I started an exercise program! Finally, after years of indecision, I am forced to work on those muscles! It hasn’t been easy, it’s actually a pain…it’s a 24/7 plan. It includes constant movement; stretching, weightlifting, waist trimmers, knee bends, steps, etc. While I am cooking I have to do leg lifts to close and hold tight the cupboards that Edson wants so desperately to open, all the while I am balancing on one leg trying to cut onions in an even way. Edson’s bedroom is upstairs so we do the steps while lifting weights (him) many, many, many times a day…up – down, up – down. I do the waist and knee bends while picking up the toys from the floor that come out of no where. You have to do that one about 50 times a day until your knees hurt real bad! More waist trimmers come from sweeping and mopping the floor continually so the crawler won’t get at the crumbs or leftovers on the floor. Then, there’s the back breakers (I don’t think that’s actually what you call it, but they are real killers!). It’s when you have to stretch your back leg muscles, buttocks, and your whole spine to lift your kid into or out of the car seats and stroller, pick him up off the floor to be changed, put him in his high chair, etc. Oh, and, the night time quickies where you dart out of bed, run across the house thinking you heard something and find only the sleeping cutie.
The list of exercises goes on and on…
All I can say is…start early, girls, the longer you wait, the harder it gets!
For some reason, being so far away, when I hear about someone dying, it just doesn't seem real. It seems as if next time I go to the states, he/she will be there to greet me and spend some time together. The memories live on...so...the people must! Memories of Grandpa and Grandma seem as fresh to me as yesterday. I have a picture of them and Aunt Janet on the refrigerator at home. I know they are no longer with us, but the happy moments I spent with them are the happy memories that make them alive in my heart. I am thankful for the beautiful examples they gave me. When he was in Paraguay he told everyone that I was the eighth generation in his family who was a believer. We can be just as proud of being God's children as he was. I am thankful that he could visit us so many times (once with Uncle Al, once with Dean Yovichin, once with George Bodjanac, and once with the Marang's). He was always so supportive of Paraguay Missions. We will miss his funny stories! By the way...sisters...I never remember the knuckle finger getting me!
