Archive for January, 2010

>1.) All the weight machines in the “Express Fitness” area have been rearranged and you have no idea where anything is.

2.) The city has added a cement divider to the road in front of the driveway to your gym, and you almost run it over when you attempt to turn in to the parking lot.

3.) You have to look up the combination to your lock, so you can get into your locker.

4.) You have to stop for “breathers” during a power set that previously you were able to just blow right through.

5.) You are not able to move, or even breathe deeply the next morning because your muscles are so sore.

Yes, it has been way to long since I was last at the gym, but the best way to tell if you are a member of a great gym, they remember your name even though you haven’t been there since October. I love the counter girls at my gym. They are encouraging, and don’t lay a guilt trip on you for not coming in for two months.

Until next time…


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>So, here it is, the 12th of January, and I don’t think I’ve been to the gym in like two months, possibly three. Shhh, don’t tell my husband or my Mum. They think I’ve been going all this time. In August, I was so stoked for M to start school because I would have so much time to work out, and then write, and so far I haven’t done much of either.

Sure in November I did NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month-the goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days) and I won, but I didn’t go to the gym even once, so that was a major fail. But even before November, I was out of the habit of working out every day. I had such grand plans. I was going to get up when M and R got up and while R took M off to school, I would go off to the gym, sweat my way to a fitter more toned self, and just generally be awesome at the whole fit SAHM writer thing. Uh, yeah, that’s not how it’s worked out so far. My workouts were patchy at best in September, even sparser in October, and by the first of November, I hadn’t been to the gym in at least a week, possibly two.

The New Year has come ‘round again, and with so many making their resolutions to get fit, lose weight, find a vampire boyfriend, survive the impending zombie attack, etc., I was feeling the guilt of the days, weeks, and months of lying pressing on my shoulders, the straining waistband of my pants pressing on my gut, when I started wondering if I could dig out all my old worn out yoga pants and start wearing them again without anyone noticing. Then I caught sight of myself in the mirror, and I looked away as quickly as I could. I didn’t want to see what I had done to myself.

In two short months, I had nullified all the hard work I put in over the previous six. I was ashamed of myself, and decided that Monday was going to be the day. M was back to school after winter break, and I had no reason not to be at the gym every morning.

Monday dawned sunny and crisp, all sparkly and full of promise. I got out my gym clothes, set them on the bed, and turned on the laptop so I could check Twitter and announce my intent to anyone who cared to read it. Then I started to read the announcements of others. Next thing I knew it was almost noon, and I still hadn’t even put the workout clothes on, much less made it out the door to the gym. Epic fail. Ok, ok. Shake it off. Tomorrow is another day.


I didn’t even get the workout clothes out of the closet today. What’s worse? I started this blog post on Monday and goofed around all day and didn’t even get it finished and posted on time.
So, what’s the plan of action now? Where do I go from here? Hmm…good questions, now let’s hope I have equally good answers.

Plan of action: I have to take M to school Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. That means I have to get up, put on clothes, and leave the house before 8 a.m. every morning for the next three days. What better way to get back into the gym habit?

Where do I go from here? Usually, the answer to this question is up, but today I’m going to say down. My ten year wedding anniversary is this year, September 23rd to be exact, and I would really like to be the size I was when R and I got married. As you may remember from a previous post, I wasn’t skinny when we were married, but I was definitely smaller then than I am now. That’s a little more than eight months from now. I think I can do it. Who knows, I might even surpass that goal, and be even smaller. Maybe I could even fit back into the outfit I wore on our first date (yes, sadly, I still have that outfit packed away in my “It Will Fit Again Someday” bin.) I fear it will be wildly age inappropriate, but it would be so much fun to wear it again, just because I could.

So in remembrance of another post from the past, I will see this not as the failure it felt like, but instead as merely the temporary setback that it truly is.

Until next time…

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>I started this blog about two months ago in October, and then promptly abandoned it without as much as an introductory post. In my defense, it was because I started a writing contest on the first of November where the goal was to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. This was a huge challenge for me for a few reasons, the largest of which being the fact that the longest story I had written at that point was a 500 word picture-book manuscript. I could have written 100 separate children’s stories to get to the 50,000 word mark, but I wanted to stretch myself, to really challenge myself and go for the adult fiction/chick lit/mystery/romance carrot that I had been dangling in front of myself for a while, and step outside of my comfort zone.

I tried, and I won. I wrote 50,000 words in less than 30 days. I finished with a day or two to spare, but I didn’t finish my book. This brings me to my most recent problem. It has been a month since the contest ended, but I still haven’t finished my book. I’ve proved to myself that I could write 50,000 words in 30 days, but the minute that axe was no longer hanging over my head; I became unable to write a single word. I know I need to finish this manuscript, but I can’t seem to find the motivation necessary to do it. R asks me how it’s coming, and so does my Mum, but that’s just not the same thing. For some reason, the shame of failing in front of total strangers is worse that failing in front of my family and friends.

I guess that’s why I’m doing this post. All those people who were strangers back in October and early November have become friends, and some are like extended family, so the fear of letting them down no longer exists for me. So I am now turning to you faceless unknown readers out there (if you are in fact out there). I’m setting a new goal or challenge for myself. I’m demanding that I finish my manuscript by the end if January. That means I have 20 days to find the end of my manuscript. I would like to say that I will post daily to let you know how I’m doing, but I know full well that I will fail on that promise, so I will instead say that I will try to post at least once at the 10 day mark, and if I’m able to get myself to post an update more often, well read it, be happy that I’ve found the umph to do it, then yell at me to get back to work on my book, because that is really what I need. The threat of scorn from the vast sea of unknown strangers out there in cyber space, because the threat of scorn and disdain from my family lost its sting about two decades ago.

So, until we meet again, keep your pencils sharp and your mind sharper.

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>Never Happy?


Back in August, my daughter started Kindergarten. Not half day two or three times a week, but all day 8:15 AM to 3:00 PM Monday through Friday Kindergarten. I was torn between being happy that she was getting to be such a big girl, and had dreams of all the time I would have for writing during the day while she was at school, but then there were other days where I was sad. Sad to realize that she was no longer my baby, she was a big girl who would soon make lots of new friends, and have lots of new adventures without me.

My husband and I took her to school the first day, and I was so proud of myself for not crying in front of her. I managed to keep it together until we were walking back down the stairs to leave. My vision was suddenly blurry, and I had to stop on the stairs to collect myself so I wouldn’t go top over teakettle down the rest. I got myself under control, and once home, had the most productive morning of my life. Ever.

It was strange to be in the house alone, knowing that R was at work, as always, but still listening for the rustling movement of my angry midget, a peel of laughter at the cat’s antics, the sound of her voice as she tried to train the dog, but all that answered my ears was silence. A few times, I started to go look for her, to see what she was getting into, because she had to be getting into something, she had been quiet for too long, only to realize that she wasn’t home, she was in some else’s care for the day.

Here I had spent the majority of the summer looking forward to the first day of school so I could get really serious about my writing, and when the first day arrived, I did everything but write. I did every household chore I could think of to surround myself with M’s things. I did laundry and put her clothes away. I cleaned her room. I sorted out her too small clothes. And I missed her more than I ever thought I possibly could. That is, until I was ready to leave for an appointment with the insurance agent.

There was no one else to coordinate with, so I was ready to go in less than 5 minutes. In the car, I turned to see if she was buckled in her car seat yet, and had a moment of panic when she wasn’t there, but all of that was cake compared to the punch to the solar plexus that I received when I started the car and her favorite song was on the radio. I lost it. Right there in my driveway, I just fell apart. I missed her so much, and I felt so silly because she was just at school. I would be picking her up in just a few hours, but in that moment, it felt like the world was finding every opportunity to point out that she had moved on to the next stage in her life, and left me behind with her board books and sippy cups.

I eventually got used to her being away all day, and fell into a rhythm. Then Christmas break came knocking…

I was dreading it. Twenty-one days of cold and snow, and the first seven were before Christmas so there wouldn’t even be any new toys to keep her busy.

Somehow I managed, but the whole time I was counting the days until school started back up and I was able to get back to my routine. Now, here I am sitting in bed, un willing to get up and go to the gym, because I miss her, and wish I had just one more day of Christmas vacation with her because there is still so much I want to do with her. I was up when she left this morning with her dad (I was able to save her from a dad induced hair emergency) and actually felt a tear roll down my cheek when I closed the door behind them.

This leads me to ask the question: Are we as mothers, fathers, people in general, society as a whole, ever really happy? Do we even know how to be happy? Or are we doomed to always want that which we cannot have, or which we have just given up? Is there a way to just be happy with what we have, who we are, and where we are in life, or is it just not in the human DNA to just accept and survive without longing for something else, something different, something past, or something just out of reach?

Mom’s are supposed to have all the answers, but this is one thing I don’t think I’ll ever have the answer to no matter how long I live, or how many years I am a mother.

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