Juggling Life

To My Body on the Occasion of my 49th Birthday: Walking the Walk

I have been preaching to my daughter that women would be so much happier if we would focus not on what our bodies look like, but on what they can DO. This is me not just talking the talk.

 

Weekend me. Post-coffee with a friend, post-cooking dinner, post-several loads of laundry. Workday/special occasion me tends to look a little thinner because, foundation garments.

 

 Dear Body,

We've been together now for 50 years (this is the same principle as being pregnant for 10 months---that's always made me a little crazy). I would like to take this opportunity to say thank you.

Thank you for being generally healthy. Since my concussion in third grade, I've only been hospitalized to birth babies. I shouldn't take that for granted as much as I do. I promise to be appreciative if you keep it up.

Speaking of babies, I owe a shoutout to my generous hips. I'm sure you are a big reason why I could pop out a baby and be out grocery shopping 24 hours later. When women exchange pregnancy stories, my standard line is, "I am one of those women who could have squatted in the field, had the baby, and then finished picking the row." 

Hands, you deserve recognition for all you have done and continue to do. Honestly, it's been non-stop work for you over the years--from steering the handlebars of a bicycle to finessing a field hockey stick to changing diapers to the washing of more dishes and laundry than I care to even remember. And the blogging! Thanks for all the typing, fingers!

Legs, you have carried me hither and yon without fail since I was 11 months old. Just recently, you (with A LOT of help from my glutes) made me one of the few people to make it to the top of a rather steep hill on a hike. Younger legs than you turned back. Thanks for letting me know that you're with me when it comes to putting mind over matter and getting the job done.

To my bosom.* Yes, bosom, because when you're as soft and pillowy as you are, that's the right word. You have provided a soft and welcoming place for many a head to rest upon and it always seems to be appreciated. Not to mention the nursing. Easy-peasy with you on my side!

Epidermis, I owe you big-time. From my early days spending every day on the beach as a toddler, to my high school days on the tennis court and hockey field, to the days and weeks and months I spent on the deck of a pool while raising my kids, you have taken rare abuse. Even with sunscreen (which wasn't even invented when I was a kid), you have put up with a lot. I shouldn't be complaining about wrinkles when I'm lucky not to have melanoma. 

I know I'm leaving some parts of you out, but you get the picture, right?

I don't know if necessarily want to spend the next 49 years with you, but 40 more would be about right. 

Happy Birthday. 

 

 *Related. This video. Which. Is. Hysterical.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time Warp Tuesday: What Once Was (Taken for Granted)

This photo was taken when I was maid-of-honor for my friend--who had been my maid-of-honor and now is a chicken whisperer. I was just pregnant with MVP--I can't even remember if I was just hoping I was or if I knew for sure.

I chose this picture because it gibes nicely with something I will be posting on Thursday--my 49th birthday. I know I thought I looked good for the wedding, but I also know I thought I needed to lose weight--because I always thought that once I transitioned from a girl's body to that of a woman. In retrospect I cannot fathom why I thought/worried about my weight, but I do wonder what I was thinking with the platinum blonde hair. It was 1989--that's my only excuse. 

I've said before that one of the things that is bugging me about aging is the loss of the inability to take for granted the ability to bring the hot. It's not something I did much of and I can't go so far as to say I regret that because I was busy doing very worthwhile things that left little time and room for caring about looking hot, let alone making the effort vis-a-vis clothes and makeup, but it was a bit of a security blanket I think.

Not to say there are not still times when I think I look good, and my husband actually payed me the compliment the other day of telling me he thinks I've gotten sexier as I get older (I'm pretty sure it's that no-longer raising teenagers that has rejuvenated me), but it was so effortless back then. I wish I'd have appreciated that at the time.

Be sure to visit the rest of the Time Warp Tuesday peeps: Janet, Karen, Gary, Susan and Trudie don't have as much time as I used to for reading and commenting on blogs, but these are the posts I'm sure to visit because it's so great to hear people's stories--tales of lives lived and memorialized. 

 

 

 

 

Time Warp Tuesday: Dressing Up

Grownup Girl before her first formal dance (freshman year in high school). My mother-in-law made the dress.

It won't be long before she's wearing another pretty dress and getting her hair did (but not by me this time; by a professional). 

Be sure to visit the other TimeWarp Tuesday participants: Gary, Heidi, Karen and Trudie.

Sunday afternoon on the cul-de-sac: then and now

Early Sunday afternoon--1 p.m. because I didn't get out of bed until noon. Then, bed-making, shower, laundry, scrub the kitchen sink. My machines are in the garage, so when I put the clothes in, I opened the garage door to the glorious day that is March 17, 2013 in San Diego. I don't know what more one could ask of its weather. Unless you didn't like blue skies, sun and a mild breeze. 

I gave thanks to Apple for making a laptop thats battery holds a charge and headed out the driveway--it gets the best sun on a day like this and I am not too proud to sit on my driveway to get my Vitamin D therapy. 

I am alone out here, save one man working in his yard. 

Back in the day . . .

I'll be honest. Back in the day this place was the place to be for the 12 and under crowd--for years on end. 

I ran into a woman at a party last night and she recognized me an hour into the party-her son was in Soo Bakh Do with Danger Boy and after we got to know each other, we started carpooling. She was in her first year of a career change to school psychologist (she and my teacher friend just started working together) and the boys' karate day was a minimum school day, so often I just picked her son up from the after-school care to hang out at our house for the afternoon. Some of the time they hung out at our house after class as well.

My old and once-again friend, Kathleen, said "He loved to be in your neighborhood and when I came to get him, he could be in any one of four houses with ten other kids. I could barely drag him away"

This cul-de-sac had bike and skateboarding ramps, a basketball hoop, everything for street roller-hockey, we had a huge fort in the backyard and the neighbors had a pool and trampoline. Throw in the houses with the endless supplies of otter pops, a 1/4 mile walk to a swim club for the older kids and a 7-11 about an 1/8 of a mile away and it was the picture and ideal of suburbia. 

It was ideal for us parents as well. There was always someone to call on to help you out for anything you might need, from a cup of sugar to a ride to the hospital. 

There are kids in the cul-de-sac now--not quite as many, but close. The kids aren't out like our kids were--for a variety of reasons. The parents are friendly with each other, but not friends as we were and still are with the neighbors that are still here--and not too many people have moved away.

So this Sunday it's just me and someone planting shrubs. 

It's my hope that someday we will watch our grandkids play with the children of my kids' childhood playmates. Wouldn't that be cool?

 

 

Watching them Soar

I live, deliberately, in a community where the focus is on family. As an apartment-dwelling, school-switcher when I was young, II craved stability and roots and that's what we gave our kids. While I don't think a small-town would ever be my thing, a small-town feel is definitely my thing.

I received an email several weeks ago from a young lady that wanted to see if I'd be interested in publicizing the work she is doing in saving sea turtles. She wasn't entirely sure it was my thing, but it is for two reasons. I love to see people follow their dreams and I am so excited for this phase of life where all the kids I watched grow up are beginning to bulid castles upon the foundation of their dreams.

This is Erin:

This is Erin talking about her passion and her mission:

  

More information about their grass-roots fundraising campaign can be found here.

Erin is MVP's age and they went to high school together. She played softball with and is besties with the neighbor girl who was MVP's best bud in elementary school. In addition to doing her part to save one little piece of this world, she is also dating the son of one of my dearest friend's who is also a friend of MVP's and they were both Scouts in the same den and troop. Her parents and I have raised many a glass together. Small-town stuff, right?

This is Erin with her boyfriend, Jordan, who just finished flight school for the Navy.

It's like they're grownups or something.

So if you wonder what Generation Y or Generation 9/11 or Generation Me or Generation We or Millenials or Echo Boomers or Genaration Next (there seems to be strartling lack of clarity on what term to use) is up to and whether or not we can trust them with the world, I'm going to say yes. Yes, we can.

Time Warp Tuesday: Danger Boy In the Way Back Machine

Danger Boy--about 18 months old. What a face.

I barely saw Danger Boy the whole week since I was in bed right after work every night and he also had things to do and places to go. We did get to have a couple of chats though and it was really thrilling to hear his passion and knowledge about politics. Going to a small, Catholic school has its advantages and one of then is excellent (if rather aged) professors with connections to get some cool speakers. Among other things, DB gets to go the zoo with Newt Gingrich.

Thankfully, he has not lost his liberal, Democratic heart and he is talking about taking a year off before grad school to work on the 2016 Presidential Campaign with the hopes that he can then parlay that into a job as a staffer for a politician. 

He kind of sounds like a grownup when he talks about it :)

It's very cool.

Speakng of politics . . . I was sooooo looking forward to driving to LA Thursday night with a good friend and her daughter to hear Rachel Maddow speak and get a signed copy of her new book. I've had to pull the plug on that idea because as a grown-up I realize that it would not be a smart idea to take my still-not-100% self out until 2 a.m. on a school night. Boo.

Be sure to check out the faces over at Gary, Heidi,  Karen and Trudie's places!

 

 

Eating Disorder Chronicles: Trajectory Reversed

Social Butterfly has completed two weeks of 10-hour per day treatment. Many things about the adult program are different than the adolescent one. The three extra-hours per day, for starters. There's also the fact that while familial involvement is welcome, it's not mandatory. I have chosen to embrace this approach as it's much less work for me and I'd be a fool to turn down a lighter workoad. I've been once each week to the "carers" group they have on Thursday night and yesterday Mr. Fix-it and I attended a family therapy session with SB's therapist to discuss the plan to drop her down to 6-hour days

SB's progress has been nothing short of a complete turnaround--she gained weight even on her first weekend off, managing all of her own food; I think a big part of that is seeing what her future could hold if she doesn't beat this disease. It's not pretty, it's not fun and it's not much of a path to traverse when you don't have to. And she doesn't have to. She has access to the best treatment in the world and the support of her friends and family.

She's begun making art again--this is for a friend who is struggling--and she's working closely with the nutritionist to get deeper into the knowledge of ways to fuel your body that are healthy, but also bring flexiblility and enough variety that she won't have to be so rigid in her meal plan in the future.

These are good things. I like good things.

(Right now I'm also liking Zithromax and Tussionex; I guess it wasn't just allergies.)

I belong to a Facebook support group and one of the mothers just published a book about dealing with her son's anorexia. The excerpt shows it be well-written and compelling and because there are next-to-no resources discussing boys and anorexia, it's an important addition the oeuvre of eating disorder writing. You can check it out here.

 

Time Warp Tuesday: Danger Boy Is A One-of-a-Kind Kid

This is without a doubt a cobbled-together, just-to-meet-the-deadline post. In a very unfair twist of events, I am being laid low by either a virus or allergies. I came home from work and took a 2-hour nap, and that's after sleeping at least 10 hours a night for the last several nights.  

I started today with Zyrtec, Flonase, and the neti pot in the hopes that it is allergies; I really cannot miss work as I am training two new people this week so that in the future when I am sick I will have someone to cover my classes. Send me healing thoughts!

 

Danger Boy at 3 or 4--that boy loved to ride a bike (just like his big brother) and had his own daring sense of style.

 

Danger Boy at at almost 4. He probably had just started Soo Bakh Do and was practicing his forms. He had a green belt by the time he was 7; we had to give that up when my mother became ill, but martial arts really helped him to learn discipline.

Yes, the glass of that frame is broken. Please don't judge, I am definitely feverish.

Be sure to visit the other Time Warp Tuesday participants . . . somebody is celebrating a silver anniversary! Go say hi to Gary, Susan, Heidi and Karen.

 

 

 

 

Answer: 20

When do your adolescent children become excellent company and people you would be delighted to spend time with even if you were not related to them?

My informal survey (just my family and friends) says that happens right around age 20. 

I have never been a person that hated the teen years--there's really no aspect of parenting I haven't enjoyed, but I will acknowledge that most people (ourselves included) between the ages of 12 and 20 tend to be irritatingly sure that they know most everything about life while older people are alarmingly obtuse about so very many things.

Danger Boy got home for spring break past my bedtime on Friday night. Saturday morning I got a great big bear hug--if your little boy makes your heart melt when he hugs you around the knees, your big boy will do exactly the same when he envelops you from a height of 6 feet plus.

I went for my Saturday walk, then a nail appointment and came back to DB and a couple of long-time friends (we're talking preschool and 12U water polo) hanging out and listening to music.

You guys, the intelligent conversation in the room was to-die for. Also? Much laughter. There was also the hijacking of my Facebook for some anti-Democrat propaganda, but it was all in good fun.

Hard to believe that the same duo that once duct-taped Social Butterfly and a friend to bar stools can intelligently debate federal economic policy, but I heard it with my own ears.

Want to know something else cool? 

The little boy I read poetry to, the one that was generally the best writer--certainly the most imaginative and prolific in elementary school--the one that once asked for a book of poetry as a Christmas gift--is rocking a poetry class in college this semester. Not just taking it, but loving it.

Happy sigh. 

It's a bummer that making this trip happen means he will spend virtually his entire 20th birthday on an airplane or in an airport, but it sure is good to have him home.

 

 

 

 

The Eating Disorder Chronicles: Stress

It was 9 days ago that I became aware of Social Butterfly's relapse. That night, in particular, was a very stressful one on multuple levels. I think I went into a mild case of shock. I became very cold to my core--ice cold--with a layer of burning hot on the outside. Exactly like a fever/chills situation without the fever and chills.

I spent last Wednesday reassuring my co-workers that despite the fact I looked like death half-warmed over, I would make it through the day. And of course I did.

Finally, last night, after feeling sick/not-sick for an entire week, my body seems to have re-regulated itself and I am doing much better. It's no coincidence that my improvement coincided with San Diego having a serious case of gorgeous weather and warm temps. I am a SoCal girl born and bred and the sun is a palpable source of energy and healing for me.

I am a coper. It's what I do and I generally do it quite well. This is the first time I've ever had such an odd physical reaction to stress. Not surprisingly, I am not a fan. 

I was talking to a dear friend who has had her share of stress and then some and we both agreed that if we do ever crack, our epitaphs should read, "It wasn't a straw that broke the camel's back, it was a giant, f*cking Sequoia." 

I'm in the mood for a little thing I like to call uneventfulness; about two months worth, please!