Hiiii!

That's just how my girlfriends and I text one another when it's been a really long time since we talked, (like half a day). hee hee. "Hiiiiii!" It has such a stronger and deeper meaning than just your standard "Hi!" It means, I missed you. I love you. I have so much to tell you. It means that no matter how long it's been; an hour, a day, a week, a month, a decade, that our conversation is about to begin as though no time has passed.

See how I sort of segued into my apology for leaving you abandon with no post for over a week?? Clever, huh?

The minis finished up school the week before last and we had quite the transition into summer. I tried to do the impossible, which was work and play and exercise and clean and parent and relax, all at the same time. I quickly remembered that strategy worketh not when the minis don't have school.

I regrouped and worked it out. This week the minis have VBS for 3 afternoons, which they are not excited about at all. Oh, wait...ancient Egypt, crafts, activities and snacks? All in the name of Catholic education? Perfection. The following week they have soccer camp at The University followed by 2 weeks of baseball camp with Coach. I drop them off in the morning and he sunscreens them, they eat lunch in his office and I pick them up when camp dismisses at 4. They are insanely fired up for that every year! It's like "Go to Work with Your Dad Every Day for Two Weeks".

Fear not my loyal readers.

Granny Camp 2010 is also around the corner! Like almost the entire month of July! The boys are flying solo to Chicago after the 4th for Granny Camp 2010, which already boasts a science unit. Holy crap my parents are awesome. Have I mentioned how awesome they are? (Hi Mom and Dad!)

Coach and I have a vaca planned during that time as well, we are headed to DC, Richmond and Baltimore. Totally doing the tourist-y bit! We had planned this same vaca 4 years ago just before our last move and have just now gotten around to actually taking the trip. Plus, we have some sweet friends in Baltimore and DC and are so looking forward to seeing them. Staying in hotels of course. We are kick arse guests like that.

Ok, so that's what I'm up to. How about you?

Smooches!

Distracting you...

SA-TUR-DAY Night!

Did you sing the title? You know you did...even maybe just in your head.

Life at 35 on a Saturday with an out of town Coach and 2 minis really lends itself to some mischief.

That is, if you define mischief as laundry and Netflix. (Thanks again Coach for the subscription!)

In all seriousness, the thought of leaving my house tonight is appalling. We had 2 soccer games, a baseball game and baseball practice today. And by "we" I mean me. If I iced down one bottle of water today, I iced down 40. If I laced up one more cleat I was going to go ape. I have washed 4 uniforms, 6 pair socks (don't ask...) and 3 sets of my own clothing from today. It was muggy and my poor folding stadium chair was working overtime.

Home. Blissful A/C and a hot bath.

Minis were sound asleep at 7:10. The oldest of the wee ones woke randomly and expressed hunger. He was quieted by a Z bar and a Gogurt and a hug. I gritted my teeth and stage whispered, "GO TO SLEEP!" at his then closed door. Once I have put you in the bed and managed that? I'm out.

Out to fold 84 babillion loads of wash. Somehow, I have kept up with washing but notsomuch the folding. Now the piles are transported to my bed for me to handle whilst watching some movies. Unless of course, I fall asleep in this chair.

Again.

Habit Forming

They say.

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit. Be that as it may, the habit of taking care of myself and exercising has taken a bit longer. Like 35 years. OMG. I'm old. But, I digress.

I'm a smarty pants. I am a indoorsy-reading-library kind of girl who would much rather be learning and working than getting all sweaty. However, there comes a day when ...

You all know that I am back to the gym and that I have been eating clean for several months, but you may not know how much I still don't enjoy it. I'm shopping and cooking organic as much as I can and the Diet Coke is down to a minimum. The intense and obscene migraines are still here, and the medicinal cocktail still works...kind of.

I get up. The children go to school. I walk the dog. I put on my workout clothes, adjust the ponytail (Barbie flipped of course), put on some lip gloss and drive the 15ish minutes to the YMCA. Swipe my card and reluctantly walk down the ramp to the weight room. It's like walking the green mile. Pass by the yoga room where all the cutie moms are doing their thing. Past the spinning room, which allows for sitting and socializing. Past the aerobics room.

Into the weight room. With all the boys. Eww.

Yes, there are some girls in there. They are not like me. They are immensely fit and have these bodies that blow my mind. They are wearing Athleta head to toe. They clearly know exactly what they are doing. They walk from exercise to exercise with drive and purpose and, well, expertise.

Me? Notsomuch.

I have a book. You know that. I heart Rachel Cosgrove and all she has taught me, and her plan? Works. I review my exercises with Coach before I begin each phase of the workout. Admittedly, I sneak into the back room or onto the basketball court and do the ones I am least sure of. Offset load squat? I sure as Hell ain't doing that in the weight room in front of anyone. One legged crazy arse lunge thing-ys? No chance you'll catch me doing that in front of that big old mirror. I check my Blackberry a million times, not for emails or Twitter updates, but do remember what to do next. I have it all in there.

Interval training is usually done when it's not so busy in there and the iPod never comes off. Planks and caterpillars are doggedly done in the spinning room with the lights off in between classes. I don't make much eye contact and I surely don't chat with anyone. I am certain most of the people there think I am a bitch. The others probably just think I am a workout idiot. Truthfully? You all know I'm a little of both.

In life? I'm uber confident. There's not a client or sales pitch that throws me. I have often said that there is nothing I couldn't do. But somehow in trainers and yoga pants, I'm just not very confident.

There's a guy who works out every morning, or at least most of the mornings that I am there. It's possible that he went to Clemson, because he looks vaguely familiar. I've never talked with him and I am sure he thinks I am a huge dork. He's consistent and clearly knows what he's doing.

Friday Coach was out of town, so I took the minis to school and got to the Y much, much earlier than usual. I finished up and gladly put my hoodie back on and headed out to the parking lot. Said guy was just walking in.

I glanced at my watch. He was late. I was early.

You know how I knew? Because it turns out I had formed that habit. Reluctantly.

So kudos to that stranger. To whom I actually spoke. He made me realize that perhaps I do know what I am doing. He told me to have a good weekend, which I did, because I didn't have to workout. hee hee

See you Monday. Same time. Same channel.

Wednesday

The sun is shining, my PMS has abated and I'm loving it. Incidentally, so is Coach. hee hee As much as he tolerates my hormone induced insanity, he much appreciates the "Rest of the month ClemsonGirl". I appreciate the loss of the 4 PMS pounds I was sporting. Seriously, being a girl is an absolute roller coaster.

Date night is postponed this week because we couldn't score a sitter. Damn Cinco de Mayo parties are more appealing than watching the minis I guess. I ran to the market and got some steaks as an second place alternative. I am thinking I can probably sell him on a romantic comedy but I may let him pick a Shoot 'Em Up movie. Oh wait...no I won't. He is headed out of town for 84,000 days and leaving me to produce The Mommy Show. Frick.

I may or may not have had a Blackberry Adventure this weekend. Was washing my hands and flipped the hand towel up. Blackberry was on said hand towel...and went into the commode. Super. I did the rice trick and it it working, for now. I just can't bring myself to buy a new one unless I have to, especially at $349 retail. I have no faith whatsoever in the Desktop Manager so I spent some time in 1983 and hand wrote my contacts just in case. How counter intuitive it that?


Ok, I'm off to write for SuzySaid. If you have an Atlanta business, shoot me an email and let's talk about getting it featured!

Smooches!

Cussin' or "Raising Myself"

Yesterday I got an email from Ryan's 3rd grade teacher. Seems that my 9 year old was using alphabet letter stamps during Literature Circle. (The names that they come up for readin' and writin' are just ridiculous!)

In any case, said 9 year boy thought if would be funny to stamp the word "ASS" on his hand. Admittedly? It is funny. I imagine myself using Scrabble tiles to spell "BITCH"...oh, I just did that last week. In any case, clearly not OK to spell "ASS" at school with stamps.

When we put him to bed last night, Coach and I talked to him about it, and said that it wasn't appropriate and that we expected him to apologize to his teacher. He totally understood and said it wouldn't happen again.

As we were walking out of his room, we said, "Seriously buddy. No spelling ass with stamps. Or shit or anything. Ok?"

He held up his hands and said, "Oh, I can't spell that. The "I" stamp is missing."

And there you go, I am raising myself.