"You have to MAKE the time for yourself.  Schedule it on your calendar, just make time for YOU!"

I don't know about you, but I've heard this phrase (or something similar) so many times from just about every Workout Guru and Fitness Magazine out there. 

They act like it's so easy.  Just jot that hour's worth of workout down on your calendar and it will magically happen, exactly like you had predicted it would!  PLUS, little fairies will come down and dry each bead of sweat glistening upon your forehead with little towels made out of sun-dried moss.  If only you would just WRITE it on your CALENDAR!!!!

Um, right.  Suzy Squats and Joe Lunges must not have small children.  Little time-stealing monsters who are in constant need of snacks or dress-up dresses or markers or band-aids or plunk down on your lap with no intention of moving for the entire duration of that magical hour you have blocked off on your magical calendar.

Several years ago I purchased a book entitled What Mothers Do Especially When It Looks Like Nothing by Naomi Stadlen.  According to the back of the jacket (because who really has time for actual reading?) mothers have to be "instantly interruptable." 

Instantly Interruptable.  This was a bit of an epiphany!  This was the key to why my days had felt so lost and why I had felt so inefficient.  It wasn't me, or the lack of scheduling - it was simply the career of Motherhood.  Something that had been left out of the job description as I had originally perceived it to be:

Must be kind, generous and patient, ability to kiss away boo-boo pain a must, experience in crafting animal shapes out of food a plus, and instantly interruptable.

When I first began Tracy's program, I had attempted to do the workout in the afternoons. 

And almost kicked Lil Miss Sunshine in the face.

What can I say?  My kids LIKE being around me!  (And would be horrible contenders for a show like "Wipe Out.")  There are precious few years that I get to enjoy their company. 

But I was very serious about committing to the Tracy Anderson Method.  I had to find some sort of compromise.  Somewhere, there had to exist an uninterruptable time slot.  The one and only time slot that I had been avoiding for oh-so-many years - I set the alarm for 5:30 in the morning.

Ah, but I do not just SET my alarm.  Oh, no, I set the alarm on my phone, then place said phone in the bathroom, all the way on the other side of the bedroom, so I am FORCED to get my lazy bones OUT of bed if I am going to shut the darn thing off.  And I'd better run over there, or the sound might wake the children!

Once I'm up, of course, I'm UP!  I used to have thoughts every so often of stealing back into bed, catching a few more zzz's beside my nice, warm husband. 

Then I imagine how disappointed Hubby would be if he saw that I had not completed my workout that morning.  "You skipped?" I could hear him saying in a disappointedly disapproving kind of way.

(Now, Hubby doesn't care one snit whether I get up or sleep in, but I have trained my brain to THINK that he would care, so don't ruin my delusion!)

Most mornings, though, I'm already up, clad in spandex, and downstairs filling up my water-bottle before I have had a chance to realize that I had, indeed, actually removed myself from my nice, warm bed. 

And by 7:00 AM I am already feeling empowered because, if nothing else happens that day, there is one thing I can cross off my calendar....

Dance Cardio - Check!

Level 8, Day 9 - Check!

Before I know it, my workout is finished and I am on to the rest of my totally interruptable day.

I had a miserable time of it last week.

I had somehow developed a canker sore right in the very center of the inside of my right cheek.  You know, that spot where your upper row of teeth and your bottom row of teeth meet when you're chewing your food?  Yep, right there. 

I don't think I've had a canker sore in that spot since I had my braces taken off during those self-esteem-killing teen years.  I had forgotten what a horrible spot that is.  Unlike other sores where you spend the week keeping the food you're chewing solely in one side of your face (making you look like a lopsided chipmunk at mealtimes), in this case, I also had to limit the act of chewing itself, since it would cause my teeth to irritate the sore that much more. 

And, wouldn't you know it, all I wanted was cookies.

But no, I stood strong!

OK, that's a lie.  That makes me sound brave or something.  I stayed far, far away from anything containing sugar or acidic foods like tomatoes because it just HURT.  And it hurt SO MUCH!!!!!

Oh, and I wanted pizza.  I wanted pizza so, so bad.

If you know me, then you know that I'm an avid tea drinker.  Actually, I refer to myself as a "Tea Whore" because I have become so snobbish about where and how my teas are prepared.  However, if I were truly a "snob" I would be partaking in loose leaf tea by now, using those little metal holders and gently pouring not-quite-boiling water into delicate china tea pots.  But I'm not.  I have stuck with the bags and my oversized coffee mugs, which definitely puts me into a "High-Class Tea Whore" category, dontcha think?

So I'm riding out this horrible canker sore, waking up every day hoping to find it healed up so I can EAT something BAD for me.  And I've got maybe a couple days left before that's gonna happen, when I grab my big-ass mug of tea and, with no precautions whatsoever, take a swig. 

OOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!

I burned my tongue.  Not just a little.  Like, the worst tongue burn I've ever had in my whole life. 

I've burned my tongue before, I thought, it'll be fine by tomorrow.

The next morning, the sore had finally almost healed!

But my tongue was killing me. 

It felt like there were four or five canker sores all over the tip of it.  And, oh!, how it hurt!

It'll heal up quick, I told myself, my tongue always heals faster!

Meanwhile, I'm still stuck eating only foods for basic, life-sustaining purposes.  Absolutely nothing fun.  And can I mention that you don't realize how much time you spend using your tongue to pick bits of food out of your teeth until there is shooting pain every time you try to do so???

The next day, of course, my cheek was healed, and my tongue still hurt like hell.

Why???  I had asked in my head, to nobody in particular.

And then I remembered.  Hadn't I prayed?  Hadn't I prayed to God that whole week before to help veer me away from the temptation of emotional eating?  A place that I could so readily go to when there's a candy jar sent straight from the Good Ship Lollipop and a whole shelf in the door of the fridge dedicated to chocolate???

I chuckled, and thought to myself, "Guess I'd better CLARIFY what I'm praying for next time!"

Although, I am now remembering that within that same breath of prayer I had also asked for assistance in steering clear of another personal vice...

Television.

"Dear God, If I may please add one small, tiny addendum.  In regards to this whole "television" thing, please, please refrain from the burning of my eyeballs.... Thanks!"

 

If you checked out my blog post over at Tidewater Women (and if you haven't, then you need to click here) then you already know that a picture of Miss Priss and Lil Miss Sunshine smiling, together,  is about as elusive as a spotting a Yeti riding a unicorn. 

But last Sunday was Mother's Day and, personally, I believe in the Miracle of Mother's Day.  I subscibe to the thinking (and right now, the thinking is mostly in my own head) that Mother's Day is when good fortune is meant to shine down on Mothers all over the world!

And the Mother wanted a picture with her girls.  Not just OF the girls, mind you.  WITH them.

So, of course, we went out for ice cream first.

Because the other half of Mother's Day fortune is recognizing that the only reason you have been blessed with the title is because of the little people you've got constantly underfoot. 

The ice cream trip started off well....   

.....then spiraled out of control!

 

 

 

Yep, looks like we're ready!                                    

We headed to a park in the neighborhood, where buttercups had not yet been ruthlessly mowed over and got to work.

Success!  One decent photo of the three of us.  But wait!  During this one-day-only, super duper Mother's Day Special, I was able to get TWO photos for the price of ONE!

Now how great is THAT???  Let this be proof to you all.  Never doubt the Miracle of Mother's Day!

Every so often a friend asks me how I am liking the Tracy Anderson Metamorphosis program that I have been (literally, as you are about to see) working my ass off with.

"Have you noticed a difference?" they would ask.

"Oh, yeah!" I would say exuberantly.  "I'll be posting the results really soon!"

And by "really soon" I apparently meant "two months from now."

 

(Quick tip: if I ever ask you to babysit and tell you that I'll be back "really soon," it would be a wise idea to get a firm timeframe and then text me every thirty minutes until I return!  Unless, of course, I'm paying you, in which case you will find me extremely prompt.)

 

I have been diligent about keeping records of my progress with Tracy.

Every ten days, like clockwork, I grab my Tracy Anderson tape measure and, while wearing the exact same clothes at the exact same time of day and standing in the exact same spot, document the progress that I have been making.

And there IS progress, people!

I have passed the 60 day mark (out of the 90 days of Metamorphosis) and, in retrospect, I am glad that I waited.

I feel much more confident explaining how my body has transformed after 60 days than I would have after only 30.  Mainly because somebody besides my husband finally NOTICED!  To be honest, though, it was my friend who was on painkillers for a broken rib at the time, so it's possible she was delusional.  But I'll take it!  (Thanks, Julie!)

But you don't care about my feelings!

You just want the results already!

OK, here it goes....

                        Day 1        Day 60

Bust:               36"              35"

Arm:              11.5"          11.25"

Waist:           31.5"            30"

Belly:             34"             31.5"

Hips:              42"              40"

Thigh:          24.5"            23"

Weight:       146.4          136.2

 

So how about that!

I suppose I should explain what a couple of these numbers mean.

I have a diastasis, which means my abdominal muscles did not come all the way back together after having my (totally ungrateful) children, so my tummy pooches out a bit.  A lot.  OK, depends on who you ask!

So I measured at the smallest part of my waist (hence, "waist") and then at the largest part, which is around my belly button.  As you can see, quite a difference there!

Sure, losing ten pounds will help your middle whittle, but I have weighed in at this amount before, and my tummy did not change a whole lot.  Tracy has a lot of fantastic abdominal moves that work the midsection in ways nothing else ever has!

And check out those hips! It's still hard getting used to wearing pants and not feeling the fabric stretch tight like a drum across my round rumpus. And then there's my underwear! I thought I owned bikini-style underpants, but now that they are no longer stretched to the max horizontally, they are sitting up above my hip bones. I never thought I'd be bragging about my (practically, almost) Granny Panties!

Mostly, though, I'm feeling good. Stronger, and fitter, and slimmer. I ordered Continuity (the continuation of the program after Metamorphosis) today.

And once I'm done with my 90 days of the same Dance Cardio video, I'm really looking forward to the new Cardio that's on its way to my mailbox!

Now, there is OH so much MORE I could tell you about Tracy, but it would add up to the longest post in the world!  So I'll split it up and delve into other topics like "Dance Cardio" (aka: How I'm A Slacker) and "Diet" (Not Exactly Tracy Approved).  Of course, I'll be getting to these topics soon. 

Yeah.  REALLY soon.

 

(PS - I have in no way been compensated by Tracy Anderson. All the views expressed are totally my own.)

(PPS - However, if Tracy would like to compensate me in some way, I would absolutely not be offended. It doesn't even have to be money. I would happily accept a week's stay at her new spa in the Hamptons! Or, you know, a hand towel. Whatever she wants to offer!)

There are lots of topics on the "To Be Avoided At All Costs" list when participating in a discussion with one's women's-only bible study group. I thought I was aware of the most important ones, like politics or which morning show is better (for the record, it's the Today Show).  But I have managed to stumble right into yet another one.

Vampires.

Well, I didn't "discover" it, so much as "stepped into it like a big stinky mound of poo."

My bible study group and I are currently working on an in-depth study of The Book of James. There is almost-daily homework involved, as well as a weekly video and group discussion.

And there lay my fatal flaw. I should have done. the. homework.

I did SOME of the homework. But if I'd completed all of it, I, perhaps, would have spared my dear fellow bible-studiers a bit of anxiety.

The class leader pointed out in our workbooks that there were four seemingly-odd rules that James had declared were necessary to become a Christian.

Nope, not the ones you'd think! Not regular stuff like "getting baptized," or "feeding the poor," or "standing in the crowd at the Today Show." 

James Rules for Becoming a Christian

You cannot partake in:

1) food polluted by idols

2) fornication

3) meat of strangled animals

4) blood.

 

I think you all know by now that my brain works in strange and mysterious ways.

And I try, folks, to keep my internal editor set to "high" just to spare most of you the very odd, sometimes troublesome things that float around in there.

However, I did NOT do the homework. And the "editor" was watching a rerun of Friends.

Because while my wonderfully cerebral friend, Christina, made the more obvious connection that these rules had to do with Christians and Non-Christians DINING together, and that "blood" really meant raw vs. cooked meat, I blurted out...

"VAMPIRES! Obviously, he was having trouble with the VAMPIRES!!!"

I thought this was very hilarious and quite witty of me, so I continued blabbering something else about vampires being such a problem back then, awaiting the roar of laughter about to roll out from my classmates.

It. Did. Not.

The silence was deafening, and thrdw me into a mild panic - had missed something?  I was still chattering like a deranged squirrel when someone finally piped up, "are you serious?"

The #1 Rule of Humor is as follows: If you have to explain the joke, then it's just not funny.

I believe the #2 Rule of Humor is: If you can hear a pin drop in a crowded room, then YOU are just not funny.

However, once the ladies realized that I did NOT believe James was some sort of Vampire Slayer for Jesus, the roar of laughter finally ensued.

Not because I was funny, mind you. Because I was so unbelievably stupid!

Although, amongst all the women exclaiming at once how they thought I was being serious, Tammy piped up that she thought it was funny and almost laughed, but no one else was laughing, so she wasn't sure.

Yeah, Tammy totally gets me.

My friend Debbie later told me on Facebook that I set the record for longest stunned silence in the history of the class.

I really hope there's a plaque involved with that title.

I ran into Mary after the service on Sunday, and she said to me, "Well, I thought you were being serious, and I wasn't too sure about that.  But then I thought, well, I really like her, so, you know..."

"So you would have put up with me believing in vampires???  Mary, that's about the nicest thing anyone has ever told me!"

It wasn't the funny I had expected, but it was the funny I got, which was still so totally worth it.

But, I do want to set the record straight. I don't want anyone thinking that I'm some crazed "Twilight-er" fan who desperately believes vampires are real.

That is so ridiculous! Although I love watching those History Channel shows that delve into the origins of the legends, I in no way believe that vampires actually exist!

So ludicrous.

What we really have to watch out for are the Zombies.  Oh, and the Werewolves, of course.

 

I feel deflated.

I feel betrayed.

And, if we're going to be honest here, I'm feeling just a wee bit jealous.

What could possibly shatter my delicate hold on reality, you wonder?

One word.

Nanny.

Oh, people.  People, people, peeeeeeople....

(You can hear the whining already, can't you?  It just OOZES out of your computer screen.)

As most of you know, I've been around the Blogiverse for quite a while.  But in the last couple of years, I've had a lack of consistency with my ramblings, er, postings.  There are loads of reasons for this, and since it's not the point of this post, I'm not going to delve into that muck right now (plus, The Hubster is on a run and is expecting the Little Woman to have started dinner when he gets back - somebody better message the Little Woman).  What's important is that I want to write.  I need to write.  And I have a renewed commitment to writing!

Now somebody notify my kids.

So there's this Hot New Blogger that's been at it for over a year now, with this great following, and everybody loves her. Or, at least, the people who comment love her, and that's close enough to "everybody," right?

She's got two kids.

I'VE got two kids!

She stays home with 'em.

I stay home with 'em TOO!

And she posts just about every day.

Which is where our similarities part ways.

I do not regularly read her blog, just a post here or there.  So, truthfully, I did not know that much about her beyond what I just mentioned above.  But I held her up on a pedestal! 

She PARENTS!  She BLOGS!  How does she DO it all????

Are you ready to go on a Tangent?  OK, hold onto your bootstraps, cause here....we....gooooo!!!!

Hubster took me skiing with his parents when we were oh so young and happy and childless and carefree!  I had only been skiing twice before that - in IOWA, mind you - back in high school.  "I know what I'm doing!" I promised.  "Don't worry about me!"

The second I pushed off the top of Big Bear Mountain out in California, I realized quickly that I was VERY WORRIED about ME!!!!

I had no idea what I was doing.  I went screaming down that sheet of snow like Wyle E. Coyote with the grace of Goofy.  I was too afraid to fall, that I would break something or run into a tree, so I kept going at my ever-increasing break-neck speed and prayed that somehow SOMETHING would make me fall and NOT kill someone ELSE in the process!

It was horrible.

Yet, there I was on Day 2, perched at the top of that mountain (after a few lessons from Hubs), petrified to try it again. (And you know once you've taken that chair thingy up to the top, there is no WAY you are catching a ride back down.  There is only one way down, baby!)

So, with my skis angled into each other, I eeked my way down the face of that cliff.  (They called it the "Beginner Slope," but I knew better by then.) 

Soon into it, I noticed this little girl in front of me.  About 5 or 6 years old, she was skiing with no poles, just skis on her feet, angled into each other just like mine.  Her dad was obviously wishing he was on the Diamond slopes (which, conveniently, was where Hubs ran off to, leaving Wyle E. all on her own) because the guy would ski a ways down, then wait, wait, wait for his little girl to catch up.

"If she can do it, I can do it."

It was my mantra.  I told myself that phrase about 500 times as we timidly made our way down, down, down.  That phrase kept my brain from terrorizing itself, whenever it tried to remember the events of the previous day. 

The poor little thing even fell a couple of times, and I would ski over and scoop her back up. 

NO, I was NOT being "NICE."  I NEEDED her!!!  I could NOT make it down that mountain without my little lucky charm, showing me, just be EXISTING, that if a five-year-old could make it down and not DIE, then, doggone it, I can, TOO!

So this new blogger-woman was my newest motivator.  If SHE could take care of her kids, and her home, and her blog and not DIE, then, doggone it, I can, TOO!!!

But as I opened up my Typepad this afternoon, feeling a need to write but not really knowing what about, I saw this other blogger's feed on my homepage. 

"I'll read just one little post," I told myself, "to get the juices flowing."

And there it was.

N-A-N-N-Y.

Not that she hid it, because she didn't.  And not that I have anything against nannies, because I don't.  And not that her life isn't fraught with it's own day-to-day problems and challenges and what-nots.

It's like I just found out my five-year-old lifesaver was actually on a motorized conveyor belt.

So I will be looking for a new Bloggy Wonder Mom that I can hitch my ski poles to.  I know they are out there, the ones that keep house and raise kids and do cool stuff and blog about it.  Actually, I already know some amazing and talented women who do just that. 

I guess I was just sucked into the shiny newness of this one.

 

As some of you already know from my previous post, I have recently been indoctrinated into the Tracy Anderson Metamorphosis workout series. Last week's post was a rehashing of my lifelong fitness quest - one that was (not surprisingly) totally lackluster - until it culminated with the discovery of The Tracy Anderson Method. Will this, my new-found passion, be the ticket to a healthy well-being?

After that first post, I had a few inquiries as to what the heck I was talking about, and what sort of guru am I hitching my wagon to THIS time? Hence, this follow-up to (hopefully!) shine a bit of light on the what's what of this program.

First, a little background (aka: what I read in the book). Tracy Anderson began developing her Method about ten years ago. Her background is in dance, and you can see the influence of that in many of the movements. She eventually became Madonna's trainer and (I think) that's when people started to notice her. She and Madonna had some kind of falling out (that was NOT in her book, THAT was found somewhere on Google), but Tracy has had a string of celebrity clients ever since. Names like Shakira, Courtney Cox, Zoey Deschanel, and her most vocal client, Gwyneth Paltrow. Gwyneth believed so much in The Method that she became a partner and helped bring the Metamorphosis program to market.

Tracy (yes, we are on a first-name basis. I am on a first-name basis with anyone I see every single morning!) initially released a few DVD's here and there. Titles like "Dance Cardio" and "Post-Pregnancy Workout." Then she released her "Design Series," which was a set of three DVDs. Then came the book (as previously mentioned) and now the "Metamorphosis" program, followed by Continuity (but I'll get to those later).

Just tell us WHAT it IS already!!!!!

OK, ok, cool your jets!

Essentially, her program consists of two things - Dance Cardio and Muscular Structure Work.

The first time I saw (and tried to perform) the "Dance Cardio," I thought, this is absolutely NOT dancing. This is just jumping around like an idiot!

Until I eschewed the icky background music on the video, and supplemented with some upbeat tracks from my iPhone that one would actually DANCE to, and my tune changed.

OH! OK, with the right music, this IS more like dancing!

But, to be really totally honest, it is a lot of jumping around like an idiot. Tracy does not even remotely look like an idiot. She is very svelte and totally gorgeous dancing around like she's doing an Irish jig. Even her jumping jacks look HOT.

I look like the idiot. Because Tracy is not terribly instructional on her videos. (And by "not terribly instructional" I mean "there's about 30 seconds worth of voice-over, and that's it!)

Don't get me wrong, it is ultimately one of the reasons I love the program so much! Part of my boredom with other videos is that it gets really old listening to the instructor say the same thing day in and day out.

BUT, that means you've really got to pay attention and be on your game. Not too bad, actually, I find that it keeps my mind focused.

To help you visualize what all this Dance Jumping looks like, I've got a handy YouTube video to share. (See, I do all the visualizing work for you!)