Boy Humor

Here is a conversation I was lucky to be part of this morning.

Ally: Can I please have an early birthday present? Please Please Please

Me: No your birthday is over a week away.

Luke: Hey Ally, come here I have something for you. (as he points in her general direction)
Ally grabs on to his finger and the toot noises commence.

Me: Where did you learn that?

Luke: the neighbor.

Can we move yet? Please Please Please???

Clark is now walking around "tooting" from his mouth. He didn't even make it to 2 before he learned that.

Welcome to AA

I hesitate to write this because I really don't want to jinx anything, but I have been running lately. On the treadmill, in intervals, walk 2 minutes run 2 minutes, for 30 minutes total. Sounds lame but let me tell you why this is a big deal. I am fat. Not just overweight but borderline morbidly obese. Seriously. That is where I fall on all the charts. When I step on the Wii fit board it goes "oh!" like it is surprised. When it weighs me the music may as well be a death march. "dun duh dundun dun dun". Oh and I hate running. We have a long history and I have always hated it.

It's ok. I know it. I am tired of it. Hence the running.

I can blame it on the 4 babies, but there is a lot more to it than that. I have basically had a sedentary life style for most of my life. I did exercise sporadically through out, but never enough to make a huge difference. I would lose 10 or 15 pounds at a time then slowly put it back on with 5 or 10 more. Exercise was never a huge part of my life and never encouraged as such either.

I danced when I was young. We moved when I was 8 and so I never really started again.

I played soccer for 5 years. I was the goalie because I was too lazy to run all over the field.

I started running track once but never made it to a meet because I found out I hated running and it really hurt my knees. (I have since been to a podiatrist and found out the problem is in my feet not my knees, so now it does not hurt. Not that way anyway.)

I have big boobs. Not conducive to running.

I bought a good sports bra, I got orthodox, I bought new shoes, I have a gym membership. So now I run. I am a runner. I have done it enough times to say I am one. Not a fast one and not long distance, but a runner just the same.

I run because it is the best way I know how to lose weight. Have you ever seen a fat runner? Besides at the gym? You do it enough for a long enough time and you are bound to become thin. I figure it may take me a year, but eventually I will run all the fat off. I don't want to be 40 and fat. I figure I better start now.

How nice will that be? I will know one day. I will keep you posted on my running.

p.s. secretly I have always wanted to be a runner...I just pretended I didn't.

Pride cometh before the fall...better wear padding

I was asked at work last night to name something I have done that I am really proud of outside of work. I have to admit, aside from making four babies in recent years, I had a hard time coming up with something that happened in this century. I was stumped, so we moved on. The girl next to me starts into her schpeel about how she was graduating from college in a little over a month and she was so proud of everything she had gone through to get there over the last few years. How she is the first female in her family to get a college education. How she finished her program in four years when they warned her freshman year that most people have to go five.

I have similar stories. I was the first person in my family to graduate from college. I worked super hard and had some amazing experiences to be proud of.

15 years ago.

This has been bothering me a lot since last night. I do stuff worthy of praise. I must. I am busy ALL THE TIME. Somehow cleaning up the mac n cheese Clark dumped on the floor at lunch just doesn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

And it is not just the pride thing. When people ask me "what have you been up too" I instantly think of my kids and husband and what they are doing or what they are involved in. I love to talk about them and the great things in their lives. After all that IS what I am doing right. Being their cheerleader. Taxi driver. Personal chef. Housekeeper. Laundress. I am not unhappy with this situation either. In fact I love being a mom. I love watching my kids grow and change and being a part of all that great change. It just makes me take pause because I am not answering the question with the answer they were looking for. If this were an essay question, I would fail.


Here is the reason this bothers me: what happens in 10-15 years when they no longer need those things? When they all move out and learn to take care of themselves. Go and get real homes and real jobs and only come to visit when they are in town. Am I going to be THAT grandma who makes huge amounts of food for 3 people just because I now have a reason to cook?

My point is this. What am I doing that sustains Lisha? What more can I do to feel a sense of accomplishment in myself? With the little time and energy I have left at the end of the day, how can I make the most of those moments to fill MY cup? Just saying it out loud makes me feel selfish.


I enjoy reading. I like to knit. I guess finishing a book or a project makes me feel good. But that seems insignificant to me because I have been doing them both for so long, it is just part of my life. Maybe that is my problem. I have let great things become small. I think I need to start to look at life with rose colored glasses instead of the greasy ones I wear now.


In short, I need to be more humble and have more gratitude in my life.


So what sustains you? How do you fill those fleeting moments in life for YOU. What do you say when an old friend or a new boss asks you "What are you proud of in your life? What have you been doing lately?" Me? I am raising 4 little kids who are brilliant and inquisitive and love to explore new things. AND I am working on improving my physical health by working out and eating better so I can keep up with them. Not to mention supporting a husband who is a very dedicated teacher and who will be starting his Masters Degree in a few months. Oh and we are working toward buying our first home in a few months. Talk about taking on a new project!

Step Aerobics Nearly killed me...

This morning I got up the courage to attend a class at the Apple that was not Yoga. Step Aerobics is almost everyday at 8:30 so I decided this was going to be "my class". The timing is perfect and I need the structure to keep my heart rate up so I can actually burn some calories. I have been working out for weeks now trying to build up my endurance and condition myself to make it through the 55 min class.

I went a little early and warned the instructor that I was new and might pass out. I lasted about 20 before I had to pee. My bladder is not used to all that jumping around. I came back in and gave it my best effort but at about 45 I had to stop. My head was spinning and my heart was racing faster than it has since child birth (or some other activity that I have not done in 10+ years). I have to say, I am not afraid of sweat. I am not afraid of turning into a tomato...which I do every time I work out. I am afraid of collapsing onto my step and rolling into the path of the girl stomping out her steps next to me. Mostly because it would cause everyone to stop and look and I would be responsible for their decreasing heart rate.

So I choose to step aside and wait it out until the spinning stopped and the heavy breathing subsided a bit. The instructor got a little worried and came back to make sure I was not nauseous...I know to drink water so that was not an issue. She was relieved. But did mention to the entire class that I was brand new. To which I got a round of applause and a whole bunch of well wisher comments as the class ended.

Maybe aerobics classes are not the evil place I once thought they were. Maybe no one cares if you can do the steps or not. Maybe everyone is as worried as I am about passing out into oncoming steppers to even notice me red faced and frustrated behind them.

One gal, the one with the 3 levels under her step and kicking her leg up to her chin, walked down the stairs next to me and said "I hated step for about a month. I was so worried about everyone watching me and not knowing what to do...but then I realized no one cares and they are concentrating just as hard and are too focused to notice my mistakes. Now I love it!"

Maybe in March I will love it too. As long as I don't pass out I think I will be able to keep going.

Clark is walking

It's official. Today he walked everywhere, hardly pausing to bear crawl at all. He has also become even more of a terror around the house...if that is possible.

Some favorite things to "unload" include the kitchen garbage can, the Cd stacks under the computer, the box of green tomatoes (they are balls right?) ,the wipes box, the video/dvd drawers and of course every thing in the bathroom.

I found this the other day when it got "quiet".

FYI: the contents all came from the trash can and include an empty shampoo bottle, an empty contact solution bottle, a banana peel and several kleenex.

Oh and did I mention he can lift the lid by himself. A skill he will need his whole life. He has only smashed his fingers 3 times this week.

Emma-isms

Hey. This is Ryan.

Our second-oldest child, Emma (she's six), has inherited my tact. And by inherited I mean she has none just like her Old Man.

In the United States, we've distorted a saying from Psalms that starts with, "Out of the mouth of babes ..." and finished it with "comes the darndest things." If Bill Cosby still ran that show, my daughter would make a killing.

Here's some samples just from today:

As I was changing Clark's poopy diaper, Emma plopped down next to me and started staring. First she'd look at the baby's bare behind and then look at me. This went on for about a minute. "May I help you, kid?" I asked her. "Um, Daddy?" she started. Whenever she's about to inadvertantly insult me, she starts it with, "Um, Daddy?".

"Um, Daddy?" she said.

"Yes, Emma?" I answered, bracing for what was about to come next.

"Is that you that smells like farts or is it Clark?"

I looked away so as not to laugh in her face. Apparently there isn't much of a difference between what Clark's poop smells like and what I smell like on a regular basis.

Then, as we made our way through downtown traffic after a hellacious trip to Walmart, I got stopped at a red light. From the back of the van, Emma made an observation. "Um, Daddy? If you smell Mexican, well, it's right over there."

I turned to the direction she was pointing, a little apprehensive I would see a car filled with Hispanic people. Instead, it was a taco truck idling next to us, waiting for the light to turn green.

She must have been in a mood today, because the Emma-isms kept coming. Her two friends that live on our street are a little on the portly side. As she walked out the door to ride bikes with these friends, she called out nonchalantly, "Um, Daddy? I'm off to play with my chubby friends." I know they were standing outside the front door, waiting for her.

And finally as we were brushing our teeth next to each other before bed, Emma turns to me and said, "Um, Daddy?"

Once again I geared up for the inevitable innocent insult. "Yeeeesss, dear?"

"Um, Daddy?" she said again, but this time holding her nose. "It's a good thing you're brushing your teeth because your breath is stiiii-nnnky!"

I think I'll rent her out to the police department to replace their bloodhounds. I just hope the men and women in blue have thick skins because Emma's tact - or lack thereof - could bring the entire precinct to tears.