Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Sugary Breakfasts Banned in DC Schools
Check out this Blog discussing why banning flavored milks and sugary cereals (including Raisin Bran! Don't be fooled!) are being banned in Washington, D.C. schools.
My Life is Catalog
Oh, my friend's know me well! Thanks MomColumn!! Check out Catalog Living - a peek inside the lives of people who live in those catalogs - or just decorate like they do. I still have nightmares from living in Idaho and visiting a woman's home who had a house that looked like it stepped out of a catalog - with fake food nestled on the kitchen counters and her children's closets OPEN and absolutely pristine. This is a little Stepford Wife, just like that,...
How's your summer going? I'll update the blog once I have time. What with basketball camp, swim lessons, water polo, the beach, the mountain, the ghost town, the normal sized pool, the small sized pool, quarterback training, sports physicals, sports medicine dr. visits, physical therapy, shopping for food so we have the energy to do all these things, and then, well, sleeping,... I'm sorry, did summer start yet? Isn't it time to relax??
How's your summer going? I'll update the blog once I have time. What with basketball camp, swim lessons, water polo, the beach, the mountain, the ghost town, the normal sized pool, the small sized pool, quarterback training, sports physicals, sports medicine dr. visits, physical therapy, shopping for food so we have the energy to do all these things, and then, well, sleeping,... I'm sorry, did summer start yet? Isn't it time to relax??
Saturday, June 12, 2010
That's All Folks!
I'm sorry folks. I've had a cold compress on my head since the school year ended. It's tough to get through all those projects when you have one or two children, I know. But, if you really enjoy punishment, have five kids and watch the special project notes come home from school in droves. All due on approximately the same day. Along with all the clubs and classes that your children are involved in expecting your special ice cream cone cupcakes because your children think yours are 'da bomb' and sign you up. For every club and every class. (although I think the 150 cupcakes I made for three football teams in the fall is still my personal record.)
So, first we had the renaissance faire for the 7th grader. Which, really is no problem because the kid is self sufficient (he has an iPhone for gawd's sake - that practically takes the place of a real mom, and it never yells at you,..) But he did require me to pay for some baseball pants so he could pretend they were renaissance pants. Then, he donned the rest of his outfit from his colonial days dress up project he still had from 6th grade (For that project I had to make stew with lima beans. To serve 50. Do you know 50 elementary kids who will eat a lima bean? Me neither. Go figure.) sans three point hat and called it good. I'm not going to micro manage, so I squinted really hard when I saw him dressed for school and saw,.. a colonial person wearing grey baseball pants. But that's just me.
Then, of course, he had the heebie jeebies thinking about walking the entire two blocks to school and requested a ride. And me, remembering my painful past in middle school (glasses, size 12 feet, braces, 6 foot stature,.. you get the picture) I felt compelled to drive the child to school even though I had to prep for the preschool Luau, and make sure the 4th grade mission project and 2nd grade 3D ocean creature project made it out the door safe and sound.
He did great; every other self concious 13 year old boy was also wearing last year's colonial costume sans hat, so he fit right in.
Mission project: this requires entire family participation. Yes, those families in the public school system during the 4th grade in the great state of California need to pick a Mission and either do a diorama or photo journal of a Mission of their careful choosing. The note came home from all the rah-rah Fourth grade teachers - "Be creative! Why, just last year, a student created a Mission made completely of ginger bread!"
I lucked out when my eldest was in 4th grade - I just had to move all the way to Indonesia and homeschool him to get away from the Mission project. This year; not so lucky.
I'm sure a "student" made an entire Mission out of Gingerbread. Really. I, however, won't
do projects for my kids. I passed 4th grade already, thank you very much, so I was much relieved to hear my boy wanted to take the easy way out and do the photo journal. So, for Mother's Day we loaded the pack into the Suburban and headed to San Juan Capistrano to visit the Mission. It was like any sort of visit to a historical building with five disinterested children. Much gnashing of teeth, pulling of hair (mine), running to and fro, whining (me again) and so on and so forth. Any silly little fantasies I had of visiting Europe again before I turn 50, we "misplace" a few kids, or they can be left on their own with the pizza delivery number and an ATM card, were painfully dashed there at the Mission.
Of course, the minute we hit the Mission, everyone turned HUNGRY, and I only had a Costco sized box of granola bars stashed in my purse (Dear Dooney and Burke: purses need to come in an XL size,too. Thanks. Sincerely, Muddlin') so I promised Starbucks (selfish, isn't it??) right after we were finished filling our brains with all sorts of wonderful Catholic California history.
Here is what a Starbucks order for my family sounds like: "three kid's hot chocolate with whip kid's temperature, one grande nonfat latte with no flavor, one grande coffee of the day no room for cream, one ridiculously priced hoity-toity soda, three chocolate chip cookies, one tall double chocolate Frappacino without any sort of coffee, one water in a cup and,.. yep, I swear that's all." Ring it up. "Oh! I need a bagel, too! Here's my credit card again - oh wait - that one burst into flames and is mere carbon now, let me find my husband who has cash,"... but is outside the store taking creative pictures with his camera because he rediscovered creative picture taking while in Guatemala for 2 and 1/2 weeks when he didn't have to help care for five children, but now he is back in the States, and need I remind him? He has five children to take care of and can't take creative pictures again until he's about 50,.. oh you get the drift.
I can honestly say that after that visit to the Mission, the 4th grader did everything else on his own; I was impressed he paced himself, and did so much (didn't even require any of my scrapbooking stuff that I found in the big amoire in the study and blew the dust off of) and got 105 out of 100 points. An awesome kid. I love self sufficiency!
Okay. 3D ocean creature project for my second grader, here goes: While hubby was on said Guatemala trip saving a remote village of people, I was hanging out with the brood. Hubby was finally back in cell phone range and called me on a Thursday night; he was coming home that Sunday evening. I had a total June Cleaver moment - I was making actual dinner - not relying on Trader Joe's or Long John Silver's take out (evil, isn't it?) when he called. I was a picture of love and calmness as I finished stirring whatever and cooing about his beautiful children, when second grader ran into the kitchen with saucer-shaped eyes exclaiming "I have to make a 3D project of a sperm whale! And it's due tomorrow!" To which my nostrils flared and I calmly, but assertively told hubby: "I gotta go." I ripped the instruction paper out of the kid's outstretched paw and read down to the end: due in a week's time. Phew.
This kid has my wily ways, but I wasn't going to take any part in it. I was going to make every stage a teaching moment and make him heavily involved in every aspect. No 'it's easier to just do it myself' from me. No sirree.
I had to make a decision in the beginning; go grocery shopping plus a stop at Michael's with all small children, or venture into Walmart. I'm not a snob, but I really love good customer service (Nordstrom - swoon!) and hate waiting in line for 30 minutes after I haven't found everything I need. And sometimes a girl's gotta have pine nuts and a good Brie and the local Walmart doesn't stock these items. Nor do they stock googly eyes, I can report. Sheesh.
So, I should have gone to Michael's. Next time, I will. But this time, I spent about five hours wandering aimlessly in Walmart (because they have bad GPS reception so says my iPhone) in search of fabric, stuffing, googly eyes, needles and thread. (Do all you readers remember I can't sew on a button? The only thing needles are used for around this house are flicking out splinters).
Second grader picked out a nice blue cotton. We waited forever to have the bolt of fabric cut (this is Walmart, remember? Need help? Bring a sleeping bag,..) So, to waste the time, I thought I'd teach life skills.
Loving mother (that's me): "So, K, we are going to ask for one yard of fabric."
Child frothing at the mouth, eyes rolled back in head, because he can sense a 'teaching moment': "uh"
Loving mother (me, remember?) "K, how many feet are in a yard?"
Child, head spinning about now: "Uhm,. about 100?"
To which I pull out my iPhone and start checking out postings from friends on Facebook until the Walmart helper decides to return to her station.
Get home. Have child draw pattern for said sperm whale (after careful reseach - shout out to you Google and National Geographic!) but I relent and cut since I can't find the special lefty scissors the kid needs. But I make him watch while I pin the pattern to the fabric and cut. Then, I thread the needle and he sews. It takes three days. But he does it. And I help stuff. And it looks great! I feel like my hubby (reinforcing concrete = reinforcing sperm whales, right??) as I reinforce stitching so the whale makes it to school.
Now, on to the three paragraph written portion of the project. Typed. I help a bit, but leave enough typos so it looks like an original piece of work. I help him find his information and structure it so it isn't just a report that says,"My report is a sperm whale. They are big. And blue. And they live in the ocean."
But while trying to figure out what interesting things to say about the whale : where in the ocean? what do they eat? do they live alone or in pods? I think for a moment, "why are they called sperm whales?" Remember this is for a second grade class and figure the origin of the name is better left unsaid. Leave it to my second grader to pick a sperm whale instead of an unsuspecting and innocent sea creature like a seahorse.
He did great with the project and the report. Yay!
The girl's luau? Are you kidding? At this point, I signed up to bring a large sized box of goldfish crackers and showed up. They have their whole elementary lives ahead of themselves for me to kill myself helping them on their outlandish projects.
I feel very thankful that we have all ended the year successfully. Who knows what 8th, 5th, 3rd, preK and preschool will bring for me? I mean us? I can only collapse in a heap and wonder,...
So, first we had the renaissance faire for the 7th grader. Which, really is no problem because the kid is self sufficient (he has an iPhone for gawd's sake - that practically takes the place of a real mom, and it never yells at you,..) But he did require me to pay for some baseball pants so he could pretend they were renaissance pants. Then, he donned the rest of his outfit from his colonial days dress up project he still had from 6th grade (For that project I had to make stew with lima beans. To serve 50. Do you know 50 elementary kids who will eat a lima bean? Me neither. Go figure.) sans three point hat and called it good. I'm not going to micro manage, so I squinted really hard when I saw him dressed for school and saw,.. a colonial person wearing grey baseball pants. But that's just me.
Then, of course, he had the heebie jeebies thinking about walking the entire two blocks to school and requested a ride. And me, remembering my painful past in middle school (glasses, size 12 feet, braces, 6 foot stature,.. you get the picture) I felt compelled to drive the child to school even though I had to prep for the preschool Luau, and make sure the 4th grade mission project and 2nd grade 3D ocean creature project made it out the door safe and sound.
He did great; every other self concious 13 year old boy was also wearing last year's colonial costume sans hat, so he fit right in.
Mission project: this requires entire family participation. Yes, those families in the public school system during the 4th grade in the great state of California need to pick a Mission and either do a diorama or photo journal of a Mission of their careful choosing. The note came home from all the rah-rah Fourth grade teachers - "Be creative! Why, just last year, a student created a Mission made completely of ginger bread!"
I lucked out when my eldest was in 4th grade - I just had to move all the way to Indonesia and homeschool him to get away from the Mission project. This year; not so lucky.
I'm sure a "student" made an entire Mission out of Gingerbread. Really. I, however, won't
do projects for my kids. I passed 4th grade already, thank you very much, so I was much relieved to hear my boy wanted to take the easy way out and do the photo journal. So, for Mother's Day we loaded the pack into the Suburban and headed to San Juan Capistrano to visit the Mission. It was like any sort of visit to a historical building with five disinterested children. Much gnashing of teeth, pulling of hair (mine), running to and fro, whining (me again) and so on and so forth. Any silly little fantasies I had of visiting Europe again before I turn 50, we "misplace" a few kids, or they can be left on their own with the pizza delivery number and an ATM card, were painfully dashed there at the Mission.
Of course, the minute we hit the Mission, everyone turned HUNGRY, and I only had a Costco sized box of granola bars stashed in my purse (Dear Dooney and Burke: purses need to come in an XL size,too. Thanks. Sincerely, Muddlin') so I promised Starbucks (selfish, isn't it??) right after we were finished filling our brains with all sorts of wonderful Catholic California history.
Here is what a Starbucks order for my family sounds like: "three kid's hot chocolate with whip kid's temperature, one grande nonfat latte with no flavor, one grande coffee of the day no room for cream, one ridiculously priced hoity-toity soda, three chocolate chip cookies, one tall double chocolate Frappacino without any sort of coffee, one water in a cup and,.. yep, I swear that's all." Ring it up. "Oh! I need a bagel, too! Here's my credit card again - oh wait - that one burst into flames and is mere carbon now, let me find my husband who has cash,"... but is outside the store taking creative pictures with his camera because he rediscovered creative picture taking while in Guatemala for 2 and 1/2 weeks when he didn't have to help care for five children, but now he is back in the States, and need I remind him? He has five children to take care of and can't take creative pictures again until he's about 50,.. oh you get the drift.
I can honestly say that after that visit to the Mission, the 4th grader did everything else on his own; I was impressed he paced himself, and did so much (didn't even require any of my scrapbooking stuff that I found in the big amoire in the study and blew the dust off of) and got 105 out of 100 points. An awesome kid. I love self sufficiency!
Okay. 3D ocean creature project for my second grader, here goes: While hubby was on said Guatemala trip saving a remote village of people, I was hanging out with the brood. Hubby was finally back in cell phone range and called me on a Thursday night; he was coming home that Sunday evening. I had a total June Cleaver moment - I was making actual dinner - not relying on Trader Joe's or Long John Silver's take out (evil, isn't it?) when he called. I was a picture of love and calmness as I finished stirring whatever and cooing about his beautiful children, when second grader ran into the kitchen with saucer-shaped eyes exclaiming "I have to make a 3D project of a sperm whale! And it's due tomorrow!" To which my nostrils flared and I calmly, but assertively told hubby: "I gotta go." I ripped the instruction paper out of the kid's outstretched paw and read down to the end: due in a week's time. Phew.
This kid has my wily ways, but I wasn't going to take any part in it. I was going to make every stage a teaching moment and make him heavily involved in every aspect. No 'it's easier to just do it myself' from me. No sirree.
I had to make a decision in the beginning; go grocery shopping plus a stop at Michael's with all small children, or venture into Walmart. I'm not a snob, but I really love good customer service (Nordstrom - swoon!) and hate waiting in line for 30 minutes after I haven't found everything I need. And sometimes a girl's gotta have pine nuts and a good Brie and the local Walmart doesn't stock these items. Nor do they stock googly eyes, I can report. Sheesh.
So, I should have gone to Michael's. Next time, I will. But this time, I spent about five hours wandering aimlessly in Walmart (because they have bad GPS reception so says my iPhone) in search of fabric, stuffing, googly eyes, needles and thread. (Do all you readers remember I can't sew on a button? The only thing needles are used for around this house are flicking out splinters).
Second grader picked out a nice blue cotton. We waited forever to have the bolt of fabric cut (this is Walmart, remember? Need help? Bring a sleeping bag,..) So, to waste the time, I thought I'd teach life skills.
Loving mother (that's me): "So, K, we are going to ask for one yard of fabric."
Child frothing at the mouth, eyes rolled back in head, because he can sense a 'teaching moment': "uh"
Loving mother (me, remember?) "K, how many feet are in a yard?"
Child, head spinning about now: "Uhm,. about 100?"
To which I pull out my iPhone and start checking out postings from friends on Facebook until the Walmart helper decides to return to her station.
Get home. Have child draw pattern for said sperm whale (after careful reseach - shout out to you Google and National Geographic!) but I relent and cut since I can't find the special lefty scissors the kid needs. But I make him watch while I pin the pattern to the fabric and cut. Then, I thread the needle and he sews. It takes three days. But he does it. And I help stuff. And it looks great! I feel like my hubby (reinforcing concrete = reinforcing sperm whales, right??) as I reinforce stitching so the whale makes it to school.
Now, on to the three paragraph written portion of the project. Typed. I help a bit, but leave enough typos so it looks like an original piece of work. I help him find his information and structure it so it isn't just a report that says,"My report is a sperm whale. They are big. And blue. And they live in the ocean."
But while trying to figure out what interesting things to say about the whale : where in the ocean? what do they eat? do they live alone or in pods? I think for a moment, "why are they called sperm whales?" Remember this is for a second grade class and figure the origin of the name is better left unsaid. Leave it to my second grader to pick a sperm whale instead of an unsuspecting and innocent sea creature like a seahorse.
He did great with the project and the report. Yay!
The girl's luau? Are you kidding? At this point, I signed up to bring a large sized box of goldfish crackers and showed up. They have their whole elementary lives ahead of themselves for me to kill myself helping them on their outlandish projects.
I feel very thankful that we have all ended the year successfully. Who knows what 8th, 5th, 3rd, preK and preschool will bring for me? I mean us? I can only collapse in a heap and wonder,...
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
A Litigious State We Are In.
Did I really miss an entire month of blog posting? I should be flogged. You are right, my Facebook friends. I'll get right back to it now that the Mission Project, Renaissance Faire, 3D model of an Ocean Creature and Luau Party for preschoolers are all complete.
But first. This is really funny. And I would be laughing if I weren't crying for the realization that I too live in California and people like this are probably looking for reasons to sue me too.
But first. This is really funny. And I would be laughing if I weren't crying for the realization that I too live in California and people like this are probably looking for reasons to sue me too.
Friday, April 23, 2010
He'll Be Comin' Down the 10 When He Comes
We are rounding the bend, folks. Hubby is coming home on Sunday afternoon. Yes, he of impeccable timing will have missed the Jumpzone party and any chance that I can take a nap that day. Unbelievable. He'll be here in time for dinner,.. which I supposed I have to dust off the cook books and remember how to cook.
But first we have to hide the evidence of our opulent lifestyle. We have to eat the rest of Martha Greens' cake that got left at my house after my Tuesday night girly night (Score! I know when to host a party - I want the leftover cake!) We have two days left to make our way to Long John Silver's. But seriously, just thinking about that place makes my triceps flap around. We should eat the rest of the prepared meals to make way for real food that needs to be lovingly transformed into something edible, instead of something you just zap in a microwave oven. I need to drink the rest of the preground coffee and go get the real beans.
Don't get me wrong, we are happy to have daddy back. if for no other reason than needing someone to figure out how to turn off the close captioning on the TV that mysteriously showed up at at the beginning of the week. Do you know how irritating it is to have closed captioning when you are trying to concentrate on watching what's happening on the TV show? Or how annoying it is to constantly have discussions with your 13 year old on 'Why do they have closed captioning on American Idol, anyway? Do you really think deaf people watch that show?" I don't know honey, I'm trying to watch the show that has closed captioning on the bottom third and not get distracted by five small bodies propelling themselves around my house,..
And I don't know why I always think I'll have some sort of major freedom when Hubby leaves. It's not like I'm shackled to my house more when he's here,... But for some reason I always think I'll do more for myself when he's gone. Why is that? Instead of two adults to take care of five kids, there is only one. Obviously, I'm not good at math. What have I accomplished? No girlie movies have been watched. I can't watch scary movies because I'm too much of a wimp to watch them when hubby is not here. Gym? Once I think, before the B caught 'gymdaycarphobia' and really, who can blame her? The attendants for the most part do nothing and the place looks like a jail cell - concrete walls and a small window for the kiddies to peer out and see their parents sweating away on a machine. I can't really sell it, because my heart's not in it. Running? Meh,.. a few times, but it's been raining and cold (below 70) and I'm sure someone will get sick if I take them out in the wind (because I'm so swift, ya know). Rowing machine? Hahahahahaha. Hubby's lucky I haven't wheeled it over to the edge of the pool, frankly.
So, while I'm excited to hear he's doing great and has taken boat rides and danced til midnight with small children and 100 year old womene (the others are off limits, so says our marriage contract), visited volcanoes and hiked in the jungle, I'll try not to be jealous that my sould fullfilling activities are smaller in impact. I have to drum up some stories about my exciting life. Uhm,.. picking buggers off car seats with my finger nail? Nah,.. The 8 year old getting medicine from a blister beetle for the bumps on his back? Marginal,...Whether or not the 2 year old's vomit this morning was a 5 alarm (she's got something infectious! Quarrantine!) or 1 alarm (apple juice went down the wrong pipe and should I keep sniffing the couch to assess the damage, or just 'fess up and break out the cleaning equipment now,..)
Well, the pups are up. Gotta feed the masses.
But first we have to hide the evidence of our opulent lifestyle. We have to eat the rest of Martha Greens' cake that got left at my house after my Tuesday night girly night (Score! I know when to host a party - I want the leftover cake!) We have two days left to make our way to Long John Silver's. But seriously, just thinking about that place makes my triceps flap around. We should eat the rest of the prepared meals to make way for real food that needs to be lovingly transformed into something edible, instead of something you just zap in a microwave oven. I need to drink the rest of the preground coffee and go get the real beans.
Don't get me wrong, we are happy to have daddy back. if for no other reason than needing someone to figure out how to turn off the close captioning on the TV that mysteriously showed up at at the beginning of the week. Do you know how irritating it is to have closed captioning when you are trying to concentrate on watching what's happening on the TV show? Or how annoying it is to constantly have discussions with your 13 year old on 'Why do they have closed captioning on American Idol, anyway? Do you really think deaf people watch that show?" I don't know honey, I'm trying to watch the show that has closed captioning on the bottom third and not get distracted by five small bodies propelling themselves around my house,..
And I don't know why I always think I'll have some sort of major freedom when Hubby leaves. It's not like I'm shackled to my house more when he's here,... But for some reason I always think I'll do more for myself when he's gone. Why is that? Instead of two adults to take care of five kids, there is only one. Obviously, I'm not good at math. What have I accomplished? No girlie movies have been watched. I can't watch scary movies because I'm too much of a wimp to watch them when hubby is not here. Gym? Once I think, before the B caught 'gymdaycarphobia' and really, who can blame her? The attendants for the most part do nothing and the place looks like a jail cell - concrete walls and a small window for the kiddies to peer out and see their parents sweating away on a machine. I can't really sell it, because my heart's not in it. Running? Meh,.. a few times, but it's been raining and cold (below 70) and I'm sure someone will get sick if I take them out in the wind (because I'm so swift, ya know). Rowing machine? Hahahahahaha. Hubby's lucky I haven't wheeled it over to the edge of the pool, frankly.
So, while I'm excited to hear he's doing great and has taken boat rides and danced til midnight with small children and 100 year old womene (the others are off limits, so says our marriage contract), visited volcanoes and hiked in the jungle, I'll try not to be jealous that my sould fullfilling activities are smaller in impact. I have to drum up some stories about my exciting life. Uhm,.. picking buggers off car seats with my finger nail? Nah,.. The 8 year old getting medicine from a blister beetle for the bumps on his back? Marginal,...Whether or not the 2 year old's vomit this morning was a 5 alarm (she's got something infectious! Quarrantine!) or 1 alarm (apple juice went down the wrong pipe and should I keep sniffing the couch to assess the damage, or just 'fess up and break out the cleaning equipment now,..)
Well, the pups are up. Gotta feed the masses.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Activity-Aholic
Yep, that's me. It began when I was a teenager. Maybe it was the need to fit in as my army family moved us all over the world. By the time I graduated high school the list of activities I was involved in was a mile long. In college, I remember sitting in the VP for Student Affairs office trying to plead my case that I had too much going on and had to drop a class. He didn't go for it.
It's like what they say about addictions - whether it's eating, or drinking, or shopping (although I do those all pretty well, mind you). I am an activity-aholic. Hubby is gone and I fill my time to the brim with countless activities. This weekend alone we had a friend spend the night, watched two movies, went to Anaheim for some football training, visited a bookstore, ran a 5K, went to Mass, attended the free kid's concert hosted by the Redlands Symphony Orchestra and ate dinner at a friend's house. No wonder I'm tired, eh? I need hubby to come home so I can return to the sloth that is the real me. Really.
The 5K was fabulous! I ran it with my bud. Between walkin' and talkin' and pushing two double strollers we had a nice time of 42:18. All this without running over anyone - an amazing feat - there must have been 20,000 people vying for the finish line.
Hubby continues to do well in Guatemala. A few people have been taken down by fevers and the like, but they are finished with their bridge and today is the dedication for the bridge. The bridge is 120 feet spanning a river that separates two villages. During the rainy season the river is uncrossable so the village's children can not attend school and people can not go to the one clinic in the area. Locals have told Hubby that the bridge is going to save their childrens' lives.
It is a mile walk to the bridge site from the village where Hubby's team is staying. They have had to hand carry all their supplies to the site. About 20 villagers have been helping every day and they've gotten the bridge complete ahead of schedule.
This morning the team is heading over to the school, run by a South African man, to play football and soccer and hang out with the kids. They've been playing American football with the kids each night. Hubby is known once more as 'Superman' if for no other reason than his extreme height - especially in places like Guatemala, Indonesia, the Philippines,.. where people are petite. They are all having a great time. And I'm so jealous. So, to bury the green monster, I guess I'll do some more stuff,...Just one more week and he's home! I can rest again!
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Talking to Myself
Hi there Hubby,
It was good to talk to you. I'm so excited to hear your bridge building down in Guatemala is going so well. So well that you finished a week early. But you are coming home on the predetermined date. I'm sure that you totally "worked your butt off" and "deserve a little r&r." You go ahead and hang out by some tropical Latin American pool for an entire week. I'll be here, feeding and clothing your five children. Cleaning your house. Stocking your fridge. Washing your clothes.
But before I get all homicidal housewifey,.. I'll be honest, I'm doing stuff for me too. Besides the Trader Joe's fully cooked meals, I signed up for a little 5K for tomorrow morning. No biggy, just some fun time with my buddy as we run over really, really slow people who are also in the race. I picked up my bib and tee shirt this afternoon. All I can say is thank goodness I was wearing jeans; you should have seen the stems on some of those racers. I don't think I could have legs like that if I bought them on Ebay.
I've been trying to be good about working out. But my ridiculous German Shepherd has lost 10 lbs since December and would make an impressive 90 lb. dog; instead he is about 65 pounds. Besides the fact that it is embarrassing to run my pet skeleton with me around the neighborhood, I don't want him burning any more calories than absolutely necessary. So, I took him to the vet this past Friday and spent about $200 to find out that he is,... skinny. Yes, thank you very much. I figured that. For once I'd like to pay for an expensive medical procedure for a pet and have it actually find out something. So' we've switched his food to something more meaty (if for no other reason than the price) and are trying to hide the fact from my fat husky that the skinny shepherd is eating twice in the day.
Then, the gym was going well until the B decided she didn't like any of the kids, so now I can last through warm up and about 5 minutes in to whatever I'm doing, then that sad little face shows up pressing against the glass of the gym class room and I have to shelve the stop, weights and bands and tread home. Just enough of a work out to know I really didn't do anything, but I did do more than want to go home and wrangle kids and dogs into the double stroller and the leashes (where they end up depends on the amount of legs they have) and haul them all around the neighborhood. Yes, I can find an excuse on a desert island, I'm telling you.
Well,. time to stop my fun Saturday evening of folding hubby's freshly starched shirts (hehe) and blogging and wrestle small children to bed.
Peace out.
It was good to talk to you. I'm so excited to hear your bridge building down in Guatemala is going so well. So well that you finished a week early. But you are coming home on the predetermined date. I'm sure that you totally "worked your butt off" and "deserve a little r&r." You go ahead and hang out by some tropical Latin American pool for an entire week. I'll be here, feeding and clothing your five children. Cleaning your house. Stocking your fridge. Washing your clothes.
But before I get all homicidal housewifey,.. I'll be honest, I'm doing stuff for me too. Besides the Trader Joe's fully cooked meals, I signed up for a little 5K for tomorrow morning. No biggy, just some fun time with my buddy as we run over really, really slow people who are also in the race. I picked up my bib and tee shirt this afternoon. All I can say is thank goodness I was wearing jeans; you should have seen the stems on some of those racers. I don't think I could have legs like that if I bought them on Ebay.
I've been trying to be good about working out. But my ridiculous German Shepherd has lost 10 lbs since December and would make an impressive 90 lb. dog; instead he is about 65 pounds. Besides the fact that it is embarrassing to run my pet skeleton with me around the neighborhood, I don't want him burning any more calories than absolutely necessary. So, I took him to the vet this past Friday and spent about $200 to find out that he is,... skinny. Yes, thank you very much. I figured that. For once I'd like to pay for an expensive medical procedure for a pet and have it actually find out something. So' we've switched his food to something more meaty (if for no other reason than the price) and are trying to hide the fact from my fat husky that the skinny shepherd is eating twice in the day.
Then, the gym was going well until the B decided she didn't like any of the kids, so now I can last through warm up and about 5 minutes in to whatever I'm doing, then that sad little face shows up pressing against the glass of the gym class room and I have to shelve the stop, weights and bands and tread home. Just enough of a work out to know I really didn't do anything, but I did do more than want to go home and wrangle kids and dogs into the double stroller and the leashes (where they end up depends on the amount of legs they have) and haul them all around the neighborhood. Yes, I can find an excuse on a desert island, I'm telling you.
Well,. time to stop my fun Saturday evening of folding hubby's freshly starched shirts (hehe) and blogging and wrestle small children to bed.
Peace out.
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