I know. I know. I have gone blog crazy this week. Not sure why. My life hasn't been unusually calm or anything to provide me with more time for blogging. I guess I am just in a bloggy mood (I think I just made up a new word?). Anyway, today Cora and I went on a Mommy/Daughter date. Nothing too fancy. Just a shopping trip to the mall followed by dinner out. It was a lot of fun to get some one-on-one time with her. I have the opportunity for alone time with Claire while Cora is at preschool, but rarely the other way around.
The more I am around her, the more grownup she seems to me. She makes such thoughtful statements and I am sure her little brain is always processing at a mile a minute. Like when we were checking out at the Children's Place and she asked the clerk to hold on a minute because the lights were way too bright and she needed to fix the problem. She walked around until she found a hat, put it on and said "Okay, now you can keep going. I was having a problem in this store because of all the light, but this hat is a 4T so it should work." The sales lady told her she was a smart cookie, and Cora explained to her that she wasn't food, she was a little girl. That of course made all of us laugh, including the mother standing in line behind us. She really is a breath of fresh air!
So speaking of growing up, she has recently conquered the monkey bars in our back yard. She just goes back and forth, over and over again until she has blisters (this should not surprise us considering we have called Cora "Big Monkey," and Claire "Little Monkey" since Claire was born). Well we take the girls to the community park in our sub almost every night when we go out for our family bike ride and Cora loves the monkey bars there as well. They are a lot thicker than the bars in our backyard and so a few times back and forth and her arms are shot. I recorded her making it all the way across a few times, but I thought this video was funnier than showing her actual new trick.
July 31, 2008
July 30, 2008
Ugh
This will be funny someday, right??!! Like when Claire is 16 and I am telling her current crush about the time she thought it would be awesome to take the blackest, most permanent Sharpie to our kitchen floor (did not recognize it, no idea where she got it. It wasn't even a marker I knew we owned!), that will be comical, no? And the 2 hours of scrubbing on my hands and knees with every cleaning product under the sun, laugh out loud hilarious someday, right? Right? If only someday would hurry up and get here.
July 29, 2008
Yummy!
My girls LOVE popsicles. I mean love. They usually eat one a day (unless Claire sneaks into the fridge in the garage and eats 2 or 3 without us knowing!). I know popsicles are a summer staple, but I always felt bad loading the girls up with all that extra sugar. So we decided to make our own healthy version. Mark set off to gather the ingredients while the girls were napping. The only problem we ran into was a lack of popsicle molds. He went to 4 stores and still came back empty handed! So as you will see below, we improvised. They were simple to make, the girls loved helping and Mark and I ended up with delicious smoothies too!
The ingredients.
Fill the blender up about 3/4 full of berries. Add enough juice to cover half the berries and then dump enough yogurt in to cover the other half (I try to be scientific with my measurements if you can't tell). If the berries are frozen you will need to use the ice crushing feature on the blender or you will burn up the motor.
The finished product for the parents to enjoy!
Our makeshift popsicle mold. We inserted toothpicks when they were solid enough to hold them upright.
The girls enjoying their healthy treats!
Oh and just for fun I thought I would include a picture of what Claire was doing while I was blending with my back to her. (Note to self: Claire can now climb to the 3rd shelf of the pantry!)
The ingredients.
Fill the blender up about 3/4 full of berries. Add enough juice to cover half the berries and then dump enough yogurt in to cover the other half (I try to be scientific with my measurements if you can't tell). If the berries are frozen you will need to use the ice crushing feature on the blender or you will burn up the motor.
The finished product for the parents to enjoy!
Our makeshift popsicle mold. We inserted toothpicks when they were solid enough to hold them upright.
The girls enjoying their healthy treats!
Oh and just for fun I thought I would include a picture of what Claire was doing while I was blending with my back to her. (Note to self: Claire can now climb to the 3rd shelf of the pantry!)
July 28, 2008
Wild child!
I guess every aspect of her is wild. This is how her hair looks almost daily when she wakes up from a nap (I know what you are thinking, Debbie Gibson must be very jealous!). Looking at these pictures makes me laugh and almost forget all the crazy days (like Friday for instance). There are days I don't want to re- fix her hair and just take her out in public like this so others can share in our laughter!
July 25, 2008
The ants go marching one by one, um, hurrah, hurrah?
It often amazes me how smoothly the world operates in the midst of my chaos. For some reason this order overwhelmed me as I was driving into town today (perhaps because everything about my day has been the exact opposite of orderly). I was oddly aware of the newly installed power poles running along the road, allowing us electricity that fuels our daily lives. Someone evaluated the need of a growing population, planned and built a new substation to supply power to that growing population, and we were not the wiser. As I passed those poles, I stayed in the right hand lane, careful not to cross the yellow line. The cars approaching also correctly followed the rules of the road. I witnessed a traffic stop by local law enforcement (I know, I am just as shocked as you that they weren't pulling me over). The vehicle they had stopped had seen the flashing lights and, as we have been trained to do, pulled over. So my question is this? Why if a million actions such as this take place seamlessly every day, allowing life to progress as it should, can I not go a full day without some sort of catastrophe?
I should have sensed that today would be "one of those days” when we were nearly late for preschool. I had calculated the extra set of hands Mark would provide when he got off this morning, but he was held over at work. My two hands working furiously could not compensate. There were lunches to pack, kids to bathe and dress, and breakfast to prepare and scarf down. We made it out the door on time, but left the house looking like a small tornado had ripped through the place.
We dropped Cora off at preschool and drove around, frantically running errands before I had to teach my first of 2 water aerobics classes (I was still sore from teaching a Power Pilates class the day before and was regretting my packed schedule). One class down, water still dripping from my bathing suit (the same bathing suit that I realized that morning had not been rinsed out the last time I taught and now had patches where the chlorine had begun to break down the fiber leaving areas on my stomach and side that were fantastically see-through), I rushed to retrieve Cora, hit the drive through to grab some lunch (sandwiches, fruit and milk, so stop judging me!) and sped on to the next class.
This particular class deserves an entry of their own, but because I will NEVER sub for this instructor again and will therefore never have this experience again, I will limit it to a paragraph. It was a Senior Splash water aerobics class. The usual instructor told me her normal class size was 10-12, so I planned my routine around that number. I arrived to find 26 eager participants, with a very broad range in age (about 20-73) and physical ability (wannabe Olympians to walker-bound). To add to the stress of trying to explain an unfamiliar routine to the hearing-aid crowd, a generator beside the pool was malfunctioning, emitting a sound equivalent to a running lawnmower with a side of nails-on-a-chalkboard the entire class. I had to scream instructions to the masses, only to hear echoes of "huh," and what," endlessly. When I was finally able to relay the instructions and the workout was in full swing, the complaints began. "Do you think you could slow it down a bit? We aren't teenagers anymore!" "I'm not even breaking a sweat! When does the hard stuff start" "Our instructor usually does it this way." "Is this how you usually teach? I don't know if my knees can handle this for another second." "Do you think you could divide the class into beginner and advanced?" "My heart rate is way above where it should be! Can we break for a minute?"
It was the longest hour in recent memory. I walked away with the belief that many are of the mindset that once you have conquered enough years of living, you feel you have earned the right to say whatever, whenever to whomever without recourse. Note to self: do not get old.
Needless to say, I left in a foul mood and was greeted by 2 cranky children, near a past-nap time meltdown. For the first time in my life, I actually had to pull the car over on the way home because the screaming was such that I had to squint and squeeze my temples to ensure my eyes would not bulge out of my head (driving in that condition might have challenged the "right side of the road" norm). I returned home, welcomed by the piles of PJs and the now crunchy oatmeal bowls still on the table where we left them.
Nap-time was a battle, dinner-time was a battle and bath-time was a battle. Mark left for work. I left my towel-wrapped daughters on the couch while I warmed up their bed-time milk and retrieved clean PJs. Passing by the front door, I noticed that ants too abide by the same lane restrictions we humans do, as they were passing me single file, in their own lane, en route to feast on the un-swept jackpot that is my kitchen floor. I did what any hostile mother on the brink would do: I took the wet/dry Vac to them, certain at this point that even the ants were mocking me with their whole orderly food gathering mission. By this time Cora had grown impatient and had gone to retrieve her milk on her own, resulting in an entire glass of milk splashed across the floor. I calmly cleaned up the accidental spill, gritting my teeth the entire time. Of course, in doing so, I gave Claire plenty of time to jump down off the couch, dash into our bedroom and poop on our floor and in our shower, step in it, and track it throughout the house. And because a situation like that requires all of your attention, Claire also had the opportunity to retrieve the other milk cup off the counter, walk it slowly to the living room, trip on the edge of the rug and dump the entire cup of milk over every inch of the coffee table (this was Cora’s version of that event. Had she not been present I would have been certain that Claire had purposefully coated the table with milk to test the “Mommy doesn’t believe in spanking” theory).
I should have sensed that today would be "one of those days” when we were nearly late for preschool. I had calculated the extra set of hands Mark would provide when he got off this morning, but he was held over at work. My two hands working furiously could not compensate. There were lunches to pack, kids to bathe and dress, and breakfast to prepare and scarf down. We made it out the door on time, but left the house looking like a small tornado had ripped through the place.
We dropped Cora off at preschool and drove around, frantically running errands before I had to teach my first of 2 water aerobics classes (I was still sore from teaching a Power Pilates class the day before and was regretting my packed schedule). One class down, water still dripping from my bathing suit (the same bathing suit that I realized that morning had not been rinsed out the last time I taught and now had patches where the chlorine had begun to break down the fiber leaving areas on my stomach and side that were fantastically see-through), I rushed to retrieve Cora, hit the drive through to grab some lunch (sandwiches, fruit and milk, so stop judging me!) and sped on to the next class.
This particular class deserves an entry of their own, but because I will NEVER sub for this instructor again and will therefore never have this experience again, I will limit it to a paragraph. It was a Senior Splash water aerobics class. The usual instructor told me her normal class size was 10-12, so I planned my routine around that number. I arrived to find 26 eager participants, with a very broad range in age (about 20-73) and physical ability (wannabe Olympians to walker-bound). To add to the stress of trying to explain an unfamiliar routine to the hearing-aid crowd, a generator beside the pool was malfunctioning, emitting a sound equivalent to a running lawnmower with a side of nails-on-a-chalkboard the entire class. I had to scream instructions to the masses, only to hear echoes of "huh," and what," endlessly. When I was finally able to relay the instructions and the workout was in full swing, the complaints began. "Do you think you could slow it down a bit? We aren't teenagers anymore!" "I'm not even breaking a sweat! When does the hard stuff start" "Our instructor usually does it this way." "Is this how you usually teach? I don't know if my knees can handle this for another second." "Do you think you could divide the class into beginner and advanced?" "My heart rate is way above where it should be! Can we break for a minute?"
It was the longest hour in recent memory. I walked away with the belief that many are of the mindset that once you have conquered enough years of living, you feel you have earned the right to say whatever, whenever to whomever without recourse. Note to self: do not get old.
Needless to say, I left in a foul mood and was greeted by 2 cranky children, near a past-nap time meltdown. For the first time in my life, I actually had to pull the car over on the way home because the screaming was such that I had to squint and squeeze my temples to ensure my eyes would not bulge out of my head (driving in that condition might have challenged the "right side of the road" norm). I returned home, welcomed by the piles of PJs and the now crunchy oatmeal bowls still on the table where we left them.
Nap-time was a battle, dinner-time was a battle and bath-time was a battle. Mark left for work. I left my towel-wrapped daughters on the couch while I warmed up their bed-time milk and retrieved clean PJs. Passing by the front door, I noticed that ants too abide by the same lane restrictions we humans do, as they were passing me single file, in their own lane, en route to feast on the un-swept jackpot that is my kitchen floor. I did what any hostile mother on the brink would do: I took the wet/dry Vac to them, certain at this point that even the ants were mocking me with their whole orderly food gathering mission. By this time Cora had grown impatient and had gone to retrieve her milk on her own, resulting in an entire glass of milk splashed across the floor. I calmly cleaned up the accidental spill, gritting my teeth the entire time. Of course, in doing so, I gave Claire plenty of time to jump down off the couch, dash into our bedroom and poop on our floor and in our shower, step in it, and track it throughout the house. And because a situation like that requires all of your attention, Claire also had the opportunity to retrieve the other milk cup off the counter, walk it slowly to the living room, trip on the edge of the rug and dump the entire cup of milk over every inch of the coffee table (this was Cora’s version of that event. Had she not been present I would have been certain that Claire had purposefully coated the table with milk to test the “Mommy doesn’t believe in spanking” theory).
So here I sit. As I type this I am keenly aware that the world is functioning as it should be outside these walls, with everyone unaware that there is an exhausted housewife who should shower to rid her body of the souring milk/chlorine/child feces smell that she just can’t seem to shake, but will instead collapse into a tired heap in preparation for another day in paradise.
*Disclaimer: I reread this post after a full night's sleep and realized it was mostly a rant. I guess the day must have taken its toll on my mental state as well as my physical state, because in my head it sounded a lot more rational and less whiny. Oh and I am not looking for pity, it was just therapeutic to share!
July 18, 2008
Husband
That is what I call him. Have since the day I became a Mrs.
He calls me wifeee. In the beginning, all those years ago, between the Ramen and the student loans, I think it was a way of reminding us how awesome it was to finally be married. But it just stuck. Through the years, "honey," "dear," and "sweetie" never caught on. Husband and Wifee are our terms of endearment if you will.
Today, I just want to bring to light how amazing that husband of mine truly is (and not because he is suffering in bed following a vasectomy, although that does make me feel a bit bad and also a bit liberated too). I meant to blog about him on Father's Day, but life got in the way. Better late than never, right?
Here are 5 reasons why I still can't get enough of him:
1. He has amazing people skills. He can have rich conversations with almost anyone, of any walk of life. I am often astonished at how much he can talk to a total stranger. I have learned it has a lot to do with his wealth of knowledge. He knows so much about so much. He can find a common thread with anyone he meets.
2. He is the opposite of lazy. He always has a project to work on and another lined up when he finishes the first. He works hard at work and then comes home and works hard at home. That is a very admirable quality I hope he passes on to our daughters.
3. He can do manly things. A pretty stereotypical reason for loving a man, but it's true. He can do much more than build fires, change tires and kill spiders. He can work on cars, change our oil, fix a leaky faucet, install an entire sprinkler system in our yard or build an addition on our house if necessary. Among his many talents, he has an amazing furniture making ability and has crafted beautiful beds, lamps and tables for our family. His skills are endless, and he is a quick study too. If he does not know how to do something, he will read books or find someone to teach him the lacking skill. This has probably saved our family tens of thousands of dollars over the years.
4. He rolls with the punches. He doesn't stress over the little things or become easily frustrated. He is very laid back and mostly always calm. One of the most admirable things about him is to watch how he deals with having Diabetes. From an outsider’s perspective, the disease sucks. But you would never know he even had it unless you watched him give himself a shot. He never wines or complains about it. Ever. He doesn't use it as an excuse or ask for pity because of it. He just chalks it up to a way of life and carries on.
5. He loves his family. He is amazing with Cora and Claire, and has been a hands on dad since the second they were born. He gives baths, reads stories, changes diapers, makes lunches and spends endless hours playing with them. They will never have to questions whether their daddy loves them or not. He shows it every day. (Oh and he loves me too. Quirks and all.)
There are so many more reasons, but for time’s sake, I will just give you 5. I’ll end with a few pictures from Father’s Day. The first is of his cards. The second is of his present (which, if you remember my blog from a while back, is more of a present to me. A friend of mine found the $150 frame I was in love with on sale for $30, so I happily snatched it up!).
Oh how I love this frame! And I love that I have a husband who will appreciate a gift given to him that is actually for me :)
He calls me wifeee. In the beginning, all those years ago, between the Ramen and the student loans, I think it was a way of reminding us how awesome it was to finally be married. But it just stuck. Through the years, "honey," "dear," and "sweetie" never caught on. Husband and Wifee are our terms of endearment if you will.
Today, I just want to bring to light how amazing that husband of mine truly is (and not because he is suffering in bed following a vasectomy, although that does make me feel a bit bad and also a bit liberated too). I meant to blog about him on Father's Day, but life got in the way. Better late than never, right?
Here are 5 reasons why I still can't get enough of him:
1. He has amazing people skills. He can have rich conversations with almost anyone, of any walk of life. I am often astonished at how much he can talk to a total stranger. I have learned it has a lot to do with his wealth of knowledge. He knows so much about so much. He can find a common thread with anyone he meets.
2. He is the opposite of lazy. He always has a project to work on and another lined up when he finishes the first. He works hard at work and then comes home and works hard at home. That is a very admirable quality I hope he passes on to our daughters.
3. He can do manly things. A pretty stereotypical reason for loving a man, but it's true. He can do much more than build fires, change tires and kill spiders. He can work on cars, change our oil, fix a leaky faucet, install an entire sprinkler system in our yard or build an addition on our house if necessary. Among his many talents, he has an amazing furniture making ability and has crafted beautiful beds, lamps and tables for our family. His skills are endless, and he is a quick study too. If he does not know how to do something, he will read books or find someone to teach him the lacking skill. This has probably saved our family tens of thousands of dollars over the years.
4. He rolls with the punches. He doesn't stress over the little things or become easily frustrated. He is very laid back and mostly always calm. One of the most admirable things about him is to watch how he deals with having Diabetes. From an outsider’s perspective, the disease sucks. But you would never know he even had it unless you watched him give himself a shot. He never wines or complains about it. Ever. He doesn't use it as an excuse or ask for pity because of it. He just chalks it up to a way of life and carries on.
5. He loves his family. He is amazing with Cora and Claire, and has been a hands on dad since the second they were born. He gives baths, reads stories, changes diapers, makes lunches and spends endless hours playing with them. They will never have to questions whether their daddy loves them or not. He shows it every day. (Oh and he loves me too. Quirks and all.)
There are so many more reasons, but for time’s sake, I will just give you 5. I’ll end with a few pictures from Father’s Day. The first is of his cards. The second is of his present (which, if you remember my blog from a while back, is more of a present to me. A friend of mine found the $150 frame I was in love with on sale for $30, so I happily snatched it up!).
Oh how I love this frame! And I love that I have a husband who will appreciate a gift given to him that is actually for me :)
July 17, 2008
"I'm a photo lady."
We bought Cora a digital camera for her 4th birthday. She has taken like 800 pictures with it so far! Many do not turn out because the camera isn't the greatest (although for $40, it is worth every penny) and she is always moving while snapping. I had been meaning to post a few of my favorite shots but I kept forgetting. Then a friend of mine posted a blog about her daughter stealing her camera (a much nicer camera!) and she posted a few of her shots. It reminded me I should get on the ball and post some of Cora's.
So here is the budding photographer's new camera and best work. Not too shabby in my opinion.
Her first picture ever taken. This was before we changed the resolution settings, so it is a little grainy. It is probably a good thing it is not very clear because if it was you would see my amazing parenting skills first hand. Claire is juggling not one but two bowls of Cheetos while she watches TV! You have every right to be judging me right now!
I think this picture is so funny. Not sure why, it just makes me laugh when I see it.
Cora says she likes my "sunny face" in this one.
Cora always screams at Claire, "I said 'say cheese' so you have to smile!"
She is obsessed with taking pictures of our TV and of her shadow. She seriously has around 50 pictures of each!
As you can tell, Claire is thrilled to be Cora's subject.
Cora snapped this seconds before the girls woke Mark up from what he had hoped would be a nice long nap.
This is Cora's favorite picture. She says she likes it because "it is so nice of my Daddy's head."
And this is my favorite shot. Please ignore the butt shot (a Panoramic lens was definitely needed). The reason I love this picture so much is because Cora took it while I was pulling the girls in the bike trailer. I didn't even realize she had her camera or that she was taking pictures. I just love the way all the pictures she took turned out through the screen.
Anyway, so there you have it. The next Ansel Adams. Or maybe Ansel's crazy cousin who would have been great had she not spent nearly every shot documenting every angle of the family TV!!
So here is the budding photographer's new camera and best work. Not too shabby in my opinion.
Her first picture ever taken. This was before we changed the resolution settings, so it is a little grainy. It is probably a good thing it is not very clear because if it was you would see my amazing parenting skills first hand. Claire is juggling not one but two bowls of Cheetos while she watches TV! You have every right to be judging me right now!
I think this picture is so funny. Not sure why, it just makes me laugh when I see it.
Cora says she likes my "sunny face" in this one.
Cora always screams at Claire, "I said 'say cheese' so you have to smile!"
She is obsessed with taking pictures of our TV and of her shadow. She seriously has around 50 pictures of each!
As you can tell, Claire is thrilled to be Cora's subject.
Cora snapped this seconds before the girls woke Mark up from what he had hoped would be a nice long nap.
This is Cora's favorite picture. She says she likes it because "it is so nice of my Daddy's head."
And this is my favorite shot. Please ignore the butt shot (a Panoramic lens was definitely needed). The reason I love this picture so much is because Cora took it while I was pulling the girls in the bike trailer. I didn't even realize she had her camera or that she was taking pictures. I just love the way all the pictures she took turned out through the screen.Anyway, so there you have it. The next Ansel Adams. Or maybe Ansel's crazy cousin who would have been great had she not spent nearly every shot documenting every angle of the family TV!!
July 15, 2008
Never a dull moment!
Lately, Cora and Claire have been cracking me up. Claire mostly because she never stops getting into trouble. I am now convinced she can't avoid it. It seeks her out. I have no other explanation for how a not-quite-2-year-old can possibly be so naughty on her own. I can do nothing but laugh now. If I got angry or frustrated with every new disaster, I would be in a foul mood 24/7. All I have to do is turn my back and something is destroyed, eaten, mangled or spilled. Here are a few "incidents" from a day last week when I regretfully decided to take a shower.
Yes, those are Claire bite marks. From the remnants it seems she enjoys the lemon and orange "flavors."
Caught her red, er, blue-handed.
Cora told me that Claire decided to "organize" the desk. I made the mistake of leaving my cereal bowl on the counter, which was then transferred to the office and shared with the now "organized" desk contents. (Do you see how dangerously close the milk came to destroying my precious Twilight books? Oh the wrath if that would have occurred!!)
Now on to Cora. She has been quite hilarious lately as well, but in a much less disastrous manner. For instance, yesterday I was sitting on the back porch watching the girls play and attempting to enjoy my lunch in peace. Cora pulled a chair up beside me, crossed her legs and said, "Let's talk." When I asked what she would like to talk about, she recrossed her legs and gave me what I can only assume is the shrink stare down before saying, "Tell me a little about yourself." Where does she come up with this stuff?
Then later that afternoon she came up to me so excited and said, "Mom, this is amazing. I was looking in the drawer for a pencil and right there beside the black thing (drawer organizer) and to the side of it I found the most amazing thing. You would not believe it. It is a pair of scissors for ants."
Below you will see the "ant" scissors, aka sewing kit scissors.
I'm not sure why I even go to the gym because I am fairly certain I burn enough calories just laughing at my crazy children!
Yes, those are Claire bite marks. From the remnants it seems she enjoys the lemon and orange "flavors."
Caught her red, er, blue-handed.
Cora told me that Claire decided to "organize" the desk. I made the mistake of leaving my cereal bowl on the counter, which was then transferred to the office and shared with the now "organized" desk contents. (Do you see how dangerously close the milk came to destroying my precious Twilight books? Oh the wrath if that would have occurred!!)Now on to Cora. She has been quite hilarious lately as well, but in a much less disastrous manner. For instance, yesterday I was sitting on the back porch watching the girls play and attempting to enjoy my lunch in peace. Cora pulled a chair up beside me, crossed her legs and said, "Let's talk." When I asked what she would like to talk about, she recrossed her legs and gave me what I can only assume is the shrink stare down before saying, "Tell me a little about yourself." Where does she come up with this stuff?
Then later that afternoon she came up to me so excited and said, "Mom, this is amazing. I was looking in the drawer for a pencil and right there beside the black thing (drawer organizer) and to the side of it I found the most amazing thing. You would not believe it. It is a pair of scissors for ants."
Below you will see the "ant" scissors, aka sewing kit scissors.
I'm not sure why I even go to the gym because I am fairly certain I burn enough calories just laughing at my crazy children!
July 12, 2008
An apple a day....
I was at the gym this morning when a friend of mine told me about the death of a mutual friend of ours. Although it has been years since I have spoken to her, the events surrounding her death took my breath away. She was my age and quite healthy. She died of a heart attack. Heart problems run in her family, but she had always been the healthy exception. I was stunned. She leaves behind 2 young children and a heart broken husband.
My mind was racing as I left the gym. I know my chances of having a heart attack at my age are much less than being killed in a car accident, but it still made me evaluate my habits. Am I doing everything in my power to keep myself healthy? Am I taking care of me so that I will be around to take care of my family? I believe I owe it to them.
I have never looked at it from that perspective before. Living an active, healthy lifestyle has always been about me. I have a love affair with food, but I also love to work out. I thought the balance of the two was sufficient. What I failed to take into consideration was that I am setting an example for my children with every meal I consume. When I opt for the chocolate chip cookie instead of the apple, my daughters notice. When I, out of sheer laziness, hit the drive through instead of making them lunch for the 3rd time in one week, I am short changing them.
Don't get me wrong, I am not saying I'm going to swear off ice cream and candy (I think that would cause me to sink into a permanent depression). I am just realizing how much of a responsibility I have to not only keep myself healthy, but to pass on a healthy lifestyle to my children. I want them to grow up strong and active, and it falls on us as parents to teach them how to achieve that.
I have also recently noticed how eating habits change behaviors. I'm sure you think I am talking about the direct correlation between a bratty, wild child and a sugar overdose, but I am actually referring to myself. Since I have started teaching classes at the gym and made small changes to my diet, I have had so much more energy. This translates into a cleaner house, more home cooked meals and a desire to play with my kids more. It is just the opposite of what seems to make sense to me. Exert more energy: have more energy?
Bottom line is this: I love how I feel when I am making healthy choices (with allowed splurges for sanity purposes!) and I want my kids to experience that as well. I am going to try to be more conscious of the example I am setting for them and of the habits I bring into my home. Because life takes unexpected turns and my plan to live to be 100 may not play out, I want to take the time I do have and not only live a healthy life, but share that healthy life with my family.
My mind was racing as I left the gym. I know my chances of having a heart attack at my age are much less than being killed in a car accident, but it still made me evaluate my habits. Am I doing everything in my power to keep myself healthy? Am I taking care of me so that I will be around to take care of my family? I believe I owe it to them.
I have never looked at it from that perspective before. Living an active, healthy lifestyle has always been about me. I have a love affair with food, but I also love to work out. I thought the balance of the two was sufficient. What I failed to take into consideration was that I am setting an example for my children with every meal I consume. When I opt for the chocolate chip cookie instead of the apple, my daughters notice. When I, out of sheer laziness, hit the drive through instead of making them lunch for the 3rd time in one week, I am short changing them.
Don't get me wrong, I am not saying I'm going to swear off ice cream and candy (I think that would cause me to sink into a permanent depression). I am just realizing how much of a responsibility I have to not only keep myself healthy, but to pass on a healthy lifestyle to my children. I want them to grow up strong and active, and it falls on us as parents to teach them how to achieve that.
I have also recently noticed how eating habits change behaviors. I'm sure you think I am talking about the direct correlation between a bratty, wild child and a sugar overdose, but I am actually referring to myself. Since I have started teaching classes at the gym and made small changes to my diet, I have had so much more energy. This translates into a cleaner house, more home cooked meals and a desire to play with my kids more. It is just the opposite of what seems to make sense to me. Exert more energy: have more energy?
Bottom line is this: I love how I feel when I am making healthy choices (with allowed splurges for sanity purposes!) and I want my kids to experience that as well. I am going to try to be more conscious of the example I am setting for them and of the habits I bring into my home. Because life takes unexpected turns and my plan to live to be 100 may not play out, I want to take the time I do have and not only live a healthy life, but share that healthy life with my family.
July 08, 2008
A picture is worth a thousand words
Good thing, because I don't have time to tell them. It has been a crazy week/weekend and I feel like I still haven't caught my breath. All of my immediate family gathered for the holiday weekend. That meant trips to and from the airport, extra bodies under our roof, missed naps, hordes of unnecessary (but delicious) calories consumed, a lot of sun, many BBQs, a trip to the theater to see a smart and well written movie (WALL-E), a few fireworks, a nice afternoon by the pool, hours of Wii game play, a few games of volleyball (if you could call it that) and plenty of good times. Here are a few pictures of the events. Most of the pictures were uploaded to my mom's computer and so I'll have a few more to post later, But for now:
(After actually looking through the pictures I have, I realized that I only have 4 decent shots. Needless to say I will have to post again when I get the rest)
Right before a nice sister kiss!
Their 4th of July outfits (they were only clean for about 10 minutes!)
Desi and Cora playing the Wii.
Sara, Desi and Cora waiting for the fireworks to begin. We were parked at the top of a parking garage downtown and had a perfect view!
(After actually looking through the pictures I have, I realized that I only have 4 decent shots. Needless to say I will have to post again when I get the rest)
Right before a nice sister kiss!
Their 4th of July outfits (they were only clean for about 10 minutes!)
Desi and Cora playing the Wii.
Sara, Desi and Cora waiting for the fireworks to begin. We were parked at the top of a parking garage downtown and had a perfect view!
July 02, 2008
If I Could Write A Letter To Me....
Tomorrow I enter the last year of my twenties. It is very strange to be knocking at 30's door. Aging doesn't feel like I thought it would. I feel the same physically as I did when I was 20, but my mental state was much sharper back then.
I suppose that was my biggest misconception regarding aging. In the space of 9 months, having/carrying a baby (or two) changes your body and your mental capacity as much as the natural aging process would in 10 years (not a scientific fact by any means, just personal experience). I was always sure, with a grueling exercise and diet regimen, I would be able to whip my post-baby body back to my pre-baby body. Nicole Ritchie and Jennifer Lopez are capable of it, why not me?
Besides the obvious lack of a personal chef, fitness consultant and multiple live-in nannies, I realize now (after 4 years of unrealistic expectations) that just as my life has been permanently changed by the addition of my beautiful children, my body has permanently changed while growing said babies. Endless hours on the treadmill and gallons of skim milk will not change the expanded hips, the cluster of stretch marks (Cora so loving refers to as "mommy's worms"), the ski-slope boobs or the 6 inch scar that allowed my daughters passage into this world. It may not be the body that society, the media and my trusty US Weekly leads women to believe they can attain, but it is the body of a healthy, hardworking mother. It is an un-airbrushed version of a real woman and I am grateful for the opportunity to travel the world in it, as imperfect as it may be.
And speaking of imperfections, my last 29 years have been riddled with them. I have tried and failed many times and adjusted my life's course accordingly. I never anticipated I would be a frazzled stay at home mom. I had much higher expectations for myself. Working mothers with outstanding careers were my heroes growing up and I wanted to emulate them. I felt there was no prestige in staying home and shuttered at the thought. I realize I am essentially bashing my current profession (and it certainly is a profession), but at the time I could not comprehend the love I would have for my daughters or how that love would shift my priorities so completely.
I found a letter written from me at 16 to me at 30. I ignored the stern warnings that "UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO OPEN THIS UNTIL JULY 3, 2009!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (I actually included the exact number of exclamations marks so you too could feel the wrath of disobeying those instructions), and tore the envelope open (because seriously, it is not like 16-year-old me is around anymore to kick my butt). The letter was long and often hilarious. Although I was naive about so much, me at 16 had some pretty mature advice. I will not bore you with the letter in its entirety, but I want to share one quote that struck me as an amazing bit of advice coming from a rebellious teenager. It said, "We (I am assuming me at 16 was referring to 'we' as a joint effort by both of us and that she did not in fact have a mouse in her pocket) may have plans and goals and dreams that get shattered along the way and we may not always know the right path. But just remember that if we always put one foot in front of the other we will progress. And most importantly remember that it is not what you do that is important, but who you are."
After mentally lecturing the adults in my life at the time for not giving me enough credit for my obvious insightfulness (pretty sure I made that word up) at 16, I reread that quote over and over. Either I was a psychic 16-year-old, or I have not changed that much in 13 years, regardless those words were the exact words I needed to hear. I may feel I am wasting my days away scrubbing dishes, changing diapers, kissing ouchies, and you may be conducting business meetings all day as the CEO of a prestigious company or on the verge of creating a cure for cancer. It makes no difference. I am not perfect, far from it actually. But, I have lived my life so that my children can look to me as an example. I have loved my husband in a way that has allowed my daughters to be surrounded by a healthy marriage. I have been a volunteer and a friend and a teacher. I may look in the mirror at my pony-tailed hair and my dirty t-shirt and long for my business suit days, but regardless of what I am wearing, I am proud of the person looking back at me. And when you look in the mirror, you should be too.
I suppose that was my biggest misconception regarding aging. In the space of 9 months, having/carrying a baby (or two) changes your body and your mental capacity as much as the natural aging process would in 10 years (not a scientific fact by any means, just personal experience). I was always sure, with a grueling exercise and diet regimen, I would be able to whip my post-baby body back to my pre-baby body. Nicole Ritchie and Jennifer Lopez are capable of it, why not me?
Besides the obvious lack of a personal chef, fitness consultant and multiple live-in nannies, I realize now (after 4 years of unrealistic expectations) that just as my life has been permanently changed by the addition of my beautiful children, my body has permanently changed while growing said babies. Endless hours on the treadmill and gallons of skim milk will not change the expanded hips, the cluster of stretch marks (Cora so loving refers to as "mommy's worms"), the ski-slope boobs or the 6 inch scar that allowed my daughters passage into this world. It may not be the body that society, the media and my trusty US Weekly leads women to believe they can attain, but it is the body of a healthy, hardworking mother. It is an un-airbrushed version of a real woman and I am grateful for the opportunity to travel the world in it, as imperfect as it may be.
And speaking of imperfections, my last 29 years have been riddled with them. I have tried and failed many times and adjusted my life's course accordingly. I never anticipated I would be a frazzled stay at home mom. I had much higher expectations for myself. Working mothers with outstanding careers were my heroes growing up and I wanted to emulate them. I felt there was no prestige in staying home and shuttered at the thought. I realize I am essentially bashing my current profession (and it certainly is a profession), but at the time I could not comprehend the love I would have for my daughters or how that love would shift my priorities so completely.
I found a letter written from me at 16 to me at 30. I ignored the stern warnings that "UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES ARE YOU TO OPEN THIS UNTIL JULY 3, 2009!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (I actually included the exact number of exclamations marks so you too could feel the wrath of disobeying those instructions), and tore the envelope open (because seriously, it is not like 16-year-old me is around anymore to kick my butt). The letter was long and often hilarious. Although I was naive about so much, me at 16 had some pretty mature advice. I will not bore you with the letter in its entirety, but I want to share one quote that struck me as an amazing bit of advice coming from a rebellious teenager. It said, "We (I am assuming me at 16 was referring to 'we' as a joint effort by both of us and that she did not in fact have a mouse in her pocket) may have plans and goals and dreams that get shattered along the way and we may not always know the right path. But just remember that if we always put one foot in front of the other we will progress. And most importantly remember that it is not what you do that is important, but who you are."
After mentally lecturing the adults in my life at the time for not giving me enough credit for my obvious insightfulness (pretty sure I made that word up) at 16, I reread that quote over and over. Either I was a psychic 16-year-old, or I have not changed that much in 13 years, regardless those words were the exact words I needed to hear. I may feel I am wasting my days away scrubbing dishes, changing diapers, kissing ouchies, and you may be conducting business meetings all day as the CEO of a prestigious company or on the verge of creating a cure for cancer. It makes no difference. I am not perfect, far from it actually. But, I have lived my life so that my children can look to me as an example. I have loved my husband in a way that has allowed my daughters to be surrounded by a healthy marriage. I have been a volunteer and a friend and a teacher. I may look in the mirror at my pony-tailed hair and my dirty t-shirt and long for my business suit days, but regardless of what I am wearing, I am proud of the person looking back at me. And when you look in the mirror, you should be too.
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