6.20.2012
Make the switch!!
If you follow me on this blog and missed my recent post, I am MAKING THE SWITCH. Follow me on my new blog:
6.15.2012
New Adventures!
I know you have been waiting for this. Anxiously, patiently, not-so-patiently, frustrated, slamming your laptop closed, wondering "WHY HASN'T SHE POSTED ANYTHING?!?!?!?!" I know. I heard you.
So here I am. Updating. Only you might not like what I have to say. But we're friends and I know you will stick around. We tight (as I pound my chest and throw up a peace sign at the computer screen.). Its okay, you can do it back too. So here goes:
A while back I posted a very vague, non-committal update on good ol' Facebook about "new adventures on the horizon". I left is so vague, some of you might be wondering, "Is she pregnant, getting a new job, a new puppy that likes to eat underwear? What is it?" Good news. It is NONE of the above, especially the first. There will be NO MORE new people exiting my body after 10 months of sucking the life out of me. NONE. I am done. Remember all my posts about trying to recover from this last one? If not, just scroll down. They are all there. Every single one of them. Remind youself of this battle I have been facing, this "journey" to find and reclaim myself from gestational kidnapping.
Okay, Lisa. You still have not told us what new adventures you have. Get to the point already!
Got it. I will. Just to stimulate your memory one more time, remember my obsession? If not here it is. It was the beginning of everything. I put myself out there for you to gawk at and wonder, "why bother" as I tried to get my body back - not just get it back but sculpt it into something better. That's what my focus has been on all this past year. Eating, breathing, living everything fitness. I am still obsessed. So obsessed that it has now become a passion of mine.
They say if you do what you are passionate about, you will never work a day in your life. Well, I have yet to "work" a day as a teacher and I am hoping to add to that with my new passion. What does that mean? Well, as of July 16, you are looking a graduate student working towards her M.S. in Exercise Science and Health Promotions with an emphasis on Fitness and Wellness! Yep. I am doing it! I will also end up with my Personal Trainer certification through NASM when I am done. How cool is that?!? Only that's not the only thing...
I am also training (as of Monday!!) for my first ever figure competition. What! What!
So, Lisa, what is that? Are you going to look like a man and be all veiny and gross?
No I won't look like a man. I will look like this. Let me introduce you to Erin Stern, IFBB Figure Pro and the girl of my dreams. If I can look like this, I will be one happy lady. I don't think my hubs will mind either. This is what I am working towards, only my version. Muscle in my legs, defined shoulders, abs, YES! I will prove that you can have abs like this after three kids. I've got roughly 15 weeks to sculpt what I have done so far into a fierce body like this.
That brings me to the third and final adventure. My new blog.
Huh? You barely keep up with this one? How are you going to keep up two?
Well... I'm not. After talking with a few people, some of whom actually evaluate blogs for a living, and getting some good feedback, I am saying good-bye to Suburbia and hello to a new one. I need to pick a focus and really hone in on that "voice". Any guess what it will be???? Yep. Fitness. And food. And mommy-hood. And balancing everything. It will have nothing to do with anything related to teaching (not that this ever did), maybe a few funny stories about the crazies, but mostly about HOW to be fit and healthy as a mom. So as much as I have loved this blog and all the interesting adventures that I wrote about (or thought about writing), I have to bid adieu. Its time to close one chapter and begin the next.
I really hope you will follow me on my journey. This is no longer an obsession for me, but a lifestyle. I will post pictures of my evolution on my new blog. See, you have to check it out if you want to see the progress I made over the past year. Look at my trickery... making you follow me even though you weren't sure if you wanted to. It won't just be about my figure competition either. I will post work-outs, recipes, nutrition tips, tips for helping your family become healthier, etc. My goal is to be able to help people as I entertain them will my antics. The children are in full bloom, so I promise to have nothing short of gut-aching, pee-in-your-computer-chair adventures with my crazy brood. Join me.
So here I am. Updating. Only you might not like what I have to say. But we're friends and I know you will stick around. We tight (as I pound my chest and throw up a peace sign at the computer screen.). Its okay, you can do it back too. So here goes:
A while back I posted a very vague, non-committal update on good ol' Facebook about "new adventures on the horizon". I left is so vague, some of you might be wondering, "Is she pregnant, getting a new job, a new puppy that likes to eat underwear? What is it?" Good news. It is NONE of the above, especially the first. There will be NO MORE new people exiting my body after 10 months of sucking the life out of me. NONE. I am done. Remember all my posts about trying to recover from this last one? If not, just scroll down. They are all there. Every single one of them. Remind youself of this battle I have been facing, this "journey" to find and reclaim myself from gestational kidnapping.
Okay, Lisa. You still have not told us what new adventures you have. Get to the point already!
Got it. I will. Just to stimulate your memory one more time, remember my obsession? If not here it is. It was the beginning of everything. I put myself out there for you to gawk at and wonder, "why bother" as I tried to get my body back - not just get it back but sculpt it into something better. That's what my focus has been on all this past year. Eating, breathing, living everything fitness. I am still obsessed. So obsessed that it has now become a passion of mine.
They say if you do what you are passionate about, you will never work a day in your life. Well, I have yet to "work" a day as a teacher and I am hoping to add to that with my new passion. What does that mean? Well, as of July 16, you are looking a graduate student working towards her M.S. in Exercise Science and Health Promotions with an emphasis on Fitness and Wellness! Yep. I am doing it! I will also end up with my Personal Trainer certification through NASM when I am done. How cool is that?!? Only that's not the only thing...
I am also training (as of Monday!!) for my first ever figure competition. What! What!
So, Lisa, what is that? Are you going to look like a man and be all veiny and gross?
That brings me to the third and final adventure. My new blog.
Huh? You barely keep up with this one? How are you going to keep up two?
Well... I'm not. After talking with a few people, some of whom actually evaluate blogs for a living, and getting some good feedback, I am saying good-bye to Suburbia and hello to a new one. I need to pick a focus and really hone in on that "voice". Any guess what it will be???? Yep. Fitness. And food. And mommy-hood. And balancing everything. It will have nothing to do with anything related to teaching (not that this ever did), maybe a few funny stories about the crazies, but mostly about HOW to be fit and healthy as a mom. So as much as I have loved this blog and all the interesting adventures that I wrote about (or thought about writing), I have to bid adieu. Its time to close one chapter and begin the next.
I really hope you will follow me on my journey. This is no longer an obsession for me, but a lifestyle. I will post pictures of my evolution on my new blog. See, you have to check it out if you want to see the progress I made over the past year. Look at my trickery... making you follow me even though you weren't sure if you wanted to. It won't just be about my figure competition either. I will post work-outs, recipes, nutrition tips, tips for helping your family become healthier, etc. My goal is to be able to help people as I entertain them will my antics. The children are in full bloom, so I promise to have nothing short of gut-aching, pee-in-your-computer-chair adventures with my crazy brood. Join me.
{Fit} Mom Diary
3.27.2012
You've Got to Be Kidding Me!
I recently posted on my Fbook status about a run-in I had with a dear, sweet, motherly woman who I wanted nothing more than to punch in the face. I have never really wanted to "knock a bitch out"... well... with the exception of... they will remain nameless. Let me just set the stage for my little suare':
It is lonely, cold and drizzling outside. Sunday afternoon at the gym. Not a peep to be heard as I enter the (completely!) empty gym. Music is blaring, TVs are on loud, but not a soul or a cell to warm the place up. Aaahh, but I am here.
My body has been using every ounce of fight it can muster up to ward off this cold that has taken up residence in our house. All children and adults have been under its attack and I will be the last to break... or so I thought. But nonetheless, I am here. At the gym. Coughing my lungs out in between back, bicep and tricep supersets. I will not give in.
Fast-forward one hour and many reps later (some of which ended up with me on the floor, ready to fall asleep because I was so tired). I climb my lethargic ass onto the treadmill for some dreaded sprints. I don't know how much I have in me... feels like I am running on fumes. But I am going to make the most of this. 30 minutes @ 8.5 mph. 30 sec. on / 30 sec. off. I tell myself "You got this!" If I want to break through this wall of 144lbs, this is when it counts. I have to do the work to get the results. But my bed sounds so much better!
Since my initial arrival, a few stragglers have made their way into the gym, one of which is a "maternally-structured" woman of mid-40s, walking her way up the treadmill on a low incline. "Good for you!" I think to myself. Maia's voice resonates in my head with a loud, "Git it gurrrrrrl!" I love girl-power in the gym! I set up shop on the treadmill next to her, punching in my info. for a royal ass-kicker due to my above mentioned state of being. As I pull my hair up into a ponytail, she attempts to make small talk with me. Attempts. Yes. I do mean to stress this word, because it would not have been an "attempt" if she had successfully made small talk with me. As in, after a few exchanges of words, I did not want to "knock a bitch out".
Now I am going to make a big assumption. I am going to assume that she has a brain because her body was breathing on its own, moving on its own and by golly, so were her lips. I am also going to assume that she has children. Those two assumptions would lead me to believe that she would NOT DO THIS. Oh... but she did. The evidence clearly shows that my assumptions were wrong.
Climb on treadmill.
Manual.
Weight. 144. (Damn!)
Time. 30 min. (Deeeeep breath)
Incline. 0 (You've got to be kidding....)
Speed. 8.5 (----interruption----)
Woman: You look so great! You've got to be pregnant! (without even missing a beat OR taking a breath to let the logic of her preposition sink in) Are you pregnant??
Me: No.(so incredibly stoic, you would think I were a drone) ---long, uncomfortable pause--- No, I am not pregnant. (Adjust speed to 9.5 --- deep breath---)
Woman: (logic has still not caught up with her) Oh, well then you must have just had a baby.
Me: (again, long pause) Well... like over 10 months ago. Avoiding all eye contact so she doesn't see my immediate hatred.
Woman: Oh, well, good for you. It took my sister like over a year before she ever started to lose her weight.
Me: Yep. He's my third. He's hanging around a lot longer than I want. Sprinting begins - meaning DON'T &*%^ING TALK TO ME ANYMORE YOU DIRTY, ROTTEN $#@&%^
Woman: Well, you look great.
Really. REALLY? You just asked me if I was pregnant?!? And I am supposed to be all good now that you said that? What kind of woman are you?!! I just worked my ass off lifting weights when I feel like shit! and you ruined it! You ruined my endorphin rush! AAAARRRGGHHH!!
Needless to say, I left the gym feeling a little deflated - or rather inflated.
BUT.................................................
It is lonely, cold and drizzling outside. Sunday afternoon at the gym. Not a peep to be heard as I enter the (completely!) empty gym. Music is blaring, TVs are on loud, but not a soul or a cell to warm the place up. Aaahh, but I am here.
My body has been using every ounce of fight it can muster up to ward off this cold that has taken up residence in our house. All children and adults have been under its attack and I will be the last to break... or so I thought. But nonetheless, I am here. At the gym. Coughing my lungs out in between back, bicep and tricep supersets. I will not give in.
Fast-forward one hour and many reps later (some of which ended up with me on the floor, ready to fall asleep because I was so tired). I climb my lethargic ass onto the treadmill for some dreaded sprints. I don't know how much I have in me... feels like I am running on fumes. But I am going to make the most of this. 30 minutes @ 8.5 mph. 30 sec. on / 30 sec. off. I tell myself "You got this!" If I want to break through this wall of 144lbs, this is when it counts. I have to do the work to get the results. But my bed sounds so much better!
Since my initial arrival, a few stragglers have made their way into the gym, one of which is a "maternally-structured" woman of mid-40s, walking her way up the treadmill on a low incline. "Good for you!" I think to myself. Maia's voice resonates in my head with a loud, "Git it gurrrrrrl!" I love girl-power in the gym! I set up shop on the treadmill next to her, punching in my info. for a royal ass-kicker due to my above mentioned state of being. As I pull my hair up into a ponytail, she attempts to make small talk with me. Attempts. Yes. I do mean to stress this word, because it would not have been an "attempt" if she had successfully made small talk with me. As in, after a few exchanges of words, I did not want to "knock a bitch out".
Now I am going to make a big assumption. I am going to assume that she has a brain because her body was breathing on its own, moving on its own and by golly, so were her lips. I am also going to assume that she has children. Those two assumptions would lead me to believe that she would NOT DO THIS. Oh... but she did. The evidence clearly shows that my assumptions were wrong.
Climb on treadmill.
Manual.
Weight. 144. (Damn!)
Time. 30 min. (Deeeeep breath)
Incline. 0 (You've got to be kidding....)
Speed. 8.5 (----interruption----)
Woman: You look so great! You've got to be pregnant! (without even missing a beat OR taking a breath to let the logic of her preposition sink in) Are you pregnant??
Me: No.(so incredibly stoic, you would think I were a drone) ---long, uncomfortable pause--- No, I am not pregnant. (Adjust speed to 9.5 --- deep breath---)
Woman: (logic has still not caught up with her) Oh, well then you must have just had a baby.
Me: (again, long pause) Well... like over 10 months ago. Avoiding all eye contact so she doesn't see my immediate hatred.
Woman: Oh, well, good for you. It took my sister like over a year before she ever started to lose her weight.
Me: Yep. He's my third. He's hanging around a lot longer than I want. Sprinting begins - meaning DON'T &*%^ING TALK TO ME ANYMORE YOU DIRTY, ROTTEN $#@&%^
Woman: Well, you look great.
Really. REALLY? You just asked me if I was pregnant?!? And I am supposed to be all good now that you said that? What kind of woman are you?!! I just worked my ass off lifting weights when I feel like shit! and you ruined it! You ruined my endorphin rush! AAAARRRGGHHH!!
Needless to say, I left the gym feeling a little deflated - or rather inflated.
BUT.................................................
The whole reason I am writing this is because I have great news. I am down to 141 lbs. and 17% body fat. That's right! 17%! I have never, I mean NEVER been 17%. I almost shit my pants when I heard that! So here's the proof:
I think I see an abdominal muscle, maybe some quadriceps and a roundness to my butt that did not exist before. How's that for looking pregnant?!?
3.22.2012
Ye Will Be Tested
Dear Food,
I love you. I have loved you for so long now. We have this inexplicable connection to one another that I can't describe. I need you in my life. Not just to merely survive, but to really find purpose. I need your warmth, your sweetness, your aromas to awaken my senses. I need to see you, bright and colorful to put a smile on my face. I need to feel you roll across my taste buds and awaken my palate. You are one of the most important things in this life.
But we need to talk...
I have decided to break up with you, Food. Our love affair has gone on too long. You are the suave, dark, muscular, beast who makes me tingle from head to toe, but leaves me feeling worthless, used and horrible about myself . Food, you are no good for me and I deserve better. I deserve something who gives back, who appreciates the work I put into our relationship and who won't wake me in the middle of the night for a quickie of fruit loops and buttery toast and then disappear for days on end. I don't like the way you dominate my thoughts all day long. You leave me with nothing but a tormented stomach... or worse.
The exit of you from my life is nothing short of relieving. But I know the ache of your residual toxins will permeate my bathroom for days on end and I will be reminded of what a bad choice you were for me. Like the aftermath of a long night of drinking, my body will plead and curse at me as to why I let you in. And in the days following, it will crave your indulgences once again.
But I will not give in. No more. I am done! So go - torment another soul who is more naive than I. No doubt you will be missed at times, some more than others. But I will be strong. I have my friends, vegetables, and comrades, fruit, to give me strength and energy to get over you.
Someday I will find my perfect mate. The one who completes me. A completely perfect balance of protein, complex carbohydrates and healthy fats - all the things that make a woman's body strong. It will make me better. I will be faster, more amazing and... regular. All the things you promised but could not deliver. You were nothing. Just a shell of a meal, filled with simple carbs, artery-clogging fats, and so many other traits I could not even pronounce. You were worthless, a waste of time, energy and calories.
Bloated, gassy, and forlornly yours,
Lisa
You guessed it. I fell off the wagon. Big time... I mean BIG TIME. As in my weight on the scale hasn't changed since October (still hovering at 144+/- depending on the day). I have seen major changes in my muscular development, but that damn scale won't go down! I am down to 22.1% body fat (maybe even less now... crossing my fingers!) but for whatever reason, the scale won't move. There were many times it even went up. So what did I do last week??? I revolted. Against EVERYTHING I knew to be true and right and just. I ordered Domino's Pizza. A bacon and pineapple pizza. With cheese-stuffed cheesy bread. Yes, there is cheese inside the cheese bread. Holy heart-attack in two boxes. And it was all delicious. I ate it. A LOT of it. And fed it to my kids (they were "as happy as lambs" - as my dear friend Robyn would say!). There were only three pieces left in the aftermath. I had enough clarity to throw the box out before I lost it again. I am surprised I didn't order the chocolate lava crunch cake. I would have gone into a carb-coma. It was ridiculous. And amazingly good. And within one hour (ONE HOUR!) of my moment of weakness...
Maia: "Momma, did you shit your pants?"
Me: "No, Maia. I did not shit my pants."
Maia: "You sure??? Lemme check." She walks to my backside and pulls at the waistband of my pants.
Me: "No, Maia. Mommy's tummy is upset."
Maia: "You need to go poop. You stink."
... yep... If only I could.
My little indulgence left me with this damage. Prepare yourself.
One serving: 345 cal (15g fat/38g carb/13g prot)
Oh... but as I said, I didn't just have one. No. I had THREE.
= 1035 calories (45g fat/114g carb/39g prot)
Yikes! I ate all this in less time it takes me to shower. I was on a mission.
Then I had eaters remorse. Right about the time Maia started to notice... Shit. At least that's what it smelled like. Gawd, what had I done?!?
I picked myself up, decided it was time to get back on the wagon and do this right. Cuz what's the point if I am going to KILL myself at the gym but eat terribly? I does absolutely NO GOOD. You can't "out-work" a bad diet. Your body is waaaaay smarter than that. It knows what you are trying to do. So here I am exactly one week later, coming out of detox. That's what I call it. Every time I eat shit, it takes me a good solid week of struggling to get back. I obsess about food, dream about it, yearn for it. But eventually I come out on the other side much stronger than before. How do I know?? Well, for my oldest daughter's 8th birthday, I let her pick whatever she wanted for dinner.
Now, this girl just brought fruit kabobs for her birthday snack at school and another student commented, "That's the healthiest birthday treat I've ever seen!" It was a proud moment for Momma. So I thought I had a fightin' chance with birthday dinner. I couldn't have been more wrong. This is what she ordered:
2 whole eggs, scrambled with
Canned butter biscuits doused in
3 egg whites w/ homemade salsa,
I love you. I have loved you for so long now. We have this inexplicable connection to one another that I can't describe. I need you in my life. Not just to merely survive, but to really find purpose. I need your warmth, your sweetness, your aromas to awaken my senses. I need to see you, bright and colorful to put a smile on my face. I need to feel you roll across my taste buds and awaken my palate. You are one of the most important things in this life.
But we need to talk...
I have decided to break up with you, Food. Our love affair has gone on too long. You are the suave, dark, muscular, beast who makes me tingle from head to toe, but leaves me feeling worthless, used and horrible about myself . Food, you are no good for me and I deserve better. I deserve something who gives back, who appreciates the work I put into our relationship and who won't wake me in the middle of the night for a quickie of fruit loops and buttery toast and then disappear for days on end. I don't like the way you dominate my thoughts all day long. You leave me with nothing but a tormented stomach... or worse.
The exit of you from my life is nothing short of relieving. But I know the ache of your residual toxins will permeate my bathroom for days on end and I will be reminded of what a bad choice you were for me. Like the aftermath of a long night of drinking, my body will plead and curse at me as to why I let you in. And in the days following, it will crave your indulgences once again.
But I will not give in. No more. I am done! So go - torment another soul who is more naive than I. No doubt you will be missed at times, some more than others. But I will be strong. I have my friends, vegetables, and comrades, fruit, to give me strength and energy to get over you.
Someday I will find my perfect mate. The one who completes me. A completely perfect balance of protein, complex carbohydrates and healthy fats - all the things that make a woman's body strong. It will make me better. I will be faster, more amazing and... regular. All the things you promised but could not deliver. You were nothing. Just a shell of a meal, filled with simple carbs, artery-clogging fats, and so many other traits I could not even pronounce. You were worthless, a waste of time, energy and calories.
Bloated, gassy, and forlornly yours,
Lisa
You guessed it. I fell off the wagon. Big time... I mean BIG TIME. As in my weight on the scale hasn't changed since October (still hovering at 144+/- depending on the day). I have seen major changes in my muscular development, but that damn scale won't go down! I am down to 22.1% body fat (maybe even less now... crossing my fingers!) but for whatever reason, the scale won't move. There were many times it even went up. So what did I do last week??? I revolted. Against EVERYTHING I knew to be true and right and just. I ordered Domino's Pizza. A bacon and pineapple pizza. With cheese-stuffed cheesy bread. Yes, there is cheese inside the cheese bread. Holy heart-attack in two boxes. And it was all delicious. I ate it. A LOT of it. And fed it to my kids (they were "as happy as lambs" - as my dear friend Robyn would say!). There were only three pieces left in the aftermath. I had enough clarity to throw the box out before I lost it again. I am surprised I didn't order the chocolate lava crunch cake. I would have gone into a carb-coma. It was ridiculous. And amazingly good. And within one hour (ONE HOUR!) of my moment of weakness...
Maia: "Momma, did you shit your pants?"
Me: "No, Maia. I did not shit my pants."
Maia: "You sure??? Lemme check." She walks to my backside and pulls at the waistband of my pants.
Me: "No, Maia. Mommy's tummy is upset."
Maia: "You need to go poop. You stink."
... yep... If only I could.
My little indulgence left me with this damage. Prepare yourself.
One serving: 345 cal (15g fat/38g carb/13g prot)
Oh... but as I said, I didn't just have one. No. I had THREE.
= 1035 calories (45g fat/114g carb/39g prot)
Yikes! I ate all this in less time it takes me to shower. I was on a mission.
Then I had eaters remorse. Right about the time Maia started to notice... Shit. At least that's what it smelled like. Gawd, what had I done?!?
I picked myself up, decided it was time to get back on the wagon and do this right. Cuz what's the point if I am going to KILL myself at the gym but eat terribly? I does absolutely NO GOOD. You can't "out-work" a bad diet. Your body is waaaaay smarter than that. It knows what you are trying to do. So here I am exactly one week later, coming out of detox. That's what I call it. Every time I eat shit, it takes me a good solid week of struggling to get back. I obsess about food, dream about it, yearn for it. But eventually I come out on the other side much stronger than before. How do I know?? Well, for my oldest daughter's 8th birthday, I let her pick whatever she wanted for dinner.
Now, this girl just brought fruit kabobs for her birthday snack at school and another student commented, "That's the healthiest birthday treat I've ever seen!" It was a proud moment for Momma. So I thought I had a fightin' chance with birthday dinner. I couldn't have been more wrong. This is what she ordered:
2 whole eggs, scrambled with
1/4 c. Colby jack cheese
1/4 lb. bacon
(544 cal.)
Canned butter biscuits doused in
1/2c. butter,
1 c. maple syrup,
1 c. brown sugar
2 tsp. cinnamon
AKA: Monkey bread
(464 per biscuit)
GRAND TOTAL: 1472 cal -----HAPPY BIRTHDAY!-----
Now, please don't freak out. I don't count my children's caloric intake - especially on Olivia. I can count every rib on that girl! So for her to eat this much in one meal is completely OK with me. Just not every meal. The sugar, fat, little protein is just not good for anyone. I use this as an example because in my weaker days (remember Domino's?), I would have consumed this very thing alongside my children because, let's be honest, it is DE.LISH!! But I stayed true to myself and made this instead:
3 egg whites w/ homemade salsa,
1 serv. sweet potatoes,
1 serv. clean coleslaw
(335 cal)
I felt good about myself, had a new found strength to resist temptation, and these lil' critters were happy too!
So be honest. What are your moments of weakness? How do you indulge? How to you pull yourself out of your "carb-a-tose" state and jump back on the wagon?
1.21.2012
6:00 am
This is what time I wake up. Every morning. Without fail.
I'm staaaaaaarving.
Seriously. I have watched this show 20,762 times and can recite it word for word. How are you NOT sick of puppies?
Here is a side-view. With my tattoo. It looks a little crooked because my arms are above my head. But when I stand normal, it is all straight. Its from Proverbs (love me some King Solomon!). Any guess what its referencing??? When you figure it out, you will know why I had it permanently etched on my body.
Here is what is says:
Clothe me with
Your strength
and dignity.
Help me laugh
at the days to come.
Just a little reminder of where I started about 6 months ago. Slow and steady wins the race!
No, it's NOT because I am so dedicated to my fitness that I head to the gym at this hour. No, it's NOT because I have to go to work every morning (it's really only 2-3 days/week). And no, it's DEFINITELY NOT because I am a morning person. Its because of this.
And this.
They look crazy cute and squishy and lovable, but don't be trapped by their alluringly inescapable adorableness. They can be rotten. Rotten as is you absolutely cannot sleep past 6:02 am with them around. Rotten as in your heart cannot control the overwhelming urge to let them climb in bed and "snuggu yoo". Rotten as in the shuffle of little feeties across the carpet followed by a sweet whisper of "Good morning, Mama." are your alarm every morning. EVERY. MORNING. WITHOUT FAIL.
Good morning, Maia.
Can I come snugga yoo.
Sure, climb on up. (Hear playful infant-yelling on the monitor as she climbs up the side of our bed.)
Come here, baby. Let's go night-night. Mommy's tired.
(Hollering on the monitor as baby boy makes his presence known. Basically his version of saying, "HEY! I'm awake! Why hasn't someone picked me up already and stuck a bottle in my mouth?! I've been awake for 8.3 seconds!")
I'm staaaaaaarving.
Really. Starving? Could it be because you barely ate any dinner last night - like always. You never like anything I make unless it is a slice of butter with a little bread on top? Or because you enjoy a constant state of defiance? Or maybe because you sneak snacks while I cook and aren't actually hungry. I'm not sure.
I want cartoons... and a snack.
Guess what, Maia? There are NO cartoons on at 6:04 am. Remember? We tried this already. Only yoga. You don't like yoga. You don't like watching yoga.
I want puppies.(Disney's Lady and the Tramp - on DVD, that can ONLY be watched in our bedroom)
Seriously. I have watched this show 20,762 times and can recite it word for word. How are you NOT sick of puppies?
I want puppies.
Fine. Puppies. Can you read lips or closed captions because mommy is going night-night. I am tired. The sun is still tired. See. It's still sleeping, just like you should be. I want to go back to sleep. Let's go night-night.
--insert Eli's reminder squawking--
Never mind. I will go get Buddy-Boy (Maia's nickname for Eli that has stuck and he will probably HATE once he gets to be 12.)
I wanna come!
I thought you were watching puppies? (as I insert movie)
No. I want buddy boy. and a snack. and cartoons.
You want puppies?
No. No puppies. I want Elmo.
MAKE UP YOUR MIND, CHILD! I walk away before anyone gets hurt because at 6:06, no one is bright and cheery and lovely and patient and excited about an indecisive 2 yr. old.
I want Buddy Boy!
After all my pleading and failed attempts at convincing, I am left with... an early start to my day. Everyday. Monday thru Sunday. Never again will I EVER sleep in. This is what I have decided. Ever. Realize that "sleeping in" for us would consist of a digit greater than 7. We don't need double-digits, no, that would be down-right gluttonous. No. Just past 7-something. Anything past 7.
Coffee is my only saving grace. Thank GOD for coffee. Except now this indecisive 2 yr. old has decided she want coffee too. Not hot cocoa, as would be more appropriate and less-likely to get a call from CPS, but coffee. My coffee. My perfectly rationed creamer:coffee ratio that is a beautiful, awakening mouthful. I should be featured in a Folgers' commercial with the joy I find in this sip. Only I am a bit of a coffee snob because Folgers isn't good enough for me. No. Whole bean coffee, freshly-ground every morning to the perfectly fine consistency. Remember my love affair with food and my obsession with fitness. They got nuthin' on my morning cup o' joe. See why this only adds to my morning glory?! This is my coffee. MY COFFEE.
I love you, Maia. You keep me on my toes, you test my character every day... sometimes every hour of every day, you help me to learn what it really is to be a mom (and how I'm not cut out for it sometimes), and you show me that life can be interesting no matter what hour of the day (or morning or night) it may be. Keep it up. I wouldn't want you any other way.
Update pics:
Here is what is says:
Clothe me with
Your strength
and dignity.
Help me laugh
at the days to come.
Progress pic from last night. 143 lbs.
I DEFINITELY notice more muscle all over my body - starting to show in my arms/shoulders.Legs are another story. That is where I carry most of my weight.
You can still see the remains from my Eli pouch. He was quite comfortable it there with all that cushion BUT its getting smaller. If you look back up at my side, you can see a lot of my back-fat is gone but my ass still droops. I am working on my shelf. It will come. Then you can balance a glass off that bad boy. Ok. Maybe I don't want that big of a shelf. Just a round, firm bubble. Thank you lunges.
I am happy to report that I have VERY LITTLE detectable cellulite on the back of my legs, under my butt. Good mornings!!! They, along with lunges, are totally zapping that shiz! Yeah!
Just a little reminder of where I started about 6 months ago. Slow and steady wins the race!1.09.2012
My First MMM Monday post featuring bacon-wrapped jalepeno poppers!!
I love food. I love the experience of food. I love making it, I love eating it, I love looking at it, smelling it, experimenting with it... Simply put, I have a love affair with food. I realize my more healthy counterparts view food as fuel for the body. I completely get this, but....I don't. I get giddy like a little girl about to open her birthday presents when I have a new, delicious recipe to try. Food is something we can experience with all of our senses. We smell it, we feel it's texture in our mouth, we hear the sound as it cooks (or better yet, when we bite into it), the taste awakens all the buds on our tongues, and the sight of it can make you warm and tingly all over. It's sort of like sex. Food and sex. Two of the greatest creations ever.
Because of my love affair with food, I fully enjoy the process of food preparation and food consumption. Some people HATE to cook. I LOVE it. If I weren't a teacher, I would probably want to be a chef. Or even better, teach people how to cook. I get excited about any new experience with food and I want to share it with everyone. That being said - and to coincide with my resolution - I am beginning a new feature on my blog specifically for my addiction. All about food. I will call it "MMM Mondays". I get to post about some of my favorites. They will (hopefully!) be nothing short of a full-fledged orgasm-in-your-mouth experience, should you give them a whirl. I must add a disclaimer though. I do not like "elementary" food. "Elementary" meaning bland, boring, tasteless, something a child would prefer (or could make). Nope. You won't find any of that here. Elementary doesn't make you drool. Elementary doesn't make you crave more. Elementary won't even give you a long night of tangled, sweaty passion. That's what I want. Spice & Pizzaz. So here you go. My FIRST EVER food post.
I have come to realize that anything, and I mean ANYTHING with bacon is heaven. Add to it a perfectly creamy, slightly sweet and spicy interior and you have, quite simply, the BEST mouthful of yumminess ever. I am addicted. The problem is, these amazing lil' bites aren't exactly "clean eating".
Just look at them... aren't they calling out to you?!? Just pop me in your mouth. Yes, I think I will! If you succumb to the temptation of my little friends and must try them for yourself, here is how I make 'em (a spin-off of ones I had at R&R Public House in Meridian).
12 plump jalapenos
12 slices of bacon
8 oz. cream cheese (softened)
1/2 c. roasted red peppers (minced)
1 garlic glove (minced)
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/4 c. orange/pineapple marmalade (or whatever you can find in the "jelly section" of the grocery store!)
***To clean jalapenos, I HIGHLY recommend wearing rubber gloves. The oils get under your fingernails and in your skin and burn like a mother!!***
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut each jalapeno in 1/2 lengthwise & clean out seeds and ribs. (This part takes the loooongest!) The more seeds/ribs you leave in, the HOTTER they will be. Rinse well with water & lay on a paper towel to dry. In the meantime, mix the rest of the ingredients together, EXCEPT for the marmalade. Scoop into a plastic freezer bag or sandwich bag. Mush (that's a technical term) down to one corner. Match up each 1/2 of jalapeno with its partner. This is necessary to make sure they get "sealed" back together when you bake them or all that gooey filling will just melt out onto your pan & you will be left with nothing but empty... promises. :(
Now, open your bacon, lay it out on a microwave-safe dish and zap those bad boys for about 3 min. This will soften the bacon so it is easier to wrap PLUS get the cooking started so they don't take so long in the oven. Set aside to cool a bit. When everyone has their partner, cut the corner off the bag of cream cheese filling so you can fill the jalapenos (like a pastry bag).
Squeeze out enough cream cheese to overfill 1/2 of a jalapeno. Put the other (empty half) jalapeno on its partner, then wrap with an entire piece of bacon. You should be able to wrap it around enough that most of the pepper is covered by it. Sometimes I use a toothpick, but most of the time I don't. Lay it seam-side-down on a baking sheet (preferably with at least a small edge so the bacon grease doesn't leak all over the bottom of your oven). This will hold it together fine.
Slide those mouthwatering treats in the oven for 15-20 minutes, until the bacon looks slightly crispy. When there is about 5 minutes left, crack open the marmalade, put it in a microwave-safe bowl and heat it for about 1 min. When you pull the jalapenos out of the oven, generously drizzle with the marmalade. You are ready to get the party started!! These things will be gone in about 13.2 seconds. They are sooooo goooood. Next time you have a lil' gathering or are just craving something worse than a spoonful of Crisco, here's your answer. EATIN' CLEAN, BABY! I hope you enjoy it!
Because of my love affair with food, I fully enjoy the process of food preparation and food consumption. Some people HATE to cook. I LOVE it. If I weren't a teacher, I would probably want to be a chef. Or even better, teach people how to cook. I get excited about any new experience with food and I want to share it with everyone. That being said - and to coincide with my resolution - I am beginning a new feature on my blog specifically for my addiction. All about food. I will call it "MMM Mondays". I get to post about some of my favorites. They will (hopefully!) be nothing short of a full-fledged orgasm-in-your-mouth experience, should you give them a whirl. I must add a disclaimer though. I do not like "elementary" food. "Elementary" meaning bland, boring, tasteless, something a child would prefer (or could make). Nope. You won't find any of that here. Elementary doesn't make you drool. Elementary doesn't make you crave more. Elementary won't even give you a long night of tangled, sweaty passion. That's what I want. Spice & Pizzaz. So here you go. My FIRST EVER food post.
I have come to realize that anything, and I mean ANYTHING with bacon is heaven. Add to it a perfectly creamy, slightly sweet and spicy interior and you have, quite simply, the BEST mouthful of yumminess ever. I am addicted. The problem is, these amazing lil' bites aren't exactly "clean eating".
12 plump jalapenos
12 slices of bacon
8 oz. cream cheese (softened)
1/2 c. roasted red peppers (minced)
1 garlic glove (minced)
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. pepper
1/4 c. orange/pineapple marmalade (or whatever you can find in the "jelly section" of the grocery store!)
***To clean jalapenos, I HIGHLY recommend wearing rubber gloves. The oils get under your fingernails and in your skin and burn like a mother!!***
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut each jalapeno in 1/2 lengthwise & clean out seeds and ribs. (This part takes the loooongest!) The more seeds/ribs you leave in, the HOTTER they will be. Rinse well with water & lay on a paper towel to dry. In the meantime, mix the rest of the ingredients together, EXCEPT for the marmalade. Scoop into a plastic freezer bag or sandwich bag. Mush (that's a technical term) down to one corner. Match up each 1/2 of jalapeno with its partner. This is necessary to make sure they get "sealed" back together when you bake them or all that gooey filling will just melt out onto your pan & you will be left with nothing but empty... promises. :(
Now, open your bacon, lay it out on a microwave-safe dish and zap those bad boys for about 3 min. This will soften the bacon so it is easier to wrap PLUS get the cooking started so they don't take so long in the oven. Set aside to cool a bit. When everyone has their partner, cut the corner off the bag of cream cheese filling so you can fill the jalapenos (like a pastry bag).
Squeeze out enough cream cheese to overfill 1/2 of a jalapeno. Put the other (empty half) jalapeno on its partner, then wrap with an entire piece of bacon. You should be able to wrap it around enough that most of the pepper is covered by it. Sometimes I use a toothpick, but most of the time I don't. Lay it seam-side-down on a baking sheet (preferably with at least a small edge so the bacon grease doesn't leak all over the bottom of your oven). This will hold it together fine.
Slide those mouthwatering treats in the oven for 15-20 minutes, until the bacon looks slightly crispy. When there is about 5 minutes left, crack open the marmalade, put it in a microwave-safe bowl and heat it for about 1 min. When you pull the jalapenos out of the oven, generously drizzle with the marmalade. You are ready to get the party started!! These things will be gone in about 13.2 seconds. They are sooooo goooood. Next time you have a lil' gathering or are just craving something worse than a spoonful of Crisco, here's your answer. EATIN' CLEAN, BABY! I hope you enjoy it!
12.29.2011
Please Respond!!! Please!!!
Okay, it’s a new year and with that comes new goals. One goal I have had for a long time was to build my blog following and maintain consistency with it. The problem I have always ran into is what in the world to do with it?? Should I write about fitness, or mommy-hood, or teaching or suburbia or being married to an Idaho man or... This is my problem. I have waaaaay too much going on in my head to narrow my focus to one particular thing. So I’m not. I am going to keep it as scatter-brained as I am. Then I know for certain I am staying true to myself and being authentically me.
But this is where I need you. Yes, you. The 7 people who actually read this thing. First thing, I need to you sign up to follow me. On the side, down below the pics of the family, there is a space that says “Follow By Email”. Click in the box & put in your email. Then you can get my updates (as exciting as they may be) emailed straight to you. Then I might actually have more than 7 people read this... or I might not...
Next, I need some input. Here is my plan: I will have features depending on the day of the week. What? You mean you will update your blog on a daily basis?? This has NEVER happened!! Well, yes. I realize this. My intention is to do this, but regardless, it will be consistent. To keep me relatively organized about my scatterbrained thinking (oxymoron??), I have put together my features as follows.
MMM Mondays (all things food and drink - anything I found, made, dreamt about)
Teaching Tuesday (all things education – ideas, funny stories, printables, etc.)
Wacky Wednesdays (all things crazy – meaning I will finally have a place for my crazy stories with kids/hubby/etc.)
Thursdays – My day off!! (In reality I will be composing some great features for the other days)
Fit Fridays (all things fitness – updates, workouts, progress pics, eating clean)
Savvy Shopping Saturdays (all things shopping related – deals, steals and discounts)
Suburban Sundays (all things... leftover, life related)
So, my seven followers, I need to hear from you. Give me your input. What would you like to hear from me? Is there a particular category you would like to hear MORE of, LESS of, not at all?? What do you like about what I currently write? Should I bother to re-organize my blog or just leave it as is? I appreciate all your comments. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS!!! I can’t make any changes that will please the masses if the masses don’t respond. You can name yourself or be anonymous – I don’t care either way. I am just reaching out to Never-never-land in hopes that someone (anyone!) will give me some direction. Thanks in advance!!! Wish me luck.
But this is where I need you. Yes, you. The 7 people who actually read this thing. First thing, I need to you sign up to follow me. On the side, down below the pics of the family, there is a space that says “Follow By Email”. Click in the box & put in your email. Then you can get my updates (as exciting as they may be) emailed straight to you. Then I might actually have more than 7 people read this... or I might not...
Next, I need some input. Here is my plan: I will have features depending on the day of the week. What? You mean you will update your blog on a daily basis?? This has NEVER happened!! Well, yes. I realize this. My intention is to do this, but regardless, it will be consistent. To keep me relatively organized about my scatterbrained thinking (oxymoron??), I have put together my features as follows.
MMM Mondays (all things food and drink - anything I found, made, dreamt about)
Teaching Tuesday (all things education – ideas, funny stories, printables, etc.)
Wacky Wednesdays (all things crazy – meaning I will finally have a place for my crazy stories with kids/hubby/etc.)
Thursdays – My day off!! (In reality I will be composing some great features for the other days)
Fit Fridays (all things fitness – updates, workouts, progress pics, eating clean)
Savvy Shopping Saturdays (all things shopping related – deals, steals and discounts)
Suburban Sundays (all things... leftover, life related)
So, my seven followers, I need to hear from you. Give me your input. What would you like to hear from me? Is there a particular category you would like to hear MORE of, LESS of, not at all?? What do you like about what I currently write? Should I bother to re-organize my blog or just leave it as is? I appreciate all your comments. PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS!!! I can’t make any changes that will please the masses if the masses don’t respond. You can name yourself or be anonymous – I don’t care either way. I am just reaching out to Never-never-land in hopes that someone (anyone!) will give me some direction. Thanks in advance!!! Wish me luck.
An absolute luxury!
In the season of giving and Thanksgiving (I am still in the mood from over a month ago!), I am taking a moment to share something with you. Something I am SO THANKFUL for. Something that goes completely overlooked everyday.
You see, earlier this summer, we took a family vacation to Yellowstone National Park for a week... in a camper... with three kids... and limited alcohol. While in Yellowstone, we discovered something. They charge for showers. $3.50 per person, per shower. Doing the math, that would be $56 for four days of showers for our little family (thankfully, no charge for a 3 month old!). That seemed ridiculous. So our solution: utilized the water hook-ups at our Disneyland RV Camp and the cushion-size shower in the RV that would make it difficult for a midget to get clean... let alone a 6'1" 240lb man. It was interesting to say the least. Our evening wash-ups went something like this:
Turn on hot water (no cold, because it was so limited that we had just enough to fill the bathtub up above Maia's booty). Dip in 2 yr old. While she plays, water heats up again for 7 yr. old. Wash two year old of leaches, dirt, leaves, pine needles, spit, snot, dead mosquitoes, and any other bug that got stuck in the coating of "stickiness" that encased her skin. Pray she doesn't pee or poop in the water because it has to be re-used. One clean, four to go. Get her dressed in jammies, brush hair, lather on lotion (a good protectant against the damaging effects of previously mentioned "stickiness"), lay in bed with the fleeting hope that she might actually begin to relax and be ready to fall asleep before time reaches double digits.
Next up... Olivia. Turn on hot water, add to the "tea" currently in the bathtub. Hope the dim lighting doesn't show how grey the water actually is, thus causing her to request new bathwater, thereby delaying our bath/bed time another hour. Stick her skinny buns in the tub, where the water is barely to her bellybutton. Turn on heat, because it is getting so late that it is officially cold outside (mind you, its early August and we are hiking through 90 degree weather during the day, but ohhhh! how cold those nights were). Let her play because she is still a little girl who loves bathtime. Time to wash! This is always interesting to watch her little Mogley-legs flail up in the air as she attempts to dunk her head in the water. Hurry and stand up, wash as fast a can be from head to toe (a Nascar pit stop ain't go nothin' on us!). Dunk in water again. In the meantime, water is heating up again for Mom to shower... hopefully. Rinse, rinse, rinse. Listen to continuous addition to the number of mosquito bites she has accumulated since her last count just 10 minutes ago. She's just like her mama - HATES!! mosquitoes. "But why is this one so BIG?! Do I need medicine? Am I going to get sick? Will this kill me?" Because you are so sweet and they really like your blood. Maybe. No. Let's hope not. Quickly dry, slather lotion again, put medicine on bites, brush hair, stick in bed with sister to watch a movie (Semi-guaranteed relaxation... unless there is movement or noise or light outside the camper. It could mean there is fun to be had and they are MISSING IT!!)
Mommy's turn. Okay... psyche yourself up. You can do this. Just get wet, wash everything quickly before the cool air freezes your hair and soap bubbles. Rinse and DONE! Sure. Let's not forget that I (at 5'7") have to crouch down to get under the shower head, have pounds of hair to wash and have just as much sludge on me as the children because I am busy carting them around. Not to mention that I am a bit of a clean freak. I don't mind getting dirty, but when its time to get clean, I want to be CLEAN. There is no half-assing this in my book. I don't want to smell like B.O. when I first wake up in the morning, or have my scalp itch like I haven't scrubbed it in two days, and lets not even talk about the nether regions. Nobody likes dirty business. Nobody. So a thorough scrub down is mandatory, especially with all the sweating, bug smashing, hiking, snot-wiping and breastfeeding going on throughout the day. Let's just say this was my LEAST favorite part of our family vacation. I didn't love it SO MUCH that by day 3, it was quite a mental dance to even get up the fortitude to do it! But as perfectly painted above, I had no choice.
Poor dad. He was last. He was braver than I. He did it without a single noise - giving the false impression he had a nice, hot, no drama for your mama shower where he didn't have to crouch down farther than his wife, was nice and sudsy and even got a moment to relax and let the calming waters cascade down his back. Bastard. How did he get a better shower than me?!?
And what of poor brother? Wet wipes. That's what he got. I wasn't about the expose that poor child to this cruelty, nor put his father or myself through the task of attempting to wash that slippery little bug. And who wants to waste that good, more precious than gold hot water when he would be fine with a simple wipedown. Thank you, Huggies, for supplying us with quality baby wipes for such an occassion.
And oh... look what time it is now... after 10 pm?!? Kids are still wide awake? It must be interesting to see everyone go in and out of the shower (let alone listen to the symphony as they showered!). When you've been up since 6am (or earlier) and had some of the worst sleep of your life (as Phil did, sleeping with Maia), this is the moment you break. GO TO SLEEP, MAIA! But the blinds next to the sofa/sleeper are so interesting. I think I might be able to reach them. Yep! Look how fun it is to jostle them around and make noise. Okay, Dad. I will stop. But this pillow isn't comfortable. Neither is your chest. How about your legs? Nope. Feet? Nope. I really like my feet in your face... or back... or sack... Now its back to the pillow. And after midnight. More tossing and turning. Then its 5:15am and a truck starts. "Morning Livie!" "Maia go back to bed. Its still night-night." No chance. We get up, do it all over again. Showers and all.
As you hop in the shower either today or tomorrow, take a moment to appreciate the modern marvel of indoor plumbing, gas (or electric) water heaters that hold more than 2.4 gallons, uninterrupted time to yourself, lots of suds for your body and the serenity of that 10-20 minutes you get everyday. Send up a lil' thank you. And NEVER go to an RV park in a camper/trailer that makes you pay a ridiculous amount for use of showers. It is NOT WORTH IT. Your body and your sanity will be forever grateful.
You see, earlier this summer, we took a family vacation to Yellowstone National Park for a week... in a camper... with three kids... and limited alcohol. While in Yellowstone, we discovered something. They charge for showers. $3.50 per person, per shower. Doing the math, that would be $56 for four days of showers for our little family (thankfully, no charge for a 3 month old!). That seemed ridiculous. So our solution: utilized the water hook-ups at our Disneyland RV Camp and the cushion-size shower in the RV that would make it difficult for a midget to get clean... let alone a 6'1" 240lb man. It was interesting to say the least. Our evening wash-ups went something like this:
Turn on hot water (no cold, because it was so limited that we had just enough to fill the bathtub up above Maia's booty). Dip in 2 yr old. While she plays, water heats up again for 7 yr. old. Wash two year old of leaches, dirt, leaves, pine needles, spit, snot, dead mosquitoes, and any other bug that got stuck in the coating of "stickiness" that encased her skin. Pray she doesn't pee or poop in the water because it has to be re-used. One clean, four to go. Get her dressed in jammies, brush hair, lather on lotion (a good protectant against the damaging effects of previously mentioned "stickiness"), lay in bed with the fleeting hope that she might actually begin to relax and be ready to fall asleep before time reaches double digits.
Next up... Olivia. Turn on hot water, add to the "tea" currently in the bathtub. Hope the dim lighting doesn't show how grey the water actually is, thus causing her to request new bathwater, thereby delaying our bath/bed time another hour. Stick her skinny buns in the tub, where the water is barely to her bellybutton. Turn on heat, because it is getting so late that it is officially cold outside (mind you, its early August and we are hiking through 90 degree weather during the day, but ohhhh! how cold those nights were). Let her play because she is still a little girl who loves bathtime. Time to wash! This is always interesting to watch her little Mogley-legs flail up in the air as she attempts to dunk her head in the water. Hurry and stand up, wash as fast a can be from head to toe (a Nascar pit stop ain't go nothin' on us!). Dunk in water again. In the meantime, water is heating up again for Mom to shower... hopefully. Rinse, rinse, rinse. Listen to continuous addition to the number of mosquito bites she has accumulated since her last count just 10 minutes ago. She's just like her mama - HATES!! mosquitoes. "But why is this one so BIG?! Do I need medicine? Am I going to get sick? Will this kill me?" Because you are so sweet and they really like your blood. Maybe. No. Let's hope not. Quickly dry, slather lotion again, put medicine on bites, brush hair, stick in bed with sister to watch a movie (Semi-guaranteed relaxation... unless there is movement or noise or light outside the camper. It could mean there is fun to be had and they are MISSING IT!!)
Mommy's turn. Okay... psyche yourself up. You can do this. Just get wet, wash everything quickly before the cool air freezes your hair and soap bubbles. Rinse and DONE! Sure. Let's not forget that I (at 5'7") have to crouch down to get under the shower head, have pounds of hair to wash and have just as much sludge on me as the children because I am busy carting them around. Not to mention that I am a bit of a clean freak. I don't mind getting dirty, but when its time to get clean, I want to be CLEAN. There is no half-assing this in my book. I don't want to smell like B.O. when I first wake up in the morning, or have my scalp itch like I haven't scrubbed it in two days, and lets not even talk about the nether regions. Nobody likes dirty business. Nobody. So a thorough scrub down is mandatory, especially with all the sweating, bug smashing, hiking, snot-wiping and breastfeeding going on throughout the day. Let's just say this was my LEAST favorite part of our family vacation. I didn't love it SO MUCH that by day 3, it was quite a mental dance to even get up the fortitude to do it! But as perfectly painted above, I had no choice.
Poor dad. He was last. He was braver than I. He did it without a single noise - giving the false impression he had a nice, hot, no drama for your mama shower where he didn't have to crouch down farther than his wife, was nice and sudsy and even got a moment to relax and let the calming waters cascade down his back. Bastard. How did he get a better shower than me?!?
And what of poor brother? Wet wipes. That's what he got. I wasn't about the expose that poor child to this cruelty, nor put his father or myself through the task of attempting to wash that slippery little bug. And who wants to waste that good, more precious than gold hot water when he would be fine with a simple wipedown. Thank you, Huggies, for supplying us with quality baby wipes for such an occassion.
And oh... look what time it is now... after 10 pm?!? Kids are still wide awake? It must be interesting to see everyone go in and out of the shower (let alone listen to the symphony as they showered!). When you've been up since 6am (or earlier) and had some of the worst sleep of your life (as Phil did, sleeping with Maia), this is the moment you break. GO TO SLEEP, MAIA! But the blinds next to the sofa/sleeper are so interesting. I think I might be able to reach them. Yep! Look how fun it is to jostle them around and make noise. Okay, Dad. I will stop. But this pillow isn't comfortable. Neither is your chest. How about your legs? Nope. Feet? Nope. I really like my feet in your face... or back... or sack... Now its back to the pillow. And after midnight. More tossing and turning. Then its 5:15am and a truck starts. "Morning Livie!" "Maia go back to bed. Its still night-night." No chance. We get up, do it all over again. Showers and all.
As you hop in the shower either today or tomorrow, take a moment to appreciate the modern marvel of indoor plumbing, gas (or electric) water heaters that hold more than 2.4 gallons, uninterrupted time to yourself, lots of suds for your body and the serenity of that 10-20 minutes you get everyday. Send up a lil' thank you. And NEVER go to an RV park in a camper/trailer that makes you pay a ridiculous amount for use of showers. It is NOT WORTH IT. Your body and your sanity will be forever grateful.
10.31.2011
Poop is sacred
You didn't know this? It is. My child thinks so. There is something terribly comfortable about pushing with all your might and feeling a warm presence against your cheeks. The smell... the looks from other kids on the playground... they way it feels when it squishes against your body as you go down the slide... Ahh... poop.
Maia stood 2 inches from the toilet tonight, looked me square in the face (after farting up a storm) and told me she didn't have to poop. As I went to take her diaper off and have her "try for Mama on the big girl potty", she pushed my hands away. "No Mama, I don't have to go po-oop." She grunted and pushed as she said it. That little shit! She doesn't have such little shits.
So now what? Here I am trying to get her to poop in the toilet because I am SO TIRED of cleaning that shit up! Do I take off her diaper and set her on the toilet saying, "This is where you poop."? She could get it all over the seat, she could touch it, she could wipe it all up her back. Or do I eat my words (that is a terrible phrase to use in this moment), lay her down and clean her up like always? I hate potty training.
Shit...
I put her on the toilet and she did all three as expected. Because with Maia, nothing is ever easy. She is a mess. A stinky, shitty mess who I love so much it hurts. I clean up her poop that is all on her cheeks, the toilet seat, up her back, on her fingers and all over the side of my hand (we are a talented group!). I tell her "Good poop honey!" because I don't want the kid to have issues later where she can't go to the bathroom in public or feel embarred about the fact that she, along with everyone else, actually does poop. We wash our hands - two times - then grab some candy. I am sure I will see the remains of this Twix candy bar tomorrow between breakfast and lunch... some time around 11:00... when I am at the gym... with 8 minutes left on the stairmill...
Maia stood 2 inches from the toilet tonight, looked me square in the face (after farting up a storm) and told me she didn't have to poop. As I went to take her diaper off and have her "try for Mama on the big girl potty", she pushed my hands away. "No Mama, I don't have to go po-oop." She grunted and pushed as she said it. That little shit! She doesn't have such little shits.
So now what? Here I am trying to get her to poop in the toilet because I am SO TIRED of cleaning that shit up! Do I take off her diaper and set her on the toilet saying, "This is where you poop."? She could get it all over the seat, she could touch it, she could wipe it all up her back. Or do I eat my words (that is a terrible phrase to use in this moment), lay her down and clean her up like always? I hate potty training.
Shit...
I put her on the toilet and she did all three as expected. Because with Maia, nothing is ever easy. She is a mess. A stinky, shitty mess who I love so much it hurts. I clean up her poop that is all on her cheeks, the toilet seat, up her back, on her fingers and all over the side of my hand (we are a talented group!). I tell her "Good poop honey!" because I don't want the kid to have issues later where she can't go to the bathroom in public or feel embarred about the fact that she, along with everyone else, actually does poop. We wash our hands - two times - then grab some candy. I am sure I will see the remains of this Twix candy bar tomorrow between breakfast and lunch... some time around 11:00... when I am at the gym... with 8 minutes left on the stairmill...
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