I was saving this ad from Nutri-System that I got in a Valu-Pak coupon mailer I received. I wanted to scan in the ad and then talk about it here because the picture on it was so funny. The brunette chick was in a green bikini (clearly trying to cause confusion with the Jenny Craig/Valerie aqua bikini) and she was sort of laying down almost, propped on her elbows. They, of course, show this "unflattering" BEFORE picture of her basically PUSHING OUT her stomach and she is wearing a tank top that is a tad small. Frankly, she wasn't to heiffery to begin with. Moving along...
I noticed that anyone in that position looks pretty good. Gravity is pulling all that yummy flabby stuff elsewhere and the boobs still have cleavage. I need to incorporate this no gravity position into my life some more. I don't think I'd look all Gabrielle Reece in that position but it certainly would be more flattering than some other negative gravity situations (standing up, sitting down, breathing, etc.) On the other hand, how could I incorporate that position into a networking event? Ah, that is neither here nor there.
Having said that, the chick looked uncomfortable and honestly, I think she looked the same as her BEFORE picture because who looks good with their stomach all bulged out and wearing a tank that is 12 sizes too small. Before and After shots should be in the same position with the same clothes.
Anyway, all this blabbing brings me to this. I was saving the damn ad to share here on my great blog and tonight I was shoving a Skinny Cow Mint Ice Cream Sandwich in my fat face (because I had WW points to spare) and absent-mindedly put it down on anti-gravity, Nutri-System model so I could try Julio's yummy (low cal) mango sorbet. Now Pseudo-Valerie has Skinny Cow Chocolate Sandwich all over her and can't be scanned.
This is why I won't be a successful blogger, or a successful dieter for that matter.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I Can Work
Yes, the plague has made another appearance. Yesterday, I was sick. I worked as much as I could handle but I am totally sick again. My life in a petri dish continues. Yesterday, I actually drove all the way to my Daddy's office and asked him to cure me. He drew blood, made me pee in a cup (MUCH easier when you aren't pregnant! WOW! Who knew?), and gave me Zithromax. Oh, Zmax. You and me, we've become such good friends. Zmax, the wonderful folks at the local CVS, and me - Peas in a Pod.
Like an IDIOT, I went to EB yesterday trying to pretend I wasn't sick. Trying to pretend that EB would make me stronger. I would sweat that virus/bacteria right out. I even (while driving) told myself that meningitis-like headache was only because I was sleepy. I convinced myself that the body aches were from doing various animal crawls on Friday. All crap - the things that fat will motivate me to do. I came home and felt like dying...again. WHEN WILL THIS STOP? I am fanatical with my Purell and my hand washing. I hold my breath for unusual lengths of time to get around a fresh cough from a sickie kid who hasn't yet learned to cover his/her mouth. WHY O WHY THE PLAGUE? And I didn't even get to puke this time, so no significant weight loss is in store for me. Sigh.
Today, I am working. The body aches are less achy. The headache has toned down to be less awful. I am so behind in work it's not even funny. J is giving me the "why aren't you billing" look? I am giving him the "why don't you drive back and forth to the pharmacy, the pediatrician, mail, bank, networking, dealing with nonsense" look. It has been special here. Fun times. April has passed in a POOF. POOF gone. April. Bu bye. I have to send out my sad bills in a few days and I will have to come to grips with my shitty billable hours.
Meanwhile, at least I have the freedom to have shitty billable hours and not get laid off. I have the ability to put my family first for a month while the shit hits the fan. That is sort of nice. Most of my friends at big firms got pay cuts this month. Yes, to some seething folks out there, it is not really sad when someone makes 225k instead of 250k a year. And yes, it's not horrible. But, it still sucks. Lawyers have loans too, lawyers have mortgages too, lawyers have kids and commitments. They make commitments thinking they have X salary and then when they have X-10% it may suck. Also, one of my friends got laid off - top 5% of our class, top guy, top firm. Laid off.
Oh, I am so glad that I got laid off years ago and I made this decision to start this practice. It put me here now. I can be the master of my own paycheck. The only person I disappoint is my husband, J, but technically I am his boss ;) I am managing partner, I am hiring partner. So if he doesn't like it he can complain to his boss, ME, and I can tell him where to shove it. Yeah, right? No, but seriously, it is good to be here now. Sick for most of the month with shitty billables and not biting my nails because I could be laid off.
Instead, I can bite my nails about being sick and pediatricians and my Mom and my Aunt and EB and other things but NOT being laid off. I can work. Lucky me. Seriously.
Like an IDIOT, I went to EB yesterday trying to pretend I wasn't sick. Trying to pretend that EB would make me stronger. I would sweat that virus/bacteria right out. I even (while driving) told myself that meningitis-like headache was only because I was sleepy. I convinced myself that the body aches were from doing various animal crawls on Friday. All crap - the things that fat will motivate me to do. I came home and felt like dying...again. WHEN WILL THIS STOP? I am fanatical with my Purell and my hand washing. I hold my breath for unusual lengths of time to get around a fresh cough from a sickie kid who hasn't yet learned to cover his/her mouth. WHY O WHY THE PLAGUE? And I didn't even get to puke this time, so no significant weight loss is in store for me. Sigh.
Today, I am working. The body aches are less achy. The headache has toned down to be less awful. I am so behind in work it's not even funny. J is giving me the "why aren't you billing" look? I am giving him the "why don't you drive back and forth to the pharmacy, the pediatrician, mail, bank, networking, dealing with nonsense" look. It has been special here. Fun times. April has passed in a POOF. POOF gone. April. Bu bye. I have to send out my sad bills in a few days and I will have to come to grips with my shitty billable hours.
Meanwhile, at least I have the freedom to have shitty billable hours and not get laid off. I have the ability to put my family first for a month while the shit hits the fan. That is sort of nice. Most of my friends at big firms got pay cuts this month. Yes, to some seething folks out there, it is not really sad when someone makes 225k instead of 250k a year. And yes, it's not horrible. But, it still sucks. Lawyers have loans too, lawyers have mortgages too, lawyers have kids and commitments. They make commitments thinking they have X salary and then when they have X-10% it may suck. Also, one of my friends got laid off - top 5% of our class, top guy, top firm. Laid off.
Oh, I am so glad that I got laid off years ago and I made this decision to start this practice. It put me here now. I can be the master of my own paycheck. The only person I disappoint is my husband, J, but technically I am his boss ;) I am managing partner, I am hiring partner. So if he doesn't like it he can complain to his boss, ME, and I can tell him where to shove it. Yeah, right? No, but seriously, it is good to be here now. Sick for most of the month with shitty billables and not biting my nails because I could be laid off.
Instead, I can bite my nails about being sick and pediatricians and my Mom and my Aunt and EB and other things but NOT being laid off. I can work. Lucky me. Seriously.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thank you, God.
On Thanksgiving Day 2006, a little less than 2 months after my son Lulo was born, we were driving home from my parents' house to our house around 8 p.m. I had Lulo in one car, he was sleeping. J was driving a few cars ahead of me. I could no longer really spot his car but I knew he was ahead of me.
As is common in California, the traffic slowed and there were sudden red break lights. Immediately, I said to myself. "Oh, please God don't let that be Julio in an accident."
Five seconds later, I saw his car smashed against the center divider of the freeway. Cars avoiding his. Cars crashed around him.
I started to pull over to the right shoulder. Gasping for air. Grabbing my phone, I called him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voice mail. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. J says, "Hello? I can't find my glasses." He was fine.
Those 60 seconds were the worse, slowest most horrible in my whole life. Until, this Monday.
On Monday, I was working. It was 2:45 and my phone rang. It was my Dad. He sounded not good. His words were catching on his heart. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. My thoughts shot to my aunt in the hospital.
I said, "what's wrong?"
He said, "They just called me from an ambulance. Your Mom has been in accident. I don't know anything. I am leaving the hospital now and going to the hospital they are taking her to."
I sat. Frozen. Do I go? Do I stay? What is happening? I sobbed.
What was I staying for? I would need to be there no matter what. Even if she was fine. Even if it was a fender bender. IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN A FENDER BENDER. SHE IS IN AN AMBULANCE. SHE ISN'T TALKING TO MY DAD. THE PARAMEDICS ARE TALKING TO MY DAD.
Oh, I still have chills. My hair is still up.
I called my brother. Sobbing. We get off the phone. I call him back and tell him I am heading down. Neither of us can even think. We are irrational. We both leave work. We both go straight there.
The fear. That drive. Waiting for my Dad to call me and tell me everything was fine. NOTHING. NOTHING. The phone wouldn't ring. My brother and I talked the whole way. We are in shock. Horrified. So scared. I cry on and off. Wanting to speed but trying not to. I am sick still with that feeling of "if anything happened to her, I will die." He got there first. I made him promise to call me in 10 minutes. But 11 minutes pass. 12 minutes pass.
He calls to tell me that he has seen her. She looks terrible. Disoriented. Nothing broken. They are taking her in for a CAT Scan. He hasn't seen my Dad yet.
I get there and see my Dad first. He looks awful. But he tells me she is fine. He is in shock. So scared. Never seen him so scared. Vitals are good. Xrays show no broken bones. She is just scared and banged up, really banged up. Waiting for CAT Scan. Nothing there. Thank God.
Car is dead. She isn't. I love my Mom. I am so glad she is just bruised and hurting everywhere. There are still tears. So many. When I even think for one moment that she maybe wouldn't be here right now. That she maybe was not going to be able to kiss Lulo who adores her and asks about her every day...I cry all over again.
Thank you God for my Mama. My awesome mother, a special grandmother. That hour was the most excruciating wait I have ever had. It was worth every damn second for my beautiful mother still here, in one piece, ok. Thank you, God.
As is common in California, the traffic slowed and there were sudden red break lights. Immediately, I said to myself. "Oh, please God don't let that be Julio in an accident."
Five seconds later, I saw his car smashed against the center divider of the freeway. Cars avoiding his. Cars crashed around him.
I started to pull over to the right shoulder. Gasping for air. Grabbing my phone, I called him. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Voice mail. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. J says, "Hello? I can't find my glasses." He was fine.
Those 60 seconds were the worse, slowest most horrible in my whole life. Until, this Monday.
On Monday, I was working. It was 2:45 and my phone rang. It was my Dad. He sounded not good. His words were catching on his heart. I knew immediately something was terribly wrong. My thoughts shot to my aunt in the hospital.
I said, "what's wrong?"
He said, "They just called me from an ambulance. Your Mom has been in accident. I don't know anything. I am leaving the hospital now and going to the hospital they are taking her to."
I sat. Frozen. Do I go? Do I stay? What is happening? I sobbed.
What was I staying for? I would need to be there no matter what. Even if she was fine. Even if it was a fender bender. IT COULDN'T HAVE BEEN A FENDER BENDER. SHE IS IN AN AMBULANCE. SHE ISN'T TALKING TO MY DAD. THE PARAMEDICS ARE TALKING TO MY DAD.
Oh, I still have chills. My hair is still up.
I called my brother. Sobbing. We get off the phone. I call him back and tell him I am heading down. Neither of us can even think. We are irrational. We both leave work. We both go straight there.
The fear. That drive. Waiting for my Dad to call me and tell me everything was fine. NOTHING. NOTHING. The phone wouldn't ring. My brother and I talked the whole way. We are in shock. Horrified. So scared. I cry on and off. Wanting to speed but trying not to. I am sick still with that feeling of "if anything happened to her, I will die." He got there first. I made him promise to call me in 10 minutes. But 11 minutes pass. 12 minutes pass.
He calls to tell me that he has seen her. She looks terrible. Disoriented. Nothing broken. They are taking her in for a CAT Scan. He hasn't seen my Dad yet.
I get there and see my Dad first. He looks awful. But he tells me she is fine. He is in shock. So scared. Never seen him so scared. Vitals are good. Xrays show no broken bones. She is just scared and banged up, really banged up. Waiting for CAT Scan. Nothing there. Thank God.
Car is dead. She isn't. I love my Mom. I am so glad she is just bruised and hurting everywhere. There are still tears. So many. When I even think for one moment that she maybe wouldn't be here right now. That she maybe was not going to be able to kiss Lulo who adores her and asks about her every day...I cry all over again.
Thank you God for my Mama. My awesome mother, a special grandmother. That hour was the most excruciating wait I have ever had. It was worth every damn second for my beautiful mother still here, in one piece, ok. Thank you, God.
You can take that Vaporizer and Stick it in Your...
My Jojo had been progressively getting sicker and sicker since last Thursday. He had this watery eye thing happening that I dismissed as allergies or maybe he was catching Lulo's special pinkeye from last week. He had a runny nose, that I dismissed as allergies. The sniffles in this house are NO BIG DEAL. It's like a poopy diaper. It happens. He has had the sniffles on and off for a month. Dr. Sears says that means the kid probably has allergies. OK.
Anyhow, no fever, no panic here.
I'd like to say this kind of attitude comes from having three kids and being a well worn Mom. That is a crock. I totally worry the whole time. The reason I have this attitude is because I would rather get dental work done than go to the damn pediatrician's office. It is not because I do not like the kids' pediatricians. In fact, I REALLY like them. But they are in a practice so on a sick visit you typically end up seeing one of the other winners at the practice. OK, that is fine. They can likely quickly diagnose a runny nose. However, all I have heard now for the better part of 3 years is something along the lines of:
"Oh, if they don't have a fever it is not recommended to give them any kind of antihistamine. You should use a vaporizer and come back in a week to ten days if you don't see improvement."
So, I pay a co-pay and wait in their petri dish of a waiting room for upwards of an hour to get a prescription of a VAPORIZER.
And this is what I have to say about that: FUCK THAT! So effing tired of the VAPORIZER I want to effing scream. I want to pummel. I want to rant and rave. I HAVE USED THE VAPORIZER EVERY SINGLE TIME ONE OF MY KIDS WAS SICK. And you know what? It doesn't do shit or shinola. It makes my walls wet. Yep. That's it. And the only reason I use it is so I can tell the damn docs (with a straight face) that I tried that already.
I have a big problem with doctors and how little they do for sick kids. They don't recommend anything anymore. Saline spray doesn't make my kid feel better. I squirt, I suck, they cry. Nothing.
You know what makes kids feel better: MEDICINE. I am all for the old school docs like my Dad who prescribe some heavy stuff to kids so that they'll feel better. I am all for the days of prescribing antibiotics a bit more freely so that if IT IS INDEED BACTERIAL the kid will get better. Let's not let the kids be really sick for 2 weeks thinking it MIGHT BE VIRAL. My Dad would give us antibiotics like it was water. I am fine. I can take TONS OF THEM and still feel better. I haven't built up any kind of resistance to them. And you know what, I know about the super powers of these mutant bacteria. I am not saying drug the kids up every five minutes...BUT I WANT SOLUTIONS fast. If I have one sick kid, I usually have 3. Fix it. Make it normal again.
Don't make me go on the internet and find the proper dosage of Benadryl. Just tell me DOCTORS. I won't sue you if my kid felt better. Damn. I know they won't get better any faster BUT THEY FEEL BETTER. LESS AWFUL. Don't adults take something when they feel poopy even though they don't get better any faster? Yes, I get that there are some special people in the world who say things like "if one teaspoon works, then 3 will work better" or "maybe a little bit of this will knock you out for a few hours so I can go clubbing". Yeah, that's not ME!
And this brings me to my next point, I love my Daddy. For some stupid reason, I resist asking my Daddy for medical stuff for my kids because he is so old school, but any time he has advised me, he has been right, my kids haven't died, and they have felt better within 24 hours. The last time Lulo was sick, I skipped going to the Vaporizer Stockholders Committee and asked my Dad what he should take. My Dad had seen Lulo the day before. Lulo was better in 24 hours.
When I went to the substitute pediatrician yesterday, I was giving her the history of Jujo's ailment and she interrupted to go do something else AFTER HAVING ALREADY WAITED ONE HOUR IN THE WAITING ROOM with my kid who had a 101.9 temp. Then, she ignored what I said.
Then, she didn't have her ear wax scraper which she looked for for FIVE MINUTES while I am sitting and calming a WAILING Jojo because she had peered in his ear already and determined she didn't have her ear wax scraper thingie handy.
So, as she walks in the room with a scraper I overhear her telling the nurse:
"I don't like this kind. I am not comfortable using it." She approaches my kid.
I say: "If you aren't comfortable using that, then don't stick in my kid's ear."
She says: "You seem perturbed."
Yes, I am perturbed. CAN WE MOVE ON HERE?
Anyhow, his throat is totally infected. But she prescribes him antibiotics NOT FOR THE THROAT but the potential sinus infection. The throat, she believes, is viral. She says it may linger a few days and to use a VAPORIZER and make an appointment if his fever is not down by Saturday.
Jojo felt better 3 hours after he took the antibiotic. Today, he was his old self. God bless old school antibiotics.
Anyhow, no fever, no panic here.
I'd like to say this kind of attitude comes from having three kids and being a well worn Mom. That is a crock. I totally worry the whole time. The reason I have this attitude is because I would rather get dental work done than go to the damn pediatrician's office. It is not because I do not like the kids' pediatricians. In fact, I REALLY like them. But they are in a practice so on a sick visit you typically end up seeing one of the other winners at the practice. OK, that is fine. They can likely quickly diagnose a runny nose. However, all I have heard now for the better part of 3 years is something along the lines of:
"Oh, if they don't have a fever it is not recommended to give them any kind of antihistamine. You should use a vaporizer and come back in a week to ten days if you don't see improvement."
So, I pay a co-pay and wait in their petri dish of a waiting room for upwards of an hour to get a prescription of a VAPORIZER.
And this is what I have to say about that: FUCK THAT! So effing tired of the VAPORIZER I want to effing scream. I want to pummel. I want to rant and rave. I HAVE USED THE VAPORIZER EVERY SINGLE TIME ONE OF MY KIDS WAS SICK. And you know what? It doesn't do shit or shinola. It makes my walls wet. Yep. That's it. And the only reason I use it is so I can tell the damn docs (with a straight face) that I tried that already.
I have a big problem with doctors and how little they do for sick kids. They don't recommend anything anymore. Saline spray doesn't make my kid feel better. I squirt, I suck, they cry. Nothing.
You know what makes kids feel better: MEDICINE. I am all for the old school docs like my Dad who prescribe some heavy stuff to kids so that they'll feel better. I am all for the days of prescribing antibiotics a bit more freely so that if IT IS INDEED BACTERIAL the kid will get better. Let's not let the kids be really sick for 2 weeks thinking it MIGHT BE VIRAL. My Dad would give us antibiotics like it was water. I am fine. I can take TONS OF THEM and still feel better. I haven't built up any kind of resistance to them. And you know what, I know about the super powers of these mutant bacteria. I am not saying drug the kids up every five minutes...BUT I WANT SOLUTIONS fast. If I have one sick kid, I usually have 3. Fix it. Make it normal again.
Don't make me go on the internet and find the proper dosage of Benadryl. Just tell me DOCTORS. I won't sue you if my kid felt better. Damn. I know they won't get better any faster BUT THEY FEEL BETTER. LESS AWFUL. Don't adults take something when they feel poopy even though they don't get better any faster? Yes, I get that there are some special people in the world who say things like "if one teaspoon works, then 3 will work better" or "maybe a little bit of this will knock you out for a few hours so I can go clubbing". Yeah, that's not ME!
And this brings me to my next point, I love my Daddy. For some stupid reason, I resist asking my Daddy for medical stuff for my kids because he is so old school, but any time he has advised me, he has been right, my kids haven't died, and they have felt better within 24 hours. The last time Lulo was sick, I skipped going to the Vaporizer Stockholders Committee and asked my Dad what he should take. My Dad had seen Lulo the day before. Lulo was better in 24 hours.
When I went to the substitute pediatrician yesterday, I was giving her the history of Jujo's ailment and she interrupted to go do something else AFTER HAVING ALREADY WAITED ONE HOUR IN THE WAITING ROOM with my kid who had a 101.9 temp. Then, she ignored what I said.
Then, she didn't have her ear wax scraper which she looked for for FIVE MINUTES while I am sitting and calming a WAILING Jojo because she had peered in his ear already and determined she didn't have her ear wax scraper thingie handy.
So, as she walks in the room with a scraper I overhear her telling the nurse:
"I don't like this kind. I am not comfortable using it." She approaches my kid.
I say: "If you aren't comfortable using that, then don't stick in my kid's ear."
She says: "You seem perturbed."
Yes, I am perturbed. CAN WE MOVE ON HERE?
Anyhow, his throat is totally infected. But she prescribes him antibiotics NOT FOR THE THROAT but the potential sinus infection. The throat, she believes, is viral. She says it may linger a few days and to use a VAPORIZER and make an appointment if his fever is not down by Saturday.
Jojo felt better 3 hours after he took the antibiotic. Today, he was his old self. God bless old school antibiotics.
Pants You Don't Care About
Yesterday at EB, DI-Size0 told us to wear pants we didn't spend a lot of money on to class on Friday. OK. That sounds good because I typically wear my satin Donna Karan's. Anyhow, I showed up today in the sweats that I wore when we painted our last townhouse. I wear them usually when I am sick or have no intention of leaving the house. Frankly, I was intrigued. What could they possibly do that required pants we didn't care about?
So, after the intro of calisthenics and some stretching, DI-Size0 and her bf, DI-MC, jogged us out to a soccer field (or was it a football field?) and told us to get on the floor. The grass was ALL damp. They made us do so many things on the wet grass and touching the wet grass. I distinctly remember the smell of dog pee. I had many pieces of grass and dirt and mud on me. It was ewey.
Bleck.
I just don't like being dirty. Every day after a NORMAL class I pull out a container of baby wipes and wipe my dirty hands. It would have taken a truck full of wipes to assist me today. I was dirty dirty. My clothes were all wet (and not because of the sweet sweat that typically happens).
We did many horrible things today on the wet wet grass. Inchworms. Alligator crawls. Bear crawls. Crab crawls. Push ups, crunches. Ew. I still feel itchy thinking about it.
Ew.
This EB was not for the faint of heart. It was not for the ones with an inner Howard Hughes.
I assure you, the next time DI-Size0 tells us to wear our shitty pants. I will wear them and sleep until 6:30 in my dry, comfy, warm bed.
That's just a wrong kind of dirty.
So, after the intro of calisthenics and some stretching, DI-Size0 and her bf, DI-MC, jogged us out to a soccer field (or was it a football field?) and told us to get on the floor. The grass was ALL damp. They made us do so many things on the wet grass and touching the wet grass. I distinctly remember the smell of dog pee. I had many pieces of grass and dirt and mud on me. It was ewey.
Bleck.
I just don't like being dirty. Every day after a NORMAL class I pull out a container of baby wipes and wipe my dirty hands. It would have taken a truck full of wipes to assist me today. I was dirty dirty. My clothes were all wet (and not because of the sweet sweat that typically happens).
We did many horrible things today on the wet wet grass. Inchworms. Alligator crawls. Bear crawls. Crab crawls. Push ups, crunches. Ew. I still feel itchy thinking about it.
Ew.
This EB was not for the faint of heart. It was not for the ones with an inner Howard Hughes.
I assure you, the next time DI-Size0 tells us to wear our shitty pants. I will wear them and sleep until 6:30 in my dry, comfy, warm bed.
That's just a wrong kind of dirty.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Today's Sacrifices
My dear Aunt had her kidney removed yesterday. She's been in and out of the hospital for a couple months now and they've been trying to figure out what's up. She has lupus and has been dealing with that for years. But yesterday, after a week or so of them putzing around and trying to figure out whether they needed to take out the kidney, they took it out.
Today she is fine, or I guess as fine as you can be after your kidney is removed. My Mom says she has her color back and she's feeling a lot better. She actually just wants to eat something or have a sip of water but they aren't letting her. I guess this just hit home for me today because today, our Good Friday, I wasn't eating or drinking anything as a sacrifice symbolically mirroring Christ's sacrifice for us many years ago on the cross. Of course, I knew I was going to pig out at the end of the day but today was a long day. And, honestly for me not eating or drinking after EB was a pretty big strenuous. But, it's no cross. So, it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme. It's also no big deal compared to what my Aunt is going through right now.
But, as I was eating, the typical "YUM this is so good" ravenous binge seemed to be overshadowed by - here I am pigging out and my aunt is in the hospital and they aren't letting her eat or have a sip of water. She lost her kidney. She's in a bed hooked up to IVs and dealing with hospital nonsense. It just sort of makes me sad, breaks my heart.
My family has a picnic every year (more or less) for Easter. These picnics are some of my fondest childhood memories. We had the best time. We always had been fasting and then on Easter we could eat eggs again (usually resulting in a very unfortunate experience with the runs). I learned after spending too many Easters on a beachside restroom's dirty toilet that consuming more than 1 egg was NOT a good idea. My Mom always goes nuts on Easter. So much delicious, traditional Greek food. The Easter picnic was always a special day - everyone would be there. Family and friends celebrating together. In college, my friends came and would witness the big Greek/Egyptian family first hand. The Easter traditions never have changed or wavered - fasting for 40 days (or hmmm...2 weeks), church the night before at 10 pm, Christos Anesti, keeping the candle lit on the car ride home, getting home, having a light dinner (mayeiritsa, cheese, bread, tsourekia) as a family (1/2 asleep), a breaking eggs contest. I love Easter.
My Aunt always comes. Her daughter would come. Then when her daughter had a baby and got married, her family would be there. My Aunt always makes this amazing chocolate cake with powdered sugar on top. I love me some of that cake. This year that cake won't be there and neither will she. It won't be the same. I think we'll all be thinking of her.
I think that this year won't be the bash it always is because my Aunt is a special lady who brings a lot without being obnoxious or overbearing. I have always loved and respected her because she worked so hard despite her illness. She is a class act that overcame a divorce from someone I consider to be an a-hole (shortly after being diagnosed). She really doesn't whine or moan. She is sweet and loving. I can tell she worries about her work, her daughter and grandson, her lupus, her life. But she gives so much. So, today, I prayed for her and her quick recovery. I ate with guilt instead of the usual gusto I put into the breaking the fast meal. I just hope she's ok and comes out of this with her light personality and wonderful laugh intact.
Hospitals can be lonely and I bet she is thinking a lot about how she wishes she wasn't there. I guess as much as I am praying for her quick recovery I am also praying that she is distracted by family, friends, the TV, good memories...anything. I want her spirits to be high so she can swiftly be back with us - bringing chocolate cake, laughing heartily, sharing stories, chatting with my Mom in the kitchen, holding one of my boys, getting teased by my Dad, eating her favorite dish that my Mom makes.
I know we all have prayers and we all have people in our lives we pray for. Some of us may even pray for silly things like, oh, that all the food they ate and extra WW points they consumed wouldn't actually "count" and result in a wide ass. I wouldn't do that, never. But, a little prayer for my Aunt today would mean a lot to me.
And though many of you celebrated Easter last weekend, Happy Easter. May you find reasons to celebrate this weekend because we are here and able to celebrate because of Someone's sacrifices.
Today she is fine, or I guess as fine as you can be after your kidney is removed. My Mom says she has her color back and she's feeling a lot better. She actually just wants to eat something or have a sip of water but they aren't letting her. I guess this just hit home for me today because today, our Good Friday, I wasn't eating or drinking anything as a sacrifice symbolically mirroring Christ's sacrifice for us many years ago on the cross. Of course, I knew I was going to pig out at the end of the day but today was a long day. And, honestly for me not eating or drinking after EB was a pretty big strenuous. But, it's no cross. So, it was a small sacrifice in the grand scheme. It's also no big deal compared to what my Aunt is going through right now.
But, as I was eating, the typical "YUM this is so good" ravenous binge seemed to be overshadowed by - here I am pigging out and my aunt is in the hospital and they aren't letting her eat or have a sip of water. She lost her kidney. She's in a bed hooked up to IVs and dealing with hospital nonsense. It just sort of makes me sad, breaks my heart.
My family has a picnic every year (more or less) for Easter. These picnics are some of my fondest childhood memories. We had the best time. We always had been fasting and then on Easter we could eat eggs again (usually resulting in a very unfortunate experience with the runs). I learned after spending too many Easters on a beachside restroom's dirty toilet that consuming more than 1 egg was NOT a good idea. My Mom always goes nuts on Easter. So much delicious, traditional Greek food. The Easter picnic was always a special day - everyone would be there. Family and friends celebrating together. In college, my friends came and would witness the big Greek/Egyptian family first hand. The Easter traditions never have changed or wavered - fasting for 40 days (or hmmm...2 weeks), church the night before at 10 pm, Christos Anesti, keeping the candle lit on the car ride home, getting home, having a light dinner (mayeiritsa, cheese, bread, tsourekia) as a family (1/2 asleep), a breaking eggs contest. I love Easter.
My Aunt always comes. Her daughter would come. Then when her daughter had a baby and got married, her family would be there. My Aunt always makes this amazing chocolate cake with powdered sugar on top. I love me some of that cake. This year that cake won't be there and neither will she. It won't be the same. I think we'll all be thinking of her.
I think that this year won't be the bash it always is because my Aunt is a special lady who brings a lot without being obnoxious or overbearing. I have always loved and respected her because she worked so hard despite her illness. She is a class act that overcame a divorce from someone I consider to be an a-hole (shortly after being diagnosed). She really doesn't whine or moan. She is sweet and loving. I can tell she worries about her work, her daughter and grandson, her lupus, her life. But she gives so much. So, today, I prayed for her and her quick recovery. I ate with guilt instead of the usual gusto I put into the breaking the fast meal. I just hope she's ok and comes out of this with her light personality and wonderful laugh intact.
Hospitals can be lonely and I bet she is thinking a lot about how she wishes she wasn't there. I guess as much as I am praying for her quick recovery I am also praying that she is distracted by family, friends, the TV, good memories...anything. I want her spirits to be high so she can swiftly be back with us - bringing chocolate cake, laughing heartily, sharing stories, chatting with my Mom in the kitchen, holding one of my boys, getting teased by my Dad, eating her favorite dish that my Mom makes.
I know we all have prayers and we all have people in our lives we pray for. Some of us may even pray for silly things like, oh, that all the food they ate and extra WW points they consumed wouldn't actually "count" and result in a wide ass. I wouldn't do that, never. But, a little prayer for my Aunt today would mean a lot to me.
And though many of you celebrated Easter last weekend, Happy Easter. May you find reasons to celebrate this weekend because we are here and able to celebrate because of Someone's sacrifices.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
An Alien.
Before I started my own practice a few years ago, I used to work for a law firm that was located on Sunset Boulevard. I will always think fondly of the partner I worked for. He taught me so much. He took me under his wing. He had a personality larger than life. If I could network like he did, I'd be rad. He could work a room. He could order food. He could seriously order wine and port. I had fun working with him. And even though we had rough times and things could have ended rosier, I will always think back on that time at that firm as a good one. I always wish him well even though I sort of hated when my checks bounced.
It is so funny. I was so crazy to leave that big downtown law firm to follow him to this random office on Sunset in West Hollywood. It was a good crazy, but still, I am sure that some questioned my judgment. Seriously. The office was bad. The light bulb in the bathroom, never worked. I often peed in the dark hoping the seedier element of town wouldn't walk in on me and ask to use the toilet as well. The chairs were old and orange and may have been picked out by Ralph Furley himself. It was a mess. Paper everywhere. I crave cleanliness and organization and I was surrounded by the pit of despair on steroids. The office below us was a gun shop - perfect for our clients to go pick up something special for us after getting our bills.
I did some demeaning tasks that someone who went to law school should have never done (even though I got paid handsomely for it). And no, going through boxes of discovery (a normal associate task) was not one of them. I remember once, sitting in his car, so his phone could charge. I had to SIT in the car, alone, not working, and getting paid, to phone sit? I also did more things that made by blood boil than I could list here. But I had to do stuff like wait until the last minute to do anything because I was at the mercy of someone who was a procrastinator with ADHD. I am NOT a procrastinator. I do things so that I have time to spare and have time to have the shit hit the fan and time to correct it and laugh about it. So, I would sit and wait, drumming my fingers, for his blessing until the very last moment or be working until the very last second- making my blood pressure actually go up incrementally until I turned colors like red and purple. Oh the inefficiency, oh the mess.
I also swore off the Blackberry after my stint there. The blinking red light telling me about emails was maddening and addictive. I'd get up in the middle of the night to read crazy emails about what I needed to do. Though it was great training for having a brood of babies, sleep would have been better. Wow, it seems like a lifetime ago.
On the other hand, the cool thing about working on Sunset was all the amazing restaurants just 5 minutes away (or 15 minutes I guess if you are driving on Sunset). We ate soooo much good food that year. We would go for these crazy long lunches at places like The Standard. We would eat many courses and a drink with each course. We'd go for Indian food or Korean BBQ. Oh, the yumminess.
Today, I met up with a client I had never met before at a restaurant we (a former co-worker and I) used to go to often. It was so strange being there again. West Hollywood is now a weird foreign place to me. I am getting very used to Pomona and it is a sickening, sad thing. In Pomona, no one looks like the people do there. It's pretty simple, pretty mellow. The really crazy stuff is usually on a tattoo. The holes in clothes are not put there by a designer but by wear. On Sunset, people are all accessorized with extra large furry purses, skinny jeans (men and women), hats not caps. So strange. I felt like an alien there. I was so very two years ago's Banana Republic in a sea of yesterday's Next Top Model. I don't remember feeling like an alien before but I don't think I have changed much so I must have been an alien then. But, people were so stylish and fa-la-la. Men with their cool shades. Men not in suits, not working, on a Thursday? Women lunching. People eating outside in the sun on patios. It was odd. Sunset is now an alternate universe. When did Sunset become an alternate universe? Sigh.
I am glad to be home somehow today, even though my home is in Pomona. After sitting in traffic up there, inching up and down Sunset. How did I used to do that commute? How did I sit on Sunset? How did I work for someone else? Bleck. I'll never go back. Being the one in charge of my own destiny, albeit with my husband and partner, is much more liberating than it is constrictive. I love this life. That life, although it was wonderful and so full of learning life's hard lessons, was nothing I'd ever go back to. No regrets, just no wish to return. I like here and now.
It is so funny. I was so crazy to leave that big downtown law firm to follow him to this random office on Sunset in West Hollywood. It was a good crazy, but still, I am sure that some questioned my judgment. Seriously. The office was bad. The light bulb in the bathroom, never worked. I often peed in the dark hoping the seedier element of town wouldn't walk in on me and ask to use the toilet as well. The chairs were old and orange and may have been picked out by Ralph Furley himself. It was a mess. Paper everywhere. I crave cleanliness and organization and I was surrounded by the pit of despair on steroids. The office below us was a gun shop - perfect for our clients to go pick up something special for us after getting our bills.
I did some demeaning tasks that someone who went to law school should have never done (even though I got paid handsomely for it). And no, going through boxes of discovery (a normal associate task) was not one of them. I remember once, sitting in his car, so his phone could charge. I had to SIT in the car, alone, not working, and getting paid, to phone sit? I also did more things that made by blood boil than I could list here. But I had to do stuff like wait until the last minute to do anything because I was at the mercy of someone who was a procrastinator with ADHD. I am NOT a procrastinator. I do things so that I have time to spare and have time to have the shit hit the fan and time to correct it and laugh about it. So, I would sit and wait, drumming my fingers, for his blessing until the very last moment or be working until the very last second- making my blood pressure actually go up incrementally until I turned colors like red and purple. Oh the inefficiency, oh the mess.
I also swore off the Blackberry after my stint there. The blinking red light telling me about emails was maddening and addictive. I'd get up in the middle of the night to read crazy emails about what I needed to do. Though it was great training for having a brood of babies, sleep would have been better. Wow, it seems like a lifetime ago.
On the other hand, the cool thing about working on Sunset was all the amazing restaurants just 5 minutes away (or 15 minutes I guess if you are driving on Sunset). We ate soooo much good food that year. We would go for these crazy long lunches at places like The Standard. We would eat many courses and a drink with each course. We'd go for Indian food or Korean BBQ. Oh, the yumminess.
Today, I met up with a client I had never met before at a restaurant we (a former co-worker and I) used to go to often. It was so strange being there again. West Hollywood is now a weird foreign place to me. I am getting very used to Pomona and it is a sickening, sad thing. In Pomona, no one looks like the people do there. It's pretty simple, pretty mellow. The really crazy stuff is usually on a tattoo. The holes in clothes are not put there by a designer but by wear. On Sunset, people are all accessorized with extra large furry purses, skinny jeans (men and women), hats not caps. So strange. I felt like an alien there. I was so very two years ago's Banana Republic in a sea of yesterday's Next Top Model. I don't remember feeling like an alien before but I don't think I have changed much so I must have been an alien then. But, people were so stylish and fa-la-la. Men with their cool shades. Men not in suits, not working, on a Thursday? Women lunching. People eating outside in the sun on patios. It was odd. Sunset is now an alternate universe. When did Sunset become an alternate universe? Sigh.
I am glad to be home somehow today, even though my home is in Pomona. After sitting in traffic up there, inching up and down Sunset. How did I used to do that commute? How did I sit on Sunset? How did I work for someone else? Bleck. I'll never go back. Being the one in charge of my own destiny, albeit with my husband and partner, is much more liberating than it is constrictive. I love this life. That life, although it was wonderful and so full of learning life's hard lessons, was nothing I'd ever go back to. No regrets, just no wish to return. I like here and now.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
In Response to Dr. Laura
Yesterday I blogged about Dr. Laura's new book. She may have left an anonymous comment but I think it is worth exploring even if it isn't her. I left the following comment in my comments but am posting here as well.
***
To Anonymous/Dr. Schlessinger:
If you are Dr. Laura, which I doubt a little, I appreciate that you took the time to comment. However, I respectfully disagree with you. If you are not Dr. Laura, then well, I disagree with you too and the comment below will still be relevant.
In your comment you indicate that you are sad that "some women" are willing to believe that hired help can replace motherly love. Frankly, I do not believe that nor is that expressed in my post. Motherly love is not replaceable. With that said, that does not mean a mother loves her children less or is less loving if she has other commitments.
I also never diminish SAHMs in any way in my post, in fact, I do the opposite. I do not think my decision to work or have “hired help” diminishes the role of other mothers and I have a tough time making that leap in your reasoning. I do, however, wholeheartedly believe that women make choices that are best for themselves and their families and that those choices each have value and can result in happy children, happy families, and happy homes.
I understand that your popularity is based on having somewhat controversial and conservative opinions. And so, of course, people will disagree with you and you are “paid” for having opinions that rub people the wrong way. After having listened to you and knowing your opinion on various issues, I know that I generally disagree with you.
But, I do think it is not necessary or appropriate to insult or put down working women because you do not think Moms should work. You can have an opinion, a strong one even, without berating those who you feel are a scourge on society.
I will tell you that I have read your book, “The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands”, given to me by my mother (a fabulous SAHM) shortly after I was married. I am capable of reading any books, including yours, with an open mind and heart. I cannot say I agreed with your entire book. I also cannot say I disagreed with all of it. But, I read it and absorbed it.
Some people are able to read analytically and make relevant comments that actually respond to what they have read without being completely wedded to their own belief system and ideology. If you like, send me your book and I will read it, open mind, open heart, and in the spirit of reading the work of another working woman with whom I disagree, and I will comment. My e-mail address is losingmylap at gmail dot com. I will send you my mailing address when I get an e-mail from you.
Warmly,
Tina L.
A Mother and Working
***
To Anonymous/Dr. Schlessinger:
If you are Dr. Laura, which I doubt a little, I appreciate that you took the time to comment. However, I respectfully disagree with you. If you are not Dr. Laura, then well, I disagree with you too and the comment below will still be relevant.
In your comment you indicate that you are sad that "some women" are willing to believe that hired help can replace motherly love. Frankly, I do not believe that nor is that expressed in my post. Motherly love is not replaceable. With that said, that does not mean a mother loves her children less or is less loving if she has other commitments.
I also never diminish SAHMs in any way in my post, in fact, I do the opposite. I do not think my decision to work or have “hired help” diminishes the role of other mothers and I have a tough time making that leap in your reasoning. I do, however, wholeheartedly believe that women make choices that are best for themselves and their families and that those choices each have value and can result in happy children, happy families, and happy homes.
I understand that your popularity is based on having somewhat controversial and conservative opinions. And so, of course, people will disagree with you and you are “paid” for having opinions that rub people the wrong way. After having listened to you and knowing your opinion on various issues, I know that I generally disagree with you.
But, I do think it is not necessary or appropriate to insult or put down working women because you do not think Moms should work. You can have an opinion, a strong one even, without berating those who you feel are a scourge on society.
I will tell you that I have read your book, “The Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands”, given to me by my mother (a fabulous SAHM) shortly after I was married. I am capable of reading any books, including yours, with an open mind and heart. I cannot say I agreed with your entire book. I also cannot say I disagreed with all of it. But, I read it and absorbed it.
Some people are able to read analytically and make relevant comments that actually respond to what they have read without being completely wedded to their own belief system and ideology. If you like, send me your book and I will read it, open mind, open heart, and in the spirit of reading the work of another working woman with whom I disagree, and I will comment. My e-mail address is losingmylap at gmail dot com. I will send you my mailing address when I get an e-mail from you.
Warmly,
Tina L.
A Mother and Working
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
In Praise of SAHMs
Dr. Laura just came out with a new book entitled "In Praise of Stay-At-Home Moms".
I won't read this book unless I am in a torture chamber with only this book to keep me amused as I wait for my torturers. However, I would like to comment on a few quotes, even if it may be out of context.
Just to start, I want to say that stay at home Moms (SAHMs) are amazing. I have all the respect in the world for SAHMs. My mom stayed at home. My two sisters in law stay at home. I have witnessed the magic of being a stay at home mom. Seriously, I know that I could not do it. I can BARELY survive the weekend with my children. Poor Dr. Laura would probably shake her head at the selfishness of me. But honestly, it's not that I can't stay home with my kids. I don't want to. I truly don't believe that I would offer my kids the best version of me if I was at home all the time. Don't get me wrong. I love them. I am crazy about them. But, I couldn't stay home with them 24-7. I would do myself and as a result, them, a huge disservice.
Dr. L says:
"My heart hurts for what these women miss and what their children miss from them,” Dr. Laura tells the Wall Street Journal. “No argument, no criticism. My heart just hurts — because when you get those pudgy arms around your neck, and being told you’re someone’s lullaby — the fact that a woman would miss that is so, so sad."
Tina says:
I think that it is not really a fair comment to say that a woman who works doesn't get pudgy arms wrapped around her and sweet comments. I think it is fairly ridiculous to say that working women miss that. I don't miss that. I get it all the time. Our children love and give us affection too, even though we work. Amazing. We still deserve love even though we have abandoned our children with someone else. Sigh.
Dr. L says:
"One thing I’ve been happy as peach pie about — because I’m all about the children and the happiness of a woman because that makes the happiness of the home — is that nannies, day cares and babysitters are all collapsing, which is forcing moms and dads to raise their children at home…. A home should be more than just a place to park yourself after a frenzied day of too much work. So even though there’s less cash, people seem to be happier."
Tina says:
Where to begin, where to begin? If she is ALL ABOUT the happiness of a woman and that making the happiness of the home, then what if WORK makes a woman happy too? What if staying at home with 3 kids is actually completely frenzied and a day at work is actually calm, peaceful, and regenerative? What if a day at home is completely exhausting sucking every last bit of happiness from a Mom? How about if a day at work brings a Mom home who is ready to spend really great quality time with her kids?
Honestly, I know a SAHM who seriously barely smiles. She never has ANYTHING good to say about being at home. I never knew her to be a working woman necessarily but she pretty much seems miserable. She complains about all the things that are supposedly so fulfilling about being a SAHM. Is she so happy because she is a SAHM? Are her kids happier for it? Will her kids look at her one day and say, "boy I am glad my mom stayed home because she never seemed happy to be there?" She seems tired. She seems more tired than I ever have after a day at work.
Maybe people aren't happier because there is less cash? Maybe people are happier because they are realizing that cash isn't everything? If you look around and you see healthy kids, a home, a job, then you are happy.
And finally, Dear Dr. Laura says:
"I tell these women to look in their children’s eyes. When your husband comes home, wrap your body around him at the door and look at his eyes. What people need to learn is that it’s not about the drudgery of housework — it’s about being at home for all of those incredible moments that make your life more valuable than the person who replaced you at work. No one can replace mom. Kids who don’t have moms suffer a lifetime."
Tina says:
Yes, kids who don't have moms probably do suffer a life time. But lady, I ain't DEAD. I am here. Right here. Hello. Is she CRAZY? I am home for incredible moments. I am sure I miss stuff but I also see a lot. My life is valuable even though I do work. I am sure I have value to my clients. I am sure that I could be replaced easily but that doesn't mean that my work has no value. I am valuable because I am a Mom and an attorney. I think giving up being an attorney so that I could be a mom could actually make me less valuable.
***
With that said, I obviously don't agree with Dr. Laura. I think that each mother makes a choice and that most mothers (except for the certifiable) honestly do what is best for their families, whatever that may be. There is incredible value offered to children who have Moms who stay at home to be their Moms full time. However, there is incredible value for these kids whose Moms choose to work. To make blanket statements and accuse women of choosing money over their children (no matter the sacrifice) is shallow.
It sort of angers me to think of some SAHM reading Laura's book in a red state somewhere nodding her head in approval of each sentence and mocking my existence. Bleck. But, the 1st amendment being what it is, I will live with this book existing because the quid pro quo for that is I can say that I hate its premise here on this blog.
OK, now I am going to go bury my head in the fat rolls of my kids, smell their rosy cheeks, listen to the hearty laughs and gurgles, and wrap my body around my husband. I do that too.
God help us, every one.
I won't read this book unless I am in a torture chamber with only this book to keep me amused as I wait for my torturers. However, I would like to comment on a few quotes, even if it may be out of context.
Just to start, I want to say that stay at home Moms (SAHMs) are amazing. I have all the respect in the world for SAHMs. My mom stayed at home. My two sisters in law stay at home. I have witnessed the magic of being a stay at home mom. Seriously, I know that I could not do it. I can BARELY survive the weekend with my children. Poor Dr. Laura would probably shake her head at the selfishness of me. But honestly, it's not that I can't stay home with my kids. I don't want to. I truly don't believe that I would offer my kids the best version of me if I was at home all the time. Don't get me wrong. I love them. I am crazy about them. But, I couldn't stay home with them 24-7. I would do myself and as a result, them, a huge disservice.
Dr. L says:
"My heart hurts for what these women miss and what their children miss from them,” Dr. Laura tells the Wall Street Journal. “No argument, no criticism. My heart just hurts — because when you get those pudgy arms around your neck, and being told you’re someone’s lullaby — the fact that a woman would miss that is so, so sad."
Tina says:
I think that it is not really a fair comment to say that a woman who works doesn't get pudgy arms wrapped around her and sweet comments. I think it is fairly ridiculous to say that working women miss that. I don't miss that. I get it all the time. Our children love and give us affection too, even though we work. Amazing. We still deserve love even though we have abandoned our children with someone else. Sigh.
Dr. L says:
"One thing I’ve been happy as peach pie about — because I’m all about the children and the happiness of a woman because that makes the happiness of the home — is that nannies, day cares and babysitters are all collapsing, which is forcing moms and dads to raise their children at home…. A home should be more than just a place to park yourself after a frenzied day of too much work. So even though there’s less cash, people seem to be happier."
Tina says:
Where to begin, where to begin? If she is ALL ABOUT the happiness of a woman and that making the happiness of the home, then what if WORK makes a woman happy too? What if staying at home with 3 kids is actually completely frenzied and a day at work is actually calm, peaceful, and regenerative? What if a day at home is completely exhausting sucking every last bit of happiness from a Mom? How about if a day at work brings a Mom home who is ready to spend really great quality time with her kids?
Honestly, I know a SAHM who seriously barely smiles. She never has ANYTHING good to say about being at home. I never knew her to be a working woman necessarily but she pretty much seems miserable. She complains about all the things that are supposedly so fulfilling about being a SAHM. Is she so happy because she is a SAHM? Are her kids happier for it? Will her kids look at her one day and say, "boy I am glad my mom stayed home because she never seemed happy to be there?" She seems tired. She seems more tired than I ever have after a day at work.
Maybe people aren't happier because there is less cash? Maybe people are happier because they are realizing that cash isn't everything? If you look around and you see healthy kids, a home, a job, then you are happy.
And finally, Dear Dr. Laura says:
"I tell these women to look in their children’s eyes. When your husband comes home, wrap your body around him at the door and look at his eyes. What people need to learn is that it’s not about the drudgery of housework — it’s about being at home for all of those incredible moments that make your life more valuable than the person who replaced you at work. No one can replace mom. Kids who don’t have moms suffer a lifetime."
Tina says:
Yes, kids who don't have moms probably do suffer a life time. But lady, I ain't DEAD. I am here. Right here. Hello. Is she CRAZY? I am home for incredible moments. I am sure I miss stuff but I also see a lot. My life is valuable even though I do work. I am sure I have value to my clients. I am sure that I could be replaced easily but that doesn't mean that my work has no value. I am valuable because I am a Mom and an attorney. I think giving up being an attorney so that I could be a mom could actually make me less valuable.
***
With that said, I obviously don't agree with Dr. Laura. I think that each mother makes a choice and that most mothers (except for the certifiable) honestly do what is best for their families, whatever that may be. There is incredible value offered to children who have Moms who stay at home to be their Moms full time. However, there is incredible value for these kids whose Moms choose to work. To make blanket statements and accuse women of choosing money over their children (no matter the sacrifice) is shallow.
It sort of angers me to think of some SAHM reading Laura's book in a red state somewhere nodding her head in approval of each sentence and mocking my existence. Bleck. But, the 1st amendment being what it is, I will live with this book existing because the quid pro quo for that is I can say that I hate its premise here on this blog.
OK, now I am going to go bury my head in the fat rolls of my kids, smell their rosy cheeks, listen to the hearty laughs and gurgles, and wrap my body around my husband. I do that too.
God help us, every one.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Breastfeeding is Nonsense
I am so tired of women thinking they "should" or "have to" breastfeed. You don't. Your boobies are yours. Your husband doesn't get to decide. They really aren't his boobies (even if he likes to think so). The doctors and nurses don't live with you. They don't get to decide whether this is good for you and your family.
OK. Yes, yes, it is "better" for your child. Better how? Immunity bla bla bla. OK. Great. Now, what is really better for the child? A more patient, slightly better rested mother. A full stomach. A father who can also bond with the child during feedings. I think those sound like good things too.
There is this huge movement in hospitals and by nurses that breastfeeding is soooo great, Rah! Rah! But, seriously, they need to LAY OFF. For example, when I had Lulo, they used to give formula samples at the hospital AND teach about breastfeeding. When I had the twins, they stopped giving out formula because it "encouraged formula feeding" which is not appropriate. What? You'd think that formula is code for poison. Oh, nice point. Thank you for lobbying the hospitals. Damn La Leche.
I personally take an affront to La Leche and all women who crazily support breastfeeding. Seriously, get over yourselves ladies. You aren't a better Mom because you breastfed and mothers who don't breastfeed aren't worse mothers. Breastfeeding and all the hype is a hoax. Keep your sanity, love your child AND yourself, don't breastfeed. Leave tired Moms alone. Not breastfeeding is a valid choice.
OK. Yes, yes, it is "better" for your child. Better how? Immunity bla bla bla. OK. Great. Now, what is really better for the child? A more patient, slightly better rested mother. A full stomach. A father who can also bond with the child during feedings. I think those sound like good things too.
There is this huge movement in hospitals and by nurses that breastfeeding is soooo great, Rah! Rah! But, seriously, they need to LAY OFF. For example, when I had Lulo, they used to give formula samples at the hospital AND teach about breastfeeding. When I had the twins, they stopped giving out formula because it "encouraged formula feeding" which is not appropriate. What? You'd think that formula is code for poison. Oh, nice point. Thank you for lobbying the hospitals. Damn La Leche.
I personally take an affront to La Leche and all women who crazily support breastfeeding. Seriously, get over yourselves ladies. You aren't a better Mom because you breastfed and mothers who don't breastfeed aren't worse mothers. Breastfeeding and all the hype is a hoax. Keep your sanity, love your child AND yourself, don't breastfeed. Leave tired Moms alone. Not breastfeeding is a valid choice.
Foreigners.
I am a first-generation American. This means that both my parents were not born here.
J is a 1.5 generation American. In his case, it means that he was not born here but he came in his childhood or early teens. J was 10.
There are many funny effects of being born to parents whose first language isn't English but I will always have problems with cliches and idioms and stuff like that. My parents speak great English. No problems there. But, English grammar wasn't my strength and still isn't.
The only reason I am writing about this is because I have been loving some of J's English moments lately and I wanted to share.
When he sings Old MacDonald to the kids he sings:
Old MacDonald Had a Farm
He-Hi-He-Hi-Hoooo.
I don't know why but that makes me laugh EVERY SINGLE TIME. HE HI HO!? HA HA HA. And I tell him, J, "it is E I E I O". And he goes, "well not when I sing it, these are the new words." But the good news is that Lulo is teaching J the alphabet. Oh, my poor kids and how they will be teased.
And J says foil paper (instead of foil), towel papers instead of paper towels, ufolstery instead of upholstery. Anyway, I know this is not that interesting but I think his little word things are funny and I wonder what our kids will say to their teachers which will cause eyebrow furrowing.
I guess all of this is coming to my head because this time of the year I always sort of chuckle at some little cultural things that I remember from being a kid. I am Greek Orthodox (or at least I was before I was excommunicated for marrying outside of my church). Anywho, I am Greek Orthodox and our Easter is usually not on the same day as Easter in most other Christian churches. Our Easter is NEXT Sunday. And when we "fast" for Lent, we don't just give up jelly beans or booze or chocolate, we give up anything that originates from an animal - so eggs, milk, cheese, milk, fish, chicken, beef, and the things that those things make up. We also don't eat or drink on Good Friday (from sun up to sun down). But when I was growing up, we usually broke the fast at 6:00. So, yum. Seriously. I will do the Good Friday starvation this year (which should be interesting after EB) but unfortunately I won't get the yummy goodness that was my mother's breaking the fast on Good Friday dinner. I can smell it now in my memory and it is Monday and I live 45 minutes away.
I didn't fast this year and I usually fast for only 1-2 weeks of the 40 days. My parents do all 40 days. I couldn't do it this year because I couldn't wrap my head around doing Weight Watchers and fasting. Too much. Plus, it just felt too crazy this year. Duh, it will every year. But, I just couldn't.
But I remember the fasting weeks in grammar school. I would take crazy sandwiches to school - like fava beans in pita bread or halvah in pita bread or falafel in pita bread. Bread, bread, bread. Always had to have pita bread. Deep freezer full of pita bread. Oh yum. I want me some of that now. Because my Mom is Greek, it was sort of similar to the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding when the kids mocked poor Voula for eating "moose caca" or Mousaka (yummy eggplant joy!). I don't remember being mocked for the food - probably because they were too busy mocking my nose or my hairy legs (because my Mom didn't let me shave until I was starting to look like an ape). But, whatever.
I started my second session of EB this morning. It was nice not having it be my first session. It was fun seeing all the newbies getting there. Honestly, I didn't have a chance to see if they were ALREADY kicking my ass on their first day because I was too focused on keeping up. But, I did fine. It was a fairly large group for 5:30 a.m. I hope it sticks and some people stick around. It can only be more fun with more people, right? More personalities? Hmmm.
I did great on my run. I was terrified that my timed mile would somehow be slower than the last one I did before our week off. But, it wasn't. I came in at 10 minutes, 39 seconds. Not bad. My goal is to come down to a 10 minute mile, consistently. When I told my over-achiever husband that he said, "you know you really should be doing like a 7 minute mile." What? In what universe? I couldn't do that when I was 16. Anyhow, he is special. He is going to be polishing his Husband of the Year trophy the next couple days so hopefully I won't be getting any more of those kinds of comments.
WW is going fine. I am a little hungry but I'll live. Right now, I sort of want some pita bread with fasting stuff inside. I love fasting food. I wish I was at home with my Mama and we were eating some yummy fasting food.
I also could use a good laugh. But, I know how I can have a good laugh - he, hi, he, hi, hoooooooooo. ho. ho. ho. Yep that did it.
J is a 1.5 generation American. In his case, it means that he was not born here but he came in his childhood or early teens. J was 10.
There are many funny effects of being born to parents whose first language isn't English but I will always have problems with cliches and idioms and stuff like that. My parents speak great English. No problems there. But, English grammar wasn't my strength and still isn't.
The only reason I am writing about this is because I have been loving some of J's English moments lately and I wanted to share.
When he sings Old MacDonald to the kids he sings:
Old MacDonald Had a Farm
He-Hi-He-Hi-Hoooo.
I don't know why but that makes me laugh EVERY SINGLE TIME. HE HI HO!? HA HA HA. And I tell him, J, "it is E I E I O". And he goes, "well not when I sing it, these are the new words." But the good news is that Lulo is teaching J the alphabet. Oh, my poor kids and how they will be teased.
And J says foil paper (instead of foil), towel papers instead of paper towels, ufolstery instead of upholstery. Anyway, I know this is not that interesting but I think his little word things are funny and I wonder what our kids will say to their teachers which will cause eyebrow furrowing.
I guess all of this is coming to my head because this time of the year I always sort of chuckle at some little cultural things that I remember from being a kid. I am Greek Orthodox (or at least I was before I was excommunicated for marrying outside of my church). Anywho, I am Greek Orthodox and our Easter is usually not on the same day as Easter in most other Christian churches. Our Easter is NEXT Sunday. And when we "fast" for Lent, we don't just give up jelly beans or booze or chocolate, we give up anything that originates from an animal - so eggs, milk, cheese, milk, fish, chicken, beef, and the things that those things make up. We also don't eat or drink on Good Friday (from sun up to sun down). But when I was growing up, we usually broke the fast at 6:00. So, yum. Seriously. I will do the Good Friday starvation this year (which should be interesting after EB) but unfortunately I won't get the yummy goodness that was my mother's breaking the fast on Good Friday dinner. I can smell it now in my memory and it is Monday and I live 45 minutes away.
I didn't fast this year and I usually fast for only 1-2 weeks of the 40 days. My parents do all 40 days. I couldn't do it this year because I couldn't wrap my head around doing Weight Watchers and fasting. Too much. Plus, it just felt too crazy this year. Duh, it will every year. But, I just couldn't.
But I remember the fasting weeks in grammar school. I would take crazy sandwiches to school - like fava beans in pita bread or halvah in pita bread or falafel in pita bread. Bread, bread, bread. Always had to have pita bread. Deep freezer full of pita bread. Oh yum. I want me some of that now. Because my Mom is Greek, it was sort of similar to the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding when the kids mocked poor Voula for eating "moose caca" or Mousaka (yummy eggplant joy!). I don't remember being mocked for the food - probably because they were too busy mocking my nose or my hairy legs (because my Mom didn't let me shave until I was starting to look like an ape). But, whatever.
I started my second session of EB this morning. It was nice not having it be my first session. It was fun seeing all the newbies getting there. Honestly, I didn't have a chance to see if they were ALREADY kicking my ass on their first day because I was too focused on keeping up. But, I did fine. It was a fairly large group for 5:30 a.m. I hope it sticks and some people stick around. It can only be more fun with more people, right? More personalities? Hmmm.
I did great on my run. I was terrified that my timed mile would somehow be slower than the last one I did before our week off. But, it wasn't. I came in at 10 minutes, 39 seconds. Not bad. My goal is to come down to a 10 minute mile, consistently. When I told my over-achiever husband that he said, "you know you really should be doing like a 7 minute mile." What? In what universe? I couldn't do that when I was 16. Anyhow, he is special. He is going to be polishing his Husband of the Year trophy the next couple days so hopefully I won't be getting any more of those kinds of comments.
WW is going fine. I am a little hungry but I'll live. Right now, I sort of want some pita bread with fasting stuff inside. I love fasting food. I wish I was at home with my Mama and we were eating some yummy fasting food.
I also could use a good laugh. But, I know how I can have a good laugh - he, hi, he, hi, hoooooooooo. ho. ho. ho. Yep that did it.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Woohoo
Woohoo.
This week, sadly, I was sick. This is why there was an utter lack of blog posts. My body patiently waited. It eeked out little glimpses of sore throats and the like so that that MOMENT that EB was over I would be attacked by the viral plague. I lost all the weight I wanted to lose during EB this week. Ha ha. Oh, EB, you should incorporate a little viral love into your classes - it does the body good.
No seriously though, I love that line in that movie The Devil Wears Prada when Emily Blunt says "I am just one stomach flu away from my goal weight." That's me. Except, I think I am 4 stomach flus away. Anywho.
I survived. Woohoo. Rocky Theme Song please.
Tuesday night it fell over me and it has pretty much had me out for the count all week. I didn't work on Wednesday. Fever, Chills, Sweating, Barfing. On, Thursday I checked e-mails and returned a few calls. Lulo decided that on Thursday he really needed to be close to me. Spend more time with me. I thought that was great. I have so much love to give when I want to die. On Thursday night, I massaged my swollen glands and kept taking my Tylenol every four hours. Today, Friday, I am functioning. I worked, put on makeup, did stuff, but I am probably only at 60%. I think that most Moms function well at 60% so I am doing GREAT!
Woohoo.
Really, I am sure my Mom got sick when we were growing up but honestly, I never remember her taking a time out. I had some serious nanny adoration this week because I couldn't move. And I SOOOO didn't want to infect my kids. So I kept as much distance as I could, washed my hands until they started peeling (literally), and used Purell like it was going out of style.
As I am thinking about mi amor, Purell, let me digress into a topic that makes me seethe. Just for a moment. Humor me. PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE. DO NOT TAKE YOUR SICK SICK KIDS OUT IN PUBLIC TO TOUCH STUFF? Seriously, what is your problem? Don't bring sick kids to parties. Don't bring them to play dates. Don't take them places where there are other kids. Skip Gymboree. If they have a temperature, they are contagious. Eat the cost of daycare that day. DON'T DO IT, don't even think it. It is disrespectful and rude. Believe it or not, I learned a couple of things when I was a Microbiology TA at LMU (Woot Woot Go Lions), let me dumb it down, when your kid (or anyone) is sick and snotting and tearing ALL OVER THE PLACE and HACKING all over the place, there are little morsels of snot and fluids and tears that get everywhere.
Everywhere. The kids' hands, clothes, shoes, hair. EVERYWHERE. Then it gets on STUFF. Then it gets on other peoples kids. Honestly, just because you can't see snot or smell snot IT IS THERE. Would you, for example, take your kid's diarrhea put it on their HANDS and let them run around the mall/a party/Gymboree etc.? No. So, why? Why snot? STOP. It is rude. STOP. It's not just about you. It's not about getting some time outside and letting the kids burn off energy. If you MUST get outside, like IT IS NECESSARY, like the PHARMACY and you are all alone with no nanny/babysitter/father/grandmother and someone has to go. Then keep your kid close, carry Purell, use the Purell. Don't be gross. Don't let your kid proceed to lick the chairs, the pens, the boxes, the aisles, door handles. Keep them CLOSE. If you MUST go somewhere friend/family or someone is COMING OVER, then TELL THE PEOPLE so they know! Don't just wait until later when they pick up the kid to share that your offspring had some communicative disease. It's not cool.
Oh, I know the eye rolling mothers right now who think:
1. I am crazy.
2. Kids get sick.
3. I am overprotective.
4. I have psychological issues that require assistance.
That's fine. Think it. Yeah, kids get sick. It is flu season. But, help a sister out. Damn. Don't make me feel bad for protecting my kids. You should do the same damn thing.
Woohoo. OK. I feel better.
This week, sadly, I was sick. This is why there was an utter lack of blog posts. My body patiently waited. It eeked out little glimpses of sore throats and the like so that that MOMENT that EB was over I would be attacked by the viral plague. I lost all the weight I wanted to lose during EB this week. Ha ha. Oh, EB, you should incorporate a little viral love into your classes - it does the body good.
No seriously though, I love that line in that movie The Devil Wears Prada when Emily Blunt says "I am just one stomach flu away from my goal weight." That's me. Except, I think I am 4 stomach flus away. Anywho.
I survived. Woohoo. Rocky Theme Song please.
Tuesday night it fell over me and it has pretty much had me out for the count all week. I didn't work on Wednesday. Fever, Chills, Sweating, Barfing. On, Thursday I checked e-mails and returned a few calls. Lulo decided that on Thursday he really needed to be close to me. Spend more time with me. I thought that was great. I have so much love to give when I want to die. On Thursday night, I massaged my swollen glands and kept taking my Tylenol every four hours. Today, Friday, I am functioning. I worked, put on makeup, did stuff, but I am probably only at 60%. I think that most Moms function well at 60% so I am doing GREAT!
Woohoo.
Really, I am sure my Mom got sick when we were growing up but honestly, I never remember her taking a time out. I had some serious nanny adoration this week because I couldn't move. And I SOOOO didn't want to infect my kids. So I kept as much distance as I could, washed my hands until they started peeling (literally), and used Purell like it was going out of style.
As I am thinking about mi amor, Purell, let me digress into a topic that makes me seethe. Just for a moment. Humor me. PEOPLE PEOPLE PEOPLE. DO NOT TAKE YOUR SICK SICK KIDS OUT IN PUBLIC TO TOUCH STUFF? Seriously, what is your problem? Don't bring sick kids to parties. Don't bring them to play dates. Don't take them places where there are other kids. Skip Gymboree. If they have a temperature, they are contagious. Eat the cost of daycare that day. DON'T DO IT, don't even think it. It is disrespectful and rude. Believe it or not, I learned a couple of things when I was a Microbiology TA at LMU (Woot Woot Go Lions), let me dumb it down, when your kid (or anyone) is sick and snotting and tearing ALL OVER THE PLACE and HACKING all over the place, there are little morsels of snot and fluids and tears that get everywhere.
Everywhere. The kids' hands, clothes, shoes, hair. EVERYWHERE. Then it gets on STUFF. Then it gets on other peoples kids. Honestly, just because you can't see snot or smell snot IT IS THERE. Would you, for example, take your kid's diarrhea put it on their HANDS and let them run around the mall/a party/Gymboree etc.? No. So, why? Why snot? STOP. It is rude. STOP. It's not just about you. It's not about getting some time outside and letting the kids burn off energy. If you MUST get outside, like IT IS NECESSARY, like the PHARMACY and you are all alone with no nanny/babysitter/father/grandmother and someone has to go. Then keep your kid close, carry Purell, use the Purell. Don't be gross. Don't let your kid proceed to lick the chairs, the pens, the boxes, the aisles, door handles. Keep them CLOSE. If you MUST go somewhere friend/family or someone is COMING OVER, then TELL THE PEOPLE so they know! Don't just wait until later when they pick up the kid to share that your offspring had some communicative disease. It's not cool.
Oh, I know the eye rolling mothers right now who think:
1. I am crazy.
2. Kids get sick.
3. I am overprotective.
4. I have psychological issues that require assistance.
That's fine. Think it. Yeah, kids get sick. It is flu season. But, help a sister out. Damn. Don't make me feel bad for protecting my kids. You should do the same damn thing.
Woohoo. OK. I feel better.
Monday, April 6, 2009
The Great Escape
If I have to watch J shove one more piece of junk food in his face while remaining the same weight, I may have to pummel.
Seriously, he doesn't exercise and every time I see him he is eating a candy, chocolate, or a cookie. If I look at him eating, I gain weight.
I am only a little grumpy because I started Weight Watchers today and I was sitting at Panera for 1.5 hours and didn't order anything. I think just smelling the bread at Panera caused me to gain 2 pounds. (2/3 of the weight I lost over a six week period.) And, this week sans EB, I really need to be good.
Anyhow, I am sorting through my mail. It is like the universe got a memo that said "Tina is a Heiff" and the universe decided to send me my very own SPANX catalog. Um. Seriously, how did they know that I needed to stop breathing so I could look less fat? I have never gotten a SPANX catalog. Did they publish this JUST for me? I own SPANX already and so, as a result, I have a few things to say about this catalog.
Catalog Quote: "Offering unyielding support every day during life's most important events..."
Me: No. There is nothing unyielding about SPANX other than it squeezes the life out of your very core until all you remember about your most important event is your fat bulge escaping the squeeze of the SPANX and releasing itself to the world as the SPANX rolls below the bulge and DIGS into your ribs/ass/thighs etc.
Catalog: Many Size 4 Women wearing SPANX.
Me: Why are you wearing SPANX? STOP IT. Nothing needs smoothing, nothing needs to be held in, YOU ARE JUST FINE. Go back to eating your celery and sipping your Perrier. Sigh.
Catalog: "Over the years, we've tested virtually every brand of shapewear, and Spanx always comes out on top...That's because it gives women great shape without asking them to sacrifice comfort."
Me: Um, who is wearing this and what are they talking about? Is it COMFORTABLE to feel like a sausage? Is the fat roll releasing itself to the world the moment of comfort to which they refer? Because I am sorry Spanx catalog, the release of the fat roll was disturbing. I didn't know whether everyone could see the flee of my fat roll. I was tugging at the now rolled piece of elastic in between my rolls. That wasn't comfortable either. Were people watching me tugging at the now rolled band? Did they think a tick was involved? Did they laugh at my fat? We'll never know.
Catalog: "Behind every powerful woman, there's a pair of powerful panties."
Me: Interesting. I will deliberate this one and get back to you. My guess is that behind every powerful woman is a nice bag of Doritos Cool Ranch, a great nanny, a supportive husband, and a nice pair of flannel pajamas that allows her rolls to be free while she works. That's just a guess though.
Catalog: "It's easy to wear anything well - all you need is the right underpinning."
Me: No all you need is to stop breathing. There is nothing easy about wearing this stuff. Getting it on is a trial on it's own. I usually sweat trying to get any SPANX product on and luckily J has never walked in on me encountering the contortions required to get a SPANX tank on or a SPANX anything on. There is nothing easy about it. In fact, I think that this week while I am not at EB I will wake up at 5 every morning and put on SPANX. I will sweat and I will be a powerful woman.
You may wonder why I own any SPANX (let alone an entire drawer of SPANX) given the anger I have at this catalog and it is because the rolls need some help. And honestly, SPANX is the best roll shaping power you can buy. Having said that, it sucks (literally and figuratively). And, honestly, I won't wear it unless I REALLY NEED TO. But 3 kids later and many pints of Ben & Jerry's later, I have to bust out the SPANX every now and again. But so help me, my stated goal for a year from now, is to never touch SPANX again. I'd rather go under the knife - plastic surgery is my friend.
Meanwhile, I think I'll go watch J shove one more piece of junk in his mouth.
Seriously, he doesn't exercise and every time I see him he is eating a candy, chocolate, or a cookie. If I look at him eating, I gain weight.
I am only a little grumpy because I started Weight Watchers today and I was sitting at Panera for 1.5 hours and didn't order anything. I think just smelling the bread at Panera caused me to gain 2 pounds. (2/3 of the weight I lost over a six week period.) And, this week sans EB, I really need to be good.
Anyhow, I am sorting through my mail. It is like the universe got a memo that said "Tina is a Heiff" and the universe decided to send me my very own SPANX catalog. Um. Seriously, how did they know that I needed to stop breathing so I could look less fat? I have never gotten a SPANX catalog. Did they publish this JUST for me? I own SPANX already and so, as a result, I have a few things to say about this catalog.
Catalog Quote: "Offering unyielding support every day during life's most important events..."
Me: No. There is nothing unyielding about SPANX other than it squeezes the life out of your very core until all you remember about your most important event is your fat bulge escaping the squeeze of the SPANX and releasing itself to the world as the SPANX rolls below the bulge and DIGS into your ribs/ass/thighs etc.
Catalog: Many Size 4 Women wearing SPANX.
Me: Why are you wearing SPANX? STOP IT. Nothing needs smoothing, nothing needs to be held in, YOU ARE JUST FINE. Go back to eating your celery and sipping your Perrier. Sigh.
Catalog: "Over the years, we've tested virtually every brand of shapewear, and Spanx always comes out on top...That's because it gives women great shape without asking them to sacrifice comfort."
Me: Um, who is wearing this and what are they talking about? Is it COMFORTABLE to feel like a sausage? Is the fat roll releasing itself to the world the moment of comfort to which they refer? Because I am sorry Spanx catalog, the release of the fat roll was disturbing. I didn't know whether everyone could see the flee of my fat roll. I was tugging at the now rolled piece of elastic in between my rolls. That wasn't comfortable either. Were people watching me tugging at the now rolled band? Did they think a tick was involved? Did they laugh at my fat? We'll never know.
Catalog: "Behind every powerful woman, there's a pair of powerful panties."
Me: Interesting. I will deliberate this one and get back to you. My guess is that behind every powerful woman is a nice bag of Doritos Cool Ranch, a great nanny, a supportive husband, and a nice pair of flannel pajamas that allows her rolls to be free while she works. That's just a guess though.
Catalog: "It's easy to wear anything well - all you need is the right underpinning."
Me: No all you need is to stop breathing. There is nothing easy about wearing this stuff. Getting it on is a trial on it's own. I usually sweat trying to get any SPANX product on and luckily J has never walked in on me encountering the contortions required to get a SPANX tank on or a SPANX anything on. There is nothing easy about it. In fact, I think that this week while I am not at EB I will wake up at 5 every morning and put on SPANX. I will sweat and I will be a powerful woman.
You may wonder why I own any SPANX (let alone an entire drawer of SPANX) given the anger I have at this catalog and it is because the rolls need some help. And honestly, SPANX is the best roll shaping power you can buy. Having said that, it sucks (literally and figuratively). And, honestly, I won't wear it unless I REALLY NEED TO. But 3 kids later and many pints of Ben & Jerry's later, I have to bust out the SPANX every now and again. But so help me, my stated goal for a year from now, is to never touch SPANX again. I'd rather go under the knife - plastic surgery is my friend.
Meanwhile, I think I'll go watch J shove one more piece of junk in his mouth.
Friday, April 3, 2009
Great Scott! EB Session #1 is OVER.
Oh, EB, my density has brought me to you. Alas, my first session of Extreme Bootcamp has expired. I am experiencing a mix of feelings - disappointed but also sort of happy. I am not thrilled. I barely lost any weight - 3 pounds. Cerebrally, I know that weight loss isn't the goal. But emotionally, that NUMBER IS IMPORTANT. Three pounds is what I lose if I don't drink water. Seriously. I worked out A LOT for six weeks. Ate A LOT better than I had for several months. And I only lost 3 pounds. That is crap on a stick. Ever heard of CRAP ON A STICK?
Having said that, my diet wasn't perfect. There is room for improvement. And because I am not the type to wallow in self pity, I will find a solution to my frozen density. It is my density, I mean my DESTINY. The solution that has worked before and will work again is Weight Watchers. Weight Watchers + Working Out = WEIGHT LOSS. No kidding McFly.
I believe this session I went in kind of fearful of what I was going to face. The focus was on getting through and improving my fitness. I honestly don't think my brain could have handled incorporating keeping WW points. I know that it is supposed to become a lifestyle but I don't think that so many parts of my lifestyle could change at once. There is just too many compartments in my life in a delicate balance to add more than one thing at a time. It could lead to a meltdown. The flux capacitor can only take so much and sorry to say it, but J is no Doc Brown.
OK, so what am I happy about - I did improve my fitness. I lost inches. My BMI came down. My body fat came down. My previously 13 minute and 40 second mile is now ELEVEN MINUTES AND NINE SECONDS (11:09!) Wow. My 14 measly sit ups turned into 34. These are amazing milestones for me. I am pleased. I still can't do a full push up but I am not aiming to be Michelle Obama here 9as much as I'd love to give the Queen a hug.) Seriously, why is that NEWS? Sigh.
I also met some very nice people. I enjoyed meeting some different folks all crazy enough to do EB. I think that you have to have a certain personality to enroll in this kind of class in the first place. So, there were some other nice bootcampers. You start to get concerned about them. You know a little about their lives. Stuff like that. It's an experience you get through together and there is a certain amount of bonding through pain that occurs. Some of them make you laugh with their comments. Some don't. Everyone handles the experience differently. I always think it is fun to watch how other people handle it. What they say? What they do? How their attitude changes. I am weird like that.
I also got to know Claremont a little better via my runs. I sort of wish I lived there instead of Pomona. You don't need any kind of weaponry to run in Claremont. It is nice. If I have to live in the Inland Empire, Claremont is certainly a better choice that Pomona. However, our house is finally starting to look like a home and so I am not inclined to go anywhere.
I have also gotten to know my DIs a little better. DI-Size0 is such a great chick. She is motivated and intelligent. She will accomplish stuff in her life. Her Size0 stature is no indication of how smart she is or how much is going on under the hoodie of her sweatshirt. She appears to actually care about us and has a sense of humor. I think it must be hard to motivate fat people into MOVING without being insulting. She seems to have mastered that. Also, to wake up that early consistently just shows to me a hard worker. I admire people like that. Both her and DI-MC have a work ethic that is impressive for people who have barely cracked their 20s. I salute Extreme Bootcamp Claremont and highly recommend it for all those who are inclined to do it.
This was a good week. A lot of hours were billed, invoices for the month were sent out, my knees feel good, my kids are healthier. My Mom is taking the kids for the weekend because the weekend is JAM PACKED with stuff - EB Breakfast, my friend's baby shower of which I am a co-hostess, a wedding. As such, I can't be a mom this weekend. So, the kiddos might as well chill with Gama. Since we wont have the kids tonight or Saturday night. I fully intend on sleeping in as much as possible on Sunday morning. J and I may go do something together too. In fact, I believe the anniversary of our first date is on Sunday. It has been six YEARS since our first date.
If I were to ask Doc Brown to put me in a DeLorean right now to see that first date, I think I would love it. We had so much fun. I went to J's office to pick him up and he taught me to salsa dance in his office. Who knows what the partners in his firm were thinking when the door closed behind us? I wore the WRONG SHOES. They were really cute but wrong for salsa dancing. I also wore a really cute black skirt that I can't find and a v-neck dressy red tank. {Probably a good thing that I can't find the damn skirt, no way I'd fit in it.} I was totally nervous because I really liked him. We ate dinner, danced, talked forever. I think I went home at 3 a.m. which is totally out of character for me. As I drove home, I called my best friend and told her I'd marry him. And I did. And I am happy I did.
And now, back to the future. Maybe we'll go to another rhythmic ceremonial ritual and recreate our first date. We haven't been dancing since Lulo was born and I hear it's good exercise.
{{Now, for the geeks, how many Back to the Future references were in this post? I love that movie. I need to see me some BTTF. }}
Having said that, my diet wasn't perfect. There is room for improvement. And because I am not the type to wallow in self pity, I will find a solution to my frozen density. It is my density, I mean my DESTINY. The solution that has worked before and will work again is Weight Watchers. Weight Watchers + Working Out = WEIGHT LOSS. No kidding McFly.
I believe this session I went in kind of fearful of what I was going to face. The focus was on getting through and improving my fitness. I honestly don't think my brain could have handled incorporating keeping WW points. I know that it is supposed to become a lifestyle but I don't think that so many parts of my lifestyle could change at once. There is just too many compartments in my life in a delicate balance to add more than one thing at a time. It could lead to a meltdown. The flux capacitor can only take so much and sorry to say it, but J is no Doc Brown.
OK, so what am I happy about - I did improve my fitness. I lost inches. My BMI came down. My body fat came down. My previously 13 minute and 40 second mile is now ELEVEN MINUTES AND NINE SECONDS (11:09!) Wow. My 14 measly sit ups turned into 34. These are amazing milestones for me. I am pleased. I still can't do a full push up but I am not aiming to be Michelle Obama here 9as much as I'd love to give the Queen a hug.) Seriously, why is that NEWS? Sigh.
I also met some very nice people. I enjoyed meeting some different folks all crazy enough to do EB. I think that you have to have a certain personality to enroll in this kind of class in the first place. So, there were some other nice bootcampers. You start to get concerned about them. You know a little about their lives. Stuff like that. It's an experience you get through together and there is a certain amount of bonding through pain that occurs. Some of them make you laugh with their comments. Some don't. Everyone handles the experience differently. I always think it is fun to watch how other people handle it. What they say? What they do? How their attitude changes. I am weird like that.
I also got to know Claremont a little better via my runs. I sort of wish I lived there instead of Pomona. You don't need any kind of weaponry to run in Claremont. It is nice. If I have to live in the Inland Empire, Claremont is certainly a better choice that Pomona. However, our house is finally starting to look like a home and so I am not inclined to go anywhere.
I have also gotten to know my DIs a little better. DI-Size0 is such a great chick. She is motivated and intelligent. She will accomplish stuff in her life. Her Size0 stature is no indication of how smart she is or how much is going on under the hoodie of her sweatshirt. She appears to actually care about us and has a sense of humor. I think it must be hard to motivate fat people into MOVING without being insulting. She seems to have mastered that. Also, to wake up that early consistently just shows to me a hard worker. I admire people like that. Both her and DI-MC have a work ethic that is impressive for people who have barely cracked their 20s. I salute Extreme Bootcamp Claremont and highly recommend it for all those who are inclined to do it.
This was a good week. A lot of hours were billed, invoices for the month were sent out, my knees feel good, my kids are healthier. My Mom is taking the kids for the weekend because the weekend is JAM PACKED with stuff - EB Breakfast, my friend's baby shower of which I am a co-hostess, a wedding. As such, I can't be a mom this weekend. So, the kiddos might as well chill with Gama. Since we wont have the kids tonight or Saturday night. I fully intend on sleeping in as much as possible on Sunday morning. J and I may go do something together too. In fact, I believe the anniversary of our first date is on Sunday. It has been six YEARS since our first date.
If I were to ask Doc Brown to put me in a DeLorean right now to see that first date, I think I would love it. We had so much fun. I went to J's office to pick him up and he taught me to salsa dance in his office. Who knows what the partners in his firm were thinking when the door closed behind us? I wore the WRONG SHOES. They were really cute but wrong for salsa dancing. I also wore a really cute black skirt that I can't find and a v-neck dressy red tank. {Probably a good thing that I can't find the damn skirt, no way I'd fit in it.} I was totally nervous because I really liked him. We ate dinner, danced, talked forever. I think I went home at 3 a.m. which is totally out of character for me. As I drove home, I called my best friend and told her I'd marry him. And I did. And I am happy I did.
And now, back to the future. Maybe we'll go to another rhythmic ceremonial ritual and recreate our first date. We haven't been dancing since Lulo was born and I hear it's good exercise.
{{Now, for the geeks, how many Back to the Future references were in this post? I love that movie. I need to see me some BTTF. }}
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Don't Let the Door Hit You on the Way Out
I've been taking Lulo to preschool for five weeks now, Tuesday/Thursday. We go in. I put him down to sign him in. He cries and wails, grips my leg for dear life. I kiss him, tell him I love him, and that I'll be back after lunch. He cries and wails. I call the school at 9:00 and they tell me - "Oh, Lulo is great, he is outside dancing with his penguin/elephant/dinosaur." Yay!
The drama commenced early today. He wouldn't let me put on his shoes or socks. We wrestled. Crying and wailing. Whining. Exhaustion. He wants to go back in the house and sit on the couch (definitely my kid!). We get to school - his eyes are squished closed. He doesn't want to see that we are there. (Is he joking? This is new.) I take him out of his seat, carry him into school, get to the classroom. Put him down to sign him. He runs happily to his teacher. Gives her a hug.
"Bye Bye Mama. See you later," says Lulo.
"OK. Bye Lulo, I love you, See you after lunch."
"Bye Mama." Silence. Playing happily. Waving. Big grin.
I looked at his teacher confused and walked out of the room, rejected by my child. Oh little Lulo...bu-bye.
Huh, wha, where did the wailing go? OK well, we made it. We survived the transition? When did that happen?
I am so happy we are here but oh, it's a little sad too. I don't want him to cry but I also don't want him to be happy to see me leave. Ha ha. On the one hand, I want him so badly to grow up so that the tantrums will lessen and the problems we have now that require SO MUCH PATIENCE will be replaced by the problems that require logic and reasoning. I think I'll be able to cope with that better somehow. But, at the same time, how I love his little Velcro shoes and sitting with him on the couch in the morning. Talking about Elmo.
I love that sense of accomplishment that I get after he eats a banana after a complete meltdown because I peeled the banana. Um, what am I saying? I don't like that at all. But, it seems my Lulo is getting into the swing of school. And, bittersweet as it may be, I am happy that he is enjoying it. Grow little one. Bye.
The drama commenced early today. He wouldn't let me put on his shoes or socks. We wrestled. Crying and wailing. Whining. Exhaustion. He wants to go back in the house and sit on the couch (definitely my kid!). We get to school - his eyes are squished closed. He doesn't want to see that we are there. (Is he joking? This is new.) I take him out of his seat, carry him into school, get to the classroom. Put him down to sign him. He runs happily to his teacher. Gives her a hug.
"Bye Bye Mama. See you later," says Lulo.
"OK. Bye Lulo, I love you, See you after lunch."
"Bye Mama." Silence. Playing happily. Waving. Big grin.
I looked at his teacher confused and walked out of the room, rejected by my child. Oh little Lulo...bu-bye.
Huh, wha, where did the wailing go? OK well, we made it. We survived the transition? When did that happen?
I am so happy we are here but oh, it's a little sad too. I don't want him to cry but I also don't want him to be happy to see me leave. Ha ha. On the one hand, I want him so badly to grow up so that the tantrums will lessen and the problems we have now that require SO MUCH PATIENCE will be replaced by the problems that require logic and reasoning. I think I'll be able to cope with that better somehow. But, at the same time, how I love his little Velcro shoes and sitting with him on the couch in the morning. Talking about Elmo.
I love that sense of accomplishment that I get after he eats a banana after a complete meltdown because I peeled the banana. Um, what am I saying? I don't like that at all. But, it seems my Lulo is getting into the swing of school. And, bittersweet as it may be, I am happy that he is enjoying it. Grow little one. Bye.
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