Every Monday I attend yoga at my gym. I’ve been practicing on and off since high school, and at one point I was very good. After having Dawson I practiced sporadically and lost some of the skills I acquired over an eight year period.
Tonight was the sixth class (there are seven total in a session), and I successfully completed Ardha Chandrasana, or Half Moon pose.
Okay, so I held it for barely 2 minutes.
And I was leaning against a wall. That’s progress, people.
Now, if only I could do Vrksasana(Tree with Lotus):
Yes. Balance on one foot with my other leg crossed over the opposite knee.
It’s freezing in Wisconsin. We’ve been bundled up in the house all weekend because with the wind chill, it’s -19° outside.
I’ve spent most of the weekend cleaning the house, organizing the playroom, sorting through the clothes that no longer fit Dawson, and trying to make a grocery list for this weekend when I do the shopping.
The pantry is looking bare, I was supposed to take a trip to the store yesterday to get things we’re low on, but I made my husband — you know, the guy who works in a grocery store — get all the needed supplies until I can get out to do the “big shopping”.
I’ve managed to go to the gym 5 days this past week. We’re members of the YMCA, and I finally convinced Dawson that he’ll be well taken care of in drop-in care (called Adventure Alley, a playroom for kids) while I’m sweating my ass off on the stair-stepping/elliptical thing. When I say sweat my ass off, I mean huffing, puffing, ready-to-tip-over-from -cardiac-arrest. Totally my kind of workout.
I successfully completed twenty minutes on that thing on Saturday and I felt like a miracle woman when I was done. Endorphins rock.
As I blog this, Dawson is begging to go back to the Y, he wants to play on the gigantic indoor playground. I told him we’ll go back tomorrow and he’s having a fit. He’s laying on the floor, kicking his feet, and I swear he said, “This is so not fair!”
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is on HBO and he’s watching it in between cries. It’s driving me bat-shit crazy. Imagine Gene Wilder singing, and then a wailing three-year-old on top of that. Loads of chocolatey fun, I tell you.
Time for Mom to go to bed. Yes, at 7:30. I know, I’m either getting old, or working out is making me sleepy. That can’t be good, can it? Or maybe I’m tired because the bursts of energy I’ve magically acquired have caused me to mop every hard floor in this house, catch up on laundry and clean the refrigerator.
I would do anything just to see Hillary and Barack campaigning in this state. Romney’s out. Now it’s just McCain and Huckabee. And dang it, why do I keep forgetting Ron Paul?
We’ll see if any of the candidates care enough to make it here.
