The Hiatus Is Over

After a four year hiatus, I once again have become a gym rat. 

For years and years I was a gym goer. Either at the office, if my employer had a good gym, or after work at a local health club. 

Many of those years were spent with one of my best friends sweating and griping together. 

The value of a workout partner cannot be overlooked. 

Whether it was just having someone to kibbutz with about the day, our significant others or whine about our jobs, knowing that she was going to be there and not wanting to blow her off was a great motivator. 

I miss my workout partner. 

More than just her company I miss her sense of humor the most. 

At least 12 years ago we were doing our ab workout on the mats against the wall that backed the aerobic room where there was a class going on. 

The music was the same techno crap that all lazy aerobic instructors use but what was even more annoying was the instructor's voice. She was yelling counts into her mic with a voice that sounded like she was attempting to motivate a class of four year olds! Ugh! Can't stand being spoken to like that to begin with never mind when I'm trying to exercise! 

I made a comment to my friend about the instructor's voice and, pretending to be in the class, she quipped, "I'm not stupid, I'm just fat!" 

Ha! 

I miss her! 

I am crazy judgmental when it comes to my exercise instructors. If I'm weight training they need to have muscles...bulging muscles. 

If I'm doing anything aerobic my instructor needs to be thinner than I am. Seriously! How the hell am I supposed to be motivated to sweat if the girl at the front of the class looks like she lives on Big Macs?! 

This is an important motivational factor for me! 

And DON'T talk to me like I'm a child. 

Since I am only on my third week of "getting back into shape" I've decided that the recumbent bike and circuit weight training are the best thing for me, for now. Once I can do the circuit without feeling like I'm dying I'll get into the free weights again. 

I'm trying to be smart about this and acknowledge that I am not 20-something anymore and my body just doesn't recover like it used to. 

Yeah, getting older really does suck! 

My biggest regret is that I allowed myself to get out of shape at all. Yeah I had twins and yeah I was busy but lots of people have twins and lots of people are busy. Lots of people also know when to stop eating and actually say "No thank you" when offered dessert.

I've been lazy with my food and therefore lazy about my health.  

So here I am less than a year shy of the big 5-0 and I'm starting over in the gym. 

The club we joined has tons of programs for us and for the kids as well as a free indoor play place that the boys can play on for hours...if I had that kind of time. The pools, all four of them, are spotless and the kids's pool is a zero entry pool that only goes to 3'6" deep. They have and adult only locker room as well as family locker rooms and a cafe. Our membership includes monthly cafe bucks that I can use for a cup of coffee before heading out and if we want to, we can bring our own food and eat in the cafe without a problem. 

It's an amazing place but you know what the best part is? 

I get two hours a day of childcare a day! 

Two. Hours. A. Day!!! Woot!! 

I can ride the bike and read a book at the same time. 

I can do the weight circuit without someone bugging me. 

I can have a conversation with another adult without interruption...well except for the moaner. 

The moaner. 

There's one in every gym. 

This guy gets on the elliptical bike thing and rides like he's being chanced by a pack of rabid raccoons. 

Despite the fact that he rides this thing every day, he gets pissed off at the machine, sometimes even yells at it but every day, without fail, he moans. 

Not a stressful grunt from time to time but full on, orgasmic moaning. 

It's a little uncomfortable to be around. 

The little old ladies that also workout while he's there spend their time alternately shaking their heads and blushing. 

I try to get there before he arrives but my schedule doesn't always allow for that. I've sort of gotten used to him and to be honest the discomfort that he causes those of us around him has become a great conversation starter. 

Who knows maybe I'll find a new workout partner. 

He Is My Rock

I have this terrible habit of romanticizing the dumbest things.

    The Brady Bunch.
The ultimate "Everything is
fixed in 30 minutes" sitcom. 

I blame Disney and TV sitcoms!

Seriously, I have spent my life thinking that, "When I have kids..." Fill in the blank.

Well my idiotic imagination and reality don't jive well; in fact they often clash!

My children were not going to be the little bastards that ran willy-nilly all over the grocery story, or scream at the top of their lungs. My boys would be properly dressed when we left the house.

My children would not throw temper tantrums.

Ha!

I was recently slapped so hard in the face by reality that I was left crying and wondering what I had done wrong.

The short answer is nothing. I really had done nothing wrong. And the boys are really wonderful.

Most of the time.

We endured months of David controlling nearly every situation with his incessant tantrums to the point that we'd changed plans to go out just to spare another human being from the experience.

Initially it began because David didn't want to change out of his pajamas...ever.

I had this rule: Pajamas are ok at home but if we go out they had to be changed into real clothes.

The morning I arrived at my MoPS (Mothers of PreSchoolers) group with a bottle of lavender oil in my pocket, I knew things were out of control. After discussing the situation with the moms I decided to let the pajama issue go. (See My How Life Has Changed.)

I thought we were out of the woods.

I had another thought coming.

Next was the dirty clothes. David only wanted to wear dirty clothes. If I changed him he'd strip down and then throw his tantrum.

One day in particular I'd had enough and called my husband for moral support.

I left David flailing naked on the playroom floor and headed up to the bedroom, closed and locked the door and plunked myself in the recliner to share my misery and hear that everything was going to be ok.

As soon as my butt hit the leather the bedroom door burst open with Hell Boy Tantrum Child screaming that he wanted his dirty clothes. I calmly walked across the master bedroom and locked myself in the bathroom. (Double checked the latch on the door!) sat on the edge of the tub and cried into the phone, "I can't take this anymore."

Suddenly, there was this insanely loud banging noise coming from the bathroom door. Hubby asked what the noise was so I described the scene to him: David was now lying on his back on the floor on the other side of the bathroom door screaming at the top of his lungs while simultaneously kicking the bathroom door.

"Naked."

"What?" I asked

"He's lying on the floor kicking the bathroom door completely naked."

The absurdity of it all hit me and I began to laugh!

There are so many reasons that I love my husband but his sense of humor is one of the big ones.

Over the years he has been able to make me laugh more than anyone else.

Oh sure, we have our stress moments, what couple doesn't? But his ability to calm me and find humor in a situation is a gift.

Some of my parenting thoughts are still true to this day. My children do not run like crazy through stores. I will not tolerate it..that's what playgrounds are for. The day David decided to start screaming while in the shopping cart, as we were walking into the store I steered past the entrance and sat on the sidewalk until he was ready to settle down and I could go shopping without inconveniencing everyone in the store.

They've been to the store in their pajamas and people loved them. I was not criticized.

I'm learning to let experiences happen without expectations. Having expectations about behavior is one thing but why not let things play out they way they were meant to? I don't need to have everything scripted or planned.

A dear friend always said, "If you want to make God laugh, make plans."

Ha!

I'm learning to go with the flow.

The tantrums lasted nearly three months. For a while it was daily sometimes twice a day. At it's worst I felt so lost but talking to other moms about it was super helpful. Many even offered suggestions that truly made a difference.

They are over now.

We survived.

Knowing that my hubby always had my back and was willing to jump in and deal with David when I was at the end of my rope was my saving grace.

He is my rock. 

I am blessed. 

Sharing

I married a man whose idea of cooking was to buy prepackaged food at Wegmans and heat it up in the microwave.

Not that there is really anything wrong with that. But it's not cooking...it's reheating.

Two years ago I started a part-time job as a Dyson Demonstrator working weekends to help make ends meet.

It was a great gig. Not really hard, sometimes boring, but for the most part it was fun and I really enjoyed doing the job. I also had one of the best managers a person could ask for. She's no longer my manager, but I do get to call her friend.

While I was working that job I often did not get home before 7 o'clock in the evening on Saturdays and Sundays.

The guy who couldn't cook would wait for me to get home to cook dinner.

Needless to say, evenings with the children were a nightmare as they were hangry (hungry+angry) and I would become increasingly cranky at having to work on my feet all day and then have to cook dinner when I walked through the door.

I finally told him that it wasn't fair that I was put in this position and initially remedied it by bringing Costco pizza home with me.

He finally relented and started to learn to cook. Initially we ate a lot of grilled food. I seriously don't understand how someone can say they can't cook but can handle preparing food over an open flame but I digress... Hubby grows sweet corn in the summer and grilled corn with chicken or burgers and hot dogs were a staple.

Eventually his confidence increased and he began to get more creative. He even used Italian dressing and breadcrumbs on the chicken before grilling it and I have to say it was delicious!

As the summer came to a close he had to move his weekend cooking operation indoors.

We ate burned chicken.

Our kids are not very picky but even they wouldn't eat it.

I did not criticize but offered a couple of suggestions which he took like a man.

While all of this "learning to cook" stuff was going hubby also decided to teach himself how to bake bread. No one, least of all hubby, knows why he was suddenly obsessed with this idea.

He could barely cook chicken without making it black so please, by all means, take up one of the most difficult culinary skills of all!

What's next croissants? Oy vey!

If you've known me for anytime you'd know how much pride I take in both my kitchen and my cooking skills. I've invested countless hours in reading recipes and testing out techniques. I used to watch the cooking channel as if I were in school cramming for the final!

I turned my love of cakes into a full-time successful business that was bringing in pretty good money.

MY Kitchen was my empire! I was ruler.

The fact that I wasn't in it on Saturdays and Sundays made it no less mine!

I had lost all control.

He was putting things where they didn't belong.

I couldn't find the strainer.

Tools were not in the proper drawers.

I COULDN'T FIND MY STUFF!!!

I was pissed!

While lecturing the boys on sharing I was having a hissy fit because he hadn't put my measuring cups back in the right spot!

Hmmmmm.

Crap!

Now who needs to share?

I won't say that hubby has mastered the bread making but we no longer eat store-bought bread. All sandwich bread is home-made. He made a Challah at Christmas that was beyond amazing.

Christmas was just downright weird. It's the first time in my life I've ever given a man kitchen stuff. Pot holders, rolling pins and a peeler attachment for the Kitchen Aid.

It was like being in some alternate universe!

Seriously though, he's become an incredible cook who isn't afraid to try new things.

He has taught himself the art of canning. We have jars of applesauce, vegetable soup, turkey vegetable soup, pumpkin (home grown thank you very much), sauerkraut and the most amazing apple butter I've ever tasted.

As a result of his increased skill level (and his unwillingness to commit to memory the location of where things have been in the four years that we've lived in this house) we rearranged the kitchen...together!

I'm happy to report that we are still happily married :)

Having closed the cake business I no longer needed to have a number of items at my fingertips.

So we spent a weekend cleaning out and reorganizing the kitchen. He now has access to the mixers, the canning stuff and the measuring cups. I moved stuff that I hadn't used in a while and the cake stuff has been moved to the basement rather than upstairs where it was taking up precious cabinet space.

We even rearranged the furniture in the kitchen to open up the floor plan and the tops of the cabinets are now adorned with the fruits of hubby's canning efforts.

It's not just my kitchen anymore but I'm ok with that.

Hubby and I have always made a great team and balance each other out in fantastic ways: he is calm where I am haywire; he is quiet and I am well, not; I am an extrovert and he is an introvert. He is the yin to my yang but it works. It's us.

I have learned to share my kitchen and my stuff. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. In fact it's been a lot of fun.

Now if I could just get him obsessed with the laundry...

Little Help Here

I truly thought that when I decided to begin potty training the boys that they'd learn at the same time.

I had another thought coming. 

Once I decided it was time, I did lots of reading. 

The most useful of all of the information that I read was written by fellow blogger Shannon at Stickers & Glitter about The Potty Watch. 

After reading her post I literally ran to my computer and ordered two! 

Once they arrived I explained to the boys how the watches worked and told them that we'd start going in the potty tomorrow. I got them all excited about the idea and we prepped for it all day and into the evening. 

After they got up, I had them each pee in the potty and then put on real underwear and pants and we strapped on the watches. 

David was totally into it and when the watch played the music and the lights blinked he yell, "Potty time!" and run into the bathroom. 

Daniel would run behind the sofa. 

The initial reward was a sticker but that was only good for a couple of days before they both lost interest in the stickers and, quite frankly, I got tired of scraping them off the floor, windows, furniture, cabinets...you get the picture.

I finally decided that pee would be rewarded with two jelly beans but a poop would earn the Holy Grail: Chocolate. 

This was no incentive for Daniel at all. In fact Daniel was totally non-plussed about the whole thing.  

Meanwhile, David was so into it that he figured out that he could squeeze out one turd at a time and get a piece of chocolate for each one! Clever little bugger! 

By day four David was out of diapers completely even at night. 

In fact, the night I decided to put him to bed without a diaper was after I found him crying in the hallway because he couldn't figure out how to put his diaper back on after going to the bathroom. 

That day we made a trip to the store for nightlights. 

I even had him practice getting up and going to the potty with only the nightlight on so it wouldn't be totally foreign territory for him. 

Daniel was showing no improvement...at all. 

I stuck with it. Everything I read said that you train for a week and if there is no progress you stop and try again in a couple of weeks. 

After Daniel ran behind the sofa for the seventh day in a row I gave up and put him back in a diaper and continued to reward David. 

By the end of the week David was trained...completely. 

He was telling everyone that he, "was a big boy because he poops in the potty but Daniel was still wearing a baby diaper." 

REALLY?! 

Where the heck did that come from?! 

We've tried again and again with Daniel with no success. 

Before Christmas I asked Daniel if he knew what mommy wanted 'the most of all' for Christmas. He replied with, "What?" I said, "Mommy really wants you to poop in the potty." He gave me the most pathetic, 'You're really not going to like this answer' look followed by, "No." Then reached up and put his arm around my neck, leaned in and said, "How about a necklace?"

I laughed so hard that I almost wet his bed!

We tried again a couple of weeks ago...spent the weekend cleaning urine off the floor - Allow me to recommend hardwood floors people - It's worth the extra money in the long run! 

I've all but given up. 

However, On three different occasions I have discovered him coming out of the bathroom with his diaper undone and when asked he says that he went pee-pee in the potty. 

There is hope. 

The last time was a couple of days ago when I walked into my bathroom to find him in front of my potty, pants down to his knees, diaper open on one side. 

He looked at me and said, "Little help here" and looked down at his diaper. 

Yes sweetie I will give you a little help! 

Now...can you please poop in the potty?!

Silver Lining

As an individual who was raised in a house where there was magnet on the fridge that said, "Dust is the protective covering of fine furniture" I've always struggled to keep a clean home.

I ways wanted to have this showroom spotless house that could accommodate company at the drop of a hat and I did sort of have that.

BC.

You know? BC...Before Children

I had this stupid, romantic, dreamy-eyed, child of the 70s and 80s sitcom-stupid idea that we'd have this perfect life with perfect children and this perfect house with clean laundry and spotless toilets.

Yeah...Um...That is not the case.

If all things are going well I might get the laundry finished, folded and put away before Wednesday every week and maybe, just maybe, I'll have enough energy to get at least the first floor vacuumed and mopped.

If my in-laws are coming I'll go the extra distance and make sure that the powder room toilet is scrubbed and that there is no pee on the floor.

The house is not condemnable or disgusting but it does get pretty dusty from time to time. If I know that people are coming over I'll make a point of cleaning and even dusting but day-to-day stuff I just don't have time for.

Don't judge...It's the best I've got...for now.

When I was a teenager my mom gave up on nagging me about cleaning my bedroom, which in hindsight should have been condemned by the board of health; however, she did make us clean when company was coming. It was an all day battle when company was scheduled to visit and usually ended with me stuffing things under my bad and throwing out the stuff that smelled.

I hope to avoid that with my boys but only time will tell.

The funniest things about my teenage years was that, aside from babysitting, my primary income came from cleaning my neighbor's houses.

I do try to set a decent example and try to encourage the boys to help when I am cleaning.

Having been a Dyson Demonstrator I have many cordless vacuum cleaners that the kids love to use.

Once we've picked up all of the toys, I give one to each boy and we go around the first floor of the house "cleaning." I usually have to go over where they were but they love to help so I am trying to capitalize on their willingness. Mom may not have been the greatest example for cleaning but she certainly did not raise an idiot!

One day the boys decided to help clean and piled all of their toys into a collapsable tube that goes with a play tent.

They were adorable marching back and forth singing their "Pick Up, Clean Up" song while stuffing toys into that tube.

It was so heavy when they were finished that hubby and I couldn't even pick it up. I was so proud of their effort that I didn't unload it and put it all back for a day or so.

One of the decisions I made right after the kids were born was to make the switch from toxic chemical cleaners to non-toxic green cleaners. It is a decision that I will never regret and one that paid off in spades last week.

After scrubbing the bathtub in the boys' bathroom I accidentally left the spray bottle of cleaner on the side of the tub and promptly forgot about it.

Guess who found it?

Yep...and they were taking turns hosing down each other and all the rest of the surfaces in the bathroom. The good news is that since there is no bleach their clothes were not stained, the cleaner didn't even hurt their eyes and when I finished cleaning it up it was cleaner than it'd been in months...

Silver lining.