...or, at least, why I will TRY not to complain about how I feel while/after working out.
When we lived in Ohio, I started taking a Zumba class. I really liked it, and it did good things for me. But when Doctor Husband lost his job, Zumba had to go because I didn't have time for it any more (or money). Now that we're here, I have an opportunity to get back into it. I went to my first Zumba class in about ten months today and nearly killed myself.
In my class were a smattering of women of various ages, and one guy. Bless him -- I wouldn't be able to do that! But some of the women were easily in their 60's. There was no way I could act like I was dying when the older lady next to me wasn't doing that bad!
Then I noticed that one of the older ladies wasn't just in her 60's, but the bandana on her bald head clearly said that she's also recovering from CANCER. For real? I would have a hard time getting my body out of bed and overcoming the fear of my daily life if I was dealing with that. And here's this wonderful, beautiful woman who's not only doing that, but she's going to ZUMBA besides!
And then...THEN...as we were walking out of the class and I was trying not to collapse, this bald woman complimented me on my hair. How am I supposed to crab and complain about the trivial things that aren't perfect in my life when this woman has such a fantastic outlook with many more serious things wrong in her own?
Sometimes you just need something to make you rethink stuff.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Skiing is FUN!!!
Now that Doctor Husband's new job has moved us to where we actually get winter in our winter, we're able to get back to one of the things we like to do best: skiing. In our old lives (i.e. before we had kids), we used to go skiing as much as we could in Ohio (which, admittedly, wasn't as often as we liked, given the crap-ass winter weather central Ohio gets). We also would go with my siblings as a group on a ski trip out west somewhere every year. I loved those trips. I miss those trips.
But...when I got pregnant with the Short One, skiing was a no-no. And once he was done invading my body, it was still a no-no because I'm not a good enough skier to be confident enough to strap him to my back while I hit the slopes ;) We skied very occasionally with the help of family babysitters, but not enough to suit us. And then the Wee One showed up four years after his brother, so it was off-limits to me again. We've gone skiing with the children a couple times, just to see how they would handle it, but they were both really too young to get involved in it or have a lot of fun.
So after almost ten years away from really regular skiing, I'm super-excited to get back into it. In the last couple years, the Short One has decided he has no interest in skiing: he wants to become a knuckle-dragger of the highest order. That means...snowboarding. I do not snowboard. Doctor Husband does not snowboard. Thankfully, I have a niece who snowboards, and the Short One took a couple lessons to get him pointed in the right direction.
Being the optimistic parents that we are, we bought ski passes to a local resort this winter. The Wee One is taking a little longer to learn the whole stopping-without-falling-over thing, so that means I haven't left the bunny hill in the three or four times we've gone thus far. But Doctor Husband got the Short One and his board over on a "real" ski run just this weekend, and they're both having a blast. As for me, I'm just happy that none of our ski visits with the Wee One have resulted in emotional breakdowns on either of our parts. And while we were skiing this weekend, I saw something that made me realize why.
The Wee One and I were about halfway down the bunny hill, and the Wee One was demonstrating his new "pop up" trick. This child is SO completely proud of his ability to be on his side on the snow one minute and up on his little legs the next. I must say I'm a bit jealous. Anyway, a child of similar age came careening down the hill, followed by her father (I assume) and had a fair-looking wipeout on the snow near us. She immediately started crying, whereupon her father said, "Oh, stop it -- you're fine. Get up and try again." She hauled herself to her feet and started to whine, "I don't wanna do this any more! I'm hungry! My legs hurt! This isn't fun!" Which is when her father said, "Suck it up, buttercup -- I bought lift tickets and they weren't cheap and we're not leaving till the day is over. You're skiing. Get moving."
Well.
Let's leave the completely unsympathetic and downright nasty tone of his comment out of this. For now. But really??? This child couldn't have been more than six years old. Newsflash, folks: little kids get tired. Little kids get hungry. Little kids have to go to the bathroom -- a lot. And little kids have little grasshopper brains that have difficulty staying on one subject for very long. AND LITTLE KIDS CANNOT SKI FOR HOURS ON END THE WAY ADULTS CAN. If you go into a ski outing with a small child with the expectation that you'll jump on the slopes at ten, break for lunch at one, ski till five, then go home, you're going to have a super-crappy day skiing with a small child. And you're going to have a small child who, when asked if she wants to go skiing again, will dig in her heels and put up a whining fuss right from the start.
Our ski day consists of a couple breaks at least, and keeping a weather-eye out for fed-up-ness. The Short One is quickly approaching being able to ski for several hours, but the Wee One still needs to go slower. Because bottom line, if it's not fun for him, it's not going to be fun for the rest of us. I mean, come on; who really wants to drag a whining child up and down the slopes?
I so wanted to pick up this little girl, give her a hug, and ask her if she thought a drink and a snack would make her feel better. And congratulate her on getting most of the way down before she fell over. But she wasn't my child.
I should have said it anyway.
But...when I got pregnant with the Short One, skiing was a no-no. And once he was done invading my body, it was still a no-no because I'm not a good enough skier to be confident enough to strap him to my back while I hit the slopes ;) We skied very occasionally with the help of family babysitters, but not enough to suit us. And then the Wee One showed up four years after his brother, so it was off-limits to me again. We've gone skiing with the children a couple times, just to see how they would handle it, but they were both really too young to get involved in it or have a lot of fun.
So after almost ten years away from really regular skiing, I'm super-excited to get back into it. In the last couple years, the Short One has decided he has no interest in skiing: he wants to become a knuckle-dragger of the highest order. That means...snowboarding. I do not snowboard. Doctor Husband does not snowboard. Thankfully, I have a niece who snowboards, and the Short One took a couple lessons to get him pointed in the right direction.
Being the optimistic parents that we are, we bought ski passes to a local resort this winter. The Wee One is taking a little longer to learn the whole stopping-without-falling-over thing, so that means I haven't left the bunny hill in the three or four times we've gone thus far. But Doctor Husband got the Short One and his board over on a "real" ski run just this weekend, and they're both having a blast. As for me, I'm just happy that none of our ski visits with the Wee One have resulted in emotional breakdowns on either of our parts. And while we were skiing this weekend, I saw something that made me realize why.
The Wee One and I were about halfway down the bunny hill, and the Wee One was demonstrating his new "pop up" trick. This child is SO completely proud of his ability to be on his side on the snow one minute and up on his little legs the next. I must say I'm a bit jealous. Anyway, a child of similar age came careening down the hill, followed by her father (I assume) and had a fair-looking wipeout on the snow near us. She immediately started crying, whereupon her father said, "Oh, stop it -- you're fine. Get up and try again." She hauled herself to her feet and started to whine, "I don't wanna do this any more! I'm hungry! My legs hurt! This isn't fun!" Which is when her father said, "Suck it up, buttercup -- I bought lift tickets and they weren't cheap and we're not leaving till the day is over. You're skiing. Get moving."
Well.
Let's leave the completely unsympathetic and downright nasty tone of his comment out of this. For now. But really??? This child couldn't have been more than six years old. Newsflash, folks: little kids get tired. Little kids get hungry. Little kids have to go to the bathroom -- a lot. And little kids have little grasshopper brains that have difficulty staying on one subject for very long. AND LITTLE KIDS CANNOT SKI FOR HOURS ON END THE WAY ADULTS CAN. If you go into a ski outing with a small child with the expectation that you'll jump on the slopes at ten, break for lunch at one, ski till five, then go home, you're going to have a super-crappy day skiing with a small child. And you're going to have a small child who, when asked if she wants to go skiing again, will dig in her heels and put up a whining fuss right from the start.
Our ski day consists of a couple breaks at least, and keeping a weather-eye out for fed-up-ness. The Short One is quickly approaching being able to ski for several hours, but the Wee One still needs to go slower. Because bottom line, if it's not fun for him, it's not going to be fun for the rest of us. I mean, come on; who really wants to drag a whining child up and down the slopes?
I so wanted to pick up this little girl, give her a hug, and ask her if she thought a drink and a snack would make her feel better. And congratulate her on getting most of the way down before she fell over. But she wasn't my child.
I should have said it anyway.
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