They've taken me as far as they can . . .

Yeah, it's true:  I've plateaued when it comes to my workout DVDs.  I currently have only one that really challenges me (Women's Health Train for Your Body Type) and even at that, the cardio is too short (only 22 minutes).  This is quite exciting to me because it means that I am in much better shape than I was when I started consistently working out in January.  It's not so exciting because now I have to think of what to do next.

I'm determined to get into the best shape of my life which means I need more intense cardio exercise for longer periods of time.  I've thought about the gym but I personally can't stand to be on a treadmill or an elliptical for more than 20-25 minutes although I know I should be pushing cardio to almost an hour.  It would be great to take classes but the gyms I can afford don't offer that many options.  And to be honest I enjoy working out at home.  [When I strike it rich, my home will have an exercise room (and a crafting room).]

So I'm back to looking at DVDs again . . . but I know they will have to be very different from what I'm doing now.  With the ones I have now, half the time, I don't even break a sweat!  The hubby says it's really up to me to push up the intensity of the DVDs I currently have--to use them only as a rough guide because really only I know my body.  But at the same time, I want a real guide and if I had it, I know I would have already hired a personal trainer.  I don't want to think too too hard because I really have a lot of other things I'm thinking about.  I just want an effective workout already laid out for me.  I want to get in there, work hard,  sweat a lot, and lose the weight.

I've heard about P90X, Chaelean Extreme, and TurboJam and all the other Beachbody products but I just don't know!  I thought about the TransFirmer System too . . . something different from what I'm doing now (since it uses a step) but previewing the workouts, I don't think they are anywhere near as intense as I need--especially since some are only about 30 minutes long.

My sister says there's only so much you can do with DVDs at home.  I wonder if she's right.  Will getting in the best shape of my life require a gym membership?

I am actually thinking about hitting the pavement and running.  I've always wanted to be able to run miles.  But I kind of know my body is not built for it . . . it's really difficult for me to run for long distance.  But maybe I can train myself?  And it's winter . . . will I really be down for running in winter?  I know once you start you warm up but brrrrrrrrr . . .

Have you any experience with any of the Beachbody products?  Care to share?

Bananas and Blueberries . . . a winning combination!

I have a large bag of frozen blueberries sitting in my freezer leftover from summer smoothie making. In the winter, I just can't drink anything cold.

On Sundays we usually have pancakes for breakfast and since I had a whole bunch of very ripe bananas, I decided to try a banana blueberry pancake, which I've never had before. Z1 loves banana chocolate chip so I just made up the batter for pancakes* (adding two mashed bananas). For half of the pancakes, I used chocolate chips and for the other half I used blueberries. (I don't mix the add-ons into the batter--I just drop them onto the uncooked side of the pancake while it's cooking. I got this tip from Alton Brown and I have to say, this works out a whole lot better.)

Well, it turns out that I really like the banana blueberry combination so yesterday, I decided to do the same combo in a muffin. Weeks ago I found the best banana chocolate chip muffin recipe I have tried so far. It's super moist and delicious and all that. I've substituted nuts for the chocolate chips and so yesterday I thought, "Why not try blueberries?" I did and it was really good. Even Z1 who's not a fan of blueberries was gobbling them up.

I had wanted to raise a berry bush in the back last year and didn't get around to doing it. This coming year, though, I think it would be a great idea. I really liked these muffins and we use lots of blueberries for smoothies and stuff. Supposedly, berries are pretty straightforward to grow so I'm kind of excited to try.

*I have since decided that the recipe does indeed need 1/4 cup of extra liquid which is what the original recipe calls for. So the recipe I am using looks like this:

Pancakes Like Mom Used to Make (Except Vegan)
2 cups unbleached all purpose flour
1/2 tsp sea salt
1 1/2 tsp aluminum free baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1 tbsp sugar
1/4 cup vegetable oil (or other flavorless oil)
1 1/2 cups soy milk
1/4 cup water
1 tsp. apple cider vinegar
1 tsp. vanilla extract

Put your oven on "keep warm".

In a large bowl, sift all the dry ingredients together. In another bowl, mix the wet ingredients. Add the dry to the wet and stir until everything is well combined and all the lumps are gone.

Oil your griddle or pan lightly with some flavorless oil. Pour 1/3 cup batter onto skillet and cook until bubbles start to form on the top or until the bottom side of pancake is as brown as you'd like. Flip and cook the other side.

Makes 8 pancakes.

Holding your breath?

It's very plain to see (or at least I think it is) that right now people are hurting financially. The cost of things are going up when people are losing their jobs.  I can't say how grateful I am that the hubby has a (pretty) secure job in healthcare (though I don't have any illusions) and I can't even imagine the fortune I have had so that I was able to land a Saturday gig.

When I started the Saturday job, which is at a learning center, I thought to myself that this would be a great way to keep myself in the job market at least somewhat so that when I'm ready to return to work or go back to school for my doctorate, there's no huge gap in my resume.

But what I notice whenever I start to think of the future is that somewhere deep inside I hold back.  Of course, no one can predict what the future will be.  No one really knows what things will look like a few years from now.  But it can't be only me wondering when the shit is going to hit the fan.  Right now, it seems like so many folks are intensely invested in maintaining the status quo.  Business as usual--with a few very slight modifications to take into account the fact that their money is kind of funny right now.  But you'd have to be seriously delusional to not notice that it is most decidedly not business as usual.  The world is changing in ways we've never seen before.  They are calling this depression (which folks want to still misleadingly call a recession) the Greater Depression.  It will get a whole lot worse before it begins to get better.  And when it gets better, things will be a whole lot different.  Will Ph.Ds be relevant then?  What will a teacher's job look like?  How exactly do you plan when you don't know what you're planning for?

I don't spend money frivolously at all.  I weigh every penny I spend and struggle to stay within my budget.  I think to myself though that this may be the last time for a long time that I'll be able to get those silver earrings I've been looking at, those workout DVDs I've been wanting, so maybe I should just go on and get them.  Then I think to myself . . . in  a few years, will these things even be relevant?  Will I lose weight because I am not eating preferring to give the expensive food to the children while I survive on nuts, raisins, and topinambur (which was about the only thing we were able to grow in abundance this year)? Will I be looking to sell off my silver and gold to facilitate getting the hell out of dodge?

Is that kind of thinking pessimistic?  Or realistic?  And in my day to day dealings, should I be thinking about these things?  How do you go about in life not thinking about them?  How do you pretend that everything is exactly as it's always been (all this talk of recession is really just a hiccup right?  We'll be back in a minute!) when clearly, it's not.

You've read the articles about the "alarming" number of folks needing food stamps now.  What about when the government can't afford to subsidize the food stamp program?  You've heard of the folks who used to donate to food banks who are now accepting donations.  What about when the food banks can't afford to do what they do anymore?

So, yeah, I find myself holding my breath unconsciously sometimes.  You know, you plan your life out and dream about all the things you'd like to see happen.  But you don't hold on to those plans too tightly.  You let those dreams be fluid and loose and start to focus on the most basic of things that could keep you happy.  And alive.  You start to think about ways in which you can become more resilient and more versatile and more adaptable.

I think about my children and wonder about the kind of world they live in.  I just hope they can have childhoods, i.e. that the shit hits the fan after they are grown or something.  I know that's kind of selfish since there are other children coming up after them.  (And why the hell do I still want more kids if I know the condition of the world?)

The taxes where we live are too high and will get higher yet moving in this market is really not a possibility.  Like many folks out there, we'd have to sell to buy and quite frankly, ain't no one buying.  So we just go on paying our mortgage that has us by the gonads.  We are currently breaking even at the end of month even with strict budgets and accounting for every penny spent.  Yet, the list of things we need/want grows steadily--and we as parents struggle to do without, trying to give the kids a sense of abundance while cluing them in to the reality that for us and for many others, money is not growing on any trees.  So I'm determined to sock the money I make at this Saturday job away--tenaciously.  I know how easy it is once you're making money to spend money especially with kids, especially trying to give them all the things I didn't have as a child--like Christmas trees and such.  But my focus now is really and truly saving a good chunk of money while striking that delicate balance.  While avoiding feeling like I'm depriving my children and my self.  Having cash money can serve as good cushion to absorb whatever shocks we may be about to experience.

It strikes, me that this is also a good time to get my spiritual life in order too.  Again, shock absorption. Sure, I've been searching for my path but I am more motivated to focus on finding where I'm supposed to so that I'm there if or when the "just in case" situations happen.  So that I am there when the time comes to exhale.  And figure out what to do next.

Oh Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree . . .

Or not.

I have never had a Christmas tree at Christmas. Not once in my entire life.  Our family didn't put up Christmas trees.  My parents held the belief that trees and all the other Christmas "paraphernalia" were pagan and as Christians, we should not be involved in those things.  My parents also strongly believed that the purpose of Christmas was not the gifts but to celebrate the birth of Christ.  So even if we would have had a tree, there would have been very few gifts under it.

Now, my parents and I don't hold similar world views.  In fact, our world views are vastly different except that we kind of agreed on the Christmas tree thing and the gift giving thing.    But I'd be lying if I said that as a child I didn't long for a beautifully decorated Christmas tree with lots of gifts under the tree.  I wanted that so deeply every Christmas but as I got older and learned a lot more on my own, I became genuinely uncomfortable with all the Christmas "stuff" and when I left Christianity, I took a huge step back from the whole holiday.

But the other day Z1 asked if we were going to have a tree.  He said he wanted to decorate it. The hubby tried to explain that we don't do trees but I felt torn (even though I went along with the hubby).  What's really the harm in having a tree and decorating it?  It may have had pagan origins but now that I know paganism is not devil worship, so what? Who can deny that they are beautiful and fun to decorate?  My opinion on gift giving hasn't really changed all that much.  I wouldn't want to go out and spend a whole lot of money buying things for Christmas.  I think that misses the point, the spirit of Christmas.  But I could see making homemade gifts for each other and close family members as the kids get older because I definitely recognize the value in gift giving and generosity.  And as a knitter and crocheter, I especially see the value in sharing the fruit of one's labor, the product of one's creativity with loved ones.

The frugal me would, of course, purchase an artificial one that we could pull out year after year.  It would be small enough to fit on the kitchen table.  

I could actually have written a similar post at Halloween because the same issues came up.  I didn't dress up or trick-or-treat as a child and I often felt left out.  I often felt like I was missing out on a whole lot of fun.  And these days, holidays are such a mainstream thing--moreso than when I was a child--that it's hard to keep your children insulated from the influence.  I honestly felt bad when Z1 went to his little Kindermusik class and all the other kids had costumes but he didn't.  I asked myself then, What's the harm, really?

So, what say you?  Do you do Christmas trees in your households?  Why or why not?

Picture courtesy of http://thumbs.dreamstime.com/thumb_198/1193071743IQjNUY.jpg

Good Enough.

I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving!!

We travelled about 3 hours away to spend the holiday with family and though I was a littler nervous about how it would go, I'm happy to say that it was enjoyable. At least as enjoyable as it could be.

I kept thinking to myself why it is I can never really relax around my family.  Of course, there's the difference in religion and lifestyle but I think more than that, it's my mother.

I seriously believe my mother gave me a lot of complexes that I am still struggling with.  I don't know if I will ever be done struggling with them.

"He's dark-skinned but he's still the most handsome of all of his siblings."

That's a direct quote from my mother talking about one of my cousins yesterday.  Now this cousin is indeed a stunningly beautiful child.  I mean, you will look twice when you see this little boy.  And he looks and behaves very, very differently than his three other siblings (two older and one younger).

This is the kind of message she's been sending me all my life.  I sometimes think I may be imagining things but I know I'm not.  I had the idea growing up that my younger sister, who is just a shade or two lighter than I am was pretty and I was not.  This was despite that fact that often, people in the street mistook us for twins.  It wasn't necessarily that my mom would come right out and say things to me that damaged my self-esteem.  It was more often the things she didn't say.  The compliment to my sister or to some other child--gushing over her long neck of her her clear complexion.  The extra effort I made to be pretty or cute that went completely unnoticed.  And to this day, I swear, it's hit or miss if I'll look in the mirror and I'll like what I see.   It's infuriating.  I get so self-conscious around her that I can't relax.  I'm so self-conscious in general.

I used to blame my non-existent self-esteem on my harsh fifth grade experience that involved near daily torture with almost the whole class calling me ugly and dark.  I remember knowing acutely that a girl named Jamilla, very light skinned with loosely curled hair was beautiful in way I would never be.  But it wasn't those kids that destroyed my self-esteem.  It was going home and not having anyone to give me a different message.  It was going home and having that message reinforced.

So many folks' blogs I read say why can't we as Black people let go of our color issues.  I wish it were that simple.  Color is about as complex an issue as hair.  I know that first hand.

But aside from all that, I still feel so much that I want to make my mother happy and proud of me.  I still feel so much of a sense of failure that I can't--even though I know on an intellectual level that it's not me.  I've done lots of great things in my life--things that should make a mother proud.  But I don't get the sense my mother is proud at all.  It annoys me that I latch on to the faintest of compliments from her and hold on them for dear life.  Like when she was trying to put a pan of cornbread in the oven yesterday and was struggling.  I came over and pulled out the oven rack so she could easily slide it on.  She says, "That was good thinking" and I could feel myself light up.

I could feel myself deflate when I noticed she didn't touch any of the food I brought.  I am a self-taught cook--I cook mainly vegan foods and so I had to teach myself everything.  My mother never really took the time out to teach me to cook.  Or to sew.  Or crochet.  Or to speak Igbo.  But whatever, I'm getting along well and learning all those things on my own.  So many people tell me I'm gifted in the kitchen.  So many folks don't even believe my food is vegan.  I had die hard omnivores eating barbeque tofu.  She didn't even try it.  I mean, folks were really enjoying my collard greens.  Everyone said it was slamming.  She didn't even try it.

Fine, I get it.  I inherited my pickiness from her and I'm never the first to try new or different things.  I could eat the same exact thing every day and never get bored.  But what hurt the most was when she goes to get to dessert.  There was my homemade sweet potato pie and store bought apple pie.  She brought a slice of apple pie for herself and my dad.    I said to my dad, to her hearing, "Oh dad, you don't want some of my sweet potato pie?"  He said, "Oh, yeah, I do . . . go get a slice for me."  And I did.  And he ate it and enjoyed it.  My mother didn't seem to care.

It really shouldn't bother me much, you know.  But it does.  When she comments that Z2's hands are cold, it's a thinly veiled criticism of how I feed my kids, how I take care of them.  When she says things like, "Oh you're losing weight" I can't take it as a compliment because it's always backhanded like she might as well be saying "You're too fat."  And I know if I were to dramatically lose weight, then the problem would be that I am too thin.  It's painful never being good enough.  It makes me really wish that I could move and never have to talk to her again.

So I enjoyed my Thanksgiving, I did.  But there's always that shadow hanging over my head.  I really wish I had the tools to deal with this effectively.  I feel that all I'm powerful to do in this situation is to make sure that I do differently for my children.  Refrain from comparisons.  Make them know without a doubt how uniquely beautiful they are and that I'm proud of them always.  That doesn't necessarily take away my pain but it help me to focus my energy and attention on something else.  Something that makes me feel good.

Photo Courtesy of Feminist Law Professors

A little thing called respect

Respect (which goes hand in hand with politeness) goes a long way in this world of ours especially if you happen to be a person of color.  In my last post, I discussed my feelings on the practice of saying sorry, specifically the idea of forcing an apology or giving an apology that is not sincere.  But there are many other practices/ideas that are related to a little thing called respect.

The hubby yesterday said to me that it's time for Z1 to stop calling adults by their first names.  He wants Z1 to preface any adults' name with a proper title:  Aunt, Uncle, Mr. or Ms.  To him, failing to do so is definitely a sign of disrespect.  Maybe I'm more progressive but I really don't mind children in an informal setting calling me by my first name and I don't mind Z1 calling other adults by their first names either.  By adults, I mean non-related adults.  I still expect Z1 to call his aunts "Aunty", uncles "Uncle", Grandma, Grandpa, whether or not they are related by blood or by marriage.  The hubby, on the other hand, absolutely does mind when he is called by his first name by a child or when a child is calling other adults by their first name.  Well, I had to give it a little thought because, obviously, we have to have some kind of agreement on the issue.

I'm from a culture where respect for elders is of the utmost importance.  I mean, any Nigerian child can tell you of the numerous aunts and uncles they have (only a handful of which are actually really related).  There are people older than me that to this day, I would never attempt to call by their first name without tacking on an Aunty or Uncle.  I remember this huge dilemma I had as a child when the mom of an American friend of mine wanted me to drop calling her Aunty.  I didn't really know how to address this woman because I knew if my mother heard me calling her by her first name, it wouldn't be pretty.  So I stopped calling her altogether.  I wonder if she ever noticed.  Anyway, because of my numerous "fake" aunts and uncles, I wouldn't ask my kids to call any non-related adult Aunty or Uncle.  If we're going to use titles, they're going to be formal--Mr. or Ms. although they can tag that on to the first name (as opposed to the last name) of the adult they're talking to the hubby is okay with that).

In one sense I definitely see the value in using proper titles because it really does set up a space for formality, a distinction between me and you, a respect.  If you call me Ms. Originalwombman and I call you by your first name without a title, you'd feel a way--and vice versa.  In some instances, setting up this respectful environment is useful like at the workplace or in the classroom.  But when it comes to interpersonal relationships between children and adults, is it still useful or does it set up a hierarchy of power where children are at the bottom and adults at the top?

You see, for me parenting is requiring a whole shift in my paradigm.  I'm currently reading a book called Connection Parenting and the underlying idea is that no, you shouldn't treat children like adults but you should always treat them with respect.  That is the only way you can in turn expect respect and this is the only way to truly stay connected to your children.  And connection, the book posits, is what children need most in this world.  That makes total sense to me.  So how does using titles to address adults correspond to that understanding?  If respect is a two way street, what special title am I going to use to address children?  Now, I've had teachers who insisted on calling their students "Ms. So and So" especially when I was attending my all girls high school. I always liked this.  I honestly did feel respected in a genuine way--as if the teacher thought me to be on his/her level, i.e. just a capable a human being.  I've also taught in a school where the students called the teacher by her first name.  I can't say I really liked that dynamic though--students really were haywire at times but I don't know if it was the teacher herself (who didn't command respect) or the fact that
they didn't use titles.  I tend to think it's the former.

I am happy to say that I started a Saturday job at a learning center about 20 minutes from here.  Most of the students call the teachers by their first names.  After encountering a particularly surly and sarcastic boy yesterday (who, damn it, happens to be the only Black child I've see walk into the place yet and who burst into tears when I asked why he was being so rude) I am certain that I do not want to be called by my first name.  I don't even want my first name in play at this place because I do not want to invite any form of disrespect.  I don't want to deal with any bullshit at a part-time Saturday gig.  So I guess deep inside I really do feel that using titles does, at least in some part, promote respect.

But is it fair to expect children to tag on a title of respect to address adults when adults are not expected to do that to children? I'm not sure.

I am sure that is vitally important for my boys to be viewed as respectful, courteous, polite young men--as non-threatening as possible.  So I may have to push my misgivings aside so that they get into the habit of addressing adults as Mister or Ms.

I am sure that a little thing called respect, in this world, in this skin, goes a really, really long way.

The Sorry Will Mean Something

I think most mothers have been in a situation where their child has done something to another child--either said something mean or hit/pushed. There's always that awkward moment after such an incident where all the mothers of the children involved stand around trying to figure out what happened, trying to make their child feel better and also trying to assign blame/seek justice. It is, indeed, always awkward especially if the mothers have totally different frameworks from which they are parenting.

I know I've been in this situation countless times and I often feel like the mother of the other child is looking for me to force Z1 to say sorry. I never do. First of all, Z1 would never say sorry.  I could physically twist his arm if I wanted and he wouldn't do it.  He would sooner stalk off, throw himself on the floor, cross his arms and frown, etc.--an apology would not be coming any time soon.  If he feels his actions were justified, I can forget about an apology.  Which leaves me staring at the mom helplessly as she (essentially) shakes her head at what a poor parenting job I'm doing because Z1 just won't say it.

So these days, I'm much more focused on getting him to empathize with folks that are hurt.  In this way, whatever apology he offers is heartfelt.  This doesn't always fly with other mothers even if I apologize on Z1's behalf and take steps to make sure the incident doesn't happen again like talking to Z1 about keeping his hands to himself or removing him from the situation. It's just not good enough.  They want, no expect, that apology.

With all the spiritual and psychological work I've been doing to get myself to a healthy place, I realize that expecting or demanding an apology for perceived wrongs is really a waste of time.  Often times, if a person knows an apology is expected, they'll give it but it won't be sincere and they'll be sure to commit the offense again.  Why?  Because that person may not feel he/she did anything wrong in the first place.  That person may not understand (or care about) why you are offended.  He/she may think that you taking offense is silly or uncalled for.  That person simply may not care.  Period.  Why expend energy expecting an apology?  These days I'm much more inclined to process these things on my own, to recognize why I was hurt or offended and do things within my own power to avoid it happening again.  This sometimes includes modifying my behavior with the offending person (e.g. not being as open or as friendly).  It's always my hope that if someone sees they have hurt me that they will make an effort to make me feel better.  But as always, how I feel and how I react, at the end of the day, is solely my responsibility.

So Z1 rarely expects apologies at this point when he gets into it with other kids.  Playground scuffles usually end with him coming to vent to me, I sympathize with him and hug him, and give him options for how he can continue to make his playing experience positive.  Yet, I'm careful to model to him how and when to apologize.  Like if I accidentally break something of his or step on his toe, I will say, "Oh Z1, I accidently broke your puzzle.  I know that made you very upset and I'm sorry.  May I help you put it back together?"  I'm careful to slow him down after he's pushed his brother down so that he can take a look at how sad/hurt his brother is.  I will ask Z1 how he thinks Z2 is feeling and if he were in Z2's shoes, what he would want or need.  Without coercion, Z1 will go over and try to soothe his brother and apologize.  So Z1 does indeed say sorry but that's when he wants to--when he realizes that he did something that hurt someone else (even if he feels hurt or treated unjustly himself)--and I don't have to pull teeth to get him to do it either. To me, this makes a whole lot more sense--especially in light of the fact that children get over things so quickly because they tend towards wanting to be joyful, light and happy.

I was bullied as a child and one thing I remember so clearly was being treated horribly and the bully taunting me with, "Oh, I'm sorry!" not to make me feel better, exactly, but just as part of the meanness so they could say they didn't mean it when, in fact, they really did.  I remember reporting the bullying to a teacher and me and the bully being brought together and the teacher forcing the bully to apologize.  The bully would always say "I'm Sorry" and then turn around not more than five minutes after and continue with the bullying--to an even fiercer degree and much more insidiously because I had the nerve to tell.  No one, it seemed, was interested in really fixing the pain.  Everyone was more interested in the superficial politeness.  I wasn't amused.

Saying sorry is the social thing to do.  It's polite.  And we all want to teach our children how to be polite.  But more important to me than teaching my children politeness for the sake of getting along is teaching them empathy and sincerity.  More important to me is teaching that words have meaning and should be meaningful (not empty).  I know if I can get Z1 to empathize consistently, to understand when someone else feels like they've been treated unjustly, to care when someone is hurt, the apology will come and it will come without force.  And then the sorry will mean something.

Photo Credit:  "I'm Sorry" by hey mr. glen on Flickr.com

At home

I read this Interesting post at Domestic Felicity. I've heard it said before that women should look good at home, that as single women we always made an effort to look good, etc. so why does it change when we get married?  The question always unsettles me a bit. Maybe because I never hear this question being posed to men. Maybe because I think it (perhaps) places unrealistic expectations on women. Maybe because I don't think it's altogether true. I'm not sure. So I'm going to try to flesh it out.

As a single woman, if I were going out to work or to meet friends or on a date, I dressed up and tried my best to look nice/neat. As a married woman, I do the same thing (except I don't go out on dates).  As a single woman in my own house, I wore comfortable clothing. As a married woman in my own house, I wear comfortable clothing.

Most marriages involve cohabitation as mine does. That means that most of the time, when a husband sees his wife, it's at home. Now, it's always amazing to me that any husband could think that the woman they just almost gave themselves whiplash to look at simply walked out of the door without doing a dang thing. Most likely, that beautiful woman had to go through a process at home. This process may have involved coke bottle rollers, white face creams, smelly hair removal stuff, etc . . . she did that while she was at home. My opinion: if you think that woman out in the street if more fierce than I am, go on ahead and mess with her. You'll find when you get her at home, you'll be quite disappointed. Because at home, all that stuff comes off and a very different set of stuff gets put on. Whatever women he sees during the day, that's fine and he can look. But every man should know that those women--even the most well made up, high heel wearing, diva-esque of them--go home. 

Now that doesn't mean married women have a free license to be nasty or just not give a damn about how they look at home. By all means, brush those teeth, fix that hair and put on some clothes that fit. But it just seems to go without saying that a woman who took pride in being clean and being a woman before marriage, barring any psychological issues, would continue to do the same despite being married. I mean, she may not be able or have the desire to go all out like she used to (because marriage is indeed a "settling down") however she'd be sure to wear clean clothes and take care of herself.  But at home? I just can't understand why a woman would do anything other than be comfortable at home. I don't expect my husband when he's at home to put on his good clothes. In fact, most days when he's off, he lounges around in pajamas. That's cool. When I'm going out we both get dressed so he gets plenty of opportunities to see me looking good and put together. When we go out together, I make even more of a serious effort to look my best. Being comfortable at home (not slovenly) in my mind has nothing to do with disrespecting your partner and everything to do with being at home.

Where can a woman be completely at ease if not at home? Where can she really relax if not at home? I mean, honestly?  Where can she let go of the worry that she's not measuring up to other women? That if she doesn't keep herself "just so", she shouldn't expect faithfulness?

At home, being clean, not ashy and in clean clothes is truly my husband's only requirement and I'm grateful. He sees me naked for goodness sake. No clothes to obstruct the view. And he's not complaining. If there was a problem, because we are married, he should be able to communicate with me and help me in whatever way he can so we can both feel happy and positive. If he can't or won't, then that is the real problem--not the fact that I'm wearing sweatpants at home.

I remember an online conversation I was involved in a while back about this very issue. Many participants threw about the phrase "bait and switch" as in women will go the extra mile to "trap" a husband and once they have him in their clutches, they'll let themselves go, i.e. put on weight, dress frumpily, etc . . . I don't doubt that some women do that. But I'd venture to say that to most women, looking good to their husbands is a priority. Shoot, most women still want to look good to men who are not their husbands. They want to be desirable. I read all the time about women worrying that as they get older, men don't look at them anymore--preferring younger women. This seems to be a big concern. Would that same woman who's got that going on in her mind then just "let it all go" with their husbands? Just give up. Maybe, I suppose but not likely. A woman with a healthy self-esteem would sooner redouble her efforts than give up. Most women realize that men are visual creatures and if a woman is vastly different from what their man was attracted to in the first place, there could be issues. But, on the flip side, most men (at least most good men) realize that life brings about changes. Children happen. Illness happens. Life happens. But to me, that's the joy and beauty of marriage: sticking and staying through the really great times and the times that suck.

It's good every so often to switch it up and look really nice at home. I'm all for sexy lingerie, short shorts, and tight leggings around the house. But in my house, I should feel at home. I shouldn't be worrying about competing with outside women. Especially since in my mind, my husband is not competing with outside men. Why should he be? I love him and I'm content with him and he's trying to keep himself looking good and fit. He's making an effort. I'm making an effort and that is really what's important.  Aside from that, let's just be at home.

I understand that a lot of times when this topic is brought up, that there is a bottom line point the authors are making (or at least I hope so) in order to be help women be successful and happy in their marriages. The message is don't get so comfortable in your marriage that you start to take things for granted. But that bit of advice should permeate every aspect of the marriage and should always flow both ways--man to woman and woman to man. I think the more important message is for each partner to stay open, communicative and sensitive about each other's needs.

And be comfortable enough with each other to be comfortable at home.

Everybody needs a little "me" time

I had a terrible allergy fit last night and ended up taking 2 Claritin.  The box says that taking more than the recommended dose could make you drowsy.  For me, it's like drinking Red Bull or some other kind of high caffeine drink.  My sleep is shallow and any little thing can rouse me.  But it's far better than suffering with the allergies: sneeze, sneeze, sniffle, blow, scratch throat, rub eyes, sneeze, sneeze, sniffle.

Anyway, today was the first morning I was supposed to get up at 4:45 to exercise. And when the alarm clock rang, my eyes sprang open.  I lay in bed for just a few moments more (because it was cold outside the bed and I like to listen to my men sleeping).  Anyway, just as I was about to get out of bed, Z2 started to stir.  I stayed perfectly still.  It didn't work!  This little dude knew what I was up to and got up right then.  So I spent some time trying to calm him down by singing to him (He loves Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star).  Fifteen minutes later, he was back asleep.  I crept out of bed to go wash my face, brush my teeth and put on my workout attire.  As soon as I got to the bathroom, he was up again hollering, "Mom, mom, mom!!"  Oh Lord help me!  So I go back to the bedroom and this time I figure let me just nurse him back to sleep.  So I do and he drifts off.  I go to get my nipple out of his mouth and this little dude will not let go!  Eventually, I just stick my finger in his mouth to break the latch and he starts to pitch a fit.  At this point, I'm like whatever--it's 5:40 already and I've been up one whole hour trying to put him back to sleep so I can go workout.  He's there in bed with his father hollering while I go off to get my workout on.  Well, he cried and cried and cried for close to 45 minutes while I was exercising.  I felt badly for him but I was determined to exercise and I wasn't going to let him derail me.  I really need to exercise to let go of stress and also for my digestive health and just an overall feeling of well being.  I jumped around the living room with him bawling and didn't stop once.  Did I feel any guilt?  Not one iota.

See, I spend practically my whole day focused on my family especially my little boys.  For most of the day, their needs come first.  I can't tell you how many times I've given them lunch but forgot to give myself lunch.  How many pampers have I changed and butts have I wiped but forget to go to the bathroom myself until it's a dire emergency?  This is what the day usually looks like.  I just need a few moments where my attention is totally focused on me.  Little Z2 doesn't quite understand that but he doesn't need to in order for me to give myself permission to do what I need to do.  I feel badly that he was in there hollering at his father who also needs his sleep but believe me, I am a much better wife and person in general when I get my exercise.  And this morning, not only did I get a chance to exercise, I was able to journal, study and chant in a focused way because it was quiet and I was alone.  I feel really great right now.

So despite Z2's protests, I'm going to keep working out in the morning, guilt free.  Hopefully he gets used to it soon.

It's 7:54 and everyone is still asleep.  What a wonky morning!

Working out at night

Is something I completely hate.

I think it's been enough of a trial period.  Over a month now.  I've tried to enjoy the advantages like not worrying that Z2 will get up but honestly, it is so difficult to get up after a long day.  I usually fall asleep with the boys and have to pry myself up to go do my workout.  Then I'm so wired after working out and taking a shower that it takes me forever to get back to sleep.  As a result of it since it taking forever to get to sleep the previous night, I don't get a quiet moment to meditate/journal/chant in the morning because I'm plastered to the bed.  Working out at night relieves the stress of Z2 waking up and disrupting my workout but it adds the stress of thinking about it all day and trying hard to stay up when I know I am mentally and physically exhausted and the (too frequent) disappointment of not being able to get up and therefore missing my workout.  I try to think of how great it is that I can save a couple of minutes in the morning because I shower at night but truth be told, I still feel the need to shower in the morning.  I try to think of how great it is that I can hang out a little bit with the hubby on days when he's off or even when he gets back from work.  It is great . . . well, that's really the thing I'll miss most by going back to morning workouts.  Maybe I could work out at night on days that we might hang out?

Last night, I fell asleep in my clothes and couldn't rouse myself until about 12:30AM. So I went back to sleep with the intention of getting up early.  This morning, I got out of bed at 6:15AM (not that early--I could certainly have gotten up earlier if I had kicked myself in the pants).  Since for the past two days Z2 slept until 7, I figured I could get some exercise in.  The boy got up at 6:30 like he just knew what I was up to.  But I don't think I have much of a choice now.  I'm going to get ready for bed with the boys and go back to waking at 4:45/5:00 to get my workouts in--even if I have to stop before I'm not quite finished.  I am so much more of a morning person.  I just function better in the wee hours of the morning.

Z2 is getting older and I think in the next few months, I'll be able to workout even if he is awake.  Right now if he's awake, he wants all my attention and wants to be up under me.  Z1 "gets" that I'm busy and will amuse himself in some other way or try to join me in exercising (which is a riot, I tell you).  Z2 is getting there so I just have to grit my teeth and get through this challenging time knowing it will turn around soon.

Photo Credit:  "Winter Morning" by withrow on Flickr.com

Tried a new recipe tonight: Honey Baked Lentils

Actually, I've had the recipe for quite a while now. I got it on MDC and I vaguely remember trying it before and not liking it.  But I decided to give it another try and tonight, I had excellent results.  Here's the recipe:


Honey Baked Lentils
1 cup lentils, soaked for a few hours (I used brown)
2 cups water or vegetable stock
2 tbsp honey or maple syrup (I used half turbinado and half maple syrup)
2 tbsp. soy sauce
2 tbsp. olive oil
1/2 tsp powdered ginger
1 clove garlic finely minced
1 small onion chopped 
salt and pepper to taste (I used 1 tsp sea salt and 1/2 tsp red pepper flakes)


Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Combine all ingredients in a glass baking dish.  Bake for 90 minutes.  (The original recipe says to bake covered but I didn't and it came out just fine.)  I added carrots to mine but I imagine you could add a variety of root vegetables and it would be really good.  I also doubled the recipe which fit in a 9" x 14" Pyrex glass baking dish.  It serves about eight adults.   


To go with the honey baked lentils, I made seasoned brown rice.  I just tossed 2 cups of rice in the rice cooker with 5 cups of vegetable broth, a pat of Earth Balance, about 1/4 tsp. sea salt and half of a large onion that I chopped.  Don't have a rice cooker?  Ever heard about baking rice?  I saw Alton Brown do this on his show years ago and seriously, it revolutionized my brown rice cooking life!  The rice comes out perfectly cooked and wonderful.  If I hadn't jacked If my mother hadn't willingly given me her rice cooker (that she wasn't using anyway), I would still be using this excellent method. 

(Don't mind my chipped plate . . . I don't know why it's my favorite plate. I just love it.) 

It was a delicious and easy dinner and I am definitely adding it to my repertoire.  

It's a drool fest!!

Z2 drools a whole lot.  Next month, he will be 2 years old.  He seems to have cut all the teeth he's supposed to have for his age so teething is not the reason, I don't think.  I mean, he's so wet all the time.  Just a little droolfest.  And he keeps his hands in his mouth a lot.  As well as many other objects that shouldn't be in his mouth like leaves and acorns, to name a few.  At two, he still absolutely needs a bib.  It's so much drooling that I think I'm going to bring up at his next doctor's appointment. With winter fast approaching, wet clothes, hands and face are not a good look at all.  I hope Z2 can get a handle on this drooling thing soon.

Being Invisible

Doesn't feel good.  At all.

Yesterday at the playground I saw one of the hubby's good friend's brother. Let's call the good friend Victor and Victor's brother Wellington.  Wellington and I have seen each other a few times before.  The hubby took me by Wellington's house to say hi to his parents (he still lives with his parents even though he's 30+ years old--no comment).  We sat next to each other--I mean right next to each other--at the table at the hubby's other friend's wedding reception.  And when the hubby's good friend had a cookout the last few times, I saw Wellington there.  Well, to me it was a pleasant surprise to see him at the playground.  I called the hubby to tell him that Wellington was at the playground and planned to say hi once I got the chance.  Well, when I got the chance, I waved and smiled at Wellington.

Not one wave of recognition passed over this brother's face.  He hadn't the faintest clue that he had ever seen me before much less that he even knew me.

All right, we've all had those times when you wave at someone and he/she doesn't realize you're waving at them and we've all felt that little flash of embarrassment that ensues.  Well, this was much worse because I felt like Wellington should have at least recognized me.  I mean, he shouldn't have been falling all over himself with joy at having seen me but . . . really?

Anyway, it so happens that right after I got off the phone with the hubby, Victor calls the hubby.  The hubby tells Victor that his brother Wellington is at the playground--that I saw him there.  I suppose Victor calls his brother Wellington to rag on him (What are you doing at the playground?  Trying to recapture your childhood?  Har, har, har!) and mentions that I was there.  Most likely, he had to have his memory jump started because honestly and truly, Wellington hadn't the faintest inkling of a clue as to who I was.

So I go to push Z2 on the swings and Wellington happens to be standing there with a woman and her son/childcare charge.  He tries to strike up conversation and I try not to smirk.  He starts, "Hey you (he has no idea what my name is)!  I haven't seen you in like forever (yeah, dude, I saw you last summer at Victor's)!"  I'm like, "Uh-huh . . . yeah, how have you been?  Great! . . . Excuse me, I have to locate my son."  Z2 is ready to get off the swing (I'm so glad he's mastered the word "off") and so off I go to "locate my son."

I told the hubby the whole story and he basically says something to the effect that Wellington is someone who stands out because of his height (he's 6'4") and that's why he's so easily recognizable.  I, on the other hand, "look like a lot of people" and, apparently, I do not stand out and am quite easy to forget.  Well, the hubby didn't go that far.  He stopped just short of putting his whole entire foot in his mouth.

I mean, the incident didn't bother me at the moment as much as it bothers me tonight.  I know Wellington's failure to recognize me is more of a commentary on him than it is on me.  We've seen in each other in rather intimate social settings on a number of occasions.  Even if he didn't know my name, if he had been looking at me instead of above or through me, he would have recognized me.  Now, I know I am horrible with names but I never, ever forget a face.  I take time to look into people's eyes and notice their expressions.  I try to read people's energy.  I look at people.  Especially in intimate social settings.  If I spend some time next to you, talking to you, and I see you more than once, more than twice, I will remember your face.  I know not everyone does this and I'm trying to not to draw conclusions about people who don't.  Although it's hard not to.

This occurrence was compounded by the fact that at Costco on Tuesday I saw a lady who I'll call Ann that worked the front desk of the main school where I used to substitute teach.  Ann would sometimes see my five days a week.  She kept me working.  And so as a small token of appreciation, I wrote Ann a thank you card and gave her a candle.  While walking down the laundry detergent aisle, I saw Ann.  I smiled.  She looked confused.  And then I realized she didn't recognize me.  But I was okay with it.  She probably saw dozens of substitute teachers a week.  We never had any really close contact.  Never sat down to eat a meal next to each other or anything.  Wellington's failure to recognize was much more . . . problematic.

And, you see, I've been very open on this blog about how I struggle with self-esteem, self-worth and self-confidence.  Wellington not recognizing me was a bit of a blow to my ego.  I mean, in the grand scheme of things, it's not all that important.  The hubby was quick to point out that Wellington doesn't really go for women of color anyway and really prefers White women as dating partners.  He was with a White woman at the playground.  That's fine--whatever rocks your boat.  I wasn't saying I wanted Wellington to be all into me.  In fact, that would be highly inappropriate.  I guess what I was getting at was that I felt invisible.  And in some ways, I feel invisible.  I don't have that confident sass that gets women recognized.  And I don't feel I have such stunning looks that I would be unforgettable.  I'm a dark-skinned Black woman in a society that really doesn't value what I am.  That constantly says what I am is just so nondescript.  So forgettable.  When was the last time you saw a beauty product being advertised by Black women on a channel other than BET?

And these days, I don't have the energy or the ends or the desire to go about doing the things that I suppose would make me less nondescript--like booty hugging jeans or plunging necklines.   Although if I'm really honest, these things did indeed get me noticed but not in any way that I wanted.  And dudes still never remembered my face.

I remember reading in The Knitting Sutra, how the author felt that once she hit middle age, she started to feel invisible because nobody really checks for older women.  I don't think that's necessarily true especially if an older woman takes good care of herself (although I wondered then when I read it if I had  already become invisible to men or if I just don't notice men checking me out because I'm usually hauling kids around or hauling groceries or just plain busy and not interested).   But one powerful thing I did garner from her sentiment and what she did to handle it (which was to perfect her knitting/become a knitting master) is that you can't let other's unwillingness to see you keep you from being authentically you.  I totally get that.  And I totally understand that.

But the incident still messed with me.  And continues to mess with me.

And I surely didn't want to pick a fight with the hubby about what he meant tonight when he said Wellington was so hard to forget that of course I'd recognize him.

So I thought I'd write about it.  At 1:30 in the morning.    And finally I think I can sleep.

Photo Credit:  "Memorias de un hombre invisible" by J on Flickr.com

Nothing like it . . .

Homemade bread, that is! . . .

I baked bread yesterday after a few weeks of buying it.  The summer was pretty busy and so I stopped making bread because I couldn't find time to fit it in.  But I'm back on my bread-baking game and boy am I glad.  Home made bread tastes so much better than store bought.  However, it seems that recently every time I bake bread, I get large holes.  I know that it's air that getting trapped but I'm pretty good about punching the bread down and rolling it very tightly into a loaf.  That's something I'm going to have to troubleshoot.  Nevertheless, the bread is delicious and I'm almost ready to try some new recipes.  Almost.

FO: A wool diaper cover

I haven't been knitting with any kind of consistency this year. With Z2 being as active as he is, it's almost impossible to get into a groove. But, I'm proud to say, I did manage to turn out something, albeit a small thing. It's a knitted wool diaper cover and I imagine it will be one of the last I ever make for my children, at least.

Specifications

Yarn: Filatura Lanarota Chaco (worsted weight)--1 1/2 skeins

Pattern: My Soaker Pattern (which is by far my favorite because it's basic, straightforward with no short rows but plenty of space for even the bulkiest of cloth diapers)

Size: Large/Toddler

Needles: #7 16-inch bamboo circulars which I abhor but which I will continue to use in the name of reaching my goal of saving $10K for each family member--I'll see how long I can make it work

Time: About a week and a half. I had a bit of yarn fiasco, had to stop a whole bunch of times, fought with my needles and was often too tired to do anything but look at it. But it got done.

Overall, I'm very pleased with it. It's quite large and is perfect for Z1 who still needs extra protection when sleeping at night. I'm looking forward to making the Sideways Grande Hat and have placed the book where the pattern was published (Boutique Knits) on reserve at the library. I saw the hat in my KnitPicks catalog and I thought it was stunning. It really caught my eye and it's small enough of a project where it won't drag on forever and a day.

Which is more (much more) than I can say for A Sweater for Emma which is still waiting on me to finish the right sleeve. I have vowed to finish this sweater this year, though. And I will. No I must. The funny thing is we don't even see Emma anymore so . . . is there a point? LoL. A Sweater for Emma taught me one valuable lesson--for large projects, a yarn you enjoy is crucial, no essential. I hate the 100% (cheap) cotton yarn I'm using--it makes the sweater feel like a wasted effort because the yarn just doesn't work well and shows up all the mistakes and unevenness. Ah well. I'll finish for the sake of finishing then move on to more appealing projects.

My new knitting philosophy? Small projects working with yarns I enjoy . This will keep yarn costs down but will keep the craft pleasurable and less frustrating.