Tuesday, October 25, 2005
I did something terrible and also awful to my back. And I am MAD MAD MAD, and did I mention MAD. Bah. I've been on a, well...let's call it a "break", since I hate to say "complete binge fest coupled with complete lack of motivation", and was all fired up to be back in the gym this week...workouts planned, goals written, and then BAM. Out goes the back. Bah again.
Friday, October 21, 2005
Reading this today made me laugh right out loud...
"The San Jose Mercury News uses its weekly"How I Stay Fit" columnto talk about how I stay fit. A couple of factual oopses: I do not have "several" marathons to my credit, or even one, and it's not tendinitis that makes it hard for me to climb hills, it's fat. But what the hey. "
fyi I was reading this ---might be a book worth checking out...
"The San Jose Mercury News uses its weekly"How I Stay Fit" columnto talk about how I stay fit. A couple of factual oopses: I do not have "several" marathons to my credit, or even one, and it's not tendinitis that makes it hard for me to climb hills, it's fat. But what the hey. "
fyi I was reading this ---might be a book worth checking out...
Friday, October 14, 2005
oh, and did anyone else get this on their homepage this morning?
http://video.msn.com/v/us/v.htm?g=7170da7d-b0ac-4964-9ffe-37bc17f897c7&t=c2&f=06/64&p=Entertainment_ifilmtop
I so cannot wait to get home where I have a dsl and can actually see it. He's my pretend boyfriend, you know.
http://video.msn.com/v/us/v.htm?g=7170da7d-b0ac-4964-9ffe-37bc17f897c7&t=c2&f=06/64&p=Entertainment_ifilmtop
I so cannot wait to get home where I have a dsl and can actually see it. He's my pretend boyfriend, you know.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Shhhh....don't read so loud.
Just back from a 4 day bender in Vegas with the girls...oy...my body hates me. Took an extra day off work to let my liver detox.
People don't eat in Vegas. Did you know that? I think we ate once a day, and the rest? Liquid calories. Sad Sad Sad state of affairs.
Cute boys in Vegas too...did you know? Oh. My. Cute.
Studio 54. Margaritaville. and 80 bucks for 4 aces at the nickel poker machine. Sweet dreams are made of these my friends...sweet dreams and hangovers.
Just back from a 4 day bender in Vegas with the girls...oy...my body hates me. Took an extra day off work to let my liver detox.
People don't eat in Vegas. Did you know that? I think we ate once a day, and the rest? Liquid calories. Sad Sad Sad state of affairs.
Cute boys in Vegas too...did you know? Oh. My. Cute.
Studio 54. Margaritaville. and 80 bucks for 4 aces at the nickel poker machine. Sweet dreams are made of these my friends...sweet dreams and hangovers.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Right. So, if you're looking to lose about 9 lbs, you can totally do it with a 5 day stint with my friend the flu. Or, more precisely, some flu-type-ailment, since I totally don't do doctors, so it's best not to assume it was actually Mr. Influenza that knocked me off my ass, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was a close relative. Maybe even an in-bred one. It's especially nice if you enjoy lying on the bathroom floor with your head pressed against the tile floor, which I incidentally thought was a whole lot cleaner before I had the opportunity to inspect it at close range, while wrapped in the only clean blanket that made it past the other 5 people in the house that were joining me on my little adventure. But, on the positive side, puking can be quite the ab workout. Just in case you were wondering.
And does it piss anyone else off that if I'd have had this, say, two weeks ago, my weigh in for the contest would have been much more impressive?
So, other than that, things have been status quo. I've backed off the workouts a bit and loosened up the menu, more for mental reasons then anything else, and I'm going to Vegas this weekend with two friends, so basically I plan on taking it easy till we get back. You do know they have buffets in Vegas right? Makes portion control a bit more tricky for me.
Oh, and my husband and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. We went to a fancy schmancy restaurant (4 star, impressed? don't be, we got a gift certificate). I actually had to go buy an outfit, since I'm smaller then my big clothes, and just a touch too big for my small clothes, and then, doing our best to look rather important and impressive, hit the restaurant. We sat in the lounge, which, apparently if you have a fancy schmancy restaurant you call the "living room" and scarfed down on the best mixed nuts I've ever had (mmmm...candied walnuts), got to our table, placed our order for our appetizer (which, from the little I had, was terrible) and were discussing how snobby the staff was (they make their bus-boys wear tuxes) and how we couldn't have been more out of place if we'd have been wearing clown suits complete with floppy shoes and squirting flowers, when my husband started having an allergic reaction to one of the nuts in the mix. Check please.
Get to the car, and, of course, I have to drive, have I ever told you that I HATE driving downtown with all the one way streets, and the people that just walk in the middle of the street paying no attention to the BIG CAR trying to drive and the generally having no idea where the hell I am, because I never go down there, searching what is essentially a dead city for some sign of a Walgreens, or, I don't know, maybe a hospital? Finally found a gas station that had some knock-off brand of benedryl, forced that down my gasping husbands throat, and headed back to the highway to try and find a hospital. He fell asleep and was still breathing, so I decided to drive back to the house where we had medicine...made him take that, and 20 minutes later, he was fine. On the plus side? We called the restaurant to find out what was in the nut mix, and told them why, and they said they were sending us a dinner for two. Hasn't arrived yet, so we'll see.
And does it piss anyone else off that if I'd have had this, say, two weeks ago, my weigh in for the contest would have been much more impressive?
So, other than that, things have been status quo. I've backed off the workouts a bit and loosened up the menu, more for mental reasons then anything else, and I'm going to Vegas this weekend with two friends, so basically I plan on taking it easy till we get back. You do know they have buffets in Vegas right? Makes portion control a bit more tricky for me.
Oh, and my husband and I celebrated our 10th anniversary. We went to a fancy schmancy restaurant (4 star, impressed? don't be, we got a gift certificate). I actually had to go buy an outfit, since I'm smaller then my big clothes, and just a touch too big for my small clothes, and then, doing our best to look rather important and impressive, hit the restaurant. We sat in the lounge, which, apparently if you have a fancy schmancy restaurant you call the "living room" and scarfed down on the best mixed nuts I've ever had (mmmm...candied walnuts), got to our table, placed our order for our appetizer (which, from the little I had, was terrible) and were discussing how snobby the staff was (they make their bus-boys wear tuxes) and how we couldn't have been more out of place if we'd have been wearing clown suits complete with floppy shoes and squirting flowers, when my husband started having an allergic reaction to one of the nuts in the mix. Check please.
Get to the car, and, of course, I have to drive, have I ever told you that I HATE driving downtown with all the one way streets, and the people that just walk in the middle of the street paying no attention to the BIG CAR trying to drive and the generally having no idea where the hell I am, because I never go down there, searching what is essentially a dead city for some sign of a Walgreens, or, I don't know, maybe a hospital? Finally found a gas station that had some knock-off brand of benedryl, forced that down my gasping husbands throat, and headed back to the highway to try and find a hospital. He fell asleep and was still breathing, so I decided to drive back to the house where we had medicine...made him take that, and 20 minutes later, he was fine. On the plus side? We called the restaurant to find out what was in the nut mix, and told them why, and they said they were sending us a dinner for two. Hasn't arrived yet, so we'll see.
Monday, August 29, 2005
Okay, like wow. totally. you guys are the greatest, really. and when I win the lotto I will totally buy all of you something pretty and shiny.
For those of you that asked me to pass along the pruning of the arms advice, I will copy and paste below, but know that I got it from the queen of all that is fit, Skwigg, and please give all mad props to her, not me. She totally scares me and I don't want her throwing all her pointy star type cutting implements at my head.
For the one lone soul that wanted to know how I did it...sorry to disappoint, but I can't really give you a weight/rep breakdown. Not because I'm selfish, but because I'm mean. Just kidding, actually, because I changed the workout every week and never wrote anything down, cuz I'm a total spaz. What I can tell you is that I hit them hard, usually twice a week. I picked a weight that seemed heavy, and then kept upping the weight till I couldn't do anymore. I did super-sets, I did drop-sets. Lots and lots of drop-sets. Most of the time I was so sore I wanted to cry and most day's I planned on doing something completely different then I ended up doing. I took creatine. I ate more then I "should" have. That about sums it up. I can give you some ideas on how to shake up what you're doing, if you want, but as for what I did, it was kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants combined with keep-em-guessing, and just really made sure it was as heavy as I could go, and then a little heavier.
Okay, for the rest of you...here's the re-print of the advice Skwigg gave me...
You know how people say that most women don't have the genetics to get big and bulky? I think that I do. I think that if I wanted to be a professional superfreaking hulk, I'm one of the women who could pull it off.For me, getting my arms smaller and tighter had more to do with supplements and diet than changing my training. I started looking like an oak tree for two reasons... maybe three reasons.1) I was taking creatine. Big, volumized, hulking muscle cells. Stop taking it and they shrink a bit. Oddly, I have been able to maintain my strength. It takes several weeks to get rid of a creatine pump. So, you don't notice right awaythat you're getting weaker. Then, it's nothing dramatic. It just feels like you're having an off day. You know, like when everything is harder than it should be. If you force yourself through that, and keep lifting what you were lifting, your strength stays.2) I was eating A LOT of carbs. Great for getting big. Great for strength. Great for having lots of glycogen packed into your muscles. Not so great for looking like a dainty little thing. Have you noticed that women who really diet down tend to have small, flat looking muscles? They don't have that full, rounded look that you get when you're well-fueled and lifting heavy. Well, I had that look. I had the blown-up-with-a-bicycle-pump phenomenon.3) I let my body fat get too high. If you combine the creatine pump, with the carb fullness, with a layer of fat, suddenly you're an oak tree.So, supplement-wise, I got off of any muscle-builders and cell volumizers like creatine, glutamine, methoxy products. Nutrition-wise, I went back to letting my protein run higher than my carbs. I'm not low-carbing, but a typical day mighthave 140-160g of protein, 100-120g of carbs, and a whole lot of healthy fat. For me, that's how I lean out. It gets rid of the extra layer of pudge on my arms and it takes some of the fullness out of the muscles themselves.In order to keep my freak genetics in check, I'm already training my whole body 3 times a week. That's exactly what you're NOT supposed to do if you're trying to get big. So, it's what I do to keep things under control. It works well for a couple of reasons.1) You're burning a lot of calories doing a total body circuit routine. That helps keep your body fat in check.2) There isn't enough time in a 40-60 minute total body workout to do 4 exercises per body part and multiple sets. You end up naturally backing off on your muscle-hulk intensity. You're doing maybe one or two exercises per bodypart, and maybe 1-3 sets per exercise. You don't necessarily drop the weights,you're just not doing as many sets and exercises for each muscle group.3) By working all your muscles every 48 hours instead of once or twice a week,there isn't a hell of a lot of time for recovery and growth. You end up being more of a wiry endurance type than a bulky pumped type.I didn't change my cardio at all. I do 20 minutes of intense intervals 3 times a week. I do 30-60 minutes of moderate whatever-suits-my-mood a few days a week.Usually, just walking.Now, being a total nutcase, I even have pictures that illustrate my arm anxiety.On the left is Kelly Ryan, who is a fitness competitor, not even a bodybuilder.I always thought I wanted to look like Kelly, but you know what? Even she is too big and pumped, especially pre-contest. In my weird little heart, I know that's not really what I'm shooting for. I want to look more feminine than that. I want to be strong looking, but really sleek. So, on the right, we have Danielle Edwards. She has some very fit arms, but they don't look like they're about to explode. People wouldn't run screaming from her if she wore a strappy tank top to the mall. She looks more like a gymnast or a dancer than a Russian powerlifter.So, there you go. Everything you ever wanted to know about my arm hang-up. :-)Skwigg
Now, I couldn't get the pictures to copy and post, but you can look up Kelly and Danielle on the web. I agree with Skwigg, I'd rather be closer to Danielle, thus the change in routine. Oh, and BTW, I won most muscular and 2nd overall! Still haven't picked up my gift basket, since I know only 1st place got the cruise and now I'm in no big hurry.
For those of you that asked me to pass along the pruning of the arms advice, I will copy and paste below, but know that I got it from the queen of all that is fit, Skwigg, and please give all mad props to her, not me. She totally scares me and I don't want her throwing all her pointy star type cutting implements at my head.
For the one lone soul that wanted to know how I did it...sorry to disappoint, but I can't really give you a weight/rep breakdown. Not because I'm selfish, but because I'm mean. Just kidding, actually, because I changed the workout every week and never wrote anything down, cuz I'm a total spaz. What I can tell you is that I hit them hard, usually twice a week. I picked a weight that seemed heavy, and then kept upping the weight till I couldn't do anymore. I did super-sets, I did drop-sets. Lots and lots of drop-sets. Most of the time I was so sore I wanted to cry and most day's I planned on doing something completely different then I ended up doing. I took creatine. I ate more then I "should" have. That about sums it up. I can give you some ideas on how to shake up what you're doing, if you want, but as for what I did, it was kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants combined with keep-em-guessing, and just really made sure it was as heavy as I could go, and then a little heavier.
Okay, for the rest of you...here's the re-print of the advice Skwigg gave me...
You know how people say that most women don't have the genetics to get big and bulky? I think that I do. I think that if I wanted to be a professional superfreaking hulk, I'm one of the women who could pull it off.For me, getting my arms smaller and tighter had more to do with supplements and diet than changing my training. I started looking like an oak tree for two reasons... maybe three reasons.1) I was taking creatine. Big, volumized, hulking muscle cells. Stop taking it and they shrink a bit. Oddly, I have been able to maintain my strength. It takes several weeks to get rid of a creatine pump. So, you don't notice right awaythat you're getting weaker. Then, it's nothing dramatic. It just feels like you're having an off day. You know, like when everything is harder than it should be. If you force yourself through that, and keep lifting what you were lifting, your strength stays.2) I was eating A LOT of carbs. Great for getting big. Great for strength. Great for having lots of glycogen packed into your muscles. Not so great for looking like a dainty little thing. Have you noticed that women who really diet down tend to have small, flat looking muscles? They don't have that full, rounded look that you get when you're well-fueled and lifting heavy. Well, I had that look. I had the blown-up-with-a-bicycle-pump phenomenon.3) I let my body fat get too high. If you combine the creatine pump, with the carb fullness, with a layer of fat, suddenly you're an oak tree.So, supplement-wise, I got off of any muscle-builders and cell volumizers like creatine, glutamine, methoxy products. Nutrition-wise, I went back to letting my protein run higher than my carbs. I'm not low-carbing, but a typical day mighthave 140-160g of protein, 100-120g of carbs, and a whole lot of healthy fat. For me, that's how I lean out. It gets rid of the extra layer of pudge on my arms and it takes some of the fullness out of the muscles themselves.In order to keep my freak genetics in check, I'm already training my whole body 3 times a week. That's exactly what you're NOT supposed to do if you're trying to get big. So, it's what I do to keep things under control. It works well for a couple of reasons.1) You're burning a lot of calories doing a total body circuit routine. That helps keep your body fat in check.2) There isn't enough time in a 40-60 minute total body workout to do 4 exercises per body part and multiple sets. You end up naturally backing off on your muscle-hulk intensity. You're doing maybe one or two exercises per bodypart, and maybe 1-3 sets per exercise. You don't necessarily drop the weights,you're just not doing as many sets and exercises for each muscle group.3) By working all your muscles every 48 hours instead of once or twice a week,there isn't a hell of a lot of time for recovery and growth. You end up being more of a wiry endurance type than a bulky pumped type.I didn't change my cardio at all. I do 20 minutes of intense intervals 3 times a week. I do 30-60 minutes of moderate whatever-suits-my-mood a few days a week.Usually, just walking.Now, being a total nutcase, I even have pictures that illustrate my arm anxiety.On the left is Kelly Ryan, who is a fitness competitor, not even a bodybuilder.I always thought I wanted to look like Kelly, but you know what? Even she is too big and pumped, especially pre-contest. In my weird little heart, I know that's not really what I'm shooting for. I want to look more feminine than that. I want to be strong looking, but really sleek. So, on the right, we have Danielle Edwards. She has some very fit arms, but they don't look like they're about to explode. People wouldn't run screaming from her if she wore a strappy tank top to the mall. She looks more like a gymnast or a dancer than a Russian powerlifter.So, there you go. Everything you ever wanted to know about my arm hang-up. :-)Skwigg
Now, I couldn't get the pictures to copy and post, but you can look up Kelly and Danielle on the web. I agree with Skwigg, I'd rather be closer to Danielle, thus the change in routine. Oh, and BTW, I won most muscular and 2nd overall! Still haven't picked up my gift basket, since I know only 1st place got the cruise and now I'm in no big hurry.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
Tree trunk arms and the bloat of a 4 day binge
So, I finally got the nerve to post a picture after my contest from hell at the gym. Yes, I know my arms are huge. Thanks for noticing. Luckily Skwigg gave me some good tips about how to prune my arms back to a less-freaky size. I would like to point out, for the record, that I started eating immediately after weigh-in and haven't stopped yet, so I have a bit of a carb bloat going on...I was tighter at the end of the contest, but my hubby had the camera at work and didn't bring it back till last night...thus the delay. Also, do you have any idea how hard it is to flex, and take a picture without your arms shaking? The flex is much more impressive in person, when I can concentrate on actually flexing instead of trying to hold the camera still enough that I don't look like you're driving by me at 80mph. In the mirror, I can totally see my upper chest muscles, but I couldn't seem to capture it on film...must need more practice.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Oh, blog, how I've missed you...
Well my contest at the gym is officially OVER and let me tell you, the end couldn't have come too soon for me. We get the official results on Tuesday, so I don't know where I came in, place-wise, but here's the scoop:
1.5" off chest
1.5" off waist
3" off hips
8# lost
bodyfat reduced by 9.4%
Not bad for 10 weeks...
The first thing I did, after weigh-in, was go to the grocery store and buy a piece of carmel turtle pie. Okay, two pieces, shut up. I ate them both while waiting in line at the bank. Now my belly hurts.
I realized on the way back that this was the first time in 10 weeks that I didn't even flip the box over and glance at the nutritional stats...I made sure I threw it away in the dumpster in the way back of the parking lot, just so I couldn't dig it out later and obsess over it. I know me all too well.
Well my contest at the gym is officially OVER and let me tell you, the end couldn't have come too soon for me. We get the official results on Tuesday, so I don't know where I came in, place-wise, but here's the scoop:
1.5" off chest
1.5" off waist
3" off hips
8# lost
bodyfat reduced by 9.4%
Not bad for 10 weeks...
The first thing I did, after weigh-in, was go to the grocery store and buy a piece of carmel turtle pie. Okay, two pieces, shut up. I ate them both while waiting in line at the bank. Now my belly hurts.
I realized on the way back that this was the first time in 10 weeks that I didn't even flip the box over and glance at the nutritional stats...I made sure I threw it away in the dumpster in the way back of the parking lot, just so I couldn't dig it out later and obsess over it. I know me all too well.
Friday, July 22, 2005
This contest at the gym could possibly be the worst thing I've ever done in recent history. Talk about unearthing dormant eating disorder type behavior. I've become obsessed with the scale. Seriously. I can tell you what I weigh before my shower, after my shower with my hair in a towel, after I'm dressed, before the shoes and after, right after I get home from work, in my jammies, long and short pair, and right before I go to bed. And sometimes in the middle of the night. It's a bad bad thing.
Twice this week I found myself at 1:45 am standing in the kitchen eating cookies basically in my sleep.
As further proof of my loss of sanity, I actually cut into a grapefruit at lunch yesterday and thought to myself "dammit! This was supposed to be a ruby red!" instead of thinking "a grapefruit? You've got to be fucking kidding me"
I love the personal training. The workouts are interesting and difficult and I'm really enjoying that part of it. Unfortunately, I'm having a hard time motivating myself to do the extra cardio I really need to do, being as it's like 108 out every freaking day and that just doesn't make me feel like running much.
And I really feel like I'm not eating enough. I'm shaky and tired and cranky all the time and tired...did I mention tired? But I'm so afraid of adding food (see problem with the scale above). So then I go for 4 days or so feeling tired and cranky and shaky and tired and then I have a breakdown and eat 1/2 a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. Not that I did that today or anything...stop looking at me like that.
So the battle continues. And though I'll be sad when all my personal training sessions are over, and I really can't afford to continue them (time or money), I'll be so happy when the "contest" is over and I can just get back to feeling a little more normal.
Twice this week I found myself at 1:45 am standing in the kitchen eating cookies basically in my sleep.
As further proof of my loss of sanity, I actually cut into a grapefruit at lunch yesterday and thought to myself "dammit! This was supposed to be a ruby red!" instead of thinking "a grapefruit? You've got to be fucking kidding me"
I love the personal training. The workouts are interesting and difficult and I'm really enjoying that part of it. Unfortunately, I'm having a hard time motivating myself to do the extra cardio I really need to do, being as it's like 108 out every freaking day and that just doesn't make me feel like running much.
And I really feel like I'm not eating enough. I'm shaky and tired and cranky all the time and tired...did I mention tired? But I'm so afraid of adding food (see problem with the scale above). So then I go for 4 days or so feeling tired and cranky and shaky and tired and then I have a breakdown and eat 1/2 a bag of chocolate covered pretzels. Not that I did that today or anything...stop looking at me like that.
So the battle continues. And though I'll be sad when all my personal training sessions are over, and I really can't afford to continue them (time or money), I'll be so happy when the "contest" is over and I can just get back to feeling a little more normal.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
I had a chicken breast and a kiwi for lunch, because today I am trying to be good, because tomorrow I have to try and make friends with the scale. but I have not had ONE glass of water yet because I just don't damn feel like it, which means I have like 6 hours left in the day to drink a gallon. slosh.
And, since I'm on the path of goodness and light, I worked out twice yesterday. TWICE. Which should totally make up for the drinking of the hurricanes and the eating of the deep fried alligator and the cake, the glorious cake. And today I am paying for it with all the terrible tiredness and the aches and ouch I didn't know I had a muscle there. But, regardless, I must venture to the gym today after work, because of the goodness and light path, and because of the damn scale that I would love to back over with my truck. Or drop out a window. Or drop out of a window, and then back my truck over it. Three times. So tonight I will be doing cardio, please think of me while you're enjoying your evening... but I can't do high intense, because my back still sort of hurts from the kickboxing I did a week ago, whereas I was completely off balance, but threw the hook anyway and cried all the way home. So tonight I will be on the damn treadmill for what will surely seem like fucking forever, to try and burn the same amount of calories that a quick 20 minutes of heart stopping vomit inducing high intense could have done. Woe is me.
Now I must go eat my pria bar (the non-barf flavored one) and drink 8 gallons of water.
And, since I'm on the path of goodness and light, I worked out twice yesterday. TWICE. Which should totally make up for the drinking of the hurricanes and the eating of the deep fried alligator and the cake, the glorious cake. And today I am paying for it with all the terrible tiredness and the aches and ouch I didn't know I had a muscle there. But, regardless, I must venture to the gym today after work, because of the goodness and light path, and because of the damn scale that I would love to back over with my truck. Or drop out a window. Or drop out of a window, and then back my truck over it. Three times. So tonight I will be doing cardio, please think of me while you're enjoying your evening... but I can't do high intense, because my back still sort of hurts from the kickboxing I did a week ago, whereas I was completely off balance, but threw the hook anyway and cried all the way home. So tonight I will be on the damn treadmill for what will surely seem like fucking forever, to try and burn the same amount of calories that a quick 20 minutes of heart stopping vomit inducing high intense could have done. Woe is me.
Now I must go eat my pria bar (the non-barf flavored one) and drink 8 gallons of water.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
I'm a lover, not a fighter.
I took my first sparring class on Friday. There was this really nice NHB fighter there that I was fighting, and though I learned a lot, I spent most of all of my 3 minute rounds being yelled at. You see, I have this problem. I DON'T want to get hit in the nose. Anywhere else? Don't care. Nose? I'll run screaming. So, as usual, I manifested my issues onto those around me, and everytime I threw a punch, I aimed for the pad on his forehead. It wasn't "on purpose", and really, I didn't even know I was doing it, but then even after he pointed it out I couldn't seem to bring myself to hit him in the face. Even when he dropped his hands and said "HIT me!" Bam...my glove hit the pad. So then he thought he'd pop me in the face a few times, but, see, I was smart enough to pick the really really stupid looking headgear that has a catcher's mask, so, no problem, didn't bother me a bit. Oh, and FYI, don't care how stupid it looks, I will ALWAYS wear that one, because, hello, nose.
then we put on leg pads and kickboxed. Which was fun, but everytime I throw my rear round I apparently drop my hand. I know this because, everytime I threw my round rear, he'd punch me in the head. After the 3rd time I said "guess I'm dropping my hand, huh?" and he said "yeah, I knew you'd figure it out".
By the time I was fighting my last round, I was tired, and as such, my aim left a lot to be desired. So, during that round, I managed to actually hit him in the face (instead of the headgear) three times. But, like I said, I have issues, so it went something like this
me: BAM (shot to the nose)
me: "Oh, Sorry!"
him: "you're not supposed to say you're sorry. You're fighting"
me: "right"
me: BAM (nose again)
me: "OMG I'm so sorry (dropping hands)
him "Don't DO that" (hits me in the face, since my hands are down)
Repeat.
Oh, and I managed to hurt my back, throwing a hook when I was off balance. But, it's feeling much better today, so hopefully no harm done.
We leave for vacation tomorrow...so I can't go this week, but I'm totally going back. Maybe one day I'll even land a punch without feeling guilty.
I took my first sparring class on Friday. There was this really nice NHB fighter there that I was fighting, and though I learned a lot, I spent most of all of my 3 minute rounds being yelled at. You see, I have this problem. I DON'T want to get hit in the nose. Anywhere else? Don't care. Nose? I'll run screaming. So, as usual, I manifested my issues onto those around me, and everytime I threw a punch, I aimed for the pad on his forehead. It wasn't "on purpose", and really, I didn't even know I was doing it, but then even after he pointed it out I couldn't seem to bring myself to hit him in the face. Even when he dropped his hands and said "HIT me!" Bam...my glove hit the pad. So then he thought he'd pop me in the face a few times, but, see, I was smart enough to pick the really really stupid looking headgear that has a catcher's mask, so, no problem, didn't bother me a bit. Oh, and FYI, don't care how stupid it looks, I will ALWAYS wear that one, because, hello, nose.
then we put on leg pads and kickboxed. Which was fun, but everytime I throw my rear round I apparently drop my hand. I know this because, everytime I threw my round rear, he'd punch me in the head. After the 3rd time I said "guess I'm dropping my hand, huh?" and he said "yeah, I knew you'd figure it out".
By the time I was fighting my last round, I was tired, and as such, my aim left a lot to be desired. So, during that round, I managed to actually hit him in the face (instead of the headgear) three times. But, like I said, I have issues, so it went something like this
me: BAM (shot to the nose)
me: "Oh, Sorry!"
him: "you're not supposed to say you're sorry. You're fighting"
me: "right"
me: BAM (nose again)
me: "OMG I'm so sorry (dropping hands)
him "Don't DO that" (hits me in the face, since my hands are down)
Repeat.
Oh, and I managed to hurt my back, throwing a hook when I was off balance. But, it's feeling much better today, so hopefully no harm done.
We leave for vacation tomorrow...so I can't go this week, but I'm totally going back. Maybe one day I'll even land a punch without feeling guilty.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Had my 2nd personal training session today.
1st, let's talk about the scale. I lost 1.5 lbs, which for me is like "yeah!", but she totally YELLED at me. she says I'm taking too many "liberties" with the diet she gave me and that everyone that is following her diet is losing weight much faster than me. She said I lack an adequate level of commitment. Ouch. I thought I was doing okay, and I'll certainly take a 1.5 lb loss over a gain or a stall any day. Plus, I thought that was a pretty "healthy" weight loss goal-wise. Anyway.
She worked my ass off, again (oh, if only that could literally be done in one session!) but she forbids me to kickbox on a day before I see her, because she said she's not getting enough out of me since I'm tired from the night before. I can see her point there...I was killer sore this morning and EXHAUSTED (couldn't possibly be exacerbated by her strict diet though), so after next week, I'll be changing the day I see her. but then she told me I'm one of her strongest contestants, so are you not getting anything out of me or am I strong...make up your mind lady!
So, I sort of already cheated at breakfast (had 1/2 a bagel) but I did it on purpose because I was so tired from last night, but other than that, I'm going to follow her diet EXACTLY for the next week (even though I sort of don't agree with all of it) and then see where that gets me. Then she can't yell at me if I don't lose "enough", because then I can be like "hey, it's your diet" and get all up in her grill and stuff. Oh, except I forgot that I'm a total sissy when it comes to confrontation, so I probably won't.
1st, let's talk about the scale. I lost 1.5 lbs, which for me is like "yeah!", but she totally YELLED at me. she says I'm taking too many "liberties" with the diet she gave me and that everyone that is following her diet is losing weight much faster than me. She said I lack an adequate level of commitment. Ouch. I thought I was doing okay, and I'll certainly take a 1.5 lb loss over a gain or a stall any day. Plus, I thought that was a pretty "healthy" weight loss goal-wise. Anyway.
She worked my ass off, again (oh, if only that could literally be done in one session!) but she forbids me to kickbox on a day before I see her, because she said she's not getting enough out of me since I'm tired from the night before. I can see her point there...I was killer sore this morning and EXHAUSTED (couldn't possibly be exacerbated by her strict diet though), so after next week, I'll be changing the day I see her. but then she told me I'm one of her strongest contestants, so are you not getting anything out of me or am I strong...make up your mind lady!
So, I sort of already cheated at breakfast (had 1/2 a bagel) but I did it on purpose because I was so tired from last night, but other than that, I'm going to follow her diet EXACTLY for the next week (even though I sort of don't agree with all of it) and then see where that gets me. Then she can't yell at me if I don't lose "enough", because then I can be like "hey, it's your diet" and get all up in her grill and stuff. Oh, except I forgot that I'm a total sissy when it comes to confrontation, so I probably won't.
Monday, June 27, 2005
well, we're wrapping up week one here at contest central...I haven't weighed in yet (that's tomorrow morning w/trainer) but I did somewhere between really pretty good for me and not too terrible awful. I did 4/5 cardio workouts (I get really lazy come the weekend...have a hard time motivating myself to run after cleaning the house and mowing the lawn and oh, there's that not getting any sleep due to the 3 year old with the ear infection and all) I pretty much did the 3/3 weight workouts, only the last one was less a weight routine and more a weighted power 90 circuit, due to the fact that the crappy gym I work out at by my house is closing in Aug. and in preperation for closing in Aug. has decided to close on the weekends...yeah. convienent as hell. Upside: I joined a new gym today. As far as food...I did really really well till Friday. Lowering my carbs, though not as much as she wanted me too, but not eating any refined carbs at night. Then, Friday night, I was so exhausted and crabby I just wanted to cry. Fix? 1/2 a bagel with my chicken. NOT on her plan, but oh so much better then 1/2 gallon of cookie dough ice cream, no? Then Sat. the ear infection hit (3 year old, not me) and it was a rough day. I ate "clean" for most of the day, but only managed 3 meals, and then had a breakdown at 11:00 pm and ate 12 peanut m & m's. And, might I point out, how sad it is that I not only ate them, but I counted them first. Sunday, I woke, after the 15 minutes of sleep I got, with good intentions. Had a healthy b-fast, and then somehow managed to forget to eat until 4:00 that afternoon. I know. I'm broken. Did manage to eat clean at 4:00, and again at 8:00 so that's good...right? right? Today...so far, so good. Gotta grab something now and head off to kickboxing.
Onward to week 2.
Onward to week 2.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
Yesterday was my first day with my new trainer. And, incidentally, a night that I was going to kickboxing. My first clue as to what I was in for should have been when my trainer said “gee, I feel really bad about kicking your ass on a day that you’ll be back in a few hours for kickboxing…but I’m going to anyway”. Her idea of the “cool down” after so many squats and leg presses and jump squats and pushups with one hand on a step and step up’s with dumbbells and shoulder raises and curls, was to walk on the treadmill for 15 minutes. Oh, and did I mention it was at an incline of 15 and speed of 3.8? Yeah. Holding on for dear life THE. WHOLE. TIME. We talked about nutrition a little, but I’ve been doing a loose bfl for so long, that I kind of knew what she was talking about, so it didn’t take long. She does want me to pretty much cut out carbs in the afternoon, which I don’t think is going to fly with me. I get low on carbs and get all mean and headachy. And, she doesn’t want me to have any red meat for 10 WEEKS. Impossible. I’m a total carnivore, hate me if you must. Plus, I was raised by hillbillies so frankly she’s lucky that I don’t roll my protein bars in butter and cornmeal and deep fry them in bacon grease.
This morning? I woke up with legs of lead. Lead on fire. Molten lead. With other heavy stuff on fire mixed in. I briefly considered driving to the gym to throw rocks and sticks and large heavy pointed things at her, but I wasn’t sure I could push the brake pedal. So I fought my way down the stairs and wrestled the dog into her harness and hit the road. Her expectations are for me to do at least 5 days of high intensity cardio, which I figured was completely out of the question, you know, because of all of the lead and the fire. However, luck was with me, and, as it turns out, the uncontrollable sobbing as each foot hit the ground really does a lot to raise your heart rate.
Moving on.
After my two sessions yesterday, I arrived home a little after 8 and as I flopped like a rag doll onto the couch I said to my hubby “If I don’t sleep like a ROCK tonight, there’s something seriously wrong with me”. so, yeah, like I needed any clarification, of my serious wrongness, I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me. By 2:30 I wanted to poke my eyes out. Again, though, luck was on my side, because I finally fell asleep around 3:15 and I didn’t have to get up to let the dogs out till 5:03.
Today will be long. Lead and fire, my friends, lead and fire.
This morning? I woke up with legs of lead. Lead on fire. Molten lead. With other heavy stuff on fire mixed in. I briefly considered driving to the gym to throw rocks and sticks and large heavy pointed things at her, but I wasn’t sure I could push the brake pedal. So I fought my way down the stairs and wrestled the dog into her harness and hit the road. Her expectations are for me to do at least 5 days of high intensity cardio, which I figured was completely out of the question, you know, because of all of the lead and the fire. However, luck was with me, and, as it turns out, the uncontrollable sobbing as each foot hit the ground really does a lot to raise your heart rate.
Moving on.
After my two sessions yesterday, I arrived home a little after 8 and as I flopped like a rag doll onto the couch I said to my hubby “If I don’t sleep like a ROCK tonight, there’s something seriously wrong with me”. so, yeah, like I needed any clarification, of my serious wrongness, I couldn’t fall asleep for the life of me. By 2:30 I wanted to poke my eyes out. Again, though, luck was on my side, because I finally fell asleep around 3:15 and I didn’t have to get up to let the dogs out till 5:03.
Today will be long. Lead and fire, my friends, lead and fire.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Okay. 1st, my mom's partner finally died. I guess it wasn't easy either, but I didn't ask for any details, cuz she's taking it really hard, of course. Anyway, my point is, all of us kids have plenty of reasons to hold a grudge against my mother due to past "issues"...too long to explain, we'd be here all day...but while my siblings all continue to hold said grudge, I've been the one kid that has tried to let bygones be bygones, and continue a relationship, strange though it may be, with my mother. She's a weird bird, trust me. ANYWAY...since her partner died, I've been calling her usually 3 times a day, just checking up on her, offering that she should come down and stay with me for a bit, just to get away, etc. My brother? hasn't called her, says he won't. My sister, hasn't called her, says "why? I've got nothing to say". Me? On the phone, all the time. Point of the story, you ask? Well, I sent a gift basket to her for the "celebration of life" (read: wake) that she was having...you know one of those fancy ones with all the eats, and I signed the card from me and my hubby, my sister and her hubby, my brother and his wife, my dad and my stepmom, and all the grandkids. The day she got it she called to ask me if I saw the lovely basket my SISTER sent. I'm telling you I can't win. I've always known who the favorite is, but COME ON.
Last Monday, I signed up for a contest at my kickboxing gym...10 week transformation. I've kind of gotten bored with working out and burnt out on the bfl eating, so I thought this would be a good kick in the pants. So, my "trainer" was supposed to be Matt, and he was supposed to call me on Tuesday to set up a time to take my stats, run me through my 1st workout, and set up my workout/nutrition plan. Tuesday: no call. Wednesday: no call. I called at 3 and Kevin, the manager said "oh, Matt was out Tues., his wife had surgery, he got your paperwork today, and I told him to take special care of you...he'll call you later today". Okay, I can live with that. Wed. afternoon: no call. Thursday: Johnny calls...I'm your trainer...let's get you in here next wed. for stats and start. I was like, NEXT wed? that's like putting me a week and 1/2 behind! But, that's the best he could do, so fine. Whatever. Thursday night I just happened to be at the gym for kickboxing, and I saw Gretchen...head organizer of the contest. She says...NO...we need your stats before the weekend, can you run in for a minute on Friday, get your stats, and if you have time do your 1st workout? I was like YEH! then I'll only be a week behind...totally there. So Friday, I drive the 40 minutes it take me to get there, and JOHNNY DIDN'T SHOW! Okay. I'm now slightly aggravated (read: pissed). I talk to Kevin who wants me to come in Saturday, which I decline because there's no way I'm schlepping 4 kids to a gym that far away and then paying 5 bucks a head for their daycare. So, they schedule me for monday with Diane instead. Only on my way this morning, there's an accident on the highway, and my 40 minute trip took me 2 hours. Fuck. So I get there and she's already left. Gretchen went ahead and took my stats, which was good because their scale says I'm 2# lighter than my scale, and bad because I'm 27.5% body fat. Oy. But, she couldn't run me through a workout, because 1. she's a judge, and it wouldn't be fair for her to have a client in the contest and 2. she had a regular client waiting. So still no workout plan, and no nutrition plan, and I'm beginning to think someone just doesn't want me to do this contest.
End of rant. You may resume your regularly scheduled programming.
Last Monday, I signed up for a contest at my kickboxing gym...10 week transformation. I've kind of gotten bored with working out and burnt out on the bfl eating, so I thought this would be a good kick in the pants. So, my "trainer" was supposed to be Matt, and he was supposed to call me on Tuesday to set up a time to take my stats, run me through my 1st workout, and set up my workout/nutrition plan. Tuesday: no call. Wednesday: no call. I called at 3 and Kevin, the manager said "oh, Matt was out Tues., his wife had surgery, he got your paperwork today, and I told him to take special care of you...he'll call you later today". Okay, I can live with that. Wed. afternoon: no call. Thursday: Johnny calls...I'm your trainer...let's get you in here next wed. for stats and start. I was like, NEXT wed? that's like putting me a week and 1/2 behind! But, that's the best he could do, so fine. Whatever. Thursday night I just happened to be at the gym for kickboxing, and I saw Gretchen...head organizer of the contest. She says...NO...we need your stats before the weekend, can you run in for a minute on Friday, get your stats, and if you have time do your 1st workout? I was like YEH! then I'll only be a week behind...totally there. So Friday, I drive the 40 minutes it take me to get there, and JOHNNY DIDN'T SHOW! Okay. I'm now slightly aggravated (read: pissed). I talk to Kevin who wants me to come in Saturday, which I decline because there's no way I'm schlepping 4 kids to a gym that far away and then paying 5 bucks a head for their daycare. So, they schedule me for monday with Diane instead. Only on my way this morning, there's an accident on the highway, and my 40 minute trip took me 2 hours. Fuck. So I get there and she's already left. Gretchen went ahead and took my stats, which was good because their scale says I'm 2# lighter than my scale, and bad because I'm 27.5% body fat. Oy. But, she couldn't run me through a workout, because 1. she's a judge, and it wouldn't be fair for her to have a client in the contest and 2. she had a regular client waiting. So still no workout plan, and no nutrition plan, and I'm beginning to think someone just doesn't want me to do this contest.
End of rant. You may resume your regularly scheduled programming.
Friday, June 03, 2005
yeah, I know. It's been awhile. It's not that I don't love you, it's just that I've been busy/boring/unable to think of anything to write about. So here's a quick update, and I'll probably think of a million things I forgot to tell you, so, sorry in advance.
1. I almost punched my husband in the throat this morning because he set our alarm clock for 4:44 am, and then fell asleep upstairs. meaning: I had to get up at 4:44 am this morning, walk up 15 stairs and find his ass to wake him up. NOT pleased.
2. My brother's company is transfering him back home. Jealous much? Plus, they pay for re-locate, if his house doesn't sell in 30 days they take over payments, if his house does sell in 30 days, they give him 3% for not having to take over the payments.
3. But he has to have his dog put down, because it "snapped" and tried to kill everyone in the vet's office, so that sucks. (no, it's not the first time, but it's the first time that he did it with my brother there...they've been keeping him away from people and trying all sorts of training, but obviously there's something wrong)
4. My mom is gay. This is nothing new, but a preface to #5
5. My mom's lifepartner is dying. this is nothing new either...she's been fighting cancer since 2003, but it's like any minute now.
6. My vacation is 34 days from now, and I'm SO not ready for the beach. Do they sell liposuction in a bottle yet?
7. Work has been really really crazy, and we've been totally shorthanded and this is where I usually find my time to post, so I hope it gets better, since we just hired a new girl.
8. The new girl is 17, but, um, way younger than that. Like didn't know who Dolly Parton was young. Like sometimes skips instead of walking young. Like didn't know what West Point was, cuz she's "like totally not from around here" young. She just graduated on Tuesday.
9. My new aupair is homesick. And my kids drove her so crazy yesterday that she really really really wanted to go back home.
10. Oh, and she crashed my car this week. For the third time.
11. My 4th turned one. My 2nd turned six. Two parties, 4 cakes...insane amounts of chocolate calories.
That's all I can think of right now...
1. I almost punched my husband in the throat this morning because he set our alarm clock for 4:44 am, and then fell asleep upstairs. meaning: I had to get up at 4:44 am this morning, walk up 15 stairs and find his ass to wake him up. NOT pleased.
2. My brother's company is transfering him back home. Jealous much? Plus, they pay for re-locate, if his house doesn't sell in 30 days they take over payments, if his house does sell in 30 days, they give him 3% for not having to take over the payments.
3. But he has to have his dog put down, because it "snapped" and tried to kill everyone in the vet's office, so that sucks. (no, it's not the first time, but it's the first time that he did it with my brother there...they've been keeping him away from people and trying all sorts of training, but obviously there's something wrong)
4. My mom is gay. This is nothing new, but a preface to #5
5. My mom's lifepartner is dying. this is nothing new either...she's been fighting cancer since 2003, but it's like any minute now.
6. My vacation is 34 days from now, and I'm SO not ready for the beach. Do they sell liposuction in a bottle yet?
7. Work has been really really crazy, and we've been totally shorthanded and this is where I usually find my time to post, so I hope it gets better, since we just hired a new girl.
8. The new girl is 17, but, um, way younger than that. Like didn't know who Dolly Parton was young. Like sometimes skips instead of walking young. Like didn't know what West Point was, cuz she's "like totally not from around here" young. She just graduated on Tuesday.
9. My new aupair is homesick. And my kids drove her so crazy yesterday that she really really really wanted to go back home.
10. Oh, and she crashed my car this week. For the third time.
11. My 4th turned one. My 2nd turned six. Two parties, 4 cakes...insane amounts of chocolate calories.
That's all I can think of right now...
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
I was in third grade the first time I fell in love. A crushing, choking kind of love that left me speechless and trembling, hiding behind the lunchboxes under the bench in the coat room. And though, for the life of me, I can’t remember the name of the teacher I spent 5 days a week with, I’ll forever remember the name Mike Donahue.
He was a sixth grader, cool, composed and ultra-popular, and me? I was a frightened bunny, always scouting an exit and ready to bolt at a moments notice. But, oh, how I pined for him. Many a recess was spent sitting on top of that strange metal contraption. You remember the one…the ½ sphere set in the ground, that you could climb on, or over, or hide beneath when the urge would strike. But I never hid. I would perch myself on top, and pretend as hard as I could that I was aloof, and important, and precious…all the time stealing glances toward the blacktop where he played basketball, or tether ball, or just leaned, ever so handsome, against the side of the red brick building. I remember this, as clear as it was yesterday, and I can still feel that sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, knowing how far our worlds were apart. My first love, and my first, want that for which I cannot have. I vaguely remember a time or two when he chased me round the swing set, and the way it set my heart on wings; to be noticed, to be acknowledged. To run and laugh until my breath was gone and my cheeks were set rosy by the whip of the wind and the pain of my shyness.
At the end of the year, after many days of stress and worry, I finally worked up the nerve to ask him to sign my autograph book. Which may or may not be true, for as the years have passed I can’t recall if I actually asked, or if he, knowing the effect he had on me, asked if he could sign it. But I do remember the signature. And I do remember the way I so carefully dog-eared the page in a slightly different way then all the rest, so that I could find it on a moments notice. And I do remember tracing the flowing lines of the letters with my third grade index finger, and thinking how close I felt to being someone at that moment. And oh, the hearts I would trace with my finger, around and around. Never daring to defile the actual page with lead or ink…it was enough to imagine it there, to know it could have been there.
Many years later, my sister ran into him on the campus of MSU. Now “Dr.” Donahue, and she reminisced, and laughed, and caught up on years that had passed, and then, and then…he asked about me. He said he could still remember how everyday he would find me in the lunchroom, and come to say hello. He said he knew he could count on three things. I would never make eye contact, I would blush a bright red, and I would always offer him the dessert my mother had packed in my lunchbox. He said he always thought I was cute, in a third grade sort of way, and that my incredibly excruciating shyness was endearing. Almost as endearing as my willingness to hand over my ho-ho’s and twinkies, and cookies, and ding-dongs.
And though now, I can sort of somewhere come up with a hazy recollection of that lunch time routine, until she mentioned it to me, I had completely forgotten. And I guess, in a way, it just goes to show, that not only will a girl never fully outgrow a case of the bashful’s, but if she’s the type to, as a third grader, give and give and give, just on the off chance that it will make someone like her, she probably always will be.
He was a sixth grader, cool, composed and ultra-popular, and me? I was a frightened bunny, always scouting an exit and ready to bolt at a moments notice. But, oh, how I pined for him. Many a recess was spent sitting on top of that strange metal contraption. You remember the one…the ½ sphere set in the ground, that you could climb on, or over, or hide beneath when the urge would strike. But I never hid. I would perch myself on top, and pretend as hard as I could that I was aloof, and important, and precious…all the time stealing glances toward the blacktop where he played basketball, or tether ball, or just leaned, ever so handsome, against the side of the red brick building. I remember this, as clear as it was yesterday, and I can still feel that sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, knowing how far our worlds were apart. My first love, and my first, want that for which I cannot have. I vaguely remember a time or two when he chased me round the swing set, and the way it set my heart on wings; to be noticed, to be acknowledged. To run and laugh until my breath was gone and my cheeks were set rosy by the whip of the wind and the pain of my shyness.
At the end of the year, after many days of stress and worry, I finally worked up the nerve to ask him to sign my autograph book. Which may or may not be true, for as the years have passed I can’t recall if I actually asked, or if he, knowing the effect he had on me, asked if he could sign it. But I do remember the signature. And I do remember the way I so carefully dog-eared the page in a slightly different way then all the rest, so that I could find it on a moments notice. And I do remember tracing the flowing lines of the letters with my third grade index finger, and thinking how close I felt to being someone at that moment. And oh, the hearts I would trace with my finger, around and around. Never daring to defile the actual page with lead or ink…it was enough to imagine it there, to know it could have been there.
Many years later, my sister ran into him on the campus of MSU. Now “Dr.” Donahue, and she reminisced, and laughed, and caught up on years that had passed, and then, and then…he asked about me. He said he could still remember how everyday he would find me in the lunchroom, and come to say hello. He said he knew he could count on three things. I would never make eye contact, I would blush a bright red, and I would always offer him the dessert my mother had packed in my lunchbox. He said he always thought I was cute, in a third grade sort of way, and that my incredibly excruciating shyness was endearing. Almost as endearing as my willingness to hand over my ho-ho’s and twinkies, and cookies, and ding-dongs.
And though now, I can sort of somewhere come up with a hazy recollection of that lunch time routine, until she mentioned it to me, I had completely forgotten. And I guess, in a way, it just goes to show, that not only will a girl never fully outgrow a case of the bashful’s, but if she’s the type to, as a third grader, give and give and give, just on the off chance that it will make someone like her, she probably always will be.
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
All better. But still so tired. It's been so long since I've actually had a full night's sleep, it should really be a crime. Did not workout AT ALL for I think 2 weeks...Timeline for the size 4's not looking so good. I did, however, do a leg workout and go to kickboxing last night, so I'm sufficiently exhausted today, in addition to the sleep deprivation previously mentioned. It might even qualify as dog-tired, which, I imagine is the state of complete oblivion that my boxer slips into as she lays on her side and snores loud enough to shake the siding.
Two days ago I was laying on the floor playing with the baby, and then she got up and knocked over the vacuum cleaner I had next to the couch, and the handle hit me right on the bridge of my nose. Two black eyes later, and holy crap my face hurts. I didn't hear a crack, which is good, because I've already broken my nose twice and then had it re-broken when the 2nd doctor didn't set it right, and all I've got to say about that is freaking ouch, okay? I swear, if I would have heard a crack, I'd have pulled an office space on that stupid vacuum.
Two days ago I was laying on the floor playing with the baby, and then she got up and knocked over the vacuum cleaner I had next to the couch, and the handle hit me right on the bridge of my nose. Two black eyes later, and holy crap my face hurts. I didn't hear a crack, which is good, because I've already broken my nose twice and then had it re-broken when the 2nd doctor didn't set it right, and all I've got to say about that is freaking ouch, okay? I swear, if I would have heard a crack, I'd have pulled an office space on that stupid vacuum.
Tuesday, April 19, 2005
Monday, April 11, 2005
Last week was pretty much a bust. I wasn’t feeling well, so I spent the most of the week curled up with comfort food feeling sorry for myself. I did get the flowers planted, plus the others I bought looking for a star magnolia, and the third batch I bought when I went back to get mulch. That I need more of. It’s never ending. My dad and step mom and sister and niece flew in on Friday…my dad and step mom have never yet been to the house, and haven’t seen my kids in a year, so it was about time. My brother, his wife and their new baby drove in to meet us so we spent the day together. It was really nice to be around family. I forget sometimes how much I miss living near anyone. And I forget how much it squeezes my heart to say goodbye. Of course, Thursday I was a nervous wreck, because to say that my step mom is a neat freak would be an understatement. Of the century. Don’t get me wrong, my house is “neat”…just don’t open anything. No. seriously. Step away from the cabinet. What I really need is crazydogmama to come and organize me. God knows I’m completely incapable of doing it myself. So Friday was this beautiful day of beer and laughter and family and it went off without a hitch. Everyone had a great time and it was one of those feel-good kind of days. Course, I didn’t get to hold the baby…was still feeling a little under the weather, and didn’t want to pass it along, but other than that, great stuff.
Saturday I woke up without a voice. Not a sound. Not a squeak. Nothing. Still don’t have it back, which makes work interesting. Though not as interesting as trying to keep my four kids in line the rest of the weekend. There was a lot of foot stomping and hand clapping. Like that Marxx brother that didn’t talk…harpo? Yeah, that was me. Honk honk…stop hitting your sister.
I’ve also determined that when I’m completely wrecked from a night of no sleep (pre-step mom house inspection) I should not be allowed out in public. I went to the grocery store, just barely conscious, and did my shopping. Now, I’m a cheapskate, mostly because I’m always broke, so I go to the store that charges you less, but you have to bag your own groceries. Not usually an issue, because usually I go through the self checkout, and they happen to have the bags right there. This night, however, the self checks were closed and I was forced into a slow moving line. Finally made it through, paid for my stuff, and walked out the door to the truck. No freaking bags. Shit. So I load up the soda and water and milk…stuff that doesn’t need bags, and I sneak back in the side door, snatch a handful of bags and run out with my head down….no eye contact. I’m bagging, I’m bagging, I’m bagging…shit. Not enough bags. Side door is now closed. Shit. I have to go in the front door. Sneak in, grab way to many bags, and get the hell out of there. Worst grocery store trip since the time my daughter threw up in the cereal aisle.
Saturday I woke up without a voice. Not a sound. Not a squeak. Nothing. Still don’t have it back, which makes work interesting. Though not as interesting as trying to keep my four kids in line the rest of the weekend. There was a lot of foot stomping and hand clapping. Like that Marxx brother that didn’t talk…harpo? Yeah, that was me. Honk honk…stop hitting your sister.
I’ve also determined that when I’m completely wrecked from a night of no sleep (pre-step mom house inspection) I should not be allowed out in public. I went to the grocery store, just barely conscious, and did my shopping. Now, I’m a cheapskate, mostly because I’m always broke, so I go to the store that charges you less, but you have to bag your own groceries. Not usually an issue, because usually I go through the self checkout, and they happen to have the bags right there. This night, however, the self checks were closed and I was forced into a slow moving line. Finally made it through, paid for my stuff, and walked out the door to the truck. No freaking bags. Shit. So I load up the soda and water and milk…stuff that doesn’t need bags, and I sneak back in the side door, snatch a handful of bags and run out with my head down….no eye contact. I’m bagging, I’m bagging, I’m bagging…shit. Not enough bags. Side door is now closed. Shit. I have to go in the front door. Sneak in, grab way to many bags, and get the hell out of there. Worst grocery store trip since the time my daughter threw up in the cereal aisle.
Wednesday, April 06, 2005
See. This is what happens in my world. I'm going along, feeling swell, decide not to workout on Monday because I want to plant the pretty flowers I bought, and WHAM. I get sick. So now it's Wednesday, I haven't worked out yet this week, I've been eating nothing but comfort food, sneezing, coughing, and feeling sorry for myself. AND I still have a porch full of flowers that must go into the ground tonight before they all die and I kick myself in the ass for wasting more money. Oh, and I accidentally bought a few more today at lunch that I just couldn't live without. It's a sickness. The first step is to admit you have a problem.
And, by the way, I hate Paula Abdul. "Oh, Constantine, I LOOOOOOOVE you so much, oh, I'm just addicted to you...oh, blah blah blah"
Things I will do when I win the powerball jackpot tonight...
1. get my lawn graded and sodded. It's terrible. This will be my first full summer in this house, and something has got to be done. I mowed the lawn on Tuesday and by the end wanted to shoot someone. It's really clumpy and there's holes, and I'm pretty sure it's mostly weeds, cleverly disguised as grass. Bad.
2. buy new carpet. Oy.
3. and new furniture. perhaps some without the green marker and old blood stains from my five year old's last nose bleed (I TOLD her not to play football in the house) and blue gogurt stains.
4. breast lift ('nuff said)
And, by the way, I hate Paula Abdul. "Oh, Constantine, I LOOOOOOOVE you so much, oh, I'm just addicted to you...oh, blah blah blah"
Things I will do when I win the powerball jackpot tonight...
1. get my lawn graded and sodded. It's terrible. This will be my first full summer in this house, and something has got to be done. I mowed the lawn on Tuesday and by the end wanted to shoot someone. It's really clumpy and there's holes, and I'm pretty sure it's mostly weeds, cleverly disguised as grass. Bad.
2. buy new carpet. Oy.
3. and new furniture. perhaps some without the green marker and old blood stains from my five year old's last nose bleed (I TOLD her not to play football in the house) and blue gogurt stains.
4. breast lift ('nuff said)
Monday, April 04, 2005
Today, I have decided, is the perfect day to boycott. Though I am usually quite motivated to work out on Mondays, today it is supposed to be 80 and I’ve decided that I’m not spending any time in a hot and smelly room. Just not doing it. And I refuse to feel guilty about it. Okay, who am I kidding. I feel guilty, and will most likely blame this day and my lack of fortitude for most of my future transgressions, including, but not limited to, not fitting into my size 4’s on the timetable I have previously deemed appropriate.
But today, I am going to take advantage of the first gorgeous day of april and take a little lunch time run to the home depot. On the menu? Flowers, grass seed and fertilizer. And when I get home from work today at 5:15, I will be elbow deep in topsoil and daffodils. Because some days, a girl needs not only flowers, but to feel her hands in the dirt.
***update***
I got some lovely flowers in yellow and red and white...forgot the seed and fertilizer, but do love to support my local farmer's co-op, so may swing by on the way home from work. Oh, and now suddenly I have a sore throat and throbbing head. Yeah me!
But today, I am going to take advantage of the first gorgeous day of april and take a little lunch time run to the home depot. On the menu? Flowers, grass seed and fertilizer. And when I get home from work today at 5:15, I will be elbow deep in topsoil and daffodils. Because some days, a girl needs not only flowers, but to feel her hands in the dirt.
***update***
I got some lovely flowers in yellow and red and white...forgot the seed and fertilizer, but do love to support my local farmer's co-op, so may swing by on the way home from work. Oh, and now suddenly I have a sore throat and throbbing head. Yeah me!
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Memo to the muscle head in the skin tight shirt:
When using the ONLY Smith Machine in the gym, could you please actually USE it? The fact that I wanted to use the machine for my chest workout today is completely beside the point. I was in the free weight room for a full 15 minutes doing bi, tri, and shoulders; and during said time you did nothing but flap your jaws with the guy who cleans the room. You may have all day to sit around and talk at the gym, but some of us are on a schedule. You may have 12” and 200 lbs on me, but I’ll cut you.
P.S. You’re not that hot. Get over yourself.
Memo to the couple in the matching track suits:
You’re adorable, we get it. Please stop flaunting. Is it really necessary to sit across from each other on alternating machines for EVERY set? And two people sitting facing each other on the same bench doing different exercises? Really not necessary kids. Don’t worry…with your matching outfits and your matching I-pods with the matching earphones that you leave dangling around your neck, we know you’re a couple, K? you really don’t have to hold hands between exercises, and use “baby” as every third word.
Memo to self:
Don’t wait for the yapper to finish with the Smith Machine by doing tri, bi, and shoulders, or you’ll be blown for chest when you finally decide you’ll have to use a machine if you want to get any chest in at all. And stay away from the double mint twins…they make your stomach turn.
When using the ONLY Smith Machine in the gym, could you please actually USE it? The fact that I wanted to use the machine for my chest workout today is completely beside the point. I was in the free weight room for a full 15 minutes doing bi, tri, and shoulders; and during said time you did nothing but flap your jaws with the guy who cleans the room. You may have all day to sit around and talk at the gym, but some of us are on a schedule. You may have 12” and 200 lbs on me, but I’ll cut you.
P.S. You’re not that hot. Get over yourself.
Memo to the couple in the matching track suits:
You’re adorable, we get it. Please stop flaunting. Is it really necessary to sit across from each other on alternating machines for EVERY set? And two people sitting facing each other on the same bench doing different exercises? Really not necessary kids. Don’t worry…with your matching outfits and your matching I-pods with the matching earphones that you leave dangling around your neck, we know you’re a couple, K? you really don’t have to hold hands between exercises, and use “baby” as every third word.
Memo to self:
Don’t wait for the yapper to finish with the Smith Machine by doing tri, bi, and shoulders, or you’ll be blown for chest when you finally decide you’ll have to use a machine if you want to get any chest in at all. And stay away from the double mint twins…they make your stomach turn.
I fought with a headache all day yesterday and was almost rid of it by kickboxing. So, when I arrived to the gym with 40 minutes to spare, I thought, I'll just close my eyes and listen to the radio for a bit and see if it helps my head even more...
35 minutes later I woke up.
What the hell? I must have fallen asleep in like 2 seconds, all bent over in a weird position with my head on my jacket and the truck still running...woke up with 7 minutes to get changed and wrap my hands.
maybe I should try to go to bed a little earlier.
35 minutes later I woke up.
What the hell? I must have fallen asleep in like 2 seconds, all bent over in a weird position with my head on my jacket and the truck still running...woke up with 7 minutes to get changed and wrap my hands.
maybe I should try to go to bed a little earlier.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
On our walk last night, my 10 month old Boxer saw her first ever rabbit, and instincts being what they are, immediately decided “I MUST HAVE IT”. It’s a damn good thing I had a good grip on the leash, because she shot like a bat out of hell across someone’s yard, hard enough to pull me completely airborne, just barely landing on my feet about 5 ft. from the sidewalk, where my little foray into flying began. Quite the heart thumper, as I usually don’t have the coordination that God gave a cockroach, and was, while airborne, sure that I was about to do a header into the big mud puddle. She, on the other hand, thought it was great fun.
My new aupair that’s supposed to be here in April, was denied her visa by the American Consulate. Now I have to spend tomorrow morning on the phone trying to figure out why she was denied and if/how we can get her approved. Things like this make me want to punch someone in the throat.
My new aupair that’s supposed to be here in April, was denied her visa by the American Consulate. Now I have to spend tomorrow morning on the phone trying to figure out why she was denied and if/how we can get her approved. Things like this make me want to punch someone in the throat.
Monday, March 21, 2005
my husband scheduled my son's hockey practice for tonight. TONIGHT. my kickboxing class night. gee, I've only been going almost every monday night for 4 months, yeah, I can see how that'd slip his mind.
Oy.
So I went to the gym at lunch instead, which is good, but not the same. plus, when I was on the angled leg press, I got this horrible stabbing pain on the lower, inside part of my right knee cap. enough that I almost yelped out loud and had to stop. weird. my knees have "hurt" before, but never a STAB like this was...hope it was just a fluke.
food has been a-ok today...even found a way to steer clear of the birthday cake in the breakroom so far.
I figured it out today, and I have 15 weeks to be a smokin' hottie for my husbands family reunion in New Orleans. Not that I feel like I have to impress anyone there, but I do intend to look good on the beach while I'm avoiding his family at all costs.
Oy.
So I went to the gym at lunch instead, which is good, but not the same. plus, when I was on the angled leg press, I got this horrible stabbing pain on the lower, inside part of my right knee cap. enough that I almost yelped out loud and had to stop. weird. my knees have "hurt" before, but never a STAB like this was...hope it was just a fluke.
food has been a-ok today...even found a way to steer clear of the birthday cake in the breakroom so far.
I figured it out today, and I have 15 weeks to be a smokin' hottie for my husbands family reunion in New Orleans. Not that I feel like I have to impress anyone there, but I do intend to look good on the beach while I'm avoiding his family at all costs.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Tomorrow is my birthday. Normally I try not to think about my birthday, because usually it sucks. Like the one year, I was in the army and stationed in Texas and three days before my birthday I got a card from my mom. "happy birthday...blah, blah, blah, your sister took first in the horse show, blah, blah, blah, your brother is doing so well in school, blah, blah, blah, wish we could see you for your birthday, blah, blah, blah, oh, yeah, I'm divorcing your dad."
Then there was the year that my dad and his new wife flew down to Missouri to see me...I had just moved here with the company I work for, I didn't know a soul, and I was lonely. They said they wanted to sleep in a bit and that I should call them at 10 am and we'd go celebrate...I called 27 times. They never answered. Turns out the wife decided she wanted to go down to the casinos and see downtown, so they did it without me. They didn't get back till 8 pm. Just in time for me to drive them back to the airport.
There was the year I turned 21...Went to the bar, boyfriend got drunk, and I spent all night making sure he didn't aspirate on his own vomit.
Then there was the year that both my parents forgot. They called 4 and 7 days later, respectively, and said they supposed they just got so busy that it slipped their minds.
Then there was the year that my husband decided that this was a pretty good time to tell me he didn't love me anymore and thought we should divorce.
So, I try to ignore it. Really, can you blame me? But, this year, my 5 year old is obsessed with birthdays...She's been counting down mine for the last 14 days. Every morning she comes in the room and declares "only __ more days till your birthday mom!" and I try to act excited. She and her dad are going to try to make me a cake...Ought to be interesting...So I've been banned from returning home tonight right after work. Good excuse to go to kickboxing, though.
Oh, and my sister sent me the Dog Whisperer book and DVD, which is totally cool, because my dog needs professional help in a bad way.
Matter of fact, this has been the best birthday so far, that I can remember, mostly because nothing terrible has happened yet. We'll see what tomorrow will bring, but I'm feeling slightly optimistic, which is new for me, when it comes to birthdays.
Then there was the year that my dad and his new wife flew down to Missouri to see me...I had just moved here with the company I work for, I didn't know a soul, and I was lonely. They said they wanted to sleep in a bit and that I should call them at 10 am and we'd go celebrate...I called 27 times. They never answered. Turns out the wife decided she wanted to go down to the casinos and see downtown, so they did it without me. They didn't get back till 8 pm. Just in time for me to drive them back to the airport.
There was the year I turned 21...Went to the bar, boyfriend got drunk, and I spent all night making sure he didn't aspirate on his own vomit.
Then there was the year that both my parents forgot. They called 4 and 7 days later, respectively, and said they supposed they just got so busy that it slipped their minds.
Then there was the year that my husband decided that this was a pretty good time to tell me he didn't love me anymore and thought we should divorce.
So, I try to ignore it. Really, can you blame me? But, this year, my 5 year old is obsessed with birthdays...She's been counting down mine for the last 14 days. Every morning she comes in the room and declares "only __ more days till your birthday mom!" and I try to act excited. She and her dad are going to try to make me a cake...Ought to be interesting...So I've been banned from returning home tonight right after work. Good excuse to go to kickboxing, though.
Oh, and my sister sent me the Dog Whisperer book and DVD, which is totally cool, because my dog needs professional help in a bad way.
Matter of fact, this has been the best birthday so far, that I can remember, mostly because nothing terrible has happened yet. We'll see what tomorrow will bring, but I'm feeling slightly optimistic, which is new for me, when it comes to birthdays.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Apparently I’ve begun hoarding food again. I didn’t really realize it until I opened a drawer this morning in the bedroom and found a bag of Hershey’s kisses. Then, when I was getting the new box of salt off the top shelf in the kitchen cabinet, I found three twix bars and a package of airheads.
I know it’s all a throwback to the years I spent sitting on the closet floor eating cake mix straight from the box, in the dark. An escape from the two women I lived with that, despite my athletic build and demanding sport schedule at the time, felt inclined to pepper me incessantly with insults and predictions that one day, the way I ate, I’d be “as big as a house”.
I also know that it’s a pretty clear sign that something in my head is amiss. Though, this time, there seems to be no one thing I can put my finger on, that would trigger this sort of self comforting behavior that normally occurs when I’m feeling quite at the end of my rope.
I know it’s all a throwback to the years I spent sitting on the closet floor eating cake mix straight from the box, in the dark. An escape from the two women I lived with that, despite my athletic build and demanding sport schedule at the time, felt inclined to pepper me incessantly with insults and predictions that one day, the way I ate, I’d be “as big as a house”.
I also know that it’s a pretty clear sign that something in my head is amiss. Though, this time, there seems to be no one thing I can put my finger on, that would trigger this sort of self comforting behavior that normally occurs when I’m feeling quite at the end of my rope.
Friday, March 11, 2005
On the plus side...I got my other new pair of running shoes last night (I'm trying two different to check if my feet are fat enough to warrant the "wide" width) and my new this fish shirt yesterday! Two boxes on the front porch...both for me! I love boxes on my porch. It makes me feel happy on the inside.
the shoes fit fine. though I still can't decide which width is best.
the shirt...well, that will fit as soon as I'm done breastfeeding.
the shoes fit fine. though I still can't decide which width is best.
the shirt...well, that will fit as soon as I'm done breastfeeding.
So, I got home at 5:20 last night. My husband grabbed the oldest and took him to hockey practice, and I sat on the couch to play with the little 3. The baby was hungry, so I fed her, and then she was sitting next to me playing quietly. All was well. At 5:35, my other son looked at the baby and said "EWWWW!", at which time I looked over just in time to see her puke all over herself, two couch cushions and the entire right side of my body. I grabbed her, ran for the bathroom, stripped her, stripped me, cleaned her, cleaned me, left her banging on the side of the bathtub in joy, grabbed all the clothes, threw them in the washer, and got out some towels to clean the couch. One minute into my cleaning frenzy, my oldest daughter came out and said "mom, the baby pooped and it's all over your carpet." I ran back into the bathroom to find out that not only did the diaper leak, but that she had stood up and sat down and stood up and sat down and stood up and sat down in 5 different places, allowing the *ahem* leakage to cover a more thorough area. Okay. So I cleaned her again and changed her again and put her, this time, in the bedroom, emptying out all the bottom drawers of the dressers in joy, while I added this set of clothes and towels to the puke load already started, and brought out the hand held carpet cleaner to clean the carpet in the bathroom. Bathroom finished, I took the cleaner out to the family room to clean the couch, only to find that my very old dog had accidently peed in the middle of the room. Okay. Dogs outside, start to clean the pee, baby's crying. Take her upstairs and put her in her bed for a nap, go back down, clean the carpet, spray with natures miracle, clean the couch twice, and, since it's out, try to clean the blood from a football throw gone astray, from three day's ago, that by the way, still won't come out. Baby's still screaming in her bed, so stop by the laundry room and add the two towels I've been cleaning with in with the puke-poop load. Go upstairs to get the baby. Find that her entire outfit and all of the blankets are covered in poop (no wonder she couldn't fall asleep). Change the baby, clean the baby, change the sheets and blankets, take downstairs and add to the load in progress, starting entire load over again and setting to pre-soak. Run a bath. Bathe the baby. Dry the baby, dress the baby, take the baby into the family room and sit in the rocking chair because the couch is wet. Rock the baby until almost asleep, at which time she pushes away from you, looks at you, smiles, giggles just a bit, and pukes on the front of your shirt. All by 6:30.
How was your night?
How was your night?
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Dear lady in the checkout line with the missing tooth,
I realize that you may not have anything else to do tonight, but I'm sort of in a rush, so if possible, could you please double check the sizes of the 14 shirts you are buying BEFORE it is your turn at the register? Additionally, could you please refrain from saying 'what'd that ring up as?' for each of your items, being as there's a little display that shows you the cost right there in front of your face? And while we're on the subject of cost...if something rings up as 4.99, and you think the sign might have said 4.97, could you please not make the cashier do a price check for 2 cents? Here's a nickel, keep the change. Frugal is one thing, this is another. And when the cashier says "I'll just change the price" please don't INSIST that she do a price check so that you can pay the right amount, because I may have to punch you in the throat. Oh, and the 4 people behind you in the ONLY register open really don't care who you're buying the 5 different pairs of shoes for, or where, in the country they live. Buy a whole fuckload of shoes if you want, just be done with it already. And please don't stand there and ponder if you really want the red shirt you picked out, or if maybe you should go exchange it for the blue, after the checker has finished ringing you out and is, much more patiently then me, waiting for you to pay. And speaking of paying, could you please not be the slowest check writer on the face of the earth EVER. And, is it necessary to try and reconcile your checkbook right there on the little belt while the rest of us roll our eyes and try to keep from screaming? Please, just take your packages, and walk away. Please.
your cooperation would be appreciated.
I realize that you may not have anything else to do tonight, but I'm sort of in a rush, so if possible, could you please double check the sizes of the 14 shirts you are buying BEFORE it is your turn at the register? Additionally, could you please refrain from saying 'what'd that ring up as?' for each of your items, being as there's a little display that shows you the cost right there in front of your face? And while we're on the subject of cost...if something rings up as 4.99, and you think the sign might have said 4.97, could you please not make the cashier do a price check for 2 cents? Here's a nickel, keep the change. Frugal is one thing, this is another. And when the cashier says "I'll just change the price" please don't INSIST that she do a price check so that you can pay the right amount, because I may have to punch you in the throat. Oh, and the 4 people behind you in the ONLY register open really don't care who you're buying the 5 different pairs of shoes for, or where, in the country they live. Buy a whole fuckload of shoes if you want, just be done with it already. And please don't stand there and ponder if you really want the red shirt you picked out, or if maybe you should go exchange it for the blue, after the checker has finished ringing you out and is, much more patiently then me, waiting for you to pay. And speaking of paying, could you please not be the slowest check writer on the face of the earth EVER. And, is it necessary to try and reconcile your checkbook right there on the little belt while the rest of us roll our eyes and try to keep from screaming? Please, just take your packages, and walk away. Please.
your cooperation would be appreciated.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
have you ever felt like the universise is conspiring against your efforts to get in shape?
Let's recap the last 2 1/2 weeks, k?
me: alright! It's Monday and I can't wait for kickboxing
universe: oops, look at that, I'm going to have this girl hold the pad weird and you kick off center, and wow, look at the 14 shades of purple I've managed to turn your foot...nice limp, dork.
me: Well...tuesday...hmmm, can't fit my purple foot into my shoes... I know, let's go to the gym on lunch and do upper body
universe: ring, ring...yes, hello, this is the nurse at school...your son has a 102 fever and you have to come get him.
me: Wednesday...staying home with sick kid...still can't fit foot in shoe, I guess I can get to the gym before they close at 9, as long as my husband gets home from work on time
universe: hey, let's try 2 kids with strep and schedule a meeting for your husband that he forgot to tell you about.
me: thursday. Okay. Me. Gym. Today. Going. Two sick kids or not.
universe: how about 3 kids with strep. Still going? Okay, how about at 3 pm, you suddenly come down with a 102 fever.
me: I hate you universe. Friday...all four kids now have strep...oh yeah, and me too. I'll be in bed if you need me.
universe: I win.
me: Monday...still sick. can't go to class...
universe: ha ha.
me: Tuesday...cough cough. I really shouldn't be at work.
universe: yeah, but you need the money
me: Wednesday...almost feeling human...maybe I'll go for a quick walk tonight
universe: did I forget to tell you? you're husband's got strep now and you have to watch the kids so he can go to bed.
me: Thursday...feeling good...at least I'll get one day in this week
universe: here, have a migrane.
me: screw it. let's try again next week.
universe: see you then sucker.
me: Monday...yeah...kickboxing!
universe: alright...I'll throw you a bone.
me: yeah! and look, my new running shoes came in! That means I should totally run tomorrow morning!
universe: see. you shouldn't have pushed me. Now the baby has the stomach flu and you'll be up all night rocking her, because she won't lay down, and keeps barfing.
me: did I mention I hate you? Tuesday: So. Tired. No. Sleep. Can't. Function.
universe: told you. I win again.
Let's recap the last 2 1/2 weeks, k?
me: alright! It's Monday and I can't wait for kickboxing
universe: oops, look at that, I'm going to have this girl hold the pad weird and you kick off center, and wow, look at the 14 shades of purple I've managed to turn your foot...nice limp, dork.
me: Well...tuesday...hmmm, can't fit my purple foot into my shoes... I know, let's go to the gym on lunch and do upper body
universe: ring, ring...yes, hello, this is the nurse at school...your son has a 102 fever and you have to come get him.
me: Wednesday...staying home with sick kid...still can't fit foot in shoe, I guess I can get to the gym before they close at 9, as long as my husband gets home from work on time
universe: hey, let's try 2 kids with strep and schedule a meeting for your husband that he forgot to tell you about.
me: thursday. Okay. Me. Gym. Today. Going. Two sick kids or not.
universe: how about 3 kids with strep. Still going? Okay, how about at 3 pm, you suddenly come down with a 102 fever.
me: I hate you universe. Friday...all four kids now have strep...oh yeah, and me too. I'll be in bed if you need me.
universe: I win.
me: Monday...still sick. can't go to class...
universe: ha ha.
me: Tuesday...cough cough. I really shouldn't be at work.
universe: yeah, but you need the money
me: Wednesday...almost feeling human...maybe I'll go for a quick walk tonight
universe: did I forget to tell you? you're husband's got strep now and you have to watch the kids so he can go to bed.
me: Thursday...feeling good...at least I'll get one day in this week
universe: here, have a migrane.
me: screw it. let's try again next week.
universe: see you then sucker.
me: Monday...yeah...kickboxing!
universe: alright...I'll throw you a bone.
me: yeah! and look, my new running shoes came in! That means I should totally run tomorrow morning!
universe: see. you shouldn't have pushed me. Now the baby has the stomach flu and you'll be up all night rocking her, because she won't lay down, and keeps barfing.
me: did I mention I hate you? Tuesday: So. Tired. No. Sleep. Can't. Function.
universe: told you. I win again.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Everything hurts.
Monday--kickboxing with perhaps the worlds meanest teacher and most evil ab routine ever. EVER.
Tuesday--legs and shoulders…finally got over my intimidation and joined the big boys in the free weight room…scary, but well worth the use of the hip sled.
Wednesday--back and bi--still sore from Monday’s class by the way, and hey, every fiber of my stomach muscles scream when I breathe. Wussed out on the planned abs last night due to child with strep and baby teething issues beyond my control.
Thursday--plan is chest and tri. Hope to work in abs though they STILL hurt from Monday---gotta get some endurance in my belly! Ordering new pair of running shoes today…which is good (I need them) and bad (now I have no excuse not to run)
I got about 3 hours of sleep last night…my eyes hurt, my head hurts, and oh, by the way, my stomach still hurts. Big has strep throat, Medium is starting to come down with something and is crabby and tired, and Extra-Small is teething. Small is the only one sleeping comfortably through the night right now, but he’s like the energizer bunny…sleeps for 8 hours then goes like a bat out of hell for the rest of the day. It’s exhausting to even be around him…but he’s funny, so that helps. I keep trying to tell him that two year olds still need a NAP, and he keeps telling me I’m crazy. We’re probably both right.
Monday--kickboxing with perhaps the worlds meanest teacher and most evil ab routine ever. EVER.
Tuesday--legs and shoulders…finally got over my intimidation and joined the big boys in the free weight room…scary, but well worth the use of the hip sled.
Wednesday--back and bi--still sore from Monday’s class by the way, and hey, every fiber of my stomach muscles scream when I breathe. Wussed out on the planned abs last night due to child with strep and baby teething issues beyond my control.
Thursday--plan is chest and tri. Hope to work in abs though they STILL hurt from Monday---gotta get some endurance in my belly! Ordering new pair of running shoes today…which is good (I need them) and bad (now I have no excuse not to run)
I got about 3 hours of sleep last night…my eyes hurt, my head hurts, and oh, by the way, my stomach still hurts. Big has strep throat, Medium is starting to come down with something and is crabby and tired, and Extra-Small is teething. Small is the only one sleeping comfortably through the night right now, but he’s like the energizer bunny…sleeps for 8 hours then goes like a bat out of hell for the rest of the day. It’s exhausting to even be around him…but he’s funny, so that helps. I keep trying to tell him that two year olds still need a NAP, and he keeps telling me I’m crazy. We’re probably both right.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
my baby brother is a daddy!
I knew today would be the day, because in the true spirit of my family, the kid was both upside down and backwards, so it was a scheduled c-section, but nonetheless I waited anxiously by the phone to hear that mommy and baby were both perfect and beautiful and priceless.
I get to meet him tomorrow, as I've decided to make the 4 hour drive to meet my new nephew, for five minutes, to drive back 4 hours to be home in time to see my kids before bed. A little kooky, I know, but I just can't wait to meet him, and I just can't miss tucking mine into bed.
And my brother's so cool about everything...I'm blubbering and stuttering on the phone and so excited and so happy and so sappy, and at the end I tell him "I love you more than the world" which is what I always say to my kids, and he replies...."cool." God I love that kid...how I wish I was more like him and didn't always walk around with my heart pinned to my sleeve.
When researching my family history (yes, I am a dork, thank you for asking) I came up with a list of names, because my brother thought maybe he'd name his son after someone in our history. He eventually decided not to (mostly because we're hill-billy by nature and "bubba" just didn't fly with his wife), but from this day on, in my heart, I will call my nephew by my favorite of all our "family names". So welcome, Freelove. Let the party begin.
I knew today would be the day, because in the true spirit of my family, the kid was both upside down and backwards, so it was a scheduled c-section, but nonetheless I waited anxiously by the phone to hear that mommy and baby were both perfect and beautiful and priceless.
I get to meet him tomorrow, as I've decided to make the 4 hour drive to meet my new nephew, for five minutes, to drive back 4 hours to be home in time to see my kids before bed. A little kooky, I know, but I just can't wait to meet him, and I just can't miss tucking mine into bed.
And my brother's so cool about everything...I'm blubbering and stuttering on the phone and so excited and so happy and so sappy, and at the end I tell him "I love you more than the world" which is what I always say to my kids, and he replies...."cool." God I love that kid...how I wish I was more like him and didn't always walk around with my heart pinned to my sleeve.
When researching my family history (yes, I am a dork, thank you for asking) I came up with a list of names, because my brother thought maybe he'd name his son after someone in our history. He eventually decided not to (mostly because we're hill-billy by nature and "bubba" just didn't fly with his wife), but from this day on, in my heart, I will call my nephew by my favorite of all our "family names". So welcome, Freelove. Let the party begin.
Friday, January 21, 2005
Everybody's pregnant. Have you noticed? Even my baby brother, is about to become a daddy. Makes me kind of sad and sort of half-way wish that maybe I could sort of have another, and then I snap out of it and realize how much I like not peeing my pants when I sneeze, and the mood passes.
And I've started shopping for a new aupair today, which totally sucks, because the one I have now is the best ever and I totally don't want her to leave. I mean, she actually calls herself "the queen of the butterflies" and if that isn't the person you want watching your kids, I just don't know who is. And as I'm shopping for aupairs, I started thinking "let's see, I'll need to do this again for hmmm, let's count...3, 4, 5 more years at LEAST. 5! Do you know how many years that is? And suddenly, I don't want a new baby anymore.
And I've started shopping for a new aupair today, which totally sucks, because the one I have now is the best ever and I totally don't want her to leave. I mean, she actually calls herself "the queen of the butterflies" and if that isn't the person you want watching your kids, I just don't know who is. And as I'm shopping for aupairs, I started thinking "let's see, I'll need to do this again for hmmm, let's count...3, 4, 5 more years at LEAST. 5! Do you know how many years that is? And suddenly, I don't want a new baby anymore.
Friday, January 14, 2005
though I never officially entered the nanowrimo, I kind of half-assed started writing a novel that month...yeah, sort of like how I do everything else in my life. Eventually I printed certain parts of it, and began carting it around in my bag, in the hopes that I'd find a spare moment in my day in which I could change/add/re-do those parts I had printed. Well, one of those pages happened to be a part where the woman in the story was talking about a man she had just met and included cheesy romantic novel prose as in "drinking in his masculinity" and other nonsense.
My husband was snooping and found that page last night. At 1:30. In the morning. At which time he woke me up and accused me of having an affair. Now, my brain doesn't function all that well during waking hours not to mention when I'm sound the fuck asleep, so I'm pretty sure my response came out like "no, you put the toast in the pocket", which, as I can clearly see now, makes absolutely no sense, but then neither does reading someone's piece of crap partial "manuscript" and leaping to the conclusion that it's true.
FYI honey...if I take the time to type something and then take the time to proof read it and make corrections, it's probably a story, and not some super secret diary, K? Oh, and by the way, stay the hell out of my bag.
My husband was snooping and found that page last night. At 1:30. In the morning. At which time he woke me up and accused me of having an affair. Now, my brain doesn't function all that well during waking hours not to mention when I'm sound the fuck asleep, so I'm pretty sure my response came out like "no, you put the toast in the pocket", which, as I can clearly see now, makes absolutely no sense, but then neither does reading someone's piece of crap partial "manuscript" and leaping to the conclusion that it's true.
FYI honey...if I take the time to type something and then take the time to proof read it and make corrections, it's probably a story, and not some super secret diary, K? Oh, and by the way, stay the hell out of my bag.
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