I am the perfect mom

I am the perfect mom. No really. I know when to be cool and when to tow the line with my 18 kids. (Okay, maybe not 18, but with 4 of them it sometimes feels like 18.) I know what cup shape I should give to what age child. I know how to beat the boss levels on all the Mario games. I know that the 2 little boys are too old to be dressed alike without feeling like schmucks. I know 2nd grade math like I know my way around my kitchen. I can tell who pissed on the toilet seat just by the way the droplets fall. I encourage my kids to stay involved in sports even though not one of them has an athletic bone in their body. (My boys trip over their own feet on the way to the bathroom.) I let my kids be who they are without questioning their quirks, no matter how effing strange those quirks may be. I yell alot, but I provide a secure, loving home where everyone knows the extent of my love for them. I teach them to treat others the way they want to be treated and to always use their manners. I'm a diaper changing ninja. I can change a diaper in 5 seconds no matter what contortionist position the kid is in. Like I said, I am the "perfect mom." 

News flash: No matter how "perfect" you think you may be, no matter what your morals are, NOTHING can prepare you for being the parent of a teenager. NOTHING. Just when you think you've done everything right and that your child will NEVER be one of those nightmare teens that go to rehab, steal, lie or any of those things that "other" people go through, you actually enter the teen years.

Jake is now 17 years old. The loveliness of teen-hood has so far brought a "too serious" relationship with a girl whose parents tried to convert my Catholic son to a religion that I didn't want him to have any part of, this in turn, caused the "break-up" where my son bawled his eyes out for days on end  and actually had him sleeping with me one night. We've been through losing school elections and many other disappointments that make a mom cry WITH their kid. We've been through those horrid middle school years where the kids are so incredibly cruel that YOUR kid falls into a depression. 

The 1st of a few poor decisions....

As a result of the cruelty, Jake ended up relentlessly working out. When he finally started seeing the results of his hard work in the gym, he took it a step further and hooked up with some juicehead that provided him with steroids. That poor decision led to roid rages, ball shrinkage and disgusting breakouts of sores all over his face. I'm not an ignorant mom. I took him for bloodwork and found out that the hormones he was taking gave him the cholesterol of a 55 year old man that had a heart attack, and kidney and liver problems, all at the ripe old age of 16. Thankfully he's young and his doctor was confident that if he stopped the shit his body would return to normal. Kidney failure was enough to scare the shit out of him, so he stopped taking the pills. I'm happy to say that was 6 months ago and his body did bounce back like his doctor said it would. I would never blame anyone else for Jake's poor decision, but this was all a result of being the funny, chubby kid growing up. Growing up is hard to do, especially when I'M your mom.

Junior Year

So my son, who is an average student, and hates all things reading and english, decided junior year would be a great time to take Advanced History, Shakespearean Lit AND Physics. Come on, someone who hates reading and english has no business in anything Shakespeare related, someone who passed Chemistry by the skin of their teeth has no business taking Physics, and someone who hates writing has no business taking AP History. But of course Jake knows EVERYTHING. 

Where am I going with this? Well Jake decided Football, weightlifting and his social calendar were far more important than studying. While he is heavily involved with many other things at school (peer leadership type things), academics fell by the wayside. While I am VERY involved in anything having to do with my kids' education, I kind of feel like by the time you're a junior you know what's expected of you. I'm not going to scream at you everyday to do your homework, study for your test, etc. Jake has always skated by for the simple fact that he has the gift of BS. He's always had a fantastic sense of humor and from the ripe old age of 3, had incredible conversational skills with adults. 

People LOVE him. I KNOW why they love him. I also know how he managed to get passed in his tougher classes in high school. But now is the time to buckle down and get yourself prepared for college. Now is NOT the time to pass based solely on your awesome personality. So I pissed Jake off and sent his physics teacher this email:

Hi Mr. Craig,

I'm sure by now you've realized Jake is a great kid, but there has not been an improvement in his grade since our conference. Is this a lack of him doing the work, a lack of studying or a lack of understanding? Is he able to keep up in class? Where do we go from here? Do I just let him fail? Please advise what to do. I'm so done with the nagging. Thanks.

Carrie Krupa

and here is his response :

Ms. Krupa,

You are absolutely right when you say Jake is a great kid.  I serve as an 
advisor to Blue and Grey Night and we advisors are ecstatic to have him as a 
captain.

As for Physics, I've been thinking a lot about Jacob.  His grade is a result of 
a combination of all of the things you've mentioned.

He has been lazy about handing in lab reports.  It happeded last marking period 
and it had happened again this past quarter until the other day.  Labs count for 
25% of his grade, so by not handing them in he immediately begins at a 75%.  If 
he is unsure how to approach the labs, he should meet with me and I can help 
him.

However, when he is in class he is attentive and works hard.  He doesn't always 
grasp concepts in class, but he certainly demonstrates more understanding in 
class than he does on formal assessments.

Jake can make a better effort to seek extra help.  I have seen in two times at 
most outside of class since the school year began.  (He stayed yesterday to take 
his midterm.)  He has made plans to meet me after school, but then something 
typically comes up.  So while I truly believe he has the best intentions, he 
needs to follow through.

He should be retaking assessments that he doesn't pass.  I have a policy that 
enables students to retake assessments after demonstrating that they've learned 
the material.  He needs to take advantage of this.

So when I say I've been thinking about Jake a lot, I specifically think about 
his grades for this quarter and last.  His grade of 50% is not indicative of how 
much Physics material that he knows.  More so, the 15 point difference between 
his grade and passing is a barometer of his inability to complete and hand in a 
lab.  In my professional opinion, I'm not to grade Jake on his ability to meet a 
deadline or hand something in.  I am to grade him on his knowledge of Physics.

It's for that reason that I've spoken with my supervisor and I propose the 
following.  Jake will meet with me until he completes his lab from quarter 1.  
At that point, he should have enough points to at least pass that quarter.  We 
have a plan to get him to pass this quarter as well.  That plan also involves a 
lab write up.  In this instance, he needs to revise as per our discussion 
yesterday after his midterm.  I've sent him a copy of his lab with my comments 
in red.  (I've attached to this email as well.)

Thank you for being proactive in Jake's education.  Based on our last meeting, I 
know that you do not want to see him given anything without merit; please 
understand that Jake is not getting a free pass here.  He still has substantial 
work to do in order to fully demonstrate an acceptable level of knowledge in 
Physics.


Do not hesitate to contact me with any questions.

Like I said, Jake is just incredibly lucky that he is who he is, however, this drives me CRAZY. 

The Scariest Road in NJ

So Jake got his drivers license in October. I wasn't a complete mess over it because he had driven with me many times while he had his permit. He demonstrated some pretty responsible driving skills, so once October came I was NOT the hot mess I thought I'd be. With your drivers license (and no car because you spent all your money on steroids), you end up borrowing your moms car. Not sure about other states, but in NJ we have a GDL license for the 1st year. Until you're 18 you can't drive past 11pm and you cannot have more than 1 passenger in the car at any given time.

Jake was on probation with borrowing my car because his grades weren't great and his priorities were disturbing. At this point almost all of his friends have their own cars. So it was, on the night of the Nor'easter, just before NYE that Jake decided he wasn't going to ask to borrow the car.

Alan had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up around midnight. When he stood up to close the living room curtains he noticed my car was missing from the driveway. That was when he came in the bedroom and woke me up. "Carr, did you tell Jake he could take the car? It's past 11." I jump out of bed and look out the front window in disbelief. That effer stole my car! What was so ironic about it was that 2 of his friends cars were sitting in my driveway (one a Lexus and one an SUV mind you), but my 2003 Toyota Corolla with the missing hubcap was gone. 

I immediately text him: You have 15 minutes to get my car home or I'm reporting it stolen.

His response: Ma, I can't be home in 15 minutes. I'm in Newark.

Now it's 12:45 in the morning, 25 mph winds and it's sleeting/snowing. My 17 yr old who just got his license in OCTOBER, is in Newark after 11 pm with TWO other people in my STOLEN car. In a complete state of disbelief and that mom-pit in my stomach, I text him back. (I was afraid if I called him I would literally reach through the phone and strangle him.)

Me: NEWARK???!!!! Why the HELL are you in Newark at 1:00 in the morning during a Nor'easter with MY car?! GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW, I WILL BE WAITING UP!

Well hours passed, I called, sent text after text and never got a response. I know you're probably thinking I should've reported my car stolen, but when YOU are the one in that position it just doesn't seem like the right thing to do. I didn't want him to lose his license, I just wanted to stab his eyeballs out with scissors so he could never drive again without having to ask me to help him put in his eyeballs. Anyway, I ended up falling asleep around 4:00 and he still wasn't home.

As it turns out, he and his friends were reading on Weird NJ that there was a REALLY scary road, Clinton Road in Passaic County to be exact, but you had to go there in the middle of the night for anything to happen. Little did Jake know there wasn't anything that was going to happen on that road that would be worse than what happened when he got home.

I come to find out the next morning that instead of turning around and coming home as he passed Newark and got my text, the dumbass kept going because he knew he was already screwed. My blood is boiling just re-living this whole story as I type it.

That morning at around 8 am I went downstairs into his hoarder-inspired bedroom, flipped the light switch on REALLY hard (you know what I mean) and started screaming every single curse word I could think of. I told him to pack a bag because he was getting the hell out of my house and my face. I didn't care if he went to his dad's house, my moms, wherever...he was just getting the hell OUT of my face.

With around 2 hours of sleep he comes into the kitchen with a bag packed and a cocky attitude...cocky attitude?! WTF! Who was this boy and what did he do with my son? Where was my normally guilt-ridden Jacob? No joke 1st words out of his mouth were "I don't know how long you think I'm staying at Nan's house, but I was invited to 4 NYE parties. And Alan, what were you doing looking out the window at midnight anyway?! I don't get it, I'm safe, the car's safe. What's the problem?" I immediately started bawling because I couldn't believe that my usually level-headed kid truly had NO remorse for what he did. I think that was the worst part of that whole thing. 

Me: "WHY would you take MY car when Mike and Sam both had THEIR cars here?! It would be one thing to sneak out, but it's another to STEAL MY CAR!"

Jake: "Ma, you're car is the best on gas." No joke, that was his justification and he was DEAD serious. I drank alot of wine for the next 3 days. Jake spent NYE sitting with his grandmother in Spotswood and I had time to prepare the punishment. As it turns out, there really was no punishment good enough to fit that crime. I was at a loss. Really.

LYING TO ME IS NEVER A GOOD THING

The last little thing I'd like to share just happened 3 days ago. We had quite a lull in the past month and Jake seemed to be getting somewhat of a brain back in his head. The boy will NEVER learn not to mess with me. He will never learn!

He came home from his dads house on Sunday and asked if he could take the car to the gym. "No Jake, until you get your grades up you won't be using the car for gym purposes." A huge fit ensued and he went stomping off cursing at me under his breath and me screaming "What did you just say!"

So he comes home from school on Monday and proceeds to ask if he can use my car. NOW he's interviewing for a program in school called LIFE...apparently you interview now so when you're a senior you can be a peer advisor on sexual health...because he's got soooo much experience in that department. Anyway, it's a peer leadership thing, and it's a positive thing, so I agreed to let him use the car for this interview. 

He ran to the laundry and started ironing khakis and a dress shirt, so I knew it was a legit thing. Me: "If the interview is from 6 to 9 why do you have to leave now? It's only 4:50." Jake: "Oh, I have to go to this kid Dom's house to have an unofficial meeting for that captain job I got."

So I watch him pack his khakis and dress shirt into his GYM bag. Can you say dumbass? I watch him pull away in the slushy mess that was taking place outside. I went into the kitchen and wrote a note in BOLD BLACK SHARPIE...."Seriously? Will you EVER learn???!!!!" My plan was to drive to the gym, find my car in the parking lot, and leave the note right on the steering wheel for when he came out.

Sure enough I pull into Retro Gym parking lot and there was my car with my trunk WIDE OPEN and my baby stroller getting sleeted on. It would seem that because Jake was so limited on pumping-up time, he forgot to close the trunk when he grabbed his gym bag. That was the LEAST of his problems. As I put the note on the dash I realized a note just wasn't enough to say "you're busted."

I parked Alan's car in a handicap spot and the front door of the gym. Dressed in my pilled up black North Face fleece and bleach stained black stretch pants I stomped into Retro and stopped at the front desk. There were 2 20 somethings behind the counter, a guy and a girl. Here's how that goes...

Me: Hi. Can I just run in the gym and find my son? He has lied to me for the LAST time. He was told specifically to NOT come here until he was doing better in school. My car is in your parking lot. I'm thinking maybe I'll go find him and just start working out right next to him and really scare the shit out of him.

The guy: what's your sons name?

Me: Jacob Brezniak. But don't bother looking up his member # because he's not an "official" member. He pays $5.00 EVERY SINGLE DAY to come here as a non-member.

The guy to the girl: OMG, she must be "Coin Boy's" mom. 

The guy to me: If it's you're son I'm thinking of he comes in EVERY DAY with baggies full of nickels and pennies. But today he had 5 singles so that really threw me.

Me: Yes, Coin Boy would be son. Could you go see where he is in the gym, and without telling him I'm here, come back and tell me where to go?

The guy: No problem, this is gonna be epic! HAHAHAHA.

By now there are members piling up in the lobby who have heard my story and were supporting my plight to humiliate my lying son. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. No joke, I had an audience.

The guy comes back and tells me that Jake is in the mens room changing into dress clothes (like I said, his interview was legit, Dom's house? No.) Now I'm steaming and my plan to go work out next to him has been foiled. 

The guy: well I told him to stop and see me at the front desk before he left.

Me: Do you guys have a boss here tonight? Would it be okay if I was behind the front desk when he stops?

The girl: SURE! Come on back.

I see Jake coming out of the mens room and my heart starts racing. Not only do I have an audience, but I am PISSED! He stops at the desk, but it didn't immediately register with him that it was me standing in front of him. But when it DID register...!!!! LMAO. Jake immediately turned white as a ghost and probably went to his interview with shit in his khakis.

Me: Hey Coin Boy. Let me walk you out to the car....I wish someone would've videoed it. Really, it was that GOOD.

I am the perfect mom

Yeah right. There's no such thing. When your kids are little you always think you're doing the right thing. You stress over binkys and bottles and potty training. You cry when they have to get their shots at the doctor. You think making them say please and thank you is going to make them awesome teenagers. Guess what? I NEVER had to even tell Jake to say please and thank you. He's one of the most polite, well spoken, loyal people I know. He has my nutty sense of humor and can be a real joy when he's not being a real pain in my ass. He's got a pretty awesome, college bound group of friends who do their share of partying, but at the end of the day are really good kids. No matter how much right you do, all that matters when raising a teenager is that you have a BIG bottle of wine in the fridge at all times. I <3 my kids through the good and the bad. That's all you CAN do.

Just BS

Good morning everyone. I have absolutely no motivation to do any housework right now, so I thought I'd post some life updates for those of you who care.


The everyday stuff


Woke up this A.M. to find 3 ASK.com toolbars on my desktop computer. My kids have a thing about installing anything that happens to pop up. It's always fun trying to uninstall everything that they put on here. So I was able to uninstall (1) of the toolbars, but was unable to uninstall the other 2. So now if I want to see the very top of any screen I have to go on my laptop. 


Switched over to the Nook tablet to play a quick round of ad-free Words with Friends to find The Fart Factory, The Fart Siren and The Fart Mobile installed on the Nook. Consequently, my laptop is now hidden from little hands and every web-capable item in my house now requires a password to install anything. But on the bright side, I have about 115 different fart noises I can make in any Barnes and Noble or in my house. Juicy, gassy, you name the fart, my Nook can make that sound.


Babies babies everywhere


I am floored by the amount of people I know that could give birth any minute. Three of those people are naming their girls some version of Sophia. We came super close to naming Lily Sophie. However she has a rubber giraffe from France called Sophie so we opted out of that one. Although I think she would've made a really cute Sophie.


Congrats to Christie Stankovic who had a beautiful baby boy she named Tristan. Thinking of her pushing out that baby brought me back to the lovely memories of my own experience with Lily. No offense Christie, but I'm glad you were the one pushing and not me.


The Lilster


Hard to believe in less than 2 months my Lily will be a year old. She went from being the world's most miserable baby to the happiest, most social butterfly you've ever seen. She cracks up at everything her big brothers do and is rolling around on the hardwood floors like there's no tomorrow. She's got a pretty extensive vocabulary for a little baby, but can't figure out how to crawl to save her life. I no longer refer to her as The Beast, because really, she is no longer a beast. I still can't believe that.


Now, instead of screaming at the top of her lungs when someone approaches her in the grocery store, she puts her arms out for them to pick her up. I have had more old ladies hold this baby in the past month...I can't even tell you. And yes, if the old lady strangers want to hold my baby, I totally let them. Holding a baby just makes people so happy. It's when she starts smacking them in the face and pulling off their glasses, that they're not so happy anymore.


The effing cat


As if it wasn't enough that Alan was the most miserable human being on earth last night, the effing cat decided to sleep at the foot of our bed last night. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm a dog person, not a cat person. But really, Hershey doesn't bother anyone and she's outside more than she's in. But don't ever try to touch her. She will claw your eyeballs out, which scares me. 


So she planted her calico ass down on the foot of my side of the bed and proceeded to get as comfortable as possible. After 5 minutes of trying to coax her out of the room, I decided to just deal. Well in the middle of the night, I guess I was moving my feet. It only took a split second for me to feel fur, freak out, and have my left foot clawed like you wouldn't believe. To boot, I'm allergic to cats, so the top of my left foot swelled up like a balloon. Good times.


Furniture arrangements


So I have this issue with constantly having to rearrange furniture. Could be my mentally unstable nature, but who the hell knows. So at 2:30 A.M. when the cat decided to claw the shit out of me, I got out of bed to assess the damage. Well I rearranged the bedroom 2 days ago. I got out of bed in the pitch black and proceeded to walk right into my dresser because I had forgotten that I rearranged the furniture. I just couldn't win last night. Moral of the story, don't rearrange your furniture so much that you can't remember what wall you put things against.


Jake


Over the course of the past year Jake has lost 50 pounds. He finally realized that eating an entire sleeve of Chips Ahoy in one sitting might not be a good thing. He was never obese, but he certainly doesn't have my skinny genes. (lol of course) Everyone who sees Jake tells me how great he looks and how proud I must be that he changed his entire lifestyle. Proud of him? Absolutely. However, since he began shooting for the 6 pack, he has not stopped looking in the mirror. EVER. At any given time at my house you can see Jake flexing in the mirror, posing, etc. If I hear him coming up from the basement I literally have to run out of the kitchen so he doesn't make me feel his biceps. "Ma, feel this, feel this." "Ma, check out this line down the middle of my back." "Ma, can I go to the gym with you tomorrow morning? I gotta get my cardio in." "Ma, are you really gonna eat that? Do you have any idea how many carbs are in that rice cake?" 


Proud? Yes. Driven crazy by the new physique? Yes. I love him dearly, but I really don't want to feel his biceps or drive him to GNC one more time. 


Wrapping it up


I still have more chins than Chinatown in spite of going to the gym. Perhaps Jake is right. I really need to stop eating all those rice cakes. 


Love you guys,


CarrieAnn

TMI

For those of you who can't deal with "too much information" please do not read any further. I'm in a "no holds barred" kind of mood tonight. I am not trashy, but far from classy, and I share what I want to share. So here goes my spontaneous blog post. It's kind of out of order, but everything is within the last 2 days.

Jake


Well my oldest baby officially got his permit today. He completed his 6 hours behind the wheel and passed everything with flying colors. I ran outside with my camera at 7 pm tonight, only to find out that my flash wasn't working. I took numerous pictures of him in the school's drivers ed car only to find out that you could only see his glowing eyeballs in the actual photos. Nevertheless, the instructor was ridiculously happy with how comfortable he was behind the wheel. Wahhhhhhh. I took the permit, looked at Jake, and said "well lets go. Keys are in the car." He ran inside to go to the bathroom and the instructor (who was a woman in her 50's) looked at me and said "What a wonderful kid. You've done an incredible job with him. You should be proud to have such a personable young boy." I've been told that before, and I'm never one to brag because I LOATHE bragging mom's, but for some reason, it just really meant alot coming from the school secretary/drivers ed teacher who had just met him 6 hours prior. He pisses me off on a daily basis, but he's a damn good kid. 


Alek


So Alek will be 7 years old on the 23rd of this month. His obsession with Angry Birds is beyond comprehension. I realize all the kids are into it, but this boy takes it to a whole new level. He literally starts sketching Angry Birds from the second he gets up at 7:00 am until the bus comes at 8:25. He tests me on Angry Birds colors, personalities, (WTF, they're cartoon birds, they have personalities?) and to see if I know his high score in the game. So we are having an Angry Birds birthday party with 15 of his closest friends. I will be shooting myself through a slingshot right to the local bar by night's end I'm sure.


The Gym


Haven't been back to the cycling class, nor have I ventured back into elliptical territory yet. However, I AM kicking ass and taking names on the treadmill. Felt really good in my old, ripped, stained t-shirt and black, bleach stained capri leggings this morning. My new Nike's are no longer ripping the skin off the back of my feet and I can get my incline up to a 4.5 without feeling like I'm going to die. So there I am feeling freaking awesome. There's nobody on equipment around me for miles as I put my playlist on and begin my usual routine. Within 10 minutes....BAM! fat girl sandwich (and I was not one of the slices of bread). There had to have been 25 free treadmills on the 2nd floor alone, but 2 of the hottest-bodied women I'd ever seen got on either side of me. Really? You would think that would be motivation, but listening to Don't Cha by The Pussycat Dolls just takes on a whole new meaning when you're sandwiched in between 2 women who do an incline of 4.5 for a warm up. 


Lily


Took my Lil for her 9 month checkup yesterday. I mentioned to the doctor that her feet are occasionally VERY cold and turn purple. This also happened in the hospital the day after she was born. The nurse took her into the nursery, they put her under the warmer, and the purple was gone. It still happens every now and then, but I just assumed she was cold, or that because her legs were so chubby, that maybe in certain positions the diaper cut off circulation. 


Well apparently purple feet can be a sign of a heart/vascular problem. My pediatrician immediately wrote out a prescription for a chest x-ray and told Alan and I that Lily needed to see a cardiologist. I'm happy to report that the chest x-ray showed perfect lung placement and perfectly normal heart placement/size. Alan and I (because he ended up being OFF FROM WORK...grrrr) took her today. Just when you think the girl is going to scream bloody murder, she laughs through the whole x-ray. Women are so damn unpredictable (even at 9 months old). She still needs to see the cardiologist, but I feel much better knowing the x-ray came out good.


The Condom Incident


So Alek won a Barnes and Noble gift card at Dr. Suess Day at school today. What does he want to go buy? The biggest stuffed Angry Bird they have. After that waste of a giftcard was done, I needed to stop at Shoprite for a few things. So my little Angry Bird-loving Lovey's and I made a Shoprite pit stop. As I strode by the pharmacy, I remembered Alan telling me that we were out of condoms. Noone else was around and Alek was totally preoccupied looking for TY beanie baby angry birds, so I decided to go for the big condom purchase.


Since when are condoms behind the counter? Really? I'm not buying a fucking gun. Anyway, the pharmacy "assistant" was like a 19 year old guy. So I walked up and said in a slight whisper, "I need a pack of condoms." So he says "what kind?" OMG...are you even kidding me? I'm 35. I haven't bought a pack of condoms in freakin ages. Looking behind me, to make sure Alek was still far away, I said "Listen dude, I have 4 kids, I just want something to prevent a 5th kid." Well, the pharmacist (a woman closer to my age, obviously not seeing my complete embarrassment) intervenes and says "well, we have sensitive for her, lubricated, unlubricated, colors, ribbed..." well you get it. The list went on and on. She proceeds to take all the different ones off the hooks and display them in a sweet fashion on the pharmacy counter. I look behind me to see what Alek is doing, only to find a man completely encroaching my space. People, there is a PRIVACY line for a reason! I looked him dead in the eye, turned around to pharmacist and said "just give me whatever's lubricated, KY Jelly isn't in my budget." I turned around and suddenly that man had found the "privacy line".


Chesterfield Update


I know everybody knows about our bus accident. While the accident took place one road over from mine, I refuse to drive by there. I purposely go out of my way to NOT drive by. I hate the media and I am so sick of it being in our faces everyday. But I would like everyone who isn't local to know that Sophie (the critical triplet) is now in rehab :), and Jon is also expected to go to rehab very soon. I am so thankful to live in Chesterfield with such amazing families. We support these children in ways that I cannot even begin to explain. There's alot to be said for living in a small town. 


Love you all,
Carrie

Up in the gym just working on my fitness

My Humps 

After much personal examination of my lifestyle, I decided that it was time to either join a gym, or stay on blood pressure meds and Zoloft for the rest of my life. It was a tough decision, after all, I would be giving up Giorgio mozzarella sticks, toasted melted cheese subs with creamy horseradish sauce from Wawa, mashed potatoes with extra cheese and butter and my beloved homemade 6 cheese mac & cheese, for a life of vegetables, egg whites, boiled chicken & fruit. So, I bit the bullet, and with a tiny bit of coaxing from a fellow newbie gym member, I stopped at WOW gym in Robbinsville and am now driving around Chesterfield with the "JERSEY STRONG" magnet on the back of my car.


The Assessment


It was a requirement to go for a personal assessment of your body, health, weight....etc. I brought Jake with me (being that he is obsessed with working out). I made him wait outside the room while the trainer asked me about my lifestyle, (apparently "sedentary" does fall into a lifestyle category.) So after finding out I weigh 20 pounds more than I thought I did, squeezing the bmi calculator and finding out that I probably deserve to be on the "I weigh 600 pounds" show, the trainer proceeded to tell me my "health age" and my "real age". It turns out in real life I am 35, but my body thinks it's 55 (which would probably explain why I get along so well with my mother these days). The trainer proceeded to show me an avatar of my true body on the computer and then an avatar of what I would look like if I met my "goals". Avatars are stupid.


Morning of First Day


With Jake totally stoked about being able to come to the gym for free everyday, he decided to wake me up at 4:45 the day after my assessment. Needless to say I wanted to strangle him, but I forced myself out of bed, grabbed some bleach-stained yoga pants out of a drawer, put on my sneakers that my baby toe sticks out of on the left foot, and searched high and low for a sweatband. (According to Jake noone wears sweatbands or baseball hats to gyms.) Good thing I didn't have luck with the sweatband, because, yeah, I would've been the only froot loop there wearing one.


Getting there


So we walked in the gym at 5:15 A.M. There is a staircase to the ellipticals, treadmills, bikes, etc. Well this staircase is about 30 stories long and super steep. I suggested we take the elevator, Jake said no. After climbing the stairs I decided that would be my warm up. 


The Elliptical


"Ma, start off on the elliptical." WTF was the boy thinking? He got me set up, I turned on my ipod and almost had a heart attack 1.5 minutes into it. Gasping for air and my legs giving out is not my idea of fun. The elliptical? Not my friend. Jake found me sitting in the lounge area checking FB on my phone. I pretended to be texting. "Ma, who the hell could you possibly be texting at 5:30 in the morning? Just go on the treadmill".


The Spin class


That same day that I almost died on the elliptical, I saw the trainer who told me I was going to die of a stroke within a year. "Hey, there's a cycling class at 12:00 that I really think you should try. I'll introduce you to the instructor, so come a little early." So being the good example parent that I am, and not wanting to try the spin class alone for the 1st time, I texted Jake at school and told him that I was coming to pick him up from school early so he could come to the class with me.


At 11:40 I run into the locker room to pee. Standing there by the sinks is the trainer & the spin instructor. The trainer introduces me, tells the instructor that I'm brand new and that I may need a little help. Yeah, thanks for that. I love a class full of advanced bikers knowing that I'm the new person. Jake and I get bikes in the back of the room and the class starts filling up. The woman on the bike in front of me must've been like 80 years old in the tightest spandex I've ever seen. So of course I'm thinking, if SHE can do this, I can do this.


The instructor dims the lights, puts on her headset & the music starts pumping. She announces to everyone that there is a 1st timer in the back of the class & her name is Carrie. Fabulous. Jake starts cracking up, takes a swig of his water and starts pedaling like there's no tomorrow. I too pedaled my ass off for a good 10 minutes, wondering when this class would be over. Just as I thought the cool down was coming, the instructor yells into the mic "and that was your warm up ladies & gentlemen!!!!" That's when I realized that I was in my own personal hell. 


About 1/2 way through the class, while staring at the 80 year old woman's crotch sweat in front me, Jake announces that he's "going to check on Lily in the childcare room." He left me there to finish the class by myself. I made it through, but I will never, ever do that again. It felt like I had bruises on my ass for 3 days after that.


Getting in a routine


It only took me 2 days of actually going to build up some endurance. I even wake up on my own at 4:30 and get to the gym when it opens. I'm also home before anyone is even out of bed & get to enjoy my coffee in peace. I've realized that the elliptical still isn't my friend, but the treadmill & machines are. I already have so much more energy it's not even funny. I can't believe I didn't do this sooner.


Love you all,
A soon-to-be-skinny beeeeooootch.

So I had my usual 9:00 Monday morning appt with my OB/GYN. I ran around like a chicken with it's head cut off so I could leave for the doctor as soon as I got the kids on the bus. My clothing options are EXTREMELY limited these days due to the fact that I refuse to blow money on maternity clothes. My usual black stretch pants with the bleach stains were not clean, nor were any underwear that I could actually get over my ass. I opted for my other foolproof bottom option, a knee length stretchy skirt that folds down at the waist and fits me perfectly. (Well as perfect as clothes can fit when it looks like your smuggling baby elephants and a midget family under your shirt.)


I put the kids on the bus, stopped at the post office and ended up at the doctor by 8:45. My OB is located on a main road in Hamilton right next to a YMCA. While walking up the ramp to the office a fellow pregnant woman jumped out of her car. "Oh my God. I don't know how to tell you this, but you have a HUGE rip in your skirt and your butt is completely exposed." Now I did notice a slight draft as I walked up to the office, and it did occur to me that my skirt was brushing against my calves in the back, but in no way shape or form did I think that I was mooning commuters on a main road in Hamilton. I did what anyone would do and reached around to feel how much exposure there was. Yup, my ENTIRE ass was sticking out. It was like someone took a razor blade and sliced the skirt right at the top of my butt. While I'm standing there feeling my own ass and wondering why I picked TODAY to go commando, the fellow prego was frantically searching her car for something I could put on. She ended up walking RIGHT behind me so I could get back to my car without mooning anyone else. Needless to say I ended up 30 minutes late for my appt and had to call and explain what the deal was.


When I got back to the office at 9:30, my doctor and his nurse had been told about "Carrie Krupa's Dilemma." My doctor walked in cracking up and said "Carr. Why would you NOT wear underwear with a skirt?!" I explained that I would never do that to go to Shoprite, but I figured there was nothing there HE hadn't seen before and that it wasn't a big deal.


It's still a mystery as to how the skirt ripped clear across the back. But it was an interesting start to my Monday. Just wondering how many kids on Dill & Alek's bus will be in therapy from seeing Mrs. Krupa's ass this morning.


CarrieAnn

Hello everyone, So I've been busy, sick and trying to figure out how to create a new blog on this blogging website. It also doesn't help that I have not been in the working/computer world for 8+ years and have no knowledge of computer crap whatsoever.


What do hernia, tendinitis, bronchitis, broken blood vessel spots, diabetes, anemia, joint pain, sciatica, nausea, high blood pressure, swollen glands, swollen tongue, asthma and back pain all have in common? Yeah, you guessed it, they are all ailments that I have.


By the time June is here I will have been to an internist, a sonographer (not only for my belly, but for my neck), a chiropractor, an Obstetrician, a dietitian, a hematologist, an endocrinologist, a pulmonologist, a dentist, an oral surgeon, a general surgeon...well, you get the point. I've pretty much had it and I am convinced this pregnancy is going to kill me. I have never had so many ailments EVER. It could always be worse, but really I'm just not sure how much my body can take anymore. I've had a nasty cough for 2 days now that is only getting worse, and my iron levels are going down instead of up. But on the bright side, so far the baby is doing well. (Probably because she is sucking every single bit of life out of ME.) I really hope this isn't an indicator as to what my birth experience is going to be like. God help me. I pray that being the 4th, she just slips right out. However, I couldn't possibly be that lucky.


Tomorrow is Alek's 6th birthday! Woo Hoo...big shout out to my boy. However he was not getting a big shout-out on Sunday morning when he was busted trying to make a giant paper airplane out of Jake's school project poster board. Just a good thing he was caught before this house was meltdown central. But anyway, big shout out to my baby.


Trying to figure out what to eat has been interesting. I go to the dietitian on Thursday morning for some meal planning. Thursday cannot some soon enough. Little Snooki and I have been living on red leaf lettuce and Polly-O string cheese for 4 days now, oh, and hard boiled eggs. Let's not forget those. They make for some unforgettable evenings at bedtime. I think Alan is probably having a harder time with my diet change than I am. When you don't eat fish, chicken or meat, what's left? Pasta, rice, potatoes....what I've been eating the past 34 years of my life. Those are now all the things I am unable to have.


Anyway, this was purely a bitching blog. My belly is getting bigger, but I'm not really putting on any weight. Weird considering I gained 80, 65 & 40 pounds with the other 3 pregnancies. But like I said, so far the baby is doing okay. So I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to everyone for my recent statuses. I've just been so bitchy and sick, and quite frankly my mother is the only one that doesn't seem to tire of hearing about it. Sorry guys. Hopefully come June I'll be sending out some more positive messages!


Love you all,
CarrieAnn

As usual, issues of a bizarre nature continue to plague us. It's never anything simple like the dog ran away. No, our dog runs away and then gets brought home in the back of a police car. It's not "Mommy, Dillon took my pencil. Tell him to give it back." It's Dillon took my pencil so let me take this matter into my own hands and beat the hell out of him and then stab him in the hand with said pencil. It's not "Ma I forgot my lunch." It's "Ma, I forgot to e-mail my essay to my teacher so I need you to log onto every account on the computer and see where I saved the file and then e-mail it to my teacher. It won't take you long and you're not doing anything anyway." Anyway, you get the point.

This brings me to our new and exciting issue. About a month ago when we were getting hit with snowstorm after snowstorm Alan got up at 5:30 one morning to start the shoveling out process. He started in the backyard by our detached garage and was working his way up to the road. As he made his way to the front of the house he spotted a strange pickup truck parked in the shoulder across the street. Someone had gotten out of the truck and began walking towards the house, only to be surprised by Alan, and got back in the truck and sped away. Alan told me about the incident and then blew it off.

That night (a weeknight) about 10ish someone rang our doorbell multiple times, left us an empty Snapple bottle on the front porch and then took off. I really didn't think much of it. I was under the impression that it was the teenage girl next door fooling around and blew that off as well.

Fast forward about 10 days....Jake was up at 6 getting ready for school. He opened the front door and the same pickup that Alan had described was in our driveway. Apparently when Jake turned lights on and opened up the front door the truck took off. He ran frantically into my bedroom and proceeded to explain to Alan and I what had happened. Jake is known to embellish the truth a bit, so once again we just blew it off.

All was quiet around here for about 2 weeks. We chalked the truck up to being the newspaper guy and hadn't received anymore Snapple bottle gifts on our front porch. Until yesterday morning....

Jake was up getting ready for school. When he opened the front door to catch the bus he was greeted by a 2 -foot plastic Frankenstein doll. It was in a standing position and purposely put down so it would be facing whoever opened the front door first in the morning. Around 7:00 I went outside to get the paper and the doll was there laying face down on the front porch. I yelled inside to Alan asking him where the Frankenstein came from. Of course, he had no clue what I talking about.

When Jake got off the bus I interrogated him about where this thing came from. He thought the kids put it there to scare the hell out of him. Well, that wasn't the case. None of us had ever seen this doll before. I absolutely refused to bring the thing in the house. It sat on the front porch until 5:45 yesterday when Alan, Jake and Dillon were leaving for Basketball practice. Jake decided to kick the doll down the front porch steps. The second it hit the ground the top of the head popped open and a small note (written like a ransom letter mind you) popped out. This is exactly what it said PUSH MY BUTTON, TURN MY WHEEL, GUESS WHO.

So what do you think Jake and Alan did? I watched from the house in horror as they pushed the button on the arm of the doll. When they did that, 2 doors on the chest of it popped open revealing some gear-like things, a fake heart and some sort of internal speaker. (All of these things were basically supposed to be Frankenstein's guts.) When they tried to figure out how to get the thing to make noise the batteries had already been drained so you couldn't make out what it said. They put the doll down and went on their merry way to practice leaving me and Alek alone at the house wondering if the "Frankenstein/Snapple bottle bandit" was sitting somewhere watching the house.

I proceeded to do what any woman who is out of their mind would do. I called Chesterfield police to report what's been going on. Every cop in Chesterfield (all 2 of them) showed up at my front door like there was some kind of hostage situation in progress. I let them in and told them what's been going on. At one point my 5 year old chimed in "she thinks there's a bomb in Frankenstein." Yeah. Thanks for making me look even more nuts Alek.

I explained how I thought the opening of the doll's chest may have symbolized that my entire family was going to be gutted in the middle of the night. With our hi-tech security cameras down and the night watchman on vacation, I couldn't be too careful. I then asked them if they could take it to the station and dust it for fingerprints. (Yes. Really.) They said because Alan and Jake had also touched it that they would need to fingerprint them as well.

When Alan and Jake got back from practice I explained that I had called the police and that I made them take the note and the doll. The police chalked it up to me having a kid in high school and one of his "friends" trying to play a joke on him. I suppose this wouldn't be a far-fetched idea except that none of Jake's friends drive, and because our HS is regionalized and the townships are so spread out, someone would have to drive quite a distance in the middle of the night of early morning to get to our house. But, I'm not saying this isn't a possibility at all. Nevertheless Alan and Jake cracked up and made fun of me all night for calling the police to escort the battery-operated doll away.

About 9:00, while I lay in bed reading Jake continues the jokes and comes into my bedroom. He laid on my bed and just wouldn't knock it off. At which point I kindly reminded him that his bedroom is the one closest to the front porch and that he would probably be the first gutted. He continued to laugh, went into the litchen and made the sign that you see at the top of this blog. And yes, he taped it to the front door. Before he went to bed for the night I gently reminded him of when he and I watch "The Strangers", the movie that gave him nightmares for an entire week. I told him that when he's tied to a chair, writhing to get out of the position our Frankenstein bandit had put him in, that I'd just sit there and crack jokes.

Love you all,
CarrieAnn (there goes my "Mother of the Year" award once again)