This is so weird

I just waved good-bye to Eli and Sydney as they headed off for a week with their grandparents. Eli does this every summer but this is Syd's first year. I took next week off, thinking that I was going to be making a 5 hour roadtrip four times but now I don't have to so I have a week of literal leisure time ahead of me. So leisurely that my dentist even cancelled my appointment. AND I just submitted final grades and won't be teaching for two months. It's been about an hour and I feel very disoriented. I'm assuming this is the "down time" people talk about? What does one do during down time? I've already made and eaten frozen grapes...
But really, I am so stupidly excited for next week. So excited that C is mocking me. So hive mind- weigh in. If you had a full week with no work and one kid, what would you do?

Almost Nine

Nine years ago, at this very moment, I was lying in bed trying to wrap my head around the idea that tomorrow I would be holding a tiny baby boy. And that perhaps I would have to somehow get that tiny baby boy out of me. I had gone in earlier in the day for my first non-stress test, given that I was near my due date and "high risk" (love that diabetes.) I laid there for over an hour waiting for the requisite number of kicks, watching not one but two sets of other moms come and go. During the heartbeat check the tech got very, very quiet and then left to get the ultrasound. That's when we found out that not only was he breech, he was also running seriously out of room. So they scheduled us for a version (btw, that was the one single thing I had hoped to avoid. I'm still traumatized by that episode of A Baby Story) and possible c-section.

(I may have also been thinking about the fact that I couldn't eat food. This was the pregnancy of all. the. foods. But more than that, I was facing the fact that in less than 24 hours I would be somebody's mother.)

The next morning we packed up and headed in, deciding on the way there on an arbitrary number that would dictate whether we tried the version or just went straight for the c-section. My surgeon, who I'd never met and who was also pregnant and very little, threw that exact number out as our chances of a successful natural birth. And thus began my legacy of zipper-method babies.

I remember the surgery being so fun. The anesthesiologist told jokes. It was so bright and everyone was so happy. And then! Then I had this amazing, beautiful little boy who was perfect. Well, except that no one told me that babies are hairy so I thought I may have birthed a monkey-boy. I remember, in my drug-assisted bliss, thinking to myself, "Even if he has a tail, he's absolutely perfect and I love him." (He doesn't have a tail, in case you were wondering. I was very relieved.)

This kid is amazing, and he has been since day one. He's funny and smart and so maddingly logical and quick. He picks a "thing" and will stick with it for YEARS. Thomas the Train, the Rodeo, then Power Rangers, and now WWE. He is sensitive and sweet and has this inner dialogue that blows me away whenever I get a glimpse of it. The last two years have been pretty rough for him. I think we're finally on the downhill slope, but throughout it all I have been blown away by his character and his resiliency.

Nine is weird, because he's solidly a tween. I look at him and it is no stretch at all to picture him at 13, 16, even 25 if I squint and the light hits him just right. We have actual conversations about things that are interesting to both of us (when he's not talking about WWE. I've tried, really.) I love that there are times when he's obviously still a kid, but then other times when he busts out a maturity and a sense that is so unexpected.

Tomorrow morning we're getting donuts and then we're celebrating with dinner and a cake on Wednesday, because I have to work and teach tomorrow (sometimes being a working mom really blows.) He asked for tortellini, steamed broccoli, and garlic bread. Done done and done. I'm also making a flourless chocolate cake with whipped cream and strawberries because I'm fancy. We're doing the day low-key because in August we're going to a live WWE show, where I expect that he will lose his everloving mind. It's going to be awesome!

So with all that said, Happy Birthday Eli! I love you (even if you have a tail)


   

Girls' Night

I underestimated the size of a "wine flight" but muscled through

The only appropriate shot from the rest of the evening

For the last few months, some friends and I have been trying to organize regular Girls' Nights. It's been awesome and I love it so much. This groups is so amazing.

 Last night we had good intentions of trying out a classy wine bar. Then it quickly devolved. We were loud and rowdy and my stomach hurts from how much I laughed. I stumbled home WAY later than I'd intended. Today I'm nursing my first hangover in a LONG time and I keep laughing about our debauchery. 

Let's get physical

So, I've come to a declaration. I'm officially done looking like a suburban mom of three. I've had a bit of a self-image crisis lately (possibly set off by being literally surrounded by tan, lean, everyday gym going moms or possibly because I'm neurotic and neuroses needs a target) and I am now publically declaring to get my shit together. I haven't lost much weight this year, though my inches are decreasing. I was upset about that until I measured out my coffee creamer this morning. Oops. Maybe that's why I'm not hitting my "If every day were like today you would weigh X in 5 weeks..." So here I go. It makes no sense whatsoever to keep complaining about something and doing nothing about it, because as much as I've tried, no one has stopped by my house to bring me magic skinny pills. Except that one guy, but he was kind of sketchy and the bottle said, "Crank." "One time I thought I could do meth, but then I thought, maybe not." Also, I want to get my belly done and I can't justify the money if I haven't done my part first. You know, aside from carrying the enormous babies and eating a lot of French fries.

So here's my plan. We belong to a gym (mostly for the pool) and I pay good, hard earned money for it every month. If I look at it by a cost-per-use calculation I need to go at least twice a week. I found a great strength training class that meets three times a week. At 5:30 in the morning. I love working out in the morning but Good Lord, that's early. But muscles! And they say that you can't lose weight if you don't strength train. I also am trying Spin. I'm convinced that there is a spin-friendly body shape and I don't have it. But it's at a good time and it's definitely sweaty. 

So I'm doing all that (or have good intentions to do that.) Plus, a friend of mine is training to be a barre instructor so I've been "helping" her by going to mock classes. That shit is no joke. Sometimes I look like I'm having a seizure I'm shaking so hard. I love it. And I can literally feel my booty shaping in a non-suburban-mom way. Now I just have to figure out how to justify multiple memberships...

So that's my public declaration. If I say it out loud, that makes it true, right? I'd love any tips or tricks, especially about staying motivated or strength training. Also, can we just whine for a second that My Fitness Pal gives you nothing for weight training?  

Only related because they're in a locker room

Read this to restore your faith in humanity

We visited the grandparents on the coast for Memorial Day weekend and it was awesome. We went to the beach, ate good food, and I got to laugh with my brother a lot. Total awesome-sauce. But the highlight was Sunday night.

My dad had bought tickets for himself and my stepmom for a Bonnie Raitt concert and invited me and the kids to join him. I declined, after picturing my kids running amok amongst people who had paid real money to listen to a legit performer. As an afterthought, he mentioned that a client of his ran a local pro wrestling group and they were putting on a show the same night.

For context, Eli is OBSESSED with pro wrestling. Like, won't talk about anything else. At all. Ever. I know more about John Cena, Daniel Bryan, and The Undertaker than any middle age suburban mom should.

So we headed to this jenky pro wrestling event in a dive bar. Seriously. I wasn't even sure kids were allowed. Luckily there were a ton of kids there and it was totally family friendly. Right off the bat a man comes up to Eli and says that he has an extra ticket. Eli couldn't believe his luck and gloated while the rest of us waited in line. Then we went in and, surprise, it wasn't crowded. We took up a whole second row. We were so close that a couple wrestlers almost landed on us.

I was worried that Eli would be disappointed or that the acting would be depressingly bad, but it was actually really good! Eli was in heaven. The look on his face was perfect. The wrestlers were great and the venue was so small that they were talking/heckling directly to him. I let him use all his "grown up words."

At intermission they held a few raffles. I had bought Eli a ticket since I got him in for free. The MC was building up the drawing and spotted Eli's look of awe, then declared, "You! I hope you win!" AND THEN HE DID. They crowned him King of the Ring, he was the honorary announcer, and he won a token good for "Any seat, any show." You guys, he couldn't have beamed more if he tried. In the midst of it, Sydney started chanting his name and the crowd joined in.

The more I think about it, the warmer it makes my heart. Seriously, this kid needed a little boost and this was the shit. I may be the first person to tear up at a B-class pro-wrestling show featuring a former WWE superstar/porn director.

OMG. I have the worst cheering voice ever. Add that to the weird things to be self-conscious about. Try not to judge. I don't always sound like that

C says this is why I can't go out in public

I went to my first Daisy Scout event with Syd today. C's been doing the meetings since they fall on a teaching night, so it was my first time meeting the moms. I awesomely spent the entire (one mile long) parade snarling at Syd that she had two strong legs and was five years old, so no, she did not need to hitch a ride on a wagon or a stroller. I also helpfully pointed out all the security problems and ways the girls could be abducted. To be fair, there were many. Pretty sure they all loved me :/

Too long to be a Facebook status

My work day was SO long today. It was one of those days when you're blown away when you look at the clock and only ten minutes have passed. 

After work I went to Old Navy in a last ditch effort to find girls polos for Syd's Daisy uniform. 

Success! And on sale! 

I got a "standard customer service follow-up" just days after I yelped the shit out of the dealership where we bought the new car. That poor woman. Needless to say, I am not "100 percent satisfied" and the mansger will be calling me shortly.

I got home to find my poor, sad booger with a raging fever. So what I planned to be a productive evening is this instead. 

This weekend is our anniversary/Syd's birthday. C and I have a sitter for tomorrow night so I can wear heels and we can eat food by candlelight and drink out of fancy glasses. Then on Syd's birthday we've got an awesome girls' day planned.  

And a thunderstorm just rolled in.