But here I am. Guess I should carve out non bathroom blogging time.
This girl is a major daredevil climber.
Swinging in the snow
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Everyone who has taken any intro to physics knowForce= Mass x AccelerationSadly a quarter or two later you learn about how stored energy works.Last night was a physics word problem come to life at my little Fit4Mom workout class.My mass accelerating created enough force to snap the resistance band that my partner was holding for me and it snapped back unleashing all of that stored energy hitting her hand and whipping back to give a big lash on her back. I was so worried for her, concerned about her pain and hand, guilty and embarrassed last night that I came home and cried on Michael.Now getting the word that her fingers aren’t broken and ligaments look OK I can focus on those last two emotions especially the embarrassment.The root of it is in the fact that it is hard for me to look at my body objectively, even when I am my fittest self I struggle with seeing myself with love and kindness and when you add the 20 lb that I can’t move since Miranda was born it is a real struggle. I work hard, and especially since I have a husband who I feel secure knowing he loves my body and children who I want to always feel good in their own skin, I work hard to be kinder and to be appreciative. And it usually works OK. I actually oddly feel better about my body naked than I do dressed and had recently convinced myself that was a sign of ill fitting or uninspiring clothing.
Now, I know in my head that it could have happened to anyone. Furthermore there are women in this class who are 5'11" and certainly weigh as much as I do unless they are severely underweight. But I am feeling HUMILIATED. No one made any indication that my fatty self had caused the accident and i was not self absorbed enough to worry about it much last night but today I'm so so embarrassed. And struggling to regain perspective on my self image. I really don't want to go back to class and, albeit immature, I keep finding myself wanting to or actually self sabotage with food. I hate that my self image is so fragile and really hate how quickly any progress can be dashed. There is nothing I want more than to get a handle on my own shit before my kids get cognizant of the idea that there should ever be anything to dislike about your body. And I will keep working on it because it really does matter to me that Michael and I lead the way for them. But holy shit this incident highlighted what a thin (excuse me healthy) rope I walk on the path of good self image.
At a birthday party last week Señor Bossypants was explaining how to properly use the gift he’d chosen (a monster truck) and emphasizing how much it would benefit the birthday girl if he showed her by playing with it. I joked that he was man-splaining to us but thinking about it I realized that wasn’t right or fair.
He was todd-splaining (and I don’t mean explaining it to Todd, which he also did, but it is toddler explanations). He is in the adorable yet sometime exasperating apex of a deep command of language and newly developing awareness of how and why things are the way they are- whether perceived or real. This seems to create an enthusiasm that WILL NOT BE contained and ideas which MUST BE evangelized. I love hearing how he is putting together complex issues in his- like when he was telling us that yogurt melted and became smoothie. The ideas that it is obvious he’s chewed on for a while and is ready to explain to you. Todd-splaining can be a bit tiresome being explained to in focused and wholly incorrect detail. Like when your little backseat driver explains how you shouldn't have turned because the light is red and you explain about right turns- then hearing about how you should go on a red light but then have to discuss that some right turns have special rules. Can be exhausting.
One area that I exercise my privilege is that I practice almost no restraint when it comes to buying children’s books. We’ve started going to the library, which I love and appreciate and genuinely use for my own reading endeavors, but if I’m honest it is more as a civics lesson than anything for kid’s books*. This being the case, Andrew has approximately 10,000 books in his room. His baby sister has (as this post is being written while feeding her before bed) three.
We just don’t want to clutter her pretty head with all those words and ideas.
HA! But seriously, this was a parental oversight and/or failure on my part. I naively thought that we’d migrate Andrew’s more baby-ish books to Miranda. This hasn’t worked for the titles in his room. Similar to his parents, Andrew has a penchant for hanging on to books that he will likely never read again. The other factor which we need to put our foot down about is that as I buy Miranda books they have a sneaky tendency to migrate to Andrew’s room. This started out sweetly because we’d all do stories together in his comfy chair before naps. However, it feels like it has become a one way funnel.
So it’s time to remedy this one. We will try the following action items.
1. We will install a proper bookcase/shelf in Miranda’s room rather than the basket we currently use. Her library should look more official.
2. With all the hypocrisy we can muster we will get Andrew to do a bit of a book purge.
3. He’s got to return books to her room when we are done reading them or at least the flow of book traffic needs to be more even. I actually would prefer that no one member of the family OWNS any books himself, rather that the whole family has a library, but I understand that we all four have certain titles that are special to us.
…maybe there is a book on book sharing.
*Cutest moment - we checked out a dinosaur book which had the other titles in the series on the back. Andrew became obsessed with finding the other books so when we returned the first book we talked with the librarian and he found them elsewhere and placed a hold for us. Now we’re swimming in dinosaur library books.