Yesterday Nicholas went swimming for three hours with his brother, sisters, and me. He learned how to jump into the deep end in while we were playing categories. He was cute the way he refused to answer any category I called out. For instance, when I called out, "Cartoon!" He would run to the side of the pool and say, "No! Zhu Zhu Pet color." And then he would run back to the bench. Then he would run to the side of the pool and I would say, "Zhu Zhu pet color!" And he would yell, "Green!" and then he would jump in. We did this for Hex Bug color and Hot Wheels color. Over and over again. And his answer was "green" every time.
After we exhausted ourselves swimming in the 95 degree heat we came back home. Adrian took Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer out for Mister Misties. We played UNO with everyone before bedtime. Nicholas did a great job matching colors and numbers and taking turns. I think he had a great day.
PS No one is truly thrilled about Camp Cutchshaw. They all think I am pretty dumb. (sigh)
Monday, June 6, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Honor Camper of the Day: Mollie
Post by Mollie:
When I woke up I was so surprised because there was Camp Cutchshaw. And I had to eat an egg. And I at least tried it. And I really didn't want to eat it but I had to try it. And I also had cinnamon toast but it kinda had too much butter. At Camp Cutchshaw you have to eat what is served. It kinda sucks that you have to do that.
Especially with pasta. Because I hate pasta. But we didn't have pasta. That was awesome.
I spent the day outside playing with the kittens. Even though they scratched me. I washed it off and prayed and put three bandaids on it. But even though the white one scratched me I still played with the kittens. I just didn't try to pick up the white one. And Sydney was the magical one. I couldn't have gotten a kitten without her. She can catch them very well. She taught me her trick. And the trick was that you needed the string to the volleyball net because it has the white thing. Put the white thing in front of it and then as it gets closer and closer you pull it and when it gets close enough you scoop it up and then you have a kitten in your hand.
At night I caught some fireflies after my mom and I planted some flowers. And last night we went to Wal Mart and to the car wash but I didn't want to because I wanted to stay outside. But we got a lot of stuff and well I didn't really like that. Because after we went there it was my bedtime and we didn't get to play outside any more. And I really like playing outside. But I didn't complain like everyone else. But I still had a good time.
That's all.
P.S. camp cutchshaw was a dumb idea just kidding no really
When I woke up I was so surprised because there was Camp Cutchshaw. And I had to eat an egg. And I at least tried it. And I really didn't want to eat it but I had to try it. And I also had cinnamon toast but it kinda had too much butter. At Camp Cutchshaw you have to eat what is served. It kinda sucks that you have to do that.
Especially with pasta. Because I hate pasta. But we didn't have pasta. That was awesome.
I spent the day outside playing with the kittens. Even though they scratched me. I washed it off and prayed and put three bandaids on it. But even though the white one scratched me I still played with the kittens. I just didn't try to pick up the white one. And Sydney was the magical one. I couldn't have gotten a kitten without her. She can catch them very well. She taught me her trick. And the trick was that you needed the string to the volleyball net because it has the white thing. Put the white thing in front of it and then as it gets closer and closer you pull it and when it gets close enough you scoop it up and then you have a kitten in your hand.
At night I caught some fireflies after my mom and I planted some flowers. And last night we went to Wal Mart and to the car wash but I didn't want to because I wanted to stay outside. But we got a lot of stuff and well I didn't really like that. Because after we went there it was my bedtime and we didn't get to play outside any more. And I really like playing outside. But I didn't complain like everyone else. But I still had a good time.
That's all.
P.S. camp cutchshaw was a dumb idea just kidding no really
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Camp Cutchshaw Day 1
Welcome Campers! Yesterday was the last day of school for three of my five children. It was only a half day. Afterwards, we loaded up in the van and drove to Su Su's house and jumped in the pool. We swam and swam. Later that evening, we went to Road Atlanta and walked for Relay for Life. Nicholas, Mollie, and Fischer got these funny light up glasses. Luckily, no one had a seizure. Those things should be outlawed. The kids played in the bouncey house and Mollie and I went on a mad hunt for cotton candy. It was a blast. But the car ride home was looooooong! We got home at 11:00 pm.
Today is the first day of Camp Cutchshaw. Each evening, one of our campers will post a blog about their day. We will be unplugged from the phone, computers, TV, video games, etc... We are going to get back to nature! Ye Haw and Yipppee!
Today is the first day of Camp Cutchshaw. Each evening, one of our campers will post a blog about their day. We will be unplugged from the phone, computers, TV, video games, etc... We are going to get back to nature! Ye Haw and Yipppee!
Friday, June 3, 2011
Crazy Cat Lady
A couple of months ago, a stray cat started wandering around our yard. She was a scraggly thing. I don't know much about cats, but I think her breed is called, "Ugly." I don't know if she is some sort of calico but she looks more like a patch work quilt made by a blind person. I could tell she was pregnant but you could see her ribs. She obviously once belonged to someone because she had good manners. Even though I tried to discourage her from hanging out around our house, she was insistent that she belonged in our front yard near the driveway. Even though she was obviously starving, I didn't run out to buy cat food hoping she would leave and go find someone else to beg from. I refuse to be some sort of crazy cat lady.
Just having her in the yard made my eyes water. I am allergic to cats. I don't like them. In fact, I kinda hate them. I am more of a dog person but I even have my limits there. I am basically not an animal lover. I am more of a child person. I love children. That's why I have 5. They are my pets.
One afternoon as I was pulling into the driveway, coming back from picking up my children from school, I saw the scraggly Mama Cat leap into our broken down boat which has been sitting in our side yard collecting leaves and whatever the wind blows into it. I hate that boat. I was really mad at Adrian for buying that stupid thing. I complain about it at least every other month pointing out what rednecks we are. We may as well have a broken down car in the driveway. Wait, we have that too. We really are rednecks.
Any way, once I saw the Mama Cat jump into the boat, I knew that she was planning on having her babies in there. I told Adrian but he didn't believe me. When he went to investigate, there was never any sign of the Mama Cat or any kittens. This went on for a while. But I watched the Mama Cat and realized she was going up inside the boat and I could hear little squeaks. Holy crap. There is a litter of kittens in our boat.
The Mama Cat stayed very busy. She was hunting for her food. She was good too. I never knew we had little mice around our house but she sure did. My kids watched her kill a bird or two. For being so pitiful looking, she sure was an excellent hunter. She looked so weak but in fact she was rather strong. I started thinking about how as a mom, sometimes I feel the same way. I may be pitiful sometimes, but I do whatever I have to do for my children. I'd go hunt for food if I had too. I may feel under qualified at times, but I always pull through.
Pretty soon, Mama Cat brought her babies into the sunshine. She had six beautiful kittens. Five black kitties and one white one. They stayed inside the boat near the captain's chair. She would hunt and nurse, hunt and nurse. She looked like any new mother. Ragged and worn out. So, I broke down and went to buy cat food for the first time in my life. I felt sorry for her. I reasoned that it was only because she was nursing her babies. I nursed all my babies too and I know how much that can wear you out.
Mama Cat was the most grateful cat. She would smile at me when I'd bring her food and water. She started hanging out at the boat with her kids for longer periods of time. She would stretch out and soak up the sun. She started gaining weight too. She started to look a little less ugly.
I kept thinking, "Why in the world did this cat pick us?" "Doesn't she know I hate cats?" "Doesn't she know she is making my throat itch just being here?" "I am so mad I have to find these kittens a home."
I called the animal shelter. Please take these cats. "There is no room." There is no room at the Inn. The shelter is full. Sorry. So I called the humane society. They said they'd put them all to sleep. For a fee. Good Lord! "Ma'am, I am sorry for saying this, but I think you should call your organization the Inhumane Society."
I started calling my friends. Who wants a kitten? Luckily, my friend Amy took two of them. Their names are now Tarzan and Jane. So we are down to just 4 kittens.
A few days ago, we saw Mama Cat jumping in and out of the boat. She was teaching her children how to get out. It has started getting very hot and they needed to go somewhere cooler. Three of the kittens stumbled out after their mother. I don't know how she communicated with them, but they understood. She took them to our porch. And then she spent the rest of the day trying to coax the last kitty how to get out of the boat. He wouldn't do it. All day long and into the evening, Mama Cat went back and forth from the porch to the boat. The one left behind, trembled on the edge of the boat for hours. Finally, Sydney scooped up the kitten and brought him to his Mama. He joined his siblings and began prancing around and playing.
We've all enjoyed watching the Mama Cat play with her kittens. She is a good teacher. She has taught them all to eat and drink out of the bowls we leave in the shade. She lays on the porch and swishes her tail back and forth and lets them pounce on it. The kittens love the sidewalk chalk my kids leave outside. They stalk the chalk and then attack it. The kittens jump off the porch and run to hide under it when we come outside. They peak their cute little heads up and watch us. All you can see are their little ears.
I don't know what will come of all of this. I heard through the neighborhood grapevine that this cat belongs to someone who has let her have ten litters of kittens. I am thinking she adopted us hoping we would love her. She hasn't met Bailey our dog yet, but I am thinking they might become friends. I guess we'll take her to the vet and get her taken care of and bring her back here to live the good life. Hopefully we'll find homes for all her babies. But if we don't, I may become the crazy cat lady after all.
Just having her in the yard made my eyes water. I am allergic to cats. I don't like them. In fact, I kinda hate them. I am more of a dog person but I even have my limits there. I am basically not an animal lover. I am more of a child person. I love children. That's why I have 5. They are my pets.
One afternoon as I was pulling into the driveway, coming back from picking up my children from school, I saw the scraggly Mama Cat leap into our broken down boat which has been sitting in our side yard collecting leaves and whatever the wind blows into it. I hate that boat. I was really mad at Adrian for buying that stupid thing. I complain about it at least every other month pointing out what rednecks we are. We may as well have a broken down car in the driveway. Wait, we have that too. We really are rednecks.
Any way, once I saw the Mama Cat jump into the boat, I knew that she was planning on having her babies in there. I told Adrian but he didn't believe me. When he went to investigate, there was never any sign of the Mama Cat or any kittens. This went on for a while. But I watched the Mama Cat and realized she was going up inside the boat and I could hear little squeaks. Holy crap. There is a litter of kittens in our boat.
The Mama Cat stayed very busy. She was hunting for her food. She was good too. I never knew we had little mice around our house but she sure did. My kids watched her kill a bird or two. For being so pitiful looking, she sure was an excellent hunter. She looked so weak but in fact she was rather strong. I started thinking about how as a mom, sometimes I feel the same way. I may be pitiful sometimes, but I do whatever I have to do for my children. I'd go hunt for food if I had too. I may feel under qualified at times, but I always pull through.
Pretty soon, Mama Cat brought her babies into the sunshine. She had six beautiful kittens. Five black kitties and one white one. They stayed inside the boat near the captain's chair. She would hunt and nurse, hunt and nurse. She looked like any new mother. Ragged and worn out. So, I broke down and went to buy cat food for the first time in my life. I felt sorry for her. I reasoned that it was only because she was nursing her babies. I nursed all my babies too and I know how much that can wear you out.
Mama Cat was the most grateful cat. She would smile at me when I'd bring her food and water. She started hanging out at the boat with her kids for longer periods of time. She would stretch out and soak up the sun. She started gaining weight too. She started to look a little less ugly.
I kept thinking, "Why in the world did this cat pick us?" "Doesn't she know I hate cats?" "Doesn't she know she is making my throat itch just being here?" "I am so mad I have to find these kittens a home."
I called the animal shelter. Please take these cats. "There is no room." There is no room at the Inn. The shelter is full. Sorry. So I called the humane society. They said they'd put them all to sleep. For a fee. Good Lord! "Ma'am, I am sorry for saying this, but I think you should call your organization the Inhumane Society."
I started calling my friends. Who wants a kitten? Luckily, my friend Amy took two of them. Their names are now Tarzan and Jane. So we are down to just 4 kittens.
A few days ago, we saw Mama Cat jumping in and out of the boat. She was teaching her children how to get out. It has started getting very hot and they needed to go somewhere cooler. Three of the kittens stumbled out after their mother. I don't know how she communicated with them, but they understood. She took them to our porch. And then she spent the rest of the day trying to coax the last kitty how to get out of the boat. He wouldn't do it. All day long and into the evening, Mama Cat went back and forth from the porch to the boat. The one left behind, trembled on the edge of the boat for hours. Finally, Sydney scooped up the kitten and brought him to his Mama. He joined his siblings and began prancing around and playing.
We've all enjoyed watching the Mama Cat play with her kittens. She is a good teacher. She has taught them all to eat and drink out of the bowls we leave in the shade. She lays on the porch and swishes her tail back and forth and lets them pounce on it. The kittens love the sidewalk chalk my kids leave outside. They stalk the chalk and then attack it. The kittens jump off the porch and run to hide under it when we come outside. They peak their cute little heads up and watch us. All you can see are their little ears.
I don't know what will come of all of this. I heard through the neighborhood grapevine that this cat belongs to someone who has let her have ten litters of kittens. I am thinking she adopted us hoping we would love her. She hasn't met Bailey our dog yet, but I am thinking they might become friends. I guess we'll take her to the vet and get her taken care of and bring her back here to live the good life. Hopefully we'll find homes for all her babies. But if we don't, I may become the crazy cat lady after all.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Camp Cutchshaw
This time next week school will be out for my public school kids. Sydney and Nicholas are already out. So, two down, three to go. I must say my stomach is in knots. Have you read any of my posts about last summer? I feel the anxiety building up already. It is just not fun to live with teenagers. It ain't no picnic. Especially if you are poor and live in the middle of nowhere. If I was rich, I would send them away to summer camp.
I consider myself to be somewhat creative. I try to think of wholesome free activities that will entertain a 5 year old as well as a 17 year old. It's not easy. And when all seven of us travel in the van together all hell usually breaks loose. When Adrian is driving, he just takes out his hearing aids and tunes pretty much all of it out. With a tube in my ear, I can now hear quite well and sometimes their squeaking and complaining sends nerve pain straight to my brain like an abscessed tooth.
So, this summer with the exception of the family beach trip, I am vowing to stay close to home. We are going to have a "Flintlock Camp Summer."
Flintlock is where I spent a month every summer as a child for 7 years. I loved it. We performed skits. We sang songs. We swam in a muddy lake. We took horseback riding lessons. We played cards. We played softball and kickball. We did arts and crafts. We learned about nature. We slept in platform tents in the middle of the woods. We hiked a lot. We woke up early and stayed busy until the sun went down. We stayed outside all the time.
There was one break in the day called rest hour. Every day after lunch, we took a nap for one hour. Even if you didn't sleep, you had to be quiet. No talking was allowed. You could read books or write letters. We ate all of our meals family style. As children, my sisters and I were all picky eaters, but by golly we ate whatever was served at camp because if you didn't eat it, you went hungry. I am looking forward to teaching that lesson to my children this summer most of all. I am already gathering my camp food recipes. Beginning June 3, we are going on the Flintlock Camp diet.
With two children who register on the weird-o meter, or in better terms, the Autism Spectrum Disorder, I know all too well about picky eaters. It's a sensory issue. However, I don't think back in the pioneer days, folks had sensory integration dysfunction. If they didn't like the texture of the animal that was turning over a spit fire, or the beans in the crock, or the biscuits mama cut, then they starved and died I guess. I don't think my children will want to starve, so they are going to have to learn the hard way to eat what is served. No more Lucky Charms for dinner at the Cutchshaw's house. I don't care how magically delicious they are.
As picky as I was at eating as a child, I always ate so much at camp. There were never ending bowls of creamed corn, beans, apple sauce, potatoes, and country fried steak. There was cream of wheat at breakfast along with corned beef hash. There were grits, bread pudding, oatmeal, and peanut butter sandwiches with apple jelly. And we always, always had dessert if we ate our meal. We had peach cobbler, blueberry cobbler, chocolate cake, or Apple Brown Betty. We drank bug juice, water, or tea, depending what was in the pitcher. I am drooling just thinking about it.
All the campers had to help. Each day, a tent was assigned mess hall duty. We cleaned the tables. We set the tables. We swept and mopped the floor. Each table had a designate waiter. There was a pass through from the kitchen and the cook would refill whatever empty bowl the waiter would bring up and she would then carry it back to her table. We ate and ate until we were full. And then we did not eat until the next meal. Period. There were no snacks.
We all stayed skinny little kids. If you were chubby, you lost weight while at camp. It was probably from all the hiking. Just going from the lake to the barn was quite hike. And I believe the sunshine made us all happy. Large doses of good ole vitamin D did us a world of good. Better than staying inside playing video games. We didn't even have electricity at camp except in a few buildings like the mess hall. No TV. No radios. No computers. For an entire month. It did wonders for our little inner clocks. It was so good for our brains.
So, I hope my ideas are good enough to help me press forward through any of the resistance I suspect I will get. I think my little kids will love it but it's those teenagers I worry about. So, since Jolie will be 17, she's going to be our counselor. And Sydney who will be 15, she's going to be our cabin girl, or counselor in training. I will put them in charge of most of the activities.
I can't wait to sit in the front yard and see talent night performed on our front porch. I can't wait to see our children put on skits that they make up. I look forward to camp fires in our back yard bonfire pit and singing all the songs from camp. We are going to get dirty. We are going to play in the river. We are going to swim and ride horses. We are going to unplug our lives from the computer and television. I'll update my blog, but I am going to cut myself free from Facebook. We are going to read books at rest hour. We might even have chapel in the woods on Sundays by candlelight. And we might just have the best summer ever!
I consider myself to be somewhat creative. I try to think of wholesome free activities that will entertain a 5 year old as well as a 17 year old. It's not easy. And when all seven of us travel in the van together all hell usually breaks loose. When Adrian is driving, he just takes out his hearing aids and tunes pretty much all of it out. With a tube in my ear, I can now hear quite well and sometimes their squeaking and complaining sends nerve pain straight to my brain like an abscessed tooth.
So, this summer with the exception of the family beach trip, I am vowing to stay close to home. We are going to have a "Flintlock Camp Summer."
Flintlock is where I spent a month every summer as a child for 7 years. I loved it. We performed skits. We sang songs. We swam in a muddy lake. We took horseback riding lessons. We played cards. We played softball and kickball. We did arts and crafts. We learned about nature. We slept in platform tents in the middle of the woods. We hiked a lot. We woke up early and stayed busy until the sun went down. We stayed outside all the time.
There was one break in the day called rest hour. Every day after lunch, we took a nap for one hour. Even if you didn't sleep, you had to be quiet. No talking was allowed. You could read books or write letters. We ate all of our meals family style. As children, my sisters and I were all picky eaters, but by golly we ate whatever was served at camp because if you didn't eat it, you went hungry. I am looking forward to teaching that lesson to my children this summer most of all. I am already gathering my camp food recipes. Beginning June 3, we are going on the Flintlock Camp diet.
With two children who register on the weird-o meter, or in better terms, the Autism Spectrum Disorder, I know all too well about picky eaters. It's a sensory issue. However, I don't think back in the pioneer days, folks had sensory integration dysfunction. If they didn't like the texture of the animal that was turning over a spit fire, or the beans in the crock, or the biscuits mama cut, then they starved and died I guess. I don't think my children will want to starve, so they are going to have to learn the hard way to eat what is served. No more Lucky Charms for dinner at the Cutchshaw's house. I don't care how magically delicious they are.
As picky as I was at eating as a child, I always ate so much at camp. There were never ending bowls of creamed corn, beans, apple sauce, potatoes, and country fried steak. There was cream of wheat at breakfast along with corned beef hash. There were grits, bread pudding, oatmeal, and peanut butter sandwiches with apple jelly. And we always, always had dessert if we ate our meal. We had peach cobbler, blueberry cobbler, chocolate cake, or Apple Brown Betty. We drank bug juice, water, or tea, depending what was in the pitcher. I am drooling just thinking about it.
All the campers had to help. Each day, a tent was assigned mess hall duty. We cleaned the tables. We set the tables. We swept and mopped the floor. Each table had a designate waiter. There was a pass through from the kitchen and the cook would refill whatever empty bowl the waiter would bring up and she would then carry it back to her table. We ate and ate until we were full. And then we did not eat until the next meal. Period. There were no snacks.
We all stayed skinny little kids. If you were chubby, you lost weight while at camp. It was probably from all the hiking. Just going from the lake to the barn was quite hike. And I believe the sunshine made us all happy. Large doses of good ole vitamin D did us a world of good. Better than staying inside playing video games. We didn't even have electricity at camp except in a few buildings like the mess hall. No TV. No radios. No computers. For an entire month. It did wonders for our little inner clocks. It was so good for our brains.
So, I hope my ideas are good enough to help me press forward through any of the resistance I suspect I will get. I think my little kids will love it but it's those teenagers I worry about. So, since Jolie will be 17, she's going to be our counselor. And Sydney who will be 15, she's going to be our cabin girl, or counselor in training. I will put them in charge of most of the activities.
I can't wait to sit in the front yard and see talent night performed on our front porch. I can't wait to see our children put on skits that they make up. I look forward to camp fires in our back yard bonfire pit and singing all the songs from camp. We are going to get dirty. We are going to play in the river. We are going to swim and ride horses. We are going to unplug our lives from the computer and television. I'll update my blog, but I am going to cut myself free from Facebook. We are going to read books at rest hour. We might even have chapel in the woods on Sundays by candlelight. And we might just have the best summer ever!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Goodbye Spanx
If you have seen me recently, you may be wondering if we are expecting a new baby soon. You may be curious if our sixth child is going to be a boy or a girl. Maybe you wanted to ask me but were afraid. Maybe you were one of the unfortunate souls who was actually brave enough to reach out and touch my belly. I look awesome. Big and full and ripe. The shape of a mother is beautiful.
Only, that's not why I am in this way.
I have gained a bunch of weight thanks to some hormone issues. That and I gave up on dieting and my idea of exercise is twirling my feet while I read books. My doctor said I have to do something and I am scared to do anything because I am afraid to fail. It's not like I haven't tried before. Oprah told me I have to get to the bottom of my problem, which I thought she meant that my bottom was the problem. But she means that there is a reason I have let myself get fat. Huh? I guess I am in denial because I can't figure out my reason. Maybe I need therapy. But I need a fat therapist. I need someone who knows what it is like to get stuck in a dining room chair. I can't stand taking advice from skinny people. Which is why I must trust Oprah and get to the bottom of this.
My clothes will not zip. I am sitting here writing at 11:00 in the morning and I am still wearing pajama pants. They are the only pants that fit me today. On Easter, I had to break out my extra large Spanx and I nearly passed out trying to put them on. I got stuck half way in and half way out.
There I was rolling on the floor trying to decide if it would be easier to keep trying or to pull them off. I lifted my butt off the floor and started doing the bicycle as I grabbed on with both hands and pulled with all my might. I finally got them on but I couldn't get up off the floor. And I couldn't breathe. And the lower half of my body was deprived of blood flow.
I just laid there.
I couldn't get them off.
I thought about my poor family. Finding their mother on her floor, dead on Easter. Mother of five children died from Spanx. It took 10 paramedics to lift her out of her house. They tried to revive her but they couldn't cut the Spanx off. The upper half of her body looked like Violet from Willy Wonka. A giant swollen blueberry.
Holy, crap, Abigail! Get off the floor. You really could die.
I managed to get those things off and settled for control top panty hose instead. It gave me a muffin top. I was spilling out over the top of my skirt. It looked like I had four boobs. Like I was a cow.
(sigh)
Such is life. I am cutting up my Spanx today. I will make lovely pony tail holders instead. Which I need. I buy a package of pony tail holders every few months and they disappear. Where they go, I do not know. Probably the same place Adrian's socks go.
Who needs Spanx any way? Everyone jiggles. It's human. I never liked them any way. They hurt. And what is up with the split in the crotch? Girls, does anyone use that feature? Can one really go pee through that? Come on people. If I could have, I would have thought it was a good idea I guess. I mean, have you ever been in a 2 x 2 bathroom stall and had to pull your Spanx back up? One time I was trying and I had to sort of lift my legs up alternatingly and I got so cracked up because all I could think about was that from the bottom of the stall, it must have looked like I was doing a serious hoe down in the bathroom. I was rendered totally dysfunctional for like 30 minutes.
1. You cannot put on Spanx while laughing.
2. Laughing that hard will make you pee again.
3. Other people in the bathroom will think you are totally nuts and ask if you are OK.
4. You will have to wait until you calm down to hoist those suckers on again.
I see weight loss success stories on TV and I read about them in books and magazines. But honestly, I don't personally know anyone who has lost a significant amount of weight and kept it off for more than a few months. And that is because it is nearly impossible. It really is. The odds are stacked against me.
But one story on Oprah really inspired me. It was the woman who lost weight by ice skating. I admit I shy away from activities where I think I might embarrass myself. My husband loves to repel and used to ask me to join him in his fun. But there was never any way I would put myself in a harness. I cringed at just the mere thought of the view from below as my butt would come barrelling toward the poor innocent people waiting their turn.
I need to let go of my fear. And the only way to do that is to face it. Goodbye Spanx. Goodbye.
Only, that's not why I am in this way.
I have gained a bunch of weight thanks to some hormone issues. That and I gave up on dieting and my idea of exercise is twirling my feet while I read books. My doctor said I have to do something and I am scared to do anything because I am afraid to fail. It's not like I haven't tried before. Oprah told me I have to get to the bottom of my problem, which I thought she meant that my bottom was the problem. But she means that there is a reason I have let myself get fat. Huh? I guess I am in denial because I can't figure out my reason. Maybe I need therapy. But I need a fat therapist. I need someone who knows what it is like to get stuck in a dining room chair. I can't stand taking advice from skinny people. Which is why I must trust Oprah and get to the bottom of this.
My clothes will not zip. I am sitting here writing at 11:00 in the morning and I am still wearing pajama pants. They are the only pants that fit me today. On Easter, I had to break out my extra large Spanx and I nearly passed out trying to put them on. I got stuck half way in and half way out.
There I was rolling on the floor trying to decide if it would be easier to keep trying or to pull them off. I lifted my butt off the floor and started doing the bicycle as I grabbed on with both hands and pulled with all my might. I finally got them on but I couldn't get up off the floor. And I couldn't breathe. And the lower half of my body was deprived of blood flow.
I just laid there.
I couldn't get them off.
I thought about my poor family. Finding their mother on her floor, dead on Easter. Mother of five children died from Spanx. It took 10 paramedics to lift her out of her house. They tried to revive her but they couldn't cut the Spanx off. The upper half of her body looked like Violet from Willy Wonka. A giant swollen blueberry.
Holy, crap, Abigail! Get off the floor. You really could die.
I managed to get those things off and settled for control top panty hose instead. It gave me a muffin top. I was spilling out over the top of my skirt. It looked like I had four boobs. Like I was a cow.
(sigh)
Such is life. I am cutting up my Spanx today. I will make lovely pony tail holders instead. Which I need. I buy a package of pony tail holders every few months and they disappear. Where they go, I do not know. Probably the same place Adrian's socks go.
Who needs Spanx any way? Everyone jiggles. It's human. I never liked them any way. They hurt. And what is up with the split in the crotch? Girls, does anyone use that feature? Can one really go pee through that? Come on people. If I could have, I would have thought it was a good idea I guess. I mean, have you ever been in a 2 x 2 bathroom stall and had to pull your Spanx back up? One time I was trying and I had to sort of lift my legs up alternatingly and I got so cracked up because all I could think about was that from the bottom of the stall, it must have looked like I was doing a serious hoe down in the bathroom. I was rendered totally dysfunctional for like 30 minutes.
1. You cannot put on Spanx while laughing.
2. Laughing that hard will make you pee again.
3. Other people in the bathroom will think you are totally nuts and ask if you are OK.
4. You will have to wait until you calm down to hoist those suckers on again.
I see weight loss success stories on TV and I read about them in books and magazines. But honestly, I don't personally know anyone who has lost a significant amount of weight and kept it off for more than a few months. And that is because it is nearly impossible. It really is. The odds are stacked against me.
But one story on Oprah really inspired me. It was the woman who lost weight by ice skating. I admit I shy away from activities where I think I might embarrass myself. My husband loves to repel and used to ask me to join him in his fun. But there was never any way I would put myself in a harness. I cringed at just the mere thought of the view from below as my butt would come barrelling toward the poor innocent people waiting their turn.
I need to let go of my fear. And the only way to do that is to face it. Goodbye Spanx. Goodbye.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Omne vivum ex ovo... All life comes from an egg
Having the anniversary fall on Easter this year made me ponder death and life in a more spiritual way than usual. We had just celebrated the most sacred holiday in church that morning and Fischer was an acolyte for the first time. All the children brought flowers into the sanctuary and during the children's sermon, they all stepped forward and placed flowers in a giant cross. Even Nicholas participated, carrying long stems of orange lilies. A retired doctor gave his first children's sermon and there were certain things about his mannerisms that reminded me of Daddy. He told the stories about the pine tree and the dogwood and passed around samples. It seemed like the kind of sermon Daddy would like to share.
Easter is my favorite holiday. It is my favorite day period. I freely admit I have a real thing for Easter egg hunts. My sisters and I amused ourselves by hiding plastic eggs inside the house for each other all year long. When it rained, or when we were bored, we had Easter egg hunts. Mama never filled the eggs and it wasn't until I was an adult and Jolie was going on her first Easter egg hunt that I realized you could put candy inside of them. It was a whole new ball game. A revelation. I don't think we ever had egg hunts at school or church when I was little. So I never knew. Perhaps I am just one slow girl. But from that point on, I made sure I put candy in each one when I hid them for Jolie all year long, on days when it was rainy or when we were bored. The Easter Bunny can do his thing filling the basket, but the egg job is mine.
After church, we drove to Mama's house and had lunch. My sisters and their families were there too. We all swam in the pool afterwards but I was being dumb and doing a flip under water when I messed up the tube in my ear and got really disoriented. When my husband and my brother-in-law ushered me out as I was in extreme pain and panic and laid down to get the water out of what felt like my brain, I got stung by a freakin' bee. I went inside and took some Benedryl, and then snuck out the front door while no one was watching and hid six baskets full of eggs for my children, my niece, and my nephew. Come hell or high water, we were going to have an Easter egg hunt.
Eggs have been a symbol of new life for eons. Eggs are part of my roots. See the first picture up there of my Daddy as a baby playing at my great grandfather's chicken hatchery?
"Just as the chick breaks out of an egg, so had Jesus broken free of the tomb of death. Easter eggs remind us that Jesus conquered death and gives us eternal life.” --
www.homeschoolshare.com/legend_of_the_easter_egg.php
"From earliest times, and in most cultures, the egg signified birth and resurrection. The Egyptians buried eggs in their tombs. The Greeks placed eggs atop graves. The Romans coined a proverb: Omne vivum ex ovo, "All life comes from an egg." And legend has it that Simon of Cyrene, who helped carry Christ’s cross to Calvary, was by trade an egg merchant. (Upon returning from the crucifixion to his produce farm, he allegedly discovered that all his hens’ eggs had miraculously turned a rainbow of colors; substantive evidence for this legend is weak.) Thus, when the Church started to celebrate the Resurrection, in the second century, it did not have to search far for a popular and easily recognizable symbol." --www.ideafinder.com/guest/calendar/easter.htm
Who wants to remember the anniversary of the death of a loved one? Birthdays, maybe, but the day they died would be better to forget. At least that's what I thought. But now I have seen the light. The perfect way to remember Daddy was having that Easter egg hunt. Watching his grandchildren frolick around the yard finding brightly colored plastic eggs was precious to my eyes. Let the eggs symbolize birth and rebirth. Celebrate that Jesus prepared the way for us to be together again someday. This promise is the only balm for our sorrows.
Peace be with you.
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