Werk it

As you know, a couple of weeks ago we joined a gym. A few days later two of my girlfriends joined as well. Last night I went to the gym after taking a week and a half off and boy do I regret it. (not really)

My girlfriends talked me into doing squats with a kettelbell. SQUATS ARE THE DEVIL.

It’s hard to sit on the toilet, hard to get back up off the floor if I try to squat or sit down, my legs are so sore and fatigued that they are shaky when I walk.

I also made a huge mistake. I got on the scale.

I refuse to let the scale define me, so I had been avoiding weighing myself for the past year and a half. I was shocked [SHOCKED] by the number that popped up on the screen – 150. ONE.FIVE.ZERO. One hundred and fifty pounds, and barely any of it muscle.

This is more than I have ever weighed in my life, aside from when I was pregnant when I got up to 167. The job from hell truly put 20 pounds on me, that and being depressed, sitting on my ass and generally feeling sorry for myself didn’t help either. I am only 5’2″ – so when I gain even five pounds it is noticeable.

Here’s the thing though, I have definitely gone up one pants size, but I can’t tell, I would never ever guess that I weigh 150 pounds, which is why I am so shocked by the number.

Call it being almost 40 with a sedentary lifestyle I guess.

I never talk about my weight or my body in front of The Daughter other than to say nice things, if she lays on my stomach and says it is big, I say yeah, it’s big and strong and soft and nice to snuggle on isn’t it? I grew up with my Mother and sisters constantly bemoaning their bodies, and of course I internalized that shit. I refuse to do it in my own home. It’s going to happen regardless because of outside crap as she gets older, but not on my watch. No way, man.

All I can do is lead by example. We already eat a pretty healthy diet, pescatarian/vegetarian, no junk, unless it’s a special treat. However, sitting on my ass every day and not taking care of myself in that respect isn’t a good example for my kid. I don’t want her to grow up thinking you shouldn’t take care of yourself. So, if she sees me going to the gym regularly, and being active, hopefully she’ll internalize that as a positive thing.

No more scales. I’m not doing it again. What I am going to do though is take my measurements every two weeks to see how things are progressing. I am not changing my diet because I feel like I already eat well. We’ll see how this goes.

Wish me luck.

Peace.

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Accident prone.

I am normally an extremely clumsy person. I fall down, trip over my own two feet constantly, I bang various body parts on things, and generally I am always sporting a colorful bruise somewhere.

HOWEVER.  The past couple of weeks have been extra awesome in the injury department. The week before we left to go out of town, the carpel tunnel issues I have in my left wrist flared up and I spent most of the week having trouble turning the lights on in my car, putting on my seat-belt, or even getting dressed. I kept it wrapped in an ace bandage and it finally calmed down by the time we left town. My husband had to help me take off my bra for several days (poor guy). I had also walked into the open dishwasher and had a giant bruise on my lower right leg.

Unfortunately, The Daughter inherited this magical talent of mine.

I was not happy to find the house we stayed in had stairs … not only did it have stairs, they were tiled. WHO DOES THAT?! I knew, I mean I just knew I would fall down on them at least once.

[I fell twice.]

The first time, I was going down the stairs, and my sandals slipped out from under me. Having had lots of practice falling, I caught myself on the backs of my forearms, and my right leg at the ankle. I ended up with two lovely bruises in the same spot on each arm, as well as an awful one that starts at my heel and travels halfway up my right calf. I almost tore the middle toenail off my left foot as well.

Two days later, I was following The Daughter up the stairs watching her carefully, because she refused to hold on to the railing, when I got to the third from the top stair. My damn sandal (AGAIN!!) caught the edge of the step and I went FLYING through the air up the two final steps and right into the wall at the top of the stairs. It hurt so bad I cried. I jammed my right thumb into the joint and couldn’t move it, and I slammed my bad left knee into the tile floor with all my weight. The Daughter screamed “MOMMY ARE YOU OKAY?!!!” while I sat there on the floor and tried to stay calm and work through the initial shock of the pain. I couldn’t even speak.

Finally I was able to hobble back downstairs where I asked The Husband to make me a giant ice pack for my knee and sat there the rest of the night feeling like utter crap.

Things I haven’t been able to do with my right hand – pull down my pants (I have created a system for this), open any kind of jar, hold a knife, or brush my hair.

Yesterday, my carpel tunnel flared in my left hand again, and now I have two gimpy hands. I had to ask my husband to brush my hair last night after my shower because I hadn’t been able to in a few days. It was a complete rats nest. First time in seven years he has had to help me brush my hair.

I am so over it, and wondering what the universe is trying to tell me.

I’m just done. That’s all for today. Both hands are cramping. Yay.

Peace.

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Back at it.

Welp. Sorry about last week. I left for work-cation with my extended family on my husband’s side last Saturday, and only returned this past Saturday. While everyone else was having a lovely, relaxing time [read: real vacation], I spent three hours at the beach last Sunday, and the rest of the time I was locked in a guest room attached to my laptop. Fun fun. There were several times where I wondered why the hell I even came.

The Daughter and I had to share a bed, because while my in-laws paid a stupidly insane three grand for the house for the week, it was only a three bedroom with a pool that was about the size of two hot tubs combined. They got taken advantage of so bad. The Husband had to spend the entire week on the sofa in the living room – the bed in our room was a full, not a queen. It wasn’t ideal. Still, they all had a good time, and so did The Daughter. She is now fully obsessed with the beach, and has no fear about jumping in the pool. She learned a hard lesson when she walked right into the pool in front of me and my BIL and promptly sunk, we both jumped in after her fully clothed. The stupid pool didn’t have a gate around it and so we were all on high alert all week.

The high alert also came in handy when my non-verbal nephew who is almost three decided to sneak out the front door. I was alone in the kitchen and noticed the door was cracked, and didn’t see him, and I ran out to find him in the middle of the pool with panic in his eyes. I jumped in again fully clothed. I don’t even want to think what might have happened if I hadn’t noticed the door open and him no where in sight. My FIL tried to grab him from me and I was shaking and so terrified that I refused to let him go. This experience shaved several years off my life.

I know life eventually kills you, but I am convinced that children help usher it along.

Case in point:

Friday night, The Daughter decided to eat half a bottle of flintstones vitamins that I stupidly left in the room with her. NEVER EVER TRUST A CHILD SAFETY CAP. Ever. After lots of panic from me and The Husband, and lots of barfing from her along with a terrifying call to poison control, they announced she was fine, but it was so scary. I feel so incredibly stupid for leaving the vitamins in the room. I know that most parents have to call poison control at least once, but that was it for me. I really hope we don’t have another scare like that again.

Needless to say, I am happy to be home. More tomorrow.

Peace.

 

 

Is it Friday?

I keep thinking it’s Thursday, but I know I’m wrong.

We are leaving tomorrow to go out of town, my in-laws rented a house at the beach for a week for the entire family. Unfortunately, I have to work. Fortunately, I work from home, so I will be taking my work with me. Hopefully I can sit out by the pool and relax while I work with a fruity drink. [crosses fingers]

Am I prepared to leave tomorrow? NOPE. Laundry isn’t done, house isn’t in order, haven’t packed a freaking thing. I’m smart though, I am ordering pizza for dinner, and asked The Husband to pick up The Daughter, so that will buy me some time. I have plans to go to the gym at 8 pm with my girlfriends, and then have scheduled sex with The Husband. Sex is included in my “get your shit together before you leave plan” because who knows what the sleeping arrangements are going to be this week.

Oh, and tomorrow?  We have to be at the house by 4, but I am taking The Daughter to dance at 10 am, and then we are going to see Wonder Woman.  I am nothing if not efficient and well organizized. Ha.

I just want to climb under the covers and not come out.

Hopefully I’ll be able to maintain my “write every day” plan while I’m on work-cation. We’ll see. If anything my calendar will remind me.

I should probably go start the laundry and pull out the suitcases, but I will pass my bed on the way to the master closet and I’m worried I might just collapse on it.

GRANT ME STRENGTH OH FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER!

Peace.

Sleepy Thursday

After yesterday’s debacle with LH, and our plans to get out last night, surprisingly everything worked out. The weather was absolute shite, rain rain rain, downed trees, traffic snarled. So I recommended to the group that we convene at my house, because I had Bellini’s, brownies, and was making creamy tomato basil tortellini soup [two peas and their pod – AHHHMAZING] for dinner.  Everyone jumped at the chance to come hang out, relax, and eat some yummy food.

The Husband escaped at 7 to go to the gym, and I put The Daughter down at 7 as well (she needs A LOT of sleep), and I was ready to have a couch party.  Everyone arrived by 8, stuffed their faces, and there was lots of laughter and silliness. No awkwardness or weird silences, which made me happy.

While they were all here I suggested we watch the first episode of American Gods.  I LOVE IT SO MUCH. MH and LC have already been watching it with me and love it too, but LH and JL hadn’t seen it yet. Aside from drooling over how delicious Shadow Moon is to look at, mostly the reactions were “what the fuck?!” That first episode is awesome, but if you know nothing about the novel or subject matter, it can be super confusing. I am so obsessed though. I read the book about six years ago, and it’s one that sticks with you, so when I found out they were doing a series, there was a lot of happy dancing going on.

Everyone left my house by 10:45 (ha, getting older with kids just totally kills your ability to hang), plus it was a school [read: work] night for three of us so we cut it short. I didn’t, because I’m an idiot. I got into bed and read the prepared statement Comey had written in preparation for his hearing today, and then read some of the book I am reading. I read Penny Marshall’s biography (My Mother Was Nuts) this past week [quick review: I liked her better before I read her book … it was very shallow and there was a ton of name dropping, wouldn’t recommend], and was interested to learn that Awakenings (the film) was based upon a memoir by the same name. So, I’ve been reading it. It’s truly amazing what L-Dopa was able to do for the patients suffering from the effects of the sleeping sickness that had completely locked them into their own bodies and minds. I’m about halfway through the book right now so I am excited to finish it. It’s not too dry, thankfully.

I think I finally passed out at around 1 am, then I woke up at some point and looked at my phone and it was 6:23, and I immediately went back to sleep. My alarm is usually set for 7:30 but I don’t get out of bed until 8 … I take those 30 minutes to drink the cup of coffee my husband leaves beside the bed for me every morning (keeping the romance alive right there!), and check social media/news for the day. Then I finally dragged myself out of bed to get The Daughter ready for school. I normally make her lunch every day because we are pescatarian and they rarely serve pescatarian or vegetarian meals at her school – but I got lucky when I checked the menu! CHEESE PIZZA baby. So no extra work for me, just got her dressed, fixed her hair and got out the door. This was a good thing because I am exhausted.

Most of the day today I have been watching the Comey hearing (OMFG McCain!!!), and all that it entailed. How ANYONE can pay attention to the situation and still support The Orange One is beyond me. It makes no sense. I wish I could be a fly on the wall during the closed session, because I feel that would be where the real meat was dished out, but oh wells. Maybe we are one step closer to having 45 removed. One can hope.

Well, this has been a literal brain dump, exhaustion makes me rambly.

Peace.

Friendship. For fucks sake.

Hey lookie here! I’m writing two days in a row. Probably helps that I put a reminder on my calendar for every day titled “write.”

Today, I am going to talk about friendships. Mine specifically. I moved to my current home almost four years ago, a week after I had The Daughter.  The Husband had moved here two months prior to start his PhD program and get our house settled while I lived with his parents (oh joy).

The first year we lived here, we had ZERO support system locally, no friends, no family. I was dealing with a nasty case of PPD, and he was dealing with leaving his PhD program (very shortly after starting – just wasn’t the right fit), and trying to find employment. To say it was tough is an understatement.

Finally, after a year of this bullshit, I joined a local Mom’s group via MeetUp. I said fuck it, and decided to go to a mom’s night out/game night. I brought good cheese, and two bottles of wine in the hopes that I would find my people. Luckily, I did.

LC and I met that night and have remained steadfast friends ever since. First it was just she and I. Later, I met up with another new Mom at a local park, MH, and it was immediate friendship with her as well. Then, MH and I ended up going to a play-date with LH, and realized we all clicked really well. I can’t remember when we all started having our Tuesday night girls nights/bitch fests/soul sister sessions, but me, LC, MH, and LH got on like gangbusters. Later, JL joined one of our Tuesday night sessions, and from that moment on, we were together like glue. We became each other’s family, for holidays where we weren’t traveling out of state, we spent them together. Our kids all get along, as do The Husbands. Truly, it has been such a savior for me personally, and so good for me.  I am thankful every day for finding them when I was at a pretty low point.

Now comes the tough part. LH has admittedly never had a group of close girlfriends. She is high strung, and very sensitive. She also has a very strong personality, and I do as well, I am about 10 years older than her. The first time we had an issue, I had planned a girls trip out of state, for us to stay (FOR FREE) with one of my best friends. Man, I thought we all had an incredible time, we all got high together for the first time (I’m pro-pot legalization BTW). We saw an amazing concert, shopped, ate some awesome food, and just generally got to be ourselves without the filter of being MOM and WIFE for a weekend. It was great times. We all returned home feeling refreshed and *I thought* closer than ever.

A couple of weeks went by, and LH didn’t want to hang or was unavailable when we tried to make plans. I just thought we were all busy because, life, kids, family … etc. Then one day I got a text out of the blue from her saying that she had been keeping her distance from me because apparently the weekend we were out of town, she was upset with me THE ENTIRE WEEKEND because she said I picked on her, made fun of her, and hurt her feelings several times. An example she used: when she tried to inhale, I teased her because she didn’t actually inhale. Seriously.

I was blindsided. Here I was thinking everything was hunky-dory, while apparently I was torturing her the entire weekend. Ignoring the fact that she stayed with my friend for free, smoked her weed, and I paid for her meals and drinks several times. I was righteously pissed off, and realized we weren’t as close as I thought, and have since treated her with kid gloves … while attempting to maintain the group friendship. We have had a couple of tiffs since then, where she gets butt-hurt for what I think is an absurd reason and then I pull away even further.

For fucks sake, I don’t want to destroy the group friendship we have but this is wearing on me.

Fast forward to today, me, LC and MH have been walking together the past few days (trying to lose weight if you recall), and last night I invited LC to join me as a guest at my new gym – she came, we had a great time, she took a funny picture and posted it on social media. This turned into LH getting but-hurt with LC because she didn’t tell her she was visiting my gym and joining my gym too. Jesus Christ on a cracker, are we in fucking middle school? For once I am not the target but I can relate to how frustrated LC is with LH because of her behavior. They have hashed things out but me, LC and MH are at a point where we are so tired of having to walk on eggshells.  We are all adults here, we all have lives, and we are doing this for ourselves, trying to get healthier, be better. LH already belongs to a gym. This makes no sense to me.

Tonight we have a girls night out planned and I am just fucking dreading it. I don’t even want to go.  I want to be sensitive to the fact that perhaps LH just doesn’t understand how to navigate female adult/mature friendships, but I am considering breaking up with her as a friend. It sucks because our daughters are in the same dance class and are friends. I don’t know what to do.

Accept her as she is and just try to put up with it? Call her out on the dramatic bullshit? I don’t know what to do. These friendships have been my saving grace, and I feel like she is shitting all over it.

That’s all for now.

Peace.

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Three days later –

Aaaaannnnd… now it’s been a few days and I’ve cooled off and I feel guilty for writing this. Because that’s how these things go. LH can’t help how she feels, and I hate to invalidate anyone’s feelings. I admittedly am still holding a grudge about how things went after our girls trip. I need to let that go, and try to see her with an open mind and open heart. I need to be better.

Oops.

So here I am, back again, two years later. This is why I can never be trusted to finish anything I’ve started. Even when I gave birth I failed so they had to extract her. I have been coming up with ideas about what to write, how to write, content … etc. I think I’m going to keep this blog anonymous though. I shall refer to the child as The Daughter, and the spouse as The Husband. This will be my little corner of the internet.

I never kept a diary as a child, because I was always terrified of people finding out what was in my head. Family was not to be trusted. Also, I *know* I’m not supposed to type two spaces after a period, but this was drilled into my head 20+ years ago, and it’s a hard habit to break. If I do it, try to forgive me.

Anyway. Writing on a blog seems diary-like to me. I don’t think anyone will come across it so I feel safer.  Plus I can really hash shit out if I need to, without repercussions.

To catch up on the last two years of my life: I am two years older, as is The Daughter and The Husband.  In that time, I have also changed jobs twice. The first time, I left a place I loved that was slowly failing and going down the shitter, so I jumped ship. Unfortunately, I jumped ship to a soul-sucking, stress filled hell hole. It was 11 months of torture that finally ended when they laid me off. [small blessings]

In those 11 months, I gained 20 fucking pounds. I ate my feelings, or didn’t eat at all. I hardly ever had sex with The Husband and was frankly miserable. When they laid me off I was alternately relieved and furious. HOW DARE THEY BREAK UP WITH ME BEFORE I BROKE UP WITH THEM?! ALSO…. YAY I’M FREEEEEE!!!

Anyway, I have recently found a new job, which I love, which ALSO pays more ($7k increase), and is low stress.  HALLELUJAH!

Last year, during a hurricane, we had a tree fall on our *new to us* house, which had a *brand new to it* roof. It took two months for them to figure out if they had to replace the entire damn thing, or just half of it. The tree fell on the garage and through the ceiling when I was in the garage trying to plug my phone in to charge in the car, the power had been out and I was paranoid about running out of battery. Needless to say I almost pissed myself. All is well now though.

I also, as of last Friday, decided I was going to lose the fucking weight. I don’t hate my body. In fact, I like my body more now than I did before I had The Daughter. However, my clothes don’t fit. I like my clothes. I want to be able to continue to wear them. That’s all.  So, I joined a gym and have walked 8 and a half miles in the past four days, alternating my walking and rest days. I also got fitted for real shoes! Not for running. You couldn’t pay me to do that – but walking and general exercise sneakers. I love them.

The Daughter. I don’t even know where to start with this child. She is three and a half, and amazing. She is hilarious, and wants to wear a “pretty dress” every.single.day … but will either wear batman sunglasses that look like batman’s mask, or a cape. Sometimes I feel like I am winning at this parenting thing, and other days I feel like a massive failure. Thinking of taking her to see Wonder Woman this weekend. We shall see.

Okay, that’s all for now.  I will continue to try to come up with ideas and actually try to write every day. Even though I’m not a writer, that is what you are supposed to do to be one, right? Write every day.

Peace.