Why am I still so pudgy?

I have been going to Zumba class with my good friend and neighbor, Denise. Don't know what Zumba is? Well, check out this website, then...www.zumbaforlife.com. It's a lot of fun considering that it is, after all, exercise. Pretty much, it's just Latin dance steps done repetitively so that it's like aerobics. It's got a couple of things going for it that regular aerobics doesn't. 1) The music is great. 2) The steps involve a lot of hip action and when paired with the music, you feel all sexy despite sweating and feeling like you might collapse. 3) Our teacher is fantastic...she is bouncy and hyper and a really great dancer...and she has five children. Yes, you read that right...five! The last two were twins. She is super thin and gorgeous, which gives all of us poor,pudgy, post-baby folks hope.

A couple of observations after attending Zumba classes for a week: some people are Zumba snobs. The class consists of lots of different songs played with little breaks in between for water. Well, some people (the snobs) don't go and get a drink of their water. Instead, they start making up their own dance moves (or remembering what's been done before) while everyone else (including the teacher) is panting and gulping down water. I use this time to crack jokes about my body to Denise and to gulp said water. Not the snobs, though. They are serious. They are imagining that they are in Colombia with flowers in their long, flowing, brown hair and ocean breezes blowing through their dresses. They are seriously demented.

Another thing: some people use too much room while they are Zumba-ing. They explore the space more than I would like them to. Here's a shout out to all my Zumba friends: I need room, ladies. I don't have very good balance. If you get too close to me and I whack you in the head while doing the wild step back arm flap move, it's your own fault.

And, finally, some of the folks burst out with applause at the ends of songs. This is very confusing to me. What are they clapping for? They seem to clap mostly at the end of really fast, high-energy songs. I have no desire to clap at the ends of the songs. I have the desire to drink my entire bottle of water, fill it up again, pour it over my head and then leave. My one friend at school who also goes to Zumba and a friend of Denise's said similar things, "Don't you love it? You don't even notice the time going by. You're always surprised when the hour's up." Are you serious? Are these people on crack? Denise and I start checking the time 15 minutes in. We have never left early or anything, but we do check the time.

Well, I haven't lost any weight yet. I've only been three times, but still. Why am I still so pudgy, even though I'm exercising and trying to eat healthier? I'm sorry to report that I have gained a few pounds over the week. Heidi will justify and say that muscle weighs more than fat and that's why I actually weigh more. I'll go with that for now.

Is this what they mean by 'Three's a Crowd'?

Last night, Danny and Ben went to sleep as usual. Bob and Kathleen (Kevin's parents), and Kevin and I stayed up to watch The Office (yay...it's back on!) and then I went to bed around 10:30.

At around 12:45, Ben woke up crying, so I went to get him, but first I poked Kevin to wake him up from a dead sleep on the couch. It was such a dead sleep that he was holding an opened beer and sitting straight up. Then I got Ben and put him in bed with me (no judgements, parenting advice or sleep training here, please. I know we should not let Ben sleep with us every night, but we have no choice...he absolutely will not sleep alone and I have got to get some rest). 30 minutes later, I woke up to realize that Kevin was still not in the bed and I was worried Ben would roll out so I propped pillows up to keep him safe and went back out to the living room to wake Kevin again. This time when he woke up, he spilled the beer on his underwear. He changed his underwear and got into bed.

The next time I woke up was around 3:00 a.m. when I realized that Ben had inched his way up to the very top of the bed and was curled up and kind of perched on my shoulder like a pirate's parrot. I moved him, got him calmed down again and back to sleep we went.

Around an hour or so later, Ben was sleeping sideways with his feet pushing against my ribs. After a bit of rearranging bodies and blankets, we were back on our way to dreamland.

Finally, at 7:20, Kevin said, loudly, "Jennifer!!!" thinking I was late for work which made me panic and search frantically for my glasses so I could see the clock. But, I didn't have to be at work until 8:00 this morning, so I wasn't late. Ben was sleeping upside down in the crook of my legs like a puppy. All blankets were curled in a ball at the foot of the bed and my pillow was essentially on the nightstand.

Sadly, this was a pretty good sleeping night for me. I actually got some decent stretches in there. Do you think this weird pattern is going to continue even after Ben starts sleeping by himself? Am I going to be stuck in some kind of bizarre sleep cycle where I wake up every hour or two for the rest of my life?

Also, why is Ben such a restless sleeper? Honestly, he's all over the bed. He wakes himself up so many times. I know he's still struggling with the reflux and I just keep hoping it will improve. I can't let him cry alone when I know that he is having tummy trouble. So, we're just stuck in this pattern where he comes into our bed every night. But, I know from having Danny, that as a parent, you have to trust your instincts and that's what I'm doing.

I just hope Danny doesn't start coming into our room too. I cannot sleep with three men...at least, not all at the same time.

Why can't they all be like this?

Hooray for me! I have a GREAT student teacher! She is one of the best ones I have ever had. She is everything I'm not but instead of hating her for it, I love her! She is calm and collected, she is organized, on-time, she has practically her entire placement planned with lesson plans typed and turned in to me, plus she is just nice with a good sense of humor. She is so mature and with-it. I was such a dope when I was her age...I don't know how anyone put up with me. She has great classroom management, she thinks the kids are hysterical, she is positive and upbeat, and she loves Harry Potter so we occasionally have terrific magical conversations using words like 'hippogriff' and 'portkey'. Why can't they all be like this?

Why do we bother going out to eat?

Do you ever wonder why you even bother to go out to eat with young children? I wonder this every time we go out.

First, the preparation. There's the bantering back and forth between Kevin and me about whether or not we should go. Then, the decision, that yes, we will go. Everyone must get dressed...not a small task when you haven't done laundry in some time. There's the diapering of Ben, then the pull-up for Danny, the argument over the shirt choice for Danny and the bribing so Danny will put his own shoes on (something he's very capable of doing but likes to pretend he can't do, so someone else has to do it for him).

Now, where to go? What restaurant has good kids' choices for Danny with a fun coloring sheet? Where can we go so that someone's meal can be shared with Ben? Fast food is the best choice for Danny who really loves chicken and french fries, but not so good for Ben because he can't really chew chicken or hamburgers and does ok with fries torn up, but that's not exactly a great meal for a 1 year old. So, at this point, I end up packing a meal for Ben that usually consists of bread/cheese or peanut butter and a banana. Then, I've got to pack the diaper bag...don't forget the bib and the disposable placemats, extra diapers, wipes, jackets, etc.

Danny's favorite restaurant is McDonald's or as he calls it, "The Golden M". What is this fascination with McDonald's? Are they subliminally brainwashing the youth of America during commercials? Is there something addictive in the chicken mcnuggets? What is going on? Every time we ask Danny where he wants to eat he says "The Golden M". He doesn't even really like their food the best. He much prefers the food at Wendy's, but I swear to you, he is strangely compelled to go to McDonald's, and he is so adamant about it, it's as if he was implanted with a tiny, golden homing device at birth.

After church on Sunday, we decided to go to the Beanery. This was one of the worst dining out experiences I have ever been a part of. Danny was in one of his competitive moods and was royally ticked off because Kevin beat him to the car after church. This sent him into a tantrum the likes of which I have never seen. I bribed him with a coloring book from the Rite-Aid if he would calm down and change his attitude. I realized the bribe didn't work as I chased him around the store after I opened the door instead of letting him do it. Back at the Beanery, the waitress was thoroughly confused about whether or not to bring us drinks as Kevin and I discussed staying or leaving. Finally, we got things together and had a decent meal but at that point, I was on the verge of losing my mind completely and I'm pretty sure I heard Kevin say he hated all of us under his breath.

Tonight, we went to The Golden M. All was well, except that for the second time in the last two weeks, I have started to eat my meal and realized that I was about to swallow something that shouldn't have been there. Has this ever happened to you? Last week we went to the Outback Steakhouse and some little nugget in my garlic mashed potatoes didn't seem quite right. Today, something in my quarter pounder was not expected. I think it was a straw paper. Not sure about the mashed potatoes though. I don't want to think about it.

My questions: why do we keep doing this to ourselves? Why do we put ourselves through the complete torture that is eating out with youngsters? Why do we extend our torture to innocent diners? What keeps making us go out for meals only to be disappointed by foreign matter in our entrees? I'm afraid my laziness will come shining through but, I can sum up the answers to these questions in three little words...no dirty dishes.