Holsteins vs. Hannah

I am embarking on a new challenge for the next 4 months. In an effort to be more healthy, get back into my pre-prego clothes, and support several friends with similar goals, I have a joined a team of ladies in a competition we have deemed "Holsteins vs. Hannah." We decided we wanted to loose the weight equivalent of an entire person by December 1st. Who better than Hannah Montana? A dear friend of mine bought a cardboard cutout of afore mention tween superstar along with a cardboard cutout of the much beloved Chick-Fil-A cow. The choice is simple: we can either join forces to loose Hannah Montana, or we can feel like Holstein cows. Sometimes silliness is the exact motivation you need. If you have an tips, please share. For right now, the boys and I are walking around or very elevatious (I made up that word) neighborhood, and I'm watching what I eat (no, I don't mean I'm watching it go into my mouth). 

Live from the Wigwam

We are in the process of coming up with family Indian names. Chad has deemed himself Chief Chaco, and Jack is Little Black Foot because the tops of his feet are always black from crawling around (despite my cleaning efforts). Luke and I are still nameless. Any suggestions?

Frosty Devistation

Here's a picture of our pathetic frosty. Hollow sadness indeed.

Sweet Tooth Ramblings

WARNING: READING THIS POST MAY CAUSE THE CONSUMPTION OF SWEETS.

It is not uncommon for Chad to say, "I have a sweet tooth." My reply to this is, "I have a mouth full of sweet teeth." There's just something about a taste of something sweet after dinner (ok...after lunch too) that finishes things off just right. Call it a sugar fetish or a chocolate addiction. Call it whatever you want, but I call it desiring to sample the sweeter things in life and wanting to be well-balanced. After all, chocolate comes from beans which are very good for you. Right?

Anyway, I have a couple of thoughts on desserts. The first one is that we should enjoy our sweet indulgences like Jack enjoyed his first birthday cake. I'll figure out how to post pictures and add them later so you can see the full effect. In honor of his first birthday, we bought Jack his very own 5 inch round cake complete with decadent whipped frosting, green writing, and a #1 candle (which he almost grabbed while it was still lit). This was his first dessert encounter in which he had the control. We weren't just giving him tiny samples. He had the whole glorious cake to himself to do with whatever he pleased. It didn't take but a few seconds after o-so-lovely rendition of "Happy Birthday" finished and after I saved his hand from the flame that he reached his curious hand into the creamy goodness of his cake. When I say reached, I mean grabbed. He entire  hand was COVERED in frosting. He then proceeded to cover both hands, both arms, his chest, and some of his head with the icing. As I mentioned, the writing and trim icing on the cake was green, which turned the rest of the icing green as Jack played with it. By the time all was said and done, Jack looked a lot like Oscar the Grouch. Now, in all the theatrics, how much cake did Jack actually eat? I can't say for certain, but I know he probably wouldn't have tasted a single bite if I didn't feed him some. All that to say, he thoroughly enjoyed himself, tasted just a little of t he sweetness, and burned calories in the process. I wish I could be that way with my desserts, minus being totally covered in it, I suppose because other people might be alarmed if I covered myself in ice cream next time we go to Marble Slab. Oh, the joys of childhood. 

Last night Chad's softball  team played a double header. The boys and I went to cheer him on. It was a great excuse to use our awesome double stroller, get some sun, and see some friends. We have a philosophy about softball games that comes from a Brian Regan sketch on t-ball. Whether you play half the game or the whole game, you get a whole snow cone. Now, a double header certainly deserves a more delectable dessert than a snow cone. After the games were over, and we were safely inside our CRV Mifflin, I asked Chad what his sweet tooth was craving. Seeing as how we were all drenched from the unexpected downpour that coincided with the last 15 minutes or so of the 2nd game, we decided to go somewhere close to home to grab some dinner and sweet treat. That meant Wendy's. We ordered are burgers, fries, and a medium frosty, and headed home. As an aside, I'm certain the frosty sizes are getting smaller. We ate our late dinner, fed both the boys, put them to bed, somehow avoided an emotional  breakdown due to exhaustion, and eventually settled onto the couch to enjoy our frosty. The first couple of bites were magical. Nothing like cold, creamy, chocolately goodness at the end of a long day. Suddenly, to our horror, one of our bites revealed a chasm in the center of the frosty. I'm serious. The entire center of the cup was empty. There are somethings in this world that are supposed to have holes in them- a donut, a tire, a ring, a life preserver, a hula hoop,  but a frosty is NOT one of them!!! We had been gipped for sure. If we didn't have kids, and it hadn't been so late, I might have gone back up to Wendy's and asked for a replacement. Instead, we just stared into the abyss in the middle of our late-night post-game escape. Fortunately, the frosty's tastiness factor was not affected by it's lack of volume. The moral of the story is either check your dessert before leaving the venue, or get 2 just to be safe. 

I can't believe that I was able to write this with out stopping to get a sweet treat. I guess finishing the rest of the sad frosty after lunch helped. 

Tennis

In an effort to become more "cultured," I've been watching Wimbledon on tv. I have zero experience with tennis besides hitting a ball around when I was in elementary school and trying to rock a coral-colored tennis skirt that my aunt (who worked for Head Golf at the time) gave me for my birthday. I realized the other day just how little I know about tennis when the player who won the match was actually the one I thought lost. Talk about sad. I can't even tell who wins. I find tennis to be confusing to watch. I understand the basic concept- hit the other ball in such a way as to keep your opponent from hitting it back to you. Terms like deuce, love, and advantage leave me mind-boggled. I told Luke the other day that I would learn all about tennis if he decides on day that he wants to aspire to become a tennis champion (we watch Wimbledon while he's taking his lunchtime bottle b/c it's on when Ellen usually is). While watching Serena Williams today, I decided that I could find my own place in the magical world of tennis. I will be a ball girl. There are several advantages to this prestigious post. First, you get to watch and learn the game. Second, you don't have to run around too much. Third, and most importantly, you get to dress the part. I like the idea of being what I call and athletic poser- someone who is not athletically inclined personally but who dresses the part. I think I'd like wearing the shoes, skirt, polo, and visor. Who knows, maybe years from now Luke will be playing in the championship and I'll be tossing him neon yellow balls so he can serve. 

Maternity Pants

As the mom of an almost-1-year-old, and a 3 and 1/2 week old, I've spent the last year and a half of my life in maternity pants. Now that both boys are here and thriving, the time has come for me to embark on the challenging mission: GET BACK INTO REGULAR CLOTHES. Now, I'm way excited about wearing all of my clothes that have been stored away in plastic bins since what seems like the dawn of time. However, I have a few items of mom-wear that I'm not ready to forgo. These would be my maternity pants. More specifically, my maternity jeans. I don't understand why everyone doesn't embrace the awesomeness of these garments. Why would I forsake my elastic waste-band and zipper/button-free bliss to return to regular jeans? I don't have to worry about whether or not the zipper is broken, and I don't have to go change into sweats if I eat to much Mexican food (which occurs often). Maybe I'm just lazy, but I truly believe that Mommy jeans are amazing. I have a goal of being able to wear my pre-baby jeans by mid-November, but, who knows. I may meet the goal and just get smaller Mommy jeans. They're just too great to give up.

Here We Go

Here we go. I'm officially joining the world of blogging. I've been thinking about it for a while, but something held me back from doing it. Actually, there were a lot of things. One, I'm technologically challenged. Two, I'm not sure who (if anyone) will read my ramblings. Three, time. Well, I've decided to throw caution to the wind and give this a go. I'm excited. Thankfully, my genius hubby got me set up. Now I'm ready to let my witty ramblings lose. Hopefully, I'll be insightful, funny, and not too boring.