Archive for August, 2010

Perhaps it’s the tempting fare at the town pool, the Saturday date nights with Hubby involving movie popcorn (or—gasp— the Cheez-whizzy nachos) or my ongoing love affair with “artisanal” garbage, but I have been snacking very, very stupidly this summer. What happened to all the smart snacking I use to do? The organic apples, the 60-calorie packs of Sunsweet pitted prunes, the nuts, twigs and berries I use to scarf between meals? And where oh where are my gallons and gallons of lemon water? I’ve fallen off the healthy nosh wagon, and I need to scamper right back on.

And after ranting against the belly-bloating toxicity of my (formerly deeply beloved) Diet Coke in my book, I’ve even been guzzling GuS. Have you met GuS yet? No? Then I urge you not to track him down. DO NOT Facebook GuS. Especially Dry Cranberry Lime GuS. Just because GuS doesn’t contain chemicals and dastardly high fructose corn syrup doesn’t mean GuS won’t add an inch or two to your thighs.

A big hurdle for me will be bidding adieu to French fries, of which I think I’ve eaten a stack approximately as high as la Tour Eiffel over the past few months. Oh, and Kettle chips. Like GuS, Kettle chips are natural and gourmet-ish and unspeakably yummy. (Case in point: the Tuscan Three Cheese flavor, which the company cleverly markets as a “Mediterranean vacation in a bag.”)

I love Kettle chips, much as I do GuS. Too bad they don’t love me right back.

Yesterday, as Hubby and the Wee Lass and I were snaking our way slooooowly back home from a fun day trip to Long Beach, we were stuck for a good chunk of time behind an SUV bearing the bumper sticker “Mr. Darcy Is My Co-Pilot.”

While Hubby launched into a not-bad imitation of Colin Firth in the PBS adaptation of Pride and Prejudice — with the sole intention of ribbing me for my over-the-top love of all such televised costume dramas — my mind quickly splintered into two distinct thoughts: One, a mama must have been behind the wheel of that SUV. Two, I really need to lose myself in some of that stuff right now. On my not-infrequent trips to Barnes & Noble, I’ve been collecting all these (possibly dreadful) modern follow-ups to the beloved Jane Austen classic, and I think it’s high time I cracked ‘em open.

So here’s what just moved to the top of the nightstand:

Mr. Darcy’s Diary

Mr. Darcy’s Daughters

The Darcy Connection

More Letters from Pemberley

What, pray tell, does all this Darcy drivel have to do with a busy mama’s Momover? In short: Everything. A big part of the Momover Mantra is to take time for yourself to completely decompress, so that you return to your mommy-ing feeling refreshed and recharged. A side benefit, at least for moi: They’ll no doubt help me brush up on my Mrs. Bennet-style mama-matchmaker skills. I figure it’s never too early to scope-out a few potential suitors for a certain little lady in my midst.

Here’s a newsflash for ya: New York is completely work-obsessed. If my own current situation is any indication, we’re soooo not taking a page out of the European life-balance handbook and shuttin’ it down for the month of August. And it’s not just pay-the-bills stuff either; I get calls and emails almost every day from pals wanting to dive into extra-credit creative projects.

Too bad I just want to run and hide. I mean, I’m as ambitious as the next mama, but I really feel like heading for the nearest hammock for a week-long power nap. All by my lonesome. Just me and my sleep mask. (Gotta have the sleep mask…) This whole year has been busy, and I just keep waiting for a wind-down phase that doesn’t look like it’s going to materialize any time soon.

With September — and the Wee Lass’s first semester of full-time school — right around the corner, I need a gameplan for A) carving-out some goofing-off time and B) boosting my energy levels so I can blast through the stuff that absolutely needs to be done before our upcoming Labor Day mini-break at Mohonk Mountain House.

Here’s what I’ve come up with:

1. Shortening my work day, by lopping off two hours – one on each end: So welcome back Matt, Meredith & Oprah – you are no longer relegated to Tivo.

2. Upping my water intake: I still don’t really know why this helps us feel peppier, but it does. And it’s easy, so why not? Especially since I’ve been working out like a crazed loony and probably have a hefty H20 deficit.

3. Minding my emotional energy expenditure: This is really big, but it basically boils down to corraling our thoughts, staying in our own personal happy bubble and keeping the big old meanies in our lives at arm’s length. There’s a great book on this topic, which I highly recommend.

4. Spending more time communing with my kid: She’s an instant de-stressor, so I need to avail myself of her magical powers. That’s not selfish, right?

Last week, ChickLit Club published a very nice interview with yours truly in which I chatted about all matter of important Mama matters, from fitness and nutrition tips (i.e., set small, meet-able goals for yourself) to fashion advice (excellent fit is the ultimate secret weapon) and my favorite girly movies (anything directed by Sofia Coppola).

But since there was a little bit of a lag time between when I did the interview and when it hit the airwaves (or whatever “waves” the World Wide Interweb is on…), I got a little guilt-jolt when I looked at my answer about what I do to relax. Mixed in there with all the stress-busting stuff I do on a daily basis — reading, giggling with the Wee Lass, strolling the Hudson River by my house — was the simple and guilt-inducing “I meditate.”

Actually, I’ve been slacking off on my meditation practice. Why? Because I’ve been really happy and carefree lately. Not that I haven’t been working hard, because I most definitely have. It’s just that I’ve been doing it all from home, and there’s just something really yummy about being able to snuggle my tot on a moment’s notice. That and the fact that I don’t have to hike to an outside office has meant a lot less daily agita. Of course, having someone to whisk the little lady away when I need to focus is also kind of fantastic. So I guess I can also throw gratitude into my particular cup of Zen soup…

Still, I’ve been studying meditation long enough to know that it’s not meant to be trotted out only when one is firmly in freakout mode. Rather, to yield its many, many benefits, it needs to be practiced regularly. As in every day kind of regularly. But here’s what’s great: 10 minutes, if that’s all you can spare, is just fine. Consistency is key. Think of it as mental floss.

I think I’ve mentioned that I’m a bit of a klutz? And that because of said klutziness, I’ve been known to sport a bruise or two?

Well in addition to slowing waaaaaaay down as I go about my daily activities (which prevents those gnarly corner-of-the-coffee-table dings) and really focusing while I’m running (so I don’t go splat in the street), I’m just generally being far more aware of my physical surroundings. I figure that unless you’re hugging your wee ones, or (happily, hopefully) rolling in the hay with your hubby or partner, life really shouldn’t be a contact sport. While you can’t drop a force field around yourself, you can definitely keep the big-league bruisers at bay.

It’s August 1, so that means at least another month of gallivanting in a slimsuit. Actually, since we’re heading to the awesomely family-friendly Mohonk Mountain House for a Labor Day mini-break, it’s more like six weeks.

Thus, I need to stay vigilant on the ouchie front. To do so, I’ve been literally pretending I’m a leg model. You should have seen me at the town pool yesterday, carefully navigating the bumper-to-bumper beach chairs and tip-toeing around like I was Gisele, or some other insanely gorgeous creature with gams insured by Lloyd’s of London for a cool million.

And guess what? It’s working. Between the faux-parts-model bit, the endless exercise and the pretty-feet routine, my legs are looking good. It’s such a confidence-booster that I may have to keep it up come fall.