Thursday, October 28, 2010

'Weighing' In: Just my Opinion

There has been a virtual avalanche of tweets and blogs, comments, posts and talk show debates this week and it all began with CNN article about Mike & Molly, a sitcom that chronicles the story of a couple who meet at an Overeaters Anonymous group. The CNN story claims that "some viewers aren't comfortable watching intimacy between two plus-sized actors".

This article was followed by an opinion piece published in Marie Claire magazine, Should Fatties Get a Room? (Even on TV?). Marie Claire contributer, Maura Kelly wrote the piece in response to the CNN article and didn't hold back:

"I think I'd be grossed out if I had to watch two characters with rolls and rolls of fat kissing each other... because I'd be grossed out if I had to watch them do anything. To be brutally honest, even in real life, I find it aesthetically displeasing to watch a very, very fat person simply walk across a room."

I am a firm believer that everyone is entitled to their own opinion (even though I happen to think that Ms. Kelly's opinion is wrong), but as a former 'fatty', I find it distressing that Marie Claire's editors could show such a blatant lack of respect or anything resembling compassion in giving this article the thumbs up. It is shameful that women's magazines are still trying to send the message that beauty only comes in a size small.

Overweight people are still people, and want the same things out of life as everyone else... love and companionship being at the top of most lists. Kelly's words imply that heavy people should not only keep their kissing and hugging private, but also refrain from 'walking across a room'. It seems like she would be more than happy for the big folks to just keep themselves hidden away to save the skinny folk from feeling 'grossed out' or 'aesthetically displeased'. Kelley goes on to say:

"Now don't go getting the wrong impression: I have a few friends who could be called plump. I'm not some size-ist jerk."

I think it highly likely that her 'plump friends' may beg to differ. If I were one of those friends (for I have had a history of 'plumpness'), I would certainly re-evaluate that friendship.

As I ponder this article, I also think back to the early months in my own journey to fitness. One of the most difficult struggles during that time, was exercising in front of other people. Let's face it... it's ridiculously embarrassing to engage in an activity that will necessitate the jiggling and joggling of all the parts you least want to draw attention to. If it grosses thin people (like Ms. Kelly) out to watch an overweight person do 'anything', including walk across a room, imagine their reaction to seeing heavy folks exercise. I read some comments from some fellow 'larger than size 4' exercisers who have had teenage boys shout taunts and ugliness out their car windows (their parents would be so proud) and men holler out the window, "Would you run faster for a donut?" It's hard to believe in the inherent good in people when a-holes like this give the rest of us a bad name.

Besides turing me into a cynic, people like Kelley and the 'exercise taunters' are really being counter-productive. Doesn't it seem like if their aim is to eliminate fat people from their view, (and locking them away on some private 'fat people' island is not really an option), then maybe they should be slightly more supportive of their weight loss efforts. Like... say for example, instead of gazing down their nose in contempt when they pass by them in the gym, smile and say a kind word. Give a thumbs up to the runner you pass on the road rather than a hurled insult.

Although there is no excuse for Kelly's hurtful words, following the onlsaught of responses to her piece, she did offer something in the way of an apology and an explanation. She has struggled with eating disorders and body image issues. I say too little, too late. It seems, if anything, her body image issues should help her to understand how complex and emotional these issues can be. It's going to take a lot of shoveling for her to dig herself out of this mess.

For a fantastic response to Maura Kelly's article, read this .




Tuesday, October 26, 2010

The 'Economy Option'

Evan had a well child exam a few weeks ago and based on his performance on the vision screening she gave him, his pediatrician recommended a thorough eye exam. This morning, at his appointment, we found out that he is farsighted with an astigmatism and will definitely need glasses (Our poor kids are cursed with terrible genes when it comes to vision). So we proceeded to the front of the office to peruse the frames. Evan was pretty excited about the whole experience, and can't wait to wear glasses. Funny... give him about 4 or five years and he'll be trying to convince me that he doesn't really NEED them anymore (at least that's what his sister tries to convince me of on a fairly regular basis).

[ After having his eyes dilated, the doctor was peering into his eyes, using a bright light and a special microscope. Evan was struggling to keep his eyes open and rubbing away at them. He told the doctor to stop shining 'that light of death' into his eyes. Ya think maybe too much Starwars?]

I think he tried on every pair of boys' frames they had on display, with prices ranging from $169 to $250 (SERIOUSLY?... it's about 3 ounces of metal!) I steered him toward the lower end of the price range. We took his favorite 3 frames back to the table and tried them on one at a time, narrowing it down to his favorite which was a blue metal and highly flexible (ie Evan proof) option. The associate then went over our insurance coverage. Turns out our vision insurance (VSP, a very common plan with good coverage), pays only $139 of the cost of the frames. WHAT? I couldn't help but question the associate.

Why is the least expensive frame on the display $169 if this very common insurance plan only covers $139?

Weeellll, we do have some less expensive options in the back. Would you like me to get them?

Yes. I would definitely like for you to get them, and I don't think it's right that you don't have them on display.

She didn't respond and went to the back room, returning with about half a dozen pairs of frames ranging in price from $99 to $130. How about that? They had plenty that were within our allotted amount. They just choose to keep them hidden from their customers, and only produce them when questioned. I informed the associate that I thought that this was a dishonest practice. I could see that this conversation was making her uncomfortable, and she was beginning to get a little bit irritated. She explained that those are the 'economy frames' and they choose not to display them. Really? Don't we all want to consider the 'economy' option (no matter what the purchase) before we make up our minds?

Evan tried on each of the less expensive options, and guess what? He already had his heart set on the blue pair that he had picked out earlier. Of course he did. We had been misled, and thought we had seen all that was available to us. Normally I would have insisted that he choose one of the lower cost options (cause I'm cheap like that), but none of them were quite as flexible as the pair he had chosen. He's 6 years old, and this is his first pair of glasses. I felt like it was worth the extra 30 bucks to get something that had some hope of withstanding the human tornado that is Evan.

One might find it interesting that even after I spoke my mind on the matter, I ended up going with a higher cost item. That's not really the point, though. I should have been presented with all the available options and been permitted to choose from those. Instead I felt like they were being sneaky, and downright unscrupulous by withholding information from me. I came away feeling like their aim was to get as much money out of me (and any other unsuspecting customer) as they could.

Before I left, I shared my opinion on the matter with the Doctor (in a very calm and respectful manner... I promise!). He explained that he wanted for his clients to have a 'high quality' (read: expensive) frame. I don't think I changed anyone's mind, but at least I spoke up. And I'm STILL fuming about it.

Next time I'll be sure to ask for the 'economy options' first.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Should I make it Permanent?

So... I have confession to make. I've been posing as a single lady now for about 4 months. No, I haven't been trying to pick up guys at the bar, or hitting the dating websites. I have no desire to relive that particular part of my life! I've just been living life without a ring on my finger.

It's not that I have a problem with the idea of a 'ring'. I sort of like the idea of Zack and I 'marking our territory', so to speak. It sure beats peeing on each other. I've always worn my ring 24/7... less chance to lose it if I never take it off. As the weight started to come off this last spring, it started to feel loose. By summer if I would wave my hand around or point excitedly at something, it would go flying. But I just kept wearing it. Well, one morning a few months back I got out of bed in the morning and was immediately overcome with a wave of panic. My ring was not on my finger. After a frantic search of the bed, I found it nestled between the blankets. I stopped wearing it that same day.

I had intended to go and get a ring guard to temporarily adjust the sizing, but I never got around to it. I also talked about getting it sized down to fit my finger, but was hesitant to do something that 'permanent'. What if I gain some weight back, and it's too small. Then I wonder if that kind of attitude is just a way to leave myself an out to gain back a little weight. If I really have made a life change, and plan to stick with the changes, then I shouldn't be worried. Right? I feel like I've made a life change, but the permanence of sizing it down frankly worries me a little. I guess it's just that FEAR showing itself again.

What do you think, friends? Should I leave myself an out... or should I just go for it?


Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Fighting the Fear

The last 10 months have been transformative for me. I began my blog around the time that I really decided to do some serious self reflection and make some life changes. I wish that I had blogged my way through the process (that was really my intention from the start), and though I did make some posts during that time, they were more about my thoughts about life in general, and not necessarily specific to my fitness goals.

I could try and tell you that I'm not sure why I didn't share my journey more openly, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I think I know why I kept it to myself. FEAR. I always feared taking risks when it came to fitness and weight loss because I knew I would fail. Why did I know I would fail? Well... because I allowed myself to fail. Itwas always in my hands.

I'm sure this time, somewhere in the back of my mind I feared that I would allow myself to give up again, and I didn't want to share that with all of you. Seriously, how crappy would that be? To blog about my journey to fitness... only to end up in the same place I started... or worse. I'm not really into that kind of humiliation.

The thing is... I didn't fail. I conquered the fear. It comes back every now and then... and sometimes it puts up a pretty good fight. But, so far, I've managed to come out on top. And you know what, I've discovered some things about myself that I never knew before. I always pigeonholed myself as un-athletic. It was easier to just say, "I can't" than to risk failure by trying. But I was wrong. I am athletic. I can run. And I like to run.

I used the 'Couch to 5K' training plan and I became a runner. One day at a time. One step at a time. It was hard, and some days I didn't feel like it. It was hard to drag my butt to the gym or talk myself in to getting out and doing it. But I just focused on small goals and celebrated the tiny victories. Running for three minutes without stopping was a victory at the beginning of my journey.

I slowly (very slowly) increased my distance and decreased my time. Eventually I was running three miles on a regular basis. Around that same time I found a running partner, and she told me she was training to do a 10K (6.2miles). I thought there was no way I could run 6 miles. But I did . Then some other friends who I was running with said that we should all do a half marathon. I thought there was really no way I could run 13 miles. But I did.

In 6 months I went from struggling to run half a mile without stopping to running 13 miles without stopping and in a time that I could really celebrate and be proud of. I am healthier than I have ever been . My weight is the lowest it's been since high school. I like the person I am becoming. It's not always easy, and I still make excuses sometimes. When I feel the excuses coming, I just try to think about where I was and how I never want to live in that body again.


I had to dig a little to find photos of myself. When you're not comfortable in your own skin, it's not like you're clamoring to have your picture taken. It's hard to look at these (so imagine how hard it is to post them for the world to see). I have been up and down some over the last 13 years. Five pregnancies will do that, but I always stayed in the range of 165- 185. These are both from when I was at my heaviest... around 185 or so.



This was taken about three weeks ago and I have been maintaining around 135-140. My journey toward change is not over. The focus now is on the inside, and sometimes it really sucks to look inside myself, cause there's a lot of junk in there! This could take awhile... hopefully the rest of my life, because isn't that what life is about?... trying to be the best person you can be.

Monday, October 18, 2010

Lessons From a Toddler

Every age and stage in a child's life brings with it both joy and struggle.

Infants are completely dependent on the adults in their lives, and demand lots of attention (they seem to particularly like attention between the hours of 2 and 4AM). But they are sweet and snuggly and they have that perfect baby smell (and they don't talk back!).

Teenagers are starting to develop into the adults they will one day become, and are trying out their growing independence. But those wacky hormones make for argumentative, moody kids. Hormones must also increase IQ, cause I haven't met many teenagers who don't know EVERYTHING... or at least more than their parents.

I think my favorite age though, is the range between 18 months and 3 years... toddlerhood. I know, crazy right? This age gets kind of a bad rap. Tantrums and the terrible twos and all that nonsense. But you will never see a person who is filled with more wonder and curiosity about the world around them than a toddler. The most ordinary, everyday things will illicit awe in a toddler.

We make the 40 mile drive to Steamboat Springs a few times a month for a movie, an appointment, or to pick up something we can't find here in town. If you were to ask our four older children if they enjoy the drive, they would probably look at you like you'd lost your mind. To them, it's boring. They've seen it all before... dozens of times. But to Quinn, it's always new and exciting. There are so many everyday things along the way that he finds completely fascinating... cows, trains, horses, rivers, trucks, airplanes.

I love his sense of wonder about the world around him. I love how excited he is each day to learn new things. Why do we lose that? WHEN do we lose that? It seems like there is a period in childhood where it becomes commonplace to take life for granted. Then... somewhere in adulthood we get some of the wonder back. Maybe adults are better able to see the beauty in life because they have more experience with some of the ugliness and pain as well.

That drive to Steamboat that my older children find so boring and mundane... I know that at their ages, I would have felt similarly. But now that I am older (and hopefully a little wiser), I am able to find some wonder in the things I see along the way... the colorful foliage, the clear blue sky, an elk spied on the hillside. I can't say that I get quite as excited as Quinn about the plane in the sky, but it does help me to remember that we live in an amazing world and I should spend a little more time being AMAZED by it. There is one thing that never ceases to amaze me... my toddler.

Thursday, October 14, 2010

The Appointment Marathon

Yesterday and today have been two more days in the Doctor's appointment marathon that has been my life the last few weeks. 10 appointments in the last month with more to come in the next few weeks. Well child visits, physicals, vision checks, dermatologist, orthopedic specialist for one kid, surgeon for one kid, surgeon for mom.

Don't be alarmed. All very minor problems in the grand scheme of things, and I am still counting myself lucky. Lucky... but busy. Lucky... but tired. I suppose this is to be expected when our deductible has been met and we feel a sense of urgency to get these problems behind us before we have to start over! At least we get our money's worth out of the 'family' plan. (It would sure suck for us if they started making you pay by the child)

Last week I called to make an appointment with my surgeon for a follow up to an ultrasound. He was out of the office for two weeks, but I was assured that his partner could see me. So yesterday morning I arranged to have my mom watch Quinn, hurried to get everyone out the door to school, rushed over there... turns out he sees his partner's patients for everything EXCEPT the issue I was there for. I was steaming when I walked out of that office. He did say he wouldn't bill me. Well, that was oh so kind of him considering he didn't DO ANYTHING except tell me that he couldn't DO ANYTHING?!

So today's appointment was my biannual skin check. My white and freckled body is apparently worrisome to my Dermatologist and she actually has photos of every square inch of my skin (I know, ewww!) that they compare to the real life body so that they can see if anything has changed, grown or become generally weird looking. I think it's pretty funny when the doctor asks me if I have noticed my spots changing. Really? Isn't that why I drag my freckled butt into her office twice a year? Does she think I have time in my life to keep tabs on the thousands of spots I have. It's really funny when she asks me if the moles on my back have changed. HELLO! I can't SEE my back!

I got there at 8:55 for my 9:00 appointment, only to be told that the Dr. had not actually arrived at the office yet. They didn't end up calling me back until 9:20, which wouldn't normally have made me that irritated, but I was the first appointment of the day. Funny... if I had shown up at the office at 9:20, I have this feeling there would have been a little scene involving grumpy words and wrinkled brows on their part and apologetic pleas on my part, and ending with me leaving the office without being seen.

As the nurse walked me back to the room, I caught a glimpse of my Doctor weighing herself on the scale in the hallway. Not so strange for the average woman (who isn't running late and keeping patients waiting), but this gal is a Barbie Doll who can't possibly weigh more than 115 pounds (and that's fully clothed in winter garb and following a big pasta meal). I can only hope that she is recovering from a gastrointestinal illness, and checking to make sure she's gaining back a few pounds.

She made her inspection quickly and I found myself leaving the office minus 2 moles and plus a few stitches, which means another trip to the Dr. in 10 days to get the stitches out. After yesterday's appointment fiasco and all these appointments the last few weeks (along with the bad news delivered at a few of them), I am just feeling a little bit melancholy. I love this quote from a fellow blogger , "I acknowledge my luckiness, without giving up my claim to the suckiness." I am totally aware of my 'luckiness'... but today, I just feel like wallowing in the 'suckiness'.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Dinner Dilemma


I have been facing a dinnertime dilemma of late, and I know all you other moms out there can relate. I cook a meal, set it before my family, and inevitably get the wrinkle nose look from at least one of the kids (Zack never gives the look, but I KNOW sometimes he's doing it in his head). Often I even get a little noise to go with the wrinkle... a grumble or a groan or an 'aw, man!'

Maybe it's just me, but it's hard not to get just a teensy bit upset about it. I mean, I take my job as a mom pretty seriously. I try a new recipe once or twice a week, and I try to find things that are economical as well as family friendly (fast and easy never hurts either). I also really like to cook, and consider it one of my strengths as a SAHM (I can also scrub a toilet like nobody's business). So when I spend time and energy to make a meal for my family, I get a little ticked off when I get a negative reaction... especially when the negative reaction comes before they even taste it. You want to set me off... that will do it! Seriously! Would it kill them to show a little appreciation? PRETEND to like it, for heaven's sake... just cause you love your Momma!

Our usual drill when we try a new recipe is to ask for a simple thumbs up if they'd like for me to make it again. Since it is next to impossible to make something that gets a unanimous thumbs up, I'll put it on the 'make again' list if I get at least 4 thumbs.

Recently, I found a recipe that meets all the criteria: fast, easy, economical AND it got SIX thumbs (Quinn doesn't really get the idea yet, so we'll call 6 unanimous). AND there were lots of requests for seconds. AND my picky girl kept saying how GOOD it was. I figure if my brood all like it, odds are pretty good that some of your broods will too. It's also a perfect fall meal. So here it is. Try it... and let me know what you think!


Creamy Chicken and Wild Rice Soup
Ingredients:
2 boneless chicken breasts cut into small pieces
several tablespoons olive oil
1/2 cup carrot (chopped)
1/2 cup celery (chopped)
1/2 an onion (chopped)
2 cloves minced garlic
1 (4.5 ounce) package quick cooking long grain and wild rice with seasoning packet (Rice a Roni)
4 cups chicken broth
2 cups water
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup olive oil
2 cups milk

Directions:
Saute the chicken breasts in a little bit of olive oil. When done, remove from pan and set aside. In the same pan saute carrots, celery and onion to pan with a little more olive oil. Cook for a few minutes. Add garlic and cook for a few minutes more.
In a large pot over medium heat, combine broth, water and chicken. Bring just to boiling, then stir in rice, reserving seasoning packet. Cover and remove from heat.
In a small bowl, combine salt, pepper and flour. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt butter with 1/4 cup olive oil. Stir in contents of seasoning packet until mixture is bubbly. Reduce heat to low, then stir in flour mixture by tablespoons, to form a roux. Whisk in milk, a little at a time, until fully incorporated and smooth. Cook until thickened, 5 minutes.
Stir cream mixture into broth and rice. Cook over medium heat until heated through, 10 to 15 minutes.

*The original recipe did not call for any vegetables, used heavy cream instead of milk, and 1/2 cup butter and no olive oil. I tried to make it a bit healthier, and it turned out great. But feel free to take out any veggies or add back in the extra fat if you want. :)


Sunday, October 10, 2010

Monday Morning Smile: The Explosion

Quinn was a brand new baby... maybe a few weeks old. We had two kids with games in two different towns, so Zack and I were tag teaming. Zack was with Shayna at a basketball game, the boys and I were at Riley's hockey game. The hockey game was in Kremmling, an itty bitty town with only an outdoor rink.

It was a bitterly cold day. I remember Riley and some of the other kids were near tears between games because their toes were aching with cold. If we lived in Kremmling, I can say with some certainty that I would encourage Riley NOT to play hockey. I get that hockey and cold kind of go together, but this was the sort of cold that no amount of layering is going to keep at bay. Let's just say that I didn't feel comfortable taking the baby out into the weather.

*A teensy bit of background info for all you hockey virgins out there* --- In hockey there are 'lines' (or groups) of players. One line will go in and play for a short time, then the next line will go in while the first line takes a break.

The car was parked right in front of the rink, less than 20 yards from the ice. So, while Riley's line was out of the game, I would start the car and warm us all up really well. (Don't worry. There were windows cracked open.) When Riley would go back on the ice, I would shut the engine off, run out and watch for a couple of minutes, then hurry back to the car to thaw out my fingers and toes.

At some point during the game, little Quinn needed a change. There was no place in the bathroom to lay him down, and laying him on the seat of the car would mean that I would have to stand outside the car, leaving the door open and exposing his little hiney to the freezing cold air. Being the genius that I am, I decided to change him on my lap. I placed him on my legs with his head near my knees.

I opened the diaper and while I was in the midst of cleaning him up, he let one rip. There was the biggest EXPLOSION of poo I have ever seen! Think for just a moment about where his butt was aimed. You got it... right at ME! Poo splattered all over my chest and arms. It splattered the car door and window. It splattered his carseat.

I think I might have actually been in a state of shock for a moment. I was pulled back to my senses by the second explosion. Only this time, it was an explosion of laughter coming from the back seat. Owen and Evan seemed to think this was the absolute funniest thing they had ever been witness to. I, on the other hand, was not quite ready to see the humor in the situation. It's kind of hard to laugh when you're covered from the neck to the waist in POO!

It took a little while, but I managed to get the baby, myself and the car cleaned up. Fortunately, my winter coat was polyester/nylon, and I was able to wipe it down. (It got a good cleaning when we got home) I really have no one but myself to blame. We're talking about my fifth child, and I was quite familiar with what to expect from the nether regions of a newborn. In the interest of warmth, I took a gamble... and lost. I recommend a cold butt the next time around.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

You think YOU have pests


Lots of homeowners encounter pests of one sort or another. The usual suspects: ants, mice, hornets, squirrels. You get the idea. This is MY pest.


I know for my Craig friends this isn't an unusual scene. Pretty common around these here parts. Back when we were considering relocating to Craig, I would drive around in the neighborhoods and couldn't get over seeing deer all over town... just wandering the streets. I thought it was so CHARMING. During our first months here, we would get so excited to see a doe and her little 'Bambi' in the front yard or a buck out behind the garage.

You could say I've had a change of heart since then. My heart started changing right about the time they ate all my tulips. And my petunias. And my geraniums.

Until this fall, we had only seen a buck in the backyard one time. He was having a face off with the lab that we were dogsitting. Zoe (the dog) was so excited and wanted very much to play with him. The buck had other ideas and I don't think 'playing' was on his list. He really just wanted to get the heck out of there, and she was blocking the only exit.

This fall, however we have seen what we think is the same buck in the backyard at least a half dozen times. I'm not sure why he likes it here. I'm pretty sure it's not the rowdy kids... or the trampoline. We do have a crabapple tree, and he enjoys the apples. But the neighbor has one too. In the front yard. With no fence around it. Go figure.

Sometimes he will make himself at home and hang out for a couple of hours. This annoys me on many levels. 1) He likes my roses. 2) He leaves dung (Owen's word - When I asked him why he calls it that, he said, "Mom. That's the nice way of saying poop) all over my lawn 3) I have children in my yard ALL the time, and he's bigger and pokier than they are.

Anyone have a tag they need to fill? I won't tell.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Monday Morning Smile: Installment 1

With five children you can imagine that we have quite a collection of incidents that we look back on and giggle about. I thought that I would share one of these with you this morning because... well, because it's Monday, and everyone needs something to smile about on a Monday, right?

Riley (11 now) was five at the time and in Kindergarten. I had picked him up from school, and we had headed to the mall. I can't remember the reason for the trip to the mall, but does a woman really NEED a reason?

I was walking through Dillards pushing Owen in the stroller with Riley straggling along just behind us. He hurried to catch up with me, tapped me on the arm and said, "Mom. What does F*#k mean? Of course, he actually said the word... loud and clear, for all the other shoppers to hear. I don't think it could possibly have shocked them more than it did me, though.

I stopped dead, telling myself NOT to freak out. Of course, in my head I'm running through the possible places he could have heard this word. Not at home. I'm not really a cusser. Zack doesn't use that word either. His language might get a bit more colorful than mine, particularly when a home improvement project isn't going quite the way he had planned (when DOES it EVER go the way he had planned?). But never that word. My dad always had a very colorful vocabulary and, although he really did try to be careful around the kids, the occasional word would slip out. I had it narrowed down to either my dad or some kid at school. Of course I was already making judgements about the mystery child, formulating a plan to go to the teacher about this kid who was obviously a VERY bad influence on MY child (or give my dad a piece of my mind).

I pulled Riley aside and we sat down on a nearby mannequin platform. I wasn't about to tell him what that word means. He was five. That would have been WAY too much information, but I didn't want him to think he was in trouble either. So I very calmly said, "That is a very ugly word that we don't use". Then, "Where did you hear that word?" He replied, "Our letter at school this week is 'F'." (Now I'm thinking. Great. The letter is 'F'. So some kid says, 'I know an 'F' word'!) I just waited for Riley to finish his story, though. He continued with, "Well, we always rhyme everyone's name with the letter. Like today they said, 'Filey' for my name. But when we got to Chuck, Mrs. Frase said we couldn't use 'Chuck'. We had to use Charles. That's his real name".

Ahhhhhh! So he had taken what his teacher said, and concluded that if you put an 'F' on the front of Chuck's name, you get a word that you're not supposed to say. So I didn't have to march in and have a visit with the teacher, and I didn't have to call my dad with a reminder to clean it up around the kids. I just had a little smarty pants on my hands, and THAT I could handle... most days, anyway.