Friday, December 31, 2010

Ringing in the New Year

In review of 2010, I will conclude that it was a good year.
We all turned a little older- maybe a little wiser. I got a raise at work (woo!) and lost yet more of that baby weight.
Jeff worked his butt off and decided to make a career change.
Caderyn turned one, learned to run (not walk) and has started talking like a madman.

Here's my month by month review of 2010"
January: My parents were here for Christmas and New Years. We also celebrated the holidays with my in-laws.
February: Caderyn started walking and I took a girls trip to Boise. Oh fun!
March: My birthday and Caderyn's birthday were a blast!
April: Trip to Phoenix for Easter
May: I find out I get a raise and my summer workload starts in full-force- but Taylor came to work for me!
June: My parents arrive, Taylor is here and I am working working working!
July: One week vacation to the Painted Rock cabin was heaven and then back to work!
August: My parents had to leave- sad. Jeff and I celebrate 3 years of marriage. Wow.
September: Stunk like no other because we were sick all month and had flies and mice in our house. Jeff annouced he would be resigning as sports editor in January. My grandpa was in the hospital.
October: Better, but not great. We found out Caderyn has asthma. We spent Halloween with Jeff's parents and Caderyn was a giraffe. My grandpa got out of the hospital.
November: Busy month! Spent Thanksgiving with the Windmueller Family. Lots of football coverage for Jeff.
December: Jeff went to Georgia for the Carroll College Championship. I worked and then left to spend time with my parents. Christmas in Arizona and we're still here!!!!

2011 will be a very different year for us.
Jeff is embarking on a new journey and a new job and we don't really know what the future holds for us (this last part just makes me all grumpy and nervous).
I am continuing with my job and working on my teaching degree- one class at a time. That's the best I can do.
Who knows what 2011 holds for the Windmueller family- only time and your continued reading will tell!
As for a New Year's Resolution: I am going to lose this baby weight DANG IT. It's going to be gone- all of it. I'm setting a goal for April. I'm pretty sure I can have it off before then, but I just want to give myself a realistic goal.
I also want to save more money and spend more time with my Bub.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Random Gym Thoughts

I love working out. Since I was little I've been involved in team sports or doing some sort of exercise activity with my parents. I've danced, played soccer, golfed, swam played soccer and volleyball etc. etc. I love the rush of working out and how good it makes me feel and look. I attribute working out to help me knock off some of the 75 fabulous pounds I gained with baby and will continue to workout until they are all gone (and will still workout after that).

When I go to the gym I'm not there to look pretty and I'm not there to meet people. I'm there to get disgustingly sweaty- and oh boy do I sweat- and burn some fat. I don't "camp" on machines and I rarely hold a conversation for more than 6 minutes. Why six? I don't know. I've probably talked to some of my friends longer than that because I'm not rude and if I run into a buddy at the gym I always say hello and chat with them. I've always been this way. Even when I was single. I never went to the gym to meet guys and I never went to the gym in cute, sexy little outfits. I like my oversized t-shirt and shorts thank you very much.

One thing I've been noticing lately at my gym in Montana and since I've been working out at my old gym again down here in Phoenix is how much the gym is like a peacock mating dance. The guys try to show off at how much weight they can lift and then strut around with their chests puffed out like their arms are going to fall off. The ladies mostly just sit and look at them, pretending to work out.
Today at the gym I about popped some ladies obscenely HUGE implants because she sat on a machine I wanted for over ten minutes and didn't do a damn thing. I even went over and politely (with gritted teeth) asked her when she thought she'd be done. She told me five minutes. Yeah. No. All she did was sit on the machine I want and poke her two mammoth balloons out as far as she could until I thought her back would break in half. She sat, legs splayed, bowling balls a rolling and talked to some guy for-eh-ver. I wanted to go over and ask her how her work out was going and if she was feeling a burn at all 'cause she was working so hard.
Then there are the guys. I was sitting on a bench waiting for my dad to get done in the locker room and I watched this guy with python arms strut over to a lat machine. He made eye contact with me as though he wanted to be sure I could see how much weight he could handle. Then he proceeded to put on wrist guards. He walked around the lat machine at least three times as though he were sizing up his competition. Sitting down on the machine he began his routine. I will admit he could left a heck of a lot more weight than me but I'm pretty sure the yells he did were a little unecessary. Plus, he only did seven reps and then puffed his chest out like a champion of worlds and sauntered off to another machine. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.
There are so many good stories to discuss about the people at my parents gym that I really am just going to pick out those two for today and let your imagination run free as to the other characters that inhabit LA Fitness.
There are  some characters at my home gym, though, not nearly as many. I really like my gym because they have great group fitness classes- hello Zumba!- and they have a private fitness center for women only. I love it. But there are wacko workout people everywhere.
For example, every so often I venture down into the area I call the "Meat Market" where all of the males meet to work on their sweet guns. And by guns I mean arms. Duh.
I don't venture down there a lot and when I do I try to time it so there are the least amount of people down there as possible. I don't think of myself as pretty- I'm a 5'11 redhead for heavens sake. I'm the closest thing to an Amazon Warrioress these guys will ever see. So maybe they are afraid of me and the 40 -60 pounds I lift compared to their 100-200 (woowee), but I have got the prickly feeling on my neck down there from being ogled. There is one body builder lady down there all of the time. She's short but built thanks to hours upon hours of lifting. Her leg muscles could crush my skull. She also thinks chalk helps her look like a B.A.
Sidenote: in an effort to cut back on my swearing I've started abbreviating my swear words. For example, B.A. Stands for Bad A**. End side note.
So this lady usually wears all black and then is covered from head to toe in chalk. Yuck. But I admire the fact that she works out as hard as she does, I've only been annoyed by her and her chatting once but that was the only time. I don't want to talk about her too much, I'm afraid she'll crush me. She really is ripped.
There are also some ladies in my Zumba class that slightly annoy me with their cutsy little outfits and H.A. (Again, abbreviation: Half A** attempts) at the workout. Two weeks ago in a Zumba class I almost had to leave to keep from laughing out loud. This lady came in super late. She is one of the few women in the class that I know have implants- they are big ones by Montana standards and she dresses those puppies to the nines. I'm always worried one will slip out so I just keep my eyes down and Zumba my heart out. This day was no different. She had on a tiny little halter top and tiny little spandex shorts and some cutsy little ribbon in her hair. Meanwhile I'm standing next to her in a t-shirt and shirts, casually scratching my unshaven legs and looking at the massive frizz-ball of hair surrounding my head. She didn't really attract all that much of my attention until we came to a dance move where she kind of improvised and basically flipped her hair in my face for like two minutes. No joke. She didn't have it pulled back and its long and poofy so it was all up in my personal face space. After the class the instructor came up to me and said she almost lost it when she saw my facial expressions and what was happening. We shared a good laugh.
But, for the most part, my gym at home rocks. Granted, the one down here in Phoenix is very, very entertaining. But, I do miss my gym at home. Very few implants, very few oglers, very few campers, very few creepers, very few look-a-like characters from Jersey Shore.

But it does make for some fun writing

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

A very hairy christmas

I'm sorry I haven't posted in awhile. You see, I was kidnapped by my parents and whisked away to sunny Phoenix for the holidays. It's glorious. I bet everyone in Montana is totally jealousssssss.
One thing about being a female and living in montana during the winters is that you really don't have to shave your legs all that often. Gross. I know. But the chilly winters allow me to have an extra ten minutes of sleep in the morning. plus no one ever sees your legs until march.
Now that I've been down here I realize I should probably shave my legs every day. Especially because as I was laying in the grass wearing shorts and soaking up some vitamin d Caderyn came up, rubbed his hands on my legs and said "it's a puppy?"
Well. I shaved them shortly after that.

Happy hair free holidays!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Not Just A Box

But a magical wonderland where smiles like this are seen every second.

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Winter Freeze

Gorgeous tree on our street all frozen

Brr cha cha!

The freeze up close. Pretty cool.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Descent Into Mombiehood

Have any of my readers seen that new TV show called The Walking Dead? Not hitting a target?
What about Night of the Living Dead?
Still nothing?
How about Shaun of the Dead?

Notice how all of these titles have a similar word? Well these shows also have another something similar. People/things or whatever you call them that look like THIS DUN DUN DUN

Scary huh. This episode of The Walking Dead gave me nightmares.

Sometimes the above pictures is how I have come to feel in the mornings. Now I'm going to set the record straight. I'm not the possessed-flesh eating creeper that Hollywood portrays these characters as.
I'm not a Zombie. Correction. I'm a Mombie. That's right. I've coined a new term.

Back in my younger days circa 2003-2008 I could go to sleep at 11:00 p.m. and get up at the butt-crack of dawn (5:00 a.m.) to go to the gym and work out and then go through all the motions of the day and do it all over again the next day. I didn't need coffee. I had tons of energy. I was Ah-may-zing!

Now there is never enough time to sleep. I go to bed at 9:00 p.m. and around 5:00 a.m. my son starts to stir. This is where the Mombie in me takes over. I lurch from my pillow, hair askew, saliva probably still damp on my chin from where I was drooling (sometimes I do that). It takes me a minute. Then Caderyn lets out another "squawk" and the Mombie walk begins. Left foot right foot one in front of the other. Sometimes the right foot might drag a little if its still on pins and needles from the heavy sleep I was in. A sort of "mombie walk" if you will. Is the visual good enough? Arms hang limp by my side, my posture slightly leaning forward. On my path to Caderyn's room my feet usually come into contact with a truck or a book or something sharp. I barely flinch. I feel no pain. Only the gray cloud of grogginess with one thought of my mind.
Good heavens. Coffee.
Before heading into Caderyn's room I must turn on my coffee pot and hear the sweet, sweet sound of the boiling liquid start to drip. It's glorious!
With that sound, my brain starts to awaken a little.
I move on into the Bubs room where he is usually his happy little self. I let him show off for me before I pick him up. He usually flirts with his momma a little or wants to show me how he knows that names of the animals that decorate his walls. I nod my head in approval and "Mmm-hmmm" because I haven't yet gained the ability to speak. Plus, I usually still have my night guard in. This prevents me from grinding my teeth at night and getting horrible migraines. It's amazing. Completely un-sexy according to Jeff, but ah-may-zing.
Once Caderyn is ready to get out of bed I'm awake and moving- kind of. I give soft little cheeks kisses, change a diaper, give more kisses and then send the Bub on his way. He usually heads right toward his trucks and I head to the couch where I rest my heavy head for just another minute or two, enjoying the coffee smells as they fill the house and the sweet little jabbers of my son.

Once the coffee is ready and my son has done his morning "thinking" oh yeah, I went there. I'm busting into light speed and proving to the world that I can get ready, do laundry, feed my son, pick up toys and get him dressed in under 30 minutes. Jealous?

In conclusion, I'm no longer a morning person any more. I used to be. But then I had a child. Now I'm a forced morning person. Also known as a Mombie. I struggle to get going. I struggle to open my eyes. I struggle to walk and to talk.
But I'm not a Zombie. I'm just a Mombie making her way through the dark house in the morning toward a little boy who gets up entirely too early.
That's okay. I could smooch his cheeks all morning. I love those things. Not in the Zombie way.
Just the Mombie way.

In addition: After further observation of my Mombie state in the morning I would also like to add that my eyes struggle to function in the morning too. I can't get them both open at the same time So one after the other I open and close them, trying to awaken and focus but the end result is just another addition to my scary morning Mombie state. Maybe one day I'll take a picture and frighten you all. Dun dun dun!!!
P.S. This is copyrighted by me. This was created for my readers enjoyment by me, from my own mind. Enjoy it. Don't steal it. Plagarism is a c-r-i-m-e. I learned alllllll about it in Journalism school.

Friday, December 3, 2010

A Special Christmas Gift

So ever since I can remember Christmas in my house, we've had this wonderful Christmas Countdown Calendar that someone made for my mom. It has hung on our wall each and every year. It is made of red and green felt with numbers placed over small red pockets numbering 1-24 for each of the days leading up to Christmas. Each pocket contains a special trinket- an angel, a candy cane, a christmas tree, or Santa. Each piece is different and so unique. I remember my brother and I fighting over who got to be the one to put Santa on the tree when Christmas Eve finally arrived. Through the years, this has become one of my most favorite Christmas decorations in our house. 
Now that I have my own home, I've been looking for a calendar just as special. It's been three years and I still haven't found anything that sparks the excitement I feel when I see our calendar. I think I've probably complained about this more than once to my mom. Well, bless her heart. This year she had someone make me a calendar almost identical to the one we have in our home. It's WONDERFUL!

There are some differences. I love the Christmas lights on the tree- the orignial one doesn't have this and the new ornaments have a different decoration design but it is the most perfect gift EVER. I was so shocked when we got it in the mail. I teared up a bit just thinking about how thoughtful my mom always is. This is truly a special gift that will evolve into a special gift for my entire family.
Happy Holidays everyone- mine are great so far. Especially when I get to put a new trinket up on this tree each and every day. It reminds me of the special magic that surrounds Christmas time and it also reminds me that in just a few days I will be sharing one of my favorite holidays with my wonderful parents.

Catching Up

I have been a little absent lately. We've been pretty gosh darn busy. It's not going to be slowing down anytime soon- next week is even crazier. So- for all of my avid readers- you know who you are. Here are some pictures and updates to keep you satisfied until I can regain some footing in my crazy life.

 Here is Caderyn. He is 20 months old. He loves snuggles and kisses and running and jumping. He now throws himself of the ground when he's upset. Very dramatic.
He likes double fisting already. Should we be worried?

Still a truck man. Notice the small Christmas village piece on the box, this is Caderyn's favorite. He won't let me touch it or move it. P.S. That box is our new mattress. YAY!

Busy bee

Such a cutie

 Ooooh! He loves looking at the lights on the Christmas Tree and going "Ooooh!" or "Whoa!"

The Dreaded "No"

That's right. This dreaded N-word had reached our household.
Sometime last week Caderyn started saying "No." To top off my shock of him saying this word, he also says "No" and shakes his finger at you when he says it.
Where the heck did that come from?
Jeff and I have tried to be positive reinforcers of the word "No." When he goes after something he shouldn't we usually say. "No touch" or "That's not okay." Only for the most dire and dangerous circumstances, do we ever use the N and the O.
So I have watched, disapppointed, as everything we generally ask or tell our kiddo is met with the small-voiced, yet defiant "No."

Me: "Caderyn lets get your snow boots on and go outside!"
Caderyn: "No"

Me: "Caderyn, don't bang your trucks on the glass table. That's not okay."
Caderyn: "No"

Welcome to toddler-hood!

Me: "Caderyn! You need to get off the top of the couch. That's dangerous!"
Caderyn: "No" (And then he jumps and my heart skips a few beats).

Me: Caderyn, come and give Mommy a kiss!"
Caderyn: "No" (And then my heart breaks a little.