Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Chicken Nuggets

We joined the YMCA. When making the decision to join I expected some transformation, some self-discovery, some sweat, some tears, but I didn't expect so many results so soon.
My primary discovery has been that I am neurotic and paranoid. The idea of exercising in a gym atmosphere with other people around makes me giggle, act immature, and pretty much make a dope of myself...big bonus, we're coughing up almost $100. a month for the aforementioned moronic behavior on my part. Last night Rory and I went together, working out will bring us closer together, and I hoped maybe make Rory so tired he'd go to bed at a normal time (didn't happen).
We got to the Y, dropped off the kids, which is where the tears come in, you'd swear Baby Henry has serious abandonment issues whenever I leave him.
Then we went to our separate locker rooms, everyone in the locker room acts like they know what they are doing. People shower, change, brush their teeth, I even saw a woman blow drying her hair, it was 6:30pm, WHY?
I felt like I needed to do something while I was participating in the locker room portion of our adventure, so I put my stuff away, went to the bathroom, washed my hands for a looooong time, then I checked my Facebook profile on my phone, checked the lock on my locker again, weighed myself, tied my shoes, checked the steps on my pedometer and went to wait for Rory...where was he? What could you possible do in a locker room to get ready for working out? I was in the locker room for almost 5 minutes and I read every sign in there!
Finally I just went to the "Fitness Area." Hopped up on a treadmill and felt totally overwhelmed, all the buttons, should I do a "Fit Test?" While I was debating the merits of the Rolling Hill setting vs. Interval training Rory came up behind me, I was somewhat taken by surprise, and for some reason yelled at the volume of someone who had been approached by a knife-wielding serial killer, and that's just the beginning.
Now that everyone was looking at me, Rory suggested we go lift weights and work on our arms. This is where I should tell you, I've worked out before, I've been to a weight room, just not at my current shape and size. Let me tell you, size matters. We started out at some machine and I put the weight peg thingy in the hole by 50lbs. I can lift that...wrong! I couldn't even move it and I looked in the mirror and my face looked funny trying to move it, so I started laughing and then I started commenting about the lack of mirrors at McDonald's and how much safer I feel there. Still no smile from Rory. I was really making some good comments, I was rolling!
I did the sets required of me by my very serious looking husband and we moved on to the next machine, then I started noticing the people standing around "pretending" to be stretching. I say "pretending" because I know they were really staring at me and mentally commenting on my ineptitude on the machines and general out of shape-ness. I could see the scorn in their faces. OK, really I couldn't but I was feeling really UNCUTE in those mirrors and maybe it was the scorn in my own face, I don't know, I remember in college I really liked those mirrors, seeing how my different muscles flexed. Now I would be happy if I could wear a snowsuit in the gym, or at least a long scarf to cover my mid-section.
We moved on to the bench. At first I thought he was joking. I laughed, too loud, made some comment about it being a breeding ground for bacteria. Still nothing, usually he finds me very funny, what is his problem? So I attempt to lay down, I say attempt because in laying down I misjudged where the actual bar was and hit the back of my head on it, but I totally meant to do that. I think my hair absorbed most of the blood. When I finally was able to lay on the bench I had to scoot my body down because my head was hanging off, then my shirt started creeping up and I couldn't stop laughing. I thought Rory was going to kill me, don't worry though, it got worse. I couldn't lift the bar. The bar with no weights, I couldn't lift it, when I finally did my arms were shaking and I was worried I was going to drop it on my face so I closed my eyes, and Rory took the bar away from me. He then handed me something called the Body Bar, which is a little bar for wienies. So then I started saying stupid things like "Look at me with the wienie bar." Rory was still not amused.
At last I was allowed to go back to the safe treadmill, and the only one available was next to a pretty foxy college girl who had on WAY too much perfume. I got on the treadmill and just pushed a bunch of buttons, because I didn't want her to think I was a total idiot, then the treadmill began going really fast and I had to run, and I couldn't see the stop button. Eventually I was flung off and the college gal took out her ear bud and said "Are you OK?" and I was about to say something like "Someday, you too will have your body ravaged by 3 pregnancies with no time to work out and a McDonald's right by your kids school. So enjoy hot and skinny while it lasts Sister!"
Instead I said "I'm totally OK, I meant to do that." Thus confirming to her that I was a total idiot.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Chicken and Rice

I'm pretty secure in my marriage. Lately we've been having some problems though. Are you ready for some juicy insight into the secret that plagues our marriage? Here goes.
Rory has a habit, a terrible habit that is causing me to lose sleep at night. You see, Rory rarely goes to bed before midnight, sometimes he stays up past one, even until 2am. When we were just married this didn't bother me, I could just as easily stay up and read a book, take a bath, do laundry, many times we stayed awake til the wee hours of the morning just talking. Now, 3 kids later, it's taking it's toll and I don't know how to change course.
When we married we vowed to go to bed together every night if possible. While I was growing up my mom always went to bed early, and alone. So unromantic. My marriage would be different.
The worst part about this habit is that I don't know how to break it, it isn't as though he is forcing me to stay awake, he's more subversive than that. Sometimes it's cleaning the house, or proofreading one of his Master's papers, could be budget committee meetings, or packing the kids lunches...but every night the clock creeps to midnight and beyond and I'm awake in the company of my beloved.
I've tried a lot of different tactics too, promises of "cuddling," offers to let him watch TV in bed, promises he can pick whatever History Channel show he wants. Sometimes he agrees and comes to bed, then we end up talking and planning for our future, or Christmas or summer vacation, I've even stayed up late talking about whether or not Charlie Weis (Notre Dame EX-football coach) should get fired (he did), or if Notre Dame should go to a bowl game or not, and how 'bout them Chicago Bears? We've burned the midnight oil over their poor performance too.
Our kids are in bed and sleeping, regularly by 7:30pm. I could go to bed right then, but never do, every night I am hopeful that that will be the night I am sound asleep by 10:30. Somehow the promise of interesting conversation with a man I adore is too great for me, and I head downstairs for hours of interesting conversation, proofreading papers on health care policy,(BORING!) housecleaning, History Channel or football strategy talk, and he never disappoints, so I guess the hours of beauty sleep I am missing are worth it, if only we could get paid for our late night football analysis.

So dear readers, please answer these questions for me:

  1. When do you go to bed at night?
  2. Do you go to bed at the same time as your spouse?
  3. Do you feel that going to be together is important?

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Fridge Finds

When I was in high school I wrote a column that some of you may remember called "Grilled Cheese and Tomato Soup." I was always really proud of that column. I also was editor of the opinion pages, and on the one of the pages we had a sidebar called "Yeas or Nays."
Lately I've suffered a bit of writer's block when it comes to blogging, so I'm going to try the "Yeas or Nay's" today.

  • Yea to Costco, I love that store.
  • Yea to have a completed road in front of my house, summer road construction was the pits.
  • Yea to my husband for kicking butt and taking names on his Master's work this week.
  • Yea to eyelash curlers, they change my look so dramatically. IMO.
  • Yea to Facebook, sometimes the mindlessness of it is just what I need.
  • Yea to those people from MN whose wedding reception was copied on The Office. Their site has raised more than $15,000 for the Sheila Wellstone Institute. If you haven't seen it you really need to get with it, here is is:
  • Yea to teaching kids about nutrition. Today when I opened a can of Diet Coke my 4 year old told me "Wow, that's really not healthy food Mom. You should have milk, like me."
  • Yea for Diet Coke, you complete me.


  • Nay to all the headlines being bad news on
  • Nay to going into debt for holiday shopping. Uncool.
  • Nay to my empty fridge, and no grocery shopping until Friday. How is it our food only lasts 12 days, never 14?
  • Nay to the complaints from my 7 year old that our milk tastes kind of "carton-y." Who are these kids?
  • Nay to dishes that don't get clean in the dishwasher.
  • Nay to toothpaste globs in the sink.
  • Nay to library fines. When I was a kid you could pay library fines with can goods. What happened to that?

Now it's your turn. Tell me what you're happy about. Or give me one or two sentences of crabbiness. You deserve it.