The Buns And Guns Challenge

If you’re reading this post, then the Dorky family is officially on vacation! We’re going on a cruise, so I’ll have limited access to Internet over the next few days. Since I won’t be creating any new posts, I thought I’d take the opportunity to share some of my early posts that most of you likely haven’t seen.


This was originally posted in May of 2017. For the record, I never completed the challenge…

I don’t have buns.

I don’t have guns.

And I most certainly don’t have abs.

But, I am told that I could have these things if I complete a 30-day challenge called Buns, Guns, and Abs Challenge. Considering that my rapper name is Fluff Mama and that I’m too heavy to fly like Wonder Woman, I’m pretty sure that no 30-day challenge will make these mythical muscles appear, but stranger things have happened.

My husband is the one who asked me to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge. (I think we can all agree that the challenge sounds better when you leave out the word “abs.”) We’re attempting to lose weight make better lifestyle choices, and part of that includes doing things that the Couch Potato Olympics Committee frowns upon — moving.

Not moving equals happiness to sloth-like creatures.

A couple days ago, my husband approached me about the challenge. After talking about exercises and muscles for a few minutes, which I mostly tuned out, he told me, “The first day is easy. And then it goes up a little in intensity each day. Want to do it with me?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, without one iota of enthusiasm. I really just wanted him to stop naming muscles, plus he did say that it started out easy.

Easy.

Ha.

I’m 33. By now I’ve been around the block enough times that I should know that any time I think, “That sounds easy enough,” that it won’t be. Baking brownies out of the box — easy, right? Unless you’re me. Tying a basic braid in my daughter’s hair, walking, parking in an empty lot, and applying eyeliner also aren’t easy. Despite my best efforts, my body is determined to make me look like a spaz whenever possible.

On the first night of the challenge, my husband told me that I had to do ten squats, ten push-ups, and ten leg lifts. That really does sound easy. It should be easy. I thought, “Yeah, I got this.” A few squats later, I found out that I definitely didn’t have this.

Before getting pregnant with Baby Girl, I did a HIIT workout while trying to lose weight. (If you’re not the math sort, Baby Girl is almost three, so between that and 9 months of pregnancy, that means that the last time I did this was almost four years ago.) Anyway, I killed the squats back then. But not that night. My thighs and knees — which are certainly used to getting up and down all day long — betrayed me.

My legs were like…

Admittedly, this looks more like I’m dancing a jig than doing squats.

(Since I started writing this post and completed another day of the challenge, my husband has pointed out that I was doing the squats wrong and was doing them in a way that made it more difficult. Doing them right was easier, so that makes me feel a little better.)

Next were the leg lifts. They seemed pretty easy until my husband told me to lift slowly, hold my legs in place, and lower them slowly — apparently flailing your legs all over the place doesn’t count. Doing them right involved using my nonexistent core muscles, so after five of those, my core was like…

The last part was push-ups. I have always sucked at push-ups, even when I was at a perfectly normal weight (as I discovered many years later) and fairly athletic. My arms just do not like pushing up my body for some reason. They don’t like pulling up my body, either, so chin-ups in gym class back in the day didn’t happen much, either. Heaven forbid I fall face first into a pile of snow one day, because I guarantee that unless my body gets one of those “lift the car off the child” adrenaline rushes, I’ll perish.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, the whole time I did those push-ups, my arms were like…

(Despite my history with push-ups and my arms cursing me, they were the easiest part of the challenge on that day, so maybe all that hauling around Baby Girl has done my arms some good.)

When we were finished my husband pulled out his phone and showed me the rest of the challenge. He told me that by the end of 30 days, I’ll be able to do 100 squats, 40 push-ups, and 100 leg lifts. We’ll see. For the record, we won’t see in 30 days, since I’m sticking with day one for a few more days to work on my form, so maybe in 100 days we’ll see.

Want to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge? Knock yourself out. (Also, zoom in, because I started writing smaller halfway through for some reason.)

So, are you in? Or do you want to retain the right to make self-depracating jokes about your fluffy body?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

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#RockingMotherhood Challenge

Right now you’re probably thinking, “What kind of awful person writes a post about how she’s rocking the mom thing two days before Father’s Day? Thunder thief!” Well, no, you probably aren’t thinking that at all (unless your name is Monica Geller), but I needed to start this post off with something, and that works well enough.

So, now that the awkward opening paragraph is out of the way, I’d like to say thanks to Crystal who blogs at The Messy Truth of Mommyhood for including me in the #RockingMotherhood Challenge! Her blog is nothing short of awesome, and I encourage you to check it out.

The goal of this challenge is to list ten ways that you rock at motherhood, which is easier said than done, so you’ll get a mix of seriousness and silliness. Here goes…

I’ve got mad monster detecting skills. When Little Man was younger, he went through that phase of being scared of monsters being in his closet. We’re Lord of the Rings fans, so to allay his concerns, I got out my Sting replica sword. If you’re not a LOTR person, know that Sting was the sword (well, dagger, technically) that Frodo carried. Whenever orcs (big baddies) were nearby, the sword glowed blue to warn Frodo. I walked around Little Man’s bedroom and showed him that since my sword wasn’t glowing, there weren’t any monsters. It worked.

The kids are fed every day. Do I make cutesy foods? No — I’m pretty sure that I’d fail so badly that it’d make them less likely to eat their food. Do I burn the shit out of food? Sometimes — there was the flaming donuts incident. My food might not be artistic or non-scorched or exceptionally nutritious, but they do have full bellies — despite their claims of starvation directly before bedtime.

My kisses have healing powers. It doesn’t matter how bad the fall is, a kiss from their mommy makes everything better. Little Man might be getting older, but even he still finds comfort in a little peck on a banged up arm.

I can withstand certain methods of torture. Sleep deprivation. Eating at McDonald’s. Being forced to listen to the same song thousands of time. This is not an exaggeration — Baby Girl had had two “nighttime songs” for the past almost three years that help her go to sleep. One of those songs has been on repeat for most of the past two years for at least 20 minutes per night.

I teach them. I worked as an English teacher for one year before having Little Man. I used to say that I wouldn’t go back to teaching, but the joke’s on me — I never truly left. I teach kids every single day. Sure, that’s my job as a parent, but it’s one that I definitely rock. There are some things I wish I wouldn’t have taught them (like how to burp the alphabet), but as long as I can teach them self-love, it’ll more than even out.

My ninja skills are off the charts. So, I might not have the best sense of balance or be able to use nunchucks without hitting myself in the face (FYI — toy nunchucks hurt worse than toy swords), but I can totally dodge some puke. And even if I do catch some spatter, I’m usually quick enough to grab a towel or bucket or shift the kid away from me so that they aren’t going total Exorcist girl on me.

We laugh a lot in our household. Little Man once told me that while I’m not as funny as Dory in Finding Nemo, that I’m hilarious. Thanks, I guess? (No really, thanks — Almost Dory Funny is pretty damn good.) Laughing and cutting up is the norm for us, but let me tell you, being able to make your kids laugh is a great weapon to have in your parenting arsenal. Many meltdowns have happened in our home, but many meltdowns have always been avoided thanks to my goofy faces.

Yeah, Disney ain’t calling me anytime soon.

I encourage them to be creative. Sometimes that backfires a bit when Little Man comes home talking about using stuff on the playground to try to make weapons, but creativity is definitely valued in our home.

I have two little stalkers. This one is my husband’s. I asked him for some input, and after saying a few sweet things, he mentioned this one. “Surely that has to count for rocking motherhood,” he told me. Despite all the things I feel that I do wrong every day, I still have two little shadows who want to hang out with me in the bathroom after Taco Bell wreaks havoc on my intestines. That tells me I’m doing something right.

My kids are very compassionate. There’s no joke tied to this one. Teaching our kids to be compassionate to others is one of the most important things we can do as parents, and my kids regularly show compassion to others. This one isn’t so much #RockingMotherhood as it is #RockingParenthood.

Bonus:

The kids have great taste in music. My children have each had a Hanson song that had to be on repeat in the car this week. As a Hanson fan who won’t call herself a Fanson, but does have a Hanson Fan Club membership card in her desk drawer, this makes me happy. I’m pretty sure their dad wouldn’t say I’m rocking motherhood for this one. (For the record, they also like The Beatles, Radiohead, Weezer, and much more.)

Again, thanks to Crystal for including me on this challenge. I hope some of you other mom will participate and that some of you dads who are clearly rocking fatherhood will write the ways you’re #RockingFatherhood, especially with Father’s Day around the corner.

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter,  Instagram, and Bloglovin. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here

The Buns and Guns Challenge

I don’t have buns.

I don’t have guns.

And I most certainly don’t have abs.

But, I am told that I could have these things if I complete a 30-day challenge called Buns, Guns, and Abs Challenge. Considering that my rapper name is Fluff Mama and that I’m too heavy to fly like Wonder Woman, I’m pretty sure that no 30-day challenge will make these mythical muscles appear, but stranger things have happened.

My husband is the one who asked me to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge. (I think we can all agree that the challenge sounds better when you leave out the word “abs.”) We’re attempting to lose weight make better lifestyle choices, and part of that includes doing things that the Couch Potato Olympics Committee frowns upon — moving.

Not moving equals happiness to sloth-like creatures.

A couple days ago, my husband approached me about the challenge. After talking about exercises and muscles for a few minutes, which I mostly tuned out, he told me, “The first day is easy. And then it goes up a little in intensity each day. Want to do it with me?”

“Yeah, okay,” I said, without one iota of enthusiasm. I really just wanted him to stop naming muscles, plus he did say that it started out easy.

Easy.

Ha.

I’m 33. By now I’ve been around the block enough times that I should know that any time I think, “That sounds easy enough,” that it won’t be. Baking brownies out of the box — easy, right? Unless you’re me. Tying a basic braid in my daughter’s hair, walking, parking in an empty lot, and applying eyeliner also aren’t easy. Despite my best efforts, my body is determined to make me look like a spaz whenever possible.

On the first night of the challenge, my husband told me that I had to do ten squats, ten push-ups, and ten leg lifts. That really does sound easy. It should be easy. I thought, “Yeah, I got this.” A few squats later, I found out that I definitely didn’t have this.

Before getting pregnant with Baby Girl, I did a HIIT workout while trying to lose weight. (If you’re not the math sort, Baby Girl is almost three, so between that and 9 months of pregnancy, that means that the last time I did this was almost four years ago.) Anyway, I killed the squats back then. But not that night. My thighs and knees — which are certainly used to getting up and down all day long — betrayed me.

My legs were like…

Admittedly, this looks more like I’m dancing a jig than doing squats.

(Since I started writing this post and completed another day of the challenge, my husband has pointed out that I was doing the squats wrong and was doing them in a way that made it more difficult. Doing them right was easier, so that makes me feel a little better.)

Next were the leg lifts. They seemed pretty easy until my husband told me to lift slowly, hold my legs in place, and lower them slowly — apparently flailing your legs all over the place doesn’t count. Doing them right involved using my nonexistent core muscles, so after five of those, my core was like…

The last part was push-ups. I have always sucked at push-ups, even when I was at a perfectly normal weight (as I discovered many years later) and fairly athletic. My arms just do not like pushing up my body for some reason. They don’t like pulling up my body, either, so chin-ups in gym class back in the day didn’t happen much, either. Heaven forbid I fall face first into a pile of snow one day, because I guarantee that unless my body gets one of those “lift the car off the child” adrenaline rushes, I’ll perish.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, the whole time I did those push-ups, my arms were like…

(Despite my history with push-ups and my arms cursing me, they were the easiest part of the challenge on that day, so maybe all that hauling around Baby Girl has done my arms some good.)

When we were finished my husband pulled out his phone and showed me the rest of the challenge. He told me that by the end of 30 days, I’ll be able to do 100 squats, 40 push-ups, and 100 leg lifts. We’ll see. For the record, we won’t see in 30 days, since I’m sticking with day one for a few more days to work on my form, so maybe in 100 days we’ll see.

Want to participate in the Buns and Guns Challenge? Knock yourself out. (Also, zoom in, because I started writing smaller halfway through for some reason.)

So, are you in? Or do you want to retain the right to make self-depracating jokes about your fluffy body?

Want to connect on social media? You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can also vote for me as a Top Mom Blogger here