MoxiArchive - APRIL 2010

Spring Is In The Air - 1 April 2010
Double Fours - 3 April 2010
Cruciferous Snacking - 5 April 2010
Things Not To Do at Midnight - 8 April 2010
Benji - 9 April 2010
Row, Row, Row Your Butt - 10 April 2010
Benji, Part 2 - 12 April 2010
What's Inside - 13 April 2010
Wheel of Torture - 15 April 2010
All Fun and Games - 17 April 2010
Turning Eleven - 18 April 2010
It's Just Math - 20 April 2010
Swimmingly - 22 April 2010
Drop and Give Me 20 - 23 April 2010
Happy Belated Earth Day - 25 April 2010
Today's Inspiration - 26 April 2010
Keys - 27 April 2010
Coo-coo for Kuman - 29 April 2010

29 April 2010

Coo-coo for Kumon

Kumon is in the business of academics after school – math and reading. They serve pre-kinder to high school students, and you’ll mostly find Kumon centers in strip malls around larger towns and cities. Waco does not have a Kumon center, of course, which is a bummer because Kumon is awesome!

Kumon was started over 50 years ago by a Japanese man who was trying to help his own son with school related academics. You can read about Kumon HERE. The franchise owner I met in Houston while visiting my parents was very friendly and helpful, and while my kids have only been able to attend the 1.5 hour sessions a handful of times, they’ve really gotten a lot out of it – and enjoyed working with the high school students tutoring them. I’m not sure about the elementary schools where you are, but my kids need the supplemental math.

Since we cannot attend Kumon center sessions here in Waco, I purchase Kumon workbooks at a local bookstore and the kids do grade level math work in them every week. They will be attending Kumon a few times per week this summer once we get to Denver, so they’ll be ready to hit the ground running next school year. If you have a Kumon center nearby I highly recommend you check it out for yourself. Ask for a free trial session and see what you think.

‘Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere.’
Chinese Proverb

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27 April 2010

Keys

It’s amazing how a small thing, like locking your keys in your car, can have far-reaching repercussions. It began last night when I realized that all three sets of my car keys were locked in my car (which was in my garage): my key, my spare key, and the key that was supposed to be wired to the underside of my car (since this happens from time to time, only I forgot to put it back under the car last time I had to use it!). Talk about a terminal dumb-ass. Maybe my dad was right after all. Sometimes I amaze even myself!

I spent a good hour looking high and low for another spare key around the house, without success. I called my husband at work to give him the news around 9:30 p.m.

Husband: “Why don’t you just call a locksmith to come out to the house and open the car?”
Me: “Because it’s late and the kids are in bed and I’m in my pajamas.”
Husband: “So?”
Me: “Why don’t I just put up a sign inviting all axe murderers over by announcing that I’m home alone with no escape vehicle?”

I was too tired and mad at myself to deal with waiting for a locksmith in my pajamas. It was going to have to wait. I could take my husband’s car in the morning and deal with the keys later.

So this morning the kids and I piled into the other car to leave for school. My son scooted into the middle of the backseat, right up next to his hormonal sister.

Celia: “WHAT are you DOING?!!”
Rene: “I don’t want to sit in that seat” he points to the other seat next to him.
Celia: “Well I don’t want you touching me. MOVE OVER!!!”
Rene: “Relax Celia. It’s no big deal.”
Celia: “YES IT IS. GET AWAY FROM ME!!!!”
Rene: “I am not sitting over there. It is too dirty and I don’t like it.”
Celia: “Mama, something is wrong with him. He is not normal.”
Rene: “Celia, there is nothing wrong with me. You wouldn’t want to sit over there either.

The bickering continued for about 14.5 minutes. I know because I was timing it and listening intently, hoping it would end soon. I try very hard to let them work out their difficulties on their own, intervening only when there is blood or the threat of violence. By the time we arrived at school (on time even!) they had forgotten all about the argument and bounded across the grass together, ignoring my well-wishes. I was reminded how important the practice of tolerance is in our daily activities, especially when dealing with kids – even your own.

‘What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other’s folly – that is the first law of nature.’ – Voltaire

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26 April 2010

Today’s Inspiration

Amy Palmiero-Winters lost her left leg as the result of an accident, but she has not let it slow her down one bit. In fact, she has actually sped up since losing her leg, A LOT. She is a standout long distance runner who was recently awarded a Sullivan Award, named THE outstanding amateur athlete in the United States. She is also a mom, among other things.

The New York Times has run a profile of her that you can read for yourself right HERE. People like Amy make it hard to find excuses for not making that exercise a part of your daily routine. More than that, people like Amy make it so easy to find inspiration to reach for those daily goals. What is stopping you? Take a cue from Amy. Get off your duff and get busy.

‘There is in every true woman’s heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.’ – Washington Irving, The Sketch Book, 1820

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25 April 2010

Happy Belated Earth Day

One of the chores my children like least is taking kitchen scraps out to our compost bin. We eat a lot of produce, so every day at least once or twice we have a bowl of scraps, including but not limited to: coffee grounds, tea bags, egg shells, orange rinds and other assorted vegetable matter.
It begins like this:

Me: “Please take out the compost.”
Kids, in unison: “I DID IT LAST TIME!!”
Me: “Then go out together and take it.”
Kids: “It’s dark and we’re scared.”
Me: “Then take a flashlight with you. Maybe you’ll spot Mickey.”
Kids: “Oh yea, let’s go!”

Then they run out the door with a flashlight, arguing about who will remove the lid and who will do the scrap dumping, to see who can spot the mouse living in our compost pile first. Mickey the compost mouse is so cute; sometimes he’ll just be sitting on top of the pile, like he wants to say ‘thanks for all of this grub!’. Of course we haven’t seen him for a while. Maybe the rat snake ate him or he’s moved on to a better gig. Whatever the case may be, we miss him. The kids get a lot of life cycle lessons with the compost bin and the garden.

Back to the issue at hand: compost. Our compost is like black gold after several years of perfecting the process. I amend the compost with dry molasses and shredded leaves from time to time, and I also added red wigglers (worms) to it about two years ago. Those suckers have taken over the decomposition, and I attribute much of my compost success story to them and their castings (poop). Composting makes me feel great, because not only am I substantially reducing our contribution to landfills, but we are returning to the earth some lovely nutritious fertilizer, chemical free.

If you don’t have one already you should consider investing in a compost bin; they range from about 40 dollars to a few hundred dollars depending on the model you prefer. Mine is the less expensive variety, which means I have to use a pitchfork to turn the pile a time or two per week. There are some models that are more like suspended barrels with a handle making it easy to turn your heap. Compost needs aeration to help the matter decompose. If you don’t want to look at the pile or get your hands a little dirty the latter more expensive model is what you want. Either way you should place is as far from your house and back door as possible; when the weather is warm compost becomes quite fragrant. You can read all about creating your own compost pile right HERE.

‘My whole life has been spent waiting for an epiphany, a manifestation of God’s presence, the kind of transcendent, magical experience that lets you see your place in the big picture. And that is what I had with my first compost heap.’ – Bette Midler

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24 April 2010

Drop and Give Me 20

If you’ve ever been on the receiving end of those words from a coach or an authority figure, you might have a very negative association with push-ups as a form of elective exercise. I can remember having to do them for the President’s Physical Fitness Test in grade school, when we had to complete as many push-ups as possible within a certain amount of time. Of course we were so sore for the next few days we were unable to brush our teeth, feed ourselves or write properly, and that made us hate push-ups all the more. When you only do them once a year, or when they are used as a form of punishment, push-ups can be a really painful experience.

At the gym I’ve noticed the people I regularly see performing push-ups on their own are, generally speaking, in very good physical condition. They are buff! This in and of itself speaks volumes to the effectiveness of push-ups as a part of any exercise program. Push-ups are simple, require no equipment, and are easily modifiable, working a wide array of muscle groups, including: chest, shoulders, triceps, low back and abs.

The newest Moxi Fit video demonstrates one of my favorite modified push-up exercises. Try doing as many as you can, resting for a minute or two, and then two more sets like that to complete three full sets when you can, and you’ll feel the results right away. Do those three sets once a week and prepare to be amazed at how quickly you’ll gain upper body muscle strength and endurance. Don’t forget to stretch out afterward, my favorite part, with a child’s pose alternating arms out on either side pushed down into the floor. Be strong, rock on!

‘Lack of activity destroys the good condition of every human being, while movement and methodical physical exercise save and preserve it.’ - Plato

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22 April 2010

Swimmingly

Now that the daytime high temperature is over 80 degrees, the thought of jumping in a pool to train is not quite as painful as it can be in the dead of winter. The best way I’ve found to actually enjoy that first dip into the water is to warm up with some type of cardio activity – either running or machining. If I’m desperate I’ve been known to sit in the sauna or steam room suited up in my cap and goggles until I am hot enough to want a refreshing plunge.

Because I spent over a decade of my young life training as a competitive swimmer and water polo player, swimming comes naturally to me. Many friends over the years have expressed the desire to swim but they lack upper body strength and/or stroke efficiency to be able to feel like they are getting an effective workout. Or it’s so much work that they get frustrated and quit before they’ve really given it a chance.

One easy way to make a pool work out much more enjoyable is to use fins, or flippers. You can either grab a kick board and use them for a pure lower body workout, or you can use them while you’re swimming freestyle to help propel you forward with more force. Some of my running friends have been shocked by how much more enjoyable swimming has become with the use of fins; they are converts! There is nothing like a flutter kick workout to strengthen your hips, glutes, quads and hamstrings.

Earlier this year Runner’s World published a great article about swimming. You can read it HERE. I really like their advice about stretching in the pool; it feels great at the end of your swim workout to stretch in the water. If you’re into gear there is now a waterproof MP3 player case that allows you to swim with your own music; I haven’t tried it yet but that looks like the way to go if you spend a lot of time in the water. Either way, consider picking up a pair of fins at your local sporting goods store; they are about $15 where I live, and enjoy the pool this spring and summer.

‘Live in the sunshine, swim in the sea, drink the wild air.’

20 April 2010

It’s Just Math

In theory, weight loss is a no-brainer. Burn more calories than you consume and you will lose weight. How much more straightforward can it be? Many people in the gym talk about different diets and techniques, workout regimens, and so on. The goal of either dropping or maintaining weight is a common goal of most people I encounter working out. Many of the women I know in the gym have no problem with the working out part of the equation; it’s the calorie control that is the real challenge. This weekend I went a bit crazy with the homemade cinnamon rolls and pizza that accompanied the birthday festivities, so I fall into the same category.

Recently the New York Times ran a very interesting article discussing evidence related to exercise and weight management. You can read it here. There seemed to be some contradictions in the information, but what I found most interesting related to a Harvard University study of 34,000 middle-aged women who were followed for 13 years. They gained on average 6 pounds during that time, but the women who exercised even at low levels of intensity for about an hour a day were able to maintain their weight over time. Even standing versus sitting is a great metabolism booster, the article concludes. This is good news indeed!

So exercise alone will not necessarily result in massive amounts of weight loss, but once the weight is gone the exercise will help you maintain that loss over time. Eating cinnamon rolls and pizza will help you gain weight in a very short amount of time (!). It wouldn’t really bother me if it weren’t so dang hard to get back off; I’d rather just not put any on no matter how good it tasted going down my hole.

At a soccer game this weekend I was talking about how utterly divine my husband’s freshly baked hot out of the oven cinnamon rolls were, and one of the moms looked shocked.

Her: “You eat cinnamon rolls??”
Me: “I did today, girl.”
Her: “I don’t believe you.” (she was serious!)
Me: “Why? I have a terrible sweet tooth, girl!”
(I’ve begun using the term ‘girl’ when I address almost anyone since living in Waco. Help! My husband ALWAYS tells me he’s not a girl when I say it to him.)
Her: “Because you seem so disciplined and good about what you eat.”
Me: “Not today, girl!”

Believe me when I tell you that I enjoyed every morsel of refined pizza dough and cinnamon roll that went down my hole, but I’m back on the wagon today. As the Reverend Al Sharpton told the graduating class of a New York City alternative public high school where I taught for three years: “There ain’t no shame in falling down. The only shame in falling down comes when you don’t pick yourself back up again.” So I’m back to my Fage yogurt with Kashi, berries, flax seed and nutritional yeast for my morning meal instead of cinnamon rolls. I’ll stick with my good eating habits for now and enjoy the next carbo-fest when it comes back to town – guilt free.

18 April 2010

Turning Eleven

“I’m FINALLY a pre-teen!” was my daughter Celia’s exclamation this morning as she sashayed through the kitchen. I don’t really remember anything specific about being eleven, but I’m pretty sure I was not that excited about being a pre-teen. Maybe it was because I looked more like a nine-year old boy with green swimmer’s hair when I was an eleven-year old girl. I think I would have given almost anything at the time to skip those four, no, make that five, years between the ages of 11 and 16. Celia is embracing it, which makes me both happy and sad at the same time.

A few days ago, before she was an official pre-teen, Celia was refusing to put on an ankle brace before school, insisting she did not need it. I insisted she wear it to school and she very reluctantly complied right before limping out of the van on her sprained ankle. I leaned out of my window to remind her to elevate her foot when possible during the school day. This was met with a loud, “DON’T TALK TO ME!!” over her shoulder.

“I LOVE YOU!!!” came my equally loud reply – which was now directed at her back. All of the students walking into school heard this exchange - not her desired outcome. She did not respond and all I could do was sigh (a sigh of resignation? Relief?) as I watched her walk away. “I love you Mama. Have a great day,” said my son as he ran after her, careful not to get too close to her. Whenever one child is in the doghouse the other always pulls through; it’s downright predictable that my son would be so sweet after an exchange like that. It’s like they’re trying to win you over while the other one is down on the mat with the ref counting.

Celia is struggling for autonomy, and I both know and understand that. I try to afford her opportunities for decision-making and independence. It is a dance we do, and sometimes we waltz, other times we tango. That morning was more like a slam dance at a rave. For her birthday she got new dollhouse furniture and a beautifully painted tea set, so I know that little girl is still inside of her ever-stretching frame. When I see her playing for hours with her dolls I see the two year old she used to be not so very long ago, who needed me for almost everything. I need to learn how to better adapt to her changing needs; that much is clear.

We’ve had a great birthday weekend. She had a few friends spend the night and we made homemade pizza together. There was an oven fire involved but my husband valiantly took care of it after evacuating the screaming children from the kitchen and house. I’m enjoying every hug and thank you she utters (there have been many), and I’m not holding my breath waiting for the next mood swing. I will remember these moments and how much I love her when the tide changes, and we’ll get through this crazy hormonal rollercoaster together. I told a running friend about the exchange afterward and she told me that I’m a ‘nightmare on adolescent street’ kind of parent. That was a laugh that will help me through raising a preteen daughter!

‘The young always have the same problem – how to rebel and conform at the same time. They have now solved this by defying their parents and copying one another’ – Quentin Crisp

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17 April 2010

All Fun and Games

The bluebonnets around central Texas are spectacular this year, thanks in large part to the lovely rain we’ve enjoyed this winter. Earlier this week I pulled over on the side of the road to snap some photos of the kids in a rather lovely patch, cautioning Celia and Rene to watch their step. We tried (for a moment) very hard not to disturb (read: trample to death) the flowers as we made our way through to the perfect spot.

The first five minutes of the session were uneventful. Then the pushing began. Rene ‘lost his balance’ and brought his sister down with him. She retaliated by chasing him around the field. I walked calmly (although I was agitated) back to our car in preparation of our departure. Soccer practice was next up. We could always return another afternoon to try a photo shoot again. I needed more patience and time to work with my camera and my kids.

Rene opened his door and flew into his seat, no longer laughing. As I turned my head to find Celia I noticed she was limping back to the car in a trail of tears and slobber. She was crying so hard it took a good five minutes for me to understand that she had turned her ankle while chasing her brother. Like the saying goes, it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt. In our case, someone usually does always get hurt, too.

Of course the family ER physician was out of town when this happened. Her ankle was about the size of a softball. I knew from my own badly sprained ankle years ago that sprains can be both extremely painful and produce incredible swelling, so I wasn’t compelled to take her anywhere for x-rays right away. We iced it for a long while, elevated it and Rene sat down to write a letter of apology – after he cooled off.

Celia won’t be playing soccer anytime soon, or chasing her brother, for that matter. We will try to make it back out for another photo shoot in the bluebonnets before they go to seed, and hopefully the kids will be able to participate without injury.

‘You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.’ – Franklin P. Jones

15 April 2010

Wheel of Torture

There is a device called the Ab Wheel, and it looks like 2 small wheels in the middle of a short handle. I also call it the wheel of torture, but it’s actually a very simple and effective abdominal and core workout, hitting lots of upper body and hip flexor muscles, too.

The ab wheel can be intimidating if you try using it without limiting your range of motion during the first use. I remember trying to use it a few months after the birth of my second child. I slowly rolled myself (too far) forward, and then when I tried to pull myself back in my arms began shaking violently. I hovered in that plank position struggling to pull pull pull, and then I flopped onto the floor in utter defeat. I could not even do it ONE time! In retrospect I laugh at the memory but I think I was crying at the time. Literally. I probably took a nap right there on the floor after that, and then picked up my kids from child watch. You think I’m kidding? I used to nap on the benches in the locker room some days, instead of working out.
New mothers need their rest, and those two hours of gym child care pass quickly.

I’m happy to report, though, that this simple tool is a VERY effective way to measure your progress. You begin by barely rolling yourself forward, then progress inch by inch until you can roll yourself in complete extension and back again. It feels great to now be able to complete 25 fully extended repetitions, and if I haven’t used the ab roller in a while I have to scale back. It is a great tool. You can pick one up at your local sporting goods store for around $10, and most gyms have them on the weight room floor somewhere. Ask a trainer next time you’re there if you can’t find it. Grab a mat for your knee comfort and get busy!

Here’s a video link demonstrating its use. Enjoy.

13 April 2010

What’s Inside

Earlier today I walked into my kids’ school, and when I reached the front desk to sign in for my volunteer badge, I noticed the whole area was covered in a big plastic sheet, and the two office staff employees were standing off at a distance. The custodian was setting up a ladder right over Jamie’s desk. They were looking up at the ceiling.

Me: “What happened?”
Jamie: “Dead squirrel in the ceiling.”
Me: “You mean that animal that I always heard scurrying around up there a few months ago was a squirrel, and now he’s dead? How do you know he’s dead?”
Jamie: “Because there were live maggots dropping down from a crack in the ceiling onto my desk this morning.”

Wow, what a cool story, but oh so disgusting. I used to have a button that read: ‘That’s disgusting. Tell me more!’ I love melodramatic stories, especially the nonfiction variety. I couldn’t stay to watch the de-squirreling this morning; there were twenty 4th and 5th grade girls waiting for me outside. As I walked through the school I was laughing to myself about the image of Jamie sitting at her desk with live maggots dropping down in front of her.

The school building itself is very old and a bit dingy. There is art work plastered on the walls to brighten them, which helps distract wandering eyes from stained ceiling panels. It is drafty in the winter and hot in the warmer months. There is no computer lab. It is a Title I school, which means that it receives government funding to help ‘close the achievement gap’ for students at risk of failure and living at or near poverty. What’s impressive about this school is what happens inside of those old and dingy walls. Kids are engaged and inspired every day. The atmosphere is warm, accepting, diverse and inviting. And it all has to do with the adults who work hard to make it that way.

I transferred my kids into this Title I school from a very uppity upper middle class school district where we live to a district across town this past school year after having them on a lottery list for the previous two years, waiting for a chance to get in. When we moved to town I began my first kids’ running program there and fell in love with it. Many people I know on my side of town thought that I was crazy for moving my kids into the poor ‘ghetto’ school. They have no idea what they and their kids are missing. It’s the good stuff. Spending time there will give you goose bumps, because you think those kinds of feel good moments only happen in movies – that kind of stuff. Dingy walls, dead squirrels and all.

‘One looks back with appreciation to the brilliant teachers, but with gratitude to those who touched our human feelings. The curriculum is so much necessary raw material, but warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child. ‘ – Carl Jung

12 April 2010

Benji, Part 2

As I drove across town with my son and our stray dog friend, Benji, the other day, my son asked me if Benji was a boy dog or a girl dog.

Me: “He’s a boy.”
René: “How do you know?”
Me: “Because he has a penis.”
René: “You’re gross, Mamá.”
Me: “Well you asked.”
René: “What would he have if he were a girl dog?”

At this question I paused for a moment, because I realized that he had never yet asked for this kind of information. We’d not yet had, ‘the talk’. I just continued, matter of factly.

Me: “He’d have a vagina if he were a girl, René.”
René: “A GINA? YOU ARE DISGUSTING MAMÁ!”

He asked a few questions about vaginas and I explained the anatomy to him. He proceeded to chant the word ‘vagina’ over and over again until we got to our destination. It was what I imagine riding with Beavis and/or Butthead would be like. I told him to say it as many times as it took to get it out of his system, before arriving at our destination. He did, I guess, because I haven’t heard it since.

Meanwhile, all of my fake fingernails popped off a long time ago (thank goodness!), and the dog is still here, learning how to be a domesticated pet. I had my doubts when he came in the house and began trying to lift his leg on every piece of furniture. My quest to find his home continues; I will find you!

10 April 2010

Row, Row, Row Your Butt

About once a week I try to use the rowing machine at our local YMCA. I say ‘the’ rowing machine because there is only one rowing machine in our whole gym, and it’s always free when I want to get on it. So convenient! Rowing is one of the best bangs for your buck in the workout department, so I’m not sure why more people don’t row.

Rowing with proper form provides a total body muscular and cardiovascular workout, hitting the legs, butt, upper and lower back, abs and arms – in addition to a great aerobic workout. Resistance can be adjusted, so it’s something that almost everyone can do. The goal should be to keep the heart rate elevated while working with a rowing machine, building muscle in the process. Because there is a great range of motion required to use a rower, it’s also good for flexibility.

I spend 15 to 20 minutes rowing per session when I’m at the gym, using a high resistance setting. It’s usually my warm-up before I get on the Gauntlet or the Cybex. Sometimes, like today, I’ll return to the rower for an extra 15 minutes. After 15 minutes my legs and especially my glutes are pretty spent, since that’s where most of the power comes from during the strokes.

Here’s a quick video series on Livestrong.com explaining the machine and demonstrating its use. A few weeks ago there woman watching me use the rower; she asked me about it and in five minutes she was buckled in and enjoying it for herself! Hop on it next time you’re in the gym and ask a trainer to demo it if you’re feeling a little intimidated. You won’t regret it.

‘Nobody ever drowned in his own sweat.’ – Ann Landers

9 April 2010

Benji

Every once in a while I find something interesting or even useful while I’m out running. It’s always great to stumble upon some money while out running. Mostly I find coins, but once on the beach my sister and I chased twenty dollar bills tumbling with the wind across the sand; that was good incentive for some speed drills! She got to keep most of it since she spotted it, but I think we grossed about $200.

Since moving to Waco I’ve mostly found little plastic figurines of all kinds along the roads; they’re kind of cute. I usually leave the hubcaps and golf balls, though. They’re not worth carrying back to wherever I’ve started my run. Oh, I did pick up a hubcap once and I put it on a big chain necklace and used it as a white elephant gift for a holiday party (along with a pin that read ‘I love my penis’). I got a good laugh out of that, especially since the recipient was a lady in her 60s. She was a good sport and wore the hubcap and pin around the party for the rest of the night.

I digress, as usual. Today I was running with four other women, and very near the end of the run a cute little dog ran up behind us and was jumping at the back of my legs. He did not warrant the dreaded pepper spray, which I had pulled out about five minutes earlier just in case the pit bull on a chain in someone’s front yard broke free – no joke. I stopped and picked him up; he was so friendly and cute. We visited three homes on the street and no one recognized him. He had no collar or tags, so I brought him home with me. He came to the kids’ school to volunteer with me, and he did great. The kids loved him, of course. According to my vet’s office he has no microchip, either. So we will make some posters and put them near where I found him tomorrow. My kids bathed him and have named him Benji or Bibi or Butterscotch. They REALLY want to keep him, but I’m not sure we’re ready for a fourth dog. He has a home somewhere, and it’s been a great lesson in doing the right thing by trying to find his owner. I’ve enjoyed my day with him, but it’s a lot easier finding twenty dollar bills, that’s for sure.

‘Don’t worry that children never listen to you; worry that they are always watching you. ‘ – Robert Fulghum

5 April 2010

Things Not To Do At Midnight

Because we are moving I’ve been pulling some late nights looking at real estate listings in the Denver and Boulder area. Usually I try to get to bed before midnight so that I get at least six hours of sleep. The funny thing is that before I had kids I would always get to bed by 10 p.m.. Since having kids I have found that the only quiet time around here is late at night, so I’m up and trying to get stuff done. Like writing blogs, for example, or looking at real estate listings.

Anyway, while we were in Denver last week there was a news story about a 12 year old girl from Greeley, Colorado. She was walking about a mile to a friend’s house, and from there she and her friend were going to walk to a birthday party. She left her house midday and never made it to the first house, and there is not a trace of her anywhere. The newscaster was sure to point out that there were about 144 registered sex offenders living within a four mile radius of her home. Here's an article about Kayleah.

Hearing about this while living in Texas is one thing, but being near the story is quite another. It adds a sense of discomfort and hypersensitivity to my already keen sense of worry. So night before last I remembered, toward the end of my realty search, that I had been meaning to look at the sex offender registry for the areas in which we are looking to live. This is a REALLY bad idea at midnight, and I knew that when I began my search, but it did not stop me from looking anyway. Bad bed hygiene!

Needless to say when I finally got into bed I tossed and turned for a long time. It must have been the ‘Violent Offenders’ and the ‘Multiple Violent Offenders’ sections of the website that bothered me the most. I think I drifted off to sleep between 2 and 3 in the morning.

Knowing that most children are molested/assaulted by someone the family knows offers little comfort when looking at such disturbing information. I am also of the opinion that the ‘registered’ sex offenders account for a small portion of actual and potential offenders. My friend Michele is a sexual assault nurse examiner, and her stories are enough to make me want to live in a cave in the middle of nowhere. Child predation happens a lot more than we’d like to believe. It’s hard to talk about, think about and confront, mostly because it is so difficult to believe that people are capable of harming children.

I talk with my kids openly about people who are potentially dangerous while walking a fine line of not wanting to make them paranoid in the process. They don’t know about Kayleah Wilson from Greeley. I will continue to look for homes, and check the sex offender database – just not late at night. And I’m not really sure that my sleep will ever be the same as it was before I had kids - that seems to be one of the sacrifices commonly made in the name of motherhood. Funny thing is I thought I had it made in the shade when my kids finally slept all the way through the night. Little did I know I would rarely again sleep through the night!

‘Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.’ – Elizabeth Stone

5 April 2010

Cruciferous Snacking

While at Whole Foods market the other day I happened upon a strange looking bagged snack food, the contents of which caught my eye, mostly because they were so dark green that they bordered on black. It turns out someone in Austin is manufacturing kale chips, which are basically seasoned, chopped and dehydrated leaves of kale.

I was about to pick up a bag and throw it into my cart, but as I noticed the price I quickly changed my mind. They were $6.50 for a bag not more than a few ounces. I realized that I still have fresh kale growing in my garden (so EASY to grow!!) from the winter and that I could probably figure out how to bake it myself for FREE.

Sure enough I found a how to recipe for kale chips on the internet (what can’t you find anymore?). All you do is spray or lightly coat the kale with olive oil and salt or a bit of soy sauce or tamari or whatever you want, spread a thin layer onto a baking sheet and bake it for about ten minutes at 375 degrees, or until the leaves begin to curl up and crisp.

When the first batch finished I took the tray outside for a true taste test, offering them to my kids and their friends. The friends both tried and liked the kale chips, but my own kids would not touch them, even after their friends proclaimed them ‘pretty good’. A taste is all they wanted, so, as usual, I took them back inside and proceeded to consume the rest of the tray, feeling pretty good about my nutritious snacking.

If you’ve never tried kale you should; it is a nutritional powerhouse, packed with vitamins and fiber. You might want to stay close to your toilet the next morning, though, if you eat a whole tray like I did. A few should do the trick. Enjoy!

3 April 2010

Double Fours

Another birthday has come and gone, but I will be celebrating all month. I love birthdays, especially my own. It is an occasion for reflection and gratitude and a little bit of indulgence. This year I spent it in Denver with my husband on a house hunting trip. We will be moving to Denver over the summer. More on that later.

One of my sisters called early in the morning to wish me a happy birthday, and the conversation went something like this:

Sister: “Happy birthday!!!”
Me: “Thank you nice lady!”
Sister: “Have you done your birthday exercise yet today?”
Me: “What?”
Sister: “Have you exercised yet today?”
Me: “No, and I didn’t do anything yesterday either, but I need to. I’ve been sitting on my butt for two days straight.”
Sister: “Well, rest assured the planets will still rotate and the sun will still rise and set, even if you don’t exercise.”
Me: “I’m sure they will. Thanks for thinking of me.”

'What was that all about?’is what I was thinking as I hung up the phone. I wasn’t receiving the well wishes as much as I was stuck in the hurt feeling of confusion. It took some serious effort on my part not to get caught up in taking her comments personally.

I got ready to hit the town of Denver with my husband, and we strolled hand in hand down to the lobby of our hotel together. I was feeling pensive and quiet, and a little bit sad after my sister’s phone call. My husband all of the sudden said, “Wow, I haven’t heard this song in a LONG time.” I snapped out of my trance to hear the words … ‘Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday’ and recognized the song immediately. It was "Happy Birthday" by Altered Images and it made me smile. I knew he had the hotel staff find a birthday song to play for me; that’s his modus operandi. I felt like dancing, so I did, and I forgot all about my funky mood in the process. It was one of my favorite gifts – that song and the smile that lasted the rest of the day, even without my exercise! I’m also happy to report that I was able to let go of that nagging urge to react to my sister’s strange question to me – even if it has taken me about 40 years to be able to do so.

When you become good at the art of letting sufferings go, then you’ll come to realize what you were dragging around with you. And for that, no one else other than you was responsible. – Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, Indian spiritual leader (1931-1990)

1 April 2010

Spring is in the Air

The weather is warmer, the trees are in bloom, the pollen is blowing, and it’s time for spring showers. The other evening after the kids had gone to bed I opened my front door to enjoy the aroma of nice rainstorm. While standing on my porch I realized that my begonias were in need of water, so I picked up the planters from under the shelter of my porch and carried them out onto my front lawn, where they could drink to their hearts’ content.

I was in my own little world running back under the porch, toward the front door. Once there I turned to watch the rain a while longer. When I was done I reached for the door handle, taking a step sideways to get there. As I did that I noticed something moving out of the corner of my left eye, and my brain was screaming, ‘ALERT! DANGER WILL ROBINSON!!’. There was something oddly familiar about that form coiled up in a neat little pile. Something that was not long ago in my shower doing the same exact thing…. ( read September 2009 Archive #3: What Goes Around - September 10, 2009).

I had scared the poor snake on my porch, and he was not happy about it. I recoiled and let out a muffled scream, and when I did that he made a move toward my now open front door. The kids! Oh no you don’t, mister. I leaped over him and through my front door in one bound, slamming it shut. I locked it for good measure. (Like he could open the door?) After regaining my composure I realized that I wanted a photo to prove (mostly to my husband, who is conveniently never at home when these things happen) that there really was a snake at our front door trying to get in the house. I ran and grabbed a flashlight (the porch lightbulb is out and we don’t have a ladder tall enough to reach up and replace it! Dang!) and my phone camera.

I cracked the door open, just in case he was waiting to make his move inside, but he was back over by the corner again (where he must have been happily coiled up underneath my planter – before I moved it). He was a bit agitated by the light but I was determined to get my photo, which I did. I immediately sent it to my local friends, both of whom are wildlife biologists.

‘Dear Jen, That is a harmless rat snake. I hope you didn’t kill it.’

Well, that was a relief. The story might have been more exciting if it had been a rattlesnake, which is what three other friends identified it as. We do have a lot of mice around where we live (a neighborhood smack dab in the middle of a cornfield, literally), none of which I’ve seen lately. I owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Rat Snake. We haven’t had to deal with mousetraps since the dreaded slap trap incident when my daughter was so distressed all those months ago. (archived blog: Of Mice and Moms, September 2009) Maybe I should rename him A Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing, but I still don’t want him inside of my house. Long live the Rat Snake! I’m sure he’s in my garden somewhere, hunting for mice. Meanwhile, I’ll be more mindful when picking up my planters.

Addendum: Nail Update Day Two

I still have nine fake fingernails intact. I’m getting used to them and some of the glue welding my nail beds into the backs of my nails has pried loose, so that feels better. This morning my son flat out REFUSED to drink the milk I had kindly poured for him, “Because your fingernails touched the cup and the milk.” I reminded him that the three strawberry crepes he had just devoured were all made and assembled with my hands, that that my fingernails had been all over his food. “That’s gross.” He should just be glad that one of the nails didn’t pop off into his food, I guess. I’m kind of wondering how and when the other nine are going to come off! Updates as they occur.