Gold Medalist

I was watching the Olympics the other day and was surprised to find out how many "older" participants there are.  Upon this realization, I decided I could be in the Olympics, if of course I excelled in a sport and was in much better shape.  I ran the idea past James, and I have his total support...by support I mean he said "Sure honey".  I have ran a mile a few times in my life (a "brisk" walk, counts right?), and with all the chasing around I do on a daily basis I think I could get the necessary conditioning for something track and field related.  I make multiple trips up and down the stairs, skipping several steps to reduce my travel time...hurdles maybe? 


OK maybe I couldn't be in the Olympics...but I do feel like my life is a work out, and frankly the results are nothing to brag about....no six pack here, just a "soft" belly as my children lovingly refer to it as.

I carry around a 32 lb weight for several hours a day (I also give the weight kisses and snuggles...weird?), I do about 100 squats a day grabbing trash, tying shoes and getting down to "their level", planks are commonly performed in the living room - looking under the couch for my keys, the remote control, shoes or the lollipop that was in someones hand 30 seconds prior and magically vanished.  My arm routine is a mix of exercises called folding, washing, and hand waving.  I use both hands for waving depending on the offense and if my other hand is full. For example if its during dinner and the children are being rude I may have a cup or fork in one hand, so the free hand waves in the air followed by a heavy sigh and the statement "chew with your mouth closed!"  If its  during lunch time, a meal that I don't usually get to eat, and the same behavior were displayed I would waive both hands and say "use your manners!"

I also engage in a lot of sprinting from my van through the garage up the stairs, back down the stairs, into the living room and then back to the van...to find my phone that of course is used by my 2 year old who has nothing to play with...poor kid.

I have ninja moves with cat like reflexes to catch anything or anyone that may be falling, slipping or contemplating an escape.

I just recently discovered that my dishwasher doesn't take 6 hours to run, a quick and determined short person has been re-running it, so my most recent exercise is a timed activity, called dash and unload.

My diet is extremely strict sometimes none existent depending on the length of my exercising.  If its a long day full of sprinting, squatting, arm routine, and ninja moves, I may not have time to eat.  Other days though...well lets just say that a $5 pizza is hard to turn down.

So I may never have that amazing body that I swear I have when my clothes are on but disappears when I get in the shower, but I would say I am in pretty good shape.

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To-Didn't list

This weekend I had a ton of stuff to do.....but I....to didn't.

I have an extreme case of short term motivation.  I had ADHD way before it was cool to take Ritalin. I get distracted more often than a two year old trying to playing tennis and have the attention span of...oooo look at that!

I was literally in the middle of moping my floor when I sat down to start writing this post.  Only half of my kitchen floor is eligible for the "5 minute rule".

I have such good intentions, I come up with pretty good ideas, but my follow through is horrible.  

People constantly tell me that I look upset, "smile!" they say.  I am thinking people!! I am focusing, if I smile I will start to think about things that make me happy, and then I completely lose my train of thought.  I have a train in my head alright...and its going straight to crazy town.

Even though I really didn't get much knocked of my list (I have several unfinished lists), the weekend was pretty great.

James had the whole weekend off and we enjoyed a lot of family time. He took the kids fishing, I stayed home to do something but I ended up doing nothing.  We grilled, well he grilled.  He cooked a huge Sunday breakfast.  I am starting to feel like I was kind of a lazy ass this weekend....

Normally I would feel very guilty about this, but I don't.  My kids are (semi)clean, ate multiple meals, played A LOT, did not have any accidents...not harmful one's for that matter, the dog is still alive...oh crap I forgot to take the trash out on Saturday...I guess I do suck as a parent.

OK so I now have a very smelly garage, and one more thing to add to my list (Lysol garage ASAP)
but if I were running around all weekend doing things like the mom I wish I were, I would of missed out on all the fun that everyone else was having, so I am glad that sometimes I just to-don't.

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Home Schooled

Yesterday, as I was driving to pick my daughter up from drama class, a sign on the side of the road caught my eye, it read "Bully proof your Child - free class!".  This intrigued me.  I thought to myself  "how nice, a class where children can learn to use kind words, have open hearts and that being different doesn't mean being weird or uncool".  I think there were even unicorns and rainbows dancing around in my naive little noggin.  I grabbed my cell phone and called the number.  "Martial Arts, how can I help you?"  was what I heard coming from the other end of the phone.  I quickly hung up.  I felt tricked.  I have nothing against martial arts, 3 of my children even attended an after care program one year, however I did not agree with this marketing tactic.

Why didn't the sign just say "Teach you're child to kick that little bastard that's been picking on him's ass - free class".  Isn't that what they were implying?  I know that there are many other things that come from martial arts such as confidence, morals, and respect - but I felt like they weren't talking about those lessons.  Maybe I am wrong, I could be completely wrong and the intentions may have been in the right place when coming up with the wording to display on that sign, but my mind went to a different place.

I started thinking about how I would never want my child to be picked on, or be the bully behind the teasing.  I thought about how I try my best to teach my children to be nice, to everyone, and that being mean is never OK.   I wish there was a class where my children could be given the confidence to not only walk away from such behavior but encourage others to make good choices as well.

Then it clicked....every day is a lesson.  Behavior that we allow or do not, morals that we create, ideas that we plant as parents are all lessons.  Telling my daughter's to share with their little brother, forcing apologies, setting rules,  and sometimes making them learn the hard way are all lessons.   No matter how many different color martial arts belts they have, or  all the coolest clothes, nothing prepares them more then what they learn at home.  If I am a jerk, I will probably have little jerk kids...but if I think before I speak, react with compassion, and treat people with respect, I will have children who value those same things.

This house is their  free bully proof class.

Now if only I could find somewhere that I could rent rainbows and unicorns....

Growing up

Its true...I am growing up, and eventually I will be "OLD".   I use to love growing up, it was exciting, and challenging in a "fun, but I was usually the winner" kind of way. I got to be the boss of not only myself, but my daughter too.

Now I hate aging, and its freaking me out.  I cant sleep at night.  I catch myself saying ridiculous old people things like "jeepers creepers", "I'm not made of money" and for those who know my dad "who would do such a thing??"...I roll my eyes at myself sometimes, I can only imagine how uncool my kids think I am.  Different parts of my body "ache" on a regular basis, I slept wrong the other night and had a stiff neck for a week.    Whenever I go to a bar its a sad reminder that the drinking age sign has a year that I can actually remember living in, on it and that I don't need to flirt with the bartender to get a drink, and wouldn't want to because he is 10 years younger than me, and he wouldn't want me to because he knows how much older I am and mostly because I'm far beyond drinking age and flirting with him would just make me look "creepy".  Instead of drinking care free,  I now think about what I have to do for the next week  and if a 3 day hang over is worth it, because for some reason, as I age, it takes me a lot longer to recover from bad decisions.  I have problematic skin for the first time in my life, am in full denial of my "muffin top" and there are clothes that are inappropriate for me to wear...now I am "too mature" for them, and it is just as disappointing as when they were "too mature" for me.

And it isn't just me, James is aging with me. We have "programs" that we watch together,  prefer fish over red meat because its lighter and doesn't make us "sleepy", and recently we decided that we want to get a credit card with points so that we can take the kids on cool vacations....we want the kids on vacation with us....

I miss the excitement of aging.  Almost 5 years ago, I wrote about growing up and today, as I read what I wrote back then, it reminded me of where that excitement came from.   I thought  I would share what I wrote, so that those of us who are searching for the fountain of youth can be reminded of the good that comes with aging.   Getting older is knowing that its OK, and that we are growing up to a better world, and choosing what we want to do, where we want to be and who we will be remembered as.  So although it scares the "begeebees" outta me, I do know that growing up is a good thing.

 

Growing up

March 20, 2008

When I was younger I wished never never land was a real place.  I wanted to stay care free forever, doing things that are only acceptably done by a child. I was terrified of "growing up".  Maybe it was because I had an exciting childhood, or because I was the youngest of 4 children.  Whatever the reason, I always hated gaining another year. 

Holidays lose that sparkle after a certain age, it’s not as "cool" to talk about an over sized bunny or actually believe that reindeer fly.   Dolls that once knew all of your secrets and were taken care of almost as well as a real child begin to collect dust under your bed.  Imaginary friends disappear…creativity fades.  Trees are now meant for shade instead of climbing, and rocks stay on the ground instead of in your pocket.

Friends become enemies and adults that used to be your heroes soon disappoint you.  Your blinders slowly slip away and the world is an ugly place.  Everything that made sense to you is blurry now and you are forced to be brave.

Fast forward….

That was the hard part of growing up. 

When you actually become an adult, those things come back.  You realize who you are and what parts of your life are important.  Painting with your fingers sounds appealing again and nature is appreciated instead of wasted.  One friend is better than a hundred, and relationships are exactly what you make of them.  "Cool" only exists in your own mind, and there is no one to impress anymore.  Music sounds better, food is appreciated more, and art is in everything you see.  Laughing is better than drinking, talking is better than kissing… living is better than sleeping .

I’m growing up, and loving it.  Things are still challenging and sometimes I’m scared but I’m excited to see where my path will lead me.  A far away land full of hundred year old "children" doesn’t sound as exciting as it used to.  Knowing that it’s OK to be who you are at any age is the key to a happy adulthood. 
  

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Everybody needs a little time away...

James and I are leaving for vacation in about 6 hours...a MUCH needed vacation.  This week (and by week, I mean the past 4 days) has consisted of  2 birthdays, 10 minutes at Chuck E Cheese that was interrupted by a trip to the ER - which included 4 staples to the head, a day at the museum with multiple melt downs by an adorably spoiled rotten  2 year old, several trips to walmart, ice cream in places where ice cream does not belong (ie. the refrigerator...so close to the freezer, but different effect), SO MANY DIRTY DISHES, yelling, crying, laughing, PMSing?, gift wrapping, gift giving, gift opening (X 2), and over the past 2 days 9 hours of driving.    

The truth is, this week was not any more hectic than the week before or the weeks to come.  Crazy is my life.  I love when I am out with the kids and a total stranger stares at me (usually with a look of disgust...which I'm still not sure why they are so angry at the fact that I have this many children, last time I checked they aren't the ones feeding them, bathing them, or dealing with their BS on a daily basis) - as they stare they always ask me "got your hands full today huh?"...my response is always the same "nope. everyday." 

EVERYDAY there is something to do, someone to "deal with", and a deadline that has to be met.  There will never be a good time to take a break, or one that is convenient to everything in my life. However, my brain is telling me to pause...to take a "timeout".  

Tomorrow I will be in my bathing suit with a fruity umbrella drink, telling a stranger about my wonderful 5 children who excel in all areas (especially reading, math and being good looking).  I will spend quality time with my man without having to pay $15 an hour to do so...that sounds sick...I was referring to the babysitter.  

When I return from my time away I will be ready to conquer all of my unfinished business...wait I'm still in fantasy land...that part probably isn't going to happen.  But I will be nicer to my children for a few days and be super motivated for at least 24 hours because time away makes me a happy, somewhat sane (for the moment) lady.  

Its in my jeans...there is something in my jeans!!

This morning I was awoken by a blaring siren, my house alarm was going off.  It was 4:58 AM.  James jumped up and shut it off, the dog wasn't barking, and no doors were open...it was just a fluke.  However I was now wide awake, and scared.  I may be the most paranoid, jumpiest, scared of my own shadow mom in the world.  And I literally mean that my own shadow has creeped me out before.   When I was little I had an excuse to be terrified of most things, actually 2 excuses.  The first one was the fact that I was as blind as a a bat, I wore glasses that gave me the (endearing?) nick name "bug eyes".  When I took my glasses off, everything became distorted and turned into scary figures...usually Aliens or the "shrunken man" that my brother convinced me lived under my bed.   I hated being without those giant coke bottles (my mother insisted on me wearing those huge plastic glasses, she thought the smaller frames looked silly on children...no comment).  The second excuse, and most influential on my paranoia was the fact that I had three pyromaniac, knife fighting, wrestling, extreme dare seeking older brothers.  For those of you who have 3 older brothers, and are the only girl in the family, YOU understand...everyone else does NOT get it.  I only use butter knifes (which takes a long time when eating steak), prefer watching fireworks behind a cement wall, and am saving my money for a flame retardant body suit.  These are two very valid reasons to be a "scaredy cat"...however I now where contacts pretty much 24/7 and my brothers no longer torment me on a daily basis.  (side note:  most of the teasing was from one brother in particular...you know who you are ;) LOVE YOU).  I am now a grown up and the boss of me, however I seem to be turning into more of a wimp.  I am scared of things that are embarrassing to admit.  I make up ridiculous scenarios in my head.  I once helped a friend move and she accidently  left a TV remote control behind in my car.  I found it a few days later, having never seen it in my life, I panicked.  I convinced myself that someone had broken into my car and put a "remote control" which was of course a bomb, in my car....yes I know I am crazy.  I threw it out the window while driving.  The minute it left my hand, I realized that it belonged to my friend.  I am scared of squirrels, terrified actually, that one will attack my face, hamsters creep me out and most birds intimidate me. I still run up the stairs at night, skipping every other step and jump onto my bed to avoid anything (that may or may not be under there) from grabbing my legs.  Child birth was a piece of cake and dental work borderline enjoyable compared to my long list of bizarre fears.  I have come to the conclusion that I will never grow out of this....I think its in my genes.  My BIGGEST fear is that my children inherit this terrible trait.  My daughter seems to be unaffected, she is WAY braver than me, she does play by the rules though...God forbid I park in an "unauthorized" space, she would be on the phone with tow truck company faster than I could back out. She constantly reads me the speed limit while I'm driving, and I wouldn't even consider turning in a library book late in her presence. My son is young, so its hard to tell, he's scared of normal things, but I think with 4 big sisters he's somewhat destine to be a little wimpy.  The other 3 are not biologically mine so I think they are all safe.  I would never want any of my children growing up thinking that monsters are real, or fearing household objects. I just want them to be normal...unlike like me.

less is more...work

This week has been insane...IN SANE. Its finally Sunday, and I am trying to recover, get things done and relax? (I'm not sure if that's how you pronounce the word) July is a busy month over all for us, two of our girls have birthdays - a day apart. Usually we do a joint party. This year they protested, and made it clear that they are two separate (aka expensive)children. I love birthdays, but more so I LOVE parties. I love throwing them, attending them,and if I had the balls would crash one. They make me happy. I am that mom that gets very excited when an invite comes home, and will do my best to attend (and possibly bring my child, if they haven't gotten on my nerves that day). I am also that mom that will spend entirely too much, time, money and energy on a 2 hour party that most will not remember. My oldest daughters first birthday included ponies and a bounce house, and the years that followed all had themes - including a "low key" carnival. My son's 2nd birthday was an embarrassingly expensive waste of money. I (like many parents) use my children's birthday as an excuse to throw my dream party. This time I decided I would do things on a smaller scale...no rentals, crazy decor, expensive cakes, or piles of food. First up was my younger daughter. She decided that she wanted to invite a few friends to trillion dollar bear...I mean build-a-bear at the mall. This cute (evil) store where you can stuff your own bear, bunny, cat or other random animal and then dress it in nicer clothes than I own. I was literally jealous of a stuffed bunnies shoes... I allowed her to invite 5 friends, she lost 1 invitation and out of the four girls only 2 RSVPED. I can handle 3 girls...I handle 4 on a daily basis. This was actually starting to sound fun for me (I know its all about me, I cant help it - I LOVE BIRTHDAYS) I was also excited about the fact that because I was allowing children that were not mine in my vehicle, I had an obligation (to their health) to clean my car. I work much better under pressure. I also had to "clean" the down stairs of my house, which consisted of cramming as much as I could into any cabinets, drawers and closets that didnt already have crap crammed in them. I even baked the cake myself to save on costs, I was determined to take it easy for this party. The cake fell apart when I flipped it over, BUT with A LOT of frosting I was able to save it. The morning of the party I showed my daughter her cake..."where's the toy?" she asked. Apparently the Pillsbury box I got didn't come with a toy. I felt guilty. I told her I would go to the store and get something to put on top. She requested a monster high theme. I got in the car to go to the store, turned on the a/c and HOT air starts blowing. HOT AIR. I was not happy. I get to the store and of course they dont have anything even close to this monster high theme that I almost thought was made up. I had to call my 6 year old to get approval for a different theme...this took several minutes and a lot of negotiating. I get home a little while before her friends should be arriving. One friend came and then a little while later the other girls mom called and said she was at the mall...so we headed out...with the windows down. Before we got to build a bear I had a budget in my head. I will let each girl pick an inexpensive bear, and one outfit. Then we will go to lunch, and head home for cake. That didnt happen. I let the girls pick whatever they wanted, (including underwear for the stuffed animals...because stuffed animal need underwear...and shoes of course), lunch was more than I anticipated, we had to go on the merry-go-round, and how could I say no to a little candy on the way out?? The trip to the mall was pretty expensive. The ride home was HOT. We got to the house and the girls ate (very little) cake, and played for hours. I had told the girls moms that I would bring them home around 6, when James got home from work. 6 rolled around and he wasnt home, he was running late. Thankfully the girls were being super well behaved and didn't want to leave, their parents didn't seem to mind either. I couldn't leave until James got home, I wouldn't have been able to fit my children plus 2 extra in my van...yes a van is too small sometimes. He finally got home (after a long week) and I loaded my daughter and her friends in the car. We turned down the first girls street and the gauges in my car started going nuts. Long story short...my car died. I still had one girl to drop off. The day pretty much went down hill from there. This was a typical end to a crazy week. I kept thinking that this "simple party" was a huge pain in the you know what and no less expensive than the parties that I usually throw. But there was a difference, my daughter LOVED it. She loved the special time she got without all of her siblings around, she loved her overpriced stuffed animal, she loved the 2 friends that were able to make it, and I think she even loved the excitement of driving with the wind blowing her hair all over the place and later breaking down. It was HER perfect day. So maybe less is sometimes more, but I would do it all over again...well if I was going back in time I would have gotten the car fixed...but everything else I would do again. In a few weeks we are celebrating my other daughters July birthday...she is having a slumber party... I am sure that will be a (beautiful) disaster :)