The Tortoise and The Hare [Alternately titled: "I went to the gym and an Easter recap"]

We had such a blessed Easter weekend! We started our morning with a delicious breakfast of zero calorie cinnamon rolls and fruit.  We ate it on my fine china, and I have never been more happy my grandmother, Mutte, talked me into registering for fine china than Sunday morning.  Coffee tastes better when it is enjoyed out of a fancy teacup.  It just does.  Newbie had his own place set with his silver spoon and mug, also compliments of Mutte.  We ate in style.  And it was SO good.

Then Newbie dug in to see what the Easter Bunny had been up to.  He was really into the cellophane bag his basket was hiding in.  Next year I might have to tell ol' E.B. to just leave a huge crunchy bag in Newbie's Easter basket, and we'll be all good.

We went to an AMAZING service at church after we slammed our breakfast and wrangled everybody into their coordinating Easter ensembles.  That Hubs can really be a handful. =) I loved every minute we had to celebrate and worship our Lord together as a family of three. 

After church, we headed out to Grandma and Grandpa's house with Aunt Corndog, Uncle J, Grandad, and G-Mama for an Easter Eggstravaganza.  (I'm sorry.  I couldn't help myself.)  I ended up getting a twitch in my index finger from all the picture snapping.  But seriously?  A matching plaid hat and tie???  REALLY?!?  Plaid on my baby boy is like Oreo in my DQ Blizzard.  I needed 829 pictures of him.  Needed.

We had an over-the-top-PHENOMENAL culinary affair complete with roast chicken, ham, and Arnold Palmer sangria that were to die for. Yes.  I just said Arnold Palmer Sangria.  Google it and thank me when you are sitting in your lawn chair with your big hat by the pool this summer.  YUM. 

Newbie's Grandpa pulled out the turkey call after lunch while the womenfolk cleaned up the kitchen, and the Hubs took these adorable pictures.  I think we might have ourselves a future hunter gatherer?  He was digging the turkey call. 

Then we had a full on brawl-of-an-egg-hunt where the winners walked away with CASH PRIZES.  It was such fun!  I may or may not have gotten a little over-zealous and plunged off toward the field through a water-saturated stretch of yard in my flats, chasing after what I thought was an orange egg but was actually a piece of trash. 

Nah, that doesn't really sound like me. 

That probably didn't happen.

Probably.
When we returned home, I spent the afternoon enjoying the plunder and discovering the HEAVEN that is the Reeses chocolate peanut butter egg. 

Which leads me to Part II, called:  I went to the gym.

I've been going on and off for a while, but its tough to find consistency when your son isn't sleeping through the night and you wake up with bags under your eyes and less than 4 hours of solid sleep to your name more often than not.

But last night wasn't one of those nights, so I went today.  Actually, the whole gang went because Newbie's new Tumble class started today, and since the Hubs had the day off, we made it a family affair.  After Tumble class, the Hubs took his bad self to the track with Newbie in the jogger while I hit up Treadmill Alley because if I don't run on a treadmill...I don't run. 

And so began my treadmill saga. 
Let me remind you, I am a get 'er in, get 'er out, under the radar gym gal.  I like to get it done as fast as possible and see as few people I know as possible and talk to as few people as possible because, quite frankly, I can't breathe most of the time I'm there, I don't have great workout hair, and I have laundry to do and pictures to post.  So it's a quick stop for me.

NOT today.

I had to try FIVE different treadmills before I finally made the walk of shame all the way across the gym to one that was working.  FIVE, friends.  FIVE.  We're talking, get on, stand there, push "GO" a billion times to no avail, get off, look around, and then go to another machine FIVE times.  Oh, you can bet I was ready to haul my cookies right on out of there and pretend trying out and then abandoning five machines was exactly what I came to the gym to do, but then the Jillian Michaels in my head went all spider monkey on me and sat atop the last treadmill screaming in my face, "ARE YOU GONNA QUIT?!?!  ARE YOU GONNA LET THIS GET YOU DOWN?!?!  HOW MANY BLIZZARDS DID YOU CONSUME IN 2010?!?!?  HOW MANY?!?!?!?! ARE YOU GOING TO LET THEM WIN?!?!  ARE YOU?!?!?!?!"

Oh, Jillian.  You get me every time.

So I walked the walk of shame past the 80 people who had seen me step up to four different machines and not actually run on them, and after swallowing my pride, I stepped up to the first working machine in five, and ran off at least one millionth of the Blizzards I did, in fact, consume in 2010. 

And now I'm going to feel really good about that Chicken Fajita Roll-Up I'm going to order for lunch today at Applebee's. Because if going to the gym doesn't earn you a few fries dipped in Mexi-Ranch, then WHY?  WHY?!
Here's a few shots of my little man loving life before his mother experienced the Treadmill Alley Saga that almost kicked her hiney.

Wishing you all a fabulous week and your very own inner Jillian Michaels to go all spider-monkey up in there when you need her the most.

Fake Spring? I'll take it.

Y'all.  I went to the gym yesterday.  And I only have two things to say about it.

1) Everything hurts.  Everything.

2) The jogger stroller is dead to me. 

I had to go to the gym because otherwise I knew I'd be feeling all "I wish I worked out more" while I sat in the chair getting my hair did last night. Something about a springy hairdo always makes me wish I was super woman, with a house full of clean laundry, a pantry full of homemade jam, and a week full of baby swimming lessons and productive trips to the gym.  So it happened, and I lived to tell about it, but barely. =) Because like I said,

1) Everything hurts.  Everything.

2) The jogger stroller is dead to me.

Speaking of "springy"... it is suppose to be a balmy 52 degrees here today.  52!  Remember last week when I said I would do anything to smell wet mud and soggy grass and see some pavement?  Well, guess what I'm staring at out the window right now?!  Wet mud and soggy grass and pavement!  Hooray!  I love Spring.  I know this is a fake Spring, and that I will have to face snow showers on Sunday and freezing rain later in the week, but BOY HOWDY, I am going to slurp up every last drop of fake Spring this week because it's a little reminder, a glimmer of hope that greater things await us just around the corner.

In fact, the Hubs announced today that he plans on getting a season pass for Newbie and I and a guest (eep!) to hit up the local garden park any time we want to this Spring and Summer.  Wahoo!  I couldn't be more excited.  I am dreaming of long walks through the gardens, splashes in the sprinklers at the Children's Gardens, and picnics by the waterfalls and feeding the fish with the crust of our PB and J and our Cheetos.  Mmm....delicious.  I love Spring.

I also love my boys.  The Hubs pulled out his guitar yesterday, and Newbie was loving it.  He squeals and laughs when Grandad plays, and he was delighted to find that Daddy-O has a guitar too!

 He helped crank out a couple tunes, mimicking the Hubs as he strummed at the strings. My little guy wants to be just like his daddy, and I love watching his admiration for the Hubs.  Even as tiny as he is, he watches his Daddy-O's every move.  It is so fun to see him gush over his daddy.

Well, I'm sorry to say that laundry is the name of the game today because, quite frankly, if something doesn't change fast, I'm going to have to wear pajama pants for the rest of the week.  Not that I would mind, but they have these rules about not wearing street clothes at the pool, and since we've got swimming lessons tomorrow morning, I'm afraid I'll have to knock out a few loads today.

Wishing you all a fantastic Thursday with Spring-like temperatures and the hope of warmer days to come!

Did you see that kangaroo running through molasses? Yeah, that was me.

It happened.

I went to the gym.

And I am not lying when I tell you it is the first time I have worked out in a gym since my sophomore year in high school.

Brownie Girl Scout's honor.

Because I never made it past Brownies.

But I had one killer "swap hat" and some seriously rad fun foam pins to show for all my Brownie accomplishments.

Anyway, I hit the gym today with Newbie.  It was the first time in a looong time because I am not a gym-goer.  I just don't like it.  Exercise hurts and I'm not a fan of hurt.  Also, gyms smell bad and are generally filled with germs and also people who think exercise is a good time.  Not really my crowd.

But I went because I made some of these peppermint, ice cream/cool whip, chocolate bad boys for play group tomorrow, and I figured I was going to have to burn off some calories today to make up for tomorrow if I expect to stay in the Biggest Loser running.

And crafting posies and watching Christmas movies doesn't burn the calories.

But, boy howdy, do I ever wish it did.

Because the gym is NOT my favorite place.

There are those of us that love to work out and all things physical fitness and eating right.  The Hubs.

Then there are those of us that love shopping at the mall and all things crafting and Oreo Blizzards.  Me.

But I had to head down and power through because I'm in fifth place in the competition and that makes me feel like maybe there's still hope for the "Major Reward" and no, it's not a scantly clad lamp.  It's a whopping wad of cash-O-la.

Here are some of my post-gym thoughts.  I have to get these off my chest lest I begin to think working out resembles any kind of fun. So, hot off the press:

If you meet me in the elevator on the way out of the gym and ask me how my work-out was, I will say something vague like, "It was great.  Ran a few miles. Feelin' good."  What you need to know is the actual translation: "It was gut-wrenching. I don't remember my name.  Who am I? I have no idea how many miles I ran.  I lost count after my legs started to burn and I could no longer feel my ankles.  It hurt, BABY.  Speaking of babies...is mine still in the jogger?  Because I can't see straight. And also, I can't breathe right now.  And do you think I can have one of those peppermint bad boys tonight since I just did a bazillion laps?  And why are skinny people allowed to work out at the gym?  And why did they keep lapping me? Don't they have any sympathy for a new mom's self-esteem? Why are we in the basement?"

If you followed me around the track, you may note that I always try to run when I pass the machines.  There is a portion of the track where everyone and their mother are working out on machines facing the track that goes around the gym.  I can't let everyone and their mother see me gasping for air and stumbling over my numb ankles, so I run.  Then, when I make it around the corner, if my legs are jello, I slow to a fast walk.  Because there is no need to look hard core for the walls and the basketball courts.  That is rookie league stuff.  The hardcore stuff comes when everyone and their mother is staring at you and your frizzy pony tail.  The best thing to do is suck it up and run right past them- get it over with quick rather than walking your hiney slllloooowly past them.  Their eyes will burn into your soul.  Keep it movin'.

Jogging strollers should be used only if you want to make your work-out a whole STINKING LOT harder.  I'm no Jillian Micheals, but by my calculations, pushing a 20+ pound baby in a jogger and not being able to pump those arms but instead having to use them to push that sucker down the track has GOT to burn a trillion more calories than just running solo.  I'm just sayin'.  That thing made me feel like a mama kangaroo slow-mo-ing her way through a molasses covered track.  Oh. my. word.  Will the baffoon please hollah?  HOLLAH.

What doesn't help is when your Hubs who works at the gym waits on the side of the track and chucks a bag full of delicious looking trail mix at you in an effort to share his enthusiasm for fitness.  The mix sported peanuts that I can't eat because I'm still nursing Newbie and trying to avoid a peanut allergy. Awesome.  The thing that makes this bad is that he is all giddy and excited because he LOVES the gym and he thinks you should love it too and it just reminds you all the more that there are sick people in this world that enjoy working out and all things physical fitness and eating right.  Someone needs to tell these people how much fun shopping and all things crafting and Oreo Blizzards can be.  Again, just sayin'.

After hauling Newbie and all of our get-out-and-go accessories to the gym, I've decided homie ain't gonna play that game anymore.  I'm going to get really ambitious here and declare that I am going to get up at 6 to hit the gym and be back home and showered by 7:30, about the time Newbie's been waking up.  It will just be easier.  Plus, without the jogger I can hit the treadmill and catch some quality first-class television while I run.  Win. Win. Win.  Wait, did I say "run"?  It really should be "run-walkish."  Because that's what happens.  I run then walk then run then walk then walk then walk then run then walk.  Slow and steady.  Slow and steady.

 I'd also like to add that I know the above declaration assumes I will be going to the gym regularly from this point forward.  I would like to clarify that this decision has been made not out of want, but rather, need.  Because quite frankly, Christmas is the WORST time EVER to try and lose weight.  Do you know how many batches of cookies I can make with the stuff I got at the store yesterday? A LOT.  Christmas is the perfect setup for a Biggest Loser FAIL. So I have to counteract that with some activity.  Heavens to Betsy knows I'd rather sit my hiney on the floor and whip out some more posies while sucking down candy canes, but when you're on a roll, you're on a roll.  8 pounds down, a trillion more to go.  Let's get crackin'.

On that note, I'm going to go make some posies.  You know, because I already hit the gym.