Psst...My Soul For Your Snickers.

Lately, I've been contemplating what my soul is worth.  See: I would love to be thin.  I yearn to be thin with the zest of 1000 lemons.  It makes me do crazy things, I want it so badly.  I'm forced to eat raw squash & zucchini for an afternoon snack when what I really want is a Whatchamacallit.  I've contemplated knocking down small children to steal their cake, and I've actually thought about accosting the ice cream man.  I'm obligated to get on some stupid machine and jog in place, pedal while going nowhere or row myself into oblivion.  I find all these things to be deplorable.

So, while rowing away, cursing up a storm in my head...F#CK this and SH!T on that with every pull, I wonder.  Hmmm: what exactly would I barter with the devil to be thin?  Is my soul merely worth being a size 6?  Or should I add stipulations?  I want to be thin, and have chocolate never count in my diet again.    Could you imagine being able to have limitless quantities of chocolate with no recourse?  Of course I can!

In my mind, I'm whisked away to the land of Willy Wonka.  I just licked a wall!  I'm floating in his chocolate river (please though - minus that creepy boat ride).  Crap, who is that fat chick in the black bathing suit...Jesus - it is me: Row harder, row harder!  Suddenly, my vision of a candied utopia vanishes and I hear the sweaty guy next to me grunting away.  God, I hate this.  I want to give up.  I swear again - this time might have been aloud.  I receive a few stink eyes.

Row, Row, Row your boat...Although, it's not a boat.  If it were, I'd have a nice sea mist on my face.  I'd be in the sun.  I'd have a cool breeze ruffling my pink hair.  Instead, I just angrily jerked on a handle bar and dropped the F-bomb in at least five different languages.  UGH!  I think about the watermelon I ate for breakfast.  The large salad I had for lunch.  The granola I had for a snack and I pray that my @ss doesn't explode on my next pull...No wonder most vegetarians I know are pale and unsmiling - they must poop 30 times a day...

Once more I day dream, "Dear Mr. Satan - If I give you my soul, would you allow me to be thin yet still retain some womanly curves, allow me to eat copious amounts of chocolate, and make it so I never have to work out again?"  It's right about then the sweat rolls into my eye.  This time I know I cursed out loud.

I stop for a moment and wipe my brow.  It's about then that I realize that I don't REALLY want to make a deal with Lucifer.  I can do this.  I CAN!  I can be proud of myself for making healthy choices.  For teaching my kids what hard work & perseverance will get you.  For doing it even though I'd rather have dental work done (yes, seriously - dental work).

So, for the countless people I have offended with my mouth in the wonderful family establishment I am a member of, please accept my sincerest apologies; now get the FOff my rowing machine.  I'm on a mission...

Promises Are Meant To Be Kept...

I have very few rules in life.  The rules I have are iron clad and not to be taken lightly.  I live by these rules and they have shaped me into the person that I am.  Rule #1 is to be true to yourself and to never compromise your beliefs.  Rule #2 is to give life everything you've got because you'll never know when you don't have any more to give.  Rule #3 is to never have regrets (sure we've all done stupid things, but don't regret them, use them as learning opportunities) and Rule #4 - never make promises you cannot or may not be able to keep.

Most recently Rule #4 came under the scrutiny of my five-year-old son.

We were driving along on a summer family outing.  My husband said something rude/mean to me, which I made a gasp and jokingly respond with, "Fine.  I just won't love you anymore."  He smiled, looked at me and retorted, "You will.  You promised." He seemed pretty smug.

The whole exchange, which I thought happened in the front of the car and would go unnoticed by the little ears around us, was of great curiosity to my son.  He had heard the entire exchange and wondered how his daddy could smile when I said I would not love him any longer.  My husband merely told him, "I smile because I know Mommy couldn't do that - she promised me she would always love me and she always keeps her promises.  It's a rule."

I then had the most wonderful back & forth with him.

"Mommy, why do you HAVE to keep all your promises."

"Because, I won't make a promise unless I'm going to keep it.  You can do many things in life, but promises should be reserved for things that you have control over and can see through until the end.  Like loving Daddy...I make a choice every day to love him.  There are days when I don't like him much, but I sure do love him, and I remind myself that I promised him that I would always love him.  So, I do.  It's that simple."

"But what if you're mad at him?"

"Doesn't matter, sweetie.  My word is my bond.  I promised him I would love him.  I don't break promises.  I can be mad at him.  Just because I'm mad at him doesn't mean I don't love him any more.  I've decided to always love him.  Then I promised and it is that simple.  Just because I'm mad or hurt or angry or sad doesn't mean I give up on my promise & throw it all away.  It means I have to love him more and try again."

My son seemed to puzzle this over.  While he thought, I mulled myself.  The greatest gift I can give to my kids is to love their father.  Especially when I don't like him.  Especially when I'm mad at him.  Especially when I don't want to.  It's what makes us strong.  It's what makes me, well...me.  I promised and that is that in my book.  I smiled to myself and rubbed my husband's neck (who was also smiling - I think he might have been having a cocky moment....)

The next words I will forever remember - "Mommy, do you promise to love me?"

"Absolutely.  I promise to love you every day and then forever more."

Suddenly, his smile mirrored his father's and I knew he understood.

Off We Go - Into The Great Wide Open...

As summer began, I called to order a family meeting. We gathered round the table and brainstormed activities to conquer and own as a family.  These items ranged from playing in the sprinkler and getting ice cream to much loftier accomplishments such as hiking and camping.

Most recently, we checked off going to a beautiful state park in our area: Letchworth.  While there our plan was to stop at various vistas, take pictures have a picnic lunch, walk to the falls (upper and lower) check out the koi pond and maybe sneak in some swimming at the pool.  This was my trial insight into the greater realm of camping.

Please keep in mind my idea of camping is to "rough" it at a hojo.  I mean, come on, those things are a far cry from a Hilton and can be closely associated with most wildernesses that I'm familiar with.  In any case, let me tell you why Letchworth was an epic fail and I stare sadly at the 'not to be attempted this year's #7' on our list...

Lunch started out at a great overlook.  There were plenty of tables to choose from and very few people.  Excellent!  I send my husband back for our picnic basket and cooler.  In the meanwhile I told the kids to settle on a table.  That one...no.  That one...no...  That one?  "OMG!  PICK A TABLE ALREADY!"  The settled on a high top granite table that sat 8-12.  They like their space.

Then the bugs arrived.  At first they swatted.  Then they got up.  The bugs followed.  They ran.  They yelled. We moved tables.  A low top that seated about 16.  Ok, you can spread out...nice.  A blood curdling scream filled the air.  While my youngest stuck her leg into a spider web, I had a heart attack.  Never mind there was no spider in it (nor had there been for some time), we once again moved tables.

We pick our third and final table.  A lovely table closer to people where the kids could spread out and a swarm of some sort of bug thing felt the need to circumnavigate my head.  No biggie.  I would not freak out. These kids need to see a calming reassurance in the presence of bugs to know it is O. K.  Right.

These bugs landed.  I swatted.  The buzzed.  I moved.  I'm fairly certain that day my protein ingestion levels had to be off the charts as I think I swallowed half of them.  Mmmm, crunchy.  Then suddenly to my relief they were gone.  MORE SCREAMING!  I almost choked on the cherries I was eating.  "Jesus!  What is it?!?!"  My oldest is off & running.  Swinging her arms as if she's in a fit of epilepsy (hmmm, wonder where the pool is?).  Shouts of, "BUGS!" filter back to me.

Sighing I pick up.  I tell them that we will not be camping this year.  My husband rolls his eyes.  And my son who has been sitting precariously on a bench, too terrified to eat because if he looks at his food for just a moment a prehistoric bug might climb over the bluff and swallow him whole; begins to sob uncontrollably.  Really?  It was like watching a fire break out at a circus. Children were crying, run amok and you'd think being chased by killer clowns...

You kids hate the outdoors.  You are terrified of any bugs.  And yet you want to go camping?  Sure.  Let's plan our weekend to Stony Brook....