routines

As much as I love summer, I'm starting to love the routine of starting school again almost as much. Ella started second grade a couple of weeks ago (and looked pretty cute in her new clothes on the first day as you can see here) and comes home excited about something everyday--it might be her teacher, a project she's working on or the books she's gotten from the library. I, like most parents, am always a little nervous at the beginning of the school year, hoping she'll have friends to play with, she'll enjoy what she's learning and she'll like her teacher. So far so good.

The only thing I don't really love about the school year is packing a lunch everyday. When Ella started going to public school last year, I was thrilled that she'd be able to eat school lunch so I wouldn't have to do it anymore. When she came home after the first week reporting that she wanted to go back to packing a lunch, I didn't get it. All my memories of school lunch are pretty good--legions of hair-netted lunch ladies scurrying about, preparing a well-balanced, delicious meal for me. Well, Ava and I ate lunch with Ella last year and, right away, I completely understood the boycott. It was pretty disgusting (except for the chocolate milk). Things in the school lunch arena have definitely changed in the last 20 years. Now everything is made at a central facility and brought in. There are a couple of ladies who just take it all out of boxes and slap it onto your tray. Disappointing is all I can say. Anyway, I can clearly see that packing a lunch will be part of my motherly duties for a long time.

I have started back on some routines of my own as well. I'm back to the gym in full force, doing everything possible to get rid of this baby weight. I've given myself a deadline for achieving my goal--when my parents return from their mission to Sao Paulo, Brazil in January, I will (hopefully) be at my ideal size/weight. I'm taking it very seriously and am feeling highly motivated to make it happen this time. I've always used the excuse that I'm in the childbearing years and why should I kill myself to get in shape if I'm just going to gain 60-70 pounds everytime I get pregnant (yes, you read those numbers right)? Well, since I'm pretty sure I'm done, I no longer have that excuse and I need to just go for it. I will be giving myself some rewards as I achieve each weight-loss milestone and I've already bought some blingy designer jeans that I've hung in the front of my closet as my daily motivation. I want to wear them so badly that I literally think of them everytime I'm at the gym feeling precariously close to death. I've been trying to think of something major as my reward once I achieve my goal--so far I've come up with a Diane von Furstenberg dress or a trip somewhere. Any other ideas, send them my way. Now that I've put this all up here for the world to see, I guess I really need to do it. Crap.