5 reeeeaaaalllly important questions and only 1 answer

Despite how very much I would like to be one of those people who is truly gifted at solving other people's problems, I'm aware that what I do well is ask questions. I might think I can figure all of your shit out for you -- oh, and let's be honest, I will likely try --  but it's really probably always best for me to stick to my curiosities.

My family knows this and I'm often prompted while we're all sitting around a bonfire or at a holiday dinner or are just bored in the car to ask questions that will ignite conversation. And I rattle them off dutifully -- What album changed the way you think about music? What would you change your first name to if you could? What should it say on your tombstone? Which famous comic speaks most to your sense of humor?

Being able to ask good questions helps me in job interviews, at parties, in a room with a bunch of people I don't know. It has spurred me on in my career, helping me make connections in only a few minutes with authors, politicians and celebrities.

But I've also been told that I seem like I am interrogating the people I want to get to know most intimately and sometimes I have a hard time slowing down the questions swirling through my mind when I first meet someone I find fascinating.

At my job at Shine, many commenters accuse me of a lot of things (nothing like being told regularly you are the worst health writer on the web to really keep a grrrl wanting to come back to work!). This week alone, I've been told I am clearly not a scientist (true) but am a soccer hater (not true) and am self-righteous (only sometimes) and dumb (OK, many days this one has legs). This feedback always strikes me as funny because I think I am quite clear when I write my opinion and when I'm presenting a topic for discussion. I always end my Shine posts with a question, mostly because I want to engage the readers, get a conversation started that might very well include opinions far different from my own. The hope here is that I will remove myself as an expert (because, just as I am not a scientist, I am nowhere near a nutritionist/personal trainer/gynecologist/other kind of doctor/life coach/boob maven). Even if I present factual information, I ask a question because I want to know how some study or medicine or high-fructose nastiness impacts the people reading. Alas, some people just don't get it, and I guess I have to be OK with that. Right? (See? A question.)

Far from the perfect writer (hello, typos and an affinity for hyphenated phrasing)/lady friend/family member/inquisitor, I'm embracing the questions, trying really hard to really listen to the responses, and working at not worrying about having all the answers.

To celebrate that, here are a few of the questions I've posed in the last few weeks on Shine. I'm pretty sure that just considering them will change your life (not really). Just to ensure that my bossy ways offer just a bit of balance, I've thrown in one answer as well.

Please do ponder and feel free to respond. Or even answer. I'm good with you doing it all.

1. Is this the greatest toy ever?

2. Does posting my workouts on Facebook make me irritating or empowered?

3. Have you ever gutted out an injury?

4. Who gave you the best birth control advice?

5. Do you need to like your personal trainer?

BONUS! The chicken and the egg question's finally solved (phew). Plus, you'll crack up (sorry) to read how the creationists came out to comment on this one.

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Linkety dinkety doo: You've got to read what these women are writing

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In. Consistencies

I'm clearly having a hard time being consistent. And not just in writing here.

Some weeks, I run four times. Other weeks, it's two. Last week, I only ran once.

The lovely Post-It Note schedule stuck to the mirror next to my desk that I relied on to keep my day's organized has long been abandoned.

I excitedly plan meals and order groceries and fire up the grill, only to lose all motivation and go out to eat or make a dinner for myself out of cereal and string cheese.

I spend a few glorious days maintaining normal work hours and then find myself up until 2 a.m., tapping away at my keyboard, for too many nights in a row.

Is it because it is summer and we don't have the same structure of school hours? Is that both Lil E and have already racked up some frequent flier miles in the last two months? Or is it just that we are in one of those cycles when staying on one track feels impossible?

I'm not sure. And I am trying not to give myself too hard a time about it as I slowly re-incorporate our dinners on the porch, bedtimes for both of us, a sane amount of time spent online.

I do know that there's one part of my life that calls on me to be consistent louder than any other responsibility. Of course, that's parenting the boy. This is the part of my life I am good at holding steady as I seemingly let everything else drop or at least teeter back and forth.

I thought that as I packed his suitcase more than a week ago, doing all of the little things I always do to prep for his time away with his dad. I placed nine outfits into one side of his suitcase, a swimsuit and jammies and flip-flops and a jacket into the other. On top, I tucked a picture calendar detailing where each of us would be on the days while we were apart. Over that, I slid a note telling him how much I love him, how excited I am that he has this time with his dad and how I couldn't wait to hear the stories of all his adventures when he came home.

In his backpack, I piled Ziploc bags full of Legos, Star Wars guys, activity books and crayons, and a set of dollhouse dolls I bought at a garage sale that he loves to quietly play house with by himself. I put Dramamine, his very necessary "belly medicine" for long car trips and flights, where he'd expect it to be.

None of this is extraordinary. None of it qualifies me for mother of the year. I know many wonderful single parents (and cannot forget those partnered parents) who practice these little rituals every time their children leave home with someone else. What I do, I've done since my very first business trip when Lil E was 18 months old and our family looked very different than it does today. I love it that he knows he will see my drawings when he unzips his suitcase 3,000 miles away, and it soothes my soul to know he has everything I could possibly anticipate he needs in those two bags.

So the question here and now for me really is, how can I be that consistent when taking care of my home? Sleep? Work? Our eating? My body? Myself? 

How can I take the ways that I tend to him and apply them -- more regularly and with the same determination -- to these other areas calling to me?

Please do offer up your wisdom. And while I wait to hear it, I will be out for a run. Or not phoning the sushi place to make my usual order. Or not turning off my cell phone "GO TO BED, JESSICA!" alarm. Or maybe just making myself a new schedule, maybe this time trashing the Post-Its and drawing pictures on a calendar instead.

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