It's Time to Confess...

I don't think I am a baby person. Babies are sweet and smell good, but I LOVE the stage little Tommy is in right now. He is 17.5 months and can run and play and does TONS of signs. He brings me toys and asks for help with them. He is interested in new people or things he has never seen before. Everything is such an exciting adventure. This morning we went to the garden nursery and bought some flowers for our pots. He pointed at each type of flower and did the sign for flower...two sniffs. When I let him carry one of the flowers to the car, he smiled and signed, "Thank you, Mommy." Then we went through the drive-through at Starbucks, and from his car-seat he kept telling the man at the window, "Momma. Drink." (Yes we go through this drive-through a lot, but I have to have something to replace my diet pop addiction I'm trying to kick). Next up was the library, where the librarian helped us find a book about elephants and one about gorillas. Tommy and David went to the zoo in Oklahoma City last weekend, and those were his two favorite animals. He wouldn't let the books go when it was time to check-out until he showed the lady the signs for both animals. Lastly, on the way home we saw a train. Instead of Choo Choo, Tommy says CAW CAW!! Oh how I love my little bugaboo. These are pictures from the last month or so. I couldn't find my camera cord for awhile.

DaaDaDaaDa DaaDaDaaDa

I observed a 3rd grade class the other day. The kids were working on similes. I always liked similes.
Here are some that pertain to my current life:

1. Elmo is as cool to Thomas as a movie star.
2. Ryan Gosling is as hot as fire.
3. When we see the stuffed Elmo at the library Thomas is like a drooling, love-sick puppy.
4. If Ryan Gosling ever came to my house to make-out with me, I would melt like butter.

That's right. Elmo and Ryan G. are the kings in this house. Oh and David you are hot and super-cool too. (Don't worry, David has given me full permission to make-out with Ryan with no aftermath if he ever comes to our house). But here's a question for you: What is it about Elmo that makes him the main attraction of Sesame Street? I mean, I truly think if Thomas ever got to touch the actual Elmo he would be like the girl in my dad's high school class who touched one of the Beatles and didn't wash her hand again until it turned black and was getting infected.

Inner Athlete Squashed

I had my free personal training session today at the new gym we joined. I sensed it was going to be bad when the trainer left the following message on my answering machine: "Adrienne, Hi how ARE you. This is Wendy from the gym. I'd love to meet with you this week to talk about getting some of this weight I'm seeing on your chart off. Can you come in tomorrow at 6am?"

Uh no. I'm not coming to the gym at 6am to have my ass kicked by this 5'8"-solid muscled-no ounce of fat-drill Sargent. So we made an appointment for 11:30am. Much more my style.

When I joined the gym I was about 10lbs. heavier than I thought I would be. I put the scale away last month because I was getting a little obsessed. I had weighed in for the gym at the end of the day with my clothes on, so according to my previous Weight Watchers friends I was asking for it. But considering all my previous work to lose 30lbs. this year I truly thought I was ready to run with the big dogs. (see my previous post). I know I still have some weight to get off in order to be in peak condition, but I've been feeling great lately, not eating as much crap, and working out 5 days a week.

Enter Wendy. My worst nightmare. When God dealt out empathy she didn't get any. First she showed me some chart that compared me to other 5'3", 28-year-old women. I was "far below average." I would have to lose 38 pounds and weigh 104 to be above average like Wendy (so humbly) pointed out she is. I'm pretty sure in 4th grade I weighed more than 104. Wendy went on to measure me with some pincher thing and mentioned I had quite a few extra "inches" in my chest area. I chuckled and told her the whole shrinking boobs after breastfeeding story was a myth for me. She didn't find me very humorous. Next I had to do a step-test in a skirt. Still trying to get this non-human woman to have a little fun, I asked her where she grew up. "I went to Northwest," she grunted. That's where I went too! Finally something we can agree on. She asked me if I played sports. I told her about my 4 years on the C-team of Cross Country and Track. Grunts. This All-American Volleyball, Basketball, and Track star was not impressed that my parents live next door to Coach Rose now.

Then Wendy and I sat down for a little talk. She asked me why I am in the "far below average" category. When I gave her my sob story about how I felt like hell during pregnancy, only ate Speghetti-O's and cookie cake for 9 months, gained 55 lbs, didn't workout at all, and then had a 4th degree tear during delivery and couldn't exercise for 6 months postpartum she smirked and told me I was at risk for diabetes and heart problems. She stated with people like me who don't seem to value a healthy body it's best to try to scare them into getting to work. I was scared. Scared of this freaky man-woman. Then we walked around for a minute while she showed me how to do a bicep curl and told me not to press "Quick Start" on the treadmill.

Wendy's recommendation for me was to workout 2 hours a day, eat 1200 calories or less of lean protein and complex carbs, and drink more water. Oh and she wants me to come back for 4 more training sessions and pay her $250. Have a nice life, Wendall, I mean Wendy. I'm going to continue to do what I can with the body composition I was born with and not worry about weighing 104. Oh and just so you know, I ate 2 oreos just now, hoe.

CHALMERS THREEEEEEE!

We went to the KU Victory Parade yesterday in Lawrence. Crowds swarmed the players like they were movie stars as they rode by in convertibles. It was crazy. Tommy LOVED it. He thought the whole parade was just for him and clapped the entire time.

I've been trying to think about what would be the equivalent of hitting a last minute 3-point shot to win the National Championship of College Basketball in my life. Mario Chalmers had to feel absolutely exhiliterated. I'm sure he will NEVER get tired of watching the replay of those few moments. For me I thought about completing a marathon. Like Chalmers, it was something I worked really hard for, but for some reason it didn't feel quite right. Then I thought about giving birth. Glorious, but still didn't fit. Being a Wilderness Guide for three summers? There were definitely a few moments on the trail that brought "glorious and inexpressible joy," but no.

Side note: I watched the video of Tommy's 1st Birthday Party randomly today. I couldn't believe it was me on tape. There I was, a beautiful wavy haired, MOM. I was so happy that day. So present. The tape shows me as a confident in the moment woman. I wasn't getting side-tracked by my stupid in-laws or the 10lbs. I still had to lose. I could have watched myself again and again.

Back to Mario. This morning it hit me that the equivelient of hitting a 3-point shot to win it all for me is being present in each moment and content with my circumstances. When I got up and was able to recognize how fortunate I am to have a loving husband, a beautiful son, an amazing house, great family, a good brain, a working body, etc. it helped me to take advantage of each moment today. Pushing Tommy in his swing and soaking in what he looks like right now and how happy he is to be outside...LISENBY THREE! Realizing I'll never get the moment back that David walked in the door this afternoon and giving him a huge kiss...LISENBY THREE! I could go on and on, but staying present and content...that is my big shot.

Some Things I Did Today

My pal from college has been posting on her blog a list of 100 things she wants to do before she goes. I thought about doing the same, but lists of many things that don't end up getting done make me feel guilty. Plus, who knows how life is going to unfold. I could have never put on a list 5 years ago, "Decorate a suburb house," but that is what I've spent some time doing this year. In the spirit of being mindful and present, here are a few things I've done today:

1. Watched Alec Baldwin on Sesame Street
2. Made a note for Tommy's Texas grandparents by helping him put on stickers and put it in the mailbox
3. Folded clothes with Tommy and had a sock-ball war
4. Read "Where's Spot?" 3 times out of order
5. Sat still on the couch while my son lifted up my shirt to see my button at least 100 times.
6. Laughed at an 17-month-old who still wants to sit in his take-along swing to watch Barney
7. Talked to two friends on the phone
8. Blew my nose about once every 10 minutes from a sinus infection
9. Had my hair pulled. Hard.
10. Received 4-5 kisses with the top of a head.

Kansans Unite!

If you are not from Kansas you may not understand this post. People here are CRAZY about their sports teams. I mean nuts. I haven't noticed this kind of support in the other cities where I've lived. I LOVE sports, especially basketball. I couldn't be more excited that the Kansas Jayhawks are in the Championship Game tomorrow night. I've watched them all season long and can very vividly remember when they won it all in 1988. Danny Manning and Larry Brown were my idols. In the 1990's I had posters in my room of Jarred Haas and Jacque Vaughn. My whole life I've cheered for the Hawks...even when I transferred to K-State.

I know going to Kansas for one year and then transferring to KSU for 2.5 years is a unique situation, but come on Wildcats. Why can't you be happy that a school in your state is winning? I get the rivalry, but I know my dad would cheer for Missouri in the National Championship Game even though he hates them. It looks good for the Big 12 Conference if someone represents. Some of my friends here have recently crossed the line of fun. Especially Wildcats that say they won't cheer for KU Monday night or Jayhawks that would Boo Roy Williams. Roy was like a distant father to me, and he has the right to change his mind about where home is for him (even though he didn't do it perfectly). I love KU basketball. I love the town of Manhattan, KS. I know I am a rare bird (cat?), but maybe a little neutrality and love for my whole state is not such a bad thing. Pull yourselves together, Kansans, and let's all root for KU tomorrow night at 8pm.

Holy Cow.

Did anyone know that a Chipotle burrito with NO sour cream or guacamole has 1,000 calories? Crap.

Inner Athlete Unleashed

I've spent so much time trying to get baby weight on and then off the past two years that I forgot I am an athlete. I joined a gym last month that unleashed my athlete-self again. One day last week I worked out so hard I almost threw up. It's been a LONG time. And it felt awesome. Where did athlete Adrienne go?

There is no better feeling than pushing my body almost over the edge. I've been running again, doing cardio on the stair master or elliptical machines and lifting weights. And not wimpy girl weights. Strong woman weights. My goal is to continue to tone up and slim down over the next few months. It is almost like when I became pregnant I forgot that I ran 2 marathons, was a backpacking guide, and even was the second best female runner in camp for 2 summers. I was strong. And fast. And I'm starting to see that again. I love to sweat, and I need to call myself an athlete to make sweating a priority in my life.

Now that working out has become consistent for 6 straight months, it's time to work on the eating again. I can only do one thing at a time. I'm really going to give myself grace here though and cut out the bad stuff slowly and not altogether. Thomas is starting to notice what I eat and wants what is on my plate. This fact has made me more aware that if I wouldn't feed it to my baby it's probably not best for me either. A good example is cookie cake for breakfast. A note to self: If your son is signing for a cookie at 8am because he sees one on your plate you are probably not modeling well.

Oh and the great thing about this gym is that a bunch of 'real' athletes go there. So that means their kids are in the playroom. So Thomas gets to learn from tall kids. The other day he made friends with Garrison. Garrison's dad was in the NBA for awhile. I've found myself already wanting my son to succeed in athletics but deep down know his only chance is to be quick and coordinated. He's just not going to be very big. But like his momma he has a big heart and a lot of determination. He did knock a kid down when hunting for Easter Eggs recently, and Garrison taught him how to go head first down the slide. We have a little Rudy in the making.