Things to Come

I think it's funny to note that my boys have both received phone calls from young female classmates, but my daughter has yet to have a young boy call her. (And it isn't because she isn't pretty. All bias aside, my girl is plenty cute! Trust me... we'll be beating the boys off with sticks one day. I'm not trying to brag, I just want you to understand my girl isn't some barking dog.)

Girls calling our boys is funny because, even though I realize that our children are really young and nowhere near dating age, I have already stressed to our kids that, in our family when they get older, the boys can call young ladies, whereas Allison cannot call boys.

A "friendly" call is not what I'm talking about. That's different. I can see Allison calling a boy to ask about a school assignments she might have missed. She can ask a boy about the score of a football game on the phone. She can even call a friend who happens to be a boy to mention an event their mutual group of friends plans to attend. At church. On a Saturday morning from 9 a.m. to noon. Where plenty of adult chaperones will be.

But Allison won't be allowed to call any boys whose names conjure up silly giggles and sparkly eyes.

I feel strongly that a young lady should not chase a young boy via the telephone. A young boy should have the guts to call my girl if he's interested in her. And my boys should develop the boldness to call when they become interested in a girl. I know it's not the way things are always done these days. But it's the way I think they should be done.

The young girls who have called our boys aren't chasing them. (At least I don't think they are! And it's not because our boys aren't handsome. All bias aside, my boys are way cute. Trust me.... oh, you know what I mean!) The parts of the conversations I've heard are hilarious. Painful pauses while both parties think of what they have to talk about on the phone that they didn't just say to each other at school. My boys usually end up asking, "Why did you call me?" And then the conversation is over. Typically, the girls don't call again. I'm okay with that.

I have to share Spencer's latest phone call, because we weren't home and the machine picked it up. Obviously, I won't share the little girl's name.

I still haven't erased the message, even though she called early this week. I keep playing it back and giggling.

Here it is, word for word, including nervous ticks:

"Um, can I talk to Spencer? It's, like, I have nothing to do. So if he is home, or if this is the actual number for Spencer.... Spencer Moody. My number is.... This is.... So just tell him to call me if he'd like. I don't care if he doesn't. He can just call me or whatever. Okay. Bye."

I can't listen to the message any more with Spencer around. I think he's going to start to get mad at all the laughing I do when I hear it.

For the record, I am not laughing at this little girl's expense. It's a very innocent phone message. It's sweet.

I'll have a different reaction when it happens when our boys are teenagers. And don't even get me started if the phone calls happen after 9 p.m. I can't be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth at that point.

I'm working on uploading pictures of our family vacation to Pennsylvania this summer. I'll finish eventually.

Then I'll post pictures of our trip out west without the kids.

Setting an Example

Almost two months ago, I started exercising again.

I don't like to exercise. But I decided that between exercising and dieting, exercising was the lesser of the evils. I like to eat, and I normally don't overdo it. Obviously if I wanted my clothes to fit better then the dragon to be conquered had to be exercise.

This go 'round with exercise has been inspired by a few things.

First, I turn 40 really soon. Too soon. Exercising at 39-year-old body is bound to be easier than exercising a 40-year-old body, so I figured I better get started.

Second, I noticed over the summer that while my boys wanted to be outside for long stretches, sweating and going at 90 MPH constantly, my sweet Allison was doing the opposite. In fact, she'd be outside a mere 10 minutes before asking if she could go inside to get a Popsicle, because she was "sooooo hot". And after eating her Popsicle, she'd sneak back inside and go play with her dolls in her room.

Obviously, her mother needed to set a better example. (Nobody really stresses that fact before you have kids, you know?)

I already had the "Hit the Spot Pilates" DVD by Denise Austin that I bought a few years ago after my physical therapist suggested that pilates would help with a chronic back ache I have.

And then I read about Jillian Michaels' "30 Day Shred" DVD, which was just a 20-minute workout. So I bought it.

My motto is now two fold:

"I can do anything for 20 minutes." I've cleaned vomit for 20 minutes. I birthed three babies for well over 20 minutes. I clean three toilets in our house in about 20 minutes. I can do 20 minutes of exercise!

And when I am tempted to give up, because I don't see the results I want, either on the scale or in how my pants fit, I repeat this, "Twenty minutes is better than what I was doing." And what I was doing was nothing. Unless you count how often I climb stairs at home. There are a lot of stairs in our house, but I doubt climbing them even a few dozen times a day was doing my heart any favors. You'd be surprised how slowly you can climb stairs if you really put yourself into it.

I started exercising during the summer while the kids could do it with me. And I alternate between the two DVDs because, seriously, I just can't do that 30 Day Shred two days in a row. There have been mornings after a Jillian session that I wish someone would blow dry my hair for me. And a few mornings that I felt like I'd been horseback riding the whole day before.

I noticed that the boys would do the whole workout with me, but Allison would quit about 10 minutes into it. (Evidently this setting an example stuff requires longer than a month or two.)

Yesterday, Allison said something to me that makes me think I need to re-evaluate exercising in front of the kids.

"Mom, you know on the exercise video how you can see that girl's bones stick out?" she asked.

"Allison, those aren't her bones; those are her muscles," I said.

"Yeah, her muscles," she said. "That's what I meant. She has those because she's been doing it for a long time."

I agreed. And then she went for the jugular.

"You need some of that, mom," my precious angel told me, "because I'm not seeing any of that with you."

Nice.

I could take that all personal like and quit this torture exercise, but I won't.

Because 40 continues to approach. And my girl still needs a fitness example.

Plus, I can do anything for 20 minutes. And 20 minutes is more exercise than I was doing before.

Oh, and there's always the wisdom that comes from Dr. Greg House. Yes, he's a TV character, but so what?

His wisdom? "Everybody lies." Even my little girl.

Regardless of what my daughter thinks, I know I have muscles.

I know it's true, because they hurt!