Boot Camp

The alarm goes off at 4am on Monday morning and I ask myself yet again, "What foreign and strange demon possessed me to sign up for bootcamp?" Then I remember....a McDonalds drive-thru waiter-person. What do they call those people anyway? I'm drawing a blank. But I digress. I picked up McDonalds for the kids on our way home one night, and didn't even order myself anything might I add. I hand the lady at the window my money, when she gives me my change, she asks me "When are you due?" Due? DUE? Are you freaking kidding me? I blankly stare at her for what felt like minutes but was probably only seconds while I tried to process what she was asking me. My brain computes. My brain is horrified. I wanted to reach thru the window and $@*!#-slap her into next week! However, my kids were in the car, and I do try to occasionally be the model of propriety. So, I smile through gritted teeth and say "ummm no, I just had a baby". She makes a cooing noise and attempts to look in the backseat of the mini. I can't tell you what she was thinking, but I'll tell you what she saw. She saw 3 teenagers and a 3 year old, no infants. I saw her look. I saw her confusion. I baldly looked her in the eye and dared her to say another stinkin' word. She wisely kept her mouth shut and just handed me my food.

So, I ran out and joined bootcamp. Well, not quite, but almost. It would take one more humiliating incident to convince me drastic measures were necessary. What might that be you ask?

I was congratulated at work. Did I get a promotion? No. Did I do something pulitzer worthy? No. Did I achieve a major career milestone? No. In puzzlement, I ask this co-worker. "For what?". He looks at my stomach. Oh no, he didn't! I gasp loudly and amid uncomfortable laughter by other staff members, I not so gently inform him that I am most certainly not pregnant and instead of apologizing he goes on justify his stupidity by blaming my outfit!

I might have been able to handle and even laugh about the first incident, but after the second one, I knew drastic measures were necessary. Enter bootcamp.

A five week circuit training nightmare that begins at 5am on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. I am currently in the middle of week 4. What's even more amazing is that I actually paid for the hellatious privilege of having my butt kicked around for an hour.

Week 1: I'm overjoyed that I'm not the fatest person there. I survived, but my quality of life was diminished by the fact that I couldn't even get off the toilet without grasping onto doors and walls for support. The pain and agony in all my muscles was that intense. I hurt in places I didn't even know existed. It was a tad bit humbling to realize that my "fast" was everyone else's "slow", and even the girls bigger than me, were lapping me. My humiliation is now complete, I have nothing left to lose. Oh wait, I had to be weighed and measured and it's out in the open. On the bright side, I don't think anyone noticed. On the even more embarrassing side, she measured my calfs and I hadn't shaved my legs in......well, let's just say it had been awhile. Will the humiliation ever end?

Week 2: Situps. Let's discuss. I love it when she says, "all the way up, use your thighs if you have to." Ummm okay. Do something for me will you? Put an extra large rolled up wet towel on your belly and then try to do full situps. You know what? You can't! That big roll between my chest and thighs prohibits my movement, and besides, I thought crunches were better for you! See that red-faced girl grabbing her thighs while doing the rocking momentum move before finally hoisting herself up into the situp position? Yep, that's me.

Week 3: Okay I'm finally used to starving and getting up early to exercise. But my feet are still killing me. Oh it must be my shoes right. Go buy a $100 pair from Luke's Locker and then running and squats will be a breeze right? WRONG! My feet still hurt, and you want to know my theory on this? Because I'm fat. I've got xxx amount of pounds resting on my poor flattened smashed out feet, and you're telling me to run. Of course my feet hurt!!!!

Week 4: Light at the end of the tunnel. I'm down 15lbs and while I won't say it's gotten any easier, I do feel pretty good. My least favorite exercises this week. The curtsy and the dog hydrant. I mean seriously? Any exercise that comes with a litany of rules and posture do's and dont's is probably not the exercise for someone like me. I'm uncoordinated on the best of days, now you put my tired, worn out, fat body and tell it to curtsy while keeping my knee at a 90 degree angle, while my back knee should be touching the ground but to the side of me, but don't twist the front knee, and don't overextend the knee. And then once I get down there, I have to get up again and repeat all while maintaining a straight back!?!?!?!? Then there is the dog hydrant. Is there anything more undignified than sitting on all fours and lifting your leg to the side like you're going to pee on your neighbor as cars drive by? Enough said.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I regret doing it. It's been life-changing, but you have to be willing to check your pride at the door. The good news is that she generally takes pity on me, and leaves me alone. I worked very hard to ensure she didn't learn my name. I tried my best to fade into anonymity. I'm still waiting for the endorphins and the love of exercise (although I'm fairly convinced these are urban legends), but it does leave me wondering how I will challenge myself next.

Recipe For How To Entertain Your Guests

Jerry and I really know how to entertain our guests. Even if our guests are just family, we pull out all the stops complete with red carpet and nonstop entertainment. Never fear, I will share my recipe with all of you, my faithful followers.

Let me set the stage. It's my daughter's 12th birthday, and she wants dinner with a friend and her family at the Magic Time Machine. We invite her best friend, and my parents, along with her 2 sisters and brother, and us...it's a big group. The festivities begin on a Friday night. I should backtrack a little bit and let you all know that Thursday, Ethan came home from daycare feverish and sick. He was up all night, so we were, needless to say, exhausted.

My lovely parents arrived on Friday afternoon, and everyone was excited. Now, I decided to take Ethan, Lindsay and my mother to go pick up her friend who lives way out in the middle of nowhereville. Ethan didn't nap well that day, and I thought he might sleep in the car, and we were still trying to decide if we should take him to dinner. He did fall asleep, and seemed to be in a pretty good mood, so I decided dinner was a go despite Jerry's outspoken skepticism (somewhere along the lines of "are you freaking crazy, this is going to be a nightmare but whatever!"). On the drive home, I had the brilliant idea of having my dad, Jerry and the other 2 girls leave for the restaurant and get us a table so we wouldn't have to wait when we got there. I asked that Jerry lay out clothes for Ethan (he was in the baby white trash outfit of a tshirt and diaper), and I would swing by the house, and grab his diaper bag and clothes.

I get to the house, there is the diaper bag and clothes but no shoes. I run around looking for the shoes and can't find them. Shrug my shoulders and figure whatever, it's not like he feels like running around. Dad calls and they are at the restaurant wondering where we are (I say we are almost there, and by almost I mean not even halfway there). They won't seat until the entire party arrives. Great. I can almost visualize Jerry's nostrils flaring and that little vein in his forehead pulsing to the rhythm of his supreme annoyance. Oh and then there was the text from Libby to say that Jerry forgot her at home. WHAT!?!?!?!? I was just there, and the house was silent!!! How was it possible I missed her. How could he have forgotten her!??!?! I bet Jerry thought she went with me, and she had that stupid ipod plugged into her ears and didn't hear them leave. OMG now I have to turn all the way back home. Buzzzzzz: Incoming Text from Libby. "Just kidding mom, but can you hurry because Emily and I are in "man-hell" (she didn't say hell, but she was definitely not excited about being stuck with Jerry and Dad). Kidding? She was kidding!

Now that I can breathe again, I realize we are almost there. We pull into the restaurant to see my daughters standing in the parking lot doing some seizure-like Napoleon Dynamite dance moves. Oh goodness. I park the car, and dress my son. I tell my husband I couldn't find the shoes. I can't publish his reaction, suffice it to say it was Rated R. I mean, duh...the shoes were in his car. First place any normal, intelligent person would look obviously.

Dinner actually went really well. Our waiter was Johnny Depp's character from Pirates, and he was extremely authentic. The food was good, and everyone was having a great time. Even though Ethan was sick, he was good and quiet for the most part. Now we invited my parents, this is our daughter's birthday dinner, but my dad decides to pick up the tab. Personally, I think he thought we couldn't afford shoes for our kid, so we probably couldn't afford dinner. It was a very nice gesture, but Jerry and I both felt bad because we had invited them as our guests. So take note, first rule towards entertaining your guests: Make them feel sorry for you, so they pay for everything. At this point, Ethan is getting whiny, so my dad and Jerry take him home. Us girls stay and let Lindsay and her friend get their palms read. I should have had mine read, maybe it would have told me what the rest of the weekend had in store so I could have run straight to the bar and inebriated myself into next week.

We probably hadn't been home for 30 minutes before Ethan started screaming and crying about boogers in his nose. Jerry tried to snarf him out, and lay him back down. I lost count of how many times we had to go in his room, we each tried taking turns falling asleep with him, then sneaking out, but it would only last 20-30 minutes then he was up screaming again. The night peaks when Ethan throws up in his bed. We are both so exhausted, this is our 2nd night w/out sleep, we give in and bring him to bed with us. He sleeps on top of me, waking up on and off all night crying. His fever peaked to 102 and change, but he didn't throw up again.

It was the weirdest illness. He would be a happy-go-lucky little boy one minute and the next minute crying and whiny and clingy. We had taken him to the doctor on Friday, and had him tested for flu. It was negative. I tried motrin, and vicks and baths and nothing was working. My mom and I went shopping that Saturday morning, but my phone buzzed every 5 seconds with text msgs from home adding to my stress level and exhaustion so I'm sure it was about as much fun for her as having a root canal. Then we went to our mothership aka Target, and I started feeling sick to my stomach and sweaty, so we had to speed thru the 2nd half of target. My poor mother never gets her Target experience, there is only a scary Walmart and a smelly Brookshires near her house, so coming to visit my sister or I is like Disney World for a kid. I felt horrible.

Jerry had to work that night. I decided to fix burgers for dinner, but Ethan was so needy that my parents ended up cooking. Yep, you heard right. Friday night, they paid for dinner. Saturday, my dad did odd jobs for my kids, my mother put up with her moody and exhausted daughter, and now they are cooking their own dinner while staying as guests in my home. At this point they must be seriously considering never visiting us again, and if the events thus far hadn't convinced them, then the night to come surely would put the final nail in that coffin. After we ate, they cleaned up. My humiliation is complete. I am a horrible hostess.

I attempt to put Ethan to bed. Naturally he doesn't sleep, just keeps crying. I don't want to wake my parents, afterall they are probably exhausted from doing EVERYTHING. I bring him into bed with me. He won't stop crying. I start to lose it. I mean really lose it. I pick him up and put him on the floor, and just start yelling at him "what is the matter with you!!!!". He cries harder then proceeds to spew vomit all over the floor, down his pajamas and all over his blankie. OMG I don't DO vomit. Jerry does vomit. I can't handle this. I'm tired. I'm upset and angry that I don't know what is wrong with my son and how to make him better. I feel horrible that my parents are having to deal with this and help out. I just completely melt down. Oh and then with the vomit comes the butt explosion. ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?!?!?!? I'm crying, and gagging while trying to clean up vomit. Ethan is screaming. My mom comes into my room, takes one look at me, and takes charge. She wakes dad from his sleeping stupor and comes back upstairs to put Ethan in the bath to wash off the vomit. Dad comes up half asleep and mom instructs him to clean up the vomit.

OH MY POOR FATHER. He has to cook. He has to clean. AND now he has to clean up vomit from his grandson. They were my guests!!!! I'm amazed they didn't get in the car and leave for home that second. I can't even bring myself to get up off the floor of the bathroom. I sit there in my pajamas, my hair all over the place, crying hysterically, holding my naked son in a towel telling my mom over and over again that I can't take anymore. I manage to call Jerry, and amazingly thru my snot filled sobs he understood...GET HOME NOW. He found me on the floor of the bathroom, holding Ethan, rocking back and forth and doing that hiccup cry thing. He must have thought he had entered the loony bin. He took one look at me and said let's go.

We took Ethan to the ER where he miraculously seemed healthy and happy. Well, I didn't care. We weren't leaving until they did every test imaginable because I could not take another night or day of this. I didn't care that every other member of the ER waiting room gave us dirty looks as we were called back and our "sick" son went skipping down the hall. Nope. I gave them all the mental finger.

We were there for hours. He was tested for RSV. They took Xrays of his lungs. They finally came back with this diagnosis. Well, we can't find anything, must be viral. It's 2am in the morning, we've been up for 3 days, and I'm not even going to get an aspirin for this visit!

We got home, filled in my mom on the diagnosis or lack thereof. Put little man to bed, amazingly enough he went straight down and slept until almost noon the next day. I heard my parents moving around early the next morning, not surprisingly, they were dressed and packed and ready to go. Can't say I blame them. I'll be amazed if they ever come back, but we could not have gotten thru that weekend without them and for that I will always be eternally grateful. They've always been the "roll your shirtsleeves up, and step in the thick of the muck, salt of the earth" kind of people. I can't imagine life without them, and I love them very much.

Thanks mom and dad for everything, but mostly for just being you.

2008: A Year In Review

A big Happy New Year shout out to all my peeps! I can't believe it's 2009 already! I was so sure that I'd be living like a Jetson by now. Oh well... 2008 was a pretty good year for us. We were blessed with good health, good jobs and our children continue to surprise and amaze us. I can't wait to see what 2009 brings, but first let me recap our 2008.

Jerry feels much more comfortable in his new job position, and he's rockin' and rollin' (well it's Jerry, but you know what I mean). He got another raise this year, and it wasn't even a merit raise, so that was a really nice surprise. After a visit to my parents early in 2008, and his wonderful mother-in-law's observation that he resembled something close to the Pillsbury Doughboy (okay maybe not those exact words, I'm paraphrasing, and it's not like she said it to his face, no no I was nice enough to share it with him later...such a good wife I am), he began his strict workout and diet regime. I believe he's lost 16 pounds to date and he looks amazing. His head is getting a bit large, and pretty soon I worry he won't fit through the door. Who knew that a compliment from a 14 year old boy would send him into such a tailspin of egocentric delight! Yes, you read that right. Libby's boyfriend Ian commented that Jerry was "very ripped and buff." Excuse me while I pause and laugh hysterically. *deep breath* Okay, I'm good now. Anywho, he's earned the admiration of teen boys, so 2008 was indeed kind to Jerry. On top of the generous compliments regarding his physique, he continued to wow the masses with his extraordinary teaching abilities. Sometimes I sit in these classes and hear the praise and admiration for my husband, and I think to myself..."my husband? Jerry Butler? Not real tall, dark haired, flaring nostrils Jerry Butler?" Only kidding, in all seriousness he wows me too :)

Moving on to the Libster, what a year 2008 was for my oldest munchkin! She attended her first concert, Avril Lavigne with her mom and bestie Madi. Oh, what fun was had by all! I learned two very important things about Libby and Madi. My goodness they have a set of lungs, and they are horrible dancers. Sorry girls, sad but true. We started out in the nosebleed section, but after the girls sweet talked a security guard we got a little inside tip, so by the time the concert began, we were very close to the front! Here is a picture of those crazy pink-haired teens:

Libby became a Rice Cheer Flyer. She absolutely loved cheerleading, well except for the cheer part. Hmmmm...could that be right? Yep, that's what she said. Go figure. I guess my dreams of being the psycho cheer mom from hell are dead. Thanks Libby.

School was school. I don't think Mensa International will be calling anytime soon, but her grades were consistent and good. I was kinda hoping she would be the youngest contestant on Trump's Apprentice, but alas that dream will be buried next to the replicate cheer uniform I made for myself. She fully discovered the world of cramps, PMS and monthly oopsies. Let the good times roll people. We began remodeling her room, she got her first pair of uggs, and she got her hair highlighted for the very first time. Speaking of her hair, I think it multiplies exponentially each year. You be the judge...

She made her first solo trip to Cali to visit her cousin Madeline. She experienced several firsts while there. She flew on the plane, with a layover, all by herself! She took a train from LA to San Diego, and that was really cool. She toilet papered her first home, and learned a vital truth. Stealth is not her forte. Naturally, this experience led to a repeat performance at home with mom driving the getaway car. We hit 3 houses and I was a nervous wreck. At one point, I was lying down in the front seat paranoid that I was going to get caught and accused of being some stalking pervert hanging around people's homes in the middle of the night. The novelty of being the cool mom lasted about 5 seconds, and the ding dong ditching did nothing to help my anxiety. Jerry washed his hands of the event completely, and I knew he wouldn't be my one call from the cold harsh reality of jail.

She became a true baywatch babe...

She came home full of stories, a really bad sunburn and the worst breakout of her life. A mark of a truly good time.

Oh, and did I mention she got her first boyfriend this year? Take a moment and jump up and down screaming like a teen girl! Yes, that was my reaction too!!! I worry she might get spoiled with a very good first boyfriend. He is complimentary but not smarmy or effusive. He calls when he says he is going too, and he cares about her well being. He walks her to class, and offers to have a "talk" with anyone bothering her. I mean, how cute is that?!?!?! Of course, somehow she did manage to find the only person shorter than her to go out with, but they are very cute together. I especially like that neither of them are in any hurry to further progress their relationship. They enjoy each other and are taking it very slow. Seriously, snails and turtles are faster. He is big on hugs though. And there was the almost-not quite kiss, but really a more innocent couple you couldn't find. I hope I'm saying that next year at this time. Actually, I need to go find my happy place because that thought sent me into the dark abyss of dating teenage daughters. Ugh. Of course Libby has the Advance sex talk with mom to look forward to this year, and she might act like she's dreading it but deep deep deep down, she's excited. I'm trying to find a pop-up book. If a pop-up penis doesn't scare her off, I don't know what else to try! Maybe pop-up STD's? I think that pretty much sums up Libby's year, now let's move on to....

Two more members of my wonderful family, Emily and Lindsay will be featured in Part Deux.