Puppy Dog Tails ... er, Tales?

So this is my week.

On Sunday, I committed to an exercise program and a healthier diet. I spent three straight days following same.

On the evening of the third day, my diva developed a pre-adolescent meltdown of Mount Pinatuboian proportions. For those who don't remember Mount Pinatubo, it's a volcano in the Philippines that in 1991 exploded in what was to be the second biggest volcanic eruption of the entire 20th Century. The ash caused a global haze that gave even us east coast Americans glorious sunsets for months afterward.

Dealing with said volcanic meltdown led to one minor overindulgence in M&Ms Wednesday night (mine), followed by an even greater meltdown the next morning (hers), which meant no exercising for anyone. So I tried to exercise at night, which proved to be stupid. I pulled something.

Really, exercising does not appear to be my thing.

I took today off. My left shoulder hurts. My now sciatically challenged backside hurts. And I'm tired. Not that I'm going to let this stop me. Fitness is pain! (Right?) But I am disheartened.

So, to cheer ourselves up and put a stop to the pre-adolescent meltdowns that are interfering with the Healthy Happy Sleeping-all-night Family Plan, we adopted a dog. Because a little unconditional puppy love goes a long way toward addressing girlish insecurities. And while we did not adopt him solely to cheer up my diva, the sight of my grumpy, hurting girl laughing and smiling out loud (yes, that smile was so big, it was audible) did clinch the deal. It helped that the boys were smiling, too.

His name is Oswald. We met him today, on the first anniversary of the passing of our beloved Moose. He comes home on Sunday.

Living the Hottie Life

My San Francisco sweetie, awesome fella that he is, thinks I'm a hottie. And he tells me so, which I very much appreciate. I do, however, have mirrors in my house. And a scale. And skinny jeans that haven't fit since kid number three first made his presence felt. And while they all like me well enough - I'm a cheery gal, after all - they're a little too honest in the "hey, babe, you've let yourself go" department.

It's January, so I decided to listen. You'd think I'd listen when it's swimsuit season and I'm all exposed and everything. Not me. I decided to listen in the dead of winter, when I can hide all my rolls and flabby bits under flannel and fleece and thick wool sweaters.

I know how this works, though. It's not enough to decide a thing. You have to do it. And you have to do it right now.

So I did.

Today, I made healthier choices. I drank water. Lots of water. I ate a high-fiber, whole grain English muffin with some all-fruit spread on it for breakfast. I had plain yogurt and a pear for a snack. A baked potato with veggies and cheese for lunch. Salmon, spinach, and a bit more potato for dinner, with a half cup of blueberries for dessert. And a handful of M&Ms. Because life isn't worth living if it doesn't include chocolate.

But that's not all. I got moving. I took an actual, honest-to-goodness lunch break and exercised. Which I don't do. It's been long enough that by the end of the DVD my body was screaming at me, "Wait! Are you actually moving? Don't do that. Hey, stop that! Did you hear me? I said STOP!" And just to show me it was serious, it made me all woozy and nauseous, right at the end when I was meant to be stretching. And then it said, "I told you so."

Yeah, that was fun.

And that's when I realized I needed partners. Because there's no way I'm doing that again unless someone makes me. So I enlisted the kids. I gave them permission to wake me up (gently, mind you - I'm still not a morning person, even if they are). My oldest keeps a clock both in his head and on his wrist, so he's the Owner of the Schedule and is in charge of Waking Up Mom. Then we're all going to head down to the living room and do my little DVD workouts together. Which is a very good thing. Because today the only person in the house who can do a full push-up is my five-year-old, who was born with six-pack abs and eerie, Herculean strength. It's time to bring the rest of us in line.

After I shared this news with my kids, my oldest - I really do need to come up with blog names for these kids - said, "I know, Mom. You want to lose weight. All those New Year's resolution people want to lose weight."

But that's not it, and I told him so, very clearly. I want to be healthy. I have three little people to see into adulthood. I want to take them for hikes and bike rides and canoe trips on the Potomac. And, in 20 years or so, I want to play catch with my grandkids. If one workout - one puny little beginner's workout - can make me woozy, then I'm not going to get there.

I also want my kids to be healthy. I've been teaching them about diet, about proper nutrition and portion control. I feed them fruit and veggies and whole grains in ever increasing varieties. I pay for and drive them to sports, and I cheer my heart out when I watch them play. But I don't live that life myself.

It's high time I did. Because you don't teach by telling. You teach by showing.

I also wouldn't mind getting into a bikini again at least once before I'm 50.

Wish me luck. I had similar plans last year that were derailed by a bursitis in my hip and a change in the kids' scheduled visits with their dad. This time, though, I've got helpers. So stay tuned, and let's see if we can't make this actively sedentary family just a little bit healthier.