bearing blog


bear – ing n 1  the manner in which one comports oneself;  2  the act, power, or time of bringing forth offspring or fruit; 3 a machine part in which another part turns [a journal ~];  pl comprehension of one’s position, environment, or situation;   5  the act of moving while supporting the weight of something [the ~ of the cross].


  • Tipping point?

    Productivity web-guru Merlin Mann recently explained  on 43folders how he's gone out of the business of providing "productivity tips" and into the business of hard — as in challenging — advice.   The article is called "Real Advice Hurts," and it couldn't have come at a better time for me.

    Today, the web is littered with sites pumping out a high volume of advice on every conceivable topic. And a lot of the pathological patrons of these sites will tell you that a daily surfeit of snack-sized information helps them with what they really need in order to be successful and happy in life — to be better at their job or to be a well-rounded person or to become a more talented programmer.


    I don’t doubt for a moment that the right tip at the right time can make all the difference in the world. And I have certainly been both a (reformed) producer as well as an ardent consumer of “tips,” by any definition of the word. But, here’s the problem:


    In more instances than we want to admit, tips not only won’t (and can’t) help us to improve; they will actively get in the way of fundamental improvement by obscuring the advice we need with the advice that we enjoy. And, the advice that’s easy to take is so rarely the advice that could really make a difference.


    The whole article is worth reading.  Please go read it and come back.

    Operating definition of a "tip" or "trick:" A suggestion for a new behavior, a new gadget, or a new mindset, that is relatively easy to try out and that gives results that are immediate, helpful, and — essentially — small.   Used in the context of a winning (and therefore probably challenging) strategy, a "tip" might help you solve a sub-problem that's cropped up along the way.  It's not how you win the game; it's one good play.

    Here are some examples of very good tips:

    • If you want to eat less at meals in order to lose weight, it helps to buy smaller dinner plates.
    • If you want to take your temperature at the same time every morning for effective use of the sympto-thermal method, it's a good idea to use a clock with two alarms.  Set the first one for the same early time every morning for your temperature, and the second alarm for whatever (variable) time you want to get up.
    • If you want to "get something" out of the sermon or liturgy at church, but you never get to pay attention to them because you're always taking care of small children, try praying that you will hear just ONE word or phrase that you can really chew on and that will teach you something that day.  (Thanks Jen at Conversion Diary) 

     All are great tips.  But they're only going to work in the right context.  Buying smaller dinner plates is only going to help you eat less if you're already committed to trying to eat less, but you tend to eat a large plateful at meals.  A dual alarm clock will only help you get consistent temperatures if you WANT to take your temperature at the same time every day, but a difficulty is that you tend to get out of bed at irregular times.   Taking home from church a single word or phrase to ponder, if that's what you can manage, will be food for your soul; but first you have to care enough to want to pay attention when you get a chance.

    Any "tip" can be defeated if you don't really want to do the hard work.  If you don't really want to use your small plates to help you eat less, you'll just pile your food higher (maybe you'll make more pizza, which stacks impressively).  If you don't really believe that taking your temperature at the same time every morning is necessary — heck, I don't bother with it anymore —  you'll just hit "snooze" on your fancy alarm clock.  If you don't really care about hearing something significant in church, you'll just grab the first phrase that filters through the kid-distraction and then immediately forget it.

    Everybody loves tips.  I love tips.  They're fun.  They make big promises.  There is nothing wrong with reading them for entertainment and there is nothing wrong with trying them out.  But they can't solve your problems for you — you have to do that yourself.  If you want tips to really work for you, I guess you have to figure out the answer to What would really solve this problem?  and be choosy — don't go chasing tips that don't help get you there.  

    If you like, you could try an alternative formulation that Mark likes to use, one of his engineering superpowers.  He says:  Imagine it's [some time] later, and I have solved this problem.  How did I solve it?  

    Chances are the answer will not fit in two lines on a magazine cover.

  • Shiner.

    Mary Jane reared back her head and clocked Mark in the eye with it on Saturday, while I was out and about.  I came home to this:

    Photo 58

    It looks even worse now.  He's going to have a fun time at work today, isn't he?

  • Manolo on graduate school.

    Manolo says:

    It is the little known fact that graduate students are among the most miserable peoples in the world.


    Yes, the first year begins in high spirits, but then gradually, inch by inch, the lonely misanthropic gloom settles in, brought on by the low pay, the low status, the low self-esteem, and above all the low muffled beating of the unfinished dissertation, which, like the tell-tale heart, lies insistently beneath the floorboards of the mind.


    I remember the low, muffled beating.  Or was it beatings?  Ah, what's the difference.


    On a related note, I always felt, while in grad school, that most of the other people I knew could have used this etiquette lesson.


  • New cravings.

    Something has happened to me:  something I've only heard about, something I never thought could possibly be real, something I never believed in.

    It took a good full year, but I guess some turning point has been reached.

    I am finding myself looking forward to — no, wanting — no, craving — my next chance to go to the gym and swim or even run.  I think about it the way I think about the next chance I have to go by myself to sit in a coffee shop for an hour or two and read a book or catch up on email.  I cannot wait to exercise.

    No way!

    Way.

    I knew, sort of, that I didn't hate exercise any more.  But it still took me by surprise when I realized that for the last couple of weeks, every single day, at some point, I've thought to myself, "I can't wait to get to the gym."  I get this sort of prickly feeling all over my scalp, and as I'm rubbing my head I can almost feel how good it would be to dive into the pool, to let the water, warm for winter, close over head, shoulders, knees, toes.  I get this restless sensation in my limbs and as I stretch I think how great it would be to get on the treadmill and just start running.

     Something, something new, makes me wake up on Mondays/Thursdays/Saturdays, happy because I get to go to the gym today; makes me wake up on other days a little bit disappointed because it's not my day to go. 

    What was it?  What made this happen?  Was it the switch, recently, from two workouts a week to "two or three?"

    Or did it finally sink through my thick skull that, even though the physical sensations of running or of swimming hard aren't exactly comfy… each workout is forty minutes or an hour that I have chosen, forty minutes or an hour of quiet inside my own head.  Something I have always thrived on and craved, the chance to focus and to think clearly. 

     For years, exercise was something that I expected would take me away from that, take my time away from me.  But now, in my busy life as a mother, homeschooler, wife, homemaker: exercise (now that I've set it up to be this way, and thanks to my husband and the wonderful staff at the Twin Cities YMCA) is time reclaimed. 

     Sometimes it's a genuine break.

    I can't believe that it never occurred to me before that taking time to exercise might feel like a break, but there you go, it does now.  And I'm beginning to wish I could have that break every single day.

  • “Yet another reason to wear the babies.”

    Said Christy P, who sent me a link to this CNN.com story with the note, "It's kind of a 'duh' finding, but now someone has studied it."

    Study:  Away-facing strollers stress babies

    The research found that children not facing the person pushing them were significantly less likely to talk, laugh and interact with their parents.

    Based on a study of 2,722 parents and children, the study by Dundee University's School of Psychology calls into question the designs of many of the world's most popular baby strollers.

    "Our experimental study showed that, simply by turning the buggy around, parents' rate of talking to their baby doubled," said developmental psychologist Suzanne Zeedyk, who led the research.

    …"Our data suggests that for many babies today, life in a buggy is emotionally impoverished and possibly stressful," Zeedyk said.

    The study found that 62 percent of all children observed traveled in forward-facing prams. For children between the ages of one and two, the figure was 86 percent.

    I don't own a stroller.  I do talk to my babies constantly while out and about — sort of an extension of my habit of muttering to myself — which frequently startles bystanders.  Can't count how often someone's jumped and commented, "Oh, I thought you were talking to me!  But you were really talking to that little baby!"

    As if she was a real person.  Yeah.


  • Fashonista?

    This was a comment on another post, but I decided it deserved its own space.


    I'm in the position of having to replace my entire wardrobe, more or less. I've kept up with my casual wear (jeans and knit tops) and my performance wear (swimsuits, ski pants) and my Minnesota-winter essentials (wool sweaters, hats, wool stockings, long underwear, fleece) but not really my "lookin'-good" clothes.

    I'm thinking maybe I should be more forward-thinking about it, make a list of "essentials" and take the time to carefully choose well-made, coordinated pieces, a few at a time as our budget allows.

    I think my personal "essentials" list (based on what I had in my closet before I lost the weight) is as follows:

    BOTTOMS
    – black trousers + slim skirt + fitted jacket = one suit
    – charcoal trousers
    – flat-front dressy khakis
    – jeans (already have)
    – long and short floral-print skirts (already have)

    TOPS
    – black turtleneck
    – crewneck sweater + cardigan = one twinset
    – white button down
    – pinstripe button down (already have)

    – black tee shirts (already have)

    – new-looking (i.e., cheap and frequently replaced) white tee shirts 
    – pretty silk blouse
    – "very me" sweater
    – sparkly top (already have)

    DRESS
    – versatile black dress 
    – comfy knit dress

    ACCESSORIES
    – bright scarf (okay, I never had one, but I want one)
    The Leather Coat (same thing there)


    I know the suit seems silly for an at-home mom to have, but I had a "good black suit" (bought for interviews and presentations in grad school) before, and I can tell you that the individual pieces of a good black suit are incredibly versatile.  It just makes sense to buy those three pieces as part of a set that works together.  Maybe that'll be the first thing I set out to buy after the after-Christmas sale.

    I'd leave shoes out of it, but I could probably use a pair of classic black pumps and a pair of metallic flats.  My Dr. Martens go with practically everything, otherwise.  Oh, and everybody says you should have a "great bag," I guess; someday maybe I'll feel worthy of a real, well-made leather bag, but I'm pretty happy with my assortment of canvas totes plus my one little black purse for dressing up.


  • One more thing about not beating myself up over treats.

    I alluded some time ago to having lapsed in and out of bulimia in the past.  

    This is one reason it's really, really, really important for me not to get into a headspace where I eat something and immediately afterwards feel that I should not have eaten it.  I know where that leads if it happens often enough.  You could call that headspace a "near occasion of sin."

    ….In the long term, this is why  I must regard no food as off-limits or "bad;"  

    …in the medium term, this is why I must accept that I can and will, at times, choose to eat a larger-than-usual meal, and that I can and will eat a smaller-than-normal meal next time;

    …in the short term, this is why  I must stop eating before I get so full that I have an ongoing physical sensation reminding me that I just ate a big meal and it's still in my stomach.

    Avoiding guilt-over-food, both by reducing the guilt and by reducing the food, is not just a feel-good thing nor a weight-loss strategy.  For me it is, shall we say, medically necessary.

  • Less really is more, where I live now.

    A topic I've been meaning to post on surfaced this morning in my combox.   Margaret (of the doctor's orders to stick to a low-carb diet) commented on my last post that she  chose to have a Double Stuf mint Oreo cookie last night:

    I don't think anything has ever tasted so good.

    Great!  So, it was… a treat, right?
    One of the markers, I think, of having settled on a workable, sustainable way of eating:  I can enjoy real luxuries, indulgences, without ever feeling like I'm cheating or giving in to my weakness or failing.  Some mornings-after, I step on the scale with a morbid curiosity, true, but I don't beat myself up over it.
    Why?  Because my treats, luxuries, indulgences, are smaller now, and on the whole, made of better stuff.
    Remember, I spent months carefully planning my days' meals to stay within a narrow range of calories. I became aware of the "cost" of every slice of bread or spoonful of yogurt.  I had to accept that it wasn't enough to give up "extras" like sweets, or to skip buttering my toast;  I had to change "1 cup of plain yogurt" to "0.5 cup of plain yogurt" and "3/4 cup baked butternut squash" to "1/4 cup baked butternut squash" and "2 ounces turkey breast" to "1 ounce turkey breast."  I had been eating too much healthful food, readers.   One of the things I had to cut way back was bread, not to be low-carb, but because bread has a lot of calories per bite.
    After a while…  a half-piece of whole-wheat toast with butter next to my boiled egg became a rare pleasure to savor.  
    Once upon a time, two pieces of buttered toast were nothing special at all; but now… one-half, or one, piece of toast with breakfast is just incredibly good and satisfying.  
    I mentioned that I nibbled on the kids' frosted shredded mini-wheat last night.   I had maybe a dozen pieces, but I felt like I'd eaten A LOT.  Not in an  I'm-so-weak-willed I-can't-believe-I-ate-that-much way, but in an I-got-enough-to-be-satisfied way.  I'm aware I can't have a bowlful of frosted cereal every night.  I'm aware I enjoyed a treat.  Once I might have had two bowls of cereal with milk and not really noticed.  These days, a few bites of cereal is something I notice, and enjoy.
    On Thanksgiving my sister-in-law brought (for 6 adults and 3 children) one triple-layer red velvet ice cream cake and one HUGE frozen-pumpkin-custard pie, slumping under its load of walnuts and caramel sauce. The cake, which must have weighed two pounds, was pre-scored into six pieces.  I cut my own slice, one finger wide, leaving part of it in the pan.  "That's not a piece!" scoffed my SIL, and I said, "It is for me."  I had a similarly small scoop of the custard pie.  (I raved extra-loudly, but honestly, about how good they were, hoping to make up for the offense of having served myself only a little!)  And I ate them slowly, with my coffee, and enjoyed every bite, especially the walnut-caramel topping, and felt like I'd had A LOT of dessert.
    What about really overeating?  Totally pigging out?  That looks different too. 
    • Overeating is one whole sandwich instead of a half. 
    • Overeating is a second helping of the main course at dinner, and feeling uncomfortably stuffed.
    • Overeating is a whole OUNCE of dark chocolate, over the course of a day.  Did that a couple of days ago.  Can't do that all the time.
    • Overeating is ten or twelve gumdrops.  That's "boy, I ate too much candy, I couldn't help myself with the candy dish just sitting out like that." 
    • Overeating is "I had some chips and salsa, and I didn't pay attention to how many chips it was… might have been 20 chips."  
    Whereas overeating used to be a whole bag of gumdrops, or half a bag of chips, or TWO sandwiches, or a big slab of cheese between two slices of bread any time I felt like it, or two burritos from Taco Bell's drive through, or an entire salt bagel (three hundred twenty calories!), or four full plates of dinner.
    It took time to get here, but it's absolutely true:  I enjoy eating more than I did when I ate to support 48 extra pounds.  I am paying attention.  
    One cookie  doesn't have to be "poor me I wanted to have six but I can't" and it doesn't have to be "weak stupid me I gave in and ate something bad."  It can be… one cookie.  One cookie is a lovely thing.

  • Now what?

    So I got over the stomach bug, and my appetite came back for the first time today, and I found myself wondering:  What should I eat?

    There really aren't any "shoulds," I guess.  I'm in maintenance for  the first time ever.  I have a little weight chart that I'm watching.  I go back "on a diet" if the chart goes up too high.  And I'm expecting I might overdo it and have to make a correction.  But for now, I guess… no rules.

    Weird.

    I ate a normal breakfast, scrambled eggs with carrot and onion, and found my stomach growling with hunger about 9 AM.  I started to think to myself, Only an hour and a half till snack time, and then it occurred to me:  I'm hungry.  I guess… I could eat.   Now. 

    Oooookayyyy… so I had some peanut butter toast, and then I was fine till lunch.  

    At bedtime the kids ate Frosted Mini Wheats and I nibbled on them.  Broke a rule!  I said I'd given up bedtime snacks for good, and then there they were, little sugar-frosted whole-wheat bite-size tempters.  Didn't.  Even.  Count.  Them.

    I suppose I am wondering how much I can get away with.

    Supposedly, I know how to correct it if it goes wrong.

    It's all still really new.  

  • Self awareness.

    Here is a thesis that occurred to me over the weekend as I mused about success and failure, about weakness and willpower, about competing selves:

    Could it be that… once you KNOW what you should do…   moral behavior, or "good" behavior, or "healthy" behavior (take your pick) is nothing more than the setting-up of the right incentive structures for oneself? 

     Figuring out what situations, or habits, give you strong incentives to succeed and strong disincentives to fail, and staying in the success-producing ones as much as you can; creating and modifying the incentives in the pre-existing arenas where your life's story unfolds; stepping back one level and creating meta-incentives to lure your self into the places where you feel the power and  the desire to do the right thing, and away from the places where you feel weak, where you do the things you hate yourself for doing.

    This is a big topic, and I need to think more about it.  But I just want to say that, as psychobabbley as that sounds, there is certainly precedent for it in Catholic moral teaching.  Remember "avoiding the near occasion of sin?"  That's the idea that you should stay away from situations that strongly tempt you to sin, or activities that have been the precursor of sin in your past.  

    It's really rather remarkable that so much writing on willpower, on avoiding temptation, is framed in terms of a kind of splitting or separation of the self…. there's the "me" who wants to lose weight  keep my weight down and the "me" who wants to eat entire sleeve of saltine crackers; a college kid has a "self" who wants to get good grades and a "self" who wants to party tonight… a drinker may have a "self" who decides to go to AA and a "self" who hates every sober minute.  Last month's Atlantic had a thought-provoking article that explored this phenomenon (of one "self" deciding to tie the hands of the other, untrustworthy "self"):

    We used to think that the hard part of the question “How can I be happy?” had to do with nailing down the definition of happy. But it may have more to do with the definition of I. Many researchers now believe, to varying degrees, that each of us is a community of competing selves, with the happiness of one often causing the misery of another. This theory might explain certain puzzles of everyday life, such as why addictions and compulsions are so hard to shake off, and why we insist on spending so much of our lives in worlds —like TV shows and novels and virtual-reality experiences—that don’t actually exist. And it provides a useful framework for thinking about the increasingly popular position that people would be better off if governments and businesses helped them inhibit certain gut feelings and emotional reactions….


     

    The multiplicity of selves becomes more intuitive as the time span increases. Social psychologists have found certain differences in how we think of ourselves versus how we think of other people—for instance, we tend to attribute our own bad behavior to unfortunate circumstances, and the bad behavior of others to their nature. But these biases diminish when we think of distant past selves or distant future selves; we see such selves the way we see other people. Although it might be hard to think about the person who will occupy your body tomorrow morning as someone other than you, it is not hard at all to think that way about the person who will occupy your body 20 years from now. This may be one reason why many young people are indifferent about saving for retirement; they feel as if they would be giving up their money to an elderly stranger.

    and then of course there's Romans 7:

    What I do, I do not understand. 


     For I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate.   Now if I do what I do not want, I concur that the law is good.  So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.  For I know that good does not dwell in me, that is, in my flesh. The willing is ready at hand, but doing the good is not. 


    For I do not do the good I want, but I do the evil I do not want.  Now if (I) do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells in me.  So, then, I discover the principle that when I want to do right, evil is at hand. For I take delight in the law of God, in my inner self, but I see in my members another principle at war with the law of my mind, taking me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members.  


    Miserable one that I am!   Who will deliver me from this mortal body?

    Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Therefore, I myself, with my mind, serve the law of God but, with my flesh, the law of sin.


    Boy, if that doesn't describe a sense of competing versions of the self, nothing does.


    So my question is… is that all there is to it?  Is the "answer" to overcoming temptations of all kinds really for the "inner self" — the one who "takes delight" in moral or correct or healthy or Godly behavior — to set up the kind of structure around the "members" that cajoles them to behave?  To offer to the weak flesh, in return for good behavior, the short-term goodies it craves? 


    And if so… knowing what I have done and how I did it…


    …what else am I capable of overcoming?


  • Telecommunications.

    I assigned Oscar a science project.  It is his first multi-step, multi-week assignment ever.   He has three weeks to make a poster and present a report.  He picked the topic "Electrical Transformers."  (His idea.  I told him he had to do something about electric circuits, since that's the unit study we've been doing for the last few weeks.)

    I don't have much experience to go on with this except the projects I got assigned in elementary school.  So I told Mark, "You pretend to be the parent and I'll pretend to be the teacher, okay?  I assign the project, he takes it 'home' and you help him with it.  Or at least nag him about working on it from time to time."

    I'm sitting at the computer listening to them in the next room.  Mark is trying to help him come up with an outline, which was my assignment to him for the day.  They are talking about how telegraphs work.  Telegraphs were not on the lesson plan.

    "Hon?" called Mark from the other room.

    "Yeah?"

    "How goal-directed are you with this report thing?  I mean, do we have to, you know, complete the assignment you gave him?  Or is it okay if we just, you know, learn things?"

    Negotiations ensued.  Would you like to know how it turned out? 

    Some of Mark's old speaker parts from the attic are on the schoolroom table, hooked up to the Snap Circuits toy.  All the kids are standing around watching the AA batteries in the Snap Circuits make the middle of Mark's speaker go up and down.  "You just have to trust me on this," Mark is saying, "but when I push this I can only turn it on and off about once a second.  If I could push this a thousand times a second, you'd hear it hum."

    "But what's it for?"

    "You can play music on it!"  Pause.  "You just have to trust me."  Pause.  "No, no.  We're done pushing the buttons, Mary Jane."

    They are not working on the outline.

    "Now we're going to make a graph of the voltage.  Um, has Mama talked to you about negative numbers?"

    Hmph.  My third grade teacher would never have stood for this.

    "Uh, Dad?  Is this like a transformer?"

    "No, not really.  Pay attention…"

  • Fashion forward.

    One of my holiday traditions:  every time I stay at my in-laws' house, I spend a few hours catching up with my MIL's giant stack of back issues of Good Housekeeping and Family Circle.  Sure, I always leave with a vague sense of needing to buy more expensive moisturizer, but the escapism is worth it.

    Here, I'll share my favorite article of this year's women's-mag binge, from the August 2008 issue of GH:  "Mommy Wears Prada."  Enjoy.