I am so excited to announce my newest position as blogger for the local publication Tidewater Women Magazine!
Well, their website, anyway.
Now, I would love to tell you this is a paid gig.
<silence>
Hey, who needs money? I do this for the art!
And the deadline!! I have a real actual deadline for a real actual publication('s website)!!!
Three deadlines, actually. You will now be able to find me on or about the 10th, 20th and 30th of each month.
I have two posts sitting over there for you to enjoy. I didn't want to make this announcement too soon, the editor still had a chance to realize what a nut-job I am and rescind the offer!
But with two in the can, I think she's kind of stuck with me now!
So head on over to my newest blog, aptly titled Happily Ever After (I can't imagine how they landed on that moniker!) over at tidewaterwomen.com. And make sure you leave a comment.
Everyone knows it's way harder to get rid of a nut-job who has a following.
There are lots of topics on the "To Be Avoided At All Costs" list when participating in a discussion with one's women's-only bible study group. I thought I was aware of the most important ones, like politics or which morning show is better (for the record, it's the Today Show). But I have managed to stumble right into yet another one.
Vampires.
Well, I didn't "discover" it, so much as "stepped into it like a big stinky mound of poo."
My bible study group and I are currently working on an in-depth study of The Book of James. There is almost-daily homework involved, as well as a weekly video and group discussion.
And there lay my fatal flaw. I should have done. the. homework.
I did SOME of the homework. But if I'd completed all of it, I, perhaps, would have spared my dear fellow bible-studiers a bit of anxiety.
The class leader pointed out in our workbooks that there were four seemingly-odd rules that James had declared were necessary to become a Christian.
Nope, not the ones you'd think! Not regular stuff like "getting baptized," or "feeding the poor," or "standing in the crowd at the Today Show."
James Rules for Becoming a Christian
You cannot partake in:
1) food polluted by idols
2) fornication
3) meat of strangled animals
4) blood.
I think you all know by now that my brain works in strange and mysterious ways.
And I try, folks, to keep my internal editor set to "high" just to spare most of you the very odd, sometimes troublesome things that float around in there.
However, I did NOT do the homework. And the "editor" was watching a rerun of Friends.
Because while my wonderfully cerebral friend, Christina, made the more obvious connection that these rules had to do with Christians and Non-Christians DINING together, and that "blood" really meant raw vs. cooked meat, I blurted out...
"VAMPIRES! Obviously, he was having trouble with the VAMPIRES!!!"
I thought this was very hilarious and quite witty of me, so I continued blabbering something else about vampires being such a problem back then, awaiting the roar of laughter about to roll out from my classmates.
It. Did. Not.
The silence was deafening, and thrdw me into a mild panic - had missed something? I was still chattering like a deranged squirrel when someone finally piped up, "are you serious?"
The #1 Rule of Humor is as follows: If you have to explain the joke, then it's just not funny.
I believe the #2 Rule of Humor is: If you can hear a pin drop in a crowded room, then YOU are just not funny.
However, once the ladies realized that I did NOT believe James was some sort of Vampire Slayer for Jesus, the roar of laughter finally ensued.
Not because I was funny, mind you. Because I was so unbelievably stupid!
Although, amongst all the women exclaiming at once how they thought I was being serious, Tammy piped up that she thought it was funny and almost laughed, but no one else was laughing, so she wasn't sure.
Yeah, Tammy totally gets me.
My friend Debbie later told me on Facebook that I set the record for longest stunned silence in the history of the class.
I really hope there's a plaque involved with that title.
I ran into Mary after the service on Sunday, and she said to me, "Well, I thought you were being serious, and I wasn't too sure about that. But then I thought, well, I really like her, so, you know..."
"So you would have put up with me believing in vampires??? Mary, that's about the nicest thing anyone has ever told me!"
It wasn't the funny I had expected, but it was the funny I got, which was still so totally worth it.
But, I do want to set the record straight. I don't want anyone thinking that I'm some crazed "Twilight-er" fan who desperately believes vampires are real.
That is so ridiculous! Although I love watching those History Channel shows that delve into the origins of the legends, I in no way believe that vampires actually exist!
So ludicrous.
What we really have to watch out for are the Zombies. Oh, and the Werewolves, of course.
If you are one of the five people paying attention to this blogger lately, then you know that Miss Priss played hookie from school on Friday, and she, Miss Sunshine and I jetted down to the Outer Banks to hit the beach with a good friend and her kids.
Fun, fun, FUN!!
And I was so smart about it, too.
"It's too cold to swim," I'd told myself, "we'll wear regular clothes and play in the sand for a little bit. We won't need to change into any fresh clothes when we're done. Towels? Nah! Not getting wet! Just a little sand!"
Yes, apparently, I woke up in some sort of hallucination where my 2 and 5 year olds were now ADULTS.
How did it go, you wonder?
Despite being fully clothed, Priss headed straight for the water. It seems she has suddenly developed the superpower of no longer detecting ubber-frigid water temperatures. (But, never fear Evil Villains - just throw some luke-warm water on her. She still screams that it's "toooo hoooootttt!!!!")
She'll dry, I told myself, as I sat under my umbrella supervising.
Then, without warning, she flipped her blond head over and, touching her toes, dipped those silky tendrils straight into the depths of the ankle-deep ocean beneath her.
Crap.
By the time she ran back up, plopped her body down beside me, and, using her dampened arms and legs, began the repeptitive motion of making "Sand Angels," I was fully aware of the lostness of this cause.
Sunny, meanwhile, (who, incidentally, has the superpower of being wholly unafraid of swimming pools) has, thankfully, a terrifying fear of the ocean. I think it's the waves - although on these beaches the "waves" barely reach her knees, it is a fear I plan to encourage!
But who needs water, ponders our little Sunshine?
Then she promptly and unceremoniously began the first-ever practice of the (soon-to-be) Olympic sport of Sand Swimming!
You can analyze her technique over to the left.
Oh, and, she won. (Of course.)
She followed up her Olympic Workout with a cool down of Log Rolls.
Good thing I had taken off her skirt. It was the only thing I had on-hand to knock (barely) some of the sand off their little bodies!
But no worries, folks, I did have the forethought to sunscreen 'em up before letting them loose on that sandy, salty, sunny shore!
Of course, YOURS TRULY did NOT require ANY sunscreening. After all, I was just going to sit and chat with my girlfriend under my SPF umbrella.
And, if we're going to be honest here, I'm feeling just a wee bit jealous.
What could possibly shatter my delicate hold on reality, you wonder?
One word.
Nanny.
Oh, people. People, people, peeeeeeople....
(You can hear the whining already, can't you? It just OOZES out of your computer screen.)
As most of you know, I've been around the Blogiverse for quite a while. But in the last couple of years, I've had a lack of consistency with my ramblings, er, postings. There are loads of reasons for this, and since it's not the point of this post, I'm not going to delve into that muck right now (plus, The Hubster is on a run and is expecting the Little Woman to have started dinner when he gets back - somebody better message the Little Woman). What's important is that I want to write. I need to write. And I have a renewed commitment to writing!
Now somebody notify my kids.
So there's this Hot New Blogger that's been at it for over a year now, with this great following, and everybody loves her. Or, at least, the people who comment love her, and that's close enough to "everybody," right?
She's got two kids.
I'VE got two kids!
She stays home with 'em.
I stay home with 'em TOO!
And she posts just about every day.
Which is where our similarities part ways.
I do not regularly read her blog, just a post here or there. So, truthfully, I did not know that much about her beyond what I just mentioned above. But I held her up on a pedestal!
She PARENTS! She BLOGS! How does she DO it all????
Are you ready to go on a Tangent? OK, hold onto your bootstraps, cause here....we....gooooo!!!!
Hubster took me skiing with his parents when we were oh so young and happy and childless and carefree! I had only been skiing twice before that - in IOWA, mind you - back in high school. "I know what I'm doing!" I promised. "Don't worry about me!"
The second I pushed off the top of Big Bear Mountain out in California, I realized quickly that I was VERY WORRIED about ME!!!!
I had no idea what I was doing. I went screaming down that sheet of snow like Wyle E. Coyote with the grace of Goofy. I was too afraid to fall, that I would break something or run into a tree, so I kept going at my ever-increasing break-neck speed and prayed that somehow SOMETHING would make me fall and NOT kill someone ELSE in the process!
It was horrible.
Yet, there I was on Day 2, perched at the top of that mountain (after a few lessons from Hubs), petrified to try it again. (And you know once you've taken that chair thingy up to the top, there is no WAY you are catching a ride back down. There is only one way down, baby!)
So, with my skis angled into each other, I eeked my way down the face of that cliff. (They called it the "Beginner Slope," but I knew better by then.)
Soon into it, I noticed this little girl in front of me. About 5 or 6 years old, she was skiing with no poles, just skis on her feet, angled into each other just like mine. Her dad was obviously wishing he was on the Diamond slopes (which, conveniently, was where Hubs ran off to, leaving Wyle E. all on her own) because the guy would ski a ways down, then wait, wait, wait for his little girl to catch up.
"If she can do it, I can do it."
It was my mantra. I told myself that phrase about 500 times as we timidly made our way down, down, down. That phrase kept my brain from terrorizing itself, whenever it tried to remember the events of the previous day.
The poor little thing even fell a couple of times, and I would ski over and scoop her back up.
NO, I was NOT being "NICE." I NEEDED her!!! I could NOT make it down that mountain without my little lucky charm, showing me, just be EXISTING, that if a five-year-old could make it down and not DIE, then, doggone it, I can, TOO!
So this new blogger-woman was my newest motivator. If SHE could take care of her kids, and her home, and her blog and not DIE, then, doggone it, I can, TOO!!!
But as I opened up my Typepad this afternoon, feeling a need to write but not really knowing what about, I saw this other blogger's feed on my homepage.
"I'll read just one little post," I told myself, "to get the juices flowing."
And there it was.
N-A-N-N-Y.
Not that she hid it, because she didn't. And not that I have anything against nannies, because I don't. And not that her life isn't fraught with it's own day-to-day problems and challenges and what-nots.
It's like I just found out my five-year-old lifesaver was actually on a motorized conveyor belt.
So I will be looking for a new Bloggy Wonder Mom that I can hitch my ski poles to. I know they are out there, the ones that keep house and raise kids and do cool stuff and blog about it. Actually, I already know some amazing and talented women who do just that.
I guess I was just sucked into the shiny newness of this one.
As some of you already know from my previous post, I have recently been indoctrinated into the Tracy Anderson Metamorphosis workout series. Last week's post was a rehashing of my lifelong fitness quest - one that was (not surprisingly) totally lackluster - until it culminated with the discovery of The Tracy Anderson Method. Will this, my new-found passion, be the ticket to a healthy well-being?
After that first post, I had a few inquiries as to what the heck I was talking about, and what sort of guru am I hitching my wagon to THIS time? Hence, this follow-up to (hopefully!) shine a bit of light on the what's what of this program.
First, a little background (aka: what I read in the book). Tracy Anderson began developing her Method about ten years ago. Her background is in dance, and you can see the influence of that in many of the movements. She eventually became Madonna's trainer and (I think) that's when people started to notice her. She and Madonna had some kind of falling out (that was NOT in her book, THAT was found somewhere on Google), but Tracy has had a string of celebrity clients ever since. Names like Shakira, Courtney Cox, Zoey Deschanel, and her most vocal client, Gwyneth Paltrow. Gwyneth believed so much in The Method that she became a partner and helped bring the Metamorphosis program to market.
Tracy (yes, we are on a first-name basis. I am on a first-name basis with anyone I see every single morning!) initially released a few DVD's here and there. Titles like "Dance Cardio" and "Post-Pregnancy Workout." Then she released her "Design Series," which was a set of three DVDs. Then came the book (as previously mentioned) and now the "Metamorphosis" program, followed by Continuity (but I'll get to those later).
Just tell us WHAT it IS already!!!!!
OK, ok, cool your jets!
Essentially, her program consists of two things - Dance Cardio and Muscular Structure Work.
The first time I saw (and tried to perform) the "Dance Cardio," I thought, this is absolutely NOT dancing. This is just jumping around like an idiot!
Until I eschewed the icky background music on the video, and supplemented with some upbeat tracks from my iPhone that one would actually DANCE to, and my tune changed.
OH! OK, with the right music, this IS more like dancing!
But, to be really totally honest, it is a lot of jumping around like an idiot. Tracy does not even remotely look like an idiot. She is very svelte and totally gorgeous dancing around like she's doing an Irish jig. Even her jumping jacks look HOT.
I look like the idiot. Because Tracy is not terribly instructional on her videos. (And by "not terribly instructional" I mean "there's about 30 seconds worth of voice-over, and that's it!)
Don't get me wrong, it is ultimately one of the reasons I love the program so much! Part of my boredom with other videos is that it gets really old listening to the instructor say the same thing day in and day out.
BUT, that means you've really got to pay attention and be on your game. Not too bad, actually, I find that it keeps my mind focused.
To help you visualize what all this Dance Jumping looks like, I've got a handy YouTube video to share. (See, I do all the visualizing work for you!)
See what I mean??? The Metamorphosis video I have has less arms and fewer spins, but PLENTY more jumping jacks. And she wants that done 30 minutes a day, 6 days a week.
But what about that asthma you mentioned before? Isn't your body rejecting this kind of stuff???
Well, for some reason, jumping doesn't affect my lungs as much as running. Maybe because I'm moving in all directions, instead of just forward, I'm using more muscles? I don't know. I still have yet to do the whole 30 minutes without have to "walk it out" in the last half, but my endurance is really improving!
Wouldn't a good, long walk work just as well? It all burns the same calories, right?
Actually, Tracy says no. In her book she talks about the research that went into using this type of cardio, versus running, walking, or whatever else. She swears the one that made the biggest impact on her clients was the Dance Cardio/Jumpin' 'Round Like An Idiot workout. So I'm sticking with what Boss Lady tells me to do!
Onto the second half of the program - the Muscular Structure work.
I'm not even sure where to start on this one!
It has a bit of dancey-looking arms, some very different, ab-annihilating crunches, and finishes off with some1980's, Jane-Fonda-style-on-steroids leg lifts. But it's only 30 minutes!
Alright, let me see what I can find on YouTube to help you with your visualizing.
This is a great little instructional video! But let me make it clear that in Metamorphosis, there is NO instruction as to what you are doing or why you're doing it. Which is why the book really comes in handy to help with understanding the moves. Also, I am absolutely NOT doing 100 reps of anything! In this program, she does 40 reps, max. At least so far! (Oh, Lord, please let there be no more than 40!!!)
Arms are first done with no weight and movements are pretty fast. Then you pick up your 3 lb. weights, and work those arms a little more. It LOOKS easy. And I do make it through all the motions. But my shoulders have definitely felt the burn when it's time to put those weights down!
Next up is abdominals, starting with standing abs. Moving your rib cage and hips back and forth, in opposition to each other, you get to feel like a hip-hop star!
Then, it's time to hit the floor. The biggest difference with Tracy's ab work is that she like to perform the mini-crunches (lifting just your head and shoulders off the floor) with the legs straight, not bent like we all have not-so-fond memories of being forced to do in high school gym class.
If you survive abs, Tracy attempts to finish you off with leg work. This is done mostly in that old school style of "four on the floor." In other words, you are on your hands and knees with one leg at a time kicking backwards, forwards, to-the-side, and even at a diagonal. It hurts. No, I mean it, it HURTS!!! But I have had no problem with my knees or my wrists (despite having a ganglion cyst in one that should be making this unbearable). No, what hurts is my ass, my hips, and some deep place in the inner-most regions of my thighs. And yet, in some weird, twisted way, I look FORWARD to this work. I may not be able to do ALL the reps, but I look forward to seeing how many more I'm able to accomplish each morning!
Which leads me to the schedule. I don't know what she recommends on her previous DVDs - I have yet to own one of those. But I do know how it works with the book and Metamorphosis (Meta, for short).
The book is a "Bootcamp." It is meant to be completed in 30 days and is more intense than Meta. And "more intense" is really simply "more time-consuming." Tracy would like you to dedicate between 1 1/2 to 2 hours per day, six days a week. Which was why I never got around to doing the workout in the book. 2 hours?? EVERY DAY???? It sounded much too daunting. And I was a bit afraid of the cardio. And I tried some of the muscular work, but felt like I was doing it all wrong. Unfortunately, I had forgotten that the book comes with a DVD in the back. If I had popped that in, I would have felt much less confused!
Eventually, I decided I was really going to commit to a program - no matter what. And after checking out Meta for about a year, decided to take the plunge and just do it! (The rational side of my brain did note that there is a good resale value for the program on Ebay - just in case!) Meta comes in, what Tracy terms, "Centrics." Each centric targets your particular problem area, or where you tend to gain weight. They include Abcentric, Hipcentric, Glutecentric, andOmnicentric. I think you can guess what area each one emphasises, except Omni. Omni is for women who tend to gain weight evenly all over. BK (Before Kids) I would have been Glute or Hipcentric. But AK (After Kids) I have been gaining weight in the middle before anywhere else, so I purchased Abcentric. There is a handy dandy quiz that Tracy has posted, to help you decide which centric you are. I don't know what the differences are between the centrics. From what I understand of what others have posted, the exercises are pretty much the same, but will be in a different order, or have a couple of omissions or additions. The initial program is 90 days worth of workouts - so 9 muscular structure programs that you change every 10 days - and one Dance Cardio video. The workouts consist of 30 minutes of cardio and 30 minutes of muscle work. One hour total. Absolutely doable! Of course, we are talking about six days a week. Admittedly, that was a little rough at first. (Super Secret Insider Tip: It is advisable that you do NOT begin this program the week of Valentine's Day!)
Once the 90 days are over, Tracy offers a Metamorphosis Continuity program. Every 90 days they will ship you another 90 days worth of workouts, in your centric, for $29.99/month. This is very exciting to me! Unlike other DVDs that come out with a handful (at most), Tracy will stay with you for YEARS!
And that's it! There you have it - The Not-So-Short Explanation of the Tracy Anderson Method! I hope this answers some of your questions. Next up, you can look forward to my thoughts on the Meta eating plan (did I mention it comes with a diet? Well, it does!) and letting you in on what has "metamorphosized" from my first 30 Days of Metamorphosis!
It has always been this strange enigma. Even before I had kids.
The question? Where and how and how to fit fitness into my life.
I don't think my question is at all unique. I think most women find themselves on this lifelong quest to figure out how to make exercise work. Work within your schedule. Work within your body's constraints. Work withOUT being totally BORING!!
Let's face it, most forms of exercise are tedious.
Years ago, it was yoga. And while I appreciated the new-found flexibility, the repetition wore me out. If you've done one Sun Salutation, you can pretty much expect to do about twenty more.
Believe it or not, I did try running. You know, they say college is the time for experimenting!
I should preface this with the fact that I have asthma. A very mild form of exercise-induced asthma. That's right, my lungs actually REJECT exercise. Nice! I went to a pulmonary specialist (that's a "lung doctor" for the rest of you) and he determined, with all his fancy machines, that I have the lung capacity of a smoker. (Making me all the more thankful that I never once decided to experiment with that nasty habit!)
But I dislike taking medication, especially for something that is not actually going to kill me. So, when I had decided, on that fateful day, to make myself a runner, I knew it was going to take a while. I woke up early, ran as long as I could - which totaled about thirty seconds - then walked until I could breath again (probably five minutes), then ran again. I wasn't following any kind of program, I just did what felt OK. And eventually, about a month later, I had worked up to running for ten minutes straight. Yay, me!
And then I quit.
Running, as it turns out, was exactly what I thought it would be - very. boring.
Maybe I had an inability to hit that all-important "Runner's High," due to my inability to keep breathing long enough to actually get to one.
And I know LOTS of people LOVE running - my husband included. Shoot, a couple of years ago, he ran an "Ultra Marathon." 50 MILES, people. 5-0. I mean, what? But he did it, and I was (and still am) very proud of his accomplishment. But running just isn't for me.
I joined a gym. "I'll do the elliptical," I told myself. At that time the elliptical was all the rage as the ultimate form of getting fit. And with the level selection, I could actually pace myself and keep breathing for longer amounts of time.
But the elliptical, that powerhouse of fitness, proved to be, well, boring. Even my feet hated it. I would keep adjusting - positioning my feet higher up, no, maybe farther down - hmmm, I walk like a duck (per my sister) maybe I need to angle them out? No, nothing worked. After ten minutes, my shoelaces would feel too tight and my poor tootsies would be longing for a real floor. Twenty minutes, and they would start to turn numb. So was my brain.
I should do videos! - my next big decision. But nothing ever really stuck. Not Crunchless Abs, or Tae-bo, or Yoga Booty Ballet. Nothing ever really held my interest and I never did any of them consistently.
Classes!, I had said to myself. That's the ticket! The closest I came to consistency was when I had done Les Mills' Body Pump when Miss Priss had been a scant two years old. There was music and other people and teachers that I really liked. I have a very distinct memory of standing in a dressing room at the mall, in the midst of trying on pants, and realizing that my butt looked almost like a Victoria Secret model.
Really! It really did!!!
I know, without pictures, I have no proof. But I can testify that I was feeling very good and (perhaps overly?) confident about myself!
Which lasted about three months. Why? Because my knees hurt. My knees were sore ALL the TIME! And remember, I don't do drugs. So I quit.
"There has to be a better way," I thought, "than doing 200 squats and lunges."
Zumba was the next fad to drift into my crosshairs. But it is a fad that I really, truly love! However, it can feel a bit like dealing with multiple personalities. The music and pace are determined by the teacher. So one class may have more hip-hop, American music with a teacher who will demonstrate multiple levels. And another class can have all Latin music with a teacher determined to make you pull something by the end of the hour. The gym I belong to now, here in Virginia, has Zumba classes at pretty much all the wrong times of my day. The only ones my life permits me to attend are Tuesday afternoon and Friday morning. And while the long breaks in between do give my knees a nice rest, it is not the type of schedule that is going to give me Vicky's Ass again.
All the while I had been checking out celebrity bodies and googling what type of diet and exercise they were using and who their fitness gurus were. (Let me set the record straight right now - I do NOT "follow" celebrities. I don't care much what happens in their late-night escapades, who wore it best, or who is fueding with whom. But I do enjoy reading the covers of the trash-talk magazines in the checkout line!) I can't recall where I first saw Tracy, or which celebrity they were talking about in reference to her. But, somehow, I landed on her website, and then signed up for her email list. I was fascinated. Still, I wasn't sure what her program was, exactly, and her videos were pretty pricey. I really did not want to add another exercise video to my already bulging TV cabinet.
Weeeellllll.... I never really got around to it. I did some of the exercises. But they are very different, and I never felt like I was doing them correctly.
Then Tracy (yes, we are on a first-name basis) released the Metamorphosis program. 90 days. All on DVDs. It was so enticing!
And expensive.
Did I really need this? Was it really going to work? Was I really going to STICK with it???
A good six months later, I finally caved.
And I am so glad I did! I am in LOVE with this program!! It is like nothing else out there! And since the workout changes every ten days, boredom is a thing of the past!! I am currently on Level 2, and am so excited for Friday to get here so I can begin Level 3!!!
However, I can never truly trust my Will Power to hang in there for very long. Which is why I am typing up this post. Hopefully, telling the Whole Wide World (on the Web, anyway) my intentions will lend some accountability.
At the very least, it gives me something to write about!
So there it is. The Metamorphosis of my Quest for Fitness and now, hopefully, the Metamorphosis of Me!
Ellen Degeneres spoke up on her talk show yesterday about the group One Million Moms and their protests of JC Penney hiring a lesbian as their new spokesperson.
In case you've been living in outer space over the last few years, Ellen would be the gay woman this group is taking offense to.
Here at EverAfterLand, we are NOT in agreement with the (way LESS than) One Million women who make up the group.
And I think our snack time is a bit of evidence to that....
OK, so Miss Priss had already eaten all the Mommies.
But to her credit, and without missing a beat, she said, "That's OK, Mommy, I'll just have two DADDIES!"
And her Two Daddy Family was just as yummy and satisfying as her more traditional "mom & dad" families had been!
In case anyone hasn't looked at a calendar, or the television, or the coupons in the paper, Thursday is Thanksgiving once again. I know many of our retailers would rather rename it "Shopapalooza Day," but I do insist on taking a moment to remember the true intent of this holiday - and showing a little bit of gratitude to The Big Guy Upstairs.
(No, Hubby's NOT home. I'm talking about the BIGGER Guy, up the HIGHER Stairs!)
For instance, I am so thankful for whoever invented stretchy jeans. Because without them, Lord, I never would have managed (with just a bit of heaving and hoeing!) to have yanked on a pair (and buttoned them!) of my pre-pregnancy jeans last week. It was vain, and I do apologize for that, but boy did it feel great!
I am very much thankful for my friends, the new ones and the old ones. The ones who have allowed me to help them, and the ones who have taken the time to help me. I am especially thankful for the ones who, through their own personal trials and hardships, have allowed me to recognize how truly blessed I am.
I am thankful for chocolate cake pops and a young Miss Priss, who decided to defy me when I declared that, after eating cake batter and (more than) a few fallen cake pops, we were NOT going to eat the remainder of the melted dark mint chocolate we had been dipping the pops into. I had put the bowl next to the sink, turned around to clean the counter, and when I turned back, guess who's blond head was hovering over the bowl, ferociously licking the spoon? The evidence was all over her face, and she was immediately sent to a time out.
Five minutes later (because, yes, she turned FIVE!!! And I am so very thankful that she's made it this far!) I went over to her corner to determine if she'd learned her lesson. During our little chat, however, I couldn't help but notice how much cleaner her face now appeared.
In particular, the area encircling her mouth, which looked to be about tongue-reach.
"Priss....did you spend your whole time-out eating the CHOCOLATE off your FACE???"
"Yes, mommy!" She admitted, more than a little wild-eyed from her sugar high.
I had to laugh. Not only because of my own chocolaty/sugar high that I was riding, but because of the very valuable lesson my little five-year-old showed me that day.
That sometimes we find ourselves in circumstances that are beyond our control. But if you look carefully, you can find a bit of sweet joy in those circumstances, too.
In fact, sometimes, it's
right
under
your
nose.
And, as usual, I am so thankful to God for all of our daily blessings. For my loving family, and the good food we have to eat, and the beautiful roof over our heads. I am thankful for Miss Priss' inventiveness, and Miss Sunshine's sweetness, Eddie's security and Hubby's love.
And if I could ask one thing of You, Lord, it's that everyone, in this holiday week of Thankfulness and Family, will find the chocolate on their faces.
OK, now I'm just being dramatic. The plans were not "big" as in "exciting." They were "big" as in "Hubster's got Friday AND Monday off, making a four-day-weekend, and we were going to catch up with as many people as possible/PLUS the weather was going to be AMAZING!"
Friday -
With weather just barely reaching 80 degrees, we would picnic in the park
Saturday -
Birthday Party for Miss Priss' classmate(the first she's been invited to since starting her new school)
Later that afternoon, Hub's co-worker and his family coming for a visit (our first attempt at making "couple's friends" with his co-workers since starting his new job)
Sunday -
My friend from college and her family comes over for a visit (haven't seen her in a year, very excited!)
Monday -
Go across the water to visit with some of Hub's extended family (that we, unfortunately, don't get to see often enough)
Have an old out-of-town co-worker of Hubs and his family over for dinner that night (folks we are fortunate to have in the area for a couple months before they move on)
It was meant to be a weekend of togetherness, and warm weather fun and Hubby smelling like a grill for four days straight. The kind of weekend that makes you long for the summer that is right around the corner, and lulls you into forgetting that the following week's forecast puts temps right back to just-barely-touching-spring highs.
But as we all know, the best-laid plans always have a way of gloriously falling apart.
Friday -
Priss awoke with a fever. Crap! She'd had watery eyes and a bit of a runny nose for two days prior, but I was hoping beyond hope that it would magically clear up. Now I was hoping beyond hope that it would be a One-Day-Thing and she could still make that party on Saturday. In the meantime, letting the Germ Infested One race around a playground amongst healthy children was definitely out. So was going to school. Called up the preschool and explained her absence.
Meanwhile, while I was looking at the little TV in the kitchen, I realized that the word "Downtown Tunnel" at the bottom of the screen was missing a few letters as I focused on the top of the screen. I informed Hubster that I had lost some peripheral vision in my left eye. And as the minutes passed, it continued to get worse. Hubs, being the rational, scientific thinker that he is, periodically tested me by having me cover each eye and moving his hand about. At the worst of it, his entire hand was lost to a bizarre patch of sparkly fuzziness in the left side of my peripheral vision, in my left eye only. We were getting scared. And when we get worried about medical issues, we call Dad the Chiropractor.
"Should we try to go to an ophthalmologist? Or just wait it out?"
"Go to the ER. You don't want to mess with that stuff."
But in the few minutes after Hubs hung up with Dad, the sparkly fuzziness calmed and cleared and, rather rapidly, my peripheral vision was restored. Which was when the headache started to set in.
"Do we still go," we wondered?
Well, when I have a medical mystery, I call my Physician's Assistant friend Tanya. "Go to the ER," she texted me back, "just to be sure."
So I did.
And my beautiful, nearly 80 degree day was spent in an uncomfortable chair in an ER waiting room, my only warmth emanating from my iPhone. But, after a CT scan was analyzed by a very cute doctor, we now have verification of something we all already knew - there's absolutely NOTHING inside my head.
The cute doc reasoned that it probably had to do with the headache, migraine-style (although I'd never suffered from those) and referred me to an ophthalmologist, just to be sure.
All was well. And Friday was gone.
Saturday -
Dammit! Priss woke up with a fever again. No party for her!
Oh, and Lil Miss Sunshine puked in her bed.
Wheee! Fun for everyone!
Sunny continued periodically vomiting for the rest of the morning before she, thankfully, held down her lunch.
It was safe to say our new "couple friends" weren't coming anywhere near us.
Sunday -
Priss' fever finally broke the night before, so she was on the mend. And Sunny was having a bit of diarrhea, but otherwise OK. Still, I could not let my college friend and her baby walk into this plagued nightmare of a house, so I instead met them for breakfast. Which was great! We chatted, we laughed, we marveled at how big the baby had gotten.
Then I came home and puked.
Twice.
I texted my friend and told her they should take a bath in boiling water and alcohol and burn all their clothes.
Monday -
Although the vomiting had subsided, my lack of energy and appetite meant that I would be a permanent fixture on the couch for the rest of the day. I caught up on my Tivo, while Hubs and the girls drove over the bridge-tunnel to visit the family.
Then Hubs came home and puked.
Twice.
Nope, our friends were not going to be coming over for dinner.
At this point, the Health Department has put a "Quarantined" sign on our door and people in Haz-mat suits are gingerly testing us for pathogens.
And that was our weekend. No fun. No grilling. Almost no contact with the outside world. Just a weekend of toilet bowls and little trash cans and crackers and laundry and PJs.
But such an amazing weekend shouldn't have to end!
