A Lesson in Acoustics. Oh, and Sex Education.

It's rare I get one child all to myself; usually I have all four kiddos or some variation of the majority of them. So it was a pretty awesome discovery to realize that it was just Hosanna and I going to hear the Voices of Liberty inside the halls of the American Adventure at Epcot during our Disney vacation.

A quick note about Hosanna: she is by far my quietest child, but when she is alone with mom or dad the girl does.not.shut.up. It's like she's saved every scrap of every thought she has had since the last private conversation and unleashes it wildly without a breath or beat to spare. This is both precious and exhausting. It is hard for me to process so much input in such a short amount of time, which is why I concentrate on being an attentive listener, which is just a fancy way of describing how I let Hosanna deliver her monologue uninterrupted while maintaining eye contact and nodding to encourage her. (Parenting: nailing it.)

Our American Adventure Voices of Liberty date was no different. She chattered away, telling me all about the television show she had been watching recently. It was a reality show on TLC about a family who wanted children but had trouble having them because "the dad was missing something...or didn't have enough of something... (oh.my.lanta. MOVING ON) but then they found a doctor who found someone who had enough of what the dad was missing and the couple was able to have not only one baby but FIVE babies!" Hosanna told me alllllllll about this family as we waited for the a Capella group Voices of Liberty to sing*.

*Nerd Fact= I majored in music. Specifically, voice. So I may have been a little pumped to finally hear this renowned group sing in the space especially designed and known for it's perfect acoustics. What are acoustics? Acoustics are the way sound behaves in an enclosed space. Some acoustics will deaden sound, some will carry it. The acoustics in the dome of the American Adventure were designed so that a group of eight singers could sing patriotic songs without microphones and be heard perfectly all around. Translation: sound carries fabulously and vibrantly.

Voices of Liberty? Were dope. We sat right inside the domed shell and enjoyed every single note. Yeah, I found the girl that sings my voice part and yeah, I could have fit in her costume if I had boobs, so I'll definitely have that job someday. (I'm pretty sure that's how they cast those parts, right?) Hosanna kept leaning towards me to tell me something in between each song, but the flow was pretty steady, what with it only being a fifteen minute concert, so she never managed to get it out. She was almost bursting out of her skin as we listened to the final song, desperate to tell me the one last little thing that was on her mind.

She held it in as the last notes died and the applause began, and, to her credit waited until the applause stopped and I was wiping the tears of emotion from my eyes (because I love a Capella music and 'Murica) before blurting, "IT WAS *SPERM*, MOM. HE WAS MISSING HIS SPERM."

And the perfect acoustics of the perfect dome in the perfectly magical land that is Disney carried that sweet little message to everyone in the room.

You're welcome, Disney World.

"TiK ToK, on the clock. But the party don't stop, no. Whoa-oh oh oh" - Kesha Rose Sebert

*Knock Knock*

Kelly: Who's there?

D2: Heeeey! It's Day Two Of Your Period! I'm here to TEAR. CRAP. UP. and PARTY!

Kelly: Day Two? Didn't we just hang out?

D2: Naw, son. That was probably my cousin PMS. People tell us we could be twins.

Kelly: Awesome. And it looks like you've brought a friend. Who is this?

D2: This is Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness From Your Squat Workout! He'll be hanging around for the next day or so.

Kelly: Wow. Together you guys kind of remind me of  ... hmmm, I can't quite put my finger on it ...

D2: Back Labor?

Kelly: YES! Together you remind me exactly of Back Labor! I haven't hung out with Back Labor in over 11 years and I totally haven't missed her at all.

D2: Me and DOMS are just going to come in and have a ball here for awhile. I called Bumpy Cake Ice Cream. He'll be here in about fifteen minutes.

Kelly: Just in time for me to hook up with Yoga Pants and Twilight On DVD. This is going to be such a wild party.

D2: Totally. I call dibs on the heating pad!

If there was ever a moment I knew the Internet would never let me down, this is it. Because Friends, *that* is a Uterus* Pinata.
*Story for Free because Day Two is visiting and I have poor decision making abilities as of this moment* I have a picture of my own uterus. Like, an actual photograph. This is because I've had four c-sections and am a control freak really wanted to be involved in every aspect of my childbirth experience so when I had an emergency c-section the first time around I asked Brian to take pictures of everything. Including my uterus. It is lovely, thank you. (I'm still a bit pissed he didn't take a picture of my Fallopian tube when he got the chance during Ezra's delivery.)(But that's another story for free for another day.)

More on Monday (not to be confused with Moron Monday)(which I can see you assuming because you've read my blog before)

Since I skipped Five on Friday, I am going to do a short but sweet More on Monday post for you because alliteration.

One = I am totally a winner

Everybody hands go up

AND THEY STAY THERE

Like, for real a winner. I was entered in a raffle at Lifetime Fitness for a month of free personal training when I did my last weigh in for the 90 Day Challenge (results with pics coming soon). Guys? I WON. I meet with a trainer twice a week for a month starting tomorrow. I asked Kemper about the trainer I was assigned because ain't no one messing with what Kemper is doing with me, but he's never heard of him. I probably got the newest newbie on the block but that's okay because IT'S FREE PERSONAL TRAINING FOR A MONTH. I'm going to give this new trainer my current workout schedule and "suggest" what I'd like to do during our time together. Is that rude? I don't even care. I really really really hope he's a meathead.

Two = I am totally sore

After my last session with Kemper I was all, "Maybe I can lift heavier than I have been," especially since he told me the last rep or two of every single set should be hard, and not just the final set as I had been basing my weights on. So I've been working my tush off at the gym with heavier weights (I upped my deadlift from 85 pounds to 105 pounds and my squat from 105 to 115) and ohmylanta does my body appreciate it. I can tell it is appreciation my body feels because it has been screaming in gratitude from my chest down. I even hit up the bottle of Aleve so I wouldn't take it out on the sweet kiddos that never aleve me the heck alone, even when my level of pain indicates I'm probably over exaggerating  being a giant weenie dying.

Three= I am totally tired

1. Don't get too jealous of my awesome baseball hair.
2. Yes, that's my friend Rick of our camping trip fame
photobombing this picture of me and two of my
lovelies.
3. I packed a protein bar for a snack when everyone
else got oreos and candy. I BETTER LOSE
WEIGHT THIS WEEK.

Clue number one that Brian and I are getting sooooooo old? After our weekend we are both fried. Like, "getting prepped to cage match over who got to take a nap Sunday afternoon" fried. (Brian totally won.)(But only because I had another event.) Friday we drove down to Toledo to see the Mudhens get destroyed by another minor league team who I cannot name to save my life. (Confession? I hate watching baseball. It has to be the slowest game in the history of sports. I love going to see the Mudhens once a year because we go with our church and buy out almost a whole section. This is fun because visiting and not watching the game.) Afterwards there were fireworks. We got home with four kiddos a little after midnight.

Saturday was a wedding of some dear family friends two hours away. We got home just in time for me to take off my heels and go grocery shopping. I did some paperwork and hit the hay because Sunday was church, errands, and a concert. Wonder what 34 years old is like? Being exhausted by the previous few days events where the latest one was midnight.

Four = I am totally ready to kill my neighbor

My favorite part of music school was a little amenity called "Practice Rooms". Practice rooms were little soundproof spaces where one could take a nap  make out with someone like that one time at Band Camp  practice their instrument without bothering anyone else. Some may think, as I am someone who majored in music, that I enjoy hearing it regularly. You would be wrong. I am very particular about noise level and do not appreciate the same two measures of practiced trumpet music for fifteen minutes. Which is exactly what my neighbor is now sharing. And is an improvement over the thirty minutes of scales that were the prequel to the main attraction.

OHMYLANTA NOW HE'S DOING THEM STACCATO.

I'm about to yell, "GET A ROOM!" and he will totally understand what I mean.

Five = I am totally premenstrual

Chocolate is not your friend, Kelly.

Chocolate does not share your goals, Kelly.

(repeat ad nauseam until Cheat Meal)

(whoever says Cheat Meal can't include the last Reese's Peanut Butter egg left from Easter I will cut you.)

STEP AWAY FROM THE TRUMPET AND NO ONE GETS HURT.

Directions to the Meth House**

source

Facebook Status: I just got carded while buying cold medicine because apparently you have to be 21 to make meth.

We've been a bit sidelined this week. Some unexpected house guests dropped by, and wanted to hang around for about a week. While I firmly believe being hospitable is a necessary part of loving others, I was ready to kick our visitors to the curb after a mere 24 hours. I'm giving you a heads up because they might still be traveling together and looking for a new home to invade  take down  destroy visit, so keep your eyes open (but DEAR LORD don't touch them, and then wash your hands for good measure anyway) and lock your doors if you hear from the trifecta of Pink Eye, Croup, and the Common Cold*.

-begin rant-

source

*Does anyone else feel like the common cold is the most underwhelming and inaccurate name possible? Usually it's even paired with the word "just". Like, "it's just the common cold." What a misnomer. I vote we rename it something worthly of it's characteristics and capabilities. Something like, "I've come down with a case of Wanting To Claw My Sinuses Out". Or, "The doctor told me it's just the Swallowed the Blades of Ten Thousand Samurai Swords sickness that's going around". Or even "I've been diagnosed with HAHA Good Luck Getting Out of Bed Today".  

-rant continued-

source

I also think that the tissue companies should be a bit more honest in their product descriptions. The Cadillac of Tissue (A.K.A. Puff's Plus with Lotion)(Not an affiliate link because I suck at marketing) has a tagline that reads "A face in need deserves Puffs indeed." On the first day of the Common Cold (I've decided that's the name it's PR team came up with to try and make it "family friendly") I'm all, "These tissues are like a down blanket of happiness against my septum." By the fourth day my nose was a red and raw chapped mess (#hot) and I was thinking of the movie Seven where that woman chose the pills over the phone because her nose was gone. Day four found me crying at the tissue box, "MY FACE IS IN NEEEEEEEED!" because I'm definitely not more of a Drama Queen when I'm sick missing my down blanket of happiness in the form of a lotion filled tissue. I've decided tissues need more of an accurate expectation for performance. Something like, "Lotion-filled tissues - great for a sprint - but not trained for endurance." I know, it needs some work. But, honest.

-end rant-

So, in case you missed the point, last week my house contained pink eye, croup, and the common cold all at once. I'm making myself a "I Survived the Illness Trifecta of 2014" t-shirt to layer with my "I Survived the Polar Vortex of 2014" t-shirt. (Have you seen the Time article yet about Detroit being hit hardest by the cold weather? No? Lucky for you I am linking it here. You're welcome. And please send electric blankets and boxes of Bigelow Vanilla Caramel tea ASAP.)

**Story for free - in our old house the backyard connected kitty-corner to the backyard of a house we lovingly referred to as "The Meth House." This was mostly a joke name only because the bushes were overgrown and the curtains were drawn all the time, so we weren't stereotyping at all. The grass was always barely within legal limit of length and the "foliage" in the back corner of the lot (that connected to our yard) was chest high and contained a lot of mint plants. (That was a clue for all you CSI fans.) We seldom saw people go in or out but we lived in a suburb of the Motor City - home of the third shift and people working on the line - so that could have been explained easily enough. What really cemented the name "The Meth House" is when the SWAT TEAM showed up. Best part of this whole story? IT'S A FREAKING CLIFF-HANGER. I never found out the true story behind the SWAT team. Welcome to my private pain. Feel free to speculate with me for the rest of your natural life. Happy Monday.

Maybe I wouldn't mind a padded cell. Also, Bradley Cooper and I are working on a thing.

Stephenie Meyer built an entire empire based on a dream. Not an idealistic Martin Luther King, Jr. dream comprised of a desire and vision to better the world, but a literal dream. While peacefully at slumber she experienced the meadow scene from Twilight when Edward and Bella declare themselves to one another. She turned that scene into a four novel series that spawned a career as a Hollywood producer. Whaaaa? The lesson we can all learn: your billion dollar idea is on the other side of consciousness so you should take every opportunity to sleep.

Because I've always suspected my genius was buried deep within (and consequently mostly inaccessible), I now sleep with a pad of paper on my bedside table so I can record any brilliance a nocturnal muse might deliver. This has been a fruitless endeavor thus far. (With a brief exception of an idea that garnered so much enthusiasm in my reposing brain it carried over into wakefulness. It was only when I was describing my idea to Brian that my revelation of stupidity was achieved.*)

(*Okay, twist my arm. The idea? I'm still not entirely sure. But you know how "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" is a thing? Well, I totally dreamed that Bradley Cooper and I were going to start a "Bradley Cooper Photo-bombing" thing. I'm a little fuzzy on how this makes me a billionaire, and I hadn't yet worked out the logistics of how I was going to convince Bradley to give up acting to, you know, go into professional photo-bombing, but for a solid fifteen minutes I was pretty sure my idea was golden.)

But the other night I had a legit idea as I was trying to go to sleep. I was reviewing my Black Friday purchases in my head (because it makes me way happier than counting sheep) and thinking of the amazing memory foam bath mat I scored from JCPenney at over 80% off.

This bath mat? Is amazing. I'm pretty sure the "business time" spent on the john in our house has increased ten-fold because no one wants to remove their feet from the coziness underneath. As I was remembering the way my feet were enveloped in the heavenly comfort I thought, "Duuuuuuude. That's it."

(This is when the angel choir sang and Keanu's face (in my head)(I don't know Keanu personally) was all, "No waaaaaaay," because he was astounded by the magnificence of the idea before him.)

Because I'm a good wife, I thought I'd give Brian a heads up that our lives were about to change forever.

Kelly: Hey, Babe. I had the best idea ever.

Brian: Yeah?

Kelly: Seriously. We are going to make so much money. We'll finally be able to afford to move to Disney World so I can front a cover band that performs in all the parks.

Brian: What's the idea?

Kelly: *huge dramatic pause* *wide eyes* *smirk* *head nodding yes*

Brian: *rolls eyes* What?

Kelly: Wall-to-wall memory foam carpet. *waits expectantly for the accolades*

Brian: They already make that.

Kelly: What?! Why don't we have it? I've never seen it!

Brian: Oh, I can find a way for you to see it.

Kelly: ... ?

Brian: It's called a padded cell, Babe. I'll just finally have you committed. Enjoy your carpeting. *laughs because he thinks he's hysterical*


And *that's* why I'm patenting wall to wall memory foam carpet in my name only.

Case of the Mondays: Some of us do *important* things with our free time.

There are two types of people: the doers and the watchers. Today's post is a tiny slice of encouragement pie made by someone who uses their time wisely ... doing things. Important things. Things like making sure Barbie and Ken have a wedding album. Because honestly? No bride should be without a wedding album.

Click here to see more evidence of the big day.

So go forth, friends, and do. Society will thank you.

The Hidden Danger of Fist Pumping - a Morality Tale of My Return to the Gym

Notice Robert's use of the underhand
fist pump. It is well executed with just
the right mixture of humility and
triumph.

Since I missed so much workout time with Brian being sick, I was really anxious to get back to my normal routine. Since I'm not training for anything specific (half-marathon got derailed due to taking care of Brian) I could go do anything active I wanted my first day back. It was like trying to choose a favorite child, y'all. (Sike, you know Ab Lab won hands down.)(Just don't tell the pool.)(Or the bike.)(Or all the lovely free weights that have been so down since I've been gone.)(Literally down.)(Because they haven't been lifted up.)(*accepts my Worst Joke Ever award*)

Of course the first thing that happened to me, cementing any remnant of middle school fear I still had firmly in my heart, was that I forgot my locker combination. I planned on getting to the gym early to do a few miles warm up on the bike before the torture Ab Lab began. Instead I stood at my locker trying every combination known to man (full disclosure: I tried the same wrong combination close to 30 times because I was so sure I was right and obviously the locking mechanism was just being stubborn and was going to realize, by my persistence, that it should just give it up and open already) for almost ten minutes. I was at the point I was deciding that my lock was broken when I had an epiphany. The kind of epiphany that comes with the memory of the correct combination. You know, the one that is nowhere near the one I tried 30 times.

Lock = 1, Kelly = 0. By this time I'd missed any chance at a warm up, but could hurry and make it to class.

I was thankful I was coming back to Ab Lab on a day Kathy would be teaching. Kathy is everything I want to be when I grow up. She takes good care of herself, makes fitness a priority, and I'm pretty sure that God gave her my portion of coordination, because she is a genius who can not only do step aerobics, but teach them as well. In fact, Kathy calls out step instructions while mirroring what she calls without any hesitation. In all likelihood that's a Super Power.

I strode confidently into the Ab Lab studio (ok, I was late so really what I'm calling "confidence" was really just hurried preoccupation with making sure I got my favorite spot) so I missed that Kathy was not teaching Ab Lab. I settled nicely on my mat with seconds to spare only to find myself looking at Janice. *the lights dim and a spotlight shines on my face as the camera zooms in to capture the look of horror before I release my Jamie Lee Curtis-like scream* (Just kidding. Y'all know I have the wussiest girl scream ever)(camera zooms in and catches me lip-syncing the most horrific scream ever)(and then the public strikes back in outrage because first it was Ashley Simpson on SNL and then Beyonce at the inauguration and seriously what is this world coming to if even Kelly is lip-syncing her blog fantasy screaming?)

What is the problem with Janice teaching Ab Lab? Normally nothing. Janice is amazing. She is a retired physical education teacher, and she's my favorite Boot Camp instructor. (She also makes me simultaneously love and hate Spin Class with such intensity I wonder if I have Multiple Personality Disorder.) Janice is a really involved instructor. She believes in injury prevention by using correct form. If you read between the lines of those last two sentences you know that Janice will tail you and correct your form at any time. (And truly I am thankful for that. At least, my knees are thankful for that.) Consequently? Janice scares the heck out of me.

Janice once *literally* kicked my tush because I was "making a tee-pee" while holding plank and told me to "get your a** out of the air." She also chased me during sprints yelling, "YOU CAN RUN FASTER THAN THAT! RUN LIKE I'M STEALING YOUR GAS CARD!" (Listen, she's older, cut her some slack on her insults.)(And don't worry, she'll make up for it in the next few paragraphs.)

If I could sum up Janice with just one story it would be this one. Because Janice's classes are so popular, we often have to "squad up" to run our drills simply to save space. (Ohmylanta, remember "squading up"?) This means that at any given time, five or six of us will be doing the drill while everyone else suffers through some form of cardio nightmare while observing the chosen few do the burning OH LORD MAKE IT STOP drill Janice planned for us. One day we were doing moving squat jumps. The key to healthy squat jumps is to land soft in order to save your knees. Janice is a visual learner/teacher. The best way to teach soft landings according to a visual learner is to watch for *ahem* tush jiggle. Soft landings don't have any jiggle.

I wouldn't say my most awesome moment in life was doing squat jumps in front of forty people while being shadowed by a 50 year old woman in much better shape than me who yelled, "I CAN SEE IT JIGGLE" ("IT" =  my hindquarters) every time I landed, but it ranks up there as Pretty Freaking Awesome.

So what I really mean is I love/hate Janice. Mostly I love her. But I don't know if I was ready for a "first day back to Ab Lab" with Janice. But guess what? It totally didn't matter if I was ready. It was happening. Game on, son.

My fist pumping is much more in the style of
Sean Connery. It is overhand and about ear
high. My face is much less subdued. I mean,
we can't all rely on our James Bond past
for cool points, can we?

In the end, I survived. I modified a lot. Plank on the BOSU ball? I looked a bit like I was trying to jackhammer the floor with the ball. It was ... seismic. My hip flexors are still alllllllll a hot mess, so while doing "clock" abdominal leg raises I timed out at 3:00 and 9:00 respectfully. (20 Awesome Points for a clock pun.) I left Ab Lab a whimpering, sweaty mess still excited to go run, so success.

I don't why I expected the run to be so hard. I had not done any running in almost three weeks, but my two previous runs were a six mile run and a ten mile run. I almost drove myself into a panic attack thinking I wouldn't be able to run three miles which.was.ridiculous.

I was about a half mile in when I started to feel like a rock star. Why was I so worried? Here I was - my first day back - owning the treadmill and solving puzzles with Pat Sajak and Vanna White like nobody's business. (Seriously, why is Wheel of Fortune always on at my gym?)(And why won't anybody ever change the channel?)(I know my gym gets HGTV.)(Hasn't anyone ever seen Property Brothers? It's waaaaaay better than Wheel of Fortune.)(Why don't I go change the channel?)(*next fitness goal planned*).

This is really closer to the
model I follow.

So there I was, back at the gym, Queen of the treadmill, clearly seeing the puzzle answers in record time, you know, generally winning at life, when I looked down to see the entire three miles had passed before I even realized it. I hadn't lost my fitness after all. I raised my arm in a triumphant fist pump (a subtle one - I'm not *that* girl)(I'm totally *that* girl) because I'd just finished my run without needing to convince myself to finish it even one time, when I noticed the woman next to me giving me a dirty look as she wiped herself off. Turns out she's going to feel really bad later when she realizes the sweat I'd accidently flung on her when I fist pumped was the sweat of a mother-freaking champion. 

There's really not a whole lot to say after you fling sweat on someone. Usually "I'm sorry," is customary, but next time I would stop short of adding, "I promise I don't have any weird diseases." (FYI - that totally doesn't help the situation.) (You'd think I'd be a pro at this kind of thing after the mishap at the San Diego Zoo.) I finished my cool down in the kind of awkward silence where we both pretend we are really excited Jeopardy is starting.

With the exception of the last five minutes, it was a fine first day back. As for my little social blunder, I think we can all learn a little something here. I got a little too big for my britches on that treadmill. Understandable, being good at Wheel of Fortune can do that to you. But you know what they say: Pride goeth before the sweat falls on a stranger.

Still not potty trained because we are focusing on other important things

The other day Ezra looked at me and said, "Mama, watch."  He reached up and took something out of his mouth and placed it in his pants pocket.  Because I am a good mother, I played along.  "What'cha got, Bud?" I asked as I peered down at his "hidden" prize.  He gleefully opened his pocket while simultaneously burping the loudest little two year old burp, effectively making it seem like it was his pants pocket that did the burping.

I think I teared up in pride.  I'm pretty sure he's gifted.

Case of the Mondays: Dutch Oven *THIS*, Dude.

Sometimes I have to remind Brian that I am quite the catch.  This is one of the ways I affirm that sentiment.

Deborah Burns accused of stabbing boyfriend who 'farted in her face'

Southwest Fla. woman faces charge of aggravated battery with deadly weapon

UPDATED 11:54 AM EDT May 14, 2013

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Deborah Burns faces a charge of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.

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IMMOKALEE, Fla. —A southwest Florida woman is accused of stabbing her boyfriend after he "farted in her face," the Collier County Sheriff's Office said.

Deborah Burns, 37, said she was watching television with her boyfriend, Willie Butler, at their Immokalee home last week when Butler "walked by her and farted in her face," according to the arrest report.

MUGSHOTS: Have You Seen Death Row's Female Faces?

When Burns confronted Butler about the fart, he became agitated and told her to shut up, the report added.

A confrontation ensued, and Butler chased Burns into the kitchen, where he picked up a knife and threw it at her, but he missed, the report stated. Burns then picked up the knife and threw it at him as he ran outside, striking him in the stomach, the report said.

Burns,whose occupation was listed as an unemployed prostitute on the Collier County Sheriff's Office booking blotter, was arrested on a charge of aggravated battery with a deadly weapon. She was being held at the county jail on $50,000 bond.

Read more: http://www.wpbf.com/deborah-burns-accused-of-stabbing-boyfriend-who-farted-in-her-face/-/8789538/20139764/-/xncm5xz/-/index.html#ixzz2TlnksMk3

Everyone has their limit.

Case of the Mondays: Blame it on my biological clock

We swap babysitting with a family down the street who have four kids just like us.  This is perfect because they don't freak the heck out at the size of our brood.  The ages of our kids also matches up; our five year old Esther plays well with their five and six year old girlies, and two year old Ezra and their three year old boy fight horribly and steal each others toys whenever possible enjoy the rare opportunity to play with another male.  Their fourth child is an adorable three month old girl, who is smiley and content and sweet smelling and the embodiment of everything that is awesome about babies.

It was our turn to watch the kiddos this Friday night.  Chris and Stacy dropped off their kids and headed out to a wonderful date night while we served up spaghetti a la Prego and then watched the older girls perform an out-of-the-box version of Cinderella, where they utilized every costume from the dress-up bin.  It was 

I spent a fair amount of time cuddling that sweet little bundle of three month old baby, thinking, "There is nothing cuter in the whole world than a little gummy smile!"  So really, you have to expect that today's "Case of the Mondays" post will be full of darling toothless smiles ... 

...on celebrities.

When we up in da club, all eyes on us.

Sorry I'm not sorry.  And you're welcome.

Happy Monday!