super duper grumpy ( you asked for it Lisa E)

It began this morning when I got halfway through my cardio work out and accidentally pulled the emergency stop button which shut down the tread mill.  This wouldn't be such a big stink'n deal except I do this every freaking time.  Every time.  So I have to start over and do math to figure out distance and time and calories.  Mostly just addition or subtraction but it's 5am and I really don't want to do math.  I based my entire major on two things...what do I love and how do I not do math. So...


Also during my run, I lost a battle to ignore the very persistent and worsening pain in my right heal.  I have been dismissing it as a mild case of plantar fasciitis, but there is now significant swelling.  This makes me pissy.  I have finally carved out some time for myself, to work off my lovely lady lumps...and I have aches and pains interfering.


I can't do regular push ups anymore because of my arthritis and carpel tunnel.  And none of this is 40s fault, I've been dealing with this stuff since I turned 30.  


Moving on. I'm not proud to tell you that recently, I went out in public in sweat pants.  Like...shopping.  In sweat pants. Not yoga pants, gray sweat pants.   First time since college and I promise you I don't look as cute in them as I did then.  I wore them because I had to drive to Sioux Falls and they are more comfortable than jeans.  ~~Sigh~~ 


Thus the working out.  


Dressing myself is a special form of hell right now.  Most days I will tell you that I do not regret abandoning healthy eating to inhale burgers, fries and thousands of Chipotle burritos while building my baby boy.  But if you ask me right away in the morning while I'm trying to dress myself...I may punch you in the mouth.  I have just enough meat and grease fat left from my 9 month binge eating extravaganza to make my clothes hang funny on me, but a bigger size looks worse.  It's like I'm borrowing someone else's clothes, everyday.  I know this because my own clothes would never show so much arm fat right?


My pants are 1 inch too short because the junk in my trunk is lifting them up an inch. We have taken to calling them "nerd pants".


Also, now that my beautiful daughters are helping with laundry, all my clothes get dried completely.  So all my work shirts look like barbie shirts and I do a "fat guy in a little coat" impression everyday.  Or...they have shrunk into a lovely short, fat square shape.  The length is an awkward belly button length, the sleeves 3/4 lengthy  and two of me could side by side in the shirt box.


Everyday.  


This is what made me super, duper grumpy this morning.


This is what made that all go away:

• My mom's hysterical laughter as I told her why I was grumpy.
• Baby Marshall screaming at the ceiling fan.
• Submitting LOTS of flex claims just in time to get LOTS of fun money for Christmas shopping.
• Liam running around in tighty whiteys.
• My husband coming home.

Grumpy day over.  Let's look at some pictures:


::


It's no wonder I am so very rarely sponge bob grumpy pants.  


 Sweet Thanksgiving faces
 


 Sweet Thanksgiving rituals. Thankful for having a little boy in my life even if it means a little extra junk in my trunk:) Thankful for all the little extra bits of good stuff that balances out super duper grumpy days.


So much for grumpy, his rule was short lived today. And how did a "grumpy" blog end up being a "thankful" blog?  Easy...see above:)  


G'Night.  XOXOXOXOXOXOXO