Tornado Ben

     The problem with having an independent, creative child is that on any given day, he can decide that he does not need to listen to a flingin', flangin' word you have to say. Today just so happened to be one of those days.

     On our drive to the library today for storytime, Ben and I talked about listening, about cooperation, and how we were going into a quiet place where we would need to be polite, obedient, and sit still. "Okay, Mommy," Ben said. "I'll be a good boy."

     He held my hand as we walked in, took in all the sights and sounds, and behaved very well as we waited in the kid's section. I should've been suspicious because THIS is what I was in for:

     Well, maybe it wasn't THAT bad, but that's essentially how we were treated. Of the 8 or so kids in attendance, Ben was pretty much the only one who felt the need to be verbal in his responses to the reader.

     "Are you a horse?" asked the Librarian, as she read a story about ponies.
     "NOOOOOOO!" yelled Ben

     "Are you going to sit down now?"
     "I want to dance."

     "Who wants to hear another story?"
     "Hey, Mom! There's a crocodile!"

     No, really. There WAS a crocodile... it was a stuffed floor mat that all the other well behaved kids were sitting on. In the twenty minutes we were there, Ben changed seats no less than seventy four times, stood during the sitting time, sat during the standing time, clapped during the quiet part of the songs because he thought they were over, and made loud, verbose requests for cheese sticks.

     My whispered pleas for him to please just be quiet fell on deaf ears while we garnered what I consider to be the most intense look of disgust I have ever seen in my life.

     This lady's eyes cut me to my core and her judgement of me hit me square in the face. It hurt my feelings so much that Ben and I actually got up and left. While, yes, I may be exaggerating about the extent of Ben's actions (he wasn't really THAT bad), I'm not exaggerating about this. She was so mean with just a look, when B was only being a kid. He just turned 2 for crying out loud...

    We came home and read our own books. I let him ask as many questions as he wanted.

Terrible TWOS-day...

     My sweet, tiny terror is 2 years old. At this age, friends, family, and acquaintances are asking when he's going to get a little brother or little sister. After our day yesterday, my answer to this question is to laugh in their faces.

     The day started out like any other: Ben woke up at 6am and I coerced him into an hour more of sleep by convincing him that it wasn't time to get up yet because the sun was still asleep, too. After breakfast, we played blocks in his room and then watched an episode of the ever popular "Bubble Guppies".

     Play time resumed after this all-too brief respite, and at this point in the day, "play time" means running around like crazy in an attempt to expel all his energy. In his rush to get into some other kind of trouble, Ben decided he was done with his juice cup and threw it over his shoulder as he ran through the living room. Unfortunately, our *brand new* 51'' Plasma screen TV has a big, fat, target on it.

     B's juice cup cracked the TV in the lower left hand corner.

     In the beginning, it didn't look that bad. While I was screaming inside, "THIS IS WHY WE CAN'T HAVE NICE THINGS!" my calmer side was rationalizing, "You can't even really see the crack when the TV is on."

     ....and then the plasma started to bleed. The center of the crack began to grow big, purple splotches that started to run down the cracks. Again I thought, "At least it's not in the major line of sight. I can live with a small blemish in the corner."

     By nightfall, the plasma had bled into several lines across the bottom of the screen.... and then the picture went totally black. I had to resign myself to the fact that we had an $800 paper weight sitting on our TV stand. Bad news bears all around.

    When all of this tragedy first took place, I had an incredibly firm, VERY serious discussion with Dear Bennett about NOT THROWING THINGS in the house. It took every fiber of my being not to beat the crap out of him because I know deep down that he's like a dog and just doesn't understand. After five LONG minutes with his nose in the corner, I decided that maybe a better "punishment" would be to be removed from the situation and to go directly to bed. And that's where he spent the next four hours.

     By bedtime, even though the state of the television had gone from bad to worse to dead, we remained in somewhat good spirits with Ben. As I went into his room to clean it up for bedtime, I made a discovery....

     While he was serving his naptime sentence, and even though there are NO art supplies kept in his room, THIS is what I found.

     "It's orange, Mommy," he said.

     I cried until I laughed. Thank the Lord for magic erasers and red wine.

Luuuuuuuuucy.....

Seems I have some 'splainin to do.

     The rumors are true. I'm off the wagon. I haven't done an Insanity workout in a week-- because I am stubborn and I believe that boycotting the system will hurt it's feelings enough to make me start losing weight. I've not totally stopped working out, however. Last Saturday, I opted to go for a run-- something I hadn't done outside in 6 months.

     Feeling my feet hit the pavement was such an amazingly good feeling. If I can say one thing about Insanity, it is that I have definitely become more conditioned. I made it to the end of our street without stopping (nearly a mile-- which I realize means nothing to you, but means the world to me). I have what you may call American Thighs, so running is essentially like dragging tree trunks across the asphalt. Keeping my fatass in motion for any extended period of time is something to celebrate. The fact that I also made it nearly the whole way back is also worth noting.

     The feeling of the sun on my skin had me hooked immediately. The thought of popping in a crummy old DVD in our sparse home office with the single covered window made me want to curl up in the corner and take a nap. If I was going to exert myself, let me commune with nature while doing it. Have I mentioned how terribly dramatic I am?

     I spent the next 5 days riding my bike in the mornings before Ash left for work -- a secret joy of mine since childhood. My bike is rusty, creaky, nearly 15 years old (I got it for Christmas when I was 10), but it pedals fast and gets the job done.

     We live about 3 miles from the beach, but we're somehow tucked in the sweetest country pocket, an enclave of golden sunlight, tree lined side streets, and orchards. Across the street from us are horse farms, large pastures home to fluffy baby chicks, and ponds the house turtles popping up to enjoy the sun. First, I would race the dragonflies flying next to me, then I would race the Blue Angels as they streaked across the sky.

     My legs would burn but it was a burn so good. "Take THAT, Insanity," I thought to myself. Stubborn or not, I love the way my body feels when it is DOING something. I need outdoor exertion to validate my existence. I'm transcendental that way.

     As I went shopping for pants tonight and zipped up that elusive size 12 (score!), I decided that maybe I'd give Insanity another chance.... although this time I'm not going to put so much pressure on it or myself. Scale? Be gone. I'm just going to love the feeling of movement in my bones and sweat on my brow... although deep down I'll only be thinking about the wind in my face as I cruise down a hill at full speed.

"My wrists are sweating!"

My dear friend Mary has joined me on the dark side. She started Insanity yesterday and I want you all to encourage her!

Hopefully she'll  be featured as a guest blogger soon-- as soon as she has enough energy to lift her fingers.

Send her your love, let her know that life is not over.

I'm causing a stack overflow

     This is the part of any exercise program where I begin to get extremely, extremely frustrated. It’s been just shy of three weeks: I’ve been killing myself daily with these crazy workouts, I’ve been drinking upwards of six bottles of water a day, I’ve cut out things like French fries, and I’ve been incredibly sensitive about my diet.

     I haven’t lost as single pound. On the contrary. 18 days into this program, I’ve gained a pound.

     Sure, spout the bull about muscle weighing more than fat or my body just redistributing the fat it already has, but seriously? I want proof positive that all of this Insanity is doing something.

     As a bona fide chubby girl, I’ve spent my whole, entire life with the mantra that it’s just a number on the scale. The number doesn’t matter as long as you look and feel great… but that crap only goes so far. The funny thing is that in taking my measurements (bust, bustline, waist, hips, thighs, calves, arms), I’ve lost a solid inch in every single area (1.5 inches in my calves). So why isn’t the weight coming off?

     Perhaps I’m most frustrated because a measly inch isn’t totally noticeable so I don’t actually feel like any of this crap is working. My Fit Test numbers show slight improvement, but because of my mood, it doesn't feel like it's enough. I honestly just feel like sitting down with a pint and a spoon and finishing it off so I can prove that I can see soemething to the end and be successful. 

Fit Test Week 2:

Switch Kicks—33 (up from 32… wow)
Power Jacks—40 (up from 35)
Power Knees—87 (up from 63, okay, I’ll take it)
Power Jumps—15 (up from 11)
Globe Jumps—10 (up from 5. I’m actually happy with this one because “1” jump is actually a series of four jumps, so technically I upped this by 20 more jumps)
Suicide Jumps—10 (up from 6)
Push Up Jacks—15 (up from 10)
Low Plank Obliques—51 (up from 45)

     I wasn’t as ridiculously exhausted after this workout, in fact, I wasn’t even winded after the warmup. In the long run, I know I’m being healthy. I’m improving my body, making it more fit and healthy… I just so desperately want to see a certain number that I’m completely clouded by it.

     Care to send me a pick-me-up? I'm starting to feel like this:

Zzzzzzz....

Well I've been a bad little blah-ger lately, haven't I? I swear, I've been keeping up with my Insanity workouts and I promise to post on my progress soon. Recently, my VisitSouth work has tripled (I'm not complaining, just giving excuses), so all I've wanted to do at the end of the day is this:

And find funny pictures online: 

"It's the hat"

But really, I'll post soon. I had my second Fit Test yesterday and I'm sure you're all waiting with bated breath to read about how far I've come. Which isn't very far at all, my friends.

Zzzzzzzzzzz.....

The Insanity that is my life, Week 2: Days 7 -- 9

     Monday, 8/29: If there’s one thing to be said about Insanity, it’s that the program certainly changes your endorphin production for the better. Yesterday was Sunday, my day off. Surprisingly, I found myself wanting to work out. Part of me wonders if that’s because I knew I didn’t have to, and I always want to do things I arrive at on my own (remember me saying I was stubborn?).

     After several weeks (a fancy way of saying many months) of a basically sedentary lifestyle, seven days solid of daily, hardcore exercise somehow tricked my brain into thinking cardio is a good thing. I had more energy this weekend than I’ve had in a long time.

     Mind you, I still woke up this morning dreading this workout, but knowing that I would love the feeling afterwards. I was right. I’m surprised to feel like this so soon into the program, and I really, really hope it sticks around.

Post-It on my Mirror Day 7: If you get new shoes before a new exercise regime, spend some time breaking them in. K?

     Tuesday, 8/30: Pulled my quad. Bad. Stupid jumping lunges.

Post-It on my Mirror Day 8: ARGH! So frustrated.

     Wednesday, 8/31: I decided to forego plyometrics today because yesterday I pulled my right quadricep something awful. I really, really don’t want to give up on this simply because I have a penchant for ridiculous injuries. (I once pulled my groin playing volleyball. Really? Who DOES that??)

     Instead, I moved on to tomorrow’s scheduled exercise, cardio recovery. I also spent about a half an hour on the elliptical at our apartment complex’s fitness center. I figured that was low impact enough and I feel surprisingly good. Tomorrow, I’ll probably stick with cardio recovery again, then I’ll resume our regular schedule on Friday.

     I’m really finding my body craving a workout when I wake up in the morning. Chances are, my body is just in shock after having been dormant for so many weeks, but if I can get this feeling to stick around, oh, just forever, then I call this a win-win.

     I simply refuse to use this crazy quad shenanigan as an excuse to get out of anything. (Even if I DID stuff myself on bread pudding last night at Five Sister’s Blues Café… Thanks, Heather!!! :D)

   
     Honestly, that’s been my problem all these un-toned years: falling off the wagon because I’m lazy. Not anymore, my friends!

Post-It on my Mirror Day 9: Taken from a friend’s Facebook profile, "You may be surprised to find out how easy it becomes to exercise regularly, eat well, and reach a healthy weight when you stop treating your amazing body as the problem, and start using it as the solution."