Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Mama vs The Little Miss

Breathe…

Inhale…

Exhale…

Love…

Love…

Love…



I thought my head was going to explode this morning. If I heard “no Mama, I don’t want to” one more time, it just might have. It was a super crazy morning for both of us, not at all a fun morning and I almost lost it. It’s funny thing to love someone so much it hurts, but also be so incredibly infuriated by them you just want to scream, or worse. I’m not a patient person which can make for a very toxic and bad dynamic between the two of us. But I just have to breathe… inhale, exhale and love my way through it.


Monday, June 29, 2009

And the Caption Is...



Last week I posted this picture of the ultra-sassy Little Miss and The Boy Next Door. I was having trouble putting a caption to it. So, of course, I asked all you lovelies to help me out and here was my favorite.


Thanks Tina from Fat Girl Dives In for:

If you liked it you should have put a ring on it.

Thanks everyone for playing… it was so much fun to read all of your funny captions. You’re all more clever than me.



Friday, June 26, 2009

Nakedness

Don’t ask why, but this is what I was thinking yesterday.

Just breathe and surrender to the moment, nobody is looking at you. It’s ok, everyone else is naked too.

________________________________

Also, I’m still gathering quotes for this.


Thursday, June 25, 2009

You Choose the Title


This is The Little Miss and The Boy Next Door (literally.)

What do you think the caption should be?

No official prizes will be given out, but I will give a big shout out to the top few. So come on people, be creative (and nice, remember that is my daughter you're talking about) and hit me up in the comments.


Wednesday, June 24, 2009

A Greek Yogurt Flashback

This weekend, that first bite of Greek style plain yogurt transported me back. Just like that, I was remembering being just out of my teens, a 20 year old college student, spending my last few weeks in Greece, after a semester in England, before heading back to The States. I was young, supple, tan, uninhibited. I was free.

I remember being really broke, but somehow made my way to a Greek Island, finding a room in someone’s house with my own shower. A dollar or two a day. Perfect for what I needed and what I could afford. I’d spend my afternoons lazily basking at the beach, topless like all the girls there. Not worrying about my body, just wanting to feel the sun on my body after spending months in the English fog and rain. I was alone. My friend who traveled with me there decided to head to another island. I couldn’t afford to go, I had only enough money to stay.

The nights I’d go out with people I had met there. Other young college students, backpacking through Europe, who were also there to have a good time. We’d meet for a late dinner, then the drinks, the dancing, the partying. I’d meet boys there, who would go home with me. Too drunk or too tired to say no. It was just easier to let them enter me than to push them away. I pretended to like it. Sometimes I did. Sleep would come as he would leave and the sun came up.

In the mornings, I’d find a cafĂ©. I’d sit outside drinking black coffee and eating Greek yogurt, trying to piece the previously night together and convincing myself it was ok. Lying to myself that I was an adult and was making adult decisions. I’d finish up my yogurt and coffee and head down to the beach. The blue Aegean sea helping me to recover from the madness of the night. In the process, I’d also rejuvenate for the next.

It was a fun and supremely reckless time. I haven’t thought about those days and nights on Greece much. That seems like such a lifetime ago. A different person ago. I’m not embarrassed by my behavior, proud to have lived my life, but there are stories not to be shared with everyone.

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Other Places to Visit

I am here… I really am. Just swamped at work and not finding the time to blog. We’re really under pressure here at work to “make budget, hit the numbers, roll up your sleeves and make it happen.” I guess this is why it’s called work and not play. We go to work every day, we don’t go to play.

And since I’m too busy to write about my too stress and too busy a life, please go visit this funny gal. She’s one of my favorites. Or this amazing woman who has transformed herself into an athlete. What an inspiration. And this wonderfully sweet woman, who has the best attitude.

I promise to be back soon, hopefully tomorrow, with more of my boring stories to tell.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Feeling Like A Race Horse

I started going to the gym again this week after my brief hiatus because of that nasty June cold. I go to the YMCA and they have a little play room crawling with other kids and festering with germs where I put The Little Miss while I hit the cardio room. It seems to be working well for the both of us. A little playtime with other short humans for her and a little workout time for me.
I started the C25k, again. First week done, again. I had done it once, but since I was waylaid for a week I felt as though I should start again, just to give myself a fighting chance of making through. There’s the 5 minute warm up and then alternating a 60 second run with 90 seconds of walking and then 5 minutes of cool down. The whole workout lasts 31 minutes. Pretty quick and relatively easy. The runs went better than I had hoped in fact, when my little personal trainer came on to tell me to walk, I felt as though I had a more running in me. But, I’m sticking to the plan and listened, for once, to instructions.

Here’s my challenge though, when I start running I feel like I have to pee like a race horse. I’ve tried running before and have never had that sensation, is it because I’m a little older? Because I had a baby and things get stretched and pulled, down there? Help! Does this happen to anyone else? Any suggestions?