The Burp Rag Chronicles

In All Seriousness

Imagine, if you will, a calm, peaceful family enjoying lunch on a beautiful Sunday afternoon.

Everyone is laughing gaily at discussions, jokes and funny faces.

See is talking to Daddy about the importance of nuclear fusion in the suns output of solar energy when Ess interrupts, "See! See...! What do you get when..."

See holds her splayed-finger hand in a "talk to the hand" motion and replies, "Ess... I busy."

It took Daddy and I a moment to realize what she said. What 25 month old says this stuff???

The Eye of the Tiger

So, yes. I have gained some of my lost weight back. After having See I just can't seem to shake it. Not to mention the stress I have been under at school, losing my dad, along with the trivial things everyone endures... go, me.

So I've decided to make some changes. I joined Weight Watchers and have been working out at the YMCA more religiously. I started doing one of those brutal Les Mills Body Combat classes (oh, sweet baby Jesus I just want to during them!) because my thinking is that the movement-rich classes will help get me on my way to my goal. It's not the same thing over and over, and there is constant, and I mean CONSTANT movement. Here is a (crappy) video of a small segment. 

Now, I realize you watch that video and if you know me, you are laughing your ass off. That's okay, it's ridiculously funny. No, I take that back. There are mirrors lining the entire room that the class is in, so it's actually quite sad. I bet you have never seen a bag of turkey gravy randomly kicking around and periodically jogging. Put a wig on top and some Asics and viola! Yeah, it's not pretty I'm afraid.

The first time I went to class, I was kinda scared because I didn't know what to expect. I knew it would be hard because... well... I'm fat. But I had no idea HOW hard. I really thought I would be better prepped as when I go on the elliptical, my routine is 50-60 minutes long. Yay, the class is 55 minutes! Awesomesauce!

No! There is nothing awesomesauce about the class except for the exhiliaration you feel when it's over and you can go melt into a puddle in the locker room. The instructor was about 10 feet tall and she was practically see-through she was so thin. But she was very nice, and helpful to the couple of newbies in the class. She was pleasant to hear, inasmuch as you feel anything is pleasant during class. My first class was on a Wednesday, and by the next class, Friday, I was still too sore to do it again.

Friday I opted for the less strenuous elliptical workout. It went well, I got my 60 minutes in and then was still able to go to the zoo Saturday with the family and not feeble around.

I went back to BodyCombat this morning. Different instructor (the previous one only teaches the class W/F) and I was not as fond of her. She seemed nice but one of those crazy energetic people that you just kind of want to drop-kick. ;) So I am thinking about doing cycling on Mondays instead, since I left her BC class with a headache from her shrieking and yelling. 

But the cycle class is at EIGHT IN THE MORNING. Guh, we'll have to see. That's really early. Maybe I'll stick with Zumba the class right before BC. I mean, I am up and awake at 8:00 a.m., but I am not coherent enough to follow directions other than "pour coffee into cup," much less get dressed and go to the Y.

But today I was reading some inspirational stories on the Weight Watchers website. Something about Katharine's story really spoke to me, but not in that weird creepy ghostly sort of way.

I wasn’t overweight before graduate school, but I gained weight while pursuing my PhD.

I lived my life “above the neck," focusing on others and my intellectual work, first as a graduate student and then as a psychologist working with people affected by HIV. I was proud of my accomplishments and loved my work, but I was deeply unhappy with my body. I ate to cope with the occasional challenges of being a young faculty member, to participate in family rituals (I’m a Southerner, after all), and to cope with the grief of losing clients who died from their HIV disease.

Food is not the answer
I got in shape, including training for and participating in an Avon three-day 60-mile walk for breast cancer in 2002, and walking the Honolulu Marathon in 2004. But I didn’t change my diet, and so I remained heavy, with a BMI in the “obese" range and with mildly elevated cholesterol. Then in January 2007, my dad, who was a huge part of helping me become a smart and independent woman, was diagnosed with advanced colon cancer. The anger and stress I felt were overwhelming. One day while he was in hospice care and I knew we were going to lose him, I was so upset I went out for pizza. As I sat eating the pizza in a daze, I realized that I couldn’t make this go away with food. My dad was going to die whether I ate pizza or not. Dad fought courageously, but died in July 2007. I tried to keep my head up, thanks to the support of many wonderful friends, but the next few months were extremely hard, and I ate to cope with my grief.

Then, I had an important realization. I knew that I could best honor dad by making the right choices for my own health, so I recommitted to Weight Watchers Online and started following the POINTS® Weight-Loss System (I had been a subscriber before but hadn’t stuck with it). I also started a running program, began lifting weights and doing crunches and push-ups, and most importantly stayed with the plan. I kept track of everything I ate using the online POINTS Tracker, and ate as many fruits and vegetables as possible during the day. I spent a lot of time on the Message Boards and made new friends who were invaluable encouragers along the way.

Perfectionist no more
I had difficulties along the way. The hardest part was learning to let go of my perfectionist nature. I needed to learn not to get angry with myself if I went off-plan for a week, to simply pick right up where I left off. I had to learn to set limits and stick to them and find balance. I further learned to be grateful for the food I ate. Taking time to appreciate all of the effort that goes into making a meal made me able to slow down when I was eating it.

Today, my BMI is normal, my blood work is normal, and my resting heart rate and blood pressure put me in an "athletic" classification. Now, in my role as an associate dean in a graduate college of public health, I feel I am a much better example of good health for everyone with whom I work and live. I am studying to become certified as a personal trainer, and plan to use my training as a psychologist, my experience with Weight Watchers, and my knowledge about fitness training to become a fitness and life coach for others who are wanting to improve their fitness and must work through body image and emotional issues along the way. I am stronger, happier, more energetic, and am sure that I am on my way to my best decade so far.

I am an emotional and a social eater. I will do great on my own for a little while, then go out with friends where I blow it. Or something stressful comes up and I blow it. I am trying not to put myself in the positions where I am "at risk" to blow it.

I actually am looking to run. No, really. I'll wait until you stop laughing.

Done? Cool.

So I have set a personal goal for myself to run the Rock N' Roll San Antonio Marathon (& Half... that "half" is pretty important!!) in November. I'd like to shoot for the full marathon, but I plan on the half for now. I've never done anything like that in my entire life. I've never been a runner - ask anyone who went to school with me. Or knows me now. Or has heard of me.

Besides that, it benefits the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I have boobs, I can back any sort of support for them. ;)

So, that is where I am at right now. Love it or leave it, I've got to work on me. :)

On the Outs

Dear God,

You know I love you, right?

But, I am confused. And I think perhaps you are, too. Let me quantify.

Near the end of 2010, I prayed and prayed and prayed like a good little Catholic girl. I prayed and asked, in no specific terms, that 2011 not suck quite so bad. While I realize this is a fairly open-ended request, a toddler knows the difference between "good" and "WAY BETTER." Give them an apple and a candy bar, they know that the candy bar is WAY BETTER.

So far, we are 53 days in to 2011 and this is not going well. I'd love an explanation. 

My Piece-of-Sh*t Van decided to take a crap on me, and start having engine issues. Again. Okay, fine, that dumb thing gets the boot and I find another van. Great deal, 2008 Honda Odyssey, beautiful. Drives like buttah. You know, if I drove buttah. But dammit, I didn't want a) a higher car payment or b) to be paying on it longer.

Then, really? You had to go and afflict my best friend with cancer? You didn't think that borrowing my Dad was good enough, you have to work on my bestie, too? Who's next? Is everyone I care about going to be picked off one by one? The advance warning would be nice.

Look, I am not asking for a handout. All I am asking is to be left alone to muddle through what is my life. So far 2011 is not not-sucking worse. I realize and understand when people say "keep the faith" and "He wouldn't steer you wrong," but I am *really* finding it hard to "hang in there, kiddo."

Thanks a lot, I suppose...

Ell

A Morning With Ess

6:05 AM - Parental alarm rings to start day. Snooze button hit.

6:15 AM - Alarm rings again. Think about hitting it again. Get up and shuffle to bathroom to potty and brush dragon breath away.

6:18 AM - Start initial round of Operation Child Wakeup, which is met by slight stirrings and a small groan.

6:19 AM - Start Elixir of Life brewing. Because hoooooo boy, gonna need it.

6:20 AM - Decide if a lunch will be packed or if school lunch will be purchased.

6:21 AM - Round 2 of Operation Child Wakeup, which is met by rolling over and mumbling something about cereal. When asked what kind, "Mmmarrgghhfruityroundonesmmmmgggg," is the reply.

6:22 AM - Wash travel coffee mugs and make Jay's so he can go to work. Unlike the child, he is up and getting dressed for the day.

6:23 AM - Fetch child from her bed and seat her, sleeping, at the kitchen table with bowl of "fruityroundones" and orange juice. Decide that lunch will be purchased at the school.

6:24:09 AM - Pack healthy snack, get chastised for not including cheese-and-crackers as well as apple.

6:24:48 AM - No, not THOSE cheese-and-crackers. The ones with the little red knife-stick-thing.

6:25:10 AM - "Mom, did you know that I read my babies FOUR stories last night? They were AWESOME yesterday and they earned it. Then, I read myself a story, because I was also AWESOME and I earned it."

6:25:25 AM - "Wow, that's great honey. Eat your cereal."

6:25:27 AM - "Do you know what sound two O's make, Mom? They make the 'oooooooh' sound. But sometimes they make the 'uuhh' sound. If there is a silent E at the end, it makes the 'uuhh' sound. I don't really like words that have the 'uuhh' sound."

6:25:38 AM - "Me either. Eat your cereal."

6:25:42 AM - "Mom, yesterday I had fun at Burger King playing in the playplace. I am going to be SO GOOD this week and earn all my tickets so I can go somewhere else fun this weekend! I'm going to get all stickers at school, too! Miss G is going to be so proud of me! And you and Daddy, too. Because..."

6:26:01 AM - "EAT.YOUR.CEREAL. Please." Smile warmly at child.

6:26:03 AM - Child stares at parent as if to say, "Why, Mother, do you want to squelch my creativity?" Child takes a bite of cereal.

6:26:12 AM - After three crunches of cereal, child proceeds, with cereal in her mouth. "...because you guys want me to be good and listen to directions. Except I don't always do that and sometimes when Ella talks to me in class I talk back to her and then we both get in trouble because Miss G..."

6:26:21 AM - Mommy repeatedly bangs head on kitchen island.

6:28 AM - Ess knocks cup of orange juice over. Shuffles off to bathroom to clean up.

6:30 AM - Check on child, who has not yet come out of the bathroom. She is making faces at herself in the mirror and has not yet washed up from orange juice incident. Urge child to get a move on.

6:32 AM - Child emerges from bathroom. "Mommy, I had to poop which is why I took so long. Did you know that everyone poops? Even birds! And dogs. Sometimes there is dog poop in the grass when we go check the mail and it's really gross. I wish people would pick up their dog poops so that kids can play in the grass and not get poop on their shoes."

6:33 AM - It's way too early for poop talk. Tell child to go get dressed for school, clothes are on the couch. "I wanted to wear my RED shirt, mom! The one with the dog on it!!" Fetch red shirt.

6:34 AM - "Am I bringing lunch or buying it?" Buying it. "But Lauren is bringing lunch today and I told her I would, too!!" Take a deep breath and head over to kitchen and get bologna sandwich parts going. "Awww, Mom! Can't I have PBJ??" Another deep breath, count to ten, put bologna away and get jelly out of refrigerator.

6:36 AM - Child runs into kitchen with no pajamas on, but no clothing either. "Mom! I just saw the coolest thing! I can wiggle my big toe on its own without wiggling the other ones! Look!! I'm going to go show Dad!!"

6:36:45 AM - Bite tongue because "they are only this age once."

6:41 AM - Finally, child is dressed. Let's go brush your hair.

6:43 AM - Try to calm child down from crying jag because a knot was in her hair and it was accidentally not brushed gently enough. Try NOT to wake baby sister up, as bathroom shares a wall with nursery.

6:45 AM - Tell child to work on chore cards before school. The first chore is to make her bed.

6:52 AM - Check on her because there has been no peep from her. She is on the floor of her bedroom, brushing her stuffed cat, bed still unmade. "Mom, Tabby was crying because I left him in here by himself. Now I am trying to brush his fur. Will you take care of him while I am at school?" Of course. "I'll write down a list of instructions for you so that..." MAKE. YOUR. BED. Please. Smile warmly at child.

6:55 AM - Bed is made. Ask child to work on next chore. Brush teeth!

6:58 AM - Check on child. She is in the bath room with toothbrush, no toothpaste on it, using toothbrush as a microphone and singing "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" like a rock star. Starts putting toothpaste on brush as soon as she sees I am peeking in the bathroom.

7:00 AM - "Mom, I got toothpaste on my shirt." Change shirts to original shirt chosen before the red one with the dog on it.

7:01 AM - Ask child to get shoes on for school. "Can I wear my sparkly twinkly ones?" No, your teacher has asked us to not have you wear those to class because they distract everyone. "Aww, man! Okay, I'll wear these bright green ones! Grandma Ess got me these for Christmas, and I love them. They have so many bright colors. Mom, do you know what the upside-down V is for? It's... it's for.... it's for when you.... it's for when you forget to.... it's for when you forget to put a word in.... it's for when you forget to put a word in a sentence and you put that there and put the word you forgot on top of that so people know you forgot it." Close eyes and count to twenty.

7:03 AM - "Hahahahahahaha, Mom!!! I forgot to put socks on!! Tee-heeee!!" Grip coffee travel mug and consider pouring rum in it.

7:04 AM - "Mom! Where are my socks with toes??" Keep it down, I don't want to wake your sister up. They are all dirty, I will wash them today. "Okay, I'll wear these other socks. Look!! It has a hole in it!! Teee-heeeeeee!!!" Grab holey sock and get a pair out for child to put on. Usher child to front door to get shoes on. Again.

7:08 AM - "Whoops!! I meant to put on my bright green shoes, not these ones with the hearts on them! I'll change them..." NO. The heart ones are fine. "Okay!" Get your coat on. "Which one?" "The big one, it's cold outside. "Can I wear my gloves, too?" No, you and your sister play with them and now I can't find one of them. "Aww, can you buy me another pair?? It's cold outside!" 

7:12AM - Sign school folder and pack it in child's backpack. "Don't forget that this week is pizza week, Mom! We need to order pizza on Wednesday so that my school can get money for stuff like books and soccer balls!" Okay, thanks for telling me. "Our soccer balls at school are old and worn down. Lots of kids like to play with them and one time, I kicked the ball and it went WOOOOOSSSHHHHHH all the way to the other side of the playground!!! It was crazy!!" Fantastic, let's go get Daddy, it's time to go.

7:16 AM - Kiss Daddy and child, send them to work and school, respectively. Breathe a sigh of relief and exhaustion. Look at sink of dishes, head back to bed.

7:19 AM - Lie down, get comfortable, start to doze.

7:21 AM - "MOMMMMMYYY!! I want TOAST!!!" rings over the baby monitor.

The Argument

"See, I wanted the red Jojo washcloth!"

"NO! No Ess! Mine!!"

"See, I had it first!! Give it to me!"

*unintelligible screams and cries of anguish and frustration*

"See, here is the purple one - I want the red one! Here, take the purple."

"No, Ess!!! Mine!!!" *garbled cries, followed by splashes of water back and forth, and eventually giggling*

"I love you, See."

"I wuv you tyoo, Ess."

*pause*

"Let me see your butt, See."

I wish that I could document all the little things the girls say in their everyday non-sequiter life. 

If you must know, just prior to getting in the bath tub, See had a giant mess in her diaper so her backside was a bit red. I guess Ess wanted to see how it was doing or something - it was just an odd set of phrases. 

* * * * *

When I was young, I watched Bill Cosby - Himself. Even as a young child, I thought he was so ridiculously funny. No swearing, no nasty bits... just life. Funny, ironic, hilarious life.  

All children completely have brain damage. I firmly believe this. Every day of my life I generally wander around trying to make snacks or make meals for these short people, constantly yelling at someone to not yell at the other one (yes, I recognize the irony here). I shoo shorties from the kitchen area, they weave in and out of my legs as I try to shuffle the boiling pot of water to the sink to drain the pasta. "GET OUT OF HERE!! I will tell you when the food is ready!!"

Yeah, that works for approximately three minutes before someone else comes up to me asking what I am doing or when the food will be done. 

Brain damage, I tell you.

So if you haven't seen this video, go rent it. Or shoot, buy it. It's cheap and it's flippin' hilarious. Parents will especially appreciate it, and probably relate to 90% of the stuff in there.

The Lies

As far back as I can remember, I've told myself lies. Lots and lots of lies. So many, in fact, that I'd venture to say it's pretty pathological.

Every year I make New Year's Resolutions, which by January 18th are referred to as New Year's Blatant Lies.

We all know that we won't follow through with these rules. People are not typically okay with change, especially change of a monumental magnitude that warrants making everyone aware of your intent to change what you've spent 30-something years NOT doing. 

So I am going to set the bar low enough that even I can accomplish these "resolutions/lies." Generally, there is nothing different than we did all last year. I figure this way if something comes up and I don't follow the rules to the tee, my odds of being pretty close with meeting my goals isn't completely out of reach.

1. Practice winning lottery.
2. Finish all the laundry in ONE day, folding/putting away included.
3. Go to bed before midnight on school nights.
4. Not catch the plague.
5. Avoid being caught in a collapsed mine.

I really think all of these are reasonable goals, with the exception of #2. I really hate folding and putting away laundry.

The Little Chat

I went to visit my dad today at Fort Sam for the first time since he died.

I have a leeeeetle confession to make: I think it was harder than the days following his death.

I've been putting it off and putting it off, maybe because my mind kept trying to convince me that if I didn't go to his gravesite then he isn't really gone. This is just one long vacation where we haven't seen each other in a while. We lived in Los Angeles for eight years, how is this any different?

The decision was made for me as I went down to the AT&T Center to get some Groupon Spurs tickets (which was, by the way, an AWESOME deal!). As I turned off the loop on to AT&T Drive, I notice a sign that says Fort Sam Houston is "thatta way!" and thought it was time.

Every single time I say I am going to go, something comes up. The kids, husband-man, school, life in general But today? Nothing but air on the menu. Air and laundry, and we all know how I feel about laundry. I love air, hate laundry. I digress.

After picking up my Spurs tickets, I opt to stop at a nearby HEB for some flowers. I chose the most ghetto HEB I could find, unintentionally, and fear for our lives as I rush in, grab some flowers and a Coke Zero, and rush back out to the door to the van. After plugging in the Fort Sam address into Gartha (ol' trusty Garmin), locate Dad's section and plot number, and we head on our way. When we got to the cemetery, we drive for what feels like days to get to the back where Dad is at. I drive past landscapers, construction workers, and fellow mourners toting flowers for their loved ones.

When I finally pull into Dad's section, I notice that the grounds crew are busy at the far end of the lot preparing sites for more of the departed. It's loud, but it's a crystal clear day with a TON of wind, so they aren't too annoying. I sit down with Dad and talk. I cry. There are still so many things I wish I could do/say/change. I took a few pictures with my iPhone and wish I had brought my regular camera. Cameron kept trying to rob grave site teddy bears (hey, YOU try convincing a toddler that the bear in front of her is not a toy and is for someone else. That she can't see.) but we muddled through. Eventually the bribe of half a blueberry mini-bagel (we call it a doughnut) had her sitting in my lap. 

One thing I noticed, disliked, and probably cried over is how many of Dad's 
"neighbors" were older. As in "born in 1910" old. I suddenly grew very upset that my dad wasn't old. MY dad didn't deserve to go. It is not fair that my dad, a hard worker, is gone. I will never see him again. I grew angry that all these people were able to live long lives.

I turned mad. I got mad that God took away MY dad, so young, so much more to live for. I got mad that Dad never told anyone he was feeling sick, or that he was concerned something was wrong. 

I'm sorry to say that the anger I stockpiled lasted throughout the day. I was not a pleasant person. I cried in the car line waiting to pick up Ess from school. It took all of what was in me to keep a happy face on for her teacher. I still don't feel very happy about anything right now. I feel like a tool, like a whiney baby. But... it is what I feel and I am not apologizing for that. 

So I blubbered home crying most of the way. Thank goodness for emergency tissues.

Hopefully that will ebb here soon, it's exhausting and pretty sad. :( Every single time I think about him never getting to really know See or see me graduate college finally... I tear up.

Smell Like a Monster

I know we have all seen the Old Spice commercials that make us laugh...


Sesame Street has always been cutting edge with keeping up with the times. 2010 is no exception. :)