My Kid Stole My Cool

How to Embarrass Yourself: The Fitness Instructor Edition

Posted on May 1, 2013 in Uncategorized

Several months ago I got my group fitness certification. The sole reason I got this group fitness certification was so that I could instruct a stroller fitness class on base. Stroller Strides this is not, but it’s better than nothing.

I started teaching back in March. And all of a sudden I had this new identity. I was no longer just a Stay-At-Home Mom or Navy Wife or Blogger Extraordinaire or whatever else you fine readers think of me. I was now a Fitness Instructor.

Every Monday and Friday morning my fellow moms and I gather at a park, let our children run around unsupervised while we lunge and squat and crunch and whatnot, and I channel my inner Jillian Michaels and shout at them all to, “PUSH THROUGH THE PAIN!”

Not really. I’m not that intense.

Here’s the thing. I don’t look like a legit fitness instructor.* Well, unless your fitness instructors eat ice cream every night. Then maybe I look like a fitness instructor. But you know who I’m talking about – the fitness instructors with -5% body fat that walk around wearing booty shorts showing off their insanely muscular thighs while drinking protein shakes and talking about how many reps they just did. I don’t look like that kind of fitness instructor. I don’t even own booty shorts.

So if I can’t look the part, I should act the part, right? Try to be a paragon of healthy, fit living so I’m not a total charlatan? Sure. Right.

But that’s just not me. The other night I was shopping at the mini-mart on base. And who did I run into but a woman who had just started coming to my class. This was only my third time meeting her. The first was at stroller class, the second was at ~~Booze Fest 2013~~ Book Club, and then this time, at the mini-mart. And what was I buying?

It was one of those days…

In case the picture is hard to make out, that’s three bottles of wine, a bag of chips, and chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. And that, my friends, is how you embarrass yourself as a fitness instructor.

Oh, I had also left Elisabeth in the cart, unsupervised, at the end of the aisle while I was perusing the wine selection. And that, my friends, is how you embarrass yourself as a mom.

*Before people that know me start protesting, “Diana, what are you talking about, you’re totally fit!” and whatever – Yeah, I know. I’m not trying to be falsely modest. I mean, I know I’m decent shape (even though my yoga class would tell me otherwise). I’m just not hardcore athlete/personal trainer/fitness instructor fit. And frankly, if that would require giving up carbs, I don’t want to be.

How Not to Host a Holiday Brunch

Posted on Apr 21, 2013 in Pinterest Stole My Cool

Easter was three weeks ago, but since I’m still finding plastic eggs around my house, I figure it’s still appropriate to tell you all about the Easter brunch I hosted for Damon’s coworkers and their families. But first, here’s some free advice for you all: Don’t decide to host a major holiday function because you have some cute decor you purchased last year at a major discount from Williams-Sonoma and you’ve been waiting a whole year to display it. Because it will rain and you won’t even be able to use the cute decor. And then you’re stuck hosting 40-50 people in your small-ish, undecorated house. And that requires cooking and cleaning and everything else you’re not naturally good at and you won’t even have decorations to distract from the fact that your food sucks and your house is dirty. So just don’t do it. Seriously. What was I thinking? I actually love hosting, I really do. But Easter is a big holiday. 40-50 people is a lot of people. 75-100 Easter eggs to stuff and hide for the egg hunt you also offered to host is a lot of eggs. It’s all just a lot of pressure. To take some of that pressure off, I made the brunch a pot-luck. That way guests could bring their own time-honored, traditional dishes that you have to have for Easter to be Easter. I would cook the ham, a side, and a dessert. There. Food was set. Next I rented tables and chairs that we would set up outside, since we certainly couldn’t fit everyone inside. Then I realized that the decorations that had been the impetus for this celebration wouldn’t be enough and I would have to do some online shopping. Obviously I would need pastel tablecloths, matching tableware sets and candy cups. Was I originally planning on making individual candy cups? No. But once I saw them on the party store’s website, I knew they would be imperative to the success of my party. I was feeling pretty good about everything. As the big day approached, the weather forecast...

My Beijing “Vacation”

Posted on Apr 10, 2013 in Travel Traumas, Uncategorized

How do you define a vacation? For Damon, vacation means he is on official leave. Time and place don’t matter. For me, vacation means I’m lying by the beach/pool/someplace warm with trashy magazine an intellectual book in one hand and an adult beverage in the other. Preferably one with an umbrella in it. So when Damon got home from work on Wednesday evening (the night before we left for Beijing) and exclaimed, “We’re on vacation!” I had to disagree with him. Unless he was going to fold two loads of laundry and pack five days worth of clothes, extra clothes, diapers, wipes, medicine, portable snacks, and toddler entertainment, we were certainly not on vacation. Though I don’t agree with Damon’s mentality, I understand it. When I had a paying job, vacation meant time off that job and usually travel somewhere to enjoy that time off. But since my job now is rearing a child, I’m not technically on vacation until I am away from my child. Which is pretty much never. So while our trip to Beijing was a truly great trip (despite my lack of planning), I wouldn’t call it a vacation. Because to me, a vacation is not: -Getting practically cavity searched at the airport because you’ve packed baby food pouches in your carry on. (That didn’t actually happen on this trip, but it has in the past.) -Flying on a several hour flight with a sweaty toddler attached to your chest. -Washing poopy onesies out by hand in your hotel bathroom’s sink -Waking every morning between 3:45-4:45AM because your baby will only go back to sleep if she is sharing your twin bed with you, squeezing your face, neck, chest and arm fat until your entire upper body is numb. (But not your husband, who sleeps comfortably in the other twin bed, oblivious to the arm-fat squeezing happening to you a few feet away.) -Eating in mediocre restaurants that your tour company has pre-arranged. -Anxiety that your family is going to be killed because the van you’re riding in has no seatbelts and the driver likes...

That Time I Forgot My Vacation

Posted on Apr 3, 2013 in Travel Traumas, Uncategorized

I realize I’ve been a bit MIA recently. Damon was gone on detachment in Australia for three weeks, the better part of which either Elisabeth and I were battling illness at home in Japan. We’ve been busy with other things as well: I hosted Damon’s squadron for Easter brunch, which brought out first-birthday party levels of Diana Craziness. And we’re going on vacation to Beijing tomorrow. Which I sort of forgot about. Okay, I didn’t actually forget about it. I just kind of pushed it to the back of my mind. Party planning will do that to me. Easter brunch > Beijing vacation. That’s not really true. Only sometimes in my head it is. I know, I’m twisted. To be fair, we did have a very helpful travel agent organize pretty much our entire trip. All I had to do was approve our itinerary and fill out unholy amounts of paperwork to secure our visas. Let me tell you, securing visas to China is no easy feat. Especially when you have a toddler who does not want to have her visa photos taken. See below. So last night I had a moment of, “Oh, crap! We’re leaving for China in two days and I don’t even have a guidebook!” Who goes to a foreign country for the first time without even a guidebook? I could say I’m just really adventurous and like to fly by the seat of my pants, take the road less traveled, see where life takes me. But that’s not true. I like a plan. And I like guidebooks. So today’s quest became about finding a guidebook. But first I had a spouse club meeting. Then I had a luncheon planning committee meeting. Then I had to go pay some road tax. I have no idea what exactly a road tax is, all I know is that paying for it is a somewhat tedious process. First I had to wait in a long line to present all sorts of documentation that proves… I dunno. That we have insurance? That our car is fit to be on the...

The Good Stuff

Posted on Mar 26, 2013 in Uncategorized

I stopped nursing Elisabeth last week. And it couldn’t have happened at a better time. Because shortly thereafter, I came down with (Elisabeth passed along to me) a nasty cold. And for the first time since I was pregnant – the first time in TWO YEARS – I was able to take real meds. When you’re pregnant or breastfeeding, your medicinal options are pretty much restricted to Tylenol. And most of the time, Tylenol just doesn’t hack it. Oh, there’s also Benedryl. However if you like to be conscious during the day, Benedryl is not always a good choice. Now, though – now my options for Over The Counter meds were endless! Giddy with excitement, I hit up the drug store. I peered up through watery eyes at the rows and rows of pills, sprays, and syrups. I carefully inspected the labels between sneezing fits. With so many possibilities, how would I choose? Multi-symptom cold medicine? Cold & Flu gel caps? Drowsy or non-drowsy cough syrup? I noticed a bright orange label affixed on many of the boxes: “DMX”. What was this DMX? I saw you could only buy two of these products at a time and that ID was required for purchase. I still had no idea what it was, but clearly it was the good stuff. I grabbed the Robitussin with the mysterious “DMX” label and a package of Dayquil and Nyquil capsuls for good measure. Back at home I eagerly ripped open an individual Nyquil dosage. Dang they make those little packets hard to open! Had those tiny, perforated lines always been so hard to tear, or had my hands grown weak after two years of medicinal abstention? I eventually pried open the package and swallowed the pills. That night was glorious. Instead of waking five, six times with a hacking cough, I only awoke two. The wonders of modern medicine! Early in that morning – 4AM or so – I needed another dose. But it was too late to take another Nyquil. Damon was gone* and I had a child who would be awake in...

(Re)Name My Blog

Posted on Mar 17, 2013 in Uncategorized

Hey Folks, This blog is about to undergo a major redesign. To go along with the new look, I’m going to need a new name. But here’s the thing: I’m no good with titles. That’s why half of you readers probably don’t get Non Om Mom now. I need your help. I’ve appealed to you before. Perhaps you remember when I asked you to Name My Baby and Name the Grandparents. I sure do! You guys were awesome, offering up loads of wonderful suggestions. So I’m appealing to you again. (Re)Name my blog. You’re probably all, “Dude. Diana. Start naming your own s*** already!” I get it. I get your frustration.* I do. But really, this is not my thing. I can’t condense all my brilliance into a witty, memorable, AND succinct title. It’s too daunting a task. So I repeat – I. Need. Your. Help. We’re going to make this fun. We’re going to make this a contest. This is how it’s going to go: All you readers submit your suggestions for a new blog title. If I choose your title**, you will receive an Amazon gift card. BAM! Who doesn’t love Amazon!? Nobody! Okay, well, don’t get too excited yet. It’s only going to be a $20 Amazon gift card. I’m not made of money, people! But do you know how much crap amazingly awesome stuff you can get for $2o on Amazon!? So much amazingly awesome stuff! Go on, get excited again! A really easy contest to win $20 on Amazon! Woohoo! Now that you’re appropriately psyched, put your thinking caps on. Just this time, I’m going to request that you don’t leave your submission as a comment. Please go to my Contact page and email me your suggestion. Multiple entries are welcome! And if your friends or family are smarter and funnier than you***, please feel free to pass this contest along so they can enter, too. I wasn’t going to offer any guidelines for the title – I’m curious to see what title you think reflects this blog without my influence. However I will...