theheywhohaa

Yeah, its the modern equivalent of the myth of Sisyphus, rolling that damn rock up the hill every day and watching the sucker roll over the other side. Still, if it was easy it would make me highly suspicious of its worth in the long term and I probably wouldn't bother. What a maroon! Rose

There is a scale inside your head that is harder to jettison than the one you stand on to abuse yourself with your perceived failures. We all do this weird, abusive crap to ourselves in some form or another, whether it be body shaming ourselves or picking away at our inadequacies as parents, friends, lovers and on and on and on. It is the unhelpful idea that there is some Platonic ideal that we should be holding ourselves up to, a perfect version of you, if you will. This is the greatest bunch of bulls*&t ever sold and it is a bestseller baby. You know those signs in the mall that say "you are here"? Well, here is where we all are and its ok. There is no greener grass on the other side of losing weight or that boob job you've been planning, or finally fitting into a size 2. Because you and I will still be right here with ourselves. So that's where we need to reset the mind, around the crazy, frantic attempt to chisel off the outer layer of ourselves to reveal some perfect structure beneath. The only thing under this carapace is muscle and bone and if you chisel off the stuff on the surface that you hate so much you will fall apart. Oh the humanity. I feel you, I really do. I don't weigh myself on a scale anymore, but I do weigh myself against other people I think have got things more figured out than me. I weigh myself against the image I think I should project over the truth of who I am. All I can offer you is my mall sign and the moment I take each time I feel that twinge of self-loathing to remind myself that I am here and here is ok. Best of luck and good times rolling, Rose

Oh dear me, to hear people say such things about themselves as useless and weak. I am so glad that you are seeing how incredibly off-base that estimation is Laurie. This life can beat you down, it can strip you bare and leave you howling in the indifferent wind, but that doesn't make you weak or useless. To be those things is to lie down and let yourself be beaten by every obstacle. That doesn't sound like you at all. It doesn't sound like anybody I know. Resilience, discipline, self-effacement, compassion, honesty...those are attributes I see in this here departure lounge. In all directions, every one of us is fighting for something and that makes us strong and useful. I've alluded to my lack of religious belief in the past, so today I am coming all the way out of the closet of atheism to say that I believe in many things, I believe in the endless capacity of the human heart to learn and expand into greater things. I believe that kindness is the only approach worth taking with ourselves and others and that a little kindness shown to anyone at the right time can turn them away from bitterness and hate and make the world a better place. I believe that belief alone is not enough, that actions are the creators of character and that standing up when nobody else is doing so is the ultimate act of courage. I believe that an act of empathy every day is essential to build a spine that can withstand what the world will throw. I believe in reality checks and self-knowledge because the greater your understanding the greater your capacity for change. I believe in all of you, absolutely. I don't need faith in God because I have faith in everything else, and in a way that itself is the God of my heart. My body is the church I worship from and deserves to be treated with respect and reverence. I meet with you all each morning in a congregation of like-minded souls and I leave feeling that I have been heard. It is the best feeling. Cara and Laurie and everybody else, give yourselves a high five today, cuz you're all kinds of good people. Love and other fun mistakes, Rose

Lovelies, Laurie, I don't know how you feel or what its like to be in your shoes but I consider my reality checked whenever I read of your recent adventures in hospitalland. It must be very dispiriting for Steve to find himself back at (what feels like) square one. I'm sure this is not unusual for stem cell transplant patients, but that won't make it more palatable to be stuck in a hospital bed again. I send you speedy recovery for Steve and peace and serenity for you. You need it, so I am donating mine to you. I hope the transplant takes. I don't have time to post (again) this morning, but will see what I can do after the school runs. Love to you all, rose

Dirty Dahlinks, Cara and Laurie, I'm thinking about you two today, getting results and settling captains into new digs. All of my best good vibes to you...(ellipsis is very useful, and Rosanna banana, you have a love of the dash, because you is so dashing). Can't blather on too long as it is already 7:15 and I have much to do (as usual). Dave, your torrid love affair with the semi-colon may have ended, but an enduring affection for odd forms of punctuation remains. What more can one ask? Meadow, how come snot is ok but toitys are no-go? Surely its all just gunk that falls out of open orifices? Sorry. Had to ask. HIgsy, glad to hear that there is progress on that tooth of yours. You need that fixed before your hike so you can really lay back and enjoy it. Deb, it is more than acceptable to bring reading material to a sporting event. I once brought a crochet afghan I was working on and had my iPod in. You can get me physically to a game, but you can't make me care. MikiMik, you are rockin' the gym this week. I'm off to yoga today but cancelled Monday because I needed to have some time alone with my bed and Netflix and no children. Am surprisingly restored as a result. CC, your discipline is awe-inspiring, and I get it, I really do. Once you're all in, you are really all in with things. I'm a little that way myself, but for me it comes from sheer bloody minded hard-headed stubbornness. Better go kidlets, will try to post more lengthily later on. Rose

Greetings to you; dirty darlings one and all, I'm bringing back the semi-colon, because somebody has to rescue it from obscurity. Can you tell that I have read 'Eats Shoots and Leaves' a couple or ten times? Well I have. Alongside a bunch of other linguistic esoterica, those grammar books and lexicons are my guilty pleasure; guilty because they make me ever more pedantic and likely to correct inept graffiti in a red pen I carry for no other reason. Yep. And yet...I'm pretty sure I don't understand the use of the semi-colon to the extent I ought, which is probably why nobody uses the poor thing any more- we just don't know how. Still, language is so flexible and allows for so much evolution, I just hate to see things go extinct. Yesterday was a pretty good day for us, my boys saw a huge Newfoundland fetching a tennis ball out of the river, as well as a comically fat retriever lazily losing his stick three times in a row because he couldn't be faffed to chase it with any speed. I can identify with the retriever. Who doesn't have days when you simply want the stick to float into your open mouth as you stand there waiting? I also cut the littlest little's hair, and the result is a touch...monastic. Still cute, but the faint impression of a bowl can just about be seen around the sideburns. I am loath to ring him to the barber's because the (very sweet) Eastern European girl who cuts bigger boy's hair never listens to what I ask her to do unless I stand over her while she's cutting. She has given him some prison-esque styling as a result. The weekend has loosed its grip on us and its back to the daily shuffle. Got up early so I wouldn't be as frantic getting everyone out the door this morning, but the likelihood is that it won't make any difference how organised I am, since the real drag on time is the reluctance of any child in this house to perform tasks at an appreciable speed. Today Daddy is home though, he took today off hoping that he would need recovery time from his celebrations for Tipperary's win in yesterday's All Ireland, but sadly the game was tied, so there will be a replay in three weeks. As a sop to me, the one left holding the babies (again), he came home at a reasonable hour only partially pickled in beer, so will be available this morning to drop little D to school while I bring the moper to school 15 miles away. Its the little things that prove the most romantic in long-term relationships, things like not getting wasted and falling home at 4 a.m. so you can take on part of the morning drill.This is love, not sappy cards produced by bored cubicle dwellers eking an existence off of subsidiaries. More yoga this evening, Saturday was a funny old class. Attended by the wife of a local celebrity who made eye contact with nobody. And three others who made quite the display of their pre-workout stretching (this is the showing off I was talking about). My instructor had the longest feet I have ever seen. They were strangely beautiful and I couldn't stop looking at them. I am looking forward to getting one of the older folks for class, these kiddies are not aspirational, they are hatchlings. Lovely and all, but honestly I want to be told what to do by people who remember Cheers from its original run. Or even Friends. Better make a move toward readiness. Much love, Rose

Guys, I just wanted to get in a quick post before I head out with my littles for the day. We're going goat petting and walking by the river. Yesterday the fella and I took them out to a place called the Curragh, which is a vast swathe of open ground beside the national military headquarters and training center. There were hundreds of sheep roaming around and as a consequence quite a large contingent of sheep poo. My little dude comes running over to me with a huge poop and shouts "I found the biggest pine cone!". To be fair, it did kind of look like a pine cone, and was unusually substantial for sheep crap. Too funny. My other half is off to the All Ireland hurling final today (this is a big deal here, its the national sport and there is huge rivalry between my honey's home county and the defending champions). I expect him to fall in the door this evening, full of beer and either maudlin self-pity or dramatically overdone rapture. Either way, he will suffer for it tomorrow, poor fella. I am writing this in a pair of pants I bought back in June, just before the start of the 6/9 w30. These pants did not fit me then, nor did they fit me after the w30, or three weeks ago when I decided to throw them on and see...but the buggers fit me now. And all this because I stopped focussing so much on what I was or wasn't losing and just got busy with what I was gaining. Laurie, I'm thinking about you alot lately. I can feel the fear from your posts and the tightness you are carrying and I wish just for a moment that I could hold the load for you. It is so terrible that the cure is so cruel, but his numbers are improving and he seems a strong captain, who has so much to survive for. Love love love to you. Deb, I always think of you when I feel a whine coming on about the things I don't eat anymore. I think of your fortitude and your inventiveness and I get back up and stop pouting. You are kind of my own imaginary vision board. CC, 90 days and more. Wowza. Your triathlon is coming up really soon, isn't it? I'm rooting for you. Rosanna banana, what would we do without you, the little heart and soul of the party? I don't know who you keep seeing in reflections, but every time I look at you I see a bit more previously undiscovered gorgeous. So there. Cara, your litany of bad luck means that you will soon have a massive windfall of good times. Swings and roundabouts my dear friend. Meadow, if you keep getting ever more awesome, will you use up the store of awesome the rest of us have to draw from? Nah, I think you contribute more to it than you take. Higsy, the hiking training sounds like such fun. Wish I was tagging along. You always draw me such a lovely picture of your days, even when you are going through something difficult and troubling. Dave, awesome score. Glad to see you aren't turning into some kind of SLACKER. Chin up chest out. Hope you are proud of me, this is my first rest day in a week. And I'm going to use it on my peachy little kidlets. Miki Mouse, when are you off to Cabo? I'm getting excited for you. Any more news on the jacuzzi gents? Love to you all, Rose

Hey there bananas, I seem to have driven everyone back to the other thread with my talk of munchkins, so will reel that back in. Its nearly 7:30 and I've been awake for about an hour now (this is a weekend and the children are fast asleep, what is wrong with me?). I'm settling in with a cup of coffee before all the whohaa kicks off for the day. Plans for this beautiful indian summer day(I'm not sure if that's an offensive term Meadow? I always thought it was such a beautiful description of these last warm days of golden light and leaf mould in the air...but if it is rude I shall scrub it from my vocab. I detest rudeness above pretty much everything else). include a morning yoga class followed by some blackberrying with my little people. Then its on to jelly making and some elderberry tonic. But not if the air is warm and the children are cooperating with each other, then I'll just freeze the damn berries and enjoy my kids. It has been a week now since I jacked in my second attempt at the whole 30, and I've been thinking about the process (as I am wont to do) and why it isn't always the right time to get down on it. What I got from our first collective w30 in June was that I have a problem self-regulating when it comes to sugar. I also found a love of cauliflower, which is a vegetable that was previously much maligned by me-as in "what is the point of cauliflower anyway?" Similarly, I discovered that I don't need a refined starch with dinner every day to feel full, that kids don't care as much about what they eat as they let on to, and that sleep is nature's own medicine and will heal pretty much anything you throw at your body. I got a lot out of it, so I was thinking about why I didn't feel like I was getting anything out of a second go, and what I think is the following: You can overthink anything if you put your mind to it. And I will, every time. You have to learn to be your own boss. This means bossing yourself around and being scared enough of yourself that you actually listen. And not waiting for somebody else in authority to reiterate what you already told yourself. Nobody else cares what you eat or what you weigh, or how much your outfit cost, or who does your hair. They don't. Unless they are comparing themselves to you, in which case they are actually only self-harming and deserve compassion. A program like this gives you structure when you don't have any of your own. It gives you support when you are weak and vulnerable. It gives you information that is revealed in your own experience. Once you internalise this stuff, you don't need to be on point all the time, because you already have the knowledge and the experience within you to get yourself back in the frame. Life is too short to spend this much time worrying about food, unless it is actually causing you illness, in which case life is too short not to give meaningful consideration to everything you are eating. And also, the brevity of life is no excuse to act like a child, close your eyes to what you are doing to yourself and carry on regardless in a self-destructive cycle of abuse. Everybody has their own road to ride, its nice to have some company, but only when your companion is self-aware enough to know that their way is just that: their way. Not the only way, just a way that works for them. And you too. We're all just fixing the bike as we ride it. So that's why I decided that right now isn't the time for me to w30 it up. That doesn't mean I won't do another this year, because I think I will. Maybe in November, or maybe just when I feel like I need reminding about how much it is possible to care for yourself and how much more possible that makes caring for others. For now, I'm just coasting down the hill that we struggled up in June. Its nice. I like it. Anyhoo, hope everyone is well and happy, and hope to see you all soon, here in the dirty 30 departure lounge. Rose

Guys, Just a quickie (you know you love a quickie just as much as I do). Sun is shining, my beautiful boy is sliding his toys down the side, I am wearing shorts for probably the last time this year and for this moment I am perfectly contented with my life. Sending the same vibe to each and every delightful one of you. Rose

Ok. Home now. First freakout of the new school year out of the way, little dude screamed in the car all the way back from dropping his sister to the bus stop, then screamed some more when we got to his school because he wanted to carry his own (much too heavy) bag and didn't want to go to the infant school yard and line up. Then had to sit on the bench after the bell rang and have a drink while his class was filing through the door, causing horrid scramble to look through the five essential toys he had crammed in to his bag alongside his drink and lunch. I am actually exhausted. Though I think I may have figured out why other parents give me a wide berth, its probably associated to my telling a four-year-old that I don't care what he wants or doesn't want as he lists a litany of complaint, and retorting with a list of my own discontents while he glares at me. I've erred on the side of treating my kids like people, and as such often find myself in the position of heated debate in public places and openly saying things like "I don't much like you right now either, so we're even Stevens." Modern parenting techniques are not my bag at all. A public tantrum is an opportunity to outdo one's children in dramatic wailing and clothes rending. I can out-tantrum any five-year-old. I'm often flabbergasted at the patient, indulgent attitude newer parents have to their kids, I haven't got the requisite sweetness of temper to empathise endlessly with somebody who is fact behaving like a very small a**hole. Kinda wish I did, because it would mean I'd get fewer dirty looks from disapproving folks with "theories" about child rearing. End scene. Yoga. Well, LadyM, you are right, I positioned myself to catch the astonishing view of the Dublin mountains out the studio windows instead of looking at everybody else's kneeling clam and comparing it to mine, and it was great. I have to admit though, I kind of rocked that class and when the teacher gave me props I was a little bit like a nerdy kid, puffed with my own importance. One of the reasons I like doing yoga is that I know I'm pretty good at it, which is lame, the flipside of this attribute is that I refuse to give much time to things I don't expect to be good at, which is also lame. As Plato (my hero) said, Know thyself. Dave, what a badass you are. Sometimes people need to hear themselves as others hear them,, and you bounced your boss's crap right back on her. Best thing you could do in that situation, but not always the easiest. Confrontation is difficult and requires real social skills to pull off with such elan. Higsy, hope that tooth situation is closer to being fixed. When are you meeting with that other dentist? Miki and Debs, you busy, datey bees, hope all is well in your worlds. Rosann, I'm sorry about your weather woes. One thing I really hated about Florida was that damp heat, it was like living in an Eastern European body-builders armpit. Hoping for some respite for you soon. CC, I'm sure Sam and K-Pants would have a great time, occasionally grunting at each other over the top of devices and smirking. Today the sun shines on the emerald isle, so I am going to get some cardio in and then take my kiddie-pie to the park before big bro is unleashed on the house at noon. Love to all, Rose

Kiddoes, Will post properly after school run, am behind this morning and have to go wake up little people. Love to all, Rose

Good morning my dear pack of pickled peppers, I'm trying to fight my way through a huge plate of breakfast hash to fill my stomach enough that it really doesn't want to think about food for several hours. I'm not great at eating huge servings of food. When I went back home a couple years ago to visit a friend I had to split every meal with her because there was no way I could finish a US portion of anything. Don't get me wrong, I can fridge pick all day long and in the end will wind up eating far more from such foraging expeditions than if I had just sat down and eaten proper meals. This is just one of the endlessly useful things the whole 30 has taught me about my relationship with food. I sparrow away at things until there is nothing left and then I wonder why I feel so sluggish. Its quiet down here for a few more minutes before the littles start to rise and the teenager begins her mopey ablutions. I swear I wouldn't have thought it was possible to express gloominess through the way you brush your teeth, but she can do it, oh yes. So fun to sit next to her in the car while she Eeyores her way into the day. Tonight is my inaugural yoga class. The lady who leads the class suggested I try out the intermediate class for this week, even though I haven't had an active practice in years, so we'll see how comical my efforts to keep up turn out to be. She was all "we've had a summer break, so everyone will be reacquainting themselves with the poses". Hmm. My experience with yoga classes in the past has been that they are strangely competitive and people who regularly attend are giant massive showoffs. Also, yoga makes me squirmy and childish and I tend to want to laugh quite a bit, so its good I'm not going with a friend this time. Last time was a disaster, with the eye rolling and the suppressed giggling fits (gave me a stomach cramp- which is totally karma). I'm really hoping to just get my head in order a bit and if I make a new friend with similar interests, all the better. ALthough I find this highly unlikely, I am attempting to squelch the negative voice in my mind and keep myself open to possibilities. I find it very difficult to read these kinds of social situation, I wish it was like when we were children and you could just walk up to somebody you liked the look of and say "my name is Rose, want to be friends?", but it turns out that this is creepy in an adult. I've been watching the forging of alliances between the parents (already) at the school gates and am as always outside the melee. Perhaps I give off a loner vibe or perhaps I look grouchy or too much of a jock. Whatever it is, I have never made it inside the mommy bubble, and I've been doing this mothering thing for 16 years. On the one hand, this kind of bothers me, but on the other hand, it doesn't bother me enough. Perhaps the truth is that I think of myself as different to the other parents and they pick up on that and avoid me because they get that I am (unintentionally) judging or taking their measure. And I am. But its kinda lonely to be that much of an outlier, so maybe I should make an effort to be less of a douche. Whaddya think guys? Less douchey for Rose? Yeah, probably. So that's me done for today. Gotta go make lunches, wipe butts, dress squirming toddlers, clean up uneaten bowls of cereal and listen to dour teenage music. Hurray for today, Rose

Rosann, I would never want to stop your stream of consciousness, its my favourite part of your posts. R And PS, don't think it didn't cross my mind to take a picture of the barf stains and post it with the cute little goat pix. It totally did, so you might think that my description was TMI, but you have no idea how twisted I am, even after all we have been through together. Its dark in this here brain of mine, very very dark.

sareemaree, I would hope you would never feel excluded because you were having difficulties, surely that is precisely what this forum is for, to support and help you when you can't make the next step or catch your breath. While all of the above advice is very solid, I would also say that finding some kindness for yourself and loosening your standards where applying w30 principles is concerned is very important for people with dysfunctional eating habits and disorders. Don't make the whole 30 into a church, its just food and everybody on this forum is an individual fighting their own war and meeting their own demons. I'm so glad you are looking for a new therapist and I think that all of your stated goals are very healthy. Good for you and keep us posted on how you are doing, even when how you are doing is not what you want it to be. Secrets are the poison that feeds anorexia and when you are low, that is when you need other people most. Much love to you, Rose

I'm mid-flow with all the stuff that has to get done in the window between school dropoffs and pickups, so will wedge this one in like a triangle shape in a circular hole. I took my littles to the garden center over by my Mom's today, and they have a pet section there that happens to include goats. For your edification, I have included a couple of pictures of my littles with goats (for some reason upside down) as well as one photo of a goat attempting to escape his confinement and come home with us. He damn near got out too. Poor little sausage. Middle child is still not feeling great, but received a shot of energy from some medicine this morning and has managed to eat some toast and an apple. The kid always barfs when he is sick, I don't know what that's about but suffice to say it is more than pleasant. I have dealt with some chunky business from this boy over the years. There are entire outfits and bed sets that were not salvageable. The other dude just contents himself with filthying up everything you put on him and carrying handfuls (or bucketfuls if you are fool enough to turn your back) of soil from the garden and dumping it in the kitchen. I guess he just wants to share what he loves with me, and I feel that, but there are days I wish he loved folding laundry or bathtub scrubbing instead of crater creation. Maybe someday. Or not. My garden is doing its level best to disappoint me again. The spaghetti squash I planted (admittedly late) is all weird and covered in mildewy stuff. I'm pretty sure it caught a fungus or something while we were away. Too much rain and not enough sun. I'd be happy if I just got a couple squash out of the four vines I cultivated, but its not looking promising. The same thing happened with last year's pumpkins, they thrived for a while and then they started popping off the vine, all shrivelled up like old man (or woman, no room for misandry here) privates. Sometimes I think the garden responds like this to me because I want it too badly. If I could just give it the cold shoulder and act nonchalant; neglect it, never call when I say I'm going to, flirt with its sister; it would begin to throw out some serious moves to get my attention. This kind of behaviour always worked on me, so.... Its fall harvest time, which means Rose is on the free food prowl, picking the hedgerows bare and squirrelling away preserves for el cheapo holiday gifts (yeah, that is what people get from me at Xmas, a couple jars of rosehip jelly, some elderberry tonic, maybe some blackberry schnapps if I really like em). I'm trying to find a local foraging guide so I can snaffle some woodland mushrooms, maybe even find a truffle or two, they do grow here. Locally, I have an abundance of elderberries, rosehips, and blackberries, and my neighbour gave me a bunch of cooking apples from their tree, so its chutney and apple sauce this week. I'm such a nerd. When I was a kid my mother used to do all of these kinds of things and I thought she was absolutely bloody mental. How the worm turns. Now I am the nerdy fool buried in the hedgerow covered in scratches and purple ooze and she just laughs and laughs. As long as I don't turn into her in every way, I can handle it. Somehow as I age though, I become more of a hardline ecowarrior, with the refusal to use chemicals and the recycled everything, and this could not be more my mother. My little Arian beast just inserted half his head into a glass of juice then flung the empty vessel across the room. WTF, I am raising a despot. Gonna go have some fooling around time with the smalls before we have to get back in the car. Love to you all, Rose Nuttin.zip