Saturday, September 7, 2013
What Will My Children Have?
Last night, my seven-year-old daughter asked me how babies come out of their mommies. "There's a special opening," would no longer satisfy her curiosity. So, I told her, and she replied, "I kind of thought you were going to say that." Instead of being freaked out by the answer, she got thoughtful, and asked if it hurt. I told her it did, but it was worth it, because afterward you have an amazing child to love. This led to more questions; thankfully not including the "How does the baby get there?" inquiry. She did ask if I thought someone would want to marry her, and if I thought she would have babies. I told her I knew she would be loved by someone wonderful, and that her babies would love her very much. Today, I keep going back to this conversation. I hope my baby girl (and her brothers) get the opportunity to experience love and families of their own. I hope they get to live in a world where they can be happy. I hope that they can live in a peaceful world. I hope that they can live in a healthy and balanced world. I'm so troubled by where the world that they will be inheriting is heading. My heart feels heavy right now.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
What My Day Was REALLY Like
Yesterday's post was pure fantasy. Here's how stuff really went down. I spilled (lukewarm) coffee on myself, when I jumped up to try to keep the cat from coughing up a hairball on my beautiful new area rug. I did score the save. I made 3 different breakfasts for the kids, only one of whom remembered to clear their own plate. Keira found herself in time out before 9 AM. (She woke up at 8.) Ryan and his sister decided to torment each other when Ryan bothered to sit at the table to do his school work.
By 1:00, only Ryan had work left to do (history and literature). We got through the history, and then we all went to get frozen yogurt. All was going well until Luke accused Ryan of spitting on him, and punched his brother in the side. Now, we're out of Menchies and I really need to go to Target for a couple of items. I tell myself I really shouldn't risk it, but, heck, it's right there across the parking lot from where we are. So, I take a deep breath before we slip through the doors. Let's just say I should have known better.
Back at home, Luke has lost computer time, and he is in a nasty mood. He goes outside to water the plants, and, of course, there is now mud. Ryan realizes where Luke is, and suddenly, he is out the door and turning on a second hose. Unwilling and unable to try to stop this, I decide to let it play out. However, when I look outside five minutes later mud has been slung and it's not pretty. Here I thought I was going to have a day off from laundry, and suddenly that's no longer the case. There's Keira happily sitting in a puddle. Luke and Ryan are slathered in mud. As they hose each other off, I tell the boys that today is the day they learn to do a load of laundry. The cries of indignity were almost funny; you'd have thought I had told them they would be doing laundry every day for the rest of their lives. (Hey, I pretty much do that!)
So, dinner is next. Ryan wants grilled cheese, and I have six pieces of bread. I manage to burn one side of each of the three sandwiches, and after I tear off those pieces, I am left with one and a half. I also made hash browns with cheese, cut up a watermelon, and tossed some carrots on their plates. Keira looks at her plate, with a sandwich that is a little "toastier" than she likes it, and says, "Oh, no, no, no; I am not eating that!" She "doesn't like" the hash browns, so she ends up eating watermelon and white cheddar puffs for dinner. Ryan and Luke did fine, except for the fact that both were upset that there was not enough grilled cheese.
Luckily, the time before bed was not too crazy, with the exception of a fruitless search for a specific Barbie doll. Apparently, she walked into the bathroom and hid herself behind the trash can, where I found her after Keira had already gone to bed.
Looking back, some of the day was funny. I got to spend a good part of it teaching my kids. And today was a happier day than yesterday.
By 1:00, only Ryan had work left to do (history and literature). We got through the history, and then we all went to get frozen yogurt. All was going well until Luke accused Ryan of spitting on him, and punched his brother in the side. Now, we're out of Menchies and I really need to go to Target for a couple of items. I tell myself I really shouldn't risk it, but, heck, it's right there across the parking lot from where we are. So, I take a deep breath before we slip through the doors. Let's just say I should have known better.
Back at home, Luke has lost computer time, and he is in a nasty mood. He goes outside to water the plants, and, of course, there is now mud. Ryan realizes where Luke is, and suddenly, he is out the door and turning on a second hose. Unwilling and unable to try to stop this, I decide to let it play out. However, when I look outside five minutes later mud has been slung and it's not pretty. Here I thought I was going to have a day off from laundry, and suddenly that's no longer the case. There's Keira happily sitting in a puddle. Luke and Ryan are slathered in mud. As they hose each other off, I tell the boys that today is the day they learn to do a load of laundry. The cries of indignity were almost funny; you'd have thought I had told them they would be doing laundry every day for the rest of their lives. (Hey, I pretty much do that!)
So, dinner is next. Ryan wants grilled cheese, and I have six pieces of bread. I manage to burn one side of each of the three sandwiches, and after I tear off those pieces, I am left with one and a half. I also made hash browns with cheese, cut up a watermelon, and tossed some carrots on their plates. Keira looks at her plate, with a sandwich that is a little "toastier" than she likes it, and says, "Oh, no, no, no; I am not eating that!" She "doesn't like" the hash browns, so she ends up eating watermelon and white cheddar puffs for dinner. Ryan and Luke did fine, except for the fact that both were upset that there was not enough grilled cheese.
Luckily, the time before bed was not too crazy, with the exception of a fruitless search for a specific Barbie doll. Apparently, she walked into the bathroom and hid herself behind the trash can, where I found her after Keira had already gone to bed.
Looking back, some of the day was funny. I got to spend a good part of it teaching my kids. And today was a happier day than yesterday.
Monday, May 7, 2012
I woke up this morning, and found all three of my children quietly writing in their journals. They had already eaten breakfast, and cleared their cereal bowls from the table. We began our school day with a few poems, and then delved into our coursework. All three were finished with school by noon, without any complaining or bickering. I even finished a short to-do list.
After lunch and outdoor play time, we jumped in the car and went to get frozen yogurt. Our 30 minutes in Menchies was blissfully uneventful. Next stop, Target, where we managed to by-pass the toy department, and found exactly what we needed without anyone asking for any "extras". As we cruised the aisles, I overheard one harried mom telling her children to "look and see how well those kids are behaving for their mother." My heart swelled with pride.
Upon returning home, the kids played peacefully in the backyard, while I read a book on the patio. They all took showers while I cooked dinner, which everyone ate without complaints, spills, or other such unpleasantness. Later, after bowls of ice cream, we read some books together on the couch. Teeth were brushed without dawdling, and everyone got in bed by 8 without having to be told/nagged.
It's now just after 9, and I am enjoying peace and quiet, and relaxing after a fun, fulfilling day.
Also, I have grown three heads and my skin is purple.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Calorie Police Out in Full Force
Sometimes, I long for a day where I can eat whatever I want and not even think about it. A day where I am not automatically, even subconsciously, aware of every morsel that has passed my lips. I envy people who have that freedom. The other day, I wanted a piece of See's chocolate. I told myself I could have one, then had one more. Gave myself a taste of freedom; a taste that soon went from sweet to bitter. That 181 calories made me miserable for a while. I did what I usually do, I beat myself up mentally. So many events, and all holidays, revolve around food. That used to make me really miserable, to the point where I would avoid attending functions. I'm better with that now. It's kind of ironic--being in control as an anorexic is what got me in trouble. Now, being in control is what keeps me sane. It's quite tiring at times. But, for now, whatever works...
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Summer
A week ago, we experienced the hottest day in Los Angeles history, and this week has been a warm one. In the next few days, the temperature will drop significantly. Yes, I know it is autumn, but I always have trouble accepting the end of summer. I love the emotional "feel" of summer. I love halter tops, shorts and flip-flops. I love the longer days. I know I'll adjust, as I do every year, but I refuse to let go easily!
 |
 |
| Create a free digital slideshow |
Monday, June 7, 2010
Tough Love
I had to get tough shortly before bedtime tonight. First, Ryan and Keira were engaged in a not-so-friendly pillow fight. Ryan decided to get one more swing in after being told to stop, and whacked Keira right in her little glasses-wearing face. Then, he chose to argue when he was told to go to his room. I can't even remember everything that he said, but I ended up telling him he was going to bed without any ice cream.
The next thing I know, Luke is crying, and I know from his wail, that he's hurt. And, there goes Keira, running down the hall toward her room; a sure sign of guilt. Luke explained that Keira scratched his face with a comb. Apparently, she went straight from one altercation to the next. So, I go after her, snatch away the popsicle she was eating, and tell her that she is going straight to bed, too.
So, now, I've got two enraged and crying kids, and one who's still hurting. I would mention that their daddy was home, laying on his bed, ignoring the chaos, as he dozed and watched some totally inconsequential women's softball game, but I'd be digressing. Ryan wailed so much, I almost forgot I was dealing with a child who will be eight in a couple of months.
When the dust finally settled, I explained to Keira why I was upset with her, and reminded her that I love her very much. She had already forgotten about the stolen popsicle, so she cuddled right up to me. Ryan was a little trickier. He eventually came near me; I could tell he wanted his bedtime back scratch and "God Kisses", but didn't want to ask. I finally got him next to me, and told him how much I love him, even when I get upset with him. Just from his body language, I could tell he'd accepted his fate, and no longer resented me for inflicting such a horrific punishment on him.
Once Keira was asleep, I went back to check on the boys. Luke was fast asleep, but Ry was still awake. He lovingly told me goodnight and sweet dreams. A tiny voice inside of me suggested I let him get up and have something to eat. I'm proud to say I ignored that voice and stuck to the consequence I'd given him. Still, sometimes, it's hard to be the "bad cop". It hurts to hear the words, "I don't love you anymore!", even when you know they are coming from the uncensored mouth of a young child who feels like he's the injured party. I can only hope that the lessons from today will lead my kids to make better choices tomorrow.
The next thing I know, Luke is crying, and I know from his wail, that he's hurt. And, there goes Keira, running down the hall toward her room; a sure sign of guilt. Luke explained that Keira scratched his face with a comb. Apparently, she went straight from one altercation to the next. So, I go after her, snatch away the popsicle she was eating, and tell her that she is going straight to bed, too.
So, now, I've got two enraged and crying kids, and one who's still hurting. I would mention that their daddy was home, laying on his bed, ignoring the chaos, as he dozed and watched some totally inconsequential women's softball game, but I'd be digressing. Ryan wailed so much, I almost forgot I was dealing with a child who will be eight in a couple of months.
When the dust finally settled, I explained to Keira why I was upset with her, and reminded her that I love her very much. She had already forgotten about the stolen popsicle, so she cuddled right up to me. Ryan was a little trickier. He eventually came near me; I could tell he wanted his bedtime back scratch and "God Kisses", but didn't want to ask. I finally got him next to me, and told him how much I love him, even when I get upset with him. Just from his body language, I could tell he'd accepted his fate, and no longer resented me for inflicting such a horrific punishment on him.
Once Keira was asleep, I went back to check on the boys. Luke was fast asleep, but Ry was still awake. He lovingly told me goodnight and sweet dreams. A tiny voice inside of me suggested I let him get up and have something to eat. I'm proud to say I ignored that voice and stuck to the consequence I'd given him. Still, sometimes, it's hard to be the "bad cop". It hurts to hear the words, "I don't love you anymore!", even when you know they are coming from the uncensored mouth of a young child who feels like he's the injured party. I can only hope that the lessons from today will lead my kids to make better choices tomorrow.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Conversations
I just finished reading Liza Palmer's Conversations With the Fat Girl. It was one of the most "real" books I've read lately. By real, I guess I mean that I could relate to a lot of the main character's emotions. Nothing has hit me so hard since Jane Porter's Mrs. Perfect. (Notice that I also blogged about that one.) Jotting down my thoughts helps me to sort them out and move on, in a sense.
In Conversations, Maggie is a twenty-something who has very little self-esteem and is afraid to step out into the world and take any chances. She's uncomfortable with her body and worries about what everyone else sees when they look at her. She is so incredibly hard on herself, and is constantly beating herself up. Ok, so I'm not in my 20's anymore, but I spent almost the entire decade treating myself just like Maggie did herself. Most people who know me, realize that I was not overwieght like the character of Maggie, but I sure did have body issues! Physically, I was more like the character of Olivia in the book, getting down to that (not so) magical size 2 (and beyond), even though no one who is 5'6" should ever wear those sizes. Yes, I graduated from college, bought a car, got a teaching position and had a successful year, but I didn't give myself much credit for those accomplishments. Instead, I focused on everything that I though was "wrong" with me and compared myself to everyone else who, for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on, were so much more accomplished and deserving of happiness. I wrapped myself in this tight little cocoon and looked no one in the eye. Nobody could make me come out until I was ready; only I could decide when I had had enough of the life I was living. When I finally started taking little chances and putting myself out there, people didn't laugh in my face and nothing catastrophic happened.
Flash forward to today: Sometimes I forget to be nice to myself. Besides relating to the character, reading this book also reminded me to treat myself like I try to treat others, especially my friends. To focus on what is good in me, and what good I can bring to those I love. To let others be nice to me because, guess what, they may actually like the me they see. And, if they don't, oh well, it's not gonna ruin my day.
http://www.lizapalmer.com/thebooks.html
In Conversations, Maggie is a twenty-something who has very little self-esteem and is afraid to step out into the world and take any chances. She's uncomfortable with her body and worries about what everyone else sees when they look at her. She is so incredibly hard on herself, and is constantly beating herself up. Ok, so I'm not in my 20's anymore, but I spent almost the entire decade treating myself just like Maggie did herself. Most people who know me, realize that I was not overwieght like the character of Maggie, but I sure did have body issues! Physically, I was more like the character of Olivia in the book, getting down to that (not so) magical size 2 (and beyond), even though no one who is 5'6" should ever wear those sizes. Yes, I graduated from college, bought a car, got a teaching position and had a successful year, but I didn't give myself much credit for those accomplishments. Instead, I focused on everything that I though was "wrong" with me and compared myself to everyone else who, for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on, were so much more accomplished and deserving of happiness. I wrapped myself in this tight little cocoon and looked no one in the eye. Nobody could make me come out until I was ready; only I could decide when I had had enough of the life I was living. When I finally started taking little chances and putting myself out there, people didn't laugh in my face and nothing catastrophic happened.
Flash forward to today: Sometimes I forget to be nice to myself. Besides relating to the character, reading this book also reminded me to treat myself like I try to treat others, especially my friends. To focus on what is good in me, and what good I can bring to those I love. To let others be nice to me because, guess what, they may actually like the me they see. And, if they don't, oh well, it's not gonna ruin my day.
http://www.lizapalmer.com/thebooks.html
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)