Well, If It's True...

Whilst finishing up after my son's very cursory self-brushing of his teeth, I mentioned (to myself, primarily), that he needed to go to the dentist.

"WHAT?" He moaned, horror in his eyes.  "Um. You liked the dentist." I reminded him.

"Oh, yeah," He replied sheepishly.  "After all, the last time I went, she was quite....quite...."

"Quite impressed."


I should have taken him down a few pegs by informing him that if "she" had been at all impressed the last time he went to the dentist, it definitely wasn't due to his stellar tooth-brushing skills.  But I was busy trying not to laugh.

I Miss You, Mickey D

My New Year's resolution actually started before 2009. It began back in November, when I realized that my honeymoon on the beach in December was swiftly creeping up on me...I'm sure you can guess what my resolution was. So, I started counting calories (with the help of The Daily Plate) and working out (with the help of Billy). And it worked! I didn't really lost that much weight before I met the beach, and I didn't exactly develop a 6-pack. But despite the fact that I'm pretty sure I look exactly the same in the mirror, I felt better about wresting control of my health from the tyrannical rule of medical school. Believe me, the lack of free time is more influential on one's well-being than the hazard and/or motivation of being around sick people all day.

Suffice it to say that I started, and I've continued the habit into the New Year, with the aim of reaching the size I was way back when I was 17 and a soccer player. We'll see how that goes. I'd settle for being able to move fast enough to keep up with residents in the hospital stairwells.

Two lovely friends of mine (and occasionally my mother and sister) have been helping me stay motivated by joining me for group sessions in the evenings after my son has been banished to his bed. Our combined collection of workout videos includes such gems as Hip Hop Abs and "Bollywood Booty". In the former, we get to shake our backsides to the Pussycat Dolls, and the in the latter, we get to practice our "Bollywood vogue" hands. Seriously. And if anything's going to keep me pointed straight toward my goal, it's the joy of dancing to Indian music with two of my best friends and laughing our butts off as we "paint the world with love".

Being Green

On our way to the house to change for dinner (out of nice clothes into t-shirts and jeans, ironically), E was calmly eating a bag of M&Ms in the back seat. Yes, I give him candy before dinner. If I do it, I can't expect him not to...

Anyway, so he's eating the devil dots, and the next thing I know, he says "Mama, can we recycle this M&M bag?"

I was instantly overcome with pride. My obsession with searching out every single recyclable item in our lives had been picked up by my five-year-old son! O frabjous day! (My mom made me memorize that poem when I was about 11 and I can still recite it 13 years later. So don't blame me, blame my crazy literature-obsessed homeschooling mom.)

I answer, "Probably," immediately trying to categorize to myself which bin that little bag is going to end up in (help me out: it's paper, right?). Then E says "Good. Because I tore it up."

And sure enough, as I whip around to cast my gimlet eye upon him, he's cradling a pile of tiny M&M bag scraps in his chubby hands, cherubically grinning at me.

"Why would you DO that?" I gasped. "What are we going to do with that NOW?!"

"Mom!" He frowned at my failure to immediately grasp the silver lining. "We're going to use them for CREATIONS!"

.......

So I suppose the point got across...just not in the way I had imagined.