Too Legit to Quit



I must confess, I think I'm a pusher.

Whenever I find a product I love, I always tell my friends about it. "Have you tried this recipe?" "Have you heard this song?" "Have you felt how smooth this lipstick is?"...I'm one of those. 

Hey, I'm just trying to help a sister out!  So naturally I HAVE to tell you about the Jillian Michaels ab DVD I have discovered. It's quick and effective and I am kind of obsessed.

 

 I'll stop here to throw out a spoiler alert for all my male readers- This is when the proverbial "girl-out" starts. If this were a slumber party, right now would be the portion in between the pillow fights and fingernail painting- you know, the part where we sit around and ask each other how much we weigh. (Because evidently that's what guys think we do?)

 

Who knew? After thousands of dollars and countless months spent at the gym, that THIS

 

  would be the best $10 I ever spent?

 Just looking at this picture strikes fear in my bones. I have tasted her pain, and yet I keep coming back for more. After watching her scream at contestants on the Biggest Loser for years, I always assumed I was more of a "Bob" than a "Jillian" type of person in the gym. Be kind, that's all I want. Be gentle with me! But as they say, "You've got to be cruel to be kind."... Yes?

 

 I've made no secret about the fact that I've been slowly trying to claw my way back from a physical low point over the last few years. We talked about it HERE and HERE and HERE... and then I shut my mouth about it because generally I subscribe to the idea that no one really WANTS to hear you talk about your weight. It starts to sound obnoxious after a while. But I'm also a person who believes in keeping it real, and since I've so liberally shared all my defeats along the way, it seems only fitting to share the triumphs as well.

 

I've tried many different workout programs and DVD's over the years, (Winsor Pilates, P90X, etc) and my issue with all of them is this: NOBODY HAS TIME FOR THIS NONSENSE!

 As a mom who has two tinies who are at home with me %70 of the time, it's simply not realistic for me to spend 60-90 minutes rolling around on the ground sweating it out while my children whine at me, correct my form, beg for snacks, or try to "join" me in my efforts, thus directly thwarting my efforts. I know this because I have tried. It seems that unless I'm willing to get up at 5 am and work out before my kids wake up, (and let's all be real here- I'm not) it's pretty much a waste of time.

 

 So for years I have gone to the gym instead, which works well for us. They get to play in the kiddie area, I workout and have a smidge of time to myself,  and we all get out of the house- win/win/win!

  Other than a couple seasons off to tend to the minor business of growing and birthing humans, I've been pretty faithful at working out.

 

 But regardless of my continual efforts at the gym, I have been unsuccessful in reaching my goals. Or partially successful at best. And let's face it, after having two babies, one C section, and gaining and losing a total of 100 pounds (Yes. I said it) between both of them- I have my work cut out for me. Even after managing to lose the 50 lbs after my last baby, at my lowest weight, I was never strong. I had no muscle tone. I just managed to get thin enough so that all my soft bits didn't fold over onto each other.

 It's a good trick but it's a far cry from being truly fit. And it didn't last. As soon as I started to ease up on my diet and cardio, the pounds started slowly and inexorably taking up residence everywhere between my neck and my knees. Okay fine, my ankles too.

 

I think a big part of my problem has been that I tend to master one or maybe two major elements of health and fitness at a time, but I've never quite gotten a handle on doing it all at once. I have focused too much on cardio and almost completely neglected strength training over the years. In regards to my diet I  have yo-yo'd between utter vigilance and throwing caution to the wind.

 

 While Jillian's reputation garners both fear and respect in equal measure,  the woman knows how to get results. I will say that. Her workouts are legitimate. I decided on a whim one day to buy a couple of her workout DVD's, figuring that if I hated it, it's only $10, and if I loved it then all the better.

 

I have LOVED them. 

Specifically her 6 Week 6 Pack DVD. I committed to myself that I'd give it a real go. Why not?

 So for 6 weeks I worked out 5-6 days a week and ate very clean (very little carbs, sugar, or dairy, and lots of veg and lean protein every few hours).  In 8 weeks with Jillian I have lost 10 pounds and almost two pant sizes! It works! My God, it really works!

 

 Before it starts to sound like I'm tooting my own horn here, let me clarify that I still have a long way to go. I am barely over halfway to my fitness goal. There is still much work to be done. But I am so excited to actually be seeing results. The best motivation is seeing your body start to change.

For maybe the first time in my adult life, I am starting to see muscles in my arms, stomach, legs, and butt. Like, actually SEE them!

Here's why I love her all of her DVD's and this DVD in particular.

1. It's quick and effective. Her workouts range from 25-45 minutes. Which is perfect because a half hour is about the longest I can keep my kids preoccupied.
2.  It's SIMPLE! You don't need any weird bands or equipment. A small hand weight and room to move are all you need.
3. It's just hard enough that you feel accomplished, but not so hard that you dread doing it. Each DVD has multiple levels of difficulty as well- so just when you start to get comfortable (or adequate) she kicks it up a notch.
4. It's cheap!
5. It WORKS. She uses HIIT (high intensity interval training) to help burn fat while building muscle. Double duty. Boom. 

I'm not saying it's magic, and I'm not saying it's the best thing out there. Just another tool to add to the toolbox. Just wanted to share my experience in case any of my comrades out there are looking for something quick and doable.

 I'm finally learning that I can't take any shortcuts. I have to eat clean AND do cardio AND do strength training to get where I want to be. Once I finish losing the weight I think maintaining is a whole different story. But to lose weight I just can't get away with any funny business.(Blurg.)

I still give myself a couple cheats a week, otherwise my head would explode. And my morning coffee with creamer is non-negotiable. Off the table.

 But I've got to say, as much as I miss my pastas and cheeses for now, if it spares me from feeling like a gelatinous busted can of biscuits, maybe it's worth it.



Humorous Hubris

If it's true what they say-  that opposites attract, then Husband and I are one of the exceptions to that rule. We really aren't all that different from each other.

In the beginning as our long distance friendship budded into a long distance relationship, we spent hours nightly on the phone talking about our similar taste in music, movies, and people in general. We fancied all the same things. More importantly we fancied each other.

 This was it. He was my person. I knew it very early on. He was funny! Better yet, he thought I was funny, which made for a pretty good time. We laughed a LOT. And as I mentioned *here*, when it comes to other people, there are very few characteristics I appreciate more than a ready wit. He was clever and kind and good, and for some reason he wanted me. On top of all of that, he turned out to be possibly my only equal in remembering and appreciating movie quotes. The larger point there, being that he seemed to GET me.

Oh, I loved him almost instantly.  

 

He made grand romantic gestures. He stood outside my bedroom window with a boombox on his shoulder, playing that song- our song. (Thank you John Cusack for the inspiration.)
 After only one month of quickly growing closer despite the miles between us, he packed up his life and moved to Oregon, so we could be close in the geographical sense as well.
 He pursued me. I liked this.  Four months later we were engaged and six months after that we were married.

Clearly we are both amused by something here...although what, I can't be sure.

 Fast forward 10 years and here we are, still in love and still laughing. And now there are two tinies in the mix, which means we are riding that rollercoaster of joy and triumph, heartache and fear, bafflement and wonder. Having children seems to open up chambers of the heart that one never even knew existed.

 

It requires quite a bit of give and take for a marriage to be successful, and in our ten years as Mister and Missus we have become rather familiar with this idea of compromise. In fact, we get along quite well.  But throughout all the years, there seems to be one prevailing theme in our union.

Humorous Hubris.

We both think we are the "funny one" of the couple.
We can agree on where to live, how many children to have, where to eat, what movie to rent, -you name it. But when it comes to our perceived right to the title of "Funniest", neither one of us can seem to acquiesce.

Who cares, you might say? What's the big deal anyway? Can't we both be funny? The answer is yes, of course... just not EQUALLY funny. It completely messes with the natural balance of things! In a world full of chaos, shouldn't we be able to know exactly who we are, at least within our couplings?
I mostly jest, but in all truthfulness, Husband and I both staunchly believe we are slightly funnier than the other.

I often tease him that he's lost his edge. As a financial advisor and investment banker, he spends a good portion of his day sitting across from elderly folk who tend to be very serious when it comes to talk about their money. So it's not his fault, really. It's simply not an atmosphere conducive to an ironic sense of humor.
 Don't get me wrong- he's a big hit with that crowd. They love him. Especially the older gals, who are always telling him what a clever darling he is. (Sorry ladies, he's taken.)
I suppose he could say the same of me- that I've lost my edge, considering my main audience are our 3 and 6 year old children who tend to find my satirical commentary throughout the day...underwhelming to say the least.

The good news is, it keeps us both on our toes. On some level we are still trying to impress each other. We are both people who love to laugh, and who can find the humor in almost any situation, but
I daresay the highest level of satisfaction comes from getting a real and spontaneous laugh out of the other. If I can make HIM laugh, and laugh hard, then that is (insert Andy Samberg's voice impersonating Nicholas Cage) "high praise".

I realize in writing this I risk making us both sound like a couple of big jerks, but I don't think we are?  We may suffer from humorous hubris, or we may just be a good match. Either way, I like him and I'm keeping him.

 



The Thing About Striving...

The thing about striving... is that its often a mistake.

Its been a while since I've sat down to write. Not for lack of material, but for lack of inspiration. For lack of some positive nugget of substantial worth to share. And Im not in the mood to write about trips and circumstance and...fluff.

 I've sort of been living life in a head-above-water state of mind for the past couple of months. I've been heavy-laden in my heart and in my mind. I've been stressed out. Extremely stressed out. I've been sort of trudging along pushing this load of worry and anxiety and responsibility up this giant hill, straining harder and growing wearier by the day before realizing, something's gotta give. Ever feel like you're a hamster in a wheel? Spinning and spinning and trying so hard, and bless your heart, just not getting to any real destination?

I opened my favorite daily devotional two days ago and was hit by the force of the first few sentences. A truth I could cling to like a life saving anchor when drifting afloat on the waves of my own concerns. It read,

2 Timothy 2:24 "The servant of the Lord must not strive."

"Be careful that you are following Me, and I will care for all else. Striving is for those who have not yet learned to trust Me. Anxiety is the affliction of the self-possessed."

So often as believers, we strive where we ought not.  And in the striving, we become obsessed with our own problems. We worry and fret. Will it work out? Will it get easier? Will I get what I want? We pray, even. We ask and ask for what we think we should have. When really, we should trust. We should rest. We should have the faith to know that our times are in His hands. That if His eye is on the sparrow, then surely it watches over me?

I am not talking about walking around in some kind of ooky-spooky spiritual misty fog. Lord knows each day is filled with its own tasks and realities that require action and courage and forward motion. But is all of the striving really necessary? I think maybe its not. Not always anyway.

Maybe if I excersize a little more faith and a little less concern for my own comforts, I'll live a life of a little more substance. And every little bit counts.

Akward and Awesome

Our family likes to play many different versions of this game -asking the kids the peak/pit of their day at the  dinner table, recognizing both the akward and awesome highlights of the week or of certain events, etc, but they all basically boil down to the same idea. I mostly love hearing these stories from my 4 year old daughter who's entire life plays out as a minidrama. Her colorful insight and perspective almost always catch me off guard. She's got a lot going on upsairs and I find it delightfully interesting.
So here is the highlight reel of my personal akward and awesome moments this week:

Akward: As you know, Husband and I have been trying to lose a few lb's and with vacation only a week and a half away, we've really kicked it up a notch recently. (Of course I've been working at it for a few months and have lost only 10 lbs. Husband mentions offhandedly at dinner one night a couple weeks ago how he "thinks maybe he'd like to lose a few pounds"...and wakes up ten pounds lighter the next day. Rude!)(Im happy for him, really. But still. Rude.)

So Tuesday was just one of those days. You know the kind. Where the odds just seem against you. The dog rolled in poison oak, the kids were tired and whiney, Little One is cutting his 2 yr molars and is super fussy, it was hot and muggy outside so all outdoor activities reduced us all to sweaty crankpots, there was a rancid, undefinable stench coming from somewhere in the fridge that I could not for the LIFE of me pinpoint (Incidentally, I never did find the source of the smell. I emptied, scrubbed, and restocked the entire fridge and never found anything suspicious... which I found completely vexing. Oh well, the fridge got cleaned.) But you get the picture.

I'd not had much time to prepare healthy food all day either, which resulted in me only eating an apple, a yogurt, and a granola bar, which left me ravenous by the time Husband walked in the door at 6 oclock. (Admission Alert!) Me starving, equals me with devil horns. Its true. And so embarrassing. But mostly just the cold hard truth. Whenever I get cranky or emotional Husband always asks me if Im hungry or about to start my period. Which I find enfuriating! As if every emotion I feel must be validated by my stomach or my lady busines? Pshaw! But as much I hate to admit it (and I do) he's pretty much got me dialed in.

Needless to say, I was seriously lacking in carbs and in positive outlook, not to mention being about 'thisclose' to gnawing my own arm off by the time Husband had changed out of his tie. I cornered him on his way out of the closet, grabbed him by the arm, and pleaded "I cant take it anymore! Im starving! Take me to Applebee's!". LOL. Yes, Applebee's. My freind Poopie (its a nickname- long story) tells me that no one eats at Applebee's anymore but I dont care. They have the best buffalo wings ever. Husband could tell by my urgency that I was not to be messed with, so we loaded up the kids and headed to Applebee's. And discovered to the all of our delight, that on Tuesday nights kids eat for only .99 cents (how's that for economic?!) and they even had a clown there to paint faces and blow up balloons. True story. And no, this post was not meant to be a plug for Applebee's, its just turning out that way on accident.

So we ordered some buffalo wings to "share", and about 87 seconds later Husband turned around to find them almost all gone and me, happy as a clam. At which point, he openly started laughing and teasing me about the direct link to my appetite and mood. Match Point goes to Husband.  Shrug. Oh well, whaddayagonnado?

This week's Awesome highlight: Well... THIS!  Where we are breaking ground on our new home!

So its not much to look at just yet, but soon our new home will sit right there. Very exciting stuff.

So, what was your akward and awesome this week? Come on, its only fair, I told you mine.

Maybe Not an Epic Fail, but Definitely Wiggity Wack

          Epic.    Fail.
 I'll go ahead and bite off the words and choke them down... Let them marinade like a bitter tonic. The truth is staring me brazenly in the face. The scale does not lie. That harsh and impudent number shamelessly blinking back at me from under my feet offends my sensabilites.

It has been a while since I've posted any updates regarding my mission to trim down. I dont want to beat a dead horse, or consume my writing with petty concerns.There are many more important things to talk about.  But lets face it, its a legitemate concern at the moment. And of all the things that I am or am not, I do try to be honest and real. Good, bad, ugly, or otherwise. So in the spirit of keeping it real, I do hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. (just dont ask me about the Red Robin whiskey river bbq chicken sandwich. One instance where the truth isnt good for anyone)

 I think last time we checked in I miraculously lost 5 pounds in one week. And then I lost 1 more gimpy pound over two weeks. And now, almost a whole month later? NO MAS. Not one more pound. I am...disappointed. And only a little bit indignant. It never used to be this hard!? Is this a sign of aging?  I used to get away with cutting corners. But those days are over for me. As I mentioned here, YOU'VE GOTTA DO THE WORK!  Its simple math, really. Calories in. Calories out. Its not rocket science! Its not hard, its just...HARD.

Hard, yes. Impossible, no. I have done it before, I'll do it again. Well, I AM doing it. Six pounds is...considerable! (Can you tell by all the exclamation points that Im really trying to rally, here?)  Its progress. Its halfway. The element of panic I feel is due to the fact that time is running out. Summer has arrived. Its here. No more rainchecks (pun intended). Vacation is less than 6 weeks away. I thought I'd be done by now! Not floundering around like a whale out of water at the midway point!

I need to get my head back in the game. I need to change it up. I also need to stay positive. While it felt like it for a moment there on the scale, this is not an epic fail. I AM losing weight! Just a lot slower than Im accustomed to. I need to remember that its a process that happens one decision at a time. One healthy choice after another... after another... after another. Patience has never been my strong suit.

Maybe I should take up running again. I have a track literally on the other side of my backyard. Maybe I just need to get out in the fresh air and hit the track, leaving a trail of fervent effort in my wake. I feel like Im in a P90X rut. Its sunny and beautiful outside, and it just feels wrong to be excersizing indoors in a stuffy little area. Like a hamster in a wheel.  I am genuinely missing my gym membership right about now- a day I never thought I'd see! Spinning classes were my favorite way to work out. It was actually fun and I really enjoyed the element of fellow spinners. It was also brutal.  I mean, you know you're working hard when you're WRISTS are sweating, right? But spinning is not an option at the moment. Boo friggity hoo. Its time to improvise. Time to rally. My goal is still within reach- I have long arms. (I actually do. My brother in law used to call me Inspector Gadget because it took me a while to grow into my arms. Im happy to report that my limbs are all fairly dimentional these days. Ankles excluded.)

So that's the truth. I am disappointed, a teeny weeny bit panicked, and (foolishly) indignant. But I cannot claim to be confused. I know exactly why its taking so long. Its my own doing. Have I skipped workouts? A few. Have I cheated with the food? *Cough* What whiskey river bbq chicken sandwhich? Fries? What?! Chipotle? Me? (In my defense, I will say that Chipotle is bar none the best burrito I've ever tasted. So whenever passing through a town that boasts this delicious treat, I cannot pass it up. Cannot. That discussion is off the table.) LOL. But that's life. And its ok. As long as Im a good little soldier and fall back in line. Im making progress. Im halfway to my goal! I think at the halfway point there should be little mile markers. Or some kind of little signs that say "Discipline!" "Self Control!" "PS: You are doing this because you WANT to, and not because you have to! So shut up and quit your belly-aching." "PSS: Good job" "PPSS: Keep up the good work!"... I would find that helpful.

In conclusion, my goals for the next month are:
 1) Chin up and stay positive.
 2) Hit it harder with the workouts.
 3) More water
 4) Eat breakfast! Every day! (I know, I should've been doing that a loooong time ago)
 5) Eat something small and healthy every few hours.
 6) Keep perspective. This is something Im trying to improve and that's all it is. Be thankful for what I've got. Which is considerable. Health, Family, Basic necessities. More than a lot of people in the world. Make that double thankful.

"We've Got a Bleeder!"

Its my ears. Are they bleeding? Is there actual blood dripping out of them yet? The problem is that Husband has been gone for three days and so I've suffered the brunt of it alone. All alone. The mind-numbing barrage of words. The sheer relentlessnes of the rapid-fire questions, one after another after another with hardly a pause for breath, seering into my brain like intruding bullets.

The car is the hardest. Its like you're trapped. Yesterday I was in the car with the kids for about 2 hours altogether. 7 minutes of that time was quiet. I am not exaggerating. I've tried turning on music but that doesnt work. My ipod is no match for her. She just talks over it.

"Do I have to take a nap when I get home?" "If I do have to take a nap, can I watch a half of a cartoon first?" "Can you put Jaxon asleep before me?" "Why do I have to take a nap?" "Can I sleep on my princess couch instead of my bed?" "Why not?" "Im hungry, I think I need a snack first" "Can I have a chococlate granola bar?" "Why not?!" "Is it healthy?" "If I dont have a granola bar, what can I have?" "Can I have gum?" "Are coyotes mean?" "Do they bite?" "I think bears and coyotes and lions and sharks and turkeys are all mean and they bite but dogs and cats are nice." (2 seconds to catch breath) "Actually some dogs and cats are not nice?" "We always be careful about dogs and cats that we dont know because they might be mean." "How do you know if they're mean?" "Remember Grannie Annie's cat?" "What was his name?" "I fed him a treat and he was nice." "But Aunt Cyndee's cat was not nice. Rango. No, wait, Ringo."(Incidentally Aunt Cyndee does not have a cat named Ringo or Rango. Im sure someone we know does. Aunt Cyndee has a dog. Named Blue. But that's all besides the point- much like her whole train of thought) "So mommy, how is your day?" "Where are we going?" "I dont think you're going the right way." "Do we need gas?" "Can a car pop if you put too much gas in it?" "What if the guy just kept putting more and more and more gas in and the whole car literry (literally) just popped?" "Has that ever happened to you when you were little mom?" "Was I in your tummy when I was 2?" "Remember when I was a baby and I used to eat baby food?" "Remember that?" (half a second to catch breath) "Do pandas live in China or Africa?" "Do the kids in Africa not even have new toys mommy?" "When you were little did you go to the North Pole?" "Do ocutopus' sting?"
All of that literally takes only about 75 seconds for her to say. I can hardly keep up. While she is just finding her rythm, Im starting to go crosseyed!  I have learned to pick and choose my answers carefully because often one simple answer leads into 79 more questions, about half of which I will have a good answer for.

 *Pause*

...I get it....I am not the first person to ever have a child that talks them into a tailspin. Am I complaining? No, not really. I can appreciate it for what it is and see the cuteness factor in it. I suppose I find it to be equal parts endearing and exasperating. And Im glad I have a daughter with an ever-inquisitive, precocious mind. Really. But SOME DAYS, the dull ache behind my eyes starts even before I've brushed my teeth in the morning. Do I wish she was anything other than who she is? No, of course not. Do I wish I had more patience? More resiliance? More answers? YES! It makes me chuckle, because she's always been this way. She was talking well before she was 1, and talking WELL by the time she was 2. In fact, even in the delivery room and during our whole stay in the hospital there was no peace, no quiet. Spitfire from birth. Ah, I suppose its only fitting. In this very blog (Dont Fight The Funk post) I have said that I, myself, often worry that I've said too much. That Im a blurter.That I will never be one of those peripheral people who quietly take it all in and never let it out. I did say all that, didnt I. Oh dear.

 So it's a fine line I walk every day (and sometimes zigzag back and forth across)- trying to cultivate her little mind, and engage her in coversation, trying to make her feel heard and not disregarded. All the while trying to reign it in and guide it, otherwise, whatever the conversation, she's going to take that bull by the horns and steer it in whatever direction she fancies! Knowing when to really listen and when to shoosh (because lets all be real here, shooshing is fully necessary sometimes)  Its like she's a derailed caboose and we have to keep circling back around and re-attaching her to the train of thought. (pun intended) (And by the way, when is pun ever NOT intended? Whenever people say "no pun intended" there most definitely IS almost always "pun intended")
 We're trying to teach her not to interrupt, or to talk over people. Thats a big one we're working on at the moment. She's figured out that if she just talks louder that she can still get it all out regardless of whomever else might be attempting to get a word in edgewise. Moment of Honesty?: I keep catching myself getting in these climactic conversations with her where she is talking louder, then Im talking louder trying to be heard, then she's a notch higher trying to be heard, and then next thing I know Im practically shrieking "PLEASE TALK QUIETER OR YOU'RE GOING TO WAKE UP THE BABY!"...Right. Oops. I forgot to mention aside from the amount of talking, she has one volume. And its loud.

 Then I  have one of those smacking-your-palm-to-your-forehead moments, and remember that I am the boss. This small little person is 4 and I am 29. And granted, she may be a force to be reckoned with, but I do not need to get sucked into a 20 minute volley of words that leaves me in frenzied state! She's good at it too, because its not usually direct defiance, or even ornoriness in general, but more like a subtle sidestepping of the point (my point). She is quite old enough to grasp the concept of being quiet when need be. Of listening to me when I am talking. Of simply doing what I ask of her without voicing and re-voicing multiple opinions about it. Ah, getting tricky now, isnt it? Balancing the requirement  of obedience and respect (WITH a good attitude! minor yet huge clause), while nurturing and guiding, AND teaching? What is the best way to let them be who they are and yet mold them into what they should be?- (civilized and polite human beings) Because really, isnt that basically our whole job as parents?  I do think a kid is allowed to be a kid- and sometimes that means they are loud, and sometimes they cause a ruckus, and sometimes they have lots of questions. And that's okay!
But My Lanta! What's a lady gotta do to get some peace and quiet?

I Think Ace Ventura Put it Best When He Said "Find a Happy Place!"

Its all fun and games until one of them starts flinging poo. Oh yes. Welcome to my day. Come join me. Bask with me in the mayhem. "Give in to the power of the tea" if you will. (bonus points for readers who can name that movie). (Actually, double bonus points. Because Name That Movie is my favorite game ever. Second only to "Remember When...")

I think I felt it coming before I even opened my eyes this morning. Trouble. As if the only word I could clearly see forming on the foggy horizon of my brain was already going to be "BLURG".  Do you ever wake up so early that you feel nauseous? Like your body is so tired its literally rejecting wakefulness? Happens to me all the time. I think this might be part of why I hate breakfast so much. Its the only time of day you will catch me wishing for sleep over food.

I think I had a bad dream too. I've been reading a lot lately and both the books Im reading melded into one bizarre dream involving a heap of dead wolves with yellow eyes, (shudder), a rugged Scotsman (yes please),  and a troubling impression that I was grinding my teeth into gravel inside my own head (I actually do grind my teeth so this wasnt too far off). Suffice it to say, that I had a furrow in my brow before I even made it off of my pillow this morning. Both of my little darlings seemed to wake up on the wrong side of the bed as well, because before breakfast was over, there were two altercations between siblings,  one spill, followed by tears, followed by whining, followed by me snapping at my daughter over her highly dramatic display. Dangit. Not even 8:00 yet and I've already lost my cool. Deep breath. Apologize for being snappy, while trying to simultaneously squeeze in a lesson about attitudes of the heart. Only semi succesful in getting point across. She was pretty busy with her Cinnamon Toast Crunch and he just grins blankly at me every time I talk anyways, regardless of what Im saying. (which I secretly love).

And so it went for the next few hours. Rushing to get us all showered, dressed, fed, teeth brushed, hair combed, and out the door.(With no lack of battles over each one of those things)  Drop off at school, run errands, pick up from school, try to keep 1 year old happy and quiet as I try to be productive... Fail. Decide its a good idea to bundle up and head outside in the backyard for some good old fashioned fun. Enjoy approximately 4.5 minutes of delight, playing with my children, blowing and popping bubbles until Littler One spills Bigger One's bubbles. While I console Bigger One over the loss of her new bubbles and remind her to be gracious and forgiving with Littler One, and grab a towel to start mopping up  the sticky mess, I turn around just in time to see it. Littler One. Holding a poop. My dog's poop. Oh dear God.

After I shrieked, scolded Buster the dog (not that it was his fault. Hey, everybody poops), disinfected, scoured, and scrubbed up my son, called it quits with the bubbles, tried to make dinner amid seventeen interruptions regarding snacks, barbie shoes, a half eaten chapstick, and a completely emptied trash can on my kitchen floor, - after  that I decided to give it up.  It was one of those days where everything was harder than I thought it should have been. You know those days you have, as a parent, where you honestly get tired of hearing your own voice? I decided to abandon my efforts (however valiant they may be!) to force my day into something it wasnt going to be. So  I opened a diet Dr. Pepper, allowed myself one hearty eye-roll before I shooshed the "What the what?!" train of thought I felt forming in the back of my head, had a good chuckle, and  acquiesced to the funk. Sometimes ya gotta just let it be. So I took my remaining shreds of peace of mind and my diet Dr. Pepper into my daughters playhouse and let her pretend to be my mommy while Jaxon banged toy pots over my head for 20 minutes. And I daresay that 20 minutes was the highlight of the day for all three of us.

Further Confessions

 5 Things.- Scratch that- 6 Things. Unabridged, self-deprecating things at that. Im not proud, but it is what it is.

- I do not know how to roller skate, ice skate, do a cartwheel (in high school, when I tried out for cheerleading I literally had to do a sommersault with spirit fingers for my 'tumbling'. It was a low point. Miraculously, I still made the team). Nor can I whistle by blowing out. Only in. And it sounds like a cat dying. You can only suck in so much air til you get lightheaded!

- SPOILER ALERT! This one is of a, um, *cough* personal nature. -I cannot hear Robin Thicke on the radio without practically wanting to throw my panties at the stereo. I do not know the actual lyrics to his songs, because all I hear is "sexy sex sex sexy sexiness" in that lovely falsetto.  Same goes for Justin Timberlake singing "Hallelujah". Chills. I get chills. Also among my musical confessions: One of my favorite songs is "The Way I Are" by Timbaland. Haha! What a gangster...

-Im not saying its super powers or anything, but my sister and I have a few random skills. She knows all the lyrics to all songs, ever. Of all time. If you are ever stumped, ask her. She will know all the words. Its mindblowing. I, on the other hand, have a rubberface. I can mimic almost any facial expression. I have one dear freind, who's favorite pastime is to choose facial expressions at random from a magazine or a movie and watch me copy them on command. Im not saying we're making the world a better place, or that we even 'use our powers for good and not evil.' (joking, Im joking! Of course we use them for good) But we might be fun to have around if you are ever bored out of your mind. I also have an... well Im just going to say it-  an impressive repertoire of movie quotes. This sounds like bragging, but I dont think it is.  

-I cannot dance. The shame! I despise this about myself. I think maybe a long time ago I could?  But I lost it. I lost my mojo. My husband is a much better dancer than I am. He loooooves to remind me of this. He knows exactly how many drinks it would take in any given situation to get me on the dance floor. Luckily I rarely drink alcohol or am near a dance floor. When I do, and I am? Stand back. Its not pretty.

-I do not know all the rules to even the most major sports. In high school I was on the bowling and cheerleading teams. I wasnt exactly Sporty Spice. I mean, Im not a complete ninny- I understand the basics of what's going on, but it ends there. For all I know, too much eye contact could be a foul, or a tickle fight could be allowed in the middle of a volleyball match... No?... Akward?

- I am not prone to doing things slowly. Vacuuming, shaving my legs, brushing my teeth, driving, talking... Even worse is when I get to doing these things rather quickly, I tend to overly focus on that one thing while the rest of my limbs start to have a mind of their own. Wierded out? Haha, I guess that one requires an explanation. When I brush my teeth, I do it so quickly and vigorously (sad news for my gums I might add), that while my right hand is hard at work, my left hand gnarls up into this arthritic little ball and suddenly I've got a claw for a left hand. Not cute. Appearantly its just too much for my body to concentrate on and I malfunction. It took me years- literally years, to train myself to shave slowly. My family called me Zorro all through high school because of the many self inflicted gaping wounds from my shaving mishaps. The very worst of which, I did on the morning of a cheearleading competition, a school dance, and a wedding, all of which I was participating in on the same day. I mean this one was a bloody massacre. I had to wear a huge bandage on my shin to all three events. It looked like a crime scene on my right leg! In short, I am a person prone to misadventures...Ah,  Bless my heart.

Bless her heart too. Looks like she inherited a little bit more than my ankles and my penchant for comedy... Her left hand is showing that she's "4". The right hand? Not so sure.

Ok So I Lied!

But not intentionally! A while back  (now, now, there's no need to document HOW FAR back) I said I was going to re-start P90X... Turns out I lied.
Ewe. I hate how this already is shaping up to sound like one big procrastinating "fail"! I ..."WAS going to..." "RE-start"?... Gag. I swear Im not this person. I will say this, in my defense: I had good reasons! Legitimate reasons! Health reasons. Holiday reasons. Packing and moving reasons. This is starting to sound like a lot of reasons.
So now we are moved, settled, healthy, and I am fresh out of good reasons to put it off any longer. So its really true. (Drumroll please!) On Monday, THIS Monday, I am re-starting P90X. There, I've said it. Now I have to do it. The very same reason why I avoid new years resolutions. All that accountability, the public scrutiny, the misplaced pressure! But this time Im embracing it, which is actually quite contrary to my usual habit. Historically speaking, its a telling sign if I've quit TALKING about doing something, because that is about the exact time that I actually DO the thing. Especially in the health and fitness department. "Im going to eat healthier", "Im going to run ten miles", "Im going to quit drinking soda", "blah blah blah". No one cares! No one really ever wants to hear any of this nonsense. Except maybe a sister or a best freind or someone of that nature. Other than that, Im guessing that its better to just shut up and do it already and quit carrying on about it. So I will, and I am, and I'll let you know how it goes.
I do have a small ammendment to make: I am not entirely against New Year's Resolutions. Im all for reflecting, taking stock, and setting personal goals. I actually have a lot of goals. I want to have more GUMPTION! More courage, more spunk, more GUTS. I want to be more GRACIOUS. And those are just the G's!  Back during the holiday frenzy, I had made it my "December personal goal" that if I must err, to always err on the side of graciousness. I've decided that was a good one, and Im going to keep it at the top of the list for-  well, for forever.  I think its more the element of choosing January 1st to be a Refresh button that doesnt jive with me. If I really wanted to do something, or not do something, or make some emphatic change, I would just do it, regardless of the date on the calendar. But I suppose its as good of a time as any-  and hey, who am I to talk anyway? Here I am,  implementing my big P90X plan on January 24th. LOL. Maybe I just resist January 1st because I really am a procrastinator? Hmm.  Im sure I can trust you to put that one in the vault...

Confessions: Second Edition

So here's the real truth of the matter, however unsettling it may be. I think Im getting lazy. When I used to work, I was so good at compartmentalizing my time. Work time, check. Family time, check. Cleaning/ grocery shopping time, check. Free time, check. I was so much better at focusing wholly on each particular thing and then moving on to the next.  I know life isnt always so "compartmentalized" and tidy like that, especially when juggling multiple roles in one day. We are a generation of multi-taskers. And we wear this badge as if its an honor. Maybe it is, to a degree. I can brush my teeth, put my daughter's hair in pigtails, talk on the phone, and keep my 12 month old out of the toilet (almost a full time job in itself) all the same time. Great. Grand. Getting things done.

Except...I think somewhere in the middle of all that, I tend to get swallowed up in the minutiae of my day. All those small tasks that maybe dont feel so groundbreakingly important, but on some level, they really are.  I cherish the time Im able to spend at home with my two kids. But...do I really? I know in my heart of hearts, that answer is a resounding yes. But Im thinking that a little bit of the importance of my 'job' ( Ewe. I dont like the way that sounds. Lets say mission) has been lost on me lately.  The tricky part, is that often some of the most mundane parental tasks- the ones we really dont love doing, if we're honest, can wind up being unexpectedly the sweetest moments. Goodnight prayers and kisses, early morning pre-coffee breakfast making, diaper changes that turn into tickle fights. But if Im always rushing through these things to get them done, instead of being actively present during them, I miss SO much. Its one thing to keep my children alive, fed, bathed, clothed, loved, safe, etc. That's the easy part. Its making the deposits in their hearts that requires so much more of me. And the scary part? Its easy not to do. Ooh. Just got REAL!  (chuckle)  It is though. Its easy to coast some days. To do the basic minimum requirement.

So I am personally (publicly) challenging myself. To rise to the occasion. To do my real and true best. And dont worry, its not some noble, grandiose proclamation to strike the perfect balance. Life is life. Whatever. Just putting myself in check.

In fact, this very moment, Jaxon is literally biting my ankles. Literally.  And Bella is running circles through the kitchen and dining room like a wild banshee. So this is me, closing my computer, turning off the tv, and being present. Otherwise, good Lord, the house might burn down.

Confessions of an Honest Mom

October 9, 2010

Ok. Moms out there: have we all been in that situation where you're having pleasant, small-talk-y conversation with another mom-acquaintance (which generally means talk about your kids. Story swapping, anticdote sharing, general inadvertant gushing)...and said mom keeps slipping in comments about how she "really just can't believe what a wonderful personality little Billy has". Or, "how truly, truly lucky she feels, and SO honored" to be little Suzy's mother. And you feel yourself smile and graciously agree, saying something along the lines of "Yes, they really are so charming, and yes you really should feel lucky". - When inwardly you stifle a hearty eye-roll. I mean, seriously? Let's all be real here. Dont ALL moms EVERYWHERE feel this way? Don't we all, deep in our hearts, feel that our kids are somehow spectacular?
Now,...(pause)...I get it. Im treading lightly here. I am not some cold, cynical, eye-rolling monster who doesn't wanna hear about your cute kid. On the contrary, I think its important to share the positive sentiments as much or probably more than sharing the negative ones. After all, its a mixed bag, is it not? I do, however, have a low tolerance for that subtle, passive-aggressive-my-life-is-ever-so-slightly-better-than-yours-THING that women can be so good at. There. I said it.
Does anyone know what Im talking about? That shift, however subterranean it might be, that feels like these pleasantries have suddenly taken on an ugly, slightly competitive edge? ...WHY?! What's the point?
I consider myself lucky to have a close circle of family and freinds, -moms themselves- who I can say this is not ever the case with. We all know and love each other and our subsequent children, and we can just go ahead and be real with each other. How refreshing! To be able to just come right out and admit that we, (or one of our little darlings) are having an 'off'day.  A bad day. A naughty day, even. (Gasp) It happens. Its true. No judgements. No clicking tongues or raised eyebrows. Because, as parents, aren't we ALL climbing that same, daily, uphill battle?
Now, at the risk of sounding like a negative nellie- I will ammend that I do not mean to sound, nor do I feel, that parenting is a drag. Not at all. As I've said before, there is nothing else I'd rather be doing. Nothing that can empty you, yet gloriously fill you up at the same time, quite like parenting. So let's all be chums, eh? Comrades. Let's all be real here.