I can never get enough whine

I wanted to make sure Sara didn't miss her kids too much, so I made sure to whine as much as possible while she was here*. I think I covered pretty much everything.

"I'm tired." 

"I can't believe I have to wash dishes again."

"I have shin splints."

"My head hurts." 

"I'm cold."

"I'm hungry."

"I'm too full." 

"My preschooler broke my nose with her hard head." 

"My nose hurts."

"I want apple pie. Why don't we have any apple pie?" 

"My lips are chapped."

"My nose is dry"

"My nose is full of dry boogers."

"My feet hurt." 

"My elbows are dry." 

"I can't do pushups because I have a thingy on my wrist and it hurts."

"There's pie in my hair." 

"My hair hurts."

"Why did I eat so much pie?"

"I have a hangnail."

Sara really enjoyed it. She likes her best friends whiny and annoying. 

Or maybe she was just holding her rage inside. Come to think of it, she did laugh a little too hard when I stepped weird while walking into the living room one evening and fell into a heap. 

I am nothing if not introspective, so all that whining got me thinking. "Is whining ever OK?" I thought to myself, "Or is it just a form of vocal self-pity that should be abandoned at all costs?"

Well, I honestly can't see myself quitting with the whining entirely, so I think I've decided to support conditional whining.

Sometimes we need to let off some steam--complain a little. It helps us feel better in some cases. However, it can go too far. When whining goes beyond letting off steam and veers into poor-me-why-is-the-world-against-me-all-the-time-in-everything-I-do-life-sucks-and-I'm-a-miserable-failure territory, then it's time to shut up and regroup.

Whining can make it all worse. It can alienate you from your friends and family (ever been around a whiny toddler or teenager for a while and wanted to ship him/her off to Siberia at the first opportunity?). It can reinforce any sense of misery or hopelessness you already have. It can make you forget what's good in your life and forget the needs of others (many of whom probably have far more reason to whine than you.) 

In short, I think I'll allow myself to whine from time to time, but only for a short while, then it's time to figure out what to do about my problems and take action instead of wallowing in the negative verbal soup (like alphabet soup, but more metaphorical). 

So, Sara--sorry to have avoided the epiphany until after you left, but I'll try to keep up the reluctant-Pollyanna behavior until your next visit. 

*Note: I am not implying that Sara's kids are particularly whiny. But, they are kids after all. 

Some times weight loss means playing tricks on myself

Things that are bugging me today:
1. My next-door neighbors have been doing some sort of renovations in their apartment--I assume bathroom-related because of all the clanging--for over a week now, and the noise, while audible everywhere in our apartment, is concentrated in my bedroom. Ergo, even though for two Saturdays in a row now my teenager has taken all the other kids to the closest-thing-we-have-to-a-park while the 2-year old naps, AND I’ve actually wanted to take a nap (me napping by choice and Haley’s Comet are on equal footing in terms of frequency), I can’t sleep.
2. My kids are after me to set up the Christmas tree, which I’m all about, but the movers were supposed to pack up our little tree and instead sent the big one, which is a pain in the patootie to assemble. Usually I let dh do it, but he’s off camping with our older son and the Boy Scouts. While I could just add this to the already really long list of Ways In Which I Have Disappointed My Children Time and Again, I’ll probably do it tonight after they go to bed. It’s bad enough actually doing it; I certainly don’t want them watching me do it (and by “watching me” I mean “asking me every 90 seconds if I’m done yet”).
3. My thighs really hurt. I mean really really. My husband forced me to exercise with him on Thursday and forced me to do squats and other squat-like things and now I can barely walk, let alone sit or get up from sitting. I’m finding myself hobbling around telling myself “Walk normally” but then I can’t remember how to do that, because the pain has erased all memory of ever having done it. I think I’ve stepped gingerly my entire life. And don’t talk to me about going to the bathroom. Also don’t talk to me about how great church was yesterday with my wiggly toddler and his bony little bum on my lap for an hour. I can only thank my years of worship service etiquette training for keeping me from yelping and/or cursing loudly several times.
4. There’s this character on Bob the Builder that has what I believe is the official Worst Voice Ever. I think she’s the wife of the town building inspector. I don’t know for sure, because I can’t bring myself to pay close enough attention to it to find out. My lands this woman is awful! I thought for sure this title belonged permanently to Henry the Octopus, but she makes him sound like Sting or Bono or any other smooth-talking smooth talker you can think of.
5. My toddler watches Bob the Builder 7,483 times a day.
6. We don’t have real television, only DVDs.
7. Sam's favorite Bob the Builder DVD has Mrs. Building Inspector in every. stinking. episode.
8. Cupcakes aren’t calorie-free.
9. My daughter’s birthday was 2 days ago, and nobody has eaten all the cupcakes yet. That means that besides the clanging and that horrible horrible woman’s voice, I’ve also had to listen to cupcakes chattering at me non-stop. I truthfully can’t decide which one is the worst.
10. I’m having a really hard time making myself exercise today.

Lest you think I’m in a bad mood (Hee, I originally typed that “bod mood.” I think that would either be a time when I’m really excited about working out or how Arnold Schwarzenegger expresses crankiness.), I also have plenty of things that are counteracting all of the above (except for the thigh pain; nothing makes that better). These things include but are not limited to: the Christmas signs and decorations my girls have plastered all over the house (especially the snowflakes that my 6-year old just learned how to make), I spelled “Schwarzenegger” correctly without having to look it up, and no one has eaten all the cupcakes yet.

As for the exercise, I’m going to have to trick myself into it. Usually this involves plying myself with magazines, but I’m all out. So I’m going to post this and then go ride my stationary bike while I watch a show on my computer. Really I am. Really really really.

But this also got me to wondering: how do you get yourself to exercise when you don’t want to? And if the answer is, “I just don’t,” (I think that’s the opposite of WWND--What Would Nike Do), why is that? What keeps you from exercising?

Maybe I should invent an exercise machine that plays Mrs. B.I.’s voice loudly unless you’re working in your target heart rate zone. I’d be skinny in no time!

UPDATE: 40 minutes on the bike. My legs still hurt. Oh well. Also, what is up with Dandrew? How are they possibly still in the race?!

Yeah...sorry...I got nothin'...

I've been trying all day to think of something to blog about, and I think I thought of some things, but they got lost. In my brain. Which means they are irretrievable.

I'm pleading the fact that as of today my husband's been gone for 5 weeks, and there's still another week before he gets home. I have officially turned into a wuss of a Marine wife. Last time he was gone for longer than a scout campout (which is pretty much the longest he's been gone since he got home from his last deployment 3 1/2 years ago), it took me until Month 5 out of 6 before I hit this level of No Rational Thought In Here. Plus my 2-year old was on a rampage today. Let me rephrase: my potty-training 2-year old was on a rampage today. There was so much pee to clean up today.

So really all I have for you is that I exercised twice today, both at home, because I had errands to run this morning and wasn't able to get to the gym. I spent an hour walking the length of my apartment after I got home from the errands and then tonight I rode my stationary bike for 40 minutes while I watched a TV show on my computer. I also drank all my water and recorded all my food. Most importantly, I did not eat all of the cookies I made for my Kindergartener's Thanksgiving party. That was probably the hardest part of the day.

I apologize for the lameness of this post. Probably what I should do instead of whining about the wolves that are chasing me (luckily I dn't have a hangnail; that would just be the last straw) is point you toward the comment of this post so that you can see how awesome Wendi is. You probably won't believe that I have an opinion about this, but I believe that real change comes through making small changes and then being consistent. Her trip to the store on foot for her very heavy appples (sorry, Wendi, couldn't resist) and not buying caramels for said heavy appples is what it's about. Go, Wendi!

Turns out Gravity hates me

This morning I had the bright idea that instead of going to the gym to do my workout, I would go to my kids' school and use the track there to do it. Today The Schedule dictates that I do 20 minutes of running. 20 minutes. Of running. 20 minutes straight running. Yikes.

But I really want to do this, so I made a new playlist for my iPod, charged that bad mamba jamba up, and headed out the door. I knew it would be hard, but I was willing to give it a try.

When I got to the school, I realized that there were soccer games going on on the field the track circles. Goody! My favorite! People! People to watch me! People on bleachers! I should have brought them all popcorn to help make the show complete. It honestly took everything I had not to just turn around and head home. If I had brought my purse with me I would have hopped a cab to the gym right then. But I was there, I had my music, I decided to just go for it.

Yeah.

Running outside = not the same as on a treadmill.

I barely made it one lap. And I really wanted to just go home. Again. Some more!

But instead I alternated running a lap with walking a lap. I was going to keep track of how many times I did it, but, well, I'm distracted easily. Especially when my lungs are on fire.

So I'll try the 20 minutes straight at the gym later this week and see how it goes. I've read that setting a treadmill's incline to 1 better approximates what it's like to run outside, so I'll probably try that.

I'm also thinking I need to figure out a way to work outside runs into my workout schedule. I'm doing this because I want to be good at running, not just good at running on a treadmill.

Hit me with your best (flu) shot

If I were one of those people who is convinced the world is out to get her, I would have a serious bone to pick with the world for the ineffectiveness of last year's flu shot. Sure, universe (or world--whatever)...I finally decide to get a flu shot for the first time in a decade and that's the year they (read: you) get the strain wrong, rendering the shot essentially useless and dooming me  and my 9-year-old to a miserable bout with the flu. Miserable! Flu! Bout! 

I want our $60 back. (Yeah--Joel never got the flu, but he could have gotten it, so I want his $20 back as well.)

But wait, I guess I'm not a world-is-out-to-get-me type person. Today I'm not, anyway. Which explains why I went to Joel's workplace today and got stabbed in the arm with a gigantic needle. (I never said I wasn't a whiner.) It also helps that it was free. 

I sincerely hope they (not sure who "they" are--the CDC? the WHO? the cast of Grey's Anatomy?) have chosen wisely this year. As much as I dislike the stabbage of a flu vaccine, I dislike the flu even more. 

I was thinking today that it would be nice if there were a vaccine for all potential diseases/ailments. And that led me to think (so much thinking today! is that a side effect of flu shots?), that while there isn't a single shot to prevent many/most of the physical afflictions that can befall us, there are things we can do, that in combination, can possibly and maybe prevent many illnesses and health problems. 

The problem is, eating a healthy diet rich in fruits and vegetables, exercising, getting enough sleep and all that good-for-you jazz involves a wee bit more of a long-term commitment than a 2-second needle jab. And, just like getting last year's flu shot, doing those things doesn't necessarily mean you won't get cancer or pneumonia or a goiter. Still, in theory, I believe those things are worth doing. It's good to minimize risk whenever you can. 

If I happen to be in a thinking mood again tomorrow, I should maybe figure out when I'm going to take my health more seriously. While getting a flu shot is a good start, it's only a start. I see a lot of exercise, healthy eating and self-discipline (oh horrors!) ahead. 

Hmmm...maybe that needle wasn't so bad? 

Healthy living is a pain in my rear

Word to the wise:

If you set yourself a goal that you will drink a certain amount of water every day and said amount is 100 ounces and you have this great little chart that you don't want to miss a day of putting an X on because you didn't drink all your water that day, maybe don't wait until 7pm to start drinking said water.

Otherwise when you are inevitably getting up in the middle of the night to use the facilities, you might run into the exercise bike at the end of your bed, and this maybe will cause you to twist all funny and wrench your hip all weird, and then perhaps you may just end up with a wicked pain deep in your posterior. Possibly.










My butt hurts.

(But I got my X.)

Tyrants all

There I was at 11:50pm tonight--tired, weary, sleepy and tuckered out (I have a thesaurus widget, do you?) when I realized I had to do an exercise DVD before I could go to bed. Why? Why would I do such a thing when I was so exhausted, drained and pooped? Because Sara MADE me. Sure, she's like a garillion miles and 9 or 10 time zones away, but she has powers. Scary, scary powers. I did three whole hours of yard work this morning (at one point sweat dripped off my nose--that's how fatigued, zonked and wasted I was). Surely, you think, that would be enough to satisfy Sara's sadistic whims...but no, it was not. 

So I did the stupid, moronic and doltish DVD--all 20 hideous, gruesome and repellant minutes of it. And now my legs hurt, ache and smart. I hope Sara is happy, gleeful and buoyant.

Next thing you know she'll be taxing my tea and hostily taking over my corporate empire. 

P.S. Photos (L to R): George III of England, Donald of Manhattan, Sara of the Fertile Delta