I'm experiencing one of those motherhood moments when I am unsure how to handle a situation with my children. My boys are very happy to be boys. They like the freedom that comes with urinating wherever they want to urinate. Trouble is, they want to urinate in places I do not want them to urinate.
Where you ask?
On Tuesday my kids were helping me in the garden at work. I have been teaching mini-garden lessons with the camp kids on Tuesday mornings this summer. This week was my last week so I let my kids pitch in. I talked a little with the camp kids, then my children distributed nectarines to the campers from the back of my truck. Next to my truck was a line of bushes. Behind that line of bushes is the actual YMCA swimming pool windows. Between groups of campers coming and going we had some down time. My son, unaware of the windows, went between my truck and the building and peed on the bushes.
I do not want him to urinate outdoors at my place of employment.
On Thursday my kids spend the day with my niece so I can work. They love it because sometimes they get to go to her house and swim, jump on the trampoline, or play video games with my brother. Yesterday, my boys were jumping on the trampoline and one of my boys chased the other with his pants down and tried to pee on him.
I do not want him to urinate on his brother.
Finally, Friday morning around 1 am. There I was sleeping peacefully in my bed. When I heard something, it sounded like someone was peeing in my bathroom garbage can, in the dark. I opened my eyes to see my littlest, sweetest, darling child crying in my bathroom and peeing on the floor.
I do not want him to urinate on the floor.
Then I wonder, is this a passing phase or will it linger, rearing its ugly head throughout the years? Will one of them be delivered to my doorstep by the PD for public urination? Will I find one of them, likely intoxicated, urinating in his closet? I've been jovial. I've been firm. I've tried everything to make it clear that a toilet is the desired target.
5.17.2016
A One Act Play: Boogers
Have you ever heard your son or daughter say something that you would totally say? You think, oh geez - that sounded just like me. But it wasn't the nicest thing in the world to say? So you (sorta) kick yourself for being nasty and you (totally) giggle because it was (very) funny?
Driving today the boys have a conversation.
MISTER What's your favorite food?
HAPPY CRITTER I don't know.
MISTER Is it boogers? I think it's boogers.
HAPPY CRITTER (Turns quickly in his car seat) No, it is not boogers!
MISTER (Furrows his brow) Well why do you eat boogers if you don't like them?
HAPPY CRITTER (Yells) I don't eat boogers.
MISTER Yes, you do. (Gazes out the window) Just forget I said anything.
(The scene shifts to Mother in the front seat, thinking.)
MOM (He has a valid point. Why do people eat boogers? Is it like picking toe nails or scratching your ear with a bobby pin? You do it, but you don't even realize you are doing it? Does it taste good? I think when I was a kid I ate boogers. Maybe everyone eats boogers.)
As an aside: People actually study eating boogers. There is a biochemistry professor, Scott Napper, from University of Saskatchewan who studied whether eating boogers boosted the immune system. Can you imagine? People actually participated and were told to eat their boogers...and they did. It makes sense to me that anything excreted from our bodies should not be ingested or put back into our bodies, regardless of whether it is going to boost our immunity. Buy some tissues and zinc for Pete's Sake! Maybe even a copy of Emily Post's Etiquette and brush up on our manners a bit. Or if you're more of a modern reader try Good Manners for Nice People Who Sometimes Say F*ck - either way, keep your fingers out of your nose and your boogers to yourself.
Act 1
Scene 1
Driving today the boys have a conversation.
MISTER What's your favorite food?
HAPPY CRITTER I don't know.
MISTER Is it boogers? I think it's boogers.
HAPPY CRITTER (Turns quickly in his car seat) No, it is not boogers!
MISTER (Furrows his brow) Well why do you eat boogers if you don't like them?
HAPPY CRITTER (Yells) I don't eat boogers.
MISTER Yes, you do. (Gazes out the window) Just forget I said anything.
(The scene shifts to Mother in the front seat, thinking.)
MOM (He has a valid point. Why do people eat boogers? Is it like picking toe nails or scratching your ear with a bobby pin? You do it, but you don't even realize you are doing it? Does it taste good? I think when I was a kid I ate boogers. Maybe everyone eats boogers.)
As an aside: People actually study eating boogers. There is a biochemistry professor, Scott Napper, from University of Saskatchewan who studied whether eating boogers boosted the immune system. Can you imagine? People actually participated and were told to eat their boogers...and they did. It makes sense to me that anything excreted from our bodies should not be ingested or put back into our bodies, regardless of whether it is going to boost our immunity. Buy some tissues and zinc for Pete's Sake! Maybe even a copy of Emily Post's Etiquette and brush up on our manners a bit. Or if you're more of a modern reader try Good Manners for Nice People Who Sometimes Say F*ck - either way, keep your fingers out of your nose and your boogers to yourself.
Curtain
2.25.2016
Body Image
body image
noun
1. an intellectual or idealized image of what one's body is or should be like that is sometimes misconceived...
I love my work. I teach fitness and wellness to help people improve their lives. There is one down side to my field: body image issues. Everyone has given some degree of thought about his body image. Sadly, some folks have more severely misconceived ideas than others.
I have had countless conversations about nutrition, weight loss, strength building, endurance training, and supplements. I have talked with people who are physically fit, unfit, and everywhere in between. I have talked with people who are incredibly sad and those who use exercise to remain incredibly happy. Helping people work through an issue, develop a plan, and create a more positive body image is the best part of my job. I believe much of it can be done within our own mind.
There are two types of body images: negative and positive. People who struggle with a negative body image are not comfortable in their body for a variety of reasons. They feel their body is unattractive or inadequate; but, this is a perception. People with a positive body image have a more realistic appreciation for their unique figure.
Negative body image is deeply ingrained in us: from the images we have seen all of our lives, to the conversations we have participated in, the social perceptions we have been raised with, and the expectations we've crafted - body image runs deep.
How can you conquer your negative body image? I think the first place to start is trying, hard as it may be at times, to focus on what you do well. I give a mean hug, for instance. I also knock out a mile in 10 minutes. Yes, you read that correctly. I am not a runner for speed - I am runner for sanity. It clears my head. I am not great at it. Regardless, I do it because I think better when I'm moving. When I start running, I am so angry because everything hurts. I want to quit. My legs. Ouch. I conjure up my POSITIVE MENTAL SPACE - and I tell myself, "This is why God gave you the muscles on your legs. Keep using them."
Thing is, nearly all of my life, the muscles of my legs have been a source of my negative body image. Most girls do not have manly legs. People have asked me all of my life about what I do to have "those legs". Very little, in fact, genetics. I envied the legs of other girls, long and lanky. I envied the way their jeans fit, the way their inner thighs didn't rub together driving their shorts upward. Shorts were always the worst part of summer. Loose, baggy pants were my friend. Skirts and I were chummy.
Just a few years ago I actually accepted these legs as they are when I met HIIT. HIIT workouts, or High Intensity Interval Training, are very quick, very hard workouts. My legs got me through them every time. Even when I thought I would puke. Truthfully, though, that is when it happened - my mind changed because I focused on what I could do. Not what I looked like.
These negative perceptions of ourselves are just that, perceptions. These perceptions have been created by so many things that you have had no control of at all - all of your life. These ideas were planted by media, friends, neighbors, or family. Making the shift to a positive body image is POSSIBLE. There is some work involved. Introspection.
This shift is within the scope of your ability - what can I do to help you?
How can you conquer your negative body image? I think the first place to start is trying, hard as it may be at times, to focus on what you do well. I give a mean hug, for instance. I also knock out a mile in 10 minutes. Yes, you read that correctly. I am not a runner for speed - I am runner for sanity. It clears my head. I am not great at it. Regardless, I do it because I think better when I'm moving. When I start running, I am so angry because everything hurts. I want to quit. My legs. Ouch. I conjure up my POSITIVE MENTAL SPACE - and I tell myself, "This is why God gave you the muscles on your legs. Keep using them."
Thing is, nearly all of my life, the muscles of my legs have been a source of my negative body image. Most girls do not have manly legs. People have asked me all of my life about what I do to have "those legs". Very little, in fact, genetics. I envied the legs of other girls, long and lanky. I envied the way their jeans fit, the way their inner thighs didn't rub together driving their shorts upward. Shorts were always the worst part of summer. Loose, baggy pants were my friend. Skirts and I were chummy.
Just a few years ago I actually accepted these legs as they are when I met HIIT. HIIT workouts, or High Intensity Interval Training, are very quick, very hard workouts. My legs got me through them every time. Even when I thought I would puke. Truthfully, though, that is when it happened - my mind changed because I focused on what I could do. Not what I looked like.
These negative perceptions of ourselves are just that, perceptions. These perceptions have been created by so many things that you have had no control of at all - all of your life. These ideas were planted by media, friends, neighbors, or family. Making the shift to a positive body image is POSSIBLE. There is some work involved. Introspection.
This shift is within the scope of your ability - what can I do to help you?
2.22.2016
It is OK
When someone says "we have to go," I understand that to mean I should ready myself with a pair of shoes and coat and head toward the exit. My children understand it to mean: "I should get Legos out and begin building a complex aircraft" or "maybe my American Girl doll needs a new outfit for her soccer practice this afternoon."
FYI: Your American Girl doll does not have soccer practice after school because she is made of plastic. LET'S GOOOOOO!!!!!
When I go to that place, it's called morning, in my head to summon the ideas to write this post, my temples begin to throb, my jaws clench, and my heart races. If there was ever a time a film director needed to get his actress to act angry he should simply say, "Imagine you are trying to get your children out the door." BLAMO! She could pretend pissed on demand.
Wednesday I felt sick. I told the kids, "I am sick. I can't talk." They hugged me and did the "oh sorry mom" and then went about the business of ignoring me and the morning routine. After repeating myself twelve thousand times I finally stopped. I stood in the hallway and threw a terrific temper tantrum.
It felt so good. I let the water works fly, I sobbed, I moaned. I mean I came totally unglued. I put myself in the bathroom for a time out and tried to get it together. When I came out everyone was ready for school.
I thought all day about how it had happened. The self-reflection lead me to this conclusion: I'm beating myself up for nothing. I'm human, it's OK. Humans fall apart. Humans have bad days. It happens. There is no such thing as a "mother of the year" award. 98% of the time I am trying my hardest in every hat that I wear.
When my children came home, I talked with them about it. I apologized for my temper tantrum, I explained I needed more effort from them in the morning, and I gave them a new system to stay on track. I think this one will be easier to stick with and create a happier morning for us all.
I write to tell you all: it is OK, you are doing a good job.
FYI: Your American Girl doll does not have soccer practice after school because she is made of plastic. LET'S GOOOOOO!!!!!
When I go to that place, it's called morning, in my head to summon the ideas to write this post, my temples begin to throb, my jaws clench, and my heart races. If there was ever a time a film director needed to get his actress to act angry he should simply say, "Imagine you are trying to get your children out the door." BLAMO! She could pretend pissed on demand.
Wednesday I felt sick. I told the kids, "I am sick. I can't talk." They hugged me and did the "oh sorry mom" and then went about the business of ignoring me and the morning routine. After repeating myself twelve thousand times I finally stopped. I stood in the hallway and threw a terrific temper tantrum.
It felt so good. I let the water works fly, I sobbed, I moaned. I mean I came totally unglued. I put myself in the bathroom for a time out and tried to get it together. When I came out everyone was ready for school.
Miracle.
I thought all day about how it had happened. The self-reflection lead me to this conclusion: I'm beating myself up for nothing. I'm human, it's OK. Humans fall apart. Humans have bad days. It happens. There is no such thing as a "mother of the year" award. 98% of the time I am trying my hardest in every hat that I wear.
When my children came home, I talked with them about it. I apologized for my temper tantrum, I explained I needed more effort from them in the morning, and I gave them a new system to stay on track. I think this one will be easier to stick with and create a happier morning for us all.
I write to tell you all: it is OK, you are doing a good job.
2.18.2016
Because Sugar
The Happy Critter had a visitor at preschool: the dentist. He has seen our dentist twice so he is familiar with the rules of dental care. This visitor, however, made quite an impression on the little guy. As soon as I picked him up from school Tuesday he explained the situation, "Mom, did you know candy has sugar? Pop, sugar. Ice cream, sugar. Cake, sugar!" The list was long and plenty. We dropped his friend at home and his lecture on the dangerous foods of sugar continued. "You know Mom, we really shouldn't eat donuts because sugar. I gotta tell Dad he can't buy us donuts because sugar." Because sugar. That is the reason. All week, we should not eat any foods with sugar, because sugar.
I've been buying individual bags of fudge stripe cookies; he lovingly calls them Fun Stripe cookies because they are "delish". The Happy Critter loves Fun Stripes. I love the individual bag concept because then I don't need to monitor how many cookies everyone is eating. Though someonemy husband has been sneaking more than one bag per evening. Yes, I know it's you.
Wednesday the dentist visited school again. At this lesson he learned that sugar makes you cry. How he came to this conclusion I do not know. Because sugar has never made me, nor anyone I know, cry. Maybe the dental work involved post excessive sugar intake or the bloat? I don't know. After lunch on Wednesday he climbed on the counter and pulled a bag of Fun Stripes out of the cabinet. He ate them with milk. When he was done he announced, "Delish!" His older brother walked in the room and said, "You do know that those cookies are made with sugar."
The Happy Critter said, "WHAAAAT? You gotta be kidding me!" We both looked at him, smiling. "Afraid not, sir, you just ate sugar." He screamed, "Oh noooo! I have to brush my teeth right away before I cry because sugar!" He ran, double time, to the bathroom and slammed the door. Moments later we heard the hum of his toothbrush, all because sugar.
I've been buying individual bags of fudge stripe cookies; he lovingly calls them Fun Stripe cookies because they are "delish". The Happy Critter loves Fun Stripes. I love the individual bag concept because then I don't need to monitor how many cookies everyone is eating. Though someone
Wednesday the dentist visited school again. At this lesson he learned that sugar makes you cry. How he came to this conclusion I do not know. Because sugar has never made me, nor anyone I know, cry. Maybe the dental work involved post excessive sugar intake or the bloat? I don't know. After lunch on Wednesday he climbed on the counter and pulled a bag of Fun Stripes out of the cabinet. He ate them with milk. When he was done he announced, "Delish!" His older brother walked in the room and said, "You do know that those cookies are made with sugar."
The Happy Critter said, "WHAAAAT? You gotta be kidding me!" We both looked at him, smiling. "Afraid not, sir, you just ate sugar." He screamed, "Oh noooo! I have to brush my teeth right away before I cry because sugar!" He ran, double time, to the bathroom and slammed the door. Moments later we heard the hum of his toothbrush, all because sugar.
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