Tag Archives: The Gym

Mundane ass

ass-blog

As I attempt to make more of an effort with my blog posting, please do not be discouraged with the possible mundaneness of some of my posts.

I know you all want to know about V pooping, what I ate for dinner and how M annoyed me this week… Right? Right!!

Thank the Heavens Above (I am so thank that it is capitalized) that it is Thursday night. I swear the weeks are getting longer. And clearly also shorter AND faster since it is almost American Thanksgiving down here. Which means that it almost Christmas, which means that it is almost New Years, which means that V is almost 2, which means that I am almost thirty-****, which means that probably I need to have another baby, which means that I am pregnant.

See where I can go when I get going?

I am not pregnant.

In fact, I am hoping to look less pregnant as we joined the YMCA and I actually went twice this week. A beginners twice, which means it was 2 “I haven’t been to the gym in a coon’s age” workouts.

And holy mother do my legs hurt today from Tuesday’s workout. I ran for 30 minutes. Ignoring that fact that I haven’t been to the gym or ran since sometime in the beginning of September. I have faith in myself. I can run.

And so I did. And not only that, but I marveled at my speed and fluidity. I was flying man!! It felt awesome! I totally had a flash forward (see above ramble) and was instantly super fit and feeling awesome.

Tonight I went again, same thing. But with more pain, as my legs are stiff from all of the fluid running I did the other night. It still felt good. And then I went home and ate a sub. Nice. Clearly my diet of FOOD and excercise is really going to help me get in better shape. Oh, and carrying V up the stairs to bed. By the way my muscles are aching when I reach the top, I must be on the path to a rock hard ass.

Yup. That’s right. Rock hard ass. I am all over this gym thing, even if it kills small parts of me.

I’ll keep you posted…

xoxo a.m.

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Tabloids (and motherhood)

tabloids-blog

Sunday is my favorite day of the week. M is actually home all day (he works Friday and Saturday nights… as well as full-time Monday through Friday) and I am well rested and eager for errands etc.

This morning, V slept in until 7:30. Holy God, was I ever happy! I spent all day yesterday at Epcot and was totally exhausted last night. How people come to Florida and spend days at the parks, I will never know…

Good sleep, check! V sleeping in, check! And a planned trip to Whole Foods (which is pretty much my Mecca). How could it get any better! Not only that, but at Whole Foods, I found Gluten-free chicken nuggets by my favorite kids food brand Happy Baby. Totally organic, wheat-free and not only that, but it doesn’t taste like crap. Bliss. I practically skipped through the checkout and drove home on a cloud, sort of ala Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

M was awake when I got home, happily taking V from my arms and leaving me free to go to the gym. My other favorite thing about Sundays. For some reason, Saturdays never work for that. Too many things going on, I guess.

Shorts and headband on, ipod clipped to tank-top and Melissa’s latest podcast uploaded, I happily tra-la-la’ed off to the gym to spend some quality time with my favorite treadmill.

About halfway through my treadmill routine, someone else entered the gym, asked me if it was OK if they put on the TV and hopped on the elliptical trainer. She skipped around until she found one of those ‘Forbes 15 Hottest Celebrity Moms’ and about 30 seconds into the program, I was seriously annoyed.

Let me see if I can explain why… or perhaps you already know?

I hate seeing motherhood displayed like this on national TV. I hate even more pairing it up with Forbes, as if to say “very clever people who are associated with Forbes clearly think hot celebrity mums are headline worthy’. And most importantly, I hate that they continuously ‘show’ regular mums how easy it is!

Parenthood is a piece of cake! No problem! You can easily have 3 kids, lose that post-preggo weight instantaneously. Head back to work 6 weeks postpartum… no problem! Because you love your job that much…

Puh-lease…

30 minutes of watching all about these hawt celebrity mums and I was ready to throw up. Personal chefs, 1-3 nannies a household, chauffeurs, personal trainers…. how on earth can us regular mums complete with that?

It is pretty much all that is in the tabloids, on the entertainment news shows and screaming out at you from every magazine cover.

“How Sarah-Jessica manages 3 kids”

“A peek inside Brangelina’s crazy household”

Ah! I can’t even continue to think of examples. So annoying.

If I could also have a personal chef, trainer, a few nannies, an extremely rewarding job that puts me pleasantly in the public eye (like, oh, famous museum curator, award winning blogger, novelist….) I am sure that I would not be that concerned about how much sleep I was getting.

Or about how to handle V’s wheat and peanut allergies by yourself without consulting with a nutritionist, allergist or personal chef. Or how to afford it as well.

And other exciting things like how to manage working full-time and still finding time to look for new daycare, since the in-home daycare that you used went into foreclosure and the owners are not returning your call (V was home with Daddy all summer, since M is a teacher and our attempts to return to the facility we were using before has been met with, well, with resistance, random hang-ups when calls are attempted and some gibberish from husband about how his wife will call us right back. Right)

I bet J.Lo isn’t worrying about that. And neither is Victoria Beckham. Bastards.

I am sure that these women work hard at whatever their jobs are. I don’t care. At all.

I am both fascinated and tired by seeing them in magazines. Mostly tired though. It makes it too easy for women to look at themselves while reading these ‘stories’, compare themselves and, well, maybe feel like they should be doing things different. Or losing more weight. Or having a fancier nursery. Or be happier about returning to work (and let me remind my fellow Canadians that we only get 12 weeks down here in the ‘Sauth’). It never is a happy thing to head back to work while your first born is 10 weeks old (like mine was). Especially when you hand him off to someone that now, a year later, turns out to be the worst choice ever. And maybe someone who is a lying, Jesus-obsessed psycho… This might be a bit of an exaggeration. But since I now hate the daycare lady….. don’t care…

Oh how marvelous it would be to pick and choose your work hours and schedule. Personal chef/trainer. Nanny. Ahhh.

Magazines, can you please give us regular women a break?! We frankly have neither the time, energy or fortune to compete with the women you feature. Or the inclination. We are too tired from lack of sleep and busy toddlers…

We have no time to read your magazines… we are too busy chasing our kids around, multitasking clever and healthy meals (without a personal chef) and trying to find time to fit in the gym.

Like we are apparently supposed to… Ah..bastards…

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