I've been fat for too long. Those extra 35 pounds are no longer called "baby weight" but must be thought of as "toddler weight." Imagine constant fatigue, chest pains, and an inability to run further than the distance it takes to get the monster off whatever dangerous thing he is climbing. Add a horrible self image and nonexisten self esteem, and you'll get the picture. Before we have to abandon toddler weight and plow head-first into the label teenager weight, it is time to do something constructive. I have learned over the past two years that you can't will away weight just by imagining yourself thin. Dangit.
I come from a long line of obese sweets eaters, so years of observation (both internal and external) have taught me that diets just don't work. Maybe for weeks or even months but rarely forever. What works are lifestyle changes. [Side Note: I don't consider the gastric bypass or LAP-BAND surgeries lifestyle changes since 100% of the people I know that have gotten them use them as a way to lose massive amounts of weight without changing their eating habits. They still eat exactly what they want... only less of it. Yes, that causes extreme weight loss (and extremely loose skin), but all of them have plateaued at a higher weight than they wanted or gained some of the weight back. Either way, they still aren't happy. Just a personal observation; the observees would argue.]
Resume thought train: the creation of the Exercise Extravaganza program! I have decided to change my lifestyle including healthier food choices, a decrease in sugary things (since diabetes runs rampant in my family), and a lot of exercise. Now, I know myself. I'm a lazy procrastinator. I have to ease into these things or I will burn out in a couple weeks and go back to my sweet-eating, "a moment on the lips forever on the (expanding) hips" ways, forever unhappy with the way I look and feel. On to the point.
Today was Day One! Step 1: cut my food portions and avoid the sweets. Check! Step 2: EXERCISE! That one is slightly more tricky since organized exercise is no fun. I have to find ways to trick my mind into thinking I'm playing so my body won't know what I'm doing is good for me. The main idea? Zumba on the Xbox Kinect during the baby's naptime and the movie elliptical after bedtime. (The movie elliptical is where I set up the portable DVD players and play a movie so I forget I'm sweating like a pig.)
Tonight, I didn't have the movie player set up, but I decided to get out there and sweat anyway! I got my jug-o-water to avoid dehydration. Check! I got my workout clothes on, including the sports bra to keep the ladies under control. Check! I got my Pitbull music mix on (nothing gets my blood pumping faster) the iPod. Check! I'm ready to go! Timer set for 30 minutes.
I hop on and get started but quickly turn the resistence down to 1 since I don't want to burn out. Oh, boy, this is easy! I'm chugging along, sweating like crazy, listening to great music and feeling the burn. Hell, I do so well I even manage several texts. Time is flying, so I start patting myself on the back that I can do this way longer than 30 minutes. Maybe I should push it to 45 minutes or even an hour!
I open the clock app to adjust the timer... and it's only been 6 minutes. SMACK! That's the sound of my hand hitting my forehead and my heart hitting the floor. The next 24 minutes were torture... but I did them!
Monday, June 27, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Different is Different, Not Worse
These are words I have found myself repeating as a calming mantra as I expose myself more and more to people with different parenting styles. I suppose you could say that I am an "It takes a village to raise a child" type parent, but - with a type-A personality in full force - I need the village to agree with my parenting decisions and jump on board with my style... not theirs.
Blessed with a big mouth and a small enough filter where my boca grande gets me into trouble, I have found myself breaking my own cardinal rules about overstepping boundaries. I'm that ever so annoying parent that doesn't want a shred of advice about how you would do it but wants to tell you how it is and how it should be done. Now, before you close this post with a vow to never read my rantings again, understand that I KNOW this is wrong and am working on righting it.
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I have vowed to be more aware of my annoying habits and correct them before they happen. No more correcting other people's children (unless they are about to get physically maimed) and no more expressing opinions when they aren't asked to be shared. (I'm learning the hard way that it is true what they say about opinions: they are like a-holes, everyone has one but no one wants to hear from yours!). I'm going to be a big girl and let every parent make their own mistakes with the expectation that they will let me make mine.
That being said (and here's the fun part!), I'm going to throw out a phrase my cousin often says (the one that has taught toddlers for 7 years and has all kinds of degrees and letters behind her name to back it up - I'll call her Miss Kim from now on), "Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems." Take a look at the children around you - both the known and the unknown - and look at the behaviors you like and don't like.
For example, I don't want my kid to be like that screaming lunatic in Olive Garden, so I correct his public behavior in private before it becomes an issue and teach him how I want him to behave. My dad is always asking me why I'm so strict with the boy at the dinner table since no one is around to be bothered. Basically, if he acts right at home, he will act right in public. I, more often than not, get compliments at restaurants about how well behaved the boy is acting.
I realize this doesn't make me perfect and that I won't get nominations for mother of the year any time soon, but I work hard to do the right thing (whatever that is) to help my boy become an amazing man. Just as I'm judging someone on their crazy parenting decisions, I'm positive there is someone out there judging me on mine. I remind myself daily that it isn't wrong just because I don't agree with it. (Yes, that was a difficult statement to write out loud!) Different is different, not worse!
Blessed with a big mouth and a small enough filter where my boca grande gets me into trouble, I have found myself breaking my own cardinal rules about overstepping boundaries. I'm that ever so annoying parent that doesn't want a shred of advice about how you would do it but wants to tell you how it is and how it should be done. Now, before you close this post with a vow to never read my rantings again, understand that I KNOW this is wrong and am working on righting it.
The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, so I have vowed to be more aware of my annoying habits and correct them before they happen. No more correcting other people's children (unless they are about to get physically maimed) and no more expressing opinions when they aren't asked to be shared. (I'm learning the hard way that it is true what they say about opinions: they are like a-holes, everyone has one but no one wants to hear from yours!). I'm going to be a big girl and let every parent make their own mistakes with the expectation that they will let me make mine.
That being said (and here's the fun part!), I'm going to throw out a phrase my cousin often says (the one that has taught toddlers for 7 years and has all kinds of degrees and letters behind her name to back it up - I'll call her Miss Kim from now on), "Little kids, little problems. Big kids, big problems." Take a look at the children around you - both the known and the unknown - and look at the behaviors you like and don't like.
For example, I don't want my kid to be like that screaming lunatic in Olive Garden, so I correct his public behavior in private before it becomes an issue and teach him how I want him to behave. My dad is always asking me why I'm so strict with the boy at the dinner table since no one is around to be bothered. Basically, if he acts right at home, he will act right in public. I, more often than not, get compliments at restaurants about how well behaved the boy is acting.
I realize this doesn't make me perfect and that I won't get nominations for mother of the year any time soon, but I work hard to do the right thing (whatever that is) to help my boy become an amazing man. Just as I'm judging someone on their crazy parenting decisions, I'm positive there is someone out there judging me on mine. I remind myself daily that it isn't wrong just because I don't agree with it. (Yes, that was a difficult statement to write out loud!) Different is different, not worse!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Fine Motor Skills My A...nkle
My infamous cousin, Miss Kim to you, only recently gave up her illustrious, 7-year child wrangling career to be a full-time, stay-at-home mommy. (She's the one that works(ed) at a prestigious preschool and has all kinds of degrees to back her authority up.) The old cliche (those things I gladly admit I usually butcher) that old habits die hard (take that, Miss Kim, I got it right!) was coined for her in this instance.
She has been after me... I mean gently encouraging me... for a while to start working with the monster on his fine motor skills. So, I bought a water table for the porch and some non-water items to fill it with. I have water, of course, to go in it on hot summer days, but I also purchased a boatload of beans and rice to help with his sensory development. [Side Note: his former daycare nearly amputated two of his fingertips, so the hand specialist recommended the same thing to stimulate the continuation of nerve regrowth.] The other day, I wanted to work on an invitation package that I plan to post to my Etsy store very soon, so I figured this was the perfect time to try out the beans.
I brought the water table in the house, cleaned it up, and stationed it in the open area behind my computer workspace. The monster danced around me, vibrating with excitement, as I poured in the beans and got him measuring cups then dove in with all the vigor he usually reserves for milk. Ah, blessed peace for hours while I focus on my work. I quickly snapped a picture to send to Miss Kim to prove how good a mommy I am then turned back to my work. Sigh. This is the life - work and play all at the same time!
Then I heard the sound of many (many) little beans hitting and bouncing (far) off the tile floor. Ugh. I stopped to help him pick them up then showed him how to keep his activities over the table to avoid spilling again. Yeah, great idea, Lis. That worked for all of 30 seconds. Then I had to stop again. And again. And again.
The texts to Miss Kim went from "Awww, isn't he cute?" to "Fine motor skills, my a$$. This crap is going everywhere and making me realize just how dirty my floor is!" to "I can't take any more of this crap. Even the towels I put down aren't stopping the flow of bouncing beans. It's time to clean up!!!" to "Is this [censored] supposed to develop my [censored] motor skills or his? I'll be picking up beans for months. I'm not even trying rice... or oatmeal... or wet flour. You're CRAZY!"
Hindsight being 20/20 (Ha, ha! I got that one right, too!), I probably shouldn't have expected him to play neatly without direct supervision AND I probably should have done it on the porch as originally planned so the mess wasn't an issue. Miss Kim 1, Mommy 0
She has been after me... I mean gently encouraging me... for a while to start working with the monster on his fine motor skills. So, I bought a water table for the porch and some non-water items to fill it with. I have water, of course, to go in it on hot summer days, but I also purchased a boatload of beans and rice to help with his sensory development. [Side Note: his former daycare nearly amputated two of his fingertips, so the hand specialist recommended the same thing to stimulate the continuation of nerve regrowth.] The other day, I wanted to work on an invitation package that I plan to post to my Etsy store very soon, so I figured this was the perfect time to try out the beans.
I brought the water table in the house, cleaned it up, and stationed it in the open area behind my computer workspace. The monster danced around me, vibrating with excitement, as I poured in the beans and got him measuring cups then dove in with all the vigor he usually reserves for milk. Ah, blessed peace for hours while I focus on my work. I quickly snapped a picture to send to Miss Kim to prove how good a mommy I am then turned back to my work. Sigh. This is the life - work and play all at the same time!
Then I heard the sound of many (many) little beans hitting and bouncing (far) off the tile floor. Ugh. I stopped to help him pick them up then showed him how to keep his activities over the table to avoid spilling again. Yeah, great idea, Lis. That worked for all of 30 seconds. Then I had to stop again. And again. And again.
The texts to Miss Kim went from "Awww, isn't he cute?" to "Fine motor skills, my a$$. This crap is going everywhere and making me realize just how dirty my floor is!" to "I can't take any more of this crap. Even the towels I put down aren't stopping the flow of bouncing beans. It's time to clean up!!!" to "Is this [censored] supposed to develop my [censored] motor skills or his? I'll be picking up beans for months. I'm not even trying rice... or oatmeal... or wet flour. You're CRAZY!"
Hindsight being 20/20 (Ha, ha! I got that one right, too!), I probably shouldn't have expected him to play neatly without direct supervision AND I probably should have done it on the porch as originally planned so the mess wasn't an issue. Miss Kim 1, Mommy 0
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)