Yesterday was the third day of summer break. I've been working with the kids on some of the things they should be doing better at school -- namely written expression for ds and more math practice for dd. I let them do a couple of worksheets and a page of writing each day, plus they practice piano and we read scriptures and are almost finished memorizing the Articles of Faith.
I know it doesn't sound like it from this post, but you have to know I am the antithesis of the home school mom. I hate this level of structure, but it's necessary in order to help ds with his writing. Both of our last two summers have been eaten up with moves -- first here, then into the new house -- and his writing has really suffered. I am hoping to repair the bad habits and work on both his writing mechanics (handwriting, pencil holding) and also his style. He is an extraordinarily intelligent, creative child, but he lacks the ability to put his ideas on paper.
So anyway, I'm slogging along with the kids, done around lunchtime and tired to get some stuff planned for our upcoming trip to Korea. (Freaking about going to a place where I have NO HOPE of faking it with the language.) Both kids were in exceptional spirits. Good mood, happy. Playing (well) together, but I was trying to get them to clean up the mess on the table and counter.
Repeated warnings. Tumultuous noise. Making me nuts.
I guess I'm just not used to having kids at home during the day any more, and my hands are making me tired again. I was toast by the end of the day. So dh comes up from work, and I tell him I want to go out. Dh has a (stupid) scout meeting. I felt guilty then for even asking him to go out. I was so disappointed and tired and embarassed for asking when he has another commitment. It seems silly to feel guilty for asking someone to skip an extra meeting -- but I did. I'd be irritated if he asked me to skip a RS meeting, but admittedly my responsibility factor is a little different than his. Dh asked me if I wanted him to call and cancel, but I didn't say yes. Couldn't. Though I wanted to, I have that "callings come first" thing going on.
But my sweet husband could tell I was wasted, and so he leaned on the kids and got them to finish chores and did call and cancel (the other leader was going to be there) and so he took us to dinner. Without me expressly asking. The kids were still more than a little excitable, not misbehaving, just giddy. But it was so nice not to have to cook and clean up and stuff. He's such a good guy. I love him more every day.
....
On a completely different topic, every one I know is on weight watchers. Even the people who are NOT FAT. I really mean NOT FAT as in average. Seems that so many women I know have a complex about being averaged sized. In Utah everyone seemed to think that women were supposed to be on the bigger side of aveage -- Hannah Homemaker-esque good cooking and all -- fat seemed to be a badge of honor, as if you expected the stripling warrior mothers to have a minimum weight requirement or something. Not sure what the deal is here in Virginia.
But anyway, now I have a complex. I am NOT FAT. In fact, I'd call myself on the smaller side of average. But I would like to loose that 10 lbs of baby bulge. Actually, it's not the weight -- it's the flab rolls. I don't mind my weight but I don't like worrying about how my clothes will cling to the fat rolls. I suppose I'm horribly vain.
But now I have a motivator: Korea is supposed to be the nirvana of cheap, custom clothing and I *so* want to have some clothes that fit really well. So my goal is to lose 8-10 lbs by the trip, which is on July 17. That's 2 lbs a week.
My friend has a blog where he is tracking his weight loss and workout schedule that he calls Working Toward Something Better. I think that's a good way to keep myself accountable. Once I was a part of the eDiets website. It was pretty good. So I may do that again, but for now, here is my first day's starting point:
Weight: 134
Workout: not done yet
I'll post when I've worked out. I'll probably lift -- I think that's key to weight loss.
