When I was twelve, I had a very traumatic and life-scarring event happen on the night of New Year's Eve, and since then, I've really struggled around this time of year. For the past couple of years, I've handled things better, and so I had assumed this year would be even easier for me.
I was wrong. For some reason, things really hit me hard this past month, and I completely lost track of a lot of goals, not to mention losing control of my daily routine. I binge ate - A LOT - and lazed around in an aura of depression. I tried to stay upbeat, but I had to fake it and most days, it just didn't seem worth the effort.
Perhaps the reason it hit me so hard this year is because I thought it was going to be easier, so I didn't prepare myself for the hardships the way I usually do. That was a mistake. Another reason it might have been so hard is that we are struggling financially, and the stress of that on top of the normal stress was overwhelming.
However! December is OVER, the new year has started, and that horrid date is behind me. I have a whole 362 days until that anniversary comes around, and this time I'm going to prepare myself in every way possible, up to and including anti-depressants if needed.
Thanks to all who emailed or called during this time period - knowing you guys cared meant the world to me, and helped me more than I can say. Things are getting back on track!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Teaching Trouble a new trick
Every weekday, my oldest son comes home from school and takes Trouble for a jog. Trouble LOVES this. He seems to know exactly what time Jon is due home from school, and will watch eagerly from the window for the first sign of "his boy" coming home.
Recently, Jon discovered that his high school has a chess club that meets every Wednesday after school. I gave him permission to go as long as his grades stay consistent. Of course, no one thought about explaining this to Trouble.
He was waiting at the window, like always, watching eagerly for Jon to come into view. Every time a kid would walk past the house, Trouble's tail would wag faster and faster...only to stop suddenly when he realized it wasn't "his" kid. Half an hour later, Trouble had had enough. He crawled onto my bed, buried his head under the blankets, and started crying. Pitiful whimpers and plaintive wails came from my quivering bedspread as the poor puppy gave voice to his sorrow.
It was clear I had to distract the poor little guy, so I pulled out a handful of treats and decided to teach him a new trick. Twenty minutes later, Trouble was happily playing dead every time I pointed at him and said "Bang!".
I praised him for being a good puppy and rewarded him with a stuffed animal to gnaw on, then went to browse the net. About ten minutes later, I heard a light whimper by my elbow. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked, looking over at him. Trouble wagged his tail and dramatically collapsed, looking at me hopefully. When I didn't get the hint, he glanced at the treat bowl, then back at me, and wagged his tail a little bit more. I tried very hard to hide my laughter as I praised him, then turned back to the computer.
Two minutes later, he wiggled into my vision, and when I glanced his way, he collapsed again.
This has been going on for half an hour now. I've successfully taught him to play dead...now how do I teach him to stop?
UPDATE: Trouble has been playing dead at a glance for over an hour now. Sean arrived home from running errands and I excitedly went to show him the new trick. I pointed at Trouble and said "Bang!". Trouble just cocked his head to the side and looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Yeah, Trish, great job training the dog." chortled Sean as he walked out of the room. And of course, the moment Sean walked out? Trouble fell flat on his side and played dead.
The dog is an unrepentant brat.
 |
| Trouble with Pepper, the foster kitty. Most recent picture I have. |
Recently, Jon discovered that his high school has a chess club that meets every Wednesday after school. I gave him permission to go as long as his grades stay consistent. Of course, no one thought about explaining this to Trouble.
He was waiting at the window, like always, watching eagerly for Jon to come into view. Every time a kid would walk past the house, Trouble's tail would wag faster and faster...only to stop suddenly when he realized it wasn't "his" kid. Half an hour later, Trouble had had enough. He crawled onto my bed, buried his head under the blankets, and started crying. Pitiful whimpers and plaintive wails came from my quivering bedspread as the poor puppy gave voice to his sorrow.
It was clear I had to distract the poor little guy, so I pulled out a handful of treats and decided to teach him a new trick. Twenty minutes later, Trouble was happily playing dead every time I pointed at him and said "Bang!".
I praised him for being a good puppy and rewarded him with a stuffed animal to gnaw on, then went to browse the net. About ten minutes later, I heard a light whimper by my elbow. "What's wrong, baby?" I asked, looking over at him. Trouble wagged his tail and dramatically collapsed, looking at me hopefully. When I didn't get the hint, he glanced at the treat bowl, then back at me, and wagged his tail a little bit more. I tried very hard to hide my laughter as I praised him, then turned back to the computer.
Two minutes later, he wiggled into my vision, and when I glanced his way, he collapsed again.
This has been going on for half an hour now. I've successfully taught him to play dead...now how do I teach him to stop?
UPDATE: Trouble has been playing dead at a glance for over an hour now. Sean arrived home from running errands and I excitedly went to show him the new trick. I pointed at Trouble and said "Bang!". Trouble just cocked his head to the side and looked at me with a puzzled expression.
"Yeah, Trish, great job training the dog." chortled Sean as he walked out of the room. And of course, the moment Sean walked out? Trouble fell flat on his side and played dead.
The dog is an unrepentant brat.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Guest Post
I have a guest post over at Adventures of a Thrifty Mama on a Trailer Park Homestead. It features one of my family's favorite dishes, Mexican Lasagna - check it out!
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Obesity and weight loss
Most of the people reading this blog so far have met me in person, so the news that I am obese really doesn't come as any kind of surprise (for those of you I haven't met yet - um, surprise!). On June 1st of this year I weighed in at 363 pounds - my heaviest yet.
For those of you who have never been fat, let me try to describe what it's like. Imagine that some sadist came and duct-taped a beach ball full of water to your stomach, and two smaller water-filled balls to your chest. More water-filled tubes have been wrapped around your back, your upper arms, your thighs, and your neck. Now, imagine carrying this all day, every day.
Try to picture how hard doing everyday chores has suddenly become. Walking out to check the mail...trying to get close enough to the sink to wash the dishes. Showering. Sleeping. Getting behind the wheel of your car without your stomach catching on the steering wheel.
For me, the final straw came when I tried to garden earlier this year. I had spent all winter visualizing and planning my garden, and finally - finally! - the wet spring had given way to early summer, and the sodden ground had dried up enough to dig in. I excitedly got everything together, and began clearing the overgrowth in the front of the house.
Five minutes later, I was sprawled on the grass in my front yard, gasping for breath and aching in my knees and lower back. As I laid there, tears sprung into my eyes and I realized I was too fat and too out of shape to garden. After a while, I struggled to my feet and went inside, depressed beyond all reason.
But you know what? I'm a stubborn bitch, and I determined that nothing was going to stop me from planting those stupid strawberry seedlings. It took me a WEEK to clear a four foot by four foot area of ground, but I finally got it cleared - and it took another three days to get all the seedlings into the ground. BUT I DID IT. There was a sense of pride in that. And when I stepped on the scale later that week, I discovered that I had lost three pounds from the effort of gardening.
I knew I wasn't going to be capable of having an extensive garden that year, and I resigned myself to a small garden area. It was very clear to me that my focus had to be weight loss and health, or else I would never have the big garden I had dreamed off, or the active life with my children and husband that I desired. So I began to walk.
First, it was just to the near corner and back. Only about eight house lengths, but I could barely make it to that corner and back again. After a while, though, it became easier. And then the day came when I was able to walk there twice without much effort.
I then turned my attention to the far corner, which is a quarter of a mile away from my house - and uphill. Let me tell you, THAT corner was the death of me in so many ways. It wasn't the distance that bothered me so much as the uphill battle...which was sad because it wasn't that steep. But I made it, one rainy day in early July. I'm sure my neighbors must have thought I was nuts, standing at the corner doing a victory dance, but I felt too happy to hold it in.
The next goal was to walk around the block. After that, two blocks away. And as the start of the school year drew closer, I realized I was regularly walking a mile at a time, twice a day.
And the scale began to reflect the pounds dripping off of me with every mile.
I began to take joy in the feel of my muscles moving under my fat - joy in the newfound freedom and the lightness I was experiencing. I began to think about walking a 5k, even though I still struggled to walk over a mile without a break (a 5k is 3.1 miles). I kept pushing myself, exploring my neighborhood in new directions - and discovered, to my excitement, that just over a mile away there was a nature preserve, with hiking trails and a bike trail. And to my shock, when I came home and tracked how far I had walked that day, I discovered I had walked 5.75k...without even realizing it.
So where am I at now? In June, when I started out, I weighed 363 lbs and couldn't walk to the near corner and back. Now I am at 335 lbs - a 28 pound weight loss - and walking a 5k twice a week. I'm planning on training over the winter for a 10k in the spring, and I'm starting to work on jogging. Right now, I can only jog for the length of a house...but small steps lead to bigger ones, and I'm confident. Next year's garden isn't going to be such a hardship!
And my biggest Christmas/birthday wish for this upcoming season? I want to get enough money to buy a year membership at the local township gym. It's gonna cost me $265, but even if I have to save in $5-10 dollar increments, I'll get there. And then I'll blow everyone away with my progress!
For those of you who have never been fat, let me try to describe what it's like. Imagine that some sadist came and duct-taped a beach ball full of water to your stomach, and two smaller water-filled balls to your chest. More water-filled tubes have been wrapped around your back, your upper arms, your thighs, and your neck. Now, imagine carrying this all day, every day.
Try to picture how hard doing everyday chores has suddenly become. Walking out to check the mail...trying to get close enough to the sink to wash the dishes. Showering. Sleeping. Getting behind the wheel of your car without your stomach catching on the steering wheel.
For me, the final straw came when I tried to garden earlier this year. I had spent all winter visualizing and planning my garden, and finally - finally! - the wet spring had given way to early summer, and the sodden ground had dried up enough to dig in. I excitedly got everything together, and began clearing the overgrowth in the front of the house.
Five minutes later, I was sprawled on the grass in my front yard, gasping for breath and aching in my knees and lower back. As I laid there, tears sprung into my eyes and I realized I was too fat and too out of shape to garden. After a while, I struggled to my feet and went inside, depressed beyond all reason.
But you know what? I'm a stubborn bitch, and I determined that nothing was going to stop me from planting those stupid strawberry seedlings. It took me a WEEK to clear a four foot by four foot area of ground, but I finally got it cleared - and it took another three days to get all the seedlings into the ground. BUT I DID IT. There was a sense of pride in that. And when I stepped on the scale later that week, I discovered that I had lost three pounds from the effort of gardening.
I knew I wasn't going to be capable of having an extensive garden that year, and I resigned myself to a small garden area. It was very clear to me that my focus had to be weight loss and health, or else I would never have the big garden I had dreamed off, or the active life with my children and husband that I desired. So I began to walk.
First, it was just to the near corner and back. Only about eight house lengths, but I could barely make it to that corner and back again. After a while, though, it became easier. And then the day came when I was able to walk there twice without much effort.
I then turned my attention to the far corner, which is a quarter of a mile away from my house - and uphill. Let me tell you, THAT corner was the death of me in so many ways. It wasn't the distance that bothered me so much as the uphill battle...which was sad because it wasn't that steep. But I made it, one rainy day in early July. I'm sure my neighbors must have thought I was nuts, standing at the corner doing a victory dance, but I felt too happy to hold it in.
The next goal was to walk around the block. After that, two blocks away. And as the start of the school year drew closer, I realized I was regularly walking a mile at a time, twice a day.
And the scale began to reflect the pounds dripping off of me with every mile.
I began to take joy in the feel of my muscles moving under my fat - joy in the newfound freedom and the lightness I was experiencing. I began to think about walking a 5k, even though I still struggled to walk over a mile without a break (a 5k is 3.1 miles). I kept pushing myself, exploring my neighborhood in new directions - and discovered, to my excitement, that just over a mile away there was a nature preserve, with hiking trails and a bike trail. And to my shock, when I came home and tracked how far I had walked that day, I discovered I had walked 5.75k...without even realizing it.
So where am I at now? In June, when I started out, I weighed 363 lbs and couldn't walk to the near corner and back. Now I am at 335 lbs - a 28 pound weight loss - and walking a 5k twice a week. I'm planning on training over the winter for a 10k in the spring, and I'm starting to work on jogging. Right now, I can only jog for the length of a house...but small steps lead to bigger ones, and I'm confident. Next year's garden isn't going to be such a hardship!
And my biggest Christmas/birthday wish for this upcoming season? I want to get enough money to buy a year membership at the local township gym. It's gonna cost me $265, but even if I have to save in $5-10 dollar increments, I'll get there. And then I'll blow everyone away with my progress!
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Working poor
Like many Americans, our family has been affected by the recession. My husband’s employer cut wages, then cut hours, and suddenly his income was no longer adequate enough to support us. He tried to find a second job, but most of the jobs in his field are under hiring freezes. I tried to find work – even part-time at a fast food place would bring in enough money to cover the food bill and electricity. But since we live in a heavily ethnic area, even fast food jobs were requiring a second language.
My husband swallowed his pride and applied for food stamps, only to discover that he made too much to qualify. When he asked how much was too much, he was told “You make $700/year too much.”
So our family has entered the ranks of the working poor. Wikipedia defines the working poor as “those… who maintain regular employment but remain in relative poverty due to low levels of pay and dependent expenses”. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there were 6.4 million working poor in 2000. That number increased in 2010 to 21 million. Applications for food stamps increased over 50% in the last year.
How do you survive if you are one of the working poor? From experience, I can give you several ideas to relieve financial pressure in your household.
My husband swallowed his pride and applied for food stamps, only to discover that he made too much to qualify. When he asked how much was too much, he was told “You make $700/year too much.”
So our family has entered the ranks of the working poor. Wikipedia defines the working poor as “those… who maintain regular employment but remain in relative poverty due to low levels of pay and dependent expenses”. According to the U.S. Census Bureau, there were 6.4 million working poor in 2000. That number increased in 2010 to 21 million. Applications for food stamps increased over 50% in the last year.
How do you survive if you are one of the working poor? From experience, I can give you several ideas to relieve financial pressure in your household.
Review – and trim – your expenses. Do you really need 400 cable channels? Or, for that matter, do you really need cable at all? Most television shows can be watched online. If your family has a landline phone and cell phones, can you do away with the landline?
Think about your mode of transportation. The average American household has two vehicles - two car payments, two gas tanks to fill, two vehicles to insure and maintain – it’s a lot of money that could be used elsewhere. Is it feasible for your household to downgrade to a one car family? Take into consideration alternate methods – is there a bus system in your area? Do you work close enough to work to bike there instead of driving?
Consider your diet. Take a good luck at your food budget and habits. Do you buy expensive name-brand items? Most generics are just as tasty for less money. Do you need to be buying a $4 cup of coffee on your way to work every day, or can you make something just as tasty at home, in a reusable cup, for a fraction of the cost? Packed lunches are easy to prepare, and don’t have to be boring – google ideas for fun lunch ideas and save yourself the cost of eating out during the work day.
If you have a family member who is unemployed and handy in the kitchen, consider learning how to make foods from scratch. Meals will cost less to prepare and usually taste better. An added benefit? Most home-cooked meals are healthier. If you have children, have them help with the cooking. Even a three year old can shred cheese, and five year olds love to help with mixing and egg cracking. This also allows you to spend some quality time with your children, and teach them skills that will help them all their lives.
Make your yard work for you. Can you carve out a chunk of your backyard for a garden? You’ll be amazed at how much produce you can get from a small plot. Tomatoes, corn, green beans, peas, zucchini, cucumbers, lettuce, strawberries, sunflowers, fresh herbs – all can be grown in most backyards with minimum fuss and at little to no cost. There are many groups that offer free seeds to struggling families, and gardening tools can be found on the cheap at garage sales and thrift stores.
Dig up a three foot by five foot section of the lawn and let the kids have their own “spaghetti garden”. Plant tomatoes, basil, oregano, onions, and garlic – and then, in the fall, they can help to make homemade spaghetti sauce. The sauce can be canned or frozen for long-term storage, and the children will feel like they made a real contribution to the family.
Watch your utility usage. Turn off lights when you leave a room. Keep the heater set low in the winter, and compensate for the colder temps with long-sleeved clothes. In summer, set the air conditioner a degree or two higher – chances are, you won’t notice a difference, but your budget will notice a change in price. And make it a family challenge to see who can take the shortest shower to cut down on the water bill.
Our family may be the working poor – but that doesn’t mean we have to BE poor, or that we have to feel downtrodden or shameful. All it takes to thrive during this recession is creativity. Think outside the box!
Friday, September 2, 2011
this moment...
A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment to pause, savor and remember.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Breakdowns - part two
In an earlier post, I mentioned that we have had several things break down this summer. First the computer, then the dryer, the washer, the vacuum, and finally the lawnmower. I was hoping the breakdowns had stopped there, but that was a vain hope.
One of our neighbors offered to look our lawnmower over. If it was a simple problem, he could fix it, no worries. While he was looking over the machine, another neighbor, Dena, offered to let me borrow her mower. I was so grateful I nearly cried - our lawn had become a jungle at this point and something needed to be done.
The front lawn was mowed, and most of the backyard as well. The mower was turned off so the picnic table could be moved, and then my teenager Jon went to mow the patch of grass that had been under the table. He gave the starter string a sharp tug.
SNAP...TWAAAAANG....
"Um, Mom? I think I just broke Dena's lawn mower".
I stared at the machine, which had been purring happily a few minutes before. The starter cord had completely disconnected from the engine, and no amount of pulling was going to start it. I dreaded telling Dena that we had broken her mower as well as our own.
Later that evening, the neighbor's wife brought our lawn mower back while I was talking to Dena. "My husband said he couldn't fix it," she said apologetically. "The engine is completely seized up." I thanked her for making the effort anyway, and remarked that I was just having bad luck with machines, while pointing at Dena's mower. She offered to take Dena's machine back with her to see if her husband could fix the starter, and Dena agreed. I said if any parts were needed, we would pay for them, as the machine broke while we were using it. I privately decided that each household is getting a fresh-baked loaf of cinnamon bread for their generosity.
So today I decided to pull out the weed whacker and try to trim the small bit of yard that hadn't been mowed, and also to trim the verge around the driveway and carport. The weed whacker worked for about sixty seconds, then the plastic string on the bottom flew off into the thick grass and vanished. Ta da, a totally useless weed whacker! I was starting to feel like some sort of circus freak
("Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the amazing Machine Killer! She may look like an innocent housewife, but watch what happens when she touches that lawn mower - BAM! It's irreparable!")
I was determined to get SOMETHING done outside today, so I decided to transplant my tomato plants into bigger containers. And of course, just as I got the first pot filled...CRACK. The wooden handle of my shovel split, right above the metal part. I threw down the shovel in disgust and stomped back towards the house.
...only to discover that the air conditioner had stopped working.
I really need to join a circus. I belong in the freak tent.
One of our neighbors offered to look our lawnmower over. If it was a simple problem, he could fix it, no worries. While he was looking over the machine, another neighbor, Dena, offered to let me borrow her mower. I was so grateful I nearly cried - our lawn had become a jungle at this point and something needed to be done.
The front lawn was mowed, and most of the backyard as well. The mower was turned off so the picnic table could be moved, and then my teenager Jon went to mow the patch of grass that had been under the table. He gave the starter string a sharp tug.
SNAP...TWAAAAANG....
"Um, Mom? I think I just broke Dena's lawn mower".
I stared at the machine, which had been purring happily a few minutes before. The starter cord had completely disconnected from the engine, and no amount of pulling was going to start it. I dreaded telling Dena that we had broken her mower as well as our own.
 |
| I half expected the lawnmower to pull this neat trick next. |
Later that evening, the neighbor's wife brought our lawn mower back while I was talking to Dena. "My husband said he couldn't fix it," she said apologetically. "The engine is completely seized up." I thanked her for making the effort anyway, and remarked that I was just having bad luck with machines, while pointing at Dena's mower. She offered to take Dena's machine back with her to see if her husband could fix the starter, and Dena agreed. I said if any parts were needed, we would pay for them, as the machine broke while we were using it. I privately decided that each household is getting a fresh-baked loaf of cinnamon bread for their generosity.
So today I decided to pull out the weed whacker and try to trim the small bit of yard that hadn't been mowed, and also to trim the verge around the driveway and carport. The weed whacker worked for about sixty seconds, then the plastic string on the bottom flew off into the thick grass and vanished. Ta da, a totally useless weed whacker! I was starting to feel like some sort of circus freak
("Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and see the amazing Machine Killer! She may look like an innocent housewife, but watch what happens when she touches that lawn mower - BAM! It's irreparable!")
I was determined to get SOMETHING done outside today, so I decided to transplant my tomato plants into bigger containers. And of course, just as I got the first pot filled...CRACK. The wooden handle of my shovel split, right above the metal part. I threw down the shovel in disgust and stomped back towards the house.
...only to discover that the air conditioner had stopped working.
I really need to join a circus. I belong in the freak tent.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)