I hinted in my last post that I was going to get my kids involved in my diet. Kids are great at pointing out flaws and telling you like it is. So last night, as we sat down to a delicious dinner of turkey and stuffing meatloaf, homemade-from-scratch mashed potatoes, steamed green beans, and homemade-from-scratch gravy, I asked them to help me with my diet.
Me: "Kids, will you not let me get seconds at mealtimes?"
Kids: They look down at their untouched and "gross" dinner: "Why would you want seconds?"
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
What's in Your Toolbox?
Each of us has ways of dealing with "issues" that come up in life. I like to call them tools. How do you deal with stress? You use a tool. How do you conquer your fears? You use a tool. What do you do when you're overwhelmed? You pull out a tool. If that one doesn't work, you put it away and pull out another tool. Here is my list of tools:
1. Blog. Writing just helps the blues go away for me. But not just any writing. If I write in a journal, I just moan and complain to myself, which makes me more depressed. But if I blog, I at least try to make my moaning and complaining funny. Then I'm not so depressed.
2. Read. I prefer very clean romances. My all time favorite books, are, of course, the Twilight series. There is nothing better than a million year old handsome vampire that wants to suck the blood out of you but resists because he loves you soooo much. And somehow, though you are not super pretty and not at all talented, not only does a vampire love you, but a werewolf too! What a world!
3. I tell my kids my goals. This tool is especially helpful when I want to have self-control and just don't. For instance: yelling. Believe it or not, I used to be a yeller. Nothing felt better than letting it all out of my mouth. Loudly. However, nothing felt worse than realizing I just let it all out on my very own children. It took two whole years, but they finally convinced me to stop. It's just not as much fun to yell at them when they respond: "Mom, you just broke your goal." And what's worse is when they respond: "Mom, maybe you should have another goal. Not yelling just isn't working for you." My next goal: not having seconds at dinner. I'm sure the kids will be more than happy to help me with that goal!
4. Take time out. I started this as a meditation moment. Take 20 minutes out of your day to lie down and imagine your happy place. If you're like me, you'll hit the pillow and conk out for 20 minutes. Doesn't matter. If you sleep or meditate, the result is the same: not having to live your life for 20 minutes. Plus you're a lot more ready to live it after the 20 minutes.
5. Let things go. I already told you how my therapist (which I no longer need, by the way) told me it's okay to not be caught up on laundry. Take a deep breath and walk away. Go play with the kids, make dinner, call a friend. Your house doesn't have to be perfect.
6. Last but not least, serve somebody. Send a card to a friend, call someone, watch some neighbor kids. Do something to get out of your rut. Anybody want to come over for dinner?
7. Okay, this is really the last one: do the dreaded anyway. Sometimes you can't sleep your way through a problem. Trust me, I've tried. The problem only goes away if you solve it.
That's my list. What's in your toolbelt? I would love to know. Meanwhile, I've really just got to go sanitize the dreaded bathroom, and do the dreaded laundry. I've been blogging, reading, sleeping, and letting things go long enough that I better JUST DO IT!
1. Blog. Writing just helps the blues go away for me. But not just any writing. If I write in a journal, I just moan and complain to myself, which makes me more depressed. But if I blog, I at least try to make my moaning and complaining funny. Then I'm not so depressed.
2. Read. I prefer very clean romances. My all time favorite books, are, of course, the Twilight series. There is nothing better than a million year old handsome vampire that wants to suck the blood out of you but resists because he loves you soooo much. And somehow, though you are not super pretty and not at all talented, not only does a vampire love you, but a werewolf too! What a world!
3. I tell my kids my goals. This tool is especially helpful when I want to have self-control and just don't. For instance: yelling. Believe it or not, I used to be a yeller. Nothing felt better than letting it all out of my mouth. Loudly. However, nothing felt worse than realizing I just let it all out on my very own children. It took two whole years, but they finally convinced me to stop. It's just not as much fun to yell at them when they respond: "Mom, you just broke your goal." And what's worse is when they respond: "Mom, maybe you should have another goal. Not yelling just isn't working for you." My next goal: not having seconds at dinner. I'm sure the kids will be more than happy to help me with that goal!
4. Take time out. I started this as a meditation moment. Take 20 minutes out of your day to lie down and imagine your happy place. If you're like me, you'll hit the pillow and conk out for 20 minutes. Doesn't matter. If you sleep or meditate, the result is the same: not having to live your life for 20 minutes. Plus you're a lot more ready to live it after the 20 minutes.
5. Let things go. I already told you how my therapist (which I no longer need, by the way) told me it's okay to not be caught up on laundry. Take a deep breath and walk away. Go play with the kids, make dinner, call a friend. Your house doesn't have to be perfect.
6. Last but not least, serve somebody. Send a card to a friend, call someone, watch some neighbor kids. Do something to get out of your rut. Anybody want to come over for dinner?
7. Okay, this is really the last one: do the dreaded anyway. Sometimes you can't sleep your way through a problem. Trust me, I've tried. The problem only goes away if you solve it.
That's my list. What's in your toolbelt? I would love to know. Meanwhile, I've really just got to go sanitize the dreaded bathroom, and do the dreaded laundry. I've been blogging, reading, sleeping, and letting things go long enough that I better JUST DO IT!
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Field Trip, Groundhog's Day Style with Rosa Parks
I know, I know, I haven't blogged for awhile. But I have a very valid excuse: field trips. Those suckers just wear you out, I tell ya. They did as a kid, and they do as an adult. You all know that I have the ideal part time job working in a kindergarten class. The last two days they have gone on a field trip to the Ogden Treehouse Museum. Tuesday we took the morning class and today we took the afternoon class.
Yesterday I got to sit on the back of the bus with the rowdy boys (by "rowdy" I mean one of them had been suspended for a month for violence in the classroom. "Rowdy" is an understatement.). After the trip to the museum, which was very fun, I got to be the lone adult that sat in the back of the bus with 9 high-energy boys. Now, this bus didn't have shocks (do any buses?), so the back of the bus was worse than the white roller coaster at Lagoon. And it was so hot it was steaming the windows. Which I would have opened had I not been supervising 9 rowdy boys. Who were pretending to shoot guns at people driving by ("Boys, please, we do not play with guns, even pretend ones, okay?") Or who were trying to unlatch the emergency latch on the back door (BUZZZZ! "Boys, we are on the freeway. Please do not unlatch the emergency door. And don't shoot people, even for pretend.") Then my head started hurting. And one of the kids got a bloody nose ("Here's a tissue. Don't touch anybody. Boys! Sit on your pockets, don't touch the back door, and NO SHOOTING!"). And then I got cramps, which naturally come with a bad attitude, especially with the temperature in the bus soaring. ("BOYS!! STOP shooting! I don't care if you're aiming for the tires. And leave the back door ALONE! And here's another tissue for that nose.") I start sweating. The boys start writing their names in the steam on the windows. Good. I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath. I open my eyes and some of the boys are standing on their seat to write their name higher on the back door window. They're fighting for valuable steam space. ("BOYS!!! SIT DOWN!!! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF. NO SHOOTING. NO UNLATCHING THE BACK DOOR. NO TALKING!!!) The sweat is dripping, my head is pounding, my stomach is growling. Then I hear the swearing. (BOYS!!! DON'T TALK LIKE THAT!!! DO NOT SWEAR! DON'T SHOOT, DON'T STAND, DON'T FIGHT, DON'T UNLATCH THE BACK DOOR - how's the bloody nose doing? DON'T SWEAR!!!) I should probably mention that one of the boys brought his dad along on this trip (at the teacher's request). Said dad was 6 rows up asleep in his chair listening to his IPOD. Really.
By some miracle from on high, the trip ended. The bloody nose stopped. The kids piled out. I stumbled out, greatful for some fresh cold air.
And then, like the movie Groundhog Day, I got to do it again today. Minus the 9 rowdy boys. And, similar to Rosa Parks, I refused to sit at the back of the bus (though not for such a noble cause as she did).
And today was great!
Yesterday I got to sit on the back of the bus with the rowdy boys (by "rowdy" I mean one of them had been suspended for a month for violence in the classroom. "Rowdy" is an understatement.). After the trip to the museum, which was very fun, I got to be the lone adult that sat in the back of the bus with 9 high-energy boys. Now, this bus didn't have shocks (do any buses?), so the back of the bus was worse than the white roller coaster at Lagoon. And it was so hot it was steaming the windows. Which I would have opened had I not been supervising 9 rowdy boys. Who were pretending to shoot guns at people driving by ("Boys, please, we do not play with guns, even pretend ones, okay?") Or who were trying to unlatch the emergency latch on the back door (BUZZZZ! "Boys, we are on the freeway. Please do not unlatch the emergency door. And don't shoot people, even for pretend.") Then my head started hurting. And one of the kids got a bloody nose ("Here's a tissue. Don't touch anybody. Boys! Sit on your pockets, don't touch the back door, and NO SHOOTING!"). And then I got cramps, which naturally come with a bad attitude, especially with the temperature in the bus soaring. ("BOYS!! STOP shooting! I don't care if you're aiming for the tires. And leave the back door ALONE! And here's another tissue for that nose.") I start sweating. The boys start writing their names in the steam on the windows. Good. I close my eyes and take a deep, cleansing breath. I open my eyes and some of the boys are standing on their seat to write their name higher on the back door window. They're fighting for valuable steam space. ("BOYS!!! SIT DOWN!!! KEEP YOUR HANDS TO YOURSELF. NO SHOOTING. NO UNLATCHING THE BACK DOOR. NO TALKING!!!) The sweat is dripping, my head is pounding, my stomach is growling. Then I hear the swearing. (BOYS!!! DON'T TALK LIKE THAT!!! DO NOT SWEAR! DON'T SHOOT, DON'T STAND, DON'T FIGHT, DON'T UNLATCH THE BACK DOOR - how's the bloody nose doing? DON'T SWEAR!!!) I should probably mention that one of the boys brought his dad along on this trip (at the teacher's request). Said dad was 6 rows up asleep in his chair listening to his IPOD. Really.
By some miracle from on high, the trip ended. The bloody nose stopped. The kids piled out. I stumbled out, greatful for some fresh cold air.
And then, like the movie Groundhog Day, I got to do it again today. Minus the 9 rowdy boys. And, similar to Rosa Parks, I refused to sit at the back of the bus (though not for such a noble cause as she did).
And today was great!