Fuzzy Math

I've been doing some math.

Okay, now that you've stopped laughing and caught your breath, can we move on?

Seriously, I've been doing some metabolic mathematical computations and I think I'm a little worried.

You see, when I was a pre-30 year old bear, all it took for me to stay fit and healthy (read: fit into my stinkin' jeans) was a mere 30 minutes of daily cardio. Just like the doctors tell you. No problem! Anyone can do 30 minutes!

Then, my 3rd decade and 1st bear cub came along. I found that if I wanted to stay fit and healthy, I would need to increase my cardio to 40 minutes per day. I also found that I needed to buy a new pair of jeans. Easy enough.

Three point five decades brought an additional bear cub, and an additional 10 minutes of cardio.

Now, I'm over halfway through my 3rd decade, past my 2nd bear cub, and on my 4th pair of jeans (they call them, "mom jeans" now). I'm trying my best to get down to my post-bear cub 1 fighting weight (which is NO WHERE NEAR my pre-bear cub weight - so I feel like I'm being realistic here) and I recently found myself stuck again. Bouncing back and forth on the scale like a trampoline artist.

Needless to say, I find myself very frustrated - but unwilling to give up just yet. Thus, I've added an additional 20 minutes to my workout. (Side note: I'm also trying something called "circuit training" to mix it up a bit. Cyber Bears, there are parts of my body that hurt that I didn't even know existed!)

So, this is what landed me doing mathematical projections. And here's the personal computations I came up with in order for me to stay fit and healthy so far**:

If age is less than 30, then: workout = 30 minutes per day.

If age is greater than 30 but less than 35, then: workout = 40 minutes per day.

If age is 35, then: workout = 50 minutes per day.

If age is greater than 35 but less than 40, then: workout 70 minutes per day.

Being the obsessive compulsive bear that I am - I projected that formula forward.

And that is when I got depressed.

Because, Cyber Bears, I realized that in order to keep my fluffy bear body healthy at age 65, I'm going to be working out 190 minutes PER DAY. That's over THREE HOURS of working out.

Every. Single. Day.

Sigh. I'm buying a new pair of jeans.

That'll teach me to do math.

**funny note: the first time I wrote out the math calculations, I used the proper symbols for greater than and less than. When I saved, there were all sorts of alarms because it thought I had some HTML code errors. Had to start all over again!

Things I've learned

Here are a few things I learned yesterday (in case you were interested)...

• Never, ever, ever, ever tell your bear cub how many shots/needle pokes they are going to receive unless you are ABSOLUTELY, 100%, without-a-doubt positive that the number is correct. Because, hypothetically speaking, you might - in good faith - tell them that the number is 3 and it actually turns out to be 5.
• NO amount of stickers can convince a 6 year old bear cub that 5 needle pokes (dubbed, "the stapler" by Brother Bear) is O.K.
• Phlebotomists are really, really nice. Until you kick them in the shins. Then the gloves come off. (Okay, the gloves don't literally come off because that would be totally unsanitary. But you know what I mean.)
• Two adult bears are no match for a 50 pound pissed off bear cub.
• My bear cub is exceptionally good at UNO. Like - freak of nature - good.
• It is darn near impossible to un-pry a 6 year old bear cub's clenched paw.
• Papa Bear can nap just about anywhere at anytime. It is a coping mechanism I wish I had.
• Pancakes with whipped cream and copious amounts of maple syrup are a fabulous reward.
• Pediatric Phlebotomist is officially off my list of potential careers. I'll stick with Mama Bear. It's easier.
• I have an amazingly tough, resilient bear cub. (But, I already knew that)

In a split second

Okay, maybe not a split second, but you get my drift. I went to check a few emails (seriously, just a few) and THIS is what I returned to.

And you wonder why I'm not posting as often. It's because, if I'm not tearing after Sugar Bear (a.k.a. The Tazmanian Devil, a.k.a. Hurricane Oso De Azucar) and her mess, I'm rescuing her from the top of tables and chairs.

I should have had her when I was younger. Because this stage is going to send me to an early grave. Or at least get me put on arthritis and high blood pressure medication.

Oh, gotta go. Sugar Bear, put that downnnnnn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And, breathe.

OhmygoshIjustgotthisreallycoolcoffeemaker.Itisthemostfabulousthingyou'veeverseen.Ifellinlovewith

itoverChristmaswhenIusedthenewoneMyMamaBearhad.Ievenhadafriendwritepostabouthersrecentlyonherblog.Itmakescoffeewheneveryouwantathepushofabutton.AllyouhavetodoisLITERALLY

pushabuttonandVOILAcoffee.ThecoffeemakerwehadwassuchapainandsomessyIneverwanted

tomakeanyothercoffeethantheonepotPapaBearandIhaveinthemorning.But,OHMYGOSH,

nowIwanttomakecoffeeallthetime.ITISSOOOOOEASY.Andthereisbarelyanycleanup.

NowwhenI'mfeelingalittleslow,allIhavetodoispopapodinthemachineandI'vegotalittlepickmeup

rightthereinmyhand!Howconvenientisthat?

Onanothernote,IhavebeenMISSEFFECIENTlately!I'mtalkinggettingthingsdone,cyberbears!

I'mcleaningoutmykitchenandpayingbillsandfollowingupwithpeople.I'mevenpostingmorethan

oneblogpostaweekthisweek.AmazinghoweffiecientIam!!Well,gottagtherearebaseboards

thatmustbecleanedandreallyimportantstufftobedone.Whew!I'dbettergetanothercupofcoffee

beforeIstart!

PerhapsI'llmakeitdecafthistime.

Party like it's 2009....

Yes, that is a pair of skivvies on her head. That's how we roll around here.

She seems to have suddenly acquired a taste for dress up. It doesn't matter the item, she's using it to dress up. The other day, she entertained herself with a washcloth as a hat for about an hour.

This is just another sign that I should put the laundry away sooner. But, hey, I was just proud that the skivvies she found were actually clean. I take my victories where I can Cyber Bears.