankles feel like they've been in a torture chamber. I mean they HURT. Especially the right side - when I step, it hurts from my ankle halfway up the back of my calf. Bad form?

And I am sweating. This is not bad, but highly unusual for me.

The good news is I GODDAMNED DID IT. I got out, in public (a really huge hangup for me, exercising out in the open) - I mean it was 6:30 and 7 pm and I was walking/jogging past the traffic that backs up Raymond Drive in Naperville at rush hour. Not pretty. But I did it. It was actually worse in the forest preserve (where I was heading to have some privacy - HA!), where people could hear me panting and gasping. I felt like an ass. But I did it.

I'm glad this is only expected of me 3 days per week because if I had to do it again tomorrow, I'm pretty sure I'd die. As it was, I was considering shredding tomorrow, but that hurts my ankles too. WTF is up with that, anyway?

The best news? I had the forsight to make my final walking song Jack Johnson's "Bubble Toes," which puts me in this weird state of eye-rolling bliss no matter what the situation. So I was able to make it home without resorting to a crawl.

And now? Shower. If I can stand up that long.

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Sanoodi details:

Wed Jun 17 18:22:22 2009
00 hr, 31 mins, 27 secs
1.5 mi
Average speed:2.9 mph
Max speed: 5.7 mph
Pace: 20:58 min/mi
Altitude gain: 26.0 m
Altitude loss: 27.0 m
Altitude change: -1.0 m

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And lest I forget, my daily gratitudes:

- I have two working legs and feet and health enough to attempt this
- Toddlers who nap in high chairs
- Awesome husbands who make dinner while you ~~attempt suicide~~ run
- 70º Overcast evenings, perfect for running
- Fresh, clean, running water in which to shower

Remember This

2009-06-15T21:30:00.001-05:00

In every parent's life, there are moments you hope your child will forget. Moments where you cross your fingers and pray to whatever god or higher being you believe or don't believe in, hoping against hope your child won't remember you losing your temper, watching that scary movie, or running off to a neighbor's house naked. Today was not that day. Today was a day I whispered to my son, just as he was falling asleep, "Don't forget this. Please, Quentin, remember this."

Today we had a nice breakfast out together, went to the library and a short grocery shopping trip, and then had a positively blissful evening. We grilled Tofurkey sausages and ate together at the living room table because the dining room was occupied - by a tent.

After practicing his piano lesson, Quentin, Jude, Luke, and I all went for a bike ride. Jude rode in the trailer behind Luke,

but Quentin rode the whole way - about 1.3 miles.

Upon arriving home, we toasted marshmallows on the propane grill and made s'mores.

Then we all piled into the tent for a bedtime story.

It was a Super, Fantastic, Wonderful, Very Good Day.

I hope he remembers. I know I will.

Linguaphilia

2009-05-30T12:55:00.000-05:00

As antisocial as I am, language is something hugely meaningful to me. I would call myself a linguaphile, clinging to purity of language but also allowing it to flow naturally, desiring to learn new words and new meanings and new languages. This is, evidently, something I've passed on to my son in one way or another.

Quentin started talking early (by 18 months he was already using short sentences, where Jude is still only managing a couple half-formed words) and is, shall we say, loquacious. I mean, the kid never shuts up. But, to his credit, he doesn't just jabber on with toddler- or preschool-esque words and language. In true only child form (which he was up until he was three, long enough to develop a habit), he most often speaks like an adult, and frequently uses words which would confuse the piss out of some fully-grown humans.

His curiosity is insatiable and his memory indelible, both of which undoubtedly contribute to his language abilities. When I am reading to him and he doesn't recognize a word, he often glarks the meaning, but most of the time, he'll ask me what it means. And then? He remembers what I've said. Hell if I can get the child to remember to put his dishes away after eating or not hit his brother, but the definition of some heretofore unbeknownst to him word? Forever emblazoned in his mind.

Last night, we were reading a short tale in one of his (formerly mine!) Sesame Street saga books. It was a mystery, involving an invisible mud monster. "Mommy, what's invisible mean?" asked he. I defined it for him and we went on with the story and bedtime.

This afternoon, whilst playing outside, he rang the doorbell. I shushed him, lest he wake his brother. He thought for a moment, then said, "Mommy, what's 'wicked' mean?"

I had to think for a moment, deciding where he might have heard the word. "It depends on the context, I guess. It can either mean really bad or really cool." Ah, the confusing irony of slang.

He thought hard, looked confused, and thought some more. "Well, what's the word that means you can't see it?"

Ah, now I understood. "Invisible."

"Mommy, is the doorbell invisible?"

And we were off on another conversation, but I'm sure he'll never have to ask about that word again.

The Final Hurdle

2009-05-22T00:01:00.014-05:00

Self-propelled. Communicative. Weaned. Sleeping through the night (mostly!). My baby is becoming a little boy. But there's one more hurdle, one he's been walking up to and looking at for some time now, inspecting it, poking and prodding, considering and examining. A hurdle that grows larger and more looming the harder I push him to canter toward it. Dreaded by some, feared by many, encountered by all.

Potty Training.

Jude, like Quentin, has always been interested in the bathroom. Gods know I can't go in there by myself for three f-ing minutes or he will stand at the door, pounding and screaming the entire time. When we started signing to him, we taught him the sign for "potty" (aka toilet) and also the sign for "change." We would sign one or the other (they look fairly similar on a baby's hands) each time we changed his diaper, and soon he was signing it back.

Now Jude will often let us know if he needs a diaper change (as though we couldn't smell it), and will also sign "potty" and run to the bathroom door, pounding to be let in. He'll put up the lid, and put the potty seat up on the toilet all by himself before attempting to scale the toilet as he scales everything else. We'll obligingly take off his diaper and put him up there, usually only to have him sign "all done" moments later. Sometimes, though, if you catch him in the act - standing very still and concentrating very hard - and say, "pottypottypottypotty" while running to said door, he will follow, and then can be put on the toilet to finish the deed.

Don't get me wrong. The kid's not even 18 months and Quentin wasn't trained until he was nearly four. I harbor few delusions. But I'm hoping, HOPING that this progress will mean, at the very least, he won't cower in fear from the very idea of potty training when it comes time to take it seriously.

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This post brought to you as part of a Parent Bloggers Network blog blast sponsored by the Pull Ups Potty Project.