Day 1: Zumba and scrubs

My kitchen floor was disgusting. I swept on a daily basis. I Swiffer’d once a week. But getting down on your hands and knees to look at corner and backboard grime is appalling. Initially it was pretty gross and I was very thankful I didn’t paint my nails this weekend. I’ll admit it might have been a little fun to scrub with my new brush from the commissary. Several Disney songs may have escaped my lips.

I tackled that stupid floor only because I felt so good after taking Zumba for the first time in a few weeks. My hubby being in town and our short summer break combined with my favorite instructor on vacation makes it very easy to skip the gym. I went back today with a vengeance.

A vengeance against my belly fat.

I’ve been having problems with my knees over the past year. Silly injuries that wouldn’t have even affected me ten years ago. Not paying attention to form when you Tootsie Roll (that’s the dance move, not last week’s MilSpouse Friday Fill-in question). Not keeping your knees bent for impact. Not to mention, a possible toe break at a pole dancing class last year. Thinking that I’m ten years younger and I can wear Apple Bottom jeans, boots with the fur, and still get low-low-low-low-low. Extra poundage sure doesn’t help.

So I’m doing the samba in class, out of breath, music blaring. I start to slow down and as I do an image came into my head. My sweaty head.

I saw this belly –that’s grown and shrunk over the years, accomodating three wonderful children, serving as evidence for my love of sugar and carbs and sugary carbs– as temporary. Sort of like a heavy belt around me that I didn’t need. After that image I danced harder.

That image worked for me at that moment. We’ll see which one pops into my head tomorrow. Yes, two Zumba classes in two days. Sure, I feel good at 7 pm tonight but how will I feel tomorrow morning? How will I feel tomorrow night? We shall see…

This morning I scrubbed half the floor then caught up with that awesome show on Lifetime called Drop Dead Diva. (Love love love the show! It’s sort of Clueless meets Ally McBeal, the good years.) I got such a warm fuzzy from that show that I scrubbed the other half.

The kids had a dentist appointment so I, get this, READ while I was waiting even though I had some witty revelations I really needed to get off my chest. I had three bags of clothes that the kids or I have outgrown and donated them to Goodwill.

Despite my headache at 1:30 pm, I did not have a Coke Zero nor did I stop to have a caffeinated beverage at you-know-where.

I do have to admit I started decluttering while my husband was home but only because of our daughter’s birthday. Most of my family were planning to attend and some of them need beds at various times of the day. I don’t know about you but I’ve got some uncles and some nieces who just crash after they eat at a party. Maybe it’s the rice or the beer or both but someone usually fell asleep within the first hour. Sometimes they’d fall asleep on the nearest couch. One of my nieces just had a baby so I figured she’d definitely need her own room to nurse or change a diaper. The downstairs guest bedroom looked nice for the first time since we moved in when there was nothing in it.

There you have it: exercise, scrubbed the kitchen floor, donated clothes, read, no Facebook or Starbucks.

OMG. I can’t believe it either.

Tomorrow’s job will include the junk drawers and if I’m ambitious, the pantry as well. (I’m scared of the junk drawers. It’s a compilation of our worst fears. Will we ever need that extra set of ear plugs? What if New Kids on the Block come back into town and I can afford to see them? Won’t I need earplugs? What about random nuts and bolts from IKEA DIY furniture? See what I mean?) What do I do with cake plates and cupcake stands? Where do I store party supplies? Do I need to go to IKEA?

I will leave you with one thought. You probably shouldn’t let your kids watch Zombieland, particularly if the youngest is going through a copying phase. We were choosing ice cream this afternoon and L was mumbling something about Twinkies.

I asked the older two, “What is she saying?”

Our son, the oldest, tried not to laugh and said, “I don’t know.”

Our middle, the older daughter, said, “She said, ‘WHERE ARE THE FUCKING TWINKIES?!’ ”


If that wasn’t a FB status update worthy moment, I don’t know what is.

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