You Have No Idea...

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"You have no idea what it's like"...most common words of my "almost" teenage son.

I have no idea how hard it is to switch schools, I have no idea how overwhelming it is to get homework done on time. I have no idea how teachers pick on him. I have no idea how much life sucks cause his  mommy won't give him what he wants when he wants it. People treat him differently because he's a kid and it's not fair.  I don't know anything about what girls like/don't like or what it likes to "date".  I don't get it, I don't get him, I just don't understand...I have no idea what it's like to be a teenager.

Pffft....child, I rocked at being a drama-filled teenager.  YOU have no idea...

He recently got kicked out of the mall, he was with a bunch of friends and they "weren't doing anything wrong".  Uh, yeah ok.   Then he slips and says "we only ran down the hall, not even that fast".  So needless to say, the security guard saw this and kicked them out.  Well, DRAMA....how unfair it was, they didn't hurt anyone, they weren't stealing, it wasn't right, he should have just given them a warning.  Blah, blah, blah.

Back in my day, we used to get kicked out of the mall all the time for doing "nothing".  Sure, we were loud, and obnoxious, and usually swearing. But we weren't disrupting anyone...I'm sure of it. I remember playing hide-and-go-seek in the mall...I'm almost positive nobody would have been bothered by that?!

I'm in the middle of an amazing book, Now I Know Why Tigers Eat Their Young, which is all about how this new breed of teenagers really aren't that different from when 'we' were teenagers.  Like we flip out that our children want to listen to Eminem or Rhianna....bad, bad role models.  Horrible lyrics....swearing, drugs, violence and sex.  Like on their song Love The Way You Lie, it's crazy violent...

next time there won’t be no next time
i apologize even though i know its lies
i’m tired of the games i just want her back
i know i’m a liar if she ever tries to fuckin’ leave again
i’m a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire

Wow...watch your back around him!  The main message of the story is that it's NOT ok.  If you read the lyrics for the entire song, you see that it's all about how they say they'll never hit you again, but they always do.  I will, with complete conviction, admit that I am totally fine with the kids listening to this stuff.  They are both complete music nuts, and I trust them enough to know that they aren't going to do something just cause a song says so, or says not to. They are smart kids, they know music is just music, just like movies are just movies. It's a story. So yeah, Eminem, Wiz Khalifa, Lil Wayne, Snoop Dog...they are all ok in my books.  I like them, I listen to them, so it's only inevitable that they are going to hear it anyway. I'm sure the kids will turn out fine.  Although, I did catch Grace saying "fucking asshole" yesterday.....but that's more likely my influence than that of any musician out there. 
(I work with sailors...I have a potty mouth...You have NO IDEA what it's like ok)

Back to the point of the ramble...the lyrics.  Today's lyrics are no better/worse than those of our parents generation.  The Beatles have a song called Run For Your Life....here's a little sample...

You better run for your life if you can, little girl
Hide your head in the sand little girl
Catch you with another man
That's the end little girl

Let this be a sermon
I mean everything I've said
Baby, I'm determined
And I'd rather see you dead

Now the big difference between this song and the Eminem song is that nowhere in the Beatles song is there a message of it not being ok.  The entire song is about killing her if he catches her with anyone else.  Now, your parents turned out OK...well, most of them did anyway, so there's some proof that the music does not make or break the teenager.

Then there's sex...I did it, you've done, my kids are going to do it. Sure, some of you reading this actually waiting until marriage, but most didn't.  I applaud anyone who has enough strength to survive the peer pressure.  My strength crumbled at the mere mention of sex.  HUh?! What's that? I want to know everything about it and I want to do it right away!!!!  I also have massive daddy issues so I was pretty inevitable that I was doomed from the beginning.  One little "I love you" was all I needed.  Contrary to popular belief I wasn't a big ho-bag...there were a few moments I regretted, but the rest of my "encounters" were out of love (or the perceived idea of love on my end, again daddy issues).  Ok...just using the words "the rest" make me sound like a skank.  Not true. Mostly.

So I know it's going to happen...at some point both of my children will have sex.  Our big dilemma is to provide or not provide the option for birth control. Part of me feels that this is encouragement or an "ok" to proceed.  The other part of me knows that if they are going to do it, they'll do it...so might as well have easy access to condoms. I would have never dared to go buy condoms when I was a teenager. The mere thought of it embarrasses the hell out of me even as an adult.  Mom put me on the pill when she clued in to what was going on.  However, that didn't stop me from also getting pregnant. See kids...birth control is NOT 100%!

I not going to be naive enough to think that they would go buy them on their own. I'm pretty sure that if he was provided with condoms at this age they would turn into very expensive water balloons anyway so I feel like waiting until he at least has a girlfriend before we need to seriously figure out our plan.  For her, it will be easy. Period starts and you are on the pill to "control the cramps". Boom. Done.  But then there's still the need for STD protection for which I plan to print off multiple, disgusting pictures of crabs, herpes, and any other nastiness I can find.  Then I will pray for abstenance until they are both 39.

I've mentioned before that I let them watch Intervention. To me, theirs no better way to see how gross drugs are then to watch a meth-head in action. In the aspect of 'having no idea', he's right on this point. When I was in junior high, I wouldn't have known how to access cocaine to save my life.  In our current neighborhood, all you have to do is ask a random hooker on the street and I'm sure she could hook you up.

Again, contrary to the belief of others, I was never much into drugs.  I had a brief stint of trying "hash"...but it was never for me. I've never even seen most of the drugs that people do.  I couldn't tell you the difference between ecstacy or a tylenol.  I only know what acid is because of google, and my one and only experience of seeing cocaine was more than disturbing to me and I was in my mid-twenties. My big thing was alcohol, there were a few nights I probably should have been taken the hospital for a good ol' fashion stomach pumping.  I was drunk every weekend.  How I didn't get caught all the time is beyond me still. I guess cause I slept over at friends houses a lot so it's not like I stumbled home drunk. It was their parents we had to hide from, and most of the parents were either drunk themselves or not home so it was pretty easy. Plus the gum, and mouthwash always came in handy. The ONE time I did come home...I got caught right away, and my mother had the joy of watching me throw up. 

Todd brought up whether or not we'd know if Jeremy was drinking. Well, for starters, unless he's at the swim or the mall, he's at home so it's unlikely that he would even have the opportunity.  He rarely sleeps at friends houses, for some reason our house is the do-drop-inn so his friends are always 'home' too. Until he starts to wander off more I won't worry.

I will never be a "not my child" type of mother.  I give credit where credit is due and I know that it's likely that they will both have run-ins with all of the above at some point in the next ten years.  I will try my best to steer them in the right direction, but I also know that they need to learn these mistakes on their own and make their own judgements about what is right and wrong. 

I do not look forward to the first heartbreaks, hangovers, or missed curfews.  But I do know that I will have compassion and understanding and they will always have a shoulder to lean on.  It wasn't that long ago that I was a teenager too.  And they have no idea what it was like for me...

The Facts of Life...

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We are quickly approaching the teenage years and eye-rolls have become the main way of communication in this house. His life is "horrible" and "unfair" and basically, unless I give him everything he wants, he is a complete basketcase.  I can do nothing right, I am mean, I pick on him, I never listen to him...yada, yada, yada.

I've given him the "you don't know how good you have it" speech a million times.  I've tried to use movies like "The Boy in the Striped Pajamas" to prove my point.  He sees the kids in our neighbourhood with the screaming alcoholic parents, he's had friends who's parents are addicted to drugs. One of his closest friends has moved more times than I can count.  Most of his friends live in a single-parent home. 

He has both parents at home, neither one of us have drug/alcohol addictions, he has a nice home, gets driven anywhere he wants, has loads of clothes, and books, and video games. But of course, that's not enough. 

I've been-there-done-that as a teenager, and I'm trying to have patience as it's part of growing up.  Not all of us went through psycho-hormone-rage teenage years, but I certainly did and I know that's it's not necessarily all his fault. Besides the uncontrolled rage in your body, it's new hormones, and new feelings, and new stresses (which always felt like a lot in grade 7, but if I only knew then...)

I ground him, then give in (only a little). Like he's grounded for the week right now but he's in the basement playing with Grace.  But I'm still holding true to the no phone, no computer, no video games.  He spent all last evening in his room and most of the morning so I cut him a little slack and let him out for good behaviour.  Good idea? Bad idea? I have no clue.  This parenting crap is not easy.  I've learned the good and bad ways to parent from my mommy.  Bad...I give in.  Good...the love in this household is unconditional.  Bad...he gets A LOT without really earning it.  Good...he still likes me, even when he's grounded and pissed at the world. 

I really don't know how my mother is not locked up in an insane asylum or on serious medication?  She knows she did some things the wrong way, but she also knows that I'm pretty frickin' awesome now so obviously she did something right. So, I hold out hope that he will also continue to be awesome.  Overall, he's one of the best kids I could ever ask for. He's so smart, his desire to learn everything is awe-inspiring, he's funny, he's cute, he's nice and caring. OMG....he's me!!

So, in complete frustration of Jeremy's lack of appreciation, I asked him to write down ten things that were good about his life, as well as ten things that were bad. I almost choked from stopping myself from laughing out loud. He really doesn't get how good he has it.  His list is below, and while he didn't exactly follow my rules (he only listed 8), it did lead to a pretty good chat about the in-and-outs of life.

Good	Bad
Have a phone	Phone isn’t very good
Friends	I have to go straight home after school
Xbox	Don’t have much to do at home
My own room	Room is small
Don’t have to do chores	Don’t get paid
Dog/Cat	Have to take the dog out a lot
Big yard	Yard is full of rocks and should have a fence so the dog can play outside
Basement has lots of stuff	Basement is usually messy

Could it be any more ironic that the good things are also bad and the bad are also good??  Life at it's finest. And, seriously, too many rocks in your backyard??  If that's the worst of your problems then you need to keep calm and carry on.

My strict-ness has been getting better, I'm trying to rein him in before he runs too wild.  Better late than never I hope.

You take the good,

You take the bad, 

You take them both and there you have,

The facts of life.

Pink Bubblegum...

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Readers beware.....this post is NOT about pink bubblegum and should be read after supper.

I've been fighting this horrible chest cold for about 12 days now.  I have a wicked cough and dry throat, and my back is killing me from the coughing. 

Side track for a minute...I go to the doctor yesterday for blood work results....YAAY! I'm NOT pregnant!! But I do have low iron levels...BOO!!! So she notices I'm sick and asks me if I'm getting better or worse. I say I think I'm getting better, just the back of my lungs are really, really sore, and hurt more when I cough....so she says to be....well is it your lungs or your back muscles??.....Uhm...How the heck am I supposed to know that?!  Who's the doctor, lady? I dunno???  Well, ok then, she says...keep doin' what your doing.  (Buckleys and whining)

Ok, back to the story...Needless to say, I haven't been sleeping well AT ALL!  Hacking my lungs up all night, I'm hot, I'm cold, my throat is dry and tickly.  BLAH!  So this morning I wake up at like 5:30am (who even knew that time existed?!), and I'm wide awake, and I know there's no way I'm falling back to sleep because of my cold.  I've also managed to wake Grace up, so now she's in my room looking at me like "Whatchoo Talkin' About Willis?"....So I decide to be a good mommy and offer to cook her breakfast.  Eggs and toast usually only happens on the weekend so, of course, this is a special treat and she'll all excited. 

We come downstairs stairs and I rock out the scrambled eggs and toast. I'm drinking Body By Vi shakes at the moment so I whipped up a strawberry shake for breakfast. YUM!  I drink my shake, get ready for work and leave to go to Tim's for my morning coffee...All in an (usual) timely fashion...I'm EARLY! 

I'm cruising across the bridge, bobbing my head to Flo Rida and another coughing fit hits me.  So like a lady...I put my hand to my mouth to cough....and end up with a handful of vomit instead.  Pink Bubblegum colored vomit (Yummmmmy Strawberry shake!!).  I have no clue what happened, it all happened so fast.  I am NOTa vomiter at all. I hate doing it, it's listed up there in my top 5 fears. In the event it's about to happen I have a plan and a process...

1. Clean the bathroom floor
2. Clean the toilet
3. Cry
4. Lay down a towel in front of the toilet
5. Get a wet face cloth
6. Cry
7. Get a glass of water ready
8. Take my shirt off
9. Pull my hair back into an elastic if not already done
10. Cry
11. Brace myself
12. Cry
13. Vomit
14. Cry
15. Lay on the bathroom floor until my mother rescues me...which could be a long time considering she's three hours away from me.

So, as you can see, my process was not completed.  I skipped right to step 13 (unlucky number thirteen!!)....and I do not like messing with my process.   I can literally count on my hands how many vomit sessions I've had since my early teen years and out of those, maybe only three times has it been uncontrolled.  I would rather die a slow death than just let it out. I'm like a reverse-bulimic.  Shit, maybe that's why I'm not losing weight?! I've been doing it wrong all these years!
(OMG, innappropriate, I know...I'm sick, don't judge me)

Somehow, in between "whhoooa, sometimes I get a good feeling" and "I get a feeling that I never, ever, ever had before"........I ended up with a lap full of pink bubblegum puke that's all over my hands and face like I just made out with some foamy ice cream. (I warned you at the beginning)

I'm am beyond mortified, still trying to drive, thoroughly confused as to what the hell just happened, and then I realize....I'm in bumper to bumper traffic.  Who just saw me puke pink foam?!?  EMBARRASING!!  I don't even have it in me at this point to look over to either side of me to check. I'm sure at least one person got an eye full. I'm on the inside lane so there's a car to my right, and two cars to my left going in the opposite direction. But we're all going sooo slow. And I'm not even to the middle of the bridge yet.  My "clean" hand is on the wheel, my other hand is dripping, I can feel some dangling from my chin, and I have no clue what to do.  I'm crying, gagging, and trying not to laugh all at once. 

So what did I do...I drove all the way to work (another 5-6 mins)...with vomit dripping everywhere cause I was in such shock of what just happened that I didn't know what to do and pulling over never came to my mind.  I pull into the parking lot. Shut the car off, grab a random napkin on the floor, and wipe my chin.  It's amazing how small a napkin is when it's the only thing saving your face from pink vomit.  The napkin is a right-off and I still have it all over one hand, my lap, and now it's dripping down the side of my seat and the front towards the ground.  Thankfully, I have been known to rock a messy car from time to time so I found a facecloth left over from yoga class. I managed to make due, and got myself cleaned up enough to not be "covered in vomit".

Now what?  I call Todd and asked if he could please just bring me a change of clothes. I'm not even sure what went thru his head cause "hey honey, I just puked on myself and need new pants" isn't a typical conversation for us.  He asks me "which pants?" and it's all I can do to not scream "ANY PAIR WITHOUT PUKE"....at this point I would take pyjama bottoms.

Phew, ok, he's on his way.   So I sit there like a five year old waiting for her mommy to pick her up from school when she's sick.  Please, please, hurry up, and please, please no more vomit! As I'm waiting for him to show up, I have another thought...I still have to find a way to change my pants?  Uhm...not like I can do it in the middle of the parking lot. He shows up, gives me my pants, and is kind of looking at me with a hint of sympathy and a lot of "uh, what should I do now?".  I grab my pants, say goodbye and strategically hold my purse over the wet spots on my pants as I shuffle into the building and rush towards the bathroom. Thankfully, there's one right at the entrance so I didn't have far to go.  I go into the wheelchair washroom and lock myself in. Chill...there's no people in actual wheelchairs at work so it wasn't like stealing their parking spot or anything.

I strip down naked, use the crappy, brown paper towels and hand soap to give myself a sponge-bath, and then get changed into my new clothes. Now, I'm standing there with wet pants, no bag to put them in, and no desire to take them back out to my car for the day. So I do what every sane person would do and just throw them in the garbage and run like hell back upstairs to my office. They were getting too big anyway. (thank you Body By Vi!)

I have no clue why I threw up, seriously I'm NOT pregnant, and it didn't happen again (yet?!).  All I know is for the rest of the day anytime I coughed I was so paranoid that it hurt even more than usual to cough...blah.

It may be a few days before I live this one down at work, and likely another few more before I eat a strawberry shake again. 

Valentine's Day

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Valentine's Day is not the most celebrated in my family.  I don't ever really recall a special Valentine's Day growing up.  Same goes for my teenage years.  Some people (AKA my mother) say I have all the good memories blocked from my memory, but the only memory I have about Valentine's Day is vague...I think I was like 13 or 14, and I'm pretty sure a boy gave me a flower?  But it also could have been a random Friday night, and I may have just been drunk.

I often forget that Todd and I have been together since I was barely able to drive so it's not like there really should be that many pre-Todd memories anyway. 

All I know is I despise doing Valentine's Day cards and I'm sure that dates back to some random year where my mother forces me to make them or something. I always forget about them until it's the night before, maybe two or three days if I'm lucky. I have two kids, grade 7 and 4...so if you add it all up that's 13 YEARS worth of misery.  Now, I know those who know me well are laughing at my math skills but AHA...that's counting Primary too!! So there!

Thirteen years worth of begging the kids to just write their friggin names on the stupid card and hand them out as if they like the kids they go to school with.  Long gone are the days of just giving them to your FRIENDS....nnoooooo, now everything is 'fair' and 'even' so bring for all or bring for none. 

This year I was smart.  I made Valentine's on the computer, complete with "From Grace", printed them off on business cards, ripped them apart, slammed them in a bag....and voila!!  Here you go, Grace...pass these out with a smile!!  Bam!  Done!

Jer is too cool for V-day cards so that stress is over.  Now to just wait out the few more years til Little Miss Sunshine gets to Junior High.

So it's 8pm, on Valentine's Day night....I'm alone, sick as a dog. Grace is sick. Jeremy is in the basement, and Todd is helping a friend move.  I'm not shocked, I'm not mad, I'm not jealous of the bitches that got flowers or jewelry.  Really, I'm not...(bitches).

Just like most other holidays, we don't go wild.  He DID send flowers to my work one year, and I'm pretty sure there's been a few years where he did get me something...OOOhhh...one year he got me a ring I think.  Although that might have been for my birthday?! All I remember was we were in Moncton...or Fredericton?  I don't know. 

So to my husband, here in your Valentine's Day present...

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

Come home at a decent time...

And maybe we'll screw.

Can't spell "class" without Wendy...oh wait?!.......

Happy Valentine's Day to all my friends, family, and even the skinny bitches in the world!!! Luvs you all...

Bedtime Noise

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Not by my doing, my daughter has turned into one of those people that "can't sleep unless the TV is on". (her words)

Of course, this is totally Todd's fault (seriously), as he is one of those people too. Drives me nuts, I like silence. I like to sleep in the dark, with no noise...like most normal human beings.   So we "compromise", and set the timer on the TV.  The big issue is that HE sets the timer for 45 minutes and then HE falls asleep within 7 minutes and I'm stuck listening to some stupid Spike show for 30 something minutes. Some nights I manage to convince him to set it for 30 minutes, and last night (only because I was sick) he even compromised on 15 minutes. 

I'm torn between having to listen to the show, or listen to him snore.  It's really a lose-lose for me.  I listen to loud noises from the tv or from him nose. Either way, it sucks.  I scramble for the remote but it's usually on the other side of the bed, or under Todd, or on the floor. If I turn the TV off then I have to spend the next 10 minutes plugging his nose, til he stops breathing and rolls overs.

Drives me insane!!!

Lots of weekends the kids end up having friends sleepover, some nights there are 6 or 8 kids in my house that aren't even mine. As with a typical sleepover, they tend to fall asleep with the TV on at 4am.  What? That's not a typical sleepover?! 

Then comes Sunday night and little missy is all sooky, life is going to end, we are the worst parents ever because she can't sleep in our room with the TV on.  There's no TV in the kids rooms for this specific reason. They've never had a tv/computer/electronics in their bedrooms. 

So Todd, yeah Todd...gives in and lets her sleep in our bed so she can fall asleep with the TV on.  She doesn't sleep WITH us all night, she gets moved when we go to bed cause oh man...that would be a whole other situation. She gets to sleep with us maybe twice a year and we all suffer because of it.

Drives me nuts that it happens, but by 9pm I am done fighting battles.  I don't get it, it makes no sense to me. Todd's excuse is he likes the background noise. I'm not sure how gun fire or auctioneers screaming 'SOLD' can be considered 'background'...but to each his own I guess.

But guess what!?  She's a crotchety bear in the mornings because she ends up staying up later than she should.  So new plan...thanks to a few phone calls from the teacher about her "attitude", we've decided that bedtime will be moved to a half hour earlier, with 30 minutes scheduled for TV time, then the timer with shut it down.   So far so good...until she's 30 and married, with kids, and still can't get a normal night sleep because of a habit she picked up from her father...

I really should put my foot down...but then what kind of mother would I be if I didn't set her up to learn some life lessons??

Six Kids and Counting...

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How do the Duggars do it??! 

I've had six children (two are mine) in my house since Friday afternoon and I am exhausted!!  14, 13, 12, 10, 9 and 9.  Oh...and 37, but he worked all day.

The dishwasher is now on it's fourth load.  The fridge is empty. No milk, no bread, no juice, no snack foods left.  All my blankets are out and either on the floor or made into a fort of some kind. 

I made Tacos last night for supper and literally used a cookie sheet for the cheese/lettuce/tomatos/peppers.  We went thru 24 tacos, and a package of fajitas. Then there was the evening snack which demolished a full loaf of bread.

They cleaned off two boxes of cereal and another loaf of bread for breakfast.  Lunch was three boxes of KD and a half a package of chicken fingers.  Supper was the rest of the chicken fingers and spaghetti.  In between all of this, two full sleeves of Saltine crackers are gone, four bags of popcorn have been popped, and a 2 litre bottle of Seven-Up disappeared.

This is only six kids.  Don't the Duggars have like 22 or something?  I can't imagine their grocery bill.  I hope they have their own cows and chickens....cause it's got to be expensive!

On top of the food, there is just no possible way to keep up with them.  In the house, out of the house, drive us here, pick us up there. My house smells like feet, there's crumbs everywhere, and no matter which room I go into....there's a friggin' child.

There was a wrestling episode which resulted in a wide range of injuries....a sore back, a bump to the head, a sore chest, a scratch on a neck....thankfully it wasn't all to one child!  No blood, only one crying outburst, and I'm pretty sure they got at least 8hrs of sleep. (All I know is I got 11 hrs! WOO HOOO!)

Is this what it's like everyday to have this many kids?!  My grandparents have five children, and I've heard the horror stories. 

I managed to clean up back to MY standards tonight...minus mopping the floor, because, let's face it...that would be a complete waste of time until at least two more kids leave.  They are settled down in the living room with me.  One is on his phone, one is watching a movie on another kid's phone and the other two are watching TV.   The lights are off, and there hasn't been a fight in about two hours.

Nobody make any sudden moves....

Girls with be Boys

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There once was a time that I bought cute, little, pink dresses for my daughter.  There once was a time where I brought home little baby dolls.  A few times I even got her cute little fancy shoes. 

Then I threw them all in the trash because she refused, with all her might, to wear them.

She was about 1 1/2 years old when I knew that she was never, EVER, going to be a little girl.  Trucks, dinosaurs, snakes, lizards....all made her day.  She loves her brother's hand-me-downs and from the time she started potty training she has worn boy undies.  She hates ponytails, rarely wears pink, and there's not a single dress/skirt/pantyhose in her entire wardrobe.

She is who she is, no doubt about it.  She's solid in her "self" and she hardly waivers from it.  Somedays...most days...it's like she wants to BE a boy.

Fine, tickety-boo, fan-diddly-dastic...that's what makes her "HER".  On the days she's not acting like a boy, she acts like a dog, or a cat, or a chicken.  Somedays it can be quite entertaining...she slept in her "nest" aka closet as a bird for about 6 months.

I'm all for being your true self...and if her true self is a dude well then I'm cool with that too.  Her family, friends, teachers, and even our neighbors know the deal.  She is who she is. She's all boy...well, except for the fact that she has a "husband" in PEI, and they've been "married" for four years.  Confusing...yep.

So what's the problem?  Well, little miss gets a little upset when lumped in with "the girls".  It's not that she doesn't like to play with girls, her very best friends are the girliest you could ever find.  It's a complete oxymoron. She only wants to play with girls when SHE wants to...not when forced.  Forget forcing it...that equals WW3.

It's a constant issue when there's a boys team and a girls team. Turns out her after-school program is doing a "Healthy Living" program once a week, and it's being split into two groups.  Yep...boys and girls.

KABOOM!

Alligator tears, pouty lips, hissy fit.  It's one thing to let her wear boy sneakers...but how does one explain that girls are girls, and boys are boys and never the two shall meet?  She just doesn't get why she can't go with the boys...and I suppose I don't really get it either.  It's not like it's a sex-ed class. I can understand that everyone is more comfortable in those situations if it's just boys/girls.

This is just healthy activities, and snacks.  No need to segregate! But rules are rules, and that's been a huge topic in our house lately so it's not even something I'm willing to entertain fighting for. 

Little does she know that in the next few years she'll likely explode into some fashion-crazy, boy-crazy, nail-painting teenager who will want to be with the boys...but for completely different reason....shoot me now.

Under-Bum

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My yoga studio has started offering more "Flow" classes.  No, not Aunt Flo, but a kick-your-ass cardio filled yoga class. At least for me anyway!! If I make it through the 75 minute class without dying I consider it a victory.  For the first five minutes I'm good, the next 25 I feel like I'm going to vomit, the next 15 I'm SURE I'm going to vomit....then I sort of teeter between absolute certainty that death is near or that I am at the very least going to faint. My arms shake, I want to cry (SHOCKER!), and my bum quivers like a baby without it's Mommy.

I usually avoid these types of classes as it's bad for my ego. Yeah sure, yoga's not about how good you are...but when you are down in child's pose for most of the class it's mentally defeating.  But, in my desire for less fat...I've been going to the flow classes on purpose. Yikes!

Sunday's class, with the glorious Estelle, was a killer!!  It was definitely a challenge, but I managed to stick it out without dying.  I felt good!! That's the best part of yoga is the euphoric feeling you get for the rest of the night. 

Until the next morning comes and you can hardly move.  Weird muscles hurt. Muscles I don't know are screaming at me.  "Yo, Wendy...this is your under-bum muscles....SUCKER!! How do you like me now?!"  It's not my gluts...but the muscles right where the thigh meets the bum...the under-bum muscles?!  I don't know...I'm not a doctor.

So there's my under-bum muscles, and the back-of-my-arm muscles, and what skinny-bitches call "abs".  All of them are killing me and then I have to climb two flights of stairs to get to my office and all those muscles are LOL'ing at me as I maneuver up the stairs like a stick man. 

Monday was a complete right off.  Tuesday we had "date-night".  Tonight I was feeling back to normal so I gave it another go.  I'm back in high-on-life state of mind and hoping tomorrow my under-bum cuts me some slack....or I may be working from my car. 

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