The Story of a Quicky Part 2

I know I swore I would never do this again after the last weekend trip but when my dad asks me to do something, I do it.  Anyone else have this sort of relationship with their dad?  I mean, he says, "Let's drive 6 hours across two states and visit with relatives in the cheesy music capital of the midwest!"  I say, "When do we leave?"

So we loaded up our 6 suitcases (sounds extreme but the kids each have their own small rolling suitcase which sometimes helps with confusion and fighting over what the kids will wear) and headed to Branson, MO last weekend.  

Again, this is a two minivan endeavor.  Two kids eating junk and candy and watching movies in my parents' car and two kids listening to The 39 Clues and drinking water bottles with granola bars in my car.  

It was a beautiful day.  Blue skies like you only see in September in the midwest.  Puffy clouds providing a bit of shade.  Lots of random crazy places you only find in the midwest to laugh at.  My favorite was Arnolds Barbecue restaurant with an attached car wash.  

We arrived in Branson pretty early.  Said hello to some relatives and headed out to dinner.  We ate at Olive Garden.  I know this isn't fine dining to many, but my small town does not have an Olive Garden.  We have a Fazoli's.  So Olive Garden is a pretty big step UP!

I have one son who is very partial to spaghetti so it was like he had arrived in Mecca.  My dad also loves spaghetti so it made him happy too.  This is a double bonus for our family!

We ate, visited then headed back to the hotel.  It was bedtime after a long day.  But at about midnight my daughter woke me up and then threw up in the bathroom.  Yea!  We are off to a great start!

My husband and I talked it over and decided that maybe a bit too much strawberry lemonade at dinner was the culprit.  My daughter felt just fine the next morning.  Happy, bouncing, eating normally.  So we chalked it up to a lesson learned and set out on our next day.

My husband and dad played golf in the morning and my mom and I took my kids shopping.  Doesn't that sound like fun?  Keeping track and keeping happy four 8-year-olds in an open air shopping mall???  Whooo-hoooo!

This was my attempt at pleasing my mother.  She loves to shop.  She wanted to buy stuff for my kids.  My kids hate shopping, but with the promise of ice cream after lunch they held it together and I only lost two of them for a few minutes.  These are the best odds I could hope for.

It went so well my mom started talking about going to another shopping mall.  Can you even imagine doing two places with kids and expecting anyone to be happy?  I quashed that and mom got mad at me.  Figures.  It's my fault she has unrealistic expectations about child behavior. 

Instead of shopping some more, we went swimming.  Good for the kids.  Mom actually looked pretty tired so she rested some.  That was good for me.  I didn't have to dodge thinly veiled insults from the woman who gave birth to me.  

Then we were out for dinner again.  It was a fish place and the kids all tried fried alligator.  

But then that night again I had Ella puking and Jack puked too.  Now we are starting to hit a red alert level.  One kid puking is able to be handled.  Two kids?  We have new questions to answer.  Is this catching?  Will we get sick?  Should we leave early?  How much whining will the girl do if we leave before visiting the Titanic museum?  Can we handle that?

In the end we decided everyone was eating too much junk, should not drink anymore soda, and avoid fried foods.  Aaaaaaand visit the Titanic museum just so we don't have to listen to the girl whine about it again.

The day went mostly well.  Minimal whining.  From my mom.  And the kids were pretty good too.  Until we went to dinner at Billy Bob's Dairyland.  Fried hamburgers, fried pies and ice cream shakes.  So much for avoiding junk.   Frankly, it is hard to find a meal that ISN'T fried in Branson.  And an exact quote from my mom during that dinner was, "Well, we can just share a chocolate fudgey brownie dessert.  Right?  Share it?  That won't make the kids sick."

We avoided the chocolate fudgey brownie, despite my mother's insistence that it would not make anyone sick, and survived the night without puking.

2 nights.  3 pukes.  One whiny mother.  I don't think we will be doing this again.  At least for a month or two.

So sorry.

I haven't felt like writing lately.  A close relative passed away last week and we buried her this week.  I didn't feel like it was my place to write about it on facebook, since she was related to my husband, but it has been a week of mixed emotions and heartbreak.

Therefore, I wasn't really feeling like being snarky or funny.  But life continues and kids are kids and they started school!  Yes!!!!  

Now don't get me wrong.  I adore those 8 hours I get kid-free and quiet-house.  Cleaning that stays clean.  All good things in my book.  But for some reason, this year doesn't feel quite as liberating.  Maybe it is because of the death and funeral.  I think, most likely, it is because my husband is actually home this week.  He is usually driving all across the USA doing his work thing all week long and then makes appearances on weekends.  And I have come to appreciate both the leaving and the returning.

If I traveled back in time and told my newlywed self or even my dating-seriously self that this is how my marriage would work, I would have said, "No way.  I would never live in a weekend marriage."  However, 17 years later, this is really quite pleasant.  My husband is a really great guy.  We talk every day and I keep him up on the minute to minute drama of quadruplets.  And when he returns we are happy and relieved to see each other and it is a little celebration.

I have taken on tasks that, honestly, should have been mine from the start.  I take out the garbage, pay the house payment and all the other bills, manage our bank account, and fix whatever things break while he is gone if I can.  Those don't sound super tough, but it can pile up when you add in feeding and maintaining life for the rest of the household.  And clean clothes.  

Laundry is never-ending and the bottom of the laundry basket is a rare sight.  The unicorn of laundry.

But I digress.  Anyway, if any of you Russian readers have noticed the absence, then blame it on the death in the family.  Have a great weekend.

I am an idiot.

This school year I have agreed to set aside my sanity and be the treasurer for my children's school PTO.  This is not a small commitment.  The PTO raises and spends thousands of dollars each year.  And I have had some issues with how some things are done.  But I decided that things would only be changed if someone stepped up and worked from within to make it better.  And I have control issues, so who better to get in there and do that??  Why, yes, I am raising my hand for that job because I have control issues.  And I'm an idiot.

This new commitment is my own fault.  When we first were attending our church, I saw some things I didn't like about the children's program.  The choirs were not age appropriate.  They ran too late for the littles.  And they sang completely inappropriate songs for them too.  

If you didn't know this, 3 and 4 year olds do not like to sing praise choruses, as a rule.  They want to use their whole body to sing.  Jumping is required.  But the littles in the one choir were singing praise choruses all the time.  And they were bored.  It was hard for me to watch.  

I can remember singing in a little choir that my mom directed at my church.  We sang the song from "It's a Small World" which is a surprisingly appropriate song for church.  And also is surprisingly appropriate for littles.

This was not happening at our church.  The littles were standing at the front of the church, dwarfed by the big kids and staring into space.  No jumping.  No cute antics.  Just the parents (ME) cringing at their glazed eyes and penchant for knocking over very expensive microphones.

So when I was asked to direct the choir because the former director had a new commitment that meant she couldn't continue, I jumped at the chance.  And I immediately started a second and third choir for the littles.  Now there is a teeny choir.  They mostly do a few actions as the leader strums her guitar.  But they are learning rhythm and look so stinking cute not really singing in front of the church a couple of times a year.

We also have a middle choir.  These guys go to school but learn the church basics of Father Abraham and Deep and Wide.  And no those are not porn movie titles.  If you have spent any time with children at a church, you may have heard them.

And we have the Jr. choir that I direct.  We sing more contemporary praise choruses and some fun, silly songs like, "I Think I'm Going To Throw Up" and "I Just Want To Be A Sheep."  And we do two musicals a year.  TWO!  

All of these things are not small amounts of work.  I talk to the other directors and ask their kids to do cameos in the big kids musicals.  I make sure they can sing in front of the church a few times during the school year and I talk to our sound guys and musicians to make sure all of this goes smoothly.  And I choose the musicals, assign parts to the people most likely to learn them, help with sets and costumes, create power points of each song and all the spoken parts so that the kids have a performance crutch, and direct the large dress rehearsals before the programs.  And we practice every Wednesday night for about 30 minutes.  

The time commitment is about 50 hours a semester.  And now I am adding PTO treasurer.  I am truly an idiot.  This whole Stay-At-Home-Mom gig is turning into a Rarely-At-Home-Mom gig.

How does your school schedule shape up?  I know many other folks have more commitments than this.  Some folks do all this sort of stuff and have a job as well.  Tell me!  Vent away!  Overcommitted Moms Unite!

I am a cunning linguist.

My internet went a little sideways this week.  The hubba-lubba-ding-dong came home and set everything right.  All is well.  I hate that I waited for him to return to get it fixed.  I could have done that myself.  I am not helpless.  But I am busy.

I managed to do the hundred other things that needed doing this week and I had 4G on my phone so I was fine with not having my desktop, except for this blog.  Or personal diary.  More of a personal diary because most of the folks who are reading it are in Russia.  Seriously.  Blogger tracks these things. 

And the most viewed post was the one titled "The Story of a Quicky."  Now real people who read will realize that this was about a quick weekend trip away with my family.  It in no way referred to any bedroom activities.

But now I know that if I want to get more hits on the blog, I need to make vaguely sexual references in my titles.  Titles like "Blow My Man Down" that is about an unfortunate weather incident.  Or  "Getting Laid" that is really about putting down new flooring.  Or perhaps "My Threesome" which would relate my day with my kids, but one is visiting his Nana.

Think you could come up with more vaguely sexual titles?  I would use them if you leave one in the comments!  (See what I did there?  Just a small beg for comments!)  Come on all you Russians!  Put your comment through the Google translator and have a go!  Practice your english skills!

Oh my God!  I have to post something just so I can push my over-sharing "Skinny Minnie" post farther down the blog!  I cringe each time I see it.  I may have to delete it.

As a sort of update for it, I have been back on the exercise and diet wagon.  My self-control today is phenomenal.  I know this because after violin practice ran late, I picked up Dairy Queen for the kids and did not order anything for myself.  The story I told myself in my head was that there was no way they would finish their food and I could nab a few fries or a bite of a sundae.  

But the fact is that now that I am home I will be much less likely to nibble on their food and will eat my chicken breast and vegetables with gusto.  I hope.

Good luck to you if you can say no to ice cream in the summer.

Skinny Minnie

Are you skinny?

I am not.  I am rotund.  Fat.  Obese.  A big girl.  Wide load.  Fatty.  And all those other ugly words used to describe folks that look like me.

I don't like it.  Of course.  I look back over my life of eating habits and I truly just don't know where I went off the rails.  I was a skinny child.  But I remember in HS being around 105 lbs. and thinking I would be happy to lose those 5 lbs.  That is some skewed thinking.

In my 20's I gained a few pounds here and there.  Then I got engaged and lost quite a bit of weight but when I looked in the mirror, I still saw the chunky me.  I always had wondered at girls on TV intervention shows who were anorexic who would look in the mirror at their emaciated bodies and see 'fat'.  But I did that during that weight loss period.  I saw the slight bulge at my tummy.  I saw the thickness in my thighs.  I was still fat in my head and if all that work still didn't get me skinny, then why the hell bother?

So after the wedding, I gained.  Quite a bit.  And I still didn't see my true self in the mirror.  I couldn't understand why my pants didn't fit.  I would die a little bit as I slowly had to stop shopping at stores that didn't carry my size.

And then I got pregnant with quadruplets and I GAINED!  It was all physician supervised and my diet was very strictly controlled, but the emphasis was actually on gaining.  The babies needed to grow so I was eating the healthiest I ever had but I was on strict bedrest too so I was just laying around and eating healthy foods and gaining baby weight, I hoped.

That pregnancy was like the traumatic event in a hoarder's history that causes them to lose their shit and start stockpiling bags of cat feces.  It created a moment in my life where I went from fat to morbidly obese.

Once the babies were born, I lost a lot in inches and in pounds, but the exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and pure emotion meant that I was eating a lot and I put it all back on twice over.  Not good.

So now here I am, post baby by about 7 years, and I look in the mirror and I see it.  I see the huge belly that sags and the droopy thighs and I diet and I walk and I lift weights and I see the stretch marks and the scars from the c-section.  I have lost a few pounds here and there but it doesn't seem to matter.  I still will need extra room in my pants because of the way my body is shaped now.

And I am embarrassed by it.  When I eat in public I can tell that other people, even close friends, are looking at what I put in my mouth. I feel judged by them.  I feel I should have to explain that my blood sugar is bottoming out because I skipped breakfast to try and be 'thin'.  Or that I just walked two miles and won't get to eat again until late tonight.  They look at that fork of whatever and think, "That is why she is fat."

I watch them eat too and wonder at how they can stop.  How can anyone order a meal and eat only half?  Only half a dessert?  Say no to the ice cream, cheese, hamburger, pizza?  How do you do it?

I have tried so many diets.  Weight Watchers, Adkins, South Beach, Flat Belly, Nutri-System.  17-Day.  some of them work for a bit.  Some don't at all.  I choose healthy foods to have at home.  I exercise 5 days a week.  I park far away and walk.

Family relationships have always played a part in my weight loss/gain.  They haven't held back in their judgement of my size and the voices in my head are theirs.  Saying that I shouldn't eat that muffin.  That  I look horrible.  How can my husband love a fat slob like me?

And when things are extra stressful, I hide any eating I do.  That seems wrong too.  Even if it is an apple core I am tucking in under the garbage at the top of the can.  

I know that I should stick to it and be faithful to responsible eating.  Then I get hungry and fuck it all I will eat something!!

Again, I have no real moral here.  No "and then she ate celery soup for the next 4 weeks and miraculously lost 130 pounds!"  

I read inspirational weight loss stories and am inspired.  But mean words and hurtful labels won't turn this ship in a different direction.  I honestly don't know what it will take.

While on our beach vacation we scheduled a beach photo shoot for the whole family.  It seemed like such a good idea in my house far away from the beach.  Sunsets are lovely over the gulf and I had enviously viewed my friends' pictures from their beach vacations.  It will be perfect, I thought.

You probably know me well enough to know by now that if there is a way to make something more complicated or annoying, we manage to find it.  First of all, I booked a photographer that wasn't actually in the area where we were staying.  She was lovely and very friendly, but  it was an hour drive to meet her half-way.  And the traffic in Destin is famously horrible.  And there was a car accident that slowed both directions down.  Our side was slow because people are stupid about checking out an accident.  I hate that.  I don't get the fascination at all.  So the hour drive took an hour and a half.  But we did get there.

We met the photographer and walked out onto the beach where no less than 5 other photographers were taking pictures.  It was a beautiful evening, and that was almost a miracle right there, so I could understand the crowd a bit, but it is hard to make it look like you are on some deserted stretch of beach when 50 other people are trying to do the same thing.

And then there was the timing.  It isn't like you can choose the time of your sunset.  It sets when it sets.  But to get there on time, we had to leave at a time we would usually be eating.  Eating before would have put it at about early afternoon and we weren't hungry then.  So imagine 4 hungry kids, two grumpy grandparents, and two frustrated parents.  Not optimal photo-taking behavior.  

The kids were unbelievably inattentive and obedient.  I mean, way beyond our normal orneriness into clinically disobedient.  No amount of threats or bribes were going to get them to walk or stand or sit correctly for those dreamed of shots of perfect children. 

But it turns out, after all that, and the late late dinner we had after (because every restaurant was as busy as the road had been and we didn't sit down to food until 10pm!) the photographer posted a sneak peek to the photo session and the pictures are FABULOUS!!  No kidding, AMAZING!  We are so going to be purchasing more than a CD of these pictures!

Whew!

Update:  For some reason, these posts are out of order on my blog.  Sorry about that.  I will stop fiddling with the font despite continuity issues.  My OCD can relax.