Feelin' It? Fitness and Family

Occasionally, I feel the need to work out to a Jillian Michaels DVD... with my little four year old. Jillian kills me. As my thighs burn from repeated squats, she calls out, "Ya feel it?" Tiny, soup cans in his palms, squatting and flexing near me, releases a gasp and answers, "Ooohh, yeah. I feewin' it!" God bless my Tiny Man. He takes the edge off my return to a fitness routine.

For the last few weeks, I have been walking at dawn before the children rise. In my effort to regain tone and fitness, I have also replaced carby snacks with veggies, have been drinking more water, relegated alcohol consumption to once weekly (okay, maybe twice), and have foregone the fatty, sugary items. I work at a barn doing physical labor and riding one day a week, and in the afternoons, take a play break to throw the frisbee with my son. My reward is a gain of 3.3 pounds. You'd think I would have shed all the underarm dingle dangle just by saying goodbye to salty afternoon snacks and adjusting portion sizes. It's not fair, especially when considering how easily men shed pounds.

Last year, my husband gave up sugar in his coffee and lost five pounds. I found those five pounds and padded them neatly about my middle--just in case he missed them. I have held them there ever since. I am almost afraid to ask him to give up that plate of cholesterol he serves himself each morning. God knows where that would end up on me.

This year, thinking that I was at peace with my nearing middle age, I put on a bathing suit to play at the beach with my family, and looked down to discover that the cottage cheese police had missed ticketing my thighs for the excess of dimples present. Weeks later, I showed my youngest step-daughter that my upper arms were so flabby I could use them as wings. The tummy pooch, which began when my husband shed his coffee-sugar weight, has been stretching the waist band of my pants as well, I complained.

"No problem," said my lovely Jujubee. "Let me show you a little trick. Now watch carefully. Okay?" She flashed a smile at me, angled her body to the side, and raised her shirt a little. I waited for some kind of magical exercise. Instead, she raised her pants up to cover her belly button, and patted her stomach. "I call it the Tuck," she said. Somehow, I don't think that was the fix I was looking for, but thanks anyway, Juju.

Still, I recommend multiple reps of that move--after dinner, before going on a date, and of course, while putting on a bathing suit. Ya feelin' it?

Peel Her a Grape

Yesterday, tired from studying, I took a break to exchange an extraordinary amount of gossip with my oldest step-daughter. Between chortles and guffaws, I realized how much I miss her. She has a powerful presence in the best way. I often joke that she is the Mae West of our household—voluptuous, saucy, quick with words, and unforgettable. She is direct and her intentions unmistakable. One of the funniest people I know, she has a wonderful sing-song voice when she humorously hints at a situation. For example, if she suspects tension in a room, she voices with a rise and fall of melody in soprano, “Uncomfortable!”


Mae does not seek high spirited adventure, but it finds her, such as this summer when we went swimming in the river. She and her sister begged me to swim out in the currents with them, but I chose to sunbathe on the rocks instead. (I grew up on the Mississippi River; I know better.) As I watched the girls plunge toward a large boulder in the river, a strong current picked up my husband’s firstborn and hurled her downstream over a small waterfall. Horrified, I ran along the riverbank calling her name. When her head finally appeared from the dark waters, she was laughing at herself, but still caught in a dangerous pull of water. A young man swam to her and guided her to sure footing and a place to rest. Frankly, I don’t know which of those two, the young man or our Mae, was more delighted for that particular opportunity.

The holidays are coming, and I will have the divine pleasure of wise cracking and carrying on with the queen of slick nice-nasty, as she calls her rather underhanded sarcasm. She has already promised to coach my fashion choices in a shopping expedition and, like her sister, is keenly anticipating decorating the Christmas tree. Having both Mae and her sister in my life has begun to change me. They bring out some of my best qualities and take the edge off the head-banging frustration of dealing with frequent and drastic change. This past summer was a period of sheer elation and joy that has helped restore the spirit of this household. For these wonderful girls, I will always be thankful. I think I can agree with a quote by the true Mae West, whose wit and sex appeal flashed across the silver screen so long ago: “Too much of a good thing can be wonderful.”

Note: I came across this website of Mae West quotes. Laughed till I cried over some of them. Click here and amuse yourself. http://thinkexist.com/quotes/mae_west/

Magic and Light

When my younger step-daughter confided a recent difficulty, my husband and I listened, gave counsel and insight, and offered a series of compliments designed to make her laugh. Finally, when she disclosed that a certain level of self-doubt persisted, I told her that she has a kind of magic and light. There are so few people out there like this young woman. Woe to the creature that fails to recognize her value.


And she is magic and light. She is some kind of combination of Holly Golightly, Tinkerbell, and Amelia Earheart. She describes her future and I am certain that she will do as she dreams. This girl, that recently plummeted fearlessly from an airplane and routinely climbs mountains, puts young men to complete shame and still maintains girlish charm. She has honored me with her love this summer. She could not possibly know how moved I am when I even think remotely about her trust. Perhaps, until she is a mother herself, she could never know. But this daughter claims not to want that role. Magic and light—she will find other ways to share it.

She charms street people into making bracelets for her. She smiles in complete paragraphs. She makes books and odd art charms as gifts. She has completely tamed and socialized our rabbit to the point that he is now a litter-box-trained house bunny. She still stands and walks as the trained ballerina she once was. When she pins her hair and curls into place, she becomes a 1930’s paper doll. She is thrifty and conscious. She is the kind of girl most men find elusive, but she really does not want to be. When young men disappoint her, her faith in love persists. She is admirable. I expect one day she will receive some kind of prize for aiding a third world country. I will be the old woman at the supermarket bragging to strangers that I know this girl.

To be so blessed! I have had a joyful summer with two step-daughters, the elder of whom has returned to college already. Perhaps someday I will illustrate her own unique loveliness in a blog here (and I believe I have touched upon it once or twice already). Truly I am thrilled to have welcomed into my life both young ladies who have somehow unknowingly managed to lift and inspire me. I can no longer imagine my life without them in it and feel as though I have fallen in love with both of them nearly the way I initially had fallen in love with their adoring and noble father, a man who sometimes seem strikingly innocent despite his age and maturity.

Perhaps magic and light is simply love in its purest state. Joyfully, there is plenty of it here.