Update Schmupt-date

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I could give you some “oh man it’s been forever..I’m really going to get better about this blog” bullshit.  But I won’t.

I could tell you all the amazing things that have happened to me, my family and friends over the last year.  But I won’t.

I could tell you all the hardships, failures and seemingly motivational “only way to go but up” happenings of last year.  But I won’t.

Nope.  Moving forward I’m just going to post what’s up currently.

If ya like it, give it a “like” and a follow.  

If you REALLY like it, share this blog, baby.

If you don’t, well. fine.  don’t blame me. You read it.

and now…the musings of a Powerlifting Mom who babbles on the radio for a living in 3…..2……..

I was an Adult Today.

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IMG_3675I don’t know about you, but when I was growing up in the small town of Grafton, North Dakota, we used the word coffee as a verb.  You didn’t go to visit, you went to coffee.  This inevitably meant cups of coffee around a dining room or kitchen table and chatter about everything in the county.

Today’s noun as a verb is ADULT.  eg.  I don’t want to ADULT today.  ha! right!?  not Adult’ing to me is napping…I mean what ‘adult’ is expected to nap?!  But Adult is much more than that.  It’s bills, responsibilities, errands..you know the crap you never really want to do.  I did that today.  The crap I never want to do. Oddly in the end, I feel really well accomplished.  I even read a few excerpts out of my motivational positive thinking books!

I wish I could clear off the entire fridge and just place that magnet of amazingness on my list of ADULTNESS from today! Have the heavens open up with an angelic light that says, SHE DID SOMETHING!

But I didn’t.  And it didn’t. And there is still laundry to fold.

I’m going to bed.

Use Oils they say…Will keep Bugs Away they say…

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I’m not going to knock essential oils…but, I’m going to knock essential oils.  I’m a beginner in the EO universe with no desire to be She-Ra Princess of Oil Power.  I will not be found toting 6 kids in a minivan all doused with pachouli or any other cleansing oil while carrying business cards and samples in a fanny pack.  I won’t. I simply won’t.

EO’s have done some serious wonders for me, my seasonal allergies and even some healing. I get my EO’s from a good friend who knows, I’m not in it for the business, I’m in it for the decrease in water retention and the ability to sleep like a baby in a lavender cloud.

Tonight I made the mistake of “googling” what oils to use to repell mosquitos. Insert 8,000 beyond-passionate EO fanatics with THE answer.

So tonight I had a date with Relaxation: a beautiful clear sky this evening, baby in bed, dusk, candles lit, cup of hot coffee, my ipad and…

10,000 blood sucking fiends.

So, I douse my fave scarf with a combo of lavender, Tea tree Oil and Peppermint. Three oils I had on hand that were touted as AMAZINGLY Effective options for repellent.  I sit down, open Pinterest and realize that my 10,000 new found friends already pinned a cute sign made from pallets that read “Buffet – All You Can Eat”.  It was a massacre.  I could almost hear the laughter of crazy oil ladies zipping up their fanny packs.

So, now I’m covered in Benedryl, listening to my husband tell me I didn’t pay my parking tickets again. Followed by the “Why are you getting parking tickets anyway” conversation.

So much for a nice calm relaxing evening on the deck.  I smell like a custom tube of Aspercreme and I’m itchy.

But my seasonal allergies are at bay and I just started watching another episode of Orange is the New Black on Netflix. So everything is right in my world.

Burpees or Boogers….I’ll take the boogers.

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I hate boogers. phlem. spit..gack!  They will make me barf in an instant.  But Burpees?  LOATHE them.  Once I had my son Timothy, it’s like ‘mama mode’ kicked in and developed a superhero like suit between the boogers and I.  On more than one occasion I have caught myself “grabbin’ a boogie”.  No kleenex. No nothing. Just my bare hand and a boogie. This is barbaric.  It’s almost like I can hear Braveheart screaming in the background “FREEEEEEDOM!” when I actually catch my son long enough to nab it.  THEN I grab a kleenex, because obviously I’m health code dyslexic, and dispose of the evil boogie.  I stand tall, hair flowing in the wind and think to myself, “Super Mom! Fighting Grime One Boogie at a Time!” then you almost hear a record scratch as Timothy puts my entire iPhone in his mouth and starts running with scissors. joy.

The moral of this long, dysfunctional tale, is that I overcame my gag reflex with boogies.  It was like a Christmas Miracle without annoying carolers and cocoa.  But Burpees? I hate them as much as Jumping Jacks.  You know the exercise that every fat person in the 80’s did in terrible grey sweatsuits where you could see every last ounce of their fat doing the cha-cha?   I know they make our cores tight and fantastic.  I know they help our Cardiovascular endurance.  I know that more than 15 in a row will make me barf.  But I don’t think that 10 Christmas Miracles in a row will make me like or even tolerate them.  So, I will go on, cursing my trainer (outloud) whilst hoisting my arse up and down doing these satanic exercises because I know that someday, I’ll hit my goal and I’ll never have to do them again.  Instead, I’ll smuggle wine into the gym and sip it while I watch another victim of the burpee have their will to live tested.