Having lost 43 pounds to date, I've got a whole mess of clothes in my closet that no longer fit. While I've never consciously approached my eating and exercise knowing that my "fat" clothes were there if I needed them, in recent weeks, I've found myself slacking just a bit too much in getting the exercise to maintain my loss and eating what's best, not just what's quickest.
Since school got out in June, I've hovered between 150-155. I can still wear all my smaller clothes, but in reality, I've got twenty more pounds I want to lose before I start a maintenance phase.
But I've got all those clothes. I don't want to wear them EVER AGAIN, but I didn't have the motivation to do the legwork to go through them to get them sorted so I could part with them in peace.
That is, until yesterday.
We've some dear family friends who are opening their hearts and their home to two very special girls from Bulgaria. The process in lengthy and expensive. One thing the family is doing to raise money for their adoption fund for the girls is to have a rummage sale at the church this coming Saturday.
Enter my chance to get rid of my fat clothes.
I started going through my closet last night and I've already collected a whole box of items to donate to the sale. And I know that once I get to the basement, I'm bound to find some clothes that Caleb's outgrown also that we've no need to hang on to. Anything that's in good shape can go to the sale and we'll be absolutely thrilled to donate our proceeds to the family's fund.
Anything to bring these little girls home.
26 September 2011
12 August 2011
a pinch to grow an inch
When I started this journey to lose weight and be healthier almost nine months ago, I hadn't thought a stitch about my weight "goal". I just knew that I was squeezing into a size 14 jean and I REFUSED to have to even consider going up another size.
Enter lots of hours on the treadmill (that I hated every single second, by the way, just so we're clear), wiser food choices and smaller portion sizes and I managed to hit the forty pound mark this week. As in, I've lost forty pounds. Crazy. That's almost two thirds of the total weight of my youngest kid who just grew taller for the last two years and didn't put on any weight.
He's up to 64.5 pounds now at 4'5", the little squirt. I'll turn around and he'll be looking me in the eye.
But this week, I started thinking about my weight "goal". As far as sizes go, and yes, I know they aren't the same as they used to be. grrrr, I''ve gone from a tight "lay down on the bed and suck it IN, for heaven's sake, you're NOT buying bigger pants!!" 14 to a comfortable 10. And the change to a 10 in my khaki work pants is just within the last two weeks, after I finally couldn't keep the 14's up anymore. (It was getting embarrassing!)
And I'm happy-ish here. I feel good and most days when I glance in the full length mirror at the top of the stairs, I don't hate what I see. So that's progress. HUGE progress, actually, pardon the pun, that I would even stop to see my reflection.
But the number. Oh, the number.
According to the most recent findings at the doctor's office, I'm all of five foot, one and three-quarter inches tall without shoes. Now, looking at this site, that means that my goal "number" should be anywhere from 95 (really? REALLY? I don't think that's even possible! I will disappear if I turn sideways at that weight!) to 121. (Again, even that's a little crazy for me to comprehend right now, since the lowest weight I've achieved in the last seventeen years has been 128, and that was on my wedding day!)
Realistically, I'd say that I'm shooting for 135 right now. That's 15 pounds away. And I know that muscle is leaner than fat, blah, blah, so I may even be able to get away with 140 if I bump up my weight training routine. And in less than a month, when the boys are back in school, I plan to make time for just that.
But if I were 6'4", I'd not have had a weight problem in the first place.
Enter lots of hours on the treadmill (that I hated every single second, by the way, just so we're clear), wiser food choices and smaller portion sizes and I managed to hit the forty pound mark this week. As in, I've lost forty pounds. Crazy. That's almost two thirds of the total weight of my youngest kid who just grew taller for the last two years and didn't put on any weight.
He's up to 64.5 pounds now at 4'5", the little squirt. I'll turn around and he'll be looking me in the eye.
But this week, I started thinking about my weight "goal". As far as sizes go, and yes, I know they aren't the same as they used to be. grrrr, I''ve gone from a tight "lay down on the bed and suck it IN, for heaven's sake, you're NOT buying bigger pants!!" 14 to a comfortable 10. And the change to a 10 in my khaki work pants is just within the last two weeks, after I finally couldn't keep the 14's up anymore. (It was getting embarrassing!)
And I'm happy-ish here. I feel good and most days when I glance in the full length mirror at the top of the stairs, I don't hate what I see. So that's progress. HUGE progress, actually, pardon the pun, that I would even stop to see my reflection.
But the number. Oh, the number.
According to the most recent findings at the doctor's office, I'm all of five foot, one and three-quarter inches tall without shoes. Now, looking at this site, that means that my goal "number" should be anywhere from 95 (really? REALLY? I don't think that's even possible! I will disappear if I turn sideways at that weight!) to 121. (Again, even that's a little crazy for me to comprehend right now, since the lowest weight I've achieved in the last seventeen years has been 128, and that was on my wedding day!)
Realistically, I'd say that I'm shooting for 135 right now. That's 15 pounds away. And I know that muscle is leaner than fat, blah, blah, so I may even be able to get away with 140 if I bump up my weight training routine. And in less than a month, when the boys are back in school, I plan to make time for just that.
But if I were 6'4", I'd not have had a weight problem in the first place.
29 July 2011
out of the darkness and into the sun
In just short of sixty days, I'll be celebrating another birthday. I'll be getting closer to FORTY (gasp!) and by then, I'm fairly confident that I'll be able to say that I'm in better shape at {insert birthday number here} than I was ten birthdays ago.
That's exciting.
And better yet, thanks to recent prodding by my younger brother, I feel better than I have in ten birthdays. I saw my primary doctor last month and discussed some issues with him and after several moments of discussion and asking me to take some quizzes to evaluate my "symptoms", he put me on a low dose of an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety med.
That was thirty one days ago.
Now, feeling better was no where near immediate, as the pharmacist had warned me that it could take up to two weeks before I noticed anything different about how I felt. So I was prepared, although I went home and told Jon that I wished I could stay in bed "for the next two weeks".
A girl can dream.
Ten days or so ago, I started to notice that I'd backed away from the ledge a little bit. I feel calmer, so therefore, things at home and at work seem calmer and I'm even starting to enjoy things again, like teaching Sunday School and having dinner with my best friend.
I hated everyone and everything, you see. Well, that's to say that I felt like that was the case. I'd avoid anything I didn't have to do and wasn't really happy to do anything that I did have to do. And did more and more out of obligation too, which is no fun and no way to live.
Ten days ago, I started to feel as though the fog was lifting and as I type this, I have to tell you that even though I'm not really sure who my "old self" is, I'm starting to feel like maybe I can rediscover her, whoever she is. What she used to like, who she used to be, what she likes now, who she wants to be now.
The world is my oyster.
Watch out, I'm coming.
That's exciting.
And better yet, thanks to recent prodding by my younger brother, I feel better than I have in ten birthdays. I saw my primary doctor last month and discussed some issues with him and after several moments of discussion and asking me to take some quizzes to evaluate my "symptoms", he put me on a low dose of an anti-depressant/anti-anxiety med.
That was thirty one days ago.
Now, feeling better was no where near immediate, as the pharmacist had warned me that it could take up to two weeks before I noticed anything different about how I felt. So I was prepared, although I went home and told Jon that I wished I could stay in bed "for the next two weeks".
A girl can dream.
Ten days or so ago, I started to notice that I'd backed away from the ledge a little bit. I feel calmer, so therefore, things at home and at work seem calmer and I'm even starting to enjoy things again, like teaching Sunday School and having dinner with my best friend.
I hated everyone and everything, you see. Well, that's to say that I felt like that was the case. I'd avoid anything I didn't have to do and wasn't really happy to do anything that I did have to do. And did more and more out of obligation too, which is no fun and no way to live.
Ten days ago, I started to feel as though the fog was lifting and as I type this, I have to tell you that even though I'm not really sure who my "old self" is, I'm starting to feel like maybe I can rediscover her, whoever she is. What she used to like, who she used to be, what she likes now, who she wants to be now.
The world is my oyster.
Watch out, I'm coming.
08 July 2011
A Perfect Opportunity
I'll be honest, it started as "Oh, I'll just walk while we're on vacation and figure out my new routine when we get home."
I fully intended that; really, I did. But it's been 30 days.
Then I remembered how difficult it is to rise early enough to beat the all-too-eager nine year old out of bed. And the minute his eyes open, he's up. And he's talking. And asking questions. It's non-stop, let me tell ya.
I miss my routine of seeing the boys off to school and getting in my workout.
It's also no secret that I am an emotional eater. And I have had an increasingly difficult time managing that lately. I only gained a pound while we were on vacation, but I've fought that pound ever since; back and forth, back and forth.
I'm frustrated. Clearly, I needed to make a change and do it fast. Weight loss relapse is a slippery slope and in the past, I haven't really even paid attention to when it began coming at me. And I have no intention of getting back to 191 again, so I need to focus on what was working and quit worrying about things that clearly don't work.
So I decided that even though I'd hate every second, and trust me, I did, I needed to hit the treadmill this afternoon instead of opening a bag of chips and eating it to the bottom.
(I'm always telling the boys that even adults don't get to do what they want all the time, so it was time to take my own advice here.) And at the end of 3.12 miles, I didn't feel the need to eat chips, or even anything else, surprisingly.
My diet hasn't been the best the last 30 days either. Not horrible, but not anywhere near as good as it needs to be. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and when the going gets tough, I just need to dig deeper and get this done. I know that.
Truthfully, I've had a hard time deciding what my weight goal should be. I can't decide if a number (130) is what I'm shooting for or if a clothing size is better; and that's not really helping me get to where I wanna be either. But trust me, I'll figure it out.
I'm back in the saddle because this is where I need to be. And it feels good.
I fully intended that; really, I did. But it's been 30 days.
Then I remembered how difficult it is to rise early enough to beat the all-too-eager nine year old out of bed. And the minute his eyes open, he's up. And he's talking. And asking questions. It's non-stop, let me tell ya.
I miss my routine of seeing the boys off to school and getting in my workout.
It's also no secret that I am an emotional eater. And I have had an increasingly difficult time managing that lately. I only gained a pound while we were on vacation, but I've fought that pound ever since; back and forth, back and forth.
I'm frustrated. Clearly, I needed to make a change and do it fast. Weight loss relapse is a slippery slope and in the past, I haven't really even paid attention to when it began coming at me. And I have no intention of getting back to 191 again, so I need to focus on what was working and quit worrying about things that clearly don't work.
So I decided that even though I'd hate every second, and trust me, I did, I needed to hit the treadmill this afternoon instead of opening a bag of chips and eating it to the bottom.
(I'm always telling the boys that even adults don't get to do what they want all the time, so it was time to take my own advice here.) And at the end of 3.12 miles, I didn't feel the need to eat chips, or even anything else, surprisingly.
My diet hasn't been the best the last 30 days either. Not horrible, but not anywhere near as good as it needs to be. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and when the going gets tough, I just need to dig deeper and get this done. I know that.
Truthfully, I've had a hard time deciding what my weight goal should be. I can't decide if a number (130) is what I'm shooting for or if a clothing size is better; and that's not really helping me get to where I wanna be either. But trust me, I'll figure it out.
I'm back in the saddle because this is where I need to be. And it feels good.
09 June 2011
every little bit counts
I just finished workout 30 of Jillian Michaels' 30-day shred. It took me thirty three days, but I finished, completing the workout seventeen days in a row.
Craziness.
First, my insights from day one to day thirty. I worked level one for ten days. After about day 3, my knees were sore, but nothing I couldn't push through. My endurance during cardio segments was pretty sad, even with two hits off my inhaler beforehand. My back and shoulders got tight and I had a headache for the first several days but after I did some additional stretching following every workout, it seemed better.
By day 30, I'd been only taking one hit off my inhaler before each workout for about a week. While my heart was pumping pretty hard during cardio segments, I could still breathe and didn't ever have to stop to catch my breath. My back is still feeling a little tight but nothing I can't deal with. And you should see the definition in my arms; it's nothing like Jillian's (let's face it, the girl has GUNS!) but for me, it's impressive. All that strength training paid off in the end. I'm getting my shape back in my torso; still hiding it under shirts for now since I've got ab flab to lose yet, but it's getting there. And I'm pretty proud of myself for not quitting, even when my schedule got tough to maneuver.
And now, I bring you my "results".
30 day shred started 5/6/11
weight 159
chest 35.75”
waist 33”
hips 41”
L thigh 24.5”
day 30 6/9/11
weight 155.6
chest 35.5”
waist 31”
hips 39.25”
thigh 22”
total results 30 day shred (33 days)
weight = -3.4 lbs
inches lost= 6.5
At first, I was disappointed. But then I decided that maybe this is the way that I can actually live with the changes of working out and eating better and doing this slowly without having to deprive myself of pizza on Wednesday nights. And once I took a look at my records from March first, I felt even better.
I've lost 15.4 pounds and 11.75 inches since March 1st. (No wonder the pants I bought in February are falling down.)
Better yet, I finally cracked the 35 pound mark, having now lost 35.4 pounds since December 27th.
I can live with that.
Craziness.
First, my insights from day one to day thirty. I worked level one for ten days. After about day 3, my knees were sore, but nothing I couldn't push through. My endurance during cardio segments was pretty sad, even with two hits off my inhaler beforehand. My back and shoulders got tight and I had a headache for the first several days but after I did some additional stretching following every workout, it seemed better.
By day 30, I'd been only taking one hit off my inhaler before each workout for about a week. While my heart was pumping pretty hard during cardio segments, I could still breathe and didn't ever have to stop to catch my breath. My back is still feeling a little tight but nothing I can't deal with. And you should see the definition in my arms; it's nothing like Jillian's (let's face it, the girl has GUNS!) but for me, it's impressive. All that strength training paid off in the end. I'm getting my shape back in my torso; still hiding it under shirts for now since I've got ab flab to lose yet, but it's getting there. And I'm pretty proud of myself for not quitting, even when my schedule got tough to maneuver.
And now, I bring you my "results".
30 day shred started 5/6/11
weight 159
chest 35.75”
waist 33”
hips 41”
L thigh 24.5”
day 30 6/9/11
weight 155.6
chest 35.5”
waist 31”
hips 39.25”
thigh 22”
total results 30 day shred (33 days)
weight = -3.4 lbs
inches lost= 6.5
At first, I was disappointed. But then I decided that maybe this is the way that I can actually live with the changes of working out and eating better and doing this slowly without having to deprive myself of pizza on Wednesday nights. And once I took a look at my records from March first, I felt even better.
I've lost 15.4 pounds and 11.75 inches since March 1st. (No wonder the pants I bought in February are falling down.)
Better yet, I finally cracked the 35 pound mark, having now lost 35.4 pounds since December 27th.
I can live with that.
07 June 2011
Word Association
I love watching Food Network. My favorite show has to be Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives; I'm a huge Guy Fieri fan.
Caleb likes Triple D too and before he went to bed last night he decided to finish watching an episode with me and steak was being made. It looked absolutely delicious and Caleb pipes up "Oh Mom, that makes me hungry." (I think he's having another growth spurt; this child can't get enough to eat lately.)
A little bewildered, I asked "Why? You've never had steak."
He looked at me with a completely straight face and said, "Mom, it's like this: steak is a meat. Meat is used for meatballs. Meatballs are in spaghetti and spaghetti I love. See?"
That kid cracks me up.
Caleb likes Triple D too and before he went to bed last night he decided to finish watching an episode with me and steak was being made. It looked absolutely delicious and Caleb pipes up "Oh Mom, that makes me hungry." (I think he's having another growth spurt; this child can't get enough to eat lately.)
A little bewildered, I asked "Why? You've never had steak."
He looked at me with a completely straight face and said, "Mom, it's like this: steak is a meat. Meat is used for meatballs. Meatballs are in spaghetti and spaghetti I love. See?"
That kid cracks me up.
02 June 2011
How long DOES this take?
I work three days a week so standard dress is a blue collared shirt and tan pants. On August sixth, I started my job wearing a size 16 pants and a XL polo shirt; granted, the 16's were comfortable, getting used to being on my feet for long periods of time once again, I wanted to be comfortable.
If you have children, you've probably noticed that children's clothing sizes are not regulated. I feel like buying clothes for my boys can be a big guessing game and that's not saying anything about the rate at which they're both growing. 'Why don't they make shorts in slim, those are never gonna stay on his hips. And really, the last 4 pairs of jeans I bought you were an 18 and now the size 18 dress pants that cost forty dollars barely fit? Nice.'
All winter, I thought of my summer wardrobe and held out hope that just maybe I'd need new clothes if the weather ever warmed up. Plus, how many summers can a girl wear the same shorts anyway, I'm totally bored. When I visited my doctor for a physical on Feb. 22, I weighed in at 170, having spent at that point almost two months working out and eating less. Today, I can tell you that I am even more than ten pounds under that, but more importantly, I've lost inches pretty dramatically; more than NINE inches overall at last count since March 1st.
But I still hate shopping. Why? Size regulation. My "new" shirts for work are a 12/14 and a little too big and the pants I bought in March to replace the size 16's that were falling off of me (literally!) were a 14 but a totally different style. They're finally starting to feel big and that's nice, but here's the thing. I went shopping for shorts, capris and t-shirts this week and almost everything I brought home was a size ten and it all fits.
A TEN? Really? (I hadn't worn a size ten since summer of '04 and even then it was only for five minutes, I'm sure of it. Okay, maybe six minutes.)
Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled. I was happy beyond words to have picked up a pair of shorts in a 12 thinking that they may fit and having them be too big. The waist was ridiculously not right and I just had Jon return them last night when he went for detergent that I'd forgotten because I was far too distracted thinking that I was choosing all the wrong size. I was pulling items off the rack while completely consumed with how devastated I'd feel having to return to the store the next day and stand at the service desk with tears rolling down my face telling the overworked and underpaid clerk that I needed to exchange all these items for a larger size.
Seriously. See why I forgot detergent? I mean really, who can focus under such circumstances?
I'm apparently the talk of my store too. I made a comment yesterday to some coworkers about my recent clothes shopping experience and Casey* said "Yeah, I was just talking to Melody* the other day and said 'have you looked at Jen lately?' " When she said "I didn't know if I should comment on how much weight you've obviously lost since Christmas" I said, "Sure and say, 'Gosh, you were fat, at least you're less so now!", she looked at me, shocked, and said"Oh NO, I wouldn't say THAT!" (There's a picture of me (weighing somewhere close to 191) in the break room from December 11th when the jolly, big guy visited our store; I'm not proud of it, but it's a good visual reminder for me.)
I'm just wondering how much longer it'll be till what I see matches up with what is; it's been five months. I'm seeing little things so far, like less cellulite from the back and I'm actually starting to get my shape back in my torso, but to answer Casey's* question, no, I will not be donning a bikini this summer or any summer any time soon.
My brain still has to catch up. And with that, I'm off to do day 23 of 30-Day Shred. I *love* rockstar jumps, who knew!?!
*names have been changed to protect all, for now
If you have children, you've probably noticed that children's clothing sizes are not regulated. I feel like buying clothes for my boys can be a big guessing game and that's not saying anything about the rate at which they're both growing. 'Why don't they make shorts in slim, those are never gonna stay on his hips. And really, the last 4 pairs of jeans I bought you were an 18 and now the size 18 dress pants that cost forty dollars barely fit? Nice.'
All winter, I thought of my summer wardrobe and held out hope that just maybe I'd need new clothes if the weather ever warmed up. Plus, how many summers can a girl wear the same shorts anyway, I'm totally bored. When I visited my doctor for a physical on Feb. 22, I weighed in at 170, having spent at that point almost two months working out and eating less. Today, I can tell you that I am even more than ten pounds under that, but more importantly, I've lost inches pretty dramatically; more than NINE inches overall at last count since March 1st.
But I still hate shopping. Why? Size regulation. My "new" shirts for work are a 12/14 and a little too big and the pants I bought in March to replace the size 16's that were falling off of me (literally!) were a 14 but a totally different style. They're finally starting to feel big and that's nice, but here's the thing. I went shopping for shorts, capris and t-shirts this week and almost everything I brought home was a size ten and it all fits.
A TEN? Really? (I hadn't worn a size ten since summer of '04 and even then it was only for five minutes, I'm sure of it. Okay, maybe six minutes.)
Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled. I was happy beyond words to have picked up a pair of shorts in a 12 thinking that they may fit and having them be too big. The waist was ridiculously not right and I just had Jon return them last night when he went for detergent that I'd forgotten because I was far too distracted thinking that I was choosing all the wrong size. I was pulling items off the rack while completely consumed with how devastated I'd feel having to return to the store the next day and stand at the service desk with tears rolling down my face telling the overworked and underpaid clerk that I needed to exchange all these items for a larger size.
Seriously. See why I forgot detergent? I mean really, who can focus under such circumstances?
I'm apparently the talk of my store too. I made a comment yesterday to some coworkers about my recent clothes shopping experience and Casey* said "Yeah, I was just talking to Melody* the other day and said 'have you looked at Jen lately?' " When she said "I didn't know if I should comment on how much weight you've obviously lost since Christmas" I said, "Sure and say, 'Gosh, you were fat, at least you're less so now!", she looked at me, shocked, and said"Oh NO, I wouldn't say THAT!" (There's a picture of me (weighing somewhere close to 191) in the break room from December 11th when the jolly, big guy visited our store; I'm not proud of it, but it's a good visual reminder for me.)
I'm just wondering how much longer it'll be till what I see matches up with what is; it's been five months. I'm seeing little things so far, like less cellulite from the back and I'm actually starting to get my shape back in my torso, but to answer Casey's* question, no, I will not be donning a bikini this summer or any summer any time soon.
My brain still has to catch up. And with that, I'm off to do day 23 of 30-Day Shred. I *love* rockstar jumps, who knew!?!
*names have been changed to protect all, for now
30 May 2011
catch-all
Happy Memorial Day, everyone! I'm pretty thankful to have a day that's mostly down-time for all of us except for a little matter of two parades that Matthew's marching in later this morning.
Just thought that I'd give you an update on the goings on here, since I've a few things that just couldn't really create a whole post.
Here goes:
*Caleb's baseball team is 1-5; that is in stark contrast to being on the only undefeated team last year. He's playing right field this year and still enjoying it most nights. And there are only 3 teams in his age division this year as well, so that means fewer games. That's okay, it'll be the first time we weren't missing games of some kind for vacation in June since Matthew started playing soccer in kindergarten.
*Speaking of soccer, did you know that I am now the mother of a high school soccer player? Crazy, right? Matthew signed up for the team this week and got his sizes in for home and away uniforms and practices start in July with the first game being Tuesday, August 16th, or so I've been told. (I told him yesterday that I'm starting to already feel the pressure of planning his high school scrapbook..... spring of 2015 will be here before I know it.)
*We purchased a new stove and refrigerator with part of our federal tax refund and they were delivered last week. After the deliverymen had to remove my front door from the hinges and Jon needed to borrow a crowbar from the neighbor to get the old range out, all was well. Turns out our house has narrow doorways and the somewhere along the line someone thought it was a good idea to bolt the range to the counter top to its right. Yep, bolt. I only wish I could have been here to see that. But my new appliances are lovely and I'm a happy girl; although the counter top and cabinets are green with envy.
*Matthew was awarded the Outstanding Eighth Grade Musician award last week. This is given to the student who school officials feel is a superior musician but who also encourages other students to do their best in band and teaches what they know, going above and beyond what is expected. Receiving the award was a complete surprise to him (and to us!) and I don't have to tell you that I was proud.
*Caleb's recently made friends with a little guy who lives just around the corner in the next block and they have a blast together. I'm constantly being asked if he can go play with his friend and always hearing about how much "cool stuff" his friend has to play with. It's nice though for Caleb to have a friend close by, all his other friends live in the town where the schools are and that's harder to make time for play work with all schedules.
*Work's going well. We got a new EXA last week, his name is Mike. He's older than our previous EXA but he's fitting in really well so far and I like him. School's out for summer though, so the college kids are all back to wanting hours so almost every body's hours are cut to make room. I'm down from 25 last week to 22.5 this week to 17 next week. Oh well, 17 hours is more than I was working last year at this time, so it's all good. We'll adjust. And I've been kinda going back and forth on that number of hours anyway; it will allow me to spend time at home with the boys while they're home for summer and that's good, but we won't have as much money for "fun stuff" as we thought. We'll just have to get creative, I guess.
And finally.......
Take time today to remember all those who gave of themselves so that we could have our freedoms. What a gift.....
Just thought that I'd give you an update on the goings on here, since I've a few things that just couldn't really create a whole post.
Here goes:
*Caleb's baseball team is 1-5; that is in stark contrast to being on the only undefeated team last year. He's playing right field this year and still enjoying it most nights. And there are only 3 teams in his age division this year as well, so that means fewer games. That's okay, it'll be the first time we weren't missing games of some kind for vacation in June since Matthew started playing soccer in kindergarten.
*Speaking of soccer, did you know that I am now the mother of a high school soccer player? Crazy, right? Matthew signed up for the team this week and got his sizes in for home and away uniforms and practices start in July with the first game being Tuesday, August 16th, or so I've been told. (I told him yesterday that I'm starting to already feel the pressure of planning his high school scrapbook..... spring of 2015 will be here before I know it.)
*We purchased a new stove and refrigerator with part of our federal tax refund and they were delivered last week. After the deliverymen had to remove my front door from the hinges and Jon needed to borrow a crowbar from the neighbor to get the old range out, all was well. Turns out our house has narrow doorways and the somewhere along the line someone thought it was a good idea to bolt the range to the counter top to its right. Yep, bolt. I only wish I could have been here to see that. But my new appliances are lovely and I'm a happy girl; although the counter top and cabinets are green with envy.
*Matthew was awarded the Outstanding Eighth Grade Musician award last week. This is given to the student who school officials feel is a superior musician but who also encourages other students to do their best in band and teaches what they know, going above and beyond what is expected. Receiving the award was a complete surprise to him (and to us!) and I don't have to tell you that I was proud.
*Caleb's recently made friends with a little guy who lives just around the corner in the next block and they have a blast together. I'm constantly being asked if he can go play with his friend and always hearing about how much "cool stuff" his friend has to play with. It's nice though for Caleb to have a friend close by, all his other friends live in the town where the schools are and that's harder to make time for play work with all schedules.
*Work's going well. We got a new EXA last week, his name is Mike. He's older than our previous EXA but he's fitting in really well so far and I like him. School's out for summer though, so the college kids are all back to wanting hours so almost every body's hours are cut to make room. I'm down from 25 last week to 22.5 this week to 17 next week. Oh well, 17 hours is more than I was working last year at this time, so it's all good. We'll adjust. And I've been kinda going back and forth on that number of hours anyway; it will allow me to spend time at home with the boys while they're home for summer and that's good, but we won't have as much money for "fun stuff" as we thought. We'll just have to get creative, I guess.
And finally.......
Take time today to remember all those who gave of themselves so that we could have our freedoms. What a gift.....
26 May 2011
(random) 30 day shred - day 16
- I just finished my sixteenth workout for 30 day shred and it was my sixth workout with level 2.
- I've taken four days off since I started day 1 on May 6th.
- Wanting to be a "graduate" of the system before we leave to visit family on June 12th, I need to get the workout in every day until then to finish on the 10th, which is the first day of summer vacation for the boys.
- I hate squat thrusts just as much now as I did in gym class.
- I'd rather do jumping jacks for days than plank jacks. Dude.
- Two workouts ago, I decided to see if I could actually do the pushup part of the "walkout pushups". My form isn't great, but I did them. You should see my developing biceps. heehee.
-If you don't think that a 20 minute workout can leave you screaming for relief from the burn, gasping for air and wishing for death as an end to the torture, you'd be totally wrong.
-But changes in the mirror and in the fit of my clothes are proof that if you're tough enough to stick with it, it totally works.
There ya have it. :)
25 May 2011
(Sorta)Wordless Wednesday - the pictures don't lie
(June 2010) I love that baby (my nephew Carson) on my lap, but good grief....I mean. really. And yes, I keep this picture on the fridge to remind me of lots of things; how little I thought about myself, how sad I really was at letting my weight get out of control, how embarrassed I was at having my picture taken, and most of all, how I'm never going back there again.
(May 24, 2011) getting there.... I'm still not crazy about having my picture taken, but I'm beginning to see that all my hard work is paying off, and even though sometimes I still feel like I'm in the body of the top picture, it's obvious even to me that even that is beginning to change.
16 May 2011
keep movin' - day 8
What a crazy weekend!
Friday night Jon took Caleb to his baseball game. I've had a headache off and on for almost a week and that night was awful, so I stayed home. About five minutes after they came in the door, I was upstairs but I heard Caleb say "Daddy, Dina has a mouse and she's under the sofa."
Suddenly I had no need to go downstairs and shower anyone with kisses.
Saturday morning I was awake by quarter to six. Crazy, right, since it was my weekend off. And as I headed down to the bathroom, I noticed that the cat didn't greet me at the bottom of the stairs. That's odd, but my bladder was demanding attention, so I just went to the bathroom to do what I needed to do.
Odder still is that when I came out of the bathroom, she was ignoring me. Then I noticed that she was playing with something that I thought was a toy, but as she flung it into the air, I noticed it was grey. I didn't have to look real closely to notice that she'd captured prize number two and I ran right upstairs and announced to Jon that there was another mouse and he needed to get out of bed and take care of it.
I'm lucky he loves me, let's just say that.
I was planning to do day 8 of 30 day shred, but suddenly Jon was up cooking bacon and eggs and then I was making coffee and eating one egg, two slices of bacon and a slice of toast and watching reruns (obviously) of One Tree Hill on SoapNet.
It's my day off, you know. I'd had two Saturdays off since the first weekend of March and one was for Ladies Retreat and the other for cantata practice at Easter.
Then three of the four of us headed into town to Lowes, just to "look" at their refrigerator prices. Low (prices, really) and behold, forty five minutes later (and Caleb did a great job entertaining himself looking at kitchen cabinets and fancy things; *swoon*) we left having purchased a new refrigerator and the hook-up for the ice maker; the delivery is to be this Saturday between noon and four.
I'm so happy to get rid of my 1988 side-by-side refrigerator, I can't even tell you.
I'd have ordered a range too, if Jon (or I) had written down the measurements for that opening. And since I want black finish, the range will be an extra two weeks from date of order, but it's not pressing, so we might not even order for another week or so. But I'm getting a smooth top range and I'm pretty excited about that too; I hate cleaning burners, like, a lot. So much that I never do it, but that's another thing.
Yesterday morning, I intended to get my tail out of bed and complete day 8...again. And I completely ignored my alarm at 6:15 and slept till after 6:30, so no 30-day shred there either.
But I'm still on track to finish just before we head to Mom and Dad's for vacation next month and I will finish.
And now for some random, but sorta related points.
Friday night Jon took Caleb to his baseball game. I've had a headache off and on for almost a week and that night was awful, so I stayed home. About five minutes after they came in the door, I was upstairs but I heard Caleb say "Daddy, Dina has a mouse and she's under the sofa."
Suddenly I had no need to go downstairs and shower anyone with kisses.
Saturday morning I was awake by quarter to six. Crazy, right, since it was my weekend off. And as I headed down to the bathroom, I noticed that the cat didn't greet me at the bottom of the stairs. That's odd, but my bladder was demanding attention, so I just went to the bathroom to do what I needed to do.
Odder still is that when I came out of the bathroom, she was ignoring me. Then I noticed that she was playing with something that I thought was a toy, but as she flung it into the air, I noticed it was grey. I didn't have to look real closely to notice that she'd captured prize number two and I ran right upstairs and announced to Jon that there was another mouse and he needed to get out of bed and take care of it.
I'm lucky he loves me, let's just say that.
I was planning to do day 8 of 30 day shred, but suddenly Jon was up cooking bacon and eggs and then I was making coffee and eating one egg, two slices of bacon and a slice of toast and watching reruns (obviously) of One Tree Hill on SoapNet.
It's my day off, you know. I'd had two Saturdays off since the first weekend of March and one was for Ladies Retreat and the other for cantata practice at Easter.
Then three of the four of us headed into town to Lowes, just to "look" at their refrigerator prices. Low (prices, really) and behold, forty five minutes later (and Caleb did a great job entertaining himself looking at kitchen cabinets and fancy things; *swoon*) we left having purchased a new refrigerator and the hook-up for the ice maker; the delivery is to be this Saturday between noon and four.
I'm so happy to get rid of my 1988 side-by-side refrigerator, I can't even tell you.
I'd have ordered a range too, if Jon (or I) had written down the measurements for that opening. And since I want black finish, the range will be an extra two weeks from date of order, but it's not pressing, so we might not even order for another week or so. But I'm getting a smooth top range and I'm pretty excited about that too; I hate cleaning burners, like, a lot. So much that I never do it, but that's another thing.
Yesterday morning, I intended to get my tail out of bed and complete day 8...again. And I completely ignored my alarm at 6:15 and slept till after 6:30, so no 30-day shred there either.
But I'm still on track to finish just before we head to Mom and Dad's for vacation next month and I will finish.
And now for some random, but sorta related points.
- I looked in a full length mirror at Wal-Mart on Saturday and almost liked what I saw. Almost.
- My scale is in a time out in the cabinet above the refrigerator and will remain there for at least another week.
- I tried on my size 10 jeans on Friday and they still fit, in fact, just a little better than two weeks before; still not well enough to be super comfortable though, but I think that'll come.
- Jillian is kicking my butt, but I totally have definition in my arms again, which is AWESOME.
- I wore Matthew's hoodie on Saturday cause mine was MIA and it fit. It even zipped and still fit which was totally cool.
And there ya have it, I'm off to be abused by Jillian and get the house cleaned.
Have a great Monday!
12 May 2011
get up and go
Putting in the 11-8 shift yesterday and then turning around and needing to be at work by 8:00 this morning to work the front register doesn't leave me much time.
I hate 11-8 because I feel like I get nothing done, but I love it because I can enjoy my coffee after the boys leave for school and still get in a workout, eat a leisurely breakfast and get a few things done before getting myself to work.
But I'm tired after getting up at six to get everyone ready and not getting home until well after 8:00. Tired.
I still need to get in my workout, so I figured that the easiest thing to do would be to lay out my clothes for morning, workout and work clothes. Then it dawned on me that if I slept in shorts and a t-shirt, it'd save one more step in the morning.
I didn't just come in on a load of turnips, ya know.
That turned out to be the best decision ever as at 5:15 I heard the faint "beep, beep, beep" of the alarm and thought "Already? How is that possible?" But I drag myself out of bed and down the stairs, make a stop at the bathroom and think "okay, it's 5:18 but I can do this" Open the fridge and retrive the water pitcher to get myself a bit hydrated before I present myself to Jillian and take a drink.
"It's 5:19? Really? Man, I'm tired."
This workout is challenging enough during ideal circumstances, but when I'm yawning every ten seconds and struggling to get sleep from my left eye during punches, it takes on a whole new level of difficulty.
But day 6 is done. Mark it.
I hate 11-8 because I feel like I get nothing done, but I love it because I can enjoy my coffee after the boys leave for school and still get in a workout, eat a leisurely breakfast and get a few things done before getting myself to work.
But I'm tired after getting up at six to get everyone ready and not getting home until well after 8:00. Tired.
I still need to get in my workout, so I figured that the easiest thing to do would be to lay out my clothes for morning, workout and work clothes. Then it dawned on me that if I slept in shorts and a t-shirt, it'd save one more step in the morning.
I didn't just come in on a load of turnips, ya know.
That turned out to be the best decision ever as at 5:15 I heard the faint "beep, beep, beep" of the alarm and thought "Already? How is that possible?" But I drag myself out of bed and down the stairs, make a stop at the bathroom and think "okay, it's 5:18 but I can do this" Open the fridge and retrive the water pitcher to get myself a bit hydrated before I present myself to Jillian and take a drink.
"It's 5:19? Really? Man, I'm tired."
This workout is challenging enough during ideal circumstances, but when I'm yawning every ten seconds and struggling to get sleep from my left eye during punches, it takes on a whole new level of difficulty.
But day 6 is done. Mark it.
10 May 2011
on Mother's Day
I was pretty proud of my boys this last weekend.
We're without a pastor at the moment, as you may know, so Sunday was my "turn" for pulpit fill. Our church board secretary had asked me if I'd preach and I told her that I'm not a preacher, I was a preacher's kid, big difference, and she said "how about a mission lesson then?"
As I'm about to complete my first year serving as local church mission president, that I could do.
I spent several days thinking and praying about what it was I was going to present and just kept coming back to the Haiti Water Project. Basically, this is a missions outreach through our denomination that aims to provide the Haitian people with clean drinking water.
For the unfathomable cost of one dollar. One dollar provides one person in Haiti clean water for one entire year.
Now, I'm not creative at all, but I really felt like this project was something that my church and I could donate to, so I covered an ice cream bucket in paper and printed pictures of little tiny faucets and the title Haiti Water Project and armed with some scissors and glue, I created a vessel in which to collect the money.
I had two video clips also, one for an update after the January '10 earthquake and one specifically about Haiti Water Project and the boys watched both clips on Friday after school. Then Caleb looked at me and said "I have dollars, Mom" and he went upstairs and came back down a few minutes later with eight dollar bills and placed them in the bucket.
"Those kids on the video need clean water, Mom, and I can help." I almost burst.
Matthew participated in Sunday's service as part of an instrumental trio, he persented a solo and he took part in playing with the pianos. He did a great job. And he didn't hesitate at all when I asked him to come forward during the presentation to help me out.
And my church family has responded greatly to the need of the Haitian people.
I couldn't be prouder.
We're without a pastor at the moment, as you may know, so Sunday was my "turn" for pulpit fill. Our church board secretary had asked me if I'd preach and I told her that I'm not a preacher, I was a preacher's kid, big difference, and she said "how about a mission lesson then?"
As I'm about to complete my first year serving as local church mission president, that I could do.
I spent several days thinking and praying about what it was I was going to present and just kept coming back to the Haiti Water Project. Basically, this is a missions outreach through our denomination that aims to provide the Haitian people with clean drinking water.
For the unfathomable cost of one dollar. One dollar provides one person in Haiti clean water for one entire year.
Now, I'm not creative at all, but I really felt like this project was something that my church and I could donate to, so I covered an ice cream bucket in paper and printed pictures of little tiny faucets and the title Haiti Water Project and armed with some scissors and glue, I created a vessel in which to collect the money.
I had two video clips also, one for an update after the January '10 earthquake and one specifically about Haiti Water Project and the boys watched both clips on Friday after school. Then Caleb looked at me and said "I have dollars, Mom" and he went upstairs and came back down a few minutes later with eight dollar bills and placed them in the bucket.
"Those kids on the video need clean water, Mom, and I can help." I almost burst.
Matthew participated in Sunday's service as part of an instrumental trio, he persented a solo and he took part in playing with the pianos. He did a great job. And he didn't hesitate at all when I asked him to come forward during the presentation to help me out.
And my church family has responded greatly to the need of the Haitian people.
I couldn't be prouder.
09 May 2011
winning
I started 30-day shred again on Friday.
I'd done the workout before and never made it past day seven. My knees would get so sore and I just never felt like I could do the workout well enough to make it worth my time, so I'd quit.
I think this is my third go at the workout. I just finished workout number three of thirty.
This time around, I find that the workout is still tough, but doable. And my knees are a bit sore but nothing like in the past attempts. I'm positive the reason for that is that there isn't so much load to bear with those dreaded jumping jacks.
I still hate the sound of Jillian's voice. I hate that the DVD won't let me skip the intro where she brags on herself for being "tv's toughest trainer" and when she says "There are three workouts; one, two and three" I wanna scream " Can't you get more creative than that?!?!"
But I take a deep breath, stare at the art on the wall during jumping jacks if I have to and just do it.
I weighed in this morning at the lowest I've weighed since 2006. I also realized that in thirteen pounds, I'll be able to speak of my weight as the lowest since 1996.
Almost 15 years. FIFTEEN. My aim is to be so near goal by Matthew's birthday that I can taste it. That's the sixth of September, the day after Labor Day.
I'm gonna win this war.
I'd done the workout before and never made it past day seven. My knees would get so sore and I just never felt like I could do the workout well enough to make it worth my time, so I'd quit.
I think this is my third go at the workout. I just finished workout number three of thirty.
This time around, I find that the workout is still tough, but doable. And my knees are a bit sore but nothing like in the past attempts. I'm positive the reason for that is that there isn't so much load to bear with those dreaded jumping jacks.
I still hate the sound of Jillian's voice. I hate that the DVD won't let me skip the intro where she brags on herself for being "tv's toughest trainer" and when she says "There are three workouts; one, two and three" I wanna scream " Can't you get more creative than that?!?!"
But I take a deep breath, stare at the art on the wall during jumping jacks if I have to and just do it.
I weighed in this morning at the lowest I've weighed since 2006. I also realized that in thirteen pounds, I'll be able to speak of my weight as the lowest since 1996.
Almost 15 years. FIFTEEN. My aim is to be so near goal by Matthew's birthday that I can taste it. That's the sixth of September, the day after Labor Day.
I'm gonna win this war.
06 May 2011
Featured!
Good Friday morning, all! Despite having to drive Caleb in to school this morning, we're off to a great start.
I'm being featured at Momma Made It Look Easy this morning, (click here for the link) so be sure to stop by and read. And many thanks to Jennifer for the chance.
Have a great weekend.
I'm being featured at Momma Made It Look Easy this morning, (click here for the link) so be sure to stop by and read. And many thanks to Jennifer for the chance.
Have a great weekend.
05 May 2011
in the eye of the beholder
Logically, the change in the numbers must tell me something, but I don't see it. When I look in the mirror, all I can focus on is where improvement is continually needed.
Even before and now pics don't really help since I just can't really see it. And I know that all of my size 14 pants won't stay up and on a great day, I can get into a size 10 and even breathe but I don't see it.
I saw this picture that was taken April 10th and thought two things.
(that's me on the far left, in case you didn't know, with my friends Bettina, Melissa and Diane; great ladies and great friends!)One, I need a haircut and two, boy, do I need to work on the shape of my arms.
Not thinking anything about the pants that I had on that day which I hadn't worn in six flippin' years.
I just wonder if what I see is ever gonna catch up to what actually is.
03 May 2011
simpler
One of my best friends in high school was Mykal. She and I sang in the choir together; she's an alto and I'm a soprano. She was fun and friendly and loud and I loved her.
We spent several days a week together between my sophmore and junior years of high school. We go "crusin'" in T-ville on the weekends; I had a fairly early curfew and her's was much later than mine.
I wasn't busted for breaking curfew too often. Once that I remember for sure, my dad was literally sitting just inside the front door as I opened it at one in the morning. And all he said was "We'll talk about this in the morning."
I'm pretty certain I spent a couple of weeks grounded.
And this morning, as I look out the window and a rain/snow mix is falling from the sky, I got the overwhelming urge to go to Shelbyville. Let me tell you about it.
Mykal worked at Subway sandwich shop in high school and it just so happened to be located directly across the street from the church my family and I attended where my dad was pastor. (This isn't really important to the story except that I was just thinking about that.)
The summer before my junior year which was also Mykal's senior year, she always had at least one day where if she didn't work at all, she wouldn't have to be to work until 4:00 and then she'd most often show up in my driveway in the "turd-mobile". (Her car was older and painted brown, thus the affectionate name, and for the record, could go (once) 100 miles an hour on the highway. It was just for a second that we went that fast, in case either her mom or mine read this...promise.)
And she'd say "Wanna go to Shelbyville?" That was where the man-made "beach" was located off Lake Shelbyville; you know, in the middle of central Illinois where there's so much culture. heehee. And of course I wanted to go; my only "job" was babysitting on the weekends, I had nothing holding me back.
As we drove to the beach with the windows down and the Meatloaf cassette blaring from the speakers, we figured that this was as good as life gets. We'd swim for hours, lay in the sun (I got some killer sunburns that year) and then we'd either hit DQ for dipped cones or KFC for chicken little sandwiches, fries and pop on our way back home; wind blowing in our hair, singing at the top of our lungs, not a care in the world for the afternoon.
Good times.
In the years since, we've kept in touch; even through those years she served in the military and was constantly on the move. She and another friend from high school drove hours to attend my wedding in 1995 and although we've kept in touch, I haven't laid eyes on her since.
I wonder if she's got time to go to Shelbyville.
We spent several days a week together between my sophmore and junior years of high school. We go "crusin'" in T-ville on the weekends; I had a fairly early curfew and her's was much later than mine.
I wasn't busted for breaking curfew too often. Once that I remember for sure, my dad was literally sitting just inside the front door as I opened it at one in the morning. And all he said was "We'll talk about this in the morning."
I'm pretty certain I spent a couple of weeks grounded.
And this morning, as I look out the window and a rain/snow mix is falling from the sky, I got the overwhelming urge to go to Shelbyville. Let me tell you about it.
Mykal worked at Subway sandwich shop in high school and it just so happened to be located directly across the street from the church my family and I attended where my dad was pastor. (This isn't really important to the story except that I was just thinking about that.)
The summer before my junior year which was also Mykal's senior year, she always had at least one day where if she didn't work at all, she wouldn't have to be to work until 4:00 and then she'd most often show up in my driveway in the "turd-mobile". (Her car was older and painted brown, thus the affectionate name, and for the record, could go (once) 100 miles an hour on the highway. It was just for a second that we went that fast, in case either her mom or mine read this...promise.)
And she'd say "Wanna go to Shelbyville?" That was where the man-made "beach" was located off Lake Shelbyville; you know, in the middle of central Illinois where there's so much culture. heehee. And of course I wanted to go; my only "job" was babysitting on the weekends, I had nothing holding me back.
As we drove to the beach with the windows down and the Meatloaf cassette blaring from the speakers, we figured that this was as good as life gets. We'd swim for hours, lay in the sun (I got some killer sunburns that year) and then we'd either hit DQ for dipped cones or KFC for chicken little sandwiches, fries and pop on our way back home; wind blowing in our hair, singing at the top of our lungs, not a care in the world for the afternoon.
Good times.
In the years since, we've kept in touch; even through those years she served in the military and was constantly on the move. She and another friend from high school drove hours to attend my wedding in 1995 and although we've kept in touch, I haven't laid eyes on her since.
I wonder if she's got time to go to Shelbyville.
02 May 2011
my eulogy*
*Yesterday morning while we were in church, Jon received a message from his mom that his cousin Emma who lives in England had unexpectedly passed away. She was only 32 and was a wife, a mother to two very young sons, a daughter, a sister and a friend to many. We're deeply saddened and at the same time reminded that there isn't a second we can take for granted. Thus the inspiration for this post.
Do you ever wonder what loved ones will say at your funeral? I do. And last night while I was at work, all I could think is "what if I died this very second and no one had anything good to say about me?"
Despite my mother's many attempts to the opposite, I am a pessimist by nature. And this fact makes situations such as this intensely more difficult.
God forbid something happen to me now or in the near future, what would my sons and husband say if given the chance? Things like "she was hard to make happy and we were never good enough" run though my head. I don't want them to say "she yelled a lot and we felt as though we weren't a priority".
God forbid.
Taking not one more second for granted here on out, here's what I'd hope my sons would say:
"She loved God with all her heart and sought to serve Him and she loved us just as much. She believed we could do anything and reminded us that our best was all that was necessary. She taught us that even though doing the right thing is not always easy, it's always worth it.
She was patient with us even when we didn't necessarily deserve it and we were never afraid to go to her for help or comfort. She made everyone around her proud to know her and even on her worst day was a great example of Christ and I'd be happy to be half the parent to my children that she was to me.
And even in our sadness, we take comfort in knowing that she now sits at the feet of Jesus and we'll see her again. We love you, Mom."**
Not one more second.
We'll miss you, Emma, but we'll see you again. Enjoy eternity with Jesus.
**every word I could say about my own mother; I'm truly blessed to have been raised by a woman who "amazing" doesn't even begin to describe and I am so thankful.
Do you ever wonder what loved ones will say at your funeral? I do. And last night while I was at work, all I could think is "what if I died this very second and no one had anything good to say about me?"
Despite my mother's many attempts to the opposite, I am a pessimist by nature. And this fact makes situations such as this intensely more difficult.
God forbid something happen to me now or in the near future, what would my sons and husband say if given the chance? Things like "she was hard to make happy and we were never good enough" run though my head. I don't want them to say "she yelled a lot and we felt as though we weren't a priority".
God forbid.
Taking not one more second for granted here on out, here's what I'd hope my sons would say:
"She loved God with all her heart and sought to serve Him and she loved us just as much. She believed we could do anything and reminded us that our best was all that was necessary. She taught us that even though doing the right thing is not always easy, it's always worth it.
She was patient with us even when we didn't necessarily deserve it and we were never afraid to go to her for help or comfort. She made everyone around her proud to know her and even on her worst day was a great example of Christ and I'd be happy to be half the parent to my children that she was to me.
And even in our sadness, we take comfort in knowing that she now sits at the feet of Jesus and we'll see her again. We love you, Mom."**
Not one more second.
We'll miss you, Emma, but we'll see you again. Enjoy eternity with Jesus.
**every word I could say about my own mother; I'm truly blessed to have been raised by a woman who "amazing" doesn't even begin to describe and I am so thankful.
29 April 2011
slippery slope
The few nights a week I'm actually home for dinner, I try my hardest to have us all sit at the table and talk while we eat. Last night I was asked if it was okay if the television was on (um, no) or if I was planning to sit at the computer and eat (no again).
The teenager was the last to fill his plate in the kitchen and his brother and I were already seated at the table when he started to walk through the dining room. As I cleared my throat and said "hey, come back here." he complied, but chose to sit in what is typically his father's place at the table. Good enough.
Given the chance, the nine year old will totally monopolize dinner conversation, so typically it's just easier to let him go first and tell us about his day. His enthusiastic report included that both of his loose teeth bled at lunch time and that most of the kids spent quite a bit of time falling while attempting to roller blade in gym. "And I even told (so-and-so) that rollerblading isn't about speed; it's about focus, concentration and balance." Nice, Son.
Getting the fourteen year old to tell us about his day is touch and go. Some nights he's more than willing to spend time with me in the kitchen while I'm making dinner because he has so much to tell me and other nights all I get in response to questions I ask are guttural noises.
Parenting is hard. Parenting a teenager is sometimes impossible. One minute everything is right with the world- the sun is shining, the birds are singing and life couldn't be better. Then in the blink of an eye (and sometimes faster), there's no communication, no more smiling and lots of "I hate you people" eminating from the human who was perfectly pleasant less than five minutes ago. And don't you dare ask if anything's wrong either, unless what you'd like to hear and see is loud sighing, an exasperated 'I don't know' and multiple eyerolls.
Last night, perfectly pleasant. He volunteered that tutoring went well as he'd spent the lunch hour with some fifth-graders teaching trumpet. We talked about how my brother and sister-in-law will be headed to the hospital for Aunt Cassandra to have the new baby next week. He told me that his buddy Noah's girlfriend had broken up with him at lunchtime and that Noah wasn't taking it well, as can be imagined.
Just then, his phone rang and who would it be but the aforementioned buddy, who wanted to know if Matthew had asked for permisson to stay the night over the weekend. He told Noah he hadn't asked yet and then proceeded to ask while Noah was still on the phone. As I told him that I didn't see a problem with it but would need to check with Jon and then we'd let Noah know, Matthew relayed the message and then after a short pause said "I can't, not right now, maybe later. See ya."
When I inquired as to what he'd told Noah he couldn't do, he said "Oh, nothin' " but when I pressed just a smidge harder he said "I told Noah that I couldn't talk to him right now because I'm talking to you. I'll just call him later."
I freakin' love that kid.
*I'm linking up to share my awesome with Momma Made It Look Easy this week.*
The teenager was the last to fill his plate in the kitchen and his brother and I were already seated at the table when he started to walk through the dining room. As I cleared my throat and said "hey, come back here." he complied, but chose to sit in what is typically his father's place at the table. Good enough.
Given the chance, the nine year old will totally monopolize dinner conversation, so typically it's just easier to let him go first and tell us about his day. His enthusiastic report included that both of his loose teeth bled at lunch time and that most of the kids spent quite a bit of time falling while attempting to roller blade in gym. "And I even told (so-and-so) that rollerblading isn't about speed; it's about focus, concentration and balance." Nice, Son.
Getting the fourteen year old to tell us about his day is touch and go. Some nights he's more than willing to spend time with me in the kitchen while I'm making dinner because he has so much to tell me and other nights all I get in response to questions I ask are guttural noises.
Parenting is hard. Parenting a teenager is sometimes impossible. One minute everything is right with the world- the sun is shining, the birds are singing and life couldn't be better. Then in the blink of an eye (and sometimes faster), there's no communication, no more smiling and lots of "I hate you people" eminating from the human who was perfectly pleasant less than five minutes ago. And don't you dare ask if anything's wrong either, unless what you'd like to hear and see is loud sighing, an exasperated 'I don't know' and multiple eyerolls.
Last night, perfectly pleasant. He volunteered that tutoring went well as he'd spent the lunch hour with some fifth-graders teaching trumpet. We talked about how my brother and sister-in-law will be headed to the hospital for Aunt Cassandra to have the new baby next week. He told me that his buddy Noah's girlfriend had broken up with him at lunchtime and that Noah wasn't taking it well, as can be imagined.
Just then, his phone rang and who would it be but the aforementioned buddy, who wanted to know if Matthew had asked for permisson to stay the night over the weekend. He told Noah he hadn't asked yet and then proceeded to ask while Noah was still on the phone. As I told him that I didn't see a problem with it but would need to check with Jon and then we'd let Noah know, Matthew relayed the message and then after a short pause said "I can't, not right now, maybe later. See ya."
When I inquired as to what he'd told Noah he couldn't do, he said "Oh, nothin' " but when I pressed just a smidge harder he said "I told Noah that I couldn't talk to him right now because I'm talking to you. I'll just call him later."
I freakin' love that kid.
*I'm linking up to share my awesome with Momma Made It Look Easy this week.*
27 April 2011
divide and conquer
Last night, I met Carrie for dinner at Texas Roadhouse. Both of us commented that we couldn't remember the last time we'd eaten there whether we were together or not.
She apologized as she could see that I was sorta ga-ga over what to eat, but I assured her that it didn't matter. Needing to make choices when eating out is part of life for everyone and I wasn't stressed; just figuring I could find something.
I ordered water since it's still free and I could play catch-up then we got to talking and I forgot to concentrate on choosing my entree.
Shocking, I know.
Moments later our waitress came back to the table and Carrie ordered steak, salad and a baked potato. Yum. I took a deep breath and ordered the smokehouse burger well done. In the next second I heard the waitress say:
"Fries okay?" Sure. I don't really like steak fries much anyway. Much.
"Did you want cheese and bacon on those?" Um, me? Cheese and bacon? Why yes!! "No thanks, plain is great."
Score one for me.
Carrie's salad arrived and moments later, so did our entrees. My plate doesn't even hit the table and I realize that the burger is HUGE and there's no way that I could ever eat it all without some major consequences. So before the guy who brought us our food walks away, I said "Can I get a box right away, please?"
He said sure and less than a minute later, my burger was divided followed by half of the fries being placed in the box and laid on the table.
Another point for me.
Then I didn't even eat four of the fries I left for myself. Really. And for ten bucks, I wasn't stuffed to uncomfortable leaving the restaurant and I have lunch today.
Doesn't get better than that.
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