Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Within about 5 days after giving birth, I lost 30 pounds. The next 20 shlopped off at about 1/10 of a pound per month. I'm exaggerating, who me? But at the one year post pregnancy mark my body did something amazing and dropped 10 pounds for no reason. I'm sure it's got something to do with hormone balance shmalance, and if I googled it I'd find some scientific reason for why my body was able to drop 10 pounds suddenly while I gorged myself with 1 year old birthday cake across the entire month of February. Who's complaining? Not me.
Every morning, Sarah and I get up at 5:30am to do a workout. I thought it was going to kill me to lose those extra hours of sleep in the morning. I was sure the twins would steam roll over me by mid afternoon, I'd be so exhausted. But miraculously, the opposite is happening. I have so much more energy during the day. It's seriously a miracle.
So if you've ever thought about doing the P90X workouts, do them. Tony, the trainer, is a little bit off his rocker and talks in all these weird voices that creep me out a bit, but he says some funny things too. In one of the workouts he talks about how he's 45 years old and does not want to get old and gooey. For whatever reason, that gooey word has stuck with me and it's motivating me to move forward every morning.
Here's a video of my boy Tony in action. Every morning is a different workout routine so you don't get bored. And I'll look for some videos where he uses some of his weird voices so we can all psycho analyze him. I think when people use creepy different voices, ala baby talk, they're hiding what they really want to say. But I have to wait until this workout series is over before I rip into my trainer's mental health. Cause I'm the one clinging onto the final 10 (and lying about it cause it's really 13) pounds like a security blanket.
As Tony likes to say at the end of each workout video, keep pressing play...
And as my daughter Kate Spencer would say, "bah(bye) goo"...
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Nini Camps, a prolifically talented singer/songwriter turned blogger - photo by BonBon
My dear friend (and colleague) @ninicamps is blogging now. My blog entry today is in response to her latest post titled Jon Mayer and BB Torch. As if she and I don't talk enough on the phone, via email, through Twitter, and Facebook, we will now add cross blogging to our forms of communication.
I feel passionately that her blog post be addressed, and her obsession with the melodies of Jon Mayer nipped in the proverbial bud.
Nini. Stop allowing Jon Mayer melodies to "hover" before songwriting. Not because he isn't a talented artist. And not because he doesn't write good songs. In fact, sometimes he even writes really really good songs. There's no arguing he's a very gifted guitar player. Honestly, when I hear him or watch him, I'm impressed.
That does not rule out the fact that he is a giant egomaniac in need of being ignored, by all of us quite frankly, but most certainly by as gifted a songwriter as yourself.
His songs are good, but there are BETTER songs and more talented guitarists worthy of hovering overhead as you sit down to pen the next great "Yesterday."
Ahh, let's start there. "Yesterday." Listen to that song. And listen to Paul McCartney. Any Paul McCartney. Even the worst Paul McCartney song is better than the best Jon Mayer song. I bet even Jon would agree. Maybe.
And speaking of Jon's. How about swapping out Mayer for Lennon? Please Nini. Please. Please listen to Abbey Road or Rubber Soul or Sgt. Pepper's. I'm begging you.
Derek Trucks is indisputably (according to Sibby & me) the greatest guitar player of our time. He's the heir to Duane Allman, and that's the ghost all the greats are chasing. Duane sits on Derek's shoulder. Not Clapton's. Not Beck's. And certainly not Mayer's.
Let Patty Griffin hover overhead when you sit down to write (I know, she literally already does, with her b&w 8x10 hanging on your beam). And while I realize blocking ourselves is not the end result we seek when listening to great artists, Shawn Colvin is ideal listening if you're looking to shut yourself down creatively. Sheryl Crow's also great for blocking both your writing spirit and your production spirit.
To all the Jon Mayer fans I've completely offended, I must be honest. I think JM is incredibly talented. His voice even kinda melts me. I just think he should quiet down a touch (he's claiming to have done that already, but he still needs to take it down another social media notch). I'm not saying don't listen to him. I'm just telling Nini to let someone else less obnoxious hover when sitting down to write.
As for your phone issues, typos on iPhones are becoming part of the venacular. Hahaha = Havana, which is always a lot of fun to explain to your lead singer of Cuban descent. Stick with the iPhone, not because you can or can't send emails, but because you can download that killer guitar tuning app.
Be sure to read Nini's new blog, "In Ink...A Working Title" and leave her comments because comments make bloggers feel good.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Until college. I friggin' loved college. And I loved my sorority even more. Oh, indeed, you read that right. I was in a sorority. The President of it, even. GO PI PHI!
Anyway. I worried that I might have been projecting my fear of organized things (read: forced socialization) onto my babies. So I relented. I'd heard about this great little Music Together class right here in town, and I signed my babies up. For those of you pro socialization types, It's not like they're 20 years old and got home schooled (though I see absolutely nothing wrong with that, to all my voracious readers who school their children at home). They're 18/19 months old. There's still plenty of time to figure out how to play nice in the sandbox.
As many of you know, I've got two little tykes. They've got some opinions. And they're just moving off two naps a day. In fact, some days they still take two naps. In double fact, most days they still take two naps-ish (if you call the afternoons where I watch them on the baby cam stripping their clothes off, jumping up and down across from each other while howling laughing in their cribs a nap).
Said Music Together class falls smack in the middle of their first nap time. The one that they no longer, technically, take. But since @spirtfireellis was no longer accepting the "nap excuse" from me, off we went to "music school," as I have been referring to it when speaking to the babies to prepare them for their first class.
"Coolbutts mama?" Thomas asks, whenever I tell him he's going to music school. "Coolbutts" means school bus, and he's obsessed with them and knows you ride in one when you go to school. And I say, "No Thomas. Aunt Cappy's coming with you though."
And then both babies say, "OHHHHHH, CCCCAAAAAPPPPPPYYYYYYY."
All kids, at least in my family, LOVE Aunt Cappy. And let's be honest, what's not to love?
We walk into class, remove our shoes, and see this lady wearing a guitar. Thomas turns to me puzzled and says, "Nini?" He's wondering who this Nini imposter is wearing the guitar. And I look at him equally puzzled that he wouldn't ask, "mama?", but instead asks, "Nini?" And now Kate is repeating, "NeeeeNeeee, NeeeeNeeee," and I really don't want to explain to the Music Together lady my who life story so I just pretend my kids are making up words, because you can do that with the name Nini. Sorry Neenz, but you kinda can.
Thomas refuses to ever sit down. Kate refuses to ever move off Aunt Cappy's lap, so she's a no go on the marching moment. Thomas wants the decorative train perched upon the highest shelf in the joint. Kate refuses to give the drum and mallets back. Thomas keeps heading to the door saying, "bye," long before class is over.
Seriously. I don't know if I projected it onto them, or if it was nap time, or what the deal was. All the other moms/caretypes and especially the teacher, were totally cool about it, and neither of my kids were full blown melt down disasters. But they were, hands down, the rustiest at partaking in the organized-ness of the class.
By the end of our 45 minutes, Thomas did high five the teacher, he did find the cutest girl in the class and follow her around, and he did walk around screaming "HI" to everyone in the room (granted, at the top of his lungs during inappropriate moments while the teacher was singing). And Kate did eventually return the drum and mallets (granted, only in exchange for two stickers).
Upon exiting the buidling with Katie in my arms, she looked at me and said, "Mama, nigh nigh," which translates into "Mama, night night," which translates into "I need my nap, NOW, Mama."
One thing I do know. Babies are not supposed to tell YOU when they need to nap...
So. We will return next week. We will pray the transition from 2 naps to 1 is closer to being accomplished. And I'm secretly happy that my two little muffin heads were the biggest Rebel Rockers at the Music Together class. But DO NOT tell them I said so...cause they're going to need to figure this socialization stuff out before mama blasts off on a big tour! Home schooling on the bus in NOT an option!
ps-Nini's got a new blog. Go read it.
Friday, September 10, 2010
A photo of Kristen in her office being interupted at work by her sister, Cathy.
I woke up this morning compelled to make this public proclamation.
October is my favorite month of the year.
I will lay forth my reasoning in an effort to pre-empt the hysteria that will likely ensue in the comments section of this blog.
October is neither too hot or too cold. This means people cover up enough of their bodies with clothing so that we don't have to see things we never wanted to see in the first place, but we don't have to bust out heavy duty parkas. I always wanted to use the word parka in one of my blogs.
Like toes, for example. All summer long I am forced to look at peoples toes, and many of you don't really take care of business the way you should. Toe nails shouldn't be too long, people. They also shouldn't be too short or non existent. And I shouldn't know that they are. In October, your toes are covered. Thank you for this, October.
And thighs. And belly buttons. Unless you're, ya know, on TV where you've surgically altered yourself to look outstanding, I prefer not to see it, #TBT.
The leaves are changing, but they haven't completely fallen off the trees. So it's not a mess and it looks really pretty.
October smells good. You can still barbeque and sit out on your porch. You don't sweat to death doing so. Sea Cliff has an amazing mini mart that rocks. Pumpkins. And Halloween.
I blogged. I'm back.
If you can guess what TBT is an acronym for, I'll send you something free from the Antigone Rising online store. Maybe. Depending on how many of you guess right. Good luck.