Tuesday, February 10, 2009

The Things I'll do for Fish

I am home for a rest after spending a mostly relaxing weekend in British Columbia, the land where everyone refers to their items by brand name, not description. As in, “The airline lost my Peg Perego” (an infant car seat) or “I just love walking in my Saucony’s” (shoes). I spent a lot of time nodding and smiling as to not appear to be the prairie hick luddite who owns a playpen, not a ‘Baby Bjorn’. I’m tired. Not only for the mental exhaustion that comes with trying to pretend I have any clue what people are talking, but also because I’m still recovering from the trip to the Vancouver Aquarium with two three year-old girls and a four month old baby in the middle of a Saturday.

Armed with a Primo Viaggio (stroller), the girls, snacks to satisfy every anticipated whim of a toddler, a baby, and at least two cell phones in case we needed to call for back-up, off we went to see the whales, dolphins, various kinds of fish and maybe an otter or two.

After we arrived and had to circle the parking lot for 15 minutes before finding a spot, a slow, dawning realization came to my friend and I that this might be challenging. We kept quiet though, out of respect for the other who may have decided to comfortably embrace the warm bosom of delusion.

It appeared there were quite a few people that picked the same day to take in the aquarium. Undeterred, we set about the process of un-buckling the girls, getting the baby settled in his stroller, and hauling out the bags, toys, snacks, tequila and valium before we forged ahead into the great unknown.

We arrived at the doors to the aquarium, steeled our nerve and prepared for battle. At some point during the walk from the parking lot the girls had managed to apply war paint which went perfectly with the low hum of jungle drums that were suddenly playing in my head. I even heard a monkey squawk. Wait a minute…aren’t we at an aquarium? There were people EVERYWHERE.

We were to meet two friends and their children at the entrance (safety in numbers), but alas, only one made it. We were only an hour into our voyage when traffic took out our first solider. We bought a stuffed beluga at the gift shop and sent it to her family with notes of kind regard.

The girls were not at all shaken by news of our first casualty or the masses of resistance forces that were stationed at every corner. In fact, along with the war paint the kids had managed to organize an impressive zone-defence that would have made any NFL coach proud. After yelling a squeaky ‘BREAK!’ they each took off in opposite directions with their little heads bobbing between a sea of random legs.

Man, those kids are fast. It also didn’t help that they are also super short because it was as equally hard to see them when they are standing right beside you as it is when they are bolting towards the nearest display of sea horses.

There was some pretty cool stuff to see at the aquarium, but we only got to see it when the girls took a break from plotting our demise.

"Dude, what are you doing just standing there? It's totally your turn to take off running in the opposite direction."

Cute though, right? The cute is all part of their plan, you see. Just when you’re all ‘awwwe’ they hit you with a tantrum or an owie or a sharp and pointy toy upside the head.

But, all that stuff is okay because the way they go about it is somehow charming in its own right. One flash of that mischievous grin and even though I know I’ll pay for it with some kind of natural disaster caused by the cyclone that is the collective 60 pounds of these children, I let it happen anyway because whatever the fallout, it’s probably going to be worth it.

Although it has taken me a few days to recover and I’m not sure we won the battle, the weekend was a blast. I wish I could freeze those girls in time and visit them at this age whenever I want because right now they are about perfect. I washed off the war paint though.

p.s. If you're wondering why my kid is practically bald, read this.

p.p.s. - I should also point out that only the bald kid is mine. The other one belongs to my friend who graciously gave me permission to exploit her daughter on the internet.

Fat Chick vs. Food - Week 6

Hello all! I know its Tuesday and I really should be all random, but I didn’t post fat chick yesterday and I need to catch up. I don’t have very many self-imposed blog rules, but posting weekly on the fat-stats is one of them. Actually, it’s the only one.

It was a mixed week; I worked out Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. I think Wednesday should count as two days of exercise because it was the most excruciating 45 mins of my life. Some callous individual created this merciless exercise class called “Xtreme Kettlebell Workout”. I’m not sure what happened to the first ‘e’ that should be out front of ‘xtreme’, but I’m guessing it’s in the bathroom vomiting because that’s where I almost ended up three quarters of the way into that class. It was unpleasant.

On Friday I took off to BC for the weekend to visit some friends. I had planned to maintain a strong resolve and adhere to my strict caloric intake during the entire weekend. Uh huh. I didn’t even get out of the Regina airport before that plan was abandoned. Our flight was delayed by two hours and I decided to celebrate with a cheeseburger. I had to contend with a cranky toddler for two hours in the worlds lamest airport – food was my only weapon! Huh? What’s that? Yes, I needed to eat it too. Shut up.

The rest of the weekend was a complete blow out. Don’t get me wrong, most meals I ate were healthy enough, but when you eat your weight in them I don’t think it counts anymore. I also cheated. A lot. Full disclosure perfect strangers – please feel free to judge and berate me:

- I drank beer. Lots of it. At least six and probably more like eight bottles.
- I drank wine. Lots of it. At least four and probably more like six glasses.
- Two bowls of ice cream
- Half a brownie, but it was a HUGE brownie, so half was really more like one full brownie.
- Cinnamon scones. They were yummy, especially after I slathered butter all over them.
- Vending machine food at the airport. Enough said.

I’m pretty sure there were more indiscretions, but those are the highlights. Consequently, I weighed in this morning and I’m up 2.5 lbs.

But, I’m going to use this as a personal test for me. In the past, right around the beginning of the second month I fall off the wagon due to something – a holiday, crappy life circumstance, boredom, whatever, and then I stay off. For about a year. All of my progress is wiped away and then some. I am not going to do that this time – I have been eating very well today and I’m going to the gym after work even though I don’t at all feel like it. What I really want to do is go home and see the other two kids who did not have the benefit of a weekend trip. My boy told me today that he missed me. Just like that – I was getting ready for work and he popped his head in the bathroom and said, “I missed you mom” and then took off like a bat out of hell because he (correctly) predicted the hugging and kissing that was about to be bestowed upon him. My boy is a fellow of few words, and when he does have words they’re usually aggressive and/or smart-assy. That kid must have missed me BAD to spit that out.

But, as I was saying I am not going home to my son who missed me, I’m going to the gym. I have to. I can’t give in to the reasons I can’t go, even if those reasons are good ones. It’s too slippery a slope, and if I indulge my desire to be elsewhere on a day that is scheduled to exercise it usually marks the beginning of the end. I’m going to the fucking gym. BLAH.