Size Matters

After being reasonably active this winter, I thought I'd try on an old swimsuit or two, out of curiosity, before I sat down at the computer to start the grueling process of finding and ordering something that covered/smoothed all my jiggly-I've-had-babies bits. Pleasantly surprised, I'd like to say a big "SO THERE" to mother nature after cheating me out of a bikini for the last six years. Still have some serious stretch marks and a quite a few pounds left to drop if I wanted to get back to pre-baby shape, but I feel pretty darn good about myself at the moment. My legs ended up super strong & stocky from teaching dance, but I guess I just don't care anymore. I used to long for my willowy, dainty figure back, now I think I'm OK with this. There are many tween/teen girls taking my dance classes. If I obsessed about my weight, what kind of message would that send them? I want them to be fit, not sick. Normal bodies, in good health, are the perfect size, no matter what size that happens to be. I hate hearing twelve year old girls look in the studio mirrors and say, "Oh my God, my butt is HUGE!" If your butt is actually huge, like you pant when you walk, well, OK then, you need to get yourself healthy, but even if you are sizes bigger than the magazines suggest you ought to be, who cares? Those magazines take advantage of how insecure we all feel sometimes about our bodies...they are trying to sell clothing, and they make us think that if we buy a certain thing, it will transform us into a mysterious, bony siren who lounges around with dewy skin and smokey bedroom eyes. When I first looked in the mirror today, I was reminded of the Laura Ingalls Wilder books that I've been reading to the boys lately...Pa calls Laura a "little French horse". (For those not familiar with equine conformation, they are particularly small, stocky and powerful beasties.) That's okeydokey. I can do more with strength than I can with a so-called "perfect" body. The only thing being skinny-skinny is good for is creepy fashion trends. Dudes, you might as well walk a coat hanger down the runway, it's practically the same effect. Sorry to sound preachy, it's just really out-of control, people literally killing themselves because they feel they don't look "right". We all need to stop wasting precious time worrying about our body, one shot at living folks, and in the end, inches on your waist and thighs mean nothing. I don't know anyone who would stop loving me if I wasn't thin, and I don't want to. Those two enormous, darling kidlets came from this body... what a totally amazing, freakish, and beautiful concept life is.

DANCE

I'm about to start dancing five days a week, which is a big change around here...no longer can I say it's "just something I do on the side", it'll be the real deal. I couldn't sleep last night and I was thinking about what started all this. I was eight or nine, I guess, and my parents had taken us to a regional home-schooler's meeting. These were usually held in the dingy basement of a local Legion Hall. Families came from all over the area to talk about the ups and downs of schooling children at home, trade books, swap teaching tactics, and get some social time for their somewhat socially inept (yes, me) children. Also during these meetings, kids could casually perform on the tiny stage with it's sagging plywood wheelchair ramp. In between parental discussion, there was a never-ending stream of singing, piano playing and poetry recitation. I remember (now famous author) Frank Asch and his son, Devin, demonstrating the colorful kites they had built, flying high in the strong spring wind. Mostly, as the children warbled folk songs, the adults would continue to sip their coffee and chat, feigning interest, and clapping blandly at the end. When it was my turn to dance, I recall feeling completely disgruntled that my mother insisted my two, small, bumbling sisters would join me on stage. But as soon as she set the needle down on that scratchy Tchaikovsky record, one that I'd played a thousand times before, I forgot everything else. Nothing choreographed, I just danced. Ignoring the Ballet lessons and recitals, where I always got cast as the rag doll or the teddy bear, I think my eyes were closed for most of it. How I managed to stay on that tiny stage and avoid my sisters, I'll never know. I felt something else coming through me. The music slipping inside me and moving my limbs the way it wanted. In the tutu my grandmother made me, so faded, it's once blue tulle now a grubby grey, I was wonderful. I knew it. I tried things I'd never tried before, and they blessedly happened. At the end, I pirouetted perfectly and slid into a graceful split (which I normally couldn't do, I forced myself, and it hurt, but it didn't matter in the least, because that's what the music asked for). There was the cliched moment of dead silence before true applause. I don't know if they really thought I was good, or if they just recognized that I loved what I was doing. Perhaps it was my wee, adorable sisters who captivated them, or simply politeness towards my parents who hosted the event, or maybe my dad, clapping six times harder than is possible, but for whatever reason, the clapping was long and loud. I slowly came back to myself, disappointed that it was over and I had returned to being me. It's funny, I've never felt exactly that way since. Never quite wholly lost myself in the dance again, but the sensation was so strong, I've danced my whole life searching for it. To make my body as much a part of the music as one of the instruments themselves. Even being close, just for a moment, is enough for me. There must have been magic in the dim light from pea-green curtained windows, the stale smell of dust, and a hundred corned-beef and cabbage community suppers. I love to dance. I am not a great dancer, no, and I never will be. But I am GOOD, and I love it. More than that, I love to make other people love it, people who could be GREAT. And I get to eat whatever I want, a perk not usually afforded a mother of two nearing her mid 30's! Yee haw! It's an easy job, but somebody's got to do it.

Please, Please Come If You Can!!!!

All Well

I'm still a bit stuffy, and Justin turned his ankle pretty badly stacking wood two nights ago, but for the most part, we are healthy again! Finally!!! Now if winter would just bugger off, everything would be keen!

popsicles

After yet another doctor visit this morning, we learn that the littlest one now has pneumonia as well. I'm in awe that this is even possible, this much sickness. I wish I could pinpoint what I am doing wrong here. All organic food: check. Plenty of rest (for the kids anyway): check. Exercise & fresh air: check. Frequent hand washing: check. Humidifier/air purifier in our room: check. Not going out and about all winter: check. The only thing I can think of is the fact that we have gone to the doctor's so often, maybe they pick up things there? But I always just hold them in the waiting room and we don't touch any of the toys or anything. I feel like I'm just on autopilot, stumbling though the days, measuring medication, putting another video on the tv (something that is virtually unheard of in this house), pouring drinks, wiping noses/puke, cleaning things, getting popsicles, calling pediatricians in the middle of the night, never sleeping. My mind is blank... and I don't seem capable of deeper thoughts than popsicle flavors and tylenol doses. It seems with extreme tiredness, you get sort of a second wind, but you function more like a zombie instead of a human being. So anyway, sorry there have been no pictures on here in ages...there isn't a thing to take pictures of lately, other than pale babies and eye bags.

January Thaw

Nice sunny day, everything is drippy and melty! I went to the ER a few days ago with what I thought was a broken rib, but luckily, it was just cracked cartilage between my ribs. Feels much better now. Just sore. Who would have thought coughing could do that?! I'm nearly done with this cough now. And The Baby dislocated his elbow last weekend playing in the back yard. That gave us a pretty stressful night, but all is well now. It's funny, I would say all in all, that this winter has been far trickier than last winter and I'm doing OK with it. Maybe I just had a chemical imbalance last year, or I'm way to busy to dwell on it this time around. Because last winter, I think I was a mess nearly every day. And of course, I still have those days, when I'm a wreck, but they certainly aren't the rule. Even though I've overbooked Saturday, I'm not freaking out. (yet!) I have a senior portrait session in the morning, a swing class to teach immediately afterward, and then a wedding to photograph the instant my class is over. Oh dear. Oh well. I think a lot of credit goes to the dance classes. I'm really loving teaching them, and who knows? Perhaps I sweat out all my problems? Makes me a firm believer in the exercise is better than antidepressants theory. It's been amazing and gratifying to watch the classes grow to almost bursting out of my studio. Also awesome to watch everyone get GOOD. Like super good. I feel so proud. I'm not the greatest dancer...but I think I'm a decent teacher, and it makes me thrilled to step back and watch them all and think: I DID THAT. So, yeah, it's not some big, earth changing accomplishment, but it makes me happy anyway. Plus, it makes me feel young again...loud music, laughing, leotards... Strange that when I stopped feeling depressed that my "calling" was getting me nowhere, a new calling found me. Not at all what I expected to be doing, but I think I've given up guessing where life will lead. I'm just along for the ride.

the latest

NOT complaining, just telling you what's up. We had the flu a couple weeks back, mostly me...high fevers, cough, sore throat, body aches... although the kids had their usual horredous coughs all through Christmas. Then we all got some stomach bug which was one of the worst things I've had to deal with yet, three guys throwing up every twenty minutes each for 24 hours or so. No clean towels/sheets/clothing left by the end of it. I, luckily only felt super queasy the whole time. At first we thought we all must have eaten something bad, because Jen & Matt & Mom & Dad had it too, but I guess there WAS some nasty virus going around. Poor Justin came down with it in the middle of an all-night emergency at the South Royalton House. The water main broke and the pub filled chest deep in water, flooding the furnaces, etc. Pretty stressful to be out bailing water until three in the morning when you have to vomit every few minutes...Anyway, after we finished that, I came down with insane hives all over my body, something I've never experienced before. I went to the doctor because I'm still coughing pretty hard from that flu and she checked out my hives as well. Probably just a side effect from the tummy bug and they should go away in around ten days. I've never seen anything like them...Looking in the mirror this morning shocked the heck out of me. I can't even fit my wedding ring on my pinky! And I want to roll naked in a snowbank to stop the itching for a second! Whew! It seems like we get more unhealthy every winter. Actually, it's mainly ME with the problems this year, which is unusual. I'm usually healthy as a horse. Oddly enough, even with all this stuff going on, I don't feel as stressed as I did last winter. It's all a mess, but somehow I'm not freaking out too badly for once. Or maybe the Benedryl is making me too woozy to care! E went to back to school this morning, he was getting so bored doing nothing here at home. I do feel pretty lame though, like people must think I'm just making this stuff up....I mean, WHO is sick this much? Mom thinks our house is poison. She brought over lots of clorox yesterday. I know I'm not the World's Best Housekeeper, and the house IS ancient, but I really DON'T think the mildew on the bathroom ceiling is the problem. There's only so much I can do while raising children, and half the people I know live in houses just as old and grubby as ours. Who knows. Maybe I'm simply allergic to winter. Anyway, things could be a lot worse, and I'm thankful that our health is as good as it is. My dear friend Amelia started chemo treatments yesterday. She's one of the healthiest people I know. I'm sure she's going to beat it, but it's still scary. Also, there is no mildew on her bathroom ceiling. Sometimes health is just the luck of the draw, I guess. Of course it doesn't mean people should feel free to make bad choices, good choices certainly help, but there's never a guarentee. OK, feeling drunk and falling asleep over my keyboard, so I'll stop now. Peace.