Boot Camp

It's decided.

It's time for me to make some sacrifices, for the good of my country, my family, my self.

I'm off to Boot Camp.

Fortunately for me, I won't even have to leave my hometown, much less my kids and husband.

My Boot Camp is five minutes away, at our local YMCA.

Instead of a drill sergeant bellowing commands at me, I have an adorable friend leading the class, yelling words of encouragement over her microphone.

Instead of cadence, we have great tunes from the 80's and 90's to sweat to.

Instead of dying in the 90+ degree heat, we're "comfy" in our air-conditioned studio, with our water bottles at our side.

But even though this Boot Camp isn't near as tortuous as that of the military, it still kicks my boo-tay.

Which is exactly the point.

Getting over to the Y by 6am, dressed and ready to roll, takes discipline. Making it through SIXTY minutes of various circuits, weight-lifting, cardio and toning takes stamina. Trying not to limp around and whine too much the day after takes self-control.

Another month or two of this, and I think I might just get one of those VS bikinis. (Varicose veins be damned!)

(Thanks, Monica, for being such an awesome instructor. Watching your toned little body teach us how to properly lunge, plio-hop and football jog truly inspires me to push myself a little more each class. Girl, you seriously rock!)

A case study

A case study:

Determine the effect of sugar (in the form of chocolate donuts) on a certain four-year-old boy.




Supplies needed: boy and donuts.

Process: Take boy to local grocer. Allow boy to pick out a box of chocolate donuts and consume as many as his heart desires. Okay, I did limit the number to five. Five teensy-weensy little chocolate gems.

Test the theory: Once the sugar has kicked in, take boy to preschool. Drive home, scrapbook and listen to your new Kings of Leon CD. Forget all about the case study.

Crap! Jump in the van and race to the preschool to pick up the experiment, I mean, the boy.

When the boy's teacher approaches the van with boy in tow, both looking somber and rather upset, quickly forget about those donuts. Make appropriately stern comments about the boy requiring not one but TWO timeouts during the schoolday. Apologize profusely to teacher, drive home and promptly put boy to bed, in trouble for getting in trouble at school (house rules).

Remember the donuts. Oops.

Clearly the effect of sugar on the boy is hyperactivity, inability to follow directions, inability to control one's self, and general mayhem and destruction.

Lesson learned: Be a good mom and feed your boy a healthy lunch devoid of chocolate donuts before preschool. Save the donuts for when Daddy is in charge :)

Sorry, Gabe.

Now that's love.

It's almost that time of year.



Time to shop for a bathing suit.

So many decisions. Two-piece or one-piece, string or halter, thong or skirt...

I was thinking that I wanted to get a new bathing suit for our Disney trip. I've been working out faithfully for over a year now. In my head, I thought I'd be able to find the perfect suit in no time.

I was so wrong.

(Here's how it went):

I pick out two suits. Go to the dressing room. Put on the cute pink-striped halter top. Not bad.

Slip on the short-style bottoms. Look in the mirror. Turn and pivot.

Sit down and cry.

WTF?

Where on earth did all that cellulite come from? The varicose veins? The spider veins? The saggy boobs? Holy crap.

Pull out my cell phone. Place an emergency call to the local plastic surgeon. Make an appointment for STAT lipo/laser/implants. Get dressed. Dry my tears. Drive home.

I walk in the door in a foul mood.

I am greeted by three adoring faces and one hyper puppy. They hug me, they kiss me, they tell me how much they missed me. They love me.

Despite my shortcomings, they love me.

They could care less about my saggy boobs (it's all their fault, anyway). They don't even know what a spider or varicose vein is, much less care if my legs are covered with them.

I grab these three babies of mine. I hug them. I kiss them. We play Yahtzee. We laugh and love and have a grand ole time.

I pick up the phone and cancel that appointment.

Who needs a new swimsuit anyway?

It's a party!

Dear President Obama,

I have a secret. (I didn't vote for you.)

I really liked Sarah Palin, and was rooting for her to win (along with McCain, of course).

However, now that the election is over, and you are in the White House, I feel that as an American citizen I should stand behind my President.

Clearly, my four-year-old son feels the same way.

Did you know that there was a party held in your honor here in this very house? And Gabe was the host?

Yep, just this past Friday. You were surrounded by adoring fans (and Littlest Pets) as you rocked it out with your date, Gabriella. I gotta say, you were looking fine in your brown suit.



Maybe you had a little too much bubbly? 'Cause it seemed like you needed a lot of help walking around... (Gabriella is looking quite soused herself; you two sure know how to party it up!)




Thank goodness this guy was there to give you a hand.

Mr. President, as much as I have decided to stand behind you, and our country, I feel the need to make a suggestion: lay off the sauce, stay away from young Disney actresses and stop partying with my preschooler. People will talk, you know...

Sincerely,

A concerned citizen

This post was inspired by Gabe, the man with the imagination. Last Friday while I was doing chores, he came running to find me and request that I take yet another "pitcher" in Sissy's room. When I asked why, he said "I'm having a Barack Obama party! Come on and take a pitcher, hurry, hurry!!!". Of course, I obliged, dying to see what brought this "party" on. He had found Isabel's High School Musical 3 Barbies, and was convinced that mini-Zac was actually Barack Obama. He was hosting a "president party", which he played for over an hour. This boy cracks me up!

Of this I am sure...

I don't know about y'all, but I am pretty much done with this:




and am definitely ready for some of this:



Green grass. Worms and lightning bugs. Short sleeved shirts. Little League baseball. Cheering for our team 'til my throat hurts. Getting Dairy Queen soft-serve after the game.

Thank God February is only 28 days.

Even if March is cold, at least it sounds warmer.

Oh, spring, I miss you so.

Playlist

Yesterday Joe deleted all the songs on my (his) iPod.

Gasp.

Actually, I asked him to. I needed a change. I needed a "running" playlist, one that will inspire me to run miles and miles without pause.

I found a lot of great songs.

It got me wondering...

Do you have an iPod? Do you have a running playlist? What are your top five favorite songs? If you were stranded on a desert island with Sawyer, what would be "your song" (you know the one that puts you both in the mood in two seconds flat)?

Oh, baby...

I love all kinds of music, as you can see from my playlist below.



Gospel, country, rock, Christian rock, classic rock, kids' tunes...you get the idea.



I'm not totally hip on new music, though. I want to be; it's just hard when you have certain children in the van who have an opinion on what they want to listen to (or watch on the DVD player, as the case may be).



My sister, Michelle, is way hip on the new stuff, though, being the mother of two teenagers. She amazes me with her musical prowess.



When we visited Lula last fall, I knew this was one subject that I could take a backseat to (quite literally; Michelle and Lula sat upfront, I chilled in the back). Those two sang and talked and rhapsodized to their hearts' content, and I was quite happy to be along for the ride. I may not know the title or the band, but I do love the music.



That being said, when Lula asked if Michelle and I would be interested in seeing Kings of Leon with her in May, in our hometown, of course I said YES! I love live music, and this group seriously rocks! Not to mention that I love spending some quality time with the queen of the iPod herself :)

I'm not sure who is the hottest. I'm sure each one of them will be looking fine up on that stage, though. Crooning Sex on Fire to the three of us. Oh, baby...

I'm seeing another blog countdown ticker in my future (after Disney, that is). Jenny, I'm sorry Washington is so freakin' far away. If there is any chance you can hop on a plane and come to Cincy, you know you are so invited.