Open Mouth - Insert Well-Worn Sneaker!

Like most people still tied to their New Year’s resolutions, I went to the gym yesterday morning, a place I either love or hate.  Some days the gym is like a comforting friend, encouraging me to be the best me I can be. Other days it’s a sadist inflicting all sorts of bodily torture on my poor, tired body. 

Yesterday, the gym was acting like a good ole friend. I hadn’t been for a visit all weekend and it felt good to step up and on to the elliptical. Over the course of the next 60 minutes I lost myself in the music and the sweat…..but mostly in my daydream.

The daydream goes like this:

I am not just some 30-something mom trying to regain the body of her 20’s in Target workout capris and Nikes. Oh no! I am an elliptical instructor leading a class full of enthusiastic 30-something workout capri wearers in an hour long elliptical aerobics class.

First, of all. I’m not even sure that elliptical aerobic classes even exist. But in my mind they are very much like spin/cycle classes. In an effort to keep myself engaged in my hour long workout, I change up my routine with each new song. Maybe it will be a really intense, high resistance song. Next, maybe I’ll go for a lower resistance sprint. I carefully pick songs to complement each “routine.”

And in my mind --- I’m a chipper, smiling, tight-bodied instructor encouraging her class with such well known, obnoxious phrases as “you can do anything for a minute,” “breathe through your nose,” and “feel the burn!”

It’s great! My class loves me. They feel the burn and they will look great because of me.

Of course the reality is that I am sweating like the 30-something workout capri wearer that I am. 18 year old Skipper is to my right, sans sweat, smiling, and reading Cosmopolitan while she “works out.” To my left is a MAM (middle aged man) sweating so profusely that I seriously think he may slip off his machine.

So, I take a deep breath (in through my nose, of course) and get back to my imaginary class. With only 10 minutes left in my workout, I find my legs getting tired and my will getting weak. So, I scan through my iPhone for a pick-me up song.

Ah! Ha!

I found the perfect tune - an obscene song by Buckcherry. Something about a Crazy *itch.

But it works! This song kicks my butt into gear. I increase my resistance. I increase my incline. And I go, go, go!

About two minutes later I notice sweaty MAM staring at me.

Hum, I think.

He must assume I’m some sort of fitness expert – just look at me go!

I smile to myself.

Oh. He’s still looking at me. And is that a smirk on his face?

Wait! He’s motioning me to take off my headphones.

Doesn’t he see my wedding band?

“You are singing out loud,” he says with an unmistakable smirk.

“What,” I say.

OH.

OH NO!

The only words I know in this song are those in the chorus.

OH NO!

They are NOT nice words. Not nice at all.

Is it hot in here?

I smile demurely, quietly removing my headphones. Without looking up to see if anyone else in the gym has heard my karaoke, I step off the elliptical.

Gym – 1

Kelly – 0

I high-tail it out to my car, thinking that there must be at least half a dozen other local gyms still advertising New Years’ specials – maybe even one in search of an imaginary elliptical instructor.

Chaos+Chaos=Peace?

It’s a miracle. I real-life, true-blue miracle. I realized today that by adding more chaos to my already chaotic life I succeeded in doing the impossible – I’ve found a small bit of peace. It comes in fits and spurts but it is peace nonetheless.

How did I pull off this miracle of miracles?

By welcoming a new family member – our puppy Roxie – into our lives.

Jeff and I realized that adding a dog to our family was inevitable. We love dogs and so do our boys. We knew it was just a matter of timing. There were so many things to consider: When did we want to welcome a furry friend? What type of furry friend did we want? Were any of our children ready to shoulder some of the responsibility that comes with having a furry friend?

Turns out we didn’t have a chance to answer these questions. On October 22, 2010 Roxie came bounding into our lives with her big eyes and affectionate face licks. I think my Aunt Jan said it best, “You didn’t find Roxie. Roxie found you.”

Roxie -- 8 weeks old!

Roxie found us via my friend Dorey whose brother first rescued her. He found this tiny, four pound, six week old pup abandoned underneath the deck of a nearby home. So, Roxie needed a family to love her. Dorey asked me if we were willing.

Um, yeah!

That’s exactly what I said.

I didn’t think about it.

The words just came falling out.

I was looking at that cute little face. I was watching my three boys giggle as she licked their precious cheeks. We were captivated.

Now we just had to convince my husband Jeff.

So, here’s the thing.

At the time I was asked whether or not we would give Roxie a home, we were at my six year old son Colin’s little league game. Jeff is his coach. As I was handed the wiggling pup, he was on the field with his team – oblivious.

He was missing the transformation - the transformation of his family from a family without a dog, to a family in love with THEIR dog.

The poor guy didn’t know what was about to hit him.

And as much as we were spellbound, so were the 24 other families in attendance at the game. As Jeff came off the field he was met with a flurry of high-fives.

He looked bewildered.

I held up Roxie.

He shook his head with a smirk.

The deal was done.

Over the next few weeks we acclimated ourselves to life with a puppy while Roxie basked in our outpouring of love and affection.

I also quickly recalled that having a puppy is very much like having a baby. Roxie was waking us up at all hours of the night. She slept peacefully during the day. And instead of a diaper, she constantly needed to go outside and unleash.

Roxie caught "Red-Handed" chewing on a pair of Uggs.



I have to admit there were more than a few moments when I thought….

OH MY GOD! WHAT HAVE I DONE?

But those thoughts were fleeting. Because, despite the extra work, I gradually began to realize that by adding more chaos (Roxie) to our lives, we were experiencing more peace.

Instead of coming home and arguing over what television show to watch, the boys laugh together as they play in the yard with Roxie.

Instead of grumbling about doing homework, the boys finish as quickly as they can so that they can be the first to take Roxie for a walk.

And in the evenings, after dinner, rather than fight over bedtime, one or two of the boys now choose to accompany me on a walk around the neighborhood with our pup.

I am so grateful to Roxie for these little gems of peace. She has given us moments of time when we all take a moment to breathe in the fresh air feeling happy just for the time spent together.

And then life returns to normal.

We bring Roxie inside. She chews my new shoes. The boys voice the 52 reasons why they don’t need to do their homework/brush their teeth/go to bed. But that’s ok. We had fun today!

Thanks Roxie!

Christmas Roxie

The pressure of weekday holidays

It's not every week that we are granted the gift of a three-day weekend. So, yesterday, my family and I decided to take full advantage of the holiday by “doing-something-together.” We weren’t sure what that something would be, but Jeff and I were certain that it would be fun.

Over morning coffee we discussed our options. It wass 34 degrees outside without a flake of snow, thereby limiting our ability to "play outside.".

I cannot overemphasize what a  real bummer that was because with three young boys, anytime you can get outside and play, run, tackle, wrestle, jump…the happier the whole family will be!

“Maybe we can go to the community center and swim in the indoor pool,” I suggested.

This was met with a chorus of groans, which is surprising since my boys all love to swim.

Actually, I have to admit I was relieved by their response. In NO WAY did I want to put a swimsuit on my winter-white self and join what I’m sure would have been numerous other families, also half naked, looking for something active and fun to do with their day off.

Truth be told, I only offered the suggestion because it seemed like a “good mom” thing to do – ie something you feel you SHOULD do when in fact you’d much rather stay home and spray out the trash cans.

Taking the kids to the pool in the winter is just too much work. I’d have to locate the swimsuits, (which no one has laid eyes on since August), pack a change of clothes and snacks, and fill the pool toys (also missing since August) with air.

Yeah. What was I thinking?

So now what? Well, I guess it’s time to drink more coffee.

By 11:00 all of us were still in our pajamas – just hanging out.

THIS DRIVES ME CRAZY!

I start worrying…..

WE ARE WASTING THE DAY!

Without really thinking I say, “How about a movie?”

This time I am met with a cacophony of shrieks and cheers. Little Ryan even did a flying “yippee” off the couch!

As we pile into the minivan Jeff gives me a wink – because we’ve done it! We’ve found something everyone wants to do – together. Victory is ours.

Half an hour later, for significantly more than my first car, the five of us were seated in the theater surrounded by our tubs of soda and our even bigger tub of popcorn.

Ah! At last! We are doing something with the day! Time to sit back and relax.

“Mommy, I have to use the bathroom.”

“Who said that?”

Oh you’ve got to be kidding me – that request is coming from one of mine.

Before I leave the theater in search of the bathroom I ask --- “Does anyone else have to go?”

“No.”

“Nope”

Ok, here we go.

Ten minutes later, we are back in our seats. The popcorn is redistributed, sodas are reclaimed, and our coats are once again placed under our chairs.

Ah! This was a great idea – I think to myself – as I settle in, once more, into my comfy movie seat.

The lights dim. The music starts. The studio credits role…..

“Mom, I have to use the bathroom too.”

With a sigh I got out of my seat - one more time - thinking – it could be worse, I could be in a swimsuit!

***********

Ready Boys? Daddy's Cooking!

Something happened yesterday afternoon that for one brief second, made the earth stand still and the planets align. My husband Jeff nonchalantly asked, “Can I make dinner tonight?”

What?

Excuse me?

Do you even need to ask?

OF COURSE YOU CAN MAKE DINNER TONIGHT!!!

“Oh good,” he exclaimed. “I want to make a homemade lasagna. “

Again….

WHAT?

A real, 100%, not from a box, frozen lasagna? This is too good to be true.

And I almost fainted dead away when he announced, “And I’m not going to use sauce from a jar. I’m going to make my own.”

At that point it took the three kids and Jeff to pull my shocked body up off the floor.

Now, please don’t misunderstand. Jeff is a WONDERFUL cook. It’s just that with our hectic schedules it is not something we have the pleasure to enjoy often.

So with my blessing, and the three kids in tow, Jeff went off to the store to purchase his supplies.  I on the other hand, sat down at my computer to write articles for work, dreaming of the lasagna I would enjoy later in the day.

WAIT! OH NO! Lasagna is not on any of the “lose 5-lbs diets” I promised I would try this January. Well, no problem, I just won’t eat lunch.

And that did seem like a perfectly good idea until approximately 3:00 p.m. when, with the delicious aroma of homemade sauce wafting through the house, I realized just how LONG it takes to make aforementioned delicious homemade sauce!

Daddy's Lasagna

So, I told myself, “maybe I’ll eat a little lunch, I just won’t eat a big piece of lasagna.” Great. Sounds like a plan.

And then at 6:42 p.m. the beautiful creation, which will forever be known in our family as “Daddy’s Lasagna” emerged from the oven. Let’s just say, we didn’t have any trouble getting any of the kids to the dinner table. In fact, I was there ten minutes early, just so I could get the first piece.

For five minutes, our home was silent. Absolutely quiet, except for the occasional scrape of a fork to the plate.

And then, despite all my dietary plans and promises, I broke the silence asking:

“Can I have seconds?”

*****

Have a delicious day!

~ Kelly

The Chuck E. Cheese Gamble

Brendan on one of his first Chuck E. Cheese adventures.

Last week was Chuck E. Cheese night at Brendan and Colin’s elementary school. For my boys the event is one of the highlights of the school year. Yet for me, and most moms I know, the night is anticipated in much the same way as a root canal.

Don’t get me wrong, I love when my boys are happy. I strive to make them happy. And that is why, in the last four years we have never missed one of these evenings. Foolishly, when Brendan, my oldest was in kindergarten, I was as excited as he was. I naively thought it would be a fun, mother-son night on the town. Boy, was I wrong! Within minutes, he was swept into the sea of Chuck E. Cheese fun with his fellow starry-eyed classmates. I was left standing alone, consumed by the joyful screeching and dumbfounded by the obsessive collection of tickets.

For those of you unfamiliar with Chuck E. Cheese, it is, as I soon discovered, a casino for children. Money is exchanged for tokens which are in turn used to play video games, ride on small mechanical rides, and gambled away for much sought after tickets.

Just as casinos supply players with endless cocktails, Chuck E. Cheese offers unlimited, self-serve, sugar-filled soda that is consumed by the gallon. This in turn, leads to more screeching, demands for more tokens, and ultimately more “fun.”

The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced I was on to something with the Chuck E. Cheese/Casino analogy. I looked around. Did you know that the few windows that do exist in Chuck E Cheese are either blocked by large games or blacked out? It’s true and thus, like a casino, creates an atmosphere where time stands still. With the differentiation between night and day erased, it is assumed that your child will never need a nap, never need to leave and do homework, never need to go OUTSIDE and enjoy the fresh, screechless air.

As I looked around watching my sons and their classmates enjoy the Chuck E. Cheese madness I witnessed the obsessive collection of tickets, which sealed the deal for me. There were actually families navigating the maze of games with large trash bags filled with tickets, which I can only assume had been collected over numerous visits.

Man! I thought. Chuck had concocted quite a clever way to keep his customers coming back. As I looked around I realized that almost a third of the “games” at Chuck E Cheese were not even real, test-your-skills games. Instead, numerous “put-your-token-in-and-randomly-win-a-certain-number-of-tickets” machines were attracting the children like flies. Oh my God! These are slot machines for kids, I realized!!

A lucky few, after trying numerous times, were walking away with 25 tickets. It was only after consulting the prize board (the place were ticket-collecting children trade in their tickets for prizes) that I learned that the lucky 25-ticket holding child only needed 1,275 more tickets to walk away with a $5 Crayola Magic Pen and Coloring Book Set.

Seriously?

I am in no way a math expert, but according to my calculations, it would take approximately $120 and 14 trips to Chuck E Cheese, to “win” this coveted prize. Would it not be more fiscally responsible to teach a child to save his allowance, tooth fairy earnings, or birthday money, and accompany mom on a trip to Target and purchase the Crayola set for himself?

Perhaps. But not nearly as fun.

And that is why I continue to take my kids to Chuck E Cheese, aka the Casino for Kids, because for me, a trip to Target is infinitely more expensive J

~ Kelly

Third and Party

There are many reasons why I love my friends. One of my favorites is because of football. Like me, many of my closest friends love football too. Not in the “I watch it for my husband” type of way, but because we truly and deeply LOVE to watch the game. And no! It has nothing to do with the uniforms!

We root for our teams with an intensity that makes our fellow football loving husbands proud. We are devoted to our teams! We know our teams! We want them to win EVERY GAME!

There’s Rae and the Steelers. Michele and the Cowboys. Shane and the Bears. Dorey and the Giants. And me and the Jets.

Not one of us root for the same team. But our love of the game links us all. In fact, it is a testament to true friendship that Rae and I are still speaking. Last year’s AFC playoff game pitting the Jets versus the Steelers could have been a real game changer. But we watched together, each wearing our respective jerseys and agreed to disagree. There are few things that trump a Sunday afternoon of football, but friendship, our friendship, is one of them.



Jeff, Rae, and Me when we still had reason to smile!



Last weekend the playoffs started. Only two of us (Rae and Dorey) had a team with eyes still locked on the Super Bowl. So what does that mean? Time to party of course!! And really, what better excuse to sabotage your New Years diet/weight loss/be healthier goals than a football party with Buffalo Wings and Miller Lite?

Now, thanks to Mr. Beautiful #15 a.k.a. Tim Tebow, only Dorey's Giants are still suiting up. That too is ok! Because there’s still a lot of pizza to eat and Super Bowl squares to buy. As for me, I’m placing my money on Da Saints. 



Raising a new generation of football fans!

Good Morning Mr. Hoover

If there is one time of the year that I actually enjoy pulling out the vacuum it is in January. This thought occured to me this morning as I pulled out our dilapitated, one wheeled Mr. Hoover. One wheeled you ask! Yup. One wheeled.

Over the course of the last 15 years I've owned at least 10 vacuum cleaners. With the exception of the new fangled "rides like it's on rails" $500 version, I've tried just about every other model. First there was the fancy bagless version with a state-of-the-art HEPA filter. Then there was the high-powered "quiet" vacuum, a version that sounded divine when the only 5 minutes I had to vacuum came during naptime. But they failed me. Every last, over-priced one of them. Each, in their own time, just gave up. Stopped sucking up our messes, deciding to do something better with their lives.

So one day, five years ago I loaded the kids into the car and went to Target. I purchased the only vacuum whose box I could fit into the cart along with the two boys I had at the time. It was a $49, bright red, Hoover devoid of all bells and whistles. I brought it home, very pleased with myself. This time, when Mr. Hoover inevitably failed me, at least I would lose only a minimal investment.

But humble Mr. Hoover surprised me. He's a hard worker cleaning up cheerios, Christmas tree pine needles, and enough legos to build a castle.....and he's still going strong. Over the years he lost one of his wheels - it cracked right in half, beyond repair. But I would not let Mr. Hoover go. Why would I? Had he not shown me the true measure of his devotion to our family?


Now Mr. Hoover thanks me - each and every January - as he limps across my livingroom rug. Having previously sucked up all of our fallen Christmas tree needles, their delicious scent wafts through the 50 cent brown paper bag he carries. And for one month of the year, I actually enjoy spending time with this trusty old friend!