Bitter Sweet

Bitter: Tonight is my last dance class. With the university class I am taking (starting tomorrow), I feel I just cannot give up two weeknights for my own frolics. I am not going to continue the class, despite the outpouring of "DO IT!" from you, my faithful readers.

Sweet: Tonight is my last dance class! A culmination of fun and sweat and laughter. It was harder than I could have imagined, but so much fun in the end. I think I may try to take it again when the semester is up. I believe I never mentioned it was a pole dancing class. Honey wanted to know if we were having a 'recital'. Um, no.

(Aside: For all those *GASP*ers out there (Hi Grandma!), isn't it funny how if a girl swings around a horizontal pole, it is called gymnastics, but if the pole is vertical, suddenly everyone's morals in the room start getting questioned? Interesting, yes?)

Bitter: Jelly Bean's 2 year old birthday is practically upon us. Oh-my-baby's-all-growed-up-WAHHHHH!

Sweet: I finished a bulletin board of the kids' birthdays for his class and I have a little party with the class scheduled. Since his birthday is on the eve of our Floridian Beach Trip, we will have a mini-celebration at the beach as well. My parents, Grandma (my mom) and Popo (my dad) are coming with us to stay in a cabin on the beach in one of the state parks. So fun, yes?

Bitter: Floridian Vacation Trip = Dramatic Fear of Hurricanes. Begone Faye, Gustav, and the ilk!

Sweet: The poundage of my lardy self is diminishing at a satisfying rate. I will feel confident on the vacant beaches of Florida.

Bitter: My hair was lank and gross and weird shaped. So I went to get it cut. It is AWFUL and BOXY and similar to what I think a gym teacher would wear (no offense, Gym Teachers of the World. Like us Librarians, you are not known for your fashion sense.) Oh, and for the first time in a million years, I have BANGS. Hello, 80's! Miss me?

Sweet: There ain't nothin' good about it.

Change of Life

After much consideration, hand wringing, and deep breaths, I have come to a decision. A feeble one that I feel like I can't phrase really strongly. I shall write this in a whisper...

I think I am going to quit my job.

No, no, no. Not today. Not tomorrow. Probably not this year. And not for the reasons people usually leave their positions. I am actually quite happy, love my boss, and feel adequately compensated both financially and through benefits. I am going to quit my job for my kids. I haven't really made it a secret that I want to stay home with the kids and while that is still just as impossible as ever, I feel like I need to make more of an effort to be with them as much as I can. This past summer was livable, but not ideal. Brother did "ok" in daycare. There were still the scrambles and scrapes that occur when a bunch of kids are forced under one roof everyday all summer long. And Jelly Bean does "ok" everyday as well. But that doesn't stop me from wishing I could be with them every minute I am not. So here's the plan.

I am taking a class at the university that starts on Thursday. I have signed up for the subject specific test I will need to take in November. I have been paying fees and paying fees and paying fees...for this one purpose. To go work in the school system as a librarian. To have summers off and winter holidays and spring breaks with my kids. To have all the benefits of being a teacher, without the homework. I am wholly terrified of leaving my comfort zone. I am wholly terrified of the rules and hierarchy and people. And I am wholly terrified of leaving my job that I feel so so passionately about. But I will do it because I want to look at myself in the mirror when I am 32 and when I am 55 and when I am 93 and know that I did my very very best by these kids. That we still get to keep my salary and still have vacations. That I didn't get to stay at home all the time, but I did what I could to stay home as much as possible.

Now, after all this preparation, I just have to figure out how to get these people to hire me somewhere where I don't have to commute for an hour.

Hey Look!

It's A List. And since I never ever do lists....*ahem* Ah, nevermind. I am a listing Queen. But still, looks fun. And I like fun. So, here goes.

FINISH THE SENTENCE

Maybe I should order some new plants for my yard. Or generally get motivated to do some yard work. Summer in the South + yard work = no motivation on my part. *Sigh*

I love the smell of freshly mown grass on a breezy summer day. Reminds me of my childhood in Ohio, where the grass is so so soft. And running through the newly shorn lawn and piling clippings on top of my bare feet. Now, when I see a freshly mown lawn, I want to go rake up and steal the clippings for my compost pile. Weird, yes?

People would say that I am aloof. Hard to get to know. Depends on who you ask, really.

I don’t understand why people refuse to take responsibility for their actions. Or why people don't take criticism and evaluate it for truth rather than attacking it first. I don't understand why people are afraid to talk about things.

I lost my patience. Yesterday. A lot.

Life is scarily short and requires more money than you could have dreamed when you were in high school.

My past involves a 180 from who I was to who I am.

My idea of a good time is a good book, a hot drink, and no interruptions.

I wish I was smarter, more energetic, more kind. I wish I had more sweetness next to my bones and less rough edges.

Twins are my secret desire. *POOF* Four kids and no talking Honey around!

Dust bunnies are currently breeding in the nooks and crannies of my home.

Tomorrow I’m going to see my husband. Yes, this is exciting.

I have low tolerance for disobedient offspring. Mine, of course. I can't stand to have to repeat commands/requests.

I’m totally terrified of heights. Really. So so scared.

I wonder why people see the theory of evolution as a threat rather than a beautiful fantastic and wonderful thing.

Never in my life have I kissed a girl. So I wish the damn song on the radio would shut up about it already. Gah.

High school was self-inflicted loneliness. But the classes were fun. I felt smart. I love feeling smart.

When I’m nervous I bite my nails.

One time at a family gathering it took us like 2 hours to wash all the dishes at the church afterward. Yuck.

Take my advice: student loan debt is a pretty bad idea. Avoid as much of it as humanly possible. Also, plan financially for your future.

Taking a good picture is capturing exactly what your eyes see at that very moment.

I’m almost always ready for a nap.

I’m addicted to YA Lit

I want someone to clean my house. Desperately. Just not me. K?

Fritz

• Honey and I had our New Orleans weekend last Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. It was really lovely. We stayed in this quaint boutique hotel practically on Jackson Square. We ate delicious food and drank far more than usual. (Me = 2 glasses of wine and a cocktail. Honey = 2 cocktails, 800 different beers.)
• We didn't do everything we had planned on doing, because I had brought cute-yet-lousy walking shoes and whined much of the time about aching muscles. (Stupid, I know.) But even with that, we had a good time. We went to a cooking demonstration and on a segway tour (which turned out to be loads of fun and NOT a death trap. Who knew?) and to see some Mardi Gras floats in the making. Fun on a bun, I tell you what.
• Due to the lovely time and the wine and chocolate and copious amounts of jambalaya, I gained FOUR FREAKING POUNDS. In O.N.E. weekend. Shit Shit SHIT.
• Know when my diet comes crashing down around my ears? Dinner time. I can do well all day and not feel deprived at all. But when I get home and make dinner for the family with all of those delicious carbs? I cave. Evenings are so hard for me.
• Enough diet talk. I am sick of the diet talk. I have hereby suspended Fitness Fridays because they are so. freaking. boring. I am practically snoozing just thinking about writing them. Maybe if I was making tons of progress...but it is taking soooo long. I am figuring out that carbs are just the enemy. Even if I cut my calories way down, I am not making any progress if I still consume carbs (in the form of bread, cereal, rice, or anything delicious like that) every day. Dammit. Anyway. Didn't I just suspend the diet talk? Ok. Follow my own rules, whydon'tI?
• Brother is doing well in school. We even did homework last night with minimal fussing! It was awesome. AND he is doing his classwork! In class! Doesn't sound like much, but I am thrilled to bits.
• Jelly Bean has a cold. I am worried about him at the daycare with his runny self. He doesn't have a fever, but I just wish I could keep him home until he feels better (which will probably be in about 2 weeks...so, not so feasible). I have a huge meeting out of town tomorrow. Preparing for this is why the kid is in daycare. Sucks, right?
• Coffee makes me crazy. I had a cup this morning and I feel...crazy. Like jittery and nervous and crazy. Crazy. Yeah. But it is delicious. Yes? Crazy and delicious. And nonsensical, apparently.
• Ok, enough of this.

Self

I am really enjoying my dance class on Wednesdays and am thinking of taking the next class in the series. I am not incredibly good, but it is a lot of fun. I just need more practice to get comfortable with the movement. It is hard work and a great workout; my legs feel like the jelly even the next day (not entirely comfortable, I assure you, but I assume this means I am working hard.) But I worry because I am taking a class at the university this fall and won't get home until 8 at night on the night of the class. Plus a dance class during the week? Yeeps. I wonder if that is too much on Honey. He said it is fine with him...but I worry. The dance class is only for an hour...probably an hour and a half with the drive. So I would be able to help Brother with homework and stuff. And I could try to cook more on the weekends to have meals for those nights... I just worry that I am being unbelievably selfish with our time and our money.

What do you think?

-M

What's good about it?

Oh man, I have had one of those mornings that just...well. Practically ruins the rest of your day. Although I did listen to Elizabeth Mitchell songs in the car and her voice and music are so dreamily comforting, they are like a lullaby. (Yes, it is children's music. Leave me alone.)

Sequence of events:

• Hear Jelly Bean stirring. Book it to the shower.
• Get out of the shower and go to get the Bean, lest he start blaring like a fire engine siren.
• Change his diaper (just wet) and go to wake up Brother.
• Provide Brother with clothes for school. Not an easy feat as my order of uniforms from Old Navy have not come in yet and I have precious few uniform items that fit him. (Who knew he would grow so much over the summer? Not his mother, for sure.)
• Go jerk some clothes on and find comfortable-yet-form-fitting clothes for evening dance class.
• Go back to Brother's room. Find Brother sitting naked on his bed scowling at Jelly Bean, who is calmly looking at Brother's new Pokemon books that I bought to try to entice him to read.
• Me: Brother, what are you doing?
• Brother: Watching Jelly Bean so he doesn't mess up my book. *Scowl*
• Me: *Scoops up baby and says GETDRESSEDDOYOUWANTEGGS?!?!
• Brother does indeed want eggs and buttered toast. I rush forth with my dripping hair to find Jelly Bean standing on a chair in the kitchen.
• I grab up the Bean. The Bean smells. The Bean has shit his britches. Damn.
• I throw some eggs in a pan, (believe me, by this time it would have been cold cereal, but alas. We are out of milk.) toast in the toaster. Grab the butter and pour a glass of water.
• Finish cooking and yell, "Brother! Breakfast!"
• He comes out with no belt, no socks, no shoes, and his shirt untucked.
• I yell. Tell him to get dressed PRONTO because he is going to miss the bus and has exactly 10 minutes to dress, eat, and brush his teeth.
• Brother freaks out. *Sigh*
• His pants are too small. I forgot to give him socks. The belt loops are tight.
• I freak out (Not proudly). Go to find new pants that do fit. (They were size 7s! The same size he wore yesterday! But the waistband had to have been 2 inches smaller in this brand of shorts because he couldn't button them.)
• I make him take huge bites whilst I wrestle new pants and socks onto him and put the belt on twice. Of course, I did it backwards the first time. All the while hollering to EAT! EAT! and about how if he hadn't spent so much time doing nothing, we wouldn't be in this predicament.
• Finally, I get Brother out of the door and to the bus and go to put my makeup on and do my hair. Jelly Bean comes with me. Then I remember the shitty diaper. Damn.
• Tell Jelly that he needs a new diaper. He runs to his room and I follow. Once I am in the room, he runs out, shuts the door and takes off.
• I am *so* not in the mood for a game of tag.
• Fetch wayward child. Change the dirty diaper that kinda pisses me off a bit. I mean, why couldn't he have pooped in the last wet diaper? Now this diaper is practically new and clean...you know, except for the mound of baby crap in the middle of it.
• Don't ask how my mind works. I couldn't tell you.
• Back to the bathroom with the Bean so I can watch him. I don't do such a hot job. Even though he is 1.5 feet away from me, standing on the toilet lid....
• He proceeds to mash my lipstick all over his nose and smear foundation all over the counter.
• I pull him off the toilet repeatedly, but he always climbs back on when I have the hot curling iron wrapped up in my hair, so I can't get him.
• I envision 5 inch steel spikes jutting out of the fuzzy green toilet seat cover. "THAT would keep him off of there! Ha. Ha. Ha." says my less-than-maternal-and-slightly-sadistic voice.
• All the while I am saying, "No! No!" He doesn't listen. I freak.
• GAAARAAHHHH!!!

So, yes, we all finally got where we were going and writing about it now, it sounds so small potatoes, but I assure you. I am still angry. I wish Brother would listen. I wish Jelly Bean would listen. I wish my temper didn't have a two inch fuse. I wish my measly serving of patience could override my frustration during these banal interactions.

Damn kids.

Random Listage

• Did you know that you can eat two whole cups of lettuce for like 15 calories? No really! Why hadn't I figured this out before? *Smack* I should have been eating salads.
• Brother had his first night of homework last night. It. Was. AWFUL. One thing I simply hate about school is the amount of homework we have to endure. It is hard getting home at 5 and having to work in some playtime, dinner, baths, and homework in at least 3 subjects all before an 8 o'clock bedtime. Honey and I are strict about school and Brother HATES to do homework. So one of us have to sit with him the entire time while he complains and fusses and does not do the sheet in front of him. I am also pretty surprised at the level they are expecting him to read at! Vocabulary words for the first week of school include "dangerous" and "underestimate." I am thinking that I should buy stock in index cards, the amount of flashcards I will be making this year.
• My marigolds are all dying. But my basil is waist high. Tell me, what to do with waist high basil?
• So, our porch is bare with literally nothing on it but a couple of pairs of Brother's shoes that were entirely too muddy to sojourn into the house. I wanted a couple of chairs and a small table of sorts and maybe later a porch swing. So, while I was out shopping for a bathing suit this past weekend, I passed a drug store that had chairs outside. Mind, they are not beautiful chairs. Just functional poly resin things that just so happened to be the same color as our house. Sign on them said they were $5.99. "That is a deal!" I say to myself. Now, I wonder if they have any tables? Oh! They do. There is a full sized round table (not a whole lot smaller than my dining room table, but it is $37 something. Yeep. Too much. So, I go and ask the cashier about the chairs. Is the price really $5.99? Nope! They are having an additional clearance sale on the outdoor furniture! The chairs are $3.00 a piece and the table is $18. So for about $30.00, I got four chairs and a really nice sized table for our porch. I am thrilled (even if you aren't. Kind of a boring story, eh?) So we can eat outside in the evenings or sit on the porch with ice tea and a book and watch the kids and their shenanigans. Ah. The life.

Light

So, here's another entry into Fitness Friday. The dazzling! spontaneous! clever! event you wait the entire week to read!

Ok, so probably not. Meh, here goes anyway.

Poundage:
Start: 189
Now: 182.5
*Up 0.5 lbs from last week*

How do I feel about this? Ambivalent. Last weekend I didn't watch what I ate nearly as closely as a should. Or rather, I watched what I ate very closely but the "What the hell" thought came into my head a lot. And many brownies were consumed. (They were awesome, I will have you know.)

Inchage:
Total loss of 9.75 inches
*Down 0.25 inches from last week*

Once again, ambivalence and kinda of glad it wasn't worse. I did think I would be further along than I am now. And kicking myself a bit. I thought I would be sleek, svelte, and gorgeous in time for my anniversary next week. Thus far I am just avoiding having to buy bigger clothes. Which is good. But still. I was really hoping for those size 12s that are chummy with the dust bunnies in the bottom of my closet. Just keep plugging along.

I am trying to really not frame what I am doing in moral terms. I.e. when I am eating cheesecake, I am being "bad" or when I am eating celery I am being "good." Like, yesterday I attended a press conference and ate probably 10 delicious little finger sandwiches and 6 mini pastries and it was so delicious. AND I drank two glasses of lemonade. And I am ok with this. A noted feminist writer smiled at me when I told her I shouldn't have ate that last finger sandwich...I wasn't feeling so hot. She said isn't it funny how when women eat in public, especially in a self service fashion, they always apologize about how much they are eating? I smiled as well. I have noticed.

But I was not ashamed of being hungry or enjoying the things that I ate, I told her. Pleasure is not a shameful thing. Women deserve pleasures, even though society thinks that all our our appetites should be supressed for us to be acceptable. Making note of this in my head is really empowering. Owning the cravings of my body and telling myself that I am 'ok'. This makes me feel floaty and light. I am ok.

Grown

Seven is not very many years to be alive, I will have you know. Seven is still little. Still a kid. There is no need for all this teenage behavior.

Brother won't let me walk him to the door of the day care anymore. Last week it started with him telling me, "Mom, don't kiss me" when we were in front of the plate glass doors. His friends could see. I haven't gotten a hug when parting since. Now, today, he wouldn't even let me get out of the car. "You stay here in the car with Jelly Bean, Mom." And I sat in my driver's seat with my seat belt off and door open, one foot out of the car to walk him the whole 10 feet to the door. You know, because I am one of the "good moms." The kind who don't dump their kid at the door and screech off into the parking lot. (Ok, so there aren't any of those. But still.) And so he strutted those 10 feet alone, like he was grown already. And my heart shattered on the concrete.

I half hoped the director would come out and yell about how I had to walk him to the door. But I knew that wasn't going to happen. I really wanted to fling open the door and yell at Brother's little blond posse that by exerting this peer pressure to separate from me, the only person they were hurting was me. And to stop being pint-sized jerks, please. Because I wanted my baby back.

Of course, I didn't. I just wanted to. Besides. My girl Friday said, when I relayed this desire to her, "Since when would kids care about hurting someone else's mother?" She's right, you know.

As I was driving away, Jelly Bean was waving and calling, "Bye My! Bye My!" to his brother and I had just the saddest thought about how, every morning, our family gets ripped apart. Honey goes to work, I drop Brother off at one center and Jelly at another, and then I go to work. None of us are together. *Big Fat SIGH*

So tell me, is this the time for this? Has it begun already? I need some comfort in the form of "all kids do this" and "yeah, mine does this, too." Unless it is not true and my kid is some kind of freak that I can give medicine to and he will be all better. Yeah? Maybe?

Slim

Yesterday, I watched a video entitled Slim Hopes, by Jean Kilbourne. Here's the preview, if you're interested.

Basically it is an analysis of the media and its presentation of women and how media images are just not real. And how setting up the expectation to be absolutely flawless affects American Women.

I am an American Woman. Yet, even with knowing that models are airbrushed, composed of not one woman, but many, dismembering them so that the legs are from this woman and the breasts are from that woman and the face is probably not someone real at all, but rather a computer fabrication, I still feel bad when I compare what I was born with to the image. It also made me feel a little bit guilty about this whole diet thing. I wonder, what are my intentions? What is the desired outcome? Am I being safe with my body? How will "the diet" affect my children and their views of their bodies? Or their views of women's bodies? This is serious stuff, folks.

Does this mean I am giving up? Nope. Not a bit. While I do want to feel more comfortable in my own skin, I want more energy. I want to lower my health risks. I want to live for a very long time. I want to do better in the dance class I am taking. And taking off a few of these pounds is going to help me with all this. Redefining not so much my goals, but my reasoning behind my goals. Working on having a healthy self image in addition to having a healthy body.

So, with all that in mind, I am pretty proud of myself this week. I have lost 3 pounds and 2.75 inches for a cumulative of 7 pounds lost (since I got a scale, it is actually more. How much more? I have no idea) and 9.5 inches. My BMI is now in the "Overweight" section rather than the "Obese" section. It has been a long time since that has been the case. I have also reached my pre-pregnancy weight for Jelly Bean and my delivery weight for Brother. (Yes, you read that correctly. I weighed the same when I got pregnant the second time as when I had a 9 month gestated baby inside of me.) So, now we are working on those last 32 lbs.

I feel confident. I can do this.