Some Small Summer Victories

One week into vacation and the summer solstice is already working its magic. Maybe it's the beautiful weather or maybe it's the extra long days. Maybe it's the fact that I've got an additional forty hours to my life each week or that my kids can hang out in their pjs past 6:30 am. Who knows? Maybe it's a combination of all of these things. Whatever the reason, we're marking the beginning of the summer with some wins.

Win #1: First, and most importantly, Liam is finally napping. When I went back to work last fall, Liam stopped napping all of a sudden. He would nap well at daycare, but we couldn't get him down on the weekends. After 30-45 minutes of settling him in, he would only sleep independently for about a half-hour. We would have let him 'cry it out' a little, but Will was usually sleeping next door. After contemplating spiking his milk with Ambien, we eventually fell into the habit of letting him nap with Bill or I on the couch. (Big mistake. Huge.)

Getting him on a napping schedule was at the top of my summer list of priorities. Beginning last week, we filled each morning with lots of activity-- playgrounds, farm, beach, pool, trampoline... anything to keep him moving. And each day, by noon, he was practically falling asleep in his lunch.

Win #2: I mowed the lawn. Since Bill is working full-time this summer and the kids are in camp for two mornings, I volunteered to take over our landscaping. I've been mowing, mulching, planting and pruning. It's hard but rewarding work and it was fun for all of like five minutes. Surprisingly, I've finally found a reason to be grateful that we're situated on a tiny tenth of an acre. I'm also thankful that the only things in my life that require a 'pull-start' are lawnmowers and powerwashers. I can think of only only few things in life more frustrating than trying to get one of these things started in the 98 degree heat.

I'm also kind of in love with this drawing that Will made for me.

Win #3: I ran my first five-mile race-- The Firecracker Five, on July 4th. (Note: a 5k = about 3 miles) If you've been reading my posts, you can probably tell that I'm just completely addicted to this running thing. A little over a year ago, I couldn't run for two minutes. TWO! And on Sunday, I ran for fifty. FIVE-O! I've been practicing the five mile run, on and off, since April. On some days, I've run the whole thing strong and on others I'm walking before I get to the fourth mile. I was pretty nervous about this race because there is nothing more disheartening than walking along a race course.

Bill got up with the kids on the morning of the race and I laid in bed trying to decide whether or not to give it a try. I decided, at the very last possible minute, to do it. I threw on my gear, pulled back my hair, brushed my teeth and grabbed a bagel on my way out. It wasn't until the end of the first mile (9 minutes), that I came to the realization that I hadn't drank an ounce of water. It should be noted that it was about 85 degrees and the course was entirely in the sun.

My usual race strategy is to run straight through the course-- skipping the water stops and sprinklers that well-meaning residents point into the streets. However for this run, since I was going for a good finish and not necessarily a good finish time, I changed things up considerably. I stopped at every water break, taking a few sips and walking for about 30 seconds. I ran through the sprinkler stations, which were set up by the local fire department, midway between the water stops. I basically just took it easy and tried to enjoy it. And I did. I actually felt better at this finish line than I have in my last few 5k's. In fact, I was feeling so crazy good, that I ambushed some runners in the parking lot-- blabbering that, "I just finished my first 5-mile race... and can you please take my picture... and here's my sweaty cell phone..."

So here's to long naps. Here's to grass that manages to stay green through this godawful drought. And here's to a few more five-mile runs. While it's said that "good things come in threes", I'm hoping for many more small summer victories.

The Biggest Loser

I started a 'Biggest Loser' competition at work about ten weeks ago. Twenty-three coworkers signed up for the challenge. Everyone was excited and determined.

Weekly weigh-ins would be optional. All that was required was a $10 deposit into the 'prize pot' as well as an initial weigh-in and then a final weigh-in ten weeks later. A chart was hung in a central location so that people could log their progress if they chose to do so.

Wednesday was the final weigh-in. Eight people showed up and only five people had lost ten or more pounds.

Disappointing? Yes. Surprising? Not really.

Taking care of yourself is hard.

Upon starting back at work this fall, it took me all of six months to gain fifteen pounds. FIFTEEN. I was taking care of my students and job responsibilities, taking care of the house, taking care of my kids. Myself? Not so much.

I ate ALL of my kids' Halloween (Christmas and Valentine's too) candy. There were nights that I ate dinner... twice. When I was alone in the car, I'd hit a drive-thru window for one (or two) large orders of fries. I finished my kids' waffles, chicken nuggets and ice cream. I couldn't walk through the kitchen without grabbing a handful of something-- sugary cereal, cookies, chips. When Liam would wake up crying in the middle of the night, he would get a bottle and I would get a few handfuls of M&Ms. I was like a human vacuum cleaner.

I was 'too busy' and 'too tired' to work out. I deserved to sit on the couch every night.

Soon, my closet started shrinking. I was having a hard time putting together enough clothes for the week that fit. I was changing outfits two, three, four times each morning-- trying to find something that looked decent. My jeans became unbearably tight and yoga pants became my new best friend.

I'm not sure when I bottomed out. Maybe it was after Will and I made two dozen chocolate chip cookies one night and he woke to find all said cookies gone. Maybe it was when I found myself eating day old french fries from Liam's car seat. I was getting winded by the stairs at work and racing my four-year-old was getting harder and harder. Maybe it was the impending dread of chasing my kids around Hurricane Harbor and running into current and former students in a bathing suit. It was probably a combination of things.

Ten weeks later and I'm down those 15 pounds-- back to where I started this fall. It was hard. But it wasn't THAT hard.

Binging on cookies, fries and ice cream is good; but buying a great dress and being proud of the way you look is better. Sitting on the couch with munchies in hand every night is good; but the pride of finishing a few miles on a cool night at the shore is better. Feeling good about yourself-- the choices you make and the example you set for your kids-- that's the best.