Dragon tails

So, the other morning I was getting S into the car to go to the gym and I look up and see this hanging out of our garage door light fixture/cover/motor housing. Impressive, isn't it?

It's HUGE, right?!?

I got a stick and poked at the light cover, and when it didn't move at all, I decided it was dead and that I could go about my day with no worries about being attacked by the mini dragon stuck in our garage door light cover.

When R came home, I made him go and try to get it out. Not only was it dead, it was so dead that it just sort of cracked and crumpled into pieces. I figure pieces can't attack me or the kids either, so I'm okay that half of the super mini dragon is now in the trash and the other half is stuck in the light cover.

Workout Wednesday, the Thursday edition

Yeah, sorry about the messed up posting this week. I still haven't finished my post from Tuesday because I keep falling asleep whenever I sit down at night and now I can't remember what my train of thought was originally. I'm so tired all the time. No idea why. I need to go and have blood work done to figure out what's going on with me. I really think it's hormonal but I'll never know if I don't go to the lab and have the blood work drawn, right? Right!

Note to self: GO GET THE LABWORK DONE. NOW!

Since I was sick last week, my workouts were more phoned in than kick ass. I mean, I showed up and did the best I could, but that best was way different from what my best is this week. But I figure this happens to everyone, and I was actually sick, so I'm not going to beat myself up about taking it easy in the gym.

Workout wise: I've been back on the arc trainer. I love this machine when the incline is set high. It's a great workout and I feel like it helps my loosen my leg and hip muscles. And it makes my butt muscles burn. Anything that makes your butt muscles burn has got to be a good thing.

This week I learned that I'm doing well strength wise. I can hold a really straight plank position (up on my toes, thankyouverymuch) for a good amount of time (over 30 seconds) with no strain. I can even do side planks now without having one knee bent. I even hung from the pull up bar for a good 5-8 seconds without any help from anything supporting my body weight but me. And while being able to hang is nowhere near being able to do a pull up, it's still progress and I'll take it.

So for next week, especially now that I'm feeling better, my goal is to push hard for improvement in my cardio fitness. And with Halloween coming up which means candy everywhere and the start of the holiday season, it's a great idea to bump my cardio back up so that I can afford to eat the occasional piece of candy.

I've got belly dancing and ballroom dancing coming up tonight, so I'm psyched (does anyone even say that anymore?).

It's cereal for heaven's sake!

Yesterday started out to be such a good day. And yesterday ended as a great day too. But the middle part? It was like taking a bite of a luscious, yummy eclair to find out there was no filling in the middle -- or better yet that the filling was cottage cheese (which has it's own appeal, but not so much in an eclair).

So what happened? When T got home from school, I took the kids to Blockbuster. T's birthday is coming up in a few weeks and he's been asking for a new Wii game. R and I both firmly agree that any game we are considering buying should first be rented to see if it's compatible - with our ears, T's skill level, and our tolerance for nonsensical, repetitive noise. You know, the important stuff. Oh, yeah, and content and blah blah.

At any rate, Iron Man 2 came out yesterday, so I wanted to rent that for R as a nice surprise. He watches enough Cupcake Wars and Hoarders and stuff that I like. The least I can do is give him a break with something he really wants to see every now and then.

Things at Blockbuster went brilliantly, the kids listened and didn't beg me for candy, soda, or other silly things like Super Mario Brother cartoon movies. From there we went to the Commissary. All I wanted were pre-formed Butterball turkey burgers, chicken breasts, and a loaf of bread. When we walked in, there was this huge display of cereal on sale. T asked for a box of Reeses' chocolatey puff cereal. I'll be honest, the nutritional value is questionable and it wasn't in my top 25 choices of cereal to buy, but I let him get it anyway.

Because I only planned to get 3 things, I grabbed a hand basket since if I'm pushing around a cart, I tend to fill it up. When I went down the soft drink aisle, they had Mom's husband's favorite root beer on the shelf, so I grabbed those for their visit in October. That left no room for the cereal box, so I asked T to carry it. T either didn't hear or me or was ignoring me (I choose to believe he didn't hear me, what with me being so soft spoken and all -haha!) so S said, "I carry!!"

Works for me.

When T sees his sister carrying the box of cereal, he immediately wants to carry it. S immediately refuses. Tears immediately ensue.

Really? It's cereal, for heaven's sake.

I, the ever wise voice of reason and compromise, suggest that S carry the cereal to the register, then T carry it to the car. S is fine with this since she currently has the cereal. T collapses in the aisle crying drama tears.

Sigh. It's cereal, for heaven's sake.

Does T want to help me carry the root beer? No! (whew...glass bottles aren't going to survive well with the dramatic collapsing)

Does T want to help me carry the chicken? No!

How about the cookies we picked up for his lunch box? NO!

Mmm kay. Next solution...

I explain that this reaction over cereal (for heaven's sake) is a bit extreme and if a box of cereal is causing all this fuss? We need to put the cereal back unless we can all stop crying and fighting over it.

This works until I pay for the cereal and hand the bag with the cereal in it to T, at which point S breaks down into tears and dramatic reactions.

It's cereal! For heaven's sake!

So I explain - S got to carry the cereal in the store, T gets to carry it to the car. S is having none of it. And I? I am so over this.

I usher the kids outside to continue the tantrum-ing in a wide open space that echos a little less. I explain my view point on this again. No one is budging.

What to do?

I sit down to wait out the tantrum. I also inform the kids that this cereal? Will never be purchased by me again. Ever. T, torn between wanting to carry the cereal and actually be able to eat the cereal (and it should be mentioned that he has been calm and non-teary since the initial collapsing and lecturing in the aisle), offers to let the still tantrum-ing S carry the cereal to the car.

Awwwww. And also? Nope. I commend T for this monumental sacrifice he's prepared to make. But rewarding S for tantrum throwing is not going to happen. She needs to learn, just like T did, that throwing a tantrum does not make this Momma give in to you.

We finally get to the car. Finally. But once we are all buckled in and the car is moving, S starts again with the kicking and screaming about wanting the cereal. So I warn her that if she does not stop this nonsense this instant there will be no eating of the cereal in our household. I can see the look on T's face like, "Oh, man. All that good behavior for nothing!" I feel ya, T, but still....

Of course S doesn't stop, so I describe in detail what is going to happen to the cereal. The box will be opened, the cereal poured into the trash, and the box top saved for T's school. And our household will likely only be purchasing Cheerios from here on out. Nothing to argue about then, right?

It was cereal for heaven's sake!

Sigh.

What do I wish I'd known at 13?

Over the weekend, I read a blog post on Managing Mommyhood (http://www.managingmommyhood.com ) about Dove's new campaign to increase self esteem.
The campaign details can be found here: http://www.dovemovement.com/en-us/events/toolkit

Continuing with the question posed on Managing Mommyhood's post, I've been thinking about what I wish I had known at 13.

So, here goes:

* There are a billion levels of 'fine', some better than others, but all of them are acceptable as long as you are, in fact, fine.

* Having a sense of humor? Invaluable!

* If he's really interested in you? He'll make the effort.

* Being truly, genuinely nice will get you so much farther in life than being popular.

* You need the bad days to appreciate the good ones

* No one is perfect. So stop trying to be.

* Don't eat your emotions - feel them.


What do you wish you'd known at 13?

After misery, there's pleasure. Thank goodness.

To my surprise and extreme pleasure, today was kind of anti climatic compared to the last week.

I'm feeling much better. (Whew!)

S is much quieter (methinks she might just have spent a bit 0'time in time out while I was out of commission. ::silent cheering::).

I even made it to the gym. R, to his credit, didn't even give me the stink eye over that one. We packed up the kids and headed out - him to swim, me to do some light cardio. My thinking was that I would work up a light sweat and it would help to break up my congestion.

Hey, it was a good idea.

It was. It was!

But then I ran into a friend of mine, we started walking laps together, and on our first lap around the track, she suggested that we jog.

Jogging and I? We have a hate/hate relationship. I hate to do it, it hates my body. I made it one lap at what was, for me, a pretty good clip and I was totally out of breath. Three walking laps later, we jogged another one. Seriously? It almost killed me. I'm just not a jogger. Today I made my peace with it.

God bless my friend, she and I switched to floor work: sit ups, ab work, planks, pull ups, vertical push ups...it was a great workout. And also? I got my stuff from the Pampered Chef party I attended with her a few weeks ago (you might all remember that better as bowl of margarita night). I bought a knife and I used it to chop up veggies for the vegetable beef soup I made tonight.

Can you be in love with a knife? Because I think I might be. It fits my hand perfectly, it slices right through all sorts of things like a hot knife through room temperature butter. Seriously, now I can actually see how chefs can be all whack whack whack and boom! An entire onion is in 2,000 tiny even pieces. Sa-weet!

So, if you need anything cut, sliced, diced, minced, or chopped? It would be my pleasure. Dinner tomorrow will be at 5:30..the possibilities are endless but will likely be in little tiny pieces. hee!

Misery

Karma.



::sigh::



My good, good friend Karma has come back to kick me right in the sinuses. Those eye drops I was using on S?



Got some for me now.



The nasal spray I blogged about forcing her to use?



Got some of that for me now too. And a pack of super strong antibiotics to boot.



And, as it turns out, a sinus infection that, even though it was just in the beginning stages, made my teeth feel like they were going to fall out on the left side. And I don't even want to think about the ear pain. Seriously, what's up with this? No wonder babies with ear infections scream. This stuff is miserable. And so am I.

I woke up at three a.m. in so much pain between my teeth, sinuses, and ears that I couldn't sleep. I finally got back to sleep around 6, got up for good at 8:30, and was at the urgent care clinic by 10 am. Fun.

On top of that? I got a migrane. Yowsa.

So I've slept off and on all day, R's been stuck..I mean is spending quality time....the kids.

And I'm sorry. I just don't have the motivation, energy, or ability to focus enough to make this entry any better than it is. I'm going back to bed. Peace!

Hold it down, tiny dancer!

S's ballet class was tonight. She missed last week since she was sick.

Since the last class, we've practiced most of what she learned. First, second, fourth and fifth positions, arm positions, prancing around on tiptoes. She loves it all.

But today, as we left the Y, a week's worth of screeching, screaming, ear splitting caterwauling finally got the best of me.

S: (assorted screeching, yelling, and kicking)
Me: If you don't stop screaming this instant, young lady, you will NOT be attending ballet class tonight.
S: NO! NOOOO! I want to go to ballet class. I waannnnaaaa gooooooooooo!!!
Me: Then you need to stop screaming. You are actually making my ears hurt. Hush!
S: (Screaming and flailing about)
Me: Do you want to go to ballet tonight?
S: Yes! I don't want you. I want Daddy! Don't WANT YOU!
Me: You want Dad to take you?
S: Yes. NOT YOU! Daddy! NOT YOU, MOMMY! You make me cry!

sigh. I wonder, really I do, how I will survive her teenage years without losing my mind.

So I email R as soon as we get home. Please take your banshee of a daughter to ballet tonight, okay? He agrees (because my husband? He totally rocks!) and we make plans to meet at his car at the end of the workday so he can just take off from there to get her to class on time. T and I will then go back home and start dinner.

Only.....

On the way to take the kids to meet R, T tells me he wants to go and watch S's ballet class. And as we pull up, I realize that the one thing R asked me to do which was to bring him some civilian clothes and shoes--I've forgotten. Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!

And then, after all the weeping and wailing and whatever-ing throughout the day, S refuses to get out of the van and into R's car because, and I quote, "I waaaaaannnnnntttttt Moooooooommmmmmmyyyyyyyyy to doooooooooooooooo iiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttttttttttttt"

R and T head home so R can change clothes and they'll meet us there. So even though I was planning to go back home and get the clothes for R that I'd forgotten, I end up taking S to ballet class.

I have no idea. I'm just trying to roll with it.

S and I get to the Y, walk through the workout room (where kids are not allowed, btw) to get to the aerobics room where they actually have ballet class. The door is locked, the room is dark, and there is no instructor to be found. I check the clock...we are 15 minutes early. No problem. We'll just wait.

Yeeaaah. My tempestuous three year old in a room with all sorts of spinning, mechanical, neatly lighted up machines that she's not allowed to go near or touch. It went over brilliantly. And I notice that people keep shooting me looks which I interpret as "Why is there a 3 year old in the cardio area?" But hey - she's in a ballet outfit with ballet slippers on and we are waiting by the aerobics room door. So I - the gal that's been dealing with a screamer for five solid days non stop, who is getting sick and is utterly exhausted - just smile and wave at the shooters of the evil looks and encourage S to do the same. She's not so into that idea, as it turns out, and does NOT like that we are stuck outside the room we need to be in and that she can't do what she wants which is run around the track and go and check out the machines. And let's just guess how she deals with that?

Uh-huh. You got it. Screaming.

Luckily, R and T come up so she's distracted for a few minutes, but she still ends up in a very public time out. Hate it for her.

Right before class was supposed to start the room is still locked and none of the other students were there, I start to wonder if maybe they've moved or cancelled class. R goes to check and nope, not cancelled, not moved.

Five minutes after class was supposed to have started with only one of the other three students there, S and I walk to the front desk to ask if someone can open the aerobics room because between my two kids and the fellow ballet student, there was some rebellion going on about not being able to do anything besides stand by the door. The staff member at the front desk is not feeling me on opening the door and explains to me that kids can't be in the aerobics room if the teacher isn't in there. So I snarkily point out that the kids a) aren't without supervision. Hello! Parents! Automatic supervision! b) aren't supposed to be hanging out in the cardio room but have been since it's now 5:07 and the instructor hasn't shown up, and c) I've counted six staff members - four of which don't seem to be busy right now, so can't one of them come and open the room and stay until the instructor decides to show?!?

At that point, of course, the instructor walks in, so S and I head to back to the aerobics room for class.

Whateva.

T has a meltdown because he wants to run around the aerobics room and I won't let him. S is too busy looking at herself in the mirror to remember more than 15 seconds of what she has been asked to do. But - as an aside - how cool is it that three and four year olds love to look at themselves in a mirror?!?! There's no criticism, no judgement -- just delight to spin around and see their skirt swirl about. I love that. Love that!!!

We made it through class, all four of us, and headed home for a quick dinner and then the bedtime routine. Let's hope next week will be more quiet and timely.