I'll take what I can get.

On Thursday night, we headed to a bar in Minneapolis to celebrate my sister's golden birthday.Upon arrival I handed the bouncer my ID.
Erin: Oh, I should tell you...my driver's license isn't completely accurate.
Bouncer [hesitant look of fear]: What? Why?
E: Well, I weigh less than what it says. I need to get a new one.
B: Really? How much less?
E: One pound.
B: Uh...congratulations?
E: THANK YOU!!!!! That's so nice of you to notice.

Glory

For the past four years I have either been pregnant or nursing, so when I caught a cold, I had limited options for drugs. I'm still having a hard time getting used to the idea that I can buy cold medicine--and take it. To feel better.
Imagine.
So, tonight for the first time in over four years I bought and consumed DayQuil.
Oh my stars--it's glorious! Who knew (remembered) this stuff worked so great?!
Tonight, I opted to only take half a dose of NyQuil so that I won't be too groggy when the kids wake up in the morning. They don't care if I'm sick! They still wake up at the same time.
I just can't remember: am I allowed to take NyQuil with a glass of wine? Seems like that might be dangerou...z.zzzzzzz.zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Thoughts on Zumba

Doing Zumba tonight in front of the wall to wall mirrors in the gym, I got a good idea of what I have looked like at all the bachelorette parties and weddings I've been to in the last five years. And to all of you who may have happened to be there, I'm so sorry. Turns out, people weren't watching me dance because I'm so cute and have great moves. They're watching me because they think I need a drink. They're thinking I need to ligh. ten. up.
It might be possible that I have finally found something for which I am truly too Baptist. It has to be the Baptist thing, right? ...Otherwise the only other logical conclusion to draw is that I am not very sexy. (But really, what's the difference?)
I burned 558 calories in 55 minutes. Fifty-five minutes of pelvic-thrusting-hip-rotating-girating-jumping-up-and-down-booty-shakin' good fun.
I will go back next week.

Torture

I've given myself a goal to lose ten pounds in ten weeks. So far it's going great! I'm down four pounds in three weeks. I've been very careful about what I eat and working out regularly. I decided yesterday to sign up for the Weight Loss Challenge at my gym. Every Thursday for six weeks I get to go circuit train with personal trainers and hopefully bolster my weight loss efforts at home.
I can hardly walk today I am so sore.
The prize for winning the Challenge (whoever loses the highest percentage of body fat wins!) is eight personal training sessions. After last night, that doesn't seem like a prize to me. It seems like torture.
Onward and upward.

28!

While I worked out tonight, I watched two girls goofing around, daring each other to lift weights, racing each other on the treadmills, that kind of thing. I guessed them to be either seniors in high school or freshman in college. Somewhere in the 17-19 range, possibly older, but definitely not younger. (This information will be important later.)
Over all I had a really good night at the gym tonight. I reached a personal goal that I really thought would take at least another month. I lost two more pounds. I can feel myself getting stronger and more confident by the day. Lots of milestones all around.
After my fantastic work out, I was literally smiling on my way into the locker room, thrilled with my progress, just ACHING for someone to tell.
I was washing up in the when one of the girls I had noticed earlier said to me, "Hey, are you Bella's mom?"
I said, "No, why? Is someone crying in the nursery?"
She said, "No, uh...Bella's my friend."
Now, I ask you, interweb.
Am I so frumpy that I could so easily be mistaken for a 40+ mother? REALLY? I don't try too hard to be stylish when I go to the gym, but maybe it's time to start. I don't mean to offend my 40+ readers, but COME ON. I am TWENTY-EIGHT years old.
Oh well. I guess she saved me from getting a big head or something.

Comforteater

(Alternate title: Bally Belly)
(Alternate title: Erin the Comfort Eater: MINDFREAK)

To me, a comfort and reward eater, it is the absolute epitome of Cruel (with a capital C) that my gym shares a parking lot with two fast food "restaurants" and my favorite grocery store.
The mind games have gotten completely out of control. It doesn't help when my legs feel like jelly and I can hardly walk...in my weakened state my will power doesn't stand a chance, so it typically hides its head in the sand.
Walking to the car, it's like there's a good angel and a bad angel on my shoulder.
Bad Angel: You worked hard. You deserve a treat.
Good Angel: You did work hard, but a treat won't help.
BA: You burned 700 calories today. Plus the 500 for breastfeeding. You can have a little something.
GA: Go home and make a little something. It will still be half the calories and they won't be empty calories.
BA: You know how good it will taste. You deserve it.
GA: Food isn't the Ultimate Comforter. Run to Jesus instead of food.
BA: Jesus doesn't taste as good as a Frappuccino.

It's hard to argue with that.

Bow to Your Partner

We went to the drive-in last night with the Borggren's, and had a wonderful time. Richard was thrilled to be able to camp out in the bed of his truck, which was very fun indeed.
When it was finally time to pack up and go home, I realized just how stiff I was from laying in the hard truck.
I climbed down and went between the cars to stretch out. I bent at the waist to stretch out my lower back, which is when my forehead squarely met the radio pole between the cars.
Richard said, "What are you doing??"
As if I did it on purpose.

Dear New Sofa Bed,

Thanks for that.
Sincerely yours,
Erin
p.s. I think I broke my femur.

Rules of Engagement: Marriage and the Cold Virus

If one spouse is sick:
-No one sleeps.
-There will not be enough Nyquil to go around.
-There is no such thing as germs. (You share everythingeverythingeverything anyway. Why bother avoiding germs anymore?)

If (when) both spouses are sick:
-No one sleeps.
-Nyquil is not an option because the baby needs a parent who is not hungover in the morning.
-All meals (mostly for the child's benefit) will be made in the microwave.

If both spouses and the baby are sick:
-No one sleeps.
-Mommy is no longer sick even though she's still sick.
-All meals (for the whole family) are yogurt or ice cream. Or Goldfish Crackers.

Frumpy Butt

In the past month, I have been called old three times.

1. A stranger at Target:

Stranger: How old are you?

Erin: 27.

Stranger: Oh, I would have thought you were older.

2. A cousin:

Erin: Are you on Facebook? You should look me up.

Cousin: You're on Facebook? It seems like a lot of older people are on Facebook. Imean,I'mnotcallingyouoldoranything.

3. My friend's girlfriend:

Girlfriend: You are what I'm going to look like in a couple of years.

Erin: Well, how old are you?

Girlfriend: 25.

Is it me? Is it something I'm putting out there? Is it my clothes? My hair? My makeup? Is it because I don't show stomach skin? Or back skin? Is my idea of modest dress actually frumpy?

Someone help me. I didn't THINK I was old, but I'm starting to.

In Theory

In theory, it was a great idea to move the microwave to the top of the refrigerator,

but I'm getting tired of getting stuff out for Richard.

I'm a lot taller in person than I am on my blog.

WWIII

You know how on tv, in movies or in books, they depict characters vomiting because of some sort of very emotional situation?
They are SO upset so they lose it all over their shoes?
What a load of baloney.
There is no emotional situation that would make me throw up SIX TIMES unless World War III was going on in my bowels.
Like last night.
If I die, please make sure SJ gets my diamond.

Owwwwwwwwwwwwwie.

I can't even lay on my left side.

I think I broke my femur.

I got this email from my Aunt this afternoon:

Okay, I'm not laughing. Maybe just smiling knowingly. I was sick from Friday night until now, sorry not 24 hours. Jeff is of course MUCH sicker than I am. Miranda is also sick. Great times are being had by all. Was actually happy to have an appointment this afternoon. Got me showered, dressed, and away from the sick people.
Hang in, this too shall pass.
Wait, I didn't mean that.
Kris

I'm pretty sure Aunt Kris' email is the only thing that has made me laugh today.
We's sick.
It's 6:10pm and the only person who got dressed is SJ--but that's only because she pooped all over her pajamas.
The three of us are going to have a family banana tonight before bed. And I might feel up to having my own bowl of rice cereal.

The answer, my friend...

Do you ever miss one hair on the back of your ankle every time you shave so that when you're walking down the street on a nice day you can feel it blowin' in the wind?
Me neither.

Freckle Face

This weekend, someone said, "Your baby doesn't have freckles yet. Do you think she will?"
I said, "Oh, probably." Smile.
She said, "I'm sure you just hate them, but I think they're adorable."
I didn't think people said stuff like that unless they were at my place of employment...

Neti Pot

Self: Time to try the Neti Pot.

Myself: Yeah! It's not even 7am yet. Let's go for it!

Self: Oprah recommends it and I'm about ready to try anything.

Myself: Well if Oprah recommends it...

Self: Hey, the products she recommends are typically pretty good.

Myself: Well if Oprah started a school in Africa for underpriveledged girls, would you start one, too?

Self: Don't be stupid.

Myself: Fine. Go nuts. There's no way this is going to end well.

Self: OK, empty the packet of salt, run the hot water, stir and...bottoms up!

Myself: Bottoms up!

Self: Nostril one--not so bad! On to the next.

Myself: Tip your head back...thaaaat's the way.

Self: What's this?!? NO! No! NOOO this is all wrong! There's not supposed to be salt water coming out my mouth![Gag! Gag, hack, cough. Tears.]

Myself: Oh yeah...you're supposed to tip your head FORWARD, stupid.

Self: We are in a fight.

Myself: You did this to yourself.

Lovesick

I need Love Potion Number 9.

Really.

I'm so in love that I spent the day in bed with...Pedro, sniffling, shivering and snoring.

Oh, and blowing my nose.

Happy Valentine's Day!

That ONE Thing

Do you ever have something on your shopping list that you forget repeatedly?

I hit Walmart, Walgreens or Target at least twice a week. Usually more.

There is no excuse for the fact that we are completely out of toothpaste.

We have squeezed every bit out of our full-sized tubes. and two travel sized tubes.

Yet somehow it just doesn't occur to me to pick some up at the store one of the zillions of times I am running in for milk, or yarn, or something else not nearly as important as dental hygiene.

Will somebody please remind me to get some toothpaste this weekend? I have a lot of shopping to do, but you know I'm going to forget.

Gravity

I can feel gravity

today.
I can feel the weight of my own body pressing toward the center of the Earth.

I. am. tired.
I slept better than I have in a long time last night, yet I am more tired than ever today. I am so thankful that it's the end of the week, and I don't have to come back to work until December 27th.
I am sure the way I feel has to do with my pregnancy, but I also think I'm just plain tired.
I'm not trying to be a downer (pun), really. I'm just looking forward to my break.
A co-worker brought me a bottle of wine this morning as a Christmas gift.

Cruel. And unusual.