Moms out there: What IS IT with dinner?
Breakfast is smooth. I make the food, they eat the food. Easy, done. Lunch is pleasant. What is it about dinner in particular that something always seems to go awry? It's like the witching hour! Does this happen to you guys out there?
I enjoy cooking and maybe I even take it a bit ...well, personally. I put my heart into cooking for my family. (Okay, fine, not every SINGLE night. But most nights) Im not playing the martyr here, like I slave over the stove for hours a day at a thankless, drudgery-filled job. That's not my plight. My husband almost always says thank you after eating dinner and I actually cook because I enjoy it. Its just that after I've spent a considerable amount of time and effort in the kitchen making a meal, I have high hopes and possibly misplaced expections of the dinner hour itself. Its not actually even an hour, it takes anywhere for 30-60 minutes to make the food, but the actual eating takes only about 15 or 20 minutes. And while visions fill my head of my smiling family scooting up to the table, eating and enjoying the food, meanwhile engaging in pleasant, harmonious conversation- the breakdown of what really happens during that 15 or 20 minutes is a far cry. A far cry, people! Something is lost in translation from my ideals and my reality.
Every single night at dinner at least 3 of these 5 things will happen:
1) I will announce dinner is ready and proceed to call everyone to the table...about 5 times. This, I will confess is a total pet peeve. So much lollygagging! Does no one want the food to still be hot?
2) By the time we get both kids' food cut up, any hidden tomatos, onions, or other suspicious looking veg removed and sit down to eat ourselves, my 1 year old son has already finished everything on his tray, is now bored, and proceeds to either smash or throw any remnants of food anywhere he can reach. This is usually accompanied by lots of yelling and grunting.
3) And this one is always a guarantee- my 4 year old daughter is devastated by whatever happens to land on her plate that night. She simply cannot be bothered by food. She would survive on air and saliva if I allowed it. So this of course necessitates a whole lot of coaxing, enforcing, disciplining, etc. Shute, I'd do cartwheels across the table if it would get her to eat of her own free will.
4) All conversations, trains of thought, and unfinshed sentences are abandoned somewhere around mid-meal. Its either eat your own food while its still somewhat warm, or try and remember "what was it we were saying again?"
5) The 1 year old in the highchair has long been done, bored, and pacified beyond what he is in the mood for, and is now trying to make his great escape by jumping out of his highchair. Thank God he's never been successful in this yet, but it almost gives me a heart attack every time he tries.
By the time all is said and done, messes cleaned, dishes cleared, and the dust settles, Im pooped! It feels like a 3 ring circus some nights! Now I will say this: there are lots of great moments too. Bella usually says something offbeat and funny at least once. It may be less than peaceful at times, but we are all still seated together at the table having a family dinner, and that's a good thing. Jaxon is a rowdy little guy, but he is easily pleased and will eat anything I put in front of him. This thrills me.
I know it has much to do with the ages my kids are at, and it wont always feel like so much work. I was pondering this tonight as we ran (literally ran) Jaxon straight from the highchair to the bathtub. I was watching the two of them play and squeal while I soaped up their hair and their rosy cherub cheeks and pot bellies. I dont want to wish these stages away. It can be a lot more work when they're this little, but its still simple. They need me (and I need them). They are still eager to please and to snuggle and they dont have a care in the world. They infuse my life with laughter and joy. The purest kind of joy. Like when my daughter touches my cheek and tells me Im the best mommy and she loves me "all the way to the moon and back down to the dirt and the flowers". Or when my son laughs his raspy little belly laugh. You just cant beat that. One day they'll be moody teenagers and granted, they'll be a tad more civilized at the dinner table, but it'll be a whole new ballgame by then.
I have learned a few helpful tricks along the way for in the meantime. Such as, BE PREPARED! As long as I have little pieces of food to keep shoveling onto his tray, my son is happy. This also goes for restaraunts. A little snack, a little coloring book, a game of "I Spy"- they go a long way. And a timer has worked wonders in our household in getting my daughter to eat. If she really isnt eating at all, we put a timer on for 15 minutes. She is so mortified by the mere idea of the timer, that she instantly starts to eat. Victory!
Someday maybe we'll reach that holy grail of all eating while our food is still hot, with no battles, while bonding over a bowl of pasta. Until then, I'll just be happy that we're still bonding. So what if there's spaghetti on the ceiling.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Ok So I Lied!
But not intentionally! A while back (now, now, there's no need to document HOW FAR back) I said I was going to re-start P90X... Turns out I lied.
Ewe. I hate how this already is shaping up to sound like one big procrastinating "fail"! I ..."WAS going to..." "RE-start"?... Gag. I swear Im not this person. I will say this, in my defense: I had good reasons! Legitimate reasons! Health reasons. Holiday reasons. Packing and moving reasons. This is starting to sound like a lot of reasons.
So now we are moved, settled, healthy, and I am fresh out of good reasons to put it off any longer. So its really true. (Drumroll please!) On Monday, THIS Monday, I am re-starting P90X. There, I've said it. Now I have to do it. The very same reason why I avoid new years resolutions. All that accountability, the public scrutiny, the misplaced pressure! But this time Im embracing it, which is actually quite contrary to my usual habit. Historically speaking, its a telling sign if I've quit TALKING about doing something, because that is about the exact time that I actually DO the thing. Especially in the health and fitness department. "Im going to eat healthier", "Im going to run ten miles", "Im going to quit drinking soda", "blah blah blah". No one cares! No one really ever wants to hear any of this nonsense. Except maybe a sister or a best freind or someone of that nature. Other than that, Im guessing that its better to just shut up and do it already and quit carrying on about it. So I will, and I am, and I'll let you know how it goes.
I do have a small ammendment to make: I am not entirely against New Year's Resolutions. Im all for reflecting, taking stock, and setting personal goals. I actually have a lot of goals. I want to have more GUMPTION! More courage, more spunk, more GUTS. I want to be more GRACIOUS. And those are just the G's! Back during the holiday frenzy, I had made it my "December personal goal" that if I must err, to always err on the side of graciousness. I've decided that was a good one, and Im going to keep it at the top of the list for- well, for forever. I think its more the element of choosing January 1st to be a Refresh button that doesnt jive with me. If I really wanted to do something, or not do something, or make some emphatic change, I would just do it, regardless of the date on the calendar. But I suppose its as good of a time as any- and hey, who am I to talk anyway? Here I am, implementing my big P90X plan on January 24th. LOL. Maybe I just resist January 1st because I really am a procrastinator? Hmm. Im sure I can trust you to put that one in the vault...
Ewe. I hate how this already is shaping up to sound like one big procrastinating "fail"! I ..."WAS going to..." "RE-start"?... Gag. I swear Im not this person. I will say this, in my defense: I had good reasons! Legitimate reasons! Health reasons. Holiday reasons. Packing and moving reasons. This is starting to sound like a lot of reasons.
So now we are moved, settled, healthy, and I am fresh out of good reasons to put it off any longer. So its really true. (Drumroll please!) On Monday, THIS Monday, I am re-starting P90X. There, I've said it. Now I have to do it. The very same reason why I avoid new years resolutions. All that accountability, the public scrutiny, the misplaced pressure! But this time Im embracing it, which is actually quite contrary to my usual habit. Historically speaking, its a telling sign if I've quit TALKING about doing something, because that is about the exact time that I actually DO the thing. Especially in the health and fitness department. "Im going to eat healthier", "Im going to run ten miles", "Im going to quit drinking soda", "blah blah blah". No one cares! No one really ever wants to hear any of this nonsense. Except maybe a sister or a best freind or someone of that nature. Other than that, Im guessing that its better to just shut up and do it already and quit carrying on about it. So I will, and I am, and I'll let you know how it goes.
I do have a small ammendment to make: I am not entirely against New Year's Resolutions. Im all for reflecting, taking stock, and setting personal goals. I actually have a lot of goals. I want to have more GUMPTION! More courage, more spunk, more GUTS. I want to be more GRACIOUS. And those are just the G's! Back during the holiday frenzy, I had made it my "December personal goal" that if I must err, to always err on the side of graciousness. I've decided that was a good one, and Im going to keep it at the top of the list for- well, for forever. I think its more the element of choosing January 1st to be a Refresh button that doesnt jive with me. If I really wanted to do something, or not do something, or make some emphatic change, I would just do it, regardless of the date on the calendar. But I suppose its as good of a time as any- and hey, who am I to talk anyway? Here I am, implementing my big P90X plan on January 24th. LOL. Maybe I just resist January 1st because I really am a procrastinator? Hmm. Im sure I can trust you to put that one in the vault...
Thursday, January 6, 2011
BLURG
To borrow a term from my fictional, tv character- kindred spirit Liz Lemon, my feelings can best be summed up in one word. BLURG.
Or maybe Hmphf. Or Phrrrt! No, dear readers, I have not lost my marbles. Yet. I am currently sitting in my most favorite, ugly-as-sin lazy-boy recliner (that is far too comfortable to part with, however contradicting it may be to my style preferences), which is in the middle of what used to resemble my home, but that is recently in such a state of unrecognizable disarray, that I see no other option than to shrug my duties and blog. Gasp. Who am I, even?! What has become of me?!
For the past few weeks we have been packing, organizing, purging, -doing our darndest to prepare for the big move this weekend. Essentially, editing and disassembling our entire lives. Or at least its felt that way. Between all of that, and dealing with multiple (albeit minor) health issues in our household, I will candidly say Im feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. Just a teense! A scoch. Okay fine. Totally, completely overwhelmed!
There's always a silver lining: It does feel good to simplify. Trim the excess, clean out all the drawers and closets and spaces that go neglected. The plan is to move, save, and then move, once again, into our forever house. The elusive Forever House. Is there such a thing? Ha! My husband and I counted it up the other day and were shocked to realize this will be our 7th address in 8 years! Sick! We should be professionals by now. So why am I finding this move in particular to be so stressful? Probably because we are downsizing a bit. A lot. Eeek. Probably because while this house is cute, and I know I will make it homey, it is also a transition house. An interim, a means to an end. For some reason this time it feels a little bit sad to be packing everything up once again, emptying it all out, and saying goodbye to another home we've made memories in with our kids. This is the house I brought my son home from the hospital to. Its where he took his first steps. Its where my daughter has put on her tutu and danced in front of the fireplace (the only spot where she can see her reflection!) almost every single morning. Its where we've entertained freinds and played games and had a lot of good times. There's been laughs and there's tears within these walls. I guess thats all just regular life stuff though.
All this editing and disassembling of our 'entire lives' has made me realize that that's not it at all, actually. Its just a house of wood and rooms filled with things. I need not identify with it, be sad to leave it behind, or assume it affects the quality of my life. On to the next house! Where we'll fill it up will all the same craziness. Its a new year, a new home, and a new chapter! I love new chapters!
Now, about all this packing shenanigans....5 more minutes. I just need 5 more minutes of relaxing! I swear....
Or maybe Hmphf. Or Phrrrt! No, dear readers, I have not lost my marbles. Yet. I am currently sitting in my most favorite, ugly-as-sin lazy-boy recliner (that is far too comfortable to part with, however contradicting it may be to my style preferences), which is in the middle of what used to resemble my home, but that is recently in such a state of unrecognizable disarray, that I see no other option than to shrug my duties and blog. Gasp. Who am I, even?! What has become of me?!
For the past few weeks we have been packing, organizing, purging, -doing our darndest to prepare for the big move this weekend. Essentially, editing and disassembling our entire lives. Or at least its felt that way. Between all of that, and dealing with multiple (albeit minor) health issues in our household, I will candidly say Im feeling a tad bit overwhelmed. Just a teense! A scoch. Okay fine. Totally, completely overwhelmed!
There's always a silver lining: It does feel good to simplify. Trim the excess, clean out all the drawers and closets and spaces that go neglected. The plan is to move, save, and then move, once again, into our forever house. The elusive Forever House. Is there such a thing? Ha! My husband and I counted it up the other day and were shocked to realize this will be our 7th address in 8 years! Sick! We should be professionals by now. So why am I finding this move in particular to be so stressful? Probably because we are downsizing a bit. A lot. Eeek. Probably because while this house is cute, and I know I will make it homey, it is also a transition house. An interim, a means to an end. For some reason this time it feels a little bit sad to be packing everything up once again, emptying it all out, and saying goodbye to another home we've made memories in with our kids. This is the house I brought my son home from the hospital to. Its where he took his first steps. Its where my daughter has put on her tutu and danced in front of the fireplace (the only spot where she can see her reflection!) almost every single morning. Its where we've entertained freinds and played games and had a lot of good times. There's been laughs and there's tears within these walls. I guess thats all just regular life stuff though.
All this editing and disassembling of our 'entire lives' has made me realize that that's not it at all, actually. Its just a house of wood and rooms filled with things. I need not identify with it, be sad to leave it behind, or assume it affects the quality of my life. On to the next house! Where we'll fill it up will all the same craziness. Its a new year, a new home, and a new chapter! I love new chapters!
Now, about all this packing shenanigans....5 more minutes. I just need 5 more minutes of relaxing! I swear....
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
An Anchor for the Soul
Do you ever get the unsettling feeling that things might be going too well? Like the precarious joy you experience might crumble? Like one resounding crack in your universe could shatter the comfort and ease of your normal everyday life? I do.
And I dont consider myself to be a negative person. A worrier maybe, but not a Debbie Downer. More so than ever lately though, I catch myself holding my breath, so to speak. Fearful in my heart, and over what? Im not even sure. I catch myself wondering, will it be a phonecall? A test result read to me in some stale white doctors office? An accident? An illness? What will be the thing that splits my life in two?- Before and After.
Whatever level of this feeling I've experienced in the past, is only multiplied by about a thousand now that I have two small children. If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is the thought of them suffering. The tears shed that cannot be prevented, the scraped knees, the hurt feelings- these things hurt a mothers heart, yes, but they dont break it. Its the really tough stuff Im talking about. The pediatric cancer, the parents who die with young children left behind, or even worse, the young children who die- the tragedies that are dreadful beyond what it seems a soul can withstand. These are the things that grip my heart with fear. Its like once you have kids, your heart no longer resides within your chest, but its been ripped out and is now running around in this small little person, forever linked with them, and out of your own control.
This all sounds very gloomy and very dramatic, I know. Which is not usually my style, but its been a real and genuine struggle for me lately. To not be governed by fear.
Its interesting, actually. I started writing this blog entry a week ago, and left off two paragraphs into it, and went about my busy week, intending to finish it later, after I'd sorted out the rest of my thoughts. This morning through a series of random events, I met a woman and was so impacted by her that I cannot shake the emotions that have lingered after she left. I have teared up at least 17 times today just thinking of her. She had come over to buy the xbox my husband had listed on craigslist. She showed up looking very fragile and very... determined.We started chatting, and she started to tell me her story a bit- how she was buying this xbox for her son- how it was the only thing he wanted for christmas and he was convinced Santa would bring it to him and how this had her worrying as to how she could afford to work that one out. She had been spending all she had on chemo and treatment. She has cancer. Terminal cancer. Her kids are only 11 and 7 years old. This is literally her last christmas with her kids. She shared with me her inital shock, her months spent in chemo and fighting the disease, and how she was done with all treatments now, and time was running out. She said she was thankful for the extra time the chemo had bought her. She smiled and was upbeat about how she couldnt believe the timing and luck (she saw our ad minutes after we posted it, just checking one last time on a whim to see if she could find what she was looking for before she left town this morning, it was the exact one she hoped to find, she was pretty sure this was the last year her son would really believe in Santa, etc etc). I had never met this woman before in my life and my heart was wrenching for her. She stood in my entryway and we talked for quite a while. I cried. She cried. She mentioned how it seemed meant to be that we'd have this conversation, and that it was funny how God works. Indeed.
This woman had experienced that crack in her universe. The crack that makes all the noise and hubbub of normal life fade to a deafening silence. She told me that she had hope- she had to, she said. I am staggered by the hearts ability to hope. When all the waves and breakers of life have swept over me, hope is an anchor. Hebrews 6:18 "...lay hold of the hope set before us. this hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast..." Romans 5:3-5" ...We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perserverance; and perserverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts..."
So that's where it gets real for me. There is hope that fails, and there is hope that 'does not disappoint.' If I hope only for a comfortable, happy, easy, tragedy-free life, I very well may be let down eventually. If I put my hope in God, to be that anchor for my soul when I am overwhelmed then I will not be disappointed. Life does not come free of hardships. Or heartbreaks. Or even tragedies. It just doesnt. But I have a hope that is real.
Coincidentally enough, a few days ago, this was the snippet of my daily reading: "I will never leave you alone in the midst of any affliction. You can not escape the crisis experiences if you desire to grow and mature, but you need never fear them regardless of the form they take, for my grace and my equanimity shall be as a strong anchor that shall hold you fast, and you shall not be driven off course." Hah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Inappropriate? LOL. But seriously. So randomly perfect that it is not random at all.
I realize that walking through life like its a mine field, gripped with fear, is not the best way to go about it. Nor is it wise for me to hope only for an 'easy' life. So I'll quit holding my breath, exhale, and do my best to fall somewhere in the middle. Being thankful for today, and letting tomorrow worry about itself.
And I dont consider myself to be a negative person. A worrier maybe, but not a Debbie Downer. More so than ever lately though, I catch myself holding my breath, so to speak. Fearful in my heart, and over what? Im not even sure. I catch myself wondering, will it be a phonecall? A test result read to me in some stale white doctors office? An accident? An illness? What will be the thing that splits my life in two?- Before and After.
Whatever level of this feeling I've experienced in the past, is only multiplied by about a thousand now that I have two small children. If there is one thing I cannot bear, it is the thought of them suffering. The tears shed that cannot be prevented, the scraped knees, the hurt feelings- these things hurt a mothers heart, yes, but they dont break it. Its the really tough stuff Im talking about. The pediatric cancer, the parents who die with young children left behind, or even worse, the young children who die- the tragedies that are dreadful beyond what it seems a soul can withstand. These are the things that grip my heart with fear. Its like once you have kids, your heart no longer resides within your chest, but its been ripped out and is now running around in this small little person, forever linked with them, and out of your own control.
This all sounds very gloomy and very dramatic, I know. Which is not usually my style, but its been a real and genuine struggle for me lately. To not be governed by fear.
Its interesting, actually. I started writing this blog entry a week ago, and left off two paragraphs into it, and went about my busy week, intending to finish it later, after I'd sorted out the rest of my thoughts. This morning through a series of random events, I met a woman and was so impacted by her that I cannot shake the emotions that have lingered after she left. I have teared up at least 17 times today just thinking of her. She had come over to buy the xbox my husband had listed on craigslist. She showed up looking very fragile and very... determined.We started chatting, and she started to tell me her story a bit- how she was buying this xbox for her son- how it was the only thing he wanted for christmas and he was convinced Santa would bring it to him and how this had her worrying as to how she could afford to work that one out. She had been spending all she had on chemo and treatment. She has cancer. Terminal cancer. Her kids are only 11 and 7 years old. This is literally her last christmas with her kids. She shared with me her inital shock, her months spent in chemo and fighting the disease, and how she was done with all treatments now, and time was running out. She said she was thankful for the extra time the chemo had bought her. She smiled and was upbeat about how she couldnt believe the timing and luck (she saw our ad minutes after we posted it, just checking one last time on a whim to see if she could find what she was looking for before she left town this morning, it was the exact one she hoped to find, she was pretty sure this was the last year her son would really believe in Santa, etc etc). I had never met this woman before in my life and my heart was wrenching for her. She stood in my entryway and we talked for quite a while. I cried. She cried. She mentioned how it seemed meant to be that we'd have this conversation, and that it was funny how God works. Indeed.
This woman had experienced that crack in her universe. The crack that makes all the noise and hubbub of normal life fade to a deafening silence. She told me that she had hope- she had to, she said. I am staggered by the hearts ability to hope. When all the waves and breakers of life have swept over me, hope is an anchor. Hebrews 6:18 "...lay hold of the hope set before us. this hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and steadfast..." Romans 5:3-5" ...We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perserverance; and perserverance, character; and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts..."
So that's where it gets real for me. There is hope that fails, and there is hope that 'does not disappoint.' If I hope only for a comfortable, happy, easy, tragedy-free life, I very well may be let down eventually. If I put my hope in God, to be that anchor for my soul when I am overwhelmed then I will not be disappointed. Life does not come free of hardships. Or heartbreaks. Or even tragedies. It just doesnt. But I have a hope that is real.
Coincidentally enough, a few days ago, this was the snippet of my daily reading: "I will never leave you alone in the midst of any affliction. You can not escape the crisis experiences if you desire to grow and mature, but you need never fear them regardless of the form they take, for my grace and my equanimity shall be as a strong anchor that shall hold you fast, and you shall not be driven off course." Hah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Inappropriate? LOL. But seriously. So randomly perfect that it is not random at all.
I realize that walking through life like its a mine field, gripped with fear, is not the best way to go about it. Nor is it wise for me to hope only for an 'easy' life. So I'll quit holding my breath, exhale, and do my best to fall somewhere in the middle. Being thankful for today, and letting tomorrow worry about itself.
Friday, December 10, 2010
These Are a Few of My Favorite Things....
Great, I will have that darn song stuck in my head all day long now...
At the risk of being a little narcisstic in thinking that anyone gives a hoot about my list of favorite things, I went ahead and made one anyway. If Oprah can have a list of Favorite Things, then why shouldnt I? Haha!- not that I would lump myself in with Oprah. For a number of reasons.
Seeing as how this blog is, I assume, more for my own personal benefit than anyone else's, and seeing as how lists ARE one of my favorite things, I thought it fitting to make one. Officially.
The following items are in no particular order of rank or importance. Rather, it is just the order in which they occurred to me. Also, I should clarify that it is not an all inclusive list. Just "a few"!
1) MY MORNING COFFEE. This is old news. But Folgers in my cup really might be the best part of waking up. Even better is morning coffee with my best girlfreinds or mom/sister. We dont do it often enough, but it is always good fun.
2) A GOOD LAUGH. There are very few character traits I esteem higher than a good sense of humor. Surely there are a few, but not many. I am a person who laughs a lot, and who can find the humor in almost any situation. So a good hearty/ throw-your-head-back-and-bellow kind of a laugh is my one of my most favorite things. Not to be outdone by a chuckling/ does-anyone-else-think-this-is-funny?-kind of a laugh, or a laughing-so-hard-my-cheeks-and-stomach-hurt-kind of a laugh.
3) FEELING CUTE EVEN WHEN ITS COLD. Which, by the way, is sometimes hard to do when bulky layers win out over fashion sensability. I love a good hoodie. It feels great. It rarely looks great (at least on me). And while hoodies will always have a time and a place in my closet, this season a few of my favorite wardrobe 'things' are as follows (in any combination): Boots. Skirts with opaque tights. Scarves. Belts (I feel naked without a belt) My black 'leather' jacket. Dont laugh. It makes me feel cooler than I really am. Cardigans. Heels. I could do a whole blog as an ode to my shelf of rarely used, pretty heels. But I wont- that's obnoxious. And always and forever, my absolute favorite clothing item will be, a good pair of jeans. And hey, I might even get wild and try a pair of ankle boots. Nah, who am I kidding? I cant pull that off. Not with these ankles.
3) A JOLLY HOME. As much as I secretly hate doing the work of digging out christmas decorations, taking down usual decor and replacing it with the festive stuff- and then putting it all back a month later, I do love and enjoy the cozy feel of the tree, the decorations, the apple cinnamon candles, etc. Possibly the only thing I love more than a clean house is a clean and jolly house.
4) THE OTHER AMBER. I feel a little guilty for having singled out one person to put on my list of favorite things because there are many more. My mom, my sister, my cousin, my 'poopie', my husband, my closest girlfriends- I could keep going but y'all know who you are. And yes I recognize that this is cheating a little bit because these are people and not things, but its my list! So I feel it is worthy of mention because for as long as I can remember (25 years to be exact) I have identified as one half of "The Ambers". Was it fate? God's plan? Silly coincidence? I dont know and I dont care, but I just love her for a million and one reasons. I shall list a few: 1) We share the same name. Its fitting, its convenient (seeing as how we've often come as a package deal), its maybe even a bit kitschy, but its fun! 2) There is never any drama. Ever. This is extremely rare among women and I absolutely do not take it for granted. 3) She knows me well enough to often be a foregone conclusion. I find this to be comforting and easy, rather than annoying. 4) She loves my kids as much as I love hers. And now our daughters are the age that we were when we met and became dearest of chums. We might have to force the legacy onto them, although I have a feeling we wont need to. 5) She thinks Im funny. This seems like a wildly selfish and ridiculous reason, but you know what? It makes for a good time! And inconsequentially, I find her to be funny as well.
5) COOKING A GOOD MEAL. Over the years I have come to love cooking more and more. Every important thing I know about cooking I learned from my mother and my sister. Or Giada de Laurentiis. I also love to watch cooking shows, particularly Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. They are brilliant, classy ladies who make preparing food look and feel like its almost an art. When I first got married I barely knew the basics, and thus fell into the timid trap of throwing out some kind of disclaimer before one bite was ever taken of any meal I had cooked. Which Im pretty sure most people just find irritating. Since then I've come a long way, but still feel like I have only scratched the surface. Every now and again my sister, who teaches cooking classes (and will always put me to shame in the kitchen), will throw out some term nonchalantly, and I just nod my head pretending to know what she's talking about. Until we both start laughing because, as I've said before, Im almost completely incapable of hiding anything.
6) SNEAKING KISSES. This one has two parts: Initially, I was referring to my insatiable need to kiss my childrens freshly shampooed heads after they've gone to sleep at night. But there is also something sweet about stolen kisses between my husband and I. Granted, its usually the quick, walking out the door or passing in the hallway variety. But even if its just that, its still a reminder that we love each other. We used to spend leisurely weekends together filled with movie dates and dinners out, now we spend leisurely weekends together as a family, filled with chicken nuggets flying through the air and saturday morning cartoons. Romance changes with the phases of life, but as long as you never lose it altogether, I think its okay if it looks a little different than it used to.
7) SPOUSAL WARS. I dont mean real fights. I mean the practical joke 'wars' that my husband I get into when we are feeling feisty. They can go on for days or weeks at a time and I usually end up losing in the end. I splash him with my toothbrush water and then sit smuggly on the toilet, only to be doused with water 5 seconds later. He will 'pants' me when Im trying to get dressed. Then there's the classic stealing of the pillows when the other one gets up to shut off lights at night or use the restroom. There is usually water fights and wrestling involved (at which I am useless), and as I said, I might win a few battles, but ultimately I lose the war. I make a big fuss and like to feign total exasperation but secretly I think all the banter is fun. With one exception: every single night he lets me get into bed first, then he turns off the light, takes off his socks, rolls them into a tight ball, and throws them at me. Real charming. It was funny for about 2 months. Now I really do just hate it.
Im going to leave it at 7 favorite things for today. Gotta stop somewhere. If you had a list of favorite things, what would it look like I wonder?
At the risk of being a little narcisstic in thinking that anyone gives a hoot about my list of favorite things, I went ahead and made one anyway. If Oprah can have a list of Favorite Things, then why shouldnt I? Haha!- not that I would lump myself in with Oprah. For a number of reasons.
Seeing as how this blog is, I assume, more for my own personal benefit than anyone else's, and seeing as how lists ARE one of my favorite things, I thought it fitting to make one. Officially.
The following items are in no particular order of rank or importance. Rather, it is just the order in which they occurred to me. Also, I should clarify that it is not an all inclusive list. Just "a few"!
1) MY MORNING COFFEE. This is old news. But Folgers in my cup really might be the best part of waking up. Even better is morning coffee with my best girlfreinds or mom/sister. We dont do it often enough, but it is always good fun.
2) A GOOD LAUGH. There are very few character traits I esteem higher than a good sense of humor. Surely there are a few, but not many. I am a person who laughs a lot, and who can find the humor in almost any situation. So a good hearty/ throw-your-head-back-and-bellow kind of a laugh is my one of my most favorite things. Not to be outdone by a chuckling/ does-anyone-else-think-this-is-funny?-kind of a laugh, or a laughing-so-hard-my-cheeks-and-stomach-hurt-kind of a laugh.
3) FEELING CUTE EVEN WHEN ITS COLD. Which, by the way, is sometimes hard to do when bulky layers win out over fashion sensability. I love a good hoodie. It feels great. It rarely looks great (at least on me). And while hoodies will always have a time and a place in my closet, this season a few of my favorite wardrobe 'things' are as follows (in any combination): Boots. Skirts with opaque tights. Scarves. Belts (I feel naked without a belt) My black 'leather' jacket. Dont laugh. It makes me feel cooler than I really am. Cardigans. Heels. I could do a whole blog as an ode to my shelf of rarely used, pretty heels. But I wont- that's obnoxious. And always and forever, my absolute favorite clothing item will be, a good pair of jeans. And hey, I might even get wild and try a pair of ankle boots. Nah, who am I kidding? I cant pull that off. Not with these ankles.
3) A JOLLY HOME. As much as I secretly hate doing the work of digging out christmas decorations, taking down usual decor and replacing it with the festive stuff- and then putting it all back a month later, I do love and enjoy the cozy feel of the tree, the decorations, the apple cinnamon candles, etc. Possibly the only thing I love more than a clean house is a clean and jolly house.
4) THE OTHER AMBER. I feel a little guilty for having singled out one person to put on my list of favorite things because there are many more. My mom, my sister, my cousin, my 'poopie', my husband, my closest girlfriends- I could keep going but y'all know who you are. And yes I recognize that this is cheating a little bit because these are people and not things, but its my list! So I feel it is worthy of mention because for as long as I can remember (25 years to be exact) I have identified as one half of "The Ambers". Was it fate? God's plan? Silly coincidence? I dont know and I dont care, but I just love her for a million and one reasons. I shall list a few: 1) We share the same name. Its fitting, its convenient (seeing as how we've often come as a package deal), its maybe even a bit kitschy, but its fun! 2) There is never any drama. Ever. This is extremely rare among women and I absolutely do not take it for granted. 3) She knows me well enough to often be a foregone conclusion. I find this to be comforting and easy, rather than annoying. 4) She loves my kids as much as I love hers. And now our daughters are the age that we were when we met and became dearest of chums. We might have to force the legacy onto them, although I have a feeling we wont need to. 5) She thinks Im funny. This seems like a wildly selfish and ridiculous reason, but you know what? It makes for a good time! And inconsequentially, I find her to be funny as well.
5) COOKING A GOOD MEAL. Over the years I have come to love cooking more and more. Every important thing I know about cooking I learned from my mother and my sister. Or Giada de Laurentiis. I also love to watch cooking shows, particularly Barefoot Contessa or Nigella Lawson. They are brilliant, classy ladies who make preparing food look and feel like its almost an art. When I first got married I barely knew the basics, and thus fell into the timid trap of throwing out some kind of disclaimer before one bite was ever taken of any meal I had cooked. Which Im pretty sure most people just find irritating. Since then I've come a long way, but still feel like I have only scratched the surface. Every now and again my sister, who teaches cooking classes (and will always put me to shame in the kitchen), will throw out some term nonchalantly, and I just nod my head pretending to know what she's talking about. Until we both start laughing because, as I've said before, Im almost completely incapable of hiding anything.
6) SNEAKING KISSES. This one has two parts: Initially, I was referring to my insatiable need to kiss my childrens freshly shampooed heads after they've gone to sleep at night. But there is also something sweet about stolen kisses between my husband and I. Granted, its usually the quick, walking out the door or passing in the hallway variety. But even if its just that, its still a reminder that we love each other. We used to spend leisurely weekends together filled with movie dates and dinners out, now we spend leisurely weekends together as a family, filled with chicken nuggets flying through the air and saturday morning cartoons. Romance changes with the phases of life, but as long as you never lose it altogether, I think its okay if it looks a little different than it used to.
7) SPOUSAL WARS. I dont mean real fights. I mean the practical joke 'wars' that my husband I get into when we are feeling feisty. They can go on for days or weeks at a time and I usually end up losing in the end. I splash him with my toothbrush water and then sit smuggly on the toilet, only to be doused with water 5 seconds later. He will 'pants' me when Im trying to get dressed. Then there's the classic stealing of the pillows when the other one gets up to shut off lights at night or use the restroom. There is usually water fights and wrestling involved (at which I am useless), and as I said, I might win a few battles, but ultimately I lose the war. I make a big fuss and like to feign total exasperation but secretly I think all the banter is fun. With one exception: every single night he lets me get into bed first, then he turns off the light, takes off his socks, rolls them into a tight ball, and throws them at me. Real charming. It was funny for about 2 months. Now I really do just hate it.
Im going to leave it at 7 favorite things for today. Gotta stop somewhere. If you had a list of favorite things, what would it look like I wonder?
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Mojo
Tomorrow night I am re-starting P90X. I am filled with equal parts excitement and dread. Goodbye lovely evenings spent cozying up next to my husband, reading books, watching tv, ushering in the only relaxing part of my day with glee (the emotion, not the show)(I do sometimes watch though). And its Hello again yoga pants, red sweaty face, and nearly throwing up in my own mouth from exertion. Haha, come to think of it, of course it would be my own mouth. Anyone else's mouth would just be unconscionable.
I have taken a small sabbatical from my workout regime due to sickness, and then extended it due to self indulgence. And I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Ah, but its time to shake off the dust. You see, Im in the danger zone. That vortex of a place where I am ALMOST where I want my body to be, but not quite there. Close enough to taste, but also far enough away from the wretchedness I felt after gaining 50 lbs, having a C-section and getting completely demoralized by the body I inherited after giving birth to our second child. Far enough away to get comfortable and forget how much I hated the way I felt. And to all of you out there who will say to me "But dont you feel strong? Dont you think you should wear the stretch marks/soft edges/ what-have-you, as a badge of honor and be proud and blah blah blah"....to all of you I say, Yes, and No. Yes I am surprised/proud of what my body is capable of doing. It has carried, protected, delivered, and nourished two children. Is that a feat? Heck yah it is! Am I pleased with the physical aftermath? No way. Do I accept it as part of the deal? Yes. Would I trade my kids for the lithe, speedily metabolized body I used to call my own? Of course not. Do I still want to complete the process of getting myself back?! YES!
I dont know about the rest of the women in the world, but for me, I know its definitely a process. I was not one of those basketball-under-the-shirt looking pregnant women, that I thought for sure I would be. I always do great until about the 7th month. I dont gain much weight, I feel all glowy and jolly and think Im going to skate by unscathed to the very end. And then it happens. I explode. It happens so fast it boggles the mind. I wound up gaining between 40-50 lbs with both pregnancies and the bulk of it happened in the last 3 months.Yikes. But Im getting bogged down in the details. You dont care about the details. The point is, I have realized that I personally, tend to lose myself a tiny bit somewhere along the way with having babies. Colicky babies. And its a process to get myself back. Physically, mentally, all of the above. I got through the 6 months of colic hell. Then, when the clouds parted, and I quit functioning in survival mode, I found the drive to lose the 50 lbs of baby weight. Now, its been a whole year, and I want to do myself a solid and just finish it already. I want to be fit, and not just thin.
I think I have a healthy, realistic grasp on the whole thing and I dont have crazy goals. I know I cant eat whatever in the world I want and not work out, like I could ten years ago, and still be thrilled with the outcome. Its like every other area of life- YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK! Physically, spiritually, relationally, (is that a word?)...you cant just quit putting forth the effort and then turn around and expect to be thrilled with the results. Dont be shocked when whatever it is, isnt thriving.
SO, I am going to shake the dust off my workout shoes, Im going overlook the cheeseball factor of Tony whatever-his-last-name's insistance that I always "bring it" in the workout dvd's, and Im going to rally my husband's joint effort as we make working out a regular part of life once again.
As I said, I am filled with equal parts excitment and dread regarding this. Dread, because I know how hard and grueling the workouts are. And I am not exactly Sporty Spice, so this does not appeal to me. Excitement, because I know it works. And because, I know it sounds wierd, but I actually feel sexy when I work out. Im slightly embarrassed for having used that word, and I hope its not inappropriate, but I sat for 5 minutes trying to think of an alternative and could not. I am fully convinced I do not LOOK sexy working out, so it has nothing to do with vanity. Not by a long shot. But there is something about putting a great song on your itunes, shutting everything else out, and just going for it. Pushing yourself, and working your hardest. It does something for your mojo. Just sayin!
So wish me luck!
I have taken a small sabbatical from my workout regime due to sickness, and then extended it due to self indulgence. And I have enjoyed it thoroughly. Ah, but its time to shake off the dust. You see, Im in the danger zone. That vortex of a place where I am ALMOST where I want my body to be, but not quite there. Close enough to taste, but also far enough away from the wretchedness I felt after gaining 50 lbs, having a C-section and getting completely demoralized by the body I inherited after giving birth to our second child. Far enough away to get comfortable and forget how much I hated the way I felt. And to all of you out there who will say to me "But dont you feel strong? Dont you think you should wear the stretch marks/soft edges/ what-have-you, as a badge of honor and be proud and blah blah blah"....to all of you I say, Yes, and No. Yes I am surprised/proud of what my body is capable of doing. It has carried, protected, delivered, and nourished two children. Is that a feat? Heck yah it is! Am I pleased with the physical aftermath? No way. Do I accept it as part of the deal? Yes. Would I trade my kids for the lithe, speedily metabolized body I used to call my own? Of course not. Do I still want to complete the process of getting myself back?! YES!
I dont know about the rest of the women in the world, but for me, I know its definitely a process. I was not one of those basketball-under-the-shirt looking pregnant women, that I thought for sure I would be. I always do great until about the 7th month. I dont gain much weight, I feel all glowy and jolly and think Im going to skate by unscathed to the very end. And then it happens. I explode. It happens so fast it boggles the mind. I wound up gaining between 40-50 lbs with both pregnancies and the bulk of it happened in the last 3 months.Yikes. But Im getting bogged down in the details. You dont care about the details. The point is, I have realized that I personally, tend to lose myself a tiny bit somewhere along the way with having babies. Colicky babies. And its a process to get myself back. Physically, mentally, all of the above. I got through the 6 months of colic hell. Then, when the clouds parted, and I quit functioning in survival mode, I found the drive to lose the 50 lbs of baby weight. Now, its been a whole year, and I want to do myself a solid and just finish it already. I want to be fit, and not just thin.
I think I have a healthy, realistic grasp on the whole thing and I dont have crazy goals. I know I cant eat whatever in the world I want and not work out, like I could ten years ago, and still be thrilled with the outcome. Its like every other area of life- YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK! Physically, spiritually, relationally, (is that a word?)...you cant just quit putting forth the effort and then turn around and expect to be thrilled with the results. Dont be shocked when whatever it is, isnt thriving.
SO, I am going to shake the dust off my workout shoes, Im going overlook the cheeseball factor of Tony whatever-his-last-name's insistance that I always "bring it" in the workout dvd's, and Im going to rally my husband's joint effort as we make working out a regular part of life once again.
As I said, I am filled with equal parts excitment and dread regarding this. Dread, because I know how hard and grueling the workouts are. And I am not exactly Sporty Spice, so this does not appeal to me. Excitement, because I know it works. And because, I know it sounds wierd, but I actually feel sexy when I work out. Im slightly embarrassed for having used that word, and I hope its not inappropriate, but I sat for 5 minutes trying to think of an alternative and could not. I am fully convinced I do not LOOK sexy working out, so it has nothing to do with vanity. Not by a long shot. But there is something about putting a great song on your itunes, shutting everything else out, and just going for it. Pushing yourself, and working your hardest. It does something for your mojo. Just sayin!
So wish me luck!
Thursday, December 2, 2010
It's All Relative
What I really want to blog about is the ridiculously terrible 36 hours of travel my husband and I recently survived. (With two small children in tow!) But I won't. I am going to resist the urge to regurgitate a slew of unneccessary details and negative drivel that no one wants to hear. I can feel the word bile rising up in me this very second, but I will resist! Suffice it to say it was bad. Not quite the worst, as we all made it home safely. But whatever the slot is right under worst? That's where we landed. Maybe not number 1 in worst case scenarios, but number 1.5 with a bullet.
Oh looky there. I spent a whole paragraph NOT talking about it. (insert ironic tone of voice) THATS wierd.
But the whole experience got me thinking. How sometimes we think things are bad. We hiss and moan and throw a mini-fit about how annoying/unbelievable/unfair/exhausting/sad/unlucky/etc our situation seems. And if we dont verbally throw this mini-fit, you know its happening mentally, or at least under our breath. But whats funny, is that most of the time the things that send us into these tailspins are really nothing more than mere inconveniences. Okay, I'll stop saying "we" and "us". Im really talking about me. I guess its presumptuous to lump all of you in with me as having an admittedly rotten attitude at times.
At about hour 7 of our ill fated travels, a 'fit' would be an understatement describing the way some people were acting. Not my people, thank God. I can say, with some small measure of pride, that my whole family, 1yr old and 3yr old included kept their cool. No tantrums, fits, or nuclear meltdowns. There was some crying, Im not gonna lie. I AM gonna lie and say it wasnt me doing the crying. But it wasnt until the 14th hour of said ill fated travels (and it was partly because I thought we might all die. So sue me.)
But what sort of strikes me as funny, is that here people are, all strung out and up in arms and indignant about how outrageously bad the situation was, when in reality, it was only about to get worse. If we only knew! Im laughing out loud, typing this right now. Glad the whole debacle isnt too fresh to seem funny. Sometimes you gotta laugh, otherwise you'll cry, right?!
But I digress. Back to the point. ...?...Oh yes! My point IS that its really all relative. Troubles, that is. And arent troubles often just as fleeting as the good times anyways? I mean really- half of the time I waste my energy being anxious, upset or worried about something, its just that. Wasted energy. So my new litmus test for whether or not I should stress out is this: In two weeks from now, will it matter?
Will it matter that I have had one of those days that the odds just seem against me? Probably not. Will it matter that I was inconvenienced in some small way? Doubt it. Will I remember that my children were full of the dickens and made it very hard for me to control the volume of my voice? Haha, maybe. Okay fine, not likely. Will it be worth getting snippy with my spouse over? In two weeks from now, will it carry any weight at all? Does it even matter?
There is something about the holidays that tends to bring out the nasty in a lot of people, right? Something about it that makes them feel entitled to wave their Freak Flag. I have seen a 70yr old woman get physical with another woman over a shirt at a sample sale. 70 yrs old! And Im not exaggerating when I say "physical". I've felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the grocery store because the person behind me in the 12 Items or Less lane is putting out a slightly manic, urgent vibe - and visibly counting up my items to make sure Im not doing her and the rest of the world some great injustice by being having 13 things in my cart. Not to mention the usual customer service or sales person who gets cursed out for simply doing their job.
There really is something to be said for being easygoing. And there really is something to be said for perspective. We are safe. We are healthy. We are happy- on the level that it really counts anyway.
Oh looky there. I spent a whole paragraph NOT talking about it. (insert ironic tone of voice) THATS wierd.
But the whole experience got me thinking. How sometimes we think things are bad. We hiss and moan and throw a mini-fit about how annoying/unbelievable/unfair/exhausting/sad/unlucky/etc our situation seems. And if we dont verbally throw this mini-fit, you know its happening mentally, or at least under our breath. But whats funny, is that most of the time the things that send us into these tailspins are really nothing more than mere inconveniences. Okay, I'll stop saying "we" and "us". Im really talking about me. I guess its presumptuous to lump all of you in with me as having an admittedly rotten attitude at times.
At about hour 7 of our ill fated travels, a 'fit' would be an understatement describing the way some people were acting. Not my people, thank God. I can say, with some small measure of pride, that my whole family, 1yr old and 3yr old included kept their cool. No tantrums, fits, or nuclear meltdowns. There was some crying, Im not gonna lie. I AM gonna lie and say it wasnt me doing the crying. But it wasnt until the 14th hour of said ill fated travels (and it was partly because I thought we might all die. So sue me.)
But what sort of strikes me as funny, is that here people are, all strung out and up in arms and indignant about how outrageously bad the situation was, when in reality, it was only about to get worse. If we only knew! Im laughing out loud, typing this right now. Glad the whole debacle isnt too fresh to seem funny. Sometimes you gotta laugh, otherwise you'll cry, right?!
But I digress. Back to the point. ...?...Oh yes! My point IS that its really all relative. Troubles, that is. And arent troubles often just as fleeting as the good times anyways? I mean really- half of the time I waste my energy being anxious, upset or worried about something, its just that. Wasted energy. So my new litmus test for whether or not I should stress out is this: In two weeks from now, will it matter?
Will it matter that I have had one of those days that the odds just seem against me? Probably not. Will it matter that I was inconvenienced in some small way? Doubt it. Will I remember that my children were full of the dickens and made it very hard for me to control the volume of my voice? Haha, maybe. Okay fine, not likely. Will it be worth getting snippy with my spouse over? In two weeks from now, will it carry any weight at all? Does it even matter?
There is something about the holidays that tends to bring out the nasty in a lot of people, right? Something about it that makes them feel entitled to wave their Freak Flag. I have seen a 70yr old woman get physical with another woman over a shirt at a sample sale. 70 yrs old! And Im not exaggerating when I say "physical". I've felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up at the grocery store because the person behind me in the 12 Items or Less lane is putting out a slightly manic, urgent vibe - and visibly counting up my items to make sure Im not doing her and the rest of the world some great injustice by being having 13 things in my cart. Not to mention the usual customer service or sales person who gets cursed out for simply doing their job.
There really is something to be said for being easygoing. And there really is something to be said for perspective. We are safe. We are healthy. We are happy- on the level that it really counts anyway.
I have always refused to make New Year's resolutions. I dont do it. But I am making it a December Personal Goal, that if I must err, to err on the side of graciousness. I dont exactly believe in karma, but I also dont believe in being a big fat jerk. Happy Holidays everyone!
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