Nit-pick, You Nitwit

In the comments to yesterday's post, Shobe suggested that I should have called the nit-infested child's guardian so that she could have been picked up. In retrospect, I wish I had thought of that. But since I was the afterschool dance teacher, you'd think the regular teacher would have addressed the issue earlier in the day, wouldn't you? Since this was my first encounter with such an issue and it could unfortunately come up again in the future, I was curious to know what the protocol is for our public schools.

I've been doing a bit of research and I'm stunned. First the obvious: Kids with lice cannot attend school and are welcomed back to the classroom after the lice are gone. Good to hear. I read in one place, however, that the Department of Education is very interested in minimizing the amount of instructional time missed by students with lice, so they recommend that a child diagnosed with lice during the school day be allowed to remain in class with other students until their parent can come and get them. By all means, let's keep the lice-infested kid around longer giving him/her a better chance to infect more students who will then have to miss school until they're lice-free. That's some pretty sound logic there, Department of Education. Isn't that what the nurse's office is for? A glorified waiting room where you can rest away from the other children until your mom or dad can come and get you? Honestly, does anyone even use the nurse's office for anything other than that?

Until recently, most schools had a no-nit policy which means that children with nits aren't allowed at school either. Makes sense, doesn't it? If you're trying to contain the infestation of lice, you'd want to keep both the lice and their eggs out of the schools because (now this is some advanced biology here, so read carefully) lice eggs develop into lice. Well schools are no longer advocating a no-nit policy stating that "there is no scientific basis to confirm the effectiveness of such programs." Our schools don't have a no-nit policy so sadly I don't think I could have sent my student home.

However unscientific a no-nit policy may be, it makes sense to me. I might have to start some no-nit crusade once Una starts kindergarten. I don't want lice and/or nits around because a. they're gross, and b. I'm lazy. Recommendations I found online for getting rid of lice include these: "Comb through hair using a fine-tooth lice comb and/or two fingers sliding the nits off of the hair shaft ("nit-picking"), until all or most lice and nits are gone. This can take 1-8 hours according to one shampoo manufacturer! Complete nit removal is time-consuming but is critical for successful treatment. Sometimes a haircut can help speed up the process."

Have you seen this gorgeous hair?
Do you think de-lousing those tresses would be on the 1 hour end of the scale or the 8 hour end of the scale? I'm guessing 8. And for the record, I'm not eager to cut it off just because some kid was allowed to come to school sporting lice eggs as a hair accessory. His/her nitwit of a parent should have nit-picked his/her hair before sending their kid back to school, nits intact.

Oh, and as of now, I'm no longer going to use the phrase "nit-picking," "nit-pick," or "nit-picky" in everyday vernacular. I didn't realize its origins and now that I know, I'm more than a little grossed out.

Workout update: I did workout this morning. It was not pleasant. 35 minutes into it I had a sneezing fit, but I persevered. Because of my congestion I could feel and hear the fluid in my ear canal thumping each time my feet did a revolution on the elliptical. Unless there are some serious changes in my health status tomorrow, I'm not going to subject myself to that again. I'll take the advice of Amydear who wrote in Sunday's comments that I should let my body feel better. First Shobe, then Amydear. As you can see, I take comments seriously.

Have a Lice Day

I got another call this afternoon from my boss asking for (you guessed it) a last minute sub. This time it was for an after school dance class that I've taught before so it required no prep time whatsoever. I just needed to be at the school when classes ended for the day and dance with the kids for 45 minutes. Since I'm the world's best employee I said yes. I really need to learn how to say no.

Things were going well until about 5 minutes into class when I was doing a brief introduction exercise with the elementary school age girls. When asked what she did over the weekend, one of the girls (I'll call her Lacey) said "well we were going to go to our cousin's house but we found some nits in my hair (as in head lice eggs) and so then we couldn't go." Grateful to be sitting across the room from her, I asked the obvious "if you found some nits, then why are you at school?" I then thought (but did not repeat out loud), "If your relatives, who ostensibly love you, don't want you around them when you're nit infested, you can bet this stranger is not happy to be in the same room with you for the afternoon." Lacey then said something about how the nits hadn't seemed to change over the course of 4 hours, so it was OK to be there. Her attempt at reassurance didn't soothe me at all. I was grateful Una, with her golden locks that I'm sure any louse would be pleased to call home, was not with us. I managed to keep my person and Duet away from Lacey for the remainder of the class. Now I'm focusing my energies on asking Santa to keep us lice-free this holiday season. Does Santa answer requests like that?

They do not pay me enough to put up with this crap.

P.S. I'm so congested today I can barely breathe through my nose. I put the workout on hold for today but I'm hoping I can breathe well enough to do it tomorrow. I did manage to deliver some Christmas treats to my boss and co-workers. Some might call that ass kissing. I call that service.

I Suck. Now Wish Me Luck.

Well, if you've been checking out my stats in the sidebar (see "How Well is Mary Poppins Progressing?") this week, you may notice that for the first time since I started this blog I have failed to meet my workout goal. I'm disappointed, but I'm not going to beat myself up over it. It's been a hectic week with Bert gone, Duet sick, Duet getting me and Una sick, etc, etc, etc. The truth is, I could make excuses all day, but that doesn't change the fact that I didn't do it.

When I make it a priority, it happens. I've certainly found that to be the case for everything in life. Overnight I went from someone who never exercised to someone who exercised for 40 minutes at least 4 times a week. Nothing changed except for my priorities. Once I decided that it was important to work out, I made it fit into my schedule. Suddenly I was willing to work out in the morning, the afternoon, or the evening depending on my schedule. I was flexible and I made it happen, Cap'n. This last week I let other things get in the way.

I am going to try harder this week to complete my workout goal. I'm also sticking with the service, because it's been fun to spread Christmas love. In the same week can I be both a jolly service-rendering bringer of Christmas cheer and a hard-core cardio workout enthusiast? We shall see. No, I'm going to be more optimistic than that. I'll embrace the slogan we didn't get to hear enough of this year; yes we can. Or more accurately; yes I can. Wish me luck.

Mary Poppins Succumbs to Temptation

Doesn't that sound dramatic? Continue reading and witness the drama unfold.

They say that "idle hands are the devil's workshop." And by "they" I mean religious people over 70 and my friend MMG. Although MMG is far from 70, she is quite religious (I kid you not, she attends mass every weekday) and she behaves just like a little old lady. It's what makes me love her so. I say this not in jest, but as fact. She quilts, finds old men irresistible, will be voting for McCain in the election, wears button-up cardigans that match her grandmother's, considers attending high tea the epitome of an afternoon out, refuses to drive anywhere, instead preferring to take the bus or to wait for her husband to chauffeur her around, and constantly utters innocent remarks which come across as dirty double entendres to those of us who are less-innocent. It's all part of her charm. She is charming. Adorably so. And although I've never heard her actually say "idle hands are the devil's workshop" it would not surprise me to hear those words cross her lips (right after holding up her half-eaten lobster--tail and claws devoured, body intact--at a company picnic and offering, "Does anyone want my body?" True story).
The devil's workshop revisited: In my case while working out it's an idle mouth I fear, not idle hands. I have been talking on my cell phone to others while working out (see Wednesday's post "a spoonful of sugar" for further explanation), but yesterday I encountered a few problems: 1. I needed to workout before 9:00pm in order to watch the presidential debate (I'm a huge nerd, I know); 2. We don't get free minutes until 9:00pm (we have the world's cheapest plan which means the world's fewest minutes per month); and 3. I therefore could not use my cell phone as a distraction while working out. Let me tell you, 40 minutes on the elliptical seems awfully long when you've got nothing to do. Did I mention that we don't have cable TV and even if we did we only own one TV and it's not in the basement which houses the elliptical machine? Did I also mention that instead of a book or magazine stand on my elliptical there's a fan? And I can assure you that it's not easy to hold reading material in your hands while using the elliptical. Trust me, I tried it, and I nearly fell off of the machine. The cell phone is the perfect distraction, folks and it was not an option for me last night.
So, as I'm on the elliptical machine last night with nothing to do, I notice that there is a box of Trader Joe's chocolate peanut butter cups in my eye line. I tried to ignore them, but there was nothing to do but stare at them. I foolishly hadn't eaten dinner before my workout so my stomach was gnawing at me and the peanut butter cups were looking better and better. The rest is history. The good news is that after retrieving a fist-full of the peanut butter cups (did I mention they were miniature-sized? That makes them practically calorie-free), I did climb back onto the elliptical to eat my goods. It reminded me of the times I would drink a glass a milk while nursing my infant daughter. Nothing like maintaining a constant equilibrium of input and output. Calories in the former scenario, milk in the latter.

And now, for the workout wrap-up: Fri? and Sat? Done! and Done! That makes a grand total of 4, folks. Four 40-minute workouts, as promised. Mission accomplished. That means it's time to turn my attention one of my many other vices. Tune in tomorrow when I break it down Mary Poppins-style and declare war on vice no. 2.

Finally, if you're not familiar with "Sometimes Life Is Funny," the Nie Nie fundraiser blog book, then you should go here (navel gazing at its finest: The Blog Book) and read all about it. You have until Tuesday if you want to submit something. You have until I give you further information to actually purchase the book filled with witty observations, commentary, and anecdotes, no doubt.

Make it happen, Cap'n!

Something's been brewing for months--months I tell you--and tonight is the night that it's finally going to happen. I'm titillated beyond belief and the anticipation is just about killing me. Earlier this week there were signs that the plans might fall through for tonight and I was faced with bitter disappointment. Crushed like a girl who didn't get a date for the prom (and I know from firsthand experience what that feels like). For a few days there, I had resigned myself to just make other plans for Friday night and hope that things would work out better in the future. It's been one emotional roller coaster ride, I tell you. The ups and downs were almost too much to take. Thankfully this afternoon while I obsessively checked the Internet scanning for news about tonight's function I came across this ray of sunshine:
McCain Decides to Participate in Debate
The source? Totally legitimate. The New York Times. The presidential debate is on.
Do you hear that? It's the sound of me letting out an audible sigh of relief. You know where I'll be from 9:00-10:30 tonight. Sitting on either my hand-me-down couch or my broken Ikea Poang chair staring at the fuzzy TV screen (we like to kick it old school here at the Poppins household and use an antenna) only getting up to use the bathroom (this is inevitable since I've given birth to two children). I might even make some popcorn to honor the special occasion. This is no ordinary Friday night. In retrospect, my excitement over things like the presidential debate probably explains the prom date situation.

What does this have to do with my Friday workout? I usually workout after 9:00pm when I get free cell phone minutes (if that last sentence doesn't make any sense to you, read my post from Wednesday titled "a spoonful of sugar"). Without my cell phone, it may not be an entertaining 40 minutes on the elliptical, but I'm going to have to (in the words of Darryl from The Office) "Make it happen, Cap'n." It's a change I'm willing to make today in order to watch the presidential debates. A change I can believe in.

A spoonful of sugar

And you know the rest. The medicine in this scenario is working out (I don't enjoy it--yet), and the sugar? My cell phone. I don't have tivo, or even TV for that matter. Since I can't workout while watching 30 Rock and The Office (both shows receive 2 thumbs up from Mary Poppins), I entertain myself by chatting with friends and family (never strangers) while working out. There are some obvious benefits to this, the multi-tasking, killing-two-birds-with-one-stone aspect being chief among them. It makes the time pass quickly and I get to feel like I'm actually being productive while on the phone. Normally I lie on the couch, sometimes I mix it up and lie on my bed. Almost never am I actually doing dishes or picking up toys or scrubbing the toilet or something like that. So if you're one of those people who is grossed out by the thought of someone cleaning the toilet while talking to you, rest assured--I've never put you through that. I may have used the toilet while talking to you, but I always turn on the water first so you think I'm doing the dishes or washing my hands--not urinating.
So you may ask, "what's there not to love when it comes to working out/catching up on phone calls" system? Unfortunately my research has uncovered one major drawback to this method: there's a lot of heavy breathing on my end of the phone and in some circles, I could be mistaken for "Monique" or "Candy" from some 900 number. I suggest that while elevating your heartrate through cardio, you use this time to call siblings or old friends (and by old I mean "long time friends," not the elderly. Those who are hard of hearing might not be your best conversation partner in this situation). This would not be a good time to conduct business phone calls, contact an ecclesiastical leader from your church, reconnect with your ex-boyfriend, or set up a play date with the single dad who you sometimes meet at the park with the kids. In short, choosing an understanding audience (one who won't misread your tone) is key.
And the best part? When I'm panting, the person on the other end of the phone knows with assurity that my feet are firmly planted on the elliptical pedals and not occupying the spot in front of the toilet.
And now for the workout recap:
Monday (Bert's bday)--no
Tues (my bday)--no
Wed--a resounding YES
So, we got off to a bad start. What can I say? I was too busy celebrating (i.e. eating). But the goal was 4 times this week. Admittedly that puts a lot of pressure on Thurs, Fri, and Sat, but I'm confident the latter part of the week has got my back on this one and we'll hit it out of the park.

On second thought....

A couple of things happened today that forced me to reevaluate my workout goal for the week.

This morning I found Bert finishing up some laundry. He pulled some jeans out of the drier and proceeded to put them on. I think you probably know where I'm going with this. Witness:

Note to self: when Bert thinks your jeans are his, you've got a problem. When he can put them on (no, he couldn't zip them, but still they're on his body), you've got a big problem.

Unfortunately, that's not my only problem. Witness:

This may look like an ordinary birthday cake, but I can assure you, it is a heart attack waiting to happen. So my friend recommended this coconut cake recipe, and since Bert loves coconut I figured I'd for once play the doting wife part and make it for his birthday. Running late, as usual, I didn't even look at the recipe before I headed off to the store. Using the recipe as a shopping list, I proceeded to gather the ingredients for the cake, filling, and frosting (yes, that's right--3 separate recipes for one cake). Want to know what's in this bad boy? Along with the regular cake ingredients (flour, salt, baking powder, vanilla, etc) when you eat this you'll consume 3 pounds of butter, 6 and 1/2 cups of heavy whipping cream, 11 cups of coconut, 9 cups of sugar and (you protein people out there will be pleased to hear this figure) 6 eggs. The message this cake seems to be sending is: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BERT! (I'm slowly trying to kill you).

Stepping up my cardio is definitely in order this week and 4 is going to be the magic number. I'll now be doing 4 40-minute sessions. My heart (and my jeans) will thank me.

Week one: Mary Poppins 4, Ellipical 0

I realize it's a bit premature to don a flight suit and start traipsing around an aircraft carrier in front of a sign that says "Mission Accomplished," but I'm feeling pretty good about how things went last week. Turns out, I like the sweet taste of success. If I want to keep tasting that success, however, I need to be realistic about what of sort of mission I can actually accomplish this week. Currently we have 2 sick people in the Poppins household, birthdays that must be celebrated on Monday and Tuesday, and a crazier than usual work schedule. I am determined to overcome what could be the perfect storm for derailing my workout plans. So in the spirit of keeping it simple and doable, I'm committing to continue with my previous plan to complete four 30-minute workout sessions this week. Only after a repeat performance of last week's success will I declare "Mission Accomplished."

A Tale of Two Berts

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. A whole day off can only be described as the best of times. The worst of times part comes from the fact that I was unable to get in my 30 minutes on the elliptical. I faltered. But, my goal was to get in 4 sessions this week, and I've done 3 to date. Now, I've done the math and although it's pretty advanced (probably college level algebra), if I workout today I'll be on target to succeed. I'd best be off. But first I'll recap yesterday's highlights.
I can assure you that my holiday was indeed jolly. While my Bert took care of our charges, I ate lunch at a sidewalk cafe and read from "Pride and Prejudice" (I don't know when I had a more relaxed lunch), got a massage from Bert the massage therapist, and went shopping. I thought I hated shopping. In reality, I just hate shopping when I'm broke and accompanied by an 18 month old and a 4 year old. It's fun when I have birthday money in the bank, my hands free to handle merchandise instead of doling out cheerios to a hungry toddler, and my mind free to wander instead of delicately trying to answer my daughter's shopping-induced questions, like "why can't I have a treat?"(when passing EACH and EVERY place that sells food), "when will I get breasts? (while walking past the Victoria's Secret storefront), and "why are there little grown ups?" (while pointing to the little person across the room) . Thanks to my friends A and K who gave me a gift card to the Gap for my birthday, I brought home these jeans (sorry gals, I had to get them right away because I needed them to wear with my new boots).

Admittedly, this isn't the best picture. I had to use the timer and please don't be fooled by this catwalk-like pose that I'm striking. In reality, I'm on the phone with my dad. But regardless of how it looks here, in this little number I feel as hot as those Swedes I saw parading around Stockholm last winter wearing skinny pants tucked into their high boots. Whether I actually look as hot as they did, is another thing altogether. Who am I kidding? I can't compete with those Swedish beauties (look at the ABBA women!). But I can at least hold my head high knowing that I enjoy more daylight hours during the winter months than they do (I was thinking really hard of something that I have that would make Swedes jealous, and that was the best I could come up with).
When I came home the kids were in bed and my Bert and I were happy to see each other. Some things I missed out on while I was away:
My 4 year old insisted on wearing an eye patch all day long (at home and in public) in honor of Talk Like a Pirate Day (9/19). Instead of wearing it in the traditional fashion, she placed in on her forehead as if to cover an unsightly third eye.
My 18 month old repeatedly said the word "sock" (at home and in public) which sounds suspiciously like a certain 4-letter word also ending in "ck."
And to welcome me home, this morning my 18 month old woke up at 5:00. It's good to be back.

"Breaking it down Mary Poppins-style"

For those of you long time readers, you may remember that two days ago I coined the phrase "breaking it down Mary Poppins-style." At the time I freely admitted that I didn't know the meaning of that phrase; but I have enjoyed writing it, reading it, and conjecturing the meaning of it with Mrs. Furious in the comments section. What? You're not reading the comments?!?! Check them out for even more Mary Poppins (and I might add, Mrs. F) entertainment.

Back to the phrase. I'm enjoying it and have decided I'll continue to use it but in order to do so, I must first define it.

Breaking it down Mary Poppins-style: The act of clearly and directly expressing 1. wisdom, 2. a sentiment or idea (usually positive in nature), 3. an astute observation. Often used as a precursor to an important declaration.

Admittedly, it's a working definition. Let's open this up wikipedia-style. Now's your chance to make Mary Poppins history. Comment below to contribute to the definition. What does "Breaking it down Mary Poppins-style" mean to you?

And for the big question (I know you're in suspense) : did I continue my workout trend (a trend that up to this point has only lasted one day)? Let me just say this: last night the 10:00 hour found me cruising along on the elliptical for 30 minutes wearing that giant blue sports bra (you know the one; if you don't read the post--and comments--below), blue (but not "giant sports bra blue") athletic shorts, black socks and running shoes (I had worn the socks all day because I was wearing black shoes yesterday. Let me tell you, black socks go with black shoes, but not so well with running shoes). I was hot. Enjoy that mental image. My gift to you is that I did not place an actual photographic image of that scene on the blog. A picture is worth a thousand words, but sometimes you're content with fewer than a thousand. Far fewer.

Extreme Makeover: Fitness Equipment Edition

First off, Mrs. Furious: Thanks for putting me on the map! What can I say about you that hasn't been said before? Of course everyone already knows how spectacular you are. When it comes to describing me, I'll modestly state that you're good at exaggerating. If only my credentials were in reality as impressive as you expressed them. Note to self, next time I'm applying for some goverment job where they delve deeply into my past, you'll be at the top of my reference list. Perhaps I'll now fill out that CIA application I've been meaning to get to...

Now for our daily update...Yesterday you got to see the before picture:

Today, with the big reveal, you get to witness the after photo:

Ta da! Doesn't this fitness equipment look soooooooo much better? After I performed a few minor procedures on her, she is ready to face the world and fulfill her destiny, her noble intended use. Sure I had to extricate her from a giant blue sports bra so that her lower half would be usable. Fixing her rickety water bottle holder required the use of actual tools. Tools, folks! Talk about putting forth some major effort. That's not all. I also had to take a special trip to the store (with two kids in tow) to buy 4 D batteries (who has those just lying around their house?) so that the flashing low battery indicator would cease its annoying (for lack of a better word) flashing. Let's not lie about it, at times the whole transformation got messy, but this is the price one pays for beauty. And wouldn't you agree that this machine is now a beauty? The best part is, with all of these improvements to her appearance, this fitness equipment is now in excellent working condition.

Which brings me to the big qustion: So, did I do it? You know, the 30 minutes of cardio I fervently declared I would complete on this finely crafted fitness machine? Oui (see you Mrs. F fans, she wasn't lying. I really do speak french. That proves it).

And the Winner is...

I think it's about time that I reclaimed the elliptical machine. Please pardon this picture; it is such a cliche. Honestly, I could be the poster child for some "Americans are so lazy" campaign. I did manage to get in one great workout last Thurs (burned 500 calories, according to the elliptical's screen), but that was only because I was on the phone with Mrs. Furious the entire time and I wasn't bored out of my mind chugging along on the machine. That was also 5 days ago, folks. I should be doing better than this. But, rather than beating myself up over it, in the spirit of this blog I'm accepting that there's room for improvement and overcoming my urge to be physically inactive.
I see two options:
1. Enlist friends to chat with me on the phone or better yet, visit with me in person in my dingy, cluttered basement each time I workout (come on, you'd love to volunteer for this job, wouldn't you?); or
2. Suck it up and get that flat butt of mine on the elliptical machine (you read that right folks, I didn't say f-a-t butt, I did indeed say f-l-a-t butt. My butt is, and always has been, abnormally flat).
There's actually a third option:
3. Not change my current situation, but I'm knocking on 30's door and rumor has it, your metabolism starts to slow down at some point.
So, I'm breaking it down Mary Poppins-style (I don't even know what that means, I just had fun writing that phrase). The goal here is to increase my cardio activity so that I can be healthier. Right here and now I'm committing to do 4 workout sessions on the elliptical per week. Since I'm a cardio novice, if you will, I'm starting out with 30 min per workout session. Starting now. Ready, set, go! And I'm off... right after I stop by the freezer to eat a bite of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food. Light ice cream, folks. That means it's practically health food.