Twelve Weeks of Sweat For This?

Three months ago I got an e-mail that the university was offering an exercise program for faculty and staff that have a sedentary lifestyle.  It was one student's doctoral study to see what would happen if you take 100 or so people that do nothing and make them exercise like crazy three days a week.  My initial thought was, "how bad can this be?"  Famous last words...

I have a busy life, but none of it includes exercise and aside from grocery shopping and the never ending laundry, it has very little movement.  I figured I really had nothing to lose except a few pounds, and maybe my pants would finally fit.  The class started on July 17th, right after Ryan's birthday at Hibachi Japan. 

On the first day they had us do a ton of tests like how many curl ups and push ups you could do in a minute, skin fold measurements, balance tests, blood work, etc.  I was a bit disappointed and discouraged because I weighed more than I did when I gave birth to Colin. 

During our 12 weeks we met three times a week and exercised for about an hour.  On the first day I met two new friends and for some reason, they thought it would be a good idea to do kettle bell boot camp.  For 12 weeks I had bad thoughts toward our trainer, Oliver.  Oddly, he seemed to enjoy the fact that I was shooting him daggers from my eyes.  He liked it when we were on the verge of tears.  (Okay, that one might be a bit of an exaggeration as I never actually cried.)  He really did enjoy it when we came limping back day after day.  I kept trying to convince Jen and Lucy that Zumba and Yoga would be perfectly good alternatives.  They would laugh and go back for more punishment.  Like a sheep to the slaughter, I would follow them dragging my feet all the way.  As the weeks went by, I no longer felt like I wanted to vomit or curse Oliver to within an inch of his life. 

Every week we had to weigh in and get our blood pressure checked.  I watched my weight creep up and I was getting really mad.  I gave up my polar pop habit.  Who gives up 32 oz. of Coca Cola goodness every day and still gains weight?  I do.  Who gives us Lucky Charms and donuts in favor of fresh fruit and Frosted Mini Wheats and gains weight?  I do.  Who literally sweats their behind off and gains weight?  I do.  Overall, I gained close to five pounds.  There were a few times that I wanted to quit.  If I had been exercising on my own and Duane didn't need me for his dissertation, I would have totally bailed on this nonsense.  If Lucy and Jen weren't looking forward to seeing me and my smiling face as Oliver kicked our butts, I would have quit.  But I didn't.

Today we repeated the original tests.  I went from being able to do six (yes 6) push-ups in a minute to doing 30!  I know, right!?!  I lost fat on my arms, thighs and hips.  My balance improved by a ton.  My blood pressure was better, even though I take medication for that and hadn't eaten at Hibachi Japan, which is the equivalent of eating a salt lick.  I have to retake the blood tests on Wednesday, but I am sure they are better than they were. 

My pants still don't fit all that well, but heck yeah, I will take it.  Maybe we can concentrate more on my abs in the next 12 weeks.  Looks like Oliver is going to have an opportunity to have more fun at my expense.  He better watch out because Lucy, Jen and I are coming back for more. 

Be Careful What You Wish For...

For the last six years I have been wishing that my boys would start to get along.  I dreamed of the day that they would play together in harmony and our house would be filled with the sound of joy, love and happiness. 

I think I have come to the conclusion that boys bond in a different way than girls do.  I grew up with three sisters, and I can safely say, with the exception of one time with Mary Beth in the driveway, I have lived 42 years without hitting, wrestling or tackling any of them.  Of course we fought.  It was not all rainbows and unicorns in our house, but we used our words. 

I finally figured out that over the last 12 months, when my boys are sword fighting, hitting, kicking or doing anything short of pulling hair, that is their way of showing affection.  It is currently impossible for them to be within reach of each other without one instigating a scuffle.  I finally get the phrase "no blood, no foul".  It goes against my every instinct to let this happen.  All I want to do is put them in separate corners of the house and go about my business knowing that they are safe from each other, but I also stepped back and listened.  They are laughing.  They are teasing each other, and there is genuine interaction that is different from when Ryan was younger and he was just bugging Colin. 

It would seam that the my boy's language is different from what I had with my sisters.   The sounds of joy, love and happiness are different, but they are here, and I should just be happy.  It is taking some time for me to get used to it, but I am getting there. 

Updates

I know it has been a few months since I updated.  There are a few reasons for this which I will detail below:

• We went on vacation.  It was not the best vacation I have ever been on, but I am sure there have been worse.  Dave's 100 year old grandmother passed away in March and we went to Vermont for her memorial service and then a family reunion.  For the last 30 or so years she lived in Florida, so I was somewhat surprised at the turnout she got.  She would have been very happy.  We then went to Boston so Dave, Colin and his dad could add one more park to their quest to visit all the Major League Ballparks.  I am amazed and just how nice the people of Boston are.  We had one woman help us who had just had her eyes dilated.  It was a really long drive and the bigger the kids are, the smaller hotel rooms get.  I don't think I am in a hurry to go back to the great state of Vermont. 
• Colin and Ryan were both on the swim team this year.  When I signed them up I forgot how time consuming this can be.  Laura was in town for ten days and we had 4 home meets in that time.  It was cold and rainy for the whole summer and I was helping in the concession stand.  I have come to my senses and the kids are not swimming next year.  Ryan was also on his baseball team.  If you read my previous post, we all know how that turned out. 
• Now that I have a full time job out of the house, my time for extracurricular creativity is greatly diminished.  It is now filled with less creative things like cooking and laundry.  Good Lord, does the laundry ever stop? 
• In my new job I get to write copy that goes on the radio.  One of the objects is to keep it short and sweet.  I have had to change my whole mindset to completely opposite of what I do here.  It is hard to change gears. 
• I have been reading some amazing blogs lately that have passages that make me weep because of the beauty.  I can not compete and it takes away my will to write.  Thanks Emily.  This is all your fault, even though I haven't seen you since you were ten.  Honestly, besides my two boys, she has two of the cutest kids ever and her writing is fantastic.  She goes on spectacular trips like her recent one to Iceland (I know, who does that?) and loves great food.  It would never occur to me to want to go to Iceland, but now I do.  I wish I could love food.  Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy a good strawberry pie here and there, but I wish I could be more adventurous in my dining choices. 

Anyway, other things that I have been doing include and exercise program that is causing me to gain weight, (what is up with that?), and quite a few projects for work.   The kids are back in school which is time consuming, and I am already missing the hot days of summer. 

I will make no promises, but I will try to do a better job of posting.  I am always open to reminders and encouragement, so don't be shy.  I have to run.  Ryan has a small injury and there is a need for a band aid. 

The One Truth of Summer

Here is the one truth of summer.  It is not long enough, and there are not enough hours in a day.  That seems like two things, but in the context of this blog post, it is one.  Lets examine:

• In the month of June, I had a total of three week-days where I was home longer than to change my clothes before 9:00.   We had either a swim meet or a baseball game every day of the week.
• I am not supposed to be a two sport mom.
• Being a two sport mom has made it very difficult to make health meals for my family.  In all honesty, even if I was home I probably would not have had the healthiest meals since I am tired when I come home from work.  Frankly, I would rather have a bowl of cereal.
• It is difficult to do laundry when you are not at home.  Colin has started to help out of desperation.  I have declared it is now his job to do all the towels and kids clothes.  He is not a dedicated folder and I don't want to have to iron my entire wardrobe.  God bless Colin. 
• My cousin got married consuming an entire weekend.  I can't think of a better reason for a consumed weekend, and I got to see several of my cousins that I haven't seen in years.  It was a beautiful wedding for my youngest cousin, and he married a lovely woman.  Hi Brian and Jennifer. 
• July tricked me into thinking that it was going to be a calmer month.  It was not.  Not at all.  We had rain, a lot of rain.  We had swim meets, a lot of swim meets.  Some of the swim meets were in the rain. 
• I got to go to Atlanta for five days for a work conference.  Public radio people know how to have fun, and I really learned a lot.  I also got to see my cousin Mary Ann.  She was a cousin that I reconnected with at her brother's wedding.  We had "the best Friday EVER."  Her five year old son does not agree as he had the worst Friday ever since he usually gets to spend the evening alone with her.  Sorry Jack!  I also got to see my college friend Megan.  I haven't seen her for a few years, but she is the type of friend where no matter how much time goes by, we start up again right where we left off.  Seeing her fed my soul, and I really needed that.

Here it is already July 22nd, and I just looked up and realized that we are more than halfway through summer.  I am not ready to think about the kids going back to school, or packing lunches, or finding clothes for my kids that have each grown several inches since school let out.  I am not ready to think about homework or early bedtimes, or shorter days.  I am not ready to think of the weather changing course or having to wear socks instead of sandals.  I hate socks.  So do my kids.

In short, I am not ready, but I will get there.  I am living one day at a time, and swim and baseball are over.  So far August looks better, but I have been fooled before.  Here is hoping for a few weeks where we have nothing to do and nowhere to go. 

Of Black Eyes and Baseball

A few weeks back we were in the thick of Ryan's kid-pitch baseball season.  Have you ever had to watch one of these games?  It can be painful, very slow and very painful.  These kids are seven and eight and are horrible pitchers.  Because of that, they tend to have some trouble with hitting as well.  The only saving grace is the six run mercy rule per inning.  After six runs are scored the inning is over to save all of us from a slow death by boredom. 

Toward the end of the season, Dave thought that Ryan was ready to pitch.  They talked to the coaches and all of them made a plan to have him pitch an inning against one of the less than stellar teams.  Needless to say, I was not happy with this plan.  Lets recount the facts here:

1.  Ryan is still seven years old. 
2.  The pressure on the pitcher is tremendous and I don't think that Ryan needs that.
3.  I am afraid that he will hit someone.
4.  Did I mention that Ryan is seven years old?

It was the day of the big game and Ryan was getting the call to pitch.  He was due to pitch in the next inning so he and Dave went into the open field and were warming up.  The inning went quickly and suddenly it was his turn to bat so he put his helmet on and went in.  If I wasn't reading my book (it was the latest Nora Roberts which was actually pretty good) I would have noticed that the opposing pitcher was kind of wild and had hit Nate, the batter in front of Ryan, on the top of his head.  Dave told me Ryan was up but I wanted to finish my paragraph. As I mentioned before, it usually takes a while before there is any action and I should have had plenty of time.   Before I knew what happened I heard what sounded like a hit.  I looked up and was expecting to see Ryan running to first base, but he was just standing at home plate.  Then I heard people say, "He got hit."  This got my attention.  I started to run to the field.  I pushed kids out the way and hurdled over equipment bags to get to him, only to find out that he got hit in the eye.  I pushed the dads out of the way to look at him while at the same time I was getting dizzy and time went into slow motion.  I was trying not to cry as I knew that would cause him to cry.  In fact, I couldn't believe he wasn't screaming his head off.  I asked him what he wanted to do and he said he wanted to take his base because he knew if he came out that he wouldn't be able to pitch in the next inning.  Here is bad parenting 101.  I let him take his base.  What the hell was I thinking?  My baby had just been hit in the face with a baseball!  Not his helmet, but his face!

Thankfully, one of the dads on our team is a neurosurgeon that specializes in traumatic brain injury.  He was the voice of reason and called him out of the game.  Here are a few things I learned from this. 

1.  Even if your child is seven and gets hit in the face, you will still embarrass him if you run onto the field. 
2.  If your child gets hit in the head, even if the pitch comes from far away and from another seven year old, you should take them out of the game. 
3.  It is normal to get woozy when your child gets hit in the face with a baseball, but you will embarrass both him and yourself if you pass out.  (I did not, but it could have gone either way.)
4.  If your child gets hit in the head, even if they don't have a concussion, you are supposed to keep them quiet in a dark room with no TV or video games for several days. 
5.  #4 is very hard to do, and I thank William for doing this, even though there was some Spongebob viewing was taking place.  William is a fantastic babysitter, but he is not a miracle worker. 
6.  It will take about two weeks for the black eye to disappear.  In that time you will get some strange looks at the grocery store.  You may want to buy a shirt that says "I didn't do it!"
7.  When looking for a batting helmet, price should not be an object and get the face mask.  

I am breaking one of my cardinal rules of blogging and posting a picture of Ryan.  This is his eye the night of the incident. 

I have to also say that I was wrong.  Ryan did pitch in a game the next week and struck out the side while only walking two batters.  He is a pretty amazing kid. 

The Joy of Motherhood...

How many times have you heard about the overwhelming love that overcomes new mothers when they are first handed their infants after birth?  I have watched it a thousand times on "A Baby Story" and in countless movies.  All my life I have heard these accounts and assumed that it would happen to me.  The whole time I was expecting Colin I was anticipating the greatest love of all, the love between parent and child, to come over me like a tidal wave and I would experience pure bliss. 

That is not how it happened for me. 

I will spare you the details of Colin's fairly normal birth story.  Most of you already know them.  Why don't we just cut to the moment when the nurse held up my beautiful child seconds after he was born.  I was waiting for the crush of love.  Instead I felt a wave of fear, exhaustion and relief that the whole thing was almost over.  I remember thinking, why aren't they cleaning him off?  Then thinking, what is wrong with me?  I looked over to Dave and saw the look of amazement on his face and thought, he is getting the crush of love, where is mine? 

We took Colin home with us, with the usual thoughts of why, in the name of all that is holy and just, did they think that Dave and I were capable of keeping this child alive, and where the heck was the owners manual?  It was February in Ohio and we were driving in our little Honda Civic that amplified every pothole and crack in the highway.  I remember snapping at Dave for hitting them on purpose. I waited for the wave thinking that now that we were really in charge it would come, but instead I was grouchy at best.   Happy and loving was not even on my radar.  I knew that I loved him, and I knew that he was ours, and the love that I felt for him was much different than any other kind of love I had for anyone, but it wasn't the crushing love I had been waiting for my whole life.  Certainly there was something horribly wrong with me. 

As time went on, my love for him grew, and every once in a while I get hit with the wave.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Colin earned the opportunity to attend the Reading and Writing Festival that is held for area kids that read seven books and write a sort of book report to go along with it.  Since it was held on the campus where I work, I decided to go for a little bit and see what it was like.  I walked into the session that was already going on and sat in the back.  It was a talk by an author of several of the books that were on the required reading list, and the theatre style room was dark.  It took me about five minutes to find him and then I just sat and watched.  There is nothing quite like watching your child when he is not aware of what you are doing.  Over the next 40 minutes, I was hit by wave after wave of crushing love.  I was watching his reactions to the story the author was giving, and seeing him interact with his friends.  I thought over the last 13 years and all we have been through and I got choked up.  It may have taken me a while to get where most people are instantly, but my, have I made up for lost time.  There are no words for it.  He is not just my child, he is a piece of my soul. 

Colin, thanks for making me a mother, and I will love you always. 

Bobby McFerrin and the Cherry Coke

I few weeks ago I had to write copy for the Bobby McFerrin concert.  My initial thought was, " who wants to see the 'Don't Worry, Be Happy' guy sing".  Because I was not familiar with his body of work, I set out to do some research.  Guys, did you know that he has 10 Grammy awards?  This guy is amazing.  He is the original beat boxer.  He can do things with his voice that should not be possible. 

In my infinite wisdom, I thought this would be a great concert for the kids.  In the future, if I mention that I am taking my seven year old son to a 2 hour music event that does not include cartoon characters, please slap me.  Certainly I am not in my right mind and need you to give me a reality check.  He did pretty well for the first hour because I had threatened him to within an inch of his life.  We were in Row G and I told him that the musicians would be able to see him. 

I was so happy when Bobby (since we were so close to the stage, I feel that I forged a bond with him and he wouldn't mind me calling him Bobby) decided on the spur of the moment to sing "Blackbird" which is one of my favorite songs. At the end of the song he made a noise that sounded like birds flying, but Ryan heard it much differently.  In the whisper that carries over every other sound, Ryan said, "Did he really just fart while he is on stage?!?!?!"  As if I needed to be reminded that Ryan sees the world in a whole different light, a few songs later Bobby sang "Joshua Lost the Battle of Jericho".  About halfway through the song, Ryan tapped me on the shoulder and asked me, "Why is he singing about Cherry Coke?  He must really like it."

This whole concert was amazing.   Bobby and his band looked like they were genuinely having a great time though at some points I thought it might have been chemically enhanced. I am still not all that familiar with his work, but when the album drops on May 14th, I think I may have to own it

As a side note, this post is in no way sponsored by Bobby McFerrin or anyone else for that matter.  I just really like him now.