Split Personality

Sometimes when I sit down to blog, I feel a bit like someone who has split-personalities.  Those of you who've read my blog for awhile (and if you haven't, you should!! READ!!) know that I vacillate between the serious and the comical, and I can never completely decide between the two. Sometimes I start out thinking that I'm going with a humorous tone, and then the whole damn thing turns all solemn and sappy. Sometimes, it works the opposite. When I finish and I re-read for editing/revising,  I'm like, "what the ....?" I get on my own nerves with it. I hope it doesn't bother you.  I guess it's my writing 'voice'. Whatever.

I say all that to explain today's post. I'd started a post yesterday that was a little bit of the touchy-feely variety, and I left it. Didn't come back to it today, either. I'm just not feeling it. Maybe I'll come back to it, maybe not. The beauty of blogging. I can be my indecisive self and it doesn't matter! Anyway, I really wanted to blog--it's a free version of therapy for me--but I'm stuck fairly topicless today. Thus...the stream-of-consciousness post for today:

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Amelia's well-documented bug phobia continues this year.  Of course, with the weather changing, we've been playing outside a lot more.  We will all be content, the kids doing their own things and Marty and I in our respective folding chairs in the front yard (aww, yeah...that's how we roll in my 'hood), and all of a sudden she will scream as though someone is trying to kill her, and scamper up the nearest parent like a spider monkey.  All over a gnat. I'm serious, you all--it can be the tiniest of bugs. Doesn't matter. Sister is going to have to get used to it, because I plan to spend much of our summer break outside.

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I mentioned this on Facebook, but it definitely deserves a repeat conversation because wow, did it blow my mind.  One day this past week, I was picking the kids up from school.  If it's past a certain time in the afternoon (like 3:45), the kids are most likely on the playground. I pull up to the pick-up lane, go inside and grab their stuff, and then go back to the car, load it all up, and then drive around to pick them up at the playground. On this day, when I went into the building, I saw Anderson in the hallway with one of the teachers. I have to be honest; I was a little bit nervous when I saw them, thinking maybe he'd been in trouble or had a meltdown or something. When I caught up to them, she told me he'd come up to her on the playground and indicated that he needed to use the potty. This was pretty awesome--he had never done that before. He just usually holds it till they come inside. He's a master of holding it (unless we are talking bedtime, but that's a whole 'nother story).  Apparently he approached her and said, "Do you need to go potty?", to which she asked him the same question and he answered in the affirmative. He's been doing that more lately, I've noticed. If he wants or needs something, he will ask you the question he wants you to ask him. For instance, when he wakes up, he will say, "What do I want to eat, Dad?" instead of something to the effect of him being ready for breakfast. We are working on it. Anyway, they were in the hall, and so I went to grab their insane amount of "school stuff"  (seriously--why do two preschoolers have enough crap to completely fill our car? I feel like a bag-lady walking back to car, balancing lunch boxes, backpacks, art work and random toys that they insist on bringing...) while they decided to get a cup of water for Amelia and take it to her outside. I met them as they were walking onto the playground, and another mom was walking our direction to get into her car. Anderson looked her square in the face and said, "What's your name?"  Oh my gosh...you'd have thought he'd come up with a new quantum physics theory or something, as excited as I was! The other mom, who I'm thinking probably has typical kids, acted as though it was all no biggie, but I was bouncing around making Anderson give her his name (even though she didn't ask him--what's up with that?). Honestly, I think I totally overwhelmed him and ruined the moment but whatever. He used the correct syntax and asked her a direct, normal, conversational question!  So damn exciting, especially in light of the fact that his syntax has become a little more garbled lately. Yay for normal conversation!

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In the spirit of my whole "mental-wellness" plan, I am slowly but surely moving towards getting back into physical shape by eating better and working out more regularly. I decided that this time, I don't want to jump in gung-ho, because every time I do that, I fail miserably. Instead, I'm making small changes over time, so that hopefully they'll be more likely to stick. Anyway, I like to go to classes at the gym. I love Zumba and Kickboxing classes, but they don't really offer a lot of resistance training. I had this brilliant idea of going to a "CrossFit Bootcamp" class.  My gym doesn't do the official "CrossFit" (cause it's a CULT, people!), but essentially they take the same exact principles and apply them in a Bootcamp-style class. I talked a friend into going with me. I'm pretty sure she hates me now. That teacher--who was a military-style dude--should have taken one look at me (I was the heftiest person in the class--clearly not in shape like the other people) and told me to turn my ass right back around and come back in about five months after some serious training. A lot of the class involved the use of kettlebells, which I'd never used before.  The only kettlebells in the room were pretty heavy--like 12 pounds and up. He gently (not at all gently) told me I should go out into the gym area and pick up a lighter one. He said there was a nice 5 pound kettlebell out there for me.  I go out into the gym to retrieve said kettlebell--and the damn thing was PINK. PINK, yo.  Using a pink kettlebell is synonymous with saying "Look at me I'm a big freaking wimp", and if I'm being honest, in my head I'm using another word instead of wimp. You can fill in with your word of choice. Anyway, I used that pink kettlebell though, because I knew there was no way I could do anything heavier. About 100 squats later, as well as some deadlifts, pull ups, bear crawls and long jumps, some lunges and some burpies...we were done.  And by done, I mean we left the class 10 minutes early.  I was a shaky mess. My muscles were totally shot. I was painfully sore for about 2 1/2 days, and my friend is still sore and still cursing me.  We are going back on Monday. :-)

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Alright, that's all I got for today. I'm sure I'll be back to my split-personality posts again later this week. Hope you enjoyed your Derby weekend--being from Louisville and growing up with the whole Derby week thing, I truly miss being there this time of year.  My money was on Overanalyze. Because I do.

Have a great week.