Over sharing….all the time

CrossFit, Pregnancy, and some other random thoughts

I Bent the Rules January 24, 2015

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 4:57 pm

Kids at RedsRULES. In this crazy adventure I call my life, it helps to have rules. Keep your pants on in public. No hitting. Bed time is 7PM. Sit in your chair while we eat. Only 1 banana per day. Wear black pants on double unders day. Nothing crazy, just normal rules.

MONSTERS. Last night I fed my kids dinner off the cutting board as they circled the island. They turned off all the lights, and were running amok in the house pretending to be monsters. Brady was growling and Avery was following behind him imitating the noises he was making. If I’m being 100% honest, it was the first time they played together.

LAUGH. Every now and then they’d collide with each other and fall to the floor in a pile of arms, legs and giggles. Brady even helped Avery eat her dinner. He’d share his bite with her as I passed him the fork. She’d open her mouth like a hungry baby bird and belly laugh as she walked away with her mouth stuffed with pork.

JOY. I didn’t make them sit at the table. Or fold their hands and pray. I didn’t even carefully monitor how much they were eating. I was just so happy they were playing. When I looked at the clock, it was an hour past their bedtime and I was still feeding them bites of “oven steak” as they circled me making monster sounds. It has taken 16 months and 8 days, but Brady has finally learned how to play with his sister.

PLAY. I couldn’t predict how long I’d let them play. Maybe I’d just let them stay like that until they were 12. Who knows. But after all the frustrating days I’ve experienced over the last year, I needed this. I needed this almost as much as I need an ice cold margarita on the deck in the sunshine, lightly salted.

INSTINCT. So I bent the rules for my kids last night. It could set me up for a week of battling them to fold their hands and sit in their places, but it was worth it to hear them laughing. It wasn’t the kids who badgered me into bending the rules, it was my own instinct that told me that this was a precious moment that I shouldn’t interrupt. Chances are, there won’t be many moments like that. I just wish I could have bottled up the way it made me feel, and spread it on some toast so I can eat it.


10 Things that drive me to drink January 23, 2015

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 4:40 pm

piled up laundryCan anyone guess what’s behind that door? I wish this was the Price is Right, because then it could be something cool like a new car. But alas. Behind that door is THE MOTHER F*CKING LAUNDRY ROOM. That shiny, round brass thing is tricky, so I can see why nobody attempts to use it. But this is my life. A pile of clothes left just outside the room where it goes to get washed. Sigh.


On this splendid Friday after I’ve endured a headache for 3 straight days, I think I’ll post my list of things that make me want to pound margaritas at 9:15AM on a Tuesday.


1. The Kitchen Rag Surprise. Hey Mom, I just wiped a giant blob of tomato sauce off the counter! I’ll just neatly fold the rag and put it back on the sink so that when you go to wipe something, you get a gooey blog of crap on your hands.


2. So Close. Not only does laundry pile up at the door of the laundry room, it also piles up NEXT to the laundry basket. Next to it.


3. Just Taking What I need.  I’ve come to realize that some people believe the dryer is a dresser with a light.


4. Never Use the Last of Anything. So Sweetie, while I was sitting here pooping, I realized that I don’t want to take the time to replace the roll of toilet paper. I’ll just leave 4 squares on this one, and start a new one on the counter. You change it when you get a chance, m’kay? 


5. This Will be Used Again. Eventually. I think Mom’s planning on using the stove at some point in the next week. No need to clean up the bacon splatter when it’s just gonna get messy again!


6. Follow the Leader. Wait, there’s a fork in the sink? The dishwasher must have been stolen! Put all your dirty dishes in the sink!


7. I didn’t Hear You. You mean to tell me that you can hear the Jimmy John’s driver turning onto our street, but you couldn’t hear me screaming your name up the stairs 17 times?


8. The Forever Borrow. Gee, where did my black Lululemon top go? Oh, it’s still in Katelyn’s possession. She asked to borrow it a year ago.


9. Now? I love asking for help with something and the response I get is “now?”. Nah, let’s wait until June to tackle unloading the dishwasher. Better yet, just let someone steal it with the dishes inside.


10. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom.  If I’m sitting at the kitchen counter drinking coffee and you have to ask me a question, you can simply…..ASK THE QUESTION. There’s no need to say, “Mom? Mom? Mom?”, and wait for me to say, “yes?”. JUST SPEAK. Or maybe I just didn’t hear you. Who knows.


Fortunately for me, usually only 4 of the things on this list happen in the same day. So I’m good.



Not Everything is CrossFit’s Fault January 22, 2015

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jennie Yundt @ 7:30 am

Kinsy RowingI know you were all hoping for a “My Sister had it right” post for today, but I’m gonna switch gears on you guys. This post was also published today on my CrossFit Fire blog. I’ve never doubled-down on my blog posts, but this one was a good change of pace.

BAD NAME. Quite often I get tagged on Facebook and sent links to videos showing people doing CrossFit with less than perfect form, or doing questionable movements. I’m here to let you know, that it’s unjust to blame CrossFit for all of this.
UNFAIR. It’s pretty unfair to say that everything that anybody doing a CrossFit workout does is “giving CrossFit a bad name”. GASP! Someone in Nebraska let their back round on a deadlift?? GET DAVE CASTRO ON THE PHONE! It’s CrossFit’s fault!! Can you really lump every single CrossFitter in the world under the “CrossFit” umbrella?
NBA. Would it be fair to say that everyone playing basketball anywhere in the world is representing the NBA? Does anyone cry out about how unsafe the NBA is when a player snaps his lower leg in half? Or when a player dislocates his elbow and breaks his hand following a bad fall? Nope. That’s just playing basketball. But if someone gets hurt doing CrossFit in their garage in Alaska, that means CrossFit isn’t SAFE. (by the way, don’t click those links if you aren’t ready to be grossed out)
IDIOCY. As with any sport, there are bound to be as many bad coaches as their are good ones. Same with teams or gyms – there will be some that are great, and some that are unbearable. And if all of this diversity is accepted when it comes to other sports, why not CrossFit? Why must we hold “CrossFit” accountable for everyone’s idiocy?
CFHQ. As a whole, CrossFit HQ is responsible for only a few things. There is a blog with daily workouts published by HQ. The programming is tough, but it is intended to be. On this same website there are HUNDREDS of videos demonstrating how to properly perform the movements. And let’s not forget the CrossFit Journal. It is full of articles on how to improve movement quality, overall mobility, and athletic performance. Nowhere on the site or in the Journal does it say “go as fast as you can, and let your form get all kinds of shitty”. CFHQ encourages proper form. Period.
COMPETITION. Most recently, there was a video circulating of some high jumps performed at a “CrossFit competition”. The competition is one of the largest annual competitions for CrossFit athletes, but it is not directly associated with CrossFit HQ. Do you see what I did there? It is a competition for CrossFit athletes, but it is NOT an HQ sponsored event. The only “CrossFit” competitions throughout the year are the Open, Regionals, and ultimately, the CrossFit Games. Sure, there have been some silly movements at the Games, and HQ has taken the heat for those. Everything else is programmed by the affiliate or the organization hosting the event.
COACH. While it’s easy to point the finger of blame at “CrossFit”, what it comes down to is that CFHQ offers a tiered level of certifications, as well as specialty certifications to help each of their potential coaches gain as much knowledge as possible. Ultimately, there will be some coaches who are better than others. We wouldn’t blame the NBA for our 11th grade basketball coach’s performance, so we can’t blame HQ for the quality of the coaches using their name and coaching their sport.
QUALITY. Our focus at CrossFit Fire has always been on quality coaching, holding our clients to a high level of movement standards, and delivering top-notch results. Don’t let all the internet CrossFit-jibber-jabber skew your perspective. CrossFit is meant to be delivered as a premium fitness experience, unlike anything you’ve tried before. It is meant to be instructed by knowledgeable coaches. But above all else, it is meant to be a life changing combination of community and a healthier, stronger you. So let the haters, hate. We got nothin’ but love here at CrossFit Fire!


My Dad had it Right Too January 21, 2015

Filed under: Uncategorized — Jennie Yundt @ 2:25 pm

Me and DadDAD. Yesterday’s post was dedicated to my Mom. She appreciated the post, as did my siblings, cousins, and childhood neighbors. Everyone seems to remember the wooden spoon and the dog that shit everywhere. God rest his soul. The other half of my parental equation was my Dad, so today’s blog post is dedicated to him, and all the things that HE did right.

He didn’t hold grudges. I didn’t realize this until I was an adult. My Dad and I were talking and he casually mentioned that he sat down and had a beer with my ex-husband. I’m sorry, you what?! As my father, he was supposed to take my side in all situations. My sworn enemies are his sworn enemies. If I HATE him, YOU should hate him…..right Dad?! Wrong. Dad didn’t operate like that.

Every tool in the garage should be labeled and cataloged. Jim was organized. Like, SUPER organized when it came to his tools. Thousands of screws, nails, bolts and washers were carefully separated and labeled in tiny drawers. He kept a 3×5 notecard in the basement with the dates he replaced the water softener salt, and how much he put in. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. Unless someone had borrowed the tool without him knowing, (like me), Big Jim knew exactly where to find it.

A tough exterior didn’t mean he was tough. My Dad worked construction his entire life. I used to spend hours staring at all the cracks and wrinkles on his worn hands. And even though he had a tough shell, Dad was a softie. There was a tiny, starving kitten hanging around a job site. He fed it for 3 days, brought it water, and even scooped it up on his lap and took it for a ride in his Bobcat. He eventually brought that kitten home for us. He hung a sign on the door that said “Caution! Lion inside!” We named it Friskie, and it lived for about 27 years or something ridiculous. It was MUCH better than the nasty Persian. Plus it had babies ALL the time, and that was fun.

Be fascinated by shiny things in the mud. There is a whole collection of interesting glass bottles at my Mom’s house. Each and every one of them was found by my Dad while he was excavating a job site. He’d see something shiny in the bucket, and jump down to retrieve it. He’d bring it home and wash it in the laundry room sink like he’d just unearthed the Hope diamond.

Stick to what you like. There was a computer in Dad’s office. Did he use it for typing up proposals, and managing the finances of his construction company? Nope. He used it to play solitaire. Everything he did was on his typewriter. Yep, a typewriter. It’s what he knew and loved, so he stuck with it. Technology be damned, he was going to use that typewriter even after they stopped selling replacement ribbons for it.

Make a big deal out of stuff. For anyone who has ever had to hold down a screaming child to remove an infected sliver from their foot, you know that kids are irrationally afraid of sliver removal. At our house if you had a sliver in your foot, you ALWAYS asked Dad to do it for you. He’d lift us up onto his desk, pull the big light real close, and put on his glasses. Then he’d look at it from all angles, assessing the situation like he was a surgeon. Somehow, it made sliver removal a lot less scary when Dad was taking it so seriously.

It’s ok to be a little fancy. Oh, we’re going to Bobby’s Barrel Inn for the fish fry? I better put on my cowboy boots. And while most people wouldn’t technically consider that “dressing up”, that was Dad’s way of feeling a little fancier eating fried fish in a restaurant with more seats at the bar than at tables, and so clouded with cigarette smoke you couldn’t see across the room.

Perform well in front of your audience. With so many tools that were so perfectly organized, Dad was always fixing or building something. And I was always watching him. He was methodical when he worked, and he seemed to know exactly which steps came next without even looking at a YouTube video or Pinterest tutorial. One afternoon he was conquering the disgusting task of retrieving the “drain ferret” that inevitably lives in a bathroom shared by two teenage girls. He was walking me through the process of re-assembling the sink pieces, and when he turned the water on to demonstrate that it was all working, water came running out the bottom of the cabinet. Oops. He didn’t even hesitate. He simply pointed at the water and said, “Now you know why it’s important to tighten all the pieces. I wanted to make sure you knew that.” Bravo Dad. Bravo.

GONE. Dad hasn’t been with us for a few years, but I still think about him almost every day. I think about him while I’m gagging at the drain ferrets, rifling through my unorganized tool box, but especially when I see his boots. After he passed away, they became my prized possession. Because while Dad might not be here, his boots remind me that he is always with me, and so are the lessons I learned from him.


My Mom had it Right January 20, 2015

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 8:01 am

3 year old JennieMOM. Ah, Bunny. My Mom. I don’t give my Mom enough credit. At times she worked 3 jobs, got 4 hours of sleep a day, and still managed to care for 3 children under the age of 5, a dog that shit in the house daily, and a Persian cat that was spawned by Satan himself, with a smile on her face. She yelled. She lost her temper. She had her ugly moments, as all Moms do. But all of us knew she loved us fiercely. Except the dog. She drove him to the vet and we never saw him again.


SAD. Looking at how different the world is today, I can’t help but think that my Mom had it right. I look at the fear, the solitude…and it just makes me sad. I want my kids to grow up like we did – free spirited, and ready to explore the world. But most importantly, capable of making connections with other human beings.


So here is a list of all the things my mother got right. It’s long, but she is a pretty incredible person.


She made us play with the neighbors. We would ride our bikes or cut across back yards to knock on a door and play with other kids that were about our same age. That was the only criteria for making friends – they were about your age. She didn’t call first, we actually had to knock on the door and ask “can Adam play?”


She let us get dirty. She didn’t follow us with hand sanitizer and a pack of baby wipes to wash our hands and faces. And she didn’t worry about whether or not we were ruining our “good clothes”, because we didn’t have “good clothes”. We just had clothes. And we played in them.


She forced us to stick with commitments against our will. That poor woman. She drove us to basketball games, cheerleading practice, karate, and flute lessons CRYING because we didn’t want to go. But it taught me the value of following through.


We weren’t constantly supervised. I can remember being about 7 years old and we would spend all day riding our bikes, playing in the woods, and collecting cool rocks from the railroad tracks. THE RAILROAD TRACKS. When it was time for dinner, she would yell “DINNER!!!!” and we would hop on our bikes and head home.


Disagreements were settled by us, not our parents. Somebody isn’t sharing? You didn’t get a turn? Well sweetie, you’re gonna have to figure this out on your own. I’m busy cleaning up dog shit.


You WILL play with your cousins. I don’t care that you’ve only seen them twice in 5 years. Family was important. We would take a long ride out to Union, IL to the pig farm, and we’d spend all day trying to catch cat feral kittens in the barn with cousins whose names we couldn’t remember.


She talked on the phone A LOT. She talked to her sisters and her mother almost every single day. When there was something important, she just picked up the phone and told them. Friends and family never had to hear about all our shitty behavior, or her latest parental triumph on Facebook….Bunny made sure they were told first hand. And she always talked at a volume that forced us to relive the humiliation all over again.


She threatened to hit us with a wooden spoon. Before you get all crazy, she never actually hit any of us with it. But we believed the threat was real. We were all afraid of that spoon. To this day, my Mother could get me to do just about anything by threatening the spoon.


We sat down and ate dinner as a family. Every night. Even with everything she had going on, she managed to cook us dinner every single night. And before we could get up from the table, we had to ask to be excused. There was no TV and no phones. You either found something to talk to your family about, or you sat there and listened to yourself chew.


She let us have a woobie. Remember those smelly, ratty, hole-filled blankets you all carried around when you were babies? The one you would stand in front of the washing machine and CRY until it was safely back in your possession? Bunny never told us we were too old for them. She let us take comfort in our soft little blankets covered in boogers, bananas and farts, because there was no reason not to. She also went back for them every time we forgot them at our cousin’s house.


CONNECT. My childhood wasn’t perfect, but the lessons it taught me were invaluable. I believe in the freedom Bunny allowed us to have and the way it formed my perspective of the world. In a world full of people who don’t know how to connect with each other, I have never struggled with that. By allowing us to work through our issues, experience triumph AND defeat, and by shoving us out the door to play with other kids, Bunny set us up to develop meaningful relationships with the people we meet. And while the wooden spoon thing was a little harsh, respecting adults was something she wouldn’t compromise on.


Why I love being pregnant for the 4th time January 19, 2015

Filed under: Pregnancy — Jennie Yundt @ 9:11 am

Avery and Brady horrifiedIn keeping with my silver lining, pot of gold at the end of the rainbow personality, I’ve come up with all the reasons why I love being pregnant for the 4th time.

Ahem. So here they are:

1. People stop offering you pregnancy advice, because you’ve doubled down on the number of pregnancies most women endure.

2. I know how to handle stupid questions. “So will this be the last one?” “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t half a dozen kids look so much better on our Christmas cards?”

3. I don’t give a rats ass if I am already “showing”. No need to squish myself into my jeans for the sake of trying to not look pregnant. I bought a 3-pack of XL leggings from Meijer about 4 weeks ago.

4. I have 3 other little people who get to be amazed by my growing belly. Really, what I mean is, I’m so goddamn busy that time is flying by!

5. My midwife doesn’t even want to see me for like 6 more weeks. I’m an old pro.

6. I know how to work the system. People will go out of their way to help a pregnant lady. I exploit them constantly.

7. I can pretty much make up any pregnancy rule I see fit, and people will believe me. “Oh, I actually can’t unload the dishwasher. All that trunk flexion puts too much strain on my uterus.”

In all seriousness, I love being pregnant. Sure, I could do without the constant nausea, diarrhea, fatigue, back zits and bloating. But hey. I’m a beautiful vessel of life who can’t unload the dishwasher, remember?


What I traded January 14, 2015

Filed under: Pregnancy — Jennie Yundt @ 9:51 pm

Jen unveiled 1.pngDAMN I used to be hot. And not just in good lighting, or when I was wearing the perfect outfit. I never had to worry about making a skinny face in pictures, tucking my muffin tops into my Lululemons, or whether or not my arm looked fat in a tank top. I was an amazing physical specimen. 9% body fat. No jiggle. No photoshop. Just 100% pure sexy-sex kitten.

IF ONLY. This picture was taken in 2009, shortly before I got married. Looking back, I feel that’s when I looked my best. I don’t think I appreciated it at the time. Matter of fact, I KNOW I didn’t appreciate it. I’d stare at my reflection and find all the things that were wrong. Everything I wanted to change. I’d obsess over my imperfections and shortcomings. If only I was a little leaner. A little faster. A little better. IF ONLY I COULD DO A STUPID MUSCLE-UP!

NOW. Fast forward to today. Today I’m soft, squishy, uneven. I took what I had back then and traded it in. I traded push up bras for nursing bras. Late nights drinking fine wine for sleepless nights rocking my babies. Visible abs for a stretched out belly button. Sexy clothes for something easy to nurse in. A 7:00 Fran for a 47 minute bed time routine that gets longer each night.

BEST. And ya know what? It was the best trade of my life. The way it feels to be greeted by a tiny person flinging themselves into your arms is better than size 3 pants. The pride I feel when my son says he loves me without me saying it first is immeasurable. The serenity I feel with each sleepy breath on my chest and the joy inside me as I hear them giggling, laughing, thriving; it all makes my heart swell.

MAGIC. You see….I made that. What started as a tiny blob of cells magically grew inside me to become a whole person. Each beat of their hearts reminds me how precious and wondrous they really are. It’s like the coolest magic trick my body has ever done. Even cooler than dropping under 60kg’s into a perfect squat snatch. So while my body might not be pinup worthy these days, it is a magical vessel of life that makes me proud to be who I am.

TIME. Sure, these days I spend more time yelling “STOP HITTING YOUR SISTER WITH YOUR SHARK!”, and a lot less time setting gym records and tanning. But ya know what? Some day I will have all the time in the world for the gym. For single digit body fat. My kids are only little once. Only fascinated by bubbles and ladybugs for a short while. The sound of their scurrying feet as I chase them as “the blanket monster” will soon fade away.

I traded what I had for the most rewarding and fulfilling life I can imagine. Each day might be a challenge and an adventure, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. (But I saved the yellow bra and underwear just in case it fits again some day)