Abs of Peanut

One of the many "joys" of pregnancy is learning just how much your body can stretch and expand. On one hand, I have to admit, it is kind of cool. John's chief disappointment during this "I looked like I swallowed a beach ball stage" was that my belly button never popped out. Personally, I was very happy that I missed that experience. Whenever I see a popped out belly button, I think of a Purdue oven stuffer. You know, the one that has the timer which pops out when the bird is ready. I didn't want that running through my mind throughout my pregnancy. Anyway, the reality of body expansion kicks in upon the baby's exit. Think of what a balloon looks like when air is let out and you have an excellent visual. Peanut's arrival via cesarean section killed what little core strength I had left. Needles to say, my core/abs have been a focus during this post partum "I need to look less like a deflated balloon" stage.

I distinctly recall doing my first Pilates routine post partum mainly because I think the only workout my core got was through my laughter. Actually, I did fine until I came to the Pilates roll up exercise. For those of you unfamiliar with this move it involves one being in a prone position on the floor with arms straight overhead. You are then supposed to roll up from the floor one vertebra at a time until you reach a seated position. The key is that you generate all the energy for this move from your core and you don't use any momentum from the swing of your arms. Angela was next to me on the floor at the time and the two of us struggled to get into that seated position. Our lack of abdominal strength became an unexpected bonding moment and at that moment it dawned on me that instead of abs of steel I have abs of Peanut.

Thankfully things have improved for both of us. Neither of us can do the Pilates roll up but we have become very good at Cobra and Plank position in yoga. I have even managed a side plank. Still, there is room for improvement. On days I cannot make it to the gym, I have been working out to exercise DVDs at home. It was while I was exercising at home the other day that Alice decided to join me. As expected, she was naked. I looked down at her mirroring my movements to the DVD program and realized how ripped she is. Yes, my three year old has a six pack. Damn. Oh, well. It is something to aspire to. Maybe one day instead of abs of Peanut I will have abs of Alice.

Oh, #@&$!

I was dreading this day. I knew it was going to happen. Alice dropped the F bomb.


After years of teaching high school, I am extremely conscious about the words that fall from my lips. Let's face it, people would most likely look down upon a teacher (an English teacher no less) who used profanity regularly in class. I often thanked the gods that people are not like cartoons because if my students knew the mental dialogue that ran through my mind 99.9% of the time they would have been shocked. Since, as the proverbial phrase goes, "old habits die hard", I regularly say "shoot" and "fudge" when I want to say something different. Since John mainly works with adults, who don't melt when a profanity slips, he has not had to ever worry about checking his language. And thus we see why I had the following conversation with my daughter:


I am driving home after picking up Alice from preschool. Both kiddies are strapped into their respective car seats and the Cars soundtrack in on the radio. A moronic (writer is being kind here) driver decides to just reverse out of her driveway without actually checking to see if (gasp) cars are driving along the main road. I blare on the horn and slightly swerve the car to avoid getting hit.


Me: Idiot!


Alice: Fuck!


Me: What did you say, Alice?


Alice: Fuck.


Me: Honey, that is a naughty word. We don't use words like that.


Alice: Daddy does.


Me: (internally) Oh, shit.