Because I can't think of anything new to say, I looked through old posts to see if I felt like re-posting anything. This one was posted on August 28, 2010. Funny how some things have changed and some remain the same.
Yesterday my 2 older boys stayed home from school. They weren't sick or anything -- Joseph's pet jellyfish were being delivered yesterday, and they wanted to make sure to be home for delivery.
Yeah, we have jellyfish for pets. (They're dead now.)
After the pets made it into their tank safely, I wanted to work out.
I actually wanted to. Weird, right?
We packed a bag full of toys & books and headed out to V-Fit.
The toys and books amused the boys for 25 seconds.
Hardly anyone was there, so it was OK for them to walk around a bit. I was doing jump squats. Jump squats aren't my favorite. Especially when I have to do 4 sets of 25. Especially when the boys thought the squats looked like fun, so they decided to do it too. (4 setsof 25???? Bwahahahhahahah)
When I do jump squats, I jump-squat-grunt. Sometimes I jump-grunt-squat. (yeah. still do that)
When my boys do jump squats, they jump-say WHEE-squat-giggle.Then they say "Look, I can go fast!" and do about 30 in quick succession with perfect form and don't sweat.
Then it was time to do these horrible things where I sit on the floor, balance on my butt, keep my feet 6 inches off the floor, and take a 4 lb medicine ball and weave it in a figure 8 around my legs. When you do it right, it looks really, really smooth. When you've had 3 C-Sections, it doesn't look quite so pretty. (still not pretty)
Plus, it's hard to keep everything in. In other words, I go grunt-weave-pfft-grunt-weave-repeat. The "pfft" part made my boys laugh hysterically. Especially because I have always told them that going pfft is very rude.
Only Daddies go "pfft".
Never mommies. (no comment)
Next I did leg presses on the machine. Luke wanted to sit on my lap, but I said no.
"Is it because it will make you fart again?"
"No! Just go play for 5 minutes, willya?"
Finally it was time to do the pit. My boys love the pit. They run down, say "Chase me Mama!" and scoot back up. Over and over. Laughing and giggling while I wheeze and huff.
"Mama - remember when you were playing with that ball and you farted? That was funny!" said Joe, as if it happened years ago and not just 30 minutes ago.
Finally it was time to leave.
We see Victor on the way out. Victor cut his hair short, which really brings out his big brown eyes, his lantern jaw and shows the sinewy muscles of his neck. Sigh.
Victor says "Hey! How was the work out?!"
Luke says "Mama farted!"
That kid is lucky to still be alive
Showing posts with label Things my kiddos say. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things my kiddos say. Show all posts
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Week With My Boys
Since school started this week, I decided to take last week off and just spend it with my kids.
It didn't hurt that keeping them home saved us $250 in camp fees.
We went to the Aquarium, the water park, the arcade, the beach and got raspas almost every day. (Raspa is Tex-Mex for Snow-Cone). We went to the movies, and hosted a small dinner party where the guest of honor was one of our beloved priests.
We also got haircuts, bought school shoes, and had the pre-school physical.
Two observations:
1. SAHMs are rock-stars. I haven't been so tired in I don't know when.
2. The mundane was as fun -- or more fun -- than the "events".
There is just something cool about watching a 6 year old put on a new pair of tennies. (Sneakers, gym shoes, I don't know whachacallem. Tennies.) Remember when new tennies made you jump higher, run faster and stop on a dime?
I had to giggle when the 3 year old looked at his new haircut and exclaimed "I'm handsome! Right, Mama?"
I was proud of my 10 year old for helping his brothers navigate public restrooms, crowded aquariums and kept them entertained while I did my (almost) daily workouts.
All in all, it was a great week.
God, I need a nap.
It didn't hurt that keeping them home saved us $250 in camp fees.
We went to the Aquarium, the water park, the arcade, the beach and got raspas almost every day. (Raspa is Tex-Mex for Snow-Cone). We went to the movies, and hosted a small dinner party where the guest of honor was one of our beloved priests.
We also got haircuts, bought school shoes, and had the pre-school physical.
Two observations:
1. SAHMs are rock-stars. I haven't been so tired in I don't know when.
2. The mundane was as fun -- or more fun -- than the "events".
There is just something cool about watching a 6 year old put on a new pair of tennies. (Sneakers, gym shoes, I don't know whachacallem. Tennies.) Remember when new tennies made you jump higher, run faster and stop on a dime?
I had to giggle when the 3 year old looked at his new haircut and exclaimed "I'm handsome! Right, Mama?"
I was proud of my 10 year old for helping his brothers navigate public restrooms, crowded aquariums and kept them entertained while I did my (almost) daily workouts.
All in all, it was a great week.
God, I need a nap.
 |
| The boys with our guests -- Father Pat, Declan & John. |
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Did You Know. . .
That today is http://www.giftoffat.com's/ birthday!
To celebrate, I will eat a cupcake and let someone take a photo of me smashing it in my face.
I originally concieved of The Gift of Fat as a book. A New York Times Bestselling book.
My book will explore a fat girl's life. (yeah -- that's never been done before. *snort*).
I have been fat all of my life. A lot of people think that they are fat. In many cases, it's more of a self-perception than a concrete reality. Not that the fat feelings are any less significant, it's just that . . .well, it's different. In my case, everyone else knew I was fat too. How. . . .validating.
My book will be original because I will explain how I came to realize -- in my 30's -- that while being fat really really sucks, there are gifts associated with being fat. No one ever talks about the gifts.
Gifts like devloping a quick sense of humor. Developing a strong sense of justice. A powerful work ethic and a thirst to prove that I can do anything a thin person can do. Gifts like realizing that I stand out -- and if I wasn't fat, I would look just like everybody else. Friendships. Experiences. Revelations. Advocacy. The book will cover all of those things.
I started the blog to begin chapters of my book. I thought I could just tie up all the blog posts in a shiny package and sell it to Penguin Books, who would publish it with great fanfare and retail it at $29.99 hardcover, $9.99 on Kindle.
Turns out, the blog is not the book.
Not that there won't be a book. There will be. I think. The blog serves different, but important purposes.
I am a sucker for being the center of attention, and I love to make people laugh. Much of this blog has been trying to make you laugh, which guarantees me a spot in the center of attention for a few minutes.
The blog is also about my journey. My journey into fitness. . .and my newfound passion for working out. I never expected to love excercise. In fact, did I just write that I love excercise? WTF?
I don't consider myself a "mommy-blogger", but I am a mom. . . so I write about it.
I never expected the blog to be relational. Who knew you could make friends with people you've never met? Turns out -- I have made cyber friends. Nikki, Lex, Andi, Annabelle, plus my wonderful commenters (Hi Diane!).
Mostly, the blog helps me find my "voice". Writing the blog has been a great experience. I plan to continue.
For at least another year.
To celebrate, I will eat a cupcake and let someone take a photo of me smashing it in my face.
I originally concieved of The Gift of Fat as a book. A New York Times Bestselling book.
My book will explore a fat girl's life. (yeah -- that's never been done before. *snort*).
I have been fat all of my life. A lot of people think that they are fat. In many cases, it's more of a self-perception than a concrete reality. Not that the fat feelings are any less significant, it's just that . . .well, it's different. In my case, everyone else knew I was fat too. How. . . .validating.
My book will be original because I will explain how I came to realize -- in my 30's -- that while being fat really really sucks, there are gifts associated with being fat. No one ever talks about the gifts.
Gifts like devloping a quick sense of humor. Developing a strong sense of justice. A powerful work ethic and a thirst to prove that I can do anything a thin person can do. Gifts like realizing that I stand out -- and if I wasn't fat, I would look just like everybody else. Friendships. Experiences. Revelations. Advocacy. The book will cover all of those things.
I started the blog to begin chapters of my book. I thought I could just tie up all the blog posts in a shiny package and sell it to Penguin Books, who would publish it with great fanfare and retail it at $29.99 hardcover, $9.99 on Kindle.
Turns out, the blog is not the book.
Not that there won't be a book. There will be. I think. The blog serves different, but important purposes.
I am a sucker for being the center of attention, and I love to make people laugh. Much of this blog has been trying to make you laugh, which guarantees me a spot in the center of attention for a few minutes.
The blog is also about my journey. My journey into fitness. . .and my newfound passion for working out. I never expected to love excercise. In fact, did I just write that I love excercise? WTF?
I don't consider myself a "mommy-blogger", but I am a mom. . . so I write about it.
I never expected the blog to be relational. Who knew you could make friends with people you've never met? Turns out -- I have made cyber friends. Nikki, Lex, Andi, Annabelle, plus my wonderful commenters (Hi Diane!).
Mostly, the blog helps me find my "voice". Writing the blog has been a great experience. I plan to continue.
For at least another year.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Ink
Because I had my last baby at age 42, it's not a surprise that I am sometimes 20 (or more) years older than the other moms in his class.
One of his best friends has parents much younger than me.
They are intelligent. Educated. Interesting. Tattooed.
They have beautiful children and they are a lovely young family. They are just covered from toenails to eyeballs in colorful, permanent designs. With lots of piercings. Both of them. I don't know what they do for a living, but I am betting neither one of them is a banker.
I don't mean to sound like such an oldster.
I am not anti-tattoo. Not at all. I may get one someday.
I might need it sooner than later.
I was dropping #3 off at daycare. I wore a skirt. His little friend with the colorful mommy gave me a hug. Then he poked me right above the knee and said "My mommy has a picture there too."
I looked at my knee to see what he was talking about.
That's not a picture, honey.
It's a varicose vein.
Sigh.
One of his best friends has parents much younger than me.
They are intelligent. Educated. Interesting. Tattooed.
They have beautiful children and they are a lovely young family. They are just covered from toenails to eyeballs in colorful, permanent designs. With lots of piercings. Both of them. I don't know what they do for a living, but I am betting neither one of them is a banker.
I don't mean to sound like such an oldster.
I am not anti-tattoo. Not at all. I may get one someday.
I might need it sooner than later.
I was dropping #3 off at daycare. I wore a skirt. His little friend with the colorful mommy gave me a hug. Then he poked me right above the knee and said "My mommy has a picture there too."
I looked at my knee to see what he was talking about.
That's not a picture, honey.
It's a varicose vein.
Sigh.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
O To Be A Child Again. . .
Yesterday my 2 older boys stayed home from school. They weren't sick or anything -- Joseph's pet jellyfish were being delivered yesterday, and they wanted to make sure to be home for delivery.
Yeah, we have jellyfish for pets.
After the pets made it into their tank safely, I wanted to work out.
I actually wanted to. Weird, right?
We packed a bag full of toys & books and headed out to V-Fit.
The toys and books amused the boys for 25 seconds.
Hardly anyone was there, so it was OK for them to walk around a bit. I was doing jump squats. Jump squats aren't my favorite. Especially when I have to do 4 sets of 25. Especially when the boys thought the squats looked like fun, so they decided to do it too.
When I do jump squats, I jump-squat-grunt. Sometimes I jump-grunt-squat.
When my boys do jump squats, they jump-say WHEE-squat-giggle.Then they say "Look, I can go fast!" and do about 30 in quick succession with perfect form and don't sweat.
Then it was time to do these horrible things where I sit on the floor, balance on my butt, keep my feet 6 inches off the floor, and take a 4 lb medicine ball and weave it in a figure 8 around my legs. When you do it right, it looks really, really smooth. When you've had 3 C-Sections, it doesn't look quite so pretty.
Plus, it's hard to keep everything in. In other words, I go grunt-weave-pfft-grunt-weave-repeat. The "pfft" part made my boys laugh hysterically. Especially because I have always told them that going pfft is very rude.
Only Daddies go "pfft".
Never mommies.
Next I did leg presses on the machine. Luke wanted to sit on my lap, but I said no.
"Is it because it will make you fart again?"
"No! Just go play for 5 minutes, willya?"
Finally it was time to do the pit. My boys love the pit. They run down, say "Chase me Mama!" and scoot back up. Over and over. Laughing and giggling while I wheeze and huff.
"Mama - remember when you were playing with that ball and you farted? That was funny!" said Joe, as if it happened years ago and not just 30 minutes ago.
Finally it was time to leave.
We see Victor on the way out. Victor cut his hair short, which really brings out his big brown eyes, his lantern jaw and shows the sinewy muscles of his neck. Sigh.
Victor says "Hey! How was the work out?!"
Luke says "Mama farted!"
That kid is lucky to still be alive.
Yeah, we have jellyfish for pets.
After the pets made it into their tank safely, I wanted to work out.
I actually wanted to. Weird, right?
We packed a bag full of toys & books and headed out to V-Fit.
The toys and books amused the boys for 25 seconds.
Hardly anyone was there, so it was OK for them to walk around a bit. I was doing jump squats. Jump squats aren't my favorite. Especially when I have to do 4 sets of 25. Especially when the boys thought the squats looked like fun, so they decided to do it too.
When I do jump squats, I jump-squat-grunt. Sometimes I jump-grunt-squat.
When my boys do jump squats, they jump-say WHEE-squat-giggle.Then they say "Look, I can go fast!" and do about 30 in quick succession with perfect form and don't sweat.
Then it was time to do these horrible things where I sit on the floor, balance on my butt, keep my feet 6 inches off the floor, and take a 4 lb medicine ball and weave it in a figure 8 around my legs. When you do it right, it looks really, really smooth. When you've had 3 C-Sections, it doesn't look quite so pretty.
Plus, it's hard to keep everything in. In other words, I go grunt-weave-pfft-grunt-weave-repeat. The "pfft" part made my boys laugh hysterically. Especially because I have always told them that going pfft is very rude.
Only Daddies go "pfft".
Never mommies.
Next I did leg presses on the machine. Luke wanted to sit on my lap, but I said no.
"Is it because it will make you fart again?"
"No! Just go play for 5 minutes, willya?"
Finally it was time to do the pit. My boys love the pit. They run down, say "Chase me Mama!" and scoot back up. Over and over. Laughing and giggling while I wheeze and huff.
"Mama - remember when you were playing with that ball and you farted? That was funny!" said Joe, as if it happened years ago and not just 30 minutes ago.
Finally it was time to leave.
We see Victor on the way out. Victor cut his hair short, which really brings out his big brown eyes, his lantern jaw and shows the sinewy muscles of his neck. Sigh.
Victor says "Hey! How was the work out?!"
Luke says "Mama farted!"
That kid is lucky to still be alive.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
She kinda looks like you, but. . .
This morning I dropped my little ones off at daycare.
One of the other Moms was having one of those gut wrenching mornings when you have to drop your kid off even though he's screaming piteously and begging you not to go. (Been there!)
Some of us "seasoned" moms smiled sympathetically as our perfectly content littles trooped to their classrooms. (My 2 year old doesn't even kiss me goodbye. Now THAT hurts!) We swapped war stories.
Brooke talked about the time her little guy said "Miss Gracie, I wish you were my Mom."
Anita's daughter used to throw a fit every time it was time to go home.
As for me, my oldest (now 8) broke my heart when he called Miss Sally "Mama". What made it worse, I said, was that Miss Sally & I look exactly alike.
Overhearing, my 5 year old looked critically at me & said "She kinda looks like you, but. . . "
But what?! Was he going to say she is skinnier than me? (she's not). Fatter than me? (she's not). Prettier than me? (that's a matter of opinion)
. . ."She kinda looks like you, but her hair isn't orange."
My hair isn't ORANGE. It's MARIGOLD thankyouverymuch.
It's funny what kids say.
One of my very favorite stories was when my oldest (the one who called Miss Sally "Mama") was in kindergarten.
He drew a very detailed picture of our family. He, his dad & little brother all had brown eyes. Mine were drawn with blue ink. His little brother's diaper was drawn to some detail, and he perfectly captured the curls surrounding his brother's head. My hair was flipped nicely, and he drew me wearing blue pants. Each leg was drawn individually, and there was lots of space between them.
I said "Honey, I love this drawing. You made me look so pretty!"
"Yeah," he said, "I don't know how to draw fat yet."
Ouch.
One of the other Moms was having one of those gut wrenching mornings when you have to drop your kid off even though he's screaming piteously and begging you not to go. (Been there!)
Some of us "seasoned" moms smiled sympathetically as our perfectly content littles trooped to their classrooms. (My 2 year old doesn't even kiss me goodbye. Now THAT hurts!) We swapped war stories.
Brooke talked about the time her little guy said "Miss Gracie, I wish you were my Mom."
Anita's daughter used to throw a fit every time it was time to go home.
As for me, my oldest (now 8) broke my heart when he called Miss Sally "Mama". What made it worse, I said, was that Miss Sally & I look exactly alike.
Overhearing, my 5 year old looked critically at me & said "She kinda looks like you, but. . . "
But what?! Was he going to say she is skinnier than me? (she's not). Fatter than me? (she's not). Prettier than me? (that's a matter of opinion)
. . ."She kinda looks like you, but her hair isn't orange."
My hair isn't ORANGE. It's MARIGOLD thankyouverymuch.
It's funny what kids say.
One of my very favorite stories was when my oldest (the one who called Miss Sally "Mama") was in kindergarten.
He drew a very detailed picture of our family. He, his dad & little brother all had brown eyes. Mine were drawn with blue ink. His little brother's diaper was drawn to some detail, and he perfectly captured the curls surrounding his brother's head. My hair was flipped nicely, and he drew me wearing blue pants. Each leg was drawn individually, and there was lots of space between them.
I said "Honey, I love this drawing. You made me look so pretty!"
"Yeah," he said, "I don't know how to draw fat yet."
Ouch.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)