Pilates and Peeing and Food

Yeah, I know. But that IS what this post is about.

Last night was Pilates night. As always at the end of it, I was pleasantly body-happy; aware of each of my core muscles. How they stacked on each other, moved with one another. I could feel my posture, if you can dig it.

Today will be – time, adhesions, and Advil willing – kettlebell1 day. I will stand in my garage (safer there, in case of grip mishaps) and swing my 20# piece of iron until the sweat runs into a puddle.
I am totally OK with puddle-y sweat.2

Tomorrow will be Pilates again, and quite possibly a walk/run.3

So, why am I telling you all of this?

Because I have a bit of a quandary. And it has to do with my Darling Teen.   She’s going to be 13 years old in a just a couple of months.
Thirteen! Years! Old!

*goes all verklempt*
*waves hands at face in futile fan-the-tears-away effort*

The EPITOME of verklempt.



Sorry. Back now.
Where I am actually going with this has to do with her health. See, I was not a healthy adolescent.  Even when I was a jock, I had an unhealthy attitude towards food. I also had an extremely unhealthy attitude about my weight.
But – and I want to stress this – that’s not where I am going with this, either. She has a decent attitude about her weight and body composition. Her basic problem is that she dislikes exercise. It interrupts her reading/texting/computer time, y’see.
Right now, she is damn sedentary. We are working as a family to alter that, however.4

One of the things we’re discussing is having her take some self-defense classes, starting this summer. It could only benefit her to know some basic self-defense.  Further, the discipline and exercise are fantastic. We’d also like to get her involved in some sort of team sport. She is in process of deciding which one sounds more appealing.

One of the things that I am struggling with is trying to decide how and when to approach pelvic floor exercises. Because really? That doesn’t need to be a surprise for her when she gets older.  I don’t think it’s just mothers and older women who have issues, though. I know that I had some issues with incontinence5 and exercise when I was her age. I had more issues after I had children and got older. It has taken some determination and work on my part to fix those issues. As a mom, I’d like for The Girl to never have to experience that sort of problem.

Nothing on the internet6 gives me any sort of time-frame other than “once you’ve experienced total failure, you can start doing these to help” sorts of links. Which, as preventative care, sucks bigga-time.

Bette Davis has nothing but disdain for this horrific lack of available and useful information.

Next on the list is our food. This is a huge, sticky, emotionally freighted subject for a great many people. There are a lot of folks who’ve mixed politics in with their veggies. There are at least as many people who could give Rat B’s Ass about the sourcing of their food. And you know what? That’s fine. I am not here to talk about those things.


What we are doing is incorporating a diet composed mostly of whole foods. Things like fruits, veg, meat proteins, etc. We will try to avoid processed foods, high in sugar foods, HFCS foods, and needless white carbohydrates.

I’m not saying cake, soda, pizza, cookies, KitKats and all those other sorts of things are Banned Forever From On High, Amen. I am saying that they are not and should not be a daily consumption item.

ETA:  Wow. And in a moment of the internet being timely, THIS article just popped up on my reader. Go and read it. I was heh, floored.

1 – Hers is the book/plan that I am following.
2 – In this instance. 😀
3 – Workout partner’s knee depending.
4 – Modeling! Not just for clothing anymore!
5 – One incident, in particular stands out. There was some bullying and terror and not being able to use the restroom at the middle school and praying that I made it home in time. And failing.
6 – No, Interwebz! You’ve failed me!

There’s a Light….

(over at the Frankenstein place)

Well, there’s a light at the end of the tunnel at any rate.


Here’s the Earth New Chore List.
  Re-established what was on the daily chores.

  • Everyday:  Hygiene. Homework. Put away clean dishes (as needed).
  • Mondays: Trash and kitty litter
    (cause it gets picked up on Tuesdays)
  • Tuesdays: Bring in the pails from the curb.
  • Wednesday: Free day.
  • Thursday: Laundry – washed and put away in closet and drawers.
  • Friday: If it is her Dad’s weekend with her, pack for that.
  • Saturday: Family housecleaning from noon until four or it’s done, whichever comes first.

To help with The Saturday Scrubbening, I have created a housecleaning checklist1 that we can use for each room as we go.

What? Can’t hear you. … Look, can I just come sit next to you and *talk*?

Lines of communication, re-established.
Mostly she is a great kid. But she is deep in the throes of teenagerdom.
Mister Man reminded me that we are in the very worst part of it, too. The beginning bits are always hardest as everyone works to adjust.  I’m going to look on this as an opportunity for growth. For all of us.

I also need to keep in mind that she is stretching out, trying on new personalities. She is going to go through different personas as she figures out what and who she wants to be.

So, for now I just keep establishing the same boundaries as far as cleaning, attitude, and hygiene2 are concerned.
I will maintain low tones. And offer tasty treats as rewards.

Pictured: Not a Lie.

1 -Damn, you might say. That is a sweet checklist.
2 –Which, as I said, I think will mostly take care of itself. Wanting to be pretty for others includes not smelling of feet.

A Rant: Now With Photos


This is going to be a bit stream of consciousness. I am on the exhausted side.

Y’see, I’ve been cleaning for the last five hours.

Oh, quit yer laughing. I got 2 (two!) rooms done. That’s it.

My family are pigs.

Most specifically, my darling daughter is a screaming slob.
I am so tired of the eye-rolling, deep in her personal fable, egocentric, poor pitiful sweetie, everybody1 always picks on me, Cindarella ..thing.2

I’ve written before on her inability to complete a particular chore or clean up after herself. It hasn’t gotten any better. It may have actually gotten worse, on some fronts.

And I’m just done.
Done with a capital ‘fuck it.’

I had hoped that by adopting an abridged and not nearly so neurotic Fly-Lady inspired schedule of cleaning, that keeping house wouldn’t be so difficult. That we wouldn’t have to do the all-day Saturday scrubkriegs of my youth.

I had further hoped that by mostly keeping my nose out of her room she would keep it…well, if not as clean as I’d like, at least not filthy.

Apparently, I was just flat wrong about that. Even my basic rule of No Eating/Drinking in there means nothing. I pulled out several cups, bowls, plates, and utensils out of her bedroom. There is some sort of organic…stuff?… on the bottom of her trash bin.

I can recall my parents telling me that “this isn’t a hotel, we aren’t your servants” when I was a kid. I also recall my room being neater, my attitude being less Woe Unto Me, and less generally unhygienic.

But mayhaps that is just the lens of long years clouding my hindsight.

I’ve tried bribery, firmness, marshmallow-y sweetness, boundary setting, grounding. What I have left is embarrassment.

I’ve gone into her room and taken several photos of the mess that it currently lives in. Also her bathroom. I had  scrubbed it a week or so ago, and asked her to keep it clean(ish).  You can bet I was more than a bit shocked to find it in the condition I did today.

I am going to post this one picture (of the bathroom) so that y’all have an idea of the order of magnitude of slop we are talking about.

Taken from the doorway. I was afraid to set foot in there. 😦







I still have so much left to do.
But every time I move a piece of furniture or pick up something to clean under it3, I find piles of trash. Food wrappers. Dirty socks. Plates. Glasses with milk going sour in them. Clean clothes mixed in with dirty clothes.

All of this, on top of the Attitude that I get whenever I ask her to do something around the house has me full on furious.


Going to go blow up zombies for a bit. Drink some tea. Calm down.

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of it’s furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

1 – And by “everybody” she means anyone who asks her to do anything in this house.
2 – If you read that in this style, then I did it right. Or write, as the case may be.
3 – As you are *supposed* to do.