The Freshman Fifteen

I'm disappointed.

Fall 2009, I had enthusiastically joined the local gym, mostly because of the wonderful classes they were offering and also, to give me the incentive to lose some of that lovely, extra weight that had been slowly creeping up over the past few years. I had been happily going to the gym, attending classes or working out on the machines, almost every day. By the time last Spring rolled around, I lost 15 pounds and felt MAW-VELOUS! I pulled out my smaller clothes that had been boxed away for a few years and was in much better health, as I also battle with high glucose levels and over the past two years, high blood pressure. Some of the women in the classes have become supportive friends that I enjoy seeing several times each week and I absolutely adore my dance/yoga teacher. Everything about the gym has been positive. Well, except for yesterday, when I decided (after avoiding altogether) to stand on the dreaded, fancy scale in the women's locker room. Bleh.

Since Malachy's summer break started last June and especially since home-schooling had begun in late August, I am ashamed to admit that I have gained nearly every, stinking, ugly pound back. I have become much less active, using the gym much less frequently than I did last year at this time. During the day time, we are busy with our heads in the books and working on the computer so that by the time the afternoon comes along, I am too exhausted to work out. Last year, I was taking the dogs for walks in the hills, every few days, and now they too suffer. My clothes are feeling tight and uncomfortable and I am always feeling tired and sluggish. I can relate to that young adult whose life has changed so much during that first year away at college, including that inevitable weight gain.

Facing the facts, I woke up on this rainy Saturday with a determination I haven't felt since last Fall. I reopened my Livestrong/MyPlate account and I am going to start counting calories again and registering my daily fitness. Yes, I know, we are right smack in the beginning of the holiday/Christmas season and I will be bombarded with good food and sweets every where I turn. But I know myself and I know how stubborn I am. When I make up my mind, it's going to happen. And in this case, it's a good thing.

The boy and I, WILL be taking the dogs on walks through the hills (his physical education) on weekdays, whether he likes it or not. I WILL be flexible to adjust some of his daily classes so I can get on the cardio-machines more during the weekdays when I'm not feeling so wiped out. I will make smarter food choices. Hey, is that the theme from Rocky going around in my head right now?

That's it! The Freshman Fifteen and I are at battle and I know who is going to win this war! Welcome back determination!

:-)

PS. I hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Giving Thanks.

Here we are, one week before Thanksgiving 2010, the start of the frenzied, Holiday season. This is the time of year when I am most homesick for my home state, (New Hampshire) and my very large, extended family who mostly still all live there. And although most of Steve's family live in this area near where we live, the celebrations of the holidays are just not the same as the traditions I grew up with and raised my daughters in. Nor is the local weather. It's kind of difficult for me to imagine Christmas lights strung around palm trees and soft, warm days in the 60s and 70s as part of the holiday season. And celebrating Christmas has become a no-no in the public schools, at least around here. I do understand why, but it takes away some more of the magic of the holiday season for the kids.

I can fondly remember layers of woolen clothing that had to be peeled off in the crowded hallways before school started. Jacket, boots, snow-pants, mittens, hats, scarves...all wet with little chunks of snow stuck to them. Before recess, the teachers would assist some of us that had a harder time putting back on all that snow gear and we'd go outside for a quick dash in the snow. They'd be kids lined up and sliding on their bottoms down the little embankments, rolling snowmen on the field (and even tossing a few at each other before the teacher on yard duty would catch you), or just making squiggly trails in the freshly fallen snow while chasing each other. And although we were probably shivering with cold and cheeks as red as apples, and our clothing soaking wet, most of us LOVED it!

Every classroom had their own Christmas tree and the students would decorate it with colored, paper chains and popcorn. We'd make hanging paper lanterns in the traditional red and green colors of Christmas and beautiful, original snowflakes were stapled to all the walls. There was always a holiday concert and a Christmas play that the entire school participated in. Santa Claus would even make his hurried appearance before having to run back to the North Pole for his final touches. The excitement in the air was so electric you could feel it as you walked onto school grounds. On the last day before break, the children would have a present exchange. More often than not, I walked away with a book of festive Lifesavers candy that I would probably finish within two days.

Living in the San Francisco bay area with the large diversity of cultures and religions, I am in complete awareness and understanding why the schools won't focus on Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa and/or the many other holidays that different families around the world celebrate. I'm just saying, it's different now. But, I know for my son, he has no clue what he missed out on. He's only been in snow once, in 2005. We went back to New Hampshire for two weeks during the holidays. And boy, they sure know how to decorate and celebrate Christmas back there! Malachy was only three years old at the time and I know he barely remembers it. My two daughters were older when we moved to California and are lucky to have memories of the snow and the local traditions. However on the other hand, when we did move to California, being able to use your roller skates outside on Christmas day, push your new baby doll in the new stroller, or ride your new Christmas scooter because it was warm and sunny out, was a fresh and novel experience for all of us.

Since before Malachy was born, I have struggled with creating our own traditions as I am still under the magic spell of my childhood memories of what the holidays are "supposed" to be like. But what I have been blind to and what has just come to light very recently, has been the fact that whatever we've been doing all along, ARE the traditions he will grow up to remember and try to pass onto his kids. This epiphany has given me glimpses of excitement, rather than dread for the upcoming weeks. Having him home-schooled, especially during the holiday season, puts me in charge of how we'll celebrate and what we'll participate in. My house, my rules! Truly, this is the beauty of homeschooling and I'm very thankful to have this opportunity to do so.

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting.......

So this has been, for the most part an uneventful week. This is a good thing, compared to life lately.

On Wednesday, Steve insisted on going back to work, as he is feeling a lot better. Malachy has been chugging along at a good pace with his studies. Yesterday, Veteran's Day, was a school vacation day, however we pushed a little further in History and Art, as those were the two subjects that were lagging a bit in progress. Things were going along just fine, UNTIL.....

this morning's dance class. Since our first meltdown back in late August (with attending the gym's daycare) and my advising him that he'd be going back to his neighborhood school if he continued to give me a hard time about going, things have gone surprisingly well there. Despite the fact that most of the children that attend the daycare are babies and toddlers, he has actually met a few kids around his age that come regularly. One boy's name is Roman and they are usually together for the Friday morning dance class. There have been no issues for weeks, until today.

Into the daycare, walk two brothers, age 8 and 4, complete with bad attitudes. Malachy and Roman had been playing in a corner of the daycare, pretending to be characters from the video game, "Donkey Kong". Bad boy #1 asked them what game they were playing, to which Malachy replied "Donkey Kong". Bad boy #2, laughed at them and told them that was a stupid game and that's when the trouble began. Bad boy #2 continued to call them babies and other names and pretended to throw things at them. Meanwhile, the daycare teacher has a baby in her arms and a toddler hanging onto her leg. Malachy got really upset then, too upset actually, and went to the daycare teacher and angrily told her to put the two boys in time out. And of course, she wasn't taking orders from an 8 year old at that time, and just told them all to behave. Bad boy #1 continued to tease the other two, which caused Malachy to show his gorilla side and went off on him, screaming. At this point, the front desk attendant interrupted my dance class and pulled me out to tell me I was wanted in the daycare. Oh yippee! I walk over and there is Malachy crying, his face as red as a beet and he yelled to me as I was just opening the door to go in, "These boys are teasing me and I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!". I asked the teacher what was going on and she replied with a question, "Does he have a bit of a bad temper?". Thrown off balance by not really knowing what was going on, I gathered my things, grabbed my boy and we went home.

I calmed him down and after hearing his side of the story, I realized he is 1)overly sensitive , 2) overreacting, 3) not equipped with the right things to say or do when teased. I've seen this happen with him before. The truth is, I know where he gets this from.

Growing up, we were never allowed to talk back, never allowed to get into a confrontation, or to ever question authority. Pretty much, I was a very submissive little girl that grew into a compliant young lady, always bending over backwards to please. Its only in my forties that I have had the courage to stand up for myself with others. I don't want this for my boy. I want him to have a back-bone and stand up to bullies, or have thicker skin so they don't even begin to bother him. I can't always be with him (although lately it seems this is the deal), he needs the right skills to do this for himself. So over the coming weekend, I am going to research ways on how to deal with bullies. I figure we'll do some role playing and hopefully, he'll learn that he can protect himself in ways without blowing a gasket and/or getting in trouble with those in authority.

And maybe I'll learn a thing or two too. So look out, bullies! HERE WE COME!

The Internet Is Magic!

Having Steve home due to his accident/surgery, has surprisingly enabled me to do a few things that I normally don't have the time for as he's been helping with the homeschooling. For example, this morning I researched who has been reading this humble, little blog. It put a big smile on my face this morning to see that my original, written word has made it all the way from the United States to the United Arab Emirates. From Canada to Argentina, from the United Kingdom to Slovenia, Denmark, Iran, Germany and Russia!

And with my words, I hope that I have given insight as to what my little, American family struggles with, and hopes for, and in the end, laughs about. In my heart, I know that all of us humans are connected in this brief journey we share on Earth. We all want the same things for our children, in whatever form it comes in, where ever we may reside. Whether it be a decent education, memories of a great childhood, an extended caring and loving family, prosperity, freedom from war and disease; these are universal desires.

The internet has made us a smaller world with so much more in common than anyone ever realized before. And it thrills me to no end to be a tiny speck in it.

Thank you.

They never listen; large or small.....

So this has been quite the interesting week. Last Friday, Steve told me he wanted to go mountain biking with a neighbor on Saturday morning into the early afternoon. Seeing that we had an early Halloween party that particular day, I asked him not to go (he always comes home later than he says he will). He promised me he would be home in plenty of time to dress up in costume and go. Reluctantly, I agreed that he could go.

Saturday morning I got up early as I needed to get Layla's nails clipped at the shop. I also needed to run to the grocery store to pick up some ingredients to bake some festive cupcakes that I intended to bring to the party. When we got home, I started baking the cupcakes and organizing our costumes. We were going to be a caveman couple and Malachy was the Grim Reaper. Lovely mix...

Just before noon, I could hear the phone ringing. I thought to myself, please let this be Steve so I know he'll be home in time for the party. He usually calls me as he's leaving from his ride to come home. Because the phone was upstairs and these bones are getting too old to run upstars as fast as I once could, I missed the call. Caller ID said it was from Steve. So I listened to the message he left for me.

Stuart was now on the Dumbarton Bridge, driving him to the emergency room as he crashed on the trails and he believed he broke his collarbone. He told me that his bone was sticking up, out of his shoulder area. Gross. So I shut off the oven, called to Malachy and we met him there. A few hours and a bunch of x-rays later, we discovered that he did not have any fractures, but he did have a serious separation. They sent him home to ice it, along with some handy-dandy pain medicine and told him to call the orthopedic doctor on Monday when they are open for the week.

Oh yes, it gets better....

On Monday, Steve went to the doctor. The doctor told him that he needed surgery in order for them to bring the shoulder joint and his clavicle back to where they should be. He was scheduled for late in the day on Tuesday.

Monday, we got the bare necessities completed during homeschooling. Tuesday, I tried to push a little more, since it helped take our minds off of the upcoming surgical procedure.

Steve went into surgery at 5:00 and was home by 9:00 in the evening. The surgery went well, but he had a terrible reaction to the anesthesia. The pain meds knocked him out that evening and he got some sleep, however, I got very little.

Wednesday, Malachy was really dragging his feet with his school work. We started late, he had too many breaks as I needed to attend to Steve often, and then we ended the school day fairly late as well. Knowing that Steve has to be home for two weeks to recover, I really wondered how I was going to be able to juggle the school work and now the nursing duties as well as everything else I had to get done.

Last night, I again tossed and turned. Couldn't sleep and when I did, I had strange and upsetting dreams. I woke up soaking wet and shivering from sweating. This morning, I woke up to lower back pain, the same pain that comes and goes and that which I have been been struggling with for a long time. I couldn't sit very well or for any amount of time in the computer chair. I took some Alieve and went along my merry way.

After taking care of dog and bunny responsibilities, starting laundry, changing sheets, cooking breakfast, getting Malachy's school day organized and then straightening the living room (which has become Steve's hospital room) all before 9:00am, I was getting a little cranky. Just a little! So Steve said he would help me with cleaning. The guy is wearing a sling and can't hardly move his body, what the heck did he think he would be able to help me with? But I had a better and a brilliant idea!!

Today for school, Malachy had a substitute teacher. His name is Mr. Saeedi. He went through all Malachy's subjects with him, with the exception of his Literature which I can help him with after lunch. And I got to even lie down for a half hour to rest my back. I'm feeling better already.

Maybe having Mr. Saeedi home for two weeks, won't be so difficult after all. Steve may not be able to use a vacuum cleaner for some time, or mow the lawn, or continue with his dedicated poop-patrol, but I have a feeling he can still be very valuable to both me and the boy. I told him that you don't need two arms to help a boy with his education. Just a lot of patience and a sense of humor, can go very far.