Blog

Uncategorized

Healthy Recall: My Plan B

Lawn
Lawn for Lunch

I ate a tub o’ spinach for lunch, topped with some kind of creamy dressing found at work to make it more palatable. About three-quarters of the way through, I was over it. Not only did I feel like a deer eating lawn for lunch, with the exception that I was in a cubicle, but I also just began to physically recoil–which also happens when I read all these healthy resolutions going on (including my own). In response to the recoil, I’m doing a recall, a recall of all things healthy. 

Seriously, I’m over it. I’m going to go all-out backlash now and just INDULGE. Here’s Plan B:

  1. Menu for Dinner: Pasta. Heaps of it, a carbo-vore’s delight. This will be accompanied by a loaf of French bread, globbed with butter, and maybe two glasses of wine.
  2. For Dessert: M&M cookie sandwich (these are easily accessible and already in the freezer #kids).
  3. I will then sit my can on the couch, lobbing my Fitbit across the room with glee, and turn on the tube. I will watch hours of Bravo’s Real Housewives of you-name-it-county while wolfing down cheese Doritos and Chex Snack Mix. I might even pour salt on it, just to make it even more of a health hazard. ‘Cuz I’m then thirsty, I will pour some more wine, or maybe go so far as to have a fat pina colada with tons of milk, just to get as many calories as possible.
  4. I will stay up too late watching You Tube and forget to wash my face and apply any kind of retinol/anti-aging/rip off serum that doesn’t work anyway.

This sounds like an awesome plan!

Oh, and maybe I’ll take up smoking, just ‘cuz I might look like of retro cool and bad ass. And I will wear my skinny jeans like body paint with no shame. I may even go so far as to buy a midriff and let my post-childbearing bod just flail on the loose.

What else can I do? Oh! I will ingest as much bold coffee as I want, and I will pity all gym rats.

Wouldn’t this be fun?!?!?

I love Plan B.

It’s not going to happen, because I’m way too vain, socially conscious, afraid, and self-punitive, but it’s nice to imagine.

It was a fun ride.

What would you do? 

 

 

 

Uncategorized

Need a Lift? A “Progress” Report

progress-report-headline-handwritten-with-white-chalk-on-blackboard-with-eraser-smudges-picture_csp2818591.jpg

I’m doing lifts: leg lifts, lifting the glass of wine to my lips, lifting my bat wings in reverse arms circles, and lifting the remote to pause the news while I tell the dog to “shut it” as it yaps at me. I’m also lifting my Fitbit to see the excess of 1,000 steps I’ve earned running up and down the steps to help my children while making dinner in the last hour. Yes, 1,000 steps. You may wonder, how is that? That seems excessive. Well, yes, it is. And here is why:

After the children reluctantly forced down the grilled chicken and broccoli I whipped up in fifteen flat while still in my work blouse  and ID badge (#hot) (“Just five bites!”), they agreed to my rule that they had to play together before running off to their various screen devices. This is brilliant, no? I hold the devices hostage, and they are forced to interact and actually use their imaginations.  Crazy, right? But needed.

So, just as I relaxed into the couch, the blue Superhero Barbie was jettisoned onto my son’s knuckle, upon which  he writhed in pain vehemently declaring that that he will never play with her again.

She runs upstairs, proclaiming her innocence and accidental injury, also screaming, and I wrap my son in my new soft Christmas blanket, kissing his hand, while the dog barks incessantly with jealousy, an Oedipus if I’ve ever seen one.

poppy

“Mom!!! Mommy!” she yells repeatedly. “Yap! Yap,” he barks.

I want to ignore her, but I run up the stairs. It can’t be serious because she’s still breathing, I think.

“What is it??” I ask, opening the door. She’s  trapped underneath her new easel, between that and the plastic kitchen, trying to make a fort to hide with her Frozen comforter. I get her out using the jaws of life, (well, just my hands), and hold her head as she cries on the bed.

“I need a driiiiiink,” she whimpers. Um, so do I, but we are trying not to! Remember?

I run downstairs to get her a soda water, making sure to put ice and a top on it, the way she likes it.

“Mom!” he yells from the basement. The Fortnite is “lagging!” Uh, I’ll show you lagging… Alas, I run downstairs to fix the faux internet issue, only to realize it’s because there’s an update on Epic games. Why I even know this scares me, or any Fortnite terminology and various skins frightens me.

Okay, so now everyone is attended to. I am at peace. Well, that’s a lie; it’s just a little less crazed.

Now I have  a moment to focus on me and my new four goals of the New Year. I have to not eat sugar, no carbs, and exercise. Oh, and less screen time and what’s the other one?

Well, it didn’t happen. After all that, I poured myself a glass but did some lifts simultaneously as I watched the news. Lift, lift, lift…

 

Motivation, Self-Help

Can I Do these Four Things This Year?

It’s a new day, a new year! I seem excited, don’t I? All this emphatic punctuation (!) makes it seem so!! I’m not, really. And, I realize that I have the same resolutions I had last year, which is none, because I worry I can’t keep them. I don’t want to disappoint, so I will instead just give into my bad habits and let myself off the hook.

No, that’s terrible.

See? I’m actually thinking aloud now. We can’t let ourselves off the hook so easily by being flat-out lazy. I need to do a whole lot’ta things, and here are just some of them:

  1. Take time to go for a legit walk/run/something every day. As I ran up the stairs from my car today into work, lugging a lunch bag, my ginormous purse filled with Nerf darts I picked off the lawn on my way out, and a bag of various cold remedies, I was out of breath. Like, old person-wheezing, out of breath. Not sure how this came about when a mere six years ago I was buying new running shoes and telling the retail clerk that I was “a runner” and ran “up to seven miles a day.”
IMG_2092
My purse

2. Cut back the calories by cutting back on unnecessary drinks. And I’m not talking soda and Gatorade. I am talking sugary wine (read: the devil). I may as well eat a pint of Ben n’ Jerry’s Chunky Monkey each night. And, speaking of which, I am officially a chunky monkey.  My skinny jeans are sneering at me from the top of my closet, and my angry scale, which must be re-calibrated, since it’s obviously off (#not) slaps me with egregious readings in the morning. Must be the coffee…

3. Start reading more. I actually read a novel the other night, and it felt so good! And I was also reading something about how it’s good to raise children with books–visible, tangible ones–around the house. They need to see you reading to want to read themselves. Reading online isn’t the same.

4. I will say I’ve been pretty good about mitigating my screen time on my phone. So I’m going to keep that up. I love that notification you get now of how much time you’ve spent on social media, etc. It’s a wake-up call, and that time can so be spent doing something more productive. And by something, I mean anything…else.

That’s about all for me this year. I think four things is enough. After all, when I started writing this, I was doing zilch. Now I have four things to do! I hope I don’t disappoint…

i-was-just-sitting-here-over-thinking-the-joy-out-11795575

CryBabySoup Signature

 

#marriage, #relationships, Parenting, Self-Help, Uncategorized

Cherish What You Have

 

bus

I stood at the bus stop twirling my daughter’s braids this morning, wrapping them around my index fingers, when a friend me asked what my plans were for the weekend.

“Oh, I’m on the loose!” I exclaimed. “My kids are staying with their dad,” I smiled.

My children weren’t listening, so I felt it okay to share this with glee.

But as the words fell from my mouth, what was meant to be something very happy  turned darker and sad upon landing. “Well, I mean, I have plans with some friends tonight…but I’ll see them at soccer tomorrow.” (I added this last bit to make myself feel better, even though the mother could care less).

The weekend landscape lay vacuous before me. I would miss my children.

When I first got divorced, I would claim the upside (if there even is one) was that I finally had a moment to myself. I was able to read a book, go for a walk, hang out with friends…drive around. I could roam CVS for face cream, go to the Starbucks drive-thru without ordering Cake Pops, and watch my reality TV for hours without having to turn it off to play Barbies or color.

But, as time has elapsed, three years now, I don’t so much await those free moments anymore.

“What are you going to do this weekend?” I asked the mother back.

“Well, it’s his birthday, and we are going to take him to Lego Land and go to the race car track,” she responded. Her son gleamed. I could tell he was pleased.

It occurred to me she might be envious that I was going out with friends for the evening. But what I  wanted to tell her is: “Oh, honey, no. Cherish what you have. You have your whole family intact, going to Lego Land!”

“I would trade in a heartbeat to have that,” I’d say.

My children sometimes wish aloud that we all still lived together in the same house, so they wouldn’t have to “miss someone.” I’ve thought about it, how that would work, and it simply can’t, for obvious reasons.

“Oh, it’s fine,” I tell them. “You’re so lucky you get TWO houses, and get to spend time with both your mommy and your daddy! Not many kids can say that,” I reply.

I look forward to a break today, but my heart’s just a little bit heavy– even when the weekend sits before me like an open road.

I’d rather be playing Barbies and twirling my girl’s braids.

 

Motivation, Uncategorized

#MeTime: When Being Selfish Isn’t Bad

IMG_1181

I want to be selfish. Is that a bad thing? Is that unfeminine of me to suggest that I just want to think about me for a change, kids aside, and not a partner?

Like I said, I will always put my children first. But, after that, there’s now gonna be me.

Me, myself and I.

There’s a sort of song in that. “Me…Myself…and I…” I can hear it now and begin to tap my feet.

Yeah, it feels kind of good to say it, not in a female empowerment, Gloria Steinem-kind of way. Rather, I just want to look out for numero uno for a bit. Like, if I want to eat crackers and cheese for dinner, I’m gonna do that, instead of making you a meal. And, if I want to go for a run on my free time, I’m gonna do that instead of rush to be by your side on your schedule. I’m also going to watch what I want on television and have the temperature in the room at night set to me-degrees. I am going to drive how I want, albeit defensively, and I’m going to order what I want at the restaurant.

I am going to do me.

I am tired of compromise. My schedule is so tight that there’s very little room in it– for me. Perhaps I will find a dot on my google calendar for just me, instead of the various other activities, meetings and events I must attend.

I will set the Google event called “ME” to have a reminder, every day, all day, to not forget ME. Alert!

I have forgotten me a lot over the years, sometimes only leaving a shell that looks like me but lies dormant beneath. I remember many years back, in a former relationship, a peer of mine said to me, “You look sat upon.”

Sat upon.

I will never forget that, as it resonated clearly. I hadn’t seen it before, but I felt it. The Princess and the Pea, and I was the pea under 100 mattresses.  I went home that night, and late-night, wrote a Facebook post  that read: I feel sat upon.

I waited a second; I got nervous; I deleted it.

But, the next day, as I walked through town, a friend pulled her car over to the side of the road and yelled through the window, ‘”You all right? You’re Sat Upon??” I had been discovered, outed, for the moments before I deleted it and hid.

I don’t feel that way any longer. And I’ve had time to be me, without the weight of others overbearing me. But now is my time to be selfish. I’m sorry for that. Wait, no, sorry I’m not sorry. I hate that saying–it sounds so selfish.

Hah.

That’s me! Selfish.  Maybe we all need a little me, myself and I time in our lives.