a peek inside the fishbowl

If there’s anyone out there who’s still participating in the Shopping Embargo I would love to hear your update in the original thread. I feel like I’ve been talking to myself lately! How’s it going? :)

When our kids were small we had a lot of friends who were childless and single. I spoke to these people about how absolutely THRILLING it was that our kids were learning to talk but wasn’t sure if they truly understood how exciting it was. Look at it this way, I said, what if all of a sudden your cat could talk to you? Wouldn’t that be amazing? Don’t you want to know what’s on their mind? Well THIS IS EXACTLY THE SAME THING.

There was no disagreement with that. Ever.

To be able to communicate with someone who doesn’t yet know how to talk (and doesn’t have the physical ability to do so) seems like a minor miracle.

When Sarah was small I was determined to teach her baby sign language. It was just beginning to be a hot topic. And … then I promptly forgot.

Oh well.

Emma had a bit of sign language in preschool. I STILL know the signs for whale, cheese, and crackers, and black cat. I am sure that is going to come in handy some day. :)

All kidding aside, if you could find a way to communicate with your infant or toddler early – that is, before he or she could learn to speak – would you?

There is a sweet place to sign up for baby sign language classes in Ottawa. Check out the piece I wrote for SavvyMom about a class that is specifically geared to parents and babies.

Have you tried teaching sign language to your baby? I’d love to hear about your experience.

The other day I mentioned a spinathon fundraiser for Heart & Stroke to which I had been invited.

I ate a light lunch and showed up at the Kanata Leisure Centre at the appointed time. First thing: the waiver(s). It wasn’t until this point that I realized I didn’t bring my puffer. Oh dear.

I signed anyway, found Allison (my host), and got changed into my gym clothes.

I was fully dressed and totally pumped for action when she told me that I was to be biking with her ultimate team. (Translation: I’d be biking with FIT PEOPLE. Crap.)

Soon it was time for me to pick my bike. There is strategy involved here. I scanned the room. Bikes were spread out all over the place. To be at the front, near the instructor, well, that was just asking for trouble, not to mention the fact that I’d have 20 people staring at my butt.

One group was just coming off the bikes so I scoped out a lady about my size (so I wouldn’t have to do a lot of adjusting), waited until she wiped down her bike, and got on. This was near the back at the room. (To be at the VERY back, well, that just means you’re a slacker or that you’re hiding something.)

First observation: several people had weird little buckets placed right next to their bikes. Could these be barf buckets? Oh. No.

Second observation: the lady who had the bike before me must have had legs that were quite a bit longer than mine because the seat was WAY too high. I figured out how to lower the seat and brought it down a couple of inches. I figured that if my leg is extended on the pedal, my knee should be slightly bent, right? The pedals also had straps for my feet. This was new to me too.

Just as I was trying to figure this all out, my part of the spinathon started. The first song was Born to be Alive. Oh, I love that song. How fitting.

And then I started to feel it: serious crotch distress and possibly some CHAFING issues. Some of you commented on a sore butt, but no one mentioned how much it was going to hurt IN THAT OTHER PLACE. I looked at the clock. It seemed to be crawling. We were only NINE minutes in. How was I going to survive another 50?

And that’s when my saviour arrived. One of the co-organizers came over to introduce herself. I asked her if I had adjusted my bike correctly. She asked me to stop pedalling and she immediately lowered my seat another few inches. (I can’t imagine what that other lady was feeling – or maybe her va-jay-jay was numb by the end?)

Anyway, lowering my seat provided an immense relief and I knew I would be able to make it the rest of the hour.

The lady also showed me how to perform an emergency stop (it involved pushing the tension knob). I’m still not sure why I’d need to emergency stop, but apparently if I tried to stop with my pedals I’d be sent flying over the handlebars. THANK YOU KIND LADY.

Clearly, I am my own tension knob.

And that’s when I was finally able to focus on Mr. Hard Core spinning away right in front of me. He was going to be spinning for 12 HOURS to raise money for Heart & Stroke. (!) And next to Mr. HC, was SPOONSIE, a lass I’d met a few weeks previously at a food blogger event sponsored by the Chicken Farmers of Canada. (Yet another thing I haven’t written about, sorry.) She has a love of bacon that matches my own AND she is a triathlete.

I KNEW I was going to see someone I knew, it always happens to me. Whenever I am at my very worst (in this case, sweaty and without makeup and looking worn out beyond belief) I run into people I know. It’s the LAW and this LAW SHALL NOT BE BROKEN. EVER.

No, all kidding aside, it was ok.

I found the format of the class pretty interesting. (Remember, this was my first spinning class. I had no idea how this was going to work.) Pretend you’re chasing group #2, now they’re chasing you, you’re climbing a hill, pushing, standing up, sitting down, etc etc. I liked it.

I should mention that the spinathon was happening in a perfect little environment (for me). The music was loud, there were disco lights, and the overhead lights were turned down. (PERFECT!) Also, volunteers walked around with snacks and refilled water bottles. (!) I indulged in only one snack (part of a blueberry muffin) since I was only pedaling for an hour it didn’t make sense for me to stock up any more than that.

I spun my heart out and didn’t fall of the bike like I had feared. The event raised over $14,000 dollars for Heart & Stroke.

My takeaways:

1) I am glad there are people like Allison out there.

2) I might take up spinning. (!)