i sit all day. all. day.
i sit so much it is increasingly hard not to be in a sat position even when i can lie down flat.
there is not a lot of calorie burn in sitting. reaching. bending. my body can hardly make use of what i already eat in a day.
and yet there is a lot of extra cheap fuel sitting around in easter baskets. i do believe i spent all last week nabbing a reeses buttercup egg here, a chocolate bliss there, as i would pass by.
it finally struck me, and i considered my priorities and the mindless energy i was wasting. all those calories are going straight to storage, and i hardly take note how big my storage bill is until a few days later. when i become alarmed at how tight my jeans are on date night. that would be the 'finally' and 'struck' point.
little miss e gets her heart patched in a couple weeks. i decided if only i would swap a prayer for her and her parents, her surgical team and post-op nurses everytime i caught myself about to swipe another chocolate egg instead of actually doing so.
and so i have.
and wow. i go to rob my childrens' easter baskets more than even i realized.
i won't be noticeably thinner in two weeks. eisley's outcome will not be guaranteed because her aunt traded easter goodies for moments of prayer.
even so. this is is a bit of a work-out for me. this is energy very well spent.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
the "so? what do you do?" of it
i heard version #211 of the never-ending banter regarding who has the most demanding 24: the mom who spends part of her work day earning a paycheck from outside the home or the mom who spends her entire time working for her family within free of charge.
to quote my own verbose mother: whatever.
it's such a pointless debate, and i'm thankful to be surrounded by friends who don't. one who felt a sense of relief when her maternity time was up to be among adult chatter again, along with the challenge of her job and the satisfaction in being able to actually finish something there. one who chose leave her career path untended a few years longer when the thought of leaving their daughter in daycare made her physically ill.
what a mom does, and how that affects her and her individual family, is such a personal experience i can never understand why anyone try sit and judge, analyze or compare. it's like expecting everyone wear a size 10 jean regardless their size.
that said.
i am not above laughing when the acquaintance who is focused on letting everyone know her trials and tribulations as the mom who works two full-time jobs. trumping any measley stay-at-homer who has all day to do laundry or dishes and never has to answer to a project manager, navigate office politics or make a hundred cupcakes for daycare...
then acts like she and her husband would lose their sanity if they had to deal with their children for a full three-day weekend and congratulates herself on picking a daycare that will watch the kids that holiday friday or monday and all of spring break. ya know. so she can get something done during her day off at home and have a breather.
because that would be impossible with the kids around.
well yeah. it generally is.
i laugh that my day is so less demanding in comparison to hers and yet she can't do mine for more than two.
the real superhero moms are the ones in uniform far away from their children and civilian lives. the single moms. the terminally-ill moms. the moms who don't have the luxury of choice.
to quote my own verbose mother: whatever.
it's such a pointless debate, and i'm thankful to be surrounded by friends who don't. one who felt a sense of relief when her maternity time was up to be among adult chatter again, along with the challenge of her job and the satisfaction in being able to actually finish something there. one who chose leave her career path untended a few years longer when the thought of leaving their daughter in daycare made her physically ill.
what a mom does, and how that affects her and her individual family, is such a personal experience i can never understand why anyone try sit and judge, analyze or compare. it's like expecting everyone wear a size 10 jean regardless their size.
that said.
i am not above laughing when the acquaintance who is focused on letting everyone know her trials and tribulations as the mom who works two full-time jobs. trumping any measley stay-at-homer who has all day to do laundry or dishes and never has to answer to a project manager, navigate office politics or make a hundred cupcakes for daycare...
then acts like she and her husband would lose their sanity if they had to deal with their children for a full three-day weekend and congratulates herself on picking a daycare that will watch the kids that holiday friday or monday and all of spring break. ya know. so she can get something done during her day off at home and have a breather.
because that would be impossible with the kids around.
well yeah. it generally is.
i laugh that my day is so less demanding in comparison to hers and yet she can't do mine for more than two.
the real superhero moms are the ones in uniform far away from their children and civilian lives. the single moms. the terminally-ill moms. the moms who don't have the luxury of choice.
Monday, April 5, 2010
did i forget Christ lives?
no.
i was thinking how somewhat strange it is that every year people get all bubbly about God's gift to us. sometimes as if it all just happened. now. like, yesterday, and they themselves saw the stone rolled back and empty clothes, folded. Christ is risen! He LIVES!
well. yeah. did you just join this party? do we not celebrate this faith every week? it makes me chuckle the jubilation some people exhibit once a year as if it is all a fresh realization.
God came down to earth to experience life on our level and guide us home.
and then it occurred to me. sometimes it is a fresh realization.
conan would be proud. indeed, i am learning to be less and less cynical.
i was thinking how somewhat strange it is that every year people get all bubbly about God's gift to us. sometimes as if it all just happened. now. like, yesterday, and they themselves saw the stone rolled back and empty clothes, folded. Christ is risen! He LIVES!
well. yeah. did you just join this party? do we not celebrate this faith every week? it makes me chuckle the jubilation some people exhibit once a year as if it is all a fresh realization.
God came down to earth to experience life on our level and guide us home.
and then it occurred to me. sometimes it is a fresh realization.
conan would be proud. indeed, i am learning to be less and less cynical.
bunny notes
funny what one finds in her blog drafts. this is officially one year old:
i remember easter my sr yr of college only for how i spent some part of the holiday sitting on top of our bathroom counter at 118 talking to vern with the door shut. i'd never sat on that counter before. it reminded me a little of sitting on the kitchen table talking with mom as she cooked. the bathroom because by then i no longer had a room in my childhood home. on the sink because it felt too odd sitting on the toilet, lid closed or not, talking to my __. vern. my brain always caught at the word 'boyfriend' where husband has always flowed easily.
we spent every easter after together. i always made him a basket. i always ate the majority of his candy because he neglects sugar. except the one year i determined i was not. no easter bunny would be visiting us that season. early then that easter morning i had a positive pregnancy test and was so sour. what a fitting addition to a basket that would been. i grumped at the new dad for this whole loss of the sweet tell was of course his fault for never basking in basket goodness.
save the cadbury egg. he does like those. i do not. for some time at the farm his mom always had on the counter one egg for each of us. joel got my share after the amusement of me once tasting mine.
i always enjoy dyeing eggs. you get to know a lot about people during art projects. vern will plop an egg into one color and just sit on it. i'll have three done all in varied hues and mixed shades and he'll still be waiting on just that one. one look at maddy's brilliant purple hands and it's plain the kids take after their father.
with young kids again, doris began hiding eggs filled with change and forgot about our cadburys. she always leaves them in plain view, the eggs. this year that made it a little lame for caleb. walking in and spotting the entire loot immediately. i think this is so grandma remembers where all the loot is as well. it seems it was a thanksgiving once long before his birth that a curtain was brushed and an egg popped out. no one could remember the last time the bunny had visited.
it's the egg hunt at the farm that caleb most remembered as being 'easter' from years past. i hope that memory never dims for him. his easter basket arrived one year from his aunt kel. we found a match for maddy last year and baby owen this. i'm not sure how to explain how the easter bunny fills the same baskets every year, with the same eggs and same grass from the easter storage tub they help exhume. maybe i over-estimate a child's intuitive suspension of disbelief.
if we get to church, that's when the easter bunny arrives. otherwise the baskets are on the table come easter morning. the kids sat on the table, too, until this year when maddy wanted to be in the bay window. next year maybe we try the miller way and leave an egg trail to hidden baskets. because we don't really have any steadfast easter traditions from our childhoods. we've got room to play until we find the right fit for our family. and that has made all the difference.
i remember easter my sr yr of college only for how i spent some part of the holiday sitting on top of our bathroom counter at 118 talking to vern with the door shut. i'd never sat on that counter before. it reminded me a little of sitting on the kitchen table talking with mom as she cooked. the bathroom because by then i no longer had a room in my childhood home. on the sink because it felt too odd sitting on the toilet, lid closed or not, talking to my __. vern. my brain always caught at the word 'boyfriend' where husband has always flowed easily.
we spent every easter after together. i always made him a basket. i always ate the majority of his candy because he neglects sugar. except the one year i determined i was not. no easter bunny would be visiting us that season. early then that easter morning i had a positive pregnancy test and was so sour. what a fitting addition to a basket that would been. i grumped at the new dad for this whole loss of the sweet tell was of course his fault for never basking in basket goodness.
save the cadbury egg. he does like those. i do not. for some time at the farm his mom always had on the counter one egg for each of us. joel got my share after the amusement of me once tasting mine.
i always enjoy dyeing eggs. you get to know a lot about people during art projects. vern will plop an egg into one color and just sit on it. i'll have three done all in varied hues and mixed shades and he'll still be waiting on just that one. one look at maddy's brilliant purple hands and it's plain the kids take after their father.
with young kids again, doris began hiding eggs filled with change and forgot about our cadburys. she always leaves them in plain view, the eggs. this year that made it a little lame for caleb. walking in and spotting the entire loot immediately. i think this is so grandma remembers where all the loot is as well. it seems it was a thanksgiving once long before his birth that a curtain was brushed and an egg popped out. no one could remember the last time the bunny had visited.
it's the egg hunt at the farm that caleb most remembered as being 'easter' from years past. i hope that memory never dims for him. his easter basket arrived one year from his aunt kel. we found a match for maddy last year and baby owen this. i'm not sure how to explain how the easter bunny fills the same baskets every year, with the same eggs and same grass from the easter storage tub they help exhume. maybe i over-estimate a child's intuitive suspension of disbelief.
if we get to church, that's when the easter bunny arrives. otherwise the baskets are on the table come easter morning. the kids sat on the table, too, until this year when maddy wanted to be in the bay window. next year maybe we try the miller way and leave an egg trail to hidden baskets. because we don't really have any steadfast easter traditions from our childhoods. we've got room to play until we find the right fit for our family. and that has made all the difference.
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