“The Happiness Project” is a delightful romp of a book.  Especially considering that it is a non-fiction, self-help book.  It is in the “stunt genre.” Yes, I guess this is a thing.  You do something very different, unique and possibly adventurous for a set amount of time and then write about it.  Other books that I haven’t read, but want to, in this genre include, “A Year of Biblical Womanhood” and “Animal, Vegetable Miracle.”

I very selfishly choose this for our January book club pick because I wanted to read it.  It is a good fit for the beginning of a new year because there are a boat load of ideas on improving your life.  So there’s that.  If you’ve got all of your poop in a group, you have no need to read further.  I first discovered Gretchen Rubin, as an author, through my favorite podcast, “What Should I Read Next.”  Several guests gushed about this book, so it had to go on my to-be-read list. A friend got me hooked on Gretchen’s podcast called “Happier,” which is now another one of my must-listen-to podcasts.

This book is organized by month.  Each month, after having researched which things would be best  to improve her general happiness, selects an area of focus.  In true type A fashion these task items all fit into the mold of a SMART goal, so she will be able to see if she was able to truly tackle these goals each month.  For example,  in the month of February, she focused on goals that would strengthen her relationship with her husband and did a week of “extreme nice,” where she attempted to cut out nagging and habits that she knew bugged him.  Hilarity ensues. 

Gretchen and I are cut from the same cloth – albeit that my piece of cloth is from the raggedy frayed end of the bolt. We are both upholders (more on this in one of her podcasts) and I related to her rational for her monthly projects. I think the overall goal for herself (making small changes to improve happiness) was conveyed in ways that made sense and were applicable.
If you have read this book and you are not a Type A personality, I would love to hear what you thought of it because my suspicion is that this book might have resonated quite as much.

P.S.  I can’t remember if this came from her podcast or from her book, but one thing I have done because of Gretchen, is to keep a one-sentence-a-day journal.  I started a few months ago and haven’t missed a day yet.  So simple!  Hopefully my future grandchildren will get a kick out of it. 🙂

Keep a one-sentence-a-day journal.

Ahh, language.  I lub it.  It’s my favorite.   As it turns out, sometimes the subtle differences in the words I choose to get my kids to do my bidding, I mean, excuse me, guide my children to become kind, responsible members of the human race, can be, like Ron Burgandy, …..kind of a big deal.
Over the past 13 years as a parent and 18 years as a teacher I have picked up some tricks of the trade and here is one that I have tried and found very helpful.

As we say in the biz, “use or lose.”

Eliminate ‘NO’ From Your Parenting Vocabulary  –   AKA No Noes

This strategy comes straight from a little book called Parenting With Love and Logic.
There are a lot of helpful tips, and although I’m not a fan of some of their more passive aggressive parenting techniques, the overall philosophy is one that helps kids become confident problem solvers. This happens by:

• giving them control of their choices at age appropriate moments in their childhood and adolescence
• allowing them to make mistakes and learn from them (logical consequences)
• being there to support them and love them through it all

The net result is that we help the voice in their heads become their own and not ours.  To put it in a popular culture context, by the time they graduate from high school or college you want them to switch out the WWTND (What Would The Nag Do) bracelet with the WWID (What Would I Do) bracelet.
So, from this book I learned the power of keeping noes to an absolute minimum. The word ‘No’ can be such a “stir the pot” word.  As soon as the kids hear it, cue the whining, arguing and entitlement fueled behavior. Phrasing your response to their questions and requests sans a no, turns their fit throwing inclinations on its head. Well, most of the time.
Here’s how it works. Instead of telling them ‘no’ when they ask for something, you tell them yes, BUT, only after they have taken care of whatever chore or activity they need to do.  What stands between the child and she wants will vary by situation.  The language suggested in the book is “You’re welcome to…… when…..”  Here are some examples:

Scenario A
Douglas: Can Kellen come over?
Me: Kellen is welcome to come over once you have picked up your room and emptied the dishwasher.
Douglas: Frustrated response of some kind because 87.999% of the time he has a strong negative reaction to work of any kind.
Me: That’s okay you don’t have to do those jobs, but Kellen can’t come over.  Your choice.

Scenario B
Audrey: Mom, can I make a cake?
Me: You’re welcome to make a cake after you have finished your homework and practiced piano.
Audrey:  (Eye roll) You never let me do anything fun when I want to.
Me:  You are correct. My job is to make your life a living hell.  From the trajectory of your eye roll, I’d say I might be getting my “Pain in the Ass” patch to put on my mom vest quite soon.

These might not be the best examples, but I’ve made the situation much simpler for me because I am not saying they can’t do what they want, I’ve just put them in control of when or whether they will do it or not.  I think the whole idea is to lob the ball of control into their court.

Scenario C
 This is something that actually happened in my house earlier today.  Photographic evidence provided.
Audrey:  My gallon of glue came!!  (Leaping around the house in sheer joy) I can’t wait to make slime!
Me:  You’re welcome to make slime when you vacuum out the colored sugar sprinkles from the cabinets.

Yes, you read that correctly.  Slime and colored sugar sprinkles. Everywhere. All the time. There is a slight risk that if you come to my house you will be glued and sprinkled.

Here’s a bonus scenario, which is also a hard hitting opinion piece on loud, obnoxious kid places with bad food and no alcohol.

Scenario D
Douglas: Mom, can we go to Chuck E Cheese?
Me: I will definitely take you directly to Chuck E Cheese as soon as you can hang up your wet towels and put your dirty clothes down the chute for three days in a row without reminders.  Not thrown on the floor in front of the chute…actually put them down the chute.  (This will thereby guarantee that I will never have to step foot in a CEC ever again, BTW.)
Douglas: You’ve never told me to do those things before!
Me: If you mean that you’ve never listened to me tell you those things before, you are correct.

I wish I was writing a post about how sarcasm is the most effective form of parenting because then I would be sitting here typing from my Manhattan brownstone which was paid for from the proceeds of my book, “Parenting with Passive Aggression and Sarcasm – Please watch TV while I clean up after you.”
Unfortunately, sarcasm as a parenting strategy doesn’t work very well most of the time, due, large in part, to the fact that it basically provides them with material to use right back at you.  However, for me, it can sure be a good release valve for that pent up parenting frustration, even if it is short lived.  A stress ball that you squeeze, toss to your kid and then he throws at your nose.

Okay, to summarize, instead of using the word ‘No,’ say, ‘You’re welcome to….” 
Game changer.  Let me know how this works for you.

P.S. It helps to just repeat what you’ve said when they argue about it.  The tried and true “broken record” approach.  This can be hard because they might require many repetitions and the urge to engage with them is strong.  It is extremely annoying for them, but in defense of the parents, so is arguing and not doing what their supposed to.  Carry on, soldiers.

I feel very grateful that I grew up in Minnesota.  It’s my homeland.

There have been some years, when I was missing home or having a bad day, when I would see her name pop up on my caller id sometime mid –Novemberish and start crying before I even picked up the phone.

Kristi & I circa 1993

If you want to maintain your girlish figure then don’t read any further.  You probably added about 350 calories to your waistline by just looking at the picture.
This is a staple dessert in our family.  If asked to bring something to share at a gathering, I usually bring this 9″ x 13″ rectangle of goodness.
Enjoy and don’t come blaming me if you become a Weight Watchers dropout.

Kelly Bars

Ingredients:

1 yellow cake mix
2 eggs
½ cup melted butter
1 can sweet condensed milk
1 cup chocolate chips
2 TBLS butter

 Directions:

 Set the oven on 350°
 Combine the first three ingredients together.
 Spread 2/3 of the mixture evenly, on the bottom of a 9 x 13 pan.
 Melt the last three ingredients together in a 2 cup, pyrex measuring cup.
 Pour chocolate mixture over the 2/3 cake mixture.
 Pat small chunks of the 1/3 remaining cake mixture into thin irregular shapes and place in a marbled pattern on top of the chocolate mixture.
 Bake for 20 –25 minutes

I know it has been reeeeeeeeaally long since I’ve posted, but now that my kids are home with me all the live long day, I am once again reminded of the challenges they bring to my workout time.  These are not the same challenges that Jillian Michaels brings to me. Just to clarify.  They are much different and more of a psychological, not physical, nature.

Children and Yoga

I see this time as a way to reconnect with my center, calm my soul and stretch out my tight, tight hamstrings. 🙂  My children either see it as the first shot of WWIII and they are going to fight for jurisdiction of a 99 cent toy like it is an eastern european country or they see it as a brand new jungle gym that has just been constructed for their pleasure.
I recall a specific yoga session probably three years ago when we were in our last house with the concrete floors and 12 foot tall ceilings.  I mention this because the acoustics created by the architecture of the house will come into play as the story unfolds.
Picture me in seated position, trying to gather positive energy, closing my eyes, taking deep breaths.  Next, imagine the volume level produced by my children fighting over whose ribbon wand is who’s.  Oh the futility of trying to elivate conflict by getting them each the same exact toy.  Little did I know that one of the ribbons had, over the course of time, developed a knot, which had made them two totally different wands and therefore led to the present skirmish.   I had first tried to put an end to their arguing by calming suggesting alternatives for them.  From warrior 1 position, glancing over to their play area, “Why don’t you guys put those down for now and play with the farm set?”  30 seconds later they were still trying to vie for the unknotted ribbon wand and I was in plank position. “How ’bout we’ll figure it out when I’m done and you guys play with the baby dolls for a few minutes?” 45 seconds later they were still fighting, the volume level had increased, as had my blood pressure – to its boiling point, actually.  I untangled myself from my twisted seated hip stretch, stormed over the to them, snatched the offending toys away and yelled “I AM TRYING TO RELAX AND DO MY YOGA!! COULD YOU PLEASE BE QUIET, STOP ARGUING ABOUT THIS STUPID RIBBON WAND AND LET ME FINISH!! In a semi-quieter voice because I realized how completely un-zenlike I was being, “Please, please, please,” I pleaded, “just play quietly for 10 more minutes and,” in a bit more like a sergeant than a yoga instructor I barked,  “I will be a much better mom.”
I’m sure my kids are still wondering when that “much better mom” part is going to kick in.  But in my defense, I’m still wondering when it will occur to them to let me have my 20 minutes a day of uninterrupted exercise time.

Lastly, the other facet of yoga that brings amusement to my 5 year old son are positions that lead me to resemble a piece of playground equipment in his eyes.  Chaturanga to downward facing dog are two of his favorites.  He tries to climb underneath me or jump over me in my bridge like poses before I drop, I mean slowly and with great strength, lower myself down to the ground.  Somedays I think it’s kind of cute and other days I loathe it and want to be left the hell alone.  My son, ever living on the edge, takes his chances.

It has been said that all you need is love.  Love makes the world go round.  Love hurts. Love is blind. Etc, etc.  Well, I am here to tell you that love is deaf.  Love is deaf because if I was unable to hear my children, and on this particular morning my 5 year old son, whine his little ass off, I could experience some more loving feelings for them.

You know, wake up and have the first thought in my head be, “It’s Valentine’s Day!  Wouldn’t it be fun to make the kids some special heart shaped pancakes?” instead of, “It is 6 frickin’ 45 in the morning.  Why are my kids up running around like hooligans?

Here begins Act II entitled “The Guilt Kicks In.”  As I slowly gain more consciousness I feel badly about not having more nurturing instincts, but you must know the back story – the reasons why the last 24 hours have left me operating at 60% capacity.

Yesterday morning began with my daughter whining about why it is unfair that I think it is unrealistic to, less than 24 hours away from Valentine’s Day because she’s waited until the last minute to make her Valentine Box, create a box using 27 milk cartons that she hasn’t collected yet, gluing them together and decorating them to make customized mail boxes for each of her classmates.  I know, I’m awful for squelching her creativity.  So sue me.  After several minutes of what would rank as a 2 minus on the Warren Scale of Whining Intensity (I will reveal this scale on my next post – hopefully not in 4 months time) I was able to get her excited about creating an iPhone Valentine box and quell the whining.

Also, I was teaching 3rd graders all day yesterday Immediately following the school day I had a parent teacher conference for my son and then went directly to a kid’s mentoring program my children and I attend/ volunteer for on Wednesday nights.  It was our Valentine Party night and with our highest kid attendance, two adults being absent and not getting home until 8:00, plus the accumulation of all the day’s activities, I felt like I had just been at an upspeak convention for the entire day. Exhausting!!  But, wait!  That’s not all!  I have an hour and half of making my daughter’s Valentine Box, before I can partake in a much needed glass of Pinot Noir.

Cut to the next morning….

Apparently 6.5 hours of sleep wasn’t enough recovery time for me to refuel for the beginning of this day. Which leads me back to my son and his PhD level whining skills. Before you read what transpired this morning, here is a brief outline for my son’s technique. A technique, I’m convinced would achieve peace in the Middle East.  Just put those Middle Eastern leaders in a room with my son and his whining and tell them they can’t leave the room until they’ve figured out how to get along.  Bing!  Crisis solved. You’re welcome.

He goes for a three pronged attack – The 3 R’s of whining.  These approaches are laced throughout with an increase in volume that grows at set rate of 2 dB per complaint.

1. REPEAT 

Repeat the original complaint (OC) at least 5 times as parental unit attempts to explain why things are not the way he wants them to be. 

2. RELATED  

Build on the OC with other related complaints – either by topic or time at which the OC occurred. 

3. RANDOM 

Start randomly inserting other complaints that have nothing to do with the source of the OC.

This Morning:

D: Can I play my video game? 

Me: There’s just not enough time because the bus will be here pretty soon. 

D: But I didn’t get to play my video game at aaallll yesterday! (Begin heavy whining accent until for the rest of the exchange) 

Me: But you did get to go to a very fun Valentine party and being around nice people is more important than video games. 

D: I didn’t even get to play with anything, not even toys yesterday! 

Me: Remember how dad let you have extra play time in the shower last night?

D: Well that was just a little bit and I didn’t even have my toys.  

Me:  Stop whining. 

D: I’m supposed to bring my balloon for the 100 days of school to school today! 

Me: We have not had time to do it.  We will do it tonight.

D: If I don’t bring it, my teacher won’t be able to put it in my scrapbook! 

Me: I will explain to your teacher that you will bring it tomorrow. 

D: But I need it today!  Can’t we just do it! 

Me: The bus is coming in 2 minutes we don’t have time. 

D: All we have to do is write the things I can do since I’ve been in school 100 days. 

Me: And color it and cut it out.  We don’t have time. 

D: You can do it. (Whine, whine) 

Me: No, I can’t.  The bus is coming.
 
D: But I need to bring it! 

Me: What am I going to say?

I won’t go on.  I can barely type this conversation without going crazy reliving it. 🙂
He kept on until the bus game, squeezing out some tears and I just sent him with a letter to his teacher explaining why the balloon will go with him to school tomorrow.  Problem solved for now.

As he walked down the driveway I, through clenched teeth and a forced smile, sputtered, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

After he was on his less than merry way to school, I checked his last newsletter from school because I seemed to remember that he didn’t need to bring in his balloon until tomorrow, anyways.  I was right.  So, at least we argued for no reason.  There’s that.

Something endearing that he did this morning, (because of course I love him to the moon and back despite his ability to suck the will to live out of me) was dress up for Valentine’s day.  He normally goes for the most comfortable clothing possible.  If I haven’t done laundry for a few days, his pants drawer is entirely populated with jeans because he uses his sweat and track pants first.  He also never selects collared shirts.  He also spends a good percentage of his days commando, which is the subject of another post all together. So there he is, in his khaki dress pants and his red plaid dress shirt.  I did have to remind him to put on his underwear.  As he laughs impishly, Oh ho ho, I forgot!”  Mm hmm.

Additionally, my daughter’s iPhone Valentine Box was pretty bitchin.’

Not through clenched teeth this time… Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

I am half way through cleaning out a certain someone’s bedroom.  I don’t know why I am choosing today, the last official week day before school starts, to purge my 8, almost 9, year old daughter’s bedroom.  It is a beautiful day outside – sunny, 82 degrees, low humidity – but I have been doing child centered activities all week and ridding her room of the debris will be extremely gratifying to yours truly.  Just walking by her room and glancing into it, raises my blood pressure, let alone having to enter her room to tuck her in at night.  I usually have to step around a pile of books and leap over a heap of dirty clothes just to negotiate the 5 feet from the door to her bedside.  I have a friend that requires a “safety zone” in the room so that people can walk around the room without sustaining an injury of some kind.  I also have a different friend who doesn’t go into her daughter’s room to read to her and tuck her in unless it is picked up.  That seems like a logical consequence.  Maybe I’ll use that in concert with my current plan, which is to take pretty much everything out of her room except clothing, a handful of books, her American girl doll and whatever she needs in the line of school supplies to complete her homework.   I figure maybe with 75% of the stuff in her room removed, she can be successful in keeping it picked up.  The teacher in me is creating an imaginary IEP with one achievable goal: Student will keep room tidy 80% of the time.  Am I being unrealistic?  Should I just let her have a messy room, avoid all the badgering I have to do to get her to clean it, get a valium prescription for myself and walk around singing “Que Sera, Sera?”  Will things play out like they do in a Mrs. Piggle Wiggle book and my daughter will eventually trap herself in her room and we’ll have to place a ladder to her window to give her food and water?
So far the most exciting thing I’ve discovered, besides the “Elf on a Shelf” book that I tore the house apart at Christmas time….twice, looking for (It was in one of two boxes I gift wrapped to be an aesthetically pleasing stand for the doll house.  The one box had children’s holiday books and the other had summer clothes that may have fit at the beginning of the summer but definitely do not fit now.  Why do I tell myself, “Oh, I’ll totally remember what’s in those boxes?” I’ve got to stop all the lying!) was the cover to a small tin box.  It had an interesting, greasy, almost opaque substance with a  vaseline like viscosity to it, spread all over the underside of the lid.  There was a Harry Potter lego character laying, like a victim of the “stupify” spell, in the unidentified paste.  I held it up to my daughter and asked what the stuff was. “Oh! That is a skating rink,” she responded with pride in her voice.
“What did you use to make the rink?,” I probed with fear of what the answer might be.
“Oh, sunscreen,” she answered nonchalantly.
Of course I have to give artistic props to the juxtaposition created in the use of a product synonymous with summer to facilitate a winter activity.
I also have to say, “gross.”
Alright, it’s back to the purging.  If I have any energy left when I’m done, I’ll post an “after” photo.  You can see the “before” shot in the background of the ice rink pic below.

Here is an analogy to help get your brain going, get in a proper frame of mind to read the rest of this post and prepare you for that SAT test you’ll be taking soon.

Beautiful outdoor wedding : Hurricane Gloria \  Mom working out: __________

A) Brownies
B) Children
C) Pinterest
D) Margarita

If you need a clue, ask yourself which of the choices is an unstoppable force of nature that can annihilate anything that comes in its path – including peace and joy.

The answer is A, brownies.  I kid – of course its B.

This begs the question then, why would my children want me to be flabby?  Why?
What possible benefit would they get from me being crowned the Muffin Top Queen at the state fair this year.

I must admit that apparently I’m a bit misguided in the notion that exercise equals healthy, amazing body.  I keep hearing from a myriad of sources that diet is 75% to 80% of a factor in the way you look and feel.  Exercise is only the other 20 to 30%.  Poo.  I like the old way when I thought I could exercise to compensate for my Ding Dong and cheese intake. Why did God make Randy’s Pizza taste so nummy? Sigh. Oh well.

So despite the fact that exercising may or may not give me the flat abs that I long for, it is most certainly a major source of stress relief for me.  A time to decompress and release some tension.  Being that my offspring are a major source of stress in my life, they are a primary reason for my need to exercise. Of course I love them dearly and they offer me much joy as well, but on a good day the joy, stress ratio is about 50/50.

Children and a Mom’s Body Image

 We grew them on the insides of our bodies.  Bodies that became stretched, squishy, torn and disproportionate.   So if that wasn’t enough, once they begin to talk they can become your own personal truth speaking discourager like the surly high school gym coaches of yore.  “Mommy, your tummy feels like a pillow.”  Mommy, why does your bottom jiggle?”  Mommy what are those lines on your thighs?”
About three days after I had given birth to my son, my daughter, who was 3 1/2 at the time, was going to accompany me to the grocery store.  As I was getting her into the car she patted my stomach and informed me that it was squishy.  She then looked at my stomach, looked up at my face, looked back at my stomach and asked me if I really wanted to go to the store with my squishy tummy.
Thanks, daughter.  That was a real confidence booster.  Because I wasn’t feeling self-concious at all about my body.  I will still go to the store despite my “squishy tummy,” but now I’m not so sure you should come because I’m nervous you might approach some random grocery store shopper and ask them if they left their spanx at home.

Children and Running

Unless your children are school age or you are able to afford a sitter or gym membership that offers childcare or you are able to get up before your husband leaves for work, you will need to push your children in a jogging stroller to get your run in.  This will involve the added benefits of increasing your strength and will hone your ability to bight your tongue and not swear when you’re attempting to push your double stroller up a 15% grade hill.

Then come the questions and the dialogue.  “What’s that dog’s name?” “How much longer?”  “What’s that noise?” “I’m hungry.”  “I’m thirsty.”  “What’s your opinion on the origins of the universe?”  And my favorite is, when going up a steep hill and I slow down because I’m sucking air and dripping sweat like a iced beverage on a 100 degree day.. “Why are we going slow?  Run faster mom.”

I’ve also had to be creative at times, like going to a park where I can run around them or back and forth in front of them. This would inevitably end up with them finding a patch of mud to smother themselves with, or fighting or boredom, all of which lead to interrupting me.  More on interruptions when I explore the at home work out.

I will say that sometimes it is nice to have a little companion with me on those days when it’s not too hot, the terrain is pretty flat and the humidity is low.  I do miss playing peek-a-boo through the little “sun roof” on the top of our stroller with the younger versions of my kids.

What have your children done to help your wellness?

The second and third installments of Downward Facing Mom will include: ‘Children and Yoga‘ and ‘Children and Working Out’