I need an exercise program.

Period. Yes, I just said that publicly. Why??

1. I have extra me that I want to lose.

2. My brain is about as foggy as London (which is about as foggy as foggy gets, right? I mean seriously- it is imperative that my head stay attached to my body at this point. Otherwise I will lose the damn thing.).

3. I want to firm up my arms and increase muscle mass.

Now, I started stair-climbing last Friday on a whim at my job while on a break. In this Texas weather, when it can be too windy one day and/or too cold the next (then too hot!), I needed something I could do away from the elements. Wow, it's challenging; much more so than I expected! Seeing as I have a two-story house, I expected it to be fairly easy. Well, getting to the second floor was. Beyond that, it becomes challenging. But let's re-visit last week.

Friday, I climbed up to the fourth floor (out of 10) and by the time I reached the mezzanine, I was out of breath and my heart pounded. Now, my heart still pounds a bit, but not nearly as much. Until I reach the fifth floor, that is. Then I am just as winded as I was last week at the fourth floor. I still haven't decided when I want to move up to the sixth floor (ha), but I think I'll take my time on that one, as I am in no rush and want to not only get in shape, but want to STAY in shape. Now, while I can't work on the arms this way, I can at least firm up the gleuts.

And now that I have discovered the goodness that is gelato, I really need an exercise program.

Wait, was I supposed to take the picture first?

I want to do all of the above, and not go to the gym (as for why, that's a whole other post). So please help me... what are some good home workouts I can do? Preferably not too noisy since I would be doing them either very early in the AM or while the girls are napping, assuming it takes place at home.

Keeping my gelato would be great, too. ;)

~~CrazyMom

Words of Wisdom: Wait for it.

"Good things come to those who wait," my mom always said to me, throughout my life.

I had just graduated college the spring before and started my full-time job a few weeks before, and I was (unofficially) engaged to my sweetheart. Things were looking up.

I was just engaged. Literally. Said sweetheart, I'll call him Y, had just asked me while driving down a quiet country road that evening. It wasn't exactly the stereotypical romantic storybook proposal, but it was unexpected. And awesome. I had spent the evening floating on Cloud 9 (which, by the way, is awesome transportation) through Downtown, and landed on my doorstep, kissing Y goodbye for the night. However, the high of good news came crashing down with news of a death in the family (whose funeral we could not make, due to financial reasons).

Some weeks later, we made the way to our fave restaurant and had the family meeting, i.e. Y asked my family for his hand. We wanted to marry that next fall. It went well, for the most part, except one thing, which was made clear over time... my mom was not pleased about my choice. We had many a discussion, and I'll not-so-proudly admit that some were more like catfights. After all, she had a point. I had just graduated from college and found a job in the real world. I hadn't really... LIVED yet.

But I was determined that Y was The One. Undeterred, we looked at homes together (albeit totally on our own, homes that were under construction). We discussed how we'd raise our kids. Still, my mom pressed. She felt that Y wasn't The One. He wasn't right for me. It got under my skin. It irked me.

Finally, I caved. I sat down, shut up and did some soul searching. I hadn't even had my own place yet. Heck, I hadn't even had my first real review yet at my job (you know, the one that doesn't scream "We are going to throw you under that DART bus if you don't do XYZ!"). I hadn't even experienced what it was like to... have my own place. My own space. Breathe. I hadn't even really stopped to... you know, smell the new roses that had bloomed right in front of me.

That night, I swallowed my pride and conceded. I admitted that my own gut had even hinted that Y wasn't the right man for me, and that mom's advice to not marry him had affected me as well. I made the difficult decision to call everything off (fortunately, no dress or rings were bought yet, so that made it a *tiny* bit easier). After all, good things come to those who wait, right? Shoot, had I been more prayerful about it, it probably wouldn't have taken so long.

Fast forward about a year. I was settled in my own place and my job was going well. I loved it. Newly single from another relationship that I knew wasn't compatible, I had vowed to take it easy, no dating for a while. That lasted all but a couple of months. I met the man who later became my husband and we hit it off.

And here I sit, now, with two young tornadoes girls, watching Lalaloopsy Land as I type this and talk to them. My husband is out and about and we are sitting in our home, living the American Dream. Thanks to heeding what was probably the best advice my mom gave to me, I am so blessed right now. Good things do come to those who wait!


~~CrazyMom

All Too Aware.

"There is a lump in your left breast," informed Dr. W as she did my exam. "We need to schedule an ultrasound to see it."

"OK," I replied.

"Do you take alot of caffeine," asked the doctor. "Chocolate? Chocolate girl!"

Later that week, I confided in my then-new-fiance/now-husband. "They found a lump in my breast. I have to go get an ultrasound."

"Ok. We'll see how it goes.I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

Time dragged on over the next several days as I informed my mom of what was going on and then finally had the test. The wait seemed to drag and drag until I was finally called back, took my bra off and put on the standard-issue muumuu gown for the test. Since it was a breast that was being scanned, I was able to use a pillow to lay back on. I watched as the tech ran the wand through the cold gel puddle on my breast. I strained to see the black-and-white clipped-triangle screen and make heads or tails of all of the black and white lines on the screen to no avail.

"What do you see," I asked the tech in earnest. "How big is it? Pea-sized?"

"Yeah, probably pea-sized," she replied as she kept scanning.

And more scanning, scanning and more scanning, for what felt like an eternity. Finally I was free to go, hoping that would be the end of it.

Unfortunately, I received the dreaded callback the next evening. The doctor was talking, but all I heard was "solid nodule... biopsy..." I began crying right there in the car (my fiance was driving) and didn't stop for quite some time. God Bless my husband, I even screamed while freaked out and crying; he had told me everything was going to be ok. My comeback? "Not if I have CANCER!" Yes, that dreaded C-word had crossed my mind and taken up residence at the forefront. cancer?? can't do that... hell no... wedding in sept... what to do? how many opinions to get? surgery? drugs? what next? "It'll be a fine-needle biopsy" "Please please please get me in SOON!"

They say ignorance is bliss. Perhaps it would have been in this case. But unfortunately, one could probably say I knew know too much about some things. For me, this would have been one of them. I was officially TOO aware.

I'm going to be blunt here; I don't get it. I may as well just admit this is a rant.

Don't get me wrong here, I understand wanting to be aware of a disease that can, and does, sneak up on you and can kill you. But there are a whole lot of other diseases that can do that. A whole month (and then some) of having this "awareness" shoved down my throat? No, thanks. Does Diabetes awareness month get this much attention (ever heard of a 3-day for diabetes)? Heart awareness month get this much attention? Not that I've seen.

"Save the tatas." Really? Do you have to shout such a juvenile and asinine slogan? Save my life, please! Even if it does ultimately mean cutting the girls off and laying them to rest. They've done awesome feeding my daughters, but that's the thing- I have them to think about. And a husband. And in-laws (I get along with!),among many others. Don't get me wrong, I have followed many a survivor's story, and it's not that simple- in many cases I've seen mastectomy AND chemo needed. But that's the trouble- such a simplistic slogan makes it sound so, and definitely minimizes the disease's impact it can have.

And what about the sophomoric games that have been played, while supposedly in the name of awareness, but really have absolutely nothing to do with cancer, but are demeaning to women. Telling the Facebook world what color my bra is is not going to magically end any cancer, let alone breast cancer. List your status as "pink" and I am liable to think you are talking about the musician. Black? uhhh... new pair of shoes? Show me a picture, please!

The pink merchandise. Wow, that's a whole other ballgame. I love the color pink. In fact, it was one of my wedding colors. However, the whole breast-cancer awareness thing has, well, put a damper on it for me. I feel hard-pressed to find a pink toy or appliance that doesn't have that cutesy pink ribbon on it. Sure, I'd love to buy that pink stand mixer or pink knickknack for my girls, but sorry, but I don't want to think about breast cancer every time I bake. Or play with said knickknack with my girls. I know you can't really say how you'd act in a situation until it happens to you, but I know I'd be a bit annoyed to receive pink boxing gloves as a recovery gift from a breast cancer treatment. Seriously. I don't intend to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything here, but I'm sure I'd need a punching bag to go with a set of regular, red boxing gloves. Wouldn't want my girls to see me freak out.

Seriously. This is overkill. Yes, cancer is a horrible disease, but so is Epidermolysis Bullosa (EB), stroke, AIDS and HIV. Diabetes and sleep apnea suck, too. Where's their 3-day, 60-mile walk and cause-colored merchandise? This is not to minimize breast cancer. I know that, unfortunately, hundreds of thousands of people have died from it over the decades. Yes, people (NOT just women!). Trouble is that other forms of cancer exist and kill people: brain cancer, pancreatic cancer, ovarian cancer, cervical cancer, testicular cancer, heart disease (especially of the congenital variety) and a myriad of other diseases. Why does breast cancer trump all of these by getting a month of its own? Some of these other diseases, like diabetes and heart disease, have their own months, but how much do we hear about it, save for social media? How come it seems to trump social issues like...bullying?

I felt blessed to find out the day after my biopsy that the lump was benign. A fibroadenoma, with some glandular tissue mixed in (which was confirmed in my lactating days). Yes, I still have it, but I keep a tab on it. While it was a huge relief to not have cancer, I thought about all the folks who aren't so lucky, and I still do. I feel for them, many having to put their lives on the line by way of surgery and/or dangerous chemotherapy that could very well end their lives.

Stop giving breast cancer awareness a bad name!

~~CrazyMom

Wait, WHAT?

It's Dec 31 already?! Wow. And yet again, I have failed to find the time to blog more! I know I've vowed several times to do so and, well, failed. But this year will be different. Yes, I know.

It will.

I have always had trouble (as all writers do, I'm sure) finding and thinking up stuff to write about. While I love to blog about my home projects, they don't come near often enough at this point to be able to center this entire blog around them. Not everyone wants to hear about my home life, either, and I don't wanna write too much about controversial stuff (abortion, gay marriage, for two) either; it's just not my thing. I just wanna be me.

Thanks to a long-time reference site of mine, SITS, I finally have some writing prompts I can identify with! It's funny, because the first one listed mentioned basically mentions blogging more, in my mind. Probably because I need to do it. I know I won't have the time to do every single one, nor do I have an answer for every single one, but they are something to work with! If you have a blog and are struggling with ideas, I suggest you check the site out. It's awesome! (thesitsgirls.com)

So there you have it, one of my 2014 New Years Resolutions. The funny thing is that I haven't made any NY resolutions in a long, long time. So why not go for some now?

1. Blog More. I have a smartphone. No excuses on this one!
2. Spend more quality time with the family
3. Breathe a little more
4. Stress a little less
5. Eat healthier. This one goes for the entire fam.
6. Stop and smell the roses more often.
7. Make 2014 an incredibly awesome year. Period. And do whatever is necessary to make it one. Well, almost whatever is necessary...

If anyone has any suggestions for topics or just wants to see me write something, call me out! My e-mail is listed in the contact link above. It's just spelled out to (hopefully) keep spammers out.

A clueless girl's rudimentary guide to football:

It's that time of year again, folks, when (grown) men, in stadiums throughout the USA, run around chasing an oval-shaped, brown ball, with cute stitching on top, around a field. The field has two yellow goal posts which look like a robotic-shaped letter 'Y' on each end of it (commonly referred to as an end- zone). The objective is to get the ball into the opposing team's end zone or something. 

But that is no easy feat. Or is it? It appears incredibly easy from high up, or even on tv, where we can see which end zone is whose. But from the ground? How is it possible? Both end zones look alike! Obviously I've never played tackle football before but I can guarantee you that I would be the oddball running the ball in the wrong direction, all disoriented from seeing so many different men dressed alike and nearly all running after me...

But back to the game: Then the unfortunate ball-carrier either trips over his shoelaces (a fumble?) or gets straight-up tackled (or -*gasp*- sacked!). The men then pile on top of each other, with said ball being hugged by the poor guy at the bottom, who I am sure is thankful summer is on its way out, being so close to the guys. 

Then they line up, scatter a few others around for good measure, throw the ball up in the air and do it all again. For two hours. But there are breaks in this cycle; occasionally a man will break through his invisible wall and somehow make it to the other end of the field, with the little oval still in his arms. That, my friends, is a touchdown. Said man then may spike the ball to the ground and throw his arms up in the air, shouting celebratory remarks (whilst the opposing team surely utter curse words under their helmets). But it's no shenanigan; that victorious runner just earned his team six points on the board. And if he kicks the little brown oval with the cute stitching on top through the top of the big Y, it's an extra point. Hey, every little bit helps.

Finally, the game narrows down to the last couple of minutes, probably the slowest part of the game (especially if you're watching on TV!). If the game happens to be tied, it could go either way as both teams scramble to get hold of that little brown oval with the cute stitching. Sometimes, unfortunately, the game is already won or lost, depending on who you root for.

Once it's over, though, one thing is for sure: we can't wait for the next game of men chasing the that little brown oval around the stadium, but then it all goes too fast- before we know it the Super Bowl is over and we are vacuuming confetti off of our living room rugs and savoring the last of the ranch dip with the chips of the potato chips.