Are We Having Fun Yet?

I pulled two muscles—one in my back and one in my right arm. This was during the “light” workout with my Marine personal trainer. My friend Chris, sympathetic soul that he is, said, “Well, no offense, but that usually happens if you’re not in shape.” Duh. Why does he think I hired a personal trainer in the first place?

No worries. I was only sidelined for a week, and I was back at it Monday (though my arms are so sore today I can hardly lift them, but that’s another blog for another day). I’m determined to get in shape. And not just because I have a convention coming up in August (I would SO love to be the Kendra I was—size-wise, anyway—in 1994), but because my health—my very life—is at stake. Diabetes runs in my family. Heart disease runs in my family. High blood pressure runs in my family. Cancer—you guessed it—runs in my family. I’m convinced these health problems have mowed down generations of Howards and Lees because too many of my family members carried around too much weight and spent too little time being active. And they believed too much that these health issues were inevitable.

They were wrong. If everyone had this attitude, nothing would get accomplished (and we’d all die too young), as I was reminded during a recent trip to Detroit for the Ford Freedom Award. The award, in its ninth year, had a medical theme this year, and renowned neurosurgeon Ben Carson and Howard University Hospital founder, the late Charles B. Purvis, M.D., were honored. If Dr. Carson, once a very poor student and this year’s Ford Freedom Scholar, had thrown in the towel, he’d never have become the incredible miracle worker he is today. Without Dr. Purvis, this year’s Ford Freedom Honoree and one of the first university-trained African-American physicians in this country, there might not be a Howard University Hospital today—or any other hospitals attached to historically black universities, for that matter.

So although my thighs are screaming, and my arms are making a sound at an octave only a dog can hear, I’ll be hanging out with the Marine again tomorrow. A fit Kendra can’t hold a candle to the accomplishments of Drs. Carson and Purvis, but it’s a step in the right direction against inevitability. Wish me luck!

Kendra Lee
Managing Editor

New Mommy Files, Part 5

Raine’s dad was home all week and watched her while I was at work. It’s funny how my sister (who’s been pitching in and watching Raine for us) and my mom worried out loud whether or not he could handle it. But I had faith and Raine needed the 24 hours a day of one-on-one quality time. Well he did it, and I only received a couple of calls during the day. I’ve noticed when dads do what moms do every day all day it is touted as a special accomplishment. I guess it goes back to the idea that the man goes out and provides for the home and the woman keeps that home intact. I was definitely in the male role this week. I didn’t get home until 8 p.m.--just enough time to play with Raine a little bit, and then it was time to give her a bath and put her to sleep. It was easy to see that when we do finally have to put her in daycare, she’s going to be spending more waking time with the caregiver than with me. I just can’t stand it. I know it happens all the time, but I would feel so guilty. Aaahhh—the working mom guilt.

So now my working life has to fit around my, well, life. I told someone the other day I was glad that I waited so late to have a child because career really has to take a back seat. I still need to bring home the bacon, but it can't be at all costs. Working until 7 p.m. won’t be a viable option once formal daycare enters the picture. I’ve heard about all of those “pick-your-child-up-late fees.” I’ve thought about getting a part-time job to supplement my freelance gig. Or maybe try to go freelance all the way. I have to create a different kind of life so I can tend to my most important job--being Raine’s mom.

Can I tell you I really didn’t think I would have these kinds of worries? Before I had a child, in my head I knew I would have no problems dropping him or her off and just keep moving. But I cried like a baby my first day back at work and I was only taking her to my sister’s house! I’m a total wimp right now. But we’ll work it out.

Speaking of working it out. I did no working out and the scale shows it. Last week I was 146.8 and as of this morning I’m 147.8. I barely eat, which I know may contribute to the problem, but I think I’m going to have to join a gym. Seriously. Drink more water. Drink more water. Eat more salad. Eat no meat. That has to be my mantra from here on out. This weight is not budging, but I’m trying not to let it depress me. As always, I’ll keep you posted.

Marcia Caster
Senior Editor, Beauty and Fashion

Bringing Fun Back to Fitness

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll start by admitting I hate working out. That’s bad, I know, for the managing editor of Heart & Soul, the pre-eminent health and fitness magazine for African-American women, to say she doesn’t like exercising. But you should know up front that I’m just like you: trying to balance my work life with my home life and squeezing my fitness in (grudgingly) where I can.

I’m so bad about the fitness part that I had to hire someone who will kick my butt and keep me in gear, or I’ll accidentally-on-purpose get sidetracked and start crying in public in six months when I’ve gained 20 more pounds and I’m standing on a stage somewhere, giving a speech and my pants are too tight to button. Enter Thurman Lofton of UnderConstruction Fitness. He’s a U.S. Marine with 17 years of experience. And on day one of our sessions together, he had me crying “uncle,” even though he said it was a “light” workout. He also said I have good form and will be in shape in no time. That’s a good thing, because the whole time he was putting me through my paces, I was gritting my teeth and hating it.

It wasn’t always this way. I remember being a kid and spending entire summers on my bike. Or playing softball on the ponytail league and quick games of two-hand touch football with my cousins. I climbed trees and hiked in the woods (in spite of my fear of spiders and ticks). In the winter I worked up a sweat building snow forts and making snow angels. I was always moving, and it didn’t seem like a workout. It wasn’t a workout; it was play.

My Sorta Significant Other and I just discussed this same thing. “Babe, I can play basketball all day long,” he said. “But when I jog, I’m out of breath very quickly. I’m huffing and puffing. I hate it.” We came to the conclusion that we’ll never get rid of our love handles if we don’t bring the fun back to our fitness.

He’s dusting off his basketball. It’s time for me to dig out my jump rope and hula-hoop!

Sisters, we're going to get healthy together. Let's keep each other posted on how we're doing!

Kendra Lee
Managing Editor

New Mommy Files, Part 4

I realized something very important this week—moms can’t get sick. Of course this knowledge was floating around in my head, remembering my mom tending to the sick and shut-in as she sneezed and wheezed her way around. But it’s a bit more meaningful once it happens to you. Monday I just had to call in sick to work. I had the worst sore throat and head congestion and Raine had a fever from her round of four shots the doctor gave her over the weekend. Both of us were pretty pitiful; however, she was the only one who got to “sleep it off.”

Moms really do have to develop that extra something that keeps us going when all we want to do is jump in the bed and pull the covers over our heads—just like in the good old days. I slowly feel myself morphing into a robot; one with feelings but definitely one on automatic pilot. But we made it through our first sick day together. I guess we’ll have plenty more over the course of the next 18 years.

Now, about that weight loss I told you all about. Well I haven’t stepped on the scale this week, but last week I was one pound lighter. Yeah!! I’ll take what I can get. I feel lighter, but I’m not going to get all excited. I’ve cut back on the portions and the bread and added more water to the diet. But what I’m really excited about is the exercise. I discovered On Demand. I never channel surfed that high before, but around channel 1000 and something, Time Warner Cable has Exercise On Demand. It’s the only way I fit in any exercise. Everything is there. Yoga. Mommy Exercise. Pilates. Abs. Buns. Stretches. All in bite-sized snippets. Seven-minute abs class here. Fourteen-minute stretches there. Whenever Raine falls asleep I quickly tune in to another class that’s perfectly timed for the overweight mommy of a nearly newborn. It’s free, too. I’m sure we’re paying as part of our monthly cable bill, but at least I don’t have to pay each time the mood to move hits me. I highly recommend exercise. Just these brief workouts have helped my body feel better overall—even my sore feet. I look better too, if I do say so myself. But I think that has more to do with something else I learned this week—SPANX uber shapewear is great!!!

Marcia Caster
Senior Editor, Beauty and Fashion

New Mommy Files, Part 3

It’s Friday and I’ve made it through another week of working mama drama. But today I have to share something I thought was so funny. My 5-year-old niece India is fascinated by all things baby. She just eats up her new little cousin Raine. So I was at her house last night and started to breastfeed Raine. Since India, like most toddlers, has a mind like a steel trap, she remembers everything— ncluding me saying something about the possibility of milk ducts getting clogged. But she thought I called them milk ducks. So as I’m sitting there feeding Raine, India puts here finger on my breast and asks, “Aunt Cia, is this a milk duck?” I say, “Yes it is,” thinking she said duct. She looks up at me so seriously and in agreement says, “I know. I can feel the beak.” Gotta love her.
And speaking of breasts…I think breastfeeding evokes the same feelings about boobs that getting a boob job does—it’s like they are not yours anymore. They’re more like objects and can be flashed anywhere. Hence, me just whipping them out sitting in the middle of my sister’s family room.

Here’s another mommy moment. I just recently returned to work and on my first day back I happened to look down and I saw a huge wet spot on the front of my shirt! Worst fears officially confirmed—Houston we have a problem—leakage. It never occurred to me to bring an extra shirt. I had my Lansinoh pads in and all (Lansinoh is by far the best pads that I used). The buildup was just too much for a mere pad to swallow. So I casually walked to the bathroom, only to remember there is no hand dryer in there. I ran into a stall, whipped off my shirt and stood over the toilet squeezing the milk out. I only pray there were no cameras around. Nothing on YouTube yet. As for the milk-soaked shirt, I created as much heat as possible from good old-fashioned friction. It worked and I went back to work, but I could only think of how different my life has become.

But enough about me. Raine turned 4 months yesterday. And I’m noticing a difference in her abilities. She’s able to roll from her side to her back and to her side again. She laughs along with you, which is so cute. And she’s also learning how to use those hands. So when your little one turns 4 months, watch the hoop earrings. I used to be able to eat with Raine sitting on my lap. But the other day, she grabbed my bowl of cereal and almost flung it all over me.

And speaking of me again…I talked, well, e-mailed, a friend of mine from college. She has this great Web site, me (moms extraordinaire). And to lift from the site (I hope you don’t mind, Monique): The mission is to ensure that mothers Remember! Remember their passion, creativity, spontaneity, strength, sensuality, sense of self and purpose, while being a great mom. Now isn’t that what we’re all striving for? Go to www.mymenetwork.com this weekend and let it soak in. In my short four months of mommyhood, I can already feel the “me” draining from my system. But as soon as I e-mailed Monique, and talked to my other college friend, Virginia, I felt like I had plugged the leak. It was a little reminder that although I can add mommy to the resume, I have ideas from way back that don’t have to be put on the shelf. So note to all new mommies—keep your friends close. Whether they know it or not, they’ll keep YOU on track.

Marcia Caster
Senior Editor, Beauty and Fashion

New Mommy Files, Part 2

I'm fat. It's all I thought about this morning, at work, on the way home and as I put on my pajamas. You know that Weight Watchers commercial where Jenny McCarthy says she was hoping she would come home with a 60-pound baby? Well, I think that I secretly thought that, too. I expected the baby weight to disappear shortly after the baby arrived. Now I didn't expect instant results, but it's been four months! I gained a total of 40 pounds. The first 20 just disappeared. I thought the other 20 would be a breeze. But now my tummy looks like it did when I was about four months pregnant. I still wear my maternity pants and my feet still swell up from time to time. What the hell is going on here?

I never really had a weight problem and was thankful for it. I always said that I didn't have enough discipline to lose massive amounts of weight. I've gained two pounds this week alone. Yes, I said GAINED. I barely ate today because I was too busy at work. I came home and hopped on the scale and had lost two ounces. This is going to be a long road. I used to laugh at my mom when she said you need a strong foundation. No, not faith or morals or bricks. She was talking about support underwear. Now I know. I am the proud owner of shaper underwear that comes up to my chest and a pair of tummy flattener panties that I swear is so tough it's probably bulletproof.

Maybe it's time to put vanity on the shelf. My body has done a pretty amazing thing. It carried another human for nine months and now with the breastfeeding, it is sustaining a human. I definitely look at my body differently. The battle scar from the C-section. The faint stretch marks from my stomach stretching to fit little Raine. And I'll never look at my boobs the same again. With all that said, I quickly put my visions of being a cute pregnant woman aside; must I now stifle my vision of being a cute mommy of an infant? I think not! Operation svelte mommy is in full effect. I don't know how I'm going to lose 25 pounds. The only way I've been able to drop any pounds was by hopping on my treadmill every day. But in my new place, there's no room for it. And the walls and floors are so thin the neighbors would probably call the cops for disturbing the peace.

But I'll figure it out. I need to lose the weight, not just to look good from the side in my pre-pregnancy jeans, but so I have the energy to keep up with a baby. She'll be up and running in about seven months. I'm no spring chicken. I waited until I was 39 to have my first child. But with a little dedication hopefully this chicken will be clucking her way back to a size 6. Pray for me. I'll keep you posted.

Marcia Caster
Senior Editor, Beauty and Fashion