Author Archives: crunchymetromom

20 books & 20 lbs (week 38): standing pat

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I’m starting having trouble counting weeks. I really hope my math is holding up.

At this point, I’ve managed to get through half of my weight loss goal and a little more than half of my reading goal. My weight loss stalled out a little bit, which is impressive considering that I was barely eating for the first half of last week…but, some weeks are like that, I guess. I’m not interested in losing hope, though; I’d like to see if I can rally to lose a few more pounds, even if it means that I won’t make my goal.

I suppose I could really put the pedal to the metal and find some insane way to lose weight – perhaps with one of those crazy cleanses that so many people like to use to remove ~whatever~ from their systems…but since I’m trying to make this weight loss sustainable, I’m chalking those up as just another fad and moving along. I have made it to all three of the Yoga Mondays I’ve had lined up for this session, and I’m really happy about that. It’s nice having yoga back in my life, and I just tend to do better with it when I’m in a class.

As far as books go, I happened upon a copy of Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle”
while I was fishing through boxes of unwanted old books at our local YMCA a few weeks back, and it’s something I’ve wanted to read for a really long time. Having studied communism quite a bit during my senior year of college (I majored in Political Science), I was curious about Sinclair’s harsh take on the brutal capitalism seen in early Industrial America. So far, I’ve found it a bit of a slog – but I’m not giving up hope. Thus far, it’s been a vivid, depressing, sepia-toned view of life below the poverty line a century ago. That’s pretty much what I expected, so the fact that it’s not exactly an easy read isn’t shocking.

I’m also less than 100 pages in, and that’s the point where a book usually fishes or cuts bait for me; by then I’m usually either warmed up to the author’s style, and can make real progress, or I’m ready to find the author’s house and throw their book right at their nose. I hope to finish this one fairly soon, since it’s NOT a long read and I’d really like to make at least ONE of my goals for the year. Just over three months left to go.

*fingers crossed*

The perils of constantly questioning whether you’re the worst mom ever

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Being a parent is a tricky thing. You made some kind of choice – either explicit or implicit – that you were willing to bring a child into the world, and then you’re responsible for making sure that child is allowed to grow to the point where it can leave the proverbial nest. As my father (and Bill Cosby?) said, a parent’s responsibility is to civilize a child so they can survive in society. But really, there’s very little that prepares you for the constant nagging feeling that you’ve chosen wrong with just about everything you decide on your child’s behalf.

I discussed some of my concerns when we first put dd into summer camp last year, because she spent the better part of four weeks being utterly miserable. She hated camp. She didn’t want us to go each morning at drop-off. She wanted to be picked up early so she wouldn’t have to endure post-camp. Everything was awful, and she made that abundantly clear. For the better part of four weeks, I vacillated between thinking “OH DEAR LORD SHE’S RIGHT AND I’M SCARRING MY CHILD’S PSYCHE” and “This, too, shall pass.”

Whether by hope or just the passage of sufficient time for her to adjust to the new norm, she settled down sometime in that four weeks and suddenly, dramatically, fell madly in love with camp. It got to the point that she was terribly sad when she finished camp at the end of the summer and headed off to Kindergarten.

Figuring that we’d capitalize on her newfound love of camp, we set about putting her back in the same program this summer, timed to coincide with our return from our trip to DC. She got 1-1/2 weeks of gymnastics camp, then we had vacation, then she went back to her regular camp. And everything was fine. For all of one day.

By the time she’d gotten home from that first day, she decided that camp was (yet again) the worst thing EVER. And this time, with only five weeks of camp in front of her, she was going to drag this out as the worst experience for all of us if we didn’t fix it. The nagging concerns came back to the forefront of my brain again, wondering if we should’ve just left her in the gymnastics camp all summer. It was about the same cost, but the difference in commute (compounded by the fact that the location of that camp almost certainly requires that I’m on the only one who can get her) meant that I’d have to give up any hope of evening workouts in the gym, post-work. So, we all soldiered on.

I made her an advent calendar, of sorts, and challenged her to cross off each day at its conclusion and then write what she liked about camp at the end of each week. When we got to the end of the last day of the last week, I asked her to write down three things she liked about camp and to tell me which camp she wanted to go to next summer: regular camp or gymnastics camp. I fully expected to see her write GYMNASTICS CAMP in bright, shiny, blinking letters. Instead, she wrote REGULAR CAMP.

You could’ve knocked me over with a feather.

It turns out, what dh and I were missing this entire time was that the difference between her pre-K camp and her first grade camp was that she didn’t get nap time. And, the difference between her first grade camp and the other camps at higher levels (2nd grade on up) is that the camps for older kids got at least one field trip per week. In other words, first grade camp is a total screw job where you’re trapped in one location and don’t even get a nap for your trouble. OH. It all makes sense now.

Fast forward to Sunday, when I brought dd to her first day of “pre-team” gymnastics training. It’s a 2hr session for girls who are interested in taking their gymnastics to the next level. Girls who really excel are invited to take on a second 2hr session every week, so that’s something to keep an eye out for. She’d been up and down about going pre-team, but she loves gymnastics and has shown quite an aptitude for it. When I finally got her registered for pre-team (no small feat), she looked at me as though I’d just knifed all her favorite stuffed animals. She’d asked for pre-team repeatedly, but that wasn’t the same as getting it. And so, for weeks, she alternated between planting her feet and taunting us with “I WON’T GO” and telling her friends, “I’m doing pre-team!”

{cue a very large palm-print on my forehead}

So, I took her on Sunday, and I was unsurprised that she hung on me tighter than any plastic wrap. I brought her into the gym, and she cried and clawed at me, begging me to stay. I managed to pry her off me, and eventually a coach led her off to sit with the other girls. I saw some sniffling, but it disappeared quickly. The start of class was slow, since it was the first time for this session and there were a ton of new girls (like dd), but this helped her get acclimated. She stretched, followed all the directions, and – amazingly – paid incredible attention to the coaches. She didn’t even gnaw on her fingernails, as she so often does; she was that engrossed in what they were teaching her. As she ran and pranced past me in the whirling mass of 6-13 year-olds, warming up, she would look for me at the window and wave, smiling brightly.

At her first water break, she bounded out for her water bottle and teased me for not leaving it in the gym. At the second break, she pulled me down to the locker room for girl talk while she had a bio break, and as she shut the bathroom stall door, she shouted at me, “I want to compete on pre-team!” I was nearly in tears. The idea that we’d possibly gotten it right was something that I kept in the back of my mind, because the pulling and crying and yelling and denials always end up pushing self-doubt forward and self-confidence to the back. Always.

I wonder if it’s like this for all parents…or just for some of us?

She asked me to take her to pre-team again next Sunday, and I’m looking forward to it. She said that I can go workout elsewhere in the gym, which I’d like to do, although there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to spend the entire 2hr stretch on a treadmill. Really, I want to watch her excel and smile…because sometimes the validation I need as a parent is what isn’t told to me. Sometimes, it’s just seeing the look on her face and understanding that – this time – I didn’t get it wrong.

20 books & 20 lbs (week 37): Rediscovering bodice rippers

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I did a weigh-in on Sunday morning, at 4am, just prior to taking off for the marathon. My weight was a few pounds north of where I’d been the week prior. However, since I hadn’t finished sleeping, I figured that I could retake it on Monday at a more reasonable hour and see where I came in. Thanks to the marathon (and having slept more), I came in where I needed to be: still 11lbs down from my starting point.

I realize that it’s hard to lose weight, since it requires so many changes from the routine that got you to the point where you were. What’s actually comforting, though, is that I can see and feel results. Plus, when I put it into perspective, I’ve already lost 5% of my weight from when I started, and that’s typically a “gold star” kind of moment.

So, now: how to maintain? My downfall is really threefold.

Firstly, I still have desserts most nights. It’s become part of how I manage my blood sugar, making sure that I’m not waking up with such a deficit that I can’t function at all. I should probably choose something healthier (like cereal), but there is something remarkably wonderful (and quieter) about eating ice cream instead.

Second, I’m not always snacking healthily at work. I’m not dipping into the candy bag as much as I could, but I’m probably going to it more often than I should. And yes, I could dump the entire bag EXCEPT that I keep it there for others – and in my office, candy is like cigarettes in a prison. You can’t imagine what kind of goodwill it gets you when you have candy. (Or maybe YOU can.)

Third, I need to integrate exercise into my routine more than I already do. I recently signed up for a series of Monday night yoga classes at the studio near my house, so I’m hoping that will help. Of course, I’m immediately challenged on attending – the first night, I was recovering from the marathon the day prior, and the second night (tomorrow), we have an open house at dd’s school. But, and here’s where I hope I’m turning a corner, I STILL WENT to yoga, despite being creaky and sore, and we’ve already agreed that we’ll miss the open house because it’s important that I get to go to yoga.

I’ll work on it piece-by-piece. My goal of losing 20 lbs this year may not be attainable, but I haven’t given up trying.

Book #13: “Outlander” by Diana Gabaldon

My very first paying job -ever- was as a page in a public library about 20 minutes from my house. I had exactly two responsibilities: 1) shelve the books/magazines in such a fashion as to make it easy for patrons to find what they needed, and 2) refer any patrons with questions to the librarians. It was a sometimes quiet job, since I’d work efficiently and quickly, which left me with time to explore the books in other sections of the library than I usually inhabited at the tender age of 13 yrs and 9 mos old. That’s where I discovered Bertrice Small, who I realized was only one of a number of writers in the genre of the lengthy bodice-ripper, where women were perfectly happy being dominated by strong men and where women were CONSTANTLY in some sort of peril that the aforementioned strong men would rescue them from. Oh, and there was sex. Lots of it. Vividly described. And every woman had a mind-blowing experience *each and every time*. (Note to all teenagers: literature sometimes lies like a cheap rug.)

Fast forward nearly 27 years (wow – am I THAT old?) and I’m out for dinner with my friend, Jen, who’s been lucky enough to receive free copies of “Outlander” to distribute to some friends/other bloggers. I’d never heard of the fantasy/romance novel series, so I came into it fresh. The premise is rather interesting: a young nurse is on a second honeymoon with her husband, after a long separation due to World War II. In 1945 Scotland, Claire and Frank Randall are tentative lovers trying to re-learn what it’s like to be a couple again. While exploring some of the nearby pagan scenery, Claire is suddenly transported in time. She doesn’t realize it immediately, but she eventually comes to terms with the fact that she’s been moved back some 200 years in time – to a Scotland far removed from the one she left.

This is the portion of the story that then brings her to the endless cycle of “things that happen to Claire because that’s what happened back then.” Threats (or attempts) of rape. Battles. Torture. Being accused of and tried for witchcraft. On and on, the stream of events continues, sweeping her up in a never-ending tide of misery. She even escapes one form of misery through (seemingly) another: the forced marriage to one of the clansmen she met when she was captured just following her passage back in time.  And so, we now come to the bodice-ripping section of the book, where Claire and her paramour, Jamie Fraser, have enough sex that you start to wonder how she can manage to ride a horse for any length of time.

Of course, I make jokes…but it was an interesting read. It’s entertaining, it’s an incredibly fast read – which is no small feat for a book that tips the scales at more than 800 pages – and the characters are well drawn. Where I take issue with the book is the fact that “Outlander” spends so much time putting Claire into harm’s way that you get the sense that people of that time either spent their lives in quiet misery or were constantly in fear of just about everything. It’s a bit of a caricature, and I got tired of Claire and Jamie getting into horrible situation after horrible situation. At several points, I just wanted it to stop, if only so that I could stop tensing up about the possibility that the next flower she would step on would create an international incident.

Clearly, the books sell well: Gabaldon has put out book after book in the series, and there’s recent news that STARZ is working on a series based on the books. And so, it’s possible that I may just continue reading the “Outlander” series, once I get through the remainder of the books needed to finish off the twenty I planned for this year. I will say, though, it’s highly likely that I’ll be doing just what all those Bertrice Small fans did back in the day…and check them out of the library.