A few weeks ago my favorite 'hell-hath-no-fury-like-a-woman-scorned-housewife' Brandi Glanville called her youngest son an "asshole" on her podcast. I have to admit I love me some Brandi, she is one of my guilty pleasure. She is gorgeous, smart, funny, and is the epitome of making lemonade (vodka flavored) out of lemons. Now, I can't speak to the incident on her podcast. I didn't hear it myself but, I'm not sure calling your child an asshole in ANY context is ok. I would never do it, especially on a public podcast. These boys of Brandi's have enough crap to deal with without being called names on top of it. In my opinion there are assholes in this whole dysfunctional family, and it isn't the kids. I'm looking at you Ms. Wrecker Service. If it were me, I'd be using that word...and many others....all over the place. Which, to be fair, Brandi has done her share of. Hell hath no fury and all that.
While I may never call my kids assholes, last week I began to wonder why we let them get away with things that if a college roommate, not to mention a husband, did would unleash a Kraken that would leave them quivering on their beer keg or barcalounger.
Case in point. Last week was dance camp. Which means getting my grumpy, so not a morning person, Tiny Dancer, up, looking presentable, fed and to the studio by 9:30 in the morning. Never mind that she signed up for this, and in fact BEGGED to do this. Not to mention I'm scheduled for two 12 hour shifts this week and I'm trying to fit in workouts so that I can fit into my bathing suit for a Vegas trip in three weeks. Oh, and NOW she tells me that she wants to get there early so that she and the other assistant can work on the dance they are making up. Sure, cause Mama ain't got nothing but time.
The mad rush ensues and we are out the door loaded with dance shoes and my gym bag, EARLY per Tiny Dancer's request.
Several hours later I return home and what do I see on the breakfast bar? Why, Tiny Dancer's half eaten breakfast, of course. On the kitchen counter is the greasy plate the boy child nuked his bacon on with the paper towels glued to the plate. Nice. They can't even clear their plates and rinse them off??? I wanted to go on strike right then and there and began to wonder if my not working full time had actually done a disservice to my kids. Being at home most of time meant I was there to pick up the slack, but did it mean that my kids never learned to pick up their own slack known as the freaking dishes? Apparently.
Just as I was going to head to job websites to find a full time job and thereby teach my kids a lesson: Let's see how they like it when Mama isn't around to clean up after them! This happened:
"WHO HAD EGGS FOR BREAKFAST AND LEFT THE PLATE JUST SITTING THERE WITH EGG YOLK NOW CONGEALED TO THE PLATE?!!!"
Give you one guess.
Monday, June 23, 2014
The one thing I learned this weekend is that I want a camera! I took pics with my Iphone, but they would be so much better with a real camera. I looked around at Best Buy. I'm in as soon as a decide which one I want.
My Tiny Dancer in all her glory! Dance to your destiny, Zoe!
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand...
Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
You had a busy day today
Sunday, June 15, 2014
My calf is STILL jacked. I'm pissed because number one, the first time I ever did that video I thought, "that is a calf injury waiting to happen!" And number two, I've wondered exactly how many people get through these workouts without doing serious bodily injury to themselves. My guess would be about .00001%. I'm sure they hurt themselves for the same reason I did : they don't listen to themselves when that little voice says, "you're an idiot and are going to totally jack yourself up!"
I'm not disparaging T25 or ShaunT at all. He constantly reminds you to go at your own pace, listen to your body and modify, modify, modify. I should have modified, I didn't, I got hurt. My bad. Was it worth it? No, which brings me to my next point. Why do we feel the need to kill ourselves with our workouts? Yes, if it doesn't challenge you, it doesn't change you, but why does challenge equal, "if your not killing yourself and doing things that you KNOW are potentially injury inducing then you are not really working."
I've probably lost three pounds and three inches in five weeks. That is pretty damn good considering: I'm freakishly short and even five pounds can look like a big change, I only have 10, maybe 15, pounds to lose, I'm old as heck and my metabolism has basically just stopped, and there was a trip to Vegas and my son's graduation party thrown in there. I actually lost and gained two pounds about a dozen times, so I'm counting it as a 12 weight loss. Ah, if only it worked that way.
I KNOW working out consistently was a big factor in the weight loss, but I was working out before I began the program doing running and barre classes. This time I also started tracking my calories and was floored at how much I was consuming, so I'm wondering how much of it is finally getting my calorie intake under control.
As I lie here on my couch deeply engrossed in Lifetime movies, with my calf elevated and icing, giving myself an ulcer from all the Motrin I've chewed, I'm at a loss as to where to go next. Do I go back to ShaunT and modify, or do what I love (running, barre & yoga) and see how it goes? For this week I'm hitting the gym and the elliptical and giving my calf a rest after that who knows. I hate this.