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.



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.


Not Having a Good Mommy Day September 15, 2014

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 9:25 pm

Me and BradyWIN. Today, the babies won. They beat me. Broke me down. I feel completely drained. Where normally I’m filled with a lightness, tonight I feel heavy. I feel like today I was a complete failure as a Mother. Brady is going through what can only be described as the NO phase. He’ll spend an hour or two just repeatedly screaming “NO!” at the top of his lungs every 15 seconds. Nothing helps. His little brain gets stuck. He knows he’s mad, but he just can’t process it beyond “NO!!!!”.

YELL. I yelled when I should have stayed calm. I gave time outs when I should have listened. I impatiently dragged him up to his room and plopped him in his crib. I decided it was better to listen to crying than to listen to him screaming “NO!”. But I was wrong. It wasn’t better, it was much much worse.

HEART. And after nearly 12 hours of refusing to nap, stepping on his sister, hitting the dog, and throwing every toy in the house over the railing to hear it go smash, I couldn’t even make eye contact with him anymore. I was so mad at his behavior that I sent him up to bed with his Daddy and told him I’d THINK about whether or not I was going to give him a kiss goodnight. Because that’s the grown-up thing to do, right?

KISS. Well I went into his room after picking up toys for 45 minutes, still feeling the anger in my chest. And as I opened his bedroom door he said in the tiniest voice ever, “Mommy wuvs Brady? Mommy give kisses?”. All there was left to do was cry. I picked him up out of his crib and held my big 3 year old boy in my arms and cried. Yes, Mommy loves you. Thank you for always loving me, even when I’m not having a very good Mommy day.


I admit it. March 9, 2014

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 5:29 pm

losing my shitI’m not too proud to admit that I have a defect. In fact, I pride myself on how often I admit to stuff. So here, goes……I occasionally lose my shit. Occasionally I go completely out of my mind and become a crazy, crying irrational human being. Once my shit is fully lost, I have been known to cry and yell at things that don’t even matter. Like my dryer not getting the clothes all the way dry. Or Pandora for playing the same song too many times.


See? That’s completely irrational. Then again, being a stay at home Mom doesn’t exactly lend itself well to maintaining my sanity. Want to know the worst part about losing your shit? There isn’t even anyone around to witness it. Brady and Avery don’t really count. There’s a tiny part of me that wants to FaceTime with my husband when I’m losing my shit just so my insanity can be seen by another adult. In my mind, that makes it a valid melt down. Having to EXPLAIN my meltdown to him when he gets him just doesn’t have the same effect.


There’s no satisfaction to losing your shit when it’s just your kids in the house. Their day isn’t changed one teeny bit if Mommy is crazier than a shit house rat. Brady just keeps playing with his trains, Avery sits like a lump and chews on something, and Gabby tilts her head in amazement. Yep. No satisfaction.


The good news is that this eruption only has to happen about once a month. It’s like a pressure valve for my soul. Maybe once I’m back in the gym regularly I won’t need this valve. I certainly haven’t ever had a need for it in the past. Perhaps my pressure valve can only be relieved by snatching heavy weights, or screaming at my bottle of 409 for not spraying evenly. Either way, it’s definitely preferred to relieve the pressure in the gym. I miss that place.


Her Royal Largeness February 3, 2014

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 11:27 pm

Avery 4 months oldAVERY. Know what fat babies do? They eat. A lot. All the time. Avery came into the world at just over 8lbs, but has spent every moment of her 4 months on this earth trying to get as big as humanly possible. Let me break this down for you. She’s 4 months old and weighs 19lbs 14oz, and is 27 inches long. She wears size 12 months clothes, and is currently as big as your average 8 month old.

BOOB FIGHT. Having said all that, my boobs are EXHAUSTED. She not only eats constantly, she also kind of wrestles my nipples a little bit. Have you ever seen a dog put something in their teeth and shake it? Yeah, it’s kind of like that. She squishes my breast in her chubby hand while simultaneously pulling away with her head. I can’t even look while she’s eating. My breast is being stretched in such a horrifying manner, that I’m afraid it’s just going to be ripped from my body. Plus, if I ever want to feel sexy again, I feel it’s important that I don’t think of my boobs in this situation.

SLEEP. I love how people assume that the bigger a baby gets, the more it sleeps. *snort* Well guess what people, you’re fucking WRONG. Turns out the bigger a baby gets, the more it wants to wake you up and eat. She currently summons me at 11:30PM, 2:00AM, 3:30AM, 5:00 AM, and 6:45AM for feedings. So in case you’re feeling like I’m a little snippy…well maybe it’s because my boobs look like tube socks, and I’m only sleeping about 4 hours a night.

HEAVEN. This giant baby might be crushing my soul with her night feedings, but seriously. Look at her. She’s 20lbs of smooshy smiley love. To hear her giggle is like heaven opening up. Her laugh is so genuine, and so jolly that it’s physically impossible not to laugh along with her. So yeah, she’s wrecking any chance I might have of ever having attractive cleavage again….but she’s so goddamn cute I can hardly stand it.


Certainty January 30, 2014

Filed under: Nonsense — Jennie Yundt @ 8:22 pm

Yundt family pic 2013There is not very much that I can say with 100% certainty in my life. I am, however, VERY certain about a few things. I love being a mother. I love being a wife. I love being strong. I fucking HATE laundry.

The other day I was faced with a difficult question: are you done having kids? Forever? This procedure is irreversible. It’s funny because I told everyone I know that I was never having more kids. Ever. I screamed it from the hilltops, and shouted it to the depths of the ocean. I’M DONE! But once it came time for the paperwork, signatures, and official type documentation I had to sign, I hesitated. Sitting in that Dr’s office, I couldn’t put the pen to the paper.

A lot of things were going through my head. Images of being a young single Mom at 19 years old. The way I felt when I was pregnant with Brady. And again with Avery. I thought about all the sleepless nights both during pregnancy and while my babies were learning how to sleep like real people. Last but not least, I pictured my Dad. I pictured his kind face. His shiny balding head. His old worn hands. The way he would look at me with so much mischief in his eyes when he said something funny. God I love that man. I miss him fiercely.

I’m not really sure why Dad popped into my head. I think its because I wish he could have met Brady and Avery. They’re amazing kids. He was an amazing Dad. And I want my children to have loving memories of me as a parent, just like I have memories of my Dad. Thinking about my Dad, I realized that I want to be that important to my kids. There would be no greater thing I could accomplish in my lifetime, than to become as important to my kids as my Dad was to me.

So, maybe I’m done having kids, maybe I’m not. Truth be told, it’s just nice having the option should I ever get that aching uterus feeling again. Plus, I figure if somewhere along the way I manage to screw up one of my kids, it would be nice to have a backup. (just kidding)