Please, No One Tell Her About iPods

Miss Pink's current favorite songs, in no particular order:

• "Politik," Coldplay
• "Unwritten," Natasha Bedingfield
• "Makes Me Wonder," Maroon 5 (and now because of Google I am thanking God that the lyrics to the verses are incomprehensible--she only sings the "I don't believe in you anymore, anymore" part
• "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," Cyndi Lauper
• A medley of "Come Into My Heart, Lord Jesus/Twinkle Twinkle Little Star/Gentle Hands" (I have to sing this every single night before she goes to sleep)
• "Hey There Delilah," Plain White T's
• "Stayin' Alive," The Bee Gees (God help me)

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.

One of Those Days

Some days, I am filled with a mystical sense of wonder that I have such an amazing life. On those days, my heart wells up with gratitude when I see my kids' smiling faces or give my husband a hug. On those days, I think, How did I get so lucky? Every little thing seems to be another example of grace, of the inexplicable gift that makes it possible to make a good life in this broken world. Those are great days.

This has not been one of those days.

First of all, it has gotten really freaking hot (duh, it's Texas, what do I expect?) and I had no energy today. I can't just slack off with the housework; I have to feel guilty about it. It is really the dog days of summer and there is an entire month until Miss Pink goes back to preschool. Last week I was in Louisiana counting the days until I got home, and now that I'm back I'm at a loose end. My best friend and playdate partner (i.e. sanity saver) is on vacation and I don't know what I'm going to do to keep the kids occupied for the rest of the week.

Second, I went to the doctor today for a routine checkup and found out that I, like practically every woman in the world, weigh more than I want to. Crap. I LIKE eating. Now I can't do as much of it.

Third, my husband is dealing with some stuff with his business which I can't discuss here. It looks like everything will work out all right but in the meantime we have to wait and see, which is not fun. I am just glad I am on anti-anxiety medication, is what I'm saying.

Fourth and finally (I promise), Miss Pink has her glasses and she alternates between liking them and NOT liking them. It has nothing to do with the looks of them; it's because they're uncomfortable, she says. I am letting her wear them some and go without them for a while, as the doctor recommended, but by the end of the week she needs to be wearing them full-time. She cried for a while today and I just held her and told her I knew it was hard but she does really have to wear them and that she will get used to them and they won't bother her at all, I promise. Dear Lord, but it's hard when you have to make your kid do something that is good for them that they don't understand.

So. End complaining. I do realize that in the grand scheme of things, these are tiny little problems that will not matter this time next year, or even next week.

All I'm saying is that I could do with one of those days. Just to make it a little easier.

You Can Call Me "Deep and Complex"

You're Watership Down!

by Richard Adams

Though many think of you as a bit young, even childish, you're actually incredibly deep and complex. You show people the need to rethink their assumptions, and confront them on everything from how they think to where they build their houses. You might be one of the greatest people of all time. You'd be recognized as such if you weren't always talking about talking rabbits.

The weird thing is that I loved this book when I really was young and childish--in fact, as a ten or eleven-year-old child. I really felt for those rabbits when their field got destroyed. I have never read it again.

Why don't I get to be a cooler book?

On the other hand I "may be" one of the greatest people of all time. Time will tell, I guess.

Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Update

Wow, judging from the nonscientific sample size of two of my friends, glasses as a kid are no fun! Oh well...it's not like we had a choice. We picked out her glasses yesterday and we like them. I guess I am trying to be super positive about having glasses (although not in an annoying way, just when she brings it up, telling her how cute and smart she looks in them, and how it will help her eyes get better) so she will wear them. When we get them in a week, I'll try to post some pics. She can hate the pictures later!

In other news, we are going to Louisiana tomorrow so Justin can work on his mom's house for the rest of the week. I am a little unenthused (if that's a word) about going. I haven't been there since the onset of the postpartum depression, so I guess I'm associating my MIL's house with Bad Feelings. There are other issues--their family is much more dysfunctional than it appeared when I married him--so this is definitely more of an obligation than a vacation. (Hey, that rhymed.) Even for Justin, which is sad, really. Lest you think I am being a jerk, I honestly believe the passive-aggressive weirdness is on their side. I am capable of being nice and cheerful while being there. Now just let me repeat that seven hundred times and I should be fine.

Plus, I am borrowing my brother's copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. They are used to me having my nose in a book, so no one will mind if I am reading a lot.

Girls Who Wear Glasses

Yesterday I took Miss Pink to the opthamologist because she had been squinting for quite a while. I’d taken her to her doctor a few months ago and she passed the vision test they do. However, the doctor saw a small scratch on her cornea, so they put a patch on her eye. That child screamed like a possessed banshee and it took three of us to hold her down. Fun fun fun.The next day we returned and they said the patch worked. Yay, problem solved, right? For a month or so everything seemed fine. Then she started squinting again. More unnerving, a few times her right eye turned in toward the center so it looked like she was crossing her eyes on purpose, but she wasn’t.

My parents had been worried about the squinting (I think my mom was fearing a brain tumor; she always jumps to the worst possible conclusion) but it wasn’t until Miss P’s eyes crossed that I got a referral to the opthamologist (I’m such a slacker mom. But really it was only a week and a half or so). I was hoping it was something simple, like…needing glasses. I resolutely refused to believe we’d need a neurology referral. Unlike my mom, I try base my fears on evidence, and Miss P wasn’t having blackouts or headaches or anything like that. Just squinting. Of course, bad news does happen, and I’m thankful it was just something easily correctable.

Miss Pink will now sport some spectacles. Guess which color she wants her glasses to be?

I don’t remember the technical term, but basically she’s farsighted. That’s why she squinted more at the TV than when coloring or reading. (She wouldn’t tell me when her vision was blurry because she thought she’d have to have another eye patch—OH THE HORROR!) The eye was turning inward to try to focus more. If left untreated, it would get worse, but there’s a good chance that she will outgrow it after wearing the glasses for a while.

Best of all, she doesn’t mind at all. She’s totally cool with it (best part of being four, I guess). I started noticing little girls with glasses yesterday, including the ones in the doctor’s office, and their glasses were cute and tiny, not at all those ugly eighties plastic frames that always looked too big on a kid’s face. And guess what color all of the girls had picked?

Good thing it looks like there will be plenty of options to choose from.

Parental Supervision Needed Here Stat

The other day I answered the door and the young female salesperson said, “Is your mom or dad home?”

I gotta tell you, that made my day. Since I just turned 32.

She wasn’t trying to flatter me, either—she was embarrassed when I stepped outside and said, “Nope, I’m it.”

“Oh—well—you look young,” she said. (She was probably in her mid-twenties.)

“Thank you,” I said, and I meant it, by George! My mom always said the day would come when I’d be thankful that I was petite and baby-faced. At the time all I cared about was that the Older Boys didn’t want to date me because I looked like I was twelve.

Apparently I still do. (Of course all the twelve-year-olds are trying to look twenty-three, but I’ll take that, too.) It must have been my ego that made me listen to her sales pitch without claiming a baby-related emergency, but when she came back the next day, my husband told her we weren’t interested.

He was probably just mad that she didn’t think he was a teenager.