*Totally not the right picture! Meant to upload something else. Have no idea what happened there. The woes of Blackberry Blogging.*
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Saturday
Had a GREAT Race Today
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Wednesday
Sure is pretty here.
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The Finger
That's the finger you get when you tell someone that it's time to go up to the room because there is a giant storm moving in and you don't want to get hit by lightning what with being the tallest things on the beach and all.
That's the finger you get when you ask someone to find their other shoe so we could proceed to shelter.
That's the finger you get when you tell someone not to do something and it offends him deeply.
That's the finger you get if you are an inanimate object and someone crawls underneath you to get something he dropped but he slams his tiny head on you by accident.
That's the finger you get when it's bedtime and someone does not feel like doing bedtime. At all.
That's the finger you get when you tell someone they've had enough fudge for the night.
That's the finger you get when you're getting the wrath of a two-year-old.
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Tuesday
I Am Here.
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Monday
My New Blog
It's almost here. I'm so excited!
I'm going to have a Twitter party with giveaways and everything.
I just tried that Tweet Deck thing for the first time. I'm that official.
So keep your eyes peeled!
And say a prayer that I will go to the beach before this freakin week is over.
The end.
Sunday
Cupcake Power
I realized today when I fist-pumped to the theme song of Phineas and Ferb that I have been inside watching children's programming for too long.
Sure, we've made forts. We've played Plah-doh and mixed every color together and let it all turn into tiny hard little useless balls (there is a joke in there somewhere), we've done crafts and we've colored and we've cut out shapes and done puzzles and read books and painted and drew on the chalkboard and raced cars and dressed up in our Bat costumes (I'm running out of breath).
But after a while all those things get old and your brain gets fried and you plant your butts in front of the television, just watching and waiting for the germs to run their course and leave already (dammit!)
And you watch every movie under the sun of the earth and back again and every episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Little Einsteins, Curious George and Phineas and Ferb and Calliou etc etc to bloody etc. And you watch so much children's programming that you don't even know that there is a tropical storm headed your way because you haven't caught a single glimpse of the local news in days. My bad. (Totally missed us.)
Today, one boy is better, and one is not. And the one that is not is at home with me while the other one that is has gone on to the beach to start vacation and we plan to catch up at some point but that point is not today.
And the only thing that could unbreak a tiny 4 year old heart that just watched his brother and daddy drive away to the beach is this:
Cause see? THEY didn't get to make a hundred cupcakes with chocolate frosting and sprinkles.
WE did.
So there. Nannynannybooboo.
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Saturday
Torture in the Form of the Electric Slide
I just want to air a grievance here. OK? I hope you don't mind.
OK. Here we go.
Today I went to spin class. I was on the spin bike for an hour and 15 minutes. It was a nice, long ride and I challenged myself and I eventually followed it up with a 5 mile run, blah blah blah. All very good and wonderful (and I needed it so bad since getting thrown up on yesterday during sick day extravaganza number 512.)
Anyway.
Somewhere in the middle of spin class, the instructor (who I LOVE), played the Electric Slide.
The only thing I can say to that is, what kind of crap is that!
The ELECTRIC SLIDE?
REALLY??
WHILE WE'RE ALL ON BIKES, SOME OF US LITERALLY ATTACHED TO OUR BIKES WITH THE CLIPPY PEDALS????
Does he have any idea whatsoever what kind of torture it was for me to not get off the bike and DO the Electric Slide??!!
And I don't even LIKE the Electric Slide!
There's just something about the song that makes your legs move to its music involuntarily and then you find your legs headed out to whatever dance floor is the closest, where you start doing it whether you like it or not!
The funnier thing would have been if each one of us, one by one, got off our bikes and started doing the Electric Slide in the room. Which I am sure would have been a special kind of disaster what with no room to do it in between the bikes and all.
And the visual THAT would have been from outside the room, looking in through that little glass wall. That might have been priceless and something you would see in a teen movie from the 80s with all of us wearing leg warmers.
I'm pretty sure every single one of us was up for it, actually, but no one had the courage to break the seal. But oh, how I wanted to!
Instead, we all pedaled away on our bikes for the whole song. Hum de dum. All while NOT doing the Electric Slide. Which was nothing short of a long drawn-out torture for me.
I'm just sayin.
Spin class teacher, you hurt me today. And I don't know if I love you anymore.
OK that's all.
Have a nice day.
Friday
Batgirl. Even Before Coffee
This "bug" is picking us off one by one. But you know what? I'M NOT GOING TO WORRY ABOUT IT ANYMORE!
It stinks and it's kept us homebound for the past week and we go on vacation tomorrow to the beach but approximately 50% of us will not be going and I'm not going to worry about it anymore.
There is nothing I could have done differently. There was no way to avoid this.
It is what it is. So there. I don't care anymore.
Besides, we're having a little fun.
Before 9 a.m. this morning, I was already BatGirl.
I had a special request from a certain little sick Batman that I dig out my Halloween costume from last year and be his BatGirl.
What can you say to that?
I tried to say, "After breakfast."
And then I tried to say, "After coffee."
But he wouldn't take "maybe later" for an answer. And he used his little Bat powers to find it himself. So there was no pulling one over on him, even with a 103 temperature.
So I was BatGirl. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that first thing in the morning, pre-coffee with mascara running down my face, it was not nearly as pretty as Halloween and well, might have actually have looked more like Elvira than BatGirl, minus the big hoots.
Just in case you were wondering what we're doing this whole time, just know that at any given moment there are at least two people dressed like a Bat person, and at any given moment there could also be another Batman (a tiny one) in which we find ourselves in a grammar quandry: is it two BatMEN? Or two BatMANS? BatMENS?
Thursday
I'd Like to Tell This Girl a Thing or Two...
It has been just over 2 years since I began my weight-loss journey.
It still feels like yesterday.
I cannot believe that as I sit here, I have finally kept the weight off. After all of those millions of times of saying "This is going to be it, I SWEAR!" It finally is.
I was going through all my old "race reports" that I have posted here and I had to share my very first one ever. The one that started this whole crazy thing. The story of my first 5k.
OK, no it wasn't that bad. The 5K actually went pretty well! It was the first longish run where I didn't want to die at the end. That's progress, right?
I woke up and had "nervous stomach" which my sister knows what that means because she gets "nervous stomach" too.
I had a cup of coffee. A glass of water. Fed Mini. Had a protein bar. Peed a lot for fear of having to go somewhere along the 3 miles and being stuck. Got dressed. Headed out the door with my dad, my husband and Poops in tow.
And besides my tank top rolling up on me the whole way, it went pretty smoothly. I kept the same pace most of the way. I was a little apprehensive about my husband running with me; he hasn't run at all over the past 9 weeks like I have and I was going to be annoyed if I ended up keeping his pace instead of mine or if he did better than me running this cold turkey. But he kind of stayed behind me and to the side a little and I was able to effectively ignore him and instead I felt like I had my own secret service agent.
We came it at 37:13.
I wanted to do it in 36 minutes (actually I really wanted to do it in 30 -- but I tend to dream a little too big. My argument for that is that it keeps me reaching. My husband says I set myself up for failure. Who knows.) But my actual time was close to my more realistic goal. Just the fact that I came in under 45 minutes (or an hour for that matter) makes me happy enough for now. In fact, the last 5K I did when I was in much better shape and two kids ago in Utah was 36:40. I blame that time on the high altitude. Why not. So I do a 12ish minute mile. Sue me.
There we are, toasting to our finish! Cheers! Now...what to do next...
Oh if only she knew...
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Wednesday
I Will Admit, I'm Intimidated
When I was scrolling through the internet, the official provider of free training plans, looking for a 1/2 Iron plan, I was intimidated by what I found.
The workouts were crazy!
What on earth was I doing? These workouts aren't something I could do. I'm not ready for that. There is no way.
But I've already paid for my entry into the Miami-Man half-iron race in November and the full Disney Marathon in January.
That's a lot of money to just eat.
I knew I had to combine my marathon training with the half-iron training but I didn't want to overtrain and I didn't know how to combine the two. I was able to wing it and do it with a half-marathon and an olympic distance triathlon earlier this year, but this was different. This was double all of that and it is just way beyond my level of expertise. I pretend to know what I'm doing and I can be a pretty good faker, but even I can't fake my way through this one.
So then I was flapping in the breeze for weeks after the half-marathon without any plan at all. I was sporatically getting random workouts in, the kinds with no rhyme or reason, not building anything just sort of going through the motions. And I was eating, well, terribly, and I started gaining (already! I told you my metabolism hates me!) and I started getting panicky.
And then my dear sister from the Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans, Kirsten, mentioned she was going to solicit help from Coach Joe, our coach from Team In Training.
So I did that too.
We went back and forth, Kirsten and I joined forces, and last week, he sent us our plans.
And I promptly pooed myself.
Then I cleaned up, and took a second look at it. And decided that I am actually really scared looking at it. I mean really scared. No wonder I was scared at all the plans I saw online, because they really ARE ALL ASSKICKERS! It wasn't just my imagination, it wasn't just those plans, it's ALL of them.
I will admit this out loud. I feel over my head here.
And on the flipside, I feel myself thinking wow, if I really did do this, well, that would be something. And that prospect really, really excites me.
I mean, what if???!!
So I am both excited and freakin' scared of what lies ahead. On November 14th, I'll be standing at the water's edge, ready or not. And I will have gone through some pretty vigorous training to get there. I will have done things that I've never done before. I will have gone distances I've never gone before. And it will all have culminated into that moment.
(As long as I don't have any injuries between now and then.)
For now, as I look at my 2nd long workout of the plan which is this weekend, I think it's already starting. The tests are already beginning. 20 mile ride followed by a 5 mile run. Never done that before. So I will just plug away at my plan and take each day, each workout, as it comes, rinse and repeat.
I'm gonna trust in the Coach Joe. And I'm going to take this opportunity to take a deep breath and start believing and trusting in myself. Because yes, I can do this.
Yes I can.
Tuesday
Doesn't Take Much to Fill Up a Sick Day
Captain's Log 2190: Another Sick Day
So far, we've:
- Watched 453 episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse
- Done the Hot Dog dance 453 times.
- Played "Toy Story 3" 223 times on the Leapster
- Painted a piggy bank
- Took turns playing rock band with the Elmo guitar
- Watched Phineas and Ferb 329 times
- Went bug hunting inside the house *gag*. We came up with 1 dead Palmetto Bug in the sliding door track, 1 random bug shell under the coffee table *gag gag* and a cocoon in a quilt (really? What the hell is this. Seriously. Was a moth trying to eat the blanket but found out it was too big a job, decided he was tired, made himself a cocoon and went for a nap? And by the way, this makes me hate rainy season because we're always a little more buggy this time a year.But I suppose it's entertaining for two little boys who love bugs.)
- Played around with my NEW BLOG which is almost done (YEEEEHAWWWW!) And that was just me, actually. While they were watching one of the 600 episodes of Mickey Mouse or Phineas and Ferb of course.
- Downloaded 2 new apps for my Blackberry
- taken temperatures 12,984,287 times
- had one minor freakout when the fever got a little high.
- ate tacos.
- played with more toys from the roadtrip that should be happening right now but isn't.
Oh what the rest of the day shall hold.
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Monday
Quoting the wise Agent Oso
It's all part of the plan, more or less. Right?
Like the wise, Agent Oso says anyway...
This morning, I'm coming to you from my kitchen. No 12 hour roadtrip to North Carolina. No one-million stops and snacks and movies and roadtrip toys and yelling at each other and roadside time-outs and carspotting and pecan tasting and picture taking.
But worst of all, no sister. Which is why we were going. And I miss her so much it hurts.
Sigh.
I knew it was all over when my two-year-old laid his head down on the table at Cracker Barrel yesterday just before we left to come home from our weekend in South Florida. For some strange reason, I brought my thermometer (scoring good mommy points here) and it read 101.6. Oh, bugger.
I guess I held out hope that today would be a different story and we'd still be able to go, but he spent the ride home with a fever, all night with a fever, and this morning there was barf. I'm not sure what the rest of the week holds yet, but right now there is a giant fort in my living room, two children and a mommy in pajamas and Monsters, Inc on tv and I've been busting out the toys that I had gotten them for the long road trip.
It's so hard for me to throw in the towel and slow down the speed once I've mentally prepped myself for three back-to-back trips and all of packing and running around with the kids that three weeks of trips entails. When we got home last night, I was flitting around the house packing for the next two weeks because we were supposed to leave this morning, go to NC then come back and go to the beach for a week. I was going to get the oil changed this morning, get in a run and load everyone up and head out. I was going to bring my bike and get my training in North Carolina. I was going to run, I was bringing my GPS watch. I have a sprint triathlon at the tail end of the beach week and I was packing for that too.
Going going going.
But then in the middle of it all, with the suitcases spread open everywhere and clean laundry everywhere and the lights all on, we decided to stay home.
And I sat down with my arms crossed on the couch like I was 4 years old and I threw myself a mini pity party. And then I had a beer. And then I had two more and we watched Tosh.O and we laughed at the cartwheeling goalie and I felt better.
It took me a good hour to change modes and resolve myself to the fact that we were going nowhere this week. It still doesn't feel quite right. This sucks.
But the little boy is happily playing at the table with his Buzz and Woody and he has no fever and he looks so stinkin cute.
Oh well.
It's all part of the plan, more or less.
Saturday
It's the Small Things...(Plus a policeman named "Ariel.")
Hooray for free Wi-Fi at Starbucks!
It's the small things. It really is.
At the end of our drive, the only thing I wanted in life was a quiet corner with a plug and an iced latte. That is all.
And I remembered I had my "after 2pm coupon" with me because I have already partaken in a Starbucks earlier. Shhhhhh. Don't tell. So that meant my drink was only $2!
An outlet, a $2 iced latte and free Wi-Fi. Seriously. Does it get better?
My mom and I left my dad at the hotel with three toddlers in the same hotel room and when I left they were all bathed and jammied up and in their beds, but sooooo not happy about it. Hope things are looking up for him by now! *snicker*
It's nice and quiet here.
The drive to South Florida went really great with these little beings! It was only a 5 hour drive, and we would have left much earlier had it not been for Michaels and its irresistable magnetic force it has over us. I wonder each time I visit, why does Michaels have the power to suck me in and keep me there and not want to let me go? It has a sort of magnetism that just when I am getting ready to walk toward the cash register it finds a way to divert me all the way back to the back of the store and down each aisle again. I do this again and again and again, and when I am in the store with my mother and Michaels is doing this to her too (we have no defense!) then it's twice as bad. We start walking to the front and then she's diverted and I'm diverted. And it takes forever for us to meet up again and then as we walk toward the front the cycle starts again.
2 hours later...we're on the road.
Really, I wonder, it is like a craft caffeine or craft crack, it's brilliant. It's like what the Colonel puts in his Kentucky Fried Chicken to make it so addicting. Or used to, anyway, back when it was yummy and had all those terrible trans fats in it.
Well anyway, the drive was great. We watched a lot of movies, drew, sang, slept, and ate snacks. (Well, not me, I was driving.) It wasn't until we arrived at the hotel that the madness (and of course the sweating, my God the sweating!) ensued. The restaurant of course is always the most stressful (the squealing, the ceremonious knocking over of the water, all the banging and the of course, the not eating.)
And then I got to skip out of the room while my dad hunkered down in a darkened hotel room trying to convince three toddlers to go to sleep! OK, I feel sort of bad now. But he offered!
I am, however, much more better prepared than I was for our last roadtrip, which means I actually have items that are keeping them busy besides snacks (which was where I was a huge miserable failure of a mother last go round.) Each of them have the following:
- A backpack from the $1 section of Target (actually each one was $2.50) but they are so cute. One is shaped like a puppy, another is an alligator and another is a butterfly.
- A kid-sized travel pillow, the kind that wraps around their neck like for the airplane, they're so tiny it's priceless! Also Target dollar section.
- Stickers and paper
- A friend (Two Buzz Lightyears and one Strawberry Shortcake - all on clearance.)
- 3 magna-doodles.
- A partridge in a pear tree.
- I have a ton more tricks up my sleeve over the next week and a half -- Leapster, books, activity books, new movies, etc etc but I'm going to ration them all out as necessary for survival.
You go figure that one out.
Anyway, that's a whole 'nother story for a whole 'nother day. "Police Man Ariel" is as good a place to end as any!! Have a wonderful Saturday!
And ps. If you're wondering how to blog from your Blackberry, you go onto blogger on your computer, you got to 'settings', you find the "mobile & email" section, scroll down to the bottom and there is an "e-mail posting address", and you can send an e-mail to that address from your Blackberry and it will post to your blog. Nifty! The only thing is, I haven't figured out how to title it, it doesn't seem to have a link (thanks Pubsgal!) But I can live with that for now because I'm lazy.
I will spend Saturday and Sunday trying to post silly pictures.
Oh! And there is a ridiculous pool at the hotel I am SOOOO swimming in first thing in the morning. Because Coach Joe came through! I have a plan now! That means I am officially training for a half-iron distance triathlon and a full marathon. I am officially "in training"! Shoot. That means I actually have to do a half-iron and a marathon now, doesn't it?
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Friday
Harnessing the Power
Today marks the start of our roadtrip. A very many hours in a car. In fact, when all is said and done, over the next week, we will have been in a car for more than 35 hours -- depending on stops, of course -- with 3 toddlers (my two and my niece.)
Yes, I am looking forward to a great trip!
But make no mistake. I will be harnessing the power of the pink power ranger as necessary.
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Thursday
How Much is a Red Firetruck Mall Stroller Worth to YOU?
Because I was wondering the same thing myself the other day when I passed by the red firetrucks of love that you can rent at the mall that my two little mens ogled over.
They gushed. They begged. They believed this was a slice of heaven on earth. They didn't say it. But I knew.
Then I looked at the $5 price tag as I walked by.
Five bucks to rent this germ trap? Really? Because they see a fantastic shiny red firetruck but all I see is a place where zillions of children have drooled before them and a vast empty space for germs to live and breed. No chance. No chance in hell. Sorry guys.
But then I found myself in a "situation." And my tune changed just a bit.
I was at the mall yesterday (again) to go to the Disney Store for a present, but I was with the two mens. And I had forgotten my stroller.
*Gasp*
This was not good.
So I thought about it.
I weighed my options.
And I came up with the answer.
$5 for the germ trap stroller? Or $1,000,000 in Disney Store damages?
Hmmmm.
Stroller it is.
Well the kids of course were over the moon, so we walked to the only place where the double-decker germ traps were located, which was across the mall at the entire other end and level than I had parked (of course) and I went to pay. And it didn't take my $5.
What?! Come on!
I couldn't understand why.
Until I saw that it wasn't $5. It was 7! 7 bucks! Because it's $5 for the single and $7 for the double!
Ugh.
OK, fine. So then I bit my tongue and made an executive decision and put the damn card in already and rented it and as I pulled out the firetruck from its holder, I thought, "OK, this doesn't look so bad."
Because not only was there a HUGE basket underneath for my giant purse, there was a DOUBLE cup holder for a mommy beverage! Or two!
Things are looking up! Hooray!
I wiped it down with a bunch of wipes and put the kids in and everyone was happy. Smiles everywhere! And mommy's going to get in and out of the Disney Store without incident!
Of course, then I find myself standing in line at the place that offers these delectable mommy beverages because I have to, since there are cup holders staring at me and I must put something in them. It would be practically rude not to.
Yes, they're looking inside longingly. Sooo the point of the firetruck.
I hear the lady gasp as this giant firetruck wheel smashes into the display's bottom shelf, which of course is glass, and all of the plastic princess dishes fall over. I lose all color in my face and the kids comment about the mess I just made. And then I begin to hate the firetruck again. This thing has a huge wingspan! I can't move anywhere! Its turning radius is ridiculous!
Have I mentioned that it is now past lunchtime and even the golden firetruck of love can't keep two toddlers from starving and yelling and begging for everything in the store? Again, I am sweating. And I have just destroyed a display. And I overhear the lady say to the other lady something about remembering about how "fun" it was to have a 3 year old. I'm pretty sure it was because I, with my firetruck and two screaming toddlers, jarred some spectacular memories.
The lady assures me it's all OK and she'll clean it up but I still feel like a jerk and think to myself that maybe if there were a super-giant firetruck that would fit all three of us that maybe we could have gotten out of there without breaking anything.
But let's face it. The firetruck was extremely useful for the two of them and for keeping them from destroying anything at least, which was its entire purpose after all and for that, I am grateful. Especially since we spent probably an hour in there and the only damage done was make a lot of noise and wreck a display and that wasn't even their fault, it was mine. Right?
Well, I learned on this day that a) this particular firetruck model should not be wheeled around in tight places; b) $7 is a small price to pay in certain situations like this one, where the emotional + physical toll could possibly be much greater and c) don't forget your stroller.
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Wednesday
Rest In Peace, #2 In Command
An Obituary: (You're welcome.)
On Friday, July 9th, 2010, the Number Two guy lost his long battle with "Purple." Number Two sat quietly and proudly next to the big guy for more than 3 decades, through long runs, pedicures, bike rides, swims, and late nights crammed into "big people shoes." He never once faltered in his support and loyalty to the big guy and the rest of the troop, no matter what the temperatures reached and what torture he underwent. #2 was diagnosed in May 2010 of being "purple," an illness that was hiding under a thick layer of red nail polish for weeks unnoticed. Doctors (or pedicurists) say the "purple" was just too far along and nothing could be done. #2 did not suffer and was never in pain. He was laid to rest in an apartment in Hoboken, New Jersey after his final adventure across the Brooklyn Bridge, a lifelong dream. He's survived by nine family members and one owner who says she's proud of what that little toenail accomplished during his lifetime. He will be missed.
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Tuesday
I Have Tornadoes Tearing Through My Life
One day, I'll remember my two little mens swirling into a store yelping, flailing about and yelling in their squealy, loud, high-pitched and definitely not "indoor" voices and I'll think it was cute.
One day, I'll remember standing outside a Hallmark store with them, scared to death because I am about to unleash two bulls in a china shop, explaining pleading to them not to touch anything because it is mostly glass and I will wonder why I forgot the darned stroller in the first place. And I'll find it all very funny.
One day, I'll remember how everyone in the world knew we have just entered the room because we didn't "enter" the room, we blew right through it. And I'll think it's hilarious.
One day, I'll remember in hindsight that they were spirited little boys with active imaginations and strong personalities and I'll think it was actually a good thing they weren't two little mens who sat with their hands folded in silence.
One day, I won't have to hold my breath before I turn and close the door and turn the key after leaving the house, wondering what the heck I am doing taking them out of the house and into the public and hoping for the best.
One day, I won't have to literally run in and run out of somewhere because they have a "good behavior" expiration and it's about to run out.
One day, I won't have to stand up and yell things like, "No spitting!" or "Be NICE!" or "Stop pinching your brother!" or "That's a train track, NOT A GUN!"
One day, I'll think about how I thought I wouldn't have to say all those things one day, but they'll be 13 and 15 and I will still be saying those things and I'll think that's funny too.
One day, going into a store or a restaurant with them won't entail me profusely sweating.
One day, because I am persistent, they will hear the word, "No," understand the word, "No," and listen to the word, "No."
One day, I will remember how I thought that one day they'd listen to the word, "No" and I will be 84 and they will still not listen and I'll laugh about that while rocking away in my housecoat and my dentures.
One day, I won't have to ask someone who was watching them how they behaved without cowering in fear of the answer.
One day, I will understand why boys are so rough and make everything into guns.
One day, a long car ride will entail annoying repetitive questions like, "Are we there yet?" rather than high-pitched screaming and wailing for hours upon hours upon hours.
One day, I will be able to carry a purse without a diaper in it and without an entire first-aid kit and vending machine in it, too.
One day, I will be able to have a phone conversation. While they're awake.
One day, I will be able to walk into another room for more than a second without fearing that they will destroy the house or each other.
One day my little tornadoes will instead be little rainshowers and enter a room nicely and quietly instead of tearing through it.
And one day, I will remember that I was a nervous wreck 90% of the time. That I sweated a lot. That I stopped caring about getting that look from other disapproving parents, (because I had to for survival.) That I would sometimes close my eyes and listen to their tiny chipmunk voices because one day they will have manvoices and they won't be quite as cute.
I will remember that they were also quite adorable and when they slept. And when they farted and giggled afterward.
And I'll remember that they often surprised me at odd times with little cutenesses like stopping in the mall play area to kiss my knees and offering to help the other one get onto the toilet to potty train.
And I will think it's all very funny.
And I will actually miss it.
One day.
Monday
I'm One With It. Really, I Am. - Update.
Edited to update: I am laughing hysterically at the comments. I hadn't even realized the sign could be read, "Proper Attire for People over 30." Which could be a fantastic segway, really, to my previous post on losing fashion sense with age. Originally, I was sad that I was legally entering an "Over 30" club. Since, well, I'm over 30. (And while I'm at it, really? An "over 30" club? Is this necessary in life?)
But now I realize the sign could be read as some of you read it. As a warning for us folks over 30 to dress properly. Which could be pointed at those of us who may or may not embarrass ourselves by : a) dressing too young and hoochy (or wears sparkly lipgloss or Silly Bandz, which I do.) or b) dresses too old, (i.e. housecoats, plaid pants etc..., which I fear, is where I am headed.) So the club could theoretically be requesting "proper attire" for a 30 year old. Whatever proper attire for a 30 year old would mean. Would you know what that means? Because I don't. Oh well. Funny sign anyway.
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Friday
I Couldn't Make This Stuff Up. Seriously.
My day started out at 5 a.m. in the bright sky under Hoboken, New Jersey.
I miss Manhattan. I miss the unpredictability of the city. I miss its noises and its smells. Its pace and its variety. Its openness, its comforts and its harshnesses. Manhattan is like a person, an old, great friend I haven't seen in years but still it greets you like you saw it just yesterday and it hasn't changed a bit. It doesn't notice how you've changed, and still it welcomes you back, just as you are. It has a million friends but you are just as special as everyone single one of them. It still wears the same "perfume," it still has the same voice, never ages or changes or gives you the business. It lets you come and go as you please and it doesn't mind a bit.
I miss it so much it hurts.
I had stayed the night across the river in Hoboken, New Jersey, with a good friend, so I went back to her house, packed up, got dressed and said my goodbyes, headed out the door back to Manhattan to catch the train to Long Island for a wedding.
Up and down the stairs a million times with all my luggage and the sweating. (I don't miss that part.)
As I'm crossing the street toward the train station, I hear a huge collective gasp and a stir of dozens of people and as I turn to look, I see a man had just gotten hit by a tour bus. I'm shaking, I grab my luggage and run to the nearest officer and explain to him that there is a man under the bus. That he'd just gotten hit.
I'm shaking. I'm in tears. I'm praying. I can't release the image from my mind.
Dozens of people gather around this man as people try to figure out what to do. I don't know what to do, but he is being helped and paramedics and police are there and I leave, shaken.
I get on my train headed toward Long Island, but I'm numb. I'm still praying for this person who somehow ended up under this bus and I'm thinking about life and its twists and turns and all our vulnerabilities and fragility. It scares me. Life can change in just an instant.
I google for a headline trying to find out more about this man and how he's doing and find nothing, so I search on Twitter for "hit by bus." There are a lot of people who feel like they've been hit by a bus and as I scroll through them all, I see that someone had not only witnessed the accident, but taken a picture of it and Tweeted it. I have terribly mixed feelings about this because I cannot picture myself ever taking a picture of a man underneath a bus and Tweeting it. But I am comforted a little when I refresh and see this same Tweeter also sent a 2nd picture of this man, and he is ok.
And I thank God. He is ok. He's sitting up and he's ok.
A few hours later, I'm calm. I find myself at the wedding, at the beginning of a new life for two beautiful people. A beautiful ceremony filled with tears, the happy ones, hugs and so much love and friendship it gives me chills. Surrounded by hopefulness, happiness, and beginnings.
I cannot believe how many things that just one day can bring. How many things these eyes can see, how many of life's twists and turns I can witness, just little old me.
Quite a day, but no surprise. This was my Friday in New York.
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Thursday
I Am ThisClose to Wearing a House Coat.
.Just a few of the things I learned this week:
- I no longer have any fashion sense whatsoever. I have 1,000,000 black tank tops and 2,000,000 tee-shirts. I'm not sure where it went, but I realized I have nothing "New York" appropriate, as I did when I once lived there, and I scoured 5 stores searching for something "hip" and I realized I no longer know what that means.
- Those cute vesty sleeveless sweater thingies that are everywhere? They look horrendous on me. But they're so cute on the hanger!! And trust me, I've tried them. In every color and shape, because I refused to give up the dream. I tried on long ones, sleeveless ones, short ones, stripey ones, solid ones, the longer-in-the-front-shorter-in-the-back ones, shorter-in-the-front-longer-in-the-back ones, but nope. Nothing. Not now, not ever.
- I used to wonder where people's fashion sense went and when the loss actually occurred because eventually a man will end up in bright pink plaid pants a woman will end up in a housecoat and now I see that I'm headed straight for it. I'm thisclose.
- Unrelated: don't watch Cougartown while checking in for your flight. You may accidentally check "yes" when it asks you if you're carrying hazardous materials onboard and the website will log you out and shame you and you'll have to start over.
- I am completely incapable of going to a pecan farm, buying two boxes of sugary pralined ones and not eating half of one of the containers in one sitting.
- If you have a motherly instinct about anything, anything at all, don't ignore it. You're right.
- I cannot take a picture of food. Well, physically I can. But it almost never turns out editble. I see lots of pretty food pictures on yummy foodie blogs and they have a gift for cooking and taking pictures of their delectibles. I have the gift of making food look like vomit.
- After being at home for 4 years with the kids, I still have a pretty ok resume and people still want me. It makes a girl feel good to be wanted.
- My 2 year old is in a "doesn't travel well" phase. The first leg of a roadtrip is fine, the second half is
pure hellum, not fine. We have one roadtrip down, two left to go and mama might need a Xanax. - You can make a "time out" spot anywhere. And that includes on a curb outside a gas station in Georgia.
- And it works, too.
- Oh, and actually preparing for a roadtrip instead of expecting your (and by "your" I mean, my) 2 year old to entertain himself for 8 hours might help too. BIG lesson learned.
(Like I did the night before I left for San Diego for the half-marathon.)
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Tuesday
An Indoor Camping Trip
Well, we were originally going to visit the great outdoors this weekend for the 4th of July. Ruggedness. A tent. Two toddlers. Plus a couple more.
That was the plan.
We were going camping. Me, husband + 2 boys, meeting up with my best friend, her husband + 3 boys in Atlanta. Yes. Outnumbered by little boys.
But it wasn't to be. There was an illness (my poor Godson) and it was one of those contagious virusy things, so pretty much right after we drove up the 8 hours to see them, we had turn back and come home. The story of the roadtrip is a whole 'nother post for a whole 'nother day (large peanuts and pecan farm and pink cars and tantrums), but once we got back, there were a couple of little baby hearts to mend. Little hearts broken because they couldn't stay and play and campout (which was equally as devastating for us adults, believe you me.)
So we made lemonade.
We camped out inside.
A 4-year-old, 2-year-old and a couple of parents, all-night in the living room.
We already had sleeping bags for the real camping, so we set it all up then had our hotdogs and beans and corn and other 4th of July foods using all the red and white and teal (because I had no blue - which of course my son obnoxiously gently pointed out as not being the real blue -- #momfail) that I could muster up last minute and then, when it was time to settle in, we got our jammies on and had indoor S'mores.
Yes, I can take down a S'Mores.
After S'mores it was time for bed.
Oh, I forgot to mention they had ice cream before the Smores. So they were just a little sugared up. Also I forgot that they get tired around 7. Which meant we were all laying down by 7:30.
So we all layed down, the kids on their mini-Lightning McQueen airmattress sleeping bags inside the cafe, and us in our plain ol' sleeping bags on the floor, outside the cafe.
Let the fun begin!
Here's how the next hour and a half went. (In the following conversation, kid #1 is my 4 year old. kid #2 is my 2 year old.)
Here's how the next hour and a half went. (In the following conversation, kid #1 is my 4 year old. kid #2 is my 2 year old.)
Kid #2 (peering out fake cafe window): MommyDaddy whatyadoin?
Me: Sleeping honey.. what are you doing?
Kid #2: You sweepin?
Me: Trying to, what about you?
Kid#2: Me sweep too!
Me: But you're not laying down yet. Can you lay down in your bed?
Kid #2: OK! (swish swish swish swish swish crinkle swish)
Kid #2: OK! (swish swish swish swish swish crinkle swish)
More swish swish swish crinkle swish (and by the way that's what the sleeping bags sound like when there's rustling.)
Kid #2: (peering out fake cafe window again): MommyDaddy whatyadoin now?
Me: Still sleeping, honey, why don't you lay down in your bed?
Kid #2: OK!
swish crinkle swish swish rustle rustle swish (lots and lots more of this, along with previous conversation. It was like Groundhog Day.)
Kid #1: OUCH! MOMMYYYYYYYYYYY!
Kid #2: Hahahahahahaha!
Kid #1: STOP HITTING ME!!! Mommyyyy! He's HITTING MEEEE!
swish swish swish crinkle crinkle rustle swish swish (CACKLE) swish swish rustle
swish swish swish crinkle crinkle rustle swish swish (CACKLE) swish swish rustle
Me: (now going INTO "cafe", #2 scrambling back to his own side of the cabin) OK, #2, time to get out. Let's go to your real bed.
Kid #2: Nooooooooooooooo!
Me: Well, aren't we friends here? (both kids nod) Don't we love each other? (chorus of "Yes.") Then why are we hitting? If we hit, we won't be able to sleep in the tent together. OK? (I close tent door - yes, there is a door - and lay down because it appears that they understand this. But we shall see.)
Kid #2: (talking to self) We not mean guys. We nice guys!
Me: (husband and I laughing to each other.) OK. Then be nice and go to sleep, I love you!
rustle rustle crinkle swish swish swish rustle swish crinkle rustle rustle rustle.
Husband senses eyes on him and shines flashlight (can't camp without flashlights!) on tiny fake cafe window. There is a tiny face peering out of the fake window and you can only see it from the nose up. Tiny face from the eyes up, silent, just staring out the window, in a spotlight. This vision makes me start giggling and now I'm caught in that quiet place where I'm not allowed to giggle for fear of getting everyone all riled up. So I stuff my face in my pillow because now of course the not being allowed to laugh makes me laugh even harder like in church, and I'm hysterically laughing into my pillow and now there are tears in my face and I have to stop myself by thinking about how unfunny it will be if everyone starts swishing around and being wide awake because they are wondering what Mommy is laughing at so eventually I stop. Because we're already going on an hour of this.
Eventually, snoring comes from the tent and everyone goes to sleep. Yes!! Miracles do happen!
Well, except me.
Because the floor is hard! I'm like the Princess and the Pea and everything is jabbing me. And the metallic microwave cooking sleeve I am sleeping in has made me sweat profusely. So now I'm sleeping on top of the microwave sleeve and I can't sleep because I need a blanket. I decide to sneak past the tent and lower the air but I don't have a flashlight so I can't see how low I am putting the air conditioner, but I'm sweating so badly I don't care. We can pretend we're camping out in Oregon in the winter. I push that button a few hundred times. Just to make sure. And a couple for insurance. And I lay back down.
I half-sleep for a few hours and then around 2, I hear some swishing and rustling and a giant bulge appears in the side of the tent. It's my 2 year old who has rustled his way and jammed himself down between his mattress and the side of the tent, almost upside down. That big bulge is his head. This doesn't look safe, so I crawl in and not very quietly because there is all that swishing, and I grab him and put him back where he's supposed to be and I hold my breath and crawl back out, waiting for everyone to wake up.
Nothing. Thank God.
So I go back to my side of the floor.
And I wriggle and writhe around and decide that I'm giving up the dream of floor-camping and going to that big cushy couch right behind me, but I feel twinges of guilt the whole way for throwing in the towel and being the only wimp in the bunch. But whatever. So I move to the couch, but I don't want to swish my sleeping bag on account of the noise so now I'm blanketless.
And I hear more swishing and I don't know where it's coming from but I'm freezing and I have guilty pangs because I think I have put my family in the frozen tundra and I look down and my sleeping bag is gone and it's now on my husband. Stolen! It must really be cold. So I crawl over top the couch and go find myself a blanket and return.
I finally fall asleep. Nice and warm and cushiony. Just like real camping.
They wake up at 6.
The end.
Indoor camping: success! Only an hour and a half of rustling meant they were sleeping by 9:30! I actually expected much longer from a 2 year old, so I consider this a fantastic dry run for the real thing, don't you?
Indoor camping: success! Only an hour and a half of rustling meant they were sleeping by 9:30! I actually expected much longer from a 2 year old, so I consider this a fantastic dry run for the real thing, don't you?
Monday
Unconscious
Weeks like this one are a reminder to me about how everything I do takes a conscious decision. A concerted effort.
That being unconscious, or refusing to make conscious decisions, really puts off the inevitable. Which is having to go back to making conscious decisions.
I spend many, many weeks in a year on some sort of an exercise and food plan. It gets redundant. It gets boring. It gets predictible. It gets old. I won't lie. It takes work to find new variations of healthy foods and to find new recipes and to cook and to plan it out. Very often, I find myself in an eating rut. Then sometimes, like this week, I eat my way through it and most of those foods are not on any kind of a plan that someone who is training for anything would eat. And the worst part is, I do this to my children. Because they eat what I eat. I send them messages that this is ok.
And I watch the calories go past my lips and as I'm watching that ticker go up (because I know how many calories each thing I am eating is) the numbers go up fast, like the numbers on an odometer spinning wildly and I don't put the brakes on.
And while I'm doing all that, of course I don't work out. Because we're busy! How can I fit working out into a busy travel schedule?! I mean, no one does that! It's impossible! (sarcasm.)
The gentle reminder about my consciousness or rather, unconcsiousness, comes a few days later when I step on the scale and the news is not good. I am reminded that I have to make a conscious decision just to do the small things, to put on my workout gear, to substitute a lower calorie hotdog instead of the full-fat kind, to plan my travel meals and snacks and to simply find the time to work out. That it's not impossible. But I have to be conscious.
Now I have to backtrack. All the hard work I have done has to be redone. All the miles I've logged have to be re-racked. All the calories I've burned have to be re-burned. That's the unfortunate part.
But, it's a small price to pay for a "gentle" reminder, right? Because there's nothing like a number on a scale to remind you of where you could go if you're not careful and I take the news with mixed feelings. I am scared of where I'm headed if I don't stop. I just plain feel gross and big, all those same feelings I used to just eat my way through long ago, but I am relieved a little that I am conscious enough to know now that I can catch it early. But, it resurrects all that bitterness inside me, the bitterness around the fact that no I cannot eat everything I want anytime I want to and yes, I will pay for it later. That's just how my body works. I hate that, I have always hated that and I will always hate that. Most times I just get over it and move on, but today, there it is! Waving its hands in my face! Lingering.
This is a cycle of ups and downs. The weight-loss journey never really does end. It just goes in a different direction. Of course, this reminder means it could certainly put me back at the beginning if I don't stop now. And I don't want to be back there. I don't ever want to be back there. I was so unhappy back there. That just wasn't me.
I'm not the give-up type. But sometimes I really, really want to. Even now, almost at maintenance, the journey doesn't get much easier. But the hard is what makes it good, right? It's what makes the ending so much sweeter. Now that's an ironic adjective.
Well, the alarm's ringing now. It's time to wake up and break the cycle. I've been unconscious long enough. I made a conscious effort to pack my stuff and put my bathing suit on and I made a conscious effort to eat a healthy breakfast. I have about a dozen more conscious decisions to make before I go to bed tonight (like lunch, dinner, snacks, dessert -- or no dessert-- planning for tomorrow, and food shopping) so wish me luck mkay?
Thursday
Death Rug
My heart goes all a-flutter when I see that little red "clearance" tag. I get so excited. If I am alone I might jump up and down. I squeal a little and get all giddy.
I mean seriously, don't you? How could you not?? It's the most amazing feeling ever! Leaving a store knowing you scored huge! It's so triumphant! I totally rock! No one got the deal I just got!! Plus, I can actually tell my husband about my most recent acquisition and feel all validated about acquiring it because it was on clearance! That makes everything ok! (Not that I keep things from him or anything...)
But then unfortunately there's the dark side of the clearance tag.
The clearance that actually means, "This is on clearance for a reason." You see, they leave those last few words off the tag. Because it's not always clear when you buy it if that's the case or not! It's not clear until you get home and you live with this delicious little clearance item for a few hours, even a few days, and then something happens with it to make you realize it was, indeed, on clearance for a reason and your dreams shatter! And I hate that moment of realization. It makes me sad. Because then you realized you were tricked. And you can't even return it! It was on clearance! That's the "clearance" understanding you have with the store! No returns! No refunds! Bastards.
So then of course you become jaded and skeptical about future clearance tags. And you also become well-versed in the "clearance risk taking." Like you learn that there is a clearance rack at a certain Bed and Bath store where everything's broken. You pretty much know what you're gonna get there. Good luck with that.
Then there are the items that go on sale because maybe the packaging changed! There is nothing actually wrong with the product! Which is the deal you really wanna score because that's the super-deal. But you never ever know. I wish I could at least ask. Or that maybe there were, in a perfect world, a sticker that told you why, like a sticker that said, "discontinued because it turns out this item sucks so go ahead, take your chances." Or something like that.
But still, so often I am blinded by that little red devil-tag. Most recently by the cute little kitchen carpet I bought for the floor in front of my sink, a place that always gets wet along with that part of my shirt that's the height of the counter. It was a beautiful, tiny little kitchen carpet with bright reds and pinks and cutenesses! Which unfortunately within mere hours of my putting it in its new spot, my husband caught the corner of it and went sliding across the kitchen, subsequently gathering his composure then angrily nicknaming it "Death Rug" and banishing it to the laundry room for fear that someone will eventually slide to their death. Purchased for $6. On clearance. Of course.
Why couldn't they just tell me it was "Death Rug" and been done with it!
Then of course, there was the cute little collection of tiny Transformers which I thought would be a perfect way to introduce my 4 year old to the world of Transformers that he has already been drooling over in his little-boy-that-loves-cars-AND-robots-and-holy-moly-there-are-things-that-are-CARS-AND-ROBOTS-IN-ONE??- type of way.
Biggest waste of 4 dollars ever. EVER!
You might imagine how my heart might break over the loss of a $6 rug, but imagine the broken heart of a 4-year-old who tragically cannot get a tiny Transformer to actually transform without legs or arms breaking off or when it does transform, refuses to actually stay in the transformed position. Basically, always looking broken no matter what you do. Not looking like a car, not looking like a robot, not looking like anything but a bunch of weird robotty arms and legs and a random robot head. Oh, how he would cry! He would pout. "It's not working!" he would yell and then ROAR before tossing it across the room. Totally not worth the $4. Not worth it at all.
In fact, if I think about all the clearance items I have bought which have actually sucked, I probably could have added them all up to get at least one decent non-clearanced -- yet totally working -- item. It's true that I have gotten some awesome deals on things bearing that shiny red little sticker, but I'd say it's only about a 50-50 shot.
Because two weeks ago, I also invested in a shiny lip-plumper lip-gloss on 90% off. 90%!!! It was like a dollar each or something! So I loaded up! I got every color! And I already have a lip-plumper lip-gloss from this exact brand, the only difference was the shape of the little tubey thingy. So how could I go wrong!
I was so excited about this lipgloss, I ripped the package open in the car! 90% off of lipgloss!!! I am the person who will buy a $25 lip-plumper lipgloss. Seriously, nothing makes me feel more glamorous than tingly lipgloss and I don't even care what I'm wearing. I could be wearing my holey pajamas but gosh darnit when I have that lipgloss on, I am MARILYN MONROE!
I put this little tube of love on my lips and gagged to death. It was a horrible cinnamon taste and I CANNOT have cinnamon from gum or a lipgloss because of a knock-off Goldschlager incident in the 90's. Don't tell my parents. Not only did it taste like cinnamon in an overpowering way, but it also had the audacity to bully me with its awful cinnamon-ey odor! For hours!
Horrid.
No wonder it was on clearance! The lady at the checkout counter was probably laughing her ass off as I giddily picked up my shopping bag and rushed out to the car to try it on. She knew the truth. I just know it.
Well, now I have 6 tubes of cinnamon lipgloss and a bunch of crappy Transformers and one cute rug that tried to kill my husband. I did bite the bullet to ressurrect the rug by putting one of those non-slip jobbers underneath it. But purchasing that for $6 has now made my rug cost $12, and if it kills someone now, it will so not be worth it.
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