Jesus Christ, March was a mother of a month...
I did something weird on February 21. I joined a 6-week fitness boot camp. Tonight, I finished it.
(Hold for applause).
For four days every week I headed down to the local high school and worked out really, really hard for an hour with a trainer and some other people who were also paying him to play PE Coach. Like a purple robot. Six weeks later, I am stronger, more capable, and a little slimmer. I probably would be a lot slimmer except I only started really trying to watch what I eat about a week ago.
I am, in fact, proud of myself.
However, I smoked about 5 cigarettes tonight. This was the first time in ages, but I'm having a massive problem with the kids' daycare. Those SOB's really, really pissed me off. Looks like we will have to change daycare centers for the first time ever. I'm not beating myself up about the cigs.
On the 16th of March my grandmother passed away. She was very dear to me. I'm not handling it very well. She was 93 and had been battling cancer for three years. She had every right to go; it was completely and utterly her time. She did it with grace and dignity, as she did everything in her long life. It's still been tough for me. She was a constant in my life. She loved me. Now there is one less person on Earth who loves me, to go along with the many new ones every day who seem to hate me for no apparent reason. Moreover, it's a kind of love that can never be replaced. No one will ever love me like that again.
So in addition to the grueling ten hour drive (each way) to Toledo with my two toddlers (and my Kevs, thank God), and the ridiculous expense, the time away from work, the new funeral clothes, the extended family, the pet sitters, and everything else... my heart is broken.
I missed exactly two boot camp sessions. My shining achievement throughout all this. I've got to take care of myself. It's so much more than a mantra.