I'm Kinda Gross

Remember when I tried to stop using regular shampoo and totally failed, but said that I would try to find an alternative.? I've been determined to use less shampoo.  My solution has been to wash my hair every-other-day and when I wash my hair, only applying shampoo at the roots.  Then I use conditioner at the ends.

Let me just tell you that the method is not foolproof.  Today was day two and as I took my ponytail down, I found a really greasy and nasty patch.  For real.  So either one part of my scalp produces enough grease in two days to fry an egg OR I am completely inept at washing my hair.  Or both.  Sigh.  I fear that's the real answer.  Feel free to judge me now.

Sometimes the Universe Laughs. . .

and you have no choice but to sit back and grin.  Even when your first reaction was the F-word.  Yep.  That was me.  You see, I'm a planner and when things don't go according to MY plan, then I say the F-word.  A lot.

Well, about a month ago when the pregnancy test showed two lines and then again when the second and third test showed the same, I was saying that word a lot.  A third child was NOT in our family plan.  This is where that 'universe laughing' thing comes in.

I've stopped saying the F-word.  Sure, I'm worried.  Having 3 kids under three and a half is quite a daunting thought, but at this point, I know we'll survive.  What's one more in the chaos, right?

A Side of Poop in the Morning

Lemme tell ya a little tale. This morning, I was changing Brook-Brook's clothes when I hear Ell banging around in the kids' bathroom. I call for him--several times--and get no response. Finally he comes into B's room and I ask what he's been doing and if he made a mess? Yes, he says with a twinkle in his eyes. Then I notice that he's removed his diaper--I asked if he went poopy. "Yes," he says proudly, "Humprhey ate it." Gross. I walk into the bathroom and find the pot of the potty chair in the sink. Ell puffs out his chest and says, "I cwean up. I wash it wif soap."



And that is how one becomes obsessed with Clorox and Lysol--even when skeptical of the chemicals in all mass-produced cleaners--AND justifies a morning stop at Starbucks.  Too much to handle by 7:20 in the morning.  The end.

Take-that 2012.

For 2012, I have several resolutions.  Commitments.  Call them what you will, but I try not to get too crazy-extreme.  Because I have a need to share, I can list them for you and even detail you on the progress.  This will be easy.

1.  Resolution:  Park in my own frickety-frackin' garage.  (This one is a hold-over from 2011, not a good sign.)
     Progress:  Excess Amazon  cardboard boxes carted to the curb.  We're back to the garage looking exactly like it did circa May 2011.  Greatness.

2.  Resolution:  Eat healthier.
     Progress:  We had roasted Brussels Sprouts the other night AND a salad last night.  I totally believe this cancels out my on-the-go-can't-get-my-lazy-ass-out-of-bed-in-time-for-breakfast stops at Braum's twice this week. 

3.  Resolution:  Work-out more.
     Progress:  MET!  I completed (mostly) a yoga workout last night from the very appropriate "Yoga for Inflexible People" DVD.  Notice the carefully worded resolution.  I said, "workout more."  Well, the last time I really worked out was in August 2010, immediately prior to becoming preggers with Baby Brook-Brook, so technically I've already met this one.  I know.  You're impressed.  So am I.  Impressed and SORE.

4.  Resolution:  See my friends more.
     Progress:  Unless this counts my Work-Heather, I can offer you that I've sent out an email to corral my crazy girlfriends back into a dinner-routine on Mondays.  Some of them even answered the email, so I'm going to count this as movement.  Dinner set for Monday.  Hopefully I won't be the only one in attendance. 

5.  Resolution:  Go to bed earlier and then get up earlier.
     Progress:  See Progress section on Resolution #2.  I work better with a deadline, so I'm saying Monday is when this one starts.  That's the day my working a compressed work-week (9 days of 9 hours each day with every-other-Friday off) begins.  I am sure hoping that extra day off is motivation for me because the frickety-frackin' alarm is going to go off at 5:30am.  Painful.  I hate  frickety-frackin' alarms. 

So there you have it.  What were your resolutions?  Have you made progress?  Are you one of those buy-a-gym-membership-start-Weight Watchers for the New Year kind of people?

Like Mama? Disturbingly so. . .

I'm clumsy.  Disturbingly so.  I hoped, oh how I hoped, that my children would inherit Aunt Manny's athletic prowess.  After attending two gymnastics classes, I can say assuredly that Ell did not inherit those skillz.  Anyone I've told this to says, "He's just two!"  or "I'm sure everyone is like that."  Chris attended yesterday and looked at me and said, "I get it."  This is certainly a good use of our dollars each month, because we now know that he's more like mommy than just in looks and having the memory of an elephant.  Further proof:

How the what?

I need to work-out. NEED. I'm not a tiny person and I had just started getting into a groove when I got preggers (gasp!) a year ago. I am determined--DETERMINED--to not fall more deeply into mushville. I even kinda want to work-out for the first time since ever. Alas, however, I cannot figure out how the furk I will have the time or energy until baby girl sleeps through the night. Here's the skinny:

*Chris leaves for work between 4 and 5 am.
*I get up about 6:30 to get Ell & Brooklyn and me out the door. Lots of crazy rushing around ensues.
*Work, work, work.
*Arrive home between 5:30 and 6:00pm.
*Make dinner, give baths, feed Brooklyn and rush around like crazy trying to observe bedtime.
*Clean up the kitchen and such.
*Lay out clothes and such for the next day.

***I suppose I could work-out/run at this point, which is around 8:00-8:30pm. The thing is, I still have to shower and I am so. damn. tired. at this point. I just want to sit on the couch and stare blankly at the tv or computer.

--resume--
*Go to bed at roughly 10:00pm
*Wake up roughly 2 different occasions to feed Brook-Brook. This cuts roughly 2 hours out of my beauty sleep time. I NEED my beauty sleep, people.
*Rinse and repeat for another day.

Le sigh. The good thing is that I know that this stage won't last forever. And that is good. Then I can get back to working out in the evenings. So maybe this post backfired and convinced me to work-out once my baby sleeps all night. Oops.