Today I went to the store for the express purpose of buying two items: eggs and valentines (and no I’m not egging my valentine, smart allecks.) As of this writing, I sit at my house 86$ poorer and yet unpossessing of either eggs or valentines. But hey, I have a fancy humidifier I found on clearance! (Which will become important to our story in a bit.) In addition to the supermarket slipup, I also drove my kids to their music lessons 10 minutes late and a day early, cooked brussels sprouts in the microwave and then forgot about them for an entire day (the stench caused my 7-year-old to ask “Mom, did Other Brother fart in the microwave and shut the door again?” causing me to shriek, “What do you mean AGAIN??”) and, worst of all, I completely spaced a good friend’s son’s baptism. For the love of little green apples, kids only get baptized once in their entire lives (unless they convert to another religion and break their parents’ hearts so we won’t go there) and I missed it. FOR NO GOOD REASON. Sigh.
P90X + infant = I has a tired. (And you know I’m really tired when I have to resort to LOLcat-isms to express myself.)
When I first started P90X, people who had done it before would pat me on the shoulder, wish me luck and then invariably warn me about the plyometrics day. They spoke of it with such shock and awe that I was nervous for two days before we did it. Then the day arrived and I strapped on my highest-impact sports bra and put on my “bring it” face. (For those of you uninitiated, inventor Tony Horton is not referring to the cheerleader movie by the same name that everyone has seen and yet no one will admit to watching. “Bring It” is P90X parlance for your best fierce face and it is required for every workout. Although now that I think about it, I would pay money to see Tony Horton do a Kirsten Dunst cum cheerleader improv. He is a funny funny man.) Anyhow, the fabled plyo day is basically 60 minutes of different variations of jumping up and down. We did “rockstar” “ski” “frog” and even “Mary Katherine” (oh yes we did!) jumps – the only thing missing was a few Masai and/or a Metallica mosh pit. But for all the jumping, it really wasn’t that tough of a workout. Don’t get me wrong – we sweated aplenty – but I think we’re so used to bouncing around for an hour when we do TurboKick that this didn’t challenge us in the way I thought it would. As Gym Buddy Krista put it, “That was hard but it ain’t no Lindsey circuit.”
Before I could get all cocky about my P90X prowess however, the following day was the legs and back workout. That sucker knocked me on the ground, took my lunch money and then rubbed my face in the grass until I thanked it for the privilege of kicking my butt. Gym Buddy Jeni (I managed to rope two new Gym Buddies in for this Experiment; everyone give a holla to Jeni and Daria!) summed it up thusly, “This is the worst day of my life.” Right before dry heaving over the waste basket. That night I had a “metabolic reaction” and crashed and burned on my kitchen floor – ah, just like old times! And we’re doing that workout again today. Joy.
Now, back to the humidifier. See the reason I got all aflutter and forgot the eggs and valentines (that Child #3 needs first thing in the morning, of course) is because Jelly Bean has her first cold and is all kinds of snotified. It’s bad enough when a grown-up gets a cold and can’t sleep but for a breastfeeding infant who isn’t allowed anything but weak Tylenol it’s total misery. And when Jelly Bean is miserable, we’re all miserable. You know that old saw of “sleep when the baby sleeps”? – it only works if it’s your first kid. So nobody’s sleeping, is my point. And then I thought perhaps a humidifier would decongest Jelly Bean enough that she’d succumb to the sweet arms of slumber and I could get my brain back. (Side note: You would think that babies would be born knowing how to sleep, it being a natural bodily function and all, but no. You have to teach them to sleep. And for whatever reason they fight it kicking and screaming every step of the way. Why is this??) But first I had to spend an hour in Target reading the box trying to decide why such a fancy humidifier was on clearance for 50% off. Because when there are fires to be put out I say always go for the smallest one first.
You may have heard the recent research about how new parents driving sleep deprived are as bad as drunk drivers? I need a driver. Stat. The other problem with sleep deprivation for me is it gives me mad sugar cravings as my body tries to keep itself awake. That one was easier to fix: cranberry white chocolate cookies! But hey I made them with my fancy new flour so that makes them health food right?
So anyhow, I just logged on to write a brief note telling you all there would be no post today because I’m so keel-hauled with exhaustion that I’m a menace to society and, well, this happened. Someone make me feel better and tell me the dumbest thing you’ve done whilst sleep deprived! Um, good night now.