Torture and more torture

Now I don't know about you, but I don't particularly like torture...I think it is overrated. I prefer to be pain free most of the time. Who was it, anyway, that signed me up for 5:30 AM workouts with this personal trainer? Oh, wait...that was me.



Ok, so no one ever said that I had it all together. I wake at 4:30 every day anyway (except Saturdays - hence my 11:02 PM post) so what is the big deal, right? Well, let me tell you...



Tuesday morning, went and had a great, strong workout. As a matter of fact, Mark was pleasantly surprised (and me, too!) how fast he is packing the weights on. Great workout. Then, there was today...not so much the same thing. My first thought was "UGH, it is too early"...then I began to converse with myself...I said, "Self, what is the big deal...you are up anyway and by 6:30 it is all over. Tuesday is 8:30 am so what is the difference, really!". So my self convinced myself that it was no big deal. So, I walk in there, with the cobwebs still in my eyes. Now, if you ask me, there is something inherantly wrong with leaving the house in the dark and coming home when it is light out...seems bass ackwards to me. And, of course, Mark is ready to go. He says "let's get going" like he has anything to do with the lifting except to say to me "four more".... So now, my sense of humor isn't as sharp as it usually is and we get going...no small talk. Bike...good - hate that cardio. Next...



Lifting...yadda, yadda, yadda. Weak legs today. Weak chest today. Weak arms today. Ok, what was strong? Oh that's right...it was the coffee I sucked down before walking out the door. And Mark was sure to let me know that there was a "marked" difference today (like I didn't know that - perhaps that is why he gets paid the big bucks!). Back to cardio...hate that cardio. Seems Mark has decided that "interval" training is what I need. I wonder why he and I never seem to agree on what I need...



Nearly fell on my tukus doing standing lunges. Squats were no better. The long and short of it was that I walked out of there with my rubber band legs, drove home defeated and thinking Mark needs his coffee in the morning and went on my way. I was dragging all day...one surprise after another. I think I have finally settled in on the fact that Mark loves to torture, he thinks it is his job. Me...not so much. So, I sit here, cob webs in my eyes again because it is now 11:14 pm and I have just realized I need to go to bed and try again tomorrow...but tomorrow will be torture free!

The boy who cried wolf - or was that a girl?

Oh that's right...wrong book. I was talking about the boy who cried wolf. Well, you might as well call the incident Chicken Little - we ended up at the same point in the end.

My Rae has been sick for like three weeks - 2 doc visits, 2 antibiotics - to no avail. OK, Monday - phone rings. "Hello, Arrie, it is Ruth (admin from Rae's school)...Rae is in my office compaining of a headace and dizziness". "Is she throwing up?" I ask. "NO". "Well, Ruth, put Rae on the phone...Rae? Go back to class and suck it up. If you get a fever, throw up or pass out, call me". OK. An hour later...ring..."Hello, Arrie...Rae is back in my office". "Is she bleeding?" I asked. "No". "Is she throwing up or have a fever?" "No". "Please put Rae on the phone...Rae? I am not sure what part of suck it up you did not understand, but it is noon and I am NOT driving from Long Valley to Succasunna to get you just to drive back there in a couple of hours to pick up Adam again". OK. Now I should let you know that Ruth is just like me...a good sense of sarcastic humor and since she knows me personally from working there, she understands the issues. We live 15 minutes from school - including pick up it is 45 minutes round trip and I was in Mendham which tacks on 25 minutes to the trip. 2 o'clock...ring (you can see where this is going) "Hello, Ruth?" "Well, yes it IS Ruth". "Ruth, let me guess...Rae is in your office right?"..."put her on the phone"..."Mommy, I am really dizzy and have a terrible headache...pppplllleeeeaaaasssseee come to pick me up" at which point I am feeling like mother of the year for NOT picking her up earlier so I crumble under the pressure and get her. Just to sit in the parking lot for 45 more minutes waiting for my son to get out.

Tuesday. Noon. Ring..."Arrie?"..."Ruth?"..."put her on...Rae? Are you dying or are you in need of an ambulance?" "Well, mommy, no but I am dizzy and have another headache". "OK, I will pick you up". Driving to the school I thought that she might need an ambulance when I get done with her.

Now I am not ticked that my 12 year old can't sit through a day of school with a headache and am perplexed at what might be going on so I call the doctor. Make the first appointment which I can get which is on Wednesday. Go to the doc. Routine stuff - what is wrong...how do you feel...when does it happen...etc. Her blood pressure was really low but heart rate fine which tells the doc not an issue other than it can be causing the dizzyness and headache. Now I am sitting there thinking..."I don't have low blood pressure and my head is SCREAMING right now. As a matter of fact, my head hurts everyday at about noon when the phone rings". He checks her out and really finds nothing. He suggests she drink more water, eat smaller meals every couple of hours and mandates the use of salt. Sidenote: Why had a doctor never mandated ME to use salt - I LOVE salt...just wondering. Then he drops the bomb....the dreaded "b" word and no, he didn't say budget! He said "BLOODWORK" and my tender, quiet daughter comes unglued. Now, we have a history with her and bloodwork. We have had to literally strap her down and shove my hand over her mouth to fade out the shreiking and screaming just to have her state, in the end, that it wasn't so bad. So I brace myself...take a deep breath...pray and go for it.

Nurse comes in, puts the band on her arm, cleans the arm with alcohol and it starts. Wimpering..."mommy, I am scared....help me....pppllleeeaaassseee don't let them hurt me". Now, I am pretty soft right now, understanding and sympathetic..."it's ok baby, it will only hurt for a second...breathe...let's pray....ok, get your thoughts under control..." This went on for nearly 5 minutes to the point that I wasn't so sympathetic and she wasn't so quiet. The nurse literally said not a word and turned around and walked out. In walks the doctor. Now at this point I am raging inside. WHY won't she just shut up and do this...This is ridiculous...ok, doc time.

Honey, we need to do this or you have to go to a lab (which, is where we ended up the last time after we tied her down and listened to her scream like we were literally murdering her) at which point I say "I am NOT going to a lab again so you better get that arm out and let him get this blood". Now, at this point she is blubbering and wailing. The doc reminds her that it is a doctor office and they have other patients to see (and I am guessing he was implying that they might just be listening and get scared away) and we need to do this now. The short of it is that, once again, I was like "YOU HAVE TO DO THIS SO GET YOURSELF UNDER CONTROL (because I was totally under control???!!!) AND PUT YOUR ARM OUT!!!!!!!!!!!!". In the end, I sat on her again, covered her screaming mouth with my hand and forced the arm out until the doc had the blood he needed. She now starts..."mommy, I am so sorry....". "I forgive you Rae but don't talk to me about this because I am about to blow a gasket. I need to pray and talk to daddy". We drove home in silence. Her singing like nothing happened and me praying like the dickens.

Now, what does all this have to do with the boy who cried wolf? Well, now you can see what it has to do with chicken little...but the wolf?

Eric and I talk and we both decide that this is just a pattern of uncontrolled thoughts, ridiculous intolerence for discomfort (the infamous "it hurts, it hurts" and it is a paper cut and 2 days later she is still not writing because "it still hurts") and overall disobedience. So, he comes up with a plan...and this was it.

Today, we drove to the library. She sat there and read the boy who cried wolf and had to give me the relation to what had happened. I thought about an essay but that would be yet another headache for me. I opt out. Now, Eric's other plan is to randomly ask her what happened, to relate things in a reasonable manner and if not, essay time.

She just went to bed defeated. Not happy that I am blogging about her...not happy that essays are on the horizon...and probably not happy that I am still not happy. So, my girl is the boy who cried wolf, she is chicken little and me....well I guess that makes me the Old Maid!

Until next time...

More Nothings...

Well, I have been in absentia of late. Not like me to have nothing to say (or write for that matter). I just got plain old lazy. That, and I am taking the Love Dare from the movie Firefighter...any watchers? It was an amazing movie and hit home with all it dealt with. So, the good Lord moved me to start the dare. Ok, so I am only on day 2 of 40 and have been away from blogging for a couple of weeks - cut me some slack.

I wasn't sure I would do both, so I decided to keep a journal for the Love Dare and cut down on the blogging. And just as true to my nature as I could be, I stopped all together. So, what have I been doing?

Not much...oh, I did start working out with a personal trainer again. His name is Mark and he and I work just fine together. I am sarcastic, and he is sarcastic right back. Only his humor is a bit literal and dry but I find him pretty humorous most of the time. My first workout was Friday at 5:30 am...that's right...AM!!! I showed up, hazy eyed and all and suffice it to say, I was NOT in much of a mood to work out. We got right to it. First was the loathed cardio "warm up" as he calls it...I call it a burn out...more like a sweat fest. We went right from there to stretch (the best part of the workout because he does all the work for you) and then hit the weights. I was shocked to see how much strength I lost in 6 months away. In the middle of the workout, he decides to get philosophical with me..."Arrie, so what is your goal?" "My goal I thought...you have GOT to be kidding me. It is 5:45 - yes time really drags when you watch the clock - and I still cannot see and you want to know what my goal is!"...hhhmmm..."OK, Mark...my goal is to NOT do that ridiculous cardio and to NEVER do abs...EVER". Now, he thought that was not a reasonable goal and I thought nothing is reasonable at 5 something in the morning. Ok, real goals...he wants real goals. So I thought some more. "OK, Mark, you want my real goals? To fit in my pants again without having to use a hanger to zip them up in the morning...oh, that and bring the girls back uptown...seems they didn't know the bus was supposed to stop at midtown and went right downtown". He found that odd...I find that reality. So, we decided that my goals are a bit different from his goals, but he DID write down that I want to fit in my pants again.

He is merciless and he tells me that is what I pay him to be. I thought I paid him to be nice to me and get me in shape at the same time. I was lifting with my legs and I started crying (well, not really crying, but whining and moaning) because my legs HURT. So I told him so. My legs flat out hurt. He got a concerned look on his face..."Hurting? or just burning" Well, in my book they are synonamous...burning=hurting...and I told him so. He told me "three more!" I cried some more and he said "Four more - want to keep going?" No Sir!

So, that summed up my workout...minutes creeped by like hours and I mean HOURS! But, at 6:30 I was done and headed home. Funny thing, those muscles...people say they have memory...when you take time off, they get back in shape pretty quickly. Someone needs to tell my muscles that because I think mine got confused. Mine thought their memory was to hang onto the hurt for 5 days. Today is much better. Just in time for tomorrow morning workout.

I think I will bring him coffee tomorrow...no coffee for personal trainer first thing in the morning equates to an unhappy Arrie!