Given that I had Chickadee home from school today (Day Three of Mystery Fever: Just like the other two days!), it was actually pretty productive around here. Work was completed. Dishes were washed. Exercise was… exercised.
Yes. I exercised. Day One of the New Regime.
The New Regime is brought to you by the letter S (for sloth) and the number 5 (how many pounds I gained over the holidays) and also the last few times I was sick and how a nagging little voice in the back of my mind may have suggested that I wouldn’t get sick so often if I was in better overall health.
I made sure Chickadee was all situated on the couch with something appropriate on television and enough juice, and I did my morning email reading and catching up on work, and then I announced that I was going upstairs to exercise for half an hour.
“You’re going upstairs to what?” she asked. Oh dear.
“To EXERCISE!” I declared. “On my elliptical trainer! Because I want to be healthy and I don’t get recess like you do to run around.”
“Your tilliptical…?” I sighed. Heavily. How had I gotten to this point?
“The big black thing with pedals.” She blinked at me. I sighed again. “And clothes hanging on it.” Recognition dawned on her face. The shame, it burned within me. I cannot think of another area in parenting where I fall so short on the whole role model thing. (Unless you are looking for a role model who sits at a desk for about twelve hours a day, in which case, I am totally your woman.)
Off I went to savor daytime television and boring, repetitive elliptical movement. Chickadee did not experience any sort of crisis while I was thusly engaged, and neither did I discover that I am really missing out by not watching television during the day. So that was all good.
After I rode half an hour to nowhere, I stretched for a bit, took a shower, and then returned downstairs to check on my daughter and… sit at my desk. I couldn’t help feeling that it may have been all for naught. But the idea is to actually get back into doing this every single day. I hear there are good and sound reasons to do so.
Like, that maybe my ass will shrink.
The whole thing was very inspiring. And this afternoon, Chickadee’s fever finally broke, which was CLEARLY a sign from the heavens that I am on the path to health and wellness, here. So after I took the kids down to their dad’s for dinner, I went grocery shopping and bought bags and bags of fruits and veggies.
I was feeling pretty healthy, indeed. Of course, when I got home and started putting things away, I realized that I needed to clean some things out of my fridge, first. Doing so uncovered some primordial ooze in the bottom of my crisper drawers. Now, on the one hand, that’s useful because nothing curbs your urge to eat than the sight of goo of unknown original near your food. (You’re welcome.) On the other hand, it’s hard to feel healthy and virtuous while scrubbing your really disgusting fridge.
Also, if you’re the person who keeps coming into my house and spilling something in the back of the refrigerator so that substances are pooling UNDERNEATH the crisper drawers, somehow, even though I’ve never actually seen a spill on any of the shelves, please stop it. It’s not only gross, it’s freaking me out. (Phantom spills! It’s the revenge of the chocolate, pissed that I have given it up for snow peas!)
The health, it is addling my thought processes. I may need to return to the couch with a bowl of ice cream just to clear my head.