So, I can't even believe I'm going to admit this outside of the 4 walls of my home, but... I've made the switch to Diet Coke (insert "record needle scratch" sound effect).
I know, I know. After I had spent all these years mocking people for drinking Diet Cokes with their Big Macs and large fries (because no one could possibly prefer Diet Coke for its taste. I mean, really.). Now I'm one of them (except for the Big Macs and large fries part). The truth is, you do kind of get used to it. As a matter of fact, in the few days since I've made the switch, I don't notice the difference at all.
Plus (and I can't believe I'm admitting to this either), drinking Diet Coke is kind of... cooler. You never saw the cool, older girls drinking a can of regular Coke out of straw while sunning themselves. Regular Coke was/is for babies. And, at my old job, my co-worker told me once that she had tried to drink coffee for years, because it was considered cool. But, she just couldn't get used to the taste, so she stuck with Diet Coke for breakfast. And, to me, she was pretty cool. Caffeine is caffeine, right?
My first official turn to diet (though, short-lived) happened when I was pregnant with our second son and diagnosed with gestational diabetes (or, as my mother and her friends call it, "The Sugar"). Obviously, it was irritating to have to test my blood every 4 hours, but my main annoyance was giving up sugar. I mean, deprivation when you're pregnant? Is torture. But, I did allow myself a Diet Coke every now and then and I found the taste wasn't so bad. My friend recently told me how, when she was pregnant, she couldn't wait to go back to diet (because, of course, the artificial sugar was bad for the baby, so she stopped), and here I was, doing the opposite (and possibly giving my unborn child a defect [thankfully, he came out without 3 heads]). All this for something I shouldn't be drinking anyway.
And, because of my newfound health kick, I thought I could save myself at least 150 calories (and 9 [nine!] teaspoons of sugar) a day by drinking diet as opposed to the one Coke I allowed myself. But, then I read an article that said, by switching to diet, the risk for obesity was even greater than drinking regular (by 41%).
Figures.
Actually, that article, of course, was encouraging the reader to drink water, which, I might add, I do. A lot. So, if I allow myself a soft drink, and it's diet, and I don't allow myself to overindulge on other foods because I drink diet, I should be fine. Right? Right!
By the way, I can finally, after 3 days, move my legs without pain. Which, of course, means no gain. But, let's face it, the no gain is what I'm going for, so there you go.
This is "what life should be like" according to the 2008 Diet Coke slogan.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Friday, July 16, 2010
Ow ow ow ow ow (aka My trainer is the devil)
Ow.
I mean, really. Couldn’t the guy go easy on me yesterday, being my first visit with him and all? I’m slightly concerned about what it would be like to see himtwice once a week month. It hurts to walk, to climb stairs (and go down them), to sit down, to stand up, to lift my coffee cup. Surprisingly, blinking and typing don’t bother me. So, I guess that’s something.
But, I’m supposed to keep on keepin’ on. I plan to do some cardio today after work. If I can walk, that is. Yesterday, on our way out of the gym, my legs continuously gave out on me as we were going down the (many) stairs. I haven’t had that problem so far today, so maybe I’m improving and won’t want to kill myself (or actually kill myself by falling down said stairs) after I leave the gym today. Sigh. This is all worth it, right?
As long as I avoid my Nazi PT like the plague, I think I’ll get out alive.
I mean, really. Couldn’t the guy go easy on me yesterday, being my first visit with him and all? I’m slightly concerned about what it would be like to see him
But, I’m supposed to keep on keepin’ on. I plan to do some cardio today after work. If I can walk, that is. Yesterday, on our way out of the gym, my legs continuously gave out on me as we were going down the (many) stairs. I haven’t had that problem so far today, so maybe I’m improving and won’t want to kill myself (or actually kill myself by falling down said stairs) after I leave the gym today. Sigh. This is all worth it, right?
As long as I avoid my Nazi PT like the plague, I think I’ll get out alive.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
No pain, no gain (aka I hate the gym)
So, my husband and I joined a gym this week. It's been on my "To do" list for about... 10 years, but, you know how it is. I can always find other things to do with my time and money. Buy a purse or go to the gym? Sit on my ass and watch Mad Men or exercise? Hello?
I admit, I've been lucky most of my life, being thin with little effort. Of course, it had to do with a bad stomach, but still. Needless to say, I didn't exercise. In college, I lived right across the street from the newly built gym. The only time I visited that beautiful gym was to buy delicious smoothies at their juice bar. My roommates were all physically fit. And I'd sit on the couch and watch them exercise to videos all while telling them to lift their legs higher. I mean, if you're going to do it, DO it (I'm quite certain it took every ounce of self-restraint on their part not to punch me in the throat - thanks, guys).
After college, my stomach improved and I gained a lot of weight... FAST. I went up 5 dress sizes in a year. It was, um, humbling. I certainly deserved it after telling my roommates to exercise harder when I wasn't exercising at all. On one hand, it was good to be eating again, but on the other, maybe I was eating a little too much. And probably not the good stuff. And... I grudgingly accepted I should exercise.
So, my sister, sister-in-law, and I joined a gym. I didn't like it much. You know, it requires actualwhining work on my behalf. Eff that. But, my SIL, the athletic jerk that she is (kidding, SIL! Love you!) was quite the gym pro. She taught me how to use the machines, forced me to do one more sit up, even when I told her I was going to throw up on her. It was good for me (the exercise, not the throwing up).
Eventually, the weight came off and I happily gave up the exercising. After we had our first son, I walked every day. Until it got cold. And then I did nothing. I went right back to sitting on my ass and watching TV (what can I say? It's who I am.). And, when it was nice outside, I would, again, walk.
I'm a fair weather walker.
Now that I'm getting older, and my metabolism doesn't work as well, and I'm eating more... it's time to get back into a routine. Since I had already improved my eating habits, I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to admit I needed the exercise. And my husband has been saying for years he needs to get back in shape, so... here we are.
Today was our first meeting with the personal trainer. I had never been to one before. I had had my Nazi SIL, I certainly didn't need another person yelling at me to do "3 more... 2 more... 5 more" bench presses. The guy had us each get on a scale to weigh ourselves and, later, hold up some weird gadget (looked like a PSP) to measure our body fat. While my weight may be lowish, my body fat was above average. I suppose eating ice cream after every meal will do that to you. So, fine. I need to work out. The husband's weight was higher than mine, but his body fat was lower (WTF? He eats fried foods! I haven't eaten fried foods in years!). Anyway, we were told we both have work to do and were sent off to work with our individual trainers.
My guy was nice. He explained the importance of incorporating weight training with my cardio (I've heard this schpeal before, but fine, I'll play along). After 15 minutes on the treadmill, I met up with him to work on core and legs. We did some sort of squat/lunge exercise, 3 rounds, 10 reps each, each leg (ow ow ow ow ow). Then we did some other exercise in which I got to kick at him (which was fun since he had already hurt me - now I remembered why I stopped going to a gym). We did 2 other leg exercises (why is my left leg stronger than my right?), 2 core exercises and then he abandoned me to meet his 10:00 appointment. Was I done? I felt like I was ripped off. I was already hurting, so I was happy to be done, but really? If I'm going to do this, let's DO this.
But that's where they get you. After my husband finished his fake workout (seriously, I only saw him doing stretches), we went back to the original person to discuss packages. Oh, I see. So, you can't help us during our "complimentary" session, we have to pay an extra $100+ a month to get the real help. This is the reason I hate gyms. Exercise is free. Why are we giving them our hard-earned money to do something we can do around the house? I carry around children! And baskets upon baskets of laundry! Up stairs! Each week! That has to count for something!
Whatever. I may not pay for the trainer's help, but I've agreed to the exercise, so I'm in.
If I can walk again tomorrow. Seriously. Ow.
I admit, I've been lucky most of my life, being thin with little effort. Of course, it had to do with a bad stomach, but still. Needless to say, I didn't exercise. In college, I lived right across the street from the newly built gym. The only time I visited that beautiful gym was to buy delicious smoothies at their juice bar. My roommates were all physically fit. And I'd sit on the couch and watch them exercise to videos all while telling them to lift their legs higher. I mean, if you're going to do it, DO it (I'm quite certain it took every ounce of self-restraint on their part not to punch me in the throat - thanks, guys).
After college, my stomach improved and I gained a lot of weight... FAST. I went up 5 dress sizes in a year. It was, um, humbling. I certainly deserved it after telling my roommates to exercise harder when I wasn't exercising at all. On one hand, it was good to be eating again, but on the other, maybe I was eating a little too much. And probably not the good stuff. And... I grudgingly accepted I should exercise.
So, my sister, sister-in-law, and I joined a gym. I didn't like it much. You know, it requires actual
Eventually, the weight came off and I happily gave up the exercising. After we had our first son, I walked every day. Until it got cold. And then I did nothing. I went right back to sitting on my ass and watching TV (what can I say? It's who I am.). And, when it was nice outside, I would, again, walk.
I'm a fair weather walker.
Now that I'm getting older, and my metabolism doesn't work as well, and I'm eating more... it's time to get back into a routine. Since I had already improved my eating habits, I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to admit I needed the exercise. And my husband has been saying for years he needs to get back in shape, so... here we are.
Today was our first meeting with the personal trainer. I had never been to one before. I had had my Nazi SIL, I certainly didn't need another person yelling at me to do "3 more... 2 more... 5 more" bench presses. The guy had us each get on a scale to weigh ourselves and, later, hold up some weird gadget (looked like a PSP) to measure our body fat. While my weight may be lowish, my body fat was above average. I suppose eating ice cream after every meal will do that to you. So, fine. I need to work out. The husband's weight was higher than mine, but his body fat was lower (WTF? He eats fried foods! I haven't eaten fried foods in years!). Anyway, we were told we both have work to do and were sent off to work with our individual trainers.
My guy was nice. He explained the importance of incorporating weight training with my cardio (I've heard this schpeal before, but fine, I'll play along). After 15 minutes on the treadmill, I met up with him to work on core and legs. We did some sort of squat/lunge exercise, 3 rounds, 10 reps each, each leg (ow ow ow ow ow). Then we did some other exercise in which I got to kick at him (which was fun since he had already hurt me - now I remembered why I stopped going to a gym). We did 2 other leg exercises (why is my left leg stronger than my right?), 2 core exercises and then he abandoned me to meet his 10:00 appointment. Was I done? I felt like I was ripped off. I was already hurting, so I was happy to be done, but really? If I'm going to do this, let's DO this.
But that's where they get you. After my husband finished his fake workout (seriously, I only saw him doing stretches), we went back to the original person to discuss packages. Oh, I see. So, you can't help us during our "complimentary" session, we have to pay an extra $100+ a month to get the real help. This is the reason I hate gyms. Exercise is free. Why are we giving them our hard-earned money to do something we can do around the house? I carry around children! And baskets upon baskets of laundry! Up stairs! Each week! That has to count for something!
Whatever. I may not pay for the trainer's help, but I've agreed to the exercise, so I'm in.
If I can walk again tomorrow. Seriously. Ow.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Team Jacob
So, I saw Eclipse over the weekend. I was really excited to see it. Even more excited to see it with all the tweens. Call me crazy, but I read what it was like opening night and you can't help but get excited when everyone else is excited. So, instead of waiting for the movie to come out on video, I dragged asked my husband (he liked it, btw) to a Friday night showing.
We got to the theatreabout an hour before showtime early. I figured the place would be packed, so I wanted to make sure we got a good seat. There were about 7 people in the theatre when we walked in. Um, were we in the right theatre? Where were the screaming girls? Where were the Team Edward/Team Jacob gang wars?
What a letdown.
The pre-movie trivia hadn't even started up yet, so we were forced to talk to each other. I decided to school him all things Twilight. He'd already been forced to watch Twilight and New Moon, so I think he was secretly interested to see how the story progresses. Of course, if you read the books (which he didn't), you'd know the movies suck (which he didn't). But, if you look at the movies for what they are (which he did), they were fine (which they were). Well, except for New Moon. That was a CGI train wreck.
Anyway, the theatre started to fill up. Tweens and TwiMoms entered, filling up all the available space. There were a few good sport men (like my husband) out there, which he was quick to point out. We had a pretty good time, people watching for the HOUR (seriously, it felt like 2 hours) we waited for the movie to start. Women in their Twilight t-shirts (a few of those t-shirts were pretty cute) sitting in groups of 10. It would've been fun to go with my girlfriends, but very few of them read these books, which I just don't understand. Yes, the books are considered Young Adult, and, yes, they are 1,000 pages long (each) and no, she's not that good a writer, and, yes, some parts of the books were highly irritating to read. But she is a great story-teller. I think you remember my family didn't see me for the week I read all 4 books?
At one point during the wait, a tween yelled out, "When I say, 'Team', you say, 'Edward'". That was about as close to crazy as the crowd got. So disappointing.
But, the movie itself was better than the last. I may be "Team Edward" in the books, but I am "Team Jacob" all the way in the movies. That Taylor can take off his shirt for me any time (even if they are fake abs). I am happy to hear that he's legal now. It's a lot less creepy to think he's cute when I won't end up in jail for thinking so.
Now I have to get back to my Sookie Stackhouse series.
We got to the theatre
What a letdown.
The pre-movie trivia hadn't even started up yet, so we were forced to talk to each other. I decided to school him all things Twilight. He'd already been forced to watch Twilight and New Moon, so I think he was secretly interested to see how the story progresses. Of course, if you read the books (which he didn't), you'd know the movies suck (which he didn't). But, if you look at the movies for what they are (which he did), they were fine (which they were). Well, except for New Moon. That was a CGI train wreck.
Anyway, the theatre started to fill up. Tweens and TwiMoms entered, filling up all the available space. There were a few good sport men (like my husband) out there, which he was quick to point out. We had a pretty good time, people watching for the HOUR (seriously, it felt like 2 hours) we waited for the movie to start. Women in their Twilight t-shirts (a few of those t-shirts were pretty cute) sitting in groups of 10. It would've been fun to go with my girlfriends, but very few of them read these books, which I just don't understand. Yes, the books are considered Young Adult, and, yes, they are 1,000 pages long (each) and no, she's not that good a writer, and, yes, some parts of the books were highly irritating to read. But she is a great story-teller. I think you remember my family didn't see me for the week I read all 4 books?
At one point during the wait, a tween yelled out, "When I say, 'Team', you say, 'Edward'". That was about as close to crazy as the crowd got. So disappointing.
But, the movie itself was better than the last. I may be "Team Edward" in the books, but I am "Team Jacob" all the way in the movies. That Taylor can take off his shirt for me any time (even if they are fake abs). I am happy to hear that he's legal now. It's a lot less creepy to think he's cute when I won't end up in jail for thinking so.
Now I have to get back to my Sookie Stackhouse series.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
A dream is a free trip to the movies
So, I, like everyone, dream every night. I, unlike everyone, remember my dreams every night. And sometimes, like last night, I have pretty hilarious dreams.
Actually, I think they were 2 separate dreams. In one, I was BFFs with the guy from Royal Pains. I did see him on the cover of a magazine yesterday, so that might explain why I'd dream about him.
But the second? I was BFFs with Janet "Ms. Jackson if you're nasty" Jackson. I have no idea where this one came from, but man, it was fun. We were hanging out with our husbands (I guess she was married in my dream) for dinner. Then we heard that El DeBarge (really?) was playing at some local bar, so we wanted to see him perform. (By the way, did you know El was recently released from prison and has a new album coming out? Well, apparently, my subconscious had heard that.)
Aaaaanyway, we went to this bar to see him and he, for whatever reason, picked us to dance with while he sang. hee! I, for whatever reason, left my shoes at the bar. So, after dancing with El, Janet and I walked up and down the streets, trying to find fancy dancin' shoes. We went into every store to find me some sparkly shoes. I was hoping Janet would pay for them, or, at least, use her fame to get the shoes for free. I mean, why else would I be friends with her?? Sheesh.
In the end? We found one sparkly shoe that a) matched my outfit and b) fit (I'm like Cinderella!). So, what did we do? We ran! Janet Jackson is a shoplifter in my dream!
What was I going to do with one shoe anyway?!
Actually, I think they were 2 separate dreams. In one, I was BFFs with the guy from Royal Pains. I did see him on the cover of a magazine yesterday, so that might explain why I'd dream about him.
But the second? I was BFFs with Janet "Ms. Jackson if you're nasty" Jackson. I have no idea where this one came from, but man, it was fun. We were hanging out with our husbands (I guess she was married in my dream) for dinner. Then we heard that El DeBarge (really?) was playing at some local bar, so we wanted to see him perform. (By the way, did you know El was recently released from prison and has a new album coming out? Well, apparently, my subconscious had heard that.)
Aaaaanyway, we went to this bar to see him and he, for whatever reason, picked us to dance with while he sang. hee! I, for whatever reason, left my shoes at the bar. So, after dancing with El, Janet and I walked up and down the streets, trying to find fancy dancin' shoes. We went into every store to find me some sparkly shoes. I was hoping Janet would pay for them, or, at least, use her fame to get the shoes for free. I mean, why else would I be friends with her?? Sheesh.
In the end? We found one sparkly shoe that a) matched my outfit and b) fit (I'm like Cinderella!). So, what did we do? We ran! Janet Jackson is a shoplifter in my dream!
What was I going to do with one shoe anyway?!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Stupid Bachelorette show
So, I have watched reality TV from the very beginning. Think what you will, but I find people fascinating. Why they want to be on TV in the first place when they know people like me are judging them is beyond me. Is the longing for fame that great? And fame, fine, but what reality TV show contestant has become anything more than a joke afterward? If you want fame, do something tremendous for mankind. Cure cancer or something.
So, I was sitting here tonight, watching The Bachelorette. I know the show is a sham. People don't find love on this show. One marriage out of 25 proposals does not a successful love story make. But, I watch because, like I said, people fascinate me. And the people who come on this show are train wrecks and are highly entertaining to see in action.
But tonight, I was annoyed. I don't know if it's just because Ali is the worst actress ever or they have tried too hard this season to create drama that it's beyond tedious. I'm uninterested in any of the guys, I yell at the TV so much that my cat is now afraid of me, and I am pissedoff that these fools get to travel around the world and stay in fancy hotels just because they're on this stupid show.
Oh. Well, maybe that's why they chose to be on this show. Fine whatever.
Here are my observations from tonight.
But, I'll watch. Fine, you ABC bastards. You win.
So, I was sitting here tonight, watching The Bachelorette. I know the show is a sham. People don't find love on this show. One marriage out of 25 proposals does not a successful love story make. But, I watch because, like I said, people fascinate me. And the people who come on this show are train wrecks and are highly entertaining to see in action.
But tonight, I was annoyed. I don't know if it's just because Ali is the worst actress ever or they have tried too hard this season to create drama that it's beyond tedious. I'm uninterested in any of the guys, I yell at the TV so much that my cat is now afraid of me, and I am pissedoff that these fools get to travel around the world and stay in fancy hotels just because they're on this stupid show.
Oh. Well, maybe that's why they chose to be on this show. Fine whatever.
Here are my observations from tonight.
- Number of times the word "amazing" was used:
126162
- Why do they pretend these "events" are spontaneous? I assume the cameras are with these guys a lot, but do the guys really have to feign surprise that something big is happening? Dude, 6 cameramen are there to capture all your responses at once. Let's not treat the viewers like they're idiots.
- What is with the focus on "being here for the right reasons?" What are the right reasons? Love? Ha!
- Why don't some of these guys realize how much Ali is not into them? Ty? Craig R? I'm looking in your direction. Craig, if she didn't kiss you, she's just not that into you. She has kissed everyone. Everyone else. If she's looking away each and every time you look at her, she doesn't want you to kiss her. Have a little self-respect and dial it down a notch. I get that you think you're the perfect guy for her and all, and you just might be, but get a clue. If she's not taking her clothes off for you like she is with the others, you don't stand a chance.
- Dude, Frank is going to lose his sheet. He just said that he only wants to propose once, only wants to get married once. Then... why go on an effin' show like this?! The track record for happily ever after on this show isn't so great. Also? You can't freak out every time she's with another guy. It's the nature of the show. You knew that going in. Get a grip.
But, I'll watch. Fine, you ABC bastards. You win.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Love thy neighbor
So, I have not had good luck with neighbors. Well, I shouldn't say that. Growing up, I had pretty good neighbors. Or at least there were kids my own age that I could play with. Although, they weren't good neighbors in that they broke into our house, stole money and ran up our phone bill while we were in California for a month. Yeeaaahh. Bad luck. In college, though, some of my best friends were first my neighbors. And, when my roommates and I rented an apartment, our upstairs and downstairs neighbors were pretty great.
So, let me rephrase. In my adult life, I haven't had luck with neighbors. My first apartment out of college was this awesome 3-story, brick-faced walk-up in a suburb of Cleveland where most young single adults lived. My sister lived within walking distance, we were close to mass transit for work and also in close proximity to the local bars. Good place. Great memories.
But neighbors? Yeah, they sucked. The woman I shared a floor with was so unfriendly. I didn't get it, either, because we both frequented the same bar down the street. Think she ever offered me a ride? No. Hmmph.
Anyway, after my husband and I married, we bought a house in the same city I had been living. My sister had also gotten married and lived, again, fairly close to us. (BTW, my sister? Always had good luck with neighbors. First house? A man who cut her grass. Second house? A nice couple who liked porch parties.) In our new house, our neighbors consisted of a couple to the left of us, who:
"We don't drink."
Oh. Oh. Well, she was going to love us.
When we bought our current house, I thought we'd have better luck. My brother? Has great neighbors. On one side anyway. And we all live in the same development, so I figured... WRONG.
We live in a cul-de-sac, you'd think we'd all be close. But, our immediate neighbors keep to themselves, save for a wave now and then. The people 3 doors down are great. They tell us stories about how great the cul-de-sac used to be, how they used to have parties in the circle and all that. So... we're about 12 years too late. And there are no kids around us that are our kids' ages. Sigh.
But that all changed recently. We met the neighbors behind us. And they are awesome. They meet all our requirements. They:
a) say hello
b) have younger kids
c) enjoy drinking (at 10am on a weekday now that he's on summer break)
The kids were introduced and, as time has gone by, play together every day. I love it. Their 4-year-old is, well... something else. She stands at the end of her backyard, waiting for us to come outside. When she sees the boys outside playing, she runs over and walks right into my house to ask for a snack. She's awesome. Sometimes, at night, I can picture her face pressed up against our darkened windows, looking for us. But, that can't be real... right? Right??
Yesterday was no exception. It was my family's annual golf outing. Of course, my husband plays. And my dad, brothers and sister-in-law. (Guess who's the baby-sitter?)
So, I had 4 kids to care for, a mother to check on (she had eye surgery last week) and 3 neighbor kids, who came over to play. I admit I get just as excited to see them as my 5-year-old does. We've been waiting 3 years for neighborhood kids to play with.
There were 7 kids at my house. Their dad is really good about coming over to play with the kids, so I'm never overwhelmed. My girlfriend also came over yesterday to help me out, which was great. I can handle a million kids over the age of 2, but my niece, who's 11-months-old, is a handful. At one point, I was making sandwiches for 3 kids, feeding the baby, putting drops in my mom's eye and fixing her lunch. I find, though, that I work better in high pressure situations, so it was fine. Chaotic, but fine.
However, when we got to the party after the golf, I allowed myself a little too much wine. I figured I had a busy day while they were all off having fun, so I deserved it. That was a mistake. This morning, I wasn't feeling so great.
I wonder if I can hit up the neighbors for some Advil?
So, let me rephrase. In my adult life, I haven't had luck with neighbors. My first apartment out of college was this awesome 3-story, brick-faced walk-up in a suburb of Cleveland where most young single adults lived. My sister lived within walking distance, we were close to mass transit for work and also in close proximity to the local bars. Good place. Great memories.
But neighbors? Yeah, they sucked. The woman I shared a floor with was so unfriendly. I didn't get it, either, because we both frequented the same bar down the street. Think she ever offered me a ride? No. Hmmph.
Anyway, after my husband and I married, we bought a house in the same city I had been living. My sister had also gotten married and lived, again, fairly close to us. (BTW, my sister? Always had good luck with neighbors. First house? A man who cut her grass. Second house? A nice couple who liked porch parties.) In our new house, our neighbors consisted of a couple to the left of us, who:
- cleaned out their garage (finally), and scared all the mice who had taken up permanent residence
- hung their party plates in their garage with pride
- had a dog who barked nonstop
"We don't drink."
Oh. Oh. Well, she was going to love us.
When we bought our current house, I thought we'd have better luck. My brother? Has great neighbors. On one side anyway. And we all live in the same development, so I figured... WRONG.
We live in a cul-de-sac, you'd think we'd all be close. But, our immediate neighbors keep to themselves, save for a wave now and then. The people 3 doors down are great. They tell us stories about how great the cul-de-sac used to be, how they used to have parties in the circle and all that. So... we're about 12 years too late. And there are no kids around us that are our kids' ages. Sigh.
But that all changed recently. We met the neighbors behind us. And they are awesome. They meet all our requirements. They:
a) say hello
b) have younger kids
c) enjoy drinking (at 10am on a weekday now that he's on summer break)
The kids were introduced and, as time has gone by, play together every day. I love it. Their 4-year-old is, well... something else. She stands at the end of her backyard, waiting for us to come outside. When she sees the boys outside playing, she runs over and walks right into my house to ask for a snack. She's awesome. Sometimes, at night, I can picture her face pressed up against our darkened windows, looking for us. But, that can't be real... right? Right??
Yesterday was no exception. It was my family's annual golf outing. Of course, my husband plays. And my dad, brothers and sister-in-law. (Guess who's the baby-sitter?)
So, I had 4 kids to care for, a mother to check on (she had eye surgery last week) and 3 neighbor kids, who came over to play. I admit I get just as excited to see them as my 5-year-old does. We've been waiting 3 years for neighborhood kids to play with.
There were 7 kids at my house. Their dad is really good about coming over to play with the kids, so I'm never overwhelmed. My girlfriend also came over yesterday to help me out, which was great. I can handle a million kids over the age of 2, but my niece, who's 11-months-old, is a handful. At one point, I was making sandwiches for 3 kids, feeding the baby, putting drops in my mom's eye and fixing her lunch. I find, though, that I work better in high pressure situations, so it was fine. Chaotic, but fine.
However, when we got to the party after the golf, I allowed myself a little too much wine. I figured I had a busy day while they were all off having fun, so I deserved it. That was a mistake. This morning, I wasn't feeling so great.
I wonder if I can hit up the neighbors for some Advil?
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