It's Crunch Time

We had a back to school drill this morning. I set the alarm and we got up and commenced to pretend to try to not miss the bus. We rushed through breakfast, brushed our teeth and hair, and got dressed down to socks and shoes. Brooke even remembered to grab her backpack. Then, after feeling satisfied that we had in fact all gotten ready by 7:30 and had not missed our imaginary bus we had nothing more planned all day. Only one problem with this scenario: being bored by 7:30 AM does not make for a short day whatsoever. So, we did pretend school work for an hour. Hmmm... 8:30. Now what? We went through the motions during a few chores. 9:15... Luckily for me, the kids got creative and were fairly occupied & well behaved the rest of the day. Here's what they did first:



These pictures aren't fabulous. I had to take them with my camera phone since my good camera's battery was dead. I think they're pretty cute though. This shark was left in our storage shed by the people who lived here before us. The kids dug it out and took turns being eating alive. The "blood" on Russ is taco sauce. Then, they got out a tub of homemade play dough and came up with some fairly imaginative creations. We started to refinish a dresser for Brooke's room. Word to the wise, never attempt painting furniture with 4 children if you want decent results. I'm trying to look at the crazy streaked and clumpy paint job as a personal touch that makes the dresser "special".

In other news.... my daughter has become my biggest inspiration for losing weight. I believe she may have a future in being a personal trainer or perhaps an image consultant. It started last week when I took the kids swimming. I, of course, was sitting on the shore observing while wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Brooke walks up and says, "Why don't you swim with us? Is it because you're too fat to wear a bathing suit?" Nice. I tell her I'd rather just watch them and make sure they're safe. Brooke says, "Are you mad you're so fat? I would be really mad if I was as fat as you." Mindful of wanting to model self-acceptance and a confident body image I lie to her and say, "No. I love my body." She, of course, goes on to try to explain all of the reasons why I shouldn't love my body. Among them: "You're not pretty like you used to be when you were a teenager." Well, duh.

I thought we had moved on but she brought it up again the next day. I was sitting at the computer (shocking) and she came up and asked me why I sit around too much. "You need to work out more." I agreed. She kept staring at me (looking a little bit too much like the little girl from The Ring.) "What?", I ask. "You need to work out." "I know." "Now." I could have pulled Mom rank and told her to knock it off, but the girl did have a point. So, I logged off the computer and hopped on the elliptical. For the first ten minutes Brooke jumped up and down clapping her hands like my little cheerleader. "Faster! Don't be lazy! Exercise more!" Then, she offered me a water break and told me that I have to start drinking more water.

Later, (hungry from my workout ;-) I was snacking on chips & salsa. She looked at me and shook her head putting her hands on her hips, "Mom! What are you doing eating that?" "What? Salsa is made from fruits & vegetables", I say sheepishly. "The chips are junk food.", she chastised me. "I'll only eat a couple." "they're deep fried and salty!", she said. By this point I was starting to feel a little impressed by her knowledge. "Where did you learn so much about health & fitness?", I ask her. "From that nutrition lady at school.", she said casually. Tax dollars at work, people.

So... I've been making an effort. I've been getting in a couple of hours of exercise a day and only eating foods with a low glycemic index. Not that I haven't tried all of this before, but I have a sneaking suspicion I might do better at it now that I have a pair of prying blue eyes following me around and holding me accountable. Now, if I could just get her to quit nagging me to wax my eyebrows and dye my hair! LOL What a girl.