Sunday, August 30, 2009

Do these pants make me look fat?

I would like to know how one obtains energy, in regards to my serious problem with laziness.  I’m not talking about the un-willingness to clean my house or go to work lazy.  Or the “lay on the couch all day” lazy, no it’s the “I can’t get my extra large ass in gear to do my workouts” lazy.  This was so much easier when I didn’t have a job.  I could do my scheduled workout at my leisure, and get everything else done that requires my attention.  Now my main goal is to make it to work on time and make sure my son has clean clothes to wear to school.  Between work, household chores, football and breathing, my mind is already made up when I even think about dressing down for a workout, it’s saying “Hell no we won’t go!”

Do you ever have those moments when you think you are on the right track and something as simple as a comment, or a picture or, I don’t know, your own reflection can make you stop dead in your tracks and your mind immediately goes into “what the hell was I thinking” mode?

Well I was finally able to get my hair done yesterday.  I haven’t been in to see my stylist since February and my disaster that I was wearing for hair was in desperate need of some TLC.  After a 2-hour bought with shampoo, conditioner, color and scissors I came out looking fresh and sophisticated.  I wore the “Yeah I know I’m cute” look all the way to my Dad’s house and felt so much better about driving with my windows down.  My Dad being my Dad said he loved my hair, so naturally he decided to take pictures – yeah flashing back to my little kid years when he would catch me on the toilet sticking my tongue out at him.  So after our visit I headed home and flipped open my laptop.  I went straight to my favorite book (Facebook) and there it was.  This horrid picture of me … and my 14 chins.  I hadn’t realized that I invited them along.  I was so wrapped up in my new “cuteness” that I didn’t see them just hanging there for everyone to look at!  “Oh look at the girl with the cute hair – and her chins are with her! Everyone look at the girl with chins!”  What’s even worse is my Dad actually thinks that his new camera is doing me some favor.  Yeah, if he stood across the street and took the picture, maybe.  But no, he had to put his super duper heavy-duty ultra “let me get all the pores on your face” lens on.  There truly is nothing worse than seeing a picture of yourself and thinking, “do I really look like that?”  Why didn’t someone tell me?  You are your own worst critic, I get that.  But seriously people.

So, it was at this precise moment that I realized that, aside from mental counseling, I’m in need of some treadmill therapy, or fat camp.  Probably both.  For now, I’m going to go sulk and tuck my chins in for the night.


Sunday, August 23, 2009

Mom of the Year!

I know I mentioned in one of my blogs a while back that I wasn’t one to talk or write about my child.  It’s not because I don’t think he isn’t the most amazing kid e-v-e-r, it’s simply the point that a lot of people out there write about how wonderful their kids are and quite frankly, I don’t want to lose my reputation of being a thoughtless bitch.  So, on that note, I’m so going to win “Mom of the Year” this year.  I just know it!  In order for one to be awarded such a high honor, you truly need to be on top of your game.  I know, I know, I exude kindness and such a loving attitude, you’re not surprised – I can’t blame you.   

So here it is.  If you Mom’s out there want to know how to achieve such a feat, simply follow these simple acts of love and kindness:

1)   Forget to pick your child up at school at LEAST 4 different times during the school year.  And to make it especially fantastic, make sure you make your child wait long enough so his teacher has to call to remind you to come get him.  Awesome!

2)   Completely lose your cool and temper and ramble off mindless nonsense when he sprays your charcoal drawing with Pledge.  As an added bonus, cry about it.

3)   Forget to feed him dinner, at minimum, 3 times a week. 

4)   When school starts, make certain you do not buy any school supplies until the day after.  Kids totally dig showing up the 1st day with no school supplies.

5)   Completely space the fact that school is starting and let it escape your mind that new school clothes are a necessity.  Instead, throw a dirty pair of shorts in the wash and tell them because they are clean, it’s almost better than new clothes!

If you follow these easy tasks, in no time you will be quite possibly the best Mom ever! 

Ok, for real, I’m an asshole.  With my loss of my old job and the stress of my new job, I have recently realized that I have been quite possibly, the worst Mom this past year!  I truly cannot afford to pay attention, and to boot; I’ve become such a hypocrite! The above is just a small sample of my inattentiveness.  The most recent action came last week when he started Pee-Wee Football.  Anyone who has played football knows that the first week is considered “hell” week.  You work your ass off and begin to regret the decision to beg your parents to put you in the coolest sport out there! 

The last day of practice was the icing on the cake.  He just finished a 2-mile run and a grueling round of push-ups, flutter kicks, sit-ups and up-downs in 100-degree weather with a helmet and pads on.  When the coach (my fiancĂ©) released the boys for a water break, my son came walking up to me, barely able to move one foot in front of the other.  Mind you, I was the one sitting on my ass on nice cushy blanket with ice water.   Anyway - I was waiting there with a jug full of water to pour over him, and in a regrettable moment he says to me “Don’t touch me, I’m tired and fed up and don’t want to be me anymore!”  I immediately transformed into psycho Mom  and said, “Excuse me? Don’t touch you?  Look little man, you wanted to play football!  This is the last day of hell week and need to just suck it up!  Oh, and for future reference, you don’t get to talk to me like that!”  He apologized, hugged me and walked away with his head down. 

It was at that moment that I realized that my son was simply exhausted and felt completely defeated.  Something that I have felt all summer long.  I had no reason to yell at him, especially since I can barely do a lap around the block, let alone 2-miles in the sickening heat!  My guilt has completely overwhelmed me and I’ve come to the realization that I am a huge hypocrite, in need of a major attitude adjustment.  I started reflecting on the past year and can honestly say, that I have been an absolute creep to deal with.  It was with this epiphany that I have decided I am a definite contender for “Mom of the Year”.  With my unbelievable ability to snap like a twig, space off everything of importance and reprimand my child for not “being tough” in hellish conditions, these are all qualities that a loving, caring Mother possesses! 

So, for the record; my son is quite possibly the most exhilarating child a Mom could ask for.  And sometimes, I feel like I don’t deserve him.  He puts up with a lot from me.  And I would like to take this time, to thank him – for putting up with me.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Warning! Warning Will Robinson!

Is there a point to this blog? No.  You’ve been forewarned. 

While walking the track at my son’s Peewee Football camp with my friend, she asked me how my day was and in the course of 30 minutes, I did nothing but regurgitate bitterness.  On my drive home I realized that I am one bitchy, moody, irritable cat who is in dire need of some rehab. For some reason, this new job is really kicking my ass, which is leading to my lack of workouts, which is causing me to be more susceptible to homicidal tendencies when Mother Nature decides to visit.  My stress level is at maximum occupancy right now and if I don’t get a handle on the whistling kettle that is going off in my head, I’m liable to do some real damage to the next heifer that shoves me out of a lane at Wal-Mart. 

Who decided that it would be an ideal thing for women to have to give up a week, every month of their life and dedicate it to Midol, chocolate and psycho wards?  I think every box of Tampax should come with emergency straight jackets so we don’t cause injury to others during a fit of rage.  Or is it just me?  I haven’t quite figured out as well, why men (some, not all) think it’s appropriate to make such comments as “Wow, someone is PMS’ing” or “Someone’s on the rag”.  No, Mr. F@ck Tard, it’s called a menstrual cycle and your mouth shouldn’t write checks your body can’t cash.  Just saying…. And since when are woman not allowed to be cranky?  Do we have to be menstruating in order to have a moment?  Can’t we just be in a bad mood?  Is that not allowed anymore? 

I completely understand now why I’ve been so damn tired and lethargic. (What gave it away right?)  I chalked it up to my new job and my new found awareness of how draining stupid people are; but it wasn’t that at all!  See I should be used to the evil that invades my personal space (once a month), after all I have dealt with it for many years.  But for some reason I blank out and for half of the month my mind goes into lock-down mode and “Phoebe the Airhead” comes out to play –yes, I’m talking about Aunt Flo.  Mood Swings, bloating, absent mindedness, irritability, lower back pain, cramps, sore gingersnaps, headaches, fatigue, and in my case, green foam spewing out of the mouth, mild turrets syndrome and the overall inability to function on all levels.

I didn’t just pick up my laptop and decide to bitch about female issues, this all stems from re-knobs that I deal with daily as well as from the cashier at Walgreens, who apparently found amusement in my tampax, chocolate and Midol purchase.  But is he judged when he buys beer, condoms and hemorrhoid cream?  Probably not!  In addition to my frustration, this issue is becoming detrimental to my workout progress.  I’m struggling – severely – with finding motivation when I feel like the “State-Puff-Marshmallow Man”.

I think I need some wall to wall therapy.




Thursday, August 13, 2009

And Now It's Time for a Breakdown...

This is going to be short, sweet and to the point -

I am a large child when it comes to not getting my way.   I tend to get frustrated very easily (if you haven’t figured that out by now) and my teeny weeny temper sometimes gets the best of me (again, don’t think I need to clue you into that either).  When I am unable to obtain a goal or have something I want, I tend to get very snippy and I let my emotions take over.   It’s somewhat reminiscent to a 3-year old little girl throwing herself on the floor and wailing around like a wet fish, except I’m 30-something and if I were to actually throw myself on the floor it would most likely land me a dislocated hip.

I’m not going to lie; I have a very, very strong distaste for failure.  I am convinced that working out and being an “away from home” working Mom are two things that don’t mix.  Like Oil and Water.  I am not at the place where I saw myself being 2 months ago and that infuriates me.  I know people say “you have to make time for you” (yeah, in my world that’s called going potty and taking a shower) and “your only going to see results if you push yourself” (ok well, I pushed myself – right into a friggen corner and now I can’t do squat – no pun intended).  Two months ago, I made this “goal” for myself that I was going to accomplish 1 full mile of running in 5 weeks.  Simple, right?  Well in those 5 weeks, I managed a 1/2 of a mile, which slowly turned into a ¼ mile, which has now turned into zip.  (Running, that is.)  It is because of this, I feel so incredibly defeated and pissed off at the same time.  As much as my mind tells me “you’re not a quitter” my body says, “The hell you’re not!”  I cannot seem to get my act together.   And if anyone is about to say, “there is no such word, as “can’t” how about you zip it?  Yes, I’m being ugly and nasty because my body and mind are not on the same page. 

This is not productive.  I am not having a good month and I am in desperate need of a “come to Jesus” talk with myself.  

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Just another whiny rant

It feels like forever since I last complained . . . I mean wrote.  It’s more than likely due to the insane demands of my “new life”.  Yes, it’s very rough getting up in the morning and driving to work.  I know what you’re thinking “build a bridge and get over it ya damn whiny twit” Ok, maybe not that harsh, but you’re thinking something similar.  Or maybe you’re thinking, “at least you have a job”.  But before I begin to analyze these pretend conversations that I think you all are having with yourselves, let me just explain something to you.  I – can’t – stand – stupid – people.  That’s it, in a nutshell.  I’m not making reference to my “new life” as a complaint about work, I’m calling it my “new life” because it has required an absurd amount of energy and focus to organize my friggen day and refrain from stealing my son’s pellet gun and start aimlessly shooting at random dumb asses along the way! 

A typical busy day (3 weeks ago) involved, job searching, fielding bullshit phone calls from “India R Us”, entertaining my 9 year old, planning dinner (macaroni and cheese is so versatile!) and of course, pretending to run.  Now? Now I run around like a striped-ass monkey trying to figure out how “working mom’s” (with extremely short tempers) do it.  I’m finding that the littlest of things irritate me (big surprise I know).  My typical morning is spent flying out of bed, realizing that my alarm clock set on the “super annoying” setting didn’t wake me up out of my coma.  Then realizing I only have time for a man shower (a.k.a. no shaving of legs involved) which then sets me into a tailspin because the outfit I spent 2 hours the night before picking out, won’t work because of the subtle stubble on my legs; and therefore I am now forced to have a minor “freak out” moment and throw on the 1 of 2 pairs of pants I own (that fit).  In addition to this lack of time, 5 times out of 7, I’ve forgotten to pack my lunch the night before and failed to prep my coffee pot, so I’m forced to microwave coffee from the day previous and throw together a mish-mash of items for lunch.  Of course come lunch-time at work I often find myself regretting the previous nights brain fart, as I have only managed to pack a pop-tart, a Tupperware container of peanut butter and a spoon. 

As if that wasn’t enough to set me off, I spend 22 minutes of my morning trying to figure out why drivers cannot understand the basics of 4-way stops and staying in their lanes!  Oh, and solid yellow lines do NOT mean pass at your leisure, then realize you can’t pass, so you flip me off instead…what??  Yes, it’s happened.  TWICE!  Work is work.  I enjoy it, the people I work with are fun, the work is fun, and the overall atmosphere is great (I know I sound like an infomercial).   

By the time 5 o’clock has hit, I’m starving, lacking energy and dreading the 45-minute drive to Wal-Mart (because doing my grocery shopping on a weekend is just crazy talk).  And while we’re on the subject of Wal-Mart, is there some ‘code’ that states if you are in a hurry you will be subject to have your patience tested at maximum capacity? What is the point of a “20 items or less” lane if the stupid person in front of you thinks that “buy one get one free” on Hostess Twinkies counts as ONE item?  But of course the checker is oblivious to the number of items because she is too busy yacking it up with the other checker about her date with “Greg” – yes, I caught his name and he doesn’t like eating at Applebee’s either.  Great!  I’ll sleep much better tonight knowing this.  So “Hostess Twinkie” boy is filling his cart up and in a pathetic attempt at flirting begins to tell ‘Chatty Cathy the Checker’ that he thinks she is too good for Greg.  Really?  I just want my beer and my milk please.  That’s it – where’s my pellet gun?  And as “Twinkie boy” is taking his sweet mary-jane time placing his bags strategically in his cart he feels the need to comment on me being carded for my beer.  [Twinkie boy] “Shoot you look old enough to be my Mom” (chuckle, chuckle).  [Me] “Wow, and they let you out without your helmet?”  (Hence my earlier comment about short tempers). 

All this being said, I have got to find a way to unwind and re-evaluate my “to-do” list.  By the time I get home I’m pissed off, fed up, cranky and starving and the last thing I want to do is cook dinner and workout.  My runs (or lack thereof) have dwindled down to 1 in the last week and a half. 

My “new life” needs serious help in the organization and stress-free department. 

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