Austin Traffic Sucks

Today, we had these really cool plans to head on downtown for Eeyore’s birthday.  Me, 3 kids, lots of patience, all packed up ready to go.

Then we drove downtown and started looking for parking.  HA!  HA HA HA!  We’re so funny.  There’s no parking.  Duh!

We drove around for an hour before I finally explained the situation to the kids, who were starving practically to death, and offered them the option of driving around looking for parking or going downtown for dinner and taking a walking tour of downtown afterwards.

Very, very much to my complete surprise, all three children voted dinner and walking tour over Eeyore’s birthday.  Who ever would’ve imagined?!

I expected dinner and walking to totally suck.  We had the best time ever.  It wound up turning into a photo shoot. . . and holy crap, the good times we had. 

 

YE Games Photos

YE Games 2008

For the past several months, I’ve been talking all kinds of smack about how much ass we’re kicking with YE.  I’ve also wondered if maybe I should stop talking so much smack because despite how far we’ve come, there’s still tons of ground to cover.

And then an event like tonight happens and I remember how unbelievably awesome we really are. . . and how stupid lucky I am to be supported, surrounded, and befriended by so many freakishly phenomenal people. 

Tonight, we launched our member appreciation event series.  This is an entirely new thing for YE, and we completely winged it, doing little to no research on format or success rates. . . and we knocked it out of the park. 

We gave people no information about the event until yesterday, only inviting them to an event and requiring that they RSVP to attend.  We kept the format a secret, didn’t reveal location, and basically asked people to trust that it was going to rock the house.  For some reason, people believed us and we filled the event to capacity before we gave anyone any information.  It was NUTS.

Yesterday, we assigned teams and colors and gave them 24 hours to cultivate some team spirit.

Today, 8 teams showed up in matching outfits, crazy accessories, and really, really awesome enthusiasm. 

We dizzy bat raced.  We bouncy ball relayed.  We egg tossed.  We dumped water on each other.  We played musical dots.  WE HAD A DANCE OFF. 

OH. MY. GOD.  It was awesome.  AWESOME!!!

Some jackass smashed eggs all over my back and dumped water all over me.  It was still awesome.

My team didn’t even come close to winning.  Still awesome.

The feedback we received tonight far exceeds anything I’ve seen or heard about any event I’ve attended to date.  It was a silly event full of people who spend a lot of time in a very professional setting, and for all of the hours we spend at networking events or business gatherings, I guarantee the 4 hours we spent bouncing around a field on bouncy balls built stronger relationships than months of the normal networking scene.

It was hilariously fun.  It was ridiculous.  It was not at all professional.  And, it was the best thing I’ve ever had a hand in creating.

When I told you we were taking this city by storm, I wasn’t kidding.

 

P90X – Still kicking ass

I haven’t lost a pound and my ass is pretty much as big as it was when I started.  But, today, just now, I did 2 unassisted chin ups.  By myself.  Without help.  Chin ups.  Helloooo?!  I am so badass I can barely stand it.

I know 2 isn’t very many, but it’s a whole hell of a lot more than the 0 I was able to do before!

Though my ass appears to be remaining the same, I have noticed significant change in the rest of my body.  I’m in week 7 of this program (halfway done!!!) and the improvement in my upper body is nothing short of phenomenal.  My shoulders, back, and arms are clearly more defined than they were at the start of this adventure. . . in fact, they’re so improved that I often argue with myself about whether to skip those particular workouts in favor of more cardio to try to lose my ass. 

My legs are A LOT stronger than when I started.  My inner thighs still need to go, but otherwise, not too shabby.

My trouble areas, as usual, are my lower abs and my ass.  There is some improvement, but I’m pretty sure I’ll simply never have the lower abs or ass that I want, so it probably just doesn’t matter. 

I’m hanging in there, insisting upon finishing this program before moving on to the next thing (which will probably be crazy amounts of cardio).  If current results are any indication, I’ll be in pretty darn good shape by the time I’m done. . . and I’ll be able to do hundreds of push ups without batting an eyelash – I did 78 yesterday!!!  I’ll also be able to kick your ass.

I’m a bad mom, and I’m OK with that.

I just booked all of the tickets.  The funk I’ve been in for the past several days has miraculously lifted and I’m singing to the heavens.

For six whole weeks this summer, I will be able to temporarily resume the extraordinary life I was living before I became a mother of 2. 

You can say I’m a bad mom for being this excited about being kid free for an extended period of time, and I’m completely fine with it.  It could make me the worst mom in the world, and I’d be entirely fine with it because those 6 weeks are worth all the horrible things you could possibly have to say about me for it.  I can’t convey to you in words what having that tiny little slice of my old life back means to me.  There are no current modes of communication capable of effectively expressing how much I am in love with the mere thought of those 6 weeks.  I would make out with those 6 weeks if it were physically possible.

Dudes, I love those kids.  If you know me at all, you know I love those kids more than anything in the world.  But, holy shit, y’all.  You think it’s crazy to get knocked up and hang out for 9 months planning the arrival of a baby. . . try adopting two ready-made kids on your own during the best years of your life.  It’s a little bit of a challenge.  It’s a whole hell of a lot of sacrifice.  And, to be honest, it’s a shitload of work that I wasn’t exactly planning to do until and unless I had some sucker to split the duties with. 

So, give me 6 weeks out of the year of the fantastic, carefree, blissful life that I loved so, so much and let’s call it even, mmmkay?

I haven’t made any specific plans for that time except to use all of my vacation time, party until my head falls off, stay up all hours of the night and sleep all hours of the day, and be really, really happy I don’t have to deal with bed wetting or teeth falling out or 5am high fives.

I’ll be counting the days and dreaming up ridiculous ways to survive without sleep for 6 weeks.  You should be booking flights and making travel arrangements because this might be the last time in a long time that I’ll be the old Snippy again.

Feel free to leave wonderful comments full of love and adoration for my mother, who hopefully won’t have to bail me out of jail when she flies in to return the kids. 

Stop. Refocus.

Just when I was starting to feel like I had my life under control, someone who shall remain nameless, TRACY, decided to toss a big pile of bricks on my back.  Which is really nice because I needed to be brought back to real life where sanity is most definitely not an option.  Ever.  Until I die. 

The past several days, I’ve allowed my thoughts to spiral out of control from general happiness with life in general to OH. MY. GOD. EVERYTHING. SUCKS. IN. THE. WHOLE. WORLD. because I no longer feel in control of anything. 

That’s usually how my life works.  There’s an extremely delicate balance that is often hard to find, and once I find it, the slightest breeze sends it all tumbling over.  Maybe I’m balancing too much, ya think?

It’s taken me years and years to recognize chaos before it consumes me, but in the past couple of years, I like to think I’ve gotten better about seeing it sooner and taking the time to stop, breathe, and refocus. 

That’s where I am right now.  Everything seems like it’s spinning out of control, so I’m going to step back and redirect my energy towards the positive.

In the past, this process has usually ended with me shuffling priorities and making some hard decisions about the people I spend time with.  Some people naturally inspire, others naturally drag you down.  I’ve often taken the time to ponder the impact of many of my friendships on my life, and have been known to let friendships fizzle as a result.

Today, it finally (finally!) occurred to me that I maybe ought to focus more on the impact I’M having on THEM.  Am I the kind of person that inspires the people around me or do I drag them down?

Truth be told, the answer varies depending on who you talk to.  Something I get from my disfunctional family is the uncanny ability to support the Hell out of the people most destined for failure.  On the flipside, I’m minimally supportive of the people I believe the most in.  Why is that?

It’s because I have high expectations from the people I respect most.  I expect them to be strong, resiliant, tough, and able to muscle through each and every obstacle that crosses their path.  I expect that of them because I feel like that’s what’s been expected of me, and I feel like I’ve done it each and every time I’ve stood in the face of struggle.

What I’ve failed to acknowledge is that all of those people who I believe to have the strength to forge ahead . . . they probably all have the same desperate moments of panic and fear that I’ve had.  They probably have the same doubt and uncertainty that I’ve faced every obstacle with, and they, too, could probably use the reassurance and inspiration from people who believe in them.  Just like I could.

I get this from my father, no doubt.  My father who always claims to only help those of us who help themselves, but who pays my sister’s rent when she refuses to get a job for several years and then turns around and tells me I’ll figure it out when I call him in tears over something so severe I swallowed my pride to call my daddy. 

I hate when I realize that something about my personality is directly related to my disfunctional upbringing.  It stops me dead in my tracks every time and makes me obsess over how long it took me to recognize and change it.

I’ll be taking some time to refocus now.  To think about my priorities, about where I am in life, about where I should be, about what I should be doing, about who I am affecting and how, and about what I need to do to get back on track.

That might mean more blogging (and if it does, it means boring blogging). . . it might mean less blogging.

 

Tequila, schmequila

Since the kids got here, I’ve had an almost irrational fear of drinking.  I’ve had a couple of drinks every once in awhile, but I haven’t really been crazy in about 6 months because I’m relatively certain that the first time I have just a bit too much, one of the kids will wind up in the ER and I’ll have to get there somehow, and even when I do, I’ll be the drunk mom at the ER and the police will come and the news will come and it will be so horrible I’ll die from humiliation.

I finally decided to let go of that fear this weekend and trust that neither kid would wind up seriously ill or injured for the 12 hour period of time I was out and recovering.

Holy crap.

Let me tell you a secret.  When you used to party weekly, and then you stop partying altogether for an extended period of time, and then you try to party like you used to party?  It doesn’t work out quite the same way it used to. 

BUT, you do have a damned good time!

But, then you suck the next night when you try to go out but take it easy because you’re exhausted and the smell of alcohol makes your head spin and the stupid rally is in town and you can’t find parking so you’re really grouchy and that makes people wonder why you even came out to begin with because they only like you when you’re drinking and then you know who your real friends are, don’t you?

Friday was a riot.  It started out innocently enough, and it ended up with hilarious drama and typical behavior and absolutely completely not typical behavior and loss of memory and more fun than minature golf.

I wish I could maybe give you a detail or two, but all I can sincerely remember is tasting the most freaking phenomenal food that has ever crossed my lips. . . and even then, I don’t remember what it was, just that it made me want to make out with the chef at Roux.  Anything else is either off blog limits, or unable to be located in my brain.

Hey, but there are photos!

I have no idea what I was reacting to, but I suspect it did not warrant such a ridiculous reaction.

I know rock stars. 

This concludes this dream sequence. . .

 

My YPO is kicking your YPO’s ass.

About a year ago, I spent a ridiculously significant amount of time talking to one person in particular about the potential (or perceived lack thereof) of Young Execs and whether or not I should pour my heart and soul into it. 

For months, I spent hours and hours discussing it, trying to talk myself out of it, trying to talk myself into it, letting someone else try to talk me out of it, giving entirely too much weight to that person’s opinion on the matter, agonizing over whether to stick with Young Execs or hop into an already thriving YPO (young professional org). 

I knew there was some selfish motivation behind the advice I was receiving, but I listened anyway because there were a lot of viable points being made.

So, I ended up ignoring all of the advice, obviously.  And, now my YPO is kicking your YPO’s ass. 

Ha!  I’m so kidding.  There’s no kicking of asses amongst YPOs, silly.

But, we are doing ridiculously well, and I’d be lying if I said that proving people wrong wasn’t a huge motivating factor in getting us where we are.

Sometimes, I wonder if the doubt was by design, intended to make me focus on proving you wrong because you knew me well enough to know that’s exactly what would happen. . . and I like to think that it was because that gives me warm fuzzies way more than thinking a friend actually doubted my ability to do this.

Regardless, here we are, and it’s bigger than any of us thought it could be, and in a twisted, crazy way, it’s because of all of the people who thought it couldn’t be done. 

And, to me, that’s pretty cool.

 

Stupid things that consume my life.

I tend to get obsessed when I get on a health kick.  For example, NOW.

I am back in fancy pants shape, which is kinda badass because I don’t know if you remember, but my abs were pretty suuuh-weet back in my fancy pants day.  Let me remind you:

Fancy Pants Photo Post

I’m now back at that weight, and those jeans again fit comfortably.  Yet, for some reason, that’s not enough.  I’m full of energy lately, and the working out twice/day is actually FUN.  So, I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon, which means maybe I’ll have to buy new jeans.  he he he he he. 

I thought I was pretty hardcore until it came to my attention that I’m still eating solid food. . . and there are people out there living on juice.  Juice!  I’m so not even close to that awesome.  Nor will I ever be.

Oh, and FYI, to all of you jerks who refused to believe that it was me because I cropped my chest and head and/or thought it was a photoshopped picture, um, that was awfully rude of you.