I'm still doing P90X. Pretend that's the reason I've been neglecting my blog. Let's say that I've been so focused on getting ripped *snort*, I haven't had time to spew out my usual dribble here. Yes, let's say that.
The first 2 weeks of P90X were butt kickers. I didn't even do the entire 2nd week, but not because I gave up. We went to St. George, Utah during that week and I had every intention of doing the workouts while there, but it just didn't happen. So, I decided to repeat it. Technically, I should be starting my 5th week today, but I'm calling it my 4th. It's the "recovery" week, but there's no rest and relaxation involved. You recover by doing two days of yoga instead of one. There's also Kenpo karate and core work in there. The only thing about it that could be considered easier is the fact that you aren't lifting weights, doing pull-ups or push-ups. By the way, I've gone from doing 2 or 3 of certain push-ups, to now doing about 10. That's right. I'm bad.
Do I dare say I enjoy it? I think I do dare to say that. It really isn't as horrible as I thought it would be. Wait, what!?
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I can't keep clothes on Peyton anymore. Finding him stripped down to just a diaper, or totally butt naked is now a common occurrence. He prefers to let his goods flap freely in the wind. He fights me when I try to dress him. He screams, "I NOT COLD!" Or, "I NOT NEED TO GET DRESSED!" I think the only way I'll be able to keep him dressed all day, will be to keep him in footed pajamas with the zipper safety pinned closed. Unfortunately, I think he would find a way to get out them.
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Avery told me for a couple of weeks before Easter that I needed to get "repaired" (prepared) for it. She's also been saying that she can't wait until she's eight and can be "bathtized" (baptized). She refuses to stop saying "muse" for use. She's also been an ultra brat lately. We were shopping last week and she found some stupid stuffed animal she wanted me to buy for her. I told her no because the last thing she needs is another stuffed animal. She started throwing a fit. I told her to knock it off and she said, "no! Here's the deal: I'm going to keep acting like a brat until you get sick of it and get me what I want. When I get what I want, I'll be nice." My blood pressure shot up so high, my head nearly exploded. I'm also pretty sure I cracked a couple of teeth because I clenched them so hard to keep myself from screaming.
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I think that's all I have for now.
