Sprite's Keeper

Give away and other reasons to read this post!

Oh, hi!
How are you doing?
You seem impatient. Oh, the title?
Yeah, it says give away. Am I having one? Uh, no.
So, why are you reading this? Because my blog friend Kirsty over at My Life For The World To See is celebrating her 100th post and instead of flying you in from all over to lift a pint in her honor, she's giving away some Starbucks sweetness so you can lift a latte from the comfort of your own town.

So, link on over, check out her contest and if a Starbucks is closing in your area *sob!*, get in on this action now!

Click here! Now.

Think about it, a 100th post is a pretty big deal.

In blog years, she's already ancient!

Did you click?

Oh, and by the way, check out the new Vivanno drinks at Starbucks. (I tried the chocolate banana grande today (cheat day!) and omychocolatelybananagoodness, I am wanting another. It's 10:30 now. I still have an hour and a half until my cheat day is technically over... Later!)

Did you click yet? Why are you still reading?!?!?

Neat and Tidy Boxes

This entire job thing has had me wired.

John is doing everything he can and more to make our lives a little more stable, so this is more about me than anything else.

I just want to clean.

That's right. I want to clean. My house. Hell, I'll clean your house if you don't mind me yelling at you for spilling something on the freshly mopped floors afterwards. And take your shoes off! Where do you think the dirt is coming from anyway?!

Last night, when I got home with the child, I shoved some food into her mouth, then shoved her, still chewing, into John's arms and banished them both into John's office/man cave, pausing in the slamming of the door for the briefest of seconds to make sure Blue's tail didn't get caught as she and Harry were forced in as well.

Once my hostages were secured, I attacked. The floors.

They needed it anyway, so I'm glad I was inspired enough to tackle such a project. (Think about it. A wood floor, a Beagle, a Yorkie/Rat terrier, and a toddler who likes to share her food with certain canines in the direct vicinity. Such a combination makes for necessary daily swipes with the Swiffer, but the Swiffer went on strike a couple of months ago and we're not negotiating. So, it's good old mopping now.) (My arms need the workout anyway.) 

I swept, I vacuumed, I mopped. The floors never got such TLC. I went to sleep last night feeling somewhat calm and wishing we had some guests over, if only to see the clean floors.

I woke up this morning and eyed our bathroom. "You're next", I whispered as I got ready for work.

Talking with a co-worker this morning, I described my latest urges and documented the almost frenzied Martha Stewart hour I had endured and enjoyed last night. My co-worker looked at me and said, "Well, Jen. That's just you. You like everything in its place. Your desk is like that here. Everything is in neat and tidy boxes. You're just trying to make yourself feel better while John is looking for a job."

I swallowed her words and pondered the aftertaste. I get it. This is about control.

John was laid off on Tuesday. I have no control over that. Neither does he. So, I am amping up my efforts on what I can control. I can control the clutter in my house. I'm almost anal about it. Now, it's taken on a compulsive life of its own while we're still reeling from the job issue.

I hate uncertainty. I have no control over it. That's why I hate it. I have no control over death. That's why I fear it. I have no control over John's employment status. That's why I obsess over it.

I have control over how clean my house is. That's why I revel in it.

The unknown scares the hell out of me. There are people out there who throw all caution to the wind and take chances, even if they know the wind may steer them into inclement weather. I am not one of those people.

I am a planner. I am a list maker. I am a list checker. I am realistic with a healthy dose of pessimism.

We're all on this path of life. When things like a loss of a job or the loss of a family member or the uncertainty of war, economy, gas prices (You see where this is going..) throw a blanket of fog over the path, we can't see what's ahead, even with the help of high beams. Our steps become more uncertain as we weigh the obvious choices. We can keep walking the path, even though we may take a wrong step and plunge into the abyss, or we can stop altogether and try to wait for the fog to clear, even though this may delay chances we need to take to keep us on the path in the first place.

John is forging ahead on his path, armed with his resume and his warm personality which won me over almost a decade ago.

I just hope he doesn't mind me cleaning up a little after him.

(If they made an Air Wick candle with a bleach smell, I would be ALL over that.)

Stormy Skies With a Hint of Sun

John has an interview set up for tomorrow.

I cannot believe how he has hit the ground running.

Last night, he spent all his time after Sprite went to sleep hunting down jobs on every search engine he could find, even one that Kyle, a rogue commenter, suggested last night. He has picked up some leads and the same supporters as last time have rallied around him once more to spread out their tentacles of hope and opportunity.

While most people (Damn straight I'm raising my hand on this one!) would retreat to their respective corners and lick their wounds for at least a day or so, John has not let this side line him whatsoever.

He's in good spirits. I'm the pessimistic one, but I can't help but be bolstered by his unflagging energy and determination. We're in a flipped position.

I'm supposed to be his shoulder, I'm supposed to be murmuring words of encouragement.

My words are ready. I've written them down.

He just doesn't need them right now. He doesn't need the reminders. He's already on the right path. He has his map and even stopped to ask for directions. He doesn't need any game plans I have to offer.

He needs me though. A little rah rah cheer would also help.

"Go, John! Get that job! Before they hire another slob!"

No?

"John, you'll make it, yes, it's true! You will because we believe in you!"

Much better.

Just don't ask me to get in any pyramids. I hate heights.

Confessions of a Veggie Pusher

Beth Hering over at Momformation wrote a post on weight issues for children in which a majority of the parents studied didn't recognize the excess weight on their children. This hit me a bit hard.

You see, I have a weight issue. I have been up and down on the scale since puberty, recently losing weight in a healthy way, pushing the excercise, limiting the carbs, limiting the sweet stuff. The bathroom scale is half friend (Woo hoo! I'm down!) and half foe (Can I blame this on PMS bloating? Last night's raid on the cashew stash?).

John also has the same issues. He has also battled his food demons and sometimes won, sometimes lost. Right now, he is winning, but not as ardently as I am. (Ooh, can I blame this on World of Warcraft?) (Please?)

John and I made a pact to ourselves a while ago that we would not bring junk food into the house to keep the temptation away. This was actually well before Sprite was a twinkle (Twinkie?) in my eye. This pact is still iron-clad and if you look in our pantry (no, it's okay, I'm allowing it) and fridge, the worst thing you'll find is Smart Ones Desserts (my little reward for making it through a workout and you simply HAVE TO TRY the mint chocolate chip sundaes. You'll thank me.) (You're welcome.)

Reading this post had me thinking about what we feed Sprite. If you read the article (and please link to it and read it because there is some sobering information in it), you'll see that parents often turn a blind eye to how big or overweight their kids really are. I think a lot of it is in what we feed our kids and the amount of sedentary entertainment they enjoy. McDonalds makes little Katie happy? Well, then give her the fries! And Super-size it! Little Bobby wants pizza for dinner and nothing else will do? Well, one slice shouldn't hurt him. And I guess, since he's eating pizza, I should too. Little Debbie (Get it?) (Sorry.) wants to play her video game? Well, she's happy and I can work in piece, so be it.

I did not want to fall into this cycle. I promised myself back when Sprite started solids that I would be the soldier defending her system against the junk. I remember how appalled I was when I discovered orange stains on her onesie as I picked her up from daycare one day and discovered the stains were actually cheesy dust from cheese balls the kids had been eating for snack. (At first, I thought, "Hello? Choking hazard?" Then I thought, "Why are they feeding an 11 month old cheese balls?")

I also promised myself that I would only give her 100% juice. When I discovered the juice in her daycare was actually "juice drink" and had no actual juice in it, I quickly cut off her access to it, asking them to give her milk or water instead. (This was right around the time she started having issues with her Huggies. Little did we know this was actually a precursor of things to come for Sprite and her issues with acidic foods.)

I have realized (and begrudgingly accepted) that we do not have total control over what she eats in daycare, so I have learned to turn the cheek when I hear about the chocolate chip cookies and the chips Sprite has eaten that day. I have also looked the other way when Sprite is there for Parents Night Out and her dinner consists of pizza and more pizza. 

But as soon as her feet step off Daycare soil, she's mine. (Mwa ha ha ha!....Oh, sorry. Didn't realize you could hear that...could you?)

At home, her menu is more simple. Okay, a lot simple. People in prison have better access to junk than my 1.5 year old has. During meals, Sprite eats what we eat. If we're having broiled chicken and spinach for dinner, guess what's on her plate? And yes, she eats the spinach. She even eats the notorious broccoli and LIKES IT. (We're total veggie pushers.) We keep her diet very healthy and focused on proteins, fruits, and vegetables. Don't get me wrong. The animal crackers and Goldfish are staples in her snacking diet, but yogurt and cut up grapes make the rounds on a regular basis as well. And she does get a sugar cookie at the grocery store to keep her happy (and quiet, yes, that too..) so we're not completely banning the bad stuff.

All good, right? Well, for the most part, sure, but I sometimes feel like I'm taking things too far. Let me explain:

This past Saturday, we were at Story Time with other kids and their parents. A friend of ours offered all the kids some chocolate chip cookies, each about the size of a toddler's spread out hand. I declined for Sprite, choosing instead to give her the organic animal crackers I had already packed for her.

This same friend is also a teacher at Sprite's daycare and offered Sprite a munchkin one morning when we walked in. I, again, declined for Sprite, saying she had just eaten and refused most of her own meal, although it was plainly obvious Sprite was studying that piece of donut as if it was the key to the universe, and she wanted in on its secrets.

Recently, John accompanied Sprite and me on a shopping trip and offered her a sip of my (watered down) diet cola. I flipped out. I had been warding off the sodas when everyone else had been allowing little sips here and there and my OWN HUSBAND betrayed me! Her innocent palate had been marred by COLA! (See? I'm a little out there..)

In fact, now that I'm thinking this through, I'm remembering several occasions in which I have not let Sprite have the junk, steering her instead to something else, something less fattening. And this is where my fear takes over. Am I programming her to lead a life filled with "Eat this, not that" and planting the seeds of worry over her self image?

I find myself studying her sometimes and wondering, hmm, is her tummy supposed to be that big? Are her legs too chubby? When will she lose the cankles? Then I mentally shake myself and remember, oh, yeah, she's a toddler! Toddlers are supposed to have baby fat! They're supposed to have chubby cheeks! ( The better to nibble them... )...But does she have too much? (Ugh, I'm shaking my head in disbelief at MYSELF here.)

I just worry that she may be predisposed to the same weight issues John and I have struggled with. It may be in her genetics to gain weight more easily than others and she may have to struggle with her own self body image while looking at images of emaciated models and asking why she wasn't "blessed" with their body types.

When she steps on the scale in our bathroom (she likes to activate the display and giggles when it comes up), I have a momentary flash of the (hopefully fictionous) future when she's stepping on the scale in her teens and not emitting a giggle when she sees the numbers come up for her scrutiny.

Right now, she is exactly where she needs to be, her weight and height are proportionate to each other. According to the charts, she's perfect. (well, her head is a little big, but that's neither here nor there..)

I, of course, want her healthy above all else. I do not think a couple of pounds above the recommended weight will hurt her. I do think I am being too strict with her diet, but I also don't want to be too lax as in, she sees the Golden Arches and immediately is begging me for Mickey D's.

It's a fine line to walk, harder to walk it when you yourself have struggled with the issue at hand. Looking around at the kids I see, I agree that most parents do not realize what they're encouraging or enabling when they turn a blind eye to their child's growing girth. However, I do think, in my own aspect, I may need to take the glasses off once in a while and just let her be.

(Did you know you just burned 12 calories reading this? 22 calories if you clicked on the links and read those too! )

(Yes, I agree. I'm way out there. Can someone reel me in please?)

(Please?)

Take A Moment.

Before you grab your gear and race to the beach, take a moment.

Before you spend your day frolicking in the sun, take a moment.

Before you fight with your husband about the price of gas, take a moment.

Before you take the time to visit with your loved ones, take a moment.

Before you stuff that hot dog into your mouth, take a moment. (Then take a Zantac.) (Sorry, couldn't keep the snark out. Trying, honest!)

Take a moment to remember why you're off from work today.

Take a moment to remember who you are and where you live.

Take a moment to remember those who sacrificed their lives to give you your freedom.

Take a moment to sympathize/commiserate with those who are grieving or celebrating the brave ones we are to honor today.

Happy Memorial Day and a heartfelt thanks to those who are still out there defending us and our freedom. My hope is to celebrate you on Veteran's Day.

So close, yet so far away

Every morning, I bring Sprite to daycare. Every morning, I sit with her for a couple of minutes to get her comfortable with her classroom. Every morning, I kiss her goodbye and tell her I will be back to get her as soon as my workday is over.

Every morning, I leave her with a teacher and make my way to work, assured of her safety and confident I will return to find her exactly as I left her, knowing I am two miles away if she needs me.

On January 25, my confidence was shaken.

In neighboring Cape Coral, a man, estranged from his wife who was seeking a restraining order against him, forced his way into a daycare center where she taught and gunned her down in front of her young students. Their own young daughter was in a classroom down the hall when it happened.

After he finished his violence (no one else was touched), he calmly allowed the police to arrest him. He had done what he intended to do.

Parents rushed in from all over upon hearing the news. I myself did not hear about it until that night when we were picking Sprite up from the babysitting program at our daycare. Teachers were talking about it. Parents were talking about it. The tone was third person shock. "I'm horrified it happened, but it can't happen here."

For days, the news programs covered it. Why did it happen? Who was affected? They were interviewing young children, barely old enough to recite the alphabet. Reporters pelted them with questions like "What did you see? How did you feel?" Parents were caught on screen pushing their kids to answer these questions with "The monster came in and hurt the lady..." I was horrified by this. I was even more horrified by the parents' willingness to subject their already traumatized children to such blatant exposure.

The ruckus has died down since then. I haven't seen anything about it in a couple of days since they announced funeral arrangements for the unfortunate woman who was trying to protect herself and her daughter from his torment and paid such a high price for it.

Day cares have posted their security policy since then in a more noticeable area. Our own daycare center has always required a pin number to be able to access the inner building where the children are. Our daycare center is also assuring parents that all exits have been checked and their security verified. No one other than parents and pre-approved visitors are allowed to access the center.

This is a reassurance. However, in the back of my mind, I wonder about the "what if"s. What if something like that were to happen at Sprite's school? What if she were caught in the middle of it? What if I never see her again?

For me, being a working mother brings up the usual fears and concerns of not being able to be there for milestones, being accused of not loving my daughter enough to make staying at home work out, and the like. But my biggest fear is having my daughter's future yanked from my control, not being able to protect her when she needs me most. This is when the thought of being just two miles away is just too far.