iCried
So, in addition to joining Weight Watchers, I’ve also begun the Couch to 5k running program. I actually started the program a while ago, and just finished Week 5 of 9. I actually think the running is totally separate from the weight thing. For me being a fatty is all about the food and drink. I love it. And I can eat like nobody’s business. Put it all together, though and I should be turning into Heidi Klum any day now.
Anyhoo. I was at the gym today lumbering along on the treadmill and very quickly into the workout I realized I’d chosen some quitter underwear. Quitters are more often found in the sock drawer – you know those ones that don’t stay up? But every once in a while I end up with a pair of quitter skivs and let me tell you that finding this out 5 minutes into a run is not good. I thought to myself – “Oh funny ha ha blog post! There I was saying how I’ve let myself go and all, and now my underwears won’t even stay up. Appropos!”
Later on, just as the voice in my head nice lady on the podcast said that our 20 minute run was over, my hand hit the cord from my headphones causing my beloved nano to fall onto the belt.
There was a horrible silence followed by an even more horrible clunking sound, which if you can believe it was followed by the EVEN. MORE. HORRIBLE. sound of it being spit out onto the floor. This is how I found it.
Not sure that ice and advil will help. Here’s hoping the fine fellows at the Apple store will help a fatty out.
P.S. Is it wrong that I just laughed at the Biggest Loser contestants who lose less than 5 lbs? They have Bob and Jillian and Jennie-O and that’s all they can come up with? I lost 4.6 last week with a trip to my favorite mexican restaurant, plus another trip to another mexican joint where I had 3 margaritas! I am so going to pay for this at my next weigh-in.
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Housepant Guilt
I dig out my makeup bag from the deep recesses of the bathroom drawer. I “borrow” my favorite bangle bracelet from Sarah’s dress up basket. I find my jeans with the least kid-crud and pair them with a top that’s not my high school basketball t-shirt. I put on shoes that are neither sneakers nor flip flops! My hair is clean and headband-free.
Could it be? Date night with the Hubs?
Alas, no. “Moms Night Out.” Now don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing to be alassing about in regard to the MNO…it’s just that these nights are very quickly becoming my entire social life. I always feel so guilty that the only times I ever make an attempt to look decent happen to be when I’m going out without Will. He gets schlumpy, housepantsy, headbandy, yogurt-encrusted me. The poor bastard.
This morning as I was rushing out the door to a Weight Watchers meeting, I asked him if my hair looked ok. A Weight Watchers meeting. I can only imagine dude was like, “Whatever, heifer. You just go ahead looking nice for your fellow fatties. I’ll be here browsing mywifeletherselfgoandineedahottie.com.”
I guess what really needs to happen here is that we need to pony up and hire a babysitter from time to time. Not just for date nights, but for me during the day. Today I decided to finally use the golf lesson gift certificate I got for Mother’s Day. Once the lesson was over, I realized I could benefit from some alone time, so I went to the mall and just wandered around. It was mostly glorious, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that while Will was home I should be home with him. We should be having family time, not “Mommy looks longingly at clothes she can’t fit into” time. Not that I don’t need that time! I do. I really miss just being alone, but when it’s at the expense of family time, sometimes I get the guilts which turn into the shakeys, which turn into the aw crap, I might as well go homies…
Ahh, Guilt. You powerful bitch.
On the upside I got a new set of 600 thread count sheets and my golf instructor used his smooth British accent to be very complementary about my game. Woo hoo!
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Dear Visitors
You see that sign on the door?
“Babies napping, please do not ring bell.”
I kinda thought it was good. Short, to the point. And up until this morning, it’s been quite effective. Now, I know I am a complete asswipe about nap quietness. I know this. But they’re MY damn kids’ damn naps and I can be as asswipey as I want! And I can be mad when a the dishwasher repairman arrives and interprets the sign to mean: “…but it’s certainly ok to pound the shit out of the door and then shout who you are when I open it.”
Also? Once I’ve let you in (and implored you to keep it down) there’s no need to yell, ““OH YOU’RE WATCHING THE GAME!” Doubles tennis does not warrant this level of excitement. Even when it’s post-freak out Serena.
So thanks for the short naps, jerk. If you don’t actually fix the dishwasher, I’m coming after ya.
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Cabin Fever Fears
The weather here in the Bay Area really can’t be beat. It’s September and while in most of the country, folks are dragging out the coats and jackets, here we’re looking at several more weeks of 75 degree days – wahoo! But eventually winter, or at least our version of it, will come. And I’m a little terrified. Here’s why.
In July I was having a great run of going to the gym. The babies were loving the kidcare, I was feeling fitter and all was well in the world. Then Sarah got a little sniffle. And then Matty and I went back east. And then her little sniffle turned into the Most. Horrific. Ear Infection. Ever.
Cut to the present. After returning from a few weeks in Palm Springs, I start going to the gym again. Both kids get sick. Coincidence? I think not. Of course, if I were just a more dedicated gym-goer, it would be much harder to pinpoint the cause, but that’s another problem for another day!
So, we’ve been pretty much confined to our house for the past 3 days and I’m going bonkers and so are the kids. I’ve had to skip a few playdates and classes and haven’t been back to the gym, and oh my god the walls are closing in on me! And she’s not too happy, either.
Seriously, though. Is this my future? Do I have to just shut down and go nowhere? ACK! I definitely can’t do that. At some point absolutely none of my pants will fit and I’ll simply have to go back to the gym. Or the loneliness will drive me batty and I’ll sell out my kids’ health for companionship. I will! There are just so many times I can read “Come Along, Daisy,” and I’m already really close to the limit.
Do I just douse the babes in Purell? Can you even do that to a 1 year old? Do I put Ziploc bags on each of their extremities? Do I just suck it up and stock up on Motrin and tissues while their immune systems fully develop?
I feel like a bit of an ass even writing this because I know that there are tons of kids in daycare who can’t stay home and avoid the germs. But just because I can, does that mean I have to?
Seriously. I’m asking.
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Flipped out
Today I watched Sarah do an unintentional forward flip off the kangaroo climber in the playroom. I watched her little neck bend in a way that it shouldn’t and I watched her body land in a crumpled little heap.
I shrieked, she wailed, and Matty made a bunch of noise, too. I picked her up and held her close as she cried and cried, but then I started to panic. That’s right about when I realized that they really should give some sort of exam at the hospital before sending people home with their babies. When do I take her to the ER? When do I give Tylenol? When do I pat her on the shoulder and tell her to buck up? How is a person supposed to know? I just wanted to keep holding her, but I had Matty trying to climb the offending apparatus, and I had this sense that I was supposed to examine her. What I was looking for, I had no idea. I kept lying her down on the couch to check her out, but she kept getting so pissed off whenever I put her down, so my inspections were brief.
Worked for me, though because as I sad, I had no idea what the fuck to look for. Just what ARE the external signs of internal bleeding?
She cried for several minutes, and then even worse, she just SAT there for another couple of minutes. That was the scariest part. That was the part that I was dreading in the re-telling.
First Responder: “So, ma’am, you say your daughter went silent for several minutes after a traumatic fall, yet you STILL didn’t do anything?”
Worthless Mother: “Well…uh…I…right. I did ah…nothing.”
Then the dog walked by and Sarah started laughing and lunging at her to give her a kiss. Her legs were involved in the lunge, so I could tell she wasn’t paralyzed, but my internal terror lingered.
All afternoon I kept poking her in the neck to see if she was bothered by it. Guess what? She was. Wouldn’t you be if some Giantesse was poking YOU in the neck? Happily, though, she wasn’t in pain. Within about 30 minutes of The Incident she was totally herself. Me? I needed another 6 hours and two huge vodka lemonades. I’m not even sure I’m really ok yet, but the vodka is telling me I am.
But honestly. Isn’t there a handy guidebook I could use for these kinds of things. When do I call the doc? When do I just rush to the ER? When do I stay home and apply an ice pack? I’ve heard rumors of a “Mother’s Intuition” but I don’t think I have it. I just sat there during this ordeal second guessing every non-decision I made. Even though she seems to be completely ok, I can’t even go back in the room where it happened.
The lack of confidence and lack of know-how makes me feel like an imposter. And it brings back those feelings I had all through the four years of trying and the 9 months of gestating… Those feelings of “Yeah I think I want a baby, but what the hell am I going to do with it if it ever arrives?”
I know I really need to get over this. Toddlers injure themselves daily (at least). I’ll probably have tons more opportunities to doubt myself in just the next few days. Fuuuuck.
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Sunday Morning
It was so quiet in the living room that I had to wonder what was going on.
This. Awww!
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Trip Notes
I’ve got a new post up at HDYDI.com and in it I talk about the trip that Butts and I just took back east. In my posts over there, I really try to be focused and stay on topic, but here? Here I get to be rambly and no one can stop me! So here’s our trip on a deeper, less organized level.
The first thing Butts does upon arrival at our departure gate is to make friends with this hellion of a 3 year old. Together they terrorized our fellow passengers – many of whom I imagine were thinking of ways they could change flights – driving trucks up their legs, whacking them, tossing goldfish at them… I was faced with the dilemma: do I strap him into the stroller to avoid the evil gazes and exasperated sighs, or let him get it all out right there, so he’ll be a little angel on the plane?
You know where this is going, right? I let him continue playing and it didn’t work at all. All things considered, he was relatively quiet on the plane, but he slept all of 20 minutes (of a 5 hour flight) and spent the rest of the flight thrashing about, scratching me with his unclipped nails, and hurling toys, sippy cups and in-flight magazines at our neighboring passengers. Luckily my JetBlue tv had the Speed Channel because we watched a LOT of drag racing complete with Butts’ sound effects. (It was the one time I wished I’d brought the girl. She probably would have wanted to watch the Say Yes to the Dress marathon, like me.)
On the plus side, once we arrived at my dad’s (at 2am!), he went to sleep perfectly and slept in until 10. It was glorious. He was amazing for the whole visit. No matter where I asked him to nap, he went down perfectly, and he napped his ass off. He REALLY wasn’t interested in that one nap business I was trying before we left!
He also pleased all the family members with his giant grin and grunty boy-lingo. Basically he proved to me over and over that he was the right twin for the job.
Especially since…Poor Sassy had an ear infection. She was a little sniffly when I left and according to my mom was “velcroed” to her and was acting a bit “sensitive” (AKA would not let go and was shrieking nonstop). We chalked it all up to the cold and being away from me and Butts, but I wish I’d thought to send them to the doctor sooner. The poor girl was really suffering. Not until Sunday did it get so bad that we decided she should go to Urgent Care. Of course, one of my cousin’s husband is a nurse and he said that Urgent Care places suck, so Hubby should just go straight to the ER. Even though it didn’t change her illness at all, it just made me more on edge to be across the friggin’ country while my little lady was in the ER.
Turns out it was just the EI and the medicine finally did it’s job. I’m still not quite to the point where I’m truly glad I missed it, although everyone tells me I should be. It was her first one, and I just feel so bad that I wasn’t here to hold her.
Speaking of holding babies, though…I STILL GOT IT! We were at dinner at my aunt’s house one night during the trip and Butts was acting VERY ready for bed. My dad offered to take him home and put him down, and since I was enjoying my wine and wasn’t in a big rush to go home, of course I took him up on it. Once my dad called and told me he successfully got him to sleep I realized that I could go help out my cousin by being her night nanny. Since she’s formula feeding, I figured why not let her sleep for one night. I can handle two 6 pounders, right?
Well, despite a moment of deep regret and not-so-mild panic as she headed up the stairs to bed, YES! I could handle them. They only woke up twice – at midnight and then again just before 5am. I was a little nervous that I would sleep through their wee little whimpers, so even though I was on the couch a mere 8 inches from their pack-n-play, I set my phone alarm to wake me at 4. It was kind of fun watching them sleep for that last hour. I forgot about all the little video game noises they make! After I fed them at 5, I sent them up to their mom’s room and went home to check on Butts. Amazingly he slept until 8:30, allowing me to sleep for another 2 hours. He is a PRINCE!
The trip home went a lot better, despite the 23 month old banshee that was seated in front of us. She and her supercute 5 yr old sister took a liking to Butts and would NOT leave us alone. Even when he was sleeping, she would stand up backwards on the seat, and shriek: “BABY SLEEPIN’!?!!?! BABY SLEEPIN’!?!?!!” Just when I thought that surely her mother would toss her out the window, or at least stuff a sock in her mouth…nothing happened. And nothing kept on happening. A couple times Butts stirred and I swear to you if she woke him up, I don’t know what. (VERY) Lucky for her he was able to sleep through it – Phew!
My reunion with Sass was just not what I’d envisioned; the meds were still fighting off the infection and she was pretty pathetic. She’s all good now, though, and I swear she is a new person! She is as happy as a clam all the time. Did she have a 14 month long ear infection or something? Plus in the last couple of days she’s really and truly (and finally!) started walking. I got used to Butts walking pretty quickly, but I still find myself surprised to see her walk into a room with her teeny, shuffly little steps.
Two walkers! Oh boy.
On a totally unrelated note (and I’m typing this while watching SYTYCD results): If I have to see Evan do that shoulder shrug/grin move ONE.MORE.TIME. I will throw something. Also, Sean Paul should be heard and not seen. I actually enjoy reggaeton, but…ICK.
Seriously America? Evan over Ade? What the WHAT?????? Evan’s hair will never hold a pick. Ugh.
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Two. It’s the Magic Number.
Yes it is. It’s the Magic Number.
Somewhere in this Fisher Price Community
Was born 2. Butts and Sassy
And that’s the magic number.
What does it all mean?
What it means is that these 2 kids need 2 naps. 2day and everyday.
I tried valiantly to move us to 1 nap, but after a week of hour long naps midday and hour long screechfests in the afternoon, I caved. Yesterday was our first day back with the old schedule and they made it VERY clear that 2 is the way to go.
The morning snooze lasted almost 1:45 and the afternoon was about 1:15-30. Today the morning was about the same, and we’re currently underway with the afternooner.
This is definitely one of those situations where kids are just going to let you know what’s what. As the mom you might think you have some say in the matter, but you can only force so much.
Oh well, maybe in a few more months… On the upside, now I get lunch!
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The Grin Reaper
Ok, my son is out of control. I have never seen a more gleeful thug in all my life. No matter which subject he is beating to hell, he always does it with a smile. The windows, the dog, his sister, his mother…they all get the equally joyful smackdown.
Why just this morning he took a block (Foam, mind you) and repeatedly bashed Sassy in the head. He could not have been happier. Sadly, I can’t say the same for his sister.
What am I going to do with this Bruiser? He totally knows that what he’s doing is wrong, which makes it all the more difficult to discipline him. I’m at a complete loss, and getting pretty frustrated. Anyone?
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Skinny Napping
So, this one nap thing is going. It’s not going well, it’s not going poorly, it’s just going. But there have been some interesting side effects that I couldn’t have predicted and they’re all about me! (Of course, right?)
1) I’m always starving. I used to eat breakfast during the am nap and lunch during the afternooner. Now, my breakfast is delayed until 10:30 – 11, whenever I get them down, and my lunch is…DINNER. And in related news…
2) The best way I’ve found to keep them busy and awake in the morning is to go to the gym. Let those poor ladies in the YMCA daycare deal with them. I know as long as I pack a couple Dora yogurts (“Doh dah!” as Butts enthusiastically exclaims) they’ll be just fine.
So between the missed meals and the trips to the gym, this one nap thang just might help me lose the extra 700 pounds I’ve been lugging around – woo hoo!
Speaking of going to the gym, yesterday I went to a Step & Strength class. Holy Uncoordinated! I had been taking this bring-your-baby-to-class class but I think the instructor was pandering to our Mommy Brains, because the steps were not too difficult.
Yesterday’s class went like this:
“Mambo six, shuffle, up and over, turn step, walk to the front, now to the back, shuffle shuffle over and back now knee up L step…”
ACK! And of course the thing that messed me up the most was walking forward and backward. WALKING. Yeah.
Then, once my brain was completely fried, it was time to pick up the weights. Somehow the overuse of my choreographebellum turned me into a weakling. I was total junk! It’s all good, though because now I have this burning desire to go back and conquer Instructor Rose, her demanding footwork and her insistence on overhead presses. Look out Rose. I’m comin’ for ya.
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