Where have all the cribs gone

Since we've gotten rid of the crib its like a free for all in my house. You think its quiet. You think you can finally sit down have a little drink, watch TV when you hear it. At first you think its the neighbors. Maybe a little mouse. But no its worse its the distinctive sound of little feet. It's (gasp) my kids!!! Its like now that the crib is gone the cage has been opened and the animals at the zoo are running free.

My son is stealthy little a little ninja. One time I went into the bathroom and closed the door before seeing him flush against the wall. Silently watching me. Sometimes at night I have the horrible feeling like something is watching me. I look up and there he is. Black rimmed eyes like the boy in the grudge staring at me. Waiting to ask me if Michael Jackson had ever gone to the moon to learn to moon walk or why fish never blink when they clearly have water in their eyes. Its eerie and frightening.

My daughter is less stealthy. She's like the Godfather in pigtails demanding goldfish and strawberry milk. She wanders the halls bumping into things and humming the Wonder pets theme song.

Its getting so I can never trust a moments peace I know that at any minute my children may enter. I may never be able to watch a show that is not rated G again -just-in-case. Why cant they make a crib with the bars on the top so her mommy can have a little drink in peace. Is that so wrong...

Send Me a Gooroo Please

I'M sorry Ive been so MIB (again). Its been so hard just keeping up with everything. Every time I turn around a new crisis seems to be tapping me on the shoulder and sneezing in my direction. I hate to complain ( no really OK maybe I do) but who knew this whole working mommy thing would be this hard. So far this school year we've had:

broken bones,
pneumonia,
several herniated disks,
school placement problems,
a pinched nerve,
and the most fun of all LICE!

And just the normal things like trying to balance a full time job and running back and forth between two schools is just doing me in. The idea of cooking dinner and doing homework after working a full day,running back and forth between two school across town from each other in 25 minutes while pushing a stroller with a toddler complaining she cant breath and she wants to walk is as appetizing as a plate of cooked meal worms in a light broth. (phew)

Every time I feel like I may have it under control I learn I really don't. It enough to make me sit around and waste my time dreaming of an early retirement or running away and joining some weird cult just so I can have new things to worry about.

Anyway I'm still here just insane and bitter and overworked and ready to cry at the drop of a hat.

Anyone met any good cult leaders if so send him my way I got my bags packed and I have a valid passport ready.

Kindergarten Upadate

This was B on the first half day of kindergarten.


This was B the night of his 5th Birthday and the first full day of Kindergarten

This is B today

Yes B has fractured his arm falling from the monkey bars at school. He has fractured his growth plate and will be in a cast for the next six weeks. He has discovered that his cast is good for hitting his sister on the head with and is currently using as a new sort of weapon. Even though he is in a cast he is loving school and the attention he is receiving for his battle wound.

Keeping you in the know

Suzie

P.S> I am so sorry I haven't gotten to reading anyone's posts for awhile. As you can see things have gone from nuts to nuts and I promise to get to you all just as soon as I can.

Give Me Back My Candy!

On Friday in my preschool graduation anxiety I bought a candy bar. Not any candy bar but a Hershey bar. I have to be in the right mood to eat them but when I am they are just so good. I ate a few bites and put it away in my draw for another day. You never know when a chocolate bar could come in handy. All weekend I thought about that bar. I knew Monday morning if I wanted to I could walk in my office at 7am and eat the whole thing.

On Monday I came into my office and there on my desk was a wrapper. A brown crumpled up wrapper. Yes, someone had eaten my candy bar. At first I was ok with it. NO biggy. I could have had other things stolen I mean a candy bar is not much to loose. But as the week has gone on (yes I know it is only Tuesday) I have gotten more resentful about that bar.

I mean I could be eating its delicious chocolatiness right now. But no! Some lunatic bursts into my office over the weekend and steals my little piece of joy. What mean nasty person does a thing like that. Its my candy bar! Not theirs! I am trying not to let my obsession grow but now I want to find this person. I want to find out what kind of heartless meany would do such a thing. I will not rest until I have found the culprit. I will not cease until I have caught the evil dooer and brought them to cholatey justice!

On the flip side B's graduation was great. Here's a picture. Isn't he cute?



and here is an empanada (as some of you were not familiar with its flaky crust and its yummy meat or cheese filling)

and here is a picture of a chocolate bar

cute as well but please note the chocolate bar is not holding a diploma and does not have a flaky crust or a yummy meat or cheese filling..

Poor chocolate bar....

I may be a little obsessed

My Own Little Panic Attack

Today is B's preschool graduation. Not only is my little boy graduating but I as director I am helping run the thing.

Last night as I sat on the couch watching I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here which is now my favorite show on TV. (I mean seeing Janice Dickinson steal granola bars and urinate in camp has to be one of the most brilliant forms of entertainment ever created.) I began to wonder what dish I should bring to the graduation should I order a pizza or make empanadas?

It was no longer a simple choice it was THE choice. I found I could no longer breath. My heart raced. I began to mumble pizza no empanada.

I mean kids love pizza right and grown ups love empanadas the choice was staggering and before I knew it I was hyperventilating. I knew if I didn't make the right choice the empanada demons would take over the world and the pizza that I ordered would have saved all the inhabitants of earth. My husband turned to me and with a wild look of concern on his face. I clutched at my throat and gurgled pizza.

Yes I was having a full panic attack over what to bring to the graduation.

You would think with the state of the world today fiances being what it was I would find something sensible to have a panic attack over but no, being the overachiever I am I decided to go full panic out on graduation.

Honey my Hubby assured me I will bring the food calm down its all gonna be fine.

No I gasped its not its not

And before I knew it I was boo-hooing over little B going to kindergarten. My little baby leaving his mommies school and going into the big public school. I saw tests and bullies and detention in his future and began to wail. My hubby grabbed the vodka and assured me he would be fine and keep repeating he would order the pizza.

After a big cocktail and some onion dip visualizations I was breathing a little easier as Janice climbed into a glass cage filled with alligators.

I might be ok now but don't blame me if your day is cut short by wild hoards of empanada demons. You've been warned.

My Printer Is Possesed

I HATE MY PRINTER!!! It is a mean ugly printer that is obviously out to get me. Ask me go on ask me what I have been doing for the last two days. Sadly enough I have been trying to get my printer to print. I'm not sure if its having an identity crisis maybe now it thinks it is a bread machine and not a printer maybe that's why it will not print but if that was the case shouldn't I be greeted each morning with a nice sour dough roll or some sliced pumpernickel. I keep waiting but no. My printer does not think it is a bread machine. Maybe it giving me the cold shoulder for some passing cartridge comment. Well printer I didn't mean it. I'm sorry please please print....

Obviously I am loosing it. What gal in her right mind would spend 48 hours trying to fix a misguided printer? What girl would dream solutions in her sleep which would obviously be greeted with failure in the morning when her paper weight of a printer would stare at her in disgust and laugh at her sad attempts at trying to get her to print.

I don't care printer! You wont break me. I am stronger than that.

In other news I am going to the DMV tomorrow. If you turn on your TV tomorrow and see a girl being escorted out of the DMV in a straight jacket with a printer under her arm and laughing hysterically just turn the channel. Please don't watch my shame.

I Should Be Ashamed

I like to think of myself as a reasonable person. I am polite I try to be nice I dont curse or hit people. I might even be called mild mannered by some. But what most people don't know is that under this seemingly nice exterior is a temper. It doesn't show itself often but something about the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles for you foreign types) unleashes the volcano of anger that has been lying dormant in me for years.

I think it starts when they call me Ma'am. I know it is supposed to be polite but it makes me feel old and something about that ma'am word feels snarky and down right rude.

The next thing is the blank stare they give when the paper work they handed you and told you to fill out is now not the right paper work and they tell you to go stand in another line for the next twelve hours of your life to get another piece of paper.

It is at this point where I snap. I don't even drive but I made myself a promise I would drive by the age of 40. Its down to the wire as I am getting old and I thought (I guess in a naive laughable who do you think you are kind of a way) that getting the learners permit would be about studying and memorizing traffic signs not seeing if I could stop myself from freaking out at a DMV employee who just snapped her gum in my face while announcing that my New York State ID was not good enough proof of ID for New York State.

So I started off my Friday morning the way I did last Friday morning being escorted out of the DMV office by security. Yes, even keeled Suzie cursed and yelled and flailed her arms while screaming at the entire DMV office. Not once but twice!

What can I say.... I guess every superman has his red cryptonite and for sure the DMV is mine.

My Baby is A Genius!

You know me. I'm not one of those parents who gloss over the hard stuff I can be cynical even a little sarcastic at times when talking about parenting. But something happened today that made me the sappiest, gushiest most over the top mommy ever. My little boy my sweet little baby wrote his name for the first time.

He just sat down and boom there it was.

So I did what any other reasonable person would do. I snatched it out of his hands ran into my office and promptly burst into tears. After that I called his Dad his Grandma and Grandpa and all of my in laws. Then I emailed every relative yes, even Aunt Carol who has never liked me since that grilled cheese incident of 74 (just don't ask) yes, even Aunt Carol received an email with an attachment containing in high definition and a ridiculously huge size (so one can study it if need be) my baby's first writing of his name.

After I was done with that I went on Face book and posted my sons crayon masterpiece that proves he is not just any four year old he is a super genius ready for early college admissions with the beautiful writing of his name.

I stopped myself from running out of work and having the paper laminated and framed so upon my death bed I could gaze at his first name printing and cry with joy at my wonderful son who could do no wrong ever for any reason (shhh...I'm having a moment)

So for now I will bathe in the glory that is my sons first writing of his name and hope my tears of joy do not smear the wonderful red crayon that spelled his wonderful amazing name.

...Maybe I should lay off the caffeine for a while too.

I Saw It

I did it I joined the ranks of millions of teenage girls and I rented Twilight. I could only watch first half but I think being exposed to that film for a good hour makes me a total expert in teenage girls and today's youth. This is what I've discovered about the youth of today.

Teen aged girls love boys with waxed eye brows this is also true of the Jonas brothers who my husband went to the bathroom with and found himself totally intimidated by their scarily perfect eyebrows.

Teen aged girls do not suddenly discover their hip hurts while they are watching the movie and excuse themselves at totally the best part to pop Advil and grab a heating pad

Teen aged girls love boys with lots and lots of make up including eye brow pencil, lots of mascara and plenty of lipstick.

Teen agers are still as mopey and distant as I was when I was 17.

Teen aged girls need to be locked away until adult hood for their own good because not only do they always want the boy who is the worst choice (I mean the guys dead and has to stop himself from eating her or goodness sake) but they go out with guys who are way too old for them (Like 130 years to old for them. What do these two have to talk about anyway? She grew up watching Dora and he grew up watching fire. I'm sure these two would have some really fascinating conversations)

Teen aged girls do not stop the movie when Edward and Bella are holding hands and he 's a glowy and cute and go to bed at 9pm cause they have a big day tomorrow

So that is my take on todays youth. Excuse me while I skip the rest of the film and go find the strongest lock made to get ready for Little S teen age years.

It All Starts Here

Today's the day in 15 min I leave to register my Little B in kindergarten. I didn't sleep at all last night. Instead of catching some zzz instead I chose to freak out. As I lay there time began to speed up. First B was in kindergarten cute and little holding my hand. Then I sped right past first grade second grade. In fact I zipped past middle school entirely and found myself slamming into his high school years.

I saw B as a surly teenager. Where all he did was hang out with his friends play video games and was hell to be around. I found myself questioning everything. Will he hate me will he be as bad as I was at that age? Will he never snuggle with me again?

And then when he finally recovers from his teenage years I wont be able to reap the benefits. Because then he'll find his life partner and he'll just call me every once in a while when he feels guilty and I will just miss him so much my heart will break.

So I guess I am officially a mess. So here I go setting my child on the road to life.

I need a hug...

or a big sandwich

Tooting the Night Horn

Last night I was sleeping quietly when what sounded like a loud car back fire woke me up. I sat up in bed wondering what was going on was it a car a gun the start of some night time race when I heard it again. This time it was clear that was no car back firing that was the sound of the passing of some serious wind. I looked accusingly at my hubby as he slept on as innocent as a lamb.

Well! I thought there goes the romance. We've never been the kind of couple to cut the cheese freely in front of one another. We've never even used the bathroom in front of one another and as far as I know he may have never answered natures call in his life. (Hey don't judge. After witnessing child birth twice you do what you can to keep the mystery alive.)

I was catapulted out of my thoughts when suddenly it sounded. The passing of wind this time as a long scary musical note followed by some little toots and a loud thunderous clap.

I was shocked. It came form the wrong direction. It was near my side of the bed. I looked around for someone else to blame.

There's no dog anymore it couldn't be him.

Is it me?

Am I the nocturnal farter? Am I the one tooting the night horn?

Once again the bottom trumpet was sounded.. and it wasnt me of that I was sure. I felt no rumbling, no gust of air. It was... the baby monitor.

My beautiful little S was the midnight tooter. Yes my tiny little girl was sleeping bottom up and was creating such a noise that even my son stirred.

Strangly enough I found I was proud. Yup, my little girl may be tiny, she may not even be on the weight and height charts but her powerful gas cried out I am here! I count! I am a powerful gassy being!

Hey, I'm a mom I take pride where I can get it...shesh

My Daughter Has Skills

I don't know if I should write about this but I am impressed with my daughters ingenuity. So please dear readers do not be offeneded but as you know my kids are a little on the gross side.

Dinner was not a big success at my house last night. After they were done throwing the dinner of rice and sloppy Joe's around the cries of I'm still hungry echoed through my kitchen. In response I gave my son and daughter four pretzels each (a very big treat). They were thrilled and ran around in pretzel joy.

After a little while it was bath time. Little S stood up and looked very uncomfortable and started crying and patting herself. Finally she sat down and plop plop plop the pretzels popped to the surface. Apparently she had stored her pretzels for later like a little drug mule. Don't ask me how she did it. But yes she did. She grabbed the pretzels and shoved them in her mouth and was very unhappy with the results.


Well with the way her college fund is doing these days I think training in the drug mule business might not be such a bad idea. Hey at least she has skills.

It Just Might Make Me Grumpy

I hate daylight savings time. Its disturbing. Getting up at 5:40am when you know its really 4:30am just throws me and makes me grumpy.

You know what else is disturbing and makes me grumpy. Going to your regular Mexican fast food joint and as you order seeing a toddler in a pink princess dress wandering through the kitchen on the other side of the cash register.

You know what make me even more grumpy is realizing that that toddler in the pink princess dress is your baby who your husband is supposed to be watching while you get the food.

Not that that happened on Sunday. Not my husband no way! He would never fail to realize that his baby in the pink princess dress had left the table wandered into a restaurant kitchen causing kitchen wide panic as the restaurant workers tried to stop my little girl from making her way to a large vat of guacamole in the back of the kitchen to stick her hand in it. Nor would he ever completely forget that we have two children who need consent supervision and become so engrossed in a set of instructions to build a balsa wood airplane that he would allow both children to wander freely through out the restaurant giving his son time to shove eight lemon slices with rind into his mouth while no one watched.

That same man would not look at me shrug and say I thought you had it covered. Nope cause that would make me mighty grumpy. Uh huh....

Snow Day

Its a snow day and instead of being asleep in my cosy bed I pushed my stroller through the fresh snow sweating and grunting along the way and lugged my family to work. Why you may ask? Good question. Well,I needed to let everyone know school was closed, feed the hamsters and fish and return a few emails...

OK that's all an excuse.

Here the truth Ruth.

The idea of spending another full day with my wonderful little kiddies alone trapped alone in the house for the day put me in such a panic I would have gotten here if giants had been lobbing boulders from the sky. I would have lugged my stroller here if bats had filled the street with a sea of guano.

Yup, its true.

I know I will have to go home eventually. I know I will have to face the stir crazy kids who will become truly scary at 4pm when the idea of spending one more hour with each other and me will make them scarier than a cat in a washing machine, then a four day old tuna fish sandwich in July then Dolly Parton first thing in the morning with no make up (sorry Dolly).

I know. I fear.

But for now...I have work to do.

I Think Youre All A little Sick

I am disturbed.

Last Friday I posted a picture of this man:

Sportacus.

As you know I love Sportacus. I get it maybe he's not every ones type even though in reality he looks like this:
Ah huh yeah...


But I was amazed. Yes, I will go so far as to say I was shocked concerning the conversation about Blues clues.

How could so many of you pine for Steve? When he has been replaced with Joe

Just look at this beefy guy. He's cute funny and he looks good in a sweater.




Where as Steve is umm Steve.


Now many of you said I need to get out more. That may be true. Maybe its a little sad to be debating who is hotter Steve or Joe. Maybe it takes a sick mind to fantasize about Sportacus while my kids hit each other with blocks.

But at least we are not debating Franklin


vs

Little Bear



Now that would be sick.


Although Little Bear would totally win hands down

The Walk

This morning B woke up with a big smile on his face.

Mommy he announced I am going to walk to school today.

Terrific I thought. I have a 50 pound bag of sand to bring to school (Yes I have big bags of sand in my apartment.) I can finally get rid of it and bring it to school in the stroller.

B put on his red car boots.

Mommy I am going to wear my boots and walk all the way to school

Great.

So I get them dressed they eat breakfast while talks about his monumental trip 6 blocks to school.

They put on their coats

I put baby S in the stroller

I put the 50 pound bag of sand in the stroller

were off

As we reach the corner B begins to cry.

Mommy I don't want to walk anymore

Sweety you're doing a great job and I have a 50 pound bag of sand in there. You'll have to walk

MOOOOOOOOMMMMYYYY I don't want to walk! ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Sweetie, please walk I can't carry a 50 pound bag of sand and push the stroller

I don't want to walk! ARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

B you need to calm down

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I don't wanna walk! Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

B please

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

OK I'm counting to ten

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I don't wanna walk! Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

People walk by and shake their heads. I feel the need to shout "You handle it then Mr or Mrs. Perfect Parent cause I'm trying my best!" But I don't.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I don't wanna walk! Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

I try to breath slowly while pushing the incredible heavy stroller dragging along my hysterical child and try very hard not to:

scream (I wanna I really wanna)
freak out (which I am..inside)
slap him upside his head (which would be bad but very satisfying)

Mommmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Waaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

B I start to get a little louder. Cut it out. Its not far to school

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I don't wanna walk! Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!

B STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!

He pauses looks at me looks at the stroller....

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! I don't wanna walk! Waaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!! Mommmmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Waaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!

I think I'm done having children. Two is my max

Check please

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I just thought I'd add this in as I am feeling a bit needy right now.

I don't know what it is but I am really loosing it today. I don't know if it was the walk with my rotten I mean lovely son or work stress but today I just wanna cry or scream. Every time I turn around it seems to be another crisis and I've had it. I want to run away and pull the covers up.

I'm upset

I'm sad

I'm very stressed out

Just thought I'd complain.

Thanks

The Meatloaf From Hell

I cook just about every night. When we had no kids I would cook once a week. It was a big event. I would buy a great cut of meat research new and exciting recipes and create a romantic and wonderful meal. Since LAK (life after kids) I cook most nights. I have a rotating bunch of recipes that are quick and easy and everyone seems to like. But one night a week I make my meatloaf. When I make my meatloaf I am greeted with comments such as:

I hate this!

This is yucky!

Oh no not meatloaf!

My Hubby smiles but when he sees my meatloaf his eyes go dead. Its as if my meatloaf has sucked the soul right out of him.

Why you may ask do I make this pathos inducing meatloaf? I guess the simple reason is its easy and we can all eat the leftovers the next day. (Yes there is two days of soul sucking meatloaf night.)

I guess the other reason is I HATE COOKING EVERY DAY!!!! Maybe I am secretly punishing everyone for making me cook after a long days work. Why is it my job? Who made me the cook cleaner and everything else? Maybe someone else who doesn't make the meatloaf from hell weekly should learn how to cook.

So in order to spread the evil specter of sadness that is my meatloaf I thought I would pass along my recipe.

Suzie's Soul Sucking Meatloaf
1 pound of clinically depressed ground chicken
1 small sad little onion
1/4 of a cup of heartbroken red pepper
1 lonely egg
lots of despondent ketchup
plenty of dejected bread crumbs
and a good dash of grief stricken worcestershire sauce and some pensive soy sauce

Grab and knife and sigh be sure to suppress sob as you chop and saute the onions and peppers
slap everything in a chipped and ugly bowl (be sure to mutter under your breath as you do this)
knead slop with hands while complaining bitterly about cooking
put into a greased meatloaf pan while shaking head and slowly with feeling
top with ketchup, bread crumbs and some Parmesan cheese
add tears if available
cook at 400 for 20 min
use time to mutter and complain quietly
put in broiler to crisp top for last 10 min
serve while hot and despondent

Watch the soul sucking fun begin

Catch Up

I cant believe how long I went without blogging. It was scary I missed you guys. I think I may have gone through a little withdrawal on the first few days some cold sweats a few shakes but by the end I was almost ok. Ok but not complete how could I be without my bloggy friends. Sniff.. but those kiddies of mine those crazy little aliens who live in my house would not have it. As soon as the computer went on something would smash, someone would punch someone else or a little someone known as S would stick her tongue in the electrical socket (no kidding this really happened). So this was pretty much a bloggy free break.

I thought I would give you a quick run down of my week as I actually have a lot of work to do (gasp):

S weaned herself

Since I am no longer a human milk machine I have begun to take diet pills to loose the endless folds of baby weight. I now find I have enough energy to scrub the floor, make dinner and write a novel all at the same time.

My coffee maker broke. I feel betrayed and angry. I loved that coffee machine oh how I loved him.

I saw the mummer parade which is a weird Philly tradition consisting of vast amounts of alcohol and men in dresses and feathers holding parasols

I have come to the conclusion that Ryan Seacrest has sold his body to Dick Clark who's soul is now inhabiting it. That man is rich I mean really rich. It could happen.

So I hope you are all caught up. I hope you all had a happy and healthy New Year.

10 Reasons Why My Coffee Maker is Better Than My Husband

I know it is not right to create a list about why my coffee maker is better than my husband. Its not politically, morally or socially correct. In fact only a real sicko would create a list stating why their coffee maker was far superior to the father of her two children. Bad Suzie bad! So with that in mind:

10 Reasons Why My Coffee Maker is Better Than My Husband:

1. He always knows what I want
   
2. Every morning he is there steaming and hot
   
3. He can cook (well making coffee counts doesn't it)
4. He never complains about anything, ever for any reason
5. He never asks me how much I spent on that
6. He never throws his socks across the floor with wild abandon (OK he has no feet but you get the idea)
7. He never ever leaves used tissues in his cups when he is done with them -you know how important this one is to me
   
8. He never looks at my meatloaf with sadness in his eyes
   
9. He never pees on the toilet seat
10. (This is my favorite one!)I CAN TURN HIM OFF!
    

OK I cant stop:
11. He smells good
12. He never disagrees with my parenting techniques

Now this is getting scary:
13. He doesn't pick his toenails
14. He doesn't snore
15. He kisses like a pro
16. He is the sexiest coffee maker in the world!

OK now Ive crossed the line...I'm sorry...I am so ashamed

Hi Im Cindy

Let me begin this story by telling you I am not normally an angry person. I can take a lot before I blow. But sometimes someone so annoying and so perky hits me like silk wrapped nails on a black board. Sometimes someone comes around who is so horrible and so caustic I would rather be locked in a small car with two kids who suffer form extreme motion sickness and recurring gas.

This is the story of one of those people. Let call her

CINDY

My story begins in the gym. As you know I gained about 15 pounds on vacation. So I was working out as hard as humanly possible without breaking a real sweat after all this was my lunch hour I needed to go back to work and no one likes a sweaty office pal.

I was reading OK magazine and I had a people tucked away for later so I could find out why Tom Cruise really jumped on that couch when suddenly there she was

Hi!

I looked down from my stair master and she was CINDY. A 20 year old skinny perky beast with happy little boobies and a scary over sized smile. She was pure evil and I knew it. CINDY was trouble.

Hi I'm Cindy It said again have you had your personal training session yet this year?

I looked down at her perfectly bouncy hair and her sassy little smile and tried not to scream in terror. I tired to ignore her pretending to care about Posh Spice's new not ever eating diet but I could feel her eyes burning into my skull.

Hi Cindy. I said trying not to show it my fear. I've heard they can smell fear from a mile away. I'm not really into that kind of thing. I have two small kids and this is the only time I have to myself to read and think but thanks.

I opened my OK magazine and tried to concentrate on Britney addiction to vanilla lattes while hoping some brave knight would appear and save me from the CINDY. But I had no such luck she was on the loose and I was face to face with the beast.

Hi! She squeaked again. You know working out with a personal trainer could really help you control some of those problem areas.

The terror was overwhelming. Please I thought go away CINDY go away!

Instead I took a deep breath and summoned my courage

Cindy. I'm not trying to be rude but I really look to forward to having a little peace and quiet at the gym. Thanks but I'm OK.

I could feel Cindy's eyes traveling over my body. I knew she was sizing me up maybe thinking how I would taste with a little holindaise sauce.

But have you met your personal work out and weight goals this year?

And that was it. CINDY may have been one scary 20 year old perky perfectly conditioned personal training demon. But I was an almost forty year old Mommy of two. I think I could take her if I had to. The anger broke free and the Mommy monster was on the loose.

Listen CINDY I am about 30 pounds over weight I have the neck the size of a tree trunk. I said spitting my venom in her direction I am still fighting baby weight and I fit into nothing. But the question is do I want to work out with you. You 20 year old teeny tiny person who is named CINDY and wont leave me alone in the gym? No CINDY I don't so please back away CINDY before I blow a big fat gasket and roll you in sugar and eat you as a snack.

She took a deep breath smiled. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

OK but if you change your mind look for me. The names CINDY.

I'm still shaking