Slow Your Roll

Sean has been rolling over since he was 2 months old. It is hard to get good tummy time in when I have to keep rolling him back onto his stomach every minute. lol He had some demands he needed to share as well.

The Adventures of Captain Thunder Thighs

My thighs have always been great friends. They love to touch and be close to one another. I guess you can say they've never separated. It is a blessing and a curse. Even when I am in the best of shape, my thighs manage to jiggle. Not only that, they tend to be very stubborn when it comes to jeans. They just don't like fitting in them. For the past 22 years of my life, these girls have given me nothing but insecurities and countless hours in the fitting room. Little did I know, one thing these two b.f.f.s gave me was super strength...

It was time to start working on getting back in shape. There I was one day roaming listlessly through the gym's weight room when I stumbled upon the leg press! "Leg press, huh," I thought to myself, "it has been a while since I've done one of these." I got myself situated on the seat and looked down at the weights. As I tested the weights to find the right resistance, I was suddenly surprised to find I was leg pressing 180lbs with ease. I thought to myself, "I just leg pressed my husband!" I finished my reps and got off the machine. I was empowered. My legs were strong! (Still flabby, but strong!!) What other peril-less acts could my thunderous thighs display? "I should go home and just kick the door in!" (If we weren't renting, of course) "I could go home and kick a hole through my husbands stomach!" (If I wasn't madly in love with him, of course) Where was my adventure?! Leg presses and lunges can't be all this power has to offer! Sooner than I knew it, my mission was about to roll in my path...

12am. I was just shutting down the computer and joining my husband in bed. He was sound asleep as evident from his loud breathing and faint snore. I stretched out beside him. Suddenly, my dead weight of a husband comes rolling right on top of me! He was still very, very asleep and at this moment he has started to rest his arm on my face. HAVE NO FEAR! CAPTAIN THUNDER THIGHS IS HERE!! Sure, I could have woken him up and told him to shove over, but what fun would that have made this blog? No, it was time! My strength was ready to be tested. My left thigh was nestled perfectly underneath him. I just needed to pick him up with my thigh and roll him over. Of course, I would need to be extra careful! Sometimes I don't know my own super strength. I wouldn't want to roll him right off the bed! I carefully calculated my next move! My knee started to bend! I got into position! Like a gazelle I--- DAMMIT!

He rolled back over before I could push him.

A Reflection of Motherhood

It is 10:30pm. Suddenly, I hear Sean screaming at the top of his lungs. I rush to his side to find him crying in his sleep. A nightmare. He arouses himself and looks around rattled as he attempts to gain back the familiarity of his reality. His eyes focus on me hovering quietly above him. He begins to pout. His pouts turn into whimpers. I pick him up and pat his back. "There, there," I tell him, "Mommy is here. Mommy and daddy are here. You are safe." I look over my shoulder to find his bottom lip still poking out. I nurse him for comfort. Although his is drowsy, he is somewhat ravenous at my breast. His eyes close and open as he fights sleep. His eyelids droop closer together. Soon, they meet. I kiss him on the cheek. In that moment, my eyes begin to swell with tears. "Damn hormones!" I think to myself. However, it was more than that. In this moment, my son is safe and secure in my arms. I thought about the day when my arms would no longer provide security. What if one day his father and I are not strong enough to protect him? What if he gets hurt? What if he is forgotten? Right now he is laying in my arms uncorrupted by the world. Uncorrupted by the people in this world. He is beautiful. I want this moment. I want this moment in time to last forever. I want this moment to last forever because some day soon this moment will be a memory among many others. It will make me smile and think back on the day when he was so little. It will be a mere reflection... A reflection of motherhood...

The Art of Shutting Him Up

My husband comes home for lunch everyday. If he is lucky, I have a warm meal waiting for him when he walks through the door. One day, I heated up meatloaf we had the night before. While he was eating he asked me, "Hey babe, I thought you were going to make me lunch?" To which I replied, "I did. I made you lunch last night, but I made so much of it we ate it for dinner too." He had no comeback.

The KIM-IN-A-TOR wins again! Muahaha!

:)

Stay at Home Mom Imagines Strangling Husband

My hubby and I have been together for 4 wonderful years. For me, the thought of jump kicking him across his face is right up there with "how much I love him," and "how happy and lucky I am to be with him." As mean as kicking him in the face may sound, I would never do it. And besides, I would have to stand on a chair or something in order to get my leg that high. My problem with him now is here we have this beautiful 7 week old baby that I am lucky to spend all day (and night) with and my DH just can't understand why I'm not as active in the kitchen and around the house as I used to be. I sometimes feel it is my son's personal mission to ensure things like cooking dinner and doing laundry are not done. However, I am not sure how many moms won a case with "our child deplores when we eat! And loves when we stink!" Let me also add that ever since my husband joined the Air Force, he has been eating enough to feed a small village in a third world country. So how do I make him understand? How do I make him understand that I would love to sing and dance as I make dinner, and fold laundry as blue jays poop rainbows and butterflies over our house? However, the reality is the only gourmet meals I make now a days come out of my breast and unless he wants to share the same diet as Sean, I suggest he be a little bit more thankful for Chef Boyr-Microwave. So here we are. At the end of the day, no matter how much I reason, I am left standing behind him with my hands reaching out.. ready to squeeze...

Just a vent.

Love does not live here anymore

Here is a poem I wrote a couple years back:

Love does not live here anymore.

She packed her bags and broke her lease

Without giving 30 days notice

She was through being unconditional

Unrequited and unappreciated

Her mouth tasted so many tears

It did not know if they were tears of joy

Or tears of sorrow

She tired to change her wardrobe by

Taking her heart off her sleeve

but found,

No matter where she put it,

It always seemed to break

She tried yoga and other forms of meditation

She would listen to love songs

And then avoid love songs

All in the same week

She diagnosed herself with depression and prescribed chocolates

To monitor her condition

Then one day she picked up a pen and paper

And wrote,

“LOVE DOES NOT LIVE HERE ANYMORE”

She packed the pieces of her heart and left.

Love does not live here any more.

But if you see her,

Can you tell her she still owes me last months rent?

Moments in Passing

He's been telling me
Everything will work out.
He says,
"There is no time to
rush time
because there will
be plenty of time
in due time
pump ya breaks,
little mama."
He makes time
feel infinite
He speaks to me
so intimately
He puts his feet
up on my furniture,
Snoozes my alarm clock
in the morning
He makes the addiction feel right
the pressure comes off
at once so it
must be right.
He whispers pleasures in
my ear
Teases me with opportunity
to be something else
to do something else
to make something else
to make love to this moment.
He makes me lust for it.
He invites my mind
to wander,
He plays with my curiosity.
He tells me,
"All we have is this moment.
we walk fine lines to
flirt with deadlines,
It's a fix we can't get enough of it."
I want to leave him
to pick up
and go
somewhere he can't find me.
Go to rehab.
This is the time when I need
A Time Machine
To go back
and never meet him
But Procrastination is hard to forget
He is a hard habit to kick
And Procrastination...
Will always find me...

This man MUST love me

I haven't combed my hair in a few days. I am siting across from my poor husband looking like I am the love child of Ms.Celie from "The Color Purple" and Buckwheat from "The Little Rascals." In fact, (when my hair is not combed) I am infamous for scaring members of my family. One day my sister-in-law witnessed a figure with big crazy hair lurking past a window in her parent's house as she pulled into the drive way. Not realizing it was me, she called her parents from her cell to ask "who was in the house" and "if they needed her to call the cops." The same night my brother-in-law walked into the kitchen where he met eyes with "a cave woman in a t-shirt and jeans." Caught completely off guard, instead of a "hello," I got an "OH sh!t!" While there are no Gieco commercials in my future, actually finding the time to do my hair can be a trying task. It takes me 2hrs to do my hair. My beauty regimen consists of spending a little over an hour blow drying the tight curls out of my hair and then the remaining 2 hrs pressing it with a flat iron. Being a new mommy, the only 2hr breaks I get are the refreshing 2hr intervals of sleep I get in the middle of the night. So here I am. My hair is a mess. A hot tangled mess. Not to mention, I have more rolls around my midsection than a dinner table at Christmas(the souvenirs my son left me to work off). And, if my skin breaks out anymore, I could pass for a witch. A big fat witch. I have a handsome (almost too good to be true) man sitting across from me and there is no telling how repulsed he is right now. Then.. Without provocation, my husband looked up at me and said, "you're so beautiful, babe."

Maybe he needs glasses.
:-P