I can't help myself. It's everywhere. THEY'RE everywhere.
Babies. I can't get away from them. My childhood friend just had her first, a beautiful boy named Blake. My very good friend and former foe on the fields of green has a wonderful 6 month old boy named Ty. My best friend and kindred soul is miraculously expecting her 2nd child later this Summer (and I do mean miraculously...not immaculate conception, but if you were to hear the back story, you'd understand). Old classmates are eagerly awaiting their first or second additions to their families. Don't even get me started on Selma Blair, Natalie Portman and Jewel.
I look at my two children and think "how could I NOT want another one?". Then I look at my two children and think "how the HELL could I want another one?".
My children are the light of my life, the reason I get up every day and the best thing I've ever done.
They're also the ones who flip on the overhead lights, whine until I get up and the reason nothing in the house ever gets done.
There are days when I'd love to have another beautiful baby in the house...then I come back to reality and remember how nice it is when my friends take their babies home with them.
Who needs the lottery? I've got my million dollar family already.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Mad Dash Mommy
I've recently discovered the best work out ever. It's called the Mommy Mad Dash. It's a full body and mind work out. And the only equipment you'll need is right there in your house.
Take one child. Give her a nasty cold virus that may or may not have developed into viral bronchitis and put her to bed. (Elevate her head with extra pillows, slather her in Vicks Vaporub and place her beloved Boo Bear within sight...but not vomit splash range.) Head back downstairs and sit on the couch with laptop firmly placed on your lap and turn on the last quarter of the Super Bowl. Give a thumbs up to the Packers, who you weren't backing but your husband was and you knew would win anyway, then proceed to watch the much hyped Thriller episode of Glee (yes, being a Gleek IS required in order for this to be successful).
Get comfortable. Here's where the full workout begins...
Like the starting pistol of a track and field meet of yesteryear, the coughing fit starts the race. There is only one winner here. You've got to be quick, you've got to be agile, you've got to improvise and adapt to what ever it is that you face when you get up there.
First step, stretch your neck to the right in a feeble attempt to hear the situation upstairs more clearly. Extend right hand and flex index finger until "mute" button has been engaged. Tilt head to the left while still stretching neck to the right. This ensures optimal audiological potential is reached. Confirm coughing fit is in fact in full effect.
Using both hands, lift your 4.7lb laptop straight up, then lunge forward, lowering it to the table. Spring up from the couch using only your legs, working your quads and abs.
Sprint to the stairs, being careful to keep your balance as your legs have not yet realized they're no longer crossed, pretzel style, on the couch.
Work the stairs, vaulting off of every other step, hurdling over the cat that is determined (although sleeping) to stay your progress. Weave the upper hallway (while still at a sprint pace), avoiding numerous toys, articles of clothing...and oh yes, the 60lb dog that thinks this is play time...clearly.
In one swift, fluid movement, throw open the child's door, dive for the poly-resin Sesame Street waste receptacle, lift child to sitting position and thrust aforementioned Cookie Monster and Friends bucket under chin. And don't forget to breathe. All this should optimally be done in 2.2 seconds (please, someone get that reference...do you know what can happen in 2.2 seconds?).
That was a false alarm. Do about 10 reps. Mix it up a little with complaints of a severe earache requiring the blue medicine that you pray doesn't spill on the incredibly cute, phenomenal quality, polka dot sheets you found at HomeSense for $34.99.
There you have it. My new workout. Once you feel you've mastered it, add a second child with similar symptoms into the mix...alternating children every 20 minutes or so. Oh and make sure your Paramedic husband is working nights.
As a wise friend once said, panic exercise does a yummy mummy make. (Thanks for the inspiration Nits.)
Take one child. Give her a nasty cold virus that may or may not have developed into viral bronchitis and put her to bed. (Elevate her head with extra pillows, slather her in Vicks Vaporub and place her beloved Boo Bear within sight...but not vomit splash range.) Head back downstairs and sit on the couch with laptop firmly placed on your lap and turn on the last quarter of the Super Bowl. Give a thumbs up to the Packers, who you weren't backing but your husband was and you knew would win anyway, then proceed to watch the much hyped Thriller episode of Glee (yes, being a Gleek IS required in order for this to be successful).
Get comfortable. Here's where the full workout begins...
Like the starting pistol of a track and field meet of yesteryear, the coughing fit starts the race. There is only one winner here. You've got to be quick, you've got to be agile, you've got to improvise and adapt to what ever it is that you face when you get up there.
First step, stretch your neck to the right in a feeble attempt to hear the situation upstairs more clearly. Extend right hand and flex index finger until "mute" button has been engaged. Tilt head to the left while still stretching neck to the right. This ensures optimal audiological potential is reached. Confirm coughing fit is in fact in full effect.
Using both hands, lift your 4.7lb laptop straight up, then lunge forward, lowering it to the table. Spring up from the couch using only your legs, working your quads and abs.
Sprint to the stairs, being careful to keep your balance as your legs have not yet realized they're no longer crossed, pretzel style, on the couch.
Work the stairs, vaulting off of every other step, hurdling over the cat that is determined (although sleeping) to stay your progress. Weave the upper hallway (while still at a sprint pace), avoiding numerous toys, articles of clothing...and oh yes, the 60lb dog that thinks this is play time...clearly.
In one swift, fluid movement, throw open the child's door, dive for the poly-resin Sesame Street waste receptacle, lift child to sitting position and thrust aforementioned Cookie Monster and Friends bucket under chin. And don't forget to breathe. All this should optimally be done in 2.2 seconds (please, someone get that reference...do you know what can happen in 2.2 seconds?).
That was a false alarm. Do about 10 reps. Mix it up a little with complaints of a severe earache requiring the blue medicine that you pray doesn't spill on the incredibly cute, phenomenal quality, polka dot sheets you found at HomeSense for $34.99.
There you have it. My new workout. Once you feel you've mastered it, add a second child with similar symptoms into the mix...alternating children every 20 minutes or so. Oh and make sure your Paramedic husband is working nights.
As a wise friend once said, panic exercise does a yummy mummy make. (Thanks for the inspiration Nits.)
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