First of all, I have to confess that today's blog tag did not come from somewhere deep in my soul, but rather from scream-induced deafness. You see, the last few days have not found the happy cloud to be residing over Best of Both World's Day Care. Much the contrary. No one wants to eat their green beans. No one wants to nap. No one wants to chew on colorful rubber blocks. Everyone wants to cry, and I'll admit, at several points in time--the universal "everyone" has included me.
However, I've had to contain myself. Parents don't think much of it, if they pull into a daycare and hear children crying inside--that is--as long as the children are in normal locations like exersaucers, bouncy seats, and bassinetts; and not hung from their toes by the ceiling fans. However, I fear I would lose business if I myself stood on the front porch with my favorite afghan, rubbing my eyes, and sobbing as if my teddy bear had been un-stuffed and my pacifier had been dropped into the garbage disposal.
Nevertheless, as my husband headed off to school this afternoon, and I attempted to say my goodbyes while holding one of four malcontents, he said something to me that was lost among the noise. What I though he said was "Your chi is unplugged." And I laughed and answered, "Your right, my chi IS unplugged." He looked at me funny and then at the baby I was holding. "No," he laughed. "I SAID, she lost her plug. Her pacifier is on the floor."
Despite the accidental nature of the thought, it got me back to the keyboard, which is where I've needed to be. As a friend of mine wrote on my wall, "You haven't posted since February 3rd! What's up with that!?"
Well, let me alliterate. What's up? Wizards, whizzing walls, and woeful whipper-snappers. First of all: Wizards. Remind me to leave the metaphors alone. I'm fatalistically drawn to them; however, they are exhausting. After typing on for days about my REM Remix of the Wizard of Oz, I think my creativity had done-gone and oozed out for the week. I missed my Sunday update, and that's a first.
Secondly, whizzing walls. Yep. My basement was leaking like an uncovered boy-child. Believe me. On Friday, I kept waiting for a cyclone to carry me off to Oz, but as the day wore on, I became convinced we would arrive by flood instead. It rained and it rained and it rained. And our poor basement, which has never been entirely sound, cried from ceiling to floor. I had six towels down, sopping it all up. My dutch oven was under a drip that dropped about six cups every two hours. I had been planning on running several loads of wash that day; however, I thought it unwise to run a dryer that was sitting in a puddle.
Very close to being that person previously described--the one standing on the porch soliloquizing about her cannibalized security animal--I called the calvary. My mother and grandmother arrived ready to lend a hand and leave with the laundry and half of my work load. The children were only too happy to spend the day with their grandmas. I spent the rest of the day juggling my remaining two charges, and trying to empty out the basement in preparation for the work that will most certainly have to be done. The moisture related issues wreaked havoc on my eyes, nose, and chest; and today I am still blowing and hacking.
Finally, let us address the issue of the woeful whipper-snappers. I went to aerobics last night; it was the only session I would be able to attend this week. Talk about Chis coming unplugged. My Maggie, who rarely cries, stood in the pak-n-play and HOWLED. You could hardly hear the instructor's boom-box over her vocal orchestration. It was a new arrangement from Off D. Handel amplified by the CHBC chamber gymnasium in Gee-Whiz Minor. The child composer's inspiration was said to have come from the injustice of being corralled during her mother's aerobic quest to lower her chances of diabetes and heart disease.
Nearby, my son dumped his 100 piece puzzle on the gymnasium floor. Keep in mind, this boy is the guy who spends hours at the dining room table at home, working intensely on puzzles. He loves them. Two minutes later, I hear him announce above his sister's screaming, "I be done with this puzzle now." I wanted to cry. I was ready to pack them all up and go home, and honestly, if it hadn't been for a very nice lady from my church insisting that she would sit with them while I exercised, I would have.
But I won't lie. It was extremely discouraging, and I called my mother on the way home, bewailing my lot and asking her how I was ever going to accomplish fitness in this current state of insanity. Rain and red lights and realism. They almost got me. If I hadn't gone to my meeting on Monday, I would have been in trouble. In the meeting we had talked about making ourselves priority when it came to accomplishing our health goals, and in addition, we received a copy of Weight Watchers weekly to take home.
The article that caught my eye was "A Little Help from your Friends," and in that article, four different types of helpful friends were described. One of those types of friends was called "The Straight Shooter." This person "tells you exactly what she thinks, and there's no fooling her. She demands the best of you, so that's what you give her. And she inspires you to be more honest and forthright with yourself and others." She also "might suggest that you replace your unhelpful actions with healthier ones."
I called my Straight Shooter. I called my mom. She does tell me what she thinks--though she always seems to know when to be gentle and when to give me the old "Suck it up, Marine!" After I'd spent a good ten minutes whining, there was a pause, and then mom said, "So you're telling me, after all the success you've had, you're just going to throw it all aside because things feel a little impossible right now?!" Sputter. Sob. Snirk. "N-n-n-no." Sniff. And I don't know how she did it, but she had me laughing and upbeat by the time I got home.
So thanks, mom, for being the friend who plugged my chi back in. I know I'm halfway through Week 9 already, but better late than never. At the Monday meeting, I had lost 1.8 pounds, which got me half way to my next 5 pound goal of 15 pounds. I'm gonna make it this week! I can feel it! My week nine commitment is to keep working on the exercise dilemma until I find a good fit for my life--something I can enjoy and be consistent at. Something realistic.
As for aerobics, oh I'll be back when I can. I absolutely love being there. It's nice to be out of the house and with other women, but as much as I've enjoyed it, I won't be back with the kids. Its not fair to the others gals or to the instructor, though as God is my witness, my children do not act like Thing One and Thing Two under most other circumstances.
So if you're Chi is unplugged, don't give up. Pick up the connection where you lost it, and keep going. But golly, if you've had a couple kids, and now you're the "she" who's lost her plug, all I can tell you is Bi-Lo. Aisle Five. Depends.