Adventures in Unschooling

When you unschool, even if you believe in it, you almost constantly have to readjust the "school mentality" those of us who grew up in "the system" have.

Mal will be 4 in three months (!!!) and many of my friends, the ones whose kids aren't in preschools, are starting to do "schooly" things with their kids: pre-writing, lessons, that sort of thing. I'm not saying they're doing anything wrong; in fact, when D was this age, we were already a year into gymnastics, tae kwon do, and had daily "desk time" where we did sort of semi-formal stuff from a fun workbook I'd found at Sam's or something like that. Of course, we'd bag all of the homeschool stuff to go have fun, but I do get it.

As we've moved fully into unschooling, though, I've seen how my older kid thrives and how my younger kid has all of the curiosity and enthusiasm typical to children.

With Toys R Us closing, we've gotten Mal a few things we wouldn't have bought otherwise (a Jet robot suit, a Vampirina house, a LandSpeeder he doesn't have yet so shhhh), including a big Cars Florida 500 racetrack.

He's played with it for hours already, and I just got it put together at 4:30 yesterday afternoon. A "schoolish" mindset would say, "That's great. It's important for kids to play. But academics are also important." To which I would say: This is literally a crash course in physics.

My son has done a ton of experiments in the past half day: How far will the car go if I push it? Can the car rest on the sideways part of the track without falling off? Does it make a difference if I direct the cars to the outer or inner lanes? When using the motor launcher, what difference does my pushing the car into the feeder make versus just letting it roll in without the added boost? How is all of this varied with a lower, slimmer car? With a big, boxy van? Heavier? Lighter? If they're backwards? Upside down? Plastic vs. metal? Why do cars keep rolling out of the stands and how can I make that stop? How is the set behaving differently now that the batteries are dying (they're old, but the only D batteries we had in the house when I put this together)? Why won't this cat get the heck out of the way?

Neither Mal nor I could articulate the physical laws behind any of these observations, but the fact is that Mal is learning things. He's observing information that he will be able to implement to interactions in the future. That is precisely the point of learning.

And even the most confident of us unschoolers sometimes need the reminder.

Life with Mal

Have you ever heard of the term "twice exceptional"? I am pretty sure both of my children qualify.

It's always an adventure, and I thought I'd give you a couple of examples from the past three days.

Sunday night, Mal had tried several times to go to bed, but just had too much energy. At some point, around 9:30, he said that he wanted to watch "Mater and the Banshee." He'd been talking about the banshee all day, so I figured it was something he'd already watched. I looked it up on YouTube, but the only videos I could find were homemade. Mal said, no, it was an actual Cars video.

I Googled that and found references to "Mater and the Ghost Light," which was apparently a video short. I found one on YouTube that was about a minute and a half, but that was only an excerpt, and he cried mightily when it was over. I found a place where it seemed like I should be able to purchase (or rent?) the whole 7-ish minute thing for $2, but after I clicked on the video, it didn't have an overt place to buy it.

At this point, Mal was inconsolable, explaining details to "help" me find it.

Finally, I located a playlist where someone had posted three separate videos that comprised the entire thing. Mal watched the first video twice, then watched the second and third... and when the credits rolled, there had been no banshee.

He BAWLED.

I snatched the tablet and was trying to decide what to look for next when he said, "That's it!" as the video was still playing in the background.

I closed out the search box and there was a six second bit after the credits where this giant Frankensteined tractor monster thing was standing menacingly behind and over Mater. Mater says, "What was that?" then slowly turns around. He sees the banshee, his jaw drops, and he says, "You'd better be careful. I heard there was a banshee out here tonight. You might want to head home. Night!" and happily drives away.

Mal said, "That was it! I told you!"

I asked, "That was all you wanted to see?" "Yes." "So now you're happy?" "Yes. Deedees!" And he went to sleep. The end.

Mal dancing at McDonald's. Wearing headphones because that's the only way he can handle the play area.

Today, Mal wanted to go to Altitude Jump Park, way down in south Austin. It takes 45 minutes to get there, but I'd told him this weekend we could go and make a day of it.

We got to the park, and Mal jumped for a solid 15 minutes, then was ready for a break. I asked him if he wanted a snack or some juice, and he said, "No. I want soda." I hadn't brought "his" soda (which is caffeine-free soda, definitely NOT Sprite or 7-Up or root beer), and... that was it. He wanted to go home. I offered to stop at Wendy's, which has a Freestyle machine, to get him a drink, but he was not having it. He was done with the day.

On the way to Altitude, I'd pointed out the aircraft at Mabry air field, but I forgot to mention it on the way home. Mal had calmed down from his soda disappointment, then about three exits past Mabry, recognized the general area and said, "I want to see my airplanes!" When I explained that we were already past them and would have to see them next time, that was enough fodder for crying all the way home.

About Lakeline and 183, though, it was clear he wasn't actually sad anymore. He just wanted to cry and "be sad." Sometimes, as when he was a baby, he just needs to cry a lot. And often, he'll get over one thing and think of something else (like, seriously, that he wants Shelby back; we had her six months and she's been gone 10 months) to keep weeping over.

Sunday night, before the banshee thing, Mal ran into the bathroom wailing. I asked him what was wrong and he said, "Daddy won't take me to Las Vegas!" I said, "You'd have to take an airplane!" Mal said, "You'd have to take an airplane, Daddy."

At first, I suspected this had to do with Blippi videos, since there are a couple Mal has watched where Blippi goes to play places like Catch Air in Las Vegas. After talking to him, though, I think he meant Lago Vista. He wants to go visit his friend, Alexei, who lives in Jonestown, but you do have to drive into Lago Vista to get there. At least I can understand his abject disappointment about not being able to see a friend. He has made it very clear that he hates airplanes (and trains, and probably buses) so I don't think he'd relish a jaunt to Sin City.

You can only play Cars at home so much. Sometimes, you have to go play with cars at CVS.

Happy Birthday to Me!

All right, fine. If you're keeping track, it's still more than two months until my birthday.

But James already got my present for me, even though I still have to wait a few weeks for it.

Something hit me the other day: I cannot remember the last time I went to bed feeling cruddy and thinking, "Well, I ate like a garbage person today. I'll do better tomorrow."

If you've never done this, then I don't know how to explain the feelings of shame, failure fatigue, and physical illness that accompany that little bit of self-demoralizing.

There have been many times in my life when I've tried, with varying levels of success, to appreciate my body in its natural form (i.e. when not being manipulated by food restriction and exercise for the sole purpose of body-taming), with varying success.

I remember when I was training for the LVMPD entry test, I was able to run 5 miles and felt like a total bad ass. When I was weighed as part of the physical, I was surprised to see 195. That was up significantly from my lowest weight, due to a years-long eating disorder, when I spent some time at about 148 pounds.

Incidentally, the GNC scale still told me I was 7 pounds overweight here, so while I felt pretty okay about how I looked, the numbers taunted me.

However, a few years later, I was nearly 50 pounds heavier and significantly more healthy. And I didn't feel much self-consciousness about how I looked.

Still, what I didn't realize was that Diet Culture was pervasive in my thought processes and self-esteem.

I had so many "rules" about how I ate, even while giving myself permission, kind of, to eat as I pleased. I still saw foods as "naughty" indulgences or "healthy" choices. If I did too much of the former, I felt really bad.

Even after James and I got married and I was looking in the rear-view mirror of those miserable forced workouts (even while loving riding my bike challenging places, walking all over, dancing, etc.), I would still often look back on my day with a sense of backward-facing dread, and feel ill at the thought of the "bad" food I'd put in my body.

Or I'd remember that I'd forgotten I'd had a snack and then still eaten as much as dinner as I would have if I'd not eaten a snack. And I'd be frustrated with myself.

So, that's a long way of saying: I don't do that anymore. At some point in this work I'm doing to listen to my body, to move as I please, and to eat as I will without any of this becoming an energy-draining focus from my very full life, I've managed to throw off the go-to guilt that has gone hand-in-hand with food choices for as long as I can remember.

I no longer linger over glances at myself in mirrors or storefront windows as I walk past. I don't feel self-conscious about what other people looking at me might think. I buy and wear clothes that I enjoy, that allow me to move, and that I don't have to think about, regardless of the "rules" of what might or might not be "flattering."

There is, however, one area in which I still struggle: Pictures.

I LOVE pictures. I often hand my camera to James (and cringe, because, frankly, for as brilliant as that man is, he cannot take a dang photograph... and now that I think about it, it might have to do with how overstimulated he gets in loud/busy situations in that he cannot filter out superfluous information, and that's exactly what his pictures look like) or someone else and ask them to get a picture of me doing whatever we're doing, because I tend to be the recorder of memories.

However, my tendency still is to be hyper-critical of snaps of me, because... I guess I'm seeing myself from someone else's angle, and I'm not used to it, so it reveals things about me I don't see in the mirror, even though my son has fully mirrored closet doors, and we're in his floor about 10 hours a day, so I've likely glanced at myself at almost every possible angle in the past year and a half.

I'll give you an example from a couple of years ago. My friend Jana, of Jana Gross Photography, had brought her girls to our apartment to swim. She snapped this candid shot of Mal and me.

This picture is pure joy. But at first blush, my reaction to it was, "Holy crap, that arm! Those bulges! Ugh!" I had to look away from myself because I couldn't take it (it was a couple of months after this that I did my last-ditch effort to drop a few pounds, and after calorie-restricting for two months, decided I'd rather try to be happy than thinner). In the past, I'd delete pictures of myself that I did not like but knew, absolutely, that some day I would adore this picture and the moment in time that it captures with such buoyant energy.

(Incidentally, this kind of "documentary photography" is Jana's milieu, so if you need pictures that are absolutely YOU and not the same poses that are trending with every other photographer on earth, you should absolutely book her.)

And now we get to James's birthday present for me! He purchased admission to Virgie Tovar's Babecamp, It's a four-week online course to learn how to have a peaceful relationship with your body, first by examining how we got to where we are now, and then by working on tools for self-love.

If this sounds horribly self-indulgent to you, especially given that there is so much real trouble on earth, then let me assure you that dissatisfaction with my body has been an incredibly time-. energy-, money-, and talent-consuming function of my life for as long as I can remember. Ridding myself of its last vestiges frees me up to be fully present for the people and causes that mean most to me.

As an ancient example: When D was smaller, we had an absolute bedtime of 7:00 PM (which is funny; Mal just finally conked out at 11 tonight). D could read or play in bed, but had to stay there. There were countless times D would call down the hall with a random question, clearly just wanting to chat, desiring company. And I'd yell back to "go to sleep!" Because I "needed" to work out. Not because I enjoyed it. Not because the exercise brought me peace and life. Because I did not want to be as fat as I'd been in the past.

Time and time again, I chose attempting to alter the natural size of my body over building a relationship with my older child.

I'm not ever going to do that again.

Babecamp will end about a month before we go on our family vacation. I look forward to taking, and being in, a ton of pictures. Without obsessing over myself in any of them.

And many more.

Daddy Gone, Day 4

Yesterday was Day 4. We woke up with Mal in tears that the Cars book we'd ordered on eBay the night before wasn't here yet. After he cried again about something else, I put him in the car and we drove to an HEB that isn't the closest one to us. But the Cars 2 soundtrack and the drive soothed him.

When we came back home, Nana came over and spent a few hours. We had freaking amazing hamburgers from J&J BBQ, and Mal had fun playing with someone who wasn't, you know, tired of playing.

Later in the day, we were waiting for the refrigerator repair man when Mal ran into his room and asked me to come play with him. I was sitting on the couch, looking outside, when Mal came in and said, "You didn't come play with me!" I had fallen asleep for... two minutes? Five? Seven? A hot minute, anyway.

After the fridge guy and the lawn guy, we were playing in Mal's room when a girl rode her bike up our walkway. She's probably 9ish years old, and a couple of months ago when we were going out for a walk, saw her crash her bike into the empty lot across the street. She'd made a really long ponytail holder ribbon and it had wrapped around her back tire and wiped her out. I'd helped her clean up, get the wheel loose again, and gave her a few bandages. Since then, she's kind of hung out in front of our house a couple of times. We decided to go out to say hi.

Since she was on her bike, Mal decided he'd ride his. I've been trying to get him out there for weeks, since he was riding the bike through our living room and down the hall like a boss. This is what finally encouraged him.

We decided to go to the lake, but Carol was out. We tried to get her back inside, but she wouldn't have it. We got all the way to the park before Carol decided we were MUCH TOO FAR AWAY from the house, retreated into the bushes, and yowled like she was being injured.

We turned around with my promise to Mal that we'd get her inside and drive back down to the park.

Mal found some friends at the park, and last night generally a pretty easy night, as nights go. 

That is where James is right now. It's weird; the first leg of his flight took off 50 minutes late, and the second 35 minutes late, but he is only scheduled to land 10 minutes late. Still, it will put him smack dab in Friday rush hour traffic, so I'm glad he has a Super Shuttle. 

I haven't cooked all week, but am preparing dinner. Because I'm that kind of lady. My kids can take care of themselves, but that guy needs homemade food, ya see.

Daddy's Gone, Day 3

Hey-o!

The downside of Mal falling asleep so early last night is that he woke up for the first time at about 11:30 PM, but was easy to get back to sleep.

When he woke up at 3:30, I realized that he'd been lying funny and managed to pee out of his nighttime diaper, even though it wasn't super soaked. So at 3:42, I was stripping a bed to wash the linens. Those waterproof zip-up bed covers have saved our mattresses' proverbial butts so many times! And since there are two twin beds in there, Mal just moved to the trundle where I usually sleep and I ended up on the naked mattress. I did not pee in it. Not even a little bit.

While I was up and trying to get this emergency laundry session started and also grabbing a quick drink, my other child called out to me with an important wee-hours query: Did we have any extra keychains? Having a nocturnal teenager is such a hoot.

I miss my husband, truly I do. But at about this time this morning, I pictured him sleeping alone in the dark and silence of a hotel room. I realized that since we've been together, he's gotten more than ONE THOUSAND FULL NIGHTS' SLEEP in excess of what I've gotten. It's a very good thing for him that I don't keep track of these sorts of statistics. Also, that I love him very much.

It is 5 PM and Mal's eyes already look ready for bed. I have to keep him awake! I'll do this by continuing to ignore him for a few moments.

Today, we got out to go to the store for soda this morning, then one of Mal's friends came over to play a couple of hours this afternoon. Although my plan was to lounge in PJs and no makeup while James was gone, I've ended up going somewhere every day, and have done mom makeup and "I'm kind of trying" clothes.

UPDATE: It's 9:50 and he's still awake. Please send help.

Disney Pixar Cars Movies and Music, Entry 2 of 3

"Cars 2" was our entree into the entire Disney/Pixar Cars franchise. Mal watched it about a year ago, and rewatched it, and just kept watching it. He loved it. I'm tempted to say that, though thoroughly enjoyable, it's my least favorite of the trilogy... But when I think about it, it actually has a lot going for it. It's just very different from the other two films.

Unlike Cars and Cars 3, Cars 2 doesn't focus as much on Lightning McQueen (even though the film is about his participation in the World Grand Prix). Mater actually takes center stage in this movie.

If you are a James Bond fan, this movie is likely to tickle you. There are so many parallels, from Michael Giacchino's characteristically Bond-sounding score to the intrigue plot, down to the name of a female agent recruit: Holly Shiftwell.

The story itself centers around a nefarious plot surrounding a multi-national automobile race. Finally allowed to tag along with McQueen (which isn't the first time he's had to heed Sally's empathetic advice in this regard), Mater finds himself accidentally embroiled in the criminal activity, but with the good guys, of course.

There are several international locales represented here: Japan, Italy, and Great Britain. To see a Cars take on them is a lot of fun, most notably the Japanese restrooms. Some friends recently visited Japan and said they do not understand why our toilets are stuck in the dark ages. Mater might have a different take.

Right now, Mal doesn't have any kind of context for "dead," but it comes up a lot in the movie. We don't actually see any characters die directly, but from dialogue and a cutaway scene or two, it's clear that they do. That might frighten some kids. It seems a little intense to me, but I guess is in keeping with the spy/bad guy theme.

What ends up being the biggest plus for this movie is that the overt theme is just a vehicle for the more subtle, overarching ones: being yourself, accepting people for who they are, what it means to be a friend... and maybe that you should be kind to all people because some marginalized groups might just unite under one bully who doesn't underestimate them??

No song sums up the first three quieter themes like Brad Paisley's Nobody's Fool. "Now I’m nobody’s fool/ It ain't no fun anymore/ 'Cause now that I’m nobody’s fool/ I'd rather be yours./ Well you know what they say/ The truth sets you free/ And that’s just great unless you don’t wanna be..." What great lyrics. I'm telling you: I have historically not appreciated country music, but Paisley's going to turn me, if we keep listening to these over and over and over again.

It's pretty appropriate that this Cars soundtrack also includes a Cars (the 80s band) cover: "You Might Think," performed by Weezer. Then, to go along with the global visuals of the film, there is the pop/dance "Polyrhythm" by Perfume; and the French "Mon Coeur Fait Vroum" (or "My Heart Goes 'Vroom'"), written by Giacchino and performed by Bénabar.

The song I'll feature here isn't necessarily my favorite song (which just might be "Nobody's Fool," dang you), but is both a fun summation of the movie, and a gentle reminder that our world is indeed global, and we can't "sit this out no more." Although the lyrics focus on superficial differences (and, annoying to me, repeat the monetary part when I could have liked to hear a fresh comparison) and never actually addresses any of the deep issues that we allow to divide our countries from one another, the reminder that our best hope is to see the best in each other is definitely a timely one (even though the movie came out 7 years ago).

Daddy's Gone, Day 2

Here's all you need to know about today:

1) We got out the Cars metal cars to play with three separate times. I stopped cleaning up after the third time.

2) We got out the Super Wings to play with twice, including once in the bath.

3) We got out the PJ Masks twice (so far; it's only 7:48 PM).

4) We started watching videos for approximately 7 minutes at a time about 8 times.

5) I have eaten an entire bag of Doritos in the past 24 hours.

6) We went to Jump Street. Again.

7) Abby Ah Babby, Mal's invisible alien friend, requested #6.

8) Mal didn't want the white potato I fixed him, he wanted the little potatoes D was finishing up.

9) Mal didn't want the little potatoes I found in the back of the fridge after having told him that D was just finishing them up. He wanted the ones from "last time."

10) I made Mal cry because he wanted Sheriff  (with whom Mal had told me to play) to be beside McQueen, and I thought he'd be better placed caddy-corner.

11) I don't drink, but I'm eyeing some of James's stash.

12) Mal sat down to poop about 43 seconds after I'd gotten into the shower and started rinsing the dye out of my hair.

13) I turned the a/c up from 76 to 78 because I was cold.

14) It is 8:19 PM, my son is asleep, and I'm singing, "Jesus Loves Me."

15) I'm having Special K Chocolaty Delight for dinner... whenever I get around to it.

16) Here's a thing Google just made me.

17) He's such a sweet kid. I'm glad I get to spend my days, even the challenging ones, with him.

18) We haven't had to change Mal's underpants due to mistimed restroom visits in a couple of days.

19) I'm probably going to go write another blog post now, since it seems like my husband is gallivanting around SoCal whilst I keep the home fires burning.

Daddy's Gone, Day 1

Good evening, fellow humans I'm sure are still out there even though I'm holed up in my house alone with a couple of kids and no one to talk to about the day's news and minutia. Okay, maybe I'm being overly-dramatic. James has left town before, but only for one or two nights. This week, he's gone the entire work week, and while I weathered longer periods of singe-handed toddler care with D, as we've noted ad infinitum, Mal is different. Good different, but, you know.

This weekend was fun and weird. A lot like our family, in general.

First, my parents came over super early Saturday so James and I could go see "The Incredibles 2." Alone. Because neither child was interested. Hmph. Well, we enjoyed it. Then we went to Logan's Roadhouse for James's quarterly meat ingestion (thanks, gout!).

After we got home, almost as soon as my parents left, I got the overwhelming urge to dig up some stuff from our planter outside. Some stuff had sprung up rather quickly earlier this spring, and I had decided to let it grow a bit to see what it was.

We have some Mexican Petunia, which bloom gorgeous purple flowers that last one day and replenish entirely the next. It's amazing. They're self-propagating, and spreading in that bed, but I knew it wasn't that. Then I was doing some research to find out this vine that's taking over our yard was, and learned it is Carolina snailseed. In the process, I realized that the fast-growing plants beside the Mexican Petunias, two inches away from our home's foundation, were TREES.

They needed to come out, and it seemed like a thing to do, so I did. In the process, I got really irritated about how nasty our rose bushes are and took them out, too. As soon as I finished, it poured rain, so I was glad to have gotten it over with.

Then Sunday morning, Mal and I went to the Hill Country Water Gardens and Nursery after church. Love that place.

Found a couple of bushes, one of which I believe I had in Sherman. If so, when they bloom next spring, it will smell AMAZING.

Got home to plant those, and I was just super beat from the day before, and the heat an humidity. Plus, I found more than twelve feet of root all down the bed from a nearby tree. Had to hack that out before I could dig holes for the bushes. Also pulled out all of the tubing for the sprinkler system, which doesn't work, anyway, and it's hard to dig around.

I was just pretty much worn out when Mal came out and wanted to play with the hose. Once he came out and gave me a shower every few minutes, I was able to complete the job! I didn't take any pictures because I didn't weed the bed or anything, so it's not pretty. I just plopped the plants down in there and we'll hope for the best.

We took James to Dos Salsas for dinner for Father's Day, and otherwise just hung out and helped (or watched) James pack for his trip.

Oh! Mal slept from about 9:30 PM until 6:00 AM last night! That;s the record to beat!

This morning, Mal was awake to watch James leave in the Super Shuttle. We played and watched his flight, then went to Target, where I bought Mal a big collection of PJ Masks characters he's wanted, with the understanding that it's all we're buying while Daddy's gone. (We'll see if he's able to keep up his end of the bargain.)

Then we came home, had lunch, played, watched some TV, and Mal was ready to get out again, this time to Jump Street. He played there for about an hour, and I didn't take any pictures, but here's one from Friday.

We actually went twice on Friday. Most kids pay by the hour, but kids 4 and under are a set price for the whole day because they can't do much. We figured, why not make the most of it, and James went with us later in the evening that day.

After Jump Street, Mal wanted to go to Walgreen's, but it and the bank I needed to visit were on the "wrong" side of the road during rush hour, so now we have something to look forward to tomorrow.

We had dinner, and Mal was asking again to go to the store. I talked him into the lake, which we haven't visited in some time. The water level is really low, but it was beautiful out here, nonetheless.

On our way home, we were getting ready to walk up the big hill when I saw a German Shepherd peeking around the curve at the top of the hill. I stopped to see what it was doing, and as it turned to walk back, I could see it was not on leash.

It could have gone back to its owner; I had no idea. So I waited a minute and when nothing else happened, I told Mal we were going to have to walk home a different way. I started to turn around when the dog and a chihuahua friend of his came bounding around the corner toward us. We were still about half a block away, but I never like to encounter off-lead dogs. These both had collars and tags but were very much alone.

I knew I didn't want to approach them, and also knew that there was not time to unstrap Mal from the tricycle stroller thing and try to get anywhere away from them, so I just stood there and left Mal confined so he couldn't do anything to spook the dogs. I also turned both Mal and me sideways so we weren't in an apparent stand-off with the dogs.

When they got closer, I held my hand out and down and looked at the German Shepherd. He clearly wanted nothing to do with me. He and the chihuahua watched us carefully as they pulled up to us and then walked past. Once they were clear of us, they sped up.

I started slowly up the hill, looking back every few feet. I have to tell you: adrenaline really helps that climb not seem so deathly. It was barely an effort.

Anyway, it was a tense few moments and, of course, Mal had no idea what an iffy situation it was. He just came home all chill and with his treasures and construction trucks in tow.

At about 9, Mal announced that he was ready for bed, and he was! I love easy early bedtimes. So we survived Day One! Only four more to go...

When to Visit Kids' Spaces if You Have a Sensitive Kid

Twice now, we've made unfortunate timing decisions in visiting local kids' destinations.

First, last month, when school was still in session, we tried to visit the Austin Aquarium on a Friday (May 11, specifically) at about 10:30 AM. Oh my goodness. Well, we waited in line while two field trip groups checked in, then bought our admission, and went into the first room.

Cool cool... but no sooner had we looked at this first tank when a whole school group came in and circled one of the displays. A tour guide with a mic and speaker started talking to them, and Mal ran for the gift shop. It was SO LOUD.

We hung out in the gift shop for a few minutes, but the spiel didn't seem to be winding down, so we decided to go in the "exit" side of the loop to see what we could see there.

See these fish? This is how it felt. Unfortunately, we found that every single display area: sting rays, sharks, these guys, the birds, etc. had a school group so kids were packed in with no room for us to look at anything. Also, more guides with more amplification systems.

I'm not overly-sensitive to noise, but the volume both in terms of sound and of people nearly made me cry with panic. There was no way to navigate the space in a stress-free way.

Finally, I appealed to the admissions desk, who told me my admission was good for the whole day, and I could come back. When I explained that I had afternoon plans, they were gracious enough to give me two tickets to come back another time. 

I've learned that if this is what we see outside of a venue, we might as well keep driving.

Incidentally, that was two of four ISD buses, and there were at least four day care/private schools there, as well.

Our intent is to try to go back next Monday, after 3 PM. Google has a great feature that is hopefully accurate. We're going to test it and will let you know.

We do have reason to be skeptical, however.

Because today we tried to go to Mt. Playmore for the first time. We got there at about 11:15. Good. Gravy. Okay, first, here's what Google says about Saturdays.

Which is why we never do any of these things on the weekend.

And here's what it said about today.

No. Maybe that was just during the school year and they haven't had a chance to factor in that it's summer.

There were HUNDREDS of kids there. So many kids in matching T-shirts, part of schools or summer camps or day cares. And then there's a reptile show on Wednesday, so that lady had her, of course, mic and speaker up loud to talk over the hubbub. Then we got there at around lunch time, and a bunch of the child care people were trying to get kids out of the play structures and over to the eating area for lunch, so they were walking around YELLING AT TOP VOLUME into the tubes to get the kids out.

GOOD LORD NO GET ME OUT OF HERE.

So we cheated a little.

There's an area called Kiddie Kanyon that has contradicting signage regarding the height limit. Several signs say 42 inches (we're good there, but barely) and several say 36 inches. Thing is, there's a measuring stick that SAYS 42 inches, but it's at the 36 inch height, because it was much shorter than Mal, who is probably right at 40.5=41 inches.

Regardless, the toddler area wasn't busy, and they do allow bigger siblings, and it was quieter in there, so we happily killed enough time to make the $6.95 combined admission not seem like such a waste in there.

We plan to go back to here literally never, as it's 35 minutes away on a low-traffic day, and if we're driving that far, we're just going to go to Catch Air, which is HUGE but somehow manages not to be overwhelmingly loud, and is much cleaner and more imaginative in the general play area. (This toddler area is a lot more decorated and fun-looking than the general play area, which I did not photograph because I was running away as fast as I could.)

Another fun facet about our trip to Mt. Playmore is that the girls' restroom was out of order. They had two single-family-use family restrooms, but that was it. So when Mal needed to go and the family rooms were occupied, I sent him into the boys' alone. He emerged a few moments later having not gone and generally freaked out. I'd seen the only kid I'd seen walk in come out, so I just marched into the guys' room with Mal and helped him use the urinal. When we walked out, a kid waiting in a LONG line for the water fountain said to another kid, "Look! That girl and that lady just came out of the boys' bathroom."

I have two bonus thoughts to add: If you decide to go to Catch Air in the Austin area, the one in Round Rock is larger, quieter, and seems better maintained than the one on Anderson Mill. There's a lot more to do, and neater options in Round Rock.

Also, I get a little weird feeling in my stomach when I see kids all dressed the same and waiting in lines for literally 10 minutes before they can change activities and who are involved in loud, constant activity. I know it's summer and they're out of school and parents work, and I'm glad there are options for kids to get out and do stuff... but, man, it was overwhelming for us for an hour. I can't imagine either of my kids being able to handle that for hours a day all summer long.

I'm sure not all kids are as sensitive to stimuli as mine are; I think it's rubbing off on me, because it not only makes me nervous for them, it's starting to stress me out of my own accord!

If you have sensitive ones like I do, I've found that once people start getting ready for lunch, public kid spaces clear out a little. So at about 12:30-1. Then again, after 3:30ish when day cares need to get their kids back, and families are heading home to plan dinner. We just have to remember to plan to get out and about then instead of doing things earlier in the day.

Here's to a peaceful summer!

Hey, Friend Who Lost Weight and Gained It Back... You Look Amazing!

Friend, I've wanted to affirm you for months, but wasn't sure how to bring this up. It's an awkward subject in our society because Diet Culture has so brainwashed us with the ideas of what is "good" and what is "bad." What is "virtuous" and what is "shameful." I don't buy into any of that anymore, but most people still do.

So how to tell you that I see you, and I am super proud of you?

I'll bet back when you were losing weight, you got a lot of positive feedback. "Looking good!" "Wow, you're so dedicated!" "Your hard work is paying off!"

An aside -- "paying off"? How? Because you're thinner than you used to be? Is that a reward? Being skinnier is the payment you get for obsessing over food and exercise? Um. Pass. Anyway...

It seems like such a big, loud deal when you lose weight. It's full of accolades and appreciation and maybe even some jealousy thrown your way. Then, over time, you realize something. Maybe it's a year or two. Maybe it's more than five. My longest was more than seven years (and, yes, I've had at least three major weight cycling events, with other fits and starts in the midst).

But eventually, you realize that one of the biggest lies of Diet Culture is the "maintenance phase." Dieting to lose weight isn't easy, no. But it is a walk in the park compared to maintaining an artificially low body weight. Once you hit your goal weight, you have to eat less and/or exercise more to keep the weight off. Not for a while. For the rest of your life.

Maybe you didn't realize it until the weight started slowly creeping back on. Maybe you realized it when you hit a plateau from which your body would not budge. Maybe it's just dawning on you.

And whereas your weight came off with visible work and "discipline" and praise, it can creep back on in silence and shame. Maybe you think people are wondering why you would "let yourself go" after working so hard. Maybe you feel like a failure. Maybe you're just waiting for a life season to pass before you buckle down and have another go at taking the weight back off.

Might I encourage you not to do that? Any of it?

Unless there is a 1-to-1 medical reason for you to lose weight, fighting your body's "natural" weight is not a battle you can win unless you're willing to wrestle mightily with it for the rest of your life. So, seriously, if imminent death or disease is not on the line, maybe think about why you're willing to devote such a large chunk of your emotional and physical energy to the pursuit.

(And, to me, even if you're a "yeah, but my knees" person... I'd encourage you to find out what you can do to build strength in your legs. Go positive and strong instead of negative and "less.")

I just wanted you to know that I see you, and I'm proud of you, and I am cheering you on.

I'm so thrilled that you can go to Texas Roadhouse with your family without having to spend half an hour perusing the menu online first to see what is "safe" for you to order. I'm ecstatic that you don't have to write down everything you eat, or to measure every portion before you can sit down to a meal. I'm happy that you have the time you used to devote to a specific, repeatable, boring gym routine to do things you love and that make your body happy.

I'm glad you're not fighting your body. I'm glad you're not sucked into the trap of spending valuable time, talent, energy, and money on something as vapid as "thinness" and are instead able to channel those amazing resources to bigger and better things. It looks amazing on you.

Stupid Things I Did to Change My Body, Entry 2

From January 1993 until Octoberish 1996, except for one cheat day a week, I only allowed myself to consume 7 grams of fat (with no differentiation between types of fat; this is just any fat, period) per day.

To put that in context, the general recommendation for daily intake of fat for an adult is 70 grams. I was eating 1/10 of the daily recommended intake of fat, back when fat was super demonized, and no one was talking about how important adequate fat consumption was.

To my black and white brain, fat=bad and no fat=great.

Obviously, I wasn't eating any meat. Or eggs. Or peanut butter. Or nuts. Or omega-3-rich fish. Or avocados. I was eating candy corn. Jelly beans. Fat free bread with fat free "butter" and fruit spread. I could have chosen fruits and vegetables, but usually didn't. I felt so deprived from food I loved (pizza, French fries, anything robust and hearty) that I ate for comfort and for what a food DIDN'T have (fat) instead of what it DID have (any nutritive quality whatsoever).

Oh, and I was instinctively doing what I learned manufacturers do when they remove "excess" fat from a food product: Add sugar to make it more palatable. I was eating a LOT of sugar (no more than 1500 calories a day, but we'll get to that in another post) to make up for the fact that was I was eating was empty garbage and mostly tasted that way.

Why do our bodies need fat? It helps up absorb many vitamins, including A, D, E, and K. Fats also help the brain to produce serotonin and dopamine. In fact, extremely low fat diets have been shown to contribute to suicidal tendencies, but even without being that serious, a fat deficiency can contribute to anxiety and low self-esteem... Which might explain why I still felt like a big fat failure at 148 pounds (5'8") because the scale at GNC still considered my skinny butt 8 pounds overweight.

In addition to the sugar I was eating to make up for a more well-rounded fat profile, there's an item that really bothers me about our "food as fuel" or, worse, "food as medicine" mentality pervasive in diet culture. It says that as long as we meet the micro- and macro-nutrient goals for our weight and exercise levels, we're "healthy." This completely discounts our mental and emotional health. There are demonstrably food that makes us FEEL better, and a reason they're called "comfort foods."

"Comfort foods" need to be un-demonized. Meeting our emotional needs is every bit as important as making sure our nutritional needs are met. And I was just in an endless cycle of deprivation, totally ignoring my desire to eat something satisfying because I believed that all of the "sacrifice" would yield a look that would make me... more worthy? More admired? More desired? A more virtuous appearance?

Ugh. It was dumb and unhealthy. No more. Never again.

D and Mal at age 3 3/4

I came across this picture at my parents' the other day.

This is of D skating. I took it August 6, 2005, so this is basically the exact age Mal is now. By this point, D was skating like a pro, and Mal has never gone skating before.

That got me to thinking about some other things. At Mal's age, D had been in gymnastics for more than a year and a half.

Though you might have to trust me on that one.

And had also taken tae kwon do.

Testing for an orange belt.

And some tennis lessons.

Mal and I did 8 out of 10 Music Together classes, and he took one trial gymnastics class a few months ago. It was obvious that he wasn't ready. We're going to try a trial swimming class Thursday, but my prediction is that he will freak out and refuse to go into the water without me. I hope I'm wrong.

Also, at Mal's age...

We rode the log ride as much as we could, often getting off of the ride and getting right back on. Mal freaked out on the Ferris wheel at Kemah, but made it because I held him.

When I took this picture, D was watching the boat splash we'd just gotten off of. See the thumbs up? Mal screamed and cried and basically freaked out on the tilt-a-whirl.

Here, D is riding alone because I was too big to go on this kiddie ride. Mal not only HATES spinning (see tilt-a-whirl plus any other thing he's ever been on that spins), but there's NO WAY he'd get on something like this alone.

It's marked to me how different these children are. D was reading before 5; Mal shows no interest. Mal spends a lot more time in his imagination, both recreating scenes from movies, and making up stories. He continues to speak of his alien friend Abbey-A-Babbey when he is scared or wants to do something we can't do.

D was intrepid. Mal is trepidatious to the point that I've started carrying noise-cancelling earphones with me in my purse. He is suspicious of anything he thinks might be scary, and there's no talking him into even attempting it.

In addition to these differences, I ponder how D's become more anxiety-prone as a teenager. I wonder if Mal will become more self-assured as he matures, or if his fears will increase.

Neither is better. And I love them both so much. I am just finding that I have spent most of Mal's life reframing my expectations, because my tendency continues to be "At this age, D could..." and they're just very different kids.

But not totally different.