The ho-hum of life continues humming along in Conniption Land. We get up, prepare for our weekday exoduses (exodi?) that ferry us to our respective job/school/daycare situations. We endure. We eat during prescribed eating times. We play during prescribed times. We’re allowed to leave at prescribed times. Once home, we do dinner and clean up, homework, baths, and bed. I squeeze in a little knitting before falling asleep, and we lay down only for the alarm to kick on at the beginning of the same thing the next day.
I understand the kids’ lives being dictated in this manner because without a schedule, they become heathens of which there is no stopping their quest for personal gratification, but when did Mike and I submit ourselves to such interference from the powers that be? It’s revolting. It’s disheartening. It’s gross.
It’s also January.
I recognize this time of year as my least favorite. Perhaps it was my subconscious that set it up so that both my kids were born in January so that I would have something to keep me busy (their combined birthday party next weekend) and help me get through this most trying of months, i.e. their faces as they glut themselves on our family’s generosity in the form of toys upon the toys of Christmas. Perhaps it was to add some happy into this dreariest of times. There’s nothing better than fresh new baby when all else seems so bleak and sad. Despite the limitations of birthday activities in the Month of Icicle, it’s something to which we all look forward. So, there’s been a hub of activity in my land, from watching sale ads to see who is putting soda on the cheap for Super Bowl a wee early (another timing coup on my part, I do believe) to brainstorming decorations I can make from common everyday items. Never underestimate the power of Styrofoam.
We’ve been watching an inordinate amount of TV lately too. How, without new episodes of Glee, you might ask? Well, that does leave a pretty bleak wormhole to fill, but we’ve been trying. We got Uverse a couple months ago and are fully in love with it. Four shows can record at once. We can watch recorded shows on any TV. We get Showtime without paying extra. What’s not to love? Mike is gorging himself on both the Military Channel and Military History Channel. If they had a channel named Cojones Engorging Testosterone Fulfilling Big Guns and Machines with some Hero Thrown In, I’d never see him again, for the flicker of the screen would have sucked him in the first week of the new programming schedule. I’m watching movies, some guilty pleasures (Confessions of a Shopaholic is a horrible movie…that I can’t stop watching. What can I say, I have a weakness for accented men that look good with some five o’clock shadow.) I’m watching kids’ shows with Son and Daughter. The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe is a new favorite, as well as Race to Witch Mountain, though I will go to my grave swearing it’s for the special effects rather than watching Dwayne Johnson, a.k.a. The Rock, bulge his arm muscles trying to open various and sundry portals to Earth’s catacombs. Hubba Hubba. The Biggest Loser continues to inspire me, infuriate me (why do they insist on bringing people who need help losing weight to the Ranch only to send them home immediately and make them compete to resume their place? That’s like telling a heart patient, here’s your medicine, but hey! you’re going to have to EARN IT, Sit Ubu, sit! Good dog), and move me to tears, but after last season’s contestants I don’t know that I can be as moved by anyone as I was by Abby Rike’s story, losing her whole family in one fell swoop.
I’ve been reading around blogland a bit here and there, watching weight and exercise dustups blow out of proportion. I’ve been writing at a new site, My 15 Minutes to Better Fitness. And I’ve been dreaming of warmer weather, busy summer plans, getting out more. But we always do that. Our summers are packed to the gills in a way that sometimes gets uncomfortable, both in terms of stamina and wallet strain.
I feel like it’s all been done. I don’t want to watch another year pass in the same manner, ho hum. Taking to heart things that I’ve said lately about my physical lack of fitness and my commitment to doing better, being better, I’m choosing to make this year different than it was last year. Everyone has their anchor catchphrase that gets them through. My sister’s is, “It’s not an option to skip working out, to eat junk food.” Mine has become, “What are my choices? Status quo or better eating/exercising? What will make a difference?”
I don’t have any answers but I’m hoping that one foot in front of the other, one choice at a time, one decision to get up and moving will be the first and second and third in a chain of decisions that will have me looking back on this time as the beginning of the end of my sloth and the beginning of the beginning of my testing myself, challenging myself, working myself. Mostly, I want to believe in myself again. I will believe in myself again. I want to run a 5K this year, maybe even a 10K. I want to grow a greater portion of my own food. I want to have enough to preserve through leaner months. I want to feed myself and my family healthier. I want to feel better about the adult I’ve become. I want to mentally prepare myself for the idea of going back to school for a different degree, something that will shoot my career in a whole different direction. I want to be someone I can be proud of, instead of a lump on a pickle watching episodes of Biggest Loser while stuffing nachos in my food-hole thinking about someday, maybe when the weather is warmer.
I’m doing it now. Have been doing it for a few weeks, but I need to keep up the commitment. January will suck less next year.