Wednesday, February 9, 2011

The morning after...

I was surprised to wake up this morning with a sore stomach.  Yes, I know.  You just realized that I only did 2.5 minutes of exercise (and that's 2(point)5,  not 25) minutes, and I am sore.  This should serve as your reminder about quality over quantity-- or at least give you more proof of just how out of shape I am.  So my stomach muscles were sore, but I consider this a good thing, since that means my 2.5 minutes were beneficial.  Yeah!  

It took me a while to get around to my exercises this morning.  Primarily because I was reading a relatively good book (L. Pitts, Jr. "Before I Forget"), about a man struggling with his diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer's and trying to get things right with his family before he forgets (see where the title comes from?  such smart people write books.)  Alzheimer's, as most of you know, hits home for my family. Some people have cancer, others have diabetes and heart disease-- we have Alzheimer's.  And it's a B$#TCH, I tell you.  Less so for me than for my mother, her siblings, and my grandfather, but not easy at all.  To see a person you love forget that you love them... that they love you.  That they even know you.  It's a hard thing to watch, and I constantly remind my mother that she'd better be good to my father now.  She in turn reminds me of the same.  I believe JMahl (my husband) is taking notes and at some point down the road will sit down with tea and gold-rimmed reading glasses.  He will have grown out a full beard at this point because he thinks it makes him look distinguished.  He'll remove a thick binder of notes from his mahogany desk drawer and, speaking mostly to himself, say "ok, she made dinner every night, but no credit for experimental recipes.  Deduction for not ironing my shirts with starch the way I like them, but credit for me always having clean underwear.  Credit for sex and for children... deduction for four children total.... The nagging costs her some, but overall, she was a good wife... so....I think she's earned a moderate to nice Alzheimer's home... wait, not covered by medicare?  Well, she did constantly throw my socks in the big basket with all the kids socks which I told her not to do... so I can definitely justify putting her in gov't assisted care."

This reminds me, I need to start cleaning as soon as I'm done with this post...
But back to my exercise regime.  I finished the book and immediately took up position on the floor with the kids.  Micah was already giggling by this point; Kolbie just wanted to play Scrabble.  (By play, she means take turns reading the letters on the tiles and putting them haphazardly on the board-- where SHE wants them of course.)

First exercise was bum crunches.  Feet up on couch, Micah placed giggling on my belly, and I began to lift.  Reps of 14-11-15-5.  Because that's how many I could manage each time.  Sometimes because I was tired; sometimes because my baby was falling off.  50 total.

Next exercise was crunches.  Still on my back with my knees touching my chest, I lay Micah across my shins, holding onto my knees, and I did 30 crunches.  To do this exercise properly you have to either kiss the baby's head or stick out your tongue or yell boo or something to that effect every time your face approaches hers.  Which, if you are properly crunching, should happen.
That was fun.  But tiring.  I have a feeling I held my neck wrong and will probably have a sore neck in the morning.

Last floor exercise was a double whammy.  I placed Kolbie on my shins (where Micah was previously) and lifted Micah in my arms. I extended my legs out as far as I could (keep in mind, Kolbie is almost 30 lbs) while extending my arms over my head-- while holding Micah.  This one is fun for the two kids to kiss and head butt and yell boo at each other.  Keep in mind, though, the more excited the kids get about this exercise, the more likely the chance of A/ one of them falling and B/ you getting a mouth full of happy drool.  Be prepared to move quickly either way (in which case the drool will just drizzle down your cheek and neck) or suck it up.  Literally.  Not recommended.  
I can't remember how many of these I did- I think only 15.  I was tired.

And then, because we all know that you can only firm up so much-- sometimes you've got to get cardio involved, I decided to go for a jog. With Micah held longways, snuggled against my chest.  
Now, for some reason I've found that the house shakes less if you jog on your tippy toes.  So, for three minutes, I jogged around the downstairs, on tippy toes, holding Micah with both arms tightly against my chest.  Holding her this way accomplishes three things:  1/ it fulfills the unstated necessity to have a child involved in each exercise; 2/ it removes the risk of shaken-baby syndrome; and 3/ I was not wearing a bra.  
Now, to the third point, this may have not been ideal, since she was being held in breastfeed position with only a thin t-shirt separating her from the source of life's purpose (to her).  This meant that I was constantly pulling her little hands away from my shirt, which was moving upward at a miraculous speed, and trying to remove her nose from beneath my shirt- little pug nose that knows how to get where it needs to be-- all while jogging on tip-toes.  But I don't include THAT as part of this exercise- unless, of course, some hoity-tv doctor comes out and says that nursing while exercising will quadruple your rate of weight loss.  In which case, you heard it here first!  

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