Day One: I walked close to three miles with my daughter, complaining a good portion of the time. I didn't originally plan to do this, but halfway through our first of six laps Sabrina turned to me and said, "Okay, I really can't take your whining and complaining. You need to stop now." I found that to be extremely funny and ironic since this is the girl who is never happy unless she's complaining. I therefore proceeded to complain for another three laps gaining far too much enjoyment out Sabrina's heavy sighs.
Day Two: I would say I ran a total of .8 miles today, but I think it would be optimistic to call what I was doing running. It was more of a shuffle. Old ladies with walkers probably could have lapped me. However, I persevered and ended up walking/shuffling over three miles on the treadmill. Things were going relatively well until two extremely petite and disgustingly healthy women got on the treadmills on either side of me. Their walking speed was faster than my shuffling speed, and then they started running super fast and with a lot of intensity. I wanted to ask them where exactly they thought they were going, but their intensity scared me.
Day Three: I'm finding it very hard to move and my foot hurts. Yay exercise!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
In Which I Totally Lose My Mind
Apparently I'm running a 5k in November. How in the world did this happen? Anybody who knows me, even those who are barely acquainted with me, knows I abhor exercise. I am perfectly content to sit on the couch and eat my Hostess donuts while my disgustingly healthy husband runs marathons or spends a week pretending to be Lance Armstrong and riding his bike for 500 miles around Oregon. My experience with exercise has generally been attending his races and cheering for him. I don't mind as long as someone promises me a good meal. I have also been known to compare running to sticking a fork in my eye, only I'd opt for the fork over running because it wouldn't hurt any less, but it would be over much more quickly.
And yet a race is looming in my future. I would ask what the heck was I thinking, but it is obvious my brain has been surgically removed and there was no thought process involved. I have two months to go from sedentary sloth to runner. Fasten your seatbelts and hang on to your hats, people. This is going to get ugly.
And yet a race is looming in my future. I would ask what the heck was I thinking, but it is obvious my brain has been surgically removed and there was no thought process involved. I have two months to go from sedentary sloth to runner. Fasten your seatbelts and hang on to your hats, people. This is going to get ugly.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Names Have Been Changed to Protect the Innocent, or, More Likely, the Storyteller
Lysol: Ewwww! I can't believe you're doing that! Why? Why? That is so disgusting! STOP THAT! AND MAKE SURE YOU WASH YOUR HANDS!!!
Formula 409: You can stop shouting at me any time now.
Lysol: But did you see what you were doing? GROSS!!! THAT MAKES ME WANT TO BARF!
Formula 409: STOP SHOUTING AT ME!
Father: What's going on here?
Lysol: Dad, Formula 409 is SO GROSS!!
Formula 409: I AM NOT!
Lysol: You were brushing your teeth while you were going to the bathroom!! I can't believe you're related to me.
Father: Lysol, you need to stop being the hygiene police.
Lysol: There have to be standards!! I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!
Father: There is no need to shout at Formula 409, or me for that matter.
Lysol: Nobody cares about my feelings.
Father: Your feelings aren't really the issue here. It's more about treating people with respect.
Lysol: Did you see what Formula 409 did?
Father: Yes. But as long as it wasn't your toothbrush Formula 409 was using what do you care?
Lysol: I can't believe you're taking Formula 409's side!
Father: I'm not. I'm just asking you to use the Golden Rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated. There's a reason it's called the Golden Rule and not the Rusty Tin Rule. It's because it's a valuable tenet to live by.
Lysol: Well, excuse me. I just happen to care about hygiene.
Father: I can see that by the way you just threw your underwear on the floor of the bathroom. Right there. Isn't that yours?
Lysol: That's totally different!
Father: How?
Lysol: Because there aren't germs in my underwear!
Formula 409: You can stop shouting at me any time now.
Lysol: But did you see what you were doing? GROSS!!! THAT MAKES ME WANT TO BARF!
Formula 409: STOP SHOUTING AT ME!
Father: What's going on here?
Lysol: Dad, Formula 409 is SO GROSS!!
Formula 409: I AM NOT!
Lysol: You were brushing your teeth while you were going to the bathroom!! I can't believe you're related to me.
Father: Lysol, you need to stop being the hygiene police.
Lysol: There have to be standards!! I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS!
Father: There is no need to shout at Formula 409, or me for that matter.
Lysol: Nobody cares about my feelings.
Father: Your feelings aren't really the issue here. It's more about treating people with respect.
Lysol: Did you see what Formula 409 did?
Father: Yes. But as long as it wasn't your toothbrush Formula 409 was using what do you care?
Lysol: I can't believe you're taking Formula 409's side!
Father: I'm not. I'm just asking you to use the Golden Rule. Treat others the way you want to be treated. There's a reason it's called the Golden Rule and not the Rusty Tin Rule. It's because it's a valuable tenet to live by.
Lysol: Well, excuse me. I just happen to care about hygiene.
Father: I can see that by the way you just threw your underwear on the floor of the bathroom. Right there. Isn't that yours?
Lysol: That's totally different!
Father: How?
Lysol: Because there aren't germs in my underwear!
Monday, July 25, 2011
It's a Cruel, Cruel World
Calvin's cousin Andrew is visiting us this week. He's an only child playing with a third child. The poor kid is getting a crash course in sibling relationships, and the learning curve is steep.
Andrew: Calvin, let's play Wii.
Calvin: Okay.
(time passes)
A: Calvin, this isn't fair.
C: Why?
A: You're shooting down all my planes.
C: And?
A: You should let me shoot down some of yours.
C: No.
A: This isn't fair. You should let me win.
C: Hoping I'll let you shoot down my planes and win is like hoping gravity will stop working.
Andrew: Calvin, let's play Wii.
Calvin: Okay.
(time passes)
A: Calvin, this isn't fair.
C: Why?
A: You're shooting down all my planes.
C: And?
A: You should let me shoot down some of yours.
C: No.
A: This isn't fair. You should let me win.
C: Hoping I'll let you shoot down my planes and win is like hoping gravity will stop working.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Where's a House Elf When You Need One?
Sabrina: Mom, can I make a cake today?
Me: Sure, once the kitchen is clean.
Sabrina: Okay, let me know when that's done.
Me: Sure, once the kitchen is clean.
Sabrina: Okay, let me know when that's done.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Hoarders
I'm a thrower. Always have been. I don't get sentimental over stuff. I throw things out like nobody's business. And then I married a non-thrower. To a saver like David, everything has value. Nothing should be thrown out. You might need that 25-year-old map that charts roads that are no longer there, so for God's sake, don't throw it out. My pack rat also has a special filing system called the floor. We don't fight over money, we don't fight over our kids, but we've fought over whether things should be thrown out.
I learned early in our marriage that if I was cleaning and wanted to throw things away, I better do it (a) while he was gone, and (b) make sure the garbage truck picked up the remains before he came home. True story: David came home to find his special filing system of piles of paper on the floor stacked neatly on the desk and two big bags of garbage lined up next to the door. He went through the bags to make sure I hadn't thrown out anything important and/or valuable. By the time he was done, I no longer had my floor, and there was only one bag of garbage left.
He has mellowed over the years. Living in a 500 square foot space for two years in Japan changed both of our perspectives on what was actually necessary. But our son has picked up the cause. Calvin has taken David's pack rat mentality and raised it to near hoarder status. Even true garbage might have value, and I've seen him agonize over whether he should really throw out the used and crumpled post-it notes. It's enough to make me tear my hair out.
Mostly I try to ignore it by closing my eyes when I walk by his room. But since I've injured myself every night tucking him in this week, I decided enough was enough. Calvin was gone all day, so I dove in, taking my phone with me in case I got lost, and letting the girls know to come find me if I wasn't back in a couple hours. Here is what I started with.
And this.
One 33-gallon bag of garbage, one box of books, one bag of clothes, two boxes of toys, and five hours later, this is the result.
Throwers: 1
Hoarders: 0
I learned early in our marriage that if I was cleaning and wanted to throw things away, I better do it (a) while he was gone, and (b) make sure the garbage truck picked up the remains before he came home. True story: David came home to find his special filing system of piles of paper on the floor stacked neatly on the desk and two big bags of garbage lined up next to the door. He went through the bags to make sure I hadn't thrown out anything important and/or valuable. By the time he was done, I no longer had my floor, and there was only one bag of garbage left.
He has mellowed over the years. Living in a 500 square foot space for two years in Japan changed both of our perspectives on what was actually necessary. But our son has picked up the cause. Calvin has taken David's pack rat mentality and raised it to near hoarder status. Even true garbage might have value, and I've seen him agonize over whether he should really throw out the used and crumpled post-it notes. It's enough to make me tear my hair out.
Mostly I try to ignore it by closing my eyes when I walk by his room. But since I've injured myself every night tucking him in this week, I decided enough was enough. Calvin was gone all day, so I dove in, taking my phone with me in case I got lost, and letting the girls know to come find me if I wasn't back in a couple hours. Here is what I started with.
And this.
One 33-gallon bag of garbage, one box of books, one bag of clothes, two boxes of toys, and five hours later, this is the result.
Throwers: 1
Hoarders: 0
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