Random Thoughts: the Byproduct of a Long Summer

As I told a friend when I forgot to respond to his text for a week... and then forgot to send the text telling him I forgot to respond to his text for another week, I haven't had a single, complete, coherent thought in weeks. Being a mom 24/7 is an ass-kicking job^★. And, this summer, save Spence's week-long stint at camp, was Me and The Kids day in and day out for three months. (Yeah. I just made that into the title of a movie. Most boring movie. ever. But, very loud. With occasional cameo appearances by Shawn Johnson.) No. Seriously. They are getting old enough that we were (mostly) happy. And our road trips and vacations were fun. But, enough was enough.

Thank God for school and teachers. Spence started 2nd grade and Lulu Pre-K. They're both loving it. And my thoughts are slowly starting to form completely again (and the laundry is starting to get done again... and dinner cooked... and I'm bathing more regularly...)

So, as we wait for full-capacity thoughts that might equal one whole blog post, here's what's been rattling around in my brain in the meantime:

• I did indeed make the candy pencil back-to-school treats for Lulu's class. I told you Mommy Guilt would make me do it.
• I took a hot yoga class* and left it smelling like... an airline passenger plane. This is disturbing to me on so very many levels.
• *I stopped going to the Class of Torture because I was starting to get thighs like those of a 14-year-old Olympic gymnast. FYI, this is only a good look on a 14-year-old Olympic gymnast - and, even then, it's questionable.
• Sometimes I look at my flat iron when it's on and think, "Did I already turn that on?"^✰
• Can you put plates in the oven? 'Cause I do. And, I think I'm pretty darn brilliant for thinking of it.
• Evidently my family doesn't eat bananas fast enough. I always have to figure out what to do with overripe bananas. Well, AllRecipes.com has done it again. With a five-star rating after 6,413 reviews, this Banana Crumb Muffin recipe was bound to be good GREAT. And, it was^♥.
• And, finally. It has been said that Princess Eugenie bares a striking resemblance to her great-great-great-great grandmother Queen Victoria. Yeah. If Queen Victoria smeared a lot of $#!t around her eyes and wore bizarre crap on her head.

^★And, yeah, yeah, yeah. Working moms. I know the grass isn't greener. I'm just saying sometimes you get to turn on your "grown-up brain" and have coherent thoughts sometimes. (And, I'm not even going to correct the fact that I used "sometimes" twice in that sentence. I think it proves my point quite nicely.)

^✰It's not a flat iron. It's a cookie. And, I don't think "turn that on;" I think "eat that."

^♥The Pre-K teachers at Elizabeth's school do "Home Visits" the week before school. (oh. the horror.) I whipped these up because a) I'm an unbearable suck-up and b) I was trying to distract the teacher from the fact that our daughter doesn't know her own name and c) who calls Children's Protective Services on someone who makes muffins?

When I Grow Up, I'm Going to be Responsible. I Wonder When That Will Be?

Today it was like I woke up and decided I should go ahead and continue with undertakings that I have completely and utterly pushed aside during our lazy summer.

First, I went back to workout at the Class of Torture I started attending back in May. It's no mystery why this has been getting neglected. It turns out it's fairly impossible to do squats while on crutches. But, after six weeks in the heinous Aircast from hell, I got the all-clear to exercise as long as I wear an only-slightly-less-heinous, lace-up brace for six more weeks.

I decided to amp it up a notch and attend class at 5:30 in the a.m., too. Because 9:00 a.m. is just too reasonable. That. And, I hate taking my kids to the childcare at the gym - they always look at me like they're living through their own personal Sophie's Choice... and I haven't chosen either of them.

So. Now I'm tired. And, my stomach muscles hurt so badly I think I might cry if I have to cough later.

But, waking up at the crack of dawn and pushing my body to its physical limits wasn't enough for me. Oh no. I decided to crack back open the Rosetta Stone. I quit doing this because... it's hard... and I'm a baby. I didn't want to do my Spanish lessons! (Imagine me stomping my feet for emphasis when you read that.)

But, I RE.FUSE. to admit defeat. So, I sat down with my laptop and headsets, opened up Rosetta Stone, and I'm pretty sure it said to me, "Where the hell have you been?!" But, it said it in Spanish, so I can't be sure.

I yelled, "Algún día trabajarán en un restaurante," and "Sí, tengo un pregunta," a couple of times... and, then I started writing this blog post... and reading other blogs... and commenting on other blogs... and adding some stuff to pinterest... and I did start some laundry...

Yep. Responsible. That's what I am.

I Just Say What Everyone Else Is Thinking

My friend told me to come to the "Hard Core" class with her at the new gym I joined. Hard Core is an hour of 30 second, 1 minute and 2 minute intervals of exercises that, as far as I could tell, are designed to make you cry. Or puke. Or both.

We were doing Scissor Legs (while holding a dumbbell in the air - because regular scissor legs are for quitters) and the girl next to me called the instructor over. She told him, "My lower back hurts when I do these."

Now, my friend Springer would have warned this man to approach the area near me with extreme caution, kinda like a new dog - you should let it sniff your hand first. Unfortunately for this unsuspecting instructor, Springer wasn't anywhere to be found. He walked in blind. And he answered her with:

"It's because right now your hips are too tight. And what we're working on is opening them up."

I stopped scissor-kicking and said, "Why do you sound so much like my husband right now?"

This poor, poor, unwitting straight-man and his 2% body fat stopped talking while his mouth fell open and all the women within earshot started laughing. He blushed. And he walked away.

Poor guy never saw me coming.

To his credit, he regained his composure (after he tattled on me to the other instructor) and said, "So, is that how it's gonna be, Ali?"

I responded with, "Yes. It's nice to meet you."

Updates on Spanish, Exercise and Fascinators

There's not much to report around here.

In fact, there's so little going on that I took my obsession with the royal wedding to a whole new level and put a fascinator on my head.

Yeah. This is me taking a picture of myself and my
fascinator in the bathroom mirror. Don't judge me.

I like my fascinator. But, my sister probably said it best when she responded with, "London - yes. Amarillo - no." *sad*

I took a week off of Spanish. But, I'm back at it now. It's making me learn past and future tenses and it's just hard! *Imagine me stomping my feet and whining* I'm pretty sure that I almost told the Spanish-speaking housekeeper that I was going to "sell" her instead of "pay" her, too. I'm guessing she might not come back after that. Some people don't like human trafficking.

I've also begun acting like English is my second language. The greeter at Wal-Mart told me to "come back soon," and I had to think of the proper response because I knew it wasn't, "You, too." I asked the checker at Hobby Lobby, "Where is framing?" because I couldn't think of the pleasantries that should surround that statement.

In other news: I joined a gym. Even sweet Shawn agreed that I was probably asking more of my pants on Sunday then they were able to give. Sad. I guess I can't pretend that carpool pickup is exercise anymore. I haven't "officially" exercised now for four months. That's a third of a year. I should be ashamed. But, really. I hate exercise so much, I'm not.

However, getting out of shape has made my joints hurt. This is the beauty of my aging body: If my muscles aren't strong, my joints do all the work and they hurt. If I get up from sitting too long, I walk just like my 66-year-old dad. (Sorry, Dad, but it's true. My gross heels look like yours, too. Thanks for the DNA.) My hip hurts so badly at the moment that I think I had better get a Life Alert button. There's a chance I might fall and not be able to get up.

But, wait. Maybe I'll ditch exercise altogether and get a scooter! A scooter and a Life Alert button. And a fascinator. I'd be the hottest 37-year-old on the block!

Moving Update: I've Cried All Morning

I dropped the kids off for school and realized they were going to their last "regular" chapel service at their school. Spence asked me if I could sit with them in chapel. I couldn't. I needed to run errands.

I got in the car and I was s.a.d. I was sad that I wouldn't have another opportunity to sit with them in chapel at this school. I was sad that I didn't really want to sit with them, because, even if they haven't wrapped their heads around it, it's their last chance to sit with their classmates at morning chapel.

I called Shawn. He's down at the mediation for my sister's divorce. That made me sad, too. I want this nightmare to be over. For everyone. But, selfishly, I want Shawn to be able to make that 4:15 flight this afternoon that will get him back in time to see the kids perform at their last Lessons and Carols service tomorrow morning.

So, by the time I got to my last Zumba class, all of my emotional cylinders were firing. We laughed a lot in class. But, we cried, too. (Who would have thought one could cry to the song "Fire Burning" by Sean Kingston?) I flat-out had to stop looking at my friend in the front corner - she cried more than I did! Have you ever tired to workout hard while crying? There may have been a few moments where I blacked-out.

I got home and the housekeeper and I started crying together. She shouldn't be sad to see us go! She knows what pigs we are!

So, anyway. The house inspector is here. I guess we really are selling our house.

I hear something about movers tomorrow.

I have a weird vein standing out on my temple. Can you have a stroke from too many emotions?

Also? I think I ate all the cake.

Party like it's 1990

My sister and step-sister are in town for their 20th high school reunion.  We're visiting now, but that won't last long. Neither of them have any intention of seeing our family for the rest of the weekend - they're spending the entire time with some of their high school girlfriends who are also here without husbands or kids.  They're making a girls' weekend of it.  Fun.  (But) Rude.

Oh, well.  I drug my sister to an hour of Power Pump (weights) and an hour of Zumba this morning.  That'll teach her.

(And, her kids are staying at my house while she parties like it's 1990. Don't tell her, but I like them better anyway.  KIDDING!  Kinda.)

Ali, Brandy and Ellery
I have no idea why I'm dragging myself down with this little gem when I'm really just trying to punish Brandy and Ellery!  This was the first day of school 1988 - actually their junior year.  But, you get the idea.

The Perfect Storm of Wardrobe Malfunctions

So, remember how I told you I'd started doing Zumba?  In case you forgot it's kind of hip-hop booty shaking for an hour.  You sweat like a pig, you burn a lot of calories and you call it a workout.

But, the clothes to wear while you're shaking, squatting and generally acting unladylike is a tricky dilemma.  You could buy the official Zumba pants for around $65.  Yeah, I'm way too cheap for that.  So, I was in Old Navy and saw some cropped cargo pants.  Yay!  Moveable, but with a little more substance than leggings or shorts.  This pear-shaped girl needs a little coverage while shaking every jiggly bit God gave me.  And, being cargo pants, I just knew they would make me look perfectly gangsta while hip-hop dancing. (That sentence may be too gramatically correct to contain the word "gangsta".)  I wore them to workout today.  Three things happened :

1. They grew in that delightful way pants that contain 2% spandex have of growing while you're wearing them.  You know, because when you try on pants in the store you're always hoping they'll fit differently two hours after you put them on each time.
2. The waist had been a little big to start with.  So, jumping and shimmying only led to my pants scooting further and further down my hips.  Unless my tank top had been dress-length, it didn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of bridging the gap.
3. Let's just say I had taken "precautions" so as not to have a visible panty line.

So, to sum up this story:  I spent 60 minutes trying not to show my crack to all of my friends.  I don't think I was sweating from the workout.

(This is Vanessa Hudgens, not me.

But, don't worry, it's a perfectly natural mistake.)

*Gasp* I might start exercising...

I accidentally exercised today.  If you'll remember from my previous post, I seriously need to exercise - just to be healthy.  Well, my friend Hillary was teaching a Zumba class (think Latin/hip hop dancing simplified for the uncoordinated).  I only went so I could support her.  I could not have been more under-enthused about it.  And, although it involved sweating and jiggling my booty and thighs (two activities I spend a great deal of effort trying to prevent), I had a great time.

They have classes that fit perfectly into my schedule.  I knew a ton of people that were taking the class (always a bonus when you need to laugh at yourself with someone).  There's no contract...

I think I actually might start exercising.  But, next time I think I'm going to wear Spanx.

Exercise

I H-A-T-E to exercise.  You know that saying about only running if someone was chasing you?  I think I can take it one further.  I think I would let them catch me as opposed to having to run from them.  I'm thinking of a personal mantra of "I don't like to sweat.  Ever.  Ohm."

I would much rather maintain my weight by obsessively controlling the number of calories I consume.  I know, I know, this is not the healthiest of habits.  I'm also aware that I probably have the bone density of an 88-year-old woman.

But, things are starting to settle and bulge in ways that they shouldn't.  I have a sneaking suspicion that only muscle definition will put these things back where they belong - either that or a complicated hoist and pulley system.

So, I need to join a gym.  Or take a walk.  Here and now I'm making a resolution.  I'm resolving to start thinking about exercising.