You know you're in the Mother-Hood when...

You Know You're in the MotherHood When...

You've sniffed a spot on your shirt and been able to determine the origin of said spot with CSI efficiency.

You let someone see you basically naked because he said he was an anesthesiologist.

It's a good day if you actually had time to shower, without interruptions or an audience of any kind.

Your meal plan has consisted of eating whatever mac and cheese is left in the pot after you've served it to the kids.

A drawing of you with a head the size of a watermelon is the prettiest picture you've ever seen.

Everyone but you being asleep counts as "alone time."

You feel a sense of accomplishment if you read an entire article in People magazine in one sitting.

You can name 3 out of 5 Backyardigans - you know you can.



Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Move Over Muffin Top!


This document will serve as the last will as testament to parts of my body that are wiggly, jiggly and quite honestly, not sore in the least bit.
In a matter of mere hours, I will begin my new weight loss/fitness adventure.
This time, the only way that has ever proven to work for me - with someone telling me what to do and yelling at me when I don't.

The last time I was in great shape was in high school. I spent two hours everyday after school with multiple coaches running me through sprints, drills and all levels of training hell. Once I graduated, those coaches with whistles disappeared and the buffet line of cereal in my college dining hall appeared. Moving into my mid-thirties, I find myself at a crossroads. This particular crossroads seemed to be paved with peanut butter candy from Easter.
A few weeks after this candy-palooza holiday, I weighed myself and found I had crept back up in the "are you overweight or 4 months pregnant" area. This is a bad, bad place to be and in my case, the final straw.
So, I will make this rather drastic move and lug my out of shape self to my neighbor, who is a Cross Fit trainer.
Yeah. Me + military style boot camp work outs = whimpering, quivering mess.

So, after today all those wiggly jiggly parts will be sore. Very sore.
Hence the double pack of ibuprofen I purchased today.

My hope is that in a few weeks, I'll be able to say - yeah, I'm sore, but I feel like I am finally getting back into shape and I've already lost a few pounds.
I have never, NEVER been one of those "I love to exercise" freaks.
I am very competitive and I love to play sports, but just running?
Not so much.
If I were in a horror movie, I would be killed off first, because I hate running so much I'd just hide in the closet, let the psycho killer find me and be done with it. No running through dark alleys for me.

So, my friends, once the muscles in my "Mom Arms" become so sore they are numb, I may be able to blog once again, virtually shouting my accomplishments from the rooftops - or at least letting everyone (by that I mean the three people that read this) that I am still alive, even if I am in a body cast.

2 comments:

Amy said...

LOVE this! Maybe if I read this every damn day, I'll get on the ball too.

Jennifer Bohnart said...

cheering you on! Wish we could battle it out together...
cannot be worse than running that hill at USAFA right?!?