The Wii and Mii

We finally (as Emily would say) set up our Wii last weekend.


Hooking it up was easy. Creating our Miis was a whole different project and it took more than 1 hour. For the Wii uninitiated, a Mii is an avatar or virtual representation of yourself. You can be as simple or fancy as you like. It told me a lot about each personality in our house.

Emily was first (of course). My first born and boss of the house. At least she'd like to think so. She was most concerned with being the biggest, brightest and best. "I want to make sure I can win!" she said. That's my kid. Wonder where she gets that from?

Jessie was up next. The order of operations in my house has been decided by "tummy order" i.e. the order that they exited my tummy. I'm not sure how that was determined, but I'm sure Emily was somewhere behind that ruling. Jess is my athlete. Not sure where she inherited those genes. Neither me or my husband is particularly well coordinated. I get a vicarious thrill watching my little girl kick some booty when she is out on the playing field. "How do I make a fast Mii, Mommy?" she asked. "I'm not sure." I answered. "That's not good!" she said. "Can you Google it?" Why does a 5 year old even have Google in her vocabulary? Somehow she created a sporty looking Mii with her hair in pig tails, so her hair doesn't get in the way. There you have my Jess. Don't ask her to wear a dress or do her hair. Just make sure she is fast.

Next in the line up was Catie. Cate is my total fashionista. Again, not sure where this talent came from. I cannot pull an outfit together to save my life. She spent 20 minutes finding the right hairstyle, glasses (she doesn't wear glasses but thought they were a good accessory) and the appropriately colored outfit. Again, I was impressed with my kid. She looked fabulous. (Katya - would have been proud). Three down three to go.

Henry did not have much of an opinion. He just wanted to hold the remote. Clearly a testosterone related activity. All men like to hold the remote. We gave Henry a skull cap and big brown eyes. He lost interest after he figured out we had removed the batteries from his remote and abandoned the effort to play with his trains.

Tom was next and he said "You handle it!" when we told him it was his turn. Yeah right. That's what he always says about most remodeling projects around the house too. Then as soon as I get started he has to come in and start managing it. We were on our way when he came in to tweak his Mii. He didn't like the eyes, beard or nose. He changed around the shirt colors. (To be fair the Mii we created did look surprisingly like one of Santa's elves). He found more features and options than we had seen. I hated to admit it but his Mii was pretty cool. That's the story of the dance we do when working together. His ideas are good, take a long time, annoy me and the end result is better. I hate that part.

I was next. Now when you create a Mii you can make it look any way you want. It is supposed to be an image of you, but I am boring. I wanted a cool, hip, THIN Mii. I started off with blond hair and cool cats eyes glasses. I always wanted to be a hip blond. "NOOOOOOOOOO!!!" I heard from my posse. "What? Why?" I said. "That doesn't look like you!" they said. "But I want to look cool!" I explained. (Once again I am explaining myself to the short people in my house - I really need to look at that). "But you're not cool - you're Mommy!" said Emily. Thanks for that Em, when you want the truth ask a kid. I gave in and created a boring, predictable Mii. It bothered me for a while. "That's not fair!" I thought and realized I sounded like them. But as is the custom I got caught up in my day and forgot about it.

Until they were in bed that is. In the blissfull silence of my house - with all of the kids asleep and my husband dozing on the couch I turned the Wii back on. I pulled up my boring Mii. Yup, I thought. That does kind of look like me. It's not so bad I consoled myself. But I heard that voice again "That's not fair". I hit the edit button. I may be living the life of a desperate housewife in suburbia, but at least on the Wii I can take a walk on the wild side.

I made myself a blond again. I got back my cool cats eyes glasses. I put on a bright pink dress and gave myself big eyes with long eyelashes. I liked the new Mii. My secret virtual Mii. And she has thin thighs.

Ouch

I "started" exercising this week - hence the title of this post.

I had a talk with a friend where I shared my fear of getting "started" exercising. It's been months. I've put anything and everything else first and did my best to avoid any sort of personal care.

I've used many excuses and that are both creative and pathetic at the same time.

• I didn't get enough sleep - I'm too tired.
• I got too much sleep - I'm too tired.
• It's too cold
• It's too hot
• I'm too busy
• The path will be too busy
• Henry will be bored

The list goes on and on.

Anyhow, as I said, I've been afraid to "start". She suggested that I don't "start" but instead I just go out to exercise for one day. One day at a time. Why not? It's worked for me in the past. It was the perfect suggestion (i.e. it worked!)

Last Tuesday morning I laced up my sneakers, packed up Henry with a few toy trains and a snack and hit the road. I started out with an intense feeling of dread and anticipation that it was going to be hard. I was right. It was. I was huffing and puffing. To make matters worse, I could feel my flab bouncing up and down as I ran up the street. I was hoping that my neighbors were sleeping in that morning and that my jogging did not trigger any seismic activity.

I made it up to the running path. It's flat so I was relieved to get there. My thighs were burning but I was pleased I got this far, so I felt a little encouraged. I was still struggling, but I started to see some familiar faces. Mostly the senior citizens in our neighborhood who use the path for their morning walks. One older gentleman waved to me and called out "How are you? Where have you been?". Great, I thought. At least the geriatric community of Burbank has missed me. Secretly I was pleased that someone noticed. My ego is amazing.

I started to feel like I was getting into a rhythm and felt like I was picking up the pace. Apparently my son noticed too because he kept yelling "Faster Mommy, Faster!!!". I yell back "OK sweetie, I'm doing the best I can!" I'm not sure why I needed to explain myself to a 2-year old, but I did. With my 32 pound personal trainer calling out encouragement from his stroller, I made it through the rest of the run.

3.2 miles. Not exactly a marathon, but I'll take it. One day at a time.

Be Vewy Vewy Quiet......

I went on a parrot hunt today.

This morning I heard a lot of squawking from my backyard. On any given day this is normal for my house. But today the squawking sounded different. I went outside to investigate and found a small flock of wild parrots in our neighbor's tree.

A few people in our neighborhood mentioned they had seen them but we had not - until this morning. I am very excited they have chosen to come and visit us. I decide I am going to use this as an educational/nature adventure for my kids. I am very impressed with myself. I am going to teach them about how the parrots got here and they'll see what a smart Mommy they have. In reality, I was not exactly sure how they got here, but I figure I'll Google it and fill them in later.

I grab my camera and call out to my children "Hey guys! Come outside and see the parrots!" Everyone comes running. Everyone is excited. "Pawwots!" shrieks Henry. I don't think he knew what he was looking at but he is very excited about being excited. The two parrots on the lower branches take one wary look at us and fly up to a higher branch. "Shhhhh" I whisper to him. "Let's use our inside voice. We don't want to scare the birds away". "PAWWOTS, PAWWOTS!" He shrieks even louder. Sigh. So much for telling a 2 year old to be quiet. The birds take another few steps farther away from us. Truthfully I can't blame them.

I keep trying to get a good picture of them (Are you happy Linda?) but I can't get close enough. I decide we are going to walk around to the next block so I can get a better shot. "OK everyone - go and get your slippers and robes on - we're going to the next street to take more pictures". Everyone is excited to be going outside in their PJs. I feel like Elmer Fudd in that Bugs Bunny cartoon when he is out hunting for "wabbits" and he says "Be vewy, vewy quiet - I'm hunting wabbits". Except we are hunting "pawwots".

The troupe heads out. I invite my husband - who at the moment is more interested in fixing our wireless connection. "I'll be right there" he says absentmindedly. Translation: "I'm busy and I'll probably get around to joining you in about 1 hour". I decide to head out without him. As I start walking down the street with my entourage, I'm questioning my great idea. How am I going to keep an eye on Henry and still take pictures? I decide to enlist the troupes. "Let's everyone hold hands" I suggest. There is a squabble about who is going to hold who's hand. "Forget it let's just try to keep an eye on Henry". Jessie volunteers to watch Henry. "That's strange" I think to myself. Jessie is not Henry's biggest fan. She tells me she is going to make him her dog and proceeds to tie the belt from her robe around his neck. "Whoa - wait a minute". I suggest she tie her belt around his waist. Jessie ties the belt from her Hello Kitty robe around Henry. He does not object. Phew.

We are back on our way. I'm hoping our neighbors are still sleeping otherwise they will think I am insane for walking through the neighborhood with my children in our robes and slippers. Actually they already think we are insane for having a 4th child after having one daughter and then twins. So - truthfully I have nothing to lose I comfort myself.

We make it to the next street. I hear a loud voice call out "Hey Virtues - where are you going?" I look up to see one of our backyard neighbors Ricky. He and his partner Rick (yes, their names are Rick and Ricky) are a fantastic couple in our neighborhood and are lovers of small children and rescue dogs. "We're out on a parrot hunt" I tell them. Ricky leans back into the house to call Rick. "Come on out - we're going on a parrot hunt with the Virtues - get your robe and slippers". I assure him he can wear his regular clothes, but he says that won't be any fun at all and goes inside to get his Spiderman slippers.

Our newly expanded group walks down a few more houses and we find the parrots. Ricky decides we should all squawk like parrots. My children are only too happy to oblige. Henry and Rick are the loudest. They are best buds. I am hoping the grouchy old neighbors down the street are not in the process of calling the police.

With my new found babysitters watching my kids, I finally got some shots of the parrots. Not great but enough to record this fun memory anyway. Never a dull moment in my house. Now I need to go to Google see if I can find out how the parrots ended up here after all.

Back to Cupcake's lessons learned from an earlier post. Sometimes I should enjoy the journey - bumps and all - because things seem to all work out in the end.

Annoyed

I've had an annoying day.

• I waited around for the cable company today to get some wires moved. They couldn't do it and there our new TV sits still not set up.
• I think my laundry piles multiply at night when I am sleeping. They just sit there mocking me.
• The technology in my home that is supposed to be making my life easier takes up more time than I can believe just trying to troubleshoot why it's not doing what I want.
• The pile of paperwork that needs to be filed just keeps getting bigger. I'm considering throwing in the towel and just inviting people over to make a big bonfire with it and roasting marshmallows.
• The continual loop I live in of picking up after 4 children is not helping my mood.
  

So, this is normal - right? I've got a full life, a full house and 4 young children. I'm not supposed to get a lot done in a day - right? Can other people just step over their piles and have a good day? I cannot. I border on the compulsive about having myself and my home organized. I can't deal with clutter and unresolved issues. I could go on and on about how much I have to do in a day, but I'll spare you.

But I need to get back to that question I just asked myself. Who are those people who can step over the piles (and as I've been told - there will always be piles) and how do they do it?

Balance - something which I've not had lately. I've been eating terribly. I haven't been exercising. I need to admit this at a public level. I've been on and off my food and exercise commitment for months. I hate admitting defeat. I don't like looking bad.

So here I am. The good the bad and the ugly. It's not a funny post. It's not an uplifting post. It's just me and where I am.

Cupcake's lesson learned? Priorities. When I take time for me, I have time and compassion for you. I can jump over the piles and still enjoy my day. I've got alot of work to do...... and a lot of chocolate to get rid of.

Scrabble

My friend Cindy sent me an invitation to play her in Scrabble online on Facebook. Seems harmless enough - right? Not so fast.....

I don't do ANYTHING a little....whether it's work, exercise or the preschool bake sale. I do everything to win......no to annihilate. And here I am in the arena that I feel most comfortable in - academics. I was never a great success in the social, sports or relationship areas, but put me in school and I feel at home. Remember that nerdy chubby kid with glasses that sat in the front of the class and raised their hand to do extra credit? Yea - that was me. Ok - back to the main story....

When I got the invitation I thought "Scrabble?!?!?! Yea! That sounds like fun." But soon after, that thought was followed by the stirrings of my inner gladiator.

"Huh?!?! Scrabble! Bring it on!" says gladiator me. "OK" says rational me. "She's your friend, now be nice".
"Yea, yea", says gladiator me. "Let's play!"

I play my first word. 22 points! I am impressed with myself. More importantly I wonder if Cindy will be impressed with me. I also wonder who else I can tell, so they too can be impressed with me. All in all I am enjoying using my brain for something other than remembering when I need to go to Gymboree or all of the words to the theme song for "Go Diego Go!".

Cindy takes her turn and things are going well......but......and you knew there would be a but.....I notice my scores are diminishing. OK - no problem. I'm just getting warmed up I tell myself.

Then it happens - Cindy's next turn gives her a 28 point word! Hey ......what the $%&*$&%*?!?!?! How did she do that?? OK - now she has my full attention. "Step it up" says inner gladiator. "Relax" says rational me. "Shut up" says inner gladiator.

I keep trying to play bigger words with more points. I am not succeeding. She is kicking my butt. It's OK - I tell myself. Then I think - now let's be fair - shouldn't this game be handicapped? I am a tired mother of 4 - surely I deserve some sympathy points. After all it's much harder for me to use my brain. Right? Right!

I decide against asking Cindy for sympathy points. I keep playing my pathetic 8 point words. Cindy continues to kick my butt. I decide to take a look at the other Scrabble games I am playing online - also against other mothers in my neighborhood. I take solace in the fact that I can win against other sleep deprived women. I am kicking THEIR butts. OK - in truth I am only kicking ONE person's butt, but I am enjoying it.

I give the game one last push. It's 11:45pm at night. I don't want to play the word "IT". But I'm so tired I can't think of anything else to spell. I contemplate looking for other dictionaries online that will support my use of the word ROOMATE spelled with one M. I do not succeed. OK I tell myself, just play the stupid word and go to bed. I can't do it. I hear inner gladiator? "Are you sure you want to play that word?" "Yes" says rational me. "You suck" says inner gladiator. "Shut up" says rational me.

The rest of the game goes well. I succumb to the fact that Cindy is smart and a good Scrabble player. Rational me says "Send her a message and tell her Good Game!". "You suck" says inner gladiator. "Shut up" says rational me.

So what's my Cupcake's lesson learned here? It's not always about winning. Learn to be grateful for the beautiful smart women I have in my life that give me opportunities to take a little time for me and play.

GOOD GAME CINDY!!! says rational me. (GRRRRRR....says gladiator me. I'll be back.....)

Pot Roast

I'm making pot roast.

I've decided after two weeks of Chrismas vacation with my kids eating enough fat, salt and sugar to kill a large horse, we need to get back on track and eat a healthy meal. But.....I'm remembering the conversation around the dinner table the last time I made pot roast. It went something like this:

Emily: What is THAT?!?!?!

Me: It's pot roast - it's good, really - give it a try.

Emily: Eeeeeewwwwwww!!!! It smells bad. Can I eat something else?

She is followed by a chorus of her followers .......
(for those that don't know me - Jessie, Catie and Henry - yes even Henry who is only 2)

Chorus: Eeeeewwwwwww!!!!! It smells bad!!

Me: If you can't say something nice, you may leave the table. But this is what we're having for dinner.

Emily: Is this dog food? It smells like dog food.

(OK - now would I serve my family dog food? Is that a reasonable question? Why am I expecting reason from an 8 year old? We don't even have a dog! Why would there be dog food in our house?.... I should just take them through the McDonald's drive through and give up.....but I digress - back to the blog entry)

Me: No - it's not dog food. Take one bite.

At this point my husband chimes in - trying to support my efforts.

Tom: OK guys, let's eat up. Mom worked hard to make you a good dinner.

Emily takes one tentative bite.

Emily: Hey. This good! Can I have some more?
(She proceeds to eat her dinner.)

At the end of the meal my husband says his usual "Thank you for dinner - it was delicious."

Yes, seriously he says this after every meal - whatever I cook for him. He learned these good manners from his father. I'm hoping he will pass these onto Henry. Why don't I remember these nice things that he says - instead of picking on all of the things he does that annoy me?

So what is my **"Cupcake's lesson learned" from this post?
Sometimes I should enjoy the journey - bumps and all - because things seem to all work out in the end.

**To be explained in a future post. The twins just got home from Kindergarten and I need to make lunch.

I'm sitting here listening to my little boy and his armada of fire trucks, ambulances and police cars having a monster truck rally. He is so cute I can't stand it.

I guess these are the moments God gives us to forget how much hard work it is to raise a child. Like when he can't POSSIBLY wait one more moment for a gogurt, or when he wants to read just one more book and it's already 9pm and I'm totally over it for the day.

Thanks God for this little moment.

January 3, 2009

2009? Is that really possible? My family and I have just spent a week in Arizona visiting with my sister and her family. I watch my niece and nephews as young adults and remember them as little children runnng around in diapers. Now here I am with the little ones running around. Thankfully only one left in diapers. Totally over that whole phase. Phew.

But here's my point. When am I ever going to get to tomorrow? What I mean is I live alot of my life in "I'll get to that tomorrow". I'm not talking about my never ending list of projects, or my volunteer work at school, or my service work in AA. I'm talking about the tomorrow when I finally get to me. I'm 45 years old. I don't want to look back on my life saying "I wish I had more fun". And as of right now - that is exactly how I feel. When am I going to let go, lighten up and just have fun. I don't even know how to have fun. I don't know what I like to do for fun. I don't know how it feels to feel fit and happy in my body. 2009 is going to me the year of Me.