More Much Better

That is what my little word magician Carmella says about things that are superior-- they are "more much better."

It is as if she can't decide which is the correct adjective or maybe she is just showing off she knows them all.

Who knows.

She was a very early talker who before she was even a year old was dazzling us with her confidence of words. Many times her eagerness to expand her vocabulary has resulted in whole new words and phrases. We call these Carmellaisms.

And there are a gazillion Carmellaisms that I-- and others-- have adopted. I, I mean we, know the obvious thing to do when she says something incorrectly is to correct her but instead we are so charmed by her creativity and the cleverness of the mistake that we just adopt her wordage:

Pocket Purse for pocketbooks?

Lick a Che for Chick fil a?

Breakfast clown or rope meat as an insult?

Freaking out like ice instead of a very plain "meltdown."

"I do not love that" for something completely distasteful.

"Barnacles" or "Chicken nuggets" instead of damn it. Those were her suggestions to me this morning while I unloaded the dishwasher and broke a wineglass in the process and muttered "damn it". I've heard her say both before but hadn't realized that she was purposefully substituting them for damn it. At least with Carmella the do as I say not as I do has worked.

Okay so you get the picture and the long of the short of this post was to say that my workout yesterday evening was more much better than the previous workouts this week. I hate doing workouts in the morning but I prefer to do them in the morning because otherwise I spend the whole day fretting that I might bail on an afternoon workout.

After procrastinating and 600 pep talks we finally got to the gym yesteday at 5:30. And here is where I have to say that I am lucky for my kids because they love to go to the gym and often I would just blow it off if they didn't expect to go and the fall out of skipping (read tantrums and theatrics) is worse than torturing myself for an hour on the treadmill. To further illustrate this point: just this second Beau came to me wanting to know what we were doing today and told me he wanted to go to the gym 3 times today--as he held up 10 fingers.

Even cutting a workout short is unacceptable because if I show up in the gym nursery too soon they balk and yell (read embarrassing public tantrum and flailing about on the floor) at me that they are not done playing. While Beau has a fit Carmella will politely suggest that I should go lift some weights or run some more.

Yesterday though I apparently stayed a satisfactory amount of time because they both praised me for the long playtime they had when I came to collect them. And I too was spent but happy with my "playtime."

I got in 7 miles in exactly 51 minutes on the treadmill and walked it out to the hour. A girl in the locker room queried me and went on to praise me for my speed quite loudly in front of the other ladies in the locker room. I did blush a little but also swelled a bit too. So much that my head barely fit through the doorway to the pool. Admittedly, I was beat but her laudations seriously rallied me and I swam steady for 1650m in 30 minutes. Of course the laps could be off in either direction since I am a horrible counter once I get much past the 1000 meter point.

So today I feel more much better and I am headed out to the gym here in a bit to ride the bike--I mean, unless I can convince Lala to watch the crazies.