It's one of those weeks where there's no fresh fruit or vegetables in the house and Frito pie actually seems like a pretty healthful dinner option because there is corn in those corn chips, right? The doggas are beyond needing a bath, needing to go to the vet and needing to get back on a walking schedule because they're obviously mad at us (probably because they want Frito pie, too) and have crapped and pissed in the house THREE TIMES in the past week.
The toddler needs shoes de charol for grandma's wedding this weekend (on a perfect 10.10.10) and winter shoes or boots and a whole winter wardrobe for that matter so she doesn't freeze her butt off in high-water pants and sandals.
I think we're out of milk, too. Ugh.
My roots need some serious camouflage. My heels need a sander. My fast-on-their-way-to-wizard-sleeve arms need a Shake weight. My fingers need a rest because I think I'm developing carpal tunnel and my arms and hands go to sleep at night. Good thing they do though, because at least part of me is sleeping. I need some serious sleep -- starting with ignoring the toddler when she cries at 3 a.m. and letting her fall back asleep IN HER OWN CRIB. I'm seriously done with getting kicked in the face every half hour from helicopter child in my bed. My lip started bleeding yesterday morning from the toddler blow. This is mama abuse.
The most frustrating thing I'm trying to deal with right now, though, is that in between work, life, family, and blogging I'm also trying my best to follow a running schedule so that I actually can cross the finish line for a half-marathon the husband and I are set to do (but not together, apparently, because I'm too slow. I'm like a Clydesdale, apparently. Nice. I should at least get Budweiser to sponsor me in that case.) next month. To his credit, the husband is really trying to be a good motivator by sending me links to running blogs he thinks might inspire me. Although throwing in the word Clydesdale in our running conversation isn't exactly an ego booster. I'm just numb to inspiration, apparently, no matter what I do, what I listen to or what I read. And this is totally an aside, but we get Runner's World and I was thinking, first, that every single cover seems to have the same woman on it, and second, where are the Latinas at? Apparently, not running because they ain't on the pages of this mag. Just saying.
I'm in a running funk. Billy Idol's Eyes Without a Face is my preferred "power song." More like zone out and let me get through it song. I play it on repeat, with a few annoying ke$ha songs thrown in.
I did find some comfort reading Culture Mami right now talking about the life/running juggle and the run-up to the marathon she's running in two weeks. I have no aspirations to do 26.2 miles, but I totally admire women, especially mamacitas, who do. I don't know how other moms feel, but birthing is hard up until the point when the anesthesiologist rides in on his/her white horse to put in that glorious epidural. By comparison, running a ten mile race last spring made me feel like my uterus was going to fall out of my vajeen (como dijo Borat. Yes, I'm fond of quoting such high-brow folks, I know).
And in other good news (since I'm so full of it today), a new study shows how the thinner a woman is, the bigger her paycheck is bound to be. Average-weight women are penalized by earning less, and obese women can forget-about-it.
But the fatter a dude is, the fatter his wallet gets.
So. Not. Fair.
Everything on my to-do list will get done, I know. It usually does. But right now my fingers are tingling which means one thing -- Bed Time!! And its after midnight. Lord, where did the day go?