Challenged by the Idea of Some Challenging Challenges

I guess most people wait for January 1st to make big changes or enact resolutions, but I am starting early this year. I never much liked the artificiality anyway of the concept that JUST because it is January 1st, suddenly so many things are going to change, that I will wake up a lean, mean change machine. It smacks of “I’ll start that diet on Monday,” which means the weekend will be a bingeing free-for-all setback that usually doesn’t not bode well for Monday’s new start. Personally, I am not motivated to start a new way of eating after eating a box of Oreos, a few pints of ice cream and Junior Mints. But that is just me.

Anyway, somewhere in my internet travels I came across The One Hundred Challenge and I am going to do it. It is a program that promises to get you doing close to 100 push-ups in six short weeks. I took the initial test and I am proud (ha!) to report that I can do two whole good-form push-ups! Go me. All those years at the gym are paying off! (please note I am being very sarcastic.) Not an auspicious start, but regardless, I supposedly will be significantly increase the number of push-ups I can do in the next 42 days. It seems to follow the marathon training philosophy of build and rest and taper. Perhaps I am not doing this in the spirit in which the designers intended, because I feel like there is no way this will happen, so part of me is doing this to prove it will never happen. But I am willing to give it the college try anyway and will faithfully follow the program and continue with my daily runs, etc. and not sabotage myself.

If it works, I am going to do the half-marathon training program. And then I am going to do the 365 days of self-portrait challenge that Cali told me about. And I really really want run a half marathon and work on my photography skills so I am going to work hard to make this push-up thing work.

I feel like a train wreck this morning because the girls had not one but two visits to mommies’ bed last night. It was a bizarre night in general, which included a visit from the fire department to our building because there was a weird smoky smell. Nothing like three big shiny fire trucks out front to remind you that your precious life rests in the hands of a building-full of people who might smoke in bed, burn their Hamburger Helper of misuse space heaters, all resulting in mass incineration and insurance bureaucracy. The girls then woke up, most likely from the sirens or maybe the alarms going off, so we brought them to our bed, which they took as an opportunity to practice jumping. After we settled them a little we put them back into their cribs. All was fine until midnightish when Avery cried again. It might have been because her bedroom was the temperature of a rainforest (we suffer from the NYC apartment issue of too much heat or not enough). We went in to get her but Madeline heard us, of course, and, not one to be left out of the fun, insisted on joining us in the bedroom too for another fun-packed episode of jumping, laughing and battling to sleep on Mommy’s chest (not mine).

When the alarm went of at 4:45 this morning I had to convince myself to get up. And you know what the incentive was, besides coffee? That stupid 100 push-up challenge! I WILL build arm strength, dammit! I will run a half marathon! (in one day, that is.)

Avery has added a new word to her vocabulary: Up. She also says Mina, which her aunt’s name and her sister’s middle name. Both girls says Nana and Pop Pop and ball. They still call Nicole Ammy, but they know how to say Mommy, so we are thinking this is their first nickname. Madeline likes to carry a purse now. If this persists, she will be the only one in her immediate family who carries a purse.

Avery has an appointment with the hand surgeon today to look at the growth on her finger. It is the same hand surgeon that removed that disgusting pyogenic granuloma from my left hand when I was pregnant. I really liked him and his colleagues. So far other doctors have said that it is not serious and can be removed for cosmetic reasons, but that would require full anesthesia because she is to young to keep still for and use a local anesthesia. To which we respond, no way. Not putting our second-born under to remove something for cosmetic reasons. She will have to wait till she is old enough for a local. But we are having Mr. Hand Surgeon take a look anyway because he is awesome and if he saws just wait, it’s fine, I will feel a hundred times better.

Any read the surrogate article in the New York Times on Sunday? I am not really a fan of the writer who wrote it (I find her a little self-absorbed and her articles and subjects a little shallow) but I did like that the infertility world was given prominence. I had a hard time getting past the annoyingness f the writer. It was filled with telling contractions and the picture of the author and the baby nurse? That spoke volumes, but probably not the volumes she wanted. And I can’t help but think how a (minimum) 25K solution to fertility issues is not exactly viable for 99.99 repeating percent of the infertile population. I feel sympathy for a woman who had four miscarriages and 11 failed IVF cycles. I am still thankful for my two girls and literally think that almost every day.

Pictured above, if you look at the picture of Avery with the cup, you can see the growth/cyst/thing on her left hand. Thank goodness it isn’t vascular.