This morning I'm home alone with our youngest three, the 3,5, and 6 year olds.
They are having a blast.
They are taking turns "showering" (aka, flooding the bathroom and pretending they are Noah's animals.)
I think it's great, because I'm that kind of mom.
Yesterday they were playing in their designated mud hole in the back yard. Yes, they have a place where no grass goes, that they're allowed to dig and fill with the hose and play trucks, pigs, adobe hut builders,etc. because I'm that kind of mom.
I am the kind of mom that wants my kids to learn by experiencing life.
I am the kind of mom that refuses to purchase battery operated toys for kids under 4th grade. (Just can't get around those video game systems for the older boys. )
That said, they do get regular turns on the computer on age appropriate internet sites, because I'm that kind of mom too.
I'm the kind of mom that will sleep in a tent for 5 nights so my kids can dig in the dirt in a different setting, but only if that tent site has indoor plumbing.
I'm the kind of mom that lets my kids watch too much t.v. on occassion, or even semi-regularly if they're too young to read...as long as it's educational t.v.
I'm the kind of mom who picks out four books a year for my chapter readers to read.
I'm also the kind of mom that lets them bring home comic books from the library.
I'm the mom with the revolving bedroom door. I've never had a kid sleep with me who's started kindergarten yet. And that open door can lead to some interesting discussions with my nocturnal pre-teen.
I am not the kind of mom who is good at "laying down the law."
I am the kind of mom that allows natural consequences, even when they hurt to watch.
My kids vent about friends, school, and their siblings to me, because I'm that kind of mom.
They say one inappropriate word about their father and they are ice-stared down, because I'm that kind of wife too.
I get up on stage to have flour dumped down my shirt because I'm that kind of mom.
I am somebody's mom to at least half the elementary school, because I'm there so much...because I'm that kind of mom too.
I am or have been a soccer mom, a football mom, a baseball mom, a homeschool mom, a PTA mom, a cookie mom, a dance mom, a scout mom, AWANA store director mom, room mom, stay at home mom, working opposite shifts mom, and more.
I am a mom who has had preschool age or younger children in my home for the last 12.5 years, and still have 1.5 years more.
By the time my youngest starts school, I'll have been a mostly at home with kids mom for 14 years.
And I'm sure there will be more labels ahead, choir mom, drama mom, maybe band mom...maybe not.
It really doesn't matter, because I will always be there to help my kids succeed, because I'm that kind of mom.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The plan. I think I have one
This is kind of part 2 of the fix me. So sorry for my kid story addicted readers, but really, this IS about my kids. It's about being there for them when they're grown up and have kids of their own.
Well, my other friend messaged me back. She's quite supportive cheerleader, health advocate, and amazing mom. Her first words were "Don't do Bikram. It's really not for beginners."
I'm glad to know my internal terror wasn't totally irrational. She then asked if I'd done anything about the community center.
And today I did, sort of.
Today I took my 3 & 5 year old to the community center to play at the indoor playground. Both on the way in and on the way out they had their noses pressed to the glass of the closed "child watch" area like Charlie at the chocolate shoppe. I consider this a good sign.
I picked up a class schedule and went home to discuss options with my husband.
He has given the financial go-ahead to do classes in the mid-morning with childcare because
1) I am NOT an early morning person. I'm rarely fully conscious before 7:30 am, let alone capable of dressing and driving to a 5:45am class.
2) Our evenings are kinda shot, with church, scouts, sports, chores, school activities, and well, possibly, maybe, a little family time once in a while?
3) For weekends, see evenings.
4) My dear husband is somewhat jealous of his time with me. He feels my Wed night women's Bible study and his Thursday night basketball is sufficient evening separation...really one more evening than he's truly comfortable with. Adding a Yoga class might destress me, but leaving him with all six kids would probably erase that effect rather quickly.
5) More scheduled daytime stuff would probably be a good idea for our two preschoolers, who at this moment can recite the entire morning lineups of PBS, disney jr, and nick jr. (I swear this is only a winter condition. As the weather warms we do spend most of our time outside doing more constructive activities. This afternoon they played for over an hour in their mud hole in front of the shed. Yet somehow, building your own pigpen and pretending to be pigs is not part of the official school readiness program, so again, more structured social time might not be a bad thing.)
6)I'm hoping that by exercising early in my day, my energy levels will stay in a higher gear for longer. Maybe I could get by with 1 can of diet soda in the afternoon instead of 3. Just maybe.
I've done all I am going to for this for now though. The next real thing on my agenda is our camping trip to Texas next week. After that, I'll fill my water bottle, buy a yoga mat and maybe some water shoes, and see how it goes.
Well, my other friend messaged me back. She's quite supportive cheerleader, health advocate, and amazing mom. Her first words were "Don't do Bikram. It's really not for beginners."
I'm glad to know my internal terror wasn't totally irrational. She then asked if I'd done anything about the community center.
And today I did, sort of.
Today I took my 3 & 5 year old to the community center to play at the indoor playground. Both on the way in and on the way out they had their noses pressed to the glass of the closed "child watch" area like Charlie at the chocolate shoppe. I consider this a good sign.
I picked up a class schedule and went home to discuss options with my husband.
He has given the financial go-ahead to do classes in the mid-morning with childcare because
1) I am NOT an early morning person. I'm rarely fully conscious before 7:30 am, let alone capable of dressing and driving to a 5:45am class.
2) Our evenings are kinda shot, with church, scouts, sports, chores, school activities, and well, possibly, maybe, a little family time once in a while?
3) For weekends, see evenings.
4) My dear husband is somewhat jealous of his time with me. He feels my Wed night women's Bible study and his Thursday night basketball is sufficient evening separation...really one more evening than he's truly comfortable with. Adding a Yoga class might destress me, but leaving him with all six kids would probably erase that effect rather quickly.
5) More scheduled daytime stuff would probably be a good idea for our two preschoolers, who at this moment can recite the entire morning lineups of PBS, disney jr, and nick jr. (I swear this is only a winter condition. As the weather warms we do spend most of our time outside doing more constructive activities. This afternoon they played for over an hour in their mud hole in front of the shed. Yet somehow, building your own pigpen and pretending to be pigs is not part of the official school readiness program, so again, more structured social time might not be a bad thing.)
6)I'm hoping that by exercising early in my day, my energy levels will stay in a higher gear for longer. Maybe I could get by with 1 can of diet soda in the afternoon instead of 3. Just maybe.
I've done all I am going to for this for now though. The next real thing on my agenda is our camping trip to Texas next week. After that, I'll fill my water bottle, buy a yoga mat and maybe some water shoes, and see how it goes.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The fix me project
Right now, I'm assessing options for a "fix-me" project. I'm still a member at Sparkpeople. My spark has just kind of been fizzled. With warm weather coming, I get the itch to exercise again. I always enjoy walking, but it's more recreational than anything. So far I've looked into step aerobics, curves, jazzercise, and most recently, been considering yoga. Yoga theoretically can help with arthritis and anxiety issues, so it seemed like a good idea for me to try. I even e-mailed my two most qualified exercise addicted friends with my very serious question, "Do you know of a yoga class for whales?"
One friend did not reply. She doesn't know me that well though. However, the other one, the one who's known me for 20 years, but not seen me in the 14 I've been married, did.
"You have to try Bikram Yoga! It totally kicks your butt but is sooo awesome."
Okay. If it totally kicks your butt, what is it going to do to mine? I can't wear jeans and tie my shoes without bending into the forbidden "w" sitting position. I've seen the rabbit pose. This body is more like the carrot, okay marshmallow.
"It's hot yoga. The room is 105 degrees w/ 40% humidity."
Love you dear, but I'm 90lbs heavier than when you last saw me. Are you sure I won't melt?
"It's a 90 minute class."
Okay, 90 minutes + driving without any kids. Now THAT sounds decadent, luxurious, perhaps a bit selfish though. But I have kids. Even next fall when miss P starts K. What will I do with the tornado?
"We have people of ALL fitness levels!"
Okay, I'll think about it. After I take my six kids tent camping for 5 days next week. Of course, to some people that sounds equally impossible. And I'd like to be able to keep doing what I do, camping, walking, playing soccer with my kids. I'd like to be a walking leader at camp without feeling like death for the first three days. But isn't there a beginner's yoga?
Bikram is pretty hard core. My core hasn't been hard in years, if ever. It's more soft and cuddly.
And Bikram doesn't come cheap either. I month of unlimited Yoga for me is about 1.5 months
at a community center for my whole family.
"But Yoga is all about bare feet."
Ah, hit me where it hurts. You KNOW how I hate shoes!
What to do, what to do????
Feedback welcome. It's been a while since I've heard from some of you.
One friend did not reply. She doesn't know me that well though. However, the other one, the one who's known me for 20 years, but not seen me in the 14 I've been married, did.
"You have to try Bikram Yoga! It totally kicks your butt but is sooo awesome."
Okay. If it totally kicks your butt, what is it going to do to mine? I can't wear jeans and tie my shoes without bending into the forbidden "w" sitting position. I've seen the rabbit pose. This body is more like the carrot, okay marshmallow.
"It's hot yoga. The room is 105 degrees w/ 40% humidity."
Love you dear, but I'm 90lbs heavier than when you last saw me. Are you sure I won't melt?
"It's a 90 minute class."
Okay, 90 minutes + driving without any kids. Now THAT sounds decadent, luxurious, perhaps a bit selfish though. But I have kids. Even next fall when miss P starts K. What will I do with the tornado?
"We have people of ALL fitness levels!"
Okay, I'll think about it. After I take my six kids tent camping for 5 days next week. Of course, to some people that sounds equally impossible. And I'd like to be able to keep doing what I do, camping, walking, playing soccer with my kids. I'd like to be a walking leader at camp without feeling like death for the first three days. But isn't there a beginner's yoga?
Bikram is pretty hard core. My core hasn't been hard in years, if ever. It's more soft and cuddly.
And Bikram doesn't come cheap either. I month of unlimited Yoga for me is about 1.5 months
at a community center for my whole family.
"But Yoga is all about bare feet."
Ah, hit me where it hurts. You KNOW how I hate shoes!
What to do, what to do????
Feedback welcome. It's been a while since I've heard from some of you.
Kids, sometimes they are smarter than us.
My son is more competent today than I am. As in the 12 year old who's still recovering from a two day mega-illness.
I spent 20 minutes trying to open the battery compartment of our new air pump so I can turn our living room into a bounce house...I mean, try to find an air bed that doesn't leak. He popped it open in 30 seconds. Then he opened the batteries for me. Then I looked at the pump w/ the batteries in it, and saw they moved too much. My darling husband had bought "C''s. The pump required D's. Such is how my return from "brink of consciousness" life sucking illness has begun.
He supervised his 3& 5 year old siblings on the computer after lunch. My legs fell asleep in the bathroom.
He has quietly helped me look for the keys to the van, so I could go get batteries. Neither of us has had any luck yet. I'm mentally freaking out thinking "no keys, no van, no camping, aargh."
He just looks at me and says "they'll turn up mom."
I'm sure they will, but when will I?
I spent 20 minutes trying to open the battery compartment of our new air pump so I can turn our living room into a bounce house...I mean, try to find an air bed that doesn't leak. He popped it open in 30 seconds. Then he opened the batteries for me. Then I looked at the pump w/ the batteries in it, and saw they moved too much. My darling husband had bought "C''s. The pump required D's. Such is how my return from "brink of consciousness" life sucking illness has begun.
He supervised his 3& 5 year old siblings on the computer after lunch. My legs fell asleep in the bathroom.
He has quietly helped me look for the keys to the van, so I could go get batteries. Neither of us has had any luck yet. I'm mentally freaking out thinking "no keys, no van, no camping, aargh."
He just looks at me and says "they'll turn up mom."
I'm sure they will, but when will I?
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Happy Birthday Princess P
I love preschoolers. I love their honesty and enthusiasm. I love their curiosity and lack of fear. I love how affectionate and open they are, and that they like what they like. The world be damned.
Little miss P definitely encompasses all of these traits with gusto.
She's a determined little fireball. (This goes both ways on the parent scale. )
She's a cuddlebug and a diligent "mommy." (Just try to throw away a stuffed animal in this house...just try. Somebody is going to fish it out and hide it so you don't repeat your "mistake.")
Her first questions of the day are
"What are we doing todays? Are we going to church? Park? Is it one o'clock yet? (Her time for being on the computer.)"
Closely following the daily schedule interrogation is
"I hungry. Breakfast?"
Miss P is a lover of food. Unfortunately not all food loves her.
She's resigned to her fate sort of, except for the milk thing. Dang it, if Si Guy can eat yogurt she should be able to too! So once in a while I hear
"Mom, my tummy hurts." (Sigh.)
That's what happens when you eat ...(cheese, yogurt, pudding)
"I know mom. Won't do 'gain."
She loves companionship, whether human, stuffed, or doll...all are family to her. That's something I hope she hangs onto. That people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, and all of us want to be loved.
"I love you mommy! Nigh'"
"I love you too princess." Don't change a thing.
Little miss P definitely encompasses all of these traits with gusto.
She's a determined little fireball. (This goes both ways on the parent scale. )
She's a cuddlebug and a diligent "mommy." (Just try to throw away a stuffed animal in this house...just try. Somebody is going to fish it out and hide it so you don't repeat your "mistake.")
Her first questions of the day are
"What are we doing todays? Are we going to church? Park? Is it one o'clock yet? (Her time for being on the computer.)"
Closely following the daily schedule interrogation is
"I hungry. Breakfast?"
Miss P is a lover of food. Unfortunately not all food loves her.
She's resigned to her fate sort of, except for the milk thing. Dang it, if Si Guy can eat yogurt she should be able to too! So once in a while I hear
"Mom, my tummy hurts." (Sigh.)
That's what happens when you eat ...(cheese, yogurt, pudding)
"I know mom. Won't do 'gain."
She loves companionship, whether human, stuffed, or doll...all are family to her. That's something I hope she hangs onto. That people come in all shapes, sizes, and colors, and all of us want to be loved.
"I love you mommy! Nigh'"
"I love you too princess." Don't change a thing.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Sometimes that warm fuzz is attached to a skunk.
Last week was, um a challenge. Oddly enough, it wasn't the three snow days that brought me down. Day 1 brought a much cleaner house. Day 2 was an indoor pool w/ an extra kid and adult. But day 3 definitelty started my personal avalanche.
There is not much worse than a flat tire at 9am when you have 2 dentist appointments for kids at 10:30 which had to be scheduled three months in advance. (Yes our kids dentist is that cool.)
Yet there were many things about this that showed God doesn't give us more than we can handle.
1) It was a snow day, therefore Mr. M was working from home
2) I didn't have any kids with me
3) It was at 9am in Wal-Mart's parking lot, not 10:15 half-way to the appt.
Mr. M came and rescued me and the carseats. I'd return to deal with van later. The kids got to the dentist on time. Not that I looked forward to a screaming tied-down three year old, but the insurance said no pay for the hospital, so I didn't have much choice. (That was part 2 of the day's trauma, and we have to do THAT two more times, ick.)
Mr. M went back and retrieved the spare wheel. He thought the tire was bad, so off I went to Boulevard Tire on SW Boulevard. They reported the tire is fine, and didn't even charge me to look at it, clean it up, and fill it. Score.
So then it was back to put on the tire. And then I went to put air in the tires. They all had about 20 ppi pressure when they were supposed to have 50. I suppose that may have contributed to the flat.
Friday everything seemed to go back to normal...except mr. Si found a screwdriver and took apart the doorknob to the front door. Guess what Dad's evening project was?
Then Saturday broke us. Girl Scout cash out with half our profits still sitting in boxes in our leader's apt and the back of my car. Screaming four year old...into the minute clinic. Doube. Ear. Infection. UGH. And then coming home to find out Mr. M had lost his wallet, and our "living fund" for this week. Double UGH.
Sunday went pretty well. I was Mrs. F in kidz world and got to get flour dumped down the front of my shirt for a laugh. The kidz all came home w/ "crazy bands" to share for their kindness object lesson. We had beans for linner. But I was still broody and broken from the events of the previous few days. I vented to a friend, and she helped us out. I told her, "I'm venting, not begging" and she just smiled. Mr. M found his wallet this morning at the bank.
I feel pretty warm and fuzzy right now, but it certainly stunk to get here.
There is not much worse than a flat tire at 9am when you have 2 dentist appointments for kids at 10:30 which had to be scheduled three months in advance. (Yes our kids dentist is that cool.)
Yet there were many things about this that showed God doesn't give us more than we can handle.
1) It was a snow day, therefore Mr. M was working from home
2) I didn't have any kids with me
3) It was at 9am in Wal-Mart's parking lot, not 10:15 half-way to the appt.
Mr. M came and rescued me and the carseats. I'd return to deal with van later. The kids got to the dentist on time. Not that I looked forward to a screaming tied-down three year old, but the insurance said no pay for the hospital, so I didn't have much choice. (That was part 2 of the day's trauma, and we have to do THAT two more times, ick.)
Mr. M went back and retrieved the spare wheel. He thought the tire was bad, so off I went to Boulevard Tire on SW Boulevard. They reported the tire is fine, and didn't even charge me to look at it, clean it up, and fill it. Score.
So then it was back to put on the tire. And then I went to put air in the tires. They all had about 20 ppi pressure when they were supposed to have 50. I suppose that may have contributed to the flat.
Friday everything seemed to go back to normal...except mr. Si found a screwdriver and took apart the doorknob to the front door. Guess what Dad's evening project was?
Then Saturday broke us. Girl Scout cash out with half our profits still sitting in boxes in our leader's apt and the back of my car. Screaming four year old...into the minute clinic. Doube. Ear. Infection. UGH. And then coming home to find out Mr. M had lost his wallet, and our "living fund" for this week. Double UGH.
Sunday went pretty well. I was Mrs. F in kidz world and got to get flour dumped down the front of my shirt for a laugh. The kidz all came home w/ "crazy bands" to share for their kindness object lesson. We had beans for linner. But I was still broody and broken from the events of the previous few days. I vented to a friend, and she helped us out. I told her, "I'm venting, not begging" and she just smiled. Mr. M found his wallet this morning at the bank.
I feel pretty warm and fuzzy right now, but it certainly stunk to get here.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
What leaving fast food jobs has done for us
Mr. M & I are far from health food icons. However, from what we've seen, we do feed our children better than the average bear. We started young and idealistic. Our oldest thought whole grain graham crackers were cookies until he started preschool. Over the years, and with additional siblings, the standards have relaxed some from that day. Yet what I consider our biggest success isn't with my children anyway. It's with my husband.
When we were first married, Mr. M had borderline high blood pressure. His current numbers, even though he's in his 40's instead of his 20's is in the "safe" zone. So what changed?
It wasn't his exercise habits. If anything, he's less active now than ever. (Not something we're proud of, just a fact.)
No, what we've changed is a) what he eats and b) his stress levels. Leaving the fast food industry was the best thing we've ever done for my husband's health.
What the restaurant industry doesn't share is how it kills it's employees two ways. 1) Free/reduced priced food. 2) Overtaxing their bodies There are reasons those jobs pay well for the education they require.
One of the easiest ways to lower blood pressure is bring your sodium consumption down to a (more) reasonable level. Eliminating fast food does wonders for this. Working in fast food, odds are a person is eating there once or twice a day, because well...it's cheap or free and they aren't paid overly well. They're still jobs aimed at low education levels after all. Odds are, that person will eat less fat too after leaving. And just the grease in the air can't be a good thing IMHO.
The work is physically taxing too. I have pre-carpal tunnel from all my years cashiering in various fast foods. It's not documented as well as with office employees/retail but is probably at a higher prevalence. These peeps just can't afford to pay for the treatment, and it's hard to prove a single job liable, since most people in this industry change jobs fairly regularly. The constant availability expected of employees with more seniority probably has something to do with that. Part of why I quit my last job was because they refused to cut my hours. I still think Mr. M's hernia surgery was related to that work, but again, hard to prove...but he never went back...and has been much happier since. I too, broke down from the exhaustion and constant time on my feet. This work was not for the middle aged.
I've also spent a fair amount of time waiting tables. In general, the higher tier the restaurant, the better you were treated. There were also more healthy options available, more breaks with shorter/split shifts, and better money. While it still shares some of the hazards of fast food, it's easier to eschew them.
Yet even after all this, the kids love their biweekly fries. Hopefully that's the only fast food legacy we leave behind.
When we were first married, Mr. M had borderline high blood pressure. His current numbers, even though he's in his 40's instead of his 20's is in the "safe" zone. So what changed?
It wasn't his exercise habits. If anything, he's less active now than ever. (Not something we're proud of, just a fact.)
No, what we've changed is a) what he eats and b) his stress levels. Leaving the fast food industry was the best thing we've ever done for my husband's health.
What the restaurant industry doesn't share is how it kills it's employees two ways. 1) Free/reduced priced food. 2) Overtaxing their bodies There are reasons those jobs pay well for the education they require.
One of the easiest ways to lower blood pressure is bring your sodium consumption down to a (more) reasonable level. Eliminating fast food does wonders for this. Working in fast food, odds are a person is eating there once or twice a day, because well...it's cheap or free and they aren't paid overly well. They're still jobs aimed at low education levels after all. Odds are, that person will eat less fat too after leaving. And just the grease in the air can't be a good thing IMHO.
The work is physically taxing too. I have pre-carpal tunnel from all my years cashiering in various fast foods. It's not documented as well as with office employees/retail but is probably at a higher prevalence. These peeps just can't afford to pay for the treatment, and it's hard to prove a single job liable, since most people in this industry change jobs fairly regularly. The constant availability expected of employees with more seniority probably has something to do with that. Part of why I quit my last job was because they refused to cut my hours. I still think Mr. M's hernia surgery was related to that work, but again, hard to prove...but he never went back...and has been much happier since. I too, broke down from the exhaustion and constant time on my feet. This work was not for the middle aged.
I've also spent a fair amount of time waiting tables. In general, the higher tier the restaurant, the better you were treated. There were also more healthy options available, more breaks with shorter/split shifts, and better money. While it still shares some of the hazards of fast food, it's easier to eschew them.
Yet even after all this, the kids love their biweekly fries. Hopefully that's the only fast food legacy we leave behind.
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