My clothes are too tight. It is a simple problem really. I am fulfilling my daily caloric intake with coke and candy which doesn’t leave much room for breakfast, lunch and dinner. As I see it, I have two options: buy bigger pants or cut some crap out of my diet and get moving. As for the first choice, I have been to every clothing store I can think of and tried on every make, model and fit of anything remotely resembling a pair of jeans. It seems this lumpier version of myself isn’t compatible with denim. And so I have no choice but to eat healthier and find a workout regime I can stick to.
So yesterday I got off my couch and ran a 5K.
My sister and her coworker recruited a rag tag group of seven women to take their best shot at 3.2 miles on Fright Nite, two nights before Halloween. We all had slightly different goals for entering this race: some wanted to run the whole time, others wanted simply to finish, I prayed I wouldn’t pee my pants if someone were to jump out of the shadows to scare me. All in all we just wanted to survive it. The men in our lives also had expectations. Advice to the most fit and most trained member of the group was to make sure she stretched or she would certainly fail. My sister’s husband very sweetly gave her his lucky turtle necklace in the hopes that she wouldn’t be slow. My extremely competitive husband looked me in the eyes as I was walking out the door and said, “Win it. Win. It.” No pressure there.
I didn’t win it. I finished somewhere in the middle just doubling the winning time. But I am still alive, and I very nearly ran the entire time, walking just long enough to relieve a cramp. I am pretty proud. Who cares that I was passed by two eight year olds dressed in Halloween costumes? What does it matter that I can’t quite seem to control the bottom half of my body today due to soreness? I did it.
In celebration I had two doughnuts and a coke for breakfast. I suppose the healthier eating portion of my plan will begin tomorrow . . .
(My brother-in-law was waiting at the finish line with a dozen roses for my sister. This act awards him the gold star for awesome husband and makes her the big winner. Thanks for running with me sis!)
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Life of the Party
If we are home, The Kraken is naked. Well, mostly naked. (There may only be a couple things cuter than my son in his superhero tighty whiteys. Thankfully he inherited his father’s “it’s there somewhere” bum and not the larger “shelf” butt that is so common on my side of the family.) Why he feels he needs to strip the second he steps into the house, I don’t know. He’s been doing it for years. This is not a battle I chose to fight. We have an understanding that “Nakey Time” is appropriate in the house but not so suitable in public. We don’t fight about it or even have to talk much about our rule. He is on my train. Or at least I thought he was.
Last night we were invited over by our neighbors for a get together. Hopefully we were invited because they like us and not simply to avoid that awkward “So I saw you had all the neighbors over last night . . .” conversation, though I certainly wouldn’t blame anyone for not inviting us over. We are a loud, ornery, bratty, tantrum-throwing bunch. The Kraken immediately teamed up with the big kids and headed to the basement to play. We didn’t hear any screaming nor did we smell any smoke and thus assumed all was well. For the first time ever, he was basically unsupervised and the world did not implode. I believe we are making progress.
The Kraken’s choice for BFF, (a term I promised myself I would never use), decided to don his Halloween costume so, naturally The Kraken also wanted to play dress up. He asked me if I would go get his Captain America costume, but I was too lazy to walk three houses down to get it. He smiled and said he had a better idea anyway. That should have tipped me off, but as my social anxiety was having my brain come up with all the horrible things that would happen to me if I said something stupid, I missed that little clue.
A few minutes later, The Kraken came bounding up the stairs enthusiastically wearing his better idea . . . His Mickey Mouse underware and soccer shin guards. That’s it. He laughed, placed his hands on his hips and did his best impersonation of a superhero. He was adorable. I was oddly proud of him and his imagination. Daddy was a little embarrassed.
We may be throwing the next neighborhood bash, just to ensure an invite.
Last night we were invited over by our neighbors for a get together. Hopefully we were invited because they like us and not simply to avoid that awkward “So I saw you had all the neighbors over last night . . .” conversation, though I certainly wouldn’t blame anyone for not inviting us over. We are a loud, ornery, bratty, tantrum-throwing bunch. The Kraken immediately teamed up with the big kids and headed to the basement to play. We didn’t hear any screaming nor did we smell any smoke and thus assumed all was well. For the first time ever, he was basically unsupervised and the world did not implode. I believe we are making progress.
The Kraken’s choice for BFF, (a term I promised myself I would never use), decided to don his Halloween costume so, naturally The Kraken also wanted to play dress up. He asked me if I would go get his Captain America costume, but I was too lazy to walk three houses down to get it. He smiled and said he had a better idea anyway. That should have tipped me off, but as my social anxiety was having my brain come up with all the horrible things that would happen to me if I said something stupid, I missed that little clue.
A few minutes later, The Kraken came bounding up the stairs enthusiastically wearing his better idea . . . His Mickey Mouse underware and soccer shin guards. That’s it. He laughed, placed his hands on his hips and did his best impersonation of a superhero. He was adorable. I was oddly proud of him and his imagination. Daddy was a little embarrassed.
We may be throwing the next neighborhood bash, just to ensure an invite.
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