Most children don’t understand diplomacy or tact.
They call it like they see it.
My brother is getting married in July. He’s very excited about this as would be expected. His fiancé is a lovely woman who has asked me to be one of her bride’s maids (matron?)
I’m thrilled for my brother and his Angel (her name is Angel and I love that both Jason and Jaxon call her their Angel) and so of course I agreed to be a part of their wedding.
But…that gives me about six months to lose, oh, maybe 60 pounds?
I was telling my mom last night that in preparation for January 2nd, I was rereading my South Beach diet book.
Olivia, aka Big Ears, asked if I was going to lose weight because of my, and she pointed for emphasis, big belly.
I gave her a tight smile and said, “Yes, that’s why, thank you for noticing.”
She’s informed me on several occasions that I have a giant belly. She’s not one to mince words, that girl.
So…come January 2, I will be starting phase 1 of South Beach. And dare I say it? I’m actually getting excited to do so. Last time I did South Beach I stayed on phase 1 for six months. Yes, yes the book says to only do it for two weeks but it worked so well (for the time I did it. The minute I started eating my normal I started gaining.) I lost 60 pounds in those six months, which made phase 1 easy for me.
I don’t even have a goal weight in mind for the July wedding. I just want to lose and I’ll be happy with whatever I manage to do.
And if this, in Olivia’s words, “giant belly” disappears too? That’s just a bonus. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel so good this time around that I won’t want to go back to eating the shit I’ve been eating for the past year that has brought me to this low place on which the number on the scale is so very, very high.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Dues
I work with a guy who has a couple of kids. One is almost twenty and the other is fifteen.
His twenty year old went to a semester of college right out of high school but then decided it wasn’t for her. Since, she’s sort of floated.
Recently, I was at a fast food joint and ran in to this coworker, his wife and their twenty year old. The ‘child’ was grumpy because the parents were making her wait for the food and carry it back to the table to them.
I gently asked if they’d paid for her lunch. She was gracious enough to acknowledge that they did.
She then asked me if I knew of any place that was hiring. I turned to the sign on the wall beside us and said, “They are here.”
She rolled her eyes.
I wonder…where does this sense of entitlement come from? This young woman doesn’t seem to want to pay her dues. She wants to go directly from a mediocre high school career into a cushy, high paying, low stress job.
That’s not how it works.
Yet, my step daughter, now 25 years old, always seemed to think it worked that way too. She didn’t want to work fast food or in production at a factory.
She wanted to go directly from high school to being a judge. Or at one point, she wanted to be a probation officer.
These kids don’t seem to understand that you have to put in years of education, working less desirable jobs to pay for that education to get to a place where you get to have a job you might actually enjoy.
I want my girls to understand this. I want them to respect the hard working people of this world and be willing to be one of them.
I paid my dues. I waitressed through high school. I was a cashier at a grocery store. I’ve worked production at more factories than I can count. While in college, I worked in the cafeteria, often in the dish room, washing the nasty dishes that my peers, disgusting college students, sent back, perhaps thinking a robot was back there to clean the peanut butter out of the bottom of a glass or the melted marshmallow out of a microwaved dish.
I fully expect 16 year old Alyssa to get a job at the local dairy treat or the Burger King down the road. I expect her to pay for her own gas if she ends up with a car. I expect her to go to college and help pay the tuition by working while in college.
I want her to understand the value of doing good work at a job she might not actually enjoy. I want her to understand that sometimes we do things we don’t necessarily want to do so we can get to a point where we’re doing what we want.
I really think that she’ll appreciate the nicer things in life if she has to earn them. I think she’ll be a kinder and yet stronger person if she has to pay her dues as well.
I want all these things for Olivia too but I also know that some lessons are harder for her to process and so we’ll take each lesson as it comes with that one.
His twenty year old went to a semester of college right out of high school but then decided it wasn’t for her. Since, she’s sort of floated.
Recently, I was at a fast food joint and ran in to this coworker, his wife and their twenty year old. The ‘child’ was grumpy because the parents were making her wait for the food and carry it back to the table to them.
I gently asked if they’d paid for her lunch. She was gracious enough to acknowledge that they did.
She then asked me if I knew of any place that was hiring. I turned to the sign on the wall beside us and said, “They are here.”
She rolled her eyes.
I wonder…where does this sense of entitlement come from? This young woman doesn’t seem to want to pay her dues. She wants to go directly from a mediocre high school career into a cushy, high paying, low stress job.
That’s not how it works.
Yet, my step daughter, now 25 years old, always seemed to think it worked that way too. She didn’t want to work fast food or in production at a factory.
She wanted to go directly from high school to being a judge. Or at one point, she wanted to be a probation officer.
These kids don’t seem to understand that you have to put in years of education, working less desirable jobs to pay for that education to get to a place where you get to have a job you might actually enjoy.
I want my girls to understand this. I want them to respect the hard working people of this world and be willing to be one of them.
I paid my dues. I waitressed through high school. I was a cashier at a grocery store. I’ve worked production at more factories than I can count. While in college, I worked in the cafeteria, often in the dish room, washing the nasty dishes that my peers, disgusting college students, sent back, perhaps thinking a robot was back there to clean the peanut butter out of the bottom of a glass or the melted marshmallow out of a microwaved dish.
I fully expect 16 year old Alyssa to get a job at the local dairy treat or the Burger King down the road. I expect her to pay for her own gas if she ends up with a car. I expect her to go to college and help pay the tuition by working while in college.
I want her to understand the value of doing good work at a job she might not actually enjoy. I want her to understand that sometimes we do things we don’t necessarily want to do so we can get to a point where we’re doing what we want.
I really think that she’ll appreciate the nicer things in life if she has to earn them. I think she’ll be a kinder and yet stronger person if she has to pay her dues as well.
I want all these things for Olivia too but I also know that some lessons are harder for her to process and so we’ll take each lesson as it comes with that one.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Christmas Cards
Potential pictures for our Christmas cards:
This
and this
Or just this
Or this
So many mediocre pictures...so little time to get those Christmas cards addressed and mailed.
This
and this
Or just this
Or this
So many mediocre pictures...so little time to get those Christmas cards addressed and mailed.
The Recorder
Okay, I kind of want to know who invented the musical instrument known as the recorder?
That person needs to be locked in a room and forced to listen to about 50 fourth graders playing Hot Cross Buns and Jingles Bells on the recorder. That music should be on a loop and the room in which he/she is locked should be heated to about 120 degrees Fahrenheit with the humidity somewhere around 85%.
That might give the inventor some sense of what it is like to sit in the bleachers in a gymnasium to ‘enjoy’ a Winter Concert performed by the lovely children in the first, second, third and fourth grades at my daughters’ elementary school.
The kids were adorable, don’t get me wrong. They were enthusiastic and very proud of their musical accomplishment.
My mom even commented that they had greatly improved from when they performed for Grandparents’ day just six weeks before. I’m almost sad I missed that.
Alyssa has been practicing the recorder for months. She loves that thing. And honestly, listening to just one recorder being practiced isn’t such a bad thing. We do have to put a time limit on it because I think she’d ‘practice’ all day long if we let her. And that? It just can’t happen, not if we all want to remain reasonably sane.
She was so happy last night. Dressed in her new Christmas dress, her red tights, her shoes with HEELS and her hair with the red ends braided to show off the red at its shiniest best, she was in nine year old heaven.
For all the torture that is a group of nine and ten year olds playing recorders, I will say I was pleasantly surprised to find that when I was surrounded by those very same students at the end of the concert, I wasn’t overwhelmed by the stench of puberty. Good call, moms and dads of boys and girls alike, on the generous use of deodorant before heading to the school last night.
That person needs to be locked in a room and forced to listen to about 50 fourth graders playing Hot Cross Buns and Jingles Bells on the recorder. That music should be on a loop and the room in which he/she is locked should be heated to about 120 degrees Fahrenheit with the humidity somewhere around 85%.
That might give the inventor some sense of what it is like to sit in the bleachers in a gymnasium to ‘enjoy’ a Winter Concert performed by the lovely children in the first, second, third and fourth grades at my daughters’ elementary school.
The kids were adorable, don’t get me wrong. They were enthusiastic and very proud of their musical accomplishment.
My mom even commented that they had greatly improved from when they performed for Grandparents’ day just six weeks before. I’m almost sad I missed that.
Alyssa has been practicing the recorder for months. She loves that thing. And honestly, listening to just one recorder being practiced isn’t such a bad thing. We do have to put a time limit on it because I think she’d ‘practice’ all day long if we let her. And that? It just can’t happen, not if we all want to remain reasonably sane.
She was so happy last night. Dressed in her new Christmas dress, her red tights, her shoes with HEELS and her hair with the red ends braided to show off the red at its shiniest best, she was in nine year old heaven.
For all the torture that is a group of nine and ten year olds playing recorders, I will say I was pleasantly surprised to find that when I was surrounded by those very same students at the end of the concert, I wasn’t overwhelmed by the stench of puberty. Good call, moms and dads of boys and girls alike, on the generous use of deodorant before heading to the school last night.
Monday, December 10, 2012
Taking It Personally
At parents, we take the things our children say and do very personally. We take their accomplishments personally as well as their negative behavior. We can’t help it. Our kids reflect back on us, on our parenting skills or lack of.
Last week while waiting for Alyssa at gymnastics class, a teenage girl was trying to engage Olivia in conversation. She (the teenager) told Olivia that she liked O’s shirt.
What did Olivia do? Did she just turn and put her head against my stomach shyly, trying to avoid the conversation?
No. She did not do that.
She mooned the girl.
Okay, so she didn’t actually bend over and show teen her full moon but she did pull her pants down far enough that butt crack showed. Her back was mostly to me so no one else saw this but I did and so did the teenager.
I wanted to die.
I yanked O’s pants up and scolded her. I apologized profusely to the nice teenage girl who was just trying to be kind to the obnoxious six year old.
She just laughed and said it was no big deal.
But it was a big deal.
I took that action so personally. I felt like it was a moment where Olivia was screaming to the world that I was horrible mother.
I know it wasn’t quite that dramatic but I also know that if I want to take credit for Alyssa being in the local newspaper for outstanding work in school, I need to take responsibility for Olivia mooning a girl at gymnastics class.
If I want credit for the fact that Olivia no longer pulls her hair I have to take responsibility for the fact that Alyssa can’t remember to put her clothes in the laundry basket each day even though I remind her every single day.
We parents tend to be quick to take credit but often a little less enthusiastic about taking responsibility.
But then I remind myself that responsibility is one thing but guilt is another. I may be responsible for my kids’ actions to a certain extent, I can’t wallow in guilt over these actions. That gets us nowhere.
So while I stewed about the incident for a few days, I’m over it now.
Olivia and I had a long, stern talk about why that was so inappropriate. We discuss better reactions to someone having the gall to actually talk to her.
And in the end, I did what I could at the moment it happened. I apologized to the moonee, I admonished the mooner and I can only hope and pray (and remind her that it is so very wrong to do something like that) that it won’t happen again.
Last week while waiting for Alyssa at gymnastics class, a teenage girl was trying to engage Olivia in conversation. She (the teenager) told Olivia that she liked O’s shirt.
What did Olivia do? Did she just turn and put her head against my stomach shyly, trying to avoid the conversation?
No. She did not do that.
She mooned the girl.
Okay, so she didn’t actually bend over and show teen her full moon but she did pull her pants down far enough that butt crack showed. Her back was mostly to me so no one else saw this but I did and so did the teenager.
I wanted to die.
I yanked O’s pants up and scolded her. I apologized profusely to the nice teenage girl who was just trying to be kind to the obnoxious six year old.
She just laughed and said it was no big deal.
But it was a big deal.
I took that action so personally. I felt like it was a moment where Olivia was screaming to the world that I was horrible mother.
I know it wasn’t quite that dramatic but I also know that if I want to take credit for Alyssa being in the local newspaper for outstanding work in school, I need to take responsibility for Olivia mooning a girl at gymnastics class.
If I want credit for the fact that Olivia no longer pulls her hair I have to take responsibility for the fact that Alyssa can’t remember to put her clothes in the laundry basket each day even though I remind her every single day.
We parents tend to be quick to take credit but often a little less enthusiastic about taking responsibility.
But then I remind myself that responsibility is one thing but guilt is another. I may be responsible for my kids’ actions to a certain extent, I can’t wallow in guilt over these actions. That gets us nowhere.
So while I stewed about the incident for a few days, I’m over it now.
Olivia and I had a long, stern talk about why that was so inappropriate. We discuss better reactions to someone having the gall to actually talk to her.
And in the end, I did what I could at the moment it happened. I apologized to the moonee, I admonished the mooner and I can only hope and pray (and remind her that it is so very wrong to do something like that) that it won’t happen again.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
At Least They're Good Travelers
The lovely Julie hosts a wonderful Tea Party each December. She invites female friends and family members and we gather to share cookies, eat chicken soup, trade ornaments and just get into the Christmas spirit.
Julie sent an email about a month ago asking me and our friend Mandy if a specific date was good for us.
We both came back that it was fine.
And...I didn't write that date down. I did keep the email and figured I could check it as the date neared.
Mandy sent an email earlier this week mentioning the Tea Party. This email made me mae think that the party was yesterday. I confirmed the time with Julie but didn't mention the date.
So Friday I made three batches of cookies, did two loads of laundry and wrapped three Christmas tree ornaments.
The girls and I hit the road at 10am for the three plus hour drive to Indy.
We got there about 2:10 and...there were no cars in the driveway.
That feeling I'd had all morning, that worry that I had the day wrong hit hard.
I called Julie.
The party is next week.
As in...we were a WEEK early. The family that lives the farthest away had the wrong week.
I am such an idiot sometimes.
We asked if we could use her bathroom because, yeah, we'd driven pretty far and really had to pee.
Julie and Riley were about fifteen minutes from home. She asked us to wait for them. We did.
She felt awful for the mixup. I felt even worse.
The girls and I ended up spending about an hour and a half with Julie and her family. They were gracious about our impropmtu visit.
On the bright side, Alyssa and Olivia actually had more fun with Julie's daugther Riley than they would have had there been a bunch of other kids there. They did gymnastics, ran races, played upstairs and were just all good kids.
Julie and I had a better visit than we usually do because she wasn't busy making sure all her other guests are having fun.
So, selfishly, it was a great visit.
But yes, I've decided I need an assistant. Someone better than I am at writing things on a calendar and then actually checking the damned thing.
Julie sent an email about a month ago asking me and our friend Mandy if a specific date was good for us.
We both came back that it was fine.
And...I didn't write that date down. I did keep the email and figured I could check it as the date neared.
Mandy sent an email earlier this week mentioning the Tea Party. This email made me mae think that the party was yesterday. I confirmed the time with Julie but didn't mention the date.
So Friday I made three batches of cookies, did two loads of laundry and wrapped three Christmas tree ornaments.
The girls and I hit the road at 10am for the three plus hour drive to Indy.
We got there about 2:10 and...there were no cars in the driveway.
That feeling I'd had all morning, that worry that I had the day wrong hit hard.
I called Julie.
The party is next week.
As in...we were a WEEK early. The family that lives the farthest away had the wrong week.
I am such an idiot sometimes.
We asked if we could use her bathroom because, yeah, we'd driven pretty far and really had to pee.
Julie and Riley were about fifteen minutes from home. She asked us to wait for them. We did.
She felt awful for the mixup. I felt even worse.
The girls and I ended up spending about an hour and a half with Julie and her family. They were gracious about our impropmtu visit.
On the bright side, Alyssa and Olivia actually had more fun with Julie's daugther Riley than they would have had there been a bunch of other kids there. They did gymnastics, ran races, played upstairs and were just all good kids.
Julie and I had a better visit than we usually do because she wasn't busy making sure all her other guests are having fun.
So, selfishly, it was a great visit.
But yes, I've decided I need an assistant. Someone better than I am at writing things on a calendar and then actually checking the damned thing.
Friday, December 7, 2012
All She Wants for Christmas
My kids have been thinking about Christmas since before the turkey of Thanksgiving was digested. It didn’t matter that Olivia’s birthday was the Tuesday after Thanksgiving, we’d had her party the weekend before Thanksgiving so as far as she was concerned, the birthday was old news.
But Christmas, ah the beauty and lights and magic of Christmas, that’s right here and now.
As Alyssa adds to and amends her wish list, Olivia is taking it all in.
Last night in the car on the way to gymnastics, Olivia announced, “I’ve been thinking about my Christmas list. I want a princess and some new nail polish.”
I asked her if the princess she wanted should be a princess baby or a princess Barbie. She gave it a few minutes of thought, really considering the benefits of both and decided, “I want it to be a princess Barbie because I really do like Barbies a lot. But don’t forget the nail polish too. I really need some new colors.”
My girl…she has her priorities.
But Christmas, ah the beauty and lights and magic of Christmas, that’s right here and now.
As Alyssa adds to and amends her wish list, Olivia is taking it all in.
Last night in the car on the way to gymnastics, Olivia announced, “I’ve been thinking about my Christmas list. I want a princess and some new nail polish.”
I asked her if the princess she wanted should be a princess baby or a princess Barbie. She gave it a few minutes of thought, really considering the benefits of both and decided, “I want it to be a princess Barbie because I really do like Barbies a lot. But don’t forget the nail polish too. I really need some new colors.”
My girl…she has her priorities.
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