Wednesday, July 27, 2011
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be beautiful but not damaged, for it’s the damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the beauty.
When the crystal meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from acting but not all the way to finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes and not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the drums to the fiery rhythm of her own heart with the sinewy strength of her own arms, so she need not lie with drummers.
Grant her a rough patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a tiger flower blooming magenta for one day – and adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a bitch in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Get this book! Or download it to Kindle. :)
Posted by Theresa at 2:40 PM
Monday, July 25, 2011
My daughter starts swimming lessons today and I usually run long at the gym. So in order to save on time (since I usually go over an hour at the gym) I did my work out at home.
I had heard about the Nike Training Club from a tweet from Lea Michele, you know, the girl from Glee. (I LOVE LOVE LOVE Glee. Had to get that out of my system.)
I never thought that working out by myself, aside from mountain biking and running, was worth it. My true interest in using self work out videos started with Zuzana who is partners with Freddie of the online, one stop shop fitness site. This women is intense and has the body to show for it. I started to get into this online movement but didn't like that I had to be stuck to my computer more than I wanted. The next best thing for me was to try the Nike Training Club app.
I downloaded the FREE app from iTunes which took a while. The app is pretty straight forward and you can be 'social' with your progress. That is not my main concern but it is handy.
I went straight to the work outs. There they were-- work outs planned for your fitness goal at any level. I selected my work out and then chose the music (already on my iPhone) that I wanted to play with it. During the routine, there were a few moves that I wasn't sure how I was supposed to do. I was able to stop the work out and watch a short instructional video that showed me the move. Not a bad gig. I didn't get cheated on my work out for the learning curve.
I didn't have hand weights which I desperately need! I usually just go to the gym and don't think to have any at home. So I opted for something else.
Yes, that is 20lbs. of cat litter. I had to use something for those lunges! I used two large cans of beans for triceps and the jump squats. Yeah, jump squats. Not my favorite thing to do.
I put my phone on the dock so I could jam out to Justin Timberlake's Future Sex Love Sounds -- THE perfect album to work out to. I cleared space in my kitchen and got to work.
Each move is prompted out loud by my trainer. She will periodically instruct me to keep my shoulders above my hands -- when I was doing the plank walks. She also helps to keep me on track with my time and then the occasional "dig deep" prompt on the lunges. She also reminded me to keep my chest up as I did my jump squats. I definetely like this app.
One thing that most people forget about is form. If you lose your form in your work out, then you're wasting your time. I am NOT perfect and my form does slack at times. I was super impressed that the trainer reminded me about form during each move during my work out.
I look forward to another work out with NTC. It's a good, effective alternative to working out if you can't make it to the gym.
Posted by Theresa at 2:44 PM
Sunday, July 10, 2011
It's been over three years since I was in the delivery room. I had a dear friend visit me over the holidays. We reminisced about old times and I got to tell a funny story of my 'wants' in the delivery room while I waited. I had one requirement, laughter. I wanted to laugh all the way up to the big moment.
During a text conversation and an autospell correction (check this site out when you've got time to kill) I was reminded of my story.
This photo is from a skit where he portrays Prince (the singer) while playing basketball.
I love this guy as a comedian! I can't tell you how many times I'd watch his show. I had tears most episodes.
There's too much to explain about my correlation with the autospell error and this picture but if you've seen this, you know why.
I can't tell you how many nurses would come in my room and take a second look at my tv. I had brought several seasons worth of Dave Chappelle's dvds with me. I was bound and determined to be laughing that day!
Dave making fun of Samuel L. Jackson and the beer Samuel Adams. Too funny.
It was fun to share my stories with my friend and remember how hilarious the day was when I had my daughter. No fear, no worries, just laughter.
Posted by Theresa at 10:04 PM
Sunday Funday once meant sipping fruity drinks by the pool, taking naps all day, trips to the lake, or watching back to back episodes of Sex and the City. Those days are long over and my norm of Sunday Funday is staying home with my three year old daughter.
This is my beautiful baby. She isn't such a baby now.
My Sunday Funday:
-Not getting into fights with F over which plate to use
-No obsessive crying
-No back talking
-A successful nap (for her)
-Only used three band aids (set a record today)
-Taking her bath and not crying excessively
-Several loads of laundry cleaned and folded
-Clean bathroom and kitchen (this makes my day!)
-And 8:00 pm came fast tonight!
It's pretty simple. I still get some peace and quiet when we have successful Sunday Funday's at the house. I wouldn't change a thing either.
I spoke too soon...someone is losing it over brushing her teeth. :)
Posted by Theresa at 7:44 PM