Kitchen Trust

I watched my kids today.  By that, I mean I really watched them, their actions, and their weird little habits.  I have two boys, who act like and have the cleanliness standards of pigs.  On their best days, they behave like domesticated pigs, but still pigs nonetheless.  The game room upstairs was meant to be a family area, but has aptly become their man cave instead.  In the game room, they shove dirty clothes under the couch, rather than place them in the hamper just a few steps away.  They are careful enough to sneak food upstairs when I am not looking, but too lazy to hide the food wrappers when they are done eating.  They keep regular books and comic books staked up next to the toilet because evidently that is the best place to store reading materials.  I could go on, but I fear giving you too many examples like this might lead to you to assume they get these weird habits from me.  I assure you they don't get it from me.  Although my hubby is not a messy guy, he is a bonafide pack rat, so that appears to be where the genetic pattern originates.

Ever now and again, I take a step back and just observe them for a few minutes.  Their personalities amaze me because they have always been true their core traits, even in the womb.  One son is high maintenance and always demanding attention, while the other son is ultra laid back and goes with the ebb and flow of any situation.  They are polar opposites, and yet, completely inseparable.  The fight around the clock but can't stand to be apart from each other for any amount of time.  The oldest son is beginning to stake out his independence so much lately that I have to consciously take a step back and allow him to do his own thing without smothering him.  The kitchen is an area where he constantly wants to prove himself.  The kitchen offers a lot of life lessons and metaphors, and watching him navigate his way around the stove and oven is like watching him maneuver his way through an obstacle course of sorts.  Sometimes I take my seat and call out warnings from the other side of the counter, watching and waiting for both of them to show me what they know.

This morning, they wanted to make their own breakfast.  I have allowed this many times before, but I assisted more than they wanted me to.  This time they begged to do it by themselves and I agreed.  Turkey bacon, eggs and biscuits were on the menu.  I still helped them turn the fire on the stove to the appropriate levels, but for the most part I simply observed.  I was curious how they would handle themselves while preparing their own meal if an adult wasn't around.  Would they clown around and horseplay themselves into a dangerous situation or would they remember all the safety precautions I (yelled) spoke to them about all the previous times.  I am pleased to say they did okay.  Yes, they left my kitchen in a complete wreck.  There were egg shells and yolk spilled on the stove.  The bacon was slightly blackened.  However in making this simple little meal, they reassured me they could take care of themselves on a basic level.  They wouldn't starve to death if they were ever trapped in the house alone on another Houston "snow day".  They would remember to turn off the oven and not blow up the house if I wasn't present to remind them.  Heck, they might even remember to wash their hands at some point, but I won't get too crazy with my expectations in that department.  They are pigs, after all.

More than simply satisfying their growling stomachs this morning, I sensed that we quietly crossed into a new era.  An era in which I would ease up a little on my hovering habits and allow them to handle themselves more.  An era in which they would continue to slip and mess up a lot, but I would let them pick themselves up and solve their own problems.  I also sensed that they would need me a whole lot less than I would need them.  Many of my girlfriends are older than me and have children that passed this pre-pubescent phase long ago.  As mothers, they have already been through what I am just starting to experience.  They have already felt those first signs of independence, when your kid no longer wants to hold your hand or show affection towards you in public.  They have already had to stand by when their kid made a bad decision and simply watched patiently as they tried to work out a solution for themselves.

This phase almost feels as draining as cleaning up poopy diapers or running behind them as toddlers so they don't stick their fingers into electrical sockets.  Even worse, I've heard that letting go doesn't get any easier.  Supposedly as parents, we just get better at discreetly watching and waiting for them to need us again.  I try to sneak in hugs and kisses on my baby boy these days and he hates it.  It is taking time for me to understand that he doesn't hate me, he hates my smothering and babying habits.  Every time I force him into a hug, he pulls away, more anxious to prove he is no longer a baby.  I will get better at letting him prove himself, as long as he humors me once in a while and lets his old mom fawn over him a little.  At the very least, I want them to know I trust them.  Right now, I trust them to use good judgement in the kitchen, to be true to themselves in all decisions they are faced with and go after what truly makes them happy.  Now that I think about it, this is probably what I want for them not just today, but for a long time to come.  The watching and waiting will continue, but I believe they will be okay.

Sugar Mama

I miss having a waistline.  These words came out of my mouth the other day when I was talking to my husband and he looked at me like I'd sprouted a second head.  I should have clarified the statement.  I miss having a small waistline.  The small waistline days were roughly 25 pounds ago, but that era still dances around in my memory every time I decide to clean up my eating habits.  Yes, I love being a vegetarian but I still go through nutritional peaks and valleys just like everyone else.  I have this odd dietary battle that I fight all the time, because I love eating vegetables (spinach and zucchini are my favorites), but I also equally love sugar.  Tell me to cut out fried foods...easy.  Tell me to cut out bread...no big deal.  Tell me to cut out sugar and I will freak out.  Sugar is my crack.  Sugar is my achilles heel and it defeats me all the time.  If you had never laid eyes on me and I told you I was a longtime vegetarian/occasional vegan and a runner, you would probably picture a super healthy person with a slender build.  Nope.  My body shows the damage of a lifelong sugar habit that hasn't improved one bit.  I am being real here and I hope my story helps others that are fooling themselves into thinking that sugar is no big deal.

I draw the line at calling sugar addictive.  It is different for everyone.  For me, yes, I do believe I have some form of an addiction to sugar because I display the typical withdrawal symptoms whenever I do a dietary cleanse.  Beyond my taste buds missing sugar, the headaches, phantom body aches and mental disorientation are very real indicators that some form of chemical dependency is in place when I try to flush out the white stuff.  Sugar is poison for the human body.  Of every food or fluid you put into your body, sugar is the only thing that has absolutely no nutritional value or benefit to sustaining your health.  It may act as an aid in getting other nutrients into your bloodstream efficiently, but sugar alone is nothing your body will ever need.  EVER.  Ask any nutritionist, study any diet fad, follow any weight loss program and the one universal factor is that they all advise you to cut your sugar intake.

So if I know all this, why don't I follow my own advice?  It is laziness, plain and simple.  I have always wanted to be a writer, but never pursued it.  I have always wanted to travel more, but never made time for it.  I have always wanted to get rid of sugar, but never made it a priority that would stick.  People always talk about having trouble losing weight.  Losing weight has never been a mystery to me.  I know exactly what to do, but I just don't do it.  I don't eat tons of candy or desserts.  My biggest problems are with sugary coffee drinks, sugary cereals and skipping meals.  Surprised?  You should be.  You thought I was eating mounds of candy?  You imagined me sitting in front of a platter of cakes and cookies?  Sure, I will indulge in a dessert here and there, but the daily intake of cereal and lattes has a much bigger sugar impact than most people realize.  For instance, my "big girl" sized cereal bowl of Cap'n Crunch and unsweetened almond milk may sound harmless, but it contains more than my entire recommended daily allowance of sugar.  Add my daily latte fix and my sugar totals have gone off the charts.  Multiple that by 4 or 5 times per week and you easily see how the pounds have added up over the last couple of years.  Then add that to my so-called vegetarian meals and things are not as healthy as they once seemed.

If I were a world class athlete or a supermodel, where my job and livelihood depended on the condition of my body, then yeah, my priorities would be different.  But unfortunately, my nutritional habits have always been about two (or twelve) notches lower on my priority list.  The good thing is that my hubby is currently restructuring his diet right now, so there are very few diet demons in the house.  Things should be okay for a while.  I expect the extra 5 or 6 pounds of holiday weight to fall off pretty easily over the next month.  But then what?  Will I go farther and try to get my old waistline back?  I want to and plan to, but I just need to get out of my own way and stop sabotaging what could be a relatively simple resolution.  Maybe I need to break up with sugar and treat it like a bad ex-boyfriend and refuse all contact with it.  Don't laugh at me too hard.  I am going to need all the mind tricks I can stand to battle this issue once and for all.  Good luck to me.

Legacy

The start of a new year always causes me to pause and look back.  I remember reading a quote many years ago which stated, in so many words, that the only two things that matter at the end of your life are "what you learned and who you loved".  Those simple words resonate with me as I reflect on the previous twelve months, along with all the promises I made to myself and others at this same time last year.  Did I keep my promises?  Honor my vows?  Improve on the flaws that needed fixing?  These answers are light and simple as long as I did not screw up too severely in any one area.  I could go easy on myself by wiping the slate clean and looking only forward to what the new year could bring.  But what if this was it?  What if the close of this year marked my own personal expiration?  What would be left of me and my time here to warrant any noteworthy memories?  What would be my legacy?

I am not trying to be overly morbid by harping on my demise, but this does cross my mind from time to time.  Surely I'm not the only one.  Although I was raised Catholic and consider myself a Christian, I make a real effort to learn about and respect the religious principles of various groups.  My own spiritual journey is still evolving and leaves me hungry to explore other viewpoints from different faiths.  Beyond the walled garden of Christianity, I know that other faiths follow similar universal teachings of love, forgiveness and charitable deeds.  We all appear to believe the day will eventually come where we will stand in judgement for the life we lived and the choices we made.  I don't live in constant fear of that day when my judgement will come.  I would be a monumental hypocrite if I made that type of declaration.  However, I do wonder if today was my last day and all my second chances were used up, would my goods out weigh my bads?

My point is that we really don't know when that final day or year is coming.  Last year at this time, many people made heart felt resolutions, but did not live long enough to see them through.  Yesterday, someone that died today, planned to still be here right now.  How can I be so arrogant to think my last moments will be come at a convenient and well planned time?  There most likely will not be a warning bell for me to tie up all my unfinished business neatly for a glorious Hollywood ending (complete with an emotional musical soundtrack, I might add).  In true form, my final words will probably be something non-poetic like "aah crap, not now".  In that moment my mind may go to my family, my friends and loads of unfulfilled promises.  Will they be forgiving enough to remember me for my good intentions instead of my poor actions?  Will they be left behind knowing how much I loved them, even if I never said it enough times?

When I look at photos of my deceased and beloved grandparents, I am immediately filled with all the emotions and memories of the lives they led and the experiences we shared together.  My hope is that my children and others will be able to look at old photos of me one day, with my smile frozen in time, and remember my impact on their existence in a positive light.  I want my legacy to be more about what good I did do, instead of what I could have done.  I need to believe that my work on this earth will endure and inspire someone to want to go farther than I my own journey took me.  Maybe they will sense my spirit when they accomplish a personal goal or achieve a life long dream.  By "they" and "someone", I mean my own children of course, but these sentiments are not limited to only them.  If you want your legacy to endure beyond the span of your life, then you need to start now, on this day, in this hour, in this breath to make your best intentions real.  Don't assume that another year is available or guaranteed to every one of us to make good on today's promises.  If we live like this year is our last, we may work harder to make the time count for something better than just our best intentions and create a legacy we can be proud of.

Happy New Year to everyone and may this year find you happy, fulfilled and 

blessed with all the love your heart can hold.

Oh, Grow Up!

My blog has been getting a lot of hits over the last month although I have not shared anything new.  I swear I did not abandon it.  I've just been going through some things.  If you are connected to me on Facebook, you may already know that we have been doing a small kitchen face lift.  This so-called small kitchen remodeling project grew a little, just shy of a high rise demolition and rebuild.  It includes some new sleek toys and I am really happy with the results.  The original estimated timeline was supposed to be ten days max, but three weeks later the whole thing has come to a close finally.  I actually believe my husband was so agreeable in upgrading our outdated kitchen so I would cook more often.  Bless his sweet little heart!  Hasn't he figured out the only thing to keep me cooking at regular intervals is to actually like what I cook?  (He always turns up his nose at my vegetarian creations.)

Enduring this construction project during the holidays creates a much higher stress level than I could have ever imagined.  We have always loved hosting small gatherings at our house during this time of year, but the kitchen demolition has made the party planning a little trickier.  We have been eating out every night and keeping the boys out of the messy, dusty house as much as possible.  During all this time of family togetherness, I have noticed a lot of changes in their behavior.  There are very few signs of sweet little boy traits around here.  When they made their Christmas wish lists this year, there were exactly zero toys that made the cut.  We have never told them the truth about Santa, but no one seems to be very worried about him anymore.  Whenever we are out in public, neither son wants to walk next to me, let alone hold my hand.  My title of "mommy" was taken away months ago and now they just call me "mom".  Even worse, this title is no longer said in a sweet way.  It is usually yelled from upstairs whenever food supplies have run low, like "MOM, WE'RE STARVING!!".  It leaves me feeling like I have been through some sort of demotion or reassignment.  I used to be the queen of this household and now I am treated like an annoying fifth wheel that  is sent away to make occasional food runs.

Of course this is not good, so this week I tried to indulge them in a little tradition I started when they were really little.  Every Christmas vacation, we load up in the car dressed in pajamas and drive around looking at Christmas decorations.  When we went this year, they snoozed in the back seat and asked me to wake them up if I drove by "anything cool".  I recently snooped on my big boy's internet browsing history and discovered he has been Googling "signs of puberty".  He was getting dressed the other day and ran for cover when he heard me walk into the room.  Really??  It's not like he's had some incredible growth spurt that produced strange new body parts overnight.  Even my once cuddly baby boy acts like I am invading his turf when I walk into his mini man cave.  He keeps his eyes on me when I open his drawers to put away clean laundry.  We have already reached the point in our relationship where I have to ask them to explain song lyrics to me because I am no longer cool enough to speak the same language.

Throughout all these little observations, I have taken note that they seem to be adjusting rather smoothly.  The two of them seem to be doing okay with their new found maturity and coolness.  It's me that can't handle it.  They are growing up and maturing much faster than (cough, um) me.  I am still stuck in the "adorable little boy" phase, while they have obviously moved up to the "pre-pre-pre-teen" phase and left me behind.  I am the one who has some growing up to do.  I am the one who is afraid of what new developments tomorrow will bring.  By the time I catch up with them, they will have moved on to the next level.  It already takes ninja-like skills just to sneak up on them to steal a kiss on the cheek.  If that is the best I can get for now, then I guess I will have to treasure it for what it is...precious and rare.  My Christmas wish list will include a free hug-and-kiss-combo from each kid that will have to last me until the next gift giving holiday, like maybe Mother's Day.  It's going to be really interesting growing up with these two.