A New Year

Happy New Year to all! 

I love the joy and anticipation of the Christmas season, but boy was this year's busy. Multiple times throughout the season I felt like I was on a runaway train. I knew we were going the right direction and where we were going was good, but I had no control of the speed and no ability to stop. I'm thankful that our season was merry and bright. We baked lots of cookies. We did crafts. We did Christmas programs and pageants. We really built up anticipation for Christmas! But WHEW! I'm thankful for the relative peace of the Epiphany season. 

I'm writing this on a flight back into Boston. We had a great post-Christmas  trip to Texas to visit my family. We went to celebrate my Dad's retirement. After 37 years in the ministry, he gave his last sermon as a full time pastor. And then his congregation threw him a big retirement party. The ladies who planned it compared it to organizing a wedding reception. It was certainly larger than my wedding. There were people from my childhood who attended. It was like a mini reunion. It was wonderful to see a pastor acknowledged for the legacy of his work - the weddings, baptisms, confirmations, funerals, and regular pastoral care of the hundreds of parishioners who have passed through his congregations. Being a pastor isn't a job. It's a calling and a lifestyle. And I'm very proud of what my Dad's done. 

Of course the girls didn't really understand the party. They just knew that they were spending a fun week with Nana, Pawpaw, and other relatives. They just knew that we were outside in the warm sum and rough housing with Nana and Pawpaw Monster. They just knew they were having a lot of fun. We just knew there were other adults around to play with the girls and hold the baby. It was a great vacation for everyone. 

So here we go, back to reality. I'm looking forward to a stable routine. The days will gradually get longer. The warmth will eventually return. We celebrated the coming of the Son. Now we turn to the anticipation of the sun. 

Until then, we'll strive to keep the days merry, if not bright. 

Hopeful Memory

I know we don't get to choose what we remember. If we did, there would be quite a few people missing embarrassing or sad chunks of their past. But every now and then, I hit a moment in life that I hope calcifies itself into a memory. 

I had such a moment today. I was holding LittleDebbie, who was recently-fed and content. She snuggled against my body, smiling. The snow was falling gently out the windows. Not a shovel-twelve-heavy-inches snow, but a dust-things-and-melt-tomorrow snow. The house was quiet. The older girls were at school. I hadn't yet gotten the "MeToo's running a fever, please come get her" call. The rug beneath my feet was recently vacuumed. The dogs hadn't shed on it yet. All was right in the world. 

It was the calm before the storm. I didn't know that then. I just knew that it was calm. And all was well. And it was blissful. 

When I'm elderly and looking back over decades of motherhood , I hope that this is one of the moments I remember. Not one of the ones where I lose a star for yelling at the girls. But that moment of stillness and peace, a true gift. 

What's Your Excuse?

It's been a few weeks since I checked in. What's my excuse? Well, there was a birthday party for MeToo and a gravity-defying cake to construct… There was a holiday with visiting in-laws and a lot of food to prepare… And mostly, there was just life. Life feels a bit overwhelming right now. It's all good stuff, but I'm overwhelmed all the same. 

It was a Facebook post that stirred me to blog today. A childhood classmate of mine commented on something and I kind of spewed a lot of pent-up opinion back. I stepped up on my soapbox at perhaps an inappropriate time. Well Jennifer, I apologize that I used your status update to vent my annoyance at Maria Kang. I know, she's old news. And you were finding encouragement from her to do something you wanted to do. I completely undermined that. And I'm very sorry. 
So I'm going to make matters worse and more ridiculous by expounding on why her meme got under my skin this morning.

When her picture first started circulating on FB, my initial reaction was "Wow, she looks great! Good for her!" I had just given birth to LittleDebbie and did not look anything like she does. And then I started to think about the line "What's your excuse?" I tried to think of ways that those words could be uttered kindly. Perhaps as a tease? She doesn't know me well enough to tease me. Perhaps as a challenge? Perhaps as a taunt? A challenge can come in kinder terms, like "I can do it, and so can you!" I couldn't help but decide that it was a taunt to anyone who didn't look like her. But I brushed it off. I don't feel the need to look like her, so it didn't bother me. Thankfully, other people do see her commentary as encouragement, as can be found in the comments of her website and blog. She really is encouraging people to change for the better, and I commend her for that. She has travelled a long and rocky road of eating disorders and personal challenges to get to where she is today. I applaud her for what she's done for herself. After reading her blog and a few articles, I have a vague understanding of why she is what she is and why she says what she says.

So I'm going to take her seriously for a moment and answer her question.

I don't look like her because it's not my priority to look like her. 

Once upon a time, I looked something vaguely similar to her. I was a lightweight rower in college. And after college I ran and completed a marathon. I worked out 2-4 hours per day, 6 days per week. I was in my early 20's. Rowing was my sport and my social life. It was all-consuming. I was in great shape. I looked great. (I didn't appreciate it back then, but I just looked at a photo album recently and saw pictures of myself. I appreciate it now.) I ate well and exercised a lot and was very healthy. Other than a few part-time jobs and a double-major class load, it was all I needed to do in life. 

To look like that again, I would need to:

• Work out 2-3 hours per day, 6 days per week for 6 months to a year. After that, I would need to work out 1-2 hours per day, 5 days per week to maintain it. 
• I would need to reduce my current calorie intake significantly.
• Go back to physical therapy to rebalance my pelvic girdle to keep myself from getting injured from all of the exercise.
• Do a lot of intensive core exercises to cure my diastasis to keep myself from getting injured from all of the exercise.
• Stop nursing my baby and switch her to formula so that the reduced calorie intake and increased demands on my body didn't reduce her food supply. 
• Probably hire a babysitter a few hours per week to watch the kids when my husband has too much work to do to watch the kids while I go to the gym. 
• Get custom orthotics made to manage my shifting arches and reduce knee and back pain when I exercise. (I'm actually in the process of doing this now. Yikes! They're pricey!)

As a result:

• I would look awesome.
• I would be in great shape and have more energy.
• We'd have less money to spend on other things.
• My children would see much less of me.
• My husband would see much less of me.
• I'd have more difficulty keeping up with household demands and would likely want to hire a cleaning lady. Which would take more money away from other things. 
• I'd have less time to volunteer at church, HeyMama's school, and MeToo's preschool. 
• My life, and consequently my family's life, would revolve around my need to exercise.

I do know mothers who exercise this much. In general, it seems like exercise is both their job and their hobby. They do both well, and seem to enjoy them. I applaud them. They look great, they seem to have a great balance in their lives (well, at least as FB will lead me to believe), and all is well. I know moms who exercise this much to manage health issues, such as depression and neurologic disorders. Again, I think that this is wonderful. Exercise is a healthy thing, and if it can replace pills to manage medical problems, I think that's fantastic. It's a win-win, if you ask me. 

But I am not that person. It is not fun to me. It is not my job. It is not something that alleviates other miseries in my life. It is something I must do more of to be healthier. It is something I tolerate. It takes away time from other things I'd rather be doing. (Yet I try to do it anyway). I remember once reading an article in Runner's World about a man who never missed a day of running in 30 years. He was older, which made it even more impressive. And then it talked about how he had missed graduations and birthdays, and his children "understood" because that was just who he was. But even if his children "understood" that dad couldn't be there for their birthday party because he had a race to run, did it make them feel good that running was more important than they were? The article has haunted me ever since. It's good for parents to have hobbies, to have interests, to have passions. But the article made me sad for his children. Exercise is good. It should have a place in everyone's life. But it didn't seem to me that it should be of higher priority than one's own children. I vowed then that it never would be in mine.

That said, I agree with Maria Kang about what a sad epidemic obesity is. She speaks out loudly about the dangers of obesity. I've absolutely seen them while working in healthcare. Obesity can set off a cascade of nasty problems: diabetes with all of it's complications (neuropathy, blindness, strokes), heart disease, wounds that won't heal. It's ugly. And I agree with her that the level of obesity in children is horrifying and a bad omen for our society's future. But there's a difference between being in good cardiovascular shape and looking like her. Someone can be far from obese and actually in good cardiac shape without having her chiseled physique. They're not the enemy. And I suspect that most of the people hearing her message are actually in that group. 

I hate to sound like someone who went to a liberal university, but I did and I'm going to make this statement anyway:  Obesity is a class issue. That at least seems true in Boston. We're an overall very fit and healthy city. This is helped greatly by the fact that we're a young city with many students and professionals. We're also a city with a high level of income. We can afford to exercise. Ok, so some exercise is free, like walking or running. And yes, a lot of that happens in Boston. Living in a densely packed neighborhood with public transportation allows many opportunities to leave the car at home and head out on your feet. This low-level exercise adds up. But the exercise required to look like Maria costs time. A lot of time. This time is more precious when you're working multiple jobs and caring for multiple kids. Have you priced a jogging stroller lately? Or tried to get your young children out for a brisk walk without one? How exactly is that single mother barely scraping by going to get out for her intensive cardio workouts? Who's going to babysit for her to get it done? Maria is lucky to live in a world where she truly believes that everyone has the same resources and opportunities to do what she does. Some people truly do have good excuses not to exercise like she does. And I don't think it's a coincidence that the women with the best physiques in Boston seem to cluster in certain neighborhoods - the ones with more Starbucks and less gun violence.

I promise that I'll stop ranting soon, but I want to turn the tables on her original challenge for a moment. Her challenge assumes that everyone shares her goal of optimal fitness. I agree with those who say that her challenge only carries power if you actually do feel like you should be physically fit, and if not, it's not offensive. Perhaps my offense does come from some deep-seated guilt for not looking like I did at age 20 now that I'm 36. But I'll make some similar statements and see how they fly:

• I always feed my family home-cooked meals. Even when I work overtime. What's your excuse?
• We're a one income family, but we still manage to pay cash for our cars, save regularly for retirement, college, and a rainy day, and we give a percentage of income to charity. What's your excuse?
• We only eat organic and local, even in the winter. What's your excuse?
• I work, but still grind my own flour and bake my own bread. What's your excuse?
• My kids are 3 and 4, but they always clean their own rooms without help. What's your excuse?
• My baby's been sleeping through the night since he was 8 weeks old. Yours is 8 months old. What's your excuse?
• We both work, but still have our baby in cloth diapers and make our own baby food from scratch. What's your excuse?

These comparisons can be made about anything that anyone does, in a constant one-upmanship. Do some of them sound ridiculous to you? I can assure you that they don't seem ridiculous to the person saying (or hopefully just thinking) it. Even if they don't offend you, certainly you can agree that the sanctimonious tone is unhelpful?

So, Maria Kang, I applaud what you've overcome in your life. I applaud what you're trying to do for public health in America. I applaud you for turning a passion into a career and opportunity for celebrity. Bravo for encouraging so many people to work harder at becoming more fit. But please consider that not everyone has your life, and not everyone has your priorities. And please consider keeping your sanctimony to yourself.

Thanks,
A mom who will only prioritize being in decent shape, at least until her children need less of her time.


PS. Here's the gravity-defying cake. Thanks to BestestHusband's parents for managing dinner and childcare while I worked on it.

A Conversation

A conversation heard earlier today:

(while walking the dogs with MeToo)
"I want to go for a walk around the neighborhood."
"Ok, we'll walk more before we go home."
"I don't like it when you pull my hood."
"Sorry, you kept weaving in front of me. I was going to step on you."
(starts whining and crying)
"Why are you crying?"
"You pulled my hood!"
"I'm sorry. I told you I did it because I was going to step on you. I won't do it again."
(continues whining and crying more loudly)
"You sound pretty tired. I think we should go home instead of walking."
(starts screaming and shrieking)
"I want to go for a walk! I want to go for a walk! I want to go for a walk! I want to go for a walk! I want to go for a walk! I want to go for a walk!" [*as you're reading these to yourself, make sure you stretch out all of the vowels as long as you can]
"I'm sorry, but we're not taking a walk if you're going to scream like this. We're going home."
"I don't want to take a nap! I don't want to go to sleep! I don't want to go to sleep! I don't want to go to sleep! I don't want to go to sleep! I don't want to go to sleep! I don't want to go to sleep!"*
"That's fine, you don't have to. I never said you had to."
"Carry me! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk! I don't want to walk!"*
"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't carry you home. It's time to walk."
"I want to lay down right here! I want to lay down right here! I want to lay down right here! I want to lay down right here! I want to lay down right here! I want to lay down right here!"*
"We're not going to lay down on the sidewalk. We're almost home. Keep going."
"I can't hold your hand! I can't hold your hand! I can't hold your hand! I can't hold your hand! I can't hold your hand! I can't hold your hand! I can't hold your hand!"*
"You don't have to until we cross the street."
"I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired! I'm not tired!"*
"I'm not sure I agree with that statement, but whatever. It's time to cross the street. I'm going to hold your hand."
(screaming and whining continues)
"Ok, we're home. Climb into your seat, it's time to go pick up your sister."
"I WANT TO STAY HOME AND TAKE A NAP!"
(screaming and whining continues while she buckles her carseat straps)
She's asleep before we put out of the driveway.
We all knew that was coming.

Scary Early

It's that spooky time of year. As much fun as I had making a sheltie costume (with its realistic shedding fur) for HeyMama, I sure am glad that Halloween is over. But daily life resumes, along with its daily terrors. Each morning dawns with the mild panic of getting everyone up, dressed, toiletted, fed, and out the door by 7:15am to take HeyMama to school. Ok, by "everyone" I mean myself and my three daughters. BestestHusband bikes to work later. And he can dress, toilet, and feed himself. One daughter can wake herself, toilet and dress herself, and feed herself, if we get out the food. One can toilet and feed herself, but needs help with waking and getting clothes to dress in. The third is absolutely dependent, and can't finish up her breakfast while I'm driving in the car. I've been doing it for almost 2 months, but it still terrifies me. 

I am not a morning person. Oh sure, there were those 4 years that I woke daily at 4:30am to row on a cold, dark, twisty river with 8 other people. I woke up on those mornings with the fear that those 8 other people would physically remove me from my bed if I didn't do it first. And sure, there was that time that I was training for a marathon, and had to do some runs before work in the summer, and had to get up crazy early. But I woke up on those mornings with the fear that I'd leave Melissa to run alone, or worse, get behind on our training schedule. It was fear that propelled me from bed both times. 

If my body had any say in the situation, it would happily stay tucked in bed until 10am. Just ask BestestHusband. He's seen it happen. Mostly before we had kids; I don't get to do it so often anymore. So imagine how my body feels when I ask it to get up 4 or more hours earlier than that. It is not a smooth-running machine. Not at all. 

So the 7:15am departure with my entourage is not an easy feat. There is always coffee in hand when I do it. It is truly "scary early" for me. 

But I'm coming to peace with it. Because the other morning, I drove to the next town to take HeyMama to school, then drove back past home to CVS to be there when it opened at 8am. We picked up a prescription and a few other things. I let MeToo play with toys. Then we tried on Halloween masks. We were out of there by 8:30. Given my preference, we'd still be at home in our jammies. But instead, I had an errand knocked off my list already.

And last week, before I got a cold and sinus infection, I dropped HeyMama off, drove to the gym, worked out, returned some things to the library, went to the far away grocery store, and were home before lunch time. Given my preference, we'd still be at home in our jammies. But instead, we had all of our errands done by noon. 

I don't love this early thing. But I'm willing to acknowledge that it's very good for me. Well, at least it's good for my productivity. My body thinks productivity is overrated. 

MeToo was actually laughing under the mask.

I think this one is my favorite.

The eyes lit up!

I'm not sure if it's the contrast of the face size with MeToo's body, the contrast of the pink fluffy Princess coat, or the giraffe-print leggings and light-up sneakers. But these pictures crack me up.

Hope your mornings are less painful!

Today's Triumph

When you have small kids, little things become big triumphs. I'd like to celebrate one of mine with you:

Today, I found a recipe that uses up a bunch of ingredients in my fridge, looks tasty, and doesn't require any trips to the store. 

WAHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOO!

Thanks for celebrating with me today.

Suspicious Pumpkin Death

Earlier this evening, we had 3 pumpkins. One of those pumpkins was from our garden. It was tall and misshapen, but we loved it dearly. The other two were won by the girls in a coloring contest. I use the word "contest" loosely. It was mostly a participation prize. 

Anyway, all 3 pumpkins were sitting on the counter. I went to the other room to plug in my phone and I heard a thud. This is what I discovered. 

The pumpkin was lying on the floor, dead. 

My first thought was that it was an act of pumpkin desperation. I mean, carving season is here. Maybe it knew its fate and decided to take things into its own hands. But that seemed unlikely. It was a happy pumpkin. It had so much to live for. 

I think there were more sinister forces at work. Things were fine until the 2 new pumpkins came into the house. Then, within hours, the old pumpkin was dead. It feels a bit sketchy to me. 

Don't you think this looks suspicious? I'm going to keep an eye on those two...