Lazy? Who Me?

My 8-year-old this month daughter and I had a very rare evening where it was just the two of us and we didn't have a million things to get done.  We had time to play gymnastics, dance in the kitchen and enjoy each other's company thoroughly.  While she was eating dinner Bruno Mars' "The Lazy Song" came on the radio.  It's a particular favorite of my kids because the music video features people wearing monkey masks.  It's a favorite of mine because I love the fantasy of having a day where I do absolutely nothing.  For those of you unfamiliar with the lyrics, here's the gist --  "Today I swear I'm not doing anything.  I just want to lay in my bed."

As we listened my daughter said "You'd never do that.  You're always doing something."

I laughed because she's absolutely right.  Aside from my type A-personality my single mother status has made it impossible for me to stop moving.

I thought a minute and said I'd probably lay around if I was really sick.  And then I admitted that even when I'm sick I still manage to get things done.  My daughter agreed and said "probably if you were in the hospital you would lay around.  No, you'd probably be texting."  Well nobody could accuse her of not paying attention to the crazy mom who's always floating around..she nailed it.  I would be texting, sending emails, and probably squeezing in a few work phone calls.

My mom never stops moving either.  (You'd think we'd both be thinner somehow...)  And I wondered what that said about the two of us and what it meant for my daughter.  We keep moving so that our family will have a clean home, clothes, food, wonderful birthday and holiday moments, and so much more.  But I'm thinking that in this world of ever increasing pressure and information overload we need to send another message too.  Sometimes you just need to spend a day in bed.  Sounds great -- now all I need to do is just schedule that in...

Here's the official video for viewing pleasure: (we can discuss my questionable parenting skills for letting my kids watch this at another time...)

I Feel Pretty

My 6-year-old daughter, R, and I went to return a toy at Target and I made the mistake of telling her she could get anything she wanted from the store because it was "her money."  Since my daughter isn't much of a toy kid I suggested she might want craft supplies or clothing.  What I didn't expect was her immediate request to go to the shoe department.  (Given the female species' love of shoes this was a ridiculous omission on my part...)

At the shoe department I watched in horror as my daughter picked out a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals.  They were very pretty and on-target from a fashion point of view but they were high-heels. (about an inch of so)  I'm pretty careful about keeping my daughter as child like as possible for several reasons:

1) She's 6
2) I don't think she needs to grow up too quickly
3) I read somewhere that pedophiles look for girls who are overtly sexual.  Signals for them are things like a) wearing high heels, b) having polished finger nails, c) wearing makeup
4) High heels put an extra 50 pounds of pressure on your feet for every 1/2 inch you go up.   They also change the way you walk, even when you're barefoot.

so the high heels were a problem for me.  But, I'd told her she could have anything she wanted. I was planning to use the shopping trip as a great opportunity to teach her to stay within a budget, plan for bigger purchases, and oh-so-much more great money wisdom.  Well we all know how plans like that turn out...

As my daughter paraded up and down the aisle in said high heels feeling incredible happy with herself I tried to balance the importance of building her self-esteem by applauding her fashion choices with the fact that these shoes were ridiculous for a girl her age.  So, I tried the practical tactic by asking "Where will you wear them?  We're not going to any fancy parties."  Without a beat my daughter said "To my spring concert."  She had me there - she found the one place where she wore a nice dress and the shoes wouldn't look like she was staring in "Lolita".

I took a breath and decided that honesty was the best policy on this one.  I told her I thought the shoes were ridiculous and completely impractical and that I would never buy them for her. But because I said she could use her money for anything she wanted in the store, I felt I had to keep my word and let her buy them.  My daughter listened very nicely, grabbed her gift card, and walked out of the store proudly wearing her new shoes and planning the outfit she'd wear for the concert.

The dreaded shoes made a few appearances over the next two weeks but only for a quick walk around the backyard while she played tour guide and a few strolls around the house.  But on concert day the shoes were there, front and center.  They were the main attraction.  My daughter had them on before she even knew what dress she was wearing.  As my daughter debated between dress choice A and dress choice B she looked at herself in the mirror and sang.  She was so happy that it made me stop what I was doing (getting dressed) to just look at her.

It struck me that I can't remember if I ever looked at myself in the mirror and felt like singing.  While my daughter was celebrating her reflection I was thinking about those 5 or 10 pounds I want to lose, regretting my previous day's (or month's, or year's) food choices, and wishing I was something different than I am.  My daughter was thrilled to be herself.  It's a feeling I hope I can help her keep for a long, long time.  It will be way too soon when she figures out that no matter who she is there will always be somebody judging her based on her looks.  So, I guess I owe the shoes a debt of gratitude, they make her feel like she's gorgeous and they make her smile.  I can't think of a single woman I know who couldn't use a little more of that.

I think I need to go shoe shopping.  (And yes,  I love, love, love high heels.)

The Most Interesting Thing I Learned Today

Willpower can be depleted, just like any other energy source our body uses.  According to the interview I heard on NPR with the author of the book, "Willpower",  the more willpower you exert in one area, the less you have available to resist another temptation.  Willpower is cumulative -- use it all in one place and you've got zip left for something else.  (Read the book review here.)

The reason you're less able to resist that morning's left-over, now completely-stale, not-even-a-flavor-you-like-very-much, donut in the break room if because your brain is simply out of willpower.  Worse yet for dieters the way to restore your willpower is to give your brain some glucose.  So you need food to help you from eating food.  This is another evil universe/biology trick if ever I've heard one.

Now I know why I'm desperate to reach for the sweets after a long day working and parenting. Every time I don't turn into a screaming banshee when my kids drag their feet eats up another piece of my self control.  By the time everybody is settled and sleeping is it any wonder I'm reaching for the chocolate and my friends are reaching for their wine bottles?  With the way our mornings go it's a miracle I don't break out the Laffy Taffy by 9 a.m.

The good news is that willpower functions like a muscle.  You can learn to get stronger.  Or, you can say "what the heck, they're only (fill in the blank here...) old.  This can only last another 25 years or so, right" as you reach for your secret stash of whatever and indulge, indulge, indulge.  Gotta sign off now, I'm positive I hear some frosting calling my name.

P.S. - The second most interesting thing I learned today was how to put links in this blog.
P.S.S.  - The third most interesting thing I learned today was that willpower is one word.

Tri, Tri, Tri Again

Why I Like Biking Better Than Running:

Speed, Speed, Speed!

You Create Your Own Breeze which is so, so, so much harder to do when you're running

Coasting - is there anything more wonderful than taking a break while you're still moving AND clocking miles?!

Forgiveness -- Nothing tells you you've overindulged like taking your body for a run.  On such an occasion there's far more flapping in the breeze than sheets or sails and it ain't pretty.  A bike is much more forgiving of parts that are "temporarily" less toned.

Why I Like Running Better Than Biking:

Unlikely to Be Hit By A Car -- although Reese Witherspoon recently got hit while she was jogging so maybe this isn't so true anymore...http://www.nbclosangeles.com/entertainment/celebrity/Reese-Witherspoon-Hurt-in-Santa-Monica-Car-Accident--129424683.html
Music! - although there are way too many people who wear head phones while biking -- what are they thinking? 

Clips -- clips are evil little toys invented by the devil.  Who else would create something that leaves you stranded like a turtle when you topple?  First you suffer the indignity of falling while practically standing still and then it's physically impossible to right yourself because you can't get your darn feet disengaged from the pedals.  Awful!

Flabby Calves- I never knew your calves could get flabby until I took a little break from biking.  My calves NEVER felt flabby until then.

Stuff -- running shoes, check.  Go run.  (Socks optional...)  Try that bike riders!

Why I like Swimming Better Than Biking and Running

Nada
Zip
Nothing

Who Are You? Who Do I Need To Be?

Every once in awhile your kid throws you a curveball.  A true, out-of-left field kind of moment that whallops you. 

I had one of those moments today when my son started his latest round of baseball practice.  I was running late from work and had the fabulous blessing of having my mom take him to practice.  I showed up about 15 minutes after the scheduled beginning of said practice to find them all standing by the side of the parking lot.  Grandma, would-be ballplayer, and 5-year-old didn't go to school today because she was sick, daughter.  At first glance I assumed I had made a mistake - they were standing around in various stages of frustration because they were at the wrong field or they were there on the wrong day -- it was definitely something I'd done, right?

As I hopped out of the car intent on fixing things my mom informed me that my bouncy, peppy, not great ball player but known for his incredible team spirit and great attitude wouldn't go into the practice because he was "shy."  My kid is many things and shy sometimes (rarely) fits the bill but it's only for about a minute.

I assumed this was one of those times, that he'd grab my hand, we'd head off to the field, and I'd send him on his merry way as I had oh so many times before.  Oh no, this was no garden variety sort of shyness.  This was unable to tear himself off the fence shy.  I was flummoxed.  I tried to get him to open up about why he was shy.  (My son's a talker, opening up is usually the LAST thing I have to work hard to get him to do...)  I talked about how he was late for practice and that wasn't fair to the coaches and his team mates.  I talked about how he couldn't play his game on Saturday if he didn't show up for practice today.  I asked if he was scared.  I set a time limit for deciding if he was staying or going...Eventually I stopped talking because I was out of ideas about how to help him.

It was only when we were going over to the coach to tell him that we were leaving (a good 45 minutes after practice started) that things changed.  I said "my son is being unusually shy", the coach walked over, had a quick chat, and lured him out onto the field with the option of whacking the stuffing out of the ball.  As my son suited up in his batting gear the tide turned.  In the blink of 3 or 4 eyes the kid I know best was out there making jokes with his new best friends, chasing after balls, rolling around on the ground, and asking me if we could stay for the extended practice, "please?"

Where did today come from and is it coming back?  How will it manifest itself this time?  While I didn't outright fail my son today I could feel that I wasn't giving him everything he needed.  I'm so used to being able to solve his problems quickly (dirty face?  Here's a wipe...hungry? Here's a snack...) that I didn't have the tools I needed for his complex conflicting emotions.  Apparently I need a whole new playbook because the kid I know so well is evolving every day and I'm just running frantically around the bases trying to keep up. Time for mom to grow too.

It's Never Enough

Restless tonight.  I'm completely bone weary and exhausted and yet I'm not quite ready to turn out the lights.  The endless to do list is clattering around in the back of my mind but I've got nothing I want or really can tackle.  I don't have the energy to dive into something new but I do have the guilt to feel incomplete for not making even the slightest dent in my ever growing list of things that must be done.  My body knows that it has to rest but it seems my mind just can't stop churning.  Is this the continual fate of the overworked mom?  Forever doomed to never getting enough done and never being satisfied?  Where is the pressure coming from and why is it so easy to fall into its claws?

The Ties That Bind and Loosen

"Been a long time since I rock and rolled" -- the real truth is that I've never rock and rolled, and neither have my kids...until now.

Such is the fate of a sister with a brother that likes classic rock, two HIGHLY influental children when it comes to their favorite uncle, and a long car trip.  My musically naive kids moved from Led Zepwhat to Ledheads in the space of 40 minutes.

We listened to that particular track four times while my son played air guitar, my daughter used her head as a drum, my brother laughed gleefuly, and I put my head on the dashboard and kept smacking it over and over.

While I admit that my kids were pretty funny and I loved the family bonding with an uncle that lives over 3,000 miles away, that particular car ride signaled the end of something -- my control over the radio.  Oh sure I let my kids have some say in the music and kid-appropriate CD's they listen to but even then those are CD's carefully selected and screened by me.  This seemingly innocent bit of sharing by my brother was a full on attack of my musical dominance.

It's been two days since that fateful trip and the first thing my son said when we got in the car today was "Led Zeppelin mom!"  I know this is the beginning of the end.   My son is actively seeking out the classic rock station in our town and I've loathed classic rock ever since it came pouring down the stairs from my brother's room over 30 years ago.  Pretty soon we'll have a battle over the radio, just like my brother and I did when we were growing up.  Only this time my kids will be my kids instead of my stinky brother and I'll be forced to give in instead of whapping him on the arm, head, or other random body part.

I guess that's what happens when you share your kids with other people that love them as much as you do...I may have lost control of my radio, but a little piece of my life has come full circle.  Thanks bro.