my name is h.mac and i am a junk-a-holic hoarder.
i am tired of living from treat to treat.
i am tired of my hind end giving me whip lash as i run up the stairs 54 times in a day.
i am tired of my thyroid being enlarged.
i am tired of being tired.
and no more sweet tooth fairy cupcakes for me. NO MORE. NO MORE. NO MORE.
i lost the baby weight and then the cupcakes got me and the candy, sugar cookies, and on and on. candy. me, really?!
i found myself making a cake yesterday and knew i was in trouble. in healthier days i was always sure that you were a real carbaholic if you were desperate enough to make a box cake for enjoyment. (why not go for brownies or ice cream if you're going crazy. a fluffy, need two pieces box cake?) my philosophy has always been to pour hours into making a dessert. this proves wise on many fronts. most especially not having dessert be an easy thing to get to. also, scott and i usually practice saving our treat for date night and we share. we made our agreement yesterday that we would breath new life into this and also, a sunday treat that would take a while to make and be taken to some kind of family gathering where there would be no leftovers.
10 pounds later with baby 4 it isn't melting off like it used to. which leads me to......
emily and i married cousins. they recently moved here from australia. we became fast friends and found we both suffer an immense love of food which has us traipsing across the valley on date nights (with our husbands tagging along) talking, oohhing and ahhhing over food. i don't think there has been a date night without 200 fat grams consumed.
my mother raised us with awesome food habits that were very balanced. we never had abounding junk around the house. never had processed foods or sweets casually tempting us. it was one of the best gifts she gave us. she taught us to appreciate food in moderate and healthy amounts. my gluttony is a disgrace to the wise ways she schooled us in.
so emily did this wonderful post today that had me at costco by nights end wanting to start over fresh. i want to feel better. i don't care so much about the exercising part as much as the feeling better. exercise and i do not get along. i would rather run into a brick wall repeatedly. so. again, go here to read her inspiring post about how americans are carb chasers and her thorough research about how to be better. she gave me lots of costco tip offs on products like the aguave nectar, quinoa, wheat sandwich rounds, frozen pitted cherries and on and on. i found salmon burgers, almond butter (only roasted ground almonds), and other delightful things to get me started on feeling better and snapping less.
hopefully my slightly older post partum body will return to its normal weight and forgive me for my shameful ways. i take pretty seriously being a good steward over my physical body. it's a privilege.
that or i may need to purchase some super glue to get all the rolls to meld into one. (that may or may not be a real threat i am giving myself with swimsuit season upon us)
Thursday, June 2, 2011
the first day of summer arrived and i was screaming triumph in any one's ear who would listen. 9:30 and we found ourselves dressed, jobs done, TV never turned on, teeth brushed, breakfast cleaned up. yes, a mother's summer triumph indeed. as i was finishing getting ready ella loomed in the doorway. rowan was perched at the doorway with toys abounding and pillows to catch his cranium when the sitting up trick got old. with the older kids home she hadn't had her proper fill of mauling him. feeling jipped she decided to engage me in a compelling conversation.
ella: mom, if you do not let me hold rowan this instant i will whip you with this belt. (she was holding a very fashionable purple leather belt ready for action)
mom: ella, we do not whip people. i will let you hold row when i am done with my hair and i can help you.
ella: okay mom, i will give you two choices. if you do not let me hold rowan right this instant your choices are i will whip you or i will whip rowan. which is your choice?
mom: ella, whipping is not a choice. firstly (her favorite invented word i have come to love), i am bigger than you. heavenly father made it so the person giving choices has to be larger than the small person. okay.
ella: mom, that is not right. i give the choices at this house. i am not small, i am a big woman. who is getting whipped here.
mom: ella, you will not whip me or rowan. these are not choices children give their parents. i give the choices.
ella: mom i want to hold him right now on the toilet, let me have a choice about holding him on the toilet this INSTANT!
blah, blah, blah. downward spiral of my internal laughing and wondering where she comes from. as i am wondering all of life's perils, i feel something at my feet. only to look down and see a purple leather belt brushing up against my foot ever so sneakily. an indignant four year old smirking and walking away without a word. survival of the mentally fit here.....
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
i was reading this article that our good friend todd posted on his FB account (FB means facebook mother ;)).
recently, i was talking with my dad about a profound parenting moment he had years ago. he was giving a talk in a religious setting about parenting. he was comparing the opportunity to parent to the experience of a sculptor. molding, shaping, cutting that clay into exactly what you want it to be.
he was feeling pretty good about his talk. afterwards, a good friend, who also happened to be very wise professionally about family dynamics, told him that although his talk had a good concept, it was wrong. kids are more like folded paper. with every part of growth a new crease unfolds. as a parent you are the one to open each fold on their sheet of paper. sometimes the way we parent leaves some papers closed, unable to see what's inside.
this spoke such truth to me. grayce and easton are so similar in their responses to our correction, praise, love. i figured that it was our parenting accolade that our kids were obedient, generally well behaved, sweet, did tricks on cue and on and on. then, well, if you've ever read one post on here you know that child number three turned my entire world upside down. it still has me shocked. she is entirely, completely something i never knew could come from our combined DNA. i had no idea personality traits like that could be floating around the family. this analogy of the folded paper has helped me see the truth of it.
i believe our spirits have lived far longer than these physical bodies. we were intelligences long before the marriage of our spirits and physical bodies. i think that might somehow explain why ella naturally likes using bigger, more correct phrases than my other kids. she thinks so much differently. it's a television to her, and calling the "children" in suites her more than calling "kids" in for dinner. like when she was two and asked me to play princesses with her. she handed me prince charming and asked me to play kingdom. what? king.....dum.....mom!
you be king dumb. oh my. yep, paper i tell you.
in general conference a few months ago, my inbox for texting was hot when this talk was being given. at first i balked at his chipper, life's good with a child that has "unique characteristics" attitude. i had to let it sink into daily thought. guess what? he's right. surely, these "special kids" ARE making us more godlike. they are the refining fire of my soul. they make the rough edges smooth with humility.
so, i will let ella give the parting thought here:
peace momma, peace.