Hey there, dearheart.
I say that to all of my friends. The ones I really love, and the ones I know that I’m going to love. Once you’re in, I become a bit of a stalker.
So, I’m trying my hand at this blog business. I get it that most people don’t care, but I guess it’s the three or so people who birthed me, married me, or held my hand through serious relationship pain that I’m targeting. So...let's meet the family that you've already met!
Today I’m thinking about the fact that I have to force myself to exercise or really do anything to better my well-being. You would think that this sort of objective wouldn’t require much cajoling, but it does. In my lazy, real self world, I would sit with bags and bags of Mint Milanos watching House Hunters (or Two & 1/2 Men, of all shows!) until I learned that I missed the bag of Cheetos behind all the aging Asian food in my pantry that my half Chinese, half Japanese (third-gen American) husband collects (referred hereinafter as "Hub"). Seriously, we have some apparently "perfectly preserved" dried sausages that were purchased in Chinatown in Chicago in 2001. The stuff has made the cut through two cross country moves!
To escape this perpetual food search, and to kid myself that I do have a purpose here, I resort to tricks. I force myself to schedule activities, do errands (a life long endeavor), and – oh – watch my children. It’s a lot easier to do so long as the bathtub isn’t running and I don't feel the need to clean the kitchen....
Anyhoo, wow. I just ran two ½ marathons this summer and fall. Regretfully, my body doesn’t look much better than it did after my little son, T-Bone (or "T"), arrived 18 months ago. Isn’t he tough? He’s not actually. Barely hanging on to the first percentile weight wise, but it’s the nickname my Hub dreams about, all 5 feet, 7inches of him.
We also have my darling daughter, almost-three Dee, who describes herself as the "sis," and manages to finagle the word "purple" into every conversation. Like, when I ask, "Are you a spank?," she'll say, "No, I'm a purple spank."
What else? I often make jokes like I spank my kids, but I don't. I'm not sure why I do it, maybe it's because I was spanked as a kid - and much more often - threatened to be spanked. My parents were and are loving and wonderful, and obviously, I survived. There may even be some colors flying around somewhere....
I guess it is a nervous humor, like toddler potty humor. Like the kind my kids and I freely engage in every time we find ourselves in a drive through coffee line, with plenty of time to make fake toot and fart sounds.
At the moment, I have some fabulous things surrounding my little aura. First among them is the fact that we are expecting our third child, due in August. We had a name for T when he was in utero - Tiny Bun. This one hasn't yet picked up a name. Dee likes to call him/her the "Baby on the Mantle," referring to the rolled up ultrasound pics that reside above the fireplace. Poor third kid. But very much anticipated. Maybe "Dog-Eared Spank" is appropriate.