Biggest Loser: Second chances and giving up

I took copious notes tonight during this week's Biggest Loser. I had planned to tell you how three previous contestants returned to the ranch after being at home for several months.

I was all set to go on about how Nicole lost 87 pounds AT HOME and how that gained her a spot back on the ranch and immunity for the week. Helen has been on the ranch the whole time and has only lost 80 pounds. Tara looked scared because Nicole's massive weight loss landed her as the #2 contender in the house.

I had planned out post based on the theme of realizations:

• Tara's realization that there are deep psychological issues that contributed to her weight gain and that she hasn't really faced those demons yet.
  
  
• Kristin's realization that Ron is playing the game to keep Mike on the ranch and has been manipulating the votes in ways to ultimately benefit Mike.
  

After Ron was sent to the hospital with chest pains, I even contemplated saying something catty like, "If I thought Ron's outsides were gross, his insides are not much better" and "Dr. H said a whole bunch of stuff about Ron's health that basically boiled down to Ron is screwed."

Despite this, after all the tests and a transfusion, it was decided Ron could go back to the ranch with some meds.

Oh, I had planned to detail the whole freaking show. But that went right out the window in the elimination room.

Nicole gained FIVE pounds her first week back on the ranch. And in doing so, lost her immunity for the week. So it ended up being Nicole and Ron (who gained 3) up for elimination.

"Please let Ron be voted off," I thought out loud.

Mike voted against Nicole, duh.

Lauren voted against Nicole because she is afraid of her.

Sione. I could kiss him. He commented that everyone always voted on who needs to be at the ranch. Then he said, "If we start depending on the ranch, then what's going to happen when we go home? We are all going home." And with that, he voted for Ron.

No surprise -- Tara voted for Nicole. She is totally threatened by her. Helen voted for Ron, making the vote a 3-3 tie.

So it came down to Kristin. "So help me," I thought, "if she votes for Nicole, I am FINISHED!"

For crying stinking out loud! Kristin, have you learned NOTHING?! That's it. I am officially not rooting for Kristin any more. I think that ultimately she'll come to understand how she is screwing herself by keeping Ron around. In the meantime, Sione is my man.

Just peachy

Hey y'all! Greetings from Georgia! Actually, there are so many northern transplants here that I haven't heard anyone say "y'all," or "fixin'," or "reckon."

Despite my apprehension, the trip from southern Indiana to my brother's house in Kennesaw, Georgia was not too bad. Oh sure there was the "Mom, I have to go to the bathroom" 15 minutes after we left the gas station where everyone said they didn't have to go potty. And there was the "Are we there yet?" about 140 times. But I was pretty pleased with how everyone -- including me -- fared on the trip.

Had I known what was about to greet me when I stepped out of the car, I might have left my seat belt on, the engine running and told the kids I'd be back to pick them up on Thursday. I don't want to give you the impression that anyone was misbehaving, because they weren't.

But take five cousins ages 12 and under -- three of whom are little boys -- who haven't seen each other since Thanksgiving, stir in one 90-pound dog, and a mom who has been solo parenting for 10 hours worth of drive and you've got the makings for a lot of noise. Happy noise, to be sure, but noise definitely.

Within the first two hours of our arrival, we went to the park once, let the dog escape twice, and doled out snacks three times. No matter, my niece and nephew are adorable and have grown so much since we'd last seen them, it was all definitely good.

We were playing in the back yard and Robbie, Camryn and Jack were all climbing a tree. (If you can call 4 inches off the ground climbing.) Happy to be out of the freezing rain of Indiana and in the warmish-Georgia climate, I took off my shoes and socks. Jack, who is 3, was quick to follow suit, which I thought was cute. That's when my sister-in-law Erin came home and said "Jack! Where are your shoes and socks?!"

Oops! Guilty.

Camryn wanted to show me everything -- flips, tree climbing, her fancy purse, her Sleeping Beauty dress. I love spending time with them, especially since my kids are all beyond the cute preschooler ages. The dog is another story.

Toby is a sweet dog, but he's so BIG and so energetic. Think Marmaduke. The kids were all laying on a futon watching a movie tonight and Marma -- I mean, Toby -- sat his hind end on the futon and his front paws on the floor! The kids all hollered, my brother called Toby into the family room, tossed him a ball and the scenario played out over and over again.

Thank goodness this was after my margarita!

Then before the movie was over, Charlie wouldn't give Robbie a ball (which I had repeatedly told Charlie to put away), so Robbie slugged him. That was enough for me. I sent them both to bed. Robbie for punching, Charlie for disobeying me about the ball in the first place.

When I left the room where Robbie was (supposed to be) sleeping, I saw the light on in the room where Charlie was (supposed to be) sleeping. I opened the door to find him playing a video game. Just as I was about to read him the riot act, my brother piped up.

"I gave it to him." Guess turn about is fair play. And it's vacation, so I didn't get too upset. And I was too tired to do anything about it.

They've all had trouble settling down tonight. I hope that means they'll sleep in late. We're climbing Stone Mountain tomorrow. And word has it that crabby kids get left at the top.

180 miles down, 980 to go

We have completed the first leg of our trip. Sunday morning, the kids and I drove to my in-laws' house in southern Indiana. It's the first time we've been here since my mother-in-law moved into a nursing home in February.

The drive had me thinking that those pioneer types were pretty lucky when it came to traveling. Sure, it would take them nearly a week to make the trip it took us less than four hours to drive. But there is something appealing about throwing the kids in the back of the Conestoga. Any complaints or fussiness and the kids had to walk behind the wagon or sit up front in the rain.

The first hour of our trip consisted of "Mom, my Nintendo DS won't work," "Mom, tell Annie I want to watch Twilight on her iPod, too," "Mom, I don't like this song. Can you turn the channel?"

Thank goodness for Wal-Mart, which is one advantage we have over our ancestors. We pulled in, rented a movie from the Red Box (another slight argument over which movie we'd choose), bought a cassette adapter for the computer so the sound of Spongebob Surfer Dude -- or something like that -- could be heard over the radio, and made a quick potty break.

That seemed to quiet the troops who were content to watch Spongebob the rest of the trip, sucking down juice boxes and munching on pretzels that I'd packed.

When we arrived at my in-laws, a few things had changed. The boys ran straight up to the Family Suite -- the big room we all share when we visit -- looking for their presents. GoGo always had presents sitting on the end of the beds. Well, this is Poppo's territory now and Poppo doesn't do "glad you're here" presents. He did, however, have several bags of books and art supplies he'd cleaned out of various closets in the house and offered those to us. The boys thought those were close enough to presents and readily accepted them.

A bit later, we went to the nursing home to see my mother-in-law. She seemed very tired, but in general, good. She was sitting in a recliner, which left her wheelchair open, which invited arguments about who got to sit in it. So every five minutes, I'd interrupt the conversation and yell "Switch," so each of the three could have a turn.

After a pizza dinner that we carried in, we came home and I immediately put Robbie in the bath, then straight to bed because quite frankly he was getting on my last nerve. He's had quite a difficult week and a prescription for early bedtime seemed in order.

The other thing that has changed here is the temperature. I am in the habit of packing warm jammies when we stay with my in-laws because my mother-in-law likes to channel her inner Eskimo and keeps the house quite cold. Well, my father-in-law controls the thermostat now. And so I am sitting in my flannel jammies sweating buckets. Even my boobs are sweating, which is as disgusting as it sounds. And I can't find the thermostat to turn down the temperature.

If I were a pioneer woman, I'd be sleeping outside and would just have to throw off the covers for an instant late-March cool down. Maybe I'll go open the freezer and stick my head in it.

Tomorrow after breakfast, we're headed to my brother's house in Atlanta. My father-in-law has set his alarm for 5:30am to get up and fix pancakes -- a favorite of the kids. I've told him that my goal is to leave by 9am. But he insists we might want to leave earlier. Think he's anxious for his solitude again?!

The first step is admitting you have a problem.

Hi. My name is Amy. And I am a serial procrastinator.

I can't help myself. It's not that I want to procrastinate. It's just that...well, I don't know what. It's just that I can't seem to get myself moving. I get distracted by other, more interesting things, like Facebook and Food Network.

Right now, I should be packing my suitcase and packing up the car for our Spring Break trip. The kids and I are leaving in the morning for a 4-state, 1160-mile trip to visit family in southern Indiana; Atlanta, Georgia; Maryville, Tennessee and Dayton, Ohio. I'm already exhausted and the trip hasn't even started.

I should also be doing dishes and putting away laundry. Yet, here I am. Blogging, flipping channels, fighting sleep.

My procrastinatic (I think I just made up a new word!) tendencies are well documented. I got one of my only two detentions in high school because I slipped a fake notice into the overhead announcement lineup. The detention was worth it to hear the principal read over the loudspeaker:

"The meeting of the Procrastinators Club has been postponed."

It's still funny, all these years later.

Are you a procrastinator? Or do jump right in and get things done? If you are the latter -- what time can you be over?

Look Ma, three blogs!

I've been at this blogging thing for about eight months and I really enjoy it. Blogging gives me a chance to write in a different way than I spend my days at work writing. Even in my "darker" posts -- and I know there have been several of them lately -- I try to infuse a little humor.

One unexpected benefit of joining the blogosphere is that I have gotten to know a handful of people I probably never would have encountered in real life. Liz, Shannon, Momza and Joanie come immediately to mind.

I also never expected that blogging would net me so much free stuff. Since July, I have been given or won:

• Tickets to 2 (soon to be 3) plays at the Indiana Repertory Theater
• 7 packs of Peeps + 1 plush Peep (thanks Joanie!)
• 5 Ridemakerz cars (total value $450)
• 2 sets of magnets, six in each set (won in a blog giveaway from at Junior Mints & Reese's, which sadly, is no more)
• 6 packs of Energizer lithium batteries
• 1 book by Bob Harper of the Biggest Loser (won in a blog giveaway at Shrinking Sisters)

Soon after I started blogging here at the 4th Frog, I began to feel it wasn't enough. So I started a blog at work last November. I haven't mentioned it here before, but thought I would now.

All Things Aging is about, well, duh, aging. My role is to edit and publish the blog. Entries are written by various members of the faculty and staff at the University of Indianapolis Center for Aging & Community. Because several of them are a academic types I had to implement rules like "no footnotes in the blog." I think we offer a nice mix of aging in the news, promotion of our online graduate programs and personal experience stories. Do me a favor and check it out!

Next week, I'll be adding a third blog to my repertoire as a regular contributor to the Visit Indiana blog. I'm excited about this opportunity because I'm getting paid to do it and because I love Indiana. Sure, we don't have much in the way of beaches (though we have a few -- none connected with an ocean). But we do have plenty of affordable family fun and Hoosier hospitality to go around. I have some ideas of what I plan to cover in my Visit Indiana entries, but if you know of something terrific to do in Indiana, I'm all ears.

If (when!) you wander over to one of my other blogs, be sure to leave me a note and say hi!

Urrrrrgh!

I wish I was one of those people who responds to stress by not eating. Unfortunately, I am exactly the opposite. There is something instantly soothing about a Hershey's with almonds, something physically therapeutic about McDonald's french fries.

Over the past two months, I had made some good strides in cleaning up my diet and detoxing my body of all the junk I'd been feeding it. I guess old habits die hard because in the last 10 days, I've been self-medicating with prescriptions written by Burger King, Wendy and the Dairy Queen.

I've even been hitting the hard stuff -- Diet Coke -- despite the fact that I've given it up for Lent (and had quit drinking it all together about a month before Ash Wednesday).

And you know what? I feel like crap.

I'm not sleeping well. The eczema on my hands has returned. For the past six hours, my stomach has been sour and I've been burping up the ghost of rotten eggs.

Guess that's what I get for a dinner of Frosted Mini Wheats with a moose tracks ice cream chaser. The only reason I don't have searing heartburn on top of it is that little miracle called Nexium. (Thank you, God, for the inventors of Nexium. Seriously.)

Ok, body, I get it. You don't like the junk I've been feeding you. I promise, tomorrow (guess that's today already) you're getting water and lots of veggies. And, truth be told, a couple of margaritas out with the girls in the evening. I'll even take you for a walk, or a spin on the Wii Fit if it's raining.

Just knock off the egg burps, please.

Cat got my tongue

I am itching to write here tonight. This is at least the third time I've opened up this page and stared at it, waiting for words to come and they won't. I think I have so much to say that I can't say anything.

• I could tell you about how Robbie was awake at 2am last night -- and stayed awake all night.
  
• The fact that Charlie was able to gather enough Happy Meal toys and old CDs from our car in the drop-off line at school this morning to sell at mini-economy might make a humorous tale.
  
• I thought about oohing and ahhing over Robbie's new occupational therapist and how it feels so good to talk to someone who actually "gets" kids with sensory processing disorder.
• Our crazy, just-me-and-the-kids Spring Break itinerary will probably end up on this page, but not tonight.

I am restless and tired. Wanting to say something, but not knowing what to say, too drained to say anything. I guess I'll leave it at what my dad used to say to me every day when he dropped me off at school:

"Say a prayer for me and I'll say one for you."

That works.