Screw the Scale

Some people have a love/hate relationship with their scale. I have an intense dislike/burning hatred relationship with mine. There's never a time that I step on that plastic bastard, look down at the numbers and think, "That's pretty good." At best it's "ugh." At its worst, it's "Oh. My. God. I am never eating again." But what really aggravates me much more than the numbers that flash up in that little display window, is the hold they have on me.

See, I can be having a day where I feel pretty good. I'll look in the mirror and think, "Not bad!" But if I get on the scale, and reads even a half pound over what I think is acceptable, my whole self image is shot. Somewhere between the ten steps from the mirror to the bathroom, I must have put on ten pounds. Because the reflection that looked pretty good to me two minutes ago, now looks like a lumpy, dumpy, frumpy hag.

And I know that it's ridiculous. I should not let some battery-powered hunk of judgement determine my self-worth. But I do. It pushes aside the fact that I exercise regularly (yup, still doing battle with the elliptical several times a week), wear a smaller size than I did a year ago, look better in pictures, and that I have more endurance than I ever have. None of that matters if the number isn't low enough.

And the worst part is that I know I probably look as good now as I'm ever going to. Most people don't get better looking as the years pass. (Unless you're an awkward adolescent. In that case, the coming years will only bring improvement.) But even though I know, logically, that I should embrace the far-from-perfect figure that I have, that I should love it for being strong and healthy, and in at least nominally good shape, I spend most of my mirror time cataloguing the flaws. I can't get past the thunder thighs, or the stomach that starts off okay, then seems to melt downward into a Dahli-esque sag.

I wish I could shrug off the ravages of time and childbirth, and say with a smile, "Well hell, it could be a lot worse." I wish I could totally, without reservations, embrace what I see in the mirror today. But who truly can? I felt fat at 18, and when I look at pictures from back then, I think, how stupid was I? I would kill to have that body now. Why couldn't I love it then? But like the song says "Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got till it's gone..." Maybe I should just stay off the scale and let my jeans be the judge. Jeans won't lie, but they also won't give you a stupid soul-crushing number to obsess over.

Insomaniac

If I ever kill my husband, it will happen at 3 a.m. Not there aren't other times during the day that I feel like killing him, but if I ever follow through with it, it will be at 3 a.m. I realized this the other night during a ruthless bout of insomnia. As the hours ticked by, my rage at Matt, sleeping peacefully beside me, grew and grew. You may be thinking, "Rage? Why rage? He's just sleeping." Oh, no. Oh, no, he was not just sleeping. He was also breathing. And as I lay there, so tired and yet hopelessly awake, all I could hear was that constant breathing. I wanted to suffocate him with a pillow.

But then, then, he had the audacity to SNORE! It was like he was taunting my sleeplessness with every exhale. At that point, mere suffocation would have been far too kind. I was thinking of stabbing him in the ear with a kitchen knife. Or perhaps setting him on fire.

Fear of incarceration prevailed, and I managed to stifle my murderous urges. Instead I made do with kicking, elbowing, and a string of hateful cussing that would have made a sailor proud. I'm not going to repeat it because it was very unladylike. Plus, he slept through most of my ranting, and I'd hate for him to see a written record of the things I said. They weren't nice. I may or may not have said something along the lines of "If a monster truck crashed through the wall at this very moment, killing you instantly, I would throw a party." So, yeah, not nice.

This went on for hours until I finally fell asleep around four in the morning. Then I had to wake up and face the day at 6:30. It was rough. Luckily, my murderous rage had disappeared completely by the time the sun came up. I was tired, but not homicidal. Matt lived to see another day. But next time, he might not be so lucky. I don't get insomnia all that often, but when I do, he'd be wise to cut that breathing crap out.

Halloween Madness

It's finally starting to feel like fall!! I was so excited that we actually have had to wear jackets the last two days. Pretty big news when you consider that it was 90* on Monday. And not only are the temperatures finally October appropriate, Halloween is just over a week away!! I've been bustin' out my crafty mojo like a madwoman to get ready for it. Holidays= craftapalooza for me. I went to Michaels today and got so excited at all the Thanksgiving and Christmas craft possibilities that I literally had to tell myself, "Walk away, Cameron, walk away. It's not even Halloween yet."

So here's what I've been up to over the past couple of weeks. First, pumpkin painting!!! I bought way more pumpkins than my hand can stand to carve, so I figured I'd paint most of them. That way I can still have cool decorations without them turning into moldy mushballs in three days time. We'll still carve the backs of two or three of them just before the big day. But honestly, they look so cool, I'm not sure I'll have the heart to cut into them!!

Awesome spooky crow on a white pumpkin

 Ugly old witch

 My absolute favorite- the glitter skull. He's sooo

much cooler in person.

Fancy pants (and slightly off-center) monogram

 We're batty!!

 Glitzy, spider webby, fishnet stocking-looking mini pumpkin

 This one probably would have turned out better if I hadn't used those

round garage sale price stickers as painters tape. Ah well, live and learn.

 Front door decor

I totally snagged the idea for this wreath off of Pinterest.

I decked out all the window boxes with the Dollar Tree's spooky best. What can I say, crafty and CHEAP!!!

You may wonder if I did anything inside. Short answer, no. I mean, I've got a witch silhouette on the playroom window, and Frankenstein is coming out of the hallway mirror, but nothing else would be safe from grabby little twin hands. So I confined interior decorating to things they couldn't reach. Which amounts to......this

But the most fabulous creation has to be the headpiece for Hays's werewolf costume. He's going to be a werewolf and Will's going to be a zombie (remember, they're obsessed with Thriller) I couldn't find a werewolf head small enough to fit him, so I found a tutorial and made one. And it's AWESOME!!! He loves it. All we need are fake fur gloves, and this werewolf is ready!

Coming Clean

I just found out it's ADHD awareness week. I had no idea there was an ADHD awareness week, but it seems like an opportune time to tell you about something I've been going back and forth on sharing. On one hand, I try to be pretty honest about our lives. On the other, this is a polarizing subject that invites a lot of criticism. And I don't particularly want to be criticized for something that is a personal decision made in, what we feel, is the best interest of our child. That being said, in the spirit of keeping it real, here's the story.

My Will, my sweet, funny, precious Will, has always been a live wire. From the time he could walk, he never stood still. He never sat through a story or an entire tv show. He never, literally never, sat down and played with toys. And most frightening, he never, ever shied away from danger of any sort. Whether it was escaping the house while I was cooking dinner and strolling down the street, or attempting to stick an assortment of interesting objects in the electrical sockets, Will was going to do it over and over. And no amount of admonishment or punishment was going to stop him.

We thought it would get better as he got older. It got worse. We felt like we spent every moment of the day fussing at him or punishing him- trying with all our might to get him to listen and behave, all to no avail. We were at our wit's end. And we were even more frustrated that we couldn't figure out why he was like this. The other boys weren't. Sure, they'd get into stuff, but they'd (mostly) listen when we got onto them. And they could focus on activities for long periods of time. At two years old, Hays would sit and play with cars for close to an hour at a time, just as happy as a clam. But Will just cruised around the house, all the time, looking for something to get into.

It came to a head this summer. Matt and I went out of town for a week and left the kids with their grandparents. When we got back, they told us how hard it was to deal with Will. How he just would not listen, had no fear of anything- no matter how dangerous, how they felt like they couldn't take their eyes off him for a single second. That's when I realized that it wasn't just me, and that we might truly have a problem.

After a disastrous attempt at Bible school, I had finally reached the breaking point. I called my pediatrician, at the end of my rope, begging for advice on how to deal with this child. His response was, "I've been kind of waiting for this call." I wasn't sure what to feel- relief that I wasn't just a crappy mother that couldn't control her child, dismay at the fact that there truly was a problem. I was conflicted.

I was even more conflicted when he suggested that we try putting Will on a very small dose of Ritalin. I've always been in the camp of "parents medicate their children way too often." And here I was considering that very thing. Not to mention, my kid is little- much younger than most kids are when they start taking Ritalin. But I trust our doctor, and I was desperate for a solution. So after some soul-searching, and advice calls to parents, sisters, and friends, we decided to give it a shot.  (An aside here. Many pediatricians won't prescribe Ritalin to a three year old. But my pediatrician knows us very well. Keep in mind that we didn't go more than 10 days without a visit to his office during last year's winter of illness. He knows Will, has seen his behavior progress, and he is a very, very cautious doctor. So in the event that anyone thinks that he is, in any way, a pill-pushing, quick-fix kind of guy- don't. He is amazing- the most sought after pediatrician in our area, and I literally trust him with their lives.)

So we started him on Ritalin- and it was amazing. It was like someone flipped a switch. Not personality-wise. I can assure you it did not diminish his essential "Will-ness" one bit. He's still silly, funny, energetic, loud, rambunctious and wonderful. But it turned off those parts that worried us so much. We finally started to see some much-needed impulse control. Oh sure, he'll still jump off the couch and run with sticks, but he won't try to stick a screwdriver in the outlet anymore. He started to listen and follow directions (most of the time). And he could actually focus on things instead of cruising restlessly all day long. He listens to stories, he'll build amazing block towers, he'll sit down and play with cars or dinosaurs for a half hour or more- it was the most astonishing, wonderful change. Now we could spend more time praising him than reprimanding. And that was such a blessing, because my charming Will loves to please people. And it was so hard for him to always be in trouble.

That was about four months ago, and the quality of life for our family has improved immeasurably. Will is happier. Matt and I don't feel like we're at the end of our rope all the time. (Well, I still frequently do, but I blame that on being the mother of three little boys, rather than on one particular boy!) Mason and Hays are happier because they get more attention and Will doesn't drive them crazy all the time by wrecking their stuff. Life is better, and it's because of Ritalin.

I still think there are a lot of children that are unnecessarily medicated. And I know that Ritalin isn't a perfect solution. Trust me, I've read the articles, I know the risks, I have my concerns. But right now, the benefits outweigh them. So that's what we're doing. And I'm sure some people will think I'm wrong, or worse, that I'm a bad mother. I'm okay with that because I truly, in my heart of hearts, think I'm doing what's best for my child. And that's all any of us can do, right?

To be Gifted, Or Not to be Gifted, That is the Question...

I have a quandary. It is a Mason-related quandary, as they frequently are. I had a phone conference with his teacher yesterday. Don't worry- it was a good thing. It's conference week at school, and he's doing so well that she didn't even request an actual in-the-classroom sit down, just a phone chat to let me know how he's doing. The good news is, he's really smart, excellent reader, great at math, enthusiastic student- all stuff that made me very proud. He's so smart in fact, that she wants to give him accelerated work to see if he would do well in the gifted program. Therein lies the quandary.

See, I know Mason's smart. And I know he's totally got the brainpower for the gifted program. The problem is, I don't know that he's got the motivation. Because even though he's smart as all get out, he's also laaaaaaaaaazy. That boy doesn't want to do one speck more work than he absolutely has to. And he will rush through it like his pencil's on fire to get it done so he can move on to the stuff he wants to do. Stuff like watching Sponge Bob, or playing Lego Universe. Nothing but the loftiest pursuits for my boy. And homework is a nightly battle that often ends in smartmouth attitude (his), yelling (mine), frustration (both), tears (mostly his), and drinking (usually mine).

And quite frankly, I'm not sure I'm ready to amp that battle up any more. I mean, obviously I want to give him every academic opportunity, push him to succeed, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera..... But really, I just don't know how much more of the homework-related nonsense I can take. Lord knows I spend enough time fussing at him. I'm not sure I want to invite the opportunity for more!

We're, of course, going for it. What the hell else was I going to do? Tell his teacher, "Ummm thanks for wanting to challenge my child and help him achieve more academically, but I'm going to have to pass. I don't feel like arguing with him about homework." Yeah, right. So we'll see how it goes. Hopefully, he'll enjoy the challenge and find the work interesting. Maybe. If not, we might be the first parents ever to keep our kid out of the gifted program because it's too much trouble!

Family Fun on the Farm

So here are some cute kid pictures for you. We had a lovely weekend of wholesome family fun. The farm where we go to pick strawberries in the spring has a pumpkin patch and tons of activities in the fall. We'd never taken the kids, so we decided this was the year. The fun starts right out of the parking lot where you hitch a ride on a hay wagon to the back part of the farm.

Yay, hayride!!!!!

We watched a couple of pig races, the kids checked out the vortex tunnel (a stationary walkway through a spinning, black-light painted tunnel. Kids loved it, I thought I might vomit), and the we did the corn maze. Well, the mini corn maze. I'm not sure the kids (or I) were up for the big one!

Mason and Hays in the corn maze

Sweet Will

I spy Haysie!

After the corn maze and a few turns on the huge slide, it was time for the jumping pillow. I'd never seen one, but it's exactly like it sounds. A huge, rubbery mat in the shape of a pillow, filled with air. It has a firmer surface than a moon bounce, and the kids really liked it. Hays kept getting too close to the edge and bouncing off the side, but he thought it was funny.

Wheeeeee!!!

We checked out the petting zoo- chicks, some bunnies, a pig, a few goats, the usual.

Then we spent a good bit of time at the water pumps, racing rubber ducks. Mason and Will really liked pumping the water (Will needed a little help). But Hays mostly wanted to play with the rubber ducks. There were some tears when he had to leave the ducks behind to go on to the next activity.

 

But he stopped crying when we told him it was time to ride the cow train. He'd been wanting to ride it since we got to the farm. We got him buckled in, he was all smiles, super excited. Then he realized that train was pulling out without mommy. Cue the tears. We buckled him in with Mason and thought that wpould solve the problem, but no. More tears. Finally, we gave up, took him out and sent the train on its way, sans Hays. And wouldn't you know that the minute he realized his brothers were going to ride the train without him, he started crying again! You can't win.

Hays might have cried, but Will was all about it!

After the train ride, the kids climbed the hay mountain.

I'm king of the world!!!

Then we checked out the corn cannon and the pumpkin slingshot. The corn cannon was like a big, hydraulic potato gun. It was cool, but kind of loud when it fired. Mason and Will liked it, but it scared Haysie half to death. More tears. In fact, three days later he's still talking about how "the kern cannon scared me!" So it was time to wrap up the family fun at the farm.

Despite the tears, all three kids had a really good time. And I have all these lovely pictures to share with you. Almost worth the $52 we had to spend on admission!

Second Life

Matt told me a story this week about how he and his coworkers discovered that an employee at one of their client sites was spending a lot of work hours playing the online game "Second Life." I'd heard of it, but wasn't really sure what it was all about. From what I can surmise, players create a character and live out an online life. They can go different places, interact with other characters (and those interactions can apparently get quite, ahem, adult...), whatever they want to do. I found it kind of odd, but I have to admit, kind of intriguing. Not the game itself, but the whole concept of a second, alternate life. It made me kind of wonder what my second life would be.

If you look at it from the point of "what would I be doing if I wasn't doing this?" Then my answer would be pretty boring. If I wasn't living this life, I'd probably be chasing this life. See, the only thing I've consistently wanted to be throughout my life was a wife and mother. I know. Who dreams of being a housewife? How boring is that? But it's true, that's all I've ever wanted to be. Well, not all.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be a horse trainer. But since I quit riding at 12, that's probably not going to happen. As a high school drama geek, I wanted to be an actress. But lack of any real talent pretty much makes that a bust. Oh sure, I can do a kickass dramatic reading of How Does a Dinosaur Say Goodnight or If You Give a Moose a Muffin, but I'm unlikely to take the Great White Way by storm. So the one dream that I actually had a chance of being good at was the one I pursued. And had I not gotten married at 24 and had a baby a year later, I'd probably be out there trying to find a husband so I could settle down and be a housewife! What can I say, I'm living the dream.....

So the "road not taken" idea of a second life is boring as hell in my case. But what if you look at it from the alter-ego point of view? As far as I can tell, people playing Second Life create a character that's someone they'd like to be, not someone who bears any resemblance to who they actually are. And that's kind of interesting. Who would you be with no constraints? What would you look like if genetics had no say? What would you act like if there was no fear of repercussions?

If I was going to create an alter-ego, she would be a total badass. She'd be way taller, have a much better body, and have bigger (perkier) boobs. Style wise, I'm thinking definitely retro sexy pin-up girl. Kind of a cross between Dita Von Teese and Danielle from American Pickers. Oh, and they're both burlesque girls, so I bet she'd do that too. She'd be ridiculously cool. She'd probably have tattoos. Oh, and roller derby. She'd definitely do roller derby because those girls are cool, and tough, and sexy. Yup, that's the alter-ego I'd create. And I bet she'd have a really cool second life- lots of adventures that I'd never even dream of.

She would, no doubt, be miles cooler than I ever will, but that's okay. I'm more than content to leave my imaginary counterpart in some alternate universe, because while it's fun to imagine other possibilities for myself, I've got the life I've always wanted right here.

Bazombies

If I had my way, the little boys would never watch anything but age-appropriate, educational television. PBS kids, with some Disney sprinkled in- good, wholesome stuff. When Mason was their age, I pretty much managed to contain his viewing habits to the things I deemed appropriate. Oh sure, Daddy would occasionally sneak something in that I didn't really agree with (Transformers, anyone?), but it was mostly mom-approved. As Mason got older, started school and was influenced by other kids, new things started to sneak in. In started small with stuff like Cartoon Network, then the Nick tween stuff like iCarly started to appear. I finally gave up when he got hooked on the unholiest of them all- Spongebob. But I was still keeping pretty tight rein on the twins.

Until recently. Matt decided that watching Spaceballs, the 80's Star Wars spoof movie, would be a fun Saturday activity for him and the boys. Well, it was fun all right. So fun in fact, that Will became obsessed with it, wanted to watch it every day, and insisted for a month that everyone call him "Dark Helmet." That obsession passed about a month ago when Mason thoughtfully introduced them to Michael Jackson's Thriller video.

Mason had been learning the dance in PE, so Matt and I let him watch the video. Mason showed it to his brothers, and voila, a new obsession was born. Now I hear about werewolves and zombies (or "Bazombies" as Will calls them) day in and day out. They play zombies and werewolves, they run from "the thriller" in the backyard, they know the dance- complete with zombie head-twitch and monster claws- and they do it everywhere. At preschool (in front of the whole class), at the pediatrician's office (thank goodness our doctor rocks and was totally amused), the playground, EVERYWHERE. And forget calling Will by his name. He will swiftly correct you, "No, I a bazombie...."

Since it's hilarious, I gave up trying to fight it. I embraced it and bought them zombie shirts. Will wants to wear his every single day. And they are awfully cute.



They think they're scary....

Super-scary in fact...

But it's hard to be scared of a zombie.....

When he's this cute!!

Marriage= Yoga Pants

Yesterday I was browsing around our MSN homepage and I came across this tarot card compatibility meter thing. I'm not a big believer in horoscopes, and I know next to nothing about tarot cards, but since all you had to do was enter your birthday and that of your significant other, I gave it a whirl. Like I said, not a big believer, and yet, the results were surprisingly accurate. Matt and I both got the "high priestess" card (probably because we were born the same year). I have no idea what the high priestess stands for, but this is what it said:

Two peas in a pod describe this cozy and secure union where you both truly prefer being a twosome to being a solo unit. A natural ease and rapport exists as you virtually read each other's minds. Consideration and compromise come readily in this union where the priority will be on harmony. While peace reigns when two priestesses get together, making a decision or taking action can be an ordeal. The double yin energy creates a tendency for passivity, an all talk no action union. To move forward, it might pay to take turns playing the role of The One in Charge. Your challenge is to take the love you freely share with each other and translate it it into real world progress. After all, if you two had your way, you would spend your entire relationship snuggled under the blankets in a remote cabin getaway."

And though it's certainly a generalization, it's basically true. We do genuinely like being together. We've known each other forever, and we know each other so well that we definitely have a bit of a mind-meld going. We're not great at making decisions- we once drove around for a full hour trying to decide where to go out to dinner. But that mainly happens with the little, unimportant things. On the bigger, more important things, someone always takes on the role of "The One In Charge." (Sure, 99% of the time it's me, but he's okay with that.) And as for the whole remote cabin thing- well of course we would, our kids couldn't find us and bug us if we were hiding out in a remote mountain cabin! Since that's not really feasible, it mostly translates to "If you two had your way, you'd spend your entire relationship sitting on the couch after the kids were in bed watching bad reality television."

And while it's fairly true, no one would call it particularly exciting. But you know what? That's okay. Maybe it's not exciting, but it's comfortable, like a good pair of yoga pants. And let me tell you, there is nothing that I love more than yoga pants. Sure, you probably won't go on any big adventures in them. You won't have a wild night in the club in them. No one will think you're sexier than a supermodel in them. But nothing makes you feel more comfortable, more at home, more secure in your own skin than yoga pants. And while you can try on something else, and go do all those wild exciting things, at the end of the day where do you want to be? That's right. At home, on the couch, in front of bad tv, in your yoga pants.

So I'm beyond grateful for my comfortable, happy, harmonious, yoga pants marriage. Never in my life have I felt more loved, needed, and certain that I'm doing exactly what I was born to do. Truly, what more could you ask for? And if you want to try the tarot card reading yourself, here's the link:

http://glo.msn.com/horoscopes/tarot/love

I hope you have someone that fits you like your favorite pair of yoga pants. Or if that's not your style, the pair of jeans that makes your butt look great and makes you feel like a sexy beast. But stay away from anyone that fits you like sky-high stilettos- sure, it starts off super-hot, but it's going to be nothing but pain at the end!!