I [heart] summer vacation, I really do, but I don’t [heart] the way my body reacts initially. I resent the fact that I usually get a little sick, that I usually sleep way more than is useful, and that I usually get crashingly bored in the first couple of weeks until I’ve re-established a summer rhythm. Having lots of goals helps, but having a huge agenda also infects me with a creeping apathy. And I miss my friends, whom I can’t seem to find this summer.
The weight loss isn’t going too well yet. I tried to get to the gym yesterday to work on that goal, but I let the clerk guilt me into taking Blake to the Family Swim instead. There’s nothing cardio-intensive about the Family Swim, although I did dance Blake around a lot. He loves the hot tub, and the hot tub induces lethargy. Plus, when the Boy came home, we went to see a movie and my resistance crumbled in the face of hot becel’d popcorn. So nothing good there. Maybe I should just bow to the inevitable and join Weight Watchers, although I dread the idea of finding out exactly how much I weigh. I was hoping to lose some weight before I had to face that particular reality.
On the Blake front, things continue as they were. The bed situation is excellent. Much like giving him his own pillow the night he slept through, it’s working so well that I wonder why we didn’t do this before. The diaper situation is not so good; he remains indifferent to the idea of staying dry, and the only incentive he seems to want are the Bob the Builder undapants. (Yes, you too can hear the voice of Greg Proops in your head when you encourage your toddler to pee.) I’m reluctant to move into a hard-core phase of the training, although we’re having the perfect weather for it. Maybe I should just stop being a wuss.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*