Mother of the Year

Anyone who knows me knows, I am not the most graceful of individuals. I’m always tripping, falling (this incident still takes the cake), stubbing my toes, running into doorways (I swear they move). I’m constantly finding bruises and scratches on my body and wondering, “Where did that come from? Oh, it must be from when I ran into the doorway that has mysteriously shifted two inches to the left.”

This morning while making breakfast for myself and the kiddos, as I bent down to put something in the trash, I hit my head right on the corner of the upper cabinet.  Now – I really do try to curb my potty mouth when I’m with my girls. Try being the operative word. Because in this instance, in my pain haze, without thinking I think I yelled something like, “shit fuck damn god-dammit fuck!” And then, because I’m mature, I threw a box of waffles at the offending cabinet. Way to set an example, right? I mean, clearly the cabinet had already won…

My sweet littles ran over to see what the commotion was about. The youngest one gave me a hug while the oldest asked me to bend down so she could kiss the bump that was already rising on my forehead. My girls… One day they may cuss like sailors, but at least they’ll be compassionate.

-Shan

PS – Flaxseed waffles, Dan.  Lifesavers.

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Yoga – It’s not for pussies…

Here is an ironic factoid about me.  I used to work in a health-care related job. Well, it was marketing but it was marketing “healthy” stuff. And while I may have looked healthy, I really wasn’t. I rarely worked out, drank so much Dr. Pepper that I should have just had it hooked up intravenously to save time, and I had horrible eating habits (I pretty much only ate bananas, yogurt and peanut m&ms – if I ate at all).

Since my career change, I decided that I needed to start taking better care of myself.  I now had the time, so no more excuses.  Plus, I feel that it sets a better example for my own daughters. It’s pretty hypocritical of me to make them eat their veggies as I cram peanut m&m goodness into my mouth and tell them to drink their milk or water as I have a soda.

So – I started working out regularly. I started eating better. I am working, really hard, at kicking the Dr. Pepper habit. But there are days when I can picture that beautiful Dr. Pepper can, it’s almost glowing with a heavenly aura, the condensation slowly dripping down… and I give in. But, to counter that, I have started drinking water (shudder).  I know it’s essential to our survival and all, but water tastes like shit. Perhaps it’s the lack of taste… Anyway – I digress.

After five weeks, I am beginning to see the results. My body is remembering what it feels like to be healthy, and it feels good. I can run farther and swim farther (and faster) than I have been able to in years, and I’m even seeing muscles that I thought I would never see again begin to reappear. My posture is even better. It’s quite the ego boost, I gotta tell ya… So when a friend of mine invited me to her yoga class, despite me not really having done yoga since college, I thought “No problem. I’m pretty bendy, I’m quasi strong, I got this.” She warned me it was a power yoga class, and that it was hard, but still I went feeling fairly confident in my yoga abilities.

Ten minutes into that class after having done like 20 plank poses (we were just getting warmed up) and already sweating, I was wishing I could be anywhere but that class.  (Give me a treadmill, put me in the swimming pool, I’ll do cardio all day for you – just don’t make me keep holding that fucking plank…)

But, I am competitive. There was no way in hell I was going to let that yoga class (and the old man in front of me) beat me. Even though I wanted to tell the instructor where she could shove it when she kept having us do this pose (I forget the name) that’s basically like holding yourself in a lower pushup, I found that I quite enjoyed it.  And I was proud of myself for sticking through all 90 minutes of that torturous class. (And, quite impressed with my friend, she was awesome.)

I’m going to be sore – shit, I already am.  I’m totally going back.  AL, thanks for inviting me to that class. You, my friend, are a yoga badass.

Namaste,

Shan

It’s amazing what a good poo can do…

PREFACE: So by the title alone you’re probably gonna be able to judge if you even want to read this post. I read it to my husband and his best friend (our frequent house-guest), and they both thought it was too much… a girl talking about poop so candidly. Which makes me think that means it’s just pure awesomeness.  So – if you appreciate a good poo – read on.  If not, this one probably isn’t for you… (Seth, this one is for you.)
I realize that this is my second poo related post in a row.  But here’s the thing… I’m all about the poop.  Not only is poop funny – poop is hilarious, I mean really, you guys can’t act like Mr. Hanky didn’t crack your shit up – poop is also one of the ways in which my body manifests stress.
I’m one of those people who when stressed out, their body completely betrays them. I break out, my hair decides that no matter what it can not and will not allow itself to be fixed properly, and I have the constant runs (IBS like a motherfucker).
When I left the 8-5 gig in favor of becoming a stay-at-home mommy/self employed, it was AMAZING.  Stress fell off of me in waves. The added bonus – my hair looked awesome, my face was the clearest it’s been since I was like 7 and I have got to tell you – I have never been more regular in my life.  I understood why all those women were all about the Activia – without having to eat Activia.
But as time has passed, I’ve found that my new life comes with it’s own set of stressors.  And that my body, in true form, is responding…
Pimples – check
Hair issues – check
Poo Issues – check
But it’s different than before. Now I am finding that I can’t poop. Is it a sign of age? Is it my new diet? Is it that I actually eat meals now? (Before I lived on a steady diet of bananas, yogurt and Dr. Pepper – the only things I found acceptable to eat from our cafeteria. The people who worked in there were really cool, though.)  Whatever it is – I don’t like it.  Because I don’t like literally being full of shit.  Being full of shit puts me in a bad mood, and I am not the most pleasant of people to be around when I am in a bad mood (who is? but really, I get quite bitchy).
Today I pooped for the first time in two days, and my mood instantly lifted.  It’s amazing what a good poo can do for you.
– Shan
P.S. Sorry to any of you who interacted with me today before 8pm.  I was not on my A-game.
P.P.S. I promise I won’t post about poop again. For a while.
P.P.P.S. I still don’t want you to take a crap in my toilet unless you really have to. And if so, please just observe the proper decorum. Light a match.