Monday, August 18, 2014

Gym Fail. AGAIN.

My inability to imitate choreographed sequences never ceases to amaze me.

This morning I went to the gym. I decided to "mix" things up a bit. Add some flare to my routine. Really INTENSIFY  my butt burn.

After I did my normal weighted squats and lunges, I decided to try the popular "burpees."

Because I'm not "down" with exercise terminology and certainly oblivious to how these umm "burpees" work, I looked them up on my phone and attempted to mimic a chic with rock solid abs and a butt so firm you could chop wood on it.

Basically you are supposed to squat, bounce into a push up, bounce back to a squat and jump up in the air. And the exercise is supposed to be a pretty swift, quick movement repeated ten times. For the first set.

I was immediately reminded of my time in my high school's show choir. I was that girl that had to stay late nearly EVERY day for "tutoring." (Give me a beat and I can dance ALL day long... choreograph that beat and I'm a flippin' lost cause). I have about as much balance as a one legged penguin. And throw in some unnatural movements (which was pretty much EVERY show choir movement), and I'm wobbling and teetering and doing the chicken dance while everyone else is doing synchronized ballet. But I persevered in high school and learned my dances. Mostly.

I never landed on my head when I got thrown in the air. (Well, not during a performance anyway). But I only have talented dance partners to credit for THAT.

I realized, quite rapidly, that doing burpees was a sequence of dance moves I should have conquered WELL in advance of entering a gym audience. No one in the gym ever pays any attention to other people unless they DRAW attention to themselves in some horrific act of self-deprecation.  So, naturally, that's what I DID.

It was bad enough when three other people dropped mats near my mat. (Not that I needed a MAT- I just wanted to look the part).

I decided to shoot for the stars and maybe land on the moon. (But all I got was stuck in the top of a cactus).  I revved up real tall and mentally yelled, "GO!" My brain may have heard, but my legs, as always, were about 3 beats off rhythm.   

I don't know what I actually LOOKED like while I hopped into a squat, at which point gravity propelled me flat on my butt. (I'm assuming GRACEFUL wasn't it). Determined not to fail, I tried again. It was a very SLOOOW motioned squat to push up. But it looked relatively normal. (For a complete amateur beginner compared to video girl).

Now, let's be clear. Everyone reaches their point of utter humiliation. I, apparently, take LONGER than others to reach this point, but even I HAVE a point. I tried to POP back into a squat. THAT is when I reached the POINT.

When I tried the seemingly effortless  POP up, it became realistically appalling! BOTH my tennis shoes FLEW off my feet. ONE of the shoes narrowly missed, within INCHES, conking the head of the chic doing perfect crunches beside me. I don't know if she realized her face was almost obliterated by a New Balance, but she certainly noticed I'd lost my shoes.

That was the point of retreat for me. I called it quits, deciding some exercises should be left to the professionals. Or to the closed curtained bedroom.

THIS is why my butt is never going to be a brick. It's going to always be an over ripe cantaloupe. With bruises. Because GRAVITY is not my friend. And if you can successfully DO a burpee, do go eat a cookie. BECAUSE you FRICKIN' deserve IT!

Friday, August 15, 2014

I am a LITTLE excited! We MAY have committed RENTERS for our house!! This is fantastic because NOW we have a DEADLINE to actually FINISH it!

I have been accused one or two times of being impatient. (Maybe more like three...)...

And so the SAME day our HOPEFUL renters decided to rent our house, I excitedly told Starling that WE (I obviously didn't think that part through) were going to go pick out travertine for our backsplash in the kitchen.

My excitement. AND good mood. melted like chocolate left stuck to a leather seat of a mini van during a MS summer. (Not that I know ANYTHING about that).

I THOUGHT we would ONLY have four kids, but Isaiah's pink eye was STILL festery, so he couldn't go to school for the 7th day in a ROW. With only one kid down and FIVE to manage... shopping for travertine became a very unpleasant, unproductive, humiliating, flustering, NEED THERAPY AFTER kind of endeavor.

Immediately two boys needed to pee. Starling, of course, was engrossed in deep conversation with the worker man about how much travertine they had in stock and how much travertine they would have to order. I left one buggy load of children WITH Starling and attempted to take the other two boys to pee. What actually ensued, was two boys high tailing it as soon as their feet hit the concrete (like fire or a snake was caught in their drawers) through the store while I, horrified, tried to WHISPER yell at the back of their heads from 10 aisles away. They completely ignored me, Isaiah darting around customers and workers, tripping old people and Peyton dangling far behind, but in hot pursuit.

I was trying to walk/run after them without looking anymore conspicuous than I already was. I smile/growled and apologized to people as I followed their trail. Of course, they had NO idea WHERE they were running, since they didn't even wait for directions. And just when I got them cornered I happened to glance behind me to see Boeing, who had climbed OUT of the buggy, trotting as fast as his little chubby legs could go, face planting, returning to run, bumping into people.

I directed the two full bladder boys towards the bathroom and tried to grab Boeing. That little fart ran around me and followed the boys into the bathroom. The MEN'S bathroom.

I didn't have a choice. Isaiah and Peyton ran out of the bathroom. Boeing did not. I had to go in. Strange looks from some men double checking to see if they were in the right place? Yes. There were urinals. Mortification on my face? Yes. Plenty.

I retrieved my children. And we had a blissfully SHORT and not so SWEET talk.

We walked TOGETHER back to Starling. The children were returned to the shopping carts.

I was taking deep breaths, counting to fifty, focusing on "the good," but exactly TWO seconds after I turned my head to face Starling's mini masterpiece of travertine he had laid on the ground, Boeing was OUT of the buggy giggling like a wild ban chi. I took off after him. Isaiah took that opportunity to get ALL the children ready for a game of hide and seek. I thought I might KILL someone.

OH! And during all of this I am getting calls from my Craigslist people. I pulled a play out of my grandma's handbook, threatened to ruin my children's life and everything they hold dear if they so much as wiggled their feet at the shelves content. They believed me because I never lie. I hauled Boeing outside with me to sell some belts, then had to DRIVE to CVS to sell some lady $40 worth of Barbie crap because she didn't know how to FIND Home Depot. OR how to tell time. But ANY-WAY.

I quickly informed Starling that I was taking all five children to the car and he could come back. WITHOUT us.

So we left, and Starling bought everything at Lowes despite our Home Depot coupon because they had better travertine. (Passing up coupons is a difficult thing for my family. But taking care of an impatient wife bouncing up and down like a Chihuahua, makes hard choices a little easier).

LOOONG story short, Lowe's got everything in today and Starling picked it up.

Today is Friday. Today is date night. TODAY WENDI Beeeegggeed to travertine our kitchen for date night. (I call that eager. Not impatient).

So we ARE! I am so happy! Because once we are ALL finished with the inside, we can FINALLY work on the OUTSIDE. (Which- if you've seen it, is HIDEOUS)!

And then! When our house is completely finished and all "prettied up" as Brooklyn says, we'll do what we ALWAYS do- MOVE out!

But this time it will be to a fully furnished apartment in Cozumel instead of another fixer upper.

Dear Starling,
You are a wonderful husband that I obviously do NOT deserve. Thank you for never telling me no to my goals and dreams, even when you'd be completely  justified in doing so.

Dear Kids,
PLEASE, just relax and enjoy watching a movie before bedtime so Mommy can help Daddy beautify our kitchen. I don't have medication strong enough to keep me in check. IF. You. Don't.

Dear God,
Thank you for giving Starling patience since You didn't see fit to give me any.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Rat Race

Dear BLOG,
Right this minute I feel like throwing a royal tantrum and screaming, "I am SICK of FEEEEEDING and CLEANING CHILDREN!!! " If even HALF the portion of food that lands on the table, floor, and CLOTHES of my children ever ventured into their MOUTHS, I could probably skip 6th meal.

 Oh. And I want to burn all the dirty laundry.

 And I ALREADY ate my ice cream for the DAY! And my popcorn. And had my NAP. And let's face it. Singing Kumbaya at the top of my lungs only helps so much. Personal time-outs only work if they are actually PERSONAL!

 And WHY do we have WINDOWS in EVERY ROOM IN OUR HOUSE including BATHROOMS?? There is NOOOO where to hide! Me exiting a room is equivalent to me saying, "BET YOU CAN'T FIND ME!!" And it's a definite race. And they, the children, ALWAYS win. THANK goodness for Friday DATE night! But it is SUNDAY. NOT THURSDAY. I'm. Gonna. Die.     

I think I need to join a group called "Parents Anonymous" and I need to go to weekly meetings and hear other parents say, "My child made blue Kool-Aid on my tan kitchen rug, too."

And maybe one to say, "My one year old also enjoys stacking ice chests, bicycles, and potty chairs on top of each other to reach my personal belongs and then promptly destroys them."

And I need volunteers to say THESE things to Me, Also:
"Your seven year old had the opportunity to take four of his favorite things to school and he took YOUR t.v. remote that you use to home school your OTHER children? TOTALLY happened to me." (Not bc he loves watching tv... he loves pretending remotes control robots. We only have 30 other remotes that serve no purpose to me).

"Wait, you home school AND have kids in public school?? So I'm NOT the only psychotic crazy person in this world?? SOOO good to know!"

"Your one year old grabbed your personal little zipper pouch out of your purse in the middle of a church you were VISITING, ran from you, and tried to eat your tampons? In front of everyone?! Happens to me ALL the time!"

"So, you ACTUALLY tried to take a Sunday afternoon nap. In your house. With your kids THERE. You are SUCH a BRAVE SOUL! And your house didn't burn down? All they did was trash every SINGLE room in the matter of 30 minutes and turn your deep cleaned house into a deep cleaned memory? Oh sweetie. They were all still alive when you woke up. You have amazing children."

"You are seriously WORRIED about the kid bathroom smelling like a permanent TERD because no matter HOW many times you tell the boys to flush, they NEVER remember?? Just know, they'll take a bath later, flood the entire bathroom and you'll have to mop. At the end of the day, it'll smell like Pine saw. Oh come on. It's better than terd."

Maybe I need to write myself little cheer leader notes like I used to do for Starling when we were dating.
I can put one on my milk jug.

"Good morning!!! This represents the FIRST feeding!!! You only have to do this FOUR MORE TIMES TODAY!"

My dishwasher: "Fill her up sister! You know if you don't get all the dishes washed after breakfast, with 8 people eating, you won't have enough dishes for lunch! Keep up the good work!"

My dish rags: "I know your table and counters will only stay wiped down approximately 30 minutes until snack time, but won't that be a PERFECT 30 min. view? It's worth it! REALLY!"

My meal calendar: "You are right. The children are going to BEG to eat cereal or spagetti o's instead of this 45 minute prepped meal. But After you FORCE them to eat their vegetables and have successfully dealt with 6 tantrums, you will feel like SUCH. A. Good. MOM."

MY Pile of clean laundry: "I know the kids will throw all the folded clothes around the room later tonight when you THINK they are sleeping, but will really be playing some imaginative game, and then, put them all the dirty clothes hamper when you tell them to clean up their room tomorrow, but a tenth of the clothes WILL actually get WORN first. You go GIRL!"

I feel like my life is a rat's exercise wheel. And I'M THE RAT.

But I feel such joy when I successfully teach the kids something! I can at least feel like the KNOWLEDGE I bestow upon them lasts.

Like the other day. We saw a giant bird flying through the sky and all the children yelled, "Look! An EAGLE!!"

"That, my dears, is not an eagle. It's a buzzard. " Twenty min lesson on buzzards and eating road kill.

"Any questions?"

"And when it grows UP it will be an EAGLE?"

My poor pillow. I've about screamed a hole through it.