Sunday night, my husband came down with a nasty stomach bug. I'd call it the flu, but I know better. I'm one of those people who got a real case of influenza when I was in Junior High, and was so sick that I truly didn't care whether I lived or died (although losing 22 lbs in three weeks was my silver lining!) So, personally knowing the difference between a stomach bug and the real flu makes my eye twitch when people declare every upset stomach "THE Flu!"
Anyway, he got a stomach bug (we've ruled out food poisoning), and I literally got no decent sleep all night long while he made mad dashes to the bathroom every five minutes. I tried to be a good and supportive partner, offering tylenol and 7-up, and changing the heat in the room as needed, and rubbing his back, and tissues, and water, and... but by about 3 AM I asked if I should sleep in the other room to give him his space (translation: "I love you. I'm so sorry you're sick. But I don't sleep like the dead, as you do when I'm sick and dying, and every time I hear a tiny sound I wake up. You're killing me! I beg you! PLEASE let me go sleep in the other room! PLEASE! Pleasepleaseplease!") I got a small whimper and "no, I want you close."
At 6AM, I stumbled out of bed and decided to exercise. No, I don't know why. Maybe it was because if I was going to be up anyway, and the kids were up, well, I ought to accomplish something. I decided to give the Nike+ Kinect training thing a go on the Xbox. My family picked me up a copy of it at the mall (the one my husband said he "might" even use it too?) So, I sort of have gift-guilt. Usually, these programs are weak for me because they're aimed at a section of the population who hasn't actively tried to work out in decades.
So, I plugged it in and did the fitness assessment on Sunday night... and I suck. Well, it made me feel like I did. I felt weak in the wrong areas, and I also got into a fight with the tracking a couple times (I'm having problems getting it to see my feet!) I thought I had done so poorly, but when it scored me I scored WAY above the female population average for Athleticism, and still a good portion above on the Fitness. Literally within striking distance of the supposed trainer's scores. I think it's lying to me. But I like it. It can keep lying to me!
Anyway, after the assessment it set me up with a "plan" and I input that I would work out six days a week as I normally do. I'm surprised to see how small a time demand it came up with. 19 minutes for the cardio portion and 25-30 for strength. That seems low. However, with all the freaking tutorials and fighting with the tracking, the stupid 19 minute cardio took me almost 30 minutes to get done. I swear, if I can figure out how to get that part turned off, I will be a happy girl! I KNOW how to do a freaking burpee. I HATE them, but I know! There's gotta be a skip option somewhere, or at some point it needs to assume I have learned the stupid move and to shut up on subsequent workouts. A girl can only hope!
I made it through that workout, and also played with my daughter's new game (the popular dancing one, I can't think of it off the top of my head.) Did you know that the stupid game videos you and then plays it back in a "you're greatest dance moves!" sort of fashion? Now, maybe if I was a talented dancer getting my groove on it'd be worth seeing. Well, no, probably not even then. I don't like seeing myself, but let me tell you that in mis-matched workout gear with my hair sliding out of the ponytail sideways, already sweaty from my earlier workout (whether it was the exercise or resisting throwing something at the TV during the tutorials, I'm not certain), and dancing like a penguin with a concussion... it was a painful experience on myriad levels.
I'm pretty sure I sat there with my head tilted sideways and my mouth hanging open, saying over and over "Now, that's just wrong. Oh, seriously... no, no don't do THAT! OMG, where is the off button?!?!"
I may be traumatized for life.
Anyway, that was yesterday. I stuck with my healthy eating and tracking, got my workouts in, and was exhausted. Every time I tried to doze off, the phone would ring or something else would happen (like the cat knocking glasses off the counter, someone at the door, my mother calling with some sort of emergency - this time it was her lost kitten that was found shortly thereafter, having snuck outside - etc.) I tried working in my studio and got a bit done, but not enough to really be proud of. I ended up with a bunch of extra surprise errands courtesy of my children, too. My husband, ensconced in his bed with soccer playing on the television, called out to me "Wow, I guess I never realized how many interruptions you get through the day. It really must be hard getting stuff done, huh?"
He's sick, I can't smack him upside the head.
I even took down the biggest of my Christmas trees all by myself, and I realized that the reason I normally do this on New Year's Day is because I can drink wine at the same time. Eating healthy, all by myself, taking down holiday decorations is depressing! I may wait until my planned splurges to take down decorations now, or at the very least threaten my family with bodily harm if they don't help out (it's amazing how quickly everyone vanished when I said it was time to take at least one tree down. The traitors!) My last errand ended at almost 10PM snagging my daughter from play auditions, and by the time I got into bed after taking care of everything, it was almost midnight.
This morning, I almost couldn't get out of bed because I'm so tired. I got more sleep last night, but it wasn't enough, and I woke up to a very distinct odor. My puppy, Lily, who in all these months since we got her has never had an accident in her crate, had left a BIG one for me to take care of. Huge. The kind you wish you could leave on a sadistic boss's front porch. Joy.
The kids got up late, I am having trouble keeping my eyes open, and my husband is back in bed with the sounds of soccer drifting down the staircase. I forgot a couple important things this morning, deadlines are circling in my head, and I haven't worked out. Heck, I'm still in my pajamas.
I know it's Tuesday, because I checked. But I swear to you, this is SO a Monday in Kyraville.
I miss coffee.