Tuesday, May 31, 2011

by that rationale.....

The man has a couple of quirks that if I had the power to change I probably would. He thinks I'm perfect though so I tend to keep my irritations to myself.

Except for the time when we were dating and he would wear these super ugly snake skin cowboy boots. I actually thought to myself that I could not date a guy who dug those boots. I thought long and hard about whether to tell him or not. Then one day out of the blue he says to me "Do you like my boots?" To which I coyly answered, "no."

He never wore them again. Love.

We still have them though and every now and then he pulls them out and threatens to take me out on the town.

Twice, while we were dating, he slicked his hair back and I didn't..... ummm, really...... ummmm.....care for it. Actually, I hated it. Of course, I would never say anything.

Unless asked.

"Hey, do you like my hair this way?"

"Uhhhh.....no, not really."

He's almost bald now, and keeps his hair really really short, which is super sexy so it's a win win. He doesn't think it's a win win. He thinks it's the end of the world. But since I think he's so darn good lookin' he should consider that a win win. Right? Wink wink.

Once I asked him if I do anything he absolutely hated and he said "No."

Good boy.

He does this thing now, it's sort of new. I don't really mind it because it entertains me. I am concerned, though, about his level of delusion while he's doing it.

It goes something like this. I say something perfectly sensical and reasonable and rational. He comments in return with something completely nonsensical, unreasonable and/or irrational. And it always starts with "by that rationale......"

For example, I say, "Honey, when you clean the kitchen, wiping the counters with a wet cloth is sort of part of the deal. It goes hand in hand. The kitchen is not clean until the counters are washed."

To which he responds, "Well, by that rationale...... I may as well take my toothbrush out and clean the entire world until it's shiny and new."

Or here's another example, "Honey, I would love love love it if you would please build a little tiny porch-like deck in the front of our house. It will only take a couple of hours and it would hardly cost any money."

His response sounds something like this: "Well, by that rationale, since I have all this free time on my hands, I may as well rip out the front lawn and driveway and pour all new concrete. That'll only take a couple of hours and a few bucks as well."

He often compares his life to mine. Or maybe it's me comparing mine to his. Yeah, that's probably more like it. But when I say anything along the lines of me needing a night out with some girlies because I work hard at home and spend a good chunk of my day talking to short people who make no sense most of the time and therefore, I deserve it, he responds with something like this: "I work hard too, so by that rationale I should be allowed to go out every single night."

Yes, my love, you work 30 times harder than I do, at least, so by that rationale, you are right.

By this point in any conversation with the man where rationale-izing has been involved, I am bewildered. So I just tilt my head to the side, furrow my cute brow, give my head a little shake and carry on my way.


Tomorrow is June first, which means....... time for a new goal. I thought it might be time to work on my spiritual side. With all this goal making going on over here I feel like my little spirit is getting left in the dust. It's lacking, to say the least. So I thought I would set a goal to read my scriptures every single day. And then I thought.....

'by that rationale' I may as well read the entire Book of Mormon.

So that is what I'm doing. The entire book in 30 days. I've never done that before. It'll definitely impede all the novel reading I do but it'll be worth it. If you want to join me let me know and we'll do it together!

Saturday, May 28, 2011

the nonexistent skinny

You know how many times I broke a sweat this week?


That's right. You read that right. I did not work out at all.

Let's psycho analyze, shall we?

At first I thought I was coming down with something. My head was killing me. My stomach hurt. I felt exhausted beyond words. Diet Pepsi tasted bad. What the, huh??

Yes, I couldn't get it down.

The only time this has ever happened to me is when I'm pregnant.

So...... guess what?

I'm not pregnant. Sorry mum if that gave you a heart attack. Going back to the reasons I was a loaf this week. Oh yeah, here's one. I got my period and it was brutal. Honestly, I thought I was sick, like ill, like with the flu or something, because I was suff.er.ing.

Anyway, things got better in that area and I was still feeling poorly. People said it was the weather. I still think I had a bug though because since when does a little rain make one want to curl up in a ball and die in a corner all alone?

Since it makes the roof leak into bedrooms and into the basement. That's when.

So the man fixed that as much as possible without actually ripping it off and putting on a new one. New leaks are popping up all over the place and I am hoping all this rain will help the money tree I planted in the back yard grow real fast like. The weeds are going strong and are almost as tall as me so I am hopeful the tree will start to produce real soon like. You know?

Back to the no sweating thing. I finished all five seasons of Friday Night Lights last weekend so I thought maybe my desperate depression was induced by this fact and it may be the reason I don't wander into where the treadmill is anymore. I still think this has something to do with it but I would never admit that because that is pathetic.

I started watching it again. Sort of..... Don't tell the man.

I did not just say that out loud.

I feel like a camel. And the universe is delicately placing things on my back trying earnestly to find the straw that will break it. I am tough though, with a really strong back so there is a lot balancing going on upon my one hump wonder.

I don't want a broken back so I hide out on occasion in the hopes that the universe can't locate me to put one more leak or one more bill or one more broken truck or broken truck related thingie or one more field trip that costs $200 on my back. Something has to give.

This week it was the exercise and a few of the stupid rules. Man, those rules. Whose idea was that?

Regret hasn't hit me yet. I don't feel bad about not working out. I'm not lying when I said something had to give. I mean, honestly people, I had to go to Superstore this week. What more do you want from me?

In the meantime, I am hunkered down over here, with a crashing headache that I am blaming wonky barometric pressure for (is that even possible?) with my fingers crossed that the rain will stop ruining my drywall and that the one butt who fits my house will come over soon and witness it's awesomeness, despite the water stains which I will attempt to fix this week when they've dried up, and that the kids will stop asking me, real soon like, when we are moving.

You know?

Tuesday, May 24, 2011


Amelia messed with the computer a few days ago and every time we went to use it a strange robotic man with a deep booming voice would repeat back to us our every move. He repeated every. single. thing. we. did.

It was super obnoxious.

The man did that thing. That thing where he said, all tough-like "she is never allowed on the computer again!" And I did that thing. That thing where I agreed with him knowing perfectly well she would be back on in no time flat.

It was really annoying though, the man wasn't wrong about that.

Through further investigation which involved a lot of clicking on stuff and reading stuff and not understanding stuff and then experimenting with different key combinations and stuff we discovered that the computer man's name was Bruce.

I am still baffled that this maddening voice has a name. He isn't even real, yet he has a name.

My mum is from Australia and she told me that whenever there was an uber irritating dolt of a guy around the young female Aussie's called him a 'bruce'.

For example:

Him to her: "Hey pretty lady. You wanna go out with me sometime and grab a soda pop?"

Her to him: "Um, no thanks.

Her to her friends: "Ugh, what a bruce."

Get it?

So, after all is said and done Bruce is no longer yelling at me from my computer screen. It's a good thing too, because he was seriously grinding on my nerves.

What a bruce.

As my kids grow I am constantly amazed at how much of their father I see in each one of them. Take Amelia, for example, she hates kindergarten. Her father hated kindergarten. It was recommended to the man's mother that he repeat kindergarten because he wouldn't get out of the sand box and he was always grumpy. His mom said that when he graduated from high school he was still wanting to be in the sand box. And he was still grumpy.

Holden loves Star Wars, like his dad.

Cicely loves to read the same book over and over and watch the same movie over and over. Just like her dad.

And then there's Jack. He takes a simple instruction and puts a twist on it that no other rational person could have possibly imagined. Unless that person is perhaps his dad.

The other day I asked Jack to please stock all the bathrooms with toilet paper. I never thought he would have interpreted it the way he did. If I had thought he was going to interpret it the way he ultimately interpreted it I would have been more specific, I guess. I just didn't think it was necessary to be more specific since I figured it could only be done one way. Ultimately, I was wrong and apparently there was more than one interpretation.

He even put a little decorative gorilla figurine on top. You know, to showcase it. Now we can say it is 'staged' for a showing.

And now I must train Jack to think like a woman/mother would think. It's only taken 16 years to get the man to think how I would think so I guess I have lots to look forward too.

And, I'm sure the bruce part of this post has nothing to do with the toilet paper part of this post.

At least....... I think I am?

Saturday, May 21, 2011

the skinny on rules

So rules pretty much blow chunks. I'm not having a fun month. I don't like rules. I don't like being obedient. I just don't like it.

Monday May 16, elliptical for 45 minutes. 9.46 miles

Tuesday May 17, treadmill for 50 minutes. 3.27 miles

Wednesday May 18 I started the couch to 10k app on my phone. I started at week 3 day 2. I should have started at week 7 with all the running I've done since January but I'm lazy so I didn't. 47 min, 3.24 miles

Thursday I sat around watching FNL and thinking about all the sugary sins I plan on committing in a week or so. Good day.

Friday May 20, week 3.3 of couch to 10K, 56.47 min, 3.71 miles

Saturday May 21 rapture day, since I woke up alive I decided to workout. Elliptical, 8.73 miles in 41.23 min because that's exactly how long an episode of FNL is.

As you can see there are only 5 workouts. 5 seems to be doable for me. 6? Not so much. I don't even know how many green smoothies I've had. Not three though, I know that. And my shameful daughter made her evil shortbread cookies with her yummy icing that would satisfy the sweetest of sweet teeth on Thursday night while I was out. Seriously Thursday night. The day I sat around dreaming about bad food. Does she hate me? On my way to bed I saw them on the counter and before my brain even registered what was going on I was eating one whilst my eyes rolled around in my head in sugar induced utopia.

Oh the humanity.

Rough week this one was. Only one and a half more to go before I can start making rules and breaking them with a clearer conscience.

You wanna know what the evil daughter is doing right now? She's making this. Have you ever made this or tasted it? It is literally the most amazing thing I have ever tasted. Literally. Heaven on earth.

It's official. She really does hate me.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

give me some sugar, baby

Last night I asked Amelia if she wanted to make dinner. Naturally, she said yes. Sweet, I thought, I'm off the hook.

"What do you want me to make mommy?"

Good question kiddo.

She threw some potstickers in a pot. Actually it was a pan, but whatever. We forgot the oil and had some pretty crispy potstickers. Actually we call them dumplings, but whatever.

She gently placed some broccoli and cauliflower in the steamer.

And as she did I thought of how sweet she was. She kept saying over and over "I can't believe I am cooking. I just can't believe it."

This child is delicious. Positively edible, I tell you. I am the luckiest mama in the history of mama's to get this scrumptious child as my last child. (She'd better be the last child, or heaven help us all.)

This little bit of sweetness brought home the undeniable fact that I would probably give her away for some sugar right about now. Okay, not really but you catch my drift. It's that special time of month, the time I swore I wouldn't talk about so much. The time when all the world smells like sugar to me.

"What's that smell?" I say as we're walking to the truck. And me, with my nose in the air.

"What's that smell?" I say when I walk in the house and I could swear on my mama's life someone is hiding a chocolate cake under the couch.

"Mmmmm, whaaaaat's thaaaat smeeeeell?" I sigh ardently when I walk into the grocery store.

"Sick," the man says, "it smells like Superstore."

"Mmmmmm, Suuuuperstoooore........." To me, it smells like Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.

Oh Willy Wonka, will you marry me?

My pms (shhh, don't tell anyone I am talking about my pms again, it may turn some people off) but I repeat, my pms has needs that no amount of rule making can deny.

I need it, it is very important. Essential. Vital. Pressing. Urgent.

It must be had.

Soon my pms will go away but will my needs? Secretly, deep down in my hidden recesses of secret keepingdom, I hope not for I am having some very saccharine sweet fantasies that involve me and a day of sugar ingestation. An illicit love affair between sacchariferous- ness and myself. It'll be tawdry. Full of wild abandon. And, the only ones who will know will be me and my blog, which is a vault, so my secret is safe.

June 1st is only 13 sleeps away and I am dreaming up a sugar fiesta to shame all fiestas. Don't even try to talk me out of it.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

fnl addict

I am completely and totally hooked on Friday Night Lights. My friend gave me 5 seasons on boxset to watch while I workout. I am so hooked I'm ploughing through a couple of episodes (or 6) a day. And only 2 of those have any sort of exercise attached to them. Unless you count sitting in 'my' corner of the sectional sucking on a Diet Pepsi as exercise. And I don't see why it shouldn't count.

Yes, I do see why it shouldn't count.

Anyway, it's all I want to do. Sit and watch Tim's mouth move. His voice. Oh, his voice. And listen to coach yell with love at his team. And watch poor Saracen carry the burden of the universe on his shoulders. And Tyra.... oh Tyra, you have so much potential. Do not let the world bring you down.

I am sad and pathetic. I already know this so there is no need to tell me. Y'all.

I think with a Texan accent now. And sometimes I speak with one. And to tell the truth, I love it. I always thought I'd be a good Texan actually. I already have the big hair and I love makeup and long fake glamour nails. I don't have them because I live in Calgary, which is not Texas except maybe for 2 weeks in July when I pretend like it is during the Stampede. In high school my best friend Anne-Lise and I made a pact we were going to marry cowboys and live in Texas on a ranch. The man would have been an awesome cowboy. He's a total stud.

I would've been a great Texan.

I want her hair. It is geee-or-geous. And it proves that you can have long hair when you are 'older' and still be smokin' hot. She's got to be my age. Or close to it. It's so practical and it seems like it would only take a minute or two to do every morning. Especially with my unruly mane. Sarcasm.

I just googled it. She was born in 67 and I was born in 73 so you do the math. She is OLD and that solidifies it for me. I am growing my hair all the way down my back. I, too, will be smokin'.

And I'm moving to Texas so my fake accent isn't so weird.

It is done.

Sunday, May 15, 2011

the skinny on a bad week

Monday was day one of what turned out to be a very emotionally traumatic week for me. I simply do not want to talk about it.

30 min on the treadmill at an incline of 6 for 1.81 miles and the elliptical for 20 minutes for 4.25 miles.

Tuesday brought the first showing in 2 months and since my truck was broken (see previous post) I was homebound which worked out fine since I had to clean my house anyway.

Elliptical for 30 minutes, 6.44 miles and then the treadmill for 15 minutes at a 7 incline for .74 miles and then cleaning the whole house which always makes me sweat topped off with a 60 minute walk with the kids while the showing was being had at Willacy. Stupid Willacy.

Wednesday brought me a truck that worked which was fortuitous since I had such a busy driving around kind of day. I can't remember what I did but I know it was busy and I slipped a workout in at 8:30 after cubs and if you know me then you know how I feel about cubs. And it isn't a 'let's-go-home-and-workout' kind of feeling.

Elliptical for 20 minutes, 4.40 miles at level 7 (which is really hard by the way).

Thursday I had to go to the school 4 times. This was a bloody nuisance to me and my day quickly became unbearable after the thing happened to me that I do not want to talk about. Then my kid got sick and announced he wanted to puke as we were getting in the car to go to Martial Arts. We didn't go and I was spent.

I did not work out on Thursday out of sheer rebellion. And a time crunch. Sort of.

Friday was Friday. I always like Friday but only until the thing happened to me AGAIN that I do not want to talk about. But before it happened I worked out.

Elliptical for 50 minutes, 10.46 miles. Then I wallowed in front of the tv with a Subway after the thing which shall not be named happened. tisk tisk. I was so upset I worked out again. Power walk on treadmill at incline 7 and 8 for 35 minutes. 1.86 miles.

Saturday I went to a 80's themed breakfast with my 13 year old who ignored me the whole time. I was in a room with 200 women and girls I did not know and we had to answer painful trivia about the 80's for way too long. Did I mention it was painful? Well, it was.

When I got home I moved a mountain of rocks with a shovel and a rake all over my back yard. I pushed, pulled, shoveled, raked and cursed that rock pile until I had sweat dripping from my nose. Today I hurt like nobody's business and the man said I could count that as a workout. So I did.

Today I hid from the world.

I broke some rules this week but seriously it involved things like eating a banana after 7 and once I even did it in front of the tv. But what I really wanted to do was drown in buckets of ice cream and bathe in chocolate and sleep on pillows of Crave cupcakes.

So I figure a banana after curfew is not such a bad thing.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

for whom the gong tolls. part 2

So I married a man who can basically do everything.

If ever a wonderful Wiz there was
The Wizard of Oz is one because
Because because because because
Because of the wonderful things he does!

I don't know why that song popped in my head but it often does when the man is around.

I grew up in a home where when stuff broke someone got paid to fix it. I have three brothers who are all the same way. If stuff breaks someone gets paid to fix it. Even after 16 years with the man I can't get over the man's attitude when stuff breaks. Which happens a lot, wouldn'tyousay? I'll fix it he says.

So where were we? Oh yeah, broken hot water tanks that leak everywhere. The thing still leaks and he needs to get a part.

"But can you fix it?" says I with a hint of panic in my voice.

"Of course I can," says he with a hint of offense in his.

Fast forward from hot water tank to Monday May 9, 2011. I am at martial arts with my boys. If you took traffic away martial arts is about 25 minutes away from my house. Not so far. Totally doable. With traffic it takes an hour, exactly one hour, to get there. It's a nuisance. Anyway, I usually sit in the car to read while they are inside getting their martial on because, well, I like to read.

When the boys came out, they hopped in and I started to back my truck out of it's spot.


I was stuck. I couldn't go forward or backward. I was half in, half out. I was blocking the entry and or exit to the parking lot.

Okay, let me digress for a moment. I'm pretty tough, or so I think. I can put up with a lot of crap if I have to. I like to refer to myself as a princess but if I were a princess I would be the kind of princess who likes to be spoiled but could and would go to battle if need be.

I do have my limits though. And car trouble tops the list. I am not good with car trouble. Especially when I'm tired. And super especially when I am sitting half in and half out of a parking stall in a really busy parking lot full of irritable parents and hungry kids who just WANT TO GO HOME.

A man hopped out of his car and told me he heard the thunk and he thought I broke my axel and that I wasn't going anywhere. He did manage to help me get the truck rolled sort of out of the way so people could go around.

"Sorry about that but you are really broken. Good luck to you!" Um, thanks, I guess?

I called the man. I told him I was broken. I told him to come and save me because I was in dire need of being saved.

"I'm on my way."

Meanwhile, I sat there waving people around me with a very apologetic look on my face. That look quickly went away when one ignorant young woman honked at me and motioned for me to move out of her way. When I waved her around she called me a b****.

Rude, right?

One person, other than the original gentleman, stopped to see if I needed help. One person!

Rude, right?

The man showed up, towed me out of the way and got under the truck. He stood up, announced he needed to get a part and would back in a sec.

"Wait, what? A sec?" Too late, he was gone. A short time later he showed up and said that the part would be in tomorrow.

"I'll tow you home after I temporarily fix the tie rod." Out came the duct tape and under my truck went the man.

One chain and one rope later and we are on our way. I was so stressed out I thought my bowels would betray me. Too much? I wanted to run to Mac's and buy one of every chocolate bar they had and shove them down my throat. I wanted to eat.

It's been awhile since I was that stressed out.

Crowchild, Glenmore, Blackfoot. These are the roads I take to get home. If you know Calgary then you know these are not side roads. When I was parked safe and sound in front of my un-sellable house the man unhooked me and told me I did a good job.

Thanks. Can I puke now?

Last night he picked up the $54 part and fixed my truck.

The man is a wizard-ish, rock star-ish, knight in shining armor who happens to be married to a princess who is prone to bad luck. And together we put on a regular show of ridiculousness and frustrating hilariousness I like to call the "gong show."

Admission is free.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

for whom the gong tolls. part 1

Sometimes, even through all the stress, I wonder when the next ball will drop. Or thing to break. Or gong to gong. You know what I mean? Something hasn't gone terribly awry for quite some time, I'll think to myself. Could things be looking up?

And then I'll walk into the food storage room, like I did last week, and see a puddle on the ground. This won't alarm me too too much seeing as it isn't the first time we have spotted a puddle on the ground in the basement.

The roof leaks. Remember?

The funny thing about the roof leaking is that except for the time it flooded the back bedroom two days before we moved in, it only ever leaks into the basement. Puddles.

It's like God is saying "things have to go wrong but I'll keep them from going so wrong that you lose your mind." You know?

So when I saw the puddle my mind immediately went to the place where it curses the broken roof and the storm from the day before that obviously blew the poly away hence making my basement a splash park.

I texted the man. "There is a puddle in the basement." I didn't receive a text back, I didn't need to. I did, however, need to do a crap load of laundry since in the middle of this small pond was sitting my sleeping bags and extra quilts and comforters.

Later that evening, after he was home and kids were mostly tucked in bed I grabbed a caffeine free diet pepsi and went to settle in for a couple of hours of mind numbing, real world escaping tv. Before that though, I went to check the puddle.

It was ten times the size. Of course it was.

"Daaaaaaaarrrrrrrccccccccceeeeeee" I called from the outer edges of sanity. "Have you seen the puddle yet?" I heard him come stomping down the stairs. He stomped, I guess because there was maybe a teensy weensy bit of concern in my voice.

I watched him look up and down and all the way around, trying to find where the problem was. He said to me "have you checked the furnace room?"

"Um, no." I try not to look in the dark hidden recesses of my house for fear of what disaster lurks there. I walked to the furnace room, flicked the light, and spotted another huge puddle.

"Yep, puddle." I say cheerfully as if acting happy about it might make the puddle less angry and therefore less likely to cost money to fix.

The man started his 'bull in the china shop' thing. The thing where he storms around, not mad, just loud and aggressive like. Gettin' 'er done.

"Is there anything I can do?" I whisper with such a look of demure, helpless, feminine uselessness that no one could deny my presence there was completely unnecessary. After all, I really just wanted to watch tv, remember?

"Nope, I got it."

He shop vac'd that place dry. He was loud but he was taking care of business and we would never begrudge him that. After awhile he came and planted himself next to me in front of the tv.

"The valve on the hot water tank is broken. I fixed it and the water is not leaking anymore."

Okay, I think to myself. That's not so bad. 10 loads of laundry and a man who knows how to fix stuff and the universe it set right. We have survived another storm.

Or have we?

Stay tuned. Tomorrow? Part 2.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

the skinny on mother's day

So, if I'm the blogger, does that make you the bloggee? Let's say it does. Okay?

Forgive me bloggees, for I have sinned. I only worked out 5 days this week and I only had two green smoothies.

Oh, for shame!

I don't know what went wrong with the smoothie thing. There is really no excuse. Many hours in day equals many opportunities to drink the good stuff. I just didn't and I own it.

I could have broken a sweat 6 times this week but not without major sacrifice and irritation. Monday through Friday was no problem. Sweated (is that a word?) my brains out. Friday night and Saturday I was in a conference. Saturday night I had a dinner party. And I simply won't consider breaking a sweat on the Sabbath. Especially a mother's day kind of sabbath. I could have squeezed a sweat in between conference and dinner party but that would have meant my food didn't get made and a shower.

This is not realistic and remember when I said I was normal now? Well, I do not believe for a minute that any normal person would have done that. I didn't want to seem like a zealot, after all.

On day one I totally forgot and ate a bowl of fruit in front of a movie after 7:30 pm. Woops. Remembering all the rules was hard that first couple of days.

I have, however, been super cranky this week. I couldn't figure out why on earth I was feeling so short tempered and nasty. I don't have PMS and in it's absence I have been down right confused. I was the kind of cranky that I am when I'm dieting and starved. I always chalked it up to being hungry but I'm not following any diet, nor am I even hungry. So why the cranky??

I have to wonder if it isn't my inner three year old pitching a fit at my inner adult telling me what do. She is stomping her feet with her fists on her waist demanding to be allowed to do whatever she wants and the adult is saying "No! Follow the rules."


"Because I said so! That's why!"

Bloody adults.

If this is even remotely true then I am in for a long hard life. I guess week two will tell.

I did make it through mother's day without any sweet treats and it was only a teensy bit hard. I don't actually want or crave the sweet treats but it would have been nice to eat what everyone else was eating. Since it did look so yummy and all.

My knee hurts and I am a tad concerned about it. I'm hoping it's just muscle pain and will go away. I didn't run as much this week due to it. It feel better today, having had 2 days off.

Monday treadmill, 60 min 4.11 miles
Tuesday elliptical, 35 min 7.89 miles
Wednesday treadmill, 45 min 3.07 miles
Thursday elliptical, 45 min 8.89 miles
Friday elliptical, 60 minutes 12.59 miles

Here's to a happier, sweatier week, where not eating after 7 is fun and not super annoying.

What are the odds?

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

it's that time

It's that time of year when the sun shines more and the snow falls less. It's that time when making lunches becomes almost unbearable. It's that time when kids get restless and go outside for longer and come inside calmer. The kids are dirtier but happier and they talk about summer more. It's that time when the bikes come out and the helmuts don't fit and the tires need air but it totally doesn't matter because those kinds of things don't matter to the young. Their winter hair needs a shave and their spring jackets look too small. They always smell like metal and sweat.

It's that time of year when I get sick of school meetings and fundraisers and wondering what to feed them in their ever hated lunches. It's that time when I start praying that they will just eat meat and cheese for a few more weeks before the sight of it makes them gag. It's that time when making the kids go to school seems almost fruitless.


It's that time when the man goes to work earlier and comes home later. When we start to miss him and thus, start to long for autumn and earlier night skies. It's that time when he gets tanned and beautiful from being outside all day long.

It's that time when lecturing the 5 year old about her duties gets tiresome and redundant. "First and foremost," I explain to her perfect pout, "your job is to go to school and learn."

"I hate learning. It isn't fun. I don't even get to play with the toys until centre time and that takes forever. I hate school. I don't want to go." It appears she thinks this is a negotiation.

"I don't care if you don't want to go." This statement comes after months of trying to reason patiently and lovingly with this perfect, pudgy, delicious child of my womb. "I simply do not care anymore. Your job is to go. So you go. You can choose to go happily or can choose to go mad. But you are going. Do you understand me?"

"Yes. But I still hate it."


"Cuz there is no movie time and no nap time." She goes to school from nine until eleven fifty in the morning. You'd think it was a twelve hour gig with all the carrying on she does about it.

"But, Amelia, you don't even nap at home so why would you want to nap at school?"

"Cuz, mom," exasperation in it's purest form, "I'm not tired at home!"

It's that time when if she asks me one more time how many days are left of school this week I might conveniently bang my head against a wall.

She is her father's daughter. He hated kindergarten as well.

It's that time when I start daydreaming about lakes and tents and living out of coolers for weeks on end. When sand in my ears and other unmentionable places becomes my reality. And I love it.

I want so very much to look forward to this summer but it has become very apparent to me that my timeline is not the same as the powers that be.

It would seem, the duration of time it takes to teach me patience, in which this particular lesson began in April of 2009, is not yet over. The lesson is not quite learned and I must press on. I can not, therefore, make my summer plans and dream of lakes and beaches with the sweet sense of anticipation that usually accompanies it. Instead, I get to yearn for it while I wait for my unsell-able house to sell.

The time for convenient, simplistic change is getting shorter and shorter, as is my fuse. But I can not force anything to happen. I must wait and learn my slow lesson of patience.

So, I wait. Until it becomes that time that lessons are learned. Houses are sold. Moving is done. And life carries on.

Right now is not that time and I, begrudgingly, accept it.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

mind yourself month

This is the month where I make rules and then……..

dun dun dun………..

I follow them!

I am terrible at this. Positively abysmal, I tell you. And I think, not totally sure, but pretty flippin’ positive, that this may be one of my two biggest downfalls when it comes to maintaining a healthy weight.

No one tells Catherine NO. Not even Catherine. It’s a problem.

I make rules all the time. They’re great and they always make perfect sense. They sound something like this:

“After this cookie/brownie/cupcake I will never eat another cookie/brownie/cupcake ever again.”
“I will have popcorn at the movies tonight but not again until I lose 50 pounds. I swear it. Cross my heart.”
“I’ll be good. Starting Monday.”
“I’m on holidays so I should eat what I want. I’ll diet when I get back.”
“I’ll only eat one treat a week. On a Sunday. Because Sundays are hard and I’m tired and so why shouldn’t I have a treat?” Turns out almost every day is hard, especially when I want a treat!

Rules are great. I believe in rules. I don’t speed because it’s against the law. And laws are very important rules. I don’t steal because it’s a rule. I don’t hit my kids because when I was growing up my parents told me it was wrong to hit your kids. I don’t smoke pot or cigarettes and I don’t drink alcohol or do drugs of any sort. Are Advil Liqugels a drug? Because I do those.

I only swear when I have PMS. I was taught that that's okay. No I wasn’t.

And I only lie when necessary.

I digress.

Back to the rules. Apparently I follow the rules just fine when I deem the rule makers to have absolute authority. When I make rules it’s a different story. Unless I make them for someone else, then I have absolute authority and must be obeyed. I tend to make unreasonable rules either in the ‘moment’ or when I am feeling totally rational and in control. And it’s in that ‘moment’ that I am feeling satisfied. I am not feeling as though I need anything or even want anything, in that ‘moment’. As soon as I need or want it I break the rules. This is how I roll. I have a sick sense of entitlement. I’d love to know where I got that from. No I don’t. I do not want to know.

There is always a perfectly good reason that a particular rule needed to be broken as well. For example, cookies/brownies/cupcakes need to be eaten. But where is it written that they all need to be eaten by me?

Date night should always include a treat and since popcorn or ice cream or chocolate is soooo good……..

Weekends are for over eating. Mondays are for fresh starts. No?? Says who?

And holidays? Well, that goes without saying.

I also suffer from an “all or nothing” mentality. My second biggest downfall to healthy weight maintenance. It goes something like this:

“I’m on a diet and I’ve already screwed up my program today so I may as well screw the whole day and eat everything I have been depriving myself of for what feels like an eternity and get it all out of my system and start fresh tomorrow. Or Monday, since it’s already Friday and the weekend is here”

Or like this:

“I want to work out but I only have 30 minutes because I actually am busy today but since I should work out for a whole entire hour I won’t bother with the 30 minutes I have as that would be a waste of time and energy.”

I believe this mentality has grown over years of dieting. Praising myself when goals have been met and accomplished and punishing myself when I have failed. For whatever reason though, the consequence for pooching a diet on any particular day is over eating. More food. Tell me this doesn’t have eating disorder written all over it.

For the month of May I will strive to rid myself of these two mindsets. Or, at least, begin the journey. Turning the first from, “it’s okay to break my own rules when I feel like it” into “rules do get broken but there is no need to go crazy”. Normal people aren’t crazy. And now, since I am a normal person I can have a treat every now and then, just not all the treats.

And two, “all or nothing is my normal” into “a little exercise is better than no exercise. Some is better than none.” I know this to be true but my dysfunctional self has overruled my rational self far too long and I fear my rational self has been brain washed.

Time to undo the damage. I know it will take longer than 30 days since it took 19 years to get here. I just hope it doesn’t take 19 years to get out.

Dieting or over eating. Some exercise or no exercise. All or nothing. Where is the middle ground? The place where one cookie is okay but 16 isn’t? The place where a 20 minute walk doesn’t feel like a waste of time? It’s there, I know it is, I see women living in it all the time. I see them following their own rules. I see that it works.

So for the month of May I am making some rules. And for the month of May I will be following them. I do believe this will be the hardest month yet.

I am calling them the Other Ten Commandments. I won’t replace the original ten but since I’m not too worried about murdering anyone this month or worshipping any false images, I feel okay about adding a few more to the pot.

Some are geared specifically to weight loss. Some are geared to making me just plain uncomfortable. Some are easier than others and some are very needed. Most of them overlap. Here it goes:
1. I shall not eat ANYTHING after 7 pm. Hard one. See #7 and #8.
2. I shall not eat sugar. Easy
3. I shall not make or eat sugar free baked goods and I shall not ingest sugar free chocolate. Super dooper hard, see #2!
4. I shall sweat 6 days a week. Regardless of how long I work out I will break a sweat 6 days a week. And, since it only takes me 38 seconds the start the sweat portion of a workout this goal is totally accomplishable. Breaking mindsets, baby.
5. I shall not shop at Safeway. That store is a giant rip off and because I hate grocery shopping and I prefer to go daily to grab a couple of things and Safeway is down the street I am going broke. Super walmart or Superstore only this month! It will take mental willpower and serious organization.
6. I shall have a green smoothie 3 times a week. I love them but am too lazy to make them.
7. I shall not eat in front of the tv. Ever. See #8
8. I shall not eat popcorn. Here, there or anywhere. See #7 and #1
9. I shall not eat fast food. This should be easy but we'll see when PMS hits and I want to take a bath in french fries.
10. I shall read a good book. Or three. Come on! One should be easy, if not fun. No?

Now, I know that it seems not allowing myself any sort of treat goes against trying to break the all or nothing mentality but since I am trying to undo some damage already done by overeating I will have none of it for this month because, in a strange way, it does ease my mind when I don't have to worry about portion control of a dangerous substance. Like Cinnamon Cake. Sugar free cinnamon cake is really really good. Having one piece may actually be harder than having none. So in a strange backward sort of way, having none is easier than having a little bit. Make sense? No? Well it does in my brain. This month is about following my own rules. These are the ones I've chosen.

Here, here to the month of May!