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Mom ID- March 27, 2015

Friday, March 27th, 2015

Even moms get carded

Yesterday evening I went to Walmart for a few things. Let me first say I’m not a Walmart regular, but I needed some things cheap, so I wanted to do a quick in and out. Even for someone like me who typically doesn’t mind busy store crowds, Walmart can be a different beast. Fast. Let’s get this done. I did not expect the holdup I got.

Greyson requested some beer. I steered my big blue cart down America’s biggest retailer’s coldest aisle to find my husband a six-pack. I also grabbed my seasonal favorite, Samuel Adams Cold Snap. I wanted my own brew to enjoy during the NCAA tournament. I stacked the beer in the cart with diapers, some things for Easter Baskets and store brand Clorox wipes. I found two lanes of the store’s 25 actually open. A young woman waved me to her line.

She began pulling my items off the conveyor belt. She got to the beer and said, “Do you have ID?” I paused and almost looked around for a second. Was she talking to me? I laughed and gave the obligatory, corny 30-something response to this. “Wow! You made my day.” I reached for my purse. Then I stopped. “Oh! No, I’m so sorry. I’ve lost my drivers license. I’ve ordered a new one.”

This is all true, but the clerk still eyed me suspiciously. She said, “You look really young. I can’t sell you this. ” I gaped at her in disbelief. Was this happening? I smiled and said, “Um, I’m 33. 34 is fast approaching.” She said, “Yeah. No. Sorry.”

I laughed before delivering this diatribe:

“Okay. I was born in 1981, early in the Reagan administration. I remember where I was when the O.J. Simpson verdict came down. Anyone who was sitting in their civics classroom when that happened is old enough to buy a six pack. I was young, but I even have vague memories of the Challenger explosion. I had New Kids On The Block t-shirts and saw ‘Wayne’s World’ and ‘Jerry McGuire’ in the theater. I graduated high school in 1999 and college in 2003, before the economic downturn. I more closely identify with Gen X than Millennials, but don’t believe I’m either, really. It’s called being stuck between generations.”

She looked around hesitantly. Possibly because I’m a crazy person who delivers speeches at the checkout. I continued.

“I have two kids.”

She stared at me and looked down at the beer. Oh, right. 19 year-olds can have kids too. I’m sure a lot of them buy diapers at Walmart. That wasn’t helping my argument.

“My husband is 40!”

She said, “Ma’m I can’t sell you this without ID.” There was no way this was really happening. I said, “Do you really think I look 20 or under?” She said, “I can get a manager, but it’s store policy.”

I laughed and told her it was fine. I looked in the mirror when I got in the car. I wasn’t wearing any makeup. Maybe that’s why I looked younger? I decided to take it as a complement. I told my husband what a hot, young wife he had as I sent him out to buy his own beer.

I had picked a fine craft brew for him. What did he come home with? Coors Light and Mike’s Hard Lemonade. What is he? A 19-year-old girl? No, but his wife sure looks like she is!

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Spring Break- March 26, 2015

Thursday, March 26th, 2015

Phew! We’re back in town after a four day spring break getaway to the beach with friends. I feel like I learn something every vacation. I always get introspective while away. Even when we’re busy making memories, vacation causes me to pause and think. The change of scenery and different routine cause me to reflect on life.

When I was working and I went on vacation I would ponder my career path and make goals for myself when I got back to work. Sometimes I would make a point to not think about work AT ALL and bask in a weekday on the beach. I always said the worst day of vacation is still better than the best day at work.

This vacation I reflected on my family. I looked at them and noticed all their eccentricities, their nuances and changes. They are remarkable people.

My Husband- He needs vacation. He doesn’t stop enough. In the calendar year 2014 he took no days off until his boss noticed. He took off 3.5 weeks in December. He had to use the time. This year we’re spacing out the time off. He needs more than just a football game or a video game to unwind. He wanted to take out the laptop. I didn’t let him. I assured him work would be there when he got back.

He walked down to the ocean with our daughter and carried her on his shoulders through downtown Savannah, GA. He took dips in the pool, drank beer and laughed. Sometimes he doesn’t know he needs to stop.

photo 3 (17)

My Daughter- Sometimes all the fun and change of routine can be more than a 4-year-old can handle. Back home today she was delightful. On the trip? Eh. She had some rough moments. Her good friend was with her and sometimes it’s hard to share and get along when you’re always together. Little people get tired quick and meltdowns happen.

But in the great moments I realized how big and capable she is now. I watched her jump in the pool with little fear and ask to take off her life jacket. I listened to her entertain herself and her brother in the car. She “read” a book to her friend by going through the pictures and making up the story.

Charlotte vacation

She chased all the seagulls on the beach, grinning between piercing screams. She caught a football and laughed. I caught her in a quick moment of stillness. I wondered if she was reflecting too.

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My Son- This growing, smiley boy made our trip even better. My busy little man notices everything. In this week alone he added “apple” and “car” to his growing vocabulary. There’s no way he couldn’t add “car.” We spent so much time there, it’s fitting.

photo 2 (41)

All things considered the kids did great during a 5-hour car ride. The way back was 6 hours due to back-ups on I-95. I even caught this:

car hands

Me- All the working out and healthy eating I’ve been doing is great. But, I enjoyed a few days of indulgence. Fries and ice cream on vacation are good for the soul.

We’re back. Our cups refilled, our souls reflected upon. Onward…until our next getaway.

fam vacay pic

Hilton Head, SC March, 2015 It was humid.

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Toxic Toys- March 20, 2015

Friday, March 20th, 2015

One day this week Henry had his sister’s “My Little Pony” in the stroller. He was more than happy to take it from his sister after we dropped her off at preschool. Some little boy pointed at my son and said, “That’s a girl toy!”

I rolled my eyes. We’ve exhausted that haven’t we? The “Boy Toys” and “Girl Toys,” thing has been discussed ad nauseam. Let kids play with what they want. Shut up you little twerp. Ugh! I just wanted to shout, “Don’t you know about that poor, sweet boy who attempted suicide after being bullied for being a “Bronie?!” No, of course he doesn’t know that. He’s a little kid.

I didn’t respond. I just rolled Henry away. Honestly, I’m just grateful he’s playing with an actual toy. Here is a list of things I have had to take from my 1-year-old in the last week because he was playing with them.

  • Size 10 men’s Rainbow flip-flop
  • Bottle of Clinique Happy Heart perfume
  • World Atlas
  • Dog bed from the Martha Stewart Pet Collection that my dog has laid on twice
  • Jar of Miracle Whip
  • Nintendo Wii U Game Pad
  • Starbucks straw
  • Ice cube
  • Car keys
  • Clorox Toilet Wand and holder
  • Bottle of Eucerin lotion
  • Harris Teeter VIC card
  • Crock Pot lid
  • A half masticated baby carrot
  • Styrofoam bowl
  • A 2013 calendar
  • Decaf Keurig K-Cups
  • Weekly preschool report from the teacher
  • A window pane (Yep, he ripped it out of the window.)
  • The ottoman
  • Dog food (Which also made a good snack, apparently.)
  • Angry Birds boxer shorts
  • A battery powered candle
  • His own poop

So, when I see my son playing, instead of asking myself “Oh! Wait! Is this a ‘Boy Toy?!'” I ask myself “Wait! Is that toxic? Could he get sick from chewing that? How long should I wash his hands this time?”  He can play with whatever he wants as long as it is a freakin’ TOY from the TOY AISLE! Maybe I should just get Clorox Toilet Wand refills for his Easter basket this year. He’d be thrilled.

Wait. Are those toxic?

One-year-old playing with non-toys

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Fantasy & Fact- March 17, 2015

Tuesday, March 17th, 2015

I had the windows cracked to let cool air blow on her as we sped along the road. It tangles her wavy curls and through the rear-view mirror I see her push them out of her face and giggle.

Over Taylor Swift’s latest Top 40 hit I hear, “Mommy, Snow White texted me from Hawaii!”

I laughed and said, “She did! What did she say?” That’s when my 4-year-old prattled the way she does, inventing stories in her head. Stories. Always stories. It seems fairy tales never leave her. Whether an adventure of her own making, or one she’s seen or read a million times, they are there. She acts them out. She retells them with toys. She takes well-known tales that made it to the big screen and makes them far more amazing than Hollywood could.

“Mommy, what is Hawaii like?”

Except for facts. Facts stop her fantasies. She wants to know more of them. I tell her how Hawaii is a state made of islands. I tell her about tropical beaches, rainforests and volcanoes.

“Mommy can we go there some time?”

I peek at the mirror and say, “Sure baby, when your brother gets older.”

“Mommy, when he gets older can we go to Disney World?”

Back to fantasy. She informs me that’s where the real Anna and Elsa are. She wants to know if we can meet them and all of the princesses. I assure her that there is no way we would brave the Orlando heat without making sure she got to meet her heroes.

Later I ask her what she wants to be when she grows up.

“I’m going to be an astronaut. Mommy, I’m going to go to Jupiter, where that spot is.”

I applaud her for her ambition to be the first earthling on Jupiter. She asks me what Jupiter is made of. She tells me how you can’t breathe in outer space. She names all the planets and their characteristics. She tells me how Pluto is too small to be a planet. Facts. Science. She craves knowledge.

She dresses in princess costumes while reading about animals. She stares at the sky and tells me what the clouds are made of, but tells me what shapes her imagination sees in the millions of water droplets.

Fantasy and facts. She needs both to make sense of her world. She needs both to form the stories she will surely tell us one day.

“Mommy, I’m going to be an astronaut, but a princess astronaut.”

Yes. I know.

Charlotte looking at the sky

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Body Back #16- The End

Thursday, March 12th, 2015

I’ve been putting off writing my last Body Back post because, well, that means it’s over. Plus, I’ve been away from the computer working out and being outside because it’s finally not snowing. I’m not even kidding you, I would do this again 50 times over. Seriously. It’s weird. You get kind of addicted to it. HIIT workouts are amazing. Here’s why a program like Body Back works for me, personally.

  • It’s fast- Workouts are an hour long. Granted, on my 20th burpee in a row, the class does not feel like it’s moving quickly, but it is. Many in our group were working moms and had to get to work after class. We all had to get to our children. An hour was perfect.
  • It builds strength- I can do pushups. I can hold plank. I like feeling strong.
  • Results- Obviously.
  • Community- Body Back groups are kept small on purpose. We had a group for encouragement and to hold each other accountable. Now I get to be a “Body Back Alumni” and continue with Body Back “Boost” workouts and online support.

A few of us in my group went out on Monday night. We talked, laughed and had a real adult meal to celebrate what we had accomplished. Some in our group will be doing other sessions of Body Back. Some will do Boost classes. Some may take on a totally different workout routine. Not one us regrets the past 8 weeks. See, look how cute we are…

Ronda, Christie (our instructor), Me, Nicole. We missed two in our group, Katie and Melissa!

Ronda, Christie (our instructor), Me, Nicole. We missed two in our group, Katie and Melissa!

The future for the new, fitter me? Exciting. More to come. For now I have to get to bed so I can workout again tomorrow.

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