Happy Birthday Jason!

I've posted before about how awesome my wonderful husband is.  Anniversaries, Valentine's Days, birthdays.  I could gush on and on about how amazing he is on this, (two days past) his birthday.  But instead, I'll share a story about how we celebrated.

J is low-key.  Chill.  He didn't want a big to-do.  We just hoped for beautiful weather- which we got.  We wanted to relax and drink beer on a patio- which we did.  The rest of the story, I'm not sure I could make up if I tried.

We arrived at one of our local breweries in the late afternoon, and hit the jackpot right away with a large table to surround with a few friends.  Our server came over to take our beer order.  Any Parks & Rec fans out there?  This guy was pretty much Orin.  After he left to get our drinks, J said "He's high right now!"  Totally deadpan.  We weren't sure if he had any idea what was going on around him.  But surprisingly, we did get our drinks and appetizers without any trouble.

A few friends arrived, and we spent a couple of hours hanging out, drinking beer, chatting, and relaxing in the sunshine.  It was lovely.

Then we got hungry for dinner.  And that's when things started to go downhill.

Orin (I don't know his real name, so I'm going with Orin) came and took our order.  A few minutes later he came back and told us that the kitchen was really backed up, and that he was going to have to wait ten minutes before he put our order in.  Okay, no big deal.

An HOUR later, he came back over, and we found out that our order had not yet been put into the kitchen.

Apparently, some major shit was going down in there.

A manager came over and apologized, telling us that she was helping out in the kitchen, and that food was starting to come out, but that it would be at least another 40 minutes before they made it to our ticket.  (And apparently my sister overheard this manager yelling at Orin, telling him that he was supposed to tell us it would be an hour before he could put our order in, not ten minutes.  Yikes.)  Everything we wanted to drink in the meantime was on her.

We were relaxed about it- luckily J had already had a few and no longer had any cares in the world, otherwise I can't imagine he would have been so pleasant about it.  Also, in lieu of sending him a beer, my sister had sent him a pint of bacon earlier in the day, so he wasn't hangry like I was.

I decided I was fine with the delay.  And this is only because I walked a few shops down and bought one slice of pizza to hold me over.  Because isn't it totally normal to have to leave one restaurant to buy food at another, just so that your stomach doesn't start digesting itself before the first restaurant brings you your dinner??

When I returned, the table was still in jolly spirits, waiting on our food.  We may have been the only jolly table, though.  The tables around us were dropping like flies.  Families with kids, groups of twenty-somethings, and everyone in between started deciding that waiting two hours for a mediocre meal just wasn't worth it.  They were abandoning ship without having eaten.

Not long after this, food FINALLY started coming out of the kitchen.

I know this because Orin came over to our table with  a chicken sandwich and fries.

"I know this isn't the chicken wrap that you ordered, but it's chicken.  I figured you'd just want some food.  I won't charge you for it."  And he set the plate down in front of me.

Weird!  But hey, we're all hungry here.  We'll take it.

Shortly thereafter, another server came over with a tray of food...that we hadn't ordered.  He told us that our server had told him to just bring us any food that came out of the kitchen.  The people who had actually ordered this food had long since left, so I guess their meals were fair game?  And the food just kept coming.  Multiple servers, managers, kitchen staff- they just kept coming and coming, setting down more and more food.

We had a couple of chicken sandwiches, some wings, mac & cheese, a giant pretzel, some kind of wrap.  It just became a smorgasbord of other peoples' meals.  NONE of it the actual meals that we'd chosen, and none of it at any cost to us.

Guys, we couldn't stop laughing.  It was the most bizarre dining experience any of us had ever experienced.  And for the life of us, none of us could figure out what could have possibly gone down in that kitchen to cause that kind of shit show.

Eventually we were full and ready to leave, but we weren't 100% sure what we should do.  Not that we were hungry anymore, but we didn't want to leave if they were about to bring our order out.  Although I suppose if we did, they could just give our food to some other poor schmucks that had been waiting for days to eat?

When Orin came back, I asked him.  "Just to clarify- are we going to get the food that we actually ordered?"

"OH! ...No."

Guys, I'm dead.  It was so, so funny.

We all left saying that this was certainly a memorable birthday celebration, and one that J wouldn't soon forget.

It was a crazy, kinda perfect day.

Happy (belated) birthday to you, my love!  My wish for you this year is that you never have to wait more than two hours for dinner.  And that if you do, it's someone else's dinner that's delivered to you.  I love you!



  

I'm Tired

You know where this time change can go?

You do, but I'll tell you anyway.  Straight to hell, that's where it can go.

Sleep is kinda my thing.  My bed is my favorite place.  And mornings are my least favorite.  Anything that messes with my sleep is my mortal enemy.  Unfortunately, this can sometimes include my children now that they are no longer infants who actually need me.

One night Margot woke up crying in the middle of the night.  I ran to her aid to see what she needed.  She was crying because she couldn't find her toy cupcakes.  That were sitting right on her bed.  I didn't handle it well.  That was the last night she had a monitor in her room, and the night that J decided it was best for the welfare of the kids that he take over nighttime needs.

I feel a little bad, but only a little.  Don't mess with my sleep for stupid reasons.

And that brings me back to this stupid time change.  It's messing with my sleep for a stupid reason.  (What IS the reason, anyway??)

To make matters worse, J is on a business trip this week.  He left well before the sun came up on Monday morning, leaving me to deal with the first morning aftermath of Daylight Savings Time.

I forget how bone tired I feel on that first morning.  And not just me, but the kids.  We miss that hour that was stolen.  We NEED that hour that was stolen.

I realize I have it pretty good.  I usually wake up around 7:30, but I need a little bit of time to fully wake up before I am ready to get out of bed.  Who am I kidding- I need a little bit of time before I can speak, or even look at another human being.  J has learned not to even attempt eye contact until I've had at least 10 minutes to come to grips with the fact that I'm awake.

I'm just not nice in the mornings.

Because I'm such a scary bitch in the mornings, he usually lets me take my time getting out of bed, and he runs upstairs to make sure everyone is awake and getting dressed.  The girls are almost always good about getting up on time with their alarms, but sometimes they get sidetracked and he'll find them playing upstairs.  Gabe, on the other hand, sleeps through his alarm about half of the time.  If we don't hear three children downstairs by 7:45, we know that parental intervention is required, and J has assumed this duty.

With him gone this week, I've had to take over.  I was already less than excited about that before I realized that his trip coincided with the time change.  And now that it's happening, I'm even less excited.  Not only am I not awake on time (I had to set an alarm this morning, which may be my very least favorite thing ever), but I end up finding three sleeping children when I make it upstairs.  Today, I went to wake Gabe up, went downstairs to carry on with the morning routine, and then when he hadn't come downstairs 15 minutes later, I found that he'd gone BACK TO SLEEP after I left.

ARGH!

Can someone please direct me to the person who is responsible for carrying on this ridiculous, antiquated change of the clocks?  WHO LIKES THIS?  Because I'm pretty sure the answer is NO ONE.  NO ONE likes this.

My new political view is this: the politician who does away with the stupid changing of the clocks twice a year gets my vote.  Pick a time.  Stay there forever.  Easy peasy.

Rant over.  Sorry for my anger.  I'm tired.

I Didn't Die

Now that I've had some time to process, I wanted to fill you all in on my fun-filled weekend of Les Mills RPM Instructor Training.

I feel like the title is appropriate.

Guys, this was one intense weekend.

I showed up bright and early on Saturday morning, not knowing what to expect.  I found the cycling room and people started filing in.  I was so incredibly nervous!  I was worried that I would look like I had no idea what I was doing, or that I'd have the wrong body type, or that I wouldn't know how to set up a bike that's different from mine.  I was worried that I wouldn't be Les Mills material.

Men don't do this shit to themselves, do they?

As if I wasn't already feeling insecure, I quickly realized that many of the participants already knew one another.  We were a small group- 7 women and 2 men- and I think only three of us walked in knowing no one.  And to top it all off, I was the only one with no group fitness instructing experience.  Everyone else had years of experience teaching a ton of different types of classes, many of them Les Mills.

Oy.

The first item on the agenda for the day was a Master Class, taught by our instructor for the weekend.  We all hopped on our bikes and got ready to work.

I mean this in the nicest way possible, but thank God I had received a video of the class two weeks prior, and had spent hours learning the music and choreography...because the English language was not our instructor's strong point.

I wish I could tell you how to even pronounce his name.  He described it as similar to Genghis Khan, only with a 'J' sound at the beginning?  Maybe?  All of us struggled so much to understand him, which was a very frustrating issue to have when we all really wanted to learn the material.

In any case, we were all familiar with the workout, so we worked hard and got it done.

That was hour 1 of about a million on the bike that weekend.

After our first workout, we moved onto the education portion of the morning.  We got out our notebooks and prepared to learn, waiting for some guidance as to where that would take place.

Cop a squat, pals, because the dirty floor of the cycling studio was the provided seating.

The teacher in me just cringes thinking that somebody really thought these were optimal learning conditions.  The oldster in me cringes remembering just how badly my lower back hurt after two days of sitting hunched over on a filthy floor.

And so the day went.  On the bike, on the floor, on the bike, on the floor.  We went through the workout together several times, taking turns presenting our pre-assigned tracks.  I was thoroughly exhausted by the end of day 1, especially considering the fact that I was so nervous that I hadn't really slept the night before.  Sleep came much easier that night.

Day 2 was much more of the same, only in addition to presenting our material several more times, we also had a fun "challenge" midday.  They like to call it the "RPM Ride of Truth."  What they should really call it is the "We'll Consider Letting You Instruct If You Can Survive These 30 Minutes" ride.  It was fun, guys.  I can't tell you how much I love pushing my body to the point of exhaustion, and then just for funsies, enduring a half hour of fitness torture.  But refer to my post title- I didn't die.

In the end, I passed.  And by the second day, I felt totally comfortable with my classmates, who were all wonderfully supportive of one another, and me in particular.  They called me Newbie (in the kindest way) and all cheered for me when the instructor announced that I'd passed.  We'd all bonded over extreme workouts, lack of appropriate seating, and straining to understand the spoken word.

Although the more seasoned instructors were highly disappointed in this training (for the obvious reasons), I left feeling pretty good.  Do I wish some of these issues weren't present?  Absolutely.  But as frustrating as they were, I left feeling encouraged and uplifted, and like this was something I could actually do, and maybe even be good at.  I credit my classmates for this.  I left itching to get into my gym and onto the instructor's bike.

Since then I've had the opportunity to co-teach with a wonderful instructor, and it was awesome.  I felt energized by the riders in front of me, and since we had drilled the routine a million and one times during training, I actually felt like I knew what I was doing.

I'm official now- as of press time, I'm teaching six classes in March.  Squee!  And for any of my local readers- should you decide to join me sometime, I promise you won't die, either.

        

Happy Birthday to the One Who Made Me a Mom

Today my best boy turns 8.

What a year it has been for Gabe.  He is in a weird in-between spot.  Sometimes I think he's so little and innocent.  Sometimes I feel like I have a teenager on my hands.  And sometimes I think he's just a mini-man. 

The in-between.  That's where we're at.

Gabe is a lot of wonderful things.  He has such a good heart, and is full of kindness.  He wants the best of everything for everyone.  He is ultra-responsible.  He always does the right thing, and when things need to be taken care of, he's your man.  He values his friendships above all other things. 

He is also extremely sensitive.  He feels a lot of feelings, and he feels them BIG.  This isn't always easy (for him, or us!).  When he's angry, sad, or worried, you will definitely know it.  There have been a couple of slammed doors and sleepless nights as he's tried to learn how to deal with all of these big emotions in a healthy way. There have been times he's been in trouble for his attitude, and then there are times when he beats himself up without a word from us (like when he was jealous that it was Margot's birthday, and then he was overcome with sadness because he felt bad that he was jealous- he even has feelings about his own feelings).

When he's feeling particularly moody, he likes to go his room and listen to his music- which lately is all Panic at the Disco.  His iPod is his most prized possession, and the Apple Music subscription gives him access to all the rock music his ears can handle. 

If this is 8, I'm having a hard time imagining what will happen when hormones actually kick in.

On the flip side, he still has so much innocence.  He likes to race his RC sports cars and dream about the day he'll own a Bugatti or a McLaren.  He has recently gotten into Harry Potter, and likes to cast spells with his pretend wand.  He loves video games.  Sometimes he'll build an "epic" car track (epic is his word choice for all things he considers cool) and race his Hot Wheels around his bedroom.  He likes to draw.  He likes to climb on the jungle gym outside and ride his bike down big hills and jump on the trampoline for hours.

And then I remember that he's still just a little boy.

Oh, Gabe.  

You keep us on our toes in a way we didn't see coming, but I guess that's parenting.  Watching you grow and change and mature isn't always easy, but all of the wonderful moments in between the tough ones make it worth it a million times over.  Luckily for us, love is one of those feelings that you feel BIG, and we feel it, too, buddy. 

Happy birthday to you, my firstborn.  I hope this year is your best one yet, and that all your birthday wishes come true.   

The Sweetest Four Year Old

That's my Charlotte.

My heart hurts a little writing this.  Literally just this morning, Facebook showed me this memory:

It will always be one of my very favorite pictures.  Exhausted as I was, I was just so happy.  My tiny little squish, all cuddled up on my chest.  Nothing in this world is better than a baby sleeping on your chest, amIright??

And now she's four.

I just don't understand how time can pass by so quickly.  It's this weird thing that moms have, not wanting their babies to grow up.  And I think with Charlotte being my last, I am even more desperate to hang onto her littleness.  In my mind, age four is a definite switch.  Once they hit four, every trace of baby is gone, and they are now just kids. 

Don't mind me sobbing in the corner over here.

But as much as I wish Charlotte would forever be my tiny baby, it is also pretty great to see her personality continue to develop.  If you have met her, you know she really is just the sweetest.  She has such a kind heart, and is a friend to everyone.  If you haven't met her, I guarantee that she'd charm you in an instant. 

She is charming.

This past year has been a big one for her.  She started school, which was a dream come true for her.  If she wants anything in life, it's to do the things her big siblings do.  If they can do it, she is sure she can do it.  She's paid her dues, watching them get go to school or dance class or to a friend's house to play.  She is beyond thrilled that she can now do those things, as well.

She is fashionable.  She has strong opinions about what she'll wear.  Don't even try to hand this one jeans and a shirt.  If it's not a dress (preferably with a tutu), she's not interested.  Sneakers?  Nope.  Only slip-on dress shoes.  No socks, thankyouverymuch.  And the accessories- oh, the accessories.  She won't be caught without them.  Even while she sleeps.

She loves princesses and unicorns and kittens and pink and purple.  And she loves her best friend Margot more than ice cream. 

And perhaps my favorite thing about her is she loves to cuddle.  She may not be as tiny as she was in that Facebook memory, but she still loves to snuggle in.

Charlotte Marie, my beautiful baby, I love you so much sometimes I think my heart just might explode.  Happy 4th birthday. 

My Current Downfall

Friends, we have a serious problem in my house.  I'm reaching out here because I know we are not alone.  I feel confident that I can find support in my community, and perhaps some resources to help us make it through this season.

It's Girl Scout Cookie time.

Girl Scout GIF from Girlscout GIFs

I know pretty much everyone has a weakness for Girl Scout cookies.  They see those sweet little girls at their table outside the Walmart and stock up on Thin Mints to put in the freezer and eat by the sleeve.

I used to be one of those people.  And aside from the Thin Mints, I was also in love with the Peanut Butter Sandwiches.  Side note: back in my day, we called them Do-Si-Dos, and that is what they forever will be known as in my heart.

Then one year I decided I didn't need any cookies.  I was going to stay strong and resist the temptation.  Of course, this meant not answering the door for the entire month of February and practically wearing a blindfold whilst walking in and out of every store in town.  Because, you know, once I make eye contact I become incapable of saying no.

And then the Thanks-a-Lots came into existence.  Damn it.

I happened to be pregnant that year, and I blame that sweet baby Charlotte and the cravings that she caused for this current issue in my home.

At first glance, these cookies aren't too troublesome.  It's just a simple shortbread, after all- with a heavenly chocolate coating on the bottom.  The real trouble came about when I had the idea to dip the cookie into my coffee one morning.  (Yes, I said morning.  I was pregnant.  I could eat cookies for breakfast if I wanted.)  It was all downhill from there.

J was immediately on board.  There are few things in life he loves more than dippable cookies.  I can't remember exactly how many boxes we went through that first year.  I can tell you it was definitely more than one would consider "healthy."  We would open a package, split it down the middle, and breakfast was served.  (I think that's probably how I grew the sweetest baby on the block that year.)

Since then, we've made progress.  And by progress, I mean that now we have a third adult in the house, so we split the package into three servings instead of two.

I may need an intervention.

   

 

The Times, They Are A'Changin'

I can remember a time, not so long ago, that I looked for any excuse not to exercise.  It was hard.  I didn't like it.  I was mostly just lazy and didn't wanna.  So I didn't.  And I was tired all the time, overweight, and generally unhappy with myself as a result.  One day I got sick of feeling that way and decided to make some changes. 

 I don't post these pictures to brag or to seek compliments.  I post them so I don't forget, don't get complacent, and remember that all of the hard work was worth it.  And maybe to motivate myself to lose those last few holiday pounds.  Seriously, have you guys tried Puppy Chow (the chocolate, peanut butter and powdered sugar coated Chex kind)?  It's my December weakness.  Also Christmas cookies and celebratory alcoholic beverages.   

Anywho...

I know you've heard the story before, so I won't rehash the whole thing.  But yesterday I stopped to think about how crazy different my life is now than it used to be.

Meet my new friend.

First I had to be patient and wait until the first of the year to order (thanks, Microsoft, for your yearly contribution towards our health!).  Then I had to wait weeks for it to arrive.  Then I had to wait for J to get home and put it together- some assembly required for sure.  Then I was finally able to take it for a test ride and I am in love.

I already knew I'd love it.  This is a newer version of the same bike I ride at the gym.  Since being forced to cut back on running, I had to find an alternative, and I've really grown to love cycling.  Spin class is a crazy good workout, and is no doubt easier on my old lady knees.  I've spent quite a bit of time in the cycling studio, and now I'll be able to enjoy this type of workout at home, too.
  
All of this contributes to my big news.  I'm going back to teaching, just in a different sort of classroom.  In a couple of weeks I will spend the weekend on a similar bike, getting certified to instruct indoor cycling classes at my gym.  Yesterday my training materials arrived, and I was positively giddy.  (Today is supposed to be a rest day for me, but I know I won't be able to resist getting on the bike to try out my assigned tracks.)

I've already spent time on the bike designing workouts.  I bought a notebook to keep my ideas organized.  I've created playlists.  I've thought about themes.  Guys, I'm kind of geeking out about becoming a spin instructor!

The Betsey of a few years ago would look at the Betsey of today and ask "Who IS this person??"  But you know what?  I kinda like her.