Help! I've Shredded and I Can't Get Up!

I just started Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred. I consider myself in shape. Just need to shed a few unwanted pounds. But I work out five times a week, on the average. CLEARLY I am not doing enough. Or am old sack of potatoes. Because half way in, (a 25 minute workout, more or less) I was FEELING THE PAIN. Pain, I tell you. It was my body screaming, "YOU'RE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO MOVE TOMORROW IF YOU CONTINUE!" But I did. And I'm sore. And Drew has a sprained ankle. Not from the Shred. Can someone please come over and scrape us off the floor and watch our kids? More soon. (If I can lift my arms to type, that is.)

Valium, Vicodin and Ativan, OH MY!

It seems that lately (maybe because I hovered around and then became 40) a lot of my post have to do with ailments, health scares and other fun issues. Well, in keeping with that theme, I've been absent from blogging, tweeting, Facebooking, and all things computer (more or less) for the past week because of a weird headache/neckache hoo-ha. And while I may jokingly call it "hoo-ha", it has been no laughing matter. First we thought it was a bad glasses prescription. Nope. Had it checked, and double checked by an opthamologist. He also ruled out the possibility of brain tumors. Gee thanks, I hadn't even gone down that path! But drugging up and laying in bed for two days (over the weekend, so Drew could take over the little thing we like to call parenting) should have done the trick, right? Wrong. I woke up Monday morning as if a ton of bricks had come crashing on the back of my skull, and I couldn't move my neck as if I'd been in a serious car wreck. I also felt dizzy, nauseous and was breaking out in a cold sweat. So, Drew took the day off of work and, luckily, my doctor decided to see me instead of sending me to the ER. The four advil I took in the morning was making my head feel better. The doc is an osteopath and she did some adjustments on me, which helped (at least while in the office) and recommended an icy hot patch for the back of my neck. Amazing... that actually helped too (well, that and some ativan). So yesterday, after all that, and getting the girls home for naps (with Drew's help), I rested in bed for a while. And while I could have stayed in bed all afternoon (AGAIN), I opted to get up and start organizing our piece of crap, shame of the household home office. And I worked on this for three hours! Feeling a little pain, but keeping moving and staying hydrated really helped. Drew had taken the girls to a friend's house and they all went out for pizza, so it was really quiet here (which helped the headache) and I didn't need to take anything stronger than that ativan (for muscle tension relief) until bedtime. And at bedtime, it was back to the strong stuff and the heating pad...
This morning I had the luxury of taking my time getting out of bed. I took it very easy. No sudden movements. I still ended up with the same scenario, but after so many days of it, maybe I'm just handling it better. Plus, I had the girls do a big project with me which kept us all busy. After naps, if it's not too miserable out (who knows?), I'll take them out for some fresh air.
The real drag of this whole ordeal (besides the constant excruciating pain) is the fact that I can't exercise. I mean, I've already fucked up my neck, I can't risk it getting worse. I was all excited to get my exercise bumped up into high gear (we've kept it at third gear during the winter!) and enjoy the exhiliration that a good run/walk/ride can bring. But it'll have to wait.
And then, I promise. No more inneroldlady posts! I'm sick of them too.

Irony is a Whore

I finally have a really decent idea for a post, I mean, ideas are FLYING around in my head. Stuff has happened and I need to share. It involves a recurring dream, an ex-boyfriend, and the realization that I know what it all means.

But, noooooo.... I can't write it because I can barely see due to excruciatingly dry eyes. I can't explain it. Something is amiss with my eyes though, and all I've been told to do is administer drops (five or six times a day). It doesn't help. What? Did I turn 40 and my eyes decided to say, "Fuck you! You're old now!"

Anyway, gotta go apply a warm compress (or a hot poker...); be back soon.

WHEW!!

I can breathe now. Two mammograms and an ultrasound later. It's just a cyst. I feel like I dodged a bullet. Now I need to get off my ass and start helping those I know who weren't as lucky.

40 Random Things at 40

This is not the 25 Things from Facebook, but I did this for my fortieth birthday...

1. I once had a Raggedy Ann doll which I named "Mother".

2. When I was potty training (at age 2), I told my grandmother, "Nana, this is MY life!"

3. Every time I hear the theme song from "The Jeffersons", I bust a move and sing along.

4. I started out as an advertising major in college.

5. I'm not a competitive person, so I switched to Spanish major.

6. One of my Spanish professors accused me of cheating when I did not. We were allowed to study together and make notes. I contributed as much (or more) as the others.

7. The one time I actually DID cheat in college I did not get caught, but was sick with worry for weeks, because I thought I got turned in (it wasn't a Spanish class, but I don't remember which class now).

8. I don't like ice-cream with cake.

9. I don't like cheesecake, tiramisu or pie.

10. I once went parasailing in Mexico when I was 15.

11. I am scared of heights.

12. I went to the top of the World Trade Center the year it opened. I still have the pennant my aunt and uncle bought me from there (still has it's original tags, it's in a frame now).

13. Two days after we moved to Atlanta (when I was eight), I said the word "count" as a two syllable word. "Cay-ount"

14. My southern accent was lost in college.

15. Sometimes it comes back when I've had too much to drink.

16. Although I'm jewish, I don't have many jewish friends and can't relate to jewish women in particular.

17. I was in a jewish sorority in college.

18. I used to smoke cigarettes.

19. I started inhaling when I was 21. Then I got hooked. (Before that I only "dabbled" in it.)

20. Most of my close friends are ex-smokers. I am drawn to them.

21. When I was in elementary school, I got a scholarship to go to Saturday art school at the Atlanta College of Art. (or Columbus, I can't remember where we were living, but I DID go to both of those art schools, one of them on a scholarship...)

22. One day at Saturday art school I discovered I wore two different shoes upon arrival.

23. That day the art teacher asked us to remove one of our shoes and put it in the middle of the room. The task was to draw a shoe from the pile and then find the match.

24. When I had my first (and last) tap recital at around this same age, my shoe flew off my foot and beaned some guy in the head at the end of my performance.

25. It seems a lot of my embarrassing moments involves shoes, or the lack thereof.

26. I once jumped off the balcony of a hotel room so I wouldn't be caught by a sorority sister (it was her boyfriend's room... oops!). It was only one story off the ground, and I jumped in a driving rainstorm.

27. I am not a strong swimmer.

28. I swam for exercise when I lived in Spain and New York, but then my ears started bothering me.

29. There are some words that I know in Spanish that I still don't know how to say in English.

30. My first language is English.

31. I was a cheerleader in high school.

32. For the longest time, my favorite t.v. show was M*A*S*H.

33. Now I like E.R. and Gray's Anatomy.

34. In my real life, I am extremely squeamish about even a drop of blood or anything medical.

35. At an English academy/sports camp in Spain one summer, I was promoted to Assistant Program Director (from lowly counselor) to replace a woman who went haywire in front of our eyes because she went off her lithium.

36. During her "haywire", she locked me in a room (with her in it... nothing happened, except I was a little freaked out.)

37. I had Michael Jackson posters on the walls of my bedroom as a teen.

38. I can't always tell if people are black or white. This has happened to me at least four times. I think it's a sign that I am "color-blind", but in a good way!

39. Things I have stolen include (but are not limited to): pink flamingos, a scarecrow, a number three from a car dealership (mechanic?), sake cups and a pack of diapers (that was unintentional, of course).

40. I am usually annoyed when others are not following the rules.

Two, One, ...

Yesterday was filled with many surprises, most of them birthday related, and most of them fun! Today, I unexpectedly had guests in town, so I did not get a moment to myself to blog (or anything else for that matter...), but it worked out o.k. Suddenly I find myself in the middle of rearranging my house the night before I turn 40. Which is o.k. Change is good. And we had people here to help. And tomorrow is just going to be like any other day.

But I'll no longer be in my thirties.

Which is weird. But I can live with it. Age is just a number, and I feel truly blessed with all that has happened to me in the first forty years. It'll be interesting to see what the next forty will bring.

Three Days to Go

There was a young blogga' from Maine
Who used to live somewhere in Spain
She's off to Boston with Bonnie M.O.T
They won't be smoking POT,
But they'll probably drink some champagne.

P.S. This HAD to be short. I have to go to bed so I can function tomorrow on my "fun day out" for my birthday that Drew planned for me. I am almost 40, you know.

Four Days To Go

I've always enjoyed
the fine art of the haiku.
Let's see what I've got.

Four days till forty.
But I still look much younger.
Genetically blessed.

Drama queen Diva
And stubborn Li'l Rascal:
You snuggle- I melt.

Oh, Drew, how you try
to pull one over on me-
But I can't be fooled!

Too tired to write
Any more of this blog post.
Must go to sleep now.

Five Days To Go

Shit! I forgot to do "Six Days". I was in the bath last night, after having a nice glass (or two) of wine, mentally composing my blog post. And then I got out, got distracted, turned off the computer (OF ALL THINGS!), so I never wrote it. Oh, well... See, that is just another fine example of what happens as you turn 40. Mental defectiveness sets in.

So, yesterday, before the brain freeze, I looked for, found and read an old journal of mine. You know what a journal is, don't you? It's the kind of thing one wrote before computers were "all the rage". I looked for the journal, because I couldn't remember any full names (first and last) of people I met in Madrid when I lived there. I thought it would be fun to look them up on Facebook, so I dragged out and read the journal (skimmed it, really).

Let's just say, after reading that journal, that there is A REASON WHY I HAVE FORGOTTEN ALL THOSE PEOPLE! HOW EMBARRASSING (FOR ME)! I really must burn this journal for fear that my husband or children might one day read it and find out (choose one):
a) I exhibited some slutty behaviour back then.
b) I was a wee bit desperate
c) I may have had a weight problem (over, not under)
d) I drank and smoked too too much
e) All of the above
Damn, WHO WAS I?! I was more sure of myself in High School than I was in college and the aftermath (3 years in Madrid). That?! Is some crazy shit. Really.

Well, now at 40, I can see that I still have some weaknesses, but they are not as problematic for me as my past weaknesses were.
a) If I want to be slutty, that's ok, as long as it's with Drew.
b) I am no longer desperate, but I tend to dissolve a friendship quickly, if I think there is an unequal interest in maintaining said friendship. I wish I knew the saying, "He's just not that into you." back then. I could have used it!
c) Now, I'm happy with my body, but I always want to lose a few pounds (especially after eating a lot of sweets for an extended period of time).
d) I don't smoke anything any more, and haven't in a long time. Not sure my lungs could handle it at this point anyway. I DO drink a little more than I probably should, but who doesn't?!
e) All of the above and DAMN PROUD!

Seven Days To Go

I'm losing steam... and there are still seven (six?) days to go. But that's only because it's Monday, and Mondays are my long days. Any day after The Diva wakes me up at two in the morning is a long day. If you've known me since The Diva was a wee one, you'd have no sympathy. This waking up in the night thing is VERY new for her (and us); I used to be able to count the number of times she woke up in the night on one hand. The Li'l Rascal has had more ups and downs, but our sleep STILL has not been too compromised by her either. We are/were/have been/will always be determined to have our girls be SLEEPERS, and up until two months ago (more or less), that was usually the case. Something about being three, sleeping in big girl undies, having a "big girl bed" (read: crib with the side taken off... a converted toddler bed). I remember when I was a little girl and staying with my brother and the cousins all in the same room at my grandparents' house in Michigan. I would be so wound up thinking about stuff while the other three slept peacefully. Eventually I would get out of bed and make the walk to the kitchen, or wherever, and be given some milk with a hearty dose of alcohol (brandy?) in it. (This explains a LOT!) Oh, I don't know where I was going with that. I guess that is not going to work, since the Diva sleeps from 7:30ish until waking up later in the night (and then goes right back to sleep). I need at least six (preferably seven) hours of uninterrupted sleep to function. And coffee, LOTS of coffee.

Nine Days To Go

With nine days to go (more or less), I have succumbed to the ultimate peer pressure. I joined Facebook. Or Crackbook as Coalminer's Granddaughter calls it. I was really determined not to join, but I guess given the right amount of alcohol, I can be persuaded to do just about anything. So, damn if I just didn't get excited about starting the new blog and now I have something distracting me from that...

ANYHOO, I have no words of wisdom to impart today (no weird body issues either), but I would just like to say that I have some cute fuckin' kids... and it's high time I shared them with my loyal reader(s).
Yeah, they're wicked cute, funny and smart. But what else would I say, being their mother?! Seriously, although I've been a mom for three plus years now, I sometimes still look at them and am amazed that they're my daughters. Amazing...

The Diva is excited about my upcoming birthday, because she is pretty sure there will be cake or some other sort of treat. Lil' Rascal has no clue about these things yet, but will gladly partake in any sugary offering no matter what the occasion.

Admit it, you're smitten...

10 Days To Go

I'm counting down until I turn 40. I didn't do this for 30, or any other age, for that matter. But I thought it would be fun, and with starting the new blog and all that. I'm thinking that I should impart some wisdom (and/or general crap) that I have gathered to get me to this point in my life. Some of it will be happy, happy, joy, joy, but some of it will be WTF?!!! Today (big shocker), I'm feeling that I should start off with a little WTF. (It would be helpful to note here, that I have just been on a Mom's night out with some of my friends and I am misspelling every other word and having to go back and fix it... I may get lazy and start sounding drunkish.)

My first order of business in the countdown is to say WTF to loose skin. Oh, you may not want to read any further if you are young and spry, but, yes, as one gets older, it APPEARS that one's skin LOSES ELASTICITY!!! I thought that shit only happened to old people. Not people like me, a mom of a three year old and a one and a half year old. But here's how I found out. The other day, the Lil' Rascal (the younger of the two) was trying to climb up on the chair/couch/whatever to read a book with The Diva and me (The Diva being my oldest). Well, she was having some trouble, as climbing is still fairly new to her, so she grabbed a handful of my sleeve. Well underneath the sleeve was my ARM, and the bitch grabbed some of my skin! Considering I work out on a fairly regular basis, who knew that this was even possible?!! Well, it was, and now I have a little black and blue mark where she pinched me. It really isn't a big deal. I know this. But upon looking at the "owie", I did notice that my skin seems to be lacking in the elasticity of my youth. Is it the weather? (Butt cold) Is it lack of moisturizer? Is it (gasp) my age?!!

Oh, elasticity, what has become of thee? Why hath thou forsaken me?!

P.S. I'm really bad at the whole counting down thing. So I maybe should have written this post earlier?! Later?! Not sure, we'll see if I turn 40 on my actual birthday. Should be interesting!