Because I'm a Pile of Lazy Fatness

The gym used to be my hiding place.  It was a refuge from my all consuming job.  It was the one part of my life that my boss respected.  He didn't care that I had a husband or a family, but if I told him I was going to the gym, he would not call me.  I used to spend two hours in the gym at a time.  One hour with weights, one hour on the elliptical.  Some days I only had time for one hour and I  would just hit the elliptical.  I would crank up the music in my headphones and run until I felt the stress melt out of my pores.  That runner's high you hear about?  Totally real.

I made fitness my hobby.  My superior, holier than thou, knowitall hobby.  Along with the gym devotion, I ate super clean.  Six meals a day, nothing processed, complex carbs, good fats, lean proteins.  I was a woman obsessed. I was in really good shape, probably the best shape of my adult life.  I had definition everywhere.  Even my abs (which will never be a six pack) were flat and hard.  My boobs were the smallest they ever could be without surgery.  To quote Frank, upon looking at a vacation picture of us that summer, I was "diesel". 

The gym part wasn't hard, but the eating clean was brutal.  I'm a fatgirl.  I love deep fried, covered in ranch dressing goodness. And pizza.  I prefer my chicken in finger form.  Dr. Drew could probably do some work with me on sugar addiction.  My favorite thing to do on a Sunday afternoon is a two hour brunch with mimosas.  My favorite thing to do after work is red wine and cheese and olives.   Most of my socializing with friends involves food and wine.  All of  which, after having a baby, ha-HA, but you get my point.

The day I found out I was pregnant was the last day I went to the gym.  In the beginning it was the absolute fatigue.  It hit me the hardest.  Trying to still work 80+ hours a week and being so tired, I just didn't have it in me to go to the gym.  Pregnancy became my get-out-of-diet free card.  The world became my very own all-I-could-eat-buffet.  All the things I never touched; pizza, ice cream, deep fried everything, macaroni and cheese, pudding(!). I ate it all and then took a nap.  It was awesome.  My sister warned me to take it easy because it's not that easy to bounce back after baby.  I filed that information right next to all the advice I ignored about breastfeeding.  

My marathon eating slowed a little as Bo grew because I just didn't have the room for him and the pound of pasta.  The diabetes diagnosis made me put down the Phillies Graham Slam (best ice cream flavor ever) and return to my breakfasts of oatmeal and egg whites.  But still, I did not exercise.  Being confined to the couch for 8 weeks made me totally inactive - which was the point I know, but something about being medically prohibited from moving in my brain equaled EAT. Also, I ate out of boredom. 

In all I gained only about 25lbs and lost some of it in delivering Bo and the subsequent nursing marathons.  I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight, but not my pre-pregnancy body.  The number on the scale is irrelevant to me.  I'm short, top-heavy, and thick-waisted, all characteristics that have gotten more pronounced since being pregnant.  All of my old definition is gone.  I'm squishy and soft-bellied.  My stomach muscles are totally slack and if I don't pay close attention to my posture (and suck in), I still look a little pregnant.  All of my endurance is gone.  All of my strength is gone.

I hate it.  I hate how I feel about myself.  I hate how out of shape I am.  Yet I can't get it together to work out.  We have at treadmill in our basement.  I can't get it together to walk downstairs.  Every day it's the same routine:  nighttime Hopes set the alarm for 5am because I know that if I don't exercise before the day starts, it's not going to happen at all.  Nighttime Hope pep talks herself about how great the rest of the day will feel if I work out first thing.  She has big plans, that nighttime Hope.  Unfortunately, morning time Hope has no interest in starting her day at all, let alone starting it with exercise.  It's the oldest cliche there is.  Once you stop exercising, starting again is the hardest part. I have no excuses you haven't heard already: the baby needs something or there's something interesting on tv or I'm tired or it's too hot or it's too cold or blah blah blah, fat. I am really tired.  You know what would really help me get some energy back?  Exercise.  I'm in my own catch-22 over here.

I'm trying to get my mind right about getting back into shape, but it's not happening.  80-90% of weight management is diet.  You can run to the end of the Earth and do a million crunches but if you're following that up with a pound of fettucini and pint of Chunky Monkey, it won't matter.  I've got the eating part down pretty well.  I haven't gone back to eating clean because it's frankly a pain in the ass, but my weight has been stable for months now.  I just need to get myself moving.

Frank has lost 60 pounds since last year.  He gets up every morning at 5 to do P90X before work.  He runs every day.  He's running 5k races every weekend.  I'm so proud of him.  I don't know what to do to get myself going.  I really don't.  We've signed up for a 5k together at the end of October and if I finish in under 30 minutes I get to buy myself a fabulous new pair of boots and even that isn't getting me out of bed in the morning.  

I guess I'm trying to shame myself into exercising.  If I tell all of you - you know, all 4 of you - maybe I'll have some kind of accountability or something.  I don't know.  I have to do something.

Spring Forward

The weather was gorgeous a few weeks ago.  Way warmer than it usually is in Philadelphia in mid-March.  Sort of like today.  It was St. Patrick's Day and I was off.  I decided to take Bo down into the city with my brother to meet up with (my sister who lives in town but I never see) Rose for lunch and then wander around my old neighborhood and soak up some sun.  Bo was fascinated by every stranger who walked by our table at lunch and could not get enough of staring at everyone around him. This in between yelling for more bread! and more fruit! and anything else from your plate you want to feed me!  After lunch we headed to Rittenhouse Square and Bo met the famous Frog and Goat and Lion (we learned we are not friends with the Lion) and I had an out of body experience a little.

A million times.  I walked through that park a million times, sidestepping toddlers and brushing past gossiping moms pushing babies in strollers; tapping away at my blackberry, earphones blaring.  Headed who knows where; dinner with my sister, drinks with friends, shopping for nothing in particular, the gym, anywhere and nowhere in particular.  And there I was, pushing my baby in a stroller, toddling my son around the goat, watching pretty young things walk by in their fiercely stylish outfits, tapping away on their phones, earphones blaring, headed who knows where.  I just smiled and kept walking with Bo, thinking I must look a hundred years old to those girls.

My time is over, I know that.  The days of knowing every doorman in the city, of bypassing lines of people waiting, of walking into a bar with my girls and owning the joint immediately; those days belong to someone else now.  There's a new crop of girls - fully ten years younger than me - running wild in this town, believing the whole place is theirs for the taking.  If I'm honest with myself, the nightlife part was over a long time ago for me.  I was tired of the scene and the noise and the crowds long before Bo came along.  But the other parts?  Sitting for hours at a sidewalk cafe talking about nothing on a warm spring night, waking up whenever on a Saturday to roll out to brunch (Bo didn't get his eating habits from the stork)?  I'm a little wistful for those days.

The boy is a year old so it's not like this is new information for me.  I guess in between missing spring last year completely - aside from what I could see from the living room window - and the hibernation inducing winter we had this year, I never got the full illustration of how much my life has changed until I watched younger versions of myself swing past that day.  I'm not saying I want that time in my life back.  It was fun while it lasted but I wouldn't trade the delicious boy and life that replaced those days for anything.  For the first time in seven years, my husband is home on the weekends and every night for dinner.  I'm good.

I just miss that girl sometimes, that girl I used to be.  She was a lot of fun.

What's St. Paddy's Day without a Little Ham?

About a month ago, maybe more, Lora and I were talking about plans for her boy's birthday party and I volunteered to pick up the cake.  She replied that she didn't want to put that responsibility on me just in case that weekend was the one that Bo comes down with the pukes.

So I think I'm free to blame Lora for the unbelievable explosion of bodily fluids all over the damn place last week.  She talked it up.*

I'll spare you the details but holy crap.  Holy contagious crap.  Bo went down first. Two days later Frank spent the entire night in the bathroom.  He had two black eyes the next day.  That's how hard he was puking.  A day after that, my dad and my brother went down.  We missed Lora's party.  I didn't want to take Typhoid Mary anywhere, especially to a house full of children. I declared a quarantine on our house until all symptoms and fevers were gone.  Somehow I was spared the worst of it and just had a little stomachache Saturday.  It was no fun around here for a while.

But we're all better now!  And it's Springtime! 

Bo is 11 months old.  The first one to tell me he's about to be a year old gets diarrhea wished upon you.

He's not walking or talking yet but don't tell him that.  The day is a constant stream of babbling, yelling, laughing; directed at me, Frank, random toys, his own feet, whatever.  He says mamamamamamamama! and babababbababababa! for everything and nothing.  His favorite phrase is to stick his tongue out and say thumathumathumathum.  If you say it, he'll repeat it and it's like a whole deliciously gibberishy conversation.  He also likes to repeat consonants and fake cough.   

He's getting braver and braver in terms of walking.  Every day he spends a little more time - we're talking seconds really - standing without holding on to anything.  The past few days he's been trying take a step with no hand while cruising.  We keep saying we have to get the video camera ready.  Huh.  I should really just go plug it in now...

What else? He eats everything.  And if you're eating near him you'd best be ready to share.  Don't try giving him a stupid sippy cup of formula either.  You better break off a piece of that sandwich/salad/fruit/shoe leather you're enjoying and keep it coming.  Just put it down and back away and don't try any of that spoon feeding nonsense.  Too much lag time between dish and mouth.  He likes to eat, is what I'm saying.

Blahblahblah mommyblogblah.

He's awesome and makes my life awesome.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

*Of course I'm joking.  Lora doesn't bring plagues down on households. I love Lora.  One day I may even see her again.

Happy Merry Joy and Peace

Merry Everything!!

We sent out a holiday card this year but I'm some kind of moron who can't get it to save any larger than this:

 Happy Everyone!!

Truly wishing you joy and peace and butterscotch schnapps in your eggnog and short visits with obnoxious relatives...

Way More Than You Ever Need to Know About Christmas and Me

Aaaand go. This is the first Christmas season in five years that I can call my very own. There will be no working at 2am on Christmas Eve. There will be no spending Christmas morning watching a family that isn't mine open presents that I chose and wrapped, whispering what they are in my boss's ear so he can take credit for them. This year I won't miss every fun holiday party and local festive event. I'm no longer Ebenezer Scrooge's personal Christmas elf. This year I get to have my very own Christmas. I'm sucking up every minute of it.

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I had a whole thing working here about the war between the decorating themes in our house, but it was boring and going nowhere. So I copied this list from Lora instead.

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Oh wrapping paper.  I love to wrap presents.  When I was in college I had a stupid job at a department store in a suburban mall.  It was great because they would hire me back every time I was home from break.  They also had a gift wrap department.  Between shopping on my lunch breaks and the gift wrap department, I probably gave half my paycheck back to the store.  My gifts were the prettiest ones on Christmas morning though. I do appreciate a gift bag for things are too weird and awkward to wrap properly.  There is plenty of tissue paper and charmy, dangly things to add to the beauty of the bag.

2. Real tree or Artificial?  We always a real tree growing up and ideally that's what I like to have.  Our first Christmas together (before we were married), Frank came home from work one morning with a surprise real tree for my tiny apartment.  It was probably about 4ft tall and even at that height it brushed the ceiling.  The past few years we've had a fake tree or none at all.  This year our tree is fake and I have to admit, it's much easier and practical.  We're leaving for our big vacation on Christmas day this year anyway.  I want Bo to remember having a real tree though.  Maybe next year we'll leave the fake tree in the shed and get a real one.

3. When do you put up the tree? The tradition I grew up with was we put the tree up on Christmas Eve.  It evolved from my parents at first not being able to really afford a tree until the last minute when the tree guys were practically giving them away to not being organized enough to get a tree sooner than a few days before until it just became a tradition.  My mom would make snacks and appetizers.  We'd listen to Christmas music and act dumb while my dad fought with the tree.  Every year with the hammer and the platform and the yelling.  Every year hitting himself with the hammer at least once.  Once the tree was up my mom and older sister would string the lights.  Then we would all hang ornaments, my mom supervising to make sure they didn't end up all bunched up in one spot.  It was such fun to unwrap all the ornaments that we'd made or collected as we grew up.  That we'd forgotten about over the course of the year.  Our tree is already up.  My goal is to put it up by December 1st one year evenntually.

4. When do you take the tree down? This is the tricky part.  And another reason why a fake tree is probably best for us.  I'm not so good at taking the tree down.  In past years I've left that dry ass fire hazard up until February or March.  It's such a pain in the ass to take all the ornaments down and wrap them up and put them away.  I hate that part.  I'm really aiming for New Year's day this year.  January 2 at the latest.

5. Do you like eggnog? Eggnog is one of those things that I try every year in the hopes that I will like it.  It seems like something I would like.  It never works though.  I always hate it.  We got some lactose free eggnog for the tree decorating and I actually liked it.  First time ever. 

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Gosh.  It's hard to pick my favorite.  One year there was a Brook Shields head, the neck of which was set in a plastic star shaped tray.  The tray had a makeup palette in it and we could put makeup on Brooke's face or style her hair. They were called Glamour Heads.  That was a good present.  Then there was the year I got a CD Walkman.  I think I was in high school  That was awesome.  I wonder if they even make those anymore. Every year my dad would get a new board game and we would all sit around the dining room table after all the gifts were opened and play the game.  That was the best thing I got every year.

7. Do you have a nativity scene? I have a porcelain ornament on the tree that has just Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus.  Frank's mom probably gave it to us.  There's a house a few neighborhoods over that has a life sized nativity scene on the front lawn and a leg lamp in the front window.  Makes me laugh every time I drive by.

8. Hardest person to buy for? My boss.  I have to get him a present because he gets me lots of big deal presents every year and we have a close relationship that warrants gift giving.  He's a millionaire though.  What do you get the person who already literally has everything and if he doesn't, buys 10 of whatever it is?  I always end up getting him a book or something equally lame.  I think I have a good idea this year though. 

9. Easiest person to buy for? Frank.  He loves presents.  Although I suppose Bo is even easier.  Tonight I gave him a paper bag to play with and it was seriously BEST TOY EVER!

10. Worst Christmas gift ever received? I can't think of any terrible gifts I've received.  I'm so easy.  I love presents of any kind.  Everything makes me happy. 

11. Mail or e-mail Christmas card? I think I managed to send out cards one year, the first year we were married.  Since then not so much.  This year I've got photo cards ordered and will send them out.  Hopefully by New Year my boy's smiling face will be wishing you joy and happy holidays.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? I'm a sucker for the old movies.  White Christmas might be my most favorite.  Holiday Inn isn't technically a Christmas movie but I love that one too.  The old A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sims (Simm?) is fantastic and so is the newish one with Patrick Stewart.  Captain Picard makes a great Scrooge.  I also love the Grinch - cartoon, not Jim Carrey.  That guy is just creepy. And all the old nostalgia ones like Rudolf and Frosty.  I tried to watch the Miser Brothers' Christmas the other day.  Have you seen it?  That one is just weird.  Frank woke up from a nap on the couch in the middle of it and was totally confused.  I was watching George Bailey go through life as if he hadn't been born the other night and then had a dream that I'd killed myself.  No more Frank Capra for me for a while.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas? I start shopping on behalf of my boss ( for his kids and friends and girlfriend and her kids and friends) in early November.  No matter how much I try to have him all done and sorted and ready, I'm inevitably putting the finishing touches on things right around the 24th.  I fit my own shopping in here and there. 

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present? Of course! But not anything I've ever given you.  I pick all of your presents out special.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Everything!  My mom makes traditional Spanish cookies called rosquillos de huevo (help me out with the spelling here Belen.  i know you're reading).  They're sort of like little doughnuts and they're glazed with a honey citrus stuff.  Mom only makes them at Christmastime because that's the tradition and because they're a ton of work.  I don't know how to make them.  I should probably learn.  They are my favorite thing to eat at Christmas.  

16. Clear lights or colored on the tree? I like little white lights that do not blink.  Frank likes colored lights that blink, the more seizure inducing the better.  He also likes tinsel garland and all manners of junk on the tree.  I like a tree that would look good in a department store.  He wins this year.  It seems more kid friendly anyway.  Maybe one year we'll get two trees; a family tree covered in junk and a beautiful, perfectly matched and styled tree for me.

17. Favorite Christmas song? It's so silly but I like all the ridiculous ones like, "I Wanna Hippopotomous for Christmas", and "I'm Gettin' Nuttin' for Christmas", and "Mele Kanikimaka".  I also love the standards.  Who doesn't love Nat King Cole singing about roasting chestnuts on an open fire.  Have you ever had roasted chestnuts?  Add those to the list of things I love to eat at Christmastime. My all time favorite might be "We Need a Little Christmas".  Bo loves to hear me sing that one.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home? I went to California one year around Christmas but not specifically for Christmas.  I've been in Miami with my boss on Christmas day and New Year's eve and New Year's day. This year we're going on a big family trip, the three of us and Frank's mom.  I'm excited.  It should be interesting. 

19. Can you name Santa's reindeer? Did you know that Donner is Rudolf's dad?  I never noticed that in the show until this year.  Rudolf's family is the Donners and Donner is his dad.  Santa even calls him Donner.  Watch it again.  You'll see.

20. Do you have an Angel on top or a star? We have a really great, old fashioned star on top.  The silvery kind with lights in it?  Yeah.  Clark Griswold is jealous of my star.
 

21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning? Definitley Christmas morning.  Frank has a hard time waiting to give presents and sometimes has to give me at least one.

22. Most annoying thing about this time of year? My crazy ass boss who I think believes I'm actually Santa.  Also traffic.  And the fact that it's dark at 4:30.  That has nothing to do with the holidays I know, but it's this time of year.  I just barely win my cage match against seasonal depression every year.  The holidays actually help keep me sane.  Well, the holidays combined with a vacation somewhere warm at some point between December and March. 

23. Ugliest Christmas Decoration ever invented? Inflatable lawn crap.  My neighbors have an inflatable nativity scene right next to an inflatable Santa roasting marshmallows with a couple reindeer.  Weird.

25. Which looks best theme trees or homey trees? My personal aesthetic is theme tree but I'm really looking forward to a tree covered with ornaments of popsicle sticks and cotton balls and popcorn strings we make ourselves.

26. Gingerbread or sugar cookies? I love love love gingerbread.  In man form or big hunks of the bread version.  Delicious.  Add that to my list of favorite Christmas foods too.

27. Do you like Fruitcake?  I really do.  I think it's delicious.  When someone asks you, who eats this stuff?  Now you know.  I can't be alone.  They make thousands and thousands a year.  What?  It's really good with coffee.

Happy Holidays Everyone!

He looks like a Who in Whoville, right?  Would be such a better picture if you couldn't see the charger for the dustbuster.  A dustbuster which I no longer have because I put it in the utility sink and then forgot about it and then ran the washer, which drains into the utility sink.  But I still have the charger.  I'm a few years away from my very own epidsode of Hoarders I think.

And If You Got 10 Sticky Fingers...

Like most 4 month olds, Bo has discovered hands. He loves to watch my hands do things and he puts his hands on mine when I'm buckling him into his car seat or stroller, like he's helping. He doesn't really stare at his own hands so much as suck on them all day long. He tries to get both fists into his mouth at once sometimes. He'll also sit playing with his tongue and chewing on his fingers at the back of his mouth, where his molars will eventually be.

Anything else in the general vicinity of is face will end up in his mouth too. He's starting to figure out how to grab things and anything he manages to get into his hands goes straight to his mouth. He chews on my shoulder when we're walking around and he even got a handful of my hair in there today (because the hair is excellent for grabbing and holding onto, apparently. I really need a hair cut btw.). Bo will grab Frank's thumb and put it in his mouth and go to town. He'll even take a break, pulling Frank's thumb out and then putting it back in. He does it with the pacifier too.

Even though this is all normal developmental stuff, my baby is a genius. No baby has ever figured out how to put things in his mouth as efficiently and smartly as my boy. And the drool is just proof of his incredibly giant and brilliant brain. SHUT UP, he's a genius.

I'm a little concerned though, because he's sucking his thumb a lot. He's pretty much given up the pacifier in favor of the thumb. He'll actually spit the pacifier out so he can suck his thumb. Mostly I'm unconcerned. Except for a little bit. Because I don't want Bo to be a thumb sucker and he's already displaying some of the behaviors of one. He sucks for comfort when he's feeling upset or stressed, he sucks to get himself to sleep and to get back to sleep if he startles himself awake. I have visions of him being one of those 6 year olds you see at the mall, still in the stroller, sucking away. And well, ew.

I'm unconcerned because he's only 4 months old. This isn't a hard and fast habit he's developing here. Right? RIGHT? The other thing is, it's so damned cute. He gets that fat little thumb into his mouth and sucks like there's no tomorrow. Sometimes his enormous head falls forward into his lap because he's so intent on getting as much of the thumb into his mouth as possible, he can't expend the effort pick that melon up.

I'm trying to get some sort of schedule going with this boy (and oy, talk about sucking), part of which is getting him to sleep before 11pm, on his own, without nursing himself into unconsciousness. The trade off is the thumb. Am I setting myself up for a fight down the road? Is there going to be a pepper on the thumb showdown in our future? If I discourage the thumb in favor of the pacifier, isn't it really just the same thing?

No really, I'm asking you.




Because I'm a marshmallow when it comes to this boy.


Do you see those legs? Those legs are so FAT that they get stuck in the Bumbo. I pick the boy up and the seat comes with him.

17lbs.

SEVENTEEN POUNDS!


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two posts in two days. you have to be impressed. I'm just saying.