boys+workout videos=serious entertainment

the bf has begun doing my denise austin workout video with me. i admit, i bullied him into it the first time. i needed to do it, he was home, and i didn't feel like sweating my ass off with him snickering nearby. 

and besides, i am sick of him complaining about his ever growing waistline, anyway. over the winter he has built up quite the little budda belly. it needs to go.

the first time, he moaned and groaned and complained. but he got on his workout clothes. and gave it his all. i think he complained more because he felt like he should. i think he secretly wanted to do the workout with me anyway. he's kind of metro-sexual like that.

it was hard to keep my smirks to myself as he threw himself into the exercises. the grunting and groaning and straining to remain upright was hilarious. i swear the man has no balance. no flexiblity. he looked so uncomfortable doing the exercises. but he finished the video. and he did it with me again two nights later.

what a trooper. next up? billy blanks...


will the real easter bunny please stand up?

tonight, the kids had an easter party at their daycare. and below is their picture with, you guessed it, the easter bunny.

after happily posing for pictures, my five year old daughter ky, jumped down, looked at the easter bunny and said accusingly:

"there's gotta be someone in there."

then: "mom, i think there's a teacher in there!"

kids everywhere ran screaming and crying to their parents, the myth of the easter bunny ruined for them all.


but it was funny, the contrast of the effect of our bunny friend on my three year old son.

as he hopped down from the bunny's lap, my darling son walked backwards, eyes on the bunny and wide with awe, bumping into people as he made his way back to me.

what a difference a couple of years makes.



wa·ter·logged [waw-ter-lawgd, -logd, wot-er-] 


1. so filled or flooded with water as to be heavy or unmanageable, as a ship.
2. excessively saturated with or as if with water: waterlogged ground; waterlogged with fatigue.
3. a.k.a. ME!

along with my rejuvenated exercise plan and goal to lose 10 pounds, i am trying to drink more water. this morning, i successfully mananged to ingest five cups of the complimentary ice water company t so kindly provides us with. and i swear to you, i have um...released twice as much. wtf? how can i get anything done here when i am running to the bathroom every five minutes!

wait...i get it now! they (the evil they) recommend the water because it forces me to get my arse up and moving as i go back and forth from the restroom countless times. 

clever bastards.


hunk 'o burnin' love

today, the bf sent me this. taken at his desk. with his mac.

don't you just love technology? and sexy boys with a great sense of humor?



you know how sometimes, when you are waiting for something for a really long time, and then it finally happens, and it's just not quite what you were hoping for? 

i really hate it that.



last night while the bf was downstairs showering, i heard a shout. i didn't go downstairs and check on him. he can be slightly dramatic, and he also likes to sing...loudly and off-key. i figured it was one or the other.

about ten minutes later i heard him shuffling up the stairs from the basement, moving very slowly. as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, i saw that he was bent over, caveman style. he looked absolutely pathetic. in pain. agony. he explained that he had hurt himself in the shower. while trying to lift his leg and wash his foot. how does one not laugh at that vision?

he made it over to the bed and sat down. it took him literally ten minutes to move from one side of the bed to the other. we got him situated with a heating pad under his back and a pillow under his knees. i grabbed him some advil and he popped three of them.

he looked over at me with puppy dog eyes and said...

"so, do you think we need to call an ambulance?"

are you serious?

why is it that men always think they are dying when they are not feeling well? when i'm not feeling well i'm still expected to make dinner, wash dishes, do laundry, get the kids bathed and to bed... i think i was born the wrong gender.


SOMEONE is guilty...

last night when the kiddos got back from their dad's house, my five year old, ky, told us that her brother had been really naughty to her while they were there. she said that when her dad was in the shower, her three year old brother had done the following:

1. hit her.
2. punched her.
3. bit her. twice.
4. threw a shoe at her.
5. kicked her.
6. spit at her.

this is basically the exact same story she told last time they got home from their dad's. and ko got in BIG trouble. i think she enjoyed that. needless to say, we were a slight bit suspicios about her tale last night. so, the bf and i decided to quiz her a bit. the following is based on our actual exchange.

us: "so, ky...your brother was naughty to you again?"

ky: "yes!"

us: "what did he do to you?"

ky: "he hit me, and he punched me, and he spit in my eyes, and he kicked me, and threw a shoe at me, and he bit me here and here."

us: "really?"

ky: "yes." (looks all sad)

us: "so, did he kick you in the knee?"

ky: "yes."

us: "did he kick you in the other knee?"

ky: "yes."

us: "did he kick you in the back?"

ky: "yes."

us: "how about in the stomach?"

ky: "yes."

us: "did he throw a shoe at you?"

ky: "yes."

us: "did he throw four shoes at you?"

ky: "yes."

us: "really? four shoes?"

ky: "uh huh." (looks a bit worried)

us: "did he throw eight shoes at you?"

ky: "yes." (starting to sweat)

us: "are you sure? he really threw eight shoes at you?"

ky: nods.

us: "wow. that's a lot of shoes."

ky: "uh huh."

us: "are you sure all of this happened?"

ky: "yes..." (looks a bit nervous)

a bit more quizzing revealed that my dearest daughter had been lying through her teeth about her brother. thank goodness the bf was there with me, because i found the whole exchange to be hysterically funny. i felt like we were laywers. for the prosecution. i could barely contain my giggles. 



mc donalds rules the world!

ahh...the glorious happy meal. the 500+ calorie, 25 grams of fat convenience food of which our children are so fond. as american as apple pie and baseball. tonight, i have given in to the lure of the easy meal. my children are sitting at the table right now, eating mcnuggets to their hearts' content. although i doubt their hearts are actually content. they are probably working overtime and pissed as hell.

i have a love-hate relationship with the happy meal. i hate mcdonalds. hate. it. i especially hate their supid commericals. by the time she was two my daughter would sing the little "baa baa baa" ditty every time she caught a glimpse of the golden arches. probably before she could even say mamma. actually, i'm pretty sure it was before she said mamma. and i don't think she had ever even eaten there. 

the marketing machine that is mcdonald's rules the world and most of us don't even know it. we are oblivious. until something like this happens:

* * *

ronald mcdonald. the most recognized figure in america. i rest my case.


i heart my daughter

ky, my little poser, my mini-me. the one who talks so cheerfully non-stop on the way to daycare and work every morning. the one who gives her mommy random hugs and kisses or shouts "i love you mommy!" out of the blue. the one who has made literally hundreds of pictures to decorate my "office". i always think i am ready to have the weekend off... but i miss you when you are gone.