Monday, January 25, 2016

July on Facebook

Ok, here's my soapbox for today: I work really, really hard for my body to look the way it does. Do I look the way I want to? Not yet. Do I look the way the world thinks I should? No. I can catalog the imperfections and I usually do, but today, I'm going to celebrate - a 400 pound angled leg press. A three-mile run. The ability to carry my kids up and down the stairs. My body is totally functional. And that makes it beautiful.

I've been doing a lot of whining and complaining because we're still renters instead of home owners. But then, when your dishwasher and clothes washer both crap out within a month of each other, it sure is nice to call up the property manager and be all like, "New washer. Now. Buck-o." ‪#‎firstworldproblems‬ ‪#‎nomorelaundromat‬

You know you're a massage therapist when: your one-year-old walks into your room holding a jar of coconut oil, taking off his clothes, and making the motion for you to rub it on his legs and back. And, of course, you do it because a massage is NEVER a bad idea.

You know it's bad when you have no idea what day of the week it is, but you know it's leg day. Even worse? When your kid starts referring to the days by what workout you're doing.
Me: Hey, what day is it today?
The Kid: Ummmmm....leg day? And tomorrow is treadmill!

In the end, even if my children are horrid people, if I've taught them to love reading as much as I love reading, I'm going to call it a win (Fantastic Mr. Fox was deemed "the best book ever". Up next: The Twits. I love Roald Dahl!)

At the gym: upper body alongside Brett Favre's doppelganger. And let me tell you, he is not impresssed with my post-set dance moves. Maybe he should have a few adult beverages before he comes next time, loosen up a bit. In my experience, I'm always a better dancer when everyone around me is slightly tipsy.

Husband keeps trying to make me eat cooked green peas. I detest cooked green peas. He assures me that I don't actually detest cooked green peas, I've just never had them prepared correctly. He is wrong.

I teach the 11-year-old class at church and last week, the lesson was on the parable of the talents (Matt 25):
Me: Is there anything your mother does really well?
Class: (blank stare)
Me: Do you have a teacher at school who you think is really awesome?
Class: (blank stare)
Me: What about a teacher at church who you think has a talent for teaching?
Class: (blank stare)
Boy:'re entertaining maybe.

This one figured out the birthday cupcakes quickly. Then, when I told him he couldn't have another one, he got a hold of the entire tray (that I'd just spent 30 minutes decorating) and threw them on the floor. Could this day be more awesome?

Today I'm the kind of sick where even the thought of making breakfast makes me want to hurl. I asked The Kid to feed herself:
Me: Did you get some breakfast, dude?
The Kid: No. I mean yes. Well, I mean I ate four hot dogs so I should be ok for a little while.
Me: Oh, only four?
The Kid: Yes. Because five seemed like too many.

Me: Good grief, my legs are so sore I think they might fall off!
The Kid: Oh, mama, now you're just being dramatic.

At the gym: three new treadmills! The good news is there's a fan right on the top that blows in your face the entire time! The bad news? Top speed is only twelve miles per hour. So, when I start running like a Kenyan, I'm going to have to upgrade. Nevermind that my top speed right now is 7.5. Whatever.

Today, The Kid turns 5. When I ask her what she wants for her birthday she says, "I'm going to have to think about that one", as if she hasn't been counting down to this day for the last 351 days. Happy, happy birthday to this kid: the one who always keeps me on my toes, who burns up the Google button on the Internet machine, who makes friends everywhere she goes, who loves chicken and fries - my baby girl.

Today on the angled leg press: #1 It's always disappointing when you think you can press at least 100 pounds more than you actually can. #2 It's even more disappointing when you take off the extra 100 pounds and on the 9th and 10th rep of each set, you still feel like the veins in your forehead might spontaneously combust. I may or may not have squealed like a little girl.

Can someone please explain my son's obsession with his sister's dresses? Every time he sees one, he must put it on. Immediately. He's been wearing a little green button up for the last two days!

8:20am - already been puked and peed on. The washer is broken and I am fresh out of patience. Things can only get better from here. And it starts with Nutella toast.

Things today did not go according to plan - but an ice cream date with this kid is the make up for it. Naturally, she bases her ice cream picks on one thing: is the ice cream pink? That means it's good.

Husband, in the supreme show of love, brought me a box of Buc-ee' s fudge last week. I ate some and put it aside for another day. When I went for a piece this morning, it was completely empty and I found this bugger holed up with the last piece. And quite pleased about it, too.

My Beloved Children,
Great news! I've decided that today I am not going to starve you to death. Looking at my track record of NEVER forgetting to feed you, you'd think you'd have figured this out. So, there is no need to ask every five minutes when lunch is, what we're going to eat, and reminding me that you're hungry. With my Magic Mother Powers, I've already discerned as much. It's being taken care of. For real.
Your loving mother

That time when you almost faint at the water park and end up flat on your back trying to regain some semblance of balance while people walk around you like you're a corpse. PS Husband is officially "listen to the Senate Fed review on CNBC on the car radio" years old.

Today: doctor, city hall, gym, and grocery store in two hours six minutes while Husband had the kids. Awesomeness achieved.

As a mother, when you're able to locate ALL THREE pairs of ears from last year's Cow Appreciation Day, you get 99 kajillion points of awesomeness. And that's just enough points for a massage and a pedicure. ‪#‎cowappreciationday‬‪#‎chickfila‬ ‪#‎wemightbefans‬

I keep getting emails from someone named Michelle with the subject line: I Found the Answer to All Your Problems. I knew if I waited long enough someone else would do it for me! Just when you think you're sunk, Michelle to the rescue!

Dear McDonald's,
Thank you so much for including minion toys in your happy meals that burst out into a loud and raucous fit at the slightest provocation. And also, thank you to my children who leave them only in places where when this happens, you're sure there's a robber-stealer in your house and you almost wet yourself.
Your Friend,

I wish I could love real-life people as much as I love book people.

I love it when people tell me they grew up "in the middle of nowhere". And then I go to their house and the designation for "the middle of nowhere" is the fact that they live ten minutes away from the nearest Sonic.

After 2.5 weeks of no weight training, I thought I could just pick up right where I left off. I am a damn fool.

After sleeping in seven different bedrooms over the past two weeks, I woke up in the middle of the night with no earthly idea where I was. When I noticed Husband next to me, the only thought that popped into my head was, "Man, if he's naked and we're sleeping in mom's bed, mom's gonna be upset."

Thoughts that run through my head when I see the gorgeous photos of the christening of Princess Charlotte: How on earth does someone wear white when they have two little kids? I'm pretty sure I don't own an article of clothing that doesn't have a stain on it somewhere. I wish Americans wore hats. I wish I wore hats. And had a hair dresser. Kate just had that baby and she's back to pre-pregnancy weight. I had my "baby" 19 months ago and I'm still wearing maternity clothes. Is that peanut butter in my hair?

Travel lesson #103: You probably shouldn't complain when the airline experiences technical difficulties because when you board, they might tell you that the flight is only half-full so your lap baby can have his own seat, thereby saving your quads, hams, and glutes from having to be tightly clenched the entire flight in an attempt to keep said lap baby on your lap and out of your seatmate's space.

Travel tip #102: Never, ever travel the same day I do. Because you'd better believe the day I travel is the day all United flights worldwide will be grounded due to a technical issue. PS Bribing your kids to be good with a plethora of juice boxes while you wait? Not the best idea ever.

The Tater, the child who will never allow himself to be held by others, who very rarely lets me out of his sight, is a HUGE fan of Uncle Iris (who is not an uncle at all, but rather my mom's husband). I'm pretty sure it's their affinity for short-sleeved plaid button-ups that bonds them together.

Had an Amazing Race dream last night where the final challenge was to haul twenty round bales while also lip syncing to Pink's "So What" followed by twenty leg presses at 400 pounds. Bam. One million smack-a-roos in my pocket. ‪#‎madeforme‬ ‪#‎noweeniesallowed‬ ‪#‎biggirlforthewin‬

Travel tip #101: Never order the Greek plate from a place called American Burger.

When the guy asking you for money at McDonald's drives a car fifteen years newer than yours...PS Always being asked for money is apparently a genetic thing.

That feeling when the thing you've been looking forward to for months is over and it's time to get back to real life? Sucks. Every. Time.

Had an impromptu Paul Neff Family dance party in the driveway last night. We may or may not be the most uncoordinated family on the planet. Bless our hearts.

Today for the first time in a long time, I had the opportunity to see the family I lived with during high school. As I was hugging the father, The Kid came up and yelled, "HEY! SHE'S ALREADY MARRIED!"

Every time I come home, someone pulls out all of my high school track medals. I remember winning a majority of the time, but probably 50% of them are bronze. Apparently I've always been just a little delusional.

A short hike through lots of sagebrush to a small waterfall this morning. The Kid encouraged herself almost the entire way by repeating, "I can do this. I'm a Peters."

1. I used to make fun of football commentators when they'd talk about how Texas teams playing at BYU had altitude and humidity changes to contend with. Let me tell you this: they weren't lying. A desert workout at 6,000 feet is not for weenies. I am said weenie as I only ran about 1.5 miles of the 3 mile course.
2. Praise the Lord that there was a downhill portion to the workout.
3. Naturally, I decided to drop it like it's hot on the side of the road just as the firefighting prison buses rolled by. To the convicts in those buses, You. Are. Welcome. (When will I ever learn to look behind me before I dance?!)

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