Because I love you.

As a general rule, Kevin and I have made a point to avoid Valentine's Day celebrations.  It's not that we don't love one another, nor is it that we're too lazy/busy/careless; instead, I think it's because there is something forced and unnatural about the overdone and commercial nature of what this "holiday" has become.  Sure, it is wonderful to know you're loved, yet completely unnecessary for facebook to ask me if I'd like to send Kevin Starbucks or Lindt Chocolates via their site.  Thanks, but no thanks, Mr. Zuckerberg; I'll brew him a cup at home and serve it with a Hershey's kiss.

My love for Valentine's Day has been rekindled a bit since the kids are getting old enough to enjoy it and participate in the fun.  On the night before Valentine's Day, Faithy tucked a handmade Valentine under my pillow, along with strict directions to wait until morning to read it...so, of course, I devoured it right before bed.  It was a beautiful letter, in which she thanked us for "being there for her" and giving the "best hugs and kisses."  I giggled and my eyes welled up a bit; I'm not quite sure how I have "stood up for her," but I adore that phrase from her mouth. Then in the morning, Connor stumbled into our room and gave us both a sleepy, "I love you."  I'm not sure if it was connected to Valentine's Day, but it made my heart swell either way.  These little loves have given me a renewed reason to remind my family of my love for them.

Though I'm not a sucker for the romanticized version of Valentine's day, I am excited to build my own set of family traditions in my home.  Faithy thinks I'm a complete weirdo because my "Valentine's Day Rule" is that we can only eat heart-shaped items or foods that are pink or red.  In anticipation of the milk served with dinner, she tried to stump me..."Hey Mom, what about the milk.  Bet that won't be pink!"  I shrugged my shoulders and smiled because she didn't know about the strawberry "Flavored Milk Straws" I had picked up from Target.  Our dinner was heart-shaped pasta, served on heart-shaped plates, and we dined by candle light with Nora and Matt (two people who I always love to see at my table).  I served our pasta with Italian bread...our only deviation from the day's food rules, and thankfully, Faith granted me a reprieve on the crime of serving the white bread -- I thought of sprinkling pink sanding sugar on top, but I knew that would be too far.

I picked up a pair of Claddagh earrings for Faith and a Shamrock bracelet for CJ, but knowing that the way to their hearts is through their sweet tooth, I also picked up a few caramel apples for dessert (note: neither heart-shaped, nor pink/red).  For me the best moment of the day was when Faith noticed the paper bags which held their apples, labeled with their names in black Sharpie.  She looked at them, asked if it really was a gift to them, and then, with an emotion-filled voice, asked,

"Mom, why are you so good to us?"
"Because I love you."
Plain and simple...because I love you.


So, yes, I'll admit it; in a sense I have bought into the commercial concept of love, but not through overpriced diners and waxy chocolates in a heart-shaped box.  Instead, I hope that I am building a (silly, fun) tradition that will bring those I love to my table, a tradition which is built upon family, friendship, loyalty and love.  And when I'm asked why, I hope that my response is forever rooted in love.

On Exercise and Excuses

“The only thing standing between you and your goal is the bullshit story you keep telling yourself as to why you can't achieve it.” ~Jordan Belfort

I know I'm not alone in my disdain for exercise, and I know that I should do it more, that it is good for me, that it gets easier with time, that it's more fun with friends, that it's best if you're doing something you like, blah, blah, blah.

In the course of my WW journey, more often than not, it is my lack of exercise, and not my indulgent eating choices that prevent me from achieving the success I hope for on the scale. I like vegetables, I love fruit, and I enjoy the challenge of preparing healthy meals. Do I falter? You bet your Wheat Thins I do! However, I know that one butter-laden meal or even a weekend of coulda-been-better choices is not what's going to make or break me in the long term.

It's exercise that will be my undoing. It's not that I hate it, but I can't even pretend that it's fun or that I look forward to wiping sweat from my brow after a "satisfying workout." I used to know that satisfaction, and I vaguely remember what it feels like. For me it would come after impossible tennis workouts in college. I still reflect on those miles logged and the hours on the court and wonder how the hell I did it...but I'm still proud I did. I planned my meals, packed my lunches, prepared for workouts and then -- wait for it -- I actually completed them. I ran, I lifted, I played. I was far from thin, but I was healthy and active.

Obviously, that is not the case today. Fast forward 10 years and my life as an independent student-athlete has been replaced by life as wife-mom-teacher, and I couldn't be happier with where life has taken me. However, I know that I can't exactly call myself healthy these days. I love to cook, and we're not talking about grilled fish and steamed broccoli; after all, I'm married to a burger and twice-baked potato kinda guy. My day is busy and I am often "so tired" that I barely want to clear dinner and make tomorrow's lunches, so obviously there is not time for a workout, right? I know that these are excuses: Kevin doesn't like vegetables, I am busy (tired, hungry, bored, facebooking), I don't have time...I could go on.  A few years ago, I joined Curves for a while, but they had limited hours, so I faithfully paid out my contract after I stopped going.  This past summer, I tried and died with the Couch to 5K approach to running; making it past the 20 minute run only to let my 5K goal fade away, and, strangely, I actually enjoyed running, but this was a hot summer, so, you know...I quit.  I love to walk outside, but it's 27 degrees outside right now, so I should stay on the couch under this blanket.  But I am at a point where I know these are creatively crafted excuses, and now I need to decide what I'm going to do about it. It's easy enough to lighten up a dish for dinner or to pack a healthy lunch. But what about exercise?  I know it's what I need, and I am beginning to feel a substantial dose of mom-guilt over it. I owe it to myself and my family to be a healthier me...easy to say, much harder to do.

Faith came with me to this week's meeting, and she helped me set a goal to work out at least 3 times this week. Since I'm off of work today, and she is home with a "sore throat," I decided today was a good day to dust off a workout dvd. I hate, hate, hate nearly every exercise dvd I've ever played (Billy Blanks, feel free to ignore that statement). The rational part of me knows it's due to my attitude towards exercise, but I still can't get over the music, the "You Can Do Its," and the smiles -- why does everyone just keep smiling while I sweat buckets and groan? Despite the pep talks and the awkwardness of working out with my kiddos bounding along with me, I completed today's workout...I will be sore tomorrow, but I will be okay.

Since it's February in Chicagoland, I will reach my goal of 3 workouts this week with the help of Faithy and workout dvds. I can work through the embarrassment of sweating in my living room and the annoying pep talks from the fitness instructors. I probably won't like it, but I will get over it because my health has to become a priority, and I won't get there without breaking a sweat and overcoming my excuses.

"Being entirely honest with oneself is a good exercise." ~Sigmund Freud