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Battling the baby bulge

May 17, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

I’m getting close to finishing my first round of edits on my WineCountryMom eBook.  It’s been kind of cool to read through those old entries and see where we’ve traveled from – all the things I struggled through and overcame, and how much the kids have grown since then.  It’s also pretty eye-opening to see the things I struggled with then – and still struggle with now.

Weight issues being one of them.

Granted, I’m not fat.  I’d like to get a little slimmer and a bit more firm, of course.  But we’re only talking 15 pounds, not 150 pounds.  However, I think weight will always be my issue, whether I’m big or small.

The one thing I’ve discovered differently over the years, though, is how important it is to love yourself no matter what size you are.  Our bodies are just our shells.  Whether we’re fat or thin, who we are on the inside doesn’t change.  You can lose all that weight on the outside, and still be that fat girl on the inside.  If you can’t love yourself with a few extra pounds, you won’t magically love yourself when they’re gone.

I’m working on my next article for the newspaper, and think I’ll touch on this. But for now, here’s a peek into retro WineCountryMom (the original article can be found here), and one of the chapters of the upcoming blog eBook.

BATTLING THE BABY BULGE

babybulgeI’ve been fighting the baby bulge. No, not the kind that you have when you are newly pregnant and possess a cute little bump that later turns into an adorable basketball on your tiny frame (uh, yeah, unless you’re me and even your ankles get a baby bump). I’m talking about the baby bulge you battle once the baby is already out. To be fair, I did just have a baby (eight years ago), so I can’t claim a Heidi Klum body anymore (stop laughing). But for the past year I have been trying different diets and exercises to lose the weight once and for all. And in one year I have lost (drumroll please)…..

Ten pounds.

Yes, that’s right. Only ten pounds. And do you know why? Because of yo-yo dieting. It’s getting ridiculous. I have pretty much lost and gained the same ten pounds more times that I can keep track of.

I tried giving up carbs, went through hell for several weeks as I felt like my stomach was eating my brain cells, and wanted to attack the first unlucky sourdough roll I came across like something out of a horror movie. But then I eased into the no carbs rule and felt like, “Hey! This isn’t so bad! I could never eat carbs again and be totally fine!” And then someone gave me a tiny bite of their cake. Suddenly I realized that I couldn’t live without bread. I started begging friends to hook me up and give me a fix since my cupboards were bare of anything that might have more than two carbs in it.

Then I tried counting calories, and felt like I was starving by the end of the day. But by the second week I was calmly eating six small meals while burning at least 400 calories a day, strategically planning my meals so that there was no surprise of a 600 calorie meal by accident. And then I was taken out to dinner and decided to try the cream based salmon served on fettuccini for a cool 1200 calories only because I had been so good for so long. And it awakened the fact that I was HUNGRY. And that little piece of cream covered salmon snuck in all his friends – like chocolate swirl cheesecake, huge deli sandwiches, potato salad, and French fries.

And then I tried the “no flour, no sugar” diet – which is really hard if you don’t think about it constantly. But I figured out that rice has no flour. Same with French fries and the “Protein Burger” at In N Out. Um…..I think I was missing the point on that one.

Then I tried the Gluten free diet, which was a lot like the “no flour, no sugar” diet, except now I could eat bread as long as it had no wheat or gluten in it. I discovered a brown rice bread I would eat even if I wasn’t on a diet, and I fell in love. But I also realized that this was just another diet that I was treating like a gimmick, and that one failed too.

Then there’s the arguments I get into with the scale. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Do you really expect me to believe that I’ve gained SEVEN pounds between yesterday and today? I only LOOKED at that bowl of ice cream with fried plantains. I mean, I only took one little bite to make sure that the plantains weren’t too hot. Seriously, I only had one bowl of it. But seven pounds? Seriously? I think you just hate me.” I weigh myself in the morning – before I pee, then after I pee. I just like to see the scale go down a little bit once I’ve gotten rid of a pound of liquid. Then I take a shower and weigh myself again (as if I have just washed away a pound of dirt). I try it with my hair unbrushed, then I brush it and see if there’s a difference (there isn’t, by the way). When I get home from work I go straight to the scale, stripping before I step on to make sure that my ten pounds of clothing don’t add to the number. And then before bed I try one more time, just to see if the scale has come to its senses again.

It’s really helpful.  That’s sarcasm, by the way.

In all my dieting failures and successes, I’ve realized one thing. It’s all about calories in vs. calories burnt. For me, the diet that worked the best out of all of them was just old-fashioned calorie counting – when I was being faithful to it. 100 calories can be several different things – a piece of bread, a slice of cheese, a pat of butter, a small spoon of peanut butter, a glass of milk, 7 slices of turkey meat, or 1/3 pack of tofu. I have to make conscious efforts to decide which choice is going to be the most filling for me so that I’m not too hungry and so that I don’t binge at the end of the day. And if I work out that day I am allowed to eat even more.

So, back to square one.  Eat healthy, move a little more, repeat.  It’s time to get serious about this thing.

Posted in Blog Book, Body Image, Dieting, Life | Tagged , , , | Leave a Comment »

Chocolate covered strawberry hangover

May 13, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

Yesterday, I made it very clear that all I wanted to do for Mother’s Day (in between going to church in the morning and serving at church at night) was to sit by the pool with a book in one hand and a margarita in the other.

I totally got my wish. And it was fabulous.

I also treated my mom to chocolate covered strawberries and to lunch at our favorite little cafe. My kids spoiled me with some new jewelry and a heavenly chocolate mousse that has become somewhat of a tradition. My stepson gave me a sweet origami flower he made (you stepmoms probably understand how huge it is to receive any kind of gift from your stepchild!  I almost cried!). And I replenished the chocolate covered strawberries we’d been snacking on all day with new ones because they were just so dang good.

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By the end of the day, I was full of chocolate, kissed with a sunburn, and happy as a clam.

This morning I woke up totally dehydrated and feeling like I wanted to die. Seems I kind of forgot about drinking water yesterday.

It was almost noon when I started to feel somewhat human again. Before then, I was haunted by images of chocolate covered strawberries, and I swore I would never eat one again, so help me God. Instead, I sipped on my coconut water in a furtive effort to rehydrate with the nasty tasting liquid. One can later, and I think I’m going to survive.

And I’m dreaming, once again, of chocolate covered strawberries….

P.S. The above strawberries are super easy to make. Melt some chocolate chips (the darker, the better, IMO) for 1 minute in the microwave, stir, then for 30 seconds more. Dip washed (and dried!) strawberries in the chocolate and then rest on a covered baking sheet (parchment or wax paper works best. We were out of both, and foil worked just fine too). Melt white chocolate according to the package – careful not to overheat because it gets gross. Dip your spoon in, let a bit drizzle down, and then whip it back and forth over the strawberries (I whip my spoon back and forth!) to create the desired effect. Refrigerate strawberries until chocolate hardens, about 15-30 minutes or so.

In the meantime, find various other items to stick in the leftover chocolate – bananas, peanut butter, your finger… The kids and I hate to see good chocolate go to waste, so this is probably our favorite part. :-)

Hope your Mother’s Day was fantastic….and that you remembered to drink plenty of water!

Posted in Food, holidays | Tagged , , , | Leave a Comment »

The fine art of being selfish

May 10, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

I’m currently in the process of taking old posts of mine and putting them together in a book.  Right now I’m working on posts I wrote in 2009 – the days when I was a single mom with two kids and had just met my Mr. Wonderful.  Today I edited one of my favorite inspirational posts, one with advice I have given many times over to lots of moms – whether single or not.

How to regain your sense of self instead of placing your whole identity in your kids.

(P.S. I just wrote an article for the newspaper on a mom, on a journey through fashion, who emphasized this truth as well.  Check it out HERE)

The original article can be found here.  And look for this chapter in my upcoming book on single parenting!

THE FINE ART OF BEING SELFISH

When kids are young, we as moms become totally immersed in motherhood. Suddenly everything is about the kids. It’s our tendency to go from being totally involved in ourselves, our work, our marriage, and our friendships – to being involved solely in our kids. Upon the arrival of these little beings, our whole world suddenly revolves around them.

It’s hard to break away from that.

I was no exception. For most of my married life, I was a stay at home mom. I volunteered at my daughter’s preschool. I carted the kids every single place I needed to go. I gave up going out at night in favor of staying with the kids. I sacrificed my personal interests and dreams one by one as interests and dreams wrapping around them took their place.

I was a mom. That was my name, my identity, and my world.

Most days the kids were the only beings on earth that heard my voice. I’m not saying that this is how it is supposed to be in motherhood, or even that most moms suddenly mutate into this being that resembles more gray than any other color. But that’s what happened to me.

For me, it took a divorce to shake me out of the clutches of “hermitting” into motherhood. It was jarring when my kids spent their first weekend away from me with their dad. I knew that I was aching to have a break, to not have anyone to worry about other than myself. But once that happened, I had no idea what to do with myself. How did I survive before the kids came along? What did I do with myself and my time? Suddenly there were too many hours in the day, and the world was much too quiet. I knew I needed to do something with this gifted time, but what? I didn’t have a lot of friends, having let a lot of friendships go to the wayside as my focus changed. And I really hadn’t done much else but kids’ activities in the past several years.

I needed a plan.

That first weekend I cleaned. I sat and read a book. I spent a lot of time in quiet. I felt utterly bored.

The second weekend was much of the same.

I realized that I needed to get out of the house and do something I wouldn’t normally be able to do with the kids in tow to make my time feel well spent. So one evening after dropping the kids off with their father, I headed to the bookstore instead of heading home. To this day, the smell in a bookstore is comforting to me. It brings back memories of a time when I was emerging as Crissi, a person that was not only a mom, but also a complete being utterly of herself. Sipping my chai, sans kids, while immersed in some novel was bringing me back into the social world – even if I was doing it alone. From going to bookstores, I started to go see live music at the local coffee shop, watched movies by myself at the theater, and took myself out to dinner at casual restaurants.

Let me pause for a second and stress the significance of going to all of these places on my own. We live in a world of couples. Whether it’s a group of friends, two lovers, or a family, social outings are mostly comprised of two or more people. So imagine the discomfort I was suddenly feeling, having left coupledom and not having my kids as security blankets, as I ventured away from the house. Imagine the first few moments of a date when the other person is running late and you’re left at the table all by yourself as you wait. This is what it was like. I felt like every eye was on me and judgment was being passed. There was no one sitting next to me in the movie theater. I had no one facing me as I ate my dinner. And no one clapped with me at the end of the music set at the coffee shop. There was no conversation, or even shared silence. There was only me. It was definitely uncomfortable. And I wholeheartedly encourage anyone, single or married, to experience it for themselves.

Going out by myself prompted a confidence and independence in me that I had lost somewhere along the way. I learned what it was that I liked as Crissi. I didn’t have to worry about someone else’s opinion, or about filling someone else’s needs. I call this phase my “Selfish” phase, as it was my goal to become selfish in these moments. When my life’s purpose had become catering to those around me, I needed to learn the fine art of being selfish. And doing things by myself allowed me to do just that and be completely unapologetic about it.

Eventually I was able to leave my cocoon and reacquaint myself with old friends while making new. And I regained my confidence in society and was able to let go of my hermitting habits – except when necessary. I really believe I’ve developed a healthy balance between being a mother of my kids and also having some free time, and having all the pieces of me fit together neatly so that I feel the most like me in every situation.   But I look back on those first days with nostalgia, a mousy brown haired girl perusing books at the local bookstore, knowing that it all started there. A girl with her chai. Her nose in a book. Peeking out at the world.

Posted in As a Parent...., Blog Book, Divorce, Single Parenting | Tagged , , | 2 Comments »

When appliances talk back

May 2, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

In the morning, I am usually the last one to leave the house.  I kind of like it that way, because it gives me a few moments of quiet in an empty house.  Of course, it also means that I am the one who is left with a sink full of dishes to fill the dishwasher with, and hungry cats that still need to be fed.

This morning was no exception.  In fact, the sink was filled with dishes, despite the fact that the dishwasher was close to empty.  This included a container from yesterday that still held the remnants of warm tuna.  Totally appetizing.  And to the right of me sat the stove with leftover food chunks from everyone’s breakfast makings.

I could have gotten mad.  Admittedly, I was a little irritated.  But honestly, it wasn’t that big of a deal.

However, the appliances did not feel the same way.

Here’s the note the dishwasher left.

And the stove, not able to keep silent any longer, added its two cents as well.

I was concerned that perhaps my family might take offense to the appliance’s efforts to share their feelings.  But I didn’t want to stifle their voice either.  After all, everyone is entitled to their feelings.  So I left for work and went on with my day.

When I got home, however, apparently the loaf pans and my husband had a heart to heart while I was gone.  My husband heard I had made banana bread while he was away on a business trip, and none was saved for him.  The loaf pan felt bad about this, and felt the need to share its own feelings:

20130502-183659.jpg

And then, the calendar – who I keep forgetting to put the dang month on – decided enough was enough.  My daughter keeps reminding me to do my usual artistic month title, but I keep forgetting.  Guess the calendar felt a little slighted.

20130502-183707.jpg

I think my house has gone mad….

P.S. The teenagers in the house decided humorous notes totally beat out ordering them around.  When I came home, the stove was totally clean, and all the dishes were put away.

Posted in Cleaning, family, teens | Tagged , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Siblings – a link to the past

April 15, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

Something strange has been happening in my house for the past few weeks. The kids have been getting along.

I know, weird, right?

On a recent afternoon, DQ had just finished asking me if she could bring Taz along with her some of the times she went out to hang with her friends. The two have never been known for getting along. DQ is usually bossy and mean to her 12-year-old brother. Taz, in return is generally a tease and nuisance to his 15-year-old sister. But now? The sibling bond has been holding fast. I couldn’t help questioning DQ about the sudden shift in their sibling relationship.

“Do you think it’s because the two of you got some time apart from each other?” I asked her, referring to Taz’ recent solo visit with their dad. She had chosen not to visit their dad for two reasons – because she had just moved back home after living there for a month and a half, and because it gave Taz a chance to hang out with their dad all by himself. At least those were the reasons she gave me. I had a hunch the biggest reason for staying home was to hang out with the guy she was dating.

“I guess,” she answered. “But I think it’s more than that. I guess I just keep forgetting that he’s going through all the same stuff I’m going through.”

And suddenly, I understood.

I have two sisters I grew up with. My sister, Melissa, is only a year younger than me, and we shared a room. My youngest sister, Heather, is five years younger than me – which isn’t a lot now, but felt like decades when we were younger. Growing up, we had our fair share of fights. I mastered the fine art of pinching Melissa so I could leave purple marks but not draw blood. And Melissa was a pro at pulling my long hair. But both of us would tag team Heather, ganging up on her because she was always getting in our way.

I was jealous of Melissa growing up. She had a lot more friends than I did, and was a lot prettier. She spent a lot of her time hanging out at other people’s houses since she was always invited out. I enjoyed staying home in my room, reading a book. She joined the cheerleading team and ran for track. I imagined secret passageways in my bedroom, leading to magical lands where no one could find me. She was tall and slender, I was short and pudgy. She was clean, I was messy. We were night and day, black and white, oil and water.

And despite all that, we were also the best of friends.

At night we’d lie awake while I told her made-up stories using shadow puppets. On long car rides, we held performances of every single song we knew while riding in the back seat. When our parents got into the occasional fight, we were there to reassure each other that we’d stand together through the divorce (my parents just celebrated their 36th wedding anniversary). And while we could argue like it was nobody’s business, we were also each other’s strongest allies. I knew all her secrets, and she knew mine. We held a million of them from our parents, covered for each other in times of trouble, and had someone to discuss all the weird stuff that was going on with us as we grew into our awkward teenage selves.

And now, as adults, we’ve all come into our own. We have our own lives, our own friends, our own accomplishments and struggles. And we’re all really good friends – even the “annoying” one (who ended up not being so annoying after all).

sisters

We also hold a bond that no one else could ever understand. We share the same history, come from the same mold, and were raised the same way. It’s hard to think about the time in the future when our parents are no longer around. But when that happens, my sisters and I will still have each other. We are each other’s link to a story no one else shares – and no one can take that away from us.

Taz and DQ have the same bond. Through all the changes, the one thing that has been constant is the common link they share to a history all their own. They may resort back to their fighting days. They may swear in their childhood that they hate each other. Or who knows, they may even remain friends from here on out. Regardless of how these younger days play out, they will still hold the keys to our past when I am no longer here. And no one can take that away from them.

This article will appear in the Press Democrat on Friday, May 3

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When banned leggings become only half the story

April 12, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

The big news in the newspaper today is about Kenilworth, a Petaluma Jr. High that is mandating rules in regards to leggings, skinny jeans, and yoga pants. While not banning them, they are restricting these particular pieces of clothing by declaring they can only be worn over something that will cover them up – be it a skirt, shorts, or long shirt.

This is not exactly big news. Schools all over the place put restrictions on certain types of clothing to give educators and what they are teaching a better chance of being center stage than questionable fashion choices. But what made this big news was one particular statement made and how it was presented:

The girls, in a private assembly away from the boys, were told to cover up because it was distracting to boys and their raging hormones.

Suddenly the entire reason this assembly was called in the first place was forgotten. And parents inundated the schools and the news stations in anger.

Read more opinions about this issue at SantaRosaMom.com

First of all, will boys be distracted by their female peers if they are wearing tight fitting apparel? Absolutely. But will boys be distracted by girls if they are wearing modest apparel? Absolutely.

So the school’s huge mistake was to put emphasis on the boys reaction as a reason to not wear revealing clothing.

However, are girls in middle school guilty of dressing a bit too maturely for a girl aged 12-14?

Absolutely.

Call me old-fashioned, but the way some young girls dress these days is shocking to me. Last year on my way into a grocery store, I saw a girl around 13-years-old hiking up her shorts so that they covered less of her rear than a bathing suit would. And on a recent evening, I watched as a young girl around age 15 consistently adjusted her mini skirt so that it remained high enough to just cover her bottom. Leggings have become a popular article of clothing, both for their comfort and for the close-fitting appeal. Except that nowadays, the material on leggings has become so thin, you can see right through them. And still, they are being worn as pants even though they cover NOTHING.

So when I see parents up in arms, arguing against the school’s “new” policy about girls covering up and how it was presented, I feel like they are being distracted from several bigger issues:

- That it’s alarming for a child under the age of 14 to be wearing anything meant to show off that much of her body.

- That while it’s true we cannot control someone else’s reaction to what we are wearing, it is also true that the kind of clothes we choose to wear send very specific messages.

- That it’s pretty sad when the school, instead of the parents, has to step in to teach what is decent to wear in public.

- That the school is concerned enough to take action because the dress code has gone past appropriateness.

- That it has become the norm for schools to get in trouble as parents fight against them instead of supporting the rules they create in efforts to improve the learning environment.

 

I agree that this could have been handled better. I get that parents are pushed out of shape because the girls were talked to, and not the boys. But the reason the assembly was brought up in the first place was because the dress attire among the female population at this school was getting out of hand.

Shouldn’t we spend more of our energy promoting modesty in our kids than fighting the schools against it?

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The rage of Taz

April 10, 2013 by Crissi Langwell

bear

This morning my son tore his room apart. Annihilated is a good word. He had so much anger pent up inside of him that he didn’t know how to control it. And so he raged. He threw things. He ripped his bed apart. He knocked over his chair. And he growled deep into his throat with a primal energy as he slammed his hands against the wall.

We were at odds this morning. He got on the video games when he wasn’t supposed to. And though I knew he would argue against any limitation I placed on him for the two minutes of game time, I also knew I had to follow through. So I told him they were gone for the day.

Hence, the rage.

I don’t know what to do when he gets this angry. I know that, probably, the thing he needs most is for me to stay calm and loving with him so he can find an anchor in me and bring himself down. But when he gets that overly angry, being loving with him is like hugging a grizzly bear.

My natural impulse was to get angry back. But I refrained and chose to walk away. I had to get ready for work. He was to leave within the next 5 minutes. I was frustrated that all this was happening at the worst possible time. The last thing I wanted him to do was to go to school totally amped up with rage. So walking away seemed like the best choice.

And that’s when he tore his room apart.

So next I got angry. And when I got angry, I got really angry. I let loose with the language, told him this was unacceptable. And we yelled at each other, both so angry at what was going on.

And then the truth behind his anger came out. Because you don’t just get that angry over video games, you get angry about all the stuff you’ve been stuffing inside. The video games just made all that stuff overflow.

boy holding a teddy bearHe’s angry about stuff going on at school and at baseball – how he’s rejected by the cool kids on his team and deemed fat and ugly by his classmates. He’s angry about being so out of control. He’s angry that he keeps getting in trouble. But mostly, he’s angry over his dad, who failed him many times over during his last visit – a visit that I keep learning more about.

Like that my Ex told him secrets from my past – a past that happened before my son was even born.

Like that my Ex yelled and screamed about anything and everything while my son sat in a corner of the room.

Like that he threatened the lives of anyone who dared to come to his house.

And the latest, that a game of roughhousing took a wrong turn, and my Ex took his anger out on Taz – physically.

And no one was there to protect him.

I am so angry right now. Angry, devastated, torn apart…exhausted…  Mostly, I’m furious with myself that I actually let Taz visit his father all by himself, knowing how delicate Taz is underneath his rough posterior, and knowing that the Ex has a lot of flaws.  And I’m furious with the Ex that he can’t recognize just how much his son idolizes him, even when the Ex lets him down over and over again.  The Taz is always ready to forgive his dad.  He even kept all this a secret for as long as he could, afraid that I would take his dad away from him.

I called the counselor this afternoon to try and get the earliest appointment we can. At Taz’s last appointment, Taz had us all believing everything was fine. But over the past couple of weeks, he has had several intense moments of rage that prove everything is NOT okay. The counselor talked me down over the phone, the concern evident in his voice as he sensed the brokenness in both Taz and me. And we see him next week. In the meantime, Taz is to write down everything that makes him angry in an effort to control his rage. And I have to do my best to remind him that his rage makes it too hard to help him.

In the meantime, my life is still being controlled by a man I never should have made children with or married. I will never be free from his torment. And now, he’s making our kids’ lives a living hell. And I’m tired. So, so tired.

Words cannot express the rage I feel at this man.

Posted in Divorce, Kid Issues | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

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