"What is this Mommy?"
    Yes, Pinterest.  That's the response from four little breakfast eaters this morning, when I gave them this...

   Their adorable, clever and extremely cute breakfast for Groundhog Day was SUPPOSED to look like this -

     But in the real world, came out looking like this instead.

    You taunt me Pinterest and I vow to conquer you one day.  Maybe not this day...but you will be mine.  Oh yes, you will be mine. 

    I always wish I could be a "Pinterest" kind of mom.  The cute ideas and crafts...whimsical treats and snacks.  I often wonder who has time for it all. 
    Take for instance, yesterday.  I sent our kindergartener to school without his lunch.  Seriously...no lunch.  I packed it and it was sitting by the door alright, we just happened to run right by it in the midst of our crazy, bonkers non-Pinterest kind of typical morning.  His teacher (who is AWESOME) made sure that he got an ordered lunch, but as you can tell, I don't aspire to have cute cut-out "Pinterest" sandwiches or snacks.  I just hope they have food. 
    With that being said, I saw a fun idea on Pinterest for Groundhog's Day that I think the kids would love.  If I'm brave enough, I'll give it a try in the morning even though I know it will never turn out like the picture...

     Regardless of the fact that mine would end up looking like a doughnut hole on a pancake, at least they'll get their meal.    
        Thank you Pinterest and Happy Groundhog's Day!
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   Yesterday I wrote about the very best part of a snow day, aaaaaand here would be the worst part...

    What do you get when you have three brothers and one big hill of unfamiliar snow with a rock at the bottom?  A little something we like to call...a trip to the ER. 
    Our eight year old flew down the hill "Super Fast and AWESOMELY Cool Mom" only to nail a rock with his foot at the bottom.  Ethan is about as tough as they come, so when he winced and fought back tears when he tried to stand, we began to worry. 
    Nobody likes to go to the ER, but when the swelling starts and the pretty colors begin, you know it's time. 
    Ethan was a trooper.  He got through the whole ordeal as we waited for the results.

    The doctor came back with the news that there was no break, thank God.  It's just a bad sprain and he has to stay off of it for a little while.

      It's hard to find a dull moment in this house and I'm so glad that he's alright.  It sure is nice to know there won't be a broken foot added to the mix for now. 
      So until next time Super Fast and AWESOMELY Cool adventure.  Until next time...
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     There's nothing quite like hearing the words, "Snow Day" to the heart of a child.  When their day is spent outside playing in the fun instead of sitting at their desk at school...

            ...when the neighbors come out to play...

            ...and dads play football in the snow.

    When little ones learn to shovel snow for the very first time...

               ...and try to build a snowman.

     But when they get upset that the snowman is starting to melt, it's always nice to have...

             A good big brother to save the day.

     And that's most definitely, the very best part of all -
                 when you have a snow day.
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                *+*+ Happy Snow Day!!! *+*+

    My two friends and I ventured to yet another exercise class.  This time it was yoga.  I have never taken a yoga class before but after our Pilates class from hell two weeks ago, I can assure you, I was nervous.  
    It just now feels like I can walk in an upright position without a twinge of pain, so why not go back for another class?  This time it wasn't an hour long session though - it was an hour and a half. 
    I was ready though.  I had my new cute charcoal gray yoga pants on and I knew what I was in for...or at least I thought I knew.    
    A different instructor walked into the class this time.  It was an older man who reminded me of an art professor I had in college once.  He was very earthy and probably hugged a tree on his way into the gym, but I liked him.  He was calm and his voice was soothing as he started right away by playing dreamy and soothing music along the lines of this - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Owg-NaUoHHo
    We sat on our mats and stretched.  I kept waiting for the pain to start and the downward dogs or whatever the poses are called but they never happened.  It was 90 minutes of stretching and breathing and simple poses.  No pain, no agony...just peace and (dare I say it) calm.
   I actually had a hard time with the tranquility at first.  I couldn't stop my mind from going a thousand miles an hour.  I can't remember the last time that I took a deep breath or made my thoughts slow down.  I heard my head say, "Come on, come on, let's get on with the work out if we're going to do it.  I have too many things to do today than to relax." 
   To make matters worse, with each move I kept getting the scent of my hair which smelled like bacon and pancakes that I made for breakfast this morning.  This made me think about the kids.  Their school, their homework, bacon, their lunch for tomorrow, my husband, his job, my job, bacon, my parents, his parents...on and on... 
    I knew that I was SUPPOSED to be focusing on my breathing and stop the craziness in my head, so I tried to switch gears. 
   Listening to the music, stretching on the mat and taking each breath at a time began to teach me something.  It's good to shut everything off once in a while.  We don't do this enough.  The day, the stress, everyday life.  Even when we have a minute, we turn on the TV or the internet, etc.  It's really hard to just stop everything - even for a second.
    Today was good and I'll try to remember this from now on.  I know I'll never get to the level of granola that I'm sure the yoga instructor would appreciate.  I'm too much of a bacon kind of girl to accomplish that.  I do see the benefit in it though and I learned today to respect that.  
   There's something to be said about taking the time to better yourself, your thoughts, your mind and body which as a whole, can make you a better person all around...and that's almost as good as bacon any day.  Almost.  : )        
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    IT SNOWED!  IT SNOWED!!!  Trampling feet ran through the house at the crack of dawn and I rubbed my eyes wondering what time it was. 
    The kids screamed and danced from window to window taking in the sights.  Pulling myself out of bed, I hoped for a blanket of white to greet me with the pull of the blinds. 
     Ummmm...no.  Technically, there WAS snow I guess.  It barely covered the grass.  To kids who never get to see it though, in their eyes, it was the North Pole.
     "Can we go out now Mom?  Can we go sledding Dad?"  Adam dropped his jaw as he met me by the window.  "Are they kidding?"  Trying to hide my smile, I shook my head no.  Giving Adam a jab to the ribs I grinned, "Let's go.  They've got snow covered mountains to climb."
     Putting the kids in winter snow gear was a feat all its own.  When you're not used to dressing them this way, it felt like trying to put cats in a straight jacket.  Bib overalls with buckles and zippers became next to impossible to do while they pulled and leaned towards the door. 
     Finally letting the door fly open, a blast of unfamiliar arctic air stung against our faces.  The kids eyes widened and their smiles grew from ear to ear. 
     Off they ran to conquer the day.  The mighty snow of almost an inch was enough to provide endless amounts of fun for four ridiculously excited little ones.
     I don't know if we'll get anymore "snow" this year, but at least I'm glad that they had fun with what we got...      

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    Growing up in Ohio, we got used to the snow.  Anything was pretty much fair game from the months of October through April, with the biggest hitters usually being in January and February.
    I remember when I was really young, there was a blizzard of 1977 or 1978 that just about brought the world to an end.  My older brother David was home from school for what seemed like weeks because everything was shut down.  Everyday he and I would go outside to play in huge amounts of snow and our tunnels and snow forts were off the charts. 
    It makes me sad sometimes that my kids won't know this while growing up in the south.  They'll never have memories of Trick-or-Treating with winter coats on, having to flash their costumes to people who ask what they're wearing.  They'll never know what Valentine's Day with a foot and a half of snow feels like. 
    I was reminded of this just now when we had a little bit of snow flurries.  The kids had been hoping for snow all day since hearing the news reports.  It was hard to pull their little noses away from the window. 
    Sure enough, as tiny specks of white began to float from the sky, all four of them screamed and ran outside without their coats.  They shot through the yard and tried to catch each flake as they fell.  It wasn't long before they decided that it was "really cold" outside, so they ran back in for some hot chocolate. 
    It's strange to be an Ohio girl raising Carolina kids but I'll do my best to raise them well.  They're already on a school delay for tomorrow so if there's anything on the ground in the morning, we'll see what fun we can get into. 
    It's sad to say that we'll probably never get enough snow to make a cool fort or snow tunnel, but to see their excitement tonight with just a few flurries...you'd never know the difference.
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    Okay, so if you know me, you know that for YEARS I've been trying to bring a puppy into our home.  Crazy you think?  Yes, probably so, but I grew up with a dog and she was such a huge part of our family.  (You dog people get this.)
    There have always been a thousand excuses why NOT to get a dog. 
    "We'll be tied down to it...it will destroy our house...we have four kids, we have four kids, we have four kids."  You get my point. 
    That's just it though.  As ridiculously crazy as our house already is, I can't help but think that we might as well throw a puppy into the mix since we can't remember what it feels like to have quiet and peace.  Why would we wait until the kids are grown and gone to start all over again? 
    The biggest reason though, is that I want the kids to grow up with a family dog.  They can love it and play with it as they grow and learn to take care of something other than themselves.      I've been trying to talk Adam into this theory since before our youngest was born and she's almost five now.  Adam has always been the voice of reason in our marriage though -
and I'm, well - not.
     So.  As luck would have it, a woman contacted me yesterday saying that she was about to have some puppies which will be ready to go home in March.  Guess who has a birthday in March?  Yep, this girl.
    I'll cross my fingers and try to sweet talk Adam into finally taking the leap, but if history repeats itself, we'll be dog-less for another year.  Can't wait to see how it goes! 
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     You can read all of the books and listen to the "experts".  When it comes to raising a child, they'll like to tell you how it's better to praise a child for their accomplishments rather than give them rewards or treats for demonstrating a desired behavior.  It's the old "intrinsic vs. extrinsic" theory where making them feel proud of themselves is far better than simply giving them a candy bar or a new pony.   
     In any psychology course I've ever taken this one's a biggy.  Positive reinforcement is key.  With that being said, guess what happened last night?
     Our typical nights consist of all four kids running through the house like banshees.  Half the time their out of the bath, soaking the house with bubbles, while the other half, they're jumping, screaming or spinning around dancing.  It's like a little miniature fraternity house.
     When we finally get all four settled down and dressed in their PJs, round two begins. 
     "Mooooooooommy!  I'm thirsty!"
     "Can you sing to us?"
     "Daaaaaady!  Will you read a story?!"
     "When will it be Christmas again?"
     Adam and I can count on one hand the number of nights they've gone to bed easily and peacefully - and worse yet, then they constantly come into our room throughout the night.  I honestly think they tag team each other in the hallway.  They have little schedules drawn out on their etch-a-sketch for who gets what shift.    
     That's when last night comes in.  The kids took their baths, got dressed, brushed their teeth and went in their rooms.  It was very strange.  I didn't want to draw attention to it in fear of breaking the spell, but needless to say, it was beyond weird. 
     I got into bed with one ear open, knowing that the litany of requests would begin...but they didn't.  (Oh no.  Something's wrong.  They must be sick.)
     Falling asleep, I actually woke up throughout the night wondering why THEY weren't waking me up throughout the night. 
     This morning, in our room with no disruptions, I anxiously got up to check on them...and that's when it happened.  Our six year old jumped up from his bed and cheered, "It's morning!  We get DOUGHNUTS!"
     "Doughnuts?" 
     Shaking his head wildly he screamed, "DOUGHNUTS!" 
     The other three sprang into the room and began to shout, "DOUGHNUTS!  DOUGHNUTS!  DOUGHNUTS!  Daddy's getting us DOUGHNUTS!"
     Going back to our room, Adam had the most innocent smile with shrugged shoulders and a "What?" expression on his face.
     "Did you promise them doughnuts if they went to bed last night?"
     "No!"  Trying to fight his smile, it only grew wider.  "I promised them doughnuts if they went to bed and STAYED in bed all night."
     So there you have it.  You can read all of the books and listen to the experts.  When it comes to raising a child, they'll like to tell you how it's better to praise a child for an accomplishment rather than giving them rewards or treats for demonstrating a desired behavior. 
     I have fought the battle of the night for a decade now, knowing this and feeling that my methods were right.  After all of that, who would have known the answer was right in front of me the whole time...with a Dad and a doughnut. 
    It kind of gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "Sweet Dreams". 
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    I'm lucky to live between two girls in our neighborhood that are the best fun you could know.  Their names are Monica and Shannon and just like everyone else, we all have busy lives with kids, work, etc.  Often times, we'll take a break from the chaos and shoot out to get together. 
    The other night, we grabbed dinner and a movie.  While we were out, Monica told us that she found a gym that had pretty cool classes if we wanted to check it out.  My brain heard, "Gym" and "Classes" and immediately went into panic mode.  I haven't been to an actual gym since before I had kids and our oldest is ten.  TEN. 
    I knew that with the girls, it would be a ball no matter what though...so I agreed. 
    Getting ready for our first class left little to be desired.  I had nothing to wear.  At all.  Visions of cute, perky twenty somethings in their adorable bright yoga pants ran through my mind as I combed through a pile of old sweatpants.  Finding a halfway decent pair of black ones, I grabbed a black tank top and light sweatshirt.  Throwing my hair in a ponytail, I dug through our sock drawer and found a pair of my husband's socks. 
    Heading outside, Monica was driving so Shannon and I jumped in.  By the time we got to the gym, I was beyond nervous.  Walking in, everyone was really nice and we were guided back to a big open room for classes. 
    People who were finishing up in the class ahead of us were grabbing their water bottles and walking out but they were dripping with sweat and had purple-red faces.  (We're going to die)
    I suddenly got that feeling you have when you're standing in line for a haunted house.  You know, when you're about to go in but you're fighting your common sense for that last few minutes to force yourself to stay. 
     Slowing walking into the warm room with the smell of pain, Monica, Shannon and I looked around as everyone put out their yoga mats.  crap.  We had nothing.  I'm wearing my husband's socks, how in the world would I have a yoga mat?
     Looking to the side, there were extra mats lined up so we grabbed three and found our spots.  People kept coming in and the room filled up quickly. 
     The instructor arrived and she was the cutest thing on Earth.  She was tiny and petite and had a warm smile.  She knew we were new so she spent a minute with us to explain the next hour of our class in Pilates.  I've never taken a class in Pilates before and the more she talked, the more I knew I shouldn't be there. 
     When she finished, I looked around as everyone was in their socks or bare feet so I kicked my tennis shoes off, knowing I was doomed.
     The instructor began by dimming the lights and playing some cool piano jazz music.  It suddenly felt like we were a trendy New York City spot and I actually had a fleeting thought that I might like this. 
    As we sat on our mats, we began to stretch.  First bending over to one foot, then the other.  Looking at the girl to my left, I shook my head as sure enough, she was a young 20 something perfectly skinny thing, in her cute yoga pants.  Great.
    Feeling pain shoot through the back of my legs, we continued to stretch towards our toes.  The instructor altered the moves and positions so that balance and strength became involved.  I began to feel parts of my body that I forgot existed.  My arms, back, calves...everything began to stretch and burn. 
    After what seemed like hours, the instructor calmly said, "Okay, let's get started."  STARTED?!  We haven't STARTED?
    Looking at the clock across the room, we had only been at it for ten minutes. 
    For the next 40 minutes, we were put into positions, stretches, moves and repetitions that were at times unnatural.  As I lied on my back and tried to scissor kick my right leg over my head and hold it while keeping my left foot down and pointed, I suddenly had a whole new appreciation for strippers.  How can they do this stuff on a pole when I can't even do it on the floor?
    It was an hour of hell.  Screw the cool jazz music and yoga mats.  For a minute I thought I was going into labor for the fifth time.  From my neck to my feet, every muscle screamed. 
    At the very end, the instructor had us lie on our backs with our eyes closed to relax.  Strangely enough, my body felt better.  I didn't have the tightness that I've come to know and everything felt weak and strong at the same time.  It was actually good.
    With the class over, Shannon and Monica and I gave each other a smile and headed out.  As we made it back to our homes, I crawled out of the car.  "Beatty!"  Monica laughed as I turned around.  And right there, on the right side of my rear was a hole in my old sad pants.  I had literally worn through them from the workout.  Yes, I actually worked my butt off. 
    As for now, it looks like I'll have to go get some cute socks and pants if I'm ever going to go back.  I don't know what class we would take the next time.  Zumba or maybe kick boxing, yoga...who knows. 
    I do know one thing for sure though.  If I only had one hour left to live, I'd spend that hour in a Pilates class...because it's the one place I know, that the hour would feel like an eternity. 
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