September 29, 2007

I have a new idea. Shop-a-robics. This is day bleckity bleck, that I haven't done the skinny-minny picture perfect idea of exercise. ..........

**** We interrupt this regularly scheduled rant-o-blog, for a public service announcement. *************
You see, I started this blog last night, ON Sept 29, like it is labeled. However, my son woke up, needed to be nursed, the bed is comfy...I'm perpetually sleepy....wham, bam, thank you Sam - I'm finishing the blog a day late. This is what I was talking about the other day. I have high hopes and expectations...my children love to confound them. Just thought I'd share.
****We now return you to your previous blathering**********

I did, however, do what I feel is some decently strenuous exercise - and I want to know why-the-Hades it doesn't count?

Have you ever gone shopping with 4 kids? I'm not talking run-of-the-mill in and out of Walmart stuff. I'm talking, 3 girls, one in a wheelchair, one 21 pound boy in a backpack., cramming ourselves up and down the aisles of re-sale shops looking for clothes...for hours....................

In our town we have these wonderful stores, Once Upon a Child, and Plato's closet (for teens). We were on a hunt for Ohio State anything, Blue Jacket anything, some things for a baby who's grown 2 inches this week, and maybe something fun or sparkly that was cheap. The direct translation is, I spent nearly 3 hours - rummaging through over-stuffed stores, in cramped conditions, negotiating a wheelchair, and doing Olympic-worthy gymnastics while wearing a hanger-grabbing, outfit-snatching, 11 month old octopus. I bent over, stepped over, reached for and returned to. I lifted, squatted, balanced, and teetered. I searched, stooped, organized, and carried. And even though I did eventually pay these lovely people for the privilege of leaving...it didn't end there.

Once we reached home, I got to carry it all in - and then the real work began. First, came the monumental struggle with child #3 who wanted to try on, wear, try on, wear, try on...ad nauseum. Then, came the epic battle with child #4...the boy. Trying outfits on a wiggly, squiggly 11 month old boy is roughly equivalent to wrestling a chimpanzee while holding an 8 foot octopus under your left boob. Suffice it to say...it ain't easy.

So, my rather long-winded query is this. Why must I don spandex and jump in time to corny disco music to get credit for "exercising?". I challenge that 20 something perfectly coiffed aerobics instructor to keep up with my brood in a discount clothing zoo. I welcome that well-heeled, park avenue nutritionist to try to survive my "corporate" jungle. I'm telling you, my monkeys would take her down!

So that's it. I've answered my own question. I did exercise today. I broke a sweat, my back and legs ached, and I feel like I've been ridden hard and put away wet. I conquered space, time, and budgetary limitations...and came out the victorious huntress with bargains o' plenty. I did exercise. I exercised my body, my wallet, my virtues, and my patience. I'd better darn well lose an ounce or two today. I do not have enough personal grit to survive another trip to bargainland.

I did exercise. That's my decision and I'm standing by it. I wouldn't suggest arguing with me...I'm sugar-deprived and on the edge...

- Alicia - the Crazy Cancer Mom - losing weight, and my mind, for cancer kids. http://www.crazycancermom.com/

Breakfast: 2 eggs, 2 TBS real bacon bits, 1 oz cheese, 1/2 C onions 2 C coffee w/creamer
Lunch: 1 1/2 C fried broccoli with sesame seeds, water
Snack: Diet coke
Dinner: 1/2 C taco-seasoned beef, lettuce, 1 oz cheddar cheese, salsa, 2 Tbs sour cream
Exercise: see above notation...agree with me...or else!