More? Or less?

Last week’s mission was to be mindful of how I was treating my body without changing anything. It was an observation period, if anything. Or maybe it was a slacking-off period. Either way, it was a farewell to blahness.

This week’s theme for health is More or Less. While I’m on the baby steps train, I am going to make mindful, general changes to my days as I work towards getting back into some semblance of fitness and overall health. So:

MORE:

  • Sleep. A new puppy and two kids means that I need to go to sleep earlier, because someone really enjoys getting up at 6am to pee. And then staying up just long enough for my kids to wake up…
  • Plants. Not just in my garden. In my diet. My veggie and fruit intake has dropped drastically. I was eating at least 3-4 servings of fruit and veggies each night I taught. Now I don’t even get that. I need to pump up my vegetation.
  • Water. This is another issue now that the dance season is over. I would drink 2L of water just in the evenings. Now I’m lucky to drink a litre a day.
  • Walking, and moving in general.
  • Engaging my mind, be in writing, reading (an actual book, not twitter), or going outside to do something
  • More outdoor time in general
  • Awareness of what I’m eating, and whether it’s because I’m hungry, bored, or watching the clock for “mealtime”

LESS:

  • Coffee. I’ve been pretty good about this one on most days, but it still sneaks up on me. 2 cups each morning, and one on Wednesdays before I teach. That’s my max for the next little bit.
  • Peanut butter M&Ms. They are my weakness, and have been since they came out in the 90s. Leith even knows to pick them up when I’m having a bad day, and there were a few too many bad days in the past 6 weeks!
  • Bread and cereal. I’ve been filling up on convenience food, and it’s left holes in my diet the size of a loaf of bread. Gluten-free or otherwise, it’s not meant to be 75% of what I eat.
  • Wine. And beer. And drinks of all kinds. Oh summer, you cruel, thirsty mistress…I will not sit on the porch with a glass of wine just because the weather is nice!!
  • Mindlessness. Including sitting, staring, surfing, napping, clicking, etc. Less iPhone-ing in general.
  • Sitting. Period.
  • Eating because I “should”: because everyone else it, or because I didn’t eat when I was supposed to, because I was out, or because I was teaching. Only eat when I am hungry. That’s it.

There you have it: a week of More or Less moving towards those healthy habits I lost somewhere in March (or was it January? or maybe November??). Time to start paying even closer attention!

 

Step one: be mind-full

It’s no secret that I let myself go this spring. I blame the lack of running, the hectic scheduling, and the wickedly long winter for the sorry state of my physical health these days.

Oh. Don’t forget the stress. Oh, my! I am a stress-eater and a stress-sleeper. Stuff and hide is my motto!

My pants are all too tight. Last year’s shorts don’t button. Were it not for my yoga jeans, maxi skirts, and long, stretchy tank tops, I would be naked right now. As it is, my underwear is riding up my bum because it has quite frankly given up on the enormity of its task.

I don’t hate my body. My body and I have a fairly decent relationship. I love my curves, appreciate my strength, and relish that I will never be a stick-thin, angry waif at war with myself. What I do hate is my habits…or sometimes, lack thereof. I hate my lack of discipline, and the havoc it wreaks on my health when I don’t take care of my body.

When I fuel it with too much junk and too few vegetables.

When I water it with too much coffee and wine, and can’t remember theist time I hit 2 liters of water in a day.

When I step on the scale to weigh Ceilidh Foofer-Snerf (yes, she has a name now!), and find out that I’ve surpassed my heaviest personal non-pregnancy weight sans puppy.

I am not impressed.

But in the midst of all this health-destruction, I was also painfully aware of what I was doing to my body. What has eluded me is the desire to do anything about it. I fell into complete and total apathy, and it shows. It shows in my hair, my nails, my waist, my hips, my skin, my face, my eyes, my sleep, my energy. Everything is affected.

And even after yesterday’s hard, cold bathroom scale slap across my backside, I’m still lacking the drive to do anything. Thus, I am taking baby steps. I refuse to embark on an all-out fitness and health quest when I can barely convince myself to step away from the coffee pot and pour myself a glass of water.

I am taking weekly baby steps, and this week, I am being Mindful. I am watching what I eat (but not necessarily changing it). I am paying attention to how hungry and/or full I am. I am seeing how I feel after meals and snacks. I am deciding what is necessary, and what is just gluttony.

And I am drinking my 2 liters of water a day. Minimum. This is never a problem for me. It’s only a matter of doing it. I usually drink 3+ liters when I’m not being as lazy as I have been. One liter also has apple cider vinegar in it, because gluttony has left me wickedly bloated and I just feel gross.

I don’t know what next week’s baby step will be. Maybe I’ll start recording what I eat, or stopping when I’m 80% full. I’m not sure. But for this week, I will just pay attention and keep my mind full with my actions instead of my apathy.

Listography #2: Attitudes to live by this year

1. Let it be: nothing more, nothing less. Living with what I have, instead of adding.

2. Quiet: continuing 2012′s rule of not engaging in dramatics (although this does not mean  being a doormat!)

3. Just breathe: when life gets chaotic, as it is about to with dance competitions, costumes, recitals…and then registrations, and my wee babes heading off to Kindergarten this fall…I will stop and breathe

4. Relish: food, drink, silence, movement, sound, voices, music, colours, textures, company, solitude, relationships, cuddles, kisses, busyness, boredom, and life

5. Acceptance: of self, of others, of timing, of situations

6. Gratitude: for lessons in every situation, good or bad, that allow for growth as a person, mother, wife, woman…

7. Forgiveness: perhaps not mending of relationships, but forgiveness in my heart and moving on with my life

8. Just dance: when all else fails!

9. Love: deeper, stronger, and out loud

10: Happiness: and hopefully it will be contagious to those around me

The Year of Nothing

While the rest of the blogosphere is coming down from the buzz of deciding their New Year’s Resolutions and writing their Year in Review posts, I am sitting in my bed thinking about how little I plan to do in 2013.

You see, I decided that 2013 shall be The Year of Nothing.

2012 was all about kicking ass. And it really, really did. It was incredible. But it was so incredible that I really, truly just want to spend a year doing nothing.

I don’t mean to imply that I’m going to sit on my bum in my pyjamas and eat raw cookie dough all year as much as I love the sound of that. I mean that, for the first time ever, I’m not making any sweeping, dramatic plans for the year ahead.

Race schedule? Zero.
Wild holidays? None (other than Mexico, of course…how awesome is it that Mexico is just “standard” now??)
Major diet changes? Meh.
New skills? Don’t need ‘em.

I have two things to accomplish this year: finish my 101 in 1001, and find one more teacher for my studio for next fall (or convince Miss Krista to teach two nights a week for me!). Other than that, it’s free and easy down the road I go: Finish choreography, have my students perform, spend a lazy summer with my beautiful family, escape to Vegas for a little professional development (!!), and begin the life of a kindergarten parent next fall. Hang up my stay-at-home mom hat for 2-3 days a week. Hopefully only teach 2 nights a week instead of 3.

Just be.

Ahhhh…do you hear that? It’s the sound of unwritten/unfinished goals whooshing past into the shadows of my past. It’s the sound of simple existence. This is The Year of Nothing.

And for me, that will be quite something.

Wishin’

Ah, the season of giving is upon us! My Christmas shopping is all but done, thanks to the miracle of online shopping. Staying out of stores this year allowed me to keep to my list and my budget, avoiding impulse purchases and junk drawer fillers.

Unfortunately, it didn’t allow me any window shopping time for myself. Now it’s December 10th, and Leith is begging me for gift ideas. This is the first Christmas since 2008 that we’re exchanging gifts with each other, and he’s out of practice. I can’t seem to come up with anything meaningful that isn’t a) ridiculous or b) lame. I don’t do the spa thing, or the night on the town thing, or the jewellery thing, or the candles and roses thing. I’m kind of a pain in the ass…

But if money were no object, and he had all the time in the world, these would be great starters:

1. 3 nights in Vegas! …Leith has never been. I would love to take him to my Disneyland for a long weekend and do amazing things like a helicopter ride over the Grand Canyon, or rent a ridiculous car to cruise around in, or ride the roller coaster at New York New York. And I want to take him on a culinary tour. I could spend a week in Vegas just eating…

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2. An iPad mini…our iPad has been MIA for two weeks now. I have NO clue where it is. The bugz refuse to admit fault for its disappearance. It’s gone. I have searched EVERYWHERE imaginable for it. While I can’t stand the concept of the iPad mini, I love the much cheaper price tag on it.

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3. A new MacBook…I hate being confined to my office to work. We tried moving my computer out to the living room for a few months, but my tendency to sprawl resulted in being banished back to the cave. I’d love to be able to pack up my work and take it to the studio or swimming pool as well. I could be so much more productive while I’m waiting for the bugz to finish their lessons! 

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4. A weekly cleaning service…this is no big deal for some, but I have a hard time justifying it. It really doesn’t take me long to wash the floors or clean the bathrooms or change the bedsheets. I just hate doing it. If it were just thrust at me though, prepaid and prebooked…well, I’d have to accept it ;)

5. 3 nights in Victoria…we missed out on our weekend getaway this fall. It was supposed to be our first getaway with each other in 3 years. And I love Victoria so much. 

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6. A huge, tacky massage chair…the tackier, the better. A big, monstrous, black leather beast that locks your arms and legs in and jiggles you into a pool of nothingness. Something that could never be considered “furniture” because it’s so ghastly. Something that requires a smoked-glass-and-brass side tablebeside it. And a faux-tiger throw.

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7. A family ring…Leith’s birthstone is blue topaz, and the bugz’ are aquamarine. For years, I’ve wanted a 3-stone family ring with his in the middle and theirs on each side. White gold. Small, understated, and just pretty.

8. A king-sized bed…Leith keeps denying me this one joy in life. As the bugz get bigger, my space in our queen bed gets smaller. Leith doesn’t even try to accommodate them. He just moves downstairs at 2am. Even with only 3 bodies in the bed, there’s no room. He says our room is too small. I tell him THE BED IS ALL WE NEED!!! And there is plenty of room. He’s just a spoil-sport.

9. A Bose surround system…the greatest pain in my first-world life is the sight of our hideous 6ft-speaker-component-system in the basement. It hurts my heart and my pride. I would happily throw that overpriced piece of hell in our fire pit, cackling with glee the entire time. Alas, I can’t even lift one of those beasts. Dear Santa: please bring us a Bose system. Thanks.

10. A general contractor and unlimited budget…I love our little country home, but there are STILL things that haven’t been completed: door trim, baseboards, windows…I’d also love to knock down a few walls upstairs, replace the sunporch and deck, and refinish the basement. And I don’t want to do any of it myself. THAT would be a Christmas to remember!!

So there you have it. I do know what I want…it’s just beyond the scope of Christmas 2012. Hopefully I get the Snuggie I’ve wanted for the past 3 years, at the very least.

Flexible control

Ahhhh, do you hear that?

That’s the sound of my heart rate slowing down as I sink into organizational bliss.

I’m a bit of an extremist: I need to be in full control, or utter chaos. I’m an all-or-none kind of girl, and it causes a lot of trouble for me.

The truth about magi

 

I go for broke, and then I crash into a pile of weeping, overwhelmed despair. Then I start again. And again. And again. I do it with everything: work, dance, housework, running, yoga, organization, weight loss, nutrition, wine…

I’m *hoping* that I’ve finally found an answer to at least some of those pitfalls: last week, I was lamenting the days of school timetables and knowing where I should be at all times. I was missing the structure of having a grownup telling me what to do, when I suddenly realized -

HEY! I’M A GROWNUP!!

I CAN MAKE MY OWN TIMETABLE!!

Eeks!

While this isn’t a new concept, per se, I knew I was on to something. I had lots of free time…it was just unstructured and going to waste. I needed something to LOOK at, to see where I should be, and what I should do.

Thus, I set about making a beautiful (and, of course, colour-coded) timetable:

The timetable

 

I printed it off and stared at it, satisfied. But then a horrifying thought hit me: I’d done everything as per our January life…but THIS week, we still had swimming on Tuesday, and two nights of performances as the Seniors’ Centre! And we have Leith’s company Christmas party, and a date night the next night…and we have to decorate our tree!!

This was an utter failure. It was totally all-or-none, and I’d once again painted myself into a corner of hopeless despair.

But by the blessed gods of coffee, I realized something this morning: I could go in each week and make the changes needed for that week!! No physio? No problem! Hair appointment? Right there. Doctor’s appointment? Done.

Click, click, highlight, PRINT.

Done.

So here I am: it’s 2pm on Monday morning. I’m waaaaaay ahead of schedule for today. I even had time to run to town for an unexpected (okay, forgotten…) errand. My chores are done. My workout is finished. The kids and I are dressed, clean, and well-fed. We’re ready for our dance show tonight. I’m well-caffeinated!

THE LAUNDRY IS EVEN FOLDED!!! What the heck?

The only thing missing is vacuuming. I did half the main floor before the suction died:

Grumpy cat

 

I am NOT getting a vacuum cleaner for Christmas, even if my schedule provides ample vacuuming time. Nice try, Hubz.

But here we are! I’ve been up since 6am, accomplished everything I need to and more, and haven’t felt rushed or panicked all day. Tomorrow is a new day, of course…but I hope that the flexibility of my template schedule will help me make it through each week with fewer and fewer bumps.

Wandering aimlessly

Ding…! Ding…!

I miss the sound of the bell echoing across the classrooms, the telltale prelude of static over the intercom. I miss the square of paper stuck inside my locker with sticky-tac, outlining every 40 minutes of my day. I miss the routine, knowing exactly when I had to get out of bed and where I had to be at any given time.

I miss the direction.

Lately, I’ve been feeling very lost. I feel like I am wandering through my days, barely accomplishing more than the basics: eat, sleep, bathe, teach dance, keep the bugz alive. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. When I lay my head down each night, I can’t recall anything that I’ve really done that day.

We ate. We washed. I worked.

I usually know this much: I didn’t clean. Laundry didn’t get done. I probably didn’t get any kind of workout in. I didn’t do anything with my kids, except maybe scold them or tell them what to do. We probably snuggled on the couch for an hour in the afternoon while I caught a much-needed nap. 9 hours of sleep a night, and I am still tired in the afternoons. Even if I don’t fall asleep, I need to close my eyes and rest.

I sent a text to my beloved Sku, who is also a life coach down in Calgary. I asked her how on earth to manage myself. I have all the time in the world, and none of the motivation. My house is a mess, my kids are unattended, and my office is in shambles. My organization is at an all-time low. I’ve had some dance parents remind me three weeks in a row to bring new tights for their child! Not cool, Magz. Not cool.

I told her all the things I need to do in a day, versus what’s actually getting done. She quite simply asked me: What are your priorities?

From that moment, I’ve been sitting here wondering. What are my priorities?? Obviously, basic needs are being met. We’re clothed and fed and bathed, and I haven’t blown up my house by accident. But all this other stuff:

  • Work administration
  • Teaching dance
  • Lesson plans
  • Meal plans
  • Grocery shopping
  • Having dinner mostly ready/cooked by 3:45pm, three days a week
  • Physio appointments
  • 5 workouts a week, anywhere from 40 minutes to over an hour
  • Driving, driving, driving
  • Swimming lessons
  • General tidying
  • Never-ending laundry
  • Actual cleaning
  • Banking, personal admin work
  • Spending time with the bugz
  • Spending time with Leith
  • Spending time with just ME
  • Other random errands

How do I prioritize that list?

I mean, obviously teaching dance is a priority since it’s my job. And with that, I have to dedicate hours in the week to the administrative role. All in all though, it’s not much more than 25 hours a week, including driving. But with that, I have to make my workouts and physio a priority, because I need to be physically able to keep up with the demands of my job. I also need to take care of my health in general, since I’m not getting any younger or skinnier ;)

So there’s that.

With the job comes the prep work: meal planning, grocery shopping, and having enough time each afternoon (Tuesday through Thursday) to prep and mostly-cook dinner for our sitter to give the bugz. It also means remembering to buy/pack food for myself to eat while I’m teaching.

The whole reason I left the “real job” world was to spend my days with my bugz before they head off to school next fall. Truly, I feel like I am failing in this area even more than I am failing at the housework. I spend little to no time with them outside our morning snuggles and afternoon psuedo-nap. I can’t remember the last time I sat down and coloured with them, or sat on the couch and read stories in the middle of the day. I can’t remember the last time I even suggested making a craft, let alone actually made one with them. They drift in and out of my field of vision all day long, mostly just asking for food or hugs. I oblige both. I kiss them goodnight when I get home, and I always tuck them in when I’m not teaching. Most nights, I end up sleeping with one or both of them, trying to suck more hours out of the day.

Soon they’ll be out of my house from 7:30am until 4pm every weekday, and I’ll regret that they weren’t a priority.

And then there is the housework. The easy stuff, like tidying and emptying the dishwasher. The harder stuff, like washing floors and bathrooms. And the never. ending. pile. of. laundry.

By the time I’m done feeling guilty about all the other stuff I haven’t done, I have zero desire to even look at my house.

So here I am: knowing why certain things are on the list of priorities, but having no idea which should be more important than the others. Should a workout that supports my health and my job come before making paper chains with my bugz for Christmas? Or should colouring wait until the dishes have been put away?

Is there time for all of it in the day?

Don’t answer that. I know the answer. My struggle is in finding the desire to make it all happen, and how.

And that is an answer I am still searching for.

Well that escalated quickly…!

Two weeks ago, I slipped on the ice. It was nothing at the time: slow motion slide to the ground as I walked around the back of my car. No bumps, no bruises. Just a sore palm from scraping against the ice as a last hurrah.

I was fine. Until the next night.

I made it through 15 minutes of 4-year old creative dance before I could no longer put my right hand on my waist. By the end of the night, I was sitting curled up in a ball, barely able to lift my head up to direct my students through their exercises.

It was pathetic.

Thankfully, a blizzard rolled through our area and I was able to cancel the next two nights of classes. Unfortunately, said blizzard also cut off my access to my physiotherapist and I wasn’t able to see her for a full week :( Let’s just say that the “healing” pain I finally endured made me sob silent tears into my pillow and pop more Motrin than I could refill in a day…

After tweeting with my angel of pain, it became clear: just dance (or just running, or just anything) wasn’t going to cut it anymore. I needed support. I needed strength. I needed to stop using physio as my personal expensive bottle of Advil to get me through the season. So I called in the pro:

Jessica Zapata from Infinite Fitness. A longtime twitter friend and renowned fitness expert in these parts…and by “parts”, I mean across the country. The woman is a force to be reckoned with. As I would soon find out…

Within a few days, with couple of keystrokes and an online coaching program made with love, I was laying on the carpet of my basement floor, willing myself to stand up. Thanks, Jess. You single-handedly destroyed me from the comfort of your home office. I love you THIS MUCH:

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She warned me: Monday and Saturday would be my hard days. But really??! Did she have to kill me? Because I didn’t realize “hard” was code for “kill Magz, or at least maim and leave for dead”. Sigh…

I started with 2:1 sprints. 8mph for 2 minutes, 5mph recovery for one minute. Not my old sprint speed, but for 3.5 months off, I’ll take it. Oh, wait: three sets. And then an insane 3-exercise circuit on my TRX suspension trainer. Wheeee! 3 rounds!!! Then 3 more rounds of sprints!!! Then another insane circuit of full body strength training. Then???!

She expected another round of sprints! For the ever-lovin-love-of-mother-truckin-mud. Thank goodness my IT-band decided to squawk loudly, thus allowing my dignity to creep down to a brisk walk without feeling like I was quitting.

I’ve never passively stretched so passively before. I basically laid on the floor and willed body parts to flop together while I trembled uncontrollably. I gulped water like I’d spent a month in the Mojave desert. If I breathed too quickly, I coughed like I’d inhaled a gust of sand and fiberglass insulation. I could barely hold up my own body weight to roll out my aching legs.

Then I dragged my sore-y ass upstairs and poured myself into a bath that was half Epsom-salt brine.

Tomorrow is my day off. Someone should really check in to make sure I’m not dead. Don’t panic if I don’t pick up my phone. The thing weighs something like 85 grams. So. Heavy.

This, my friends, is payback for every client I made puke or cry while I did a “maintenance” workout after their session. And then drove to McDonald’s.

Karma is a bitch.

The house

Up the stairs, in the back bedroom, at the end of dozens of hand-stenciled teddy bears.

My name.

Branded, as the big sister of the little girl who would live there.

In the back yard, a shed built by hand. The smell of sawdust and summer brings me back there every time.

The closet with the shelf strong enough to hold two girls and hide us from the bigger world while we dreamed up fairy houses and secret gardens.

A deck with a yellow porcupine squeaky toy lost underneath it.

The smell of my parents’ bed – safety, warmth, comfort. Hiding under their pillows while they watched TV downstairs.

The formal dining room. Typing letters on an electric typewriter. Staring out the window, waiting for my best friend to come home. Decorating princess treat bags.

The stone fireplace. The 1896 upright piano. The dusty rose armchair. Curtains with “sheers”. The birds that flew down the chimney and panicked.

The house that built me.

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