Literally Dancing My Tukhus Off

A joyful 5773, from my family to yours!

L'shana tova, my lovely readers!

Yes, once again it is Rosh Hashanah.  The Jewish New Year.

It's a sensical time for a new year.  School is starting, life is gaining a new rhythm, and I'm ready to begin making resolutions about how to improve my life.

Of course, that's not exactly what the Jewish New Year is about.  It's about reflecting on the sweetness of life.  The resolution and self improvement is supposed to come in ten days- on Yom Kippur.  But that doesn't mean that I can't get started a little bit early.

I have a confession, lovely readers.

I've been fairly miserable with myself.

I've been tired, I've felt depressed, and I've been wallowing in quite a bit of self pity.

But I've decided that I'm going to stop all of that.

How?

With a few new routines.  I'm thinking about therapy, I'm thinking about a new three-post-a-week (plus) plan that includes one post per week about each of the kids, and I'm thinking about losing the damned baby weight.

That baby weight...

It's not about how much of it there is, is about where it is.  It's about how my body just looks and feels so entirely different.  Never, not once in my adolescence, did I hate my body the way that I do now.  It is ravaged by babies. I don't use the word "hate" lightly in this context- I really really mean it.  It's like my body has become my mortal enemy.  I've forgotten how to find any kind of joy in it at all.  It sucks.

Actually, this feels pretty accurate.

I try to think of it as a magical thing- a wonderful vessel that created life and now nourishes life.  But I fail at that.  The same way I always failed at thinking the same sort of things about my menstrual cycle.  Instead, I look at my body and think about a gigantic, half-microwaved marshmallow squished onto a tinker-toy frame.  And then I cover it in baby puke.  It's a charming way to view yourself, really.

Is it accurate?  No.  I am totally aware of that.  I am totally cognizant of the fact that I do NOT in fact look like the Staypuft Marshmallow Man after being blasted by four proton pack particle streams.  I just can't help but think of it, or something equally disheartening, every time I am reminded that I reside inside of my body.

But again, all that is changing.

A little attitude adjustment, a plan to make it better...

First, back to eating healthy.  Now that my gall bladder is all happy and not pregnant, I've been catching up on eating all the junk I couldn't while I was pregnant.  So that's going to help.  No more nightly Ben and Jerry's, no more replacing meals with fistful of "neminems."  From now on I'm halving my monthly allowance of sour cream.

Second, getting some exercise.  Not just chasing kids, but actual cardio.  Actually intentionally getting my heart rate up while moving my limbs and probably lifting things that weigh more than a fat baby.  (Let's face it though, her fat is seriously cute.)

And third, laughing at myself.  Constantly.  In a nice way.

And it is with those last two in mind, that I bring you the fruits of my labor.  The apple and honey of my new year's resolution for Rosh Hashanah.

Exercise?  Check.  Laughing at myself?  You be the judge.

That was an excerpt from our now fairly routine dance party mornings.  We clean the room until the floor is totally clear of toys and debris- and then we dance until we need a break... and then we move on to the next room.

Usually, it's swing music.  Sometimes, it's Bela Fleck.  When we're cleaning in the living room, SI insists on Bjork.  (I love that kid.  Thank God she's mostly over her obsession with Mephiskaphales "Bumblebee Tuna" cover.  Her Bjork fixation couldn't make me prouder.)

This results in
a) a clean house,
b) exhausted kids who are too tired to mess it up again, and
c) a mommy who has gotten about ninety minutes of a pretty intense workout.

The biggest drawback is that my dance partners as so freakin' short.

To constantly remind myself of how much fun I can have while I sweat into a more human shape, I've made this little gem to keep on my desktop all the time:

Even RH enjoys getting in on the action.

If I can get to a point where I'm doing yoga in the mornings again... well... I'll probably feel better about pretty much everything in my life.  :)

Here's to a sweet and wonderful new year, better than the last and any before it.

May you and yours be written in God's book of life for another year.

L'shana tova!