Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts

Thursday, February 5, 2009

If I don't put them in therapy, I'm not doing my job

Just now I was regaling Holly over IM with my "I'm Such a Great Mom" story of the day. It involves me lying to my daughter and convincing her that I really did see the entire assembly that her class sang in this morning when really I left as soon as her class was done. In my defense, I had just sat through the whole thing just before that when her sister's class did the exact same thing in the exact same assembly, so I really did see the entire thing, just not at the same time she saw it. (This also made it easier to supply information that only someone who had clearly been at the show could have known.)(Details are important when you're lying.)(But not too many; then you sound desperate.) An hour of watching other people's children perform entirely too long dances all while trying to keep my 2-year old both happy and quiet (you try it; it's worse that trying to both hula hoop and apply eyeliner) was more than enough for me.

So, to sum up: I rule. Thankfully my mother can give my kids free therapy.

I do have some good qualities as a mother though, so I going to share a few of the ways I think I'm succeeding in helping my kids be healthy.

Some of my prouder parenting moments:

My kids don't know that you can add sugar to cereal. I'm talking Corn Flakes here, people. The kids eat them completely plain and like it. When I was a kid, there was always an at least inch-thick layer of sugar silt at the bottom of the milk.

Last year, my oldest daughter came home from a church youth activity where the lesson had been about healthy eating. The woman who taught the class had a picture of Adam and Eve displayed, with a sign that said, "Adam and Eve didn't eat Ding-Dongs." After telling me about it, my daughter asked me, "Mom, what's a 'Ding-Dong?'"

My older son has started getting up at 6am completely on his own just so that he'll have time to play Wii Fit for 15 minutes before school and get all his morning stuff done, too. He's done it for almost 3 weeks now without missing a day. This is the boy that usually acts like I sacrificed his favorite animal in front of him whenever I say something like, "Time to wake up."

While they really do take after me (and I take after my mom, whose father once told her "You would rather read than run"), they are much more physically active than I ever was as a child--and they actually like it.

They have been known to turn down soda pop for water.

They stop eating when they're full. And usually don't want more than one serving of dessert. Whenever that happens I have to remind myself that the fact that they are little clones of my husband is proof that yes, they are actually the children I gave birth to, and no, they were not actually switched at the hospital.

My older son has become a smoothie-making whiz. He'll whip them up for anyone at the dropof a hat, and he loves to try different fruits and other flavor combinations. (I will neither confirm nor deny that I sometimes only pretend to drink them.)

This one isn't health-related, but it makes me laugh, so I'm including it: My kids accept it as completely normal that when someone is drinking too much or too quickly, you say, "Easy on the Pepsi, Fuller;" when you have to clear your throat in order to say something, you follow it up with, "Welcome to the Pit of Despair; don't even think about trying to escape;" and if you're in pain, you adopt a British accent and say, "And that really hurt, Charlie, and it's still hurting."* That's just to name a few.

My kids are just cool. Or seriously messed up. Either way works, because the bottom line is that they make me laugh, And as long as I'm entertained, it's all good.

What are some of the ways that you help your kids to be healthy? Are they more healthy than you were as a child? Also, tell me something funny they do or say. I love me some funny kid stories.

*If you don't know what I'm talking about, go here. My 2-year old was quoting it to himself in bed last night--"Chaw-wee eat me!" Hi-larity.

Friday, January 9, 2009

My kid made me eat it

Sometimes my 4-year-old daughter drives me bonkers. At such times, I want to 1) hide, and 2) eat everything in the house. Today was one of those days. So many questions, so much whining (just like her mom!), so much scattering of toys and books and crumbs...

But I didn't give in to the temptation to eat the chocolate chips in the cupboard or my 10-year-old daughter's Halloween candy (obviously she was switched at birth--a child of mine couldn't possibly hang onto candy for over 2 months). I did try to hide, but there aren't many places to go in a 1500 sq. foot, 1 story house. Locking myself in the bathroom doesn't work--she just patiently scratches and kicks and "MOMMY MOMMY MOMMYs" at the door until I come out.

Then there are times like this that make me want to keep her forever and ever, and forgive all the crumbs and whining. Keep your eye on the short angel--that's her. No wonder I resisted the chocolate chips.


Thursday, December 18, 2008

What is it about being around my kids that makes me mainline cookies?


So we got back from our trip this morning. As is 3:45 am this morning, and neither of us could fall asleep until after 5, and then we were up at 6:30 to get the kids off to school. Me = tired.

But anyway, I did really well on the trip. I ate a lot of fruit and as many veggies as I could get. I also made a little rule for myself that unless the food was amazing, I didn't finish all of it. And perhaps my biggest victory foodwise was not spending all seven days gorging myself on pastries. Egypt, you see, does not have a single good pastry in the whole of its borders. The "donuts" taste like stale hamburger buns with disgusting frosting on them, and anything else they call a dessert is soaked in so much honey its inedible. I've told Holly several times that if we lived in France I'd surely be up to 500 pounds by now. Well, this trip I took was to Tunisia. A country that used to be occupied by France. Tunisia has good pastries. Lots of good pastries. Every hotel we stayed in that offered breakfast (which was all but one, because one of the nights we stayed at Luke Skywalker's house)(my husband is a nerd, and I am nice; what can I say?) had pastries at breakfast, but I made sure to eat fruit and eggs (hard-boiled, since that's the least grease-soaked option they had) before I had any baked goods, and even then I had very few. I didn't fell deprived though, because I was just choosing not to eat them all. I had some--and sometimes more than some--but I didn't have all, and for me, that's big. Plus--and this is another biggie for me--I wrote down everything I ate. Everything. (I didn't worry about amounts or calories; I just wrote down the food.) We also did a lot of walking, a little running (well, me; dh did a little more than a little), and quite a bit of Ancient Roman Ruin Climbing (I like to call it ARRC, you may have heard of it at your gym; it's all the rage these days)(seriously though, they let you roam practically willy-nilly wherever you want to go; it was so cool!). I drank as much water as I could, but the bathroom choices were usually, um, not so great. Usually I would just get in as much as I could at night. Except that night in Matmata. That bathroom was awful.

But today? Now that I'm home, surrounded by healthy food, a gym, and clean bathrooms? I think I've eaten my weight in Oreos. I guess re-entry into real life is harder than I expected it to be. Plus, me = tired.

So I'm giving myself one more day to stabilize a little. I'm still writing down everything I eat, even though today every other entry says "oreo." Saturday I'll be back to controlling my intake more, tracking my food beyond just its name, and real gym exercising. Also, the oreos have to go. And not by way of my digestive tract.

Friday, April 4, 2008

What are you trying to say?


This morning I came downstairs in my exercise clothes, all rarin' to go and feeling mighty proud of myself for getting on the treadmill first thing. As I'm unfolding it, my 10-y/o son, The Great Brain, says to me, "Are you going to run?" And before I can even inhale to answer, my 5-y/o, Little Miss Sunshine, lets out an incredulous snort, and says, "Brain! That's MOM!" Like, duh.

No real Life-Changing Analogy to be had here; I just thought it was funny.