As I sit here and watch The Biggest Loser I can’t help on reflect on how pathetic I am, physically speaking…

Let me clarify…

I see these morbidly obese people working out with all of their might. For hours on end they sweat and grunt, push up, pull down lunge and run. I on the other hand did Level One of Jillian Michaels Thirty Day Shred,…

Once…

Three days ago…

And I still can’t walk down the stairs straight… REALLY? Really!

 Sixteen minutes of exercise, one time, and I think I qualify for a Handicap tag for my car. I leaned over the arm of the sofa and the pressure on the front of my left thigh made me yelp! My sister… love my sister… told me I needed to do some light exercise the next day, like my elliptical machine, to keep my muscles from seizing up… I’m thinking, Shit, I washed my hair which required me to lift my arms over my head… three times… that qualified! So I’m thinking       1) Jillian is the Devil

2) the contestants must have some good drugs on that show and

3) How can I get some of those drugs.

That’s it… that’s all I got…

Going to Wal Mart for more Ibuprofen... my drug of choice- God bless NSAIDS

Peace

It is hard to believe that it has been a whole month since I have blogged.  So much has changed in my life.  The life I enjoyed- the

settled, wonderfully mundane existence, was put into a seemingly unending spin cycle. 

There is no doubt in my mind that the only thing unchanging in life is that it is forever changing.  Sometimes it is a shedding of an old skin to emerge anew, sometimes it is burning like the Phoenix, trying to figure out how to rise from the ashes. The last few weeks have been just slightly less painful than labor but without the benefit of an epidural.  But like labor, I have a new beautiful bawling baby to hold and nurture.  This is the rebirth of my family. 

One small incident. One cry for help, and a whole family structure was brought to its knees. Masks were torn and thrown to the floor, turned on the owners to shine light on the fallacies that were being perpetuated and destroying the core. In all of this pain and fear, I was able to regain something I never even realized I had lost.

So what has been learned?  That I am a champion, that I have always been essential and my children love me. I will never, ever doubt these things ever again. Like the Phoenix, our family is rising again, not looking quite like it did before, but that is ok. This one is stronger and more aware of itself,  it bleeds when hurt and  all of its parts are connected and vital to its success.  We are not insular planets in our solar system, we are an intricate system of satellites and moons, stars and suns.  We orbit one another, pull each other on the path of life, shine on each other, warm each other and protect each other during storms, and when one veers off course, it throws off the entire system.

This is how I have always thought of family.  We raise our children, they lift us up. And along the way we become a team. No one functions alone, we all work so that we all succeed. Each has different strengths, different goals, different dreams; and for all our differences we somehow make a whole. And this is what we are, a family

Mother of Pearl...

I forgot to blog, how did this happen?  Hmmm... procratinate, procrastinate, study for other stuff.. clean... do laundry, procrastinate... play with the kids, play with the dogs, procrastinate... talk to my sister on the phone... grocery shopping... procrastinate, study.... fall asleep... crap, forgot to blog.  

Ramblings of a Hopeful Parent- part 2

I am trying to balance parenthood, womanhood and studenthood, if that makes any sense. My children still need a fully present parent, one that is engaged and involved in their day-to-day activities. As a single woman rapidly approaching the big four- ohhhh, ugh, I keep thinking I would like to have a significant other, in theory! Moreover, a larger concern than this is giving enough time and attention to my education to make the most of this opportunity. My priority is definitely my children, overall, but I am having a few guilty feelings. Mostly on the weekends when I pull away for some, much needed quiet time for schoolwork. I suppose I wonder if this will have any negative long-term effects on my kids, requiring them to pick up more responsibilities of watching the little one. I have heard on more than one occasion “It wasn’t my choice to have another kid!” This both infuriates me and then brings feelings of guilt as a parent. True, my older three did not have a say in the bringing another baby into the family, but on the other hand, is it not part of being a family. To pitch in wherever needed to make sure everyone is successful? Am I being selfish in trying to get this education under my belt now, instead of waiting? I can make a good argument for plugging ahead, improving the quality of all of our lives, financially; showing my older children what can be accomplished with a little effort. Or is this all just a grand justification for parental neglect? I don’t know. In the end, I am not sure of the answer. Perhaps without the added burden of school I would still have feelings of inadequacy as a parent. As for a social/ dating life, maybe once I’m done with school… or maybe not!

Frustrations of a wannabe intellectual

I am really struggling with getting my creative juices flowing again. I see little flashes of brilliance but they are fewer and farther between than I would like. I have already started to read Fahrenheit 451, trying to get a jump on the class work, and found myself more than a little disturbed by the picture of society drawn in this book. Drawing so many parallels to the human condition of today, it is very unnerving. I have begun to take this bleak picture as a personal call to arms. For many years, I have simply gone with the flow. Work, children, home… work, children, home… blah, blah, blah and on and on, and I find myself sucked down into a chasm of apathy and mindlessness. I have always considered myself to be bright, (straight A’s on my fourth grade report card, thank you very much!) but the ensuing years have definitely dulled my intellect. For example, I do not completely understand the fire that drives people’s love of politics. I have a few friends that are so passionate, knowledgeable, inquisitive, and sharp about these issues, and I envy them. Another example, my Mythology professor showed an interview of a renowned Mythologist, his extemporaneous questioning of common day beliefs and his ability to comparatively analyze thousand-year-old cultures and their beliefs and draw connections to the human experience in modern day, I found riveting. I was awed not by the factual basis of his knowledge, not the recitation of historical dates or events but of the way he could think outside of the box, so to speak. The very passion he exuded in his dialogue, I found myself want for that type of fire. So part of my journey is definitely to re awaken within myself my deeper thinker. I feel I have become something of an internet vagabond, shuffling from one pointless stop to another with no focus or reason for my journey than to meander pointlessly. This pointless surfing, coupled with my mini addiction to online games and solitaire, wastes much of my limited free time. I have vowed to unplug myself from these pass times. And with the help of my English professor, perhaps unbeknownst to her, I shall write, even a few minute, every day. To what end? I am unsure, probably not unraveling any of the great mysteries of life, but rather, perhaps, to rediscover within myself a passion that has gone unfed…

Ramblings of a Hopeful Parent

My first foray into parenthood came in 1992. I was a woman (barely), 22 years old, and married. When our first daughter was born, I don’t recall being afraid or daunted in the least with the thought of raising a child. In fact, I don’t recall thinking about it much past breast or bottle… cloth or disposable? Looking back, I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and that ignorance was, for that time, bliss. The ensuing years are a blur in my memory. Marriage, working, going to school, and parenting. We added to the family again in 1995 a son, and… ha ha, surprise, in 1996, a daughter! There seemed to be an endless stream of snotty noses and dirty diapers. Days were filled with meals and snacks, naptimes and preschool, and plenty of disagreements with my husband about how to discipline, entertain and otherwise parent our children. I, of course, was just mean to them, while he, of course, was an idiot! During these crucial formative years I was a stay at home mom, daycare for three kids was prohibitively expensive.. I did work part time- part for the money, part for my sanity! I spent my time teaching manners and the alphabet and trying to keep the house from falling down around our ears, which was not my strong suit. These were idyllic days, in retrospect.

Parenting, at its best, is an educated guess at how to best deal with the things life throws at you. At its worst, we fly by the seat of our pants and hope like hell we all turn out ok! This is how I pretty much feel about raising my son, Mekhai.

Mekhai came as a surprise, five years after my divorce, due right around my 35th birthday… which made me “advanced maternal age”. Not the way any woman likes to think of herself! And at my advanced maternal age, the way I parented was radically different. You would think that with all of the years and number of times as I’ve been through this I could do this with my eyes closed. But I have had to put so much more thought and intention into how I do things this time around.

To be continued…

Monday, windy Monday

In my typical fashion, I so do not do Mondays... and today is no exception to the rule! The wind knocked out the power, there goes back up alarms #1 and #2 so I was a little late getting up. This in and of itself is no great catastrophe, cut a few corners, sweats instead of jeans and no Facebook... you get the drift. The trouble begins when trying to hurry the morning routine of Mini-me... AKA my four year old son, who likewise doesn't do Mondays... or more succinctly, mornings. Somehow, with an innate ability I as yet do not understand he knows, without opening his eyes, that it is one of "Those" mornings. I don't know why, I don't know how, but in my usual wake-him-up routine, I rubbed his back and arms while sing-songing some made up concoction of nonsense as I usually do, he just KNEW that today would be a perfect day to absolutely not cooperate. And he did so brilliantly, I might add. So among the melt down causing problems was, not enough green cereals in the Apple Jacks and the fact that he wanted the banana in the peel. Adding green pieces to the bowl... no problem (I learned to pick my battles, and this was not the time), but wasn't going to even attempt to put a banana back in the peel, for one, its not really about the banana, this I recognize, and for two, it was so windy my puppy refused to poop outside and did so in the dining room as soon as I turned my back, and that was now resting right on top of the banana peel in the trash. Then it was his shirt, which he put on backwards and refused to turn around... hmmmm... ok... pick my battles. Then it was the shoes, he wanted the grey ones, but could only find one. I insisted on two, this battle I won (two shoes is a must!) so he begrudgingly put on the brown shoes, mumbling under his breath, probably something about my imminent removal as his official best friend. And all of this before a proper cup of coffee... doesn't this child know I'm not wrapped too tight on a good day, never mind when I am decaffeinated? So out the door we go, eventually, only to chase trash cans and lids through the alley and fetch recyclables out of the bushes. Those stowed, its off to the daycare. Mini-me safely squared away I make my way, late at this point, to school. I did, however, stop at Maple Donuts for a coffee. "What the hell" I figured I was late anyways, plus I did not want to further endanger the well being of others, it was the best choice, truly.