April | 2011 | PharmGirl Follies

I just got done with a workout, and I need to rant. Bad. I am going to have a heart attack if I don’t. Let me start off by saying this: I am FAT. Not fluffy, or filled out, not even thick. I am fat. Blobbo, lardo, gross.

The irony is, I have been working really hard to get my diet in order. I have been following the Primal Blueprint Diet. I have eliminated grains, increased my veggies, proteins, and fats. You know what? I have never packed on more weight in my life! I mean, like, light speed weight. Fat dripping down my gut, and backs of my legs like never before in my life. While others look thin, glorious and ripped following the diet, I am a total FAIL. What. The. Heck.

So, to counteract all this blob, I have started working out again. Again. Again. Blah, blah, blah. Again. This is my problem: kids. My kids. My OCD, don’t take no for an answer, screaming, fighting kids. Wow. Starting to feel better already.

When I work out I have to give the two little ones an activity to do. It has to be so knockyoursocksofffun that it keeps them in their room for an hour. After placating them with nuclear devices, and Kool Aid, I run to the living room to do my nice,butt kicking, yet relaxing, pseudo-yoga routine. I start the DVD, then like an unwritten rule I immediately have to pee my pants. Bathroom break, back to routine. Ten minutes in, the kids are bored, having blown up the back half of the house. (Literally, with toys) They begin to run in, and I yell “Get Out!”. They cry and run out. Then they sneak in, covered under a blanket. I yell again. One will scream from the back of the house, “MOM!” “MOM!” “MOM” until I scream “WHAAAAAAAT?” “I really need to talk to you!!!!!”

“Okay…what?”

“I need to talk to you!”

“About WHAT?”

“I need to talk to you!”

“Get in here and talk to me then!!”

Comes in, smiles, “What are you doing?”

“GET OUT!!!!!!!”

After 30 minutes I give up and let them watch me. For a moment they are cute. Mimicking me. Then they begin pulling out DVDs, spilling drinks, pooping their pants, hitting eachother, getting in my face. When I finally end my last breaths of that were supposed to be restoration for the day, I want to jump up and beat everyone.

One hour to work out. That’s all I ask. I am supposed to be this fit, muscular, hairless, attractive creature for my husband and all the world. But doesn’t the world understand that my kids won’t let me???? I wake up to kids in my face, I go to bed with kids in my face. I get a brief reprieve when I move them to their beds, but they always come back!!! Do they not understand that sleeping on a half-inch ledge in the bed night after night is driving me CRAZY!!! ?

I know that one day, they will not want anything to do with me. Sure, I will long for these days of annoyance and perplexity like the halcyon days of my youth. But right now, I am ticked. Daddy gets daddy time, kids get kid time, Mommy gets interrupted AGAIN time. Even as I type this, they are in my face, humming and playing with cords. Lord, Help Me, Please!