Readers, I'm in awe. Awe of the multi-tasking mom. And I know a lot of people see me in this role with the amount of things I like to keep on my plate but I've got nutin' on those that REALLY able to make use of their full 24 hours.
For example, it's tough to find time to blog. And this is supposed to be MY fun forum - my outlet. {I've often told my husband - the truly budding writer - that he needs to start a blog. Daddy blogger. Strangely he offered to get back to me and hasn't...Note to self.}
And the whole really-can't-you-squeeze-30-minutes-into-your-day-to-workout fiasco. I TRY, okay? That's why when friends and I discovered Mommastrong and her The Hook Challenge, I about jumped for joy.
The Hook is a mommy-focused wellness plan that allows you to do workouts by the comfort of your own laptop or smartphone in 15-minute increments. Like me, last night around 9:20pm, hidden away with my MacBook Air down in the kids basement playroom. Praying my husband wouldn't come down and judge me for burpees that look nothing like my high school soccer self's used to.
Yes, there are burpees in The Hook. But don't let that discourage you.You can carve out 15 minutes from your day (and squeeze a little more firmness into your bum) easily and Mommastrong also offers an online community known as "The Tribe" to help egg you on in your adventure for wellness. Each day brings a new video to watch and immediately-break-a-sweat, kick-yourself-into-gear over with Courtney, Mommastrong's founder leading the way.
She even has a stray kiddo or dog venture into the camera at times so you know the authenticity of what you're doing (read: working out for 15 minutes hidden away in the kids playroom) is mirrored on the other side of the camera with Courtney. Because she's squeezing it in too at home.
Understand - I'm in Day 2 of 30 in this challenge so tomorrow when my quads are screaming at me and my glutes can't handle another squat, my sentiments may change. But that's what The Tribe is for - to keep pushing me forward. {Or as Mommastrong says, "Keep F**king Going. She's all forceful and influential and Tony-Goldwyn-shouting-at-Olivia-in-Scandal-in-a-way-that-supercharges-your-internal-goddess like that.}
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
I love when the kids ring the doorbell.
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Oh I'm sorry - did you find that repetition annoying? Yes? Well so is having the kids ring the doorbell 14,287 times in a row while I'm inside cleaning. I'm officially taking this as a sign that I don't need a clean house.
It's me: The Momista. The one who was so hell-bent on driving my new little outlet (read: blog) forward, and then fell off the face of the earth blog-ily. Not virtually or literally, but blog-ily. See there's been a wee bit of activity on my end between the fam, a full-time job trying to save the Hoosier environment, a pet project I like to call THE COOLEST ORGANIZATION EVER (don't worry, there will be plenty of explanation on that to come), staying up until all hours of the night to regain my sanity, catching up on all that's right with the world, and not, and I'm sure there's more but I'm tired of hitting the comma button.
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What the...
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Now this is getting downright ridiculous.
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Enough. Just know I'm here. And I have lots loaded up in my head to write, er, blog, so it'll get out there soon.
Sit back and enjoy a cold PBR. I was dying to today but instead indulged in... water. Not the same.
My dear readers. What a time it has been since we last checked in with each other. We moved. The kiddos grew. I gained a few pounds, lost a few pounds. We gained a new Pope. Ryan Gosling gained a new girlfriend. Blogger still has the same boring old fonts. Really all the crucial things are being touched on here.
In actuality though, it's been quite some time. And a few changes are ahead for this joint.
First, a new moniker. Momista. I hope you like it... and if you don't, well, I do. So it's stickin' around. It defines me - a mom. A fashionista. A momista if you will.
Second, yes we'll shop-talk the mom-stuff but I'm not going to bold-face lie to you my friends. I'm not a supermom nor will I pretend to be one. We all make mistakes. (Case in point: I failed to realize last Friday was Pajama Day at H's school. So I became the mom barging into the school storytime carrying Are these matching Toy Story jammie tops with a Hasn't he outgrown these jammie bottoms.) And I'll share those out from time to time because frankly, it's cathartic.
Third, my kiddos names and some personal details will remain just that - mine. Sure, if you dig through you'll be able to figure things out but moving forward = mine. (ALL MINE, MWAH AH AH.)
So let's get this show on the road.
