What I learned at Open House

Last night was Open House at my eldest’s school.  Armed with his middle school schedule, I mimicked his day through 10-minute classes, with 4 minutes between.  Each of the teachers gave a presentation, ranging from topics they’ll cover to their teaching philosophies.  Going into the evening, I wondered about the teachers’ impressions of my son and tried to reconcile his class descriptions of the teachers with the professionals before me.  I was prepared for the usual Intro To My Class type talks, but I came away with so much more.  Three teachers made particularly strong impressions. 

Mr. G

My son starts his day with a high energy force of nature, Mr. G.  Balancing in a wobbly-legged desk while taking in the presentation, I was struck by Mr. G’s enthusiasm and couldn’t help but see why he is so popular.  Take a can of pop, shake it up, and let it rip – that’s the kind of energy Mr. G brings to school.

But he was more than energy.  In his note to the parents, he touched on differentiated learning; that is, that different students learn differently.  And in his talk, he gave examples of noticing students’ engagement, or lack thereof, and of how he head-on challenges them to work harder, to expand their abilities.

From Mr. G I took the lesson that I need to stay focused, and if I find myself losing focus, I need to use my energies to find create a new path toward my goal.

Mrs. K

It’s impossible to speak of teacher Mrs. K and not say the word coach.  Frankly, this fact made me a little nervous.  Sure my kids have had, and do have, other teachers who are coaches, but the fact that coach is almost always used in connection with the name Mrs. K worried me a little.  Would she be so much Coach that she’d lack at Teacher?

Once again I was in the presence of an energetic, organized person.  Mrs. K’s energy is accompanied with smiles; the Os on her board were filled with smiley faces.  Mrs. K shared with us the nuts & bolts, but then she moved into the good stuff: her expectations of the kids, not in her classroom but as people who will go on to live full lives.  She stressed the importance – even in science – of being able to read well, write well, and speak well.  She stressed well-roundedness and described projects the kids will create, which reach all the way to the White House.

From Mrs. K I took away that she is a teacher and a coach.  It is possible to be multi-faceted: for me to integrate all the pieces of who I am.

Mrs. S

Since my son had Mrs. S last year, I had an idea of what to expect when I sat down at a table in her classroom.  I was ready to be impressed beyond joy by her professionalism, knowledge, kindness, and respect.  Sure enough, she delivered.  She showed us how well our kids performed her last year, and then she raised the bar. 

Mrs. S showed us how she’ll work with the kids do go broader and deeper.  Once again I offered prayers of thanks for her.

And then she dropped the bomb.  She’s going to help our kids fight perfectionism.  I could have hugged her!  Not only is she teaching academics and challenge and perseverance, but she’s teaching it within a very conscious framework of a healthy mindset.

From Mrs. S I took everything I love about learning and projects, about preparedness and composure… and grounding them in imperfect humanity.

Last night’s Open House was a walk down memory lane: bumping through the hallways of a bustling school; feeling geeky because no one else was carrying a notebook; and wondering what the teachers would think of me, though this time as a parent.  It was a shot in the arm about my son’s education, chockfull of lessons for me.  I’m grateful for these fine men and women who teach my son every day, and me along the way.

Out of the fog

In times of stress, I suffer waking dreams.  They’re an awful part of my sleep during which my mind is awake, but my entire body is asleep and unresponsive to my brain's commands.  It’s awful and I hate it: trying to use sheer willpower to force my eyes to open, my body to stir, to release my mind from its prison.  I find that the only way out is to sort of spiral into oblivion, which is easier said than done.

To a much lesser degree, I’m feeling like my whole life is in a waking dream these days.  Each day I feel more lucid than the day before, and when I think back to my actions of the day before, I ask myself, “What was I thinking?”  I remember my tremendous ability to ignore my healthy brain's concern about snacking on tortilla chips for a day or so when all I wanted to eat was salt. 

When the doctor first told me that I’d be off exercise (for a month!), I thought only of my ear – of the stitches keeping it closed and attached to my head.  But each day as I come more into myself, I’m finding that it's not just the stitches keeping me sedate.  My body is working so hard to deal with the trauma of surgery and to repair itself that it takes climbing the stairs or walking to the corner as an affront, leaving me breathing hard, with my pulse pounding in my ear.  I wonder how long this'll last.

I worry a lot about losing muscle.  In addition to 5-6 days of cardio each week, I’d been lifting weights twice a week regularly, and I know that if I don’t use it, I’ll lose it.  I dread seeing numbers sliding down the scale, fearing that it’s lost muscle; heaven knows that fat never melts in any sort of hurry.  I try to tell myself that even though I’m not exercising, I’m still burning calories, so maybe a lower number isn’t the end of the world.  My wedding ring fits more loosely now than it has in quite a while.

Even this morning as I grabbed three stale, soft cookies to have with my protein shake and banana, I felt myself waking up a little.  I ate the cookies, even while I knew they were absolutely useless for my body.  I wanted them, plain and simple.  But here’s the progress: I logged into my food-tracking account, and I tracked those cookie calories (150). 

Then, after some debate, I decided to drop my calorie allowance, but not unsafely low.  I needed to drop it to a point where I’ll see that all my calories have to make my body healthy and strong again.  In my current state of semi-vegetation, I’ve got no room for empty calories.

Coincidentally, I received an email notifying me that a book I requested from the library is now ready to be picked up.  It's the companion to the calorie-tracking web site I use.    I requested the book way back in August, but I haven't been ready for it till now.  I take its arrival today as a little sign that it's okay to start looking forward, that there is a Way through the fog.

They can't all be about sweat

Image Source Page: http://epguides.com/LaverneandShirley/

  As much as I’m enjoying reruns of Laverne & Shirley, I’m afraid I haven’t found much fertile ground for writing there.  Sure there’s their indomitable spirit (“There is nothing we won’t try, never heard the word impossible!”), but those are for another day.  Those are for when I can get back into the gym or on my bike.  My body is too busy recovering and prone to napping these days, so I need to find something else to celebrate & motivate. So here it is: 

  I tried a new food!  Well, a new beverage really: prune juice!   Plums aren’t the least bit scary - there were 3 plum trees in my childhood backyard - yet somehow the image of a tarlike beverage derived from these wonderful fruits has always made me squeamish.  But I figured that as long as I’m already dealing with bloody bandages, why not throw something un-fishy and un-fungusy like prune juice in for my first food phobia challenge.

  The verdict?  It tastes nothing like plums!  If I could keep the juice toward the center of my tongue, away from molars and the taste buds hiding out there, perhaps I could drink prune juice without shuddering.  But once the juice finds its way to those unsuspecting taste buds, it turns from questionable fruit juice to… ugh… black licorice flavor.  I’m not talking about anise, a spice with a lovely flavor; I’m talking about the skewed anise flavor that’s turned into the jelly beans I won’t eat and the licorice I won’t touch.

 {I’ve no doubt that I’ll be hearing from people who have suggestions for making prune juice palatable.  So be it.  I’m not saying prune juice is a bad thing (it’s high in antioxidants, potassium, Vitamin A, and of course fiber); I'm just saying I tried it and it made me shudder.  Nonetheless, because of its healthy properties and the fact that it's neither fish nor fungus, I promise I’ll make myself drink what remains in the bottle rather than pour it away.}

  What matters here is that despite imposed limitations, I challenged myself to try something new.  It wasn't a new piece of equipment in the gym, it wasn't a new bike route, and it wasn't a new class.  It was a challenge of will and mental strength, and I succeeded!

  In conclusion, here are three victories I’m counting today:

1.      The prune juice thing.

2.      I stood long enough to fold two loads of laundry!

3.      I’ve been drinking all the water I challenged myself to (have you?).

NEXT CHALLENGES

Mental:    Identify hunger, and eat in response to that, rather than to sneaky feelings like boredom or tiredness.

Physical:    Walk to the far end of my street and back.  I’m allowed to rest on the bench if I need to.   (You may wish to choose a more relevant goal than walking to the end of my street; perhaps you can walk to the end of yours?)

Nothing's gonna turn us back now, Straight ahead and on the track now! 

(I love that song!)



Are you ready?

Here's me, bandaged after Wednesday's surgery.   

Knocked down a few pegs after surgery, prohibited from exercising, and with no interest in chewing solid food, this is a great time for me to connect with any beginners who may be out there.  

Have you wanted to work toward losing weight, but been afraid to try?  I understand.  Once upon a time, I was afraid.  Taking those first steps toward getting healthy can be very intimidating.  You know you’re going to have to make changes of all sizes, from what you eat to how you think.  Just the thought of being seen in exercise clothes or trying new foods can be unsettling.

But believe me when I say how worth it the process is.  You’ve got internal strength and joy within, just waiting to spring to life.  Don’t be afraid.  Let’s do this together.  I’m picking up my little plastic gingerbread man and going back to square one of the rainbow path. 

I’m forgetting about the 55 pounds I’ve lost, and thinking instead about my goal: 229.

We can do this.  You’ll help me follow doctor’s orders to go slowly, and I’ll feel strong when I help you move forward.

If you want to, hop on the scale today, take some body measurements, and maybe even take a picture.   You’re going to want to remember where you came from, to compare and see how far you go.

Today’s assignment for us:

1.      MENTAL:   Think about why we want to lose weight.  Are there feelings or situations we want to move from?  Are there feelings or goals we want to move toward?

2.      PHYSICAL:  Drink six cups of water sometime today.

That’s it! 

~Karin

Let's GO already!

  I want to start healing NOW!  I want to be pushing the stroller a few miles through falling leaves.  I want to be trudging through snow in my boots.  I don’t particularly want to jog, but I want to be training for the 2 triathlons I’ve sets my sights on for next summer. 

 

  All I need to do is be sliced & stitched, then I can back get to the good stuff.

  Hey!  Wait a minute.  That reminds me of something.  Before I get the reward, I need to go through the hard stuff.  Just like in losing weight.  In order to get the joy of smaller clothes, more amusement park rides, and the self-confidence that comes from accomplishment, I need to do the hard work of self-discipline and meeting challenges head-on.

  Maybe it’s good that I’m being forced into a little time off.  Perhaps this is the way The Man Upstairs is reminding me to gather rosebuds while I may.  Take it for what it’s worth:  Part of my heart who lives a few streets away likes to caution me against (cue REM) losing my religion.  She reminds me that when I focus on exercise or on writing or on food, I run the risk of elevating those things to God Status. 

   Am I being called back into balance?  I am a Libra, and here we are getting ready for the stars to align.  Perhaps I’m being forced into quiet recuperation because Someone Out There wants me to do some spiritual work, to listen and to discover.

  Of course, I do my best spiritual work out in the woods or near running water, so I’m gonna start lacing up my shoes. 

D'oh!

From the moment Mark Beaumont's comment sprang up in my computer earlier today, I'd have liked nothing better than to have been able to thank him for taking the time to post.  Unfortunately, the computer has outwitted me (as do tightly closed jelly jar lids and certain local intersections).

So, if you're not Mark Beaumont and you intend to never post a comment: Thank you for reading anyway and please forgive this entirely off topic posting.

If you do intend to one day post a comment: I thank you in advance, especially if you're kind.

And if you are Mark Beaumont: Thank you for taking the time to post today, even from glamorous Newark, NJ.  I'll bend Santa's ear about the Americas book (if I can wait that long).  In the meantime, here's wishing you a joyful homecoming and resting-up followed by safe and bountiful adventures. 

And, oh yes, congratulations on that whole World Record thing.  J Seriously, yours is an amazing story and I thank you for sharing it.

~Karin

How I got scared, depressed, and over it

  Whew!  I'm glad that’s over.  Ever since last Thursday, I’d been down there in the dumps, vaguely aware I was there, vaguely aware of how to pull myself up, yet oddly unable to do so.  Was it a little depression, a little fear?  Yes and yes.  Today, as promised, is a new day, and those helpless feelings have fled with the suffocating humidity.

  Here’s how I got out, in 5 Easy Steps. 

  Step 1:  I used my support network.

  It so happens that in the midst of Hurricane Anxious, I got to spend time with a piece of my heart who’s lived on the West Coast for the past six years.  As if just getting to chat in person a while wasn’t treat enough, she brought me a little present.

  It choked me up because it was just what I needed: a reminder of inner strength I’d built and used this summer.  (During the running portion of the triathlon, I actually sang aloud to myself The Sound of Music's "I Have Confidence.")  And I thought again of Shoftstall’s words, “You really can endure… you really are strong.”  Oh yeah.  I made it through cancer treatment years ago ("with a little help from my friends"); this time there’s no cancer and no radiation – just surgery and recovery.

Step 2: Ask for help. 

  I asked for help and my Friends rallied and volunteered to such an extent that if I persist in worrying, it’s not only gratuitous, but an insult to them.  My world is filled with Friends who’ll guard my kids, feed my family, listen to and share with me, drive me where I need to go, and hold my hand every step of the way.  Days before my newest incision, I already have a Get Well card cheering me on.

Step 3: Distraction

This is what the other day’s musical edition was about.  It's also what my new title, Queen of Lists, is about.  Doubt me?  Just check out Friday & Saturday’s stacks of papers as proof!  I made lists of every shape and size: shopping lists, dinner lists, helper lists, book lists.  I stopped just short of making a list of all my lists. 

 I had to make the lists.  The Control Freak in me disagrees with the human part. The Control Freak in me would prefer to administer the anesthesia, look over the surgeon’s shoulder (though I really don’t want to see what’s going on in there), and line up my cells in a formation to ensure Efficient Recovery.

Step 3A: Wallow

Despite being Queen of Lists with occasional bouts of Control Freakishness, I’m human and needed to feel my fear and sadness and to wallow for a while.  I didn't track what I ate and I ate a couple things I really "shouldn’t have."  I know it doesn’t seem like something productive, but I firmly believe that when faced with Something Scary, gummy bears in small quantities are permissible.  

Step 4:  Inspiration. 

  With my new present in front of me and thoughts of my triathlon state of mind, I remembered the book I wrote about yesterday, and I borrowed a little of Mark Beaumont’s courage and planted it in my soul.

  And this morning I awoke to find myself free of aches & pains, and completely untempted by the open package of Oreos sitting on the dining table (Don’t worry  - I didn’t buy ‘em, I didn’t chug ‘em; Littlest has been making them into snowmen.)  When I opened the curtains and saw neighbors biking by in their neon yellow tops, I was happy and didn’t feel left out.  (After a few garage incidents, my bike needs some work, but that’s okay, because of Step 5.)

Step 5: Make a Plan

Not merely a list, I'm talking Goal here.  I already know all the things I won’t be able to do in the weeks and months ahead: all the things which could really derail my weight loss efforts.  So I had to come up with a plan to ensure the best mental and physical health possible.  Here’s the plan.

  Food

  A.  Since my body won't be as active as it's been of late, it won't need as many calories, so I'll eat fewer calories.  But that's just boring.  SO...

  B.  I'm going to (heaven help me) work on overcoming some food phobias.  I'm not kidding when I say I've got a fish phobia.  Once in Australia, I tried to be a good guest and eat a prawn (urgh!).  The prawn only made it to the top of my esophagus before my body pitched a hissy fit.  I've refused point blank to eat mushrooms (they're FUNGUS, people!), yet menus persist in offering things like portabella burgers -- Blech!  -- so they must be safe.

  I hereby challenge myself to... ugh... eat a bite of fish and piece of *erp* fungus and other healthy foods I'd normally be repulsed by. 

  Oh, and if I can choke it down, I'll track it.

  Exercise (don't tell my doctor)

  By the end of September, I’m going to begin posting photo accounts of things I see when I’m out walking.  Inspired by one of my favorite blogs, I’ve long wanted to follow her example, but know full well I’m not one to pedal, point, and shoot at the same time.  But confined to walking?  Well, I can shutter away!

  I’m also putting out an open invitation for company on my walks.  Walking can be fine and dandy, but walking with companions is finer and dandier!  AND I’ve picked up a copy of the schedule for The Cleveland Hiking Club.

  So if you’re out and about and see a woman pointing a camera at something like an earthworm, a cloud, or a church, please smile encouragingly.