Hashtag Unexpected Benefits

2016-11-16_181827.jpgOur household received an early Christmas gift from a geographically distant relative; an Echo Dot from amazon. We are technophiles in this house so, though I knew I would never bother spending the money on such a frivolous thing, I was excited to have new tech toy.

It sat around for a week or so because we wanted to set it up together. Finally, after said week, we threw in the towel, realizing that our schedules would never mesh. The hubster thrust the box at me on his way to bed and told me to go ahead and get it running because “We’re never going to have the time.” While “never” is a bit of an overstatement, I’d been dying to get my hands on it. I jumped at the chance.

It took some doing to get it working but since I’m not writing this post for the purposes of a review, I’ll skip that portion. Once I got it working, it did not take me long to fall in love but again, this isn’t a review.

A little background: (Stick with me now, this is related.) My son, LM, is special needs. One of the things we have been working on with him for a few years now is using an appropriate volume indoors. He yells all. the. time. Reminding him to use his library voice works for about 10 minutes. Another manifestation is this odd quirk of being intolerant certain voices/sounds.

Back to the story …

While I was setting up the Dot, whose name is Alexa, by the way, I was careful to include skills (the programs / apps it runs are called skills)  for everyone. Animal facts for LM, Star Wars trivia for DH, a hilarious skill called A Box of Cats for the fur-girls, etc. I love this toy so much that I didn’t want to put it in a common area. I wanted to hide it in my office and go all Gollum on my family (My preeeeciousssss). Since I knew this was a distinct possibility, and not at all fair to the everyone else, this afternoon I moved it to the kitchen.

This relocation took place at the exact moment LM came home from school.

“Is that all set up?” He asked me, looking at me out of the corner of his eye and speaking with much with trepidation.

“Yeah, Bud, it’s really cool. Wanna see?”

He then began this thing he does when he doesn’t want to hear something. He started muttering a series of words under his breath that had nothing to do with each other.

“Bud,” I said to him in the matter of fact tone I use when he’s inappropriately acting out, “It won’t turn on by itself. It’s okay.”

He then began whispering, “Okay, don’t turn it on, okay?”

“Bud, seriously, it’s okay. You can speak normally. It doesn’t just turn on. You have to give it a command. Really, it’s fine.”

“I don’t like that thing. I have homework to do.” and off he went.

It’s kind of a bummer that LM doesn’t like the Dot. If he realized how much information was trapped in that low-profile disk he would love it. For now, I’ll content myself with his new-found volume.

Fitness Journal: Day 7

Prompt: Who knows about your weight loss journey? What do they think about it?

Those closest to me – The hubster and the boy, of course. My Boy. Members of my extended family. I suppose there are probably others who know about it in the sense that they understand that I’ve lost a bunch of weight. They did not know me when I was fat so I’m not sure how real it is for them.

The boy doesn’t haven’t a real understanding of what it is to lose weight and when the majority of this happened he wasn’t cognitively aware of it.

The hubster just wants me happy. If that means supporting my food plan then he’ll do that. If that means, on days like today, when all I want is chips and doughnuts, he’s the first (only) one to offer to run out and get them. Tonight’s conversation is a perfect example:
Hubster: Honey, what’s wrong?
Me: I had a really long day with my Boy.
Hubster: Was it that bad?
Me: Yes. It was that bad.
Hubster: Is there anything I can do?
Me: It’s nothing a dozen doughnuts and a big bag of chips won’t solve.
Hubster: I’ll go out and get you anything you want. Just tell me.
To which I replied with a mixture of exasperation and desperation.
Me: No! You’re supposed to say, “Honey you’ll feel better in the morning. You’ve worked too hard to throw it all away now.” That’s what you should be saying!

Looking wounded, he repeated this like an obedient parrot and this pissed me off all the more. Poor guy. It really wasn’t his anger to own. He was just trying to help. He and I have had variations on this same conversation more times than I care to count. It would be great if he could be supportive in other ways. Run me a bath. Make me laugh. Both, zero calories.

My sister knows and is sort of supportive in an I’m glad you’re happy. I wish I could do that. kind of way.

My mother insisted for a very long time that I must be dying and keeping it from her because I was “so thin”. When she finally believed the weight loss was voluntary and desirable “You aren’t going to lose any more are you? You’re just so thin.”

My Boy is my unflagging support, even when he is lovingly tormenting me with graphic descriptions of the doughnuts he is eating. He knows my triggers. He knows what to say when the doughnut monkey is on my back. I firmly believe he is the reason for my sustained loss. Most days, he is my bag of chips. On the days he isn’t, he listens to me cry when I’m convinced nothing will fix me like the junk I promised myself I wouldn’t eat. I don’t know what I would do without him.

I love you, Boy. Thank you.

We’re cracking nuts

nutcracker_pic1I sat on the couch contemplating my nutcrackers. The boy was asleep and DH was bustling around doing his nightly chores.

I sat looking at my nutcrackers, making mental notes about their similarities and differences. I came to the conclusion that nutcracking must be an exceptionally violent and/or dangerous profession. Four of the six nutcrackers I own bear a weapon of some sort. Even Santa Nutcracker carries a sword, leading me to wonder what kind of crazy- ass homes he’s delivering to.

The first, given to me as a gift, whom I call Sir Purple Pants (no explanation required), carries a polearm. Over time, it seems, violence in the nutcracker world has escalated. Two, acquired in subsequent years, carry swords. The most recent member of the collection carries an axe.

DH was passing through the living room as I wondered about Axe Man. I asked DH what might have happened in Axe Man’s life to cause him to decide that a sword just wouldn’t do. Without a moment’s hesitation DH replied, “Oh, he’s the palace guard. They bar the door with their axes.”

We went on to discuss Drummer Dude. I queried whether his family might be disappointed in his failure to adhere to the family’s weapon wielding traditions. DH said “Everyone needs a drummer. How else are they gonna have a theme song as they ride into battle?”

The greatest departure, from the seemingly war themed nutcrackers, is the fancy fellow in the tartan waistcoat. It was decided that we caught him on his night off and he is on his way to a holiday party. He’s laid aside his weapon – polearm, sword, or axe, we don’t know – to free up both hands, lest he should drop the gayly wrapped hostess gift he is balancing, somewhat gingerly, on one palm.

This. This is why you marry someone. Because they do not question you when delving into the back-stories of the inanimate objects that populate your home during the holidays. They join you in your weirdness. That’s just about the best thing ever.

What did the world ever do to me?

I woke up in an inexplicably horrible mood and it did not improve over the course of the day. I warned DH over breakfast that I was feeling foul and it would be best if both boys gave me as much space as possible. He asked why I was in this mood. I had/have no reason and I told him so. I can’t shake it. I’m vacillating between being furious at the world for no reason and wanting to have a nice long cry, again for no reason.

 

Zilch

I spent the day doing a whole lot of nothing. I spent the evening getting reacquainted with DH.

You and Your drive have been on my mind. Given the time stamp of Your voice mail it looks like the drive was significantly less than smooth. I hope I’m wrong. I hope You found entertaining diversions that delayed Your arrival.

While You were driving I spent the day in bed. I did not unpack, though that’s not unusual. I pulled out my toys to train this afternoon, thought briefly about retrieving my camera, and went back to bed instead.

 

…………………………….
Today I am grateful for: shelter
Today’s funny moment: n/a
Sad moment: school phone call
Protocol: n/a
Water: 5 liters
Corset: on hold – bruising over center of the back from the bondage belt
Hood: n/a