Oh, Those Crazy Kids

I got an email on Monday afternoon informing me that my youngest child, the freshman, had dozed off during Math class. The teacher noted it was to be expected following the Super Bowl, but I guess he wanted to let me know my child decided to catch forty winks in his classroom.

I asked my child about it, like a good parent is supposed to do. He swears he was sitting up straight and succumbed to sleep against his will. I offered to have him tested for narcolepsy, but he suggested it was probably because he didn't have his coffee that morning.

This is true. I know he didn't because my husband questioned why there was so much cold coffee in the pot later that evening. I hadn't gotten around to emptying the pot and rinsing it out. I didn't have much coffee either because I find by the time I'm off the treadmill, I'm not in the mood for more hot nectar from the gods.

The last couple mornings, the joke has been, "Get up and get your coffee. We can't have you dozing off in math class again today."

When I woke him up this morning, I told him to get up, get showered, and get a cup of Joe. After doing so, he plopped down on the couch and proceeded to flip through the channels, stopping on one of those "Chuckie" movies. You know, the ones where the doll comes to life and goes on killing sprees.

The movies used to scare the beejesus out of the kids when they were younger. Come to think of it, I've always found them slightly unsettling, too. It's a doll, obivously, possessed by some deranged killer (if memory serves). I understand the concept, and I do realize it's just a movie, but I never really got how a doll could possess superhuman powers. My feelings towards the movie ranged from, "Oh, c'mon, how stupid," to "I'm keeping an eye on any and all dolls because you never know when one is going to be inhabited by the spirit of a killer."

I was making my morning rounds, topping off the cat food, freshening the water dish, picking up dirty clothes, and all those other things I do first thing in the morning.

The oldest child never stirs until the last possible moment. He gives himself enough time to shower, get dressed, and start his car before having to hit the road to get to school a few minutes before the bell rings.

I overheard him say to his younger brother, "Great. You're watching Chuckie? Now you're going to have nightmares when you fall asleep in math class this morning."

While I certainly don't appreciate my child falling asleep during school, I definitely appreciate wit.

Walk Like An Egyptian...or anyway you please

For an early birthday present, (I turn 40 on Sunday the 8th), my husband let me get a treadmill a few weeks ago. I ended up taking a few days off last week due to the presence of my children caused by snow days. Yes, again, I know. It's winter. It's supposed to be cold. It's supposed to snow.

The only thing I can say is that the groundhog better do whatever signifies an early spring today and the children better not be missing any more school any time soon because I can't be held accountable for my actions.

Anyway, the treadmill. My husband offered to let me get a tattoo to celebrate my 40th birthday. Tattoos have been a point of contention for a while now. He once told me that tattoos were trashy on a chick. I wanted one a lot more until they became trite. Then I sort of thought, what the hell, why not. But, I met great resistence from him.

Maybe I didn't want a tattoo so much as I didn't appreciate being told what I could or could not do with my body by my husband. Regardless, he did agree to let me get two more holes put into my right earlobe to balance it all out. Since 1987, I've sported two holes in the right and four holes in the left. I don't remember what purpose it served, but I'd never gotten around to either letting holes grow shut or getting additional ones.

Back to the treadmill. Nope, I don't suffer from any attention deficit dis...look, the cat just found a dustbunny to bat about the floor and Barbara Walters is wearing some funky necklaces on "The View"....

I realized today it's a good thing I can't afford a gym membership. It's not because I wouldn't use it, which could be a valid reason not to have one since I tend to get distracted and not follow through on things. It's not because it would take too much time to drive there, work out, drive back, etc. and so forth.

The reason is that I would make a total fool of myself, I fear.

I've always known I don't like working out with an audience. It's mainly because I like to put some music on and dance about doing various moves from workout DVDs and tapes that I've had through the years. One never knows when I'll randomly go from "Sweatin' to the Oldies" to doing a few Tae-bo moves.

The treadmill seems to be no different. The first 60 minutes or so that I'm on it, I truly focus on doing a good work-out. Since I've got stubby legs, and as a rule I don't run unless someone is chasing me with an axe or a knife, I make use of the incline button and don't often go faster than 3.8 mph which is almost speedwalking for me.

But, in those last 20 minutes, I tend to goof off a bit. I still keep the pace up, but I find myself moving my arms around to burn more calories. At one point, I realized that I had quite the "Saturday Night Fever" thing going on with my first fingers pointed and getting a walking groove on.

I try to focus on my posture and not lean forward. I realized that perhaps good form would not make my lower back ache. So, I try to remember to keep my tummy tight and my back straight. Sometimes, I'll raise my arm above my head, and curl my hand in such a way that makes it look like I'm pulling up on a string to pull myself totally standing up straight.

Yes, weird, I know. One could only imagine how weird an onlooker would think I am if I were in the middle of a public gym.

Overall, the treadmill has been quite the learning experience. The first day on it, I tried the option where you can enter your weight, how many calories you'd like to burn, and how much time you'd like to dedicate to the experience. I punched in some numbers and that baby took off at 6.5 mph. I don't think I could move that fast even if someone was coming at me with a machete.

I learned today that it's fun to try to walk like a runway model on the treadmill. However, I wouldn't suggest trying this at excessive speeds. It can be dangerous. The same goes for dislodging a wedgie. If you get one, hit the stop button before trying to dig your drawers out of your nether regions. It's a good idea to try not to look behind you, either. I turned around to check the clock on the range in the kitchen and was nearly propelled the 15' back into the room.

Yes, it's a very good thing I can't afford a gym membership. I don't think I'm up for paying for public humiliation.