Battle of the (waistline) bulge

Disclaimer: I know I'm not fat. In fact, I'm generally pretty happy with my level of fitness and my ability to fit into 98% of the clothes I keep in my closet and drawers. Despite that, at the moment, I'm back to counting calories and trying to shed a few pounds. It isn't about clothing sizes, it isn't about body image. It's all about race weight and getting faster. I correlate my weight directly to my ability to shed a few seconds off of my per mile pace, and I think that's a reasonable way to think about it.

Try not to judge my runner logic. Or even understand it, if it seems wackadoodle to you. It doesn't make sense unless you're a little bit of a crazy runner. Which, seemingly, is my normal. But I digress.

I actually have a thing about weight - and by a thing, I mean, I stress about not talking about it and not thinking about. I spent most of my life with the knowledge that a woman's weight, in many ways, defines her. Oh, nobody ever said it overtly - who would? - but the constant presence of a scale in the house growing up, then the public weigh-ins at West Point and in the Army, to the post-baby morphing of my body all contributed to my low level obsession with weight and body image. Directly contributing to my stress about not thinking about it when I think about it all. the. time.

That is so far from what I want for my children, I have made an effort to go to the opposite end of the spectrum, at least in conversations in our house.

We don't own a scale; we don't talk about weight; we don't call people fat or chubby or pudgy or anything along those lines in our house. We do talk about being healthy and fit, and making good choices with our food quantity and quality. I figure there is enough pressure in society at large; my kids don't need me adding to it.

Kids aren't oblivious, though - quite the opposite. They see and hear everything (except what you need them to, of course), and when I'm counting calories, they notice. The last thing I want is for either of them to think they need to lose weight. So the other day, when John asked me if I was counting calories "again," I nervously answered in the affirmative. His response?

"Oh, do you have another race coming up soon?"

My kid associates counting calories not with weight gain or loss, or with body image issues. He associates it with races and trying to get faster.

Mom for the win.

You Live Where?: Silver Dollar City

We keep a calendar on the wall in our kitchen to help us keep track of all the comings, going, and doings in our family. Sometimes Justin and I have to be careful what we write up there, because the kids will see it and then hound us until they've worn our patience down to a nub. This summer, I put a trip to Silver Dollar City on the calendar in part to make sure I remembered to block my calendar at work and take the day off, but also because I read an article at the beginning of the summer that one of the ways to make summer feel longer and to enjoy your vacation more, is to savor the anticipation of a fun day. Mission accomplished.

Last week I took two days off from work in the middle of the week to try and spend some time with the kids. After Disney in 2012, we figured this would be a low key summer as far as vacations go. Combine that with a work schedule that has been borderline over the top crazy, and I just haven't been able to find much free time. A local vacation was just the ticket, so off we went.

When people are unfamiliar with Northwest Arkansas, I tend to use the phrase "the foothills of the Ozarks" as a way to efficiently convey not just spot on a map, but topographical features, as well. Boy, did we get our fill of the foothills - Silver Dollar City is in Branson, Missouri, so we had a bit of a drive to get there. Google Maps led me astray with the shortest possible route, and all four of us were car sick from the ups, down, twists and turns by the time we pulled into the parking lot. Probably didn't help that Caroline was reading in the back seat on the way there, but still...

Queasy stomachs aside, it was time for FUN!! Can't you tell how excited John was?

We got pretty lucky - it was an overcast day, middle of the week, and the crowds and the weather were about as good as you could hope for. Silver Dollar City has a great mix of rides, for kids and adults, but in a park just the right size to do it all in one day if you want to. We started off with the carousel - a perennial favorite.

I love that the kids are big enough to ride rides together, without us. I think they have more fun that way, anyway.

Our day in the park was a great study in the contrasts of the kids' personalities. John and I are roller coaster buddies - he and I love the thrill rides, and finally this year, he's tall enough to ride almost every single one of them. Daddy and Caroline, on the other hand, aren't so much for the drops, twists and turns of roller coasters, so they hang out together while John and I have our hands in the air screaming with delight/fear and meet us at the bottom of the craziest rides.

I was super proud of Caroline when she wanted to try some of the bigger rides. I could almost hear her internal monologue, talking herself into the Giant Barn Swing. This thing is a massive swing on a hydraulic arm that, at its height, has you looking up at your toes and then returning down at almost 50mph. As we waited in line, I could almost feel the anxiety rolling off of her; I kept assuring her she didn't have to ride it, but she told me she wanted to be brave and try it. I was so proud of her - facing your fears and doing something even when you're scared is a tough thing, especially when you're not-quite-8-years-old.

 

When it was our turn, I sat in between the kiddos while Daddy waited for us. Almost as soon as we started swinging, Caroline very calmly looked at me and said she was "just going to close my eyes," and kept them closed the whole time. Her face was so screwed up with fear that I reached over and put my hand on her leg, and I could feel her whole little body just trembling. Nobody ever tells you before you're a parent that you could feel overwhelmingly proud and equally scared for your child at the same time - but that's just how I felt.

After the ride, Caroline looked up at me with her huge brown eyes and told me that she was glad she did it, but that she didn't think she would do it again. I hugged her and told her, you bet, kiddo - but that I was so proud of her for trying it.

On the flip side, John and I rode all the coasters we could, including Thunderation multiple times in a row because THERE'S NO LINE, MOM!!!!! We skipped Outlaw Run, a massive wooden roller coaster that has dips, turns, loops, barrel rolls, who knows what - John saw it and told me he thought we'd just wait to ride that one until next year. Fine with me, kiddo. I don't know that I could've enjoyed it because I would've been so scared for him. Powder Keg was a back and forth decision - pretty long line, which gave John time to almost talk himself out of it. Sure was glad the girl behind us was able to allay his fears, and of course, he LOVED it.

John's only bummed out moment of the day came when he wanted to ride one more coaster at the end of the day, and we managed to find the one ride that he wasn't tall enough for. My thrill seeking daredevil was on the verge of tears because he was denied the opportunity to have the bejeesus scared out of him.

So what happens when it's the end of a long day, the kids are tired, and we have a two hour drive home in front of us? Funnel cakes and the kids' first root beer floats, of course!!

Even with the crazy busy schedule and no big, planned vacation that involved airplanes and hotel shuttles, this has been an amazing summer. If we'd had some major outing planned, we probably wouldn't have made it to Silver Dollar City, and that would've been a shame. Because now I know that when someone says "You live where?" I can include this little gem in the foothills as one more reason this is an amazing place to live.

Moooooooooooom I'm Huuuuuuuuungry

I choose to believe that even gourmet chefs, cookbook authors, and culinary creative geniuses despise this question as much as I do: "Mom, what's for dinner?"

For crying out loud, I have no idea. I just walked in the door. I barely had time to put my purse and lunch bag down before the bottomless pit accosted me with the question. I know I'm lucky that many - make that, most - nights, dinner is not on me. My husband plans and prepares dinner most nights, and when I'm able, I pitch in. (In truth, half the time, the bottomless pit doesn't ask what's for dinner, he asks if he can borrow my iPad so he can play Angry Birds. That question is only slightly less irritating than the dinner question.)

Back to Tuesday nights - recently, Justin gets a respite from the evening routine, heading out the door a little before 6 to lead a book study at church, so I'm on the hook for preventing the starvation of the two midgets under my roof.

Believe it or not, this is one area I have demonstrated a pretty consistent ability to plan ahead. Growing up, my mom kept a calendar that had one sole purpose - to list what was for dinner, all done on Sunday night, and laid out for the week ahead so that whomever was responsible for cooking (read: Amanda) wouldn't have to do too much thinking. As a piano teacher whose hours started at 3:30, frequently went until 9:30, and only included a half hour dinner break at 6:30 (reliably, every night - we were the regular Cleaver family with all of us around the table from 6:30 to 7:00 every evening), my mom had to be organized or face the wrath and wailing of three midgeroos, insisting that they were near starvation. I managed to inherit some of that organization, and in general, we successfully plan our dinners at least a couple of days ahead of time, if not a week.

So this morning as I'm heading out the door, Justin and I agree that leftover breakfast pizza (my recipe of the week, which was a hit on Sunday morning, might I add) would be the easiest answer for dinner. All I had to do was heat it up, and we'd be golden. Almost no dishes, balanced meal, happy kids. Done and done.

Except for the part where the only pieces of breakfast pizza that are left from Sunday morning are covered in broccoli and tomatoes.

"Red leader to Rebel Base, we have what looks like an enemy formation ahead. It seems to resemble broccoli and tomatoes. Abort attack, over."

Uuuugggghhhhhh.... back to the, "What's for dinner?"

The interrogation begins. What did you have for lunch? Answer: fish sticks. One of the three major food groups is out.

That leaves chicken nuggets and PB&J. (God forbid I should say peanut butter and jelly - in our house, the J is a firm JAM, please. No jelly.) Seriously? This is what I've been reduced to? How did I become that mom? I think it was a slow slide, but a precipitous fall on a night like tonight - because I'm tired from a long day at work, I had it in my head that dinner was basically no work, and I don't want to think about the aftermath of dishes from cooking anything that takes more than a piece of aluminum foil in the toaster oven.

I try one more time to entice the little person with the breakfast pizza, to no avail. He asks, "what about leftovers?" Since leftovers consists mostly of a rice and vegetable dish or pizza (my kids are sick of it, what does that tell you), I got the request for another favorite - breakfast for dinner. Which sounds so simple, but honestly, it makes a huge mess. Until... I've got it. Eggos.

Yep. My kids are having frozen waffles and french fries for dinner, with fresh peaches and blueberries on the side. 

Considering that my little brother spent his third year of life eating almost nothing other than applesauce, vienna sausages and Coca Cola, I think it'll be okay. I mean, 30 years later, I'd say he looks pretty good.

The Coussoule Curriculum

Summer is here!! No more school, no more books, no more learning... well, unless you're a kid in the Coussoule household. If that's your lot in life, then your Fayetteville Public School year may be over, but the Twelve Weeks of Summer Coussoule Curriculum has just begun.

Justin and I both have very high expectations when it comes to our children and their education. We think the local school district does a great job, but there's always an opportunity to enhance what they learn from their teachers. Given that both kids already read above grade level, and John's math skills tested off the charts for a kindergartner, we decided that this summer, it isn't enough to ensure simply that minimally they didn't lose their skills. This summer is an opportunity to give them something to really challenge them (not to mention keep them from getting on each other's last nerve before the end of the first week of break).

I spent most of last Sunday putting together a by-subject, by-week curriculum to keep them academically engaged during the summer. This summer, we're going to read; write; color; create; and discover some new wonders of science. We're also going to take piano lessons, memorize Bible verses, and do our daily and weekly chores. (You can access the spreadsheet by clicking the image below.)

And of course, the Fayetteville Public Library's summer reading program will ensure we make our way through hours of good books - one of the raffle prizes this year is an iPad Mini. John is off-the-charts motivated to get as many entries as possible in for that one!

On Monday, Justin took them to the local teacher supply store and picked out a stack of workbooks. Math; Science; Handwriting; Social Studies. Just think of the possibilities.

I think what I'm most excited about is the journaling. I had a ton of fun brainstorming three prompts per week for twelve weeks. Some of them are seasonal, some of them require critical thinking, and some of them are just fun. Based on the results from the first one this week, there will be plenty of Friday Feature material throughout the summer.

With all of this structure, I figure I'm well on my way to solidifying Meanest Mom on the Block status. Never fear - there will be plenty of free time for the kiddos this summer. Next week is Camp Invention; Gramma and Papa arrive on the 18th; we're signed up for Catholic Kidz Camp; and we'll definitely fit in a trip to Houston. Caroline has big plans to participate in a Kids Triathlon, and of course, it isn't summer if there isn't lazy time to play with the neighborhood kids, dig in the sandbox, or chase your sister around the backyard.

I have my own curriculum this summer - I've committed to making at least one new recipe per week all summer. It's a little bit self serving - making every recipe in a cookbook is an item on my life list, and there's no time like the present to get working on it - but it's also a great way to see if we can find some new ideas for the meal rotation. I also plan to read aloud to the kiddos as many children's classics as we can get through. We're starting with The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, and so far, it's a hit. I can't wait for James and the Giant Peach; Wind in the Willows; Charlotte's Web; or whatever classics we check out from the library.

So, Summer - we're so glad you're here. We can't wait for all of the fun we're going to have, and the things we're going to learn.

Sara Lawrence Lightfoot said: "There must be a profound recognition that parents are the first teachers and that education begins before formal schooling and is deeply rooted in the values, traditions, and norms of family and culture."

Justin and I are taking that to heart this summer.

Sounds A Little Fishy To Me

After two years of attending Caroline's music programs, it was finally time for John's debut. The Holcomb kindergarten classes were ready to debut their spring program, "Sounds A Little Fishy To Me!"

We had received a note several weeks ago indicating John had a speaking part, and that he needed to practice his line: something along the lines of, "For the fish that never grims."

Grims? I just assumed it was a play on words, though the concept of "grim" felt a little off in a kindergarten music program. No matter - practice we did, and John was ready to go! The day of the program, there was a dress rehearsal for all of the other grades in the school. John apparently nailed his line - and also apparently got feedback from big sister that she was pretty sure it was supposed to be "the fish that never GRINS." Script editing, people! Stat! Good thing John is used to taking orders feedback easily from Big Sister.

Evening program started at 7:00, and the music makers needed to arrive by 6:45. As they were finishing up dinner I asked if John needed a costume. Nope - well, I mean, other than a beach shirt. And a beach towel. And sunglasses, if we have them. But that's not a costume.

Off to hunt for a "beach shirt" in the closet... I suggested several sleeveless shirts, all of which were pronounced not-beach shirts. Fine... we are officially at the age that they can pick their own clothes. Not the fight to pick. John apparently interpreted glow-in-the-dark-Spiderman as a beach shirt. The glasses and towel set it off well, I think.

Once we got to the cafeteria after drop off at the music room, I realized that getting there at 6:45 was apparently getting there late. We were in the back row. Seriously, people? What time did you get here? You know it's a kindergarten music program, right? Guess I'm not winning Mom of the Year...

Off we go, recorded music, lots of sweet little voices that sound like music with unintelligble words, but cute nonetheless.

With the edited script, John's line made sense, and he nailed it:

I'm still not 100% sure what context it was in, but whatever - he was speaking into a microphone and I could hear him. I win.

As we watched John throughout the program, there was a lot of body language that indicated he was just-not-that-into-it. A little bit of nose picking, lots of messing around with the sunglasses. Singing, yes, but not so much with the hand movements the other kids did as part of the songs. I think it's just not really his thing, but I hate to make assumptions, so on the way home I asked him what he thought.

Me: "John, did you like being in that program?"

Caroline: "Yes!!"

Me: "Let me ask John that question. John, did you like being in that program?"

John : "Um, I don't really know about it. Mommy, I have to go to the bathroom."

A star is born.

Trains then, Trains now

For years, John loved Thomas the Train and all of his Friends. His bedtime song was the theme song from the show on PBS;

 he "played tracks" whenever he was home;

we read stories from the Thomas the Tank Engine Story Collection every single night. We know not just Percy and James and Gordon and Edward, etc. etc. etc., but the lesser known Molly and Donald and Douglas and Sir Handel and Victor and all of the other Friends. Any given engine might end up in a coat pocket for a trip to daycare. Not just engines - anything Thomas was fair game.

I loved that he and Caroline both played with the trains - hearing John make up stories for the trains was one of those wonderful toddler year delights.
 

Of course, the day inevitably came when his interest in Thomas waned in favor of Star Wars, Legos and Angry Birds, so we recently boxed up all of the trains, tracks and stations and moved them into the attic. We haven't kept many toys over the years, but it was a combination of sentimentality, total financial investment, and the hope that someday we'll have other little people who want to play with Thomas and his Friends!

While we may not still sing the Thomas theme song at bedtime except for the rare occasion when I suggest it, the love of trains isn't completely gone. The romance of the rails appeals to boys big and small, and big sisters aren't immune. This past weekend we checked out the Northwest Arkansas Model Train Show, and it was just the right size to pass an hour or so with model trains and sets.

There were plenty of vendors, too, and wouldn't you know - the first thing John and Caroline saw were the Thomas and Friends items.

 

 

I miss Thomas sometimes; there are lots of excellent lessons about being a Really Useful Engine, and warning the midgeroos that they were causing Confusion and Delay was a great parenting tactic to get slowpokes moving.

As the trains whizzed by on the electric tracks, you could see the wonder and excitement on those sweet faces still there:

All aboard!

Guessing Games

Constant entertainment - the goal of kids everywhere. Lucky for me, my two midgeroos do a pretty good job of entertaining themselves, taking much of the burden off of me and Justin. Guessing games are a an old standby, especially when we're in the car, as there aren't all that many options when you're strapped to a seat that's strapped to another seat, and unbuckling incurs the wrath of God Mommy.

Last night, Justin had the kids in the car, driving from Ash Wednesday services to IHOP. I had come straight from work and was in my own car, so didn't get to hear this little gem:

Caroline: "I'm going to think of a number and you have to guess it."
John (aka Easiest Going Kid in the World): "Ok."

Now, if you remember the universal rules of The Guessing Game, bracketing the answer eventually leads to a correct guess. The accuracy of your guesses is relayed with a variation on temperature: you're either hot, or you're cold. Or, in my kids' case:

"You're in the stove!"

"You're in the fireplace!"

This feels like a semi-dangerous game.

When it was John's turn to choose a number for Caroline to guess, he came up with my favorite response yet to an incorrect guess:

"You're in Antarctica. Without any clothes on. In outer space."

Caroline immediately protested that it didn't make any sense. Um, yeah, it kind of does. In an awesome and creative way. Nice work, little man. You've upped the Game.

If I were a Stay-at-Home Mom

Today is a momentous day. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. The inauguration of President Obama for his second term. And, equally exciting for me, a day off from work.

Whenever I have a day off, I tend to sleep in, enjoying the freedom from the alarm clock. This weekend, though, I managed to get to bed at a reasonable time every night, which left me rested and eager to take full advantage of the holiday. Setting the alarm clock for 6:20, I was determined to get up and make breakfast in the relative peace of the day.

Totally worth it.

As a working mom, it is very, very rare that I am ever home by myself. I'm sure my house has its quiet moments; they're just never when I'm around. I reveled in the silence and stillness of the house as I padded to the kitchen this morning to get my domestic goddess on.

Apparently I'm a minor goddess, as evidenced by the fact that I forgot to take the frozen crust for the planned breakfast quiche out of the freezer last night. Or maybe evidenced by the fact that I was using a frozen crust instead of making my own, but whatever. Undeterred, I got the crust out, turned on Mike & Mike, got my coffee going, and pulled out my iPad to surf Facebook and Twitter. Ah, the luxury.

Since it was still quiet and there were not two small people speaking at Volume Level 10, my mind actually began to wander. What would it be like to be a stay at home mom? Not just the generalities that come to mind on a particularly crappy day at work. The true schedule, the actual routine I would follow if there was no corporate job waiting for me every morning.

There would be a lot more of this:

But there would also be more of this:

My kids could count on me for more of this:

But my husband would count on me for more of this:

As a stay at home mom, I bet I'd have a lot of days like today where I got out for my run in the sunshine, and in temperatures well above freezing, unlike at 5:15 this morning. Bonus.

But it would also mean that I probably never would've met my amazing running group here in Fayetteville, because there wouldn't have been a need for me to run at 5:15 in the morning. And I wouldn't know my terrific co-workers who bring a lot of fun and friendship to those hours working at my corporate job.

So as fun as it is to daydream about the road not taken, the details just confirm what I say all the time. Being a grown up is sometimes nothing more than a series of very hard decisions. Choices every day, doing the best we can to be the best we can. The stay at home mom choice isn't really on the table for me; the best choice I can make is to keep being the best MOM I can be, no matter where I spend my hours during the day.