Overheard

Me: honey, Our friendly neighborhood pest guy says you should sprinkle your urine in the attic and all around the house to repel the raccoons. Especially near the trash can.
007: yeah, they’ve all said that.
Me: well, he said he tried it on his own trash and it works. But only if you do it. It won’t work for me.
007: what makes you so special?
Me: two X chromosomes. It has to be a man, apparently.
007: fine, I’ll start peeing outside, then.
Me: Ian would love to help you with that. You can tell him it’s your super power.
007: no doubt!
Me: I guess it’s a good thing we have a lifetime supply of Dude Urine, since it has the power to drive away pests.

I see another episode of “why our neighbors hate us” coming on. Also, I feel I should mention that while they may “all” have told my husband that Dude Urine is a magical anti-raccoon potion, (and it’s free!) this was the first who wasn’t too squeamish to discuss it with ME.

Also, I’ve skipped over some very juvenile humor about the Power of the Penis, because although my audience thought it was HILARIOUS, it may not be for everyone.

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Don’t blow my cover

Once we realized we were going to have to can all our plans for the day on account of persistent and entirely necessary rain, we decided to go to the soft play room. There was a little girl just a couple months older than Keeghan, whom he dearly wanted to impress. But he’d already been caught walking a couple times today, so he didn’t dare show off for her.

What, oh WHAT is a sly, conniving baby to do? Well, the dimples are a good start. And the “love me” eyes. And if all else fails, hang on to something with one hand while scooting your feet farther and farther away, in hopes you’ll demonstrate your talents while still maintaining your plausible deniability.

That went about as well as you think it did.

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Milepost #4: Wardrobe

My milepost for today is that I went to the thrift store and bought myself summer clothes that fit right now. I had almost none, but had been resisting buying any because I thought it was a “waste.”

Let’s break that down, shall we? First of all, there is the obvious danger that I could end up NAKED. (No One Wants That. Trust me.) On top of that, the daily frustration of trying to find something… ANYTHING… to put on is very demoralizing. Even if the reason for “nothing to wear” is that I’m thinner, wearing unflattering, ill-fitting clothing every day is a perfectly good way to feel down on myself. And, as we all know, in my case, that is quickly followed by eating an entire cake. Because buying a few pairs of shorts in my current size is a “waste,” but eating myself into an early grave Makes Perfect Sense. Right.

So, I went shopping. I got a couple pants and some shirts that don’t ride up and expose my post-baby belly. (no need to thank me for that last part, it was my pleasure.)

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1.7 miles

Milepost #3: I don’t want to LOOK strong, I want to BE STRONG.

Man, is it easy to lose sight of what’s important when setting goals for yourself, or what? There are so many subtle and unsubtle ways that we are pressured to LOOK good that it’s easy to forget that looking good and actually BEING good are not the same thing. For instance, I saw an episode of Project Runway where they were designing outfits for Olympic athletes. The designers were cautioned to remember that these were muscular women and to be careful not to make them look too wide. REALLY? Really. Olympic athletes, people. Supposedly the definition of physical perfection. Strength, agility, stamina… but we wouldn’t want to LOOK WIDE, now would we ladies?

I have firmly grasped the tail of this. I have placed firmly before me that the physical shape I want to get back into is NOT the one that could wear size 5 jeans, but instead the one that could one-arm a 50 lb bag of dog food without getting out of breath. And if I happen to “look wide” while doing it, I Will Not Care. Because anyone who doesn’t like it will be challenged to arm wrestle. YEAH.

Oh, sorry, were you looking for some progress on that to make it qualify as a “milepost?” I have successfully implemented a total body freeweight routine. As my hero, Chris Freytag, so often says, “muscle burns more than fat!” And then, because she’s awesome, she smiles and says, “Yes, you can!”

Yes. Yes, I can.

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3.54 miles

Overheard

Keeghan: (opens mouth as though to bite my finger)
Me: no. No bite. Mommy is not a food.
Keeghan: (tries again, with dimples)
Me: no, no. No bite.
Keeghan: (laughs, tries again)
Me: (straight faced, with more emphasis) NO. No bite. Do I look like I am laughing?
Keeghan: Yes.

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Milepost #2

I am keeping a diet and exercise journal. This is helping me with the “mommy meal skip,” where you feed everyone else, change a diaper, do a task, look up at the clock and realize it’s 2:30 and you last ate at breakfast.

Here, at my house, this is the setup for eating everything in sight from that moment until bedtime. Okay, not quite everything. The kids are safe.

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1.6 miles

Mile Posts to my Healthiest Self

I’m guest blogging over at Modded Momma today about my weight loss journey after baby. Body issues before kids were simpler. I’m not saying I didn’t have any. I don’t think you can be female and alive in this society and not have SOME. But they were simpler. More like, “does my butt look good in these?” and, “what should my next tat be?”

Then I had kids. And I Got Big. Really, really Big. Twice. After Ian was born, I said, you know, if this chubby gig was just buying bigger pants and eating ice cream, I’d be just fine, but, gosh, my health. And I lost the weight. No problem.

This time, it’s been harder. Possibly because I was much fitter when I had Ian than this time. Maybe because my doctor unwittingly raised the stakes by stressing my risk factors for Type II diabetes. Whatever the reason, I’m struggling this time.

I Held The Line over the winter holidays. Which is something to be proud of, but then I KEPT HOLDING IT. I’ve been very hard on myself about all of it, which is, not surprisingly, not making me any healthier. Starting today, I’ll be celebrating the mile posts as I come upon them along the way.