Monster In Our Midst

We found out over the weekend that W’s favorite band is the Pixies. We put on Surfer Rosa and for 20 non-stop minutes, he ran in circles swinging the two t-shirts he swiped from the laundry pile on the couch and bobbed his head. He was intense as he bounced around in his imaginary mosh pit. He seemed possessed by the music, determined to elbow anyone in his way. I was grateful when he ran out of gas and plopped down for a drink of water. The dancing/thrashing/smashing was funny at first but then started to creep me out. Too reminiscent of teen angst already. Lordy, what we have in store for us.

W latest milestone is to defy being buckled in his car seat. He goes rigid with resistance as if I’m strapping him in the electric chair. It’s really frustrating to have to climb in the truck to secure his rigamortis frame. Today he was anti-blue or black Crocs so I chose the black ones for him. They were airborne as I was leaving the driveway. Thank goodness they’re not clogs. At the moment I can appreciate their foamy softness. What to do with the little devil…

My work hours recently changed from 9 to 5 and that’s kinda thrown things off a bit. I’m still trying to figure out how to divide the day so I get things done and take care of my mind/body/spirit somewhere therein and heckling the Hubs does not count as health care. I’m considering taking some yoga classes but the fact that I will probably die of muscular shock a third of the way through the class is discouraging. And if I don’t die in the class, I will definitely die of muscular soreness the next morning. I cancelled my gym membership Sunday after they called to tell me I owed them some money. I got so frustrated I just told them to stick their membership. What happened was that the Hubs changed the credit card number for billing but forgot to include my joint membership on the switch so suddenly I owed them $80. Fine, whatever. I can’t get over to your stinky, germy facility to work out anyway. The guilt of not going has now evaporated. Poof.

Such A Scream

Last weekend, while lounging with W on the sofa (translation: I lay there while W climbs up on the arm of the couch, supporting himself by holding on to the piano and then leaps like Spiderbaby on to my legs and cushions over and over and over), he managed to smack his giant noggin’ on my nose not once but twice. The first time I saw stars and wanted to cry. The second time I saw the man in the moon. It was like being whacked with a baseball thrown by Roberto Clemente (I didn’t know who that was until I Googled “baseball star”). And then he did it again. Oh my freakin’ hello dolly, it hurt! At that point, actual lounging on the sofa was out of the question as I waited for a gush of blood to spill forth. A few days later, the Hubs was tossing W around and he had a similar experience except W’s foot smacked him in the nose. The Hubs had to take a time out and headed in the other direction in anticipation of his nose falling off in his hands. I could totally relate.

Three days in the gym so far this week. I’m an exercising fool but I just cringe from the sweaty armpit smell that owns the place and the glossy residue of other exercisers creeping me out on all of the equipment. I’m still reacquainting myself with the machines. It’s been a while. I’m the type of person that sips her water bottle while nonchalantly glancing at the instructions on how not to maim yourself while pretending I’m just rehydrating and about to do some serious reps. I hate to look like I don’t know what I’m doing. I’d laugh at me if I saw me working out. I also don’t walk around the locker room totally naked like most of the women do. My towel cuts off my circulation it’s on so tight. This morning a woman was practically dressing in the actual workout area she was so close to the door. I do most of my dressing still bearing my towel which results in my underwear being totally bunched in my crack, my bra twisted around my torso like barbed wire, and my clothes spilling haphazardly out of the locker. Yeah, I need to get a grip.

Can You See The Real Me?

We had a wildly successful wine-O event but W and I didn’t make it to the family reunion. It had nothing to do with the hangover that flirted with the edges of my brain and stomach lining and never really took hold but had everything to do with the fact that it was 37 degrees and raining out. Oh, and W took a glorious 4 hour nap. The Hubs made it out to see the kin but texted me to say “Dont come out.” Thankfully, due to one unexpected drop-in and one planned dinner, I got to see a couple of the family members in the flesh.

Yesterday was pure bliss. Sorta seemed like someone had added a couple of extra bonus hours to the day. We ventured out to Central Market for some vittles but found it closed. We headed, instead, to Whole Foods, a place I was putting off visiting for as long as possible because I knew I would walk in the door and pass out from the wonderfulness of it in front of everyone. I wasn’t so sure the place would be open but the Hubs reminded me that they are a publicly traded company and they’ve got a bottom line to eyeball. It was buzzing with people and when I say “buzzing” I mean like a pissed off hive of them. W and I were overwhelmed and over stimulated. I felt like I was at a gourmet food convention and there was no way I was gonna see all the sights in one visit. I suggested to the Hubs that we come back on date night sometime to graze at all of the feeding troughs and drink some major vino.

Does anyone really know how to do those damned Sudoku puzzles? I have tried and had to look in the back of the book for the stupid solutions every time. Most frustrating part is that the ones I’ve been attempting to do are the easy ones. I’m totally screwed.

So I did something this morning I have never done in my life…showered at the gym. I tripled the normal amount of gear I schlepped to the car (work clothes, personal items, towels, hairdryer, lotion, so on and so on), took W to school, and got my tail in there for some cardio and ab work. After the workout, I begrudgingly went through a modified version of my at-home morning routine but quickly began to realize how much I was enjoying the moment. Why? Why was I okay with strange women coming in and seeing my blinding white arse? Because no one talked to me, no one needed anything from me, no one was calling me Mama, or asking for a “Waffu, pwease” or fake crying or hanging on my leg. I rediscovered what time to myself felt like and it effin’ ROCKED! I’m so there on Wednesday.