Live Healthy Iowa!
In a moment of temporary insanity I signed up to be a Live Healthy Iowa team member with some co-workers.
Determined not to let them down, I then signed up for a circuit training class at the gym. This is the same gym I let my husband talk me into joining. He loves the gym, he goes 3-5 times per week. He lifts weights and runs like 30 minutes. He sweats and breathes heavy and everything. I was completely happy doing my fake work-outs to humor him. You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about - walking on the treadmill, working up to a jog for a minute or two, gingerly riding the stationary bike, and jumping on the dreaded eliptical contraption for up to five entire minutes. Let's be realistic, the only reason I consented was to catch 30-60 minutes of HGTV as we gave up cable at home two years ago (OMG has it really been two years?!).
The first night I showed up for circuit training only one other person showed up. He was a gangly 50'ish guy who apologized for his wife's absence on the first day of class. The perky personal trainer assured him that she could join us next week along with another missing classmate. She then proceeded to walk us through the "circuit" of machines that we were going to utilize during our training. She briefed us on the concept of combining treadmill work with quick spurts of weight machine work. Thirty-two seconds has never felt so long in my entire 35 years of life! By the time we had worked through nearly two circuits and were one machine away from our cool-down, I nearly passed out - LITERALLY. I was sitting on what has quickly become my least favorite machine. Just as the trainer shouted "switch" the world started closing in and I felt like I was on the verge of spewing. As "Tom" comes over to take my place on the machine, I can't get off - the world has started to spin at this point. He's all "Are you alright?" All I could do was shake my head. As I slinked my way off the machine so he could finish his workout, the trainer walked over to ensure I was okay. I looked up in horror to see 10 people standing there waiting for their circuit training class to begin. The trainer grabbed a garbage can and told me to stay put. She then added that I got a good workout in as I pushed my body to the limit. WHAT?! Was she crazy. She nearly killed me! As I sat against the wall for the next 20 minutes she kept checking in to encourage me to come back next time - she didn't want this to discourage me. Now why on earth would this near-death experience discourage me? I just got my butt kicked by the old guy I was working out with. How humiliating.
Determined to not let my Live Healthy Iowa team down I returned to this class I now lovingly refer to as "Death by Cardio" and have made it through all three circuits without dropping dead. I'm still relatively certain the perky trainer and my overly supportive husband are in cahoots - it's an evil plan to kill me!
If I drop dead, promise me you'll have the cops question both of them!
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
What was I Thinking?
My husband and I take the religious upbringing of our girls quite seriously. So, when a need surfaced at our church for someone (anyone) to oversee the activities of our junior youth group we took on the challenge (without near enough forethought or prayer).
We have graciously accepted the challenge of organizing monthly activities for 13 youth (ages 10-14). Two of our three daughters fall into this category.
We've enjoyed bowling with the kids, taking them to a Remedy Drive concert in a nearby town, and we even went so far as an overnight trip to our church's camp to help rake leaves and clean gutters.
December's activity (which got postponed due to weather) took place today. I had this great brainchild that the junior youth should prepare the baked Christmas goodies for their Christmas pageant. In years past, I have been yoked with the duty of supplying 4-6 dozen baked goods (2 dozen per child) amidst all the Christmas program practices, IBL basketball games, family Christmas gatherings, shopping, work parties, and sanity breaks. So, I thought if I could save other over-burdened mothers from this same task, I would some how be a hero.
I've decided I'm not hero material.
After the kids spent the entire morning indoors practicing for tomorrow's big performance, I stuffed them with pizza and soda and then corralled them in the church kitchen for a "fun" afternoon of baking. I had envisioned laughter and floured stained faces - a literal Santa's workshop of baking elves if you will. Instead I got a room full of noisy tweens that couldn't follow a recipe even though it was written in a language I was sure they were versed in - English.
"I need some butter!" "Who has the 1 tsp.?" I don't know what this means!" "Can someone help me stir this?" "Who has the 1 tsp.?" "Who took my oven?" "Where's the pan I had right here?" "WHO HAS THE 1TSP!?"
And then there was the mess. Boy, it's amazing how fast a room full of children can disappear once they have lost interest in what they were doing. How do the little Houdini's do that? One minute I want to pull all the hair out of my head as the noise level threatens my sanity. The next minute I'm elbow deep in a bowl of peanut butter cookie dough and completely unaware of the eerily empty kitchen.
At the end of the two and a half hour Christmas baking extravaganza, I'm left completely exhausted and wondering how I could have thought that baking 6 dozen cookies in the privacy of my own kitchen while my husband entertains the children with a trip to the movie theater once drove me to my limit. Seriously? What was I thinking?
We have graciously accepted the challenge of organizing monthly activities for 13 youth (ages 10-14). Two of our three daughters fall into this category.
We've enjoyed bowling with the kids, taking them to a Remedy Drive concert in a nearby town, and we even went so far as an overnight trip to our church's camp to help rake leaves and clean gutters.
December's activity (which got postponed due to weather) took place today. I had this great brainchild that the junior youth should prepare the baked Christmas goodies for their Christmas pageant. In years past, I have been yoked with the duty of supplying 4-6 dozen baked goods (2 dozen per child) amidst all the Christmas program practices, IBL basketball games, family Christmas gatherings, shopping, work parties, and sanity breaks. So, I thought if I could save other over-burdened mothers from this same task, I would some how be a hero.
I've decided I'm not hero material.
After the kids spent the entire morning indoors practicing for tomorrow's big performance, I stuffed them with pizza and soda and then corralled them in the church kitchen for a "fun" afternoon of baking. I had envisioned laughter and floured stained faces - a literal Santa's workshop of baking elves if you will. Instead I got a room full of noisy tweens that couldn't follow a recipe even though it was written in a language I was sure they were versed in - English.
"I need some butter!" "Who has the 1 tsp.?" I don't know what this means!" "Can someone help me stir this?" "Who has the 1 tsp.?" "Who took my oven?" "Where's the pan I had right here?" "WHO HAS THE 1TSP!?"
And then there was the mess. Boy, it's amazing how fast a room full of children can disappear once they have lost interest in what they were doing. How do the little Houdini's do that? One minute I want to pull all the hair out of my head as the noise level threatens my sanity. The next minute I'm elbow deep in a bowl of peanut butter cookie dough and completely unaware of the eerily empty kitchen.
At the end of the two and a half hour Christmas baking extravaganza, I'm left completely exhausted and wondering how I could have thought that baking 6 dozen cookies in the privacy of my own kitchen while my husband entertains the children with a trip to the movie theater once drove me to my limit. Seriously? What was I thinking?
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Worst Mother of the Year
It's official. We are only 5 days into the new year and I believe I have snagged the title of Worst Mother of the Year. Just ask #1.
Two years ago she fell out of her loft in a wandering fit of sleepwalking. She fell the six feet to the floor only to land on her clarinet case. It was obvious with the shrieking streaming from her room at 11:30pm on that Friday night that she had broken her arm. It was December (and for those of you that don't live in the arctic cirlce - or Iowa) it is cold outside at 11:30. In a selfish attempt to save a large ER bill so close to Christmas and save some poor doctor from having to drag his butt out of bed, I asked if she could make it until morning if I stuffed her full of the highest legal dose of ibuprofen allowed. She agreed (I admire her need to please). So in the morning I took her to the clinic where they were too busy to see her and I ended up in the ER none-the-less only to find out our family doctor had been on call the night before.
That does not make me this year's worst mother of the year, oh no.
Nearly one month ago #1 was playing volleyball and twisted her ankle. Despite her complaining her father and I were certain it was just a mild sprain and that she was just looking for attention.
That does not make me this year's worst mother of the year, not yet.
Two weeks ago #1 was playing basketball and broke her pinkie. Oh, yes, it was definitely broken. It swelled all up and was purple. But, let's be realistic. I spend enough time at our local hospital (it's always something at our house) to know that there is nothing they can do for a broken pinkie. So, we taped her pinkie to her ring finger and allowed her to play basketball the next day.
That does not make me this year's worst mother. ...wait for it.
Yesterday #1 twisted her ankle (again) at basketball practice. I looked at it before I ran off to an evening meeting, but let's face it, I have an accounting degree, what do I know about ankles, really? This morning she was still complaining about it and whining that she needed a doctor's note to not have to run in basketball practice. Her father and I relentlessly scour the cupboards for one of the million ace bandages we have acquired through one of our many hospital trips (I'm not lying, we spend a LOT of time there). It would seem that #2 & #3 have "misplaced" them during one of their games of hospital. So Jack assures #1 that he'll call the clinic and see what they have available. I cringe at the thought of paying $15 to see a PA to tell us that she twisted her ankle. Then the call comes...
It turns out she has broken her ankle, nothing serious, just a non-load-bearing bone that will require an air cast for the next 2-4 weeks. And to think, I thought she should just walk it off!
To make matters worse, the doctor showed my husband the x-ray and points to #1's growth plates. He says that she's probably about done growing. I think this news came quite devastatingly to our 12 year-old that only stands 5'1" (I know this because I measured her tonight). Don't get me wrong, the name Stump suits her rather well and I think she's growing used to her father and I cupping our hands around our mouths and shouting "Hello, down there!" Oh,this one won't get old for a while!!
Get your ballots ready folks, I think I've got this year's Worst Mother of Year award cinched.
Two years ago she fell out of her loft in a wandering fit of sleepwalking. She fell the six feet to the floor only to land on her clarinet case. It was obvious with the shrieking streaming from her room at 11:30pm on that Friday night that she had broken her arm. It was December (and for those of you that don't live in the arctic cirlce - or Iowa) it is cold outside at 11:30. In a selfish attempt to save a large ER bill so close to Christmas and save some poor doctor from having to drag his butt out of bed, I asked if she could make it until morning if I stuffed her full of the highest legal dose of ibuprofen allowed. She agreed (I admire her need to please). So in the morning I took her to the clinic where they were too busy to see her and I ended up in the ER none-the-less only to find out our family doctor had been on call the night before.
That does not make me this year's worst mother of the year, oh no.
Nearly one month ago #1 was playing volleyball and twisted her ankle. Despite her complaining her father and I were certain it was just a mild sprain and that she was just looking for attention.
That does not make me this year's worst mother of the year, not yet.
Two weeks ago #1 was playing basketball and broke her pinkie. Oh, yes, it was definitely broken. It swelled all up and was purple. But, let's be realistic. I spend enough time at our local hospital (it's always something at our house) to know that there is nothing they can do for a broken pinkie. So, we taped her pinkie to her ring finger and allowed her to play basketball the next day.
That does not make me this year's worst mother. ...wait for it.
Yesterday #1 twisted her ankle (again) at basketball practice. I looked at it before I ran off to an evening meeting, but let's face it, I have an accounting degree, what do I know about ankles, really? This morning she was still complaining about it and whining that she needed a doctor's note to not have to run in basketball practice. Her father and I relentlessly scour the cupboards for one of the million ace bandages we have acquired through one of our many hospital trips (I'm not lying, we spend a LOT of time there). It would seem that #2 & #3 have "misplaced" them during one of their games of hospital. So Jack assures #1 that he'll call the clinic and see what they have available. I cringe at the thought of paying $15 to see a PA to tell us that she twisted her ankle. Then the call comes...
It turns out she has broken her ankle, nothing serious, just a non-load-bearing bone that will require an air cast for the next 2-4 weeks. And to think, I thought she should just walk it off!
To make matters worse, the doctor showed my husband the x-ray and points to #1's growth plates. He says that she's probably about done growing. I think this news came quite devastatingly to our 12 year-old that only stands 5'1" (I know this because I measured her tonight). Don't get me wrong, the name Stump suits her rather well and I think she's growing used to her father and I cupping our hands around our mouths and shouting "Hello, down there!" Oh,this one won't get old for a while!!
Get your ballots ready folks, I think I've got this year's Worst Mother of Year award cinched.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Sightings
The girls have been on Christmas break for a week and a half. In that time, the 12-year old has read the Twilight series (all 2,000 pages) along with 4-5 other smaller books. She has been holed up in her room for the entire break. She stays up until 3:00am and only emerges for meals and the randome chore (washing dishes and the like).
Today we found ourselves with an entire day off (church service was cancelled due to the freezing rain we had yesterday). So we spent the entire day in our jammies playing games, watching movies and football, and just lounging around the house. Throughout the day the 12 year-old has graced us more than usual. We have started referring to these as "sightings". I don't think she finds it half as amusing as the rest of us do. I'm just happy to know that tomorrow they'll all return to their normal routines and the chaos will resume.
...as for the runner we had the other night...
All of my children have been stricken with sleep walking. On any given night you can find atleast one of them wandering the house aimlessly babbling incoherently. There have been a couple of instances where one has gotten out of the house, so we try to keep their ventures supervised. The pediatrician that performed #2's sleep study assured me that this is all very normal. Obviously he has never been graced with these activities at 1:00am by one of his own offspring. They used to disturb me, now I just corrale them and coerce them to the bathroom and back into bed.
Today we found ourselves with an entire day off (church service was cancelled due to the freezing rain we had yesterday). So we spent the entire day in our jammies playing games, watching movies and football, and just lounging around the house. Throughout the day the 12 year-old has graced us more than usual. We have started referring to these as "sightings". I don't think she finds it half as amusing as the rest of us do. I'm just happy to know that tomorrow they'll all return to their normal routines and the chaos will resume.
...as for the runner we had the other night...
All of my children have been stricken with sleep walking. On any given night you can find atleast one of them wandering the house aimlessly babbling incoherently. There have been a couple of instances where one has gotten out of the house, so we try to keep their ventures supervised. The pediatrician that performed #2's sleep study assured me that this is all very normal. Obviously he has never been graced with these activities at 1:00am by one of his own offspring. They used to disturb me, now I just corrale them and coerce them to the bathroom and back into bed.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Getting Started
This blogging thing is all new to me. I've been thinking about doing it for a while and thought I'd start with a Facebook account. So, I've been a semi-professional facebook-er now for about 3 days, now it's time to try my hand at blogging.
I'd like to share with you some of the daily escapades from our always-busy house. People around me seem to get a good laugh from our family's mishaps, so I thought I'd share with everyone.
I hope you enjoy getting to know more about my family and maybe, just maybe, it will make you feel a little better about your own chaos.
Our family:
they seem harmless enough, right?
and our dog:
I'd like to share with you some of the daily escapades from our always-busy house. People around me seem to get a good laugh from our family's mishaps, so I thought I'd share with everyone.
I hope you enjoy getting to know more about my family and maybe, just maybe, it will make you feel a little better about your own chaos.
Our family:
- myself, a full-time accountant and small-town girl
- my husband, Jack, a student/servant/farmer/truck driver and all-around good guy
- Taylor (12) - sports-minded, mother hen, book-worm who's as well-behaved as we could have hoped.
- Lexi (10) - spirited (that's the best word I've found!), gymnast, who's never afraid to tell you what she thinks.
- Maddie (8) - kind-hearted, used to be sweet, well-liked and well-intended
they seem harmless enough, right?- Lucy (3) - she's an english bulldog that likes to eat, sleep, and relieve herself in the front yard. I'm sure there will be more coming on that as the snow melts and Jack freaks out about the dead spots all over his lawn!
Oh, I got a runner (I'll explain more later). Gotta go!
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