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.

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.