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.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
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 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.
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.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
We did finally make it to our destination. It is a lovely little Florida community called Seacrest. Beautiful homes and foliage are everywhere and the community family events are daily. And our house? AWESOME! The decor was out of a magazine spread. There were enough beds for everyone to have one to themselves and the boys got a whole floor on the 3rd floor to themselves-with a television! You have no idea the amount of peace this afforded us all!
Also, my daughter had her own room with a television so she would retreat in there every time the boys started annoying her. She spent most of her time there, in fact.
I will admit that it was a bit of a trek to the beach and it was seriously crowded with a bunch of over-privileged, snotty, selfish, tourists, but we managed to have a lovely time despite that.
My husband and I marveled at the attitude of the other tourists. They never failed to disappoint us by meeting our "I am an asshole" expectations. Whether they were walking down the sidewalk or through our beach towels, these folks exuded their TOURON attitude.
However, the folks that were serving us were phenomenal. Every waitress, tram-driver and sales clerk was so helpful and kind. It was refreshing after watching and dealing with the rest of the buttheads.
We brought along my very favorite jerk. My mother. After our first day on the beach, and listening to her whine about how she doesn't really like the ocean (What??? She planned this whole experience! She initiated the planning! She doesn't like the what what???) we were waiting for the tram to take our sorry hineys back to the house 2 blocks away. Truly, I could have walked but the kids and my mom were having none of it.
So my mother tells me that my belly was showing in my tankini. With a long skirt. I try to stay covered up for many reasons, mostly because no one wants to see this belly. I know that. But also, everyone around me is a stranger. And a rude stranger to boot. So I don't f-ing care if an inch of my stretchmarked belly is showing for a moment. But then this conversation happens:
Mom: Your belly is showing.
Me: Okay, but I don't know anyone here and I am not too concerned about it.
Mom: But you don't have to look at it.
Me: (stunned silence) That is pretty mean, Mom.
Mom: I know. I am sorry. I love you no matter how you are.
(She has said this to me before and fails to understand how completely asshat it is. I was tired. I let loose.)
Me: I love you no matter how you are too, Mom.
Mom: (Confused look-maybe finally understanding that she is being a jerk) . . .
And so our vacation started on a wonderful note of peace and harmony. Or maybe not so much.
And don't worry, I have more of these Mom gems to share.
Also, my daughter had her own room with a television so she would retreat in there every time the boys started annoying her. She spent most of her time there, in fact.
I will admit that it was a bit of a trek to the beach and it was seriously crowded with a bunch of over-privileged, snotty, selfish, tourists, but we managed to have a lovely time despite that.
My husband and I marveled at the attitude of the other tourists. They never failed to disappoint us by meeting our "I am an asshole" expectations. Whether they were walking down the sidewalk or through our beach towels, these folks exuded their TOURON attitude.
However, the folks that were serving us were phenomenal. Every waitress, tram-driver and sales clerk was so helpful and kind. It was refreshing after watching and dealing with the rest of the buttheads.
We brought along my very favorite jerk. My mother. After our first day on the beach, and listening to her whine about how she doesn't really like the ocean (What??? She planned this whole experience! She initiated the planning! She doesn't like the what what???) we were waiting for the tram to take our sorry hineys back to the house 2 blocks away. Truly, I could have walked but the kids and my mom were having none of it.
So my mother tells me that my belly was showing in my tankini. With a long skirt. I try to stay covered up for many reasons, mostly because no one wants to see this belly. I know that. But also, everyone around me is a stranger. And a rude stranger to boot. So I don't f-ing care if an inch of my stretchmarked belly is showing for a moment. But then this conversation happens:
Mom: Your belly is showing.
Me: Okay, but I don't know anyone here and I am not too concerned about it.
Mom: But you don't have to look at it.
Me: (stunned silence) That is pretty mean, Mom.
Mom: I know. I am sorry. I love you no matter how you are.
(She has said this to me before and fails to understand how completely asshat it is. I was tired. I let loose.)
Me: I love you no matter how you are too, Mom.
Mom: (Confused look-maybe finally understanding that she is being a jerk) . . .
And so our vacation started on a wonderful note of peace and harmony. Or maybe not so much.
And don't worry, I have more of these Mom gems to share.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
Like I mentioned before, we are preparing for a long car trip. Like in a few hours. I have the capability to post from the road on my smart phone. But typing big, long essays while riding in the car is not compatible with sanity. So you should expect little tiny posts. They may look like this:
Shhometh....
Like I said, not compatible.
Right now I am looking at one long counter of food stuff that needs to be packed up some way to travel in a hot truck bed (covered) for the next two days. I am thinking laundry baskets, because we are Klassy.
And there is still a pretty big list of things to buy once we are there because I am not transporting the 3 dozen eggs and two gallons of milk or anything else that needs refrigeration. I love vacations.
Why is it that when we plan for a week of 'relaxation' it requires a few days of heightened stress? To illustrate the stress, I had a doctor's appointment this week. I have asthma and about every 6 months I have to go have my lungs listened to in order to make sure I can still breathe. Breathing is nice, wouldn't you say?
This time my blood pressure was high. Not, get-this-girl-to-the-hospital high, but high enough that I am no longer ingesting intentional salt and the whole weight loss thing is more urgent than ever before. Those of you who are thinking right now, "Of course she has high blood pressure, she's a fatty," can stop reading and kiss my very wide ass. I don't need you here. Go. Away.
I have never had highish blood pressure before. I joked with the doctor about how my blood pressure would go down once the kids were in school and all was okay, but it was a little frightening. I should be made of sterner stuff after having 4 human beings inside, but I am not.
In any case, driving for 10 hours plus stops and meals and negotiating said stops and meals with my 4 children, cranky husband, bipolar mother, and wonderful father should end up with a MUCH lower blood pressure, I am sure. You will certainly know when I get back. Cause I am an over-sharer.
Shhometh....
Like I said, not compatible.
Right now I am looking at one long counter of food stuff that needs to be packed up some way to travel in a hot truck bed (covered) for the next two days. I am thinking laundry baskets, because we are Klassy.
And there is still a pretty big list of things to buy once we are there because I am not transporting the 3 dozen eggs and two gallons of milk or anything else that needs refrigeration. I love vacations.
Why is it that when we plan for a week of 'relaxation' it requires a few days of heightened stress? To illustrate the stress, I had a doctor's appointment this week. I have asthma and about every 6 months I have to go have my lungs listened to in order to make sure I can still breathe. Breathing is nice, wouldn't you say?
This time my blood pressure was high. Not, get-this-girl-to-the-hospital high, but high enough that I am no longer ingesting intentional salt and the whole weight loss thing is more urgent than ever before. Those of you who are thinking right now, "Of course she has high blood pressure, she's a fatty," can stop reading and kiss my very wide ass. I don't need you here. Go. Away.
I have never had highish blood pressure before. I joked with the doctor about how my blood pressure would go down once the kids were in school and all was okay, but it was a little frightening. I should be made of sterner stuff after having 4 human beings inside, but I am not.
In any case, driving for 10 hours plus stops and meals and negotiating said stops and meals with my 4 children, cranky husband, bipolar mother, and wonderful father should end up with a MUCH lower blood pressure, I am sure. You will certainly know when I get back. Cause I am an over-sharer.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Boo!
I mentioned in my bio that I love a good ghost story. I have never seen a ghost myself, but I love to hear about my friends and relatives' experiences. I love the small thrill and the unexpected scare. And I scare very easily. In fact, I have friends that refuse to see movies with me because I am a jumper when that "Boo" moment happens onscreen.
I have heard friends relate that their car is haunted, their house is haunted, their painting is haunted and more. I love it. Tell me a story and I am happy as a clam! Gleeful! But wait until the sun comes up, please. Don't tell me that story in the dark because that is just mean.
Recently, my husband and I have been experiencing strange reverberating thuds in our house after we go to bed. We have 4 kids so we usually chalk it up to them and their shenanigans. But then my husband left for a night for work and I was left alone to hear the thuds. Last night he was back and I was brave enough to go check the kids.
If these thuds are the kids' fault, then they are doing a lot of monkey stuff. They are jumping down and back up on the bunk bed. They are running down the hall. They are awake! Awake at 10 is completely in violation of the rules!
But when I checked on them, they were most certainly asleep. They can play possum pretty well, but they were definitely asleep. Slack faces, sweet sighs, and utter stillness gave them away.
So I went back to my room and kept hearing the soft thud, thud, THUD......thud of mayhem in the rest of the house. I did what anyone would do late at night to find out what it was. I googled 'thud in the night.'
I know you will be completely shocked to find out that this particular google search generates many ghost story websites. And I love a good ghost story. So I read them. And then I was completely freaked out!
There was a haunted hospital story and a haunted mobile home story and a haunted dog story. And I kept reading even though every thud now sounded like an ax murderer coming to get me.
I finally got tired enough to fall asleep. My husband and I had a discussion the next morning about the thuds. He has heard them too. We have decided, now that it is daylight, that the thuds are our sound system where we play books on CD at night to help us fall asleep. We recently moved some of the bits and pieces around to set up an outdoor movie for the kids. The sub woofer must have been adjusted and now as our narrator talks, when he hits a particular deep vocal sound, it thuds.
This is very comforting to me. It will save me hours of trembling and shivering in my bed waiting for Freddy Kruger to come slice me up.
Since it is daylight right now, would you like to share your ghost story in the comments?
Update: Today we have an all time high number of page views. I think it is the ghost story label. So somebody needs to comment. It's a rule, right?
Update Deux: I notice that I did not actually say I love ghost stories in my bio here. Heh. I did say I love those bad scary movies, that are mostly shown on Syfy. Have you seen the latest? Sharknado?? My God that is bad.
I have heard friends relate that their car is haunted, their house is haunted, their painting is haunted and more. I love it. Tell me a story and I am happy as a clam! Gleeful! But wait until the sun comes up, please. Don't tell me that story in the dark because that is just mean.
Recently, my husband and I have been experiencing strange reverberating thuds in our house after we go to bed. We have 4 kids so we usually chalk it up to them and their shenanigans. But then my husband left for a night for work and I was left alone to hear the thuds. Last night he was back and I was brave enough to go check the kids.
If these thuds are the kids' fault, then they are doing a lot of monkey stuff. They are jumping down and back up on the bunk bed. They are running down the hall. They are awake! Awake at 10 is completely in violation of the rules!
But when I checked on them, they were most certainly asleep. They can play possum pretty well, but they were definitely asleep. Slack faces, sweet sighs, and utter stillness gave them away.
So I went back to my room and kept hearing the soft thud, thud, THUD......thud of mayhem in the rest of the house. I did what anyone would do late at night to find out what it was. I googled 'thud in the night.'
I know you will be completely shocked to find out that this particular google search generates many ghost story websites. And I love a good ghost story. So I read them. And then I was completely freaked out!
There was a haunted hospital story and a haunted mobile home story and a haunted dog story. And I kept reading even though every thud now sounded like an ax murderer coming to get me.
I finally got tired enough to fall asleep. My husband and I had a discussion the next morning about the thuds. He has heard them too. We have decided, now that it is daylight, that the thuds are our sound system where we play books on CD at night to help us fall asleep. We recently moved some of the bits and pieces around to set up an outdoor movie for the kids. The sub woofer must have been adjusted and now as our narrator talks, when he hits a particular deep vocal sound, it thuds.
This is very comforting to me. It will save me hours of trembling and shivering in my bed waiting for Freddy Kruger to come slice me up.
Since it is daylight right now, would you like to share your ghost story in the comments?
Update: Today we have an all time high number of page views. I think it is the ghost story label. So somebody needs to comment. It's a rule, right?
Update Deux: I notice that I did not actually say I love ghost stories in my bio here. Heh. I did say I love those bad scary movies, that are mostly shown on Syfy. Have you seen the latest? Sharknado?? My God that is bad.
Saturday, July 6, 2013
Jim Dale is my Hero
Sometimes the cranky in this house is so deep, I could haul it out in a wheelbarrow. This morning for example. You would think if the kids slept in way past their normal wake up time, that would bode well for the day. You would be wrong.
If the kids are so tired that they sleep in, then there isn't enough sleep to fix the cranky. I have broken up two near fist fights this morning. One over a crayon. Not even crayons. Just one singular crayon. The other was over Legos. The Lego one I can almost understand since it happens pretty regularly. One male child of mine thinks every Lego he has ever touched or seen is his personal property and takes great umbrage at anyone other than himself touching or using that Lego. We are working hard to break him of this behavior but it involves a lot of discussions that sometimes may, or may not, end in my yelling.
We are gearing up for a few hours in the car too. Car rides are fun aren't they? Especially with kids? And if those kids are siblings, then the fun is just over-the-top, right??? Right??? We do okay, really. We have a magic formula for car rides.
We choose a book on CD from my husband's collection (he drives hours every day and has many from which to choose) and pop it in. Usually the only time we hear from the kids is when the CDs are changing or someone needs to eat or pee. It is pretty darn magical. We have been known to turn it on just to stop an argument. Bliss!
The added bonus of the books on CD is it helps assuage the guilt I feel because, though I am a former reading teacher, I don't read aloud to my kids very often. I know the research. I know the bonding moment it should bring. It is one of the most painful parenting moments I have ever faced. Everyone wants to sit in my lap. No one can see the book well enough. He or she is hogging the book. And on and on. Painful, I tell you.
Lately we have had disagreements over which book should go in the player. We lasted a really really long time listening to the Harry Potters. But now we are into Percy Jackson, Eragon, and the Narnia books. Narnia books are very appropriate, but too short. Percy Jackson is not appreciated by everyone. And Eragon does not go over well with the girl child.
Ahhh. To go back to the Harry Potter days. We would stay in the car an extra 5 minutes to finish the chapter! It was so awesome. And such good writing! Hubby and I honestly listen to them again and again as we fall asleep each night. We have tried the J. R. Tolkeins but those are a little verbose, without moving along the narrative. There are many Hobbit-lovers lighting their torches to burn me at the stake for saying that. I can't help it. I have read and listened to The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring trilogy books and I hate the songs and the long winded discussions of what to do next. Just get a move on! And the guy they have reading them is no Jim Dale. (He reads the Harry Potters and is truly an artist.) He sings the songs. Seriously! There is no known melody for these long, long, looong songs that J.R. wrote. Don't try to sing them. Just don't.
So I guess the point of this post is to ask if you have any magical tricks to deal with long car rides with kids. What are your tricks and tips to make the trip less painful?
If the kids are so tired that they sleep in, then there isn't enough sleep to fix the cranky. I have broken up two near fist fights this morning. One over a crayon. Not even crayons. Just one singular crayon. The other was over Legos. The Lego one I can almost understand since it happens pretty regularly. One male child of mine thinks every Lego he has ever touched or seen is his personal property and takes great umbrage at anyone other than himself touching or using that Lego. We are working hard to break him of this behavior but it involves a lot of discussions that sometimes may, or may not, end in my yelling.
We are gearing up for a few hours in the car too. Car rides are fun aren't they? Especially with kids? And if those kids are siblings, then the fun is just over-the-top, right??? Right??? We do okay, really. We have a magic formula for car rides.
We choose a book on CD from my husband's collection (he drives hours every day and has many from which to choose) and pop it in. Usually the only time we hear from the kids is when the CDs are changing or someone needs to eat or pee. It is pretty darn magical. We have been known to turn it on just to stop an argument. Bliss!
The added bonus of the books on CD is it helps assuage the guilt I feel because, though I am a former reading teacher, I don't read aloud to my kids very often. I know the research. I know the bonding moment it should bring. It is one of the most painful parenting moments I have ever faced. Everyone wants to sit in my lap. No one can see the book well enough. He or she is hogging the book. And on and on. Painful, I tell you.
Lately we have had disagreements over which book should go in the player. We lasted a really really long time listening to the Harry Potters. But now we are into Percy Jackson, Eragon, and the Narnia books. Narnia books are very appropriate, but too short. Percy Jackson is not appreciated by everyone. And Eragon does not go over well with the girl child.
Ahhh. To go back to the Harry Potter days. We would stay in the car an extra 5 minutes to finish the chapter! It was so awesome. And such good writing! Hubby and I honestly listen to them again and again as we fall asleep each night. We have tried the J. R. Tolkeins but those are a little verbose, without moving along the narrative. There are many Hobbit-lovers lighting their torches to burn me at the stake for saying that. I can't help it. I have read and listened to The Hobbit and The Fellowship of the Ring trilogy books and I hate the songs and the long winded discussions of what to do next. Just get a move on! And the guy they have reading them is no Jim Dale. (He reads the Harry Potters and is truly an artist.) He sings the songs. Seriously! There is no known melody for these long, long, looong songs that J.R. wrote. Don't try to sing them. Just don't.
So I guess the point of this post is to ask if you have any magical tricks to deal with long car rides with kids. What are your tricks and tips to make the trip less painful?
Friday, July 5, 2013
Crazy People Part 2
Remember my crazy aunt and uncle that are not actually my aunt and uncle? I posted a little update that my aunt ate from my plate at a restaurant, uninvited or initiated by me.
We went out to eat a couple of other times. We chose Mexican food one night and this happened:
Crazy Uncle: (without looking at the menu at all) I want a naked burrito.
Waiter: ???
Crazy Uncle: You know, a burrito without the tortilla.
Waiter: (very politely!) We have several burritos to choose from. So you want lettuce? Tomato? Cheese sauce?
C.U.: Yes. No tomato.
Waiter: (still politely but clearly has never heard of this before) So all you want is ground beef and lettuce and cheese sauce?
C.U.: No lettuce. Cheese is fine.
Waiter: (writes things on his note pad)
Me: Did you want cheese sauce? Or just cheese?
C.U.: Cheese is fine.
Me: But not sauce?
C.U.: No sauce.
The waiter was incredibly patient through this. My husband and I were trying not to look at each other and roll our eyes. But then later, my crazy aunt got involved.
C.A.: You see the reason he wants no tortilla is because he has DIABETES and the tortilla has things in it he wants to avoid! (She is hard of hearing but the yelling was because if the waiter didn't understand her, it would be more clear if she yelled it.) (Of course.) (I am rolling my eyes right now!)
And all of this was said as C.U. grabs a handful of chips from the table and munches happily away.
The food came. C.U. had a pile of ground beef with shredded cheese on a plate. We ate. Then my C.A. ordered dessert.
C.A.: We want dessert. We would like to have a sopapilla. Can you bring it out with the sugar and cinnamon on the side?
Waiter: Our sopapillas don't have sugar on them. So you want the cinnamon on the side?
C.A.: WE WANT THE SUGAR AND CINNAMON ON. THE. SIDE. OF THE SOPAPILLA! (This was yelled with hand gestures. No kidding, I put my head down on the table here.)
Waiter: (Speaking a bit louder, but not yelling. Just trying to be more clear) There isn't any sugar on our sopapillas. Just cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream.
C.A.: Okay, just put the cinnamon on the side.
(Waiter wanders off to tell everyone else about the crazy lady that just yelled at him.)
The sopapilla took a bit longer to come out. I would guess it was so everyone in the back could take turns spitting on it. When it came out, my diabetic uncle-who-is-not-my-uncle ate half of it. Because the tortilla on the sopapilla and the chocolate sauce, ice cream and whipped cream and cherry on top (that he grabbed right away and obviously relished!) would not mess with his blood sugar at all! Many times they repeated that these were not like the sopapillas they had ever had before. As they licked their fingers and smacked their lips.
After they licked the plate (kidding a little bit) we got up to leave. We were going to a minor league ballgame afterwards. My husband tried to hang around because we just knew he would try to stiff the waiter on the tip. He did. But he wouldn't let Tom stay behind and leave a bit more. You know, a 10% tip instead of an 8% tip. Now we can't go back in there.
Thank you C.U. and C.A. for ruining one of our few dining choices in our town.
We went out to eat a couple of other times. We chose Mexican food one night and this happened:
Crazy Uncle: (without looking at the menu at all) I want a naked burrito.
Waiter: ???
Crazy Uncle: You know, a burrito without the tortilla.
Waiter: (very politely!) We have several burritos to choose from. So you want lettuce? Tomato? Cheese sauce?
C.U.: Yes. No tomato.
Waiter: (still politely but clearly has never heard of this before) So all you want is ground beef and lettuce and cheese sauce?
C.U.: No lettuce. Cheese is fine.
Waiter: (writes things on his note pad)
Me: Did you want cheese sauce? Or just cheese?
C.U.: Cheese is fine.
Me: But not sauce?
C.U.: No sauce.
The waiter was incredibly patient through this. My husband and I were trying not to look at each other and roll our eyes. But then later, my crazy aunt got involved.
C.A.: You see the reason he wants no tortilla is because he has DIABETES and the tortilla has things in it he wants to avoid! (She is hard of hearing but the yelling was because if the waiter didn't understand her, it would be more clear if she yelled it.) (Of course.) (I am rolling my eyes right now!)
And all of this was said as C.U. grabs a handful of chips from the table and munches happily away.
The food came. C.U. had a pile of ground beef with shredded cheese on a plate. We ate. Then my C.A. ordered dessert.
C.A.: We want dessert. We would like to have a sopapilla. Can you bring it out with the sugar and cinnamon on the side?
Waiter: Our sopapillas don't have sugar on them. So you want the cinnamon on the side?
C.A.: WE WANT THE SUGAR AND CINNAMON ON. THE. SIDE. OF THE SOPAPILLA! (This was yelled with hand gestures. No kidding, I put my head down on the table here.)
Waiter: (Speaking a bit louder, but not yelling. Just trying to be more clear) There isn't any sugar on our sopapillas. Just cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream.
C.A.: Okay, just put the cinnamon on the side.
(Waiter wanders off to tell everyone else about the crazy lady that just yelled at him.)
The sopapilla took a bit longer to come out. I would guess it was so everyone in the back could take turns spitting on it. When it came out, my diabetic uncle-who-is-not-my-uncle ate half of it. Because the tortilla on the sopapilla and the chocolate sauce, ice cream and whipped cream and cherry on top (that he grabbed right away and obviously relished!) would not mess with his blood sugar at all! Many times they repeated that these were not like the sopapillas they had ever had before. As they licked their fingers and smacked their lips.
After they licked the plate (kidding a little bit) we got up to leave. We were going to a minor league ballgame afterwards. My husband tried to hang around because we just knew he would try to stiff the waiter on the tip. He did. But he wouldn't let Tom stay behind and leave a bit more. You know, a 10% tip instead of an 8% tip. Now we can't go back in there.
Thank you C.U. and C.A. for ruining one of our few dining choices in our town.
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Debbie Downer
Last year we planned a trip to Florida with my parents. 4 kids. 4 adults. Two minivans. Negative 10 sanity. We got to Montgomery, AL and stopped for the night. When we awoke the next morning, The Weather Channel people were having on-air orgasms because there was a TROPICAL STORM COMING RIGHT NOW RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE GOING!! TAKE COVER!!
We had family in the area so we called them. They were pretty nonchalant about it. It was just cloudy and sprinkling. So we checked The Weather Channel again and they weren't sure of the path Debbie would take but IT HAS BEEN UPGRADED FROM TROPICAL STORM TO HURRICANE!! TAKE COVER!!
We talked about what to do. I got a headache trying to contain the little darlings in two hotel rooms without causing damage. We watched The Weather Channel again and called some friends who were in the area and they confirmed that it was just cloudy. But I was very hesitant to continue toward the area.
We were supposed to be in a condo on the beach. Facing the beach. Large windows down one whole side. On. The. Beach. I am from the mid-west. I know what to do in case of an earthquake, severe thunderstorm, and tornado. I even have some ideas about zombie apocalypse. But hurricanes are an unknown. I hear you need sheets of plywood. I was bringing my crockpot and griddle and a butt ton of food but no plywood.
So we opted to turn around and head to Gatlinburg, TN. It was another full day on the road and we were very happy to pull up to our jumbo cabin with 4 bedrooms, each with its own jacuzzi tub, a kitchen, large living room and deck with another hot tub. Lovely! We paid much less for the giant cabin in the mountains than we did for the condo on the beach.
Then we went to Dollywood and had to take out a loan to get in. We hiked some mountain trails and almost saw some bear. We ate out nearly every meal because cooking in a cabin in the mountains was a whole different deal than cooking on the beach. And we visited the Ripley's Aquarium and took out another small loan. In the end, though our accommodations were cheaper, it was much more expensive to do things in the mountains than it would have been on the beach. Because on the beach we would have just played and swam and walked.
We are attempting another trip to the beach this summer. My kids regularly curse Debbie in their little 8 year old ways. I don't think we would let The Weather Channel turn us around again unless there was truly a hurricane coming. Not the hands-in-the-air, gleeful, the sky is falling sort of reporting.
I hate The Weather Channel.
We had family in the area so we called them. They were pretty nonchalant about it. It was just cloudy and sprinkling. So we checked The Weather Channel again and they weren't sure of the path Debbie would take but IT HAS BEEN UPGRADED FROM TROPICAL STORM TO HURRICANE!! TAKE COVER!!
We talked about what to do. I got a headache trying to contain the little darlings in two hotel rooms without causing damage. We watched The Weather Channel again and called some friends who were in the area and they confirmed that it was just cloudy. But I was very hesitant to continue toward the area.
We were supposed to be in a condo on the beach. Facing the beach. Large windows down one whole side. On. The. Beach. I am from the mid-west. I know what to do in case of an earthquake, severe thunderstorm, and tornado. I even have some ideas about zombie apocalypse. But hurricanes are an unknown. I hear you need sheets of plywood. I was bringing my crockpot and griddle and a butt ton of food but no plywood.
So we opted to turn around and head to Gatlinburg, TN. It was another full day on the road and we were very happy to pull up to our jumbo cabin with 4 bedrooms, each with its own jacuzzi tub, a kitchen, large living room and deck with another hot tub. Lovely! We paid much less for the giant cabin in the mountains than we did for the condo on the beach.
Then we went to Dollywood and had to take out a loan to get in. We hiked some mountain trails and almost saw some bear. We ate out nearly every meal because cooking in a cabin in the mountains was a whole different deal than cooking on the beach. And we visited the Ripley's Aquarium and took out another small loan. In the end, though our accommodations were cheaper, it was much more expensive to do things in the mountains than it would have been on the beach. Because on the beach we would have just played and swam and walked.
We are attempting another trip to the beach this summer. My kids regularly curse Debbie in their little 8 year old ways. I don't think we would let The Weather Channel turn us around again unless there was truly a hurricane coming. Not the hands-in-the-air, gleeful, the sky is falling sort of reporting.
I hate The Weather Channel.
Monday, July 1, 2013
Swimming
I take my little heathens swimming in the summer a couple of times each week. There is this old pool that is part of an old country club near town.
I know the images the words, "Country Club" can conjure in your head. Nobody named Buffy has EVER been near this one. There is no golf. Heck, there is no city water and sewer. This club has been around since the early 1930's. The pool is literally the very oldest pool around anywhere. It is rough-bottomed and besides the lake and the pool there are no other amenities. Most of the cabins around the lake are in great repair, for the 1950's. Some have been remodeled over the years but the majority have not and a few are falling in the lake.
We go to this pool because it is serene and cool and quiet. We regularly have it to our selves. It has a bathroom and a large deck area. And is surrounded by trees and looks down the center of the very small fishing lake that is a part of the club.
We get to use this pool because my parents have a fishing membership in the club. They used to own a small cabin that my dad tortured me by having me help remodel. But that was sold long before I got married. So now we just go down to swim a few hours every few days and enjoy our almost private pool.
Last year when we were there, we ran into some families that thought everyone else was deaf who swam with them. I know this must be true because I got to hear about their marital woes and what a bitch their exes were. And because we must have been deaf, I also learned their children's names because they were hollered, repeatedly, the entire time they were swimming.
And their children's names were absurd. My kids go to school with some Rivers, and girls named Tommi. I have heard the ridiculous names with which some parents have saddled their children. But these kids. I almost felt sorry for them. But then they stole our pool toys and proceeded to tear them up so now I have no sympathy left. So even though the oldest couldn't have been more than 10 years old, I now hate King, Phoenix, Rock, Blue, and Three. It is like they looked for category names on Jeopardy before they named their kids.
This week I was sharing our pool with a young mom and her one-year-old. I commented on how cute he was and baby talked to him for a moment then introduced myself and my mom and my kids. Then this lady looked at me like I had asked her her bank account password and social security number, grudgingly told me her name and we proceeded to not speak to each other again because I was obviously crossing some sort of line by asking her name to make small talk.
Is that weird? I mean, I am always trying to make new friends in new circles. I enjoy knowing the people with whom I am sharing a public space. I chat with people at soccer, or football, or track. Doesn't everyone?
Unless they name their child Bull. Then I don't want to know them.
I know the images the words, "Country Club" can conjure in your head. Nobody named Buffy has EVER been near this one. There is no golf. Heck, there is no city water and sewer. This club has been around since the early 1930's. The pool is literally the very oldest pool around anywhere. It is rough-bottomed and besides the lake and the pool there are no other amenities. Most of the cabins around the lake are in great repair, for the 1950's. Some have been remodeled over the years but the majority have not and a few are falling in the lake.
We go to this pool because it is serene and cool and quiet. We regularly have it to our selves. It has a bathroom and a large deck area. And is surrounded by trees and looks down the center of the very small fishing lake that is a part of the club.
We get to use this pool because my parents have a fishing membership in the club. They used to own a small cabin that my dad tortured me by having me help remodel. But that was sold long before I got married. So now we just go down to swim a few hours every few days and enjoy our almost private pool.
Last year when we were there, we ran into some families that thought everyone else was deaf who swam with them. I know this must be true because I got to hear about their marital woes and what a bitch their exes were. And because we must have been deaf, I also learned their children's names because they were hollered, repeatedly, the entire time they were swimming.
And their children's names were absurd. My kids go to school with some Rivers, and girls named Tommi. I have heard the ridiculous names with which some parents have saddled their children. But these kids. I almost felt sorry for them. But then they stole our pool toys and proceeded to tear them up so now I have no sympathy left. So even though the oldest couldn't have been more than 10 years old, I now hate King, Phoenix, Rock, Blue, and Three. It is like they looked for category names on Jeopardy before they named their kids.
This week I was sharing our pool with a young mom and her one-year-old. I commented on how cute he was and baby talked to him for a moment then introduced myself and my mom and my kids. Then this lady looked at me like I had asked her her bank account password and social security number, grudgingly told me her name and we proceeded to not speak to each other again because I was obviously crossing some sort of line by asking her name to make small talk.
Is that weird? I mean, I am always trying to make new friends in new circles. I enjoy knowing the people with whom I am sharing a public space. I chat with people at soccer, or football, or track. Doesn't everyone?
Unless they name their child Bull. Then I don't want to know them.
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