Monthly Archives: June 2012

Easy like…

Sunday morning.

It’s easy to skip out on exercise when you’re on vacation. The single upside of an addictive personality is that when you create a positive habit you’re like a junkie for that, too. I peeled Sleeping Beauty out of bed and popped her in the stroller at ten after seven. Big, blue eyes and duck pajamas. We took off for a short two mile run through the neighborhood. Vacation or not, we were jogging. I needed my fix.

The promise of an empty stretch of sand in the morning motivated me to cross the highway and head for the beach.

The beach in the morning. Running on a perfectly flat road. Standing at the beach access and smiling. Making the decision to run an extra mile because I could always take a break and pop back up another access.

These are the things I was grateful for this morning. These are the reasons I will run again tomorrow morning.

I miss the ocean.

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Home!

The car is all packed.  I am sure I forgot something.  Heading to the beach for a week with the girls while Dad and Fisher hold down the fort.  I will miss my husband.  My own bed. My rocking chair.  And these babies that were born this past weekend on my front porch.

I hope MQD’s girls don’t seem so big to him after a week.  I am sure my babies will be all grown up.  They may even have left the nest by the time we get home.  20120618-182301.jpg

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Hot Stuff

I figured it out. The sexiest thing I have ever heard a man say. It is not what you’d think. Not a compliment to an often overlooked body part. It’s not romantic.

But it makes me want to jump his bones all the same.

“Where’s the diaper bag? What should I put in there?”

It’s a little thing. But it is a huge help.

Babies need their mama. Big girls want their mother. Spare outfits do not care who shoves them in the diaper bag. Wipes do not care who replenishes the travel wipe case. But when I am standing in line somewhere and notice I have a shit covered baby in my arms I care very much.

So, listen up dads. Find out what Mom likes in the diaper bag. Offer to pack it for her as she is racing to get out the door. Panty. Dropper. I promise.

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Next to the bed he keeps his book, his blood kit, his wallet, his phone… and a sparkly headband. Just in case…

Twinkle Toes

I thought my new running shorts were giving me a rash. Two red patches on my thighs. I was getting annoyed. I love those shorts. I don’t want to get rid of them….

It is 5:45 in the morning and I am wide awake. Can’t sleep…

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Someone else is waking up, too. She rubs her eyes and she smiles sweetly. She rolls over on to her side, facing me and I noticed how long she is getting.

She nuzzles up against me and helps herself to breakfast. She is excelling in the area of time management already, combining her morning stretches and her breakfast. She arches her back and points her toes.

She rolls over again. Stretching completed she gets down to business nursing. Such a big, tall girl. Her feet resting against my thighs as she is nursing.

When Fisher dreams he wiggles his feet back and forth. I don’t know where he is running or what he is chasing, but always in his deep sleep his paws are humming along.

Lucy!!! As she is nursing she is wiggling, wriggling, inch-worming her way around the bed. Her little non-slip grippies on her pajama’d feet slowly digging a hole in the tops of my thighs! It’s Lucy! Not my new running shorts.

And that’s good news. I didn’t want to get rid of them. The new shorts. They make my butt look good. And Lucy? Well, she is the reason my boobs are so big right now so I guess she is staying, too.

But the pajamas? They may have to go. Who needs non-skid feet at less than five months old? C’mon.

First Love

When you fall in love for the first time you think that you are the only person that has ever felt this way.  Your dreams are filled with thoughts of this person and they occupy your heart in every moment of every hour.  You can’t breathe without them and you believe that your life will cease to exist without this person.20120618-182402.jpg

You don’t ever imagine loving someone else.

Emily was my first love.

If you are very lucky you can hold on to your first love and never let them go.  Keep them in your heart and let them show you how to love another.

I am so damn lucky that I get to hold on to my first love and keep her in my arms!  I was silly to think that loving my children would be like loving a seventeen  year old boy.  That somehow I’d have to fall out of love a little to fall in love again.  Or that falling in love for the second time would make the first less special.

I fall more in love with my second love every day.  I can laugh at the foolish girl that was scared that she couldn’t possibly love two children.  I love them both to pieces. I can’t imagine having one without the other.  My big girl showed me how to do it. And this little one?  She just makes it so damn easy with her cheesy grin.

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My girls… they are both silly.  They are both so sweet.  They both give kisses that are to die for.  They both make my eyes tear up when they put their little hands on the sides of my face.  They are both my girls.  And I love them.  Both.

The Diva

So, how did it go with the new Bridge to 10K app?

It really could not have been better. The new app is helpful, a little learning curve as I was used to the robotic “Run Now” of the Couch to 5K. I was anxious about the run ten minutes and walk one minute idea. Once I stop jogging and start to walk it is sometimes hard to start again, to keep going. In the first 45 seconds of that walk I can think of a thousand reasons I should just stop altogether. And four cycles of walking means four opportunities to convince myself that I should stop, that Lucy looks too warm or that I need to make a phone call.

But I didn’t stop. Even when the diva was not cooperating.

*Chest clips unbuckled in the stroller. It is our version of a wild and crazy time, letting loose.  Clearly it was overwhelming.

Not this diva. She was a dream.

And the big little diva has a new best friend in less than five minutes anywhere and everywhere. A few people have asked me what I do with Emily while I jog now that she is home from school. She plays on the play ground at the local park. Or she rides her bike on the trail. She wears a light blue helmet. When she rides I can see her little helmet whizzing down the trail ahead of me. She has mastered riding slowly enough to keep me company but she doesn’t usually stick with me for very long.

She likes to go fast.  She loves to swing. She will swing and chat up the mommies at the playground for an hour if I let her. Sometimes I don’t see her for a moment. And then she comes around the bend. Or she pops put of the tube slide. I am unafraid. She is smart. She is careful.

We have two rules.  She never goes in the bathroom without telling me. She waits for me to pass by and I circle around near the bathrooms until she comes out. If she crashes on her bike, and she did often for a while there, she is to wave her arms.  If she can move she will live, and I need to know that from 100 yards away so I don’t have an aneurysm on my way to inspect a scraped knee.   But aside from that she is free. And she is thriving. At almost seven years old I was at the creek. I was riding bikes to another neighborhood near mine. I was free.

I didn’t think about it much. I am raising her like I was raised. I didn’t think there was a name for it. But as the helicopter parents got a name so, too, did kids like Em. Free Range kids. And before you read me the riot act or tell me that things aren’t like they used to be, no, they are not.

But anyway the diva. I think I’ve griped about this already. I am in that small percentage of women that get their periods back even though they are nursing around the clock.

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Diva cups come in this discrete fabric bag. And you get a pin, perhaps so you can warn your loved ones as to the arrival of Aunt Flo.

After Emily’s birth when I first became more aware of my lady bits and how I treat them I fell in love with the menstrual cup.  That is a bold statement for a product designed for use during your period.  But it is amazing.  I didn’t get my period back after Em was born for more than a year.  After nearly two years without it I was loathe to return to the tampon.  Enter The Diva. Not only is it a one time expense but you don’t need to mess with it more than once or twice a day.  Good stuff in my book.  (If you are already icked out by this you might want to stop now.)

There is a learning curve.  And somehow in the year of being pregnant I had lost my touch.  I didn’t quite have it in right.  So how was my now 50 minute exercise experience?  It was good. It was great.  But I did have a baby not long ago.  And everything is not exactly how it should be just yet.  So, even though I have a size 2 (post childbirth size) Diva Cup, it didn’t feel quite right. But on I ran.  For fifty minutes.  While doing kegels.  If you’re wondering how I fixed this issue (since sadly fifty straight minutes of kegels did not immediately fix my .. issue – flip your menstrual cup inside out if it is slipping, it will be perfect, I promise.

That’s my two cents for this morning.  Let your kids outside.  They’ll be fine.  And get a Diva cup, or a Moon cup or my personal favorite brand name the Lady Cup.  You’ll be glad you did.

Goals

I’m big on setting goals. Measurable goals. For as much as I pick on MQD and the SCIENCE (imagine I said science with jazz hands and a hint of feigned terror in my voice) I love a good graph.

When I decided I was ready to hop back on the fitness train I returned to Couch to 5K. Couch to 5K is a training program designed to take you from the couch (no way! Me? the couch? I didn’t gain almost sixty pounds with this pregnancy at the gym!) to running a solid thirty minutes without stopping in nine weeks. I have a tendency to overexert myself. A training program is necessary to keep me from deciding to try and run six miles after three leisurely strolls around the block has me thinking I am in tip top shape.

The trouble with the Couch to 5K? It ends. After nine weeks where do I go from there? Without the magical iPhone telling me to Run (which is laughable as my jogging speed has been known to be slower than my walking speed, but whatever!) I am lost.

But something crazy has happened to me. I remember when Em was teeny. She wasn’t big on napping. I decided training for the OBX Marathon was a good idea. The jogging stroller was my idea of a vacation. Every day, no matter what else happened, I had an hour on Bay Drive. If you go to the Outer Banks and you have never driven down Bay Drive and admired the homes and the sunset and the sound side living you are missing out. (Oh, how I miss you, long, deliciously flat Bay Drive…) It is happening again.

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And then I did it again, every day for the next FIVE days!! I am keeping it up. I am motivated not only by the health benefits and the uninterrupted Me time, I admit. The number on the scale has me a little freaked out. I haven’t ever said that number out loud here. I showed you my stretchmarks, but that number? It is like pooping in front of someone. I don’t do that.

But I am done hiding. I weighed 226 the day before Lucy was born. I’d hit an all time ten year low of 167 before we got married. I weigh a lot, and I am okay with that. I have size 10.5 feet and D cups, they come with a price.

I avoided the scale immediately after Lucy was born. I know my tendency to get antsy about my weight and I knew I needed to be eating well and frequently in order to establish and maintain a milk supply those crucial first six weeks.

My six week post partum visit greeted me with a 197. What the shit? I’d had a baby six weeks ago!! I was horrified. I hit the ground running, literally.

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And then shortly after I hit the ground, I hit the store.  I wrote about my new shoes.  But I haven’t mentioned my new found love of the running skirt.  It makes me feel like a cheerleader.  I never was a cheerleader but I imagine this is what it felt like.  “Hey you, my ass is almost showing but it is all in the name of sports!!  Check me out! But don’t talk shit, I’m an athlete, bitches!”  Did I say that out loud?  So help me, I am wearing day glow running skirts and I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore.

This morning I downloaded the “Bridge to 10K” app.  I need to keep going. I have to keep going.  It might take me longer than the six weeks it suggests.  But I’ll get there.  And if you look at the screenshot on the right, in the top corner, it’s a graph!!  A GRAPH!  I am as happy as a pig in shit.  Or a middle aged, 184 pound mom of two in a hot pink running skirt.  And let me tell you from my experience, that is pretty happy.

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The one where we buried the placenta…

My husband is a scientist. He labels everything. He once asked me if we could talk about keeping the refrigerator more organized. He volunteered to make labels. Dairy. Vegetables. Condiments. We had only just moved in together so I bit a hole in my lip and smiled and said “if you’d like to take on that project I will try really hard to put things back.”

It was never mentioned again.

That having been said there is  no placenta shelf in our freezer. Just a ziplock bag with the tell tale biohazard bag inside crammed in the back of the freezer.

For four months and nineteen days. Lucy is four months and twenty one days old. The nurse practitioner that stopped at our house to see us when Lucy was two says old brought it to us. We left it on the counter when we headed home four hours after Lucy’s birth.

Some people leave their purse. Or their cell phone charger. We forgot our placenta.

I was lucky. I did not experience post-partum depression after Emily was born. So I elected not to dehydrate and encapsulate my placenta. But I liked the idea of doing something with it.

Different cultures do different things. We decided we would bury it under a plant or shrub (I can’t bring myself to say bush, although the comedic possibility is enticing.)

We decided to plant a gardenia. When we were picking out flowers for our wedding we considered gardenias. I imagine opening my front door next spring and smelling them for the first time of the season. Lucy will be walking by then.

Emily chose a hydrangea for her plant. I am hopeful that our soil will produce blue flowers as that was what helped her make up her mind. The September birth stone is the sapphire and she favors the blue sapphire. Not to be confused with her mother’s favorite gin, Bombay Blue Sapphire.

I’ve said it before. I am smitten with my husband. Married a little over fourteen months and he still makes me smile. He hollers up to me as I stand on the deck out of the rain “get a picture! You’ll never see your home again, Lucy!!”

I hope our plants survive. But the benefit of being a mom the second time around? Our kids will make it. Of this much I am certain.

Word to the Wise: “call before you dig” is no joke. We spent our first weekday of summer without cable television or the Internet. MQD wisely elected to not put the plants or the placenta in the hole until after the cable guy came lest he accidentally dig it back up.

It meant we put our plants in during a gentle rain shower on Monday evening instead of on Sunday afternoon. And MQD looks totally hot in wet blue jeans and a tshirt, I mean… our plants were well hydrated and the rain had some kind of poetic symbolism and…. Yeah.

Lucy and I supervised.  And Emily?  Well, the cable guy came about thirty minutes before MQD got home from work.  She established that a placenta looks like a brain and then she decided she’d had enough.  There was tv to watch.  It’s Summertime.

Focus

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It is said that mothers have eyes in the backs of their heads. I wish I had a second set in front. Mine have been working overtime.

My big girl had a bang up week. Last day of school on Friday and a soccer trophy the night before that. I put my constant surveillance of “the baby” on hold for the week. My big girl was getting bigger by the minute and I didn’t want to miss it. Friday morning before she left for school I said “grab your backpack, baby” and she said for the very first time “I’m not a baby.”

I’m glad I was watching this week. I sat on the steps with a cup of coffee in my hands watching her head down the driveway to the bus stop on Thursday morning. I don’t know what made me sit down and watch her. But I’m glad I did.

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Emily’s graduation was Wednesday morning. Soccer game on Thursday. Last day of school on Friday. I don’t think I took my eyes off of her for 72 hours. It is like she was made of bamboo. She was growing up. And I could see it.

Friday morning I sat down on the back deck and had a cup of coffee and a chit chat with Lucy. Maybe it was just the shorts. But I don’t think so. She grew, too. While I wasn’t looking. Dammit.

I need to get these two on a schedule. Because they can’t keep growing at the same time. I’m gonna miss something.

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P-A-R-T-Y or I Love Kale Chips

Yesterday evening I posted a picture of the three, yeah, three bags of kale I selected to receive in our CSA box this week.  My friends and a good portion of the internet has been abuzz about the deliciousness that is the kale chip and I thought I’d give it a shot.

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I over indulge. Even on vegetables.

I tagged the picture with a few of my kale loving friends, mostly just to give them a chuckle.  I go big.  Think you might like kale, well then get three bags!

And guys, facebook LOVES kale!!  You guys came out of the woodwork to shout about the glory that is this superfood. I had planned on making them this afternoon when the kids get home from their last day of school.  Last Day of School?  Party down with some KALE, kids!!!

I nurse Lucy to sleep at night in the rocking chair.  In theory I could go put her in bed but the great majority of the time I just let her snooze on me and I goof off on the computer or watch “my stories” (Duck Dynasty, Bravo garbage, yanno important stuff on TV) and take her to bed when I hit the hay at the late hour of around nine.

But last night, this happened.

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Snug as a bug

And with my night all to myself what did I do???  I marched right in to the kitchen and started trimming ribs off kale, yes I did!!!  And if that was not enough fun I massaged them with some olive oil and popped those bad boys in the oven.

Oven at 200 degrees, kale all shiny and olive oil-y with a wee bit of kosher salt and some parmesan cheese

When someone says “Taste this, it is just like potato chips!” my instinct is to call Bullshit.   O’Doul’s is not “just like real beer.”  Decaf coffee is not just like the real thing.    The cheap, big bag of Tasteeos is not even “just like” Cheerios.  I mean, come on.  But kale chips???

Come on over to my house!!  I will be serving kale chips.  All summer.  They are delicious. Crispy and light and so good.  Using kitchen scissors I just folded each leaf in half and trimmed up the middle to remove the rib and what we have left was delicious curly q’s of superfood!  I’m hooked.  It is the Weekend of Kale Chips!  I have declared it so.

If you need me any time on Sunday I’d guess I will be in the bathroom.  Kale.  A superfood packed with dietary fiber.  What’s not to love?