Habits: Start one, Break one (or something)
I’ve told you about my work out motivated husband. Often, he’ll head off towards the basement and ask Big I if she’d like to go "work out" with him. Their work out consists of sit-ups (or in Big I’s case "lay downs" which look like she’s been glued to the floor as she tries to sort of lift the back of her head maybe a half inch off the mat), push-ups (also known as stationary horsey ride on Daddy’s back), a nice game of leap frog (or squats according to my husband), and pull ups for my husband (hang from the beams for Big I). My husband defends this "work out" as a good one for both of them.
Today, my husband when to the gym. Lil C was sleeping and after reading all of your comments and emails saying how motivating I am. . . I figured I better fit the part and go work out or something. So, I told Big I that she was welcome to join me and she did. She suggested warming up with some jumping jacks. We did some spirited jumping jacks, followed by punches and double punches in Nai Hanchi, followed by snap kicks: obi level (belt or stomach area) and to the head on my heavy bag of course (Big I used her Scooby Doo punching bag.) That was just the warm up.
We then moved on to Kata one and push-ups. At this point, Big I decided to quit and requested we play a nice game of Memory instead. She even volunteered to get the game from the closet herself. I told her that I was working out, and that I wanted her to work out with me. Her response? "No Mommy. You’re work out is way harder than Daddy’s."
Can I tell you how many ways she made my day by saying that? My warm up is a harder work out than Daddy’s? Oh yeah, you hear that darling husband? That was all the motivation I needed to continue with my work out. I’m an extremely competitive person; and there’s no one I’m more competitive with than my husband. I sailed through the rest of my kata’s and waza’s. I churned out my push-ups and pushed past the pain that is still haunting my arms and chest. I did the sit-ups and even did the pilates 100 instead of plain sit-ups. I did the squats and got to 10 without even a thought about which treat I would reward myself with afterwards.
After I was finished, I was sweating. I hadn’t showered yet so it wasn’t a problem. Big I and I decided our post work out cool down would be a nice game of Scrabble Junior. No cookie today.
Despite the fact that Big I told me mine is the harder work out, deep down I know that it’s because mine involves karate. She saw me doing kata and mentally shut down. When I was talking about her coordination the other day, I stated that I really think it’s more of a paying attention issue. Tonight, my theory proved true.
We went to visit some college friends at their house. These are the type of friends who make you wish arranged marriages were an option for the common folks (and I’m not just saying that because I know they read my blog religiously). They have two awesome kids who are so incredibly sweet and fun. Their son, a year younger than Big I, is a doll. Our kids have never had a disagreement. They always get along. They usually cry or complain profusely when our little visits are over. Their son calls Big I his "girlfriend," and we can only hope that it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Back in college, we used to party with our mutual friends and shoot the you-know-what. About what, I’m not really sure. It was college after all. These days, we have dinner and the conversation at the "adult table" usually revolves around poop and other various bodily functions and mishaps involving our kids and pets. After all, that is what parents talk about. We’re thinking that a wedding reception would bring back the college days if only for one glorious night.
Our friends have a large yard and enough animal friends to fill a small zoo. Big I immediately went off with her "boyfriend" to play in the yard, visit their pet horses, and play on the new swing set. Within five minutes, the child was screaming that she hurt herself. I checked out the latest injury (yet another knee boo-boo) and asked her how it happened. "Were you running?" She says, "No, just walking." So, I cleaned up her knee and sent her on her way.
Fifteen minutes later, she enters the kitchen sniffling. She’d been hit in the nose with a wiffle ball. That issue was resolved and off she went again. So, it was time to eat dinner and she came inside to get her plate. My husband told her to go wash her hands in the bathroom. Big I walks over to the pantry closet door and grabs the handle. We all start telling her she’s at the wrong door, but she continues to open the door, staring out in our direction. We continue telling her she’s at the wrong door, and she actually backs into the pantry closet and starts to close the door. Had she not had an encounter with some instant tea and canned soups, I fully believe she would have shut the door and stood in there wondering where she’d gone wrong.
She is a smart little girl. She knows everything there is to know about fossils, dinosaurs, and the rotation of the Earth. She just does not pay attention to her surroundings at all. I’m going to continue to ask her to work out with me, in the hopes that she’ll become more focused on the task at hand. And maybe, just maybe that will translate to other things in life like avoiding close encounters with canned goods when all she’s looking for is a sink and some soap.
Revenge (of the work out and other stuff)
It is amazing that I am even attempting to write a post today. Why? Well, writing a post requires me to lift my lap top up, and move my arms. Both of these activities are causing some serious pain today. You know that work out? The one that I did for about 15 minutes? The one that involved push-ups? Well, if I didn’t know any better, I would think I was in having a heart attack because my chest is KILLING me today, along with the arms.
Doing that work out didn’t feel like a big deal when I was in the process. The encouraging thing is that the work out didn’t really feel like anything and I’m sore, which means it was doing something it was supposed to be doing and I didn’t have to feel the pain. . . at least not immediately. Lil C is taunting me because deep down she KNOWS I hurt. She is even more determined than usual to stand on my lap and jump, jump, jump, jump, oh, and jump. It is causing some serious discomfort today and I’m dreading tomorrow, because the second day is ALWAYS worse than the first day after a work out.
Despite the fact that I can hardly move my upper body, I was tempted to use my martial arts for revenge today. My family and I were taking a walk. As Lil C and I were crossing the street, a car driven by a teenager came around a 20 mph corner at about 60 mph. He had to skid to a stop. He would have hit us had I not stopped in my tracks and pulled the stroller backwards. And then, my daughters got a lesson in profanity like no other. My husband, who had already crossed the street, started. After my heart moved down from the nice little nook in my throat, I joined in as well. Their car windows were open. I know they heard every word. They also heard the landscaper a half block down the street from where we were who also gave them an earful.
Had the boys retorted in any way, shape or form, I seriously think I would have dragged the driver out of his window and practiced some kata. I was SO upset. Fortunately, I think the driver was a little shaken himself; and I sincerely hope that our little incident and subsequent name-calling extravaganza made him think a little about slowing down. I came home from the walk and fired off an exasperated email to our township police department who I’m hoping will do something about this very dangerous street.
I have never wanted to use what I’ve learned at karate for anything other than to protect myself and my children. I’m not the type of person to walk around and say things like, "I could kick your you-know-what." I am not an instigator in the physical sense; Never have been-never will be. But, in my (what seems to be to teenagers) old age, I have often fantasized about teaching a teenager (or anybody acting like one) a lesson or two, especially the ones who drive across store parking lots like the lines are there as merely a suggestion. Becoming a Mother opens and enlarges your heart; but it also enrages your temper against those who might do potential harm to your off-spring.
Martial Arts workout and my (poorly) adapted version
You gotta do pilates
My parents have always been exercise fanatics. When I was in high school, my parents would often decide to do aerobics together and take up the family room TV with Jane Fonda tapes. Sometimes my little sister would join in. I thought it was ridiculous and would usually go upstairs and talk on the phone. Sometimes, for fun, I’d grab the bag of lard fried potato chips and a Pepsi and sit down and watch. It was quite entertaining.
Recently, my husband has been on a fitness kick. I thought it was a passing phase, but he has stuck with it for months now and lemme tell you, he’s looking good. I’ve had a bit of a motivation problem when it comes to exercise. I figure that carrying around a 17.5 lb. baby is good enough. Granted, I play tennis once a week and go to karate, but I could do more. I used to like doing pilates and I have a nice little work out DVD that only takes a half hour, ten minutes if you break up the parts and only decide to do abs.
So, I told my husband I would start doing pilates again, but he had to go along for the ride. Whenever we do workout things together, two things inevitably happen. One, is that we, o.k. I, end up yelling obscenities at the TV screen. Work out tape women are WAY too happy. They enjoy pain a bit too much for my liking. I mean, seriously, WHO SMILES when doing pilates? Who smiles when they feel like their gut is being ripped into shreds? Not anyone normal, that’s for sure.
The second thing that ends up happening, is that my husband and I end up so hysterical that we can barely continue. My pilates DVD features a woman named "Betsy." Betsy is put there for the weak. Betsy does everything the rest of the gals do, but she is what my husband and I refer to as "the lazy one." Betsy doesn’t hold her legs up in the air when doing her crunches. She sets her feet firmly on the floor. Betsy takes breaks when she needs to. Betsy. . . is my idol.
I never had a problem following the main girl before, but only being six months out from giving birth, the abs are just not there like they used to be. Tonight, Betsy and I were good buds. My husband and I ended up spending the 10 minute ab work out talking to Betsy. I have to admit, we weren’t being very nice.
I’d love to be one of those women who enjoys exercise. Sure, I know that it would incite violence towards me from other women; but still it would be sort of cool. Exercise is not something I enjoy, unless I’m in a team sports setting and then I’m all for it. I need something to distract me from the pain. I think part of my problem is that (and I know I’m risking absolute hatred here) I’ve never really needed to exercise. I always had a high metabolism and didn’t really put on weight until I went to college and discovered pizza 24/7 and beer. After I had my babies, the extra weight was gone within a month. I’m lucky in that way. I know I am and I don’t take it for granted. But, I’m not exactly toned either.
I want to get in better shape. I think that it will help my karate tremendously, tennis too. I just don’t know exactly what to do to get in better shape. I despise going to the gym, and working out at home just doesn’t seem to happen. Right now, I am hoping that my husband just sort of forces me to do the pilates every night. Tonight, I was finished after the abs portion. My husband continued with the butt section. I. . . ate some Tostito’s and had a diet rite. Old habits die hard.
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Things You Could Care Less About
I’ve been watching my husband transform himself into this work out warrior lately. Usually the New Year arrives with great expectations of being in shape by the time our beach vacation rolls around. He starts working out, drinking these turbo shakes, and bringing home stuff from the grocery store that frankly, pretty much just scares me. . . like organic peanut butter for example. Usually he’s over it by Valentine’s Day. This year, he’s not.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been feeling a little June Cleaver-ish, as in, if I don’t have a cake in this house, it’s just not home. Big I and I have been meticulously trying out from scratch, cake and icing recipes. Last week we found one that truly rocks. It’s a Hershey’s chocolate cake with homemade creamy peanut butter icing. We added chocolate chips to it for fun. It
iswas delicious. I kid you not, my husband ate exactly two slivers of that cake. When I say sliver, I mean turn it sideways and it barely exists. Big I and Iinhaledate the rest. Where is this motivation coming from? To be honest, it’s starting to tick me off a bit.As I’ve said previously, I am having some motivation issues. Nursing Lil C has taken off the weight and then some, so much so that I’ve had to go buy some new clothing. I continue to watch what I eat, considering the whole gestational diabetes thing during pregnancy. And by "watch what I eat" I mean that I only eat one slice of cake instead of four. But if I watch what I’m eating any more than I currently am, I will soon develop super powers. As in, turn sideways, and I will disappear in the same fashion as my husband’s sliver of cake. I don’t need to lose weight; I do need to tone up. I’ve been looking for something I could do that would tone and tighten, and help with my karate too. Mat suggested this workout and today when Lil C took a marathon nap
after I showered, started laundry, ate lunch, read some blogs, worked a bit at my part time job and ran out of other things to doI thought I’d give it a shot.The routine, straight from Mat’s comment that he left me on another post is as follows. His plan is in italics; what I did is in regular type:
warm up, like 5 minutes of little jumps, or running, or cycling or whatever works for you. Move heavy bag onto mats so it won’t make noise and wake up Lil C when I hit it. Decide this is enough warming up, because Man, that heavy bag is. . . well, heavy.
Stretch a bit. Sort of do this; kind of skip it because Lil C may wake up at any moment. I know I’ll pay for this tomorrow.
Then, the fun starts. Is he serious? Because I’m starting to feel an overwhelming sense of dread.
Do a kata, or a kihon, in whatever order you learned them. Kata one, Nai Hanchi Shodan.
Then, 10 push-ups. (Girl ones) because really, there’s no alternative. If there is one part of my body that doesn’t ever change, it’s my arms. They are sticks; they do not tolerate man push-ups.
Another kata Kata two, Nai Hanchi Nidan
Then, 10 sit-ups I did crunches. I have a bad back after all. I admit I may have lingered on the floor for an extra minute or twelve because it felt so good to just lay down.
Another kata Kata 3, Wansu. Think in head how much easier this kata is to do, now that Lil C isn’t taking up a heck of a lot internal space which was seriously cramping my kicking.
Then, 10 squats That’s it? Bring it on. I could do more. . . 9, 10. Yeah, I think I need a break now. Push on, my brain says, so I do.
Another kata Pinan Nidan
20 push-ups Wait, did he really say 20? 20? How will I manage to move my arms enough to even pick up my child tomorrow if I do 20? 15 is sufficient. Yeah, 8, 9, oh 10 should be enough. Yeah, that’s good.
etc etc etc etc. Pinan Shodan, 20 sit-ups (I actually did these) followed by Ananku (sort of, because I’m still learning it.) Then, because they’re short, I did each waza, broke a bit of a sweat and decided that was about enough for now. After all, yesterday I didn’t get a shower until 10:45 p.m. Having achieved a shower before lunch time today? I’m not willing to muddy it all up with sweat. I’ll save that for class later tonight.
After 30 minutes, I swear you’ll have had enough of these. Instead of squats, you can also do kicks. Like drop low, rise, kick. Always raising the repetitions. I start with ten and usually, I get to 50. By then, I’m exhausted. Yeah, after about 15 minutes, I was pretty much ready to call it a day.
I cool down with the bike. It really is hard. But you work on your karate, train the right muscles and you need nothing to make it work except your 4 members. My cool down was walking to the kitchen and grabbing a nice chocolate chip cookie. [Squints eyes and glares at internet readers who are probably shaking head and judging me] What??? It was a WHOLE WHEAT cookie. It’s all good.
The hardest part is always deciding to do it… Ain’t that the truth!
good luck! I’ll need all the luck I can get, between finding the motivation, having the time (Lil C napping for more than 5 minutes) etc. etc.
I really don’t know what my problem is, but I am beginning to suspect that holding a 17+ lb. baby all the time because she just got her first tooth and "Mama, Mama"-hold-me-all-the-time-because-when-you-hold-me-I-feel-better is starting to take its toll. Did I mention that she got a new tooth in that garbled sentence there? A tooth, as in, she has added a new weapon to her arsenal and all I can really say about it is ouch and I’m tired and ouch. I think that Lil C is so clingy because this tooth has pretty much assaulted her sweet little gums. She was just going through life, happy as could be, when this tooth, this miserable sharp bugger of a tooth made its very unwanted appearance. She’s just plain annoyed with it which is why the umbilical cord has apparently been reconnected.
I’m sensing it’s going to be a while before the motivation returns for Lil C to sit and play without a constant stream of Mama’s affection. I know there is a direct correlation between this reattached umbilical cord and my work out motivation. I’m thinking that my version of the work out isn’t exactly what Mat had in mind, but maybe after a few days in a row of a shower before dinner time. . . I won’t actually mind sweating a bit.