no wonder it's called the witching hour

ugh. Not a pretty sight. Last night about 6 pm I'd had my fill of whining, crying, diapers, lost pacifiers, a toddler who wouldn't eat and a baby who couldn't get enough to eat, protecting number 5 from the slings and arrows of number 4. I was trying so hard to be brave and not call King and say "Pleeeeeeze, come home noooooooow!"

But, unlike the "Calgon, take me away!" commercial I wasn't able to stand there right in the middle of chaos and daydream about a bubble bath. Nope. I let out a gutteral yowl like nothing ever heard before. Nothing human even.

Alas, the root of the problem is my frustration in not being able to get out to the gym (why I don't just cancel that stupid membership is beyond me). Before I became pregnant with #5, I would work out several nights a week after hubby came home. A friend and I would go together. Despite the fact that I hadn't lost a single pound in 6 months, I was feeling great and I could do 30 min on the elliptical and walk a mile on the treadmill. I would do the weight machines for my arms and the big yoga ball thing for my stomach muscles (what's left of them after all these pregnancies/c-sections). I enjoyed the time that I worked out not only because I was getting healthy, but because I was spending time with a friend.

I see the weight I need to lose as a huge mountain. I have climbed the mountain before (just before I became pregnant with number 4) and lost 80 lbs. It is a little disheartening knowing I have to go through it again. I have noticed, also, that it is quite a bit harder now that I am 2 months shy of turning 40. I need my gym buddy to call me and say, "Ok woman, let's get off our duffs and get this thing done!" Maybe she heard my groan the other night. She might not have known what it was. (After all, she does live a couple of miles away.) I need to call her and say, "That sound you heard the other night during the witching hour, it was me. I miss ya, girl! Now, get your hikin' boots on and let's rock and roll!"