A Solid Case of "Crotch-itis"

My history of self-destruction, self inflicted injury, and ungraceful debacles runs deep and wide. I'm a self proclaimed klutz, and the bumps, bruises and scars I have acquired are all evidence to support my case. I've sustained multiple black eyes as a child, several bouts with stitches, broken bones, and even a case of whiplash when I lost an ill-advised "tackling" match. But none have left quite the emotional baggage and unsightly bruising as my unfortunate miscalculation during a track practice while in college.

I was a hurdler back in the day. And as a hurdler, we were pretty accustomed to crashes, bonks and blood. It was a daily challenge to see which hurdler was going to leave practice with the worst battle scars (usually it was me). Such was the case this particular winter day a couple of weeks before our indoor conference track meet. And as you are about to see, my luck is about to get a whole lot worse!

Our last drill was practicing trail-leg technique by using several closely placed consecutive hurdles. Our task was to snap our trail leg over the edge of the hurdle...and so on, and so on. However, the hurdle at its lowest point is still higher than the length of my inseam making this drill a little more challenging for this not-so-graceful hurdler.

We had already accomplished the majority of our practice before this particular drill began. At this point, I had successfully completed a couple of run-throughs, and I'm sure my focus was starting to dwindle. Practice was starting to wrap up (hurdlers were always the LAST to leave...always!), and the college men's basketball team was starting to congregate around the entrances waiting for their designated practice to begin. Unfortunately for me, we were stationed right by the main doors into the facility and were practically the only athletes left on the track.

I'm not sure if fatigue or distraction led to my demise (although I'm not sure it even mattered after the fact), but I'm sure my punishment didn't match my crime! I miscalculated the hurdle and instead of coming down past the hurdle...I came down directly on top of that fiberglass, didn't-budge-an-inch, hurdle. My tenders never saw it coming!

I crumpled onto that cold, hard track holding my delicacies knowing I just ruined any chance at reproduction in my future. As my young, hot, hurdling coach leaned down beside me to assess my injury, I scurried off the floor and jetted into the locker room where I fell into a ball of tears and choked for air. Another hurdler (a female hurdler- thank goodness!) followed me in to check my status. Unfortunatley, the Trainer was not far behind and insisted that I go into the bathroom stahl to check my injury!! She truthfully wanted to assess the damage as well, but I insisted I could handle it on my own (this was obviously pre-mommyhood, because every healthcare provider under the sun gets to see my secrets when I am pushing a baby out of my tunnel! I've lost the will to care!!).

In the days that followed I was restricted from hurdling (thank God) barely able to even walk, let alone run. And my delicacies have never been so black-and-blue as far as the eye could see!

Got Milk?

We need to address this issue of the out-of-control boobage that happens when I am pregnant and then the subsequent "blossoming" that occurs when I am nursing. I'm not sure what happens...but my barely-able-to-fill-out-an-A-cup boobs are now barely-able-to-be-contained in my "big girl" C-cup (and a Z-cup when I'm nursing!)...and they aren't even working at their full potential yet!

I've been nursing babies or baking them in my mom-oven on and off for the past 13 years (more off than on...but still!) And I still haven't quite figured out what in the world is going on with the boobage that seems to take on a life of its own! And they aren't even for fun... they are all business, honey. In fact, in the first couple weeks of new baby's existence, my boobs seem to expand to sizes of which can only be described as scary...very often being bigger than the babies head!! That's scary people! How would you like that coming at you in the middle of the night?! I'd probably put up a fit too.

What seems to boggle me the most is how un-fun they are! You heard me...NO FUN! Aren't bountiful breasts the most coveted body feature?! (To be truthful, I wouldn't mind getting mine fixed once they've served their time.) Workin' boobs don't resemble a 20-something's bouncy, perky pleasures AT ALL! They are just big, voluptuous, bouncy...and completely in the way. Do you know how hard it is to squeeze those suckers into an athletic bra? Not an easy task. And the hassle of trying to find a sexy big-girl bra is one to which I have since thrown in the towel. And let me tell you, those bad boys need to be harnessed at all times...or somebody might just get hurt!

Now, don't get me wrong, I have always loved nursing my babes...but the boob phenomenon has me dumbfounded. I finally have the voluptuous curves I've long coveted....but it's on a swollen pregnant body or worse, a floppy, jiggly post-baby body. Neither of which are what I have been envisioning! And again, they are for functioning purposes only. Just imagine gettin' it on with the hubster and -oops- sorry about that milk in your eye! NOT VERY SEXY!

It deems repeating...These are workin' girls!!

Back To My Roots....Sort Of

I'm ditching the red. As fun as being a red-head was (and as much as it pleased my hubby), I feel my inner (bottle) blonde calling me back. I've missed her sexy confidence and cocky attitude. Although, the red can't be totally to blame. I think the burgeoning belly, mind-of-their-own boobs (which we totally need to talk about later!), and absent hubby defending the world may have a little something to do with it! Never the less, in three days I will be sporting my long-lost blonde in a shorter, bouncier style...and I can't wait.

Red seems to be more high-maintenance than I had anticipated. And my dirty-blonde roots growing in (at a rapid pace, I might add) seem to sometimes resemble the color grey! That issue needs to be addressed! And, fortunately for me, blonde seems to grow out a little more seamless-ly and with much less maintenance.

Pregnancy has a tendency to bring out my inner need for ease and low maintenance. And the "Victoria Beckham" bob seems to fit the bill. I think I will save my drastic hair color changes and trendy do's to the luxury of extensions and wigs...for which, I can't say I've ever tried. However, I strongly think hair extensions/wigs are Hollywood's best kept secret. There is no way all of those actresses have that beautiful, thick, flowy hair all of the time! And I think it's high time, mainstream mamas get in on the action!

I need to invest in a "Bridget the brunette with a no holds barred attitude", a "Katie with feisty red curls that match her temper", and maybe a "Kendra with long, think blonde hair who has a sexy, sultry demeanor". That actually sounds like a lot more fun and a lot less ease than hours in the salon...and way more fun in the bedroom. On second thought, I think it's obvious we've had more than enough fun in that department. (ahem)

What do you ladies think? To fake hair...or not to fake hair?

I'm Searching....

for answers to why I can not seem to be able to successfully comment on any blogger blogs. What's the deal?! Does anybody know how or why this is occurring? Or better yet, can anybody tell me how to fix it?

It's Gettin' Hot in Here...So Take Off All Your Clothes

Well, that's just not going to happen. I'm not sportin' my most flattering figure at the moment. How can baby be 2 inches big and my tummy, boobs, and butt say otherwise. Doesn't the baby only reside in one's abdominal area? Why on earth did my boobs triple, and is the butt to balance out the tummy? Little-unexpected-blessing is only 12 weeks along in his long baking process and he (I say "he" because after 4 boys...I just assume!) has taken over my body.

Let's just blame my "swelling" on the heat! While we are on the subject of heat...can I mention that I am a total wuss in the afore mentioned climate? Our central air conditioner decided that cooling our house was much too much of a difficult task for it to successfully complete, and instead, would just die...keel over; cease to function; kick the bucket (I think you get the idea!). Needless to say, my house heated up quickly in the 90 degree heat. And for the past 6 days, we have been slowly baking to the status of "well done".

Not one to buckle in the face of a challenge, I've tried to make this adventure more fun. I convinced my minion that "camping" in the basement is fun, that ice cream truly IS one of the main food groups (which may or may not be contributing to my blossoming body parts...we'll find out in 2 weeks when I go step on that mean scale at the doctor's office!), and that you don't need a shower as long as you were in the chlorinated pool long enough. I live by "pick your battles"...and in the heat,  I pick very few.

All in all, the week has gone quickly. The kids have enjoyed the change in routine. Mommy has reveled in the guilt-free indulgence of multiple helpings of frozen deliciousness. And the AC/furnace is well on its way to being replaced by 2 very generous companies that have offered unimaginable blessings for my family. All is well that ends well...or at least all is well that stays cool!