Diet Schmiet!!

There aren't too many things I'd say I'm successful at. In fact, the only thing I can even think of I am successful at is spending money on things I don't need. Like the shake weight, zumba for the Wii, protein shake mix..... Are you seeing a pattern? (although I'd totally buy a thighmaster if I ever run into one again! That Suzanne Summers had some hot legs!)

I've never been a very disciplined person. I've never had the motivation to run a marathon or climb Mt. Everest, hell; it's an accomplishment to climb my stairs! But I do get on these crazy health kicks from time to time and think "hey! I'm gonna work out and get healthy!" I'll lay in bed at night and plan my meals for the next day, and even convince myself I am going to wake up early and work out. Below is an outline of how those days pan out:

5:00 rolls around, my alarm goes off. "It won't kill me if I only work out for 45 minutes instead of an hour, I'll just hit snooze once.... 9 minutes later "a half hour is better than nothing!" snooze again.... 9 minutes later "Forget the gym" I think. "I'll do it after work." I hit snooze 3 more times, finally force myself out of bed, and get ready in record breaking time. I do however, remember I'm on a diet so I grab something healthy and head out for work.

By noon I've only managed to snack on 8 unsalted almonds and a string cheese so I reward myself with piece of grilled chicken and side salad and maybe a Hershey Kiss for lunch. By the time 5:00 rolls around, people are literally questioning if that loud noise is from my stomach, or the organ in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. I stop at the gas station and spend $25.00 on anything and everything in sight because if I don't eat NOW I just might die of starvation! Ethiopians have eaten more than me today! The gas station attendant can see the desperation in my eyes and gives me an extra Slim Jim for free.

I make it home just in time for the guilt of the drive home binge to set in and decide to cancel the Papa Johns order I placed on my way home and settle for whatever it is my neighbor Saunie has made, because there's no way I'm eating that salad for dinner I’d planned out the night before!

By bed time I've either spent the entire night at the baseball park or laid on the oversized lovesack and watched Dexter all night and completely forgotten about my plans for the gym. I crawl in to bed determined tomorrow will be a better day......

5:00 rolls around, the alarm goes off, and instead of snooze, I just reset the whole damn thing to 6:30. Wake up, get ready and grab a package of Hostess White Powdered Donuts (which I'm convinced are laced with crack) and a diet coke from the Mav, because dieting is for the birds!!

My arms hurt!

Is it just me or does anyone else lay in bed at night playing on their phones? Checking the last Facebook or twitter comments for the night, finishing a game of words with friends etc.... Like you just might not sleep as well if you don't see that someones posted that their kid took a crap on the "big boy potty" before you doze of into a nights slumber. And all the while you've already taken your contacts out, forcing your arms to scrunch up to the equivalent of a Velociraptor to get your phone close enough to see it, just to drop it on your face a couple times.

Heaven forbid you sit up to finish the ever so unimportant task you're putting more effort into than you do all day at work. Right? 

As my arms begin to feel as if they may either; A. Stay in this awkward position forever or B. Fall off, I decide I like the length of my wingspan. I send a couple of texts, check my email and set my alarm, just in time to drop my phone on my head one more time! 

Please tell me I'm not alone in this. And if I am, welp, I've done more embarrassing things and I don't really care! 

In your FACE June Cleaver!!

It’s no wonder I hate dramatic people. If I cried as a child my dad would beat me. Ok, maybe not beat me, but he sure as crap wasn’t going to put up with any sort of whining. Unfortunately my kids have to put up with me having the same approach at parenting. When they fall down and get hurt I’m yelling at them to rub some dirt on it, or to suck it up and be a man! Yes, I know they are only 9 and 5. I’m the mom in the stands at a baseball game that screams “There’s no crying in baseball!” Which would be ok, but I have a bad habit of yelling that at other people’s children too. The opposing team is never excluded from this either.

I’m ok with the weird stares from other parents as I tell my kid to walk it off after being pegged in the head with a baseball. I may not be the best role model to my kids, or even be very sympathetic but my kids like me.  At the end of Carter’s baseball game a few weeks ago, my mom and I brought the kids pizza and cupcakes to celebrate their win. One of the other players said to Carter, “your mom is so awesome!” Carters reply to this was “yeah, I know! And she’s not even 30!”  

Who knows what will happen to their opinion of me 3 years from now when I turn the big 3-0. At that point Carter will be close to being a teenager and will hate me anyway. But for now, I’ve got 3 years left of my children reminding the world I’m not 30. Let’s just hope not too many of them are very good at math and figure out how young I was when I had Carter…