Alison's Favorite Things: Springtime Edition

So I've been posting some heavy posts lately, and while topics about mental health and my kiddos growing up way too fast (sob) are certainly a big part of my life lately, so are some other things. Some might even call these things trivial or frivolous, but phooey on those people. I say the art of happiness is finding small treats for yourself on a regular basis.

I love Donna Meagle and Tom Haverford!

So here are some things I'm treating myself to/enjoying lately.

1.  The perfect jeans (for me). Y'all. You have NO IDEA how much I hate jeans shopping (probably the same amount that you hate jeans shopping.) I've bought so many pairs that "fit OK" only to end up hating them within a week. I'd obsessively read any article titled "Your Perfect Jeans" only to apathetically forget to shop for them. They didn't seem perfect, anyway.

The problem is the Gap. No, not the elusive Thigh Gap or the clothing store. I have a smaller waist-to-hip ratio than average, I guess. Pants that fit my hips often don't fit my waist. (Although aging is thickening my waist. Thanks, perimenopause!) Anybody know why even skirts with a zipper aren't as problematic? It probably has to do with rise over run or something. (I know that's a math thing, not a pants thing. I was trying to be funny. Be kind.)

Old Navy rockstar skinnies are good for me--although I had to size up to a number I'd never been before--as are any skinnies with stretch, so that trend has been nice. But I found the BEST everyday jeans that are more comfy than the Old Navy ones: Denizen from Levi's, found at Target.

Target! How do they manage to find the best things for us middle-aged moms at a great price point? It's a mystery.

I get the Curvy Skinny jeans. (I need these darker ones for dressier outfits; mine are more of a faded wash.) They don't stretch out over multiple wearings and the waistband never gaps. They have a Short for shrimps like me and a Long for you tall gals. I got the boot cut ones too, and they're a little more like a flare than a subtle boot cut, plus I need a slight heel with them, so I'm not gonna wear them as often.


But if you have the Gap (or even if you don't--they have a Modern Skinny fit for less curvy women) check them out. At 29.99, they can't be beaten!

2. Man, I'm gonna have to shorten my rave reviews or this post will take forever. Another thing I'm enjoying: tinted lip balm. When I see myself in pictures I always think my face is so "blah"...unless I have a little lip color on. And this winter I needed lip balm constantly, so it made sense to try a tinted one. I had one by NYX that was fine, but I wanted a smaller tube that was easier to apply without a mirror, so I went with the tried-and-true Burt's Bees and I love it.

I got the Lip Shimmer. It provides sheer yet noticeable color that stays put for a good amount of time and has a nice minty tingly feeling on my lips. It's definitely my everyday go-to now. I'm also going to try their gloss and maybe even (gasp!) their lipstick in the hopes that they will be more moisturizing than the ones I've tried.


3. Yoga. I've found my favorite exercise for life. No, yoga isn't just stretching with a nap at the end (though the relaxation benefits are significant for a stressball like me.) The research undeniably shows that a regular yoga practice is as effective as medication for treating anxiety and depression. (So is cardio, so I [reluctantly] alternate that into the mix.) Unlike other exercise, I actually look forward to doing yoga. I haven't done a class yet, but am planning to try one at our gym that meets mid-morning a couple of days a week. (I'm not doing anything at 5 a.m.)

I would have been intimidated to start with a class, so I'm glad I started where I did--free YouTube videos. I love Sara Beth of SaraBeth Yoga--her voice is soothing as is her background music (although she has some music-free videos as well--and she is excellent at explaining exactly what to do. I rarely even have to peek at the screen. Plus, she's not overly chatty like some of the yoga teachers on YouTube.

Even if I only have 15 minutes at the end of the day, I know I'll end up feeling more relaxed and refreshed after I do my yoga routine, and therefore I willingly do it...every day. I've never been able to say that about any other exercise routine.

Along those lines, I'm reading Yoga and the Pursuit of Happiness by Sam Chase, which I picked up on a whim at the library. Turns out it delves into why a yoga practice works, using both ancient Eastern wisdom and modern Western science, which is right up in my wheelhouse. I'm taking notes on it (which I do with nonfiction books I really want to learn from) and doing the "Inquiries" in my journal. I actually meditated for 15 minutes this morning--a new personal best!

Now it's time for me to stop going on about my favorites. What are you loving these days?

She's Got This

Four weeks of school are now behind us. Since 7th grade is the first year students can participate in Athletics, it's also our first year in the wonderful world of middle school sports.

For girls in our district, the choices are volleyball, basketball, cross-country, tennis, and track and field (I think--remember I'm getting almost all of my information second-hand). You have to do two sports; right now it's volleyball season so the concurrent activity is cross-country. 

All of this is completely foreign to me since 
     a) I attended a tiny private school with only one sport for girls--volleyball. I'm 5'2". 'Nuff said.
     b) I don't have an athletic bone in my body. Since I was a high school teacher for several years, I know a little bit about extracurricular activities--mainly, that when you are absent for a game, you should always get your makeup work ASAP. 

I still stand by that, by the way. Academics shouldn't suffer due to participation in a sport.

Anyway, we left it up to C to decide if she wanted to try out for volleyball. She hasn't played much, but I thought she had a decent chance of making one of the teams. I think she was a little nervous about trying out, though, because instead she chose cross-country, which has no tryouts. After her Athletics coach explained what was involved, she told me, "Coach K said it's great for people who like to push themselves. I can't wait!"

It's true, she does like a challenge.

And she got one. In the first week, she ran more than I probably have in all the years of my life combined. Besides the running in cross-country, which happens before school, in Athletics, they do strength and conditioning and more running. At this point I think she's doing at least 2 miles a day.

Mercy.

Last week she started saying that her knee hurt. After the first week of athletics, the coaches sent out an email saying that they were not accepting parent notes to excuse students from working out. (Translation: the kids were sore because even the most active ones probably hadn't ever worked out this much, but the coaches weren't having it.) If a student thought they were injured, they should go to the trainer, or go to the doctor and bring back a note. Period.

After a day or so, C went to the trainer, who told her it was tendinitis, due to repetitive stress, and that a special brace thingy that puts pressure on the spot would help, and that she should take ibuprofen and stretch. We did that.

Remember she's still running 2 miles a day and doing squats, lunges, and I don't know what all.

Web MD said when you have tendinitis you should rest it completely. Meanwhile the coaches are telling her to "take it easy" but I'm not sure that's in my daughter's vocabulary. I could feel the worry circling in my mind, not yet becoming full-fledged anxiety, but I went back and forth on whether I should email the coaches, or the trainer...or go ahead and take her to the doctor even though I knew what the doctor would say and since we don't have traditional insurance, it would be out of pocket...and then she's on the list for the meet on Friday...should she bow out and let someone else go?

Then I felt this rising up in me: Let her talk to the coaches and visit the trainer. She's got this.

Sure, I couldn't help mentioning what she needed to hear from the trainer (namely, was she or was she not fit to continue running?) Then when I found myself telling her what to say to the coach and getting an impatient response, I got the message (finally) and bit my tongue.

That day she got in the car saying, "The trainer did some kind of voodoo magic on my knee!" (It's a machine that sends an electrical pulse through electrodes to relieve pain.) She had talked to the coaches. In Athletics that talk happened after she was trying to do the whole workout and started crying. The coaches said she needed to tell them she was hurting BEFORE it got to that point. Her knee started feeling better. But by the time of the meet on Friday, it was hurting again, and she and her coach decided that she should wait until she's healthy to compete. She was disappointed at first but rallied to cheer her teammates on.

What a lot of lessons she had an opportunity to learn. If I had stepped in and taken over with my anxious-mother emails, she wouldn't have learned any of them. 

Now, I am NOT saying that we shouldn't listen to our mommy-radar when it pings, "This doesn't seem right! I should check it out!" Most of the time when we listen to our deepest intuitions, it turns out we were right. 

However, I AM saying that I actually did listen to my intuition, the one that lies beneath my knee-jerk worried-mom reaction. Admittedly, C makes it easier for me, a certified wimp who hates taking risks, to let her be independent because she tells me to. This is the child who was so excited on the first day of kindergarten that we got there before anyone else except the student teacher (her actual teacher wasn't even in the room yet.) And once C had a puzzle in front of her, she looked at me and said matter-of-factly, "You can go now."

"What? Are you...are you sure you don't want me to stay at least until someone else gets here?"

"No. You can go." And I was dismissed with a wave of her hand. 

I walked away a little stunned, but knowing instinctively that she wasn't unattached to me, and that she did still need me for some things.

Just not this time.

I was right when I decided, She's got this. I just have to let her handle it.

Finding Time

At the library, I recently picked up a copy of a book titled 168 Hours: You Have More Time Than You Think, by Laura Vanderkam. In the introduction, Vanderkam writes that you really do have enough time to do the things you think you are too busy to do, like exercise, a write a novel, build a successful career and a happy family, and even...sleep eight hours a night.

Well, that caught my attention. Because there isn't anything more important to me than sleep--and I include my husband and children in that equation. If I don't get my sleep, I am a rotten human being to be around, and it goes without saying, a terrible mother and wife. For a while, under the "Interests" part of my Blogger profile, I had "Getting enough sleep." And I wasn't even remotely joking.

I haven't finished the book yet, so this isn't a complete review. But I like the way the first few chapters have jump-started my thinking. The first chapter is called "The Myth of the Time Crunch." We all know how busy we feel, and how busy everyone claims to be. Yet the best evidence we have says we aren't as busy as we think we are. A third of Americans who work full-time claim to work more than 50 hours per week, and 12 percent say they work more than 60 hours a week. We tell pollsters that we sleep less than 7 hours per night; moms who work full-time and have school-aged kids claim to sleep less than 6 hours per night, saying there's just too much for them to do to spend more time in bed. However, these are self-reported estimates when a researcher calls and asks a person how much time they spend on each activity. People tend to overestimate how much time they spend working and doing chores, and underestimate time spent sleeping and watching TV, for example.

When researchers ask people to keep detailed records of how they spend their time in a day, it turns out that Americans sleep about 8 hours a night, even working moms with little kids. We also work a lot less than we think we do.The average full-time employee works 35-43 hours per week. Sadly, women who work full-time only spend 11 minutes a day on average playing or doing hobbies with their kids--but mothers who go part-time only make it to 21 minutes a day, and stay-at-home moms are about 30 minutes. Ouch! Dads aren't any better, averaging 15-18 minutes a day (I KNOW Justin does more than this; he and the kids wrestle every night!) Americans also watch a lot more TV than we think--18-23 hours per week.  It's hard to think of anyone who would say that's a good use of our time, yet  it's easier to zone out in front of the screen than do some of the activities we say we wish we had time for.

Vanderkam includes many stories of people who are achieving true work-life balance by choosing to fill their 168 hours with the things that really matter to them. They decide on goals they want to achieve, then figure out ways to fit the important activities into their weekly schedule and get those things done no matter what. Usually this involves minimizing time-wasters (maybe I should write more on this in another post, so that this one doesn't get too long). It's inspiring to read about people who are doing great things in their field while leaving the office at 5 pm, attending their kids' soccer games, and taking plenty of time to recharge.

Vanderkam recommends starting with keeping  your own time diary so you can see how you spend your time. It's like keeping a food diary when you go on a diet or writing down everything you spend before you make a budget. The idea is sound--how can you change your time budget if you don't know how you're spending your hours? I've been keeping a record this week, and it's not that hard--every time I get a break, I write down what I've done since the last break. I'm going to do another week, since this week was a little atypical in that it was the first week back after a break, so I was dragging around without much energy, and we didn't have students until Tuesday. Still, I can already see patterns in how I spend my time, and yeah...I take a lot more leisure time than I realized. I am perfectly capable of reading blogs for an hour and a half in the evening while ignoring pretty much everything around me. Although I still want to read blogs, I need to wait until the kids are in bed and not get sucked in to Google Reader every day. Because once I see all the posts waiting for me, I want to read them all! As Vanderkam points out, if I want to make some changes, I am the one who can choose to change how I spend my time.

Justin and I have also figured out how to incorporate regular exercise into our routine without having to give up sleep or family time in the evenings when we're already tired. Miss Pink has to be at school by 7:45 am. Normally Justin takes her to school and I take Mr. Blue to his before going (literally around the corner) to work. We realized that if one of us goes to the gym, the other one can take both kids to school. The gym is also right down the street, so after I worked out, I came home to get cleaned up and still had plenty of time to get to work. We're going to skip Mondays since Miss Pink has to be at school early that day for math club (and I can barely make it by 7:45), alternate the rest of the weekdays, and go together on a weekend day and let the kids go to the child care (which they are anxious to do). We've only used the system on Thursday and Friday of this last week, but so far, so good! Tomorrow night we'll go spend some time working out together (which we've never done before) so we'll be multitasking--keeping our bodies AND our marriage healthy! And that's a concept every time-management expert would get behind.

I Don't Wanna Work Out Like That

Yesterday I didn't get called in to sub. Which surprised me, because I got called the first day back after the holidays (but couldn't go in due to a doctor's appointment.) Amazingly, I was a little disappointed since after two and a half weeks off, I am ready to get back to work (and to get paid!)

I did some things around the house. I couldn't waste time on the computer, because our church was having a Fasting Day. I had decided to give up caffeine and recreational Internet use, since I was planning to work, and I can't be responsible for what I might do to a class of little stinkers without ANY food in my stomach. I figured doing without caffeine and blogs (and Twitter and Facebook, yikes) would be hard enough.

It was. I discovered that almost every site I read on the Internet must be defined as recreational. I checked my email: nothing interesting (and FYI, Victoria's Secret and NY&Co, I have no money to spend on your endless sales anyway). I read some, but Hilary Mantel's novel Wolf Hall, while very well-written, is the story of Thomas Cromwell, the advisor to Henry VIII who made it possible for Henry to justify divorcing Katherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn. And not to give anything away, but I already know how it ends, and it's not good for the protagonist.

(Spoiler alert: anyone who displeases the king gets executed. I just saved you from having to read a book. You're welcome.)

So I decided to work out. I need to tell you that I haven't worked out AT ALL for three six months. I just quit the gym because I was paying $35 a month to never go there. And our DVD player is broken, so I couldn't pop in an exercise DVD. And did you know that it's currently very cold here in Texas? Yeah, I'm so not going out to walk when it's 32 degrees (and that's the high for the day). I got out my underused iPod and broke out the few aerobics moves I remember from my college days and the many DVDs I've tried to follow. I jumped rope (personal best: 1 1/2 minutes before coming to a gasping halt!) I did squats and lunges and crunches and some Pilates moves. And I did it all to songs like "I Don't Wanna Go On With You Like That" and "Owner of a Lonely Heart."

 I am positive I looked ridiculous. I do not know how to dance at ALL, due to being raised Pentecostal. Never have I been more glad that no one was around to mock me.

After I had done every move I could think of, I looked at the time on the iPod. Only 20 minutes had gone by.

Good enough, I told myself. After all, I haven't worked out in months. Gotta ease back into it.

And now that my job for today was canceled due to the district delaying school start times till 10, I have no desire to work out again today.

Regular Exercise

This week I realized that I've done a pretty good job of keeping my New Year's resolution to go to the gym regularly. I don't say that boastfully at all--in fact, I'm pretty surprised at myself. For those who wish they could work out more often but are too busy, I understand why you can't, especially if you're a working parent. You come home tired at the end of the day, and you need to spend the last drops of your energy with your munchkins, not on the treadmill. But as a SAHM who spends way too much plenty of quality time with my kids, I figured that I had no excuse when I had access to a gym with inexpensive memberships and child care.

Of course, it's kind of disappointing to realize that I haven't lost any weight. I don't really HAVE to, but show me the woman who doesn't think she needs to lose five pounds, and I'll show you a man. (Kidding! If you have a healthier body image than I do and love yourself at your current weight, that's great.) Neither have I decreased my body fat percentage or even noticeably toned up. This is probably because I haven't pushed myself all that hard. One of my mottoes (I have many) is, "No pain...is good." I have worked up to increasing the resistance to level 4 on the treadmill and I can go 15 minutes on the elliptical machine now. One of these days I'll even be able to beat the senior citizens around the track! (Kidding again. I can totally lap most of them.)

Honestly, it's fine with me to only be moderately fit. I have no interest in running a marathon or even running at all. Another one of my mottoes is, "I don't run unless the safety of a child is involved." THEN I can haul butt. But I don't want to run for exercise. Runners always talk about how great it is and the "runner's high," but I've never seen one of them look like they're enjoying their run. They always have this grimace on their emaciated face, like it's a Death Run with armed guards forcing them to keep going beyond a normal endurance level. No, THANK you.

I'm most thankful that exercise has allowed me to stay in the same size of clothes while eating plenty of treats along with the healthy stuff that I do enjoy. Life without chocolate would be a life with no meaning for me, and if I have to sweat for an hour a few times a week so that my obsession and I can be together, well then, BRING IT ON.

Week in review, 10/19--10/25

I'm sorry I wasn't around much this week. It was a strange week for me.

On Monday, I thought my husband might be about to die.

Yes, I AM always this overdramatic--why do you ask?

See, last week a spot under his arm swelled a little and got sore. We both felt a little concerned and said that he should probably go to a dermatologist and get it checked. (We've been saying that for a couple of years; he has a family history of skin cancer. Also, his father died of sarcoma, which is similar to skin cancer; it's a very rare cancer of the connective tissue and soft tissue. So we know firsthand how nasty these things can be.)

Then by Sunday the spot had turned black and was still sore. That alarmed us. I knew when a mole gets sore and changes color that it needs to be checked right away. Even my husband, who is normally the most optimistic person I know, was worried and he called the next day to get an appointment with a dermatologist. The appointment was Wednesday afternoon.

I was holding together pretty well, but I had the possibility of a nightmarish situation in the back of my mind all day. I wrote in my journal that the cold hand of dread held my heart. Finally, during my prayer time, I broke down and wrote about it and wept while I was writing. I asked God to help me face whatever was coming even while I was hoping the worst wasn't going to happen. I thought of the women I know who have lost husbands while their children were young. I wondered how we would survive if Justin couldn't work. I asked God to let us keep him even though I knew that prayer might not be answered. After all, bad things do happen to good people. I don't believe that I am protected from catastrophe because I am a Christian; I don't think I can say the right words or promise to do the right deeds to stay safe because I don't think faith works that way. The rain falls on the just and the unjust. I do think God can work everything out for good if you participate in the process, but you might not like everything that happens in that process.

Anne Lamott once said that the two best prayers she knows are "Help!" and "Thank you." I said the first and hoped I would be able to say the second. And then I wiped my eyes (well, really my whole face because I am an ugly crier) and went to pick Miss Pink up. I was hoping Wednesday would get there quickly so we could find out what was going on.

That night Justin went to choir practice. A nurse who works for the dermatologist he was going to see was at practice--that's why we chose that particular doctor--and Justin told her what was going on. She asked if she could take a look at the spot, and as soon as she saw it said, "That's not cancer; that's a skin tag that's been cut off from its blood supply." That's why it turned dark so suddenly. When Justin came home and told me I sighed in relief. Sure enough, when you looked at it more closely you could see it wasn't a mole, but a tiny flap of skin like one he had under his eyebrow. I slept so much better that night.

He went to the appointment and had that cut out and several more places burned off (sounds wonderful, doesn't it?) just to be sure, and from now on he will go once or twice a year to be checked. If something ever DOES come up, it will be dealt with properly. So that was good--and it only took a few years and a scare to get him set up with a dermatologist.

As for me--yes, I may have overreacted. (Story of my life.) However, in the past I would have freaked out, cried all day, scared my children, and made harder for my husband to deal with the situation. All while neglecting to pray or do something to manage my own feelings instead of wanting someone else to make me feel better. So this was progress.

After all that, you would think I would have a wonderful week, like a woman in an inspirational article. The thing which I feared had passed us by! And now I would cherish my dear husband EVEN MORE because I realized what a fleeting thing life is, and we should all live like we are dying, etc., etc.

In actuality, I didn't enjoy the rest of the week all that much but I'm glad we still have our normal life. Except I had to take Miss Pink to see High School Musical 3 for a birthday party, and the High School Musical world is definitely not normal.

But here's something Mr. Blue said which cracked us all up. At lunch with my parents, I asked him if he wanted chicken fingers. He said very plainly in a puzzled tone, "Chickens don't have fingers!" While we were laughing he continued, "Chickens have thumbs!"

Here's to next week. We're all still here and healthy, and that's plenty for me to be thankful for.

Non-pregnancy update

Since some of you expressed concern at the effectiveness of the dollar store test, I bought another test at W*lmart today, because I'm paranoid like that. And guess what, I still am not pregnant. *heaving a sigh of relief* Because we weren't trying to get pregnant. Quite the opposite, in fact. My husband had a vasectomy a year ago (FYI, it's important to get tested afterward because you want to be sure the procedure worked; most failures after a vasectomy are due to the guy not returning for the follow-up visit.) ALSO I am still on birth control to control my hormones since my anxiety and PMS are worse without them. So if I had gotten pregnant, it would have been a miracle. I told myself that if a sperm had managed to sneak through those obstacles, it would be an exceptionally strong and determined swimmer--we'd probably have the next Michael Phelps!

Sorry if all that was TMI, but several of you asked, and I think the people have a right to know. That way, you'd know whether to congratulate or reassure me if I had been pregnant. Thanks for being sensitive to my feelings either way :-)

Even though I know I'd adore any child we'd create together, I also know that I'd prefer to stop with the two we have. Here's the honest and raw truth that I wrote in my journal the other night before I took any tests.

"I adore my children. I just want to enjoy them where they’re at, and not return to the infant stage. I can do the infant stage—or at least I did—and I enjoyed the baby smell and the way they look when they nurse, and there’s something deeply fulfilling about nurturing this completely helpless little person: you are the only thing keeping them alive. (Yes, I AM overdramatic. Wanna make something of it?) But. I think I am a much better parent of preschoolers (and with any luck, of grade-schoolers) than infants. At least conversations with the kids now engage my brain cells. Me being a SAHM is the right choice for our family, at least right now. It’s much better than the alternatives. But I’m not going to lie—it’s been hard on me intellectually and emotionally. I need time to think and write, and I don’t get as much of it as I want—and when I do take some, I feel guilty."

And here I am about to have some free time for the first time in two and a half years, and I was worried I was not going to get it after all. I don't want my kids to grow up any faster than they have to, but I'm not wishing I could return to the baby days, either.

Week in review coming later, I hope.

Operation Slim Down

So I'm making an effort to lose a few pounds. News flash: it's NOT ALL THAT FUN. But then, neither is not fitting into my pants. It really wasn't an option.

I've never had to diet before. I mean, sure, I've thought it would be nice to drop a couple of pounds, and I'd decide to do it by eating less and not drinking Cokes, and then the weekend would come and I'd eat my weight in Mexican food and chocolate, and I'd forget about getting smaller because (another news flash) FOOD TASTES GOOD. Fortunately for my undisciplined self, my metabolism would keep me about the same size I've been since high school. (Please do not throw things. I know I am lucky.)

And yes, I know dieting doesn't really work. I'm not on anybody's specific diet, but I know what to do. Eat more fruits, vegetables, and whole grains. Eat less sugar, refined carbs, and meat. And the portion sizes. Dear God, the portion sizes. How I miss the days when I could eat a slab of steak that covered my plate, plus a baked potato with cheese and a salad and several pieces of bread spread with butter. My beloved late FIL used to say he'd never seen a little gal eat so much. (In my defense, he always saw me eat when we were visiting Louisiana, and I adore Cajun food, so I ate more there than usual.)

So now I am plugging what I eat every day into sparkpeople.com, which says I need to aim for 1100--1300 calories per day. When I started last week, I was hungry. I mean, go-to-bed-hungry, think-about-food-as-I go-to-sleep, wake-up-starving hungry. (Hunger does help the cardboard cereal taste better.) I hadn't really thought I was eating that much more than recommended, but I must have been wrong. I think the problem is that I graze off the kids' leavings--eat a handful of goldfish crackers, polish off the remaining few bites of mac & cheese. It adds up. Plus, I tend to think of unhealthy food as a reward. I ate my veggies--now I want dessert! It's the weekend and the kids are still alive--ice cream for everybody!

Here's something I found yesterday--a link to a basal metabolism calculator. It tells you how many calories you'd burn if you did nothing but lie around in bed all day (where do I sign up for that gig?) That gives you an idea of how many calories you need to eat once you factor in your level of activity. Mine was 1330--hey! Since I'm only eating 1200 a day, plus I am WAY more active than lying down all day, SURELY I will conquer the battle of the bulge in this brave new world of my thirties.

In fact, I will probably be forced to eat a milkshake every now and then to keep you all from being afraid that I have anorexia. I'll do it for my readers, so that you don't worry about me. You're welcome.

Quarantined

My husband left town yesterday around 3 p.m. The kids and I had a good evening together, but I checked Mr. Blue’s temperature because he seemed a little warm even after a bath, and wouldn’t you know it—he had a 100.3 fever. Nothing to really worry about, but enough to derail our plans for the next day.

Crap. Perfect timing.

I was a little morose this morning since he still had the fever when he woke up, and downright alarmed when he threw up a little after slugging down some milk—NOT THE DEATH VIRUS AGAIN! Haven’t we suffered enough? Plus his birthday party is on Saturday! But he was fine afterward (I took away the milk) and I THINK it might just be that he had drainage in his stomach and the sweet cereal and milk hit his tummy wrong. He hasn’t thrown up again, although anything’s possible, I realize. He’s been eating normally all day—which is to say, snacking on string cheese, grapes, and popcorn and demanding candy between every bite.

The fever’s still here, of course, which means we can’t do any of the things that give our day structure and get us out into the world to have contact with other people. In other words, the things that keep me sane.

I guess I’ll just have to be insane for the next few days.

It doesn’t make me proud to say this, but when my children are sick but not really sick, not sick enough to go to the doctor or to lie around motionless all the time, I feel sorry for myself. “Poor me,” I think to myself, “here I am stuck at home waiting hand and foot on a person whose only symptom is a fever and a tendency to yell nonsense syllables louder and louder when I don’t understand his demand, while I try to guess: ‘Juice? No? Blue? Blueberries? No? Books? What?’”

It makes me realize how much I depend on getting out of the house at least once a day to make raising children doable for me. “Stay at home mom”—whatever. If I actually stayed at home all day, every day, I’d…

I don’t want to think about what I’d do.

(This is one reason why I decided not to homeschool, by the way.)

Sometimes we do stay at home all day (although we usually at least run an errand or two) but that’s by choice. Right now, it’s not. And I don’t even have my husband or small group meeting tonight to look forward to at the end of the day.

That last sentence was very whiny. I realize that. And I’m leaving it in, in the interest of honesty.

I am all about the honesty, here at Hairline Fracture. I am sure you appreciate it. ("That's enough honesty for today, Alison," I can hear you saying.)

I’m not sure what the moral of the story is, except to say that I reminded myself firmly about single parents, working parents, and military families who routinely deal with this kind of thing without backup from a spouse. I can make it one week (really just two more days) with a sick child. We have a doctor’s appointment Friday for checkups, so if he’s still sick we can see what’s up. And—worst case scenario—if whatever-it-is gets worse, we could reschedule his birthday party for when he gets better; at least, since he’s only turning two, he won’t know the difference and we can celebrate another day. And believe me: celebrate we will.

When Something Is Wrong with My Baby

We're into Day 2 of Miss Pink having a stomach virus. She's pretty miserable, the sweet darling. (She must be, since she's asleep in the daytime.) I'd thought she might be done with the worst of it since she ate some chicken noodle soup, and then--no, that wouldn't stay down either. I hope this not-eating thing doesn't last, since I am entirely serious when I say that the child cannot afford to lose any weight. When she gets better I will let her eat her weight in ice cream.

It's amazing how parenting changes you. I mean, before I became a mom, there was no way in hell I'd hold someone's hair and rub their back while they vomited. Much less let them vomit on me, and think, "No big deal, I can take a bath and wash the clothes. Is my baby okay?"

I'm pretty sure I'll still feel this way when she's 30.

Why I Am Becoming an Exercise Addict

So I've been going to the local fitness center with a two-week free pass. This is the second week, and I've been going almost every day, for--wait for it--an hour at a time.

I haven't worked out for a hour four times a week since one semester in college when I was REQUIRED to take an aerobics class. I haven't worked out for more than an hour a week since Mr. Blue was born.

It's kind of addictive, to tell you the truth.

What could make an admittedly slothful person go to the gym so much? And like it, even when she is just a leeeetle sore everywhere below the neck and above the knees?

Three words: FREE CHILD CARE.

I make the appointments for the upcoming week with the Kids Klub people (don't get me started on "kreative" misspelling of names), which reinforces the idea that I really DO have to get up off the couch and go. Then at the appointed time I drop them off, with their labeled cups and snacks, and...ah. Kid-free time. I used to have to work out during Mr. Blue's nap time/Miss Pink's TV time. I resented it because it was my only free time, and I'd rather spend it reading blogs writing the Great American Novel than (bleah) working out. Then the piles of clean laundry and dirty floors were always lying there accusingly, saying, You should be taking care of us instead of prancing around in Spandex (I agreed about the Spandex).

Today at the gym I read two copies of Us magazine on the stationary bike. The 30 minutes just sped by--nothing like brain candy to make time fly. Then I did some lower body exercises, stretched, and called it a day. By that time I was happy to pick the kids up, feed them lunch, and play with them until Mr. Blue's nap time.

And now I have more time to waste on the Internet. What's not to like about that?

P.S. Unintentionally funny blurb from Us stating that Jordin Sparks, the American Idol winner, and Ugly Betty's America Ferrara look alike: both have long dark hair, big smiles, and both "claim to embrace their curves." Subtext: "They CLAIM to, but we the editors know that nobody over a size 4 can ACTUALLY love their body. And here are 900 pictures of girls who starve themselves/throw up after meals/are genetic freaks to show you how you SHOULD look!"

A New, Healthier Me

So: Operation Slim-Down. First, it’s not my doctor’s fault. He didn’t say anything even though he’s seen me every three months for my postpartum depression and anxiety, when I weighed less than I do now. I’m not overweight, so he really couldn’t say that; my BMI is right smack in the middle of the healthy range for my weight. I am still a small woman, just not as small as I was just a few months ago.

I am only planning to lose 7-10 pounds, and then my clothes won’t be tight. I refuse to buy new clothes. The clothes I have are cute and I like them. Which is more than I can say for my current physical state, which could be termed Untoned. While I know intellectually that I’m not fat, I jiggle. Not good. I caught sight of my butt in the mirror one day when I was wearing a tank top and underwear, and I almost screamed. Aaahh! I didn’t need to see that! I put a robe on, but I don’t want to have to avoid all mirrors.

I just need to be healthier in general. Like many moms, I’d fallen into the trap of eating too many meals of chicken nuggets, pizza, and pasta. Plus, I guess I was snacking out of boredom. I stopped doing exercise videos because it’s a lot harder to do when preschool’s out and your youngest only takes one nap—so many things I’d rather be doing with that precious time, plus Miss Pink WILL NOT entertain herself when I’m working out. Walking with them isn’t much good because with her, we have to stop every 2.6 minutes to pick a flower.

So we’ve decided to join a gym that several of my friends belong to. They have good child care so I can combine working out, which is not one of my favorite activities, with being kid-free, which is a nice break. Plus, since I get bored with doing the same old thing every day, having different workout options is a good thing. My husband is planning to do the same, although he may go before work on most days (after work is possible, but not every day; it’s hard enough to get the kids in bed at a decent hour).

I’m also using www.sparkpeople.com to track my eating habits and I’m eating better. Just having to enter it all in makes me reluctant to dig into the chips. It’s very silly, in a way, to count how many Wheat Thins are in a serving, but it does make me think about my choices. Yesterday the kids had begged for a few mini marshmallows, so I gave them some and sat down with my raw cauliflower florets. Before I knew it, they wanted the cauliflower and I had to get some more out for myself. Yay for modeling healthy habits!

But I’m not gonna lie. Last night by dinnertime I was HUNGRY. I’m a little hungry now. I’d better stop thinking about it or I’ll be into the ice cream before I know it. Moderation in all things, right? If I eat well and exercise, I can still have my (occasional) cake AND my girlish figure. I certainly hope so.

Because there is no way on God’s green earth that I’m giving up all desserts. As far as I’m concerned, life just wouldn’t be worth living.