All About Sam

As a middle child myself, I'm aware of the lack of distinction that comes from being "somewhere in the middle" in terms of birth order.  Of course, Sam doesn't have to share the title of "Middle" with anyone else, whereas I had three other siblings to join me inside the family sandwich.  I'm not sure if it is he or I that had the advantage though.

Either way, Sam sometimes comes up short on the attention scale.  Seth has the advantage of being the oldest and usually the first to get to do things and Henry...well...Henry is Henry and between the two, it can be hard for a person to get noticed.   Thankfully, Sam and his amazing Sam-ness make that all but impossible.  The boy is a star.

Because he turned eight this last month, I have quite a lot of photos to share.  But before I get to those, I want to remember how Sam is at eight.  I don't think I'm insulting my other children or giving them a complex by stating that Sam has always been my easiest child.  As a baby he was good tempered and that hasn't changed in eight years.  He gets along with others.  He makes friends easily.  He eats, sleeps, plays and works all in a manner that would delight any parent.

Before I make him sound too perfect, and come off as a braggart parent, Sam, like every one, has some things to work on.  He can be a defeatist.  He doesn't handle criticism well and can mope for longer than most situations warrant.  And some of his good behavior seems to be motivated by the pure sake of being competitive - simply wanting to be better than others - i.e. one-up-man-ship.  Still, I'll take his crooked smile and his eye that won't stay straight without glasses and enjoy his quirky habit of creating his own March Madness brackets all year long.  Or his astonishing (because it's so, so absent in his brothers) cleanliness.  A lover of comfortable pants, he refuses to wear jeans.  He still sleeps with a beloved pet bunny and favorite blanket made by Aunt Peggy.  He loves math.  I admire how quick he is to learn things and how willing he is to help his classmates with their work when asked to do so by his teacher.  I love his athleticism.  He is so naturally athletic that I already know he'll be successful in whatever sport he eventually chooses to play.  During soccer this fall, he was hard to stop.  He instinctively knows where to be on defense and how to use the field to get around defenders.  Now, watching him play basketball, I marvel at his hustle.  The boy loves sports and is blessed to be able to play them.

Best of all, Sam is a boy of great faith.  He loves singing and he loves the gospel.  His baptism yesterday will be forever a highlight in my memory as a mother.  He planned his own program from start to finish with only a few things needing to be adjusted by Jay and me and my favorite part was Sam singing "I Belong To The Church of Jesus Christ" right after he was confirmed.  All by himself.  So adorable!!

Happy Birthday, Sam!

I brought gluten-free cupcakes to his class as he has had to miss out on many class treats.  All the boys enjoyed them (post edit:  I realized I wrote "boys" and not "class."  That is because his class is made up of 20 boys and only 8 girls.) and when they tried to answer my challenge to see if they could tell me what was different about these cupcakes, most said, "They taste better than other cupcakes!"  I'm not sure about that but I'm glad it wasn't the other way around.

Chocolate was the choice for the school treat.

Thanks to Grandma for sending a chinese candle for the birthday boy.  Don't you think these should be legal in the US?

It calms down soon as the rose unfolds and sings, incessantly, "Happy Birthday to You!"

It's pretty (And bigger than the cupcake below)

Three girlfriends!  He strongly disagrees as he "doesn't like girls at all.  And they don't like me!"  Apparently, a group of girls like to tease him by pinching him and kicking him.  I'd be worried if Sam was the kind of kid who could be bullied, but he isn't.  Which makes me think this is more along the lines of Second Grade flirting.    Or, they could just be really mean girls.

His own set of scriptures with his name engraved!  It's like a rite of passage.

All boys need to know how to make proper paper airplanes.

All set for scouts!

A few days later we had a birthday party for him at the bowling alley.  He chose some friends from school and we had pizza and soda and two hours of bowling!  I thought it'd be so much easier than having a party at my house, and I suppose it was, but I've decided keeping track of this many boys is hard no matter where you are at.

His glasses always make it hard to have a really good face shot, but I think he looks so handsome here.

Most of the group.  I love hos Henry celebrates.

Watch how Sam bowls.  First, get a ball that is too heavy.

Next, use two hands to swing it back while you run towards the waxy lane.

Finally, throw the ball into the air towards the pins.  I am amazed by how hard those floors must be to not have any dents in them.  Because Sam can't be the only person to bowl like this.

Finally, yesterday evening we had Sam's baptism.  Yes, we are those super fun people who scheduled a youth baptism right in the middle of the Super Bowl.  Fun fact:  Sam was born on Super Bowl Sunday.  So, even though we knew it was an unpopular time, it seemed fitting (and necessary as Jay had to work both Friday and Saturday and this was the weekend my parents had arranged to visit).  I was surprised by the number of people who came.  I was expecting only family.  My parents and my sister, Sarah.  Jay's parents and brother's family.  But, friends from the ward came, friends from our old ward came and even people who I never would have expected came.  The room was full and the spirit throughout the program was wonderful. I am so, so proud of Sam and who he is.

Sam with his dad.

Sam with Jay's parents.

Sam with my parents.

Sam with me.

Sam and his brothers.

Sam in his baptism white.

He is my friend.  He is a constant source of happiness to me.  He is essential to our family.  He is my wonderful, compassionate, fun-loving, dare-devil, gluten-free, bespectacled, charming, eight year-old, middle son.  

I love you, Sam.  Always.

Grumpy

It's 9:48 pm and I just got home.

Jay got called into the hospital so there are dinner dishes waiting for me.

I think it's going to have to be a hot lunch day for the boys because I really don't have the energy to assemble a sandwich right now.  But, that comes with guilt because poor Sam can only get the salad bar (which he likes.  But I still reserve the right to feel like a slacker mom).

My shoulders hurt.  I need a massage.

I didn't read a book the entire month of January.  That's not right.

I can hear the wind blowing.  Boo.  Hiss.

Biggest Loser - Week 4 - January Results

Can January be over already?  O.K.  That was a little tongue in cheek.  I agree that January is normally a long and dreary month but, if I may be so obnoxious, it actually flew by for me.  Blame it on the birthday celebrations.  Blame it on this Biggest Loser program.  Whatever the reason, I feel like 2011 just got going and it's hard to believe one month is already finished.

Contrary to my last Biggest Loser post (which also happens to be my last post.  I am not digging my new go-go-go lifestyle), I did not have a stellar week.  In fact, the very afternoon following my righteous "I'm just going to dig my  heels in harder" proclamation, I ate a candy bar.  It was a moment of weakness when I was feeling very hungry and very....oh-screw-it-esque.  As is usually the case, I immediately felt remorse and vowed to have an even more perfect week.  But it didn't exactly work out that way.

Eating wise, this was my worst week ever.  Every day, it seemed, I ate something I wouldn't have the first three weeks.  A spoonful of frosting for Sam's classroom cupcakes.  Chips.  Roasted potatoes.  A couple of forkfuls of cake.  Pizza.  Pizza, for crying out loud!

On the other hand, I had a killer workout week.  I am feeling so much stronger and pushing myself that much harder during our workouts.  My favorite moment of the week was when the Zumba instructor came to give a demo class to our Biggest loser group.  Having been the only one of our class who had already been to her classes and thus already familiar with all of the routines she taught,  I was swinging my hips and shaking my groove thang with confidence.  After the class, the Zumba instructor stopped me as I was leaving and told me that she thinks I should become a certified Zumba instructor because, and I quote, "Some people can feel it in their bodies and you can."  Our trainer, who is also the owner of the fitness center, overheard and challenged me later in the week to work hard, lose the weight, get Zumba certified and then come work for her.  I laughed but wouldn't that be awesome?  I do realize that her interest is more in the PR and advertising for her business (look at what the former fat lady can do now!) but it was still a fun moment for me.  I really do enjoy those Zumba classes.

The other great moment was on Friday.  On Fridays, we compete for our teams (pink vs. yellow) but as individuals.  So, each exercise is an individual one, but the person performing it fastest, or, as in Friday's class, the longest, wins for his/her team.  The game was simple.  Seven Bosu balls were set up in a circle with a set of dumbbells (5 lbs) in front of each one.  As the music played, we shuffled (think Basketball) around in a circle until the music stopped.  Whoever was at the Bosu station with a basket of plastic eggs in front of it picked up an egg, opened it, and read aloud the exercise.  The first one was shoulder presses.  We each had to stand on top of the Bosu ball and do shoulder presses until you couldn't lift the dumbbells up anymore.  When it came down to me and Bret, the solitary man in our group, I felt the Eye of the Tiger.  The shoulders were burning but I could tell he was struggling too (he had 6 lb weights).  When I felt like I couldn't go anymore, I shouted out, "I can do this all day, Bret!" just to get in his head.  I'm pretty sure he knew I was near my own limit, most likely by my own body language (my body was in a practical back bend to help get those weights up), but my psychedelic prowess worked. He gave up and I won the round for the pink team!

I wish each exercise was as successful but I only won one other exercise: the tricep lift.  I gave a solid effort on squats (done on an upside down Bosu), push-ups (knees on the Bosu) and jump rope (I tripped after 2 minutes and the winner was who could go the longest without tripping.  Still, it was the longest continuous jump rope I've done) but failed miserable on the plank (first one down.  When, oh when, will I have Ab muscles???)  It came down to me and a girl on Team yellow for the last exercise and we had to do side leg lifts on the ground with our torsos supported on the Bosu.  They called you out if your foot touched the ground and you had to be lifting and lowering in a continuous motion.  Eventually, the called a tie because it was past 8:00 and class was over and neither of us wanted to give in.  My right side was sore all weekend!

Now for the numbers.  Today was different because in addition to weighing us, they retook our measurements and pictures.  From last week, I am down four more pounds.  That means, the total weight loss for four weeks is twelve pounds!  The measurements were also really encouraging.  I lost a total of eleven inches, six of them being in my upper abs, lower abs and hips.  But, I lost everywhere - arms, chest, thighs and calves.  I also dropped three percent of my body fat.   I'll tell you what I told my trainers.  I can't remember a month where I haven't had a goal to lose ten pounds.  I'm always thinking, 'I'm going to lose ten pounds this month." But, this is the first time that I have done it.  It feels really empowering.

Because I am married to the most incredible and supportive husband in the world, I am actually going to sign up for the month of February as well.  I am simply not ready to stop.  Jay and the boys have a good routine down in the morning and he feels like they can continue to work together, enabling me to continue being gone in the morning.

I'm doing it!  I'm really doing it!

Biggest Loser - Week 3

It was bound to happen.  I was afraid it would happen.  It has happened.

I gained a pound.

I don't even know how.  I looked back at my food journal for the past week and I'm eating everything I usually eat (salad with veggies.  Greek yogurt.  Fresh fruit.  Lean meat).  I'm working out harder than I ever have.  I had a good weekend.  On Saturday, I went to an hour of Zumba and then an hour of Strength Pilates (oh.my.goodness.hard).  Jay and I did go on a dinner date that night but I ordered Mahi Mahi and had steamed vegetables and salad as my sides.  No bread.  No potato.  No dessert.  And yesterday, I had oatmeal for breakfast, cheese and crackers for lunch (which, I admit isn't very healthy but it was like seven wheat thins, people.  Seven!) and salmon and asparagus for dinner.  I did have about twenty asparagus stalks.  Maybe that is the culprit. To be honest, though, I'm scratching my head.

I'm drinking about 130 oz of water every day.  I enter all of my hand written logs into the livestrong.com (go to My Plate and enter in your food.  It's really awesome) website and it calculates my total caloric intake every day to be between fourteen hundred and fifteen hundred calories.  I know I'm burning at least a thousand every day working out and even though I realize my metabolism, which appears in my head as a grumpy old troll I'm trying to woo, is stingy and unwilling, I have to be burning more than four hundred calories during the rest of the day.  The math doesn't add up!

I suppose it's because I'm a woman and we have water weight and monthly cycles and blah-di-da-blah-blah-blah-blah.  Whatever the reason, it stinks.  It takes away a fighting woman's mojo and I need that mojo!

As a consolation prize, I have noticed a change in the way my clothes are fitting.  Pants that used to give me a muffin top are now fitting right out of the dryer and then stretching into too big.  I also think my face is looking a little thinner.  Yay.

Instead of soothing my wounded soul with a King Size Twix, I'm drinking my nalgene bottle of water and psyching myself up for my most perfect week ever.  Sure, it's Sam's birthday this week and I will be making cupcakes and cake, as well as ordering pizza for his party, but I'm not going to eat any of it.  This is the final countdown for January.  Monday is our last weigh in and final measurements.  I'm going for it.

Five For Friday

1.  When you see me, do you think, "Look at the size of that noggin!" ?  I ask because I bought a four-pack of those Scrunci hair bands, the ones that advertise "No-Slip Grip" to keep my much-too-long-and-in-need-of-a-trim bangs from dripping in my eyes and it won't stay on my head for longer than about five minutes.   I put it on and immediately feel the pressure around my head.  It is tight!  Then, a blink, an eyebrow twitch and especially a head turn and.....slip goes the band. Yes, it's worse when my hair is sweaty, but I've tried it on dry hair  and it slips then as well.  It prefers to rest comfortably unstretched  on the back one-third of my scalp.  So, do I have a gigantic cranium or does Scrunci make an inferior product?



Do I need to cry myself to sleep on my huge pilla?

2.  Seth and Sam have discovered if they practice in the morning, while I am gone, they avoid the, "Count it out!" and "B-flat!" shouts they usually hear if I'm around.  I haven't decided if I'm more impressed with their early morning initiative (Jay said he was woken up at six this morning to the sounds of the second movement of Clementi's Sonatina.  He wanted to complain, but...) or the fact that, all on their own, they have found the path of least resistance.  I'm happy for their scientific discovery but, knowing their practice habits as I do, I am also a bit concerned.  Sam has rhythm issues and Seth, well Seth learns music in a way that is completely foreign to me.  He barely glances at his music and, instead, appears to learn mainly from muscle memory.  So, if he learns it wrong, it's that much harder to correct.   Seth figured out this early morning loophole earlier this week, but is now facing some stiff competition from Sam, who isn't nearly as interested in avoiding practicing with me as he is in one-upping his brother.  Gotta love that sibling rivalry!

3.   You know those Rorsharsch Ink Blot tests or the game when you find shapes in the clouds?  I may be weird but I always see an animal of some sort when I look at abstract shapes.  Lots of times, I don't see anything.  Just blobs.  But, if a form emerges, it tends to have a face  and sometimes even a body.  Just today, I was sitting at the dining room table thinking about something while staring at the rock fireplace and all of a sudden, within the texture of the moss and natural variations on the surface of the rock, a very fat cat appeared.  It was a stretch in terms of  proportion and features, but definitely a cat.  In the master bathroom at our old house, there was a pattern on one of the pieces of tile (and you know how they mass produce those tiles, so that pattern was found in about every fifth piece) of a dragon.  It had a snout but the tile was too small for it to have a complete body.  I never see people.  Only animals.  And never inanimate objects like shoes or flowers.  Any psychology majors out there?  What does it mean?




A bear.  with oddly placed tooth fangs.


A rat.  Waving hello.  With really long fingers.

4.  I love game shows.  I love adapting game shows into fun family/party/primary/young women games.  In the past, I've had a lot of success but I'm learning with Young Women that they have never seen any of these game shows.  I put together, what I consider, a fun derivation of the game $100,000 pyramid for mutual this week and none of the girls, not a single one, had a clue what I was talking about.  They hadn't seen the show. They hadn't even heard of the show.  The same thing happened a few months ago when the combined YM/YW played Family Feud.   Is this Facebook's fault?  Should I scrap my plans for Hollywood Squares (aka Mutual Squares), Let's Make A Deal and The Singing Bee?  Isn't any game in a game show format a little more fun?

5.  Jay still gets excited when he sees deer in our yard, but to me, deer are a nuisance.  Maybe it's because I'm home more than he is but there are deer in our yard every day.  Multiple times.  There are deer in town.  There are deer everywhere.  Where are all the hunters?  Are their numbers so few that we now have too many deer among our midst?  Am I supposed to take up bow hunting and develop a taste for venison?   I'm not familiar with hunting laws, but I believe there is only certain months when it is legal to hunt deer.  Why is that?  They do not seem to be endangered.  I'm sure its my own ignorance that contributes to my opinion, but there just seem to be too many deer these days.




About fifteen feet from me without a care in the world.  Notice how one of the deer's right antler is missing.  That can't be comfortable.

Have a Great Weekend!

He Does Not Care

Henry can get pretty excited about certain things.  Birthday cake?  Oh, yeah.  Tom and Jerry up to their usual antics?  The boy lights up.  The tooth fairy?  Meh.  Not so much.

Two months ago, Henry lost his first tooth.  As neither Jay nor I, and apparently Henry for that matter, had no idea it was even loose, the entire event was pretty anti climactic.  We were eating Mexican food at a restaurant and when I was buckling him into his booster afterward, I noticed the gap on his bottom row of teeth.  I asked him where his tooth was and he seemed confused.  Once he felt the gap with his finger he said, "I think it's in my hamburger." (Did he eat his tooth???)

We meant to make a big deal about it.  After all, you only lose your first tooth once.  But, without an actual tooth to make a big deal over, we kind of, sort of, totally forgot about it.  Hence, a non-believer of all things tooth fairy was born.

Today, Henry lost his second tooth.  Once again, I had no idea it was even loose.  Once again, the tooth was no where to be found.  It seems he pulled it out himself and left it somewhere in the mud room, which is filled with boots and snowpants and backpacks and now, a small baby tooth.  Sam got after him and explained that if you put a tooth under your pillow, the Tooth Fairy brings you money.  "It might even be GREEN money," Sam emphasized.

Sam's encouragement did nothing to sway Henry to the side of Tooth Fairy fan, however.  I suppose his lack of interest makes my job easier.  Since he doesn't care, I don't have to remember to sneak in after he falls asleep.  There is none of the usual guilt associated with throwing away my children's' baby teeth (because I do, you know.  I'm not a keeper of dead bone).  But, his nonchalance takes away the fun too.  I'm a little sad that my baby doesn't care about his baby teeth.  What's up with that?



Henry's work of art with his favorite "B" which he cares about a lot more than the Tooth Fairy.

The Battle In My Head

Normally, I don't go that way home.  Normally, after my morning workout, I head down Thirty-Second Street to Main and drive through town which, though longer in distance, is not in the middle of road construction hell like Florida Road - a thoroughfare that has been torn up and limited to one-way traffic for thirteen months and a guaranteed mood killer if taken.

Instead, today I turned onto College Drive, an over-the-mountain-in-the-middle-of-town route, and spotted them immediately.  There, at the trolley stop, stood a young Hispanic (Latina?  I'm not sure what the politically correct term is) woman with FIVE young children waiting beside her.  She had a baby in her arms, a little boy under the age of two standing next to her, two girls somewhere between the ages of two and five, and a boy, the oldest, who looked about six.

"Oh, that looks hard," I thought.  It was twenty-five degrees according to the temperature gauge in my minivan and I continued to look at them through my rear-view mirror as I headed up the hill.  I imagined that she was warm enough due to the exertion from holding a squirming baby but wondered how cold those little ones might be.

"I should give her a ride.  I am driving a minivan that has enough seats for all of them.  Traveling with kids with your own car is hard enough.  Traveling with them while depending on public transportation has to be so much more tedious."

"She'll take the trolley!  That's obviously what she's waiting for.  I'd probably insult her if I offered her a ride...like some gringa sticking her nose into somebody else's business.  Of course, in a perfect world, I'd offer her a ride but in this day and age, it's better if she takes the trolley.  That's what it's there for."

"Stop! Am I supposed to give her a ride?  Was that a prompting?  Am I ignoring a prompting right now as I drive further and further away from this family who might need my help?"

"No.  Just keep going.  It's my blasted bleeding heart working on me, not a prompting.  She'll be fine without my help.  It may take her longer to get wherever she's going, but she'll get there just fine."

"Ack!  I'm almost a mile away now and I'm still thinking I was prompted to pick her up!  Why is this always so hard for me - the decision to act or not to act.  Sister Kimball said to never suppress a generous thought and I am seriously suppressing.  Turn around, Lucy!"

"What am I getting so upset about?  I am constantly suppressing generous thoughts.  My alter-ego could be named Generous Thought Suppressor!  What makes this time any different?  It's not like the world stops when I suppress these thoughts.  After all, I can't do everything for everyone."

"But I can do this for her right now."

"I can't believe I'm turning around.  I'm sure the trolley is there by now.  I'm just wasting my time driving back down the hill.  I should have either acted on my first impression or kept on driving but this indecisiveness is lame."

"She's still there.  Where is the trolley?  It's been well over five minutes and this little family is cold!  I'm so fortunate to have a car to get me where I need to go.  I'm going to offer them a ride.  They might say no.  At least I will have offered."

"She's looking at me strangely.  This might be totally insulting to her.  Just act like as if I'm lost or don't want to go through the road construction and turn around again."

"Roll down your window."

"Keep going."

She looked at me with a curious expression as I rolled down my window.  "Hi.  I'd be happy to give you a ride somewhere.  Would you like a ride?"

She hesitated for a moment, looked at her children, looked back at me and said, "Yes, please."

I opened the sliding door and one, two, three, four young children got in, confused, looking for a place to sit.  I gestured to get all the way in the back and offered to help buckle the two year-old in Henry's booster seat.  But, he was crying and she told him in Spanish to get in the back with the others.  She held the baby on her lap.

"I need to go to the little hospital," she said.

"The ASH?" I asked, wanting to make sure I took her to the right place.

"Yes."

And that was all we said.  Her children were fussy, probably stressed about this turn of events, and I made sure to follow every traffic law I could as we were breaking most of the other ones (little kids not in boosters. Little kids not in seat belts. Four to a seat.  Holding a baby on her lap.)  I wondered as we drove in silence if I was even doing the right thing.  They wouldn't have been breaking any laws on the trolley.

But, the two year-old was really upset and coughing.  I imagined he was probably sick and she was taking him to the doctor.  I listened as she reassured them in a language I don't understand or speak, but wish I did.  I put myself in her shoes, imagining myself in a country where I didn't speak the language fluently, trying to get somewhere on a bus with Henry on a rampage, and I actually teared up.  Being a mother is a challenge.  But, what she was doing was mother agony.

We arrived at the ASH, I pulled up to the front door and opened the sliding door with the push of a button.  She gathered all of the children out of the van and said, "Thank you.  We all go to the doctor today because I only have one day off."

I told her I understood and that was it.  They went inside.  The van door closed and I drove towards home.

"You probably got them to the doctor way before their appointment.  Now, she's going to have to sit in a waiting room with five children for a half hour."

"It's still better than standing outside in the cold and taking a trolley that stops every half mile.  At least there are toys in the waiting room.

"She still could have gotten there without you.  You didn't need to help."

"Probably.   But, I'm glad I did."

"Bleeding heart."

"Suppressor."

I hope the right side won today.

Some Heel Clicking

Being the sort of person who doesn't even like the nurse to weigh me at a doctor's appointment, it's not easy stepping on the scale in front of our entire class and trainer.  Did I mention how last week, our fearless leader/torturer created a white board grid to chart our progress?  Did I mention how she wrote all of our starting weights and how I was the heaviest and that she left it up, face out, during the remainder of the week?  Did I mention that there are other people I know that go to workout there and how I suddenly developed an acute desire for a very common name.  Jenny would be nice.  Or Amy or Lisa.  Perfectly pleasant first names that allow for some anonymity.

Unfortunately, my weight is next to my name which doesn't leave for much ambiguity in this small town.  I've not met many Lucy's my age (although it has become a popular baby girl's name so in thirty years, someone in my position may be wishing for my name instead), and I hate having my weight so....public.  So what, right?  It's just a number.  And it's getting smaller (but I'm still not going to post it on here!).

I wasn't expecting a big drop this week.  Even with the workouts and the eating, I just didn't feel that different.  My clothes are still fitting pretty much the same and I have forbidden myself from any home weighing.  So, I didn't know.  In fact, I forced myself to keep my expectations low and be happy with any loss, even a fraction of a pound.

I audibly whooped when the scale flashed back a number five pounds less than the week before.  That's nine pounds in two weeks!  If that isn't motivation to keep at it, nothing is.  I am elated.

Biggest Loser - Week 2

We didn't do the weigh in this morning as more than half of our group was absent (must have gone somewhere for the holiday.  Why didn't I think of that???)  So, tomorrow's the day I find out if my perpetual wet head (I am a serious head sweater!) and body odor have made me proud.  I'm not kidding about the body odor, either.  One day last week, I went grocery shopping right after finishing our two-hour morning workout and then returned for a Zumba class at 9:00 am.  I could hardly stand myself.  Every time I moved my arms I got a whiff.  I've learned that if I'm going to do extra work-outs, I need to bring an extra shirt!

The second week brought a number of highs and lows.  I keep waiting for that constant energy and mood lifting universe to be the one in which I live.  Instead, I find myself still planted in the low-energy, hate-getting-up-in-the-morning, too-tired-to-do-much-else-besides-recover world.  While I wait for my metamorphosis to occur, I'll admit to a few things.  I cried during a workout.  I have decided to take my workouts more seriously and purchase cycling shoes (the ones that clip onto the pedals), a heart-rate monitor and another pair of biking shorts, and I have sort of become my pink team's leader.

First, let me explain the tears.  Our workout schedule changed from the first to second week.  Instead of doing Spin every morning, we only go on Monday, Wednesday and Fridays.  Now, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, we go to a class called Boot Camp.  It is exactly as hard as it sounds.  I thought Spin was hard, but at least during Spin, it's just my heart and my legs that are burning and want to quit.  At Boot Camp, everything hurts.  The instructor is about ninety-five pounds and seriously strong.  Like, I think she could take me in a street fight.  Her two workouts last week were really, really hard.  Think circuit training at warp speed with no breaks.  If we aren't jumping, or lifting or squatting or crunching, we are resting for, at most, ten seconds.  It's understandable, then, how a big girl like me, after the seventh rep of thirty second planks, might tear up.  I made sure I was done with my melt down by the time anyone saw my face and I am hoping my red eyes can be attributed to blood vessels bursting from exertion. Everything still feels so hard.  I know I'm getting stronger and I even know that eventually, I'll be able to do all of these exercises as they were meant to be done, but right now, it gets frustrating to constantly have my own weaknesses exposed.  Every time we do anything that isolates our hamstrings or our abs, I feel weak, weak, weak - especially if it's a weight-bearing exercise.  Take our hamstring lifts as an example.

In this exercise, we're asked to lie on our backs, and put one heel on top of a step bench.  Then, we're supposed to lift out other leg straight into the air.  With the heel pressed into the bench, we're told to lift our butt off the floor and then lower it back down.  Over and over and over again.  Then, we're supposed to keep it in the air and pulse for sixty reps.  This is a very frustrating exercise when I can't get my butt up in the air in the first place. It feels glued to the floor.  I can barely manage a tiny and very short lift-off if I push my arms underneath my body and push up, but, apparently, my hamstring muscles are severely lacking in strength.  That was the other time I cried.   And, whoo-eee, was I sore the next day!

Spin, however, is becoming easier.  This is when my head sweat comes into play and by the middle of the workout, I have a puddle on the floor beneath my bike.  I didn't want to spend the money on biking gear at first, because I doubt I'll become a real cyclist, but I think with cycling shoes and really good padded shorts, I can work even harder during spin.  The instructors are always asking us about our heart-rates and I suppose it wouldn't hurt to know what mine is.  I think perceived effort can be just as useful a tool, but a number would be nice.  Maybe I'm not working as hard as I think I am.

Fridays, our post-spin workout is called Fun Fitness Games, the fun part being debatable.  We have been divided into two groups: pink and yellow.  I am on the pink team and we are definitely the weaker team.  My teammates include a 62 year-old woman and another woman who I would describe as the most negative of the group.  I think she's getting better but she is constantly cheating on her eating (we have to turn in our nutrition logs each day and every day, our trainer says something like, "Why are you still eating french fries?!") and constantly giving up on the exercises.

The yellow team, on the other hand, has the husband and wife combo, both of whom are highly competitive, and the youngest member of the group.  For our fitness games, we had four different competitions.  The first was a circuit course where, instead of time, the number of reps determined how long we were at each station.  Each team member had to complete the circuit twice and the first team to have all members finished won.  We had to rapid steps on a step bench (fifty on each leg.  MUCH harder than it sounds.  I was sucking wind big time), fifty shoulder presses with six pounds weights (could recover our breath but shoulders got sore), twenty-five Ab throw downs (lie on back and grab on to trainers ankles - she throws your legs down and you try to stop them before they touch the floor and raise them back up with straight legs.  I literally sounded like I was having a baby on my second set of twenty-five), fifty side-to-side lunges over a bosu ball, fifty triceps lifts with ten pound weight,  fifty medicine ball throws while catching ball in a squat and a hundred jump ropes.

We also had a kettle ball sprint relay (it's been awhile since I have sprinted), sand bag assembly line squats and a plank battle.  We lost everything competition but it was during the challenges that I really saw myself as something other than an out-of-shape weakling.  Even though I hurt, I found it invigorating to cheer on my team and encourage them to keep going, jump faster, or plank longer.  We left the studio that day totally exhausted but strangely bonded.  I still have my competitive spirit and realized my team needs that energy.  Both of my team mates said to me after we were done, "You are going to be successful, Lucy.  You are the most determined of the entire group."

Well, how about that?  Even though I am struggling to believe in myself, others believe in me.  Jay is so proud of me.  I could not do this without his incredible support.  I have awesome trainers who, even though they torture me with kickboxing and pilates and cruel hamstring exercises, think I can do these incredibly difficult things.

I think I am starting to believe them.  (I realize I sound like a Wemmick here.)

Hot And Cold

Ahh. Nothing like a steamy hot tub on a cold winter's night.



Well, just sitting isn't very exciting. Let's go play in the snow.



Now, let's really get cold.



Uh...Sam. You're not a polar bear, you know.

I don't want to play in the snow, Mom.  And I don't want you to take my picture.

Just some Saturday Night family fun.

Five For Friday - Observations During Errands Edition

1.   While driving along Main Street this afternoon, I saw a ( or is it "an"?  S isn't a vowel but I think I hear "an" when used in conversation?) SUV awkwardly parallel parked.  It was like they drove their car in, front end first, and then just never bothered evening out the angle. The tail end was sticking out, impeding traffic in the right hand lane. I thought for certain someone would still be inside waiting for a chance to back out and try again, for no one would actually leave their car so badly parked, would they?  Apparently, yes they would. When it was my turn to shimmy my van around the protuberance, I glanced over and the automobile was empty.  Someone has a lot of gall to go on their merry way after parking so badly.  It's not like it could have been an emergency.  The only shops that exist along main street are restaurants and trinket shops.  I suppose they could have had an intense hankering for fajitas as it was right in front of a mexican restaurant.

2.  I always appreciate a friendly employee but the guy who helped me during my drive-thru banking today was what I call super happy. I was in the lane right next to the window and normally, I like to check my phone while I'm parked there but he kept engaging me.  "How old is your little feller?"  "Would the big kid in the driver's seat like a lollipop too?" "I guess the green stuff is your treat." all said with a grin and dancing eyes.   He even complimented my shirt color (purple) and thanked me for including a note detailing my preference in bills for my cash back.  I would accuse him of flirting except he looked about twelve years old and I was driving a dirty minivan.  Still, I felt forced to maintain eye contact because we were so close, only separated by one, sometimes two panes of glass (if I rolled up my window, which I was wont to do).  I don't know what happy side of the bed he got out of this morning but he could be the new fresh face for "service with a smile."

3.  Being absolutely allergic to conflict, especially public displays of conflict, I practically broke out into hives when I witnessed an almost throw-down in the parking lot of Albertsons.  There Henry and I were, happily strolling into the store, when a man in a very ugly ski sweater and bib ski pants walked towards the entrance shouting, "Thanks for getting in my way, fatty!" and "Loser!"  While hoping he wasn't directing his insults towards me, I saw a very unhappy and tough looking couple storming up after him.  Just as the male member of the insulted team was crossing the road right in front of the store, you know, the part of the parking lot designated as a huge cross walk with the diagonal lines, he stripped off his coat, dropped it to the cement and literally stomped after this man (I think he also turned his baseball cap backwards but I may be confusing this scene with some flashbacks from Sylvester Stallone's movie "Over The Top").  The woman who I assume was his girlfriend, who wasn't really fat (and the boy certainly wasn't.  He was actually quite skinny in that malnourished sort of way) called after him, "Don't you hit him.  If you hit him I'm leaving you here." all while walking at a much slower pace behind him and without any real threat in her voice.  I don't know if the boy stripped his coat because he wanted to show off his arm tattoos, which were bountiful, or if he really hated his coat enough to want a car to drive right over it, but I'm pretty sure a fight didn't break out between Mr. Bibs and Tattoo Guy because I spied on them while they were both at the customer service desk (I pretended I was checking out the specials on packs of iced tea.  Good cover, don't you think?  I don't even drink iced tea!)  until I got bored and went over to the produce section (where I really shopped, instead of fake shopped).   I wonder what set Mr. Bibs off in the first place?

4.  Henry really wanted to play at McDonalds (which he spied when we were at the bank across the street), so I bought him a Happy Meal and let him play for about fifteen minutes.  Crazily enough, a woman who was there the last time I took Henry to McDonalds play place was there again.  I know it was the same woman because both times, she sat at her table and played Bejeweled Blitz and The Price Is Right with the volume all the way turned up while her children played.  Now, I'm not going to judge her for playing Bejeweled Blitz because I've been known to play a game or two myself, but what is up with having the volume on?  I don't even have the volume turned on if I'm playing in the privacy of my home.  It's annoying to listen to.  For anyone.  Why she thought a restaurant full of weary mothers would want to hear her game's clings and clangs is beyond me.  At least she didn't ask me to keep an eye on her children while she went to the bathroom like she did last time -- in which she left her laptop running....WITH The Price Is Right running....WITH the volume left on.  For five minutes, I had to listen to a loop of "Duh duh duuuh/duh duh duuuuh/ Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh duh da da duh"  (if you know the theme music then you can duh along).  Maybe Laptop Lady remembered me too.  Maybe she's blogging about me and my dirty looks (because how can you not glare when someone forces you to listen to canned game show music?) Maybe I'm Stink Eye lady.

5.  I've always thought babies bring out the the best in most people, but Henry, at five, seems to as well.  Three different people (all older women) approached him during our tour of D-town today to talk to him.  Most ask him about his glasses (Seriously.  People go ga-ga over his glasses) but one lady came up to him and asked how old he was.  It'd be creepy if they didn't look like such nice, respectable grandmas so I allow it.  Henry told her, "Five" and that he had just had a party and she actually said, "Why didn't you invite me to your party?" which is totally weird but, again, I'm feeling pretty lenient because she really looks sweet.  Henry answered, "Because I don't like you and I wanted to invite my friends."  Can't say she didn't deserve that slam..  She just chuckled, though.  Good sport.

***Can you parallel park?  Do overly happy people make you nervous?  Would you shed your coat if you were about to get in a brawl?  Would you have shut that lady's laptop while she was in the bathroom?   Are you drawn to talk to cute little kids in glasses?***

Biggest Loser Week 1

I think Monday will be my Biggest Loser post.  Mondays are our weigh-in day, so it's a natural progression to post about the results and if I confine my fitness musings to once a week, I think I may be able to tolerate myself.

After one week of totally kicking myself in the behind and restricting myself from most foods I know and love, I have lost four pounds.  I should be stoked, right?  Why is it, then, that I'm a little bit disappointed?  Every bit of reason tells me that this is good news.  I believe it's four pounds lost the healthy way.  I think it's four pounds really gone (and not just water weight).  Still, I've yet to muster any real enthusiasm for my new number.  I hope I'm just tired and not a number snob.

Part of my disappointment comes from having an imperfect weekend.  Weekends are hard!  Friday was an interminably long day with Henry's birthday party (I made it sound fun on his post because its what I want him to remember but entertaining five year-olds for two hours is not my idea of a jolly good time).  Even though I don't love birthday parties, I can't depart from them completely.  I know plenty of parents who do, and kuddos to them, but I know my kids love them.   So, once a year, for each boy, I will suffer through a party.

The party messed with my weekend mojo, however.  That night, I met Jay at a running club party because I knew he was getting an award.  Believe me, attending a running club party is also not high on my list of Friday Fun activities, but I knew Jay wouldn't go unless I seemed genuinely interested in going.  Once he heard his name called for Male Runner of the Year, he immediately knew why I suddenly developed an interest in mingling with the bony and fast crowd, but I wanted him to have that moment of recognition.  They served food there, which I couldn't eat, and neither could  Jay with his restrictions, we ended up leaving hungry, unable to pick a restaurant we could eat at, and heading home to eat whatever we could scrounge in the refrigerator.  I ended up eating cold BBQ chicken and felt a little emotionally depressed thinking back to my old life of eat and be merry.   The emotional stuff is a bigger roadblock than the workout stuff.  It really is.

Saturday, we skied and, again, it was hard to get in an eating groove.  I ended up not eating enough because I didn't plan ahead and have my pockets filled with broccoli and blueberries (kidding.  Sort of).  I got too hungry and lost all motivation to do much of anything once we were finished skiing.  I knew I should work out again, harder, but instead I cleaned up the Friday birthday party, made a birthday cake and wrapped presents.  I even had a sliver of birthday cake (gasp!)

I write all of this because I wonder if I had had a better weekend, a perfect weekend, if maybe the four pounds could have been five or six.  I know I need to take it steady and slow, and I'm enough of a realist to know that my real life will always include birthday parties and cake, which I hope to be able to eat again in the future, but I also feel like this month is my big shot.  I have this opportunity to work out hard with a personal trainer and have real accountability with my diet and I want to use every day as best as I can.

Today, I tried to really push myself during Spin.  Unfortunately, I had an uncomfortable bike.  The seat tilted slightly down in front and it made the workout that much more painful.  I never really got in my happy numb place.  But, I did the best I could and definitely burned a lot of calories.  After the weigh-in, we did a bar workout.  I'm always surprised by how creative our trainer can be with each workout.  This one included working every muscle group but was filled with cardio too.  The bar was only nine pounds, but I hated it by the end of the hour.  I swear, we did squats and lunges for thirty-minutes straight.  It was all one big cramp back there.  Then, she ended with this really hard Ab workout, which ended up being too hard for me to do any of the moves.  We had to lie on our backs holding the bar parallel to our bodies, with one leg bent and the other straight and lifted from the floor. Then, we had to swing the bar around like a ninja as we switched leg positions.  I couldn't do it!  Not even one!  I had to put my foot on the ground to manage to move that bar at the same time.  We weren't even done after that.  After that torture was complete,while still on our backs, we had to raise both legs straight in the air (again...I couldn't.  My stomach was on fire already so I bent mine), put the bar above our shoulders and then pull the bar with straight arms up towards our legs.  Once we were in that crunch position, we had to do chest presses!  For crying out loud, lady, we are not people who have strong abdominal muscles yet!  I'm glad she's pushing us, but sometimes it'd be nice to be able to actually DO the exercise and not just, you know, pretend.

So glad I am only going to post about this once a week.  I'm just glancing up and am appalled by all the "I"s.  Blech.

Henry is Five!

Some parents freak out when their youngest child hits certain mile stones. They mourn the end of nursing. They miss babies who crawled but now walk. They sigh as beds shift from bassinet to crib to bed. I haven't been that parent.

Until now.

Henry is five. Officially. He made the transition from four to five yesterday, just after nine pm. My heart burst a little at seeing his bigness. We spent the day skiing as a family and...he skied. Early, at his party, he chose which friends to invite.  For the first time, some were his friends, not just children of my friends.  Henry, at five, is already starting to separate from me.  Cue Lucy hitting the "Slow Time Down" panic button.

Five years with Henry seems to have happened both in the blink of an eye and eons ago.  After Henry blew out his birthday candles last night, Jay asked each of us to share our earliest memory of Henry.  Seth stated matter-of-factly that he doesn't really remember time before Henry.  Sam quickly chimed in that he did, but he also claims to remember being born, as in "coming out of my tummy," so his testimony might not stand up in a court of law.  No matter what the memory was, each seemed to end in us laughing about Henry's stubbornness, Henry's cuteness or what I can only describe as Henry's charisma.  He oozes charm.  He has from the minute he was born.

Which Jay remembers.  Delivering Henry was his memory. He was the first person to lay eyes on Henry.  I felt a little bewildered when I couldn't pinpoint when exactly I first laid eyes on him.  I remember them whisking Henry away due to some respiratory distress and that I didn't see him until they cleaned him up and performed a few tests.  But, when exactly was that?  I can't remember.  Five years seems to be too long ago to remember everything.

What I do remember is this:  I have loved Henry since the moment I thought about him.  I have loved these five years with him as part of our family.  He makes everything a little more....unpredictable.  And fun.  There is nothing quite like being on the receiving end of one of his killer smiles.

What I wish for now is for the each year to slow down a bit.  Five is grand but let's not rush to six.  And, as Henry and I discussed last night as I tucked him into bed, sometimes....sometimes....he can be just four again.

Before the party began.  Henry helped me set up his "party table."

rainbow sherbet is a hit with this age group!

A little dancing with the balloon games

His pals at his party

I don't think they could make a tighter circle if they tried.

After gifts, we headed outside to play with Seth's Stomp It.  Great fun.

The boys could have done this for hours.  I eventually had to call them back in.  They love to see that rocket go (see it in the top right hand corner?)

After a day of skiing on Saturday, we had a small family party.   We had a big late lunch at our favorite pizza place (ne'er fret, I had the salad bar.  Two trips!) so dinner was a lite affair with crackers, cheese and summer sausage.

A game that Henry likes.

Microphones are so fun.

His dad made his night by giving him a buzz lightyear dart gun.  Seth tempts his own fate.

Then cake with five candles!

Which I wouldn't recommend because they kept burning themselves out on their own wax.  FYI - skip the star candles next time!

My Singular Mind

There's got to be more, right?  To life, I mean.  I can't just become this person who only thinks, writes and talks about what I am eating and exercising.  I know change is necessary and all, but I really don't want to become that person who can only talk about going to the gym.  Who cares?  Well...me.  Right now.  I hope not forever. But, as of now, this is what is on my brain besides my family's schedule, Young Womens and  January birthdays (Henry and Sam).  I think as long as it's such a huge part of my day, it's going to be a huge part of my blogging.  I apologize in advance.

I'm almost done with the first week.  I have to say, each day has gotten better overall.  There have been moments contained within each day, usually during my late afternoon, when I feel tremendously overwhelmed.  I'm hungry and tired and I don't want to think so much about what and when I'm going to eat next.  I just want to snack.  Or go get a soda.  Now, everything is planned.  My food log for today goes like this:

Breakfast:  5:12 am.  1/2 C Oatmeal with 1 tsp brown sugar and ten raisins (I didn't really count them but it was one of those tiny snack boxes).  1/2 C low-fat milk.

Morning snack  10:20 am(aka Breakfast #2.  I didn't realize before doing this that I am part Hobbit.  Ha ha.  Can you see me in one of those tiny houses???)  2 slices whole grain toast with 1 cooked egg.

Lunch:  2:05 pm.  4 oz lean turkey breast, salad greens with broccoli, snap peas, sprouts and green onion.  1/2 tsp oil with vinegar and lemon juice as dressing.

So, you can see how one starts to feel a bit....cranky...around 4 o'clock.  Mama wants some M&Ms!  And a diet dr. pepper.  Then, I think of that Mika song, "Big Girl, You Are Beautiful" and I eat a handful of almonds instead.

I have been quite surprised by how different each day's workout can feel when the schedule and plan always seems the same.  For instance, yesterday's spin class was totally different than Tuesday's.  It was all about the climbing and finding our cardiovascular "sweet spot" which, by the instructor's definition, meant we could continue at that pace for about a four hour bike ride.  I might as well of heard "Beep, beep, boop."   That is alien talk.  I never plan on riding a bike for four hours.  Still, I did push myself harder and after the first five minutes, when I thought there was no possible way I was going to be able to sit on that bike saddle comfortably, it happened:  my tush went numb.  Miracles do happen and I didn't even think about my bum for the rest of the class.  My quads, my lungs and my unsightly face dripping with sweat, yes, but not my bum.

After spin, we did what is called a tabata workout.  It's really intense.  We used hand weights to do six sets of twenty-second-all-out strength training with ten second rest intervals.  So, light weight but fast reps which quickly fatigued my out-of-shape muscles.  They were all hard but I think I was most unattractive doing the bicycle move for our abs.  You know the drill.  Lie on a mat on your back.  One leg bent up, one straight out and you alternate pointing your opposite elbow at the bent knee while in a constant crunch position.  I maybe looked decent doing the first twenty seconds but things got ugly fast.  I don't know where the elbows and knees actually were, but I assure you, nobody is going to ask me to be on their exercise video anytime soon.

Today, spin was different once again.  At one point, we had to cycle with only one foot, with the other balancing on the bike.  Every thirty seconds, we had to turn up the resistance but keep the same pace of spinning.  With each leg, the most uncomfortable part was the cramp I got on the side resting on the bike!  Still, it was a great hamstring workout which didn't help me with our dead lifts with kettle balls later on.

I'm super sore and feel like my family is suffering.  Today, I finally cleaned my kitchen but I have three loads of laundry to fold and I just don't want to do it.  Henry is really struggling with me being gone every morning.  I feel horrible that Jay has to hear, every morning upon discovery of my absence, "I don't want you, Dad!  I don't love you, Dad!  I don't want you to live here, Dad!"  as he cries and cries and cries until he gets to school.  Yesterday, I went to the school to volunteer and checked in on Henry and his teachers were dying to ask me what was going on.   They noticed I haven't been dropping him off in the morning and when they asked Henry where his mommy was, he replied, "She doesn't live at our house anymore."  Such a scandal!  I think I felt their disappointment disguised as relief when the juicy scandal turned out to be the much more boring mom-is-exercising-in-the-mornings explanation.  So...Henry seems a bit confused.

But, he's turning five on Saturday and we're having a party here tomorrow with his friends and I just went to Walmart and got balloons and streamers and party favors and that's good parenting, right?  He'll know I haven't abandoned him with his Buzz Lightyear pinata, yes?  Ah...mother guilt.

The bus is almost here.  Gotta go.

It's Hard

I'm surviving.  Kind of.  But it's hard.

Yesterday started off on the wrong foot because I didn't sleep a wink the night before.  I was tossing and turning before falling asleep in my own bed, but quickly awoke shortly after midnight to a screaming Henry.  He had a massive bloody nose and was pretty traumatized by it.  I cleaned him up and then tucked him into the guest bed and lie down next to him and I just couldn't sleep.  I was too nervous to fall asleep because my phone with the alarm was downstairs.  I had my watch on and kept looking at it.  I should have gone back downstairs but I had that Mom feeling that if I moved, Henry would wake up again and scream.  My point is...I was tired to begin with.

There are seven people in our program.  One man (husband to a woman who wanted him to do this with her as her Christmas present).  We are divided into two teams but I think it only matters on Fridays when we have what they call "friendly competitions."  More on that when I know more.

We didn't have to do anything very hard physically on Monday.  Mostly, it was embarrassing.  We had to get measurements of every possible circumference on our body, weighed and body fat analysis. Then pictures in our sports bras.  Yuck.   Then we had to show off how physically unfit we were with a push-up test, sit-up test (have you done sit-ups since high school?  I haven't.  It was like having a flashback trying to get as many sit-ups in a minute while someone held my feet.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't spend the minute worrying about whether I'd pass gas.  Getting all the way up takes some extra effort!).  Then we had to put on a heart rate monitor and do a three minute cardio test.  Last thing of the day was to get fitted to a spin bike for our first spin class the following day.  Not a bad morning and I left feeling pretty good.  Hungry, but good.

I met Jay, who had the day off, at the grocery store on the north end of town and we went skiing together.  The no-sleep/early workout/ski day was a deadly combination.  I totally crashed in the afternoon.  Like...big time.  Like...had a total tantrum when the grill wouldn't start.  Woe was me, the girl who couldn't eat whatever she wanted.

I went to bed at 7:30, fell right asleep and had no trouble when my alarm went off at 5:00 this morning.  I know I can't do that every night, but it sure felt good last night.

Today has been much, much better.  The work out is really, really hard.  I am not a cyclist and an hour of spin was torture.  But, I must admit...doable.  Everyone keeps telling me it gets better.  I must have had a look on my face or something because I wasn't verbally complaining.  But, I did not enjoy the spin class.  I even like techno music but having it pulse when my head and chest are pulsing was one beat too many.  Our instructor is an English guy living here as a professional cyclist.  I'm sure he was wondering what he had gotten himself into with our sorry class.

Following spin, we had an hour of strength training.  Lots of stuff on the Bosu ball that made my legs shake.  Lots of core strength.  Lots of arms.  In a nutshell, I left that room shaking and wondering if I would make it back tomorrow.

The eating plan is doable, if not a bit boring.  She gave us a seven-day meal plan to follow and I was surprised that it allowed things like fruit and toast in the morning.  Lunch and dinner is almost always some lean protein and a salad but breakfast is oatmeal, or an egg on whole-wheat toast, plain yogurt and fresh fruit. We are supposed to eat six times a day and she checks our nutrition log every day and gives us a frowny or smiley face.  I got a smiley face yesterday!  Even with my temper tantrum.

I surprised myself by having the energy to go to an additional class today after school when Seth went to scouts.  It worked out perfectly for me to attend a Zumba class and it was so fun.  The instructor was great and I had a smile on my face at the end.

That's three hours of exercise today!  You aren't the only one if you're thinking, "Uh, Lucy, I think you may be overdoing it," but I am trusting these trainers and they want us working out this hard.  We have been encouraged to go to extra classes if we feel good.   I don't know if I'll always have the energy, but I hope to get a chance to go to another Zumba class because that is my kind of exercise.  So much more fun than spin (but...alas...I don't burn as many calories).

So, that's it.  My record of the beginning when I hope it's as hard as it's going to be.  I'm optimistic about my future and hope I can continue to stay focused.

Sorry for the boring post.  I think I'm tired.

Be Ye Therefore Perfect

Perfectionism as a goal makes me wary.  Years ago, when I was younger and more impressionable, there was a woman I knew who seemed quite close to perfect.  Her home was such a pleasant place to be.  Each room was tastefully decorated, including, I remember, her young children's bedrooms, and filled with touches reflecting her love of family, faith and country.   She was the frequent host of parties and events, each announced with a unique and and cute handmade invitation.  When I inquired about the effort it took to have such a lovely home and to create the adorable cards and invitations, her reply was that when you make an effort, people know you care and they respond likewise.  Motivation to keep the house clean and orderly came because it looked so good when everything was in its place.  Likewise, when people received an invitation in the mail that someone took the time and care to adorn with ribbons, brads and stamps, they were more likely to come because the invitation will have made an impression.

There were other things too.  She was bubbly and friendly - a leader of the ward.  There were U-Pick orchards nearby and one summer, I remember picking an entire box of peaches and feeling quite domestic as my family enjoyed the yummy fruit as snacks and the ingredients to one scrumptious crisp.  I later heard she filled a dozen boxes and spent the day canning and freezing the fruit to make her kids favorite peach smoothie breakfasts for the rest of the year. Her children were always clean and well-groomed and they sat quietly on the front row of every sacrament meeting without toys, treats or books.  This, she explained to my impressed and questioning mind, was possible because they would occasionally come to the chapel during the week, or for family home evening, and practice.  It was mind blowing.

With her as a role model, I really tried to step up my game. It wasn't a Keeping Up With the Joneses kind of thing or a competition of any kind.  I really looked up to her.  I kept each invitation she sent and, if ever I was in charge of a party, used her creativity as a guideline for my own.  I began to care more about my home and bought drapes to treat the windows, a slip cover to freshen up an old couch and a rug to add a splash of color to the room.  What did it matter if I had to open a Pottery Barn credit card to afford it? This would create an atmosphere worth cleaning.  Once, I used my church keys to have my children practice sitting still in the chapel for ten minutes, thinking I'd add increments of time in the future (we never went back).

While in the midst of my fervent admiration of this woman's life, I learned she was in the hospital after suffering some acute anxiety attacks. She later admitted that she suffered from depression and believed that the only way she could feel better was to lose herself in a pursuit of service and excellence.  She was constantly doing, doing, doing and had become overdone.   I can still remember hearing about it for the first time and thinking, "What the hell!?!"  And that just exemplifies my own imperfection because I don't even think in the more Mormon acceptable term, "What the heck?!"

That discovery unsettled me.  I had trusted this woman as someone to pattern my life after and the surprise stole my perfectionism steam.  Since then, I've always been suspicious of apparent perfection because I know it doesn't exist.  This still extremely talented woman put herself in danger with her attempt to reach it.  We all have chinks in our armor, trials and shortcomings and if I can't see yours, or know what they are, then I don't believe you.  I don't have confidence in your image.  This attitude is a major contributor to my compulsion to always expose my own flaws.  The trouble with that is when you get to be as comfortable as I am with a flaw, it gets harder and harder to part with.

I believe I suffer from what I call a "Good Enough" complex.  Not being a particularly ambitious person to begin with, it is easy for me to keep to the things I know and, perhaps, be too easily satisfied with my own mediocrity.



I made this cake for my mother and father in-law's anniversary.  They admitted that they had celebrated their forty-eight anniversary by eating sandwiches in the car after spending the day in the temple and I just wanted them to have something...more fun.  So, I made a cake to take over but it didn't turn out.  At all.  It fell in the middle and crumbled as I tried to frost it.  I thought, "I can't take this cake to them.  It's an insult!  Happy Anniversary!  Here's the ugliest cake I could possibly make for you!"  No.  But then, my Good Enough reasoning broke through and I thought, "It tastes fine and it's better than nothing.  It's good enough."  And I brought it to them.

When I'm reminded, particularly around dates and events that emphasize change and improvement like New Year's, that my good enough might actually not be good enough,  I start making mental pro/con lists about what I like about my life as it currently is and what the downsides are from being so far from perfect.

My biggest, most immediate flaw is my weight. I am always wishing it away but not always working it away. Some of the time, it's an advantage having such a noticeable flaw because it keeps most from trying too hard from discovering my other flaws. I've also noticed over the years, that people aren't as threatened by overweight people so I am allowed to be less apologetic about my other blessings.  Conversely, when you're thin AND nice or thin AND creative or thin AND wealthy, that person better also be pretty humble or they're perceived as snobby and insufferable.  It's true.  I've had friends with these exact coveted combinations who are often misunderstood or unfairly judged with jealous minds.  Thin and dumb or thin and homely are much more acceptable.  Still, neither reason is a very convincing pro to take a legitimate spot in a column.

Sometimes, when I watch a news program or read something about obesity in America, I look for my own waddling bottom that was secretly taped while I unknowingly walked alongside a sidewalk.  With their heavy-handed opinions about how lazy and irresponsible obesity it, watching those programs make me feel as if I am single handedly bringing down the greatness of the ol' US of A with my wide hips and belly fat.  It's horrible.  I imagine people thinking, "She doesn't deserve to fly in an airplane!" or "No health care for you!"

So, obviously, being overweight is mostly a large and in charge disadvantage.  There are so many parts of my daily life, and even more of my imaginary better life, that would benefit from a trimmed down version of me.   I know this, have known it for years as you can tell from this old post, but as I pointed out in my post yesterday, that knowledge hasn't yet translated into a consistent "do."  It's hard.  It's a lot more than a calories in / calories out formula.  There are bad habits and emotional hang-ups to undo.  There are genetics and hormones and slow metabolisms that make the rate of loss hard to predict and discouraging at times.

Nonetheless, in an effort to change my know into a do and my far-from-perfect complacency into a be-ye-therefore kind of outlook, I have signed up for a Biggest Loser program being offered locally during the month of January which begins tomorrow morning. As part of the program, I am committed to showing up at a gym twenty minutes away at six am every Monday through Friday.  Each morning will involve about an hour of intense cardio led by a personal trainer (the trainer has hinted that it will often involve a Spin class) followed by forty-five minutes of specialized strength training.   That's a 6 - 7:45 am schedule every day.  In addition, we are encouraged to use our all-encompassing monthly pass to participate in other offered classes.  With this early morning schedule, Jay will take over the responsibility to get the kids to school each morning, something that is not easy for him to do and will be a stress with his demanding work schedule.   I hope this program is worth the sacrifice I am imposing upon my family.

I'm nervous about the early mornings and the intense physical requirements.  There is a daily nutrition check-in, a weekly Friday weigh-in, a before and after picture taken and I'm sure a strictly regimented plan to follow.  The cost alone was reason enough not to do it but I'm drawn to its intensity and level of commitment.  I'm hoping that this will help me form the long-term habits and permanent changes I need to be a better me.  To be closer to perfect.  Because that's what we've been asked to strive for, right?

I will try. I will do.  Perhaps, with that effort, I will be.  

My Word for 2011

I didn't do a word of the year last year.  Or the year before that.  In fact, I haven't been very successful with the whole "word of the year" idea.  That doesn't mean, however, that I'm not willing to try again.

I came across this quote from Spencer W. Kimball while preparing for the lesson I'm teaching tomorrow.  The lesson is about the Thirteenth Article of Faith, and tomorrow, when I use the quote, it will be used in that context, but I've been thinking about it all day and I thought, "That's the word I need."

You see, I am full of "know."  Not that I know all things.  I don't even know a few things.  But, I'm pretty content in "knowing."  Then, I read this:

The song, “I Am A Child of God” was first performed at a stake Primary conference in 1957. After hearing the performance, Elder Spencer W. Kimball asked the Primary general board, of which Randall (the composer) was a part, if the phrase "Teach me all that I must know / To live with him someday" could be changed to "Teach me all that I must do / To live with him someday."  As Kimball later explained, "To know isn't enough. The devils know and tremble; the devils know everything. We have to DO something."

The principle has applications at every level of my life.

I know that I shouldn't look at my phone while I drive but knowing doesn't keep me safe like turning my phone off does.

I know that I should eat a carrot instead of a cookie, but unless I actually eat that carrot, that knowledge gains me nothing.

I know that family scripture study and family prayer are tools that will make my family stronger, but until I consistently gather my family together to do these things, we miss out on that blessing.

If you asked, I could probably tell you how to stay organized (OHIO), how to be consistent with a workout (do it in the morning) and how to strengthen my testimony (regular temple attendance) but I don't DO any of them.  Right this moment, I feel a bit like trembling!

This is why I must change my "Know" to a "Do"  And this is the year to do it.