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Tuesday, March 4, 2014

You're Exercising the WRONG WAY! Read IMMEDIATELY!

While I was in the car, waiting for the boys to get out of school, I was looking through the headlines on Yahoo.  I came upon this one: Trainer Confessions: 5 Exercises That Don't Do What You Think They Do. 

I clicked on it.

Not because I was nervous that my current exercise regimen of nothing, wasn't doing what I thought it was doing.  But because I wanted another excuse not to exercise.  Like, "Oh, see.  Walking isn't as great as I think it is.  I had better just stay here on the couch with my 6th box of Thin Mints."  At least then I'd be doing bicep curls of cookie to mouth, cookie to mouth.

Here's what they have taught me.  See if you're surprised.

1.  Kettlebell Swings. They guess we would assume that these are good for your shoulders and arms, when really they work your hips, glutes and hamstrings.  Huh.  You guessed I would assume that, did you?  You should have guessed that I would ask, what the hell is a kettlebell and does it involved kettle corn in any way?

This would be me.  Minus the cammo overall ski pants
and hat as work out wear.
I mean, I'm assuming her "form" is off?

2.  Modified Push Up.  You'd think that this would work the same muscles as a regular push up, they say.  Well, you're wrong!  YOU.ARE.WRONG!  You're not working your core during modified push ups, you fools!

I feel like anytime I am successful at holding up my own weight, vertically or horizontally, it's a win.  I can barely take plain old standing, never mind planking up and down. And let's be honest, a modified push up is my version of those strong people who clap in between their push ups.  And if you see me doing a modified push up, just check on me please.  It could be that I was trying to tie my shoe and am attempting to simply stand up.  I may need your help.

I like to exercise at the beach, by the water.  It calms me.

3.  Leg Lifts.  Turns out, there's no such thing as "lower abs", just one long ab, or your six pack muscle. So they say doing leg lifts to isolate your lower abs is unnecessary.  Well, jokes on them because I thought I was doing leg lifts to isolate my legs, so take that trainers!

This dummy thinks she's working her lower abs....pffft.  Silly girl.


4.  Pull Ups.  Working your arms and shoulders?  Nope.  Your back.  Ka-blam, mind blown.

Not blown?  Me either.  Because like with the modified push up, I can barely HOLD my own weight up, never mind PULL my own weight up anywhere. And not because I'm heavy, because I have no upper body strength, and lets face it, no desire to.  Never have.  Not since Mr. Howie's dreaded gym class.  And if my life depended on it, we all know I'm making poor Chris pull my ass up to wherever it needs to be.



5.  Ball Slams.  Really?  Ball Slams?  Here's what they say.  "Hurling a heavy ball at the ground may seem like a challenge for your arms and shoulders, but it's actually all about your back and core."  Is that how it seems It seems to me to be some sort of tantrum.  Hurling a ball at the ground?  And more of a cardio workout, as it seems you would need to go chasing after the ball after you slammed it down.  And I can't imagine telling people that I just finished slamming balls.  This is DEFINITELY an exercise that doesn't do what I think it does.  See?  You learn something new every day.

Well, there you go.

I hope I have educated you and shed some light on some of the exercises that you may be doing each and every day.

Or never, like me.

The more I think about it, the more I think I may take up Ball Slams.  I just like saying it.  I feel like when people ask me what I do for exercise, "Ball Slams" sounds pretty funny.  And c'mon, we play ball with our kids every day, right?  Slamming it may even be cathartic, you know, like running is for runners.  Or so I hear.

C'mon, how about a click for BALLS!

Slamming.  Ball Slamming, you dirty dogs.

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Thursday, February 27, 2014

Spring? Are You There, Spring?

I'm sick of winter.



I know, join the club. Wah, wah.

I've been trying not to complain about it too much, because I live in New England.  It snows in New England.  What do I expect.

But around this time of year, I get the itch.  The itch for Spring.  Summer.  Fall.

Any season, OTHER than winter.

We all love snow.

At Christmas.

It's pretty, and sparkly and....Christmas-y.  But come New Year's, it's that dirty, hard packed leftover snow.  The kind that you can't play in because it's sharp.  You can't eat it because it's dirty.  All that salt turns my black car, white.  And then it gets all over my coat, and my pants and no one tells me I have white shit all over my ass, so I walk around all day looking like a fool.  But no one cares anyway, because they all have white salt slop leftovers all over their asses too.

I'm tired of the news people hyping up all of these storms.  I've written about these weather people before.  They LOVE storms.  They'll turn anything into a storm.  And it's always BREAKING NEWS! 

It's 2014.  You can tell us about a snowstorm a week before it's going to hit.  Is it really breaking news?

And do we really need ALL day coverage of the storm that left 4 inches?  Well maybe if you're in Atlanta. You poor folks didn't know WHAT to do!



You give me a snow day and I want my shows.  I want Kelly and Michael.  I want those alcoholics, Kathie Lee and Hoda.  Not Channel 7's, Steve Cooper trying to sled down a snowbank because even he knows there's nothing to report on.  True story.  He tried to sled down one of the snowbanks the plows created and tumbled backwards to the bottom.  Not really smooth enough for sledding, although I guess it was somewhat entertaining.  Actually, no.  Embarrassing.  Yes, it was embarrassing to watch.

I'm tired of how people forget to drive the minute a snowflake falls from the sky.  And it seems like there's no happy medium.  Either we drive 4.6 mph like we're trying to hide from the snow, or we're driving like 200 mph, Jimmy Johnson style, trying to beat the flakes to the ground.

I'm tired of the car seat-with-heavy-winter-coats-on process.

This was my son this morning
on the way to kindergarten. He's 6, it's ridiculous.


Being the fantastic parents we are, we thought ahead 6 years ago, and bought the convertible car seats that fit them until they're  34 years old.  And that damn thing still seems to fit them using the 5 point harness.  So every day, they ask "Why do we still need to be in car seats?"  Because it's the law. "When will we be able to get out of car seats?"  When you turn 34.  Maybe 33 if you're lucky.  "Can you help me, growl, get the straps, grrrr, over my coat Mumma?"

Remember the days of no car seats?  When I was a kid, I sat in the back seat, listening to AM soft rock, without a seat belt.  Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.  There's even a commercial out now, promoting car seat safety that says winter coats should be removed prior to strapping in.

Uh-huh.  So every. single. time we go out, my 2 kids are to take their coats off, get in their seats, get out of their seats, put their coats back on , head into store, come out of store, take their coats off, get in their seats, and on and on, every stop?  Right.

And what about during this recent Polar Vortex we just had?  Is the theory that a frozen child, who is stuck to their seat with ice, will fail to fly through the window if in an accident?  Because that makes sense.  What doesn't make sense is making a child sit in a cold car with no coat.  Even when I warm my car up for 20 minutes, it's still cold.  Sigh.....



I'm bitching.  Sorry.

I'm cranky.  Cranky blogging.

I'm just ready for Spring.

But it's coming, right?  It's starting to stay light, later.  Have you noticed?  It's so nice.  And this past weekend, it's been 50 degrees out.  It was such a tease, because now it's in the 20's again.

I'm ready.

For walks around the block.

To play outside til dinner time, not til it gets dark at 4pm.

To hear the birds every morning, through a partially cracked window.

To see the grass that's hidden under all that snow.

To feel the pressure to lose that weight I swore to lose by summer.



To see the crocuses pop through the ground?  Crocuses?  Croci?  Crocusi?

To watch Chris park the plow out of sight for the year.

To complain about how hot it is.  Because you know I will.



How about you?  Are you ready to say "See ya!" to winter?

Click here if you agree!


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Monday, February 24, 2014

Deporting the Biebs? C'mon?

It's actually hilarious to me.  Because
Obama has nothing better to deal with.
So I recently saw a petition to deport Justin Bieber going around.

I may have even signed it.  I'll sign anything.

I know, risky, huh?

I'm a risk taker.  I like to live life on the edge.  Ask anyone.

I mean, I sign some of them.  I always assume they're legit.  And they usually seem like important causes.  Who knows, maybe I'm signing my life away, or joining Scientology or some other cult.  Tom Cruise hasn't called looking for a check yet, so I'm betting I'm safe.  Although there was that adorable girl who came to the door selling cookie dough, hmmmmm......

I digress....

The Biebs.

So we're going to send his skinny ass packing, are we?

You know, I talk a big talk, and have made fun of him in the past.  Don't get me wrong, I will continue to make fun of him.  Right here in this very post, where I am about to advocate keeping him here.  But really?

I won't even get into how famous people these days, are stalked, photographed, chased, videotaped and ALL OVER social media, tabloids, talk shows, local and national news and blogs.  They can't walk their dog, and pick up it's crap without it being photographed, and published with the headline "SHE'S JUST LIKE US!" And I know, they signed up for it, they are celebrities, it comes with the job, blah blah blah.  I agree with you.

Eva Longoria.  She's JUST like me.
In so many ways, really.

As annoying and teeny as he is, the Biebs shouldn't be deported for being a young idiot.  There are SO many other people I'd rather deport than him.  (And let's not get hung up on the fact that probably all of the following people are US citizens, so they CAN'T be deported.  This is for entertainment purposes people, just work with me here, please.)

And who might they be, you ask?

Charlie Sheen.  Right?  His tiger blood may have cooled a bit, but this fool is still taking up space with his porn star fiance and I've seen enough.  The part that bothers me the most about him, is his total lack of care, concern or thought for those beautiful children of his.  Yah, he's a father!  I know!  And their Mother is in and out of rehab herself.  Poor thing, at least she's trying.  Sort of.  Charlie Sheen's other EX-wife has cared for these kids - who AREN'T even hers - more than either of their parents.  It should be a crime.  Send his ass to wherever people with tiger blood live.

Ohhhhhh, ok then.  I was mistaken.  Nevermind.
The Lohan Family.  I know.  LiLo hasn't been in the tabloids AS often lately.  Hopefully she's gotten her shit together a bit, though sadly, I'm sure she'll be back.  And hot mess aside, she doesn't seem to be really hurting anyone else but herself, but how about those fantastic parents of hers, huh?  Talk about "WINNING", Charlie Sheen.  LiLo, her Dad AND her Mom ALL have mug shots!  You know what they say, the family that felons together..... Go away.  Stop riding your daughter's hot mess coat tails into rehab and jail and let her get healthy.  If I had a daughter, I'd hate for her to see LiLo.  Of all the hot mess, drug addicted celebrity girls out there, why does LiLo always look the worst?



Chris Brown.  Wife beater?  Yes.  Anger Issues?  Yes.  Inflated sense of self?  Yes.  Danger to anyone around him?  I'd say so.  And Rhianna went back.  And yes, I am well aware of how hard it is for women who are abused to break that cycle and let go of their abuser.  I've worked with them, I feel for her and I hope that she can move on.  But this is why he should be deported.  And yet he really, really wants to make a comeback, and for everyone to love him.  Well, stop punching women in the face.  It's such a shame, he was such a cute, young, talented entertainer.  Who hit.  And punched.  Buh-bye.

Awwww, this sweet kid wouldn't hit a woman.




Ugh....shudder....this one might



Oops.  He did.


Kanye West.  Speaking of inflated sense of self...... I mean, he called his latest album Yeezus.  And I used to really like him, I actually like his music.  I'm not crazy about his lyrics and message, but do I dance with the boys in the kitchen to Gold Digger?  Yes.  I officially hurled myself off the bandwagon when he stormed the stage on poor little Taylor Swift (who is this close to being deported by me herself).  Really Kanye?  I won't even get into all the ridonkulous things he's said over the years.  And who he claims to be better than, or who he compares himself to.  OK I will, the Pope, Mandela, Jesus!  You've heard him.  Kimye, is the most logical celebrity pairing I've seen in a long time really.  They are made for each other.  And the bonus to deporting Kanye, is that it would also get rid of the Kardashians.  I wouldn't deport them myself, they don't really bother me that much.  But Kim would follow Kanye and the rest of them (all 153 of them) would follow Kim, because she drops little pieces of fame, fortune and gold bits behind her giant ass when she walks, which is quickly gobbled up by her family.  So really, it's a no brainer to say au revoir to our Yeezus.

Aha!!!  This picture is hilarious.  She is literally thinking,
"What.  The.  F*ck?"

I could go on.  But these few have exhausted me.  It's not the celebs who are famous (or infamous) for being famous who I want gone.  It's not even the annoying Miley's of the world.   More power to them.  The Kardashians are famous for what?  Having big asses?   Good for them.  If any of us had the opportunity to become millionaires for having a big ass, we would at least consider it.  And we'd probably be caught doing something stupid, or saying something dumb too.  Like we keep hearing from other seasoned celebs, what if social media was around when YOU were 18?  What if the throwback Thursday photos were posted the MOMENT they were taken for ALL to see on Facebook and then shared around the world.  What would we all see?  We've all been there to some degree, it just wasn't shared around the world.

He's a BABY!  The left is the "I have my first celebrity mugshot!"
The right is "Shit, I'm in trouble.  I don't want to go to jail.  Mommyyyyyy!"


Let's wait to deport the Biebs.  Let's wait until he's reproducing, violent or develops pecs.  For now, let's hope someone keeps him on a shorter leash and AWAY from Charlie Sheen!

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Friday, February 21, 2014

I Officially Have "School Aged Children"

Wow,  August 30th was the last time I wrote.

And the last thing I wrote about was Miley Cyrus, which is a little bit disappointing.  Although topical.

So what have I been up to, you ask?

Oh, you didn't ask?  Hmph.

Well, I'll go ahead and tell you anyways.  Hmmm, let's see.

My kiddos started kindergarten.

We survived it.  I survived it.

Barely.  I cried.  Multiple times, over the course of a week.


I don't think the boys saw me, I tried to hide it.

I made 2 other Mom's cry (that I know of).  I saw one lose it when I turned around in tears after the boys' teacher had to pry their tiny little fingers off of me (literally, she peeled them like a banana), while they reached for me, sobbing.  Poor thing saw it all unfolding, and lost it.

The next day, I saw her son being chased by another teacher as he broke free from the teacher's grasp and ran, wailing after his mother.

She got it.

Poor thing.

So clearly, I am going to rock this whole Mother-to-school-aged-children thing, huh??  I'm definitely emotionally ready for it.

After 1 week, they were good.  Loved school, loved gym even more.  They even love their homework.

Yup, you heard me.  You parents out there know what I mean.  Homework in kindergarten.  My kids can freakin' read already.   When we were in kindergarten, we napped, ate glue and did puzzles.



But that was what kindergarten was, gathering all the little kids together to get them used to being in a classroom with 20 other kids, to learn.  Most of that was playing, eating and napping.  Isn't that what life is all about?

OK, so that was my first shock.  Homework.

My next shock also occurred the first week of kindergarten.

One of my sons came skipping out of the garage one afternoon, joyfully exclaiming the word "F@#$-er!" like he was yelling the word "Ice cream! or Rainbows! or Puppy dogs!".  With pure, innocent joy.

I obviously didn't handle this well, I mean, I cried harder than the kids, the first week of drop off.

My head swung around, exorcist style, as I hissed, "WHAT?!?!?!?!"

The poor kid knew immediately that he said something wrong.  He had no clue what it was, but he knew.  I calmed down the instant I saw his face, I felt awful for him.  I asked him where he heard that word.

He told me.  (Note to self:  hold grudge against this little boy and his entire family forEVER!)

"OK" I said.  "That is the WORST of the swear words, honey.  You can never, ever say that word, do you understand?"

Of course he understood.  He just watched his mother turn into some sort of demon that he didn't know existed, and then back again in the blink of an eye.  He probably thought WTF?????  He'll probably never use ANY "F" word again.  Flower, food, funny, frog, fart .... never again.  Sigh....



And of course, they continued to talk about this "funny boy" for weeks.  Months.  He is so "silly" and so "funny".  My thought was, how does this little shit, foul mouthed brat, bad influence kid even know this word?  Obviously we all swear.  We all slip in front of our kids.  My kids hear a word, maybe repeat if a few times but then forget it.

But that version of the word?  Clearly, someone is calling this kid a little f*cker.  Which he clearly is isn't right!

What else have they learned in kindergarten?

Their letters.  Upper case and lower case.

The "swear finger".



How to read.

To say "damn" when they do something wrong.

That everyone is different, but have things in common too.

That some kids sit in the urinals when they go to the bathroom.

That George Washington was our first president.


That it's easy, peasy, lemon squeezy to count to 60.  Which is one minute.  Which they count to when I say I will be there, do that, watch that in one minute.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, no school, no school.

The excitement of snow days.

Mama Mia, diarrhea. (Does anyone really know how to spell diarrhea?  I mean without spell check or auto correct?)

How to eat lunch, be silly with friends, trade snacks, watch the "big kids" all in 20 minutes.

Girls rule, boys drool.  (It's a harsh reality, my sons.)

That Mom will ask about the greatest and not-so-great part of their day.  Every day.  And that one word answers aren't good enough.  Because Mom can't stand not knowing what we are doing all day long, out of her sight.

Here I am, peering through the boys window at school,
trying to see what they're up to.
That there are 20 other kids in the class, so every good behavior (or bad) won't always be noticed and rewarded.

That it's hard when more than one person wants to play with you at once.  And they don't always take "not now" for an answer or want to play with you and whoever else you're playing with.  And sometimes you have to ask the teacher to help you when your words don't work with this friend because he is pulling at your shirt to get you to play with him and then it rips at the collar and pisses your Mom off because I just got that damn shirt and he had better get his hands off my kid... Ahem ..... sorry about that. ** deep breath **

It's been a big few months for us.  Lots of learning.  Lots of newness.

For the boys too.

And believe me, I know they aren't going to stay my sweet, innocent boys forever.  But the first week of kindergarten?  The "F" word?  Really?  It was heartbreaking.



It's been fun to watch them make friends and navigate relationships and enjoy school.  Once again, I'm getting a glimpse at the little men they will become.  It's bittersweet.  I have my little boys, snuggled up on my lap watching Peter Rabbit one day, and the next, it's little men who know the "swear finger" and want to play shooting games like the big kids.

Sigh.....

And that's only the first few months.

How about a click?


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Friday, August 30, 2013

Miley Who?

Oh, Miley.

Miley, Miley, Miley.

Everyone is talking about you.

Mission accomplished.

Kudos, kid.

Honestly, her performance didn't affect me the way it affected many.

I wasn't "horrified" like the Smith Family was.

This picture is HILARIOUS.  It makes me laugh out loud, although I've heard them say they
weren't reacting to Miley here.  Look at Jaden's face.  
I wasn't "offended" like the Teddy Bear Organization.  Yes there is such an organization, who knew?

I wasn't "outraged" like all the Parent Groups out there.  Maybe that makes me a bad Mom.

I mean, who lets their young children watch the VMA's anyways?  I wasn't allowed to watch MTV when I was a kid, never mind the VMA's.

I still don't think I am.

I did (sorry Mom). But that was back when MTV actually showed music videos.


Before you go judging me, thinking I am pro-Miley (which would never happen because her voice alone drives me insane), let me explain.

I wasn't horrified, insulted, offended or even surprised by her performance.  I actually felt super awkward for her.  She exited the teddy bear (disturbing in and of itself) trying to rock out like Marshall Mathers, grabbing her balls and waving her hands in the air like she was Rabbit in 8 Mile.  It was painful to watch.  She just wasn't pulling off the whole "bad ass" thing, in my opinion.  Although she really wanted to.  Really badly.


I worked through the pain of watching though.

You know, for research.

For this "article".

You're welcome.  Anywho....

And then there's that tongue.

Who the hell finds that  hot?

This is her exiting the teddy bear.  Poor thing.  I bet it felt better getting that out.

Really?  I'm actually asking.

Do men think that's hot?

Are there any men reading this?

Hello?  Chris?  Now's your chance to prove you read this little blog of mine.

I mean, she's Hannah Montana, right?  A Disney girl.  And everyone wants her to be Hannah Montana forever.  Just like Mrs. Farwell, my neighbor and kindergarten teacher wanted me to be Kimmy forever.  Well, it ain't gonna happen no matter how much sugar free gum you give me...her....whoever.

Just like I became my bitchy, snarky, hilarious, little-bit-judgey self, Miley started wearing bright red lipstick, grabbing Teddy Bear asses and twerking up on Mike Seaver's Dad's son.

Who didn't love Growing Pains?

Did I say that right?  Can you "twerk up on someone"?  I'm still not sure I fully understand "twerking".

Didn't we all see this coming?

I mean, she shaved half her head, died her hair platinum blonde and started wearing nothing but half shirts and bright red lipstick.

It was only a matter of time before she started "shocking her fans", showing up naked on TV or releasing sex tapes.  I guess we should be glad she was only inappropriate with a giant teddy bear and a 36 year old man.  Wait, what?

She doesn't want to be Hannah Montana anymore.  She doesn't want to be a Disney girl anymore.  She doesn't want to be a girl at all anymore.  That's what she's telling us.  She's ready to be a woman.  She's ready to be Pink, Madonna, Brittney, Gwen, Gaga, Christina ... anyone ... but Hannah.  And what says, "I AM a woman" better, than .........

......sticking your tongue out like a little girl?

Fine.

Got it.

Loud and clear.

You're a big girl now.

Those poor teddy bears.

That poor foam finger.

How about we make a deal?

I will consider you an all-grown-up-woman, if you just put that tongue of yours away.  Every article about your "outrageous VMA performance", features a picture of your damn tongue.  I'm all set.

And please stop grabbing your not-there-balls, like you're a rapper.  You're not.

You may not be Hannah Montana anymore, but you are also not Eminem.

I love him.  Just fyi....
Not even close.

Just sing your big girl songs, with your red lips and your half shirts.  I feel like that - you can pull off.

At least for now.  Grab your balls later, after you've practiced it a little bit more.

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Friday, August 9, 2013

Why Can't I Freeze Time?

My kiddos are turning six in about 6 weeks.

Heading off to Kindergarten in about 3 weeks.

They're getting tall.  B told me he was so tall, his head hits my chesties.

Yah, I don't know either.

It's happening.

They're leaving me.  I knew they would.  But I didn't think it was going to happen so soon.  I thought it would be another 25 years or so.  I know, careful what I wish for.



Well surprise, surprise, I'm having a hard time with them growing up.

I've talked about it before, but this is different.  They're going to school.

Real school.

Like, full day school.

Lunch box and backpack.

9am - 3pm.

It's official.

They're "school age children".

Not toddlers.

Not pre-schoolers.

I know, I know, this is a GOOD thing.  It's exciting.  I should be proud.  And I am.  I really am.  They are such good boys, they like school (despite the disaster, that was camp), and love to learn.

But it's bittersweet.

They are little boys who want to be big boys.  Sort of.

Here's where we're at...

The boys don't want to watch "baby shows".  They want to watch big boy shows, like Transformers and Batman.  But once I put on Max and Ruby, they snuggle up and start laughing at Max.

When they get hurt in public, they walk over like nothing happened, but then bury their faces in my shoulder and cry, holding the boo boo that I can't even see.

They want the big boy, Darth Maul backpack, but they want to fill it with their stuffed animals.

** shudder ** 
How creepy is he?  The boys say they want his backpack,
but I think it would creep them out having him
on their backs.
They walk 2 feet ahead of me, with a complete strut, but when a stranger asks them if they're twins, they freeze up and hide behind me.

They won't wear the t-shirt that has the dinosaur on it, but they'll wear the Batman or Superman shirts with attached capes for 3 days straight, with rain boots, a Spiderman mask and Iron Man gloves.


One morning I looked in my rear view mirror and
this is what I saw this staring back
at me ... as serious as can be.

They want me to play Jack Johnson and Guns n Roses in the car, but want me to sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star at night before  bed.

They "can do it all by myself", but need me to help them pull their wet bathing suits back up after they go to the bathroom.

They want motorcycles, but still get nervous riding their bikes.

They want to play football with the big kids across the street, but drop the ball and run when they hear the ice cream truck.

They wanted big boy beds, but ask to keep the nightlight on and their beds filled with every stuffed animal they own.

It's definitely a time of transition.

And I really am OK with it all.  I'm just not ready to see some things go yet...

Snuggling on the couch before bed, while they ask me to scratch their backs.

Them leaning against me while we wait in line at the store.

Their little hands instinctively reaching up for mine when they hop out of the car in the parking lot.

Hearing their little voices call me "Mumma".

Asking if they can "help" me make dinner.

You know, all the little day to day things that make them my little boys....


It's fun to see them grow up, and become the awesome little men they are turning out to be.  They are the coolest little guys I know.  It just really does go by so fast.  And I hate my bitchy snarky self for giving the eye roll to the other Moms and Dads who told me that it really does go by so fast.  And I hate them for being right.



Yup, it's definitely a transition year.  It's been a transition summer.

And we are surviving it.

I am surviving it.

It will all be fine, I know that.

But it's still bittersweet.



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Monday, August 5, 2013

My Lakeside Commute


 
So you may recall that I fancy myself a runner.
 
Well, I used to. 
 
I haven't really been as active in the running world lately. 
 
Not really since 2011 if we're being honest.
 
For about 2 weeks, give or take a week.

OK, take a week.
 
But whatever, that's not important.
 
I feel like what appealed to me about being a runner, aside from the killer legs runners have, is that it was a lifestyle.  There were running shoes.  Running shorts.  Running tops of all kinds.
 
OK, I know it sounds like what appealed to me was the clothing.  But if you're up and about in the mornings, you see Runners everywhere.  They make it look easy.  They make it look like, "Yah, I'm just going to go for a jog."  A quick, healthy, efficient-way-to-tone-and-burn-calories, jog.  They jog together.  They jog in all kinds of weather.  They log their time on apps.  They run for charity.  It all seems very cool.
 
On my way to work, there are runners everywhere.  And it's not all young skinny bitches either.  Women that are my age and older, running around, looking fit. 
 
My route to work includes a lovely stretch by the local lake.  It's a tree lined street, with lovely homes and beautifully manicured lawns on the left.  On the right, is a small stretch of lake front property that belongs to each of the beautiful homes along the road. Some are sandy, some are grassy and some are big enough to boast both grass and sand.  
 
Anywho, it's a lovely part of my daily ride to work.  I get to see the sun coming up over the water.  Sometimes, there's that light early morning fog that hangs just over the water that most people don't even see because it burns off by 9am.  I drive by my favorite house on that street, and picture the boys playing on the front yard, while I sit on the porch swing that I would have Chris hang the day we moved in.  I see the same runners each day, the same people walking the same dogs, and the same older man, walking on the sidewalk with his walking stick.  It's a literal stick.  A big one.  More like a limb, really.  I can't decide if he's using it because it cool, because he needs it for balance, or because you never know when you might need to beat the shit out of someone with a big-ass stick.  My guess is, it's a little bit of all three.
 
This isn't my lake, but it's pretty isn't it?
But this week was a little bit different.  It's been a little bit cloudy, scattered showers here and there, not as many sun-coming-up-over-the-lake mornings.  But even cloudy days are pretty over the lake, right?
 
Well, I thought so. 
 
Until this week.
 
Then she ruined my view.
 
My drive.
 
My image of all of you runners out there.
 
We'll call her Pia.
 
This lake-side, winding road I am talking about is quite narrow.  The speed limit is probably under 30 (I'm not sure what it is, I'm not good with that kind of thing) and while there is a sidewalk, most runners don't run on it.  It's fine, they're skinny and don't take up much room.  Not like these cyclists.  Especially when they ride their bikes 4 across no matter how narrow and dangerous the road is.  I understand we follow the same rules of the road, but really, if it comes down to you and I, I will win in my Tahoe.  Sorry.  It's science.   Enough with your hand signals, and tight shorts, just move over, get in single file, do whatever you have to do to stay safe and get out of my way.
 
So.
 
Back to Pia.
 
I'm driving along, admiring the sun coming up over the lake and as I come around a slight curve, I notice 2 runners.  One on each side of the road, running the same way.  At first I thought they were experiencing some sort of awkward pacing situation.  You know, like when you turn a corner and are all of a sudden walking right next to a stranger, at the exact same pace and you don't know whether to talk to them, turn the other way, speed up or slow down.  I generally pretend to have forgotten to do something, mumble an "Oh shoot, I forgot...." and turn around and walk the other way.  But that's just me.  Again I digress....
 
But then I realize they are running together because as I try to maneuver my tank through them without running one over, I notice that they had both slowed down and were walking.  Then I see the one on the lake side, Pia, duck behind a tree and start to squat.
 


What?
 
Now, either Miss Pia decided to play hide and seek with her friend, or she was going to pee in the middle of her run.
 
In someone's yard!
 
A stranger's beautifully manicured, lakeside retreat!
 
Right next to the street!
 
With a big SUV right next to her! 
 
Now, it takes a lot to horrify me.
 
OK, no, I take that back.  It actually doesn't take much I guess.  Needless to say, this horrified me. 
 
I'm sure it wasn't her house right?  I mean, she'd just go inside and use the bathroom, wouldn't she?
 
And I would assume that as a runner, one would prepare for a long run by not downing 2 liters of water prior to the run.  You know, so you don't feel like you have to stop and piss in someone's yard while you're out. 
 

And why someone's pretty, beachy area?  Why not the bushy, public area up ahead that actually has A BATHROOM right past it?  Or somewhere that's a little more private?  I mean, at least get your ass INTO the bush a little bit.  I mean, show a little bit of effort. Come on. 
 
The more I thought about it (and discussed it with my co-worker against her will), the more I decided it was probably an even more disgusting episode I witnessed.  I figured that she probably WAS a real runner, who probably DIDN'T drink 2 liters of water prior to her run.  And she probably DID know there were bathrooms up ahead and probably WISHED she could run the extra half mile to get to them. 
 
Which means, it was probably something more dire.
 
More gurgly.

 
Bathroom scene in Dumb and Dumber anyone?

And even more upsetting to find when you walk over to your beach chair, plop your towel and book down and realize you smell something foul.  And that you're standing in it.

Poor Pia.
 
**** shudder ****
 
But...
 
....maybe I'm totally wrong.  Maybe the 10 seconds that I witnessed was something totally different.  Maybe I was completely mistaken.  I know, impossible, right?
 
Maybe Pia was playing a trick on her friend.  

Maybe she was protesting the run.  Like a tired dog, that just doesn't want to walk anymore and lays down, refusing to move no matter how hard you pull on the leash. 
 
Maybe it was her house and she just wanted to relax in her bush after a long run.
 


I guess I'll never really know.  I am not sure I really want to anyways. 
 
But to all of you runners out there....is this a thing?  I mean, is it socially acceptable to pee in stranger's yards if you're a runner?  If so, I may reconsider my status as a runner.  It's not really what I signed up for although I guess you could consider it a perk. 
 
Either way, my morning drive has been forever tainted.  And I don't envy the families living along the pretty lake anymore.   Especially now that I know it's known as a Toilet Row to the local runners. I'm perfectly happy in my own pee-free yard.
 
You know what they say.....
 
...the grass is always greener.....
 
Except where the runners pee I guess.
 


I know, I'm hilarious.
 
Remember the brown box?  Remember how I used to beg you to click it for me?  Once you click it you are done.  No scrolling, no searching.  Just a click.  That's all.  Easy, PEE-sy.  I had to.  Sorry.  
 
 
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