Motivation

Why is it so hard to convince myself to do something that I enjoy doing? I am out of the habit of regularly exercising and I am finding it quite difficult to start again. I do have an active lifestyle. I stay at home with my two kids which entails much activity, but simply being active is not enough. I am in my late twenties and my metabolism is slowing down and I cannot maintain my weight without regular exercise. Also, I know that in order to keep my heart healthy, I need to do more than just chase my kids around every day.

Exercise is something my husband and I want to be a priority in our family. We want fitness to be one of our family values. We have had so many commitments in the last few years that have taken up too much of our time and energy. It is time to match our commitments up with our priorities. The pastor at the church I go to talked about this concept some time ago and it has been on my mind ever since. Why do we commit to doing things that are not priorities in our lives? How much happier would we be if we did things every day that are really important to us?

I need to commit to exercising. It is a priority, therefore I should do it. This is easy to say, but not so easy to do. I know that once I'm in the habit of exercising that it will be much easier, but, at the moment, I am not. I need some motivation to get started. I have put on a few pounds which is motivating. I am going to the beach in a few weeks. That is motivating. I have a class reunion in a couple of months which is definitely motivating. Now, why am I not out jogging around the neighborhood??? I don't know. Maybe all those aforementioned reasons are not enough for me. What does it take to get me out the door? I'm struggling to come up with the answer to that question.

I think one good answer to that queston is that I need to be more self-motivated. I don't need to do things because I feel outside pressure to do them (e.g. I don't need to lose weight to impress others). I need to accomplish things for myself. But it is hard for me to focus on doing things for myself. I think this is true for most moms. I want to be a happier, healthier mom, though, so I think it is time to start exercising more regularly. Tomorrow morning would be a great time to start.

Home Sweet Home

If you had a conversation with my 17 or 18 year old self, then you would know that I had no intention of sticking around Murray, KY. Money talked, though, in the form of scholarships and I stayed. Although many close friends moved away before, during, and after college, I remained in what I considered to be a boring little town where it was always the same ol' same ol' thing.

It wasn't until I had children that I began to appreciate Murray. I have never felt as safe as I do in Murray in any other city. It takes approximately 5 minutes to get anywhere I need to go. The cost of living is better than reasonable. We are in western Kentucky where a backward way of thinking is still present, but we do have a university to counter it. I would say the quality of life is rather good here. All in all, this is a great place to raise children.

Now, I know that there are comparable cities out there. I haven't been to them, but I'm certain they must exist. I also know that there are cities out there that would rank higher on my list than Murray. For example, Murray would lose its spot on the top of the list to any city that has similar characteristics, but better location (namely, on the coast or near the mountains).

I am content to live here for this moment, however long, in my life. And I am so thrilled that I have close friends moving back to Murray now. It will be just like old times, only better. I know they won't regret coming home.

Muzak

My husband explained to me at some point (during our brief history) that there is a company that compiles music for stores worldwide. It is called Muzak. When you're in the GAP, you hear GAP muzak or, rather, music that is appropriate for the GAP brand. Actually, I don't know for sure that the GAP uses muzak, but I'm willing to bet it does.

According to Muzak's website, it "creates experiences for the world’s most admired brands." Wow. Don't you wish you had thought of it first?

I like to think of what muzak would be playing in the background of my life.

Mastering Stuff

For me, one of the most frustrating responsibilities as an adult is the management of the constant influx of things into our home. I think that, without children, adults do stand a chance of successfully controlling the massive quantity of bills, junk mail, receipts, etc that come in on a daily basis. With kids, the amount of stuff that flows in increases to an astounding magnitude considering all the clothes, toys, and, well, just plain old junk that they accumulate.

I'll admit I have been losing the battle against stuff. I so badly want to be in the position of conqueror, but I am nowhere near winning the assaults of the numerous objects that have no right being in my home. I want to impose order and simplicity. I want to exile disarray and materialism.

I know if I could afford a personal assistant that her job would consist solely of handling this conflict in my home. Qualifications for the position would include a Ph.D. in organization and no less than 5 years experience in a home with at least two children. I would have to pay her an outrageous salary. And, still, she most likely would resign from her position within days of beginning it because, no matter how qualified she is and how big her paycheck, the relentless struggle with our stuff would not be worth forfeiting her sanity.

Some may think I exaggerate. That's okay. They do not have children. And, I hope I haven't dissuaded them from having them.

In the summertime

Summer officially begins at the end of this week and, as I watch my kids play outside, swim, and do summer-type activities, I am reminded of the summers when I was young and free. I thought I would do a bit of stream of consciousness here to make note of some memories floating around in my head.

Picking strawberries at Grandma's house, shucking corn too, fishing in the pond, mosquito bites, watermelon with salt, riding and doing tricks on Ladybug the pony, braiding horse manes for parades, climbing around in the big barn, trying but failing to skip rocks in the pond (my brother and cousins could), my other Grandma's tomatoes and turnip greens (both of which I did not like to eat), her rose bushes and many other flowers, she always made us icecream cones sometimes little bitty ones using bugles, my grandparents' flip shades that went over their glasses (I thought they were kinda funny), picking wild flowers (weeds sometimes) for my mom, not wanting to wear a shirt because my brother didn't, running around barefoot even on gravel, popping the bubbles in the tar on the road with my toes, riding bikes around the block, many scraped knees treated with orange mecuricome, playing cops and robbers (I was always the cop because I had a blue banana seat bike), playing horse at our neighbors' house (I had an awesome baseline shot that I could count on), playing dodgeball (which was probably my least favorite game because my girl friend and I were playing with our older brothers), hanging upside down on our swing set on a trapeze-like swinging metal bar, mom making us tang and giving us flavor-ice popsicles

Nota bene: the outdoors theme. That is where we spent all our time. And it was great.

Technology vs The Tangible

Rob and I have been married for three and a half years now. I have learned so much during this relatively small amount of time. I understand men in general better. I understand my particular man better. Although, there are a few things that still puzzle me. Today, though, I have gained some insight into one of those things that pertains particularly to my husband.

You see, Rob has a fondness for The New Yorker magazine. And by "fondness," I mean he has an extreme obsession with this weekly periodical. So much so, that he saves every issue and has for many years now. Now, this might not be the most unreasonable thing to collect if one were willing to, say, store these magazines in the attic. But, alas, only a climate controlled environment is good enough for the storge of such a treasure of literature according to my dear husband. Living in a modest home built in the late '60s with closet space that is significantly limited, the accumulation of these magazines has been overwhelming for me. My husband is a mathematician, but I don't think he has quite grasped that our house has a finite amount of space in which we can cram boxes of New Yorkers.

This morning, though, I had a revelation. I was looking through a shoe box full of old letters, cards, notes, etc. (some of which dating as far back as my elementary school years) and the emotions that I felt and the memories that were brought back as I looked at these items were nothing short of amazing. The handwritten messages from friends and family stirred up so much inside of me. It was great to be holding these tokens of the past in my hands. I was briefly transported back to various times in my life.

Maybe this is a little of what my husband will experience in years to come when he pulls out his stash of old magazines. Maybe he'll associate those articles with happenings at different times in his life, whether personal or universal. Or maybe he'll just find pleasure in revisiting the literature of some outstanding thinkers and writers. Either way, I have a new found peace about his ever growing collection.

You see, I had suggested to Rob that he rid himself of the magazines and purchase The New Yorker dvd-roms that are now available. They are a complete archive of the last 80 years of the magazine (much, much more than he has in his collection anyway). I now realize that this would be similar to me looking back at emails from long ago on my computer and hoping to have the same experience as I had going through the shoe box. It is just not the same. I get it now. I really do.