Runner's Hi Do You Have Directions?

EB today consisted of a nice long run (or at least it did for me). We got there and did our warm-up stuff and then we started running. Now, of course, you can imagine that when a group of people go out on a run - the group staggers. The more seasoned bootcampers take longer routes and are first in line. The less seasoned (or wholly unseasoned bootcampers, like myself) end up sort of in the back.

Today, I was sort of running second to last. I could see the lady in front of me for a good part of the run but then I lost her. I couldn't see the DI and other bootcamper behind me. So, like Forrest trying to come to grips with his loss of Jenny, I just ran. I was sort of lost. Sort of not. I knew what city I was in but I had NO IDEA what street I was on. I sort of prayed that the street I was coming up on was the street I thought it was. I sort of was thinking about the fact that I may need to ask someone but no one was around. (Where is a cop when you need them?)Yeah, it was sort of special. I guess that is why I kept jogging - because if I stopped I would never have known if I was going the right way.

Then I started thinking...would anyone find me? And why didn't I bring my cell phone? I wondered if J would look for me if I never came home. Or, whether J would just go back to work and let the babies cry until they walked out of the room when they were 3 all dressed and ready to go to preschool? Would I be like Natalie Holloway? No because I wasn't drinking and I wasn't in Aruba? Would I be like what's her name - the one who wasn't killed by (but was having an affair with) the guy they thought killed her? Name, name. CHANDRA LEVY. Condit. Bleck. She was running too. But, nope, no affair here. Then I thought of poor Laci. But thankfully, I am not pregnant and although J may not have a Tina Fan Club every day, I don't think he is thinking of murder. {Number 1 cause of death of pregnant women: MURDER. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.} Besides that, against popular advice, we don't have any life insurance so my death would leave a huge gaping hole in the daily life of my family even though...according to J, I do nothing. Anywho. Yeah, no life insurance, we really ought to get that and write a will. Yes, I really thought of all these things...in what I think was the first mile. Why? Because that is what disturbed people like me think of.

Now, running for me has never been something I enjoyed but today, it wasn't horrible. I thought I would need music or company to run for that long but the noise in my head was plenty (see above). It was quiet and I felt good. Nothing hurt (except my side) and even though I am not a very fast runner, I stayed jogging for...hold on to your seats...3 miles. Can you believe it?

Now, mind you, I jogged into camp today and I felt like a dipball. Everyone was already stretching and stuff. It was time to go home. But, you know what, I did it. And I went to EB feeling sort of crappy this morning, and that jog took the bleck right out of me. I have felt good all day.

EB really has made me feel better, taller (if that is possible), more energetic, less oaf. I don't think I have lost all that much weight but I don't feel as flabby. I also have created goals for myself. When I started it was like, "if I can make it to that tree, then I will let myself walk a little." Now, it's like, "I can't stop jogging." Next session, it may be "I want to keep this pace or make it back in X amount of time." This is good for me.

I am not one to be all fitness advocate. Rah Rah Tammy Lee Webb, look at my Abs O Steel. But, I now get why people end up sticking to a routine. It can be invigorating and it feels good. I have never come back from working out feeling like I shouldn't have gone.

This has been a good experience. The DIs are great. They are encouraging and knowledgeable and likable. You know there is a very delicate balance between bossing a person around to do stuff they don't think they can do AND being kind. The DIs manage it. This experience has been worth every minute's lost sleep. Go EB.

I was chitchatting with DI-Size0 on Facebook today. I was sort of giving her a hard time for ditching me in the middle of Claremont somewhere. I kind of wanted her impression about how we have all improved and whether that was a source of pride for her. And she was saying that the only time they get annoyed as DIs is when someone drops all that money and then they aren't motivated or encouraged by the DIs and they sort of go half assed. I don't get this attitude either (and I don't think anyone in my group has this attitude). I mean, when I don't do something it's truly because I can't. I don't get the concept of paying to get your ass kicked at 5 am and then not really doing it. Anyhow, kick my ass. I pretty much always do my best - even if it means I am in the middle of nowhere looking for a cop or fearing a murderer.

I know this "rah rah EB" post is premature. I still have 3 more days. But, I had to say it now because I am just filled with happy happy joy joy emotions. Is this what they call a runner's high? Well if it is, I like it. Bring on the endorphins people, I am here to stay.

Snoozing

The alarm went off today, Week 6, Day 1. Woh boy. I fell asleep at 8:30 last night which technically means that I slept 8 hours but, let me tell you after all that twin partying I did yesterday, I started interrogating myself about the need to go to EB. So, I snoozed. Then, I got up at 5 and freaked that I would be late. I got there on time. I could have snoozed another time - I need to be a better snoozer.

So much jump roping. We were supposed to be aiming for 300 jumps in 3 minutes. Uh huh, yeah. I got to 173. And I am fairly sure that my jumps caused the earthquake in San Francisco today. Yep, I started the ripple effect that caused the earthquake.

Then we did some sitting against the wall (no chair - what's up with that?) Lunges. Squats. We also did something awful called a bear crawl. Bears would never do this shit. Bears are totally lazy animals. It was impossible. We had weights in our hands and we were in push up position but with our asses in the air. Poor helicopters. Anyhow, then we crawled. That kicked my butt, seriously. It is really hard. Go try it. If that is how bears feel when they walk around, I totally get hibernation. Bears snooze so they don't have to do a bear crawl.

Oh, so many painful things. And now, tonight, I am wiped out. I didn't feel good when I woke up and I still don't. Just achey and my throat hurts. I NEED TO MAKE IT THROUGH WEEK 6. I can't miss. I feel like my knees already made me miss like a week - I can't miss any more!!!

I feel challenged. Challenged at EB. Challenged at life. Challenged at motherhood. How will I make it through the next 4 days sick? How will I make dinner most every night for the next 50 years? How will I make it through three children going through the terrible twos and threes? I don't have this kind of patience. Seriously.

I need to snooze.

Baby Fiesta

I am not a hostess by nature. Today we had the twins' first year birthday party. We had a lot of people over - family (from near and far), friends (old and new), my nurses from the hospital (now friends), and a bunch of kids. The day was beautiful, the kids had fun, there was food and merriment. J finally "finished" the backyard (more or less) but it looks AMAZING. He did a good job. In fact, we TOTALLY can throw tons of parties now this summer. Too bad I am a sucky hostess.

Seriously, of all the wonderful genes my Mom failed to pass on, one was the hostess gene. I have watched my mother effortlessly host parties of 4 to parties of 100+ and she doesn't break a sweat. She smiles the whole time, the food is always amazing (and SHE makes it), and everyone always seems to have an amazing time.

I, on the other hand, suck. I mean, maybe everything turns out OK. The food, usually take out, is here. But, even with all the help that I receive from the pizza folks and Costco and family and nannies. I totally break a sweat. I pretty much totter around and I don't make anything look easy or effortless. I look exhausted. I feel exhausted. I always know I could have done better. I suck at the hostess thing. This is something that I want to improve on but I don't think I can really. I mean. I am always going to be all stressed out about stuff "turning out ok".

Of course, I have always believed my mother was in a league of her own. And I still do believe this - she is enchanting, graceful, and skilled. But, a few weeks ago we went to my friend's kid's birthday party and seriously, she rocks. The food was amazing and she made it. Her house was right out of the Pottery Barn catalog. And she was skinny. And she has a full time job. And she has 2 kids. I was jealous :) And I now know, I have NO excuse for being so lame.

The day was so fun though. It was great see how cute the boys looked. They were in a fairly decent mood all day with a few crying spells. Everyone enjoyed them and so did I.

My son, Lulo, hated the bouncy thing. This is genetic and I am glad I have passed on that very positive trait. I hate the Bouncy Bouncy too. I have resisted the Bouncy Bouncy for 2.5 years and for this party I had to give in: (1) we have a backyard now and (2) what are 30 kids going to do for 3 hours if there is no Bouncy Bouncy. I sort of swore that I would NEVER get a Bouncy Bouncy. So, today, I ate my words (and many other things that would anger my DIs.) Anywho, I think parents like it when you exhaust their children in the Bouncy Bouncy and then they take home sleepy children that CRASH at night. That is good. Parents like me tonight.

It was totally cool to see my nurses from the hospital. It sort of brought the year around full circle. The three ladies who showed up to the party got me through 80 days. Wow. Ups and downs, tears, laughter, food, sickness, frustration, fear. They helped me get those boys and for them, I will always be grateful. I think they had fun seeing them too. I think we all sort of wondered how the year passed so quickly.

I saw my best friend R who I haven't seen since she brought her daughter home from the hospital. Her little angel is SO CUTE, so teeny. She was sweet and lovely, and I don't think I heard her cry the ENTIRE time she was here. She was wearing a cute little skirt and a cute little top (that I got her ;)). She had cute little fingers and cute little toes. She has BEAUTIFUL BLUE EYES. And you know what that little angelic girl made me think of....

....I DEFINITELY DON'T WANT TO TRY FOR A GIRL!!! Ha, ha. Nope. Not me. I don't want to do this baby stuff again. Not. Having. A. Girl. Not. Having. More. Babies. Done, done, and done. Don't ask me. You know why? Because the answer WON'T CHANGE!! DONE!

I am soooo happy we made it to this 1 year birthday party.
I am soooo happy that we made our last pitcher of Enfamil formula on Thursday.
I am soooo happy that the tears from now on will lessen.
I am soooo happy they are going to be more mobile (I think).

Um, yeah TOTALLY DONE WITH LITTLE BABIES!!! TOTALLY! Dancing! Shakin it!!! Bate Bate. Shimmying. Done, done, done. They are ONE!! YEAH!! I had my LAST FIRST BIRTHDAY PARTY!!! Hee hee hee. Shakin it.

OK. This hostess is going to go pass out now. I am happy I got here...with these boys, with J, with this fabulous day, with amazing family and supportive, loving friends. I am happy here on the other side of the first birthday party of my twins. What a day!

The Important Stuff

There I was yesterday thinking I was hot shit for not walking during our 1.7 mile run at EB. For me, not walking for 1.7 miles is pretty miraculous. If you remember on our first day, I had to walk during our mile run. So, yesterday, I was all stoked that I managed to keep at a jog the whole 1.7 miles.

So, confidently, I go to EB today thinking - well, we did a long run yesterday so we probably won't run much if at all.

Ha.
Ha.
Ha.

Never, ever attempt to psychoanalyze bootcamp. If you do, you are dead. If you think you know what you are going to do - you don't. And just when you think you are catching the drift of things, BANG, they throw in an incline resembling Mount Olympus.

OK. So we did our calisthenics - jumping jacks, 8 counts, etc. Some stomach stuff. Then we set off for a run. I think we maybe ran 1/2 a mile or 3/4 of a mile and we got to an steep, steep hill. DI-Size0 stayed at the bottom. DI-MC ran up to the top. And us bootcampers, we went up and down, up and down, up and down. I guess each stretch up the hill was maybe 1/8-1/4 of a mile. I did it 5 times. There were only 3 of us there today. The other 2 ladies are veterans and were jamming and did it 6 times. I was a sad, sad display. I suffered. I tried to stay at a very slow jog as much as possible both up and down and I think I only slowed to a walk a couple times. But that run back to camp (after Kilimanjaro), unfortunately, wasn't a run at all. I walked about half of it. So sad. Anyhow, I am a little sore tonight. My knees, thankfully, don't ache. But, I am tired. Really tired.

Tomorrow is the last day of Week 5 and these five weeks have gone very quickly. I have really enjoyed myself and I think I am going to do this again. Suffering or not, I am enjoying it. And, I like that I am improving. I am so competitive with my own self that this is a new challenge for me to meet. I also am in awe of the woman, T, who has been doing this for a year. One year. Every day. Wow. The lady can move - she jumps, she runs, she can do all the stuff. I am jealous. I don't think I will ever be as good as her but I do think I can have a lot of room for improvement. I want to be the best version of me. I can, I can, I really can.

All my children are sick. My husband is sick. The twins' birthday party is on Sunday - nothing is ready. Jojo gets his new effing helmet tomorrow. Things are real fun here. But, you know, at least I can jog 1.7 miles that's all that matters.

Celebrate

How did this happen? My twins are 1. We survived the first year. Oh, I am just so overwhelmed with this day. And, because I am a pessimist by nature, I am overwhelmed by the fact that they are ok, that we are ok. That things did indeed turn out fairly well.

Oh, yes. The first five months or so, I pretty much wanted to die. The sleep deprivation was horrible. The search for a proper nanny was pretty terrible. But, now, we are here on the other side and it is bright and cheery! Yeah, God!

What a blessing and joy Juju and Jojo are. Being greeted by their smiles every morning is like magic. To think that one year ago today, I got a glimpse of them as soon as they were delivered and then they were immediately taken to the NICU and then I didn't see them until I could move (which wasn't until late that night.) I can't believe that they were so tiny, so fragile, and so unknown to me just one year ago. Oh, there were so many things that could have gone wrong, that didn't go wrong. Wow. Like I said, I am overwhelmed.

Jojo is fiery. Full of energy. He laughs and smiles a lot. His laugh is a gurgle and it is funny to hear. I wish I could bottle his laugh. His eyes dance and he is always looking around, exploring, thinking, and mesmerized by Lulo. He has one tooth and doesn't walk or crawl. He sits and chills or he stands. He isn't chunky and he isn't skinny. He is just right - he is almost muscular.

Juju is changing personalities as of late. He started out very very mellow. He only cried when something was amiss. He slept good. He never caused any issues. Now, he wants more attention. He is still pretty mellow but is becoming serious, dolling out his smiles for the truly special occasions. He is chunky, cuddly, and lovable.

Happy Birthday to my little Angels. I celebrate them.

Sockie, Sockie, Bate, Bate

Lulo is going through a cute phase that has appeared more than the "screaming, tantrums, and throwing food" phase that had been happening a little too much for my liking.

At night, when I can't get him into footie pjs and he requests (uh, demands) either "penguin pants" or "crocodile pants" or "crab pants", I have been putting them on AND a pair of socks. It is still cold and the boy still refuses to let me put a blanket on him. Oh, Back to Sleep Campaign, my kids won't sleep with blankets? It looks like they are prisoners or something. Or it looks like I am a mean Mom who keeps the beds sparse and sad because I don't feel like my children deserve joy and comfort. Anyhow.

I put his little socks on and he literally takes them off 300x in the span of the 15 minutes that I sit and read him 3 books. He takes one off and goes SOCKIE SOCKIE SOCKIE. So, I replace it. Then, he takes the other one off. SOCKIE SOCKIE SOCKIE. The first 85x, I am amused and I sort of love his cute little feet and cute little socks. But by the 87th time, I am THIIIIIS close to putting his sockie somewhere unpleasant. But, I keep doing it. And you may wonder, why doesn't she just stop putting them on. Well, because he spazzes. Then you may wonder, why don't you just prevent him from taking them off. Well, because he spazzes.

And you know, I am enjoying the cute phase, the no screaming phase. Oh, and the twins are trying to nod off RIGHT NEXT door so a WAIL that could wake the dead from Lulo about a sock that I could easily replace, well, it's not worth all THREE screaming. So, little sockies on and off, on and off.

In the morning, we usually hang out and his new thing is he wants to "bate bate" (pronounced vat-ay, vat-ay for you gringos out there). Oh little Dora, how you teach us Spanish and teach us to bate bate. BATE BATE CHOCOLATE, MIX YOUR CHOCOLATE CHOCOLATE. I do a little dance just singing it. When I make pancakes, waffles, muffins etc. in the morning, I always now ask Luk if he wants to BATE BATE and he loves to. My little budding baker. BATE BATE CHOCOLATE. Come on, shake it, sing it, stir it. Do the dance. It's addictive.

Anyhow, we haven't vatayed much lately because it seems that mixing up a batch of chocolate chip muffins after EB would defeat the purpose. Today, I think we ran up stairs and ran down a ramp for about 30 minutes....maybe it was 15. But we ran up a lot of stairs. Stairs, weirdly, don't bother me. This may be a direct result of my house made of stairs. I can move up and down stairs. I rock at stairs. It was the HOPPING up the stairs that was a little challenging. I had to hold on to the railing or my mad hopping skills were seriously stunted. Why can't I hop? Is this a difficult skill? Don't 2 year olds have this skill down?

We also did A LOT of stomach work. Hovering, then hovering on our left side, then our right. Then hovering and then sticking our butts up in the air then hovering again. No break. Yeah, I was adorable.

Tomorrow at EB I am going to suggest a little BATE BATE a la Dora to get the party started. I believe this works the arms, the abs, and if you put your ass into it, I am fairly sure that it is more efficient than lunges and squats.

Costco Fever

Alright folks. I just went to Costco after a loooooooooooooooooooooong day. And I thought, ok, how bad can it be? People fled to Costco this weekend for their large muffins and extremely large container of pineapple. Monday after 7 is a good time to go to Costco.

Well, no, no it is not.

Last week I sent Nanny the Great (yes, there are 2 nannies, at different times) to Costco for me with a list of stuff. I think I have done this 1200 times with no problem. Last week, they confiscated my card and told her to leave the premises. Nice. Totally a time saver. So, I had to schlep to Costco to get my card. I gave the "manager" a lecture about consistency which he completely did not understand and I left with my last 4 containers of formula (yeah!) and some diapers.

So, today, since I couldn't send Nanny the Great due to the aforementioned incident which has resulted in a "Manager's Hold" on my card, I went at night. After work, after dinner, after bed time, after bath time.

Here's what I don't get and maybe you can illuminate this for me. Or, I guess I do get it but I don't like it...

WHY ARE THERE CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF TWO STILL AWAKE AND RUNNING AROUND COSTCO AT EIGHT P.M. ? No, seriously. Why? Don't parents understand the value of sleep and a schedule and routine. The kids were overstimulated, tired, freaking out, dragging their poor little feet. Children need a schedule. They thrive on one. Rest helps their little mind rejuvenate. Kids don't need to be at Costco at 8 pm. They need to be in their jammies and if not asleep, close to it. KIDS SHOULD NOT BE AT COSTCO ON A MONDAY AT EIGHT!!!

The lines were obscene.

The people coughing without covering their mouths were abundant. Flu season people. Seriously, embrace it.

Those muffins are really big.

There was a big little girl (maybe 6) in a too small pink tank top downing a large hot dog. She was enjoying every second of it. Meanwhile, she was no doubt catching PNEUMONIA because it was 55 degrees outside and she shouldn't have been outside in a tank top.

I bought a Rotisserie Chicken. I have much love for the Rotiss. You cut it up and can use it in salads, enchiladas, pasta, chicken salad, ANYTHING. Oh, Rotiss, you sing to me. And no I didn't even sneak a little bit of that yummy Rotiss skin...nope, no I didn't.

Oh, and the best part was...after all that walking up and down the aisles, my knees were PAINLESS. EB was pretty good today. We ran, but not too much. I managed to do jumping jacks without looking like a geriatric. I did four counts in 6 counts, 8 counts in 12 counts, and ran without limping. It's all good people, all good.

And so, dear Costco. When can I come within your walls and not have to battle the evils of our society? Children without routine, people with poor hygiene, and large serving sizes that I am certain are contributing to the obesity problem in America. Seriously. Costco was gross today. I need a drink.

This Sunday Last Year

I can't help but think of this same day last year. This was the last Sunday that I was strapped to a bed before the babies were born. I had spent 76 days in the hospital at this point.

76 days without putting Lulo to bed at night.
76 days without being at home.
76 days without my bed.
76 days without making a meal.
76 days without drying off with my own towels.
76 days without cable TV.
76 days without doing my hair or putting on makeup.
76 days without privacy or comfort.

It was a strange time. It was filled with so much worry. I remember sitting in the hospital bed thinking about my twins who had TTTS. Baby A on a monitor which usually was located so far down in my pants that it was uncomfortable. Baby B on another monitor. They got easier and easier to find as the days passed, but, inevitably every day, some poor nurse had her hand down my pants searching for a heart beat. Was it the same heart beat, my heart beat, the other baby's heart beat? We would wait. More waiting. We usually would find the heart beat. Sometimes, everyone would get a little nervous. A doctor was called...they rushed in with an ultrasound machine. Baby A - Check. Baby B - Check. Sigh of relief. What a strange time.

This Sunday was bittersweet. Those 76 days were not easy but you get into a routine. I would order something awful for breakfast, eat it, work a little bit, take a fast shower, nurse would come in and we'd find the babies, I'd work again, order a terrible lunch, work a little bit more, eat a terrible lunch, work a little bit more, sneak in a little caffeine (1 baby can of coke a day), work a little bit more, order dinner, watch jeopardy while eating dinner, mess around on the internet, convince the nurse to let me have a little monitor break, stretch, walk around, pee, brush teeth, bed, episode of Seinfeld, sleep poorly.

That kind of day repeated itself over and over and over. Of course, it was peppered by the visits of my Mom and Lulo, my Lulo, the never ending search for heartbeats, some occasional visits by the attendings, an occasional visit by Fetal god (Dr. P), a call or visit here and there from J. But, that was my day in a nutshell.

I remember being horribly scared on this Sunday that I had spent all this time nurturing these children in a hospital bed and that when Tuesday would come along and I'd have my c-section - it would all go wrong. I had a fear that one of them, both of them, or all three of us would somehow not make it through the c-section. I had fears that Jujo or Jojo wouldn't be healthy. I had fears that the babies would have extended stays at the NICU. I had fears they would have no stay in the NICU and then I would have to come home and be completely unprepared.

But, alas, they are fine. And, honestly, they were worth every minute in that bed.

This Sunday was crazy. No routine at all. I have three healthy boys full of energy. A photographer came over and took pictures because they are almost one year old! My goodness. Picture days are never easy. The poor photographer, God bless her. Jujo was cranky, which made Jojo cranky. Lulo was uncooperative. All three have beuatiful smiles, none of the smiles were participating today. It was cold outside. The lack of cooperation of all three made me cranky. I took it out on J. J decided that since he was already being terribly unhelpful and not at all intuitive- he would continue to do so. Photographer left - probably with not a very good impression of me. I was exhausted. Fed Lulo lunch. Heard babies wailing for attention while J played on his iTouch. Out of pure rage and frustration, threw J's iTouch in the garbage. Put Lulo down for a nap. Fed twins. Twins. 2 beautiful healthy twins. Who cares about the rest?

I am so lucky, I am so blessed. We have come so far this year. It went so quickly. I am happy it went quickly because if it went slower, I wouldn't have survived. I think back to me, in that bed, last year. Worried. Terrified for my boys, my family. But, now, we are here. What a year. Wow. They turned my life upside down and I love it.

Pomona, It's Way Cool Now.

I live in Pomona. Pomona pretty much sucks.

But I experienced a soaring pride for Pomona today. I was getting off the freeway at the 10 and Garey. I was under the bridge, waiting for the light to turn green. And then I saw it, 14 million police motorcycles, several black Towncars (and other cars), and more cops, some big SUV type cars (also all black).

Oh yes my friends, it was the Obama motorcade. I cheered. I called J and told him I was part of a historical moment. He chuckled. This is one time I didn't mind sitting in traffic. It was quick and fun. And you know, I saw Obama's car. All is right with the world.

A woman (who clearly isn't a Pomona resident) popped her head out of the car, whipped out her Nikon with a zoom lens and took a photo. She is lucky she didn't lose her melon and her Nikon in one fell swoop. This is Pomona lady and every cop in Pomona is following Obama right now. Don't stick anything outside your window.

A few weeks ago, J left his 3 year old, dirty, construction, tennis shoes on our doorstep. They were stolen. Pomona, it's so classy.

Pomona is so classy that in October some lovely young men broke into my car and took my GPS, the Diego party decorations that I bought for my Lulo's birthday, my car manual, a spare key FOR THE CAR, and my bag of earthquake supplies consisting of clothes that haven't fit me since I stopped living with my parents and some 14 year old granola bars. They left the unopened bottle of red wine. Pomona, it drips with class.

Anyhow, Obama and I are tight now. He was in my hood. Woot Woot. That was pretty cool.

Networking.

I started my practice over two years ago. I had no clients.

I started a practice because I refused to relocate with my in house position and so there I was, jobless with a severance package.

I had no clients.

So, J said, well go get some. Start networking.

I hate the word "network". I think the concept of networking is a crock of shit. Walking into a room in which I know NO ONE and "networking" makes me nauseous. It requires a "fakeness" which I do not possess. I am blunt. I am honest. I honestly don't want Mary Kay products. I also don't want a financial planner - if they were doing so great financially they wouldn't need to be networking. Right?

I have heard MANY networking experts talk about how networking is about relationships. Even today at my NAWBO meeting I heard the speaker talk about "relationship marketing". BLECK. "Relationship marketing" is the new networking. This is not to say that the speaker was not good. She was very good.

"Relationship marketing" just makes it sound even more awkward. Doesn't it? The word network sounds clinical. Relationship marketing sounds like urinary tract infection. Add marketing to the word relationship - and to me, the relationship is somehow gone. Why can't they just call networking - "be human and make friends and be a good business person and see what happens."

But, I guess that is what I ended up doing. I went to 12,000 meetings and did not fit in with a lot of different groups. Then, I found a few groups I liked because the ladies seemed nice and the speaker topics were good. So I joined those. I got on the Board. I became friendly with these women. And, AHA, relationships! The referrals I get are always from people who have become friends or colleagues because PEOPLE DON'T GIVE YOU BUSINESS BECAUSE THEY GET YOUR CARD. They don't know you. I won't put my name behind someone unless I know them. And yes, there isn't infinite time to know everyone but "networking" takes time, a LONG time. Because getting friendly with people takes a long time. This month they are working on "friendship" at Luk's preschool. I am thinking that instead of getting advice on relationship marketing we should just all attend Luk's preschool? Any takers?

However, I think that when people hire you (if it's not just a cold call), it is because they've seen you over and over. So, they assume, that person is dependable. I can give her work. They don't know the quality of the work necessarily. They just know that you can show up, make friends, and be nice for 1 hour. For example, I went to Tae Bo classes for about 1.5 years in Long Beach. I became friends with a girl in there - she referred her Dad. He is a good client. I got a client because I DID TAE BO. "Networking" anyone? Nope. I'm just going to work out more.

Speaking of working out more, one of my EB DIs actually was asking me trademark stuff today and e-mailed me. I think this is God's way of rewarding my fatness and rolls or rather, getting rid of fatness or rolls.

Today was a pretty good day at EB. I got there feeling pretty good. Not in pain anywhere. Then we ran. Even with my new cute RUNNER tennis shoes, I still had some pain. But, not as bad and mostly in my left knee. That's an improvement, right? Then we did a variety of things that were hard to do with a bad knee and fat hanging everywhere.

Specifically, there was this very special exercise called the crocodile or the alligator or something reptilian, I can't remember, I was suffering. You start out sort of in push up position, then you inch your hands back until your bootie is in the air, then you inch you hands forward until you are back in push up position, then you do a push up, and then you start all over again. After doing 45 of these (or maybe 4 or 5), I wanted to pretty much keel. It was fun. No reptile would do this and if they did, I suspect it is easier for them and they don't add a push up. Lucky little reptiles.

Moral of the Story: Workout and Go to Preschool, Business Will Come.

Helmet Season

Jujo graduated from his helmet in January. Jojo is still in his helmet - see above. Huh? Helmet, what? Helmet is not the PC term. The PC term is DOC band. I am sick of being PC - it is a HELMET.

My twins got their helmets in October 2008 because they both had significant flat spots on their heads (termed "plagiocephaly"). I think when kids used to have flat spots the parents just said "oh, they have a flat head, oh well, at least they have hair". Not in this day and age my friends, now you get helmets.

Now, this is not to say that these helmets were not needed. Both boys had significant asymmetry in their faces because of this flat spot. So, this went beyond the mere flat head, it was affecting their face. I am not working for a perfectly round head. However, they were still beautiful to me. I never thought it was that bad. But mothers never do I guess. The doctors, physical therapists, my MIL, my Mom, J, everyone thought these helmets were for the best. So, "for the best", I (for the most part) have had to drive to Pasadena every other week (or more sometimes) for fittings, appointments, etc. I am not being a martyr here - I know there are worse things to do. There are wonderful, sad mothers who aren't seeing there kids back and forth for merely cosmetic appointments but for much more serious ailments.

But, I am a little bitter about the helmet thing and I don't know why. When they first got them, I was emotional about it. I honestly don't like seeing their cute little head covered by the helmet. We pimped out the helmets and so they look pretty cool but it doesn't change the fact that the kid is WEARING A HELMET. Jojo has never liked his helmet. He adjusted to it much more slowly than Jujo. And the poor kid of course is the one who has had to be in it longer.

Anyhow, the first helmet was ok but Jojo had heat rash issues and grew out of it rather quickly. Then, we were advised that a second helmet would be a good idea because not as much progress was made. So, in January, he was fitted for a new helmet which was supposed to see him through 4 months and then NO MORE HELMET. Since then, he has spent about half of his nights taking OFF HIS HELMET. At 2 a.m., I will wake up and watch Jojo playing with his helmet. At 7 a.m., when I go in, the helmet is on his leg...making great strides in making HIS HEAD ROUND? Um, no. At least he gives me a cute little devious smile, when I take the helmet off his leg.

So, now, they have recommended a third helmet. One that he supposedly won't easily be able take off. The owner of Cranial Tech is not charging us for this privilege. (As an aside, I just want to say that Cranial Tech is AMAZING. The people there are nice, supportive, accommodating to twins, AMAZING. Really good, well-run, well-meaning, business. I can't say enough good things about the place. Go Cranial Tech, Pasadena, Woot! Woot!)

But, that doesn't make me less sick of the helmet! Jojo tolerates the thing but he hates it. I can see that he hates it. I don't blame him.

So, I have tried to make a compelling argument to J that Jojo is looking much better and maybe we should just let things lie and accept his head shape. People don't have perfect heads. People don't have perfect anything. And honestly, I don't think he looks that bad. (OK, OK, I KNOW I AM HIS MOTHER and I don't see it). But, he looks fine to me. He really really looks fine. I see the flat spot but his head looks fine. His symmetry is much better. Not perfect, but better.

J argues that we should give Jojo every advantage in life (to the extent possible). He says that people judge you right away. If you have a "deformity" or a "facial flaw", it could prevent you from getting jobs, getting girlfriends, etc. He makes it sound like this decision is one that will affect his whole life. And yes, maybe it will and that is why I am sort of deferring to J on this one. But, I guess I just don't see it this way. Don't get me wrong, I understand that people are judged for how they look. I get that. It is an unfortunate thing but I get it. That is life.

But, is this small of a flaw, a few millimeters, going to prevent him from being on the bench? getting married? working summers as a lifeguard? Isn't it more likely that he'll be teased for not being circumcised or for being too tall or too short or too cute or too smart? Kids will find anything to tease you about. Adults are kinder but eventually his cranial aesthetic is going to be overpowered by what I hope will be a good inner cranial area - his brain, his common sense, his politeness, his faith, his good actions, his generosity of spirit.

I got teased mercilessly for my nose growing up. Joey Termini used to say it looked like I had a Winnebago on my face. Should my parents have rushed me off to Dr. Ray and said "fix her flaws" because she won't get a job looking like this? (Side note: Of course, the minute I could get a nose job...I did. I am still self conscious about my nose. People still make fun of it...including J.) Did my schnoz give me character? Shouldn't I be giving Joey Termini thanks? Would Jojo say, if I "won" the "forget the helmet" argument, "why didn't you fix my head, Mom?"

Jojo won't have the opportunity to do this later like I did. In a few months, his head will be hard, it won't grow as fast, it's shape will be fixed forever. But, isn't getting teased about your flaws part of growing up? Will anyone even notice this flaw? Will anyone walk up to him with a ruler and say...oh wow, your left eye is 2 mm lower than your right one? Will they notice that his glasses don't sit quite right? Will his football helmet not fit right? {{I hate football, that is ok with me.}} Sports like soccer and tennis with no helmets and long hair really are JUST fine with me.

I guess this is just one of those things we do. We don't like it but we do it because it is good for them. "They" say he won't remember this, that it doesn't hurt, that it is for his own cosmetic good. The only person bothered by this is me - seeing my kid tolerating this bugs me, seeing my kid wearing this, bugs me!

Aren't these the same arguments that doctors make when they want you to circumcise your kids: (1) they won't remember, (2) it doesn't hurt, (3) it is for their own good so they don't get teased in school? So, what did we do, the opposite of what doctor's said, we disagreed, we didn't circumcise the boys. And now, we are doing something else cosmetic for the same reasons the doctor's gave for circumcision.

I don't know. I'm just sayin'.

Jojo will keep his helmet. The decision has been made. But, as with all decisions parents make, you never know if it was the right one, the best one...

He's a cutie and I love him. We just gotta get through helmet season.

Just Being Safe Instead of Sorry

Last night I was really tired from the weekend so I thought I would crash the minute Big Love was over. But, as Big Love wore on, I started to feel really, really lousy. Sick, achy, throat hurting, lousy. So, I drank juice, swallowed down Vitamin C, took some meds, and laid down. Then, I spent the next 7 hours swallowing to see if my throat still hurt...does anyone else do this?

I am an insomniac. I have been since high school. There are many nights that I lay there going over lists in my brain. Thinking about a client, an opposing counsel, a book, the kids, the Night Stalker, etc. etc.

J thinks I am an insomniac because of the blue glow emitted by the two video monitors I have on my night stand. It's almost like Christmas with the little red lights that flash JUST BECAUSE of the static. Why can't these monitor companies figure out how to get rid of the red lights just for static? Anyhow, that is neither here nor there. There were no monitors in high school. I still couldn't sleep.

And then last night, my swallowing festivities really created extra sleep issues:
10:15 My throat hurts.
10:20 Swallow
10:21 Yep still hurts.
11:45 Swallow
11:46 Yep still hurts.
2:30 Swallow
2:31 Yep still hurts.

I need help. I think it is just because I knew I couldn't do EB if I felt crappy. So, I kept laying there hoping I would feel better.

And then, I heard a baby cry. So I looked at the first monitor - no crying. Then, I looked at the second monitor. No crying. I called J in the office - he wasn't crying. He didn't obtain a baby through the window. J was annoyed that I called asking him about babies.

So, I freaked out. Then, I started thinking about this forwarded email I got. The forward said to never open your door just because you hear a baby cry because the new scam is to get someone to open the door and then commit manslaughter. But then, I got worried that some baby was out there. And I laid in bed, waiting for more crying. Thinking about manslaughter.

It was a fun night. I didn't go to EB this morning. My throat still hurts. I am still alive. There are no babies on my doorstep. There are three in my house. All is well. And, no, I am not crying.

Good Night

My parents wanted to spend some extra time with Lulo and so I gave Lulo to my Mom this afternoon and will meet up with them this weekend at my parent's house. The nightly ritual here is that I read Lulo books and put him to bed and whoever else is here (J, Nanny Extraordinaire, my Mom, my MIL, etc.) feeds the twins their bottles and put them to bed.

The twins are almost 1.

Today was the first time (in my memory) that I put them to bed.

I was totally nervous. I had to ask Nanny Extraordinaire questions like: (1) who usually finishes first? (2) does the other one cry while the other one is finishing? (3) do you put one to bed while the other finishes? (4) what do you do if they both start crying? I got the answer I have often given to clients: "It depends." This was not a satisfying answer. But, I imagine that answer isn't satisfying for most people.

Anyhow, the experience went rather smoothly actually. Juju finished first. Jojo finished about 30 seconds later. I just kind of rubbed Juju's bloated, chubby belly while Jojo finished his bottle. Then I picked up Juju, he let out a monstrous belch. And while, I was holding Jojo to put him down, Juju started to cry. And I started to sweat. Then I put Jojo down, prayed he wouldn't cry. Comforted Juju. He stopped. Jojo started. Both stopped. And, I thanked God, rung out my t-shirt, and headed for the closest bottle of wine I could find. God bless Nanny Extraordinaire.

I am kind of sad though.

As the twins get older, I realize how little time I have spent with them as individuals. Almost no time with EACH of them. I haven't even put them to bed. That's weird, right? I think it's sad I have to ask Nanny Extraordinaire how to put my own kids to bed.

She is such a great nanny. I love her. Seriously, love her.

We don't know what we'd do without her. She works hard, she has an amazing attitude, she is good with my kids, she is trustworthy, she is loving (without being Peyton from the Hand that Rocks the Cradle), and best of all, the kids love her. She never tries to replace me or compete with me. She is great.

But, she spends more time with the twins than I do (at least during the week). I think she knows them a little better. I think she comforts them a little faster. Oh, it just saddens me.

Partly, I think it makes me sad because frankly, I couldn't be with them all day, every day. I'd go batty. I love them but it would probably be the death of me. The amount of respect that I have for SAHMs grows every weekend. How do they do it? How do they survive the whining, the day in and day out, the crying, the chaos, the mess? It is amazing. I really love the nanny. I really miss her on the weekend. I heart her. I'd invite her to be a sister wife if I was on Big Love and I had to choose between her and Nicki Grant. Wait, have I made it clear that I really like having her help???

Having said that, it partly makes me sad because I am missing stuff. The other day I asked J if he thought they knew I was their mother. Are they thinking: "Is this lady who shows up in the morning to dress us and then shows up at night for baths just a lady practicing to be a mom? An apprentice Mom. Not sure if the Trump would fire her." Do they want to fire me? It's not like I am not here but what happens is that the time I am around, Lulo (the eldest and more vocal of the three) demands Mama love. He isn't mean or jealous of them but he wants me and he wants his routine to stay the same and that makes sense to me.

I am lucky in a lot of ways. I can work from home sometimes and can see my kids mid-day or just sneak up to bury my nose in their fat rolls and tickle their feet. I work for myself so I can and do take them to doctor's appointments (so fun!) and other such things. And I can give myself some time off to hang out with them sometimes. Not everyone can do that. In a way, it is the best of both worlds.

But, yet, I sit here writing this wondering if they know that I am their Mama. Well, tonight, when I put them to bed, I reminded them...just in case they weren't sure. Good night little boys. I love you forever.

Perspective

I woke up this morning, at 4:45. Got out of bed, got dressed, came downstairs, filled up my cup of coffee, and sat to check my email before getting in the car and going to EB. A client who is SUCH a nice guy (and happens to be in the middle of a dispute with a slightly unreasonable person) sent me an e-mail telling me, among other things, that he starts chemo tomorrow.

Long sigh.

Sometimes, an e-mail like that gives you some perspective. It's not like I was all gung ho trademark guru with this dispute that he finds himself battling. However, I am his advocate. And as an advocate for a person, not "just" a client, I just want to say (and basically did say along with some solid legal advice) - trademarks in the grand scheme are not something to worry your head about while you are dealing with chemo. Trademarks, small potatoes. I think he knew that too. I hope he does. And I pray for him.

So, I go in my car. Thinking about my client. And not thinking about my knees because my knees weren't aching because my Daddy gave me Celebrex. Actually, I ached a little bit but nothing that I'd blog about. Then we did stretches, I took it easy with calisthenics, and then we ran. About a mile in my knees were just DONE. I longed for Estelle Getty, a comedic genius with impeccable timing, to drop a wheelchair on my head from heaven. But alas, there was no wheelchair. I limped back.

The good news is that I managed to chat with DI-Size0 on my spiritless jog. I like her. She is determined. She seemed serious at first and I thought maybe that was her EB Modus Operandi. But, I think she is a serious person. She was also knowledgeable and encouraged me to take tomorrow off. Actually, no, she suggested I take tomorrow off and then said, "what do you think?" And I said, "um, yeah, ok, sure." I guess she doesn't know that I too, am determined. But, I know she is right. Tendinitis needs rest. All I need are blown out knees while living in a house made of stairs.

Well, when we got back to base and we were all stretching and stuff...I said to the group, social butterfly that I am, we should have a group on Facebook for EB and we can all join and chat about how much pain we are in and how much chocolate we want to eat a la Fatso: "Did you ever suck the jelly out of a jelly doughnut and then fill it with chocolate swirl ice cream?"

Anyhow, I noticed this glimpse between DI-Size0 and the other DI. Is Facebook a no no between DIs and us measly boot campers. When is it not appropriate to have a Facebook relationship? I need to look into that.

I have never mentioned this other DI because he took Week 2 off. He is what appears to be a very nice guy. He, for example, helped me carry my bag the other day when I was falling apart. That's nice, right? Anyhow, let's call him DI-MC. MC for his initials because my throbbing knees are sapping the creative juices right out of me. MC could also stand for Mr. Crazy about DI-Size0. Huh? What?

Well, I had been noticing that DI-Size0 and DI-MC text an awful lot for 5:30 am. Who is up at that time? No one. Well, maybe some people but you'd think you wouldn't be texting the people who are productively up at 5:30. So, I get home and put their names in Facebook. (Oh, Facebook, you are like reading someone's diary except it's ok). And of course DI-MC's profile is public. AND HE IS "IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH DI-SIZE0!" Now, that, is who you text at 5:30 am.

Imagine these texts flying back and forth:
DI-Size0: Does Tina think that is a push up?
DI-MC: I hope not.
DI-Size0: Well, I hope she doesn't think that eating this way is going to help her lose weight.
DI-MC: I know, you could land a plane on her ass, right?
DI-Size0: It's early, huh?
DI-MC: Um, damn cold too.
DI-Size0: Well, we should start running soon.
DI-MC: Would you call what Tina does running?
DI-Size0: Well, no it's not running. But if we want to finish EB on time today we better get her on her way. We may still be here tonight if she doesn't start running now.
DI-MC: Good point.

Anyhow, I looked at their cute pictures on Facebook. And I was happy to see that DI-Size0 is indeed a Size 0 in normal clothes. I was also happy to see that both of them don't just run around in fatigues all day long. For some reason, after the "ew" factor went away, their "in a relationship" status made me feel like L-O-V-E was in the air. Weird. Oh, and now I even have a new friend on Facebook! Fun, fun.

Then, I looked lovingly at J and he said - "my Cousin C's wife is angry that you didn't invite them to the twins' birthday party". And, so, my loving gaze immediately became a grimace.

Wuh? Huh? Who? Which cousin? They are all named C. Why can't your people (Peruvians) choose DIFFERENT NAMES for their offspring. Anyhow, I apparently, have caused offense. Cousin C's wife wasn't here not even two months ago. Cousin C's kid was living in the same house with another cousin and their family.

And so, I sent ONE invitation to the house with various surnames on the envelope so everyone would feel included. I pretty much do the same thing every time I am crazy enough to throw a party. I DID INVITE COUSIN C's kid. BUT. Dear people. Cousin C's kid no longer lived there. Was I supposed to know this? Wuh, Huh? I need to learn Quechua or Spanish or whatever language I appear to be not proficient in because I guess I was supposed to know this somehow. These Peruvians have Inca blood. They move around too much. And I am moving to slow, and in this case, my knees having nothing to do with it. The funny thing (or funny to me) is that this C, Jr. is the sweetest kid. Well behaved. Quiet. Sweet. Eats well. This is a child I'd want influencing other children during this partay. And yet, I apparently have failed to invite him in a move that flies in the face of all etiquette.

Long Sigh. And, now, see...we are full circle. PERSPECTIVE PEOPLE. You have to be kidding me. Did I really need to have an upset J today because I supposedly didn't invite Cousin C's kid? Is there a smidgen of a possibility that maybe it wasn't intentional? Can't we just be happy we have this big, crazy, fun family with parties, and fun? Did DI-Size0 (who is so cute with DI-MC) really have to tell me the equivalent of "DON'T COME TOMORROW"? Shouldn't I know that? Hello, McFly? Sometimes you just need a little bit of a reality check, eh.

I just got an e-mail back from my client. He got my e-mail this morning. He thanked me for "putting things into perspective."

Um, no, thank you for putting things into perspective.

Old, Very Old

Today, I reached way way deep down, embraced my inner geriatric, and gimped around EB. It was really cute. Now I know EXACTLY what I am going to look like when I am 70 and trying to hold off the slow hardening of my arteries that is arteriosclerosis.

Jumping rope was a joke of enormous proportions today. If I didn't want to cry so bad and I wasn't so damn mortified, I would have laughed. It looked like this: (1) Rope slowly lops over head, (2) Rope hits floor, (3) Right leg steps over rope, (4) Left Leg steps over rope, (5) A momentary wish for death, (6) Rope slowly lops over head. The dude next to me, M, I couldn't even see his rope because he was moving so fast. In fact, he channeled Mike Tyson pre-Robin Givens. Or, maybe I couldn't see his rope because it was so dark they needed to illuminate the Mongolian BBQ parking lot we were at with lanterns. This is not a joke, lanterns. It was that dark. If I was a criminal (lawyer joke here), I would totally commit crimes in this parking lot; it is THAT sketchy.

Anyhow, in summary, I channeled Bea Arthur Post-Golden Girls and I ain't proud of it.

The ice remains on my knees. My father (the doc), my husband, and Mookie all appear to be concerned about my need to push through this despite what is very likely the demise of my knees. Oh, patella, help me show them that a little bit of perseverance (Aleve, Celebrex, and Patron) is all that is necessary to get better!

I have the determination that only comes with someone trying to manage the rolls, loose skin, and huge ass that comes with having twins and eating without stop for a year. Seriously, what was I thinking? Did I think I was still 16 and playing basketball every day? Did I think I had my mother's metabolism? No, I do not. God gives gifts. My gift (other than 3 cute boys and a loving husband) is the metabolism of a sloth instead of the metabolism of my Size 6 Mom who eats cheese like it's going out of style. The other special genetic gift that was bestowed upon me is, of course, the abs of my father's half of the family. My abs are so, so sexy that even with dedicated exercise for the rest of my life I can only hope that my mid-section will resemble that of a pregnant Heidi Klum or perhaps a pre-Jenny Craig Kirstie Alley. Why did Shelley Long leave Cheers? For gems like Troop Beverly Hills...anyhow, I digress.

Moving on, I will continue to hope that tomorrow will be an improvement on today. Tomorrow, I believe we are running a long distance (as opposed to the graceful gazelle-like sprints that I did today). Wish me luck. Wish me strength. Wish me a nice old lady who lends me her wheelchair so I can cross the finish line.

From Outside

I got there early to pick him up and watched through the one way window. The teacher was reading DUMBO. His back was to me. I could tell what he was saying just by the way his finger pointed at the pictures. He was engrossed and happy. Smiling, dancing. Interacting with other kids. The lump in my throat dissipated. My heart started to find its way back into my chest. I watched as he washed his hands, sat at the table with other kids, grab the celery from the family style lunch set up...

The teacher said that he is the only kid she's ever seen who would ONLY eat celery at lunch time.

He is good.
I am in recovery.
Hello, My Name is Tina and I am an Obsessed Mother.

Non-First Trimester Nausea

My little Lulo is at his first day of preschool today. I kissed him goodbye, he cried, he yelled MOOOOOOMMMY. And, I walked away. There he was, crying, gripping his little plastic penguin he is so obsessed with. Oh, this SUCKS.

I want to yack.

I am sitting here with the biggest lump in my throat. I think I have left over Zofran (from that fun pregnancy with the twins) but I don't think you can take it unless you are undergoing chemo or are puking so much that you are losing weight and dehydrated. Also, I think that Zofran doesn't really help with completely psychosomatic nausea.

Last year on this same day, March 10th, I was in a hospital bed with two monitors hooked up to me - one for Baby A, one for Baby B. I had been there for a little over 50 days at that point. Lulo was with my Mom. Every couple days he'd come to visit and I would have to let him go. He wouldn't cry because he was leaving with my Mom and she rocks. She is pretty much the best Gama in the world. But, I would cry every time his little stroller would go away. I'd want to yack then too.

Oh little Mama's Boy. I hope you are OK right now. I hope that you aren't crying and I hope that some little girl strikes your fancy so that this transition is easier. Well, actually, no, because I am not ready for you to have a girlfriend. Anywho. I can't work right now because I have no clarity. I will work when Lulo comes back. Because unless I know he is fine, how can I concentrate?

J seems fine by the way. Like a normal day in the office for him. How is he so sane? Is he the only living heart donor? Are all men so sane and unemotional about this? Is everything just a moment that will just pass?

On a real pleasant note, this morning my alarm went off at 4:45 am. I got up for EB like I always do and I couldn't walk. My knees ached so bad that I could not walk. I sort of shuffled. I barely got to the bathroom and when I collapsed on the Porcelain King, my knees throbbed. No way. So, I laid in bed and watched the clock, felt the throbbing knees, and let the nausea creep up as I thought about what the day ahead held in store.

There is, however, good news. I am NOT in my first trimester and puking. I am NOT pregnant and puking. I am NOT in a hospital. And today, I can get in a car, pick up my boy from his first day of school, comfort him if he needs it, and then come home and see my beautiful twins.

All can be right in the world, with my boys in my arms and without any Zofran.

How to Ice Your Knees While Working...

The ice packs wouldn't stay on my knees. Our crafty assistant recommended binder clips. Cute, huh?

Cry Baby

My knees hurt so bad that my skin hurts and my legs hurt, my face hurts. Do you get the idea? You know what, they don't hurt so much as ache, really really ache to my core. This weekend when I laid me down to rest - they ached, as I nodded off - they ached. Do you get the idea? OK. Now. Yesterday, I loaded up on Advil (per my father's - a doctor - advice). Every six hours. They felt a little better when I woke up this morning but mid-workout today. I literally couldn't get back down ONTO my mat and then I couldn't get UP from my mat. I kid you not. I cried. Frustration, pain. How did this happen?

You know, I cry fairly easily when I watch Love Story, Steel Magnolias, Terms of Endearment, La Bamba (yes, I know he is going to die), a Hallmark commercial, Oprah, watching my kids grow up, cooking dinner without burning it. But, pain does not make me cry. I suck it up for the most part. Post c-section - I didn't cry. Even without Percocet. Tonsillectomy, nose job. No crying. Stubbing my toe...a little crying because that hurts. Today, I ached.

And DI-Size0. God bless her. She was really nice. Told me to get a sip of water and pull it together. She talked to me - checked out my knees. I wasn't sobbing, leaking more than anything, but I am definitely frustrated because I CAN DO WHAT THEY ARE TELLING US TO DO. I am physically capable to sprint, run, jog, squat, lunge BUT FOR MY KNEES! In fact, I got a little bit of a sprint on prior to my knees exploding. I don't get as winded as I first did. I could seriously be IMPROVING, but for, my knees. They ache to my core. Have I said that already?

Anyhow, ice, ant-inflammatories, patience. I have no patience. I want to lose the weight NOW (Cheesecake Factory Saturday night - did not help!). I want to lose weight because my knees will feel better. Yes, yes, I want to lose inches. YEAH! Inches. Inches, screw the inches. I want the pounds to FLY OFF! Because the WEIGHT is what is making my knees hurt and probably everything else hurt. I am being whiny. Sorry. Oh sigh! SIGH. SIGH!

This morning Sarah Jessica Parker was teaching the word SIGH on Sesame Street. Her sigh annoyed me. That's not a sigh. Lame. A chick who can fit into the clothes she fits into, is married to cutie Ferris Bueller, and is pulling in royalties from Sex in the City til she dies...DOES NOT NEED TO SIGH FOR NOTHING! Even as she pulls off Manolos from her aching feet at midnight after a night on the town with Ferris...she shouldn't sigh. Sorry, SJP, I like you mostly, but you know, not today with all your sighing. You are very talented just not at SIGHING!

Personally, if I was casting Sesame Street and I needed the perfect person to demonstrate sighing it would be someone like Mia Farrow, not SJP. Woody, a fairly irritating individual, bails and marries HER daugther Soon-Yi Frumpy. Raising 700 kids on her own, has she acted lately? Anyhow, I have to give Sesame Street props for their choice of David Beckham for PERSISTENCE. All is well. Moving on.

And, so now, with ice on my knees, I am just sort of hoping for an improvement here. I can't be crying like a sissy girl at EB. It is humiliating. Who am I? I probably would have understood if DI-Size0 said "honey, move your fat ass that ate cheesecake (and wine, a martini, Chinese food, etc. etc.) or I'll give you something to cry about." But she didn't. Thank you DI.

I will get through this. I will get through this. I will get through this.

Visualization: I fully intend to cry in six months, four sessions from now, as I watch the new boot campers catch their stride, do full push ups, lunge until their knees touch the ground, and complete their first six weeks. Now, that's something to cry about.

Mooooooooooooooo

Today I received a brief from opposing counsel. The first sentence read as follows:

"...so the Petitioner's Motion to Compel is now mute as it has been complied with."

The last sentence reads:

"Respondent's Attorney just wanted his recollection on the record as this point is now mute."



Now, first off, I just want to say that I know that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. I am CERTAIN I have made stupid stupid typos and grammatical errors. I fully admit to discomfort with cliches and where/were and their/there. I read things I write quite a few extra times to make sure I don't say something lame. And, if you are a lawyer and are reading this - you probably have made typos too. (If you are lawyer you will also note that, he responded to a motion to just say that he wanted his recollection on the record. Oh sigh.) Sometimes we read our motions 50x before we file them and we'll still miss something. That happens! But, I try real hard to make sure I don't make even one mistake. I do it for the impression it leaves to opposing counsel, I do it for my client who entrusts me, I do it as a courtesy to the English language.

But, my hunch, is that this guy is charging his client a few hundred dollars an hour to end his sentences with a preposition and use the word MUTE instead of MOOT! MOOT! MOOOOOOOOOOOOOT. The lawyer cow is speaking...MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT. Oh, such a pet peeve of mine. I also love people who say that is INacceptable or IRregardless. These are not words people.

You know, let me just say one more thing about this "moot" issue. Remember this dialogue:
Joey: ...it's a moo point...
Rachel: ...you mean a moot point....
Joey: no no, a moo point ... like a cows opinion, doesn't matter ... it's moo

I'm just sayin'. I suppose I am making a moot point, at the end of the day, I am not his client. But, it is so annoying to read. When people write something so flawed they should think of the bleeding, anal, OCD eyes that have to read it. They also should think that what they are is what they write. Moving on.

OK. I sort of did an EB "no no" today. I weighed myself. All this starving, all this exercise, the sore knees, the aching shoulder, the waking up at 4:45 a.m. Is it paying off? Brothers and sisters, I am sorry to say that it is not. I gained effing weight. GAINED. Gained. Yeah, not stayed the same, not lost. I GAINED. I'm angry and don't quite know where to place that anger. What I really want to do is share my pain with my friends Ben and Jerry. But alas, I cannot. If I gain while starving, imagine what a little bit of love from the tub of Cherry Garcia will do.

Irregardless, since I am apparently going to stay a COW, I am clearly making a moo point. My opinion doesn't matter. This is inacceptable. Time for me to be mute.

I Kill Dolphins

Oh, the drama. Today at dinner we gave Lulo chicken nuggets and asparagus. Apparently, he just noticed that these nuggets were shaped like dolphins because all hell broke loose when I cut them into pieces. He wanted me to "fix" it. Magic powers, where are you? If I could have fixed the dolphin to stop the screaming, I would have.

For the next ten minutes, he cried about the loss of his beloved dolphins. Meanwhile, amidst the sobs, tears, and hysterics he completely devoured the dolphins.

I'm not the only dolphin killer.

Obstacle Course

This morning at 5:30 a.m. I was greeted by an obstacle course. It didn't end after EB - I don't think it will ever end.


There were 8 EB Obstacle stations through which each member of the group rotated:

1. Jump Rope (my fave...in a lovely turn of fate we ran out of time and I didn't get to this one - little happy dance)

2. Lift large heavy bar over head while squatting

3. Squat with one foot resting (while leg shaking) on large box, then hop to the other side and squat the same way. While hopping, extend arms in air like grabbing a rebound. (Code for "Flail")

4. Push ups and such things while holding on to large circular rings dangling from the top of an SUV, mid-levitation

5. DI-GM wraps very large thick (5-6 inches or so) rubber band around waist and makes your run, sprint, run backwards, do defensive slides in one direction while he pulls you in the other. This was a highlight. I felt like an ox.

6. Stomach stuff (DIs called this "our break"). Staying in a hover while things burn = Not a break. Eating Ben & Jerry's while watching Big Love = Break.

7. Arm strengthening exercises with band

8. 8 cones with tennis balls on one end, 8 cones with tennis balls on the other end. Pick up tennis ball, run across, place on opposite facing cone until all cones on one end have tennis balls then do the same thing the other way. THIS PERSON WAS THE TIME KEEPER. So, if the person doing obstacle, let's call her "Tina", decides to collapse mid way then everyone at the other stations would have to keep going until she revived herself and continued on with the tennis balls until they were again located at their starting point. By luck of the draw, I did this one last. Ha. ha. ha.

Weirdly, I feel like this course sort of mirrored stuff that was going on. For example, the jump rope "obstacle" is my whole day. Jump around as quickly as I can without tripping up. Kids, work, J, pediatrician, dinner, kids, work, client, bath time, work, husband, work, kids. Jump. Jump. Jump. Trip - Forgot to put salt in rice. Trip - Drop kid. Oh sigh.

The 8 cone extravaganza was also analogous to "a day in the life". Run back and forth until I either collapse or survive. Meanwhile, other people wait and watch to see if I'll make it. Clients wait for their work product. Kids wait for me (to be their Mommy). J waits for me (to calm down mostly). All the while, I am hoping not to "drop a ball" because I don't have the patience, time, or stamina to fix the mess. Half the time I am surrounded by post it notes covered in lists so that the balls remain carefully balanced on the cones until I have time to grab them.

But today, #5 resonates with me the most. Oh, my eldest darling baby boy, Lulo, starts preschool next week. This week we have made "visits" to the classroom together. The first visit I was with him the whole time. He enjoyed himself thoroughly but skeptically. At today's visit, the teacher suggested that I let him go with her and see how he does. He shrieked, wailed, gasped, and sobbed - no matter what the distraction. I watched, sadly, painfully, from inside as he was on the playground with his teacher. I could hear him. I can still hear him. There I was trying to go one direction and my heart was being tugged so vigorously in the other. I get that this isn't Sophie's Choice. I get that parent's do this all the time. I get that this isn't a "big deal". But, Oh My Goodness, this is a killer.

How do people do this? Let go. Trust others. Believe friends when they say, "this is normal", "they all cry and then they get used to it". Oh sigh. I survived 15 minutes of his wails and rescued him. Yet, it is an obstacle I must survive so that we can all grow, learn, and become strong. I sort of prefer obstacle #6 to obstacle #5- in moderate pain but "resting" so I can just watch him a little longer, sit with him a little longer, play with him a little longer, rest with him a little longer - all the while, in moderate pain, because one day he'll have to go (home schoolin' ain't gonna happen ;)). Why do I have to run in the opposite direction if he is pulling me to him? Why oh why.

Starfish

I am a sad sight to see today as I write this blog. There is a bag of frozen berries on my shoulder. An ice pack on my right knee (the one that I don't generally wear a brace on but I guess I should start). I have been medicating today and trying not to yelp in pain when I lift my kids. The shoulder is, of course, a result of dropping my Jujus. That is a deserved injury. But why o why the knees! I am trying to better myself. Trying to be less fat so my knees hurt less. And yet, they ache. And so, I ice.

Today we ran a little less than Forrest Gump did. DI-Size0 said it was 1.5 miles. In my head I thought, "1.5 miles + what...4 miles, 5 miles"? I forgive DI-Size0 for today's torture because in my mess log she wrote "Keep it up. You can do it!" Trite, but encouraging nonetheless. We then did lunges, and squats, and starfish, oh my.

What's a starfish? Well, for marine biologists, it would be the improper way of identifying a sea star. My college roommate (also my marine biology T.A.) would always correct me and say "sea star". She was very passionate about sea creatures. Anyhow, I digress. What is a "sea star" in EB Land? Well, it is when you squat ("back high, Tina, no bending over"...well, yes it feels like I am bending over if you know what I mean) and then from the squat position LEAP into the air with arms forming a "Y"MCA above your head and so you purportedly look like a starfish. I look like a dip shit.

This particular maneuver takes my lack of gracefulness to new levels. Anyhow, we did about 700 of those. They ain't easy. Frankly, I wanted to lay on the ground like sea urchin. "Excuse me, DI-Size0, would you mind if I demonstrate a sea urchin?" Yeah, that wouldn't fly.

The good news is that since I am so bad at doing these I am never able to look around to see how everyone else is faring. My inner hope is that they are so focused on their flailing that they don't notice that I am actually doing The Freddie. Sigh. My starfish prowess needs work.

We have also had a new DI substitute in this week. He is the general manager of the franchise where I participate in EB. Let's call him DI-GM. He is pretty intense but very knowledgeable and gave me good advice on taking care of my battle scars today. He also told me this morning that I shouldn't drink coffee before EB in the morning. Every. single. day., coffee is my 5 a.m. entry in my Mess Log: "Coffee, Splenda, Sugar Free Creamer". DI-GM doesn't realize that if I don't drink coffee in the morning I will literally embrace my inner sea urchin and lay on the floor imitating the gelatinous mass that most normal people are at 5 a.m. He is such a nice guy who cares about our health and betterment - but really, no coffee. REALLY! He says I will get cramps as the workouts get intense. Um, were the workouts not intense already? Did I miss something?

Dear Readers,

I embrace the cramps. If the workouts get more intense, I want my death to be one that follows a nice cup of coffee with Splenda and sugar free creamer.

Best Regards,

Tina

The ice is melting. The coffee pot timer is on for 4:45 a.m. Go ahead, try a starfish, you know you want to.

Drops

What a great day today started out to be! A fab day. I survived EB. I ran and felt like I picked up the pace a bit - I lumbered to the finish line without feeling like a collapse was imminent. Good day. In the grand scheme, today still is a good day. Everyone is healthy (knocking on wood). Work is plentiful. However, as the day wore on my elation (and apparently "runner's high") seemed to take a few significant drops.

I cheerily left EB today and got a little mixed up on how to get home - after all it was still 6:30 a.m. in my brain. I am generally directionally challenged - in the wee hours when I can't wake up J, I am really really challenged. When I finally realized my way by noting some landmarks, my cheer apparently went straight to my foot and before I hit 52 mph, I saw the flashing lights. This is my second speeding ticket in 6 months. Traffic school is not an option. Drop 1.

Then, I dropped my kid. Yep, you read it right. I literally DROPPED MY KID. I was holding Juju, all 28 pounds of love, cheer, and soft rolls. I was going to put him in his Bumbo. Ah, the life saving baby sitting (literally, and figuratively) powers of the Bumbo. And I stepped on one of his toys. Not just any toy. One with fuschia plastic spikes. It is supposed to light up but only lit up for one day and never lit up again (piece of s**t). Anyhow, as it impaled my heel, I gained my balance for a moment only to step on another toy. At this point, I was not savable. I was trying to save my kid. I pretty much almost dislocated my shoulder trying to save him and then, I couldn't. I fell. He fell and hit his head on my other babysitter. And then, the crying began. Mine and his. I dropped my kid. This moment comprised the biggest drop of the day...literally, and figuratively.

I soothed him. I could not, however, soothe me. Ah, grace is not my strength.

Other things happened today: (1) my order for "healthmex" chicken tacos was enveloped by gnarly corn tortillas which make me gag (I said FLOUR people!); (2) I nailed my ankle on the corner of my desk; and (3) a prospective client called who wanted a contingency (free) attorney and ate up more time than I'd like to admit. These things are sort of stupid and pale in comparison to the fact that I dropped my kid.

At the end of the day, like most families, we have the nightly ritual consisting of bath, bottle (for the lil ones), books (for the big one), and bed. This time is hectic but I love it because it is the time of the day where I really have the time and presence of mind to look at my boys and take them all in and eat up their adorable yumminess and funniness. I love bath time. Today, my dropped child, Mr. Jujo. Mr. Mellow with his rolls galore, double chins, drool, fat feet, one tooth, long hair...he gazed up at me with his wonderful smile. His little chunky leg was draped outside of the blue plastic bathtub and he just stared and smiled. He was happy to be hanging out, as was I.

It's just so great - I just dropped this poor kid. But he wasn't holding a grudge...he just was loving life, loving me. No consequence for my clumsiness, for dropping the ball. I wish that the cop just looked at me and said, "hey you dropped the ball but hey, here's another chance do it right". Sparkly smile, tip of hat, gone.

But, at the end of the day, the real drop was forgiven. Wrongs are not often without consequence. I do have my ticket and fine, after all. I am glad that I could have a drop today without consequence. It was beyond not having a consequence - I had a reward. I still have that little bundle of love and adoring squishiness smiling at me, chuckling with me. It could have been a lot worse. But I am so thankful it wasn't. In the grand scheme, the drops today did not matter. Maybe, it was not such a bad day after all.