Well, last night I tried a class at the gym entitled Body Jam. It was basically Hip Hop and Salsa moves to a JLo "Fame" infused soundtrack. Right up my alley. Sort of. I like to consider myself a fairly adept dancer, having been trained in ballet, jazz, tap, and musical theater choreography for may years. Those are all "white people firendly" styles of dance. However, last night while watching myself in the mirror during the class the truth became blazingly clear. I am a 24- year old white chick with old navy yoga pants and floppy boobies (the miracle of pregnancy). So while I had all the moves right, something was lacking next to the 2 Asian gay men and 14 African American women who were my classmates. My hips just don't move like that. At least there was one other new mommy and a 45 year old woman who I am fairly sure was a cheerleader for some Baptist college back in the day. They made me feel not quite so bad about my whiteness. But I will persevere. I am hoping my moves are just a little rusty, and over the next few weeks I will be ready to teach the darn class. (hey, a girl can dream) But I did have fun. That is until I got to the nursery to retrieve Grady and found him screaming all alone in a swing. So I may have to put this night class on hold until Chris can be home to watch the munchkin. Any of you who have seen the dramatic personality change my child undergoes at 5:45 pm will know what I mean. By the way, the scale at the gym says 127 again. Slow and steady wins the race!
Ok, well actually the point of this post is to emphasize how much Grady is my son, but I had Billie Jean stuck in my head, so henceforth the title. Grady's new thing is bread. Now I myself have been known to choose restaurants based soley on their bread. Some of my favorites include O'Charley's (why oh why aren't there any in FL), Mimi's and recently Sam Seltzer's. Panera is good, because the whole store is based around the bread. Grady shares the same philosophy. I can be feeding him at a restaurant, green beans or carrots or sweet potatoes, which he loves...but if the bread basket shows up before he's done with the jar of baby food, all bets are off. He clamps his little mouth shut when the spoon loaded with veggies comes within 4 inches of his pouty little lips, but if I break off a morsel of bread and head toward him, his mouth opens wide. His hands start to go mad, opening and closing with gusto, and his whole body takes on an element of excitement most people would reserve for finding out they just won the lotto, or have been cured of some terrible disease. Once I place the bread in his mouth he chomps down fast. He rolls it around in his mouth and makes strange alien-like noises of approval. As soon as the first bite is securely down into the belly, he is eyeing the basket again. Dr. Atkins, keep your diet. Bring on the Sourdough!
Here's me and Grady atop a plastic cow at Sam Seltzer's. The taking of this picture thoroughly embarrassed Chris. MUAHAHAHAHA! (evil laughter)
I am totally uninspired right now, but wanted to share some pictures of the G-man. Oh, and I did a weight check at Publix (which I tried to pass off as weighing Grady by weighing myself and then the two of us together.) Aaaaaahhhhhhh! It seems I have gained a pound. So whatever. I hauled my butt off to the gym and signed up. They do have a hip hop class every Wednesday night, so YAY! I KNOW I will go to that! Grady weighed 19 lbs by the way. According to the evil Publix scale. I will get a more accurate check when he goes to the Gastroenterologist on Friday. Anyway...here's a couple cute ones.
I should be unpacking right now, but I feel like I have been working all day and gotten nowhere. So I am taking a short break. I.hate.moving. But I am glad it's into our new house, and we own it and have already made a buttload of mula on it! Anyway. I will keep it short. No weigh in this week because I have no idea where the scale is and I am too much of a wuss to get on the big one at Publix. Also, I am sure most people have done this, but I find it funny every time I remember it. Go to google.com- type in the word "failure"and click "i'm feeling lucky". Yep....cool. Bye!
There is no such thing as a nu-cu-lar weapon. The word you are looking for is nuclear and it is pronounced nu-clee-ar. Just like it's spelled. There are no surprises, no "u" between the "c" and the "l". Is there no one on your staff that has noticed that you are pronouncing this word completely wrong? It is funny to me that your wife is able to say it correctly, yet you have not noticed the difference and made a change. If you can't say it, just stick to "weapons of mass destruction". That seems to be easy enough for ya!
A collection of thoughts, stories and pictures that come from the ins and outs of raising a toddler, going to nursing school and having a "little different" way of viewing the world.
I am a professional photographer based out of Tampa Florida. I work mostly on location, although I can do studio work as well. Please visit my website at http://courtneyvickersphotography.com for more information.
