Muffin Cake

Renovation in Progress.

2012-01-29T16:16:00.000-07:00

Remember a while back, when I posted this list? Well, here it is updated, with steps we've since had to add in blue:

~~- Call insurance and file claim~~

~~- Remove baseboards~~
- ~~Remove toilet and cover hole~~
- ~~Remove tile~~
~~- Remove subflooring below tile~~
- ~~Remove tub surround (also involves removing showerhead and closing off that pipe)~~
~~- Pull out and discard tub (also involves removing and covering drain into floor)~~
~~- Have insurance assessor look at damage and determine if it's going to be covered by insurance~~
- Cut away water-damaged drywall in garage ceiling
- Put in new insulation and replace drywall.
- ~~Potential repair/replacement of subflooring in bathroom~~
~~- Potential refinishing of cabinets~~
~~- Sand, stain, buff, and poly cabinets, doors, and drawers~~
- ~~Removal of current counters and cabinets~~
~~- Removal of hardware (towel rack, light plates, etc.)~~
~~- Spray paint hardware to brushed nickel~~
~~- Buy new globes to cover bathroom lightbulbs~~
~~- Spray paint cabinet hardward brushed nickel~~
- ~~Clean ceiling to prepare to paint~~
- Repaint bathroom ceiling and walls
~~- Move existing drain and pipes for bathtub to accomodate new height~~
~~- Build support box for tub to sit in~~
- ~~Installation of new tub~~ and surround
- Buy and install new greenboard drywall for shower surround
- Tile new shower surround
- ~~Hook up plumbing to bath~~ and shower
- Paint room
- Reinstall fixtures on walls
- Installation of new flooring
- Installation of toilet
- Add risers to cabinets to increase height
- Move up bathroom mirror 3 inches to accomodate higher cabinets
- Reinstall bathroom lights
- Installation of cabinets (either refinished old ones with risers ~~or new ones~~)
- Paint and install new baseboards OR use tile as baseboard
- Installation of countertops (either current one or new)
- Put in new faucets
- Add new shower curtain and bath mats

So, yeah. We've done quite a bit more work than we'd planned and added some additional steps yet to be done. I guess you could say this was much more work than we'd planned. I'm excited by our progress, and will share pictures soon!

We Did It!

2012-01-29T15:13:00.000-07:00

Color Run is DONE!

We weren't able to run the whole thing, but that was more logistics than a lack of trying. The race was sold out, with 6,000 people packing the trail. We had to walk through the color zones where you get colorfied, which meant 3 stops (we ran around the outside of the 1st of 4 zones), but still...WE DID IT!!!!

I couldn't have done it without this group - co workers and amazing friends who trained with me, slowed to my pace when I needed it, and made sure I got plenty of birthday wishes on the run courtesy of the decorating they did to their shirts in my honor:

Team ROYGBIV, lovingly named after my neurotic desire to color coordinate my closet.

And I couldn't have done it without my amazing friend Elizabeth, who inspired and encouraged me through training and met me on race day to cheer me on. LOVE her!

Bathroom Lights.

2012-01-25T10:17:00.000-07:00

From brown:

This image, by the way, is NOT my bathroom but is eerily similar colors and shows how the oil rubbed bronze looked in there. From here.

To satin nickle and opaque lighting covers:

This is so much more my style than all that brown. The walls haven't been painted yet, so I need to take these back down to do that, but I wanted to see how they looked. I love it. We sprayed them with 3 thin coats of Rustoleum Universal Metallic Spray in Satin Nickel.

Also, even though I swore we weren't going to pull out the cabinets to stain them, I lied.

More on those some other time. Right now I'm being asked to 'play games', so off I go!

On a January Morning.

2012-01-25T08:53:00.000-07:00

This morning our alarms didn't go off, so I woke with a start when Darrick alerted me that we had 20 minutes to get everyone ready and our of the house.

"Shit!" I grumbled. And next to me in bed, a tiny voice mimicked, "Shit?"

Shit, indeed.

Walking downstairs, I realized I didn't smell coffee brewing. Turns out I forgot to set the coffee timer before bed, which usually isn't a big deal but when I'm running late making coffee isn't always doable. I quickly put some coffee on and went back upstairs to get clothes for the kids and me. Luca peered at me from under my own blanket which I'd just vacated a few minutes prior, and let out a hearty cough. She'd struggled to fall asleep through that same cough last night, and for a minute I couldn't figure out what to do. I called her over and she took my hand, her long, thin fingers lacing between mine. They were warm to the touch.

Downstairs again, I tucked her under a big blanket and she let out a little "Muuuuh." Not letting on what I was doing, I ran a hand over her forehead pretending to brush her hair out of her eyes, and she was warm to the touch.

An hour later, the three of us (Luca, Rohan, Mommy) were snuggled on the couch under two blankets, watching Disney Junior. We decided we needed Munchkins to get through the morning, so in our jammies and no shoes we ran to the nearest DD and went through the drive through, adding 2 small hot chocolates (with whipped cream and 2 ice cubes each, please) and a coffee to the order.

And now I'm sitting here, quickly sifting through work emails and watching my kids use stickers and markers to create art, feeling torn between soaking in a free day with my kids and doing something productive. I think, for one day, naps on the couch and kid TV are going to win out.

It's Official.

2012-01-23T22:20:00.000-07:00

I'm a graduate of Couch to 5K!

The Color Run is this Saturday, which also happens to be my birthday. I'm more than a little nervous and super excited just to do it. And I cannot believe I finished C25K!

Break It Down.

2012-01-21T16:51:00.000-07:00

Over the 3-day weekend, we got a lot of work done in the bathroom, and yet there's still much to be done.

After removing the tub, we made some clean cuts to the green board behind it so that it'll be easier to replace.

Darrick also cut the copper pipe that fed to the tub spout, since our new tub is a bit deeper and therefore requires a higher spout. And I don't have pictures of any of this, but I pulled out the toilet and sink faucets (yeah, I felt pretty bad ass doing that by myself) and we removed the remaining tile. Also, Darrick and his step dad built the front of the frame needed to support the tub. You can see there were already horizontal supports nailed into the 2"x4" beams, and fortunately they seem to be the correct height or close enough to stay, which meant that we didn't need to build an entire frame, just the front part. That's been assembled and will be screwed into the walls and subflooring as soon as we're ready.

We briefly considered just leaving our countertops and replacing the faucets, but then I changed my mind. It's 20 years old and, well, it looks 20 years old. Originally we thought we could cut it away from the wall (we did without a problem) and lift it out of place (also not a problem), then slide it out of its resting place and take it downstairs to add to the 'donate' pile. But we quickly realized that it was too snug in its place to slide out without us having to remove at least one medicine cabinet and a piece of bathroom door trim. Darrick was really torn over the idea of breaking it, but I wasn't. So I said to him, "Just give it one swing with the sledgehammer and see what happens. If it doesn't break, we'll try to get it out in one piece."

So, two pieces it was. And honestly? I am pretty confident we would have needed 2 more people to help carry this thing had we tried to get it down in 1 piece.

So there we had it, and it was a perfect place to pause since we don't have many hours in which we can do work in that bathroom during the week. Anything the kids can't be around for has to wait until bedtime, and anything loud can't be done after bedtime...which rules out about 75% of the work to be done at this point.

So, I took it upon myself to start work on the bathroom cabinets. We decided we don't want to go through the hassle and expense of replacing them, since what we have works fine. We decided to try to spruce them up with a stain mostly because they are still held in place by a 1/2" layer of subfloor that would have to come out first if we wanted the cabinets out, and it's just not worth the time, work, and expense right now. These are no high end cabinets, though, and they are 20 years old, so we also decided to try our hand at something neither of us has done before, figuring if it looks horrible we can always change our minds and replace them.

This picture is best considered before-ish, since this is not the bathroom cabinets. This is a shot of the kitchen, which is the same finish as the bathroom, but with better lighting.

And this beauty is best labeled as in-progress, since this is post sanding, cleaning, and 1 coat of stain. I need to let it dry at least 6 hours, buff with steel wool, and do a 2nd coat. And this is only the doors and drawer fronts (which just screwed right off) of one cabinet. I figured I'd start small with this first to test my method, and if it worked I'd know we were good to go to do the other cabinet as well as both bases. So far, so good. I simply sat down with some 60 grit sandpaper (really course) and newspaper under the doors and sanded them by hand. I started with the sides and then did the fronts, keeping with the grain as much as possible until there was no shine left and the doors looked dusty. Then I used a rag with a minimal amount of water to clean them up, borrowing one of the kids' stiff bristled paint brushes to brush the dust out of the grooves and corners. I set them out back on trash bags to dry. I used a brush made for oils and stains to apply the poly, starting with the sides and working with the grain to do a thin coat. There are tons of good tutorials out there on this process, so I'll leave that to the experts, but overall it was really easy and pretty intuitive.

Our new bath fixtures are all a brushed silver finish, so I got some spray paint in the same finish to attempt a cheap re-do of the towel bar and light fixtures. Both are an oil rubbed bronze finish which I know is really popular right now but which I am not 100% in love with none the less. The light looks a lot like this one, but the glass things over the bulbs are not only beige but also have darker brown swirls in them. It looks good with the existing paint, but not with what I've got in mind. So if the spray job works, we'll probably end up with some white or clear light pendant things to replace the brown.

And speaking of 'what I've got in mind', I did a bit of browsing at Home Depot last night, and came home with a sample palette to show Darrick. This floor tile is inexpensive, and so is the mosaic tile (relatively), which is always nice. I would actually prefer a different mosaic tile carried at Home Depot, but the cost is twice as much per square foot, so I'll have to try to convince Darrick of that. Just to see if he likes the overall colors and feel, I bought a sample of the cheaper mosaic and the floor tile, and grabbed some paint chips too.

So there we have it. Darrick's been out of town since yesterday, but he's coming back tonight sometime, so I'd be willing to bet we'll have some more progress in there tomorrow!

Da Mean In Your Eyes

2012-01-19T23:39:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, Mo skipped a nap. This was a first for him, for the most part. He fell asleep for about 6 minutes in the car, was carried to bed, and woke to use the potty a few minutes later. His little toddler brain decided that constituted a nap, and he couldn't be convinced otherwise.

With Luca and Darrick asleep, Mo and I prepped dinner for the crockpot and settled in to a snack and a movie under the blanket on the couch. It was sweet, for sure, but not nearly as sweet as a nap would have been.

And here's how I know the kids still needs to nap:

A few hours later, we made a Home Depot run, and somewhere between the home appliances and the bath fixtures, my patience ran thin. The entire time we'd been there had been spent with me trying to curb his impulsive two year old behaviors, which include but were not limited to touching everything in sight, running in the store, and intermittent hyper screeches the likes of which only little kids can manage. I must have asked him to 'use walking feet' and 'keep your hands by you' and 'hang in there because we're almost done' a quatrillion times, and here's where I acknowledge that as his parents we should have recognized imminent meltdown and removed him from the situation. But I had Just One More Thing to find, and meanwhile Darrick took a detour to the far other end of the store. Just as we passed the fridges and washing machines, I knew we were in trouble. Despite the fact he knows the rules, he ran over to a front-loader, opened the door, and attempted to fold himself inside.

I intervened before his foot had cleared the opening and, in my best patient-mommy-suffering-the-kid's-madness moment, bent to his level and said in a calm voice, "Sweetie, we need to keep moving and stop touching things. We're almost done."

As I stood and took a step away, he looked up at me and said, "I'm sick of you, Mommy!"

::deep breath::

Let me just say, I've been here before. During one particularly stressful night with Luca nearly a year ago that had me convinced that all other parents are assholes for not telling you that 3 is really worse than 2, Luca said the exact same words to me. Being new to this kind of thing, I had scolded her and put her in time out to cool us both down. A few minutes later, I went over and asked her to explain to me why she said that. It took a while, but eventually it came out that it was a phrase she had heard before. When I dug deeper, I suddenly became aware that she had no idea what she was saying. "What does that mean, Luca? Do you know?" I had asked. "Yes. It means...I'm sick. Like I feel...like my nosy is all sneezy for you?"

Right. Toddler = literal. Sick of you = my nose is sneezy for you.

So I didn't flip. Oh, I know that old couple who was lingering near and evesdropping was probably waiting for me to throw him over a knee and give him something to cry about for such blasphemy and talking back. But I knew he didn't know what it meant, so I reattaced my invisible Mother Perfect tiara, and, ignoring the words I knew he didn't really 'get', bent to his level once more. By now he was in a sample kitchen, sort of peering at me with a resolute disapproval that told me he was pissed at life in general.

"Rohan," I said while gently putting a hand on his arm to get him to look at me, "I know you're tired - - -"

And here he cut me off with an "OWWWWWWWWWWWW!" that echoed through the entire store, and a glare at my hand on his arm. Which is where I sort of dropped that Mother Perfect tiara and lost my patience with this whole bit because there was no way I was hurting him. I mean, I couldn't have killed an ant with the amount of pressure I was(n't) applying.

"Look, buddy, I know you're tired but you CANNOT act like this. You need to say sorry for using mean words with mommy." I said more sternly. Because, you know, NOW he was going to know I was serious.

"Sowwy!" he stubbornly mocked my request.

I decided this wasn't the time, nor the place, to work a proper sorry out of him, so I stood and started to walk again.

"Mommy," he said, stopping in his tracks. And for a brief and incredibly naive second I almost thought I was going to get a legitimate apology.

Instead, he raised his hands so they were by his eyes and, with his best jazz hands, informed me bitterly, "When you say dat, you got da mean in your eyes!"

Week 9

2012-01-16T22:54:00.001-07:00

Tonight marks the start of C25K, Week 9. Also known as the last week. Or, alternately, "Holy crap in less than 2 weeks I need to be able to run 3.1 miles!"

It took some talking-to-myself to get out there tonight and brave a 30 minute run. I know it's only 2 more minutes than I ran all last week, but it seemed big. Monumental. Scary.

At 6 minutes into it, I was feeling good. "Ok, you did that. Now just do it 4 more times." I told myself.

At 12 minutes into it, I was still feeling pretty good. "My legs are burning, but I can do it. 3 more times."

At 18 minutes into it, I was starting to unravel a bit. "Ok, Katie, keep going. It does not matter if you're slow as long as you finish. But why is your butt jiggling so much? Do you feel that?" :::feels with hand and butt is indeed jiggling::: "What the hell? You've been running for 8 weeks and your butt just NOW starts jiggling like that? That's it! No more snacks for you! It's time to buckle down and stick to salads!"

At 24 minutes into it, I just tapped out, mentally. I went to that dark place no one wants to talk about, where the only thing going through my mind was numbers as I counted my foot falls and tried to predict how close I was to done.

At 29 minutes, when the podcast I used this week (which, by the by, I definitely recommend in terms of better music for running, and which came from here) notified me I only had 1 minute left, I was resolved and determined to finish it running. "You can do this. So what if your butt is jiggling and your time probably really super sucks. Just. Finish."

At 30 minutes, when I stopped running and started my cool down walk, I took back all the promises of salad and daily whippings to myself if I ate bad foods and felt nothing but sheer relief and accomplishment.

If I can do 30 minutes, I believe it's really possible I can finish this 5k running.

And to top it off? I logged my run when I got home, and I've finally, after 9 weeks, broken my own personal goal for speed. It's a pretty pathetic goal, really, but I truly don't give a shit. My goal was to get under a 12-minute mile, and tonight I finally did!

Because My Husband Is A Badass.

2012-01-14T22:30:00.000-07:00

My bathroom currently looks like the picture above. Tile and mortar board are out everywhere except under and directly surrounding the toilet. And the only reason we didn't remove the tile there is because that entails taking out the toilet, and we're too lazy in the middle of the night to use the hall bathroom.

But I digress.

You might notice in the picture above that there are two kinds of flooring showing, and that can be explained quite simply. The board at the upper right side is the floor itself. The lighter colored flooring in the lower left section is a subflooring that was fit in on top of the floor itself to help support the tile that used to be there. That subflooring is all going to stay, save for a small piece that will probably be about 6' long by 1' wide and currently sits in front of where the tub has been for the past 20 years. That section's got some water damage that needs to come out, so the plan is to buy a small piece to fill that gap after the new tub is in.

But I sort of got ahead of myself there. So let me back up, because after Darrick removed the tile and mortar board and before the tub ended up on its side leaning against the wall, we had to do a lot of work. At the drain end of the tub, there is a wall that separates the tub/shower from the toilet, and the bottom 15 or so inches of that wall had rust on the edge piece. I attempted to just remove the very bottom, where rust was visible, but once we started to remove that, it just started to make sense to remove the whole strip, all the way to the ceiling. At least, that's what my husband apparently thought, since I had removed just the rusty part nearest the floor and was downstairs watching the kids, then later came up to see this:

So, in case anyone ever wondered what the inside of a wall looks like, there it is. The left side of this picture is the shower/bath side, with plumbing running up through the wall. Starting from the furthest layer out, you have paint, Greenboard (looks like drywall, but is water resistant and sometimes used in tub and shower surrounds when covered by another waterproof layer), then the stud. The side of wall facing me shows more drywall covering the broad side of the stud, as well as the paint which is peeled back from the edge piece being removed.

Once that was done, we had to finish removing the shower surround, which was easier said than done. We'd already removed the piece at one end, but before we could get the back wall off, we had to remove the end that all the plumbing fed through. That meant we needed to remove the fixtures in the way, including the shower head, faucet, and spout. And if you're already in there doing that, you may as well figure out how to take out the overflow and the drain, right?

FYI, regarding the drain, you need a tool. If you're like me, you'll go online and watch some videos of people removing the drain in their tubs and google the tool name only to find it costs $70. And you'll want to cry. And THEN you'll realize that the same thing is sold at Home Depot for just under ten bucks.

The upside: It cost $60 less in store than online prices had me believing, which meant we didn't feel bad about going ahead and purchasing new tub/shower fixtures while we were there.

The downside: There is no way to get a picture of yourself holding this thing (intended to show anyone who may be wondering just what kind of tool one needs) without it looking phallic. I mean, c'mon...

Am I right? Of course I am.

Anyhow, once that was taken care of, we tore out the rest of the shower surround, which had to come out in pieces. And then we were ready to yank out the tub.

Which is about as easy as removing a 5 foot long, almost 2 foot deep fiberglass beast sounds. According to YouTube, we just had to get a hammer's claw between the tub's edge and the open space in the vertical 2"x4" beams in the room. Except, of course, it wasn't that easy. first off, the Greenboard was in the way. Second, there was a horizontal beam around the top edge of the tub in many places, meaning there was no gap through which to place the hammer. And third, have I mentioned how huge this tub really is?

Long story short, after trying the hammer, the pullbar we used to install the floors downstairs, a shovel and a metal bar for leverage, and a large metal file tool, we weren't really getting anywhere. The most Darrick could do was shimmy the tub about 5" off the floor on one end, and it would get stuck.

In a moment of desparation, I went down to the garage to get the car's jack in hopes we could fit it under the bottom of the tub and jack that fucker out of its spot. But it was not necessary, because while I was downstairs Darrick took the sledgehammer to the tub's corner and popped out some fiberglass so it would come out without getting caught.

A piece of the tub that got beaten into submission.

And at long last, we return to that picture up top, with the tub victoriously propped on its side and officially removed.

Aside from watching in awe and attempting to stay the hell out of Darrick's way, I also started removing the countertops so we can pull that sucker out as well. The end pieces are separate from the remainder of the counter, and with a little finesse with the utility knife I cut through the caulking and used a putty knife (improperly, no doubt) wedged behind one edge to pop it away from the wall.

It came off relatively easily and clean, leaving just a little adhesive which was easily pried away without damaging the drywall behind it.

Sadly for the other end of the countertop, my husband got a bit antsy and worked some 'magic' on that piece while I was out of the room. And herein lies visual evidence of why my husband should be trusted with sledgehammer-style demolition and I should handle the finer details:

I know this picture sucks big time, but in case it's not clear, he tore away two large chunks of drywall in the process. So much for the hope we might not need to patch any drywall on this side of the bathroom when all is said and done.

Next up, we need to haul out the tub and remove the faucets and countertops. Then the Greenboard gets replaced. The replacement tub we bought for a song and a dance at the Habitat for Humanity Re-Store needs a surround to be built before we can drop it in. In the meantime, however, we'll be searching for a new countertop and finding a way to add a riser to the top of the cabinets so that the new counters sit at a more erasonable height for us both.

Tonight.

2012-01-12T23:33:00.001-07:00

I had an emotional break about something I'd rather not put out there into the internet. I almost cried in a bad place to cry. I stopped on my way home at Sprouts to get something to cook for dinner. I threw wine, brownies, and chocolate covered almonds in my cart.

I didn't buy them.

I wanted to check out. To make my husband agree to going out to dinner. To order an appetizer and stop for ice cream on the way home. To drink enough wine to forget that I was supposed to run tonight.

I didn't do it.

I got home. I vented. I got hugs. I cooked healthy 'pizza' for the kids and me while Darrick ate leftovers. I skipped the wine.

I ran.

I finished week 8 tonight, and it was a tough run. My heart wasn't in it and that slip of time between 14 and 21 minutes was out to get me. But I kept running. One foot. Two foot. Feet, feet, feet.

I finished week 8 tonight.

I came home and thought about making Rice Krispie treats. I stared longingly at the circus cookies in the pantry. I imagined hot chocolate spiked with Kahlua.

I had some water and Greek yogurt.

Tonight I gave myself permission to be self-indulgent, but it wasn't with food. I complained. I curled under the world's softest blanket with my Luca and let her tell me about the games she made up in her head for us to play this weekend and who said what at school while I reveled in the peach of her cheeks and the silk of her hair. I took a hammer and chisel to some tile and subflooring. I read a long Dr. Suess book to my kids. I had tunnel-vision tucking in Rohan, lost in his sweet smiling eyes and the way he puts his hands on my cheeks and says, "Oh, you are MY mommy."

I haven't hit my stride in running. I don't love it yet. I am not dropping weight like I expected. Sometimes, I disappoint myself or others. But, at the end of the day, I didn't let myself let myself down.

Surround.

2012-01-11T23:05:00.001-07:00

Now that we've been visited by our insurance adjuster and given the blessing to cut and paste away in the bathroom, we sort of can't wait to get going. So in addition to Darrick ripping out about 90% of the tile (all except that under/around the toilet) and starting to piece apart the subflooring, we're addressing the tub/shower and surround.

The long and short of it is that it's all got to come out and it's all got to be replaced. We've been eyeing tubs and have plans to scope out a deal on one with the same width/length dimensions but a bit more depth. We're limited some by the placement of the drain and pipes, as the master bath shares a wall with the hall guestbath and we're not in the business of attempting any major changes in plumbing layout or structure. We're also limited some by being on the 2nd floor, as concerns over weight limits of the tub mean we can't invest in a a steel one that will last forever...not that we'd be likely to do that anyhow.

The other thing this means is that we're sort of stuck with the placement of all the major fixtures. The toilet in this bathroom shares the same major plumbing line, so we can't get a longer tub because not only would we need to move the wall of tub/shower plumbing, we'd have to relocate the toilet.

With all that said and done, we're eyeing ways to freshen things up and make the bathroom feel brand new without making those major changes. This is where the shower surround comes into play.

We briefly considered removing it, cleaning it, and re-attaching it to the walls after we get a new tub. In fairness, it's in really good shape considering it's possibly 20 years old (the house was constructed in 1992) and seems to be solid. But that's not enough for us. We've decided we want something a little more updated and custom, and our insurance adjuster has generously graced us with some funds to be able to make it happen.

Something like this:

From here.

From here. (Just the walls, and just in the shower area. The idea of cleaning that floor makes me feel tired.)

From here. (I like the thick line of colored tile, but not sure if we'd do the whole bathroom like that, or just the shower/tub area.)

But before I get too carried away admiring beautiful and probably insanely expensive bathroom ideas, we had some practical work to be done in removing the shower surround. We'd cut away one side when the water damage first happened, but hadn't removed any. And I guess I was itching to remove something.

(The color on these is all kinds of wrong, but I didn't feel like making it better.)

The wall behind the first piece of fiberglass surround we removed. Darrick sliced the caulking and tonight while he was out I removed this piece.

Yeah, that's going to need to be fixed.

The back of the surround.

A close up of the fixed points.

Kids standing by it for scale. NO they weren't really that miserable. In fact, they are pretty into this whole thing.

Oh, yeah. This. We also took a sledgehammer to the bottom of the tub where the crack was to check out what condition the floor was in below it and allow maximum air circulation in case there was still moisture build-up down there. It looks like there was some level of tomfoolery happening here, with compressed particle board under the center of the tub, which otherwise would have sit a few inches above the floor. We're no experts, but we're pretty sure the half-assed job someone did here contributed to the tub cracking near the side, where there was no support to speak of.

Next up, we need to remove the back wall's surround, but I knew I wouldn't be able to do it myself. It's 5 feet long and the shorter end piece was probably between 50 and 60 pounds, so it's definitely going to be a 2-person job. We also borrowed a shop vac to suck up the dust from tile demo. This weekend has some serious work in store for us.

Success In All Measures.

2012-01-10T23:13:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd start running and hate it. I thought I'd keep running and learn to deal with it, even if I still didn't like it. I thought I'd keep going a few more weeks and run a 5k and smile and feel proud. And I thought, somewhere in the middle of it, that I'd be melting away pounds like nobody's business.
Well, technically it IS nobody's business, but that has not happened. I did start running and hate it, then keep running and learn to deal with it. I kept going, and in just over 2 weeks I'll be running a 5k ON my birthday, which is all kinds of amazing and pride-inspiring. And yet, 8 weeks into this new goal of mine, I'm down half a pound. HALF a pound is not exactly melting away, you know?

Shit, at this rate it will only take me 508 more weeks to hit my goal weight.

So there you have it. And this morning when I stepped on the scale and saw that I'm barely floating half a pound below my start weight and I'm running 3 days a week, I went into self-sabotage mode in my mind. For breakfast I was good, but by lunchtime I was tempted to scrap my healthy low-point lunch and run out for something delicious and indulgent. I wanted cookies and chocolate bars. I contemplated wine with dinner and an ice cream cone after.

But I didn't do it. I stuck to my planned breakfast and lunch and opted for a salad with dressing on the side for dinner. I even skipped dessert and went for a run.

And I guess it paid off, because while I was logging my run tonight I discovered I HAVE made progress. I log my miles and minutes, so an easy math calculation can tell me how fast I'm running, and it has been pretty underwhelming so far. I mean, I knew I was slow, but I didn't know I was running around a 14 minute mile until I found the map my run site. But tonight I did something different: I ran on main roads. Usually I run in my neighborhood, up and down residential streets. I prefer it that way because I almost never see anyone while on my run, so I don't feel self-concious about my speed or how I look while running. Tonight, though, I did about 80% of my run on main streets around my neighborhood. It not only made me keep going a bit faster than usual, it also felt a little safer to me.

And the results are real: my running time was just over a 12 minute mile today. That means that while I've barely shed half a pound in 8 weeks, I have managed to increase my run time by about 2 minutes per mile in just over 2 weeks. At this rate, I might just finish that 5k in under 40 minutes!

And, yes, I promise I will be happy with that!

Updates in January.

2012-01-07T09:42:00.002-07:00

I just completed Week 7 of C25K, and it was really, really hard. All 3 runs were 25 minutes, and according to the podcast I use, that's supposed to equal a 2.5 mile run. Can I just take a minute here to point out how insane it is to think that I'm supposed to go from 'couch' to 10-minute miles in just over 6 weeks? I came home after each of this week's runs and mapped them, and I'm not quite clocking 2 miles in 25 minutes. I'd be embarassed to admit that it takes me more than 12 minutes to run a single mile except for the fact that I've never in my LIFE run for 25 minutes straight, so while I'm a little disappointed in my distance, I'm really trying to focus on the positives.

Week 8 will kick off for me tomorrow, upping the runs from 25 to 28 minutes. So far this year I ran 5.26 miles (and I added a ticker right up top on my blog, over there --->, to keep me accountable), and on top of it? I may not be seeing the numbers on the scale changing yet, but I am feeling a difference in my body. I definitely feel the burn in my legs while running, and can feel my muscles tightening up. The other night, after my first 25 minute run, I even made Darrick feel my calves to see how strong they are getting. Nerd.

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In bathroom news, our insurance adjuster is going to come out this afternoon to inspect the damage and let us know whether any of it's covered under insurance. I'm not optimistic. Honestly, they've already tried twice to have us pay for someone to come out to set up fans in the garage and 'remove moisture and humidity from the walls'. Um, great...except we're talking about just enough water to bathe two little kids (half full tub?) that leaked on a day that was 80 degrees with almost NO humidity. I'm thinking it's not likely worth several hundred to several thousand to pay someone to do that.

In the meantime, while we waited for the insurance people to come out, we started chipping out tile. Darrick figured out a new way of removing it without the pieces breaking so small, which definitely helps minimize dust and other messes. As of the other night, when these pictures were taken, he'd only chipped up a small section of the floor. However, in preparation for the adjuster's visit today, he chipped out the whole area in front of the tub. Under it is a tile subflooring we also need to remove, then the tub will be ready to pull out of its place!

These pictures are crappy and the colors are funny, but you can see the work he did in here in them.

***Update*** I took a few pictures to show what he did in here last night.

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In other news, Rohan has discovered his Mastocytosis spot. The other day, I witnessed him telling Luca he had a 'big ouchie' and pointing to his arm. She took it in stride (we've prepped her for this, explaining it to her in kid-terms from very early on so it would be a normal thing when it came up), telling him it wasn't an ouchie, it was just a spot that turns pink and puffy if he eats kiwi. I laugh because she must have heard us tell people this many times, that kiwi is the only food we know of so far that he has bad reactions to, and she picked it up and fed it right back to him. I did ask him if it was hurting, and he said no, so I think he was reacting to it looking like an ouchie more than it feeling ouchie. His spot is always a bit red and is about the size of a quarter, so I knew it would be a matter of time before he caught sight of it and asked about it.

He has since pointed it out to me a few times, and I just say "Oh yep, that's your little spot. It's ok right now though, so let's just leave it alone." With Masto, if he messes with the spot itself it could possibly trigger a histamine reaction that would cause him some irritation, so we're opting to just encourage him to leave it alone to hopefully avoid that. He still remains largely unaffected by his Masto, rarely having reactions like some kids with Masto do have, so I'm optimistic we can just approach this in a way that normalizes and minimizes it for him.

Drip. Drip.

2012-01-03T15:01:00.001-07:00

Drip.

That was the sound of water leaking through our garage ceiling and landing on my car hood, the washing machine, and the floor. The sound of our master bath tub cracking, a tub full of water draining down the pipes and also into the floor and through the ceiling below.

That's our garage floor. We cut a few holes through the drywall that makes up the garage ceiling to be sure no water was pooling up there and to let it ventilate so it would dry faster.

And then we followed the ceiling beam to the end and sliced some more openings into the drywall, because water travels the path of least resistance and there were drips coming out that spot as well. For their part, Luca and Rohan dumped out two plastic bins full of train table pieces all over the floor upstairs so they could bring us the buckets to 'catch the water'. Ah, young helpers.

Once we were sure the water wasn't pooling in the ceiling and all the drips had ended, we went upstairs to survey the damage. And there it was in all its fiberglass glory:

Darrick decided to do two things right away (well, after a brief freak out and a lot of profanity): remove the baseboard by the sides of the tub to check for moisture and pull back one side of the tub surround to let it ventilate more.

He used a utility blade to cut through the silicone cauling around the perimeter of the surround, then grabbed the sides and pulled back. It came unstuck pretty easily, but rather than removing it entirely we left it affixed to the back wall and propped open, to let air flow behind it.

Removing the baseboard was simple enough with a hammer used to pry it away from the wall. Once we had that removed, we could feel a little moisture around the bottom edge of the tub. At this time, it's hard to tell if the moisture there means that water has soaked the subfloor and is causing damage, or if it was just damp because the kids had finished their (splashy) bath in there less than an hour earlier.

The good/bad news is that we have to remove the tub and replace it, but to do so we have to remove the tile in the room. The bathroom has saltillo tile, just like the entire downstairs used to have, and we remember all too clearly how un-fun removing all that tile can be. The tile sits on top of the front lip of the tub's apron, so there's no choice but to remove, at a minimum, the tiles directly in front of the tub. And if you're removing that, you may as well remove all of it. Which also means taking out the toilet until new tile is put in. And while we're in there, we may as well remove the countertop and cabinets, since the counters are a bit short for us (they only come up to my pelvis) and what better time than now to either get new ones or refinish and put risers under the current ones?

Do you see where this is going? Because I do. Which gets back to why this is good/bad news. On one hand, I'm not excited to spend the time and money removing the tile and tub and putting in new tile and tub and possibly replacing the countertops. On the other hand, the opportunity to maybe put in a deeper tub and raise the height of the counters and freshen up the look in that bathroom is pretty exciting.

For now, it's looking like our steps will be:

~~- Call insurance and file claim~~

~~- Remove baseboards~~

- Remove toilet and cover hole

- Remove tile

- Remove tub surround (also involves removing showerhead and closing off that pipe)

- Pull out and discard tub (also involves removing and covering drain into floor)

- Have insurance assessor look at damage and determine if it's going to be covered by insurance

- Cut away water-damaged drywall in garage ceiling

- Put in new insulation and replace drywall.

- Potential repair/replacement of subflooring in bathroom

- Potential refinishing of cabinets

- Removal of current counters and cabinets

- Removal of hardware (towel rack, light plates, etc.)

- Repaint bathroom ceiling and walls

- Installation of new tub and surround

- Hook up plumbing to bath and shower

- Installation of new flooring

- Installation of toilet

- Installation of cabinets (either refinished old ones with risers or new ones)

- Installation of countertops (either current one or new)

- Installation of tub surround

That's quite a to-do list, and that's an optimistic one based on the hope that there is no extensive damage to the subfloor, drywall of the garage ceiling, etc. If there is, this could get a lot more complicated (and expensive!).

8.

2012-01-02T23:20:00.000-07:00

Today marks our 8 year wedding anniversary. In 8 years, we've sold 1 home, moved 3 times, gotten pregnant twice and had two kids, started new jobs, traveled, camped, fought and made up, faced some hard times and been blessed immeasurably.

I would say I love my husband as much today as I did the day I married him, but that's not exactly true. I love him just the same, and more, as I did 8 years ago when we stood up in front of friends and family and promised our lives and our futures to each other.

New Years Tradition: 2012.

2012-01-01T23:35:00.000-07:00

The past two New Years Days, Rohan has woken me before the sun was up, and before Darrick and Luca were up as well, and we've ventured out in the apricot and rose morning to take a photo.

January 1, 2010.

January 1, 2011.

This year, we all slept in until about 7, when I grabbed him in his jammies and ran him outside for our photo op. He's almost too big to hold on one hip while taking a picture, so I ended up in this one. I can't believe the difference in him year to year. And I'm more than a little sad to think that this time next year I probably won't be able to hold him on a hip for our first photo of the new year. And how many more years before he won't even humor my love for a good photo op anyhow?

But, for now? For 2012? We stood together in the middle of the same street and smiled our hearts away. I love this sweet moment we steal just for us. What a way to kick off a new year!

January 1, 2012

2011: A Year in Posts.

2011-12-31T00:18:00.000-07:00

I've never done this before, but I've been looking back over my year as chronicled on this blog, and I thought it would be fun to spotlight some of the bigger, more pivotal, and even funnier moments in 2011. Because nothing says posterity like a link-fest.

In January, Rohan got a big boy bed to convert his nursery to a big boy room. ::sniff:: The shooting of Congresswoman Giffords and several other people in Tucson hit me hard, but then the beauty of other humans touched me deeply. Luca and I learned how to meet in our dreams and she made my mama heart soar so high. We ended our long love affair with the Brawny Man (and are still going strong a year later!). And my Real Mom self met my Super Mom self in a dark alley.

In February, we lolled about in sunshine for hours on end. Luca drew her first family portrait.

In March, Luca gave me an anatomy lesson to remember and I reflected on how there is no such thing as a perfect mother. Luca continued the trend in potentially uncomfortable car conversations about adult topics by asking how a baby is born. My sunshine boy turned 2. Luca started ballet and reminded me once again how she is wise beyond her years.

In April, I waxed poetic about my mom coming into her own as Grandma. I soaked up some alone time with my kids. I discovered a secret rainbow and talked about Rohan, who is my little wallaby baby (strange enough, this was one of my most popular posts of the year...who knew wallabies were such a hot thing?), and then I bitched a bit about him being SO TWO.

In May I talked about fat thighs and the pressures of raising a girl. Luca turned 4, which still seems too old to be possible, and I showed off my cute carpool buddy. We built forts and took walks with Sleeping Beauty.

In June, I looked back on how much Luca had changed in a year and shared how Rohan potty-trained himself at just over 2 years old. We celebrated Father's Day and the world's most amazing dad. I struggled with whether I will ever be happy in my body (another hot post for the year).

In July, we made the biggest update yet to our house, putting in laminate floors. Luca reminded me that one of the best things a parent can do is not overthink it and then she made sure I told her about how babies are born without skipping any parts.

In August, we took a camping trip to celebrate Darrick's birthday before Luca started preschool (for the second year). I had a big moment at work and made my TV debut on a nighttime public interest show, but almost let it be overshadowed with shame over my appearance. We put making a decision about more kids on the back burner.

In September, I talked life and death and how kids perceive it. Luca and Rohan had their first sleepover with the grandparents. I talked about the sweet spot we're in with a 2 year old and 4 year old. I felt some visceral growing pains realizing that my kids won't need me forever like they need me now.

In October, we said goodbye to Ruby, our beloved dog of over 12 years. I spent my month with a focus on saying nice things. I chopped off about a foot of hair and Luca had her first dentist visit. My husband reminded me why I love him so and I got a nice response to my say nice things-inspired awkward Facebooking.

In November, we recapped Halloween and looked forward to the end of 2011. I started training for my first 5k and realized my ass claps in appreciation, and we showed our own appreciation (for ass clapping and all other things) with our Thankful Wall. I also finally unveiled our new french doors, which were installed in July but not completed until November. I marveled at my husband and his knack for teaching our kids the right lessons without even trying.

In December, I tried to learn how to just say thank you. We spent one weekend on the coast and the next in the snow. I did my first 20 minute training run for the 5k in January. We decked the halls and the giant ass tree for Christmas. I set out in writing some goals for 2012, and then kicked them off right by buying some organization tools and running for 25 minutes straight for the first time in my life.

2 Miles.

2011-12-30T15:27:00.000-07:00

Today I broke with tradition and did a daytime run. It's about 70 degrees outside, and sunny as hell, and I felt every degree of that 70 and every drop of sunshine.

Week 6 is complete, and my 25 minute run took me 2 miles. Not exactly speedy, for sure (it was probably a 13 minute mile, since I walked for 5 minutes before I started to run. And 'run' is not exactly accurate, given that pace.

But you know what? I did it. I ran for 25 minutes without stopping. And I logged it on my new favorite website when I got home (mapmyrun.com) so I could see how far I went. And I am damn proud of myself.

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I've been struggling for a few months now with trying to follow WW and still live my life. Some days I completely forget to track food. Honestly, having to go on to the WW website and log in meals drives me kind of nuts. It takes longer than I want it to, and I get bored and frustrated.

I'm hoping I found the solution this morning. First, I bought a monthly/weekly planner at Target. I need one anyhow, to keep on top of work meetings and deadlines and appointments. But this planner is also going to be a tool I use to track one of my 2012 goals, running 350 miles. But the planner doesn't have enough space to keep a food journal, so I also got a small 'PlanHer' at Target. It's essentially a small notebook with two columns and a header space up top. I'm using it as a food journal, and also a place where I can write down my runs before I log them officially into my planner for the year. Again, I'm nothing if not an optimist, so here's hoping these tools will help me keep on top of my goals this year.

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Did I mention I ran 2 miles today???????

Optimism is a Gift.

2011-12-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

Optimism is a gift, right? Hope springs eternal and there's a silver lining to every dark cloud and all that, yes?

Which explains why I'm facing 2012 and putting some resolutions and goals out there. In writing. Again. Even though 2011 laughed in the face of my attempts to make resolutions. If I'm being fair, we did start eating healthier foods and cooking more at home, and we rarely went out and spent money on new things, but I wouldn't say I achieved any of the 3 goals I had fully.

But that's not going to stop me from putting myself out there for the next year. I think a new year is a great time to refocus some energy on the things that are important and to remind myself that it's never too late to start over. So without any further ado, here are my goals for 2012:

1. Run my first 5k on my 33rd birthday.

2. Use the savings we're going to have from not having to pay for Rohan to be in daycare (he stays with my mom full time now since our provider moved 2 hours away) to build up our savings and pay down the last of the 2 credit cards we own.

3. Keep running. Or jogging, but whatever. In 2012, I'm making a small running goal I hope I can accomplish. My goal is to log 350 miles of running. It's not a high number of miles, but it's 350 more than I have ever done in any year prior.

4. Spend more time caring for myself. My health. My appearance. Making an effort to dress in clothes that flatter and do my hair so I feel pretty.

5. Spend more one-on-one time with each of my kids. We spend as much time as possible together when we ARE together, but I don't always get much quality time with just one of them. At least once a month, I want to try to do something special with each of them, alone.

6. Spend more one-on-one time with my husband. This past year really screwed us financially. It started with getting a notice from the IRS that we didn't pay a tax on something back in 2009, and now had 30 days to pay it. And then there was the minivan repair that set us back over $1k. Two new tires for each car. Dental surgery. The list goes on and on. What does this have to do with spending time with my husband? Well, when you can't afford a date night, it has everything to do with it. But we both know we need to make a priority out of spending time together without the kids, so in 2012 that's my plan. More date nights. And date afternoons. Maybe even a night or two away without the kids.

So, 2011, see you later, asshole. I'm over you and your shitty luck, natural disasters, financial ruins, and more. I'm ready to welcome 2012.

Week 6.

2011-12-26T23:18:00.000-07:00

Week 6 started tonight on the C25K program, and I kicked it off with new running shoes and new ear buds. Not a shabby way to train, really. This week is 3 different routines like last week was, starting with tonight: warm up, 5 minute run/3 minute walk, 8 minute run/3 minute walk, 5 minute run, cool down. Day 2 will be two 10 minute runs with a 5 minute walk between, and Day 3 will be a 25 minute run. Tonight actually wasn't too difficult, which I'm taking as a good sign. I have about 5 weeks before my first 5k, and with just 3 weeks of training left I'm feeling confident I am actually going to be able to do this.

Seriously, 6 weeks ago I was barely running 60 seconds without feeling like I wanted to lay down and cry. And now I'm doing 5-8 minutes without thinking twice. I really cannot get over that.

The next month I'm going to be focused on completing the training and then maintaining the runs so I can get up to 3.2 miles before race day. My focus is also going to be shifting back to how I eat. I've given myself permission to eat whatever I want the past few months, and I know from experience that I won't lose any weight doing that. Even with running 3 nights a week, the weight isn't melting away like I want it to. This is nothing new to me. My husband is forever trying to convince me that I can eat whatever I want if I just work out regulrarly, and I'll lose the weight. But he's wrong. I've tried that before, and for me it won't work. I know I need to get back on track with eating better along with the exercise. And not just so I can lose weight; so I can feel better and run better and be a healthier woman and wife and mom as well.

Forward Strides.

2011-12-26T07:00:00.000-07:00

Christmas is over, and already I'm looking anxiously toward 2012's start. After the challenges of this year, I can't help but think that 2012 will be better. There just doesn't seem to be any other possibility, both for us personally and for the universe as a whole.

I'm thinking about new years and resoultions. I'm thinking how I fell flat this year, weighed down and buried under a world of challenges and struggles. And this year, I'm approaching things a little differently. This year is all about goals. we're working on setting them already, Darrick and I spending many cold, late nights after the kids are in bed talking on the back patio about where our family has been and where we're going next. Jobs. Money. Kids. Home. Health. I'm lucky to be married to someone who I can gaze lovingly at, but who more importantly is excited to face the future with me, both of us looking in the same direction.

I'm ready for 2012. I'm ready for goal setting and goal making and celebrating goals achieved.

Christmas Eve 2011.

2011-12-25T01:03:00.000-07:00

The stockings are stuffed. The presents have been delivered by Santa. Cookies were nibbled by the big guy himself, and the reindeer appreciated the apple slices as much as Santa appreciated the note dictated to mommy to leave with the treats.

We even managed two family pictures before tucking some very excited kids into bed tonight.

Before bed, I bathed the kids, put them in their special Christmas jammies (bonus to them being almost the same size is I buy one pack of 2 jammies and they both fit in a pair!), and read them The Night Before Christmas. We've been reading it for a few weeks now, a couple nights a week, and Luca has almost the whole thing memorized. Her favorite is yelling the reindeers' names out*. Mo's favorite part is the last page, which to him seems to say, "Good night good night good night to Merry Christmas all night!".

We tucked them into bed and they quickly fell to sleep, not doubt fatigued from a full day of crafts, junk food, home baked treats, movies, and Christmas excitement. I wrapped the presents and drank a warm drink with a splash or three of Kahlua. I hung the coffee filter snowflakes Luca and I made today all over the tree. Santa made sure to drink some milk and nibble the cookies left on a table by the recliner, and his reindeer no doubt loved the apple slices.

The world is quiet and peaceful right now. I should be in bed, but I'm soaking up the last little bit of pre-Christmas cheer to be had this year. This past week we've all been home together, and while we made an effort to get out of the house to visit family and shop and go out to eat, more often than not we bunkered down with blankets on the floor and Christmas music and movies playing on the TV. We baked cookies. We decorated them, then ate them by the fistful. We made so many crafty ornaments that the only ones hanging on our tree that were not made by the kids are a wedding ornament we received made of blown glass, a Santa ornament Darrick and I bought on our trip to Europe pre-babies, and one I bought at Michael's with 4 snowmen and a handpainted glitter glue script with our names and the year. We glued and glittered and cut and pasted. We made gifts for family. I read 3 books. We made a mess of the house each day and went on a cleaning binge, throwing out 3 bags of trash and donating 4 bags of old toys. We stayed up late and slept in past 6 a.m. This year may have sucked in so many ways, but this week alone more than made amends for all of 2011.

I'll head to bed soon, and before I know it two excited kids will run down the stairs and squeal with excitement to see Santa was here. They will giggle and run in circles, tearing wrapping paper with abandon and playing with new toys. We will eat. We will love on their cousins and spend time with family. It will feel like magic, and because of them, it will BE magic.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

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On the topic of reindeer names, a conversation recently in the car:

Luca: "Mommy, which of the reindeer do you want to be?"
Me: "Hmm...maybe Prancer? Prancer sounds happy. What about you?"
Luca: "Vixen!"
Husband: "Not a chance."

I Did It.

2011-12-24T00:16:00.000-07:00

Tonight, I finished Week 5 of C25K with a 20 minute run. No breaks to walk. No slowing. No giving up or giving in to the voice telling me that my calves were burning and my lungs were tired and anyways no one would know if I really ran all 20 minutes, would they? I won't lie about it, to myself or anyone else who cares: it sucked. This week's podcast has all 3 days overlapped, so that you download one podcast for 3 completely different runs. At one point, I was almost to the end and all I could think was, "You are so close. Just keep running." And then, on the haedphones came that damn voice saying, "If you're on Day 3, keep going! You have about 4 minutes left." At that moment I was thankful I'd decided to finish the last of the runs at 10:30 at night rather than waiting for tomorrow to do it in the daylight. Because, in the daylight, I would have needed to look around to be sure there were no small children in earshot before exclaiming out loud, to the universe, "Fuck you!"

Oh yeah, I said "Fuck you!" to the podcast. To my legs, on fire and lead-heavy. To Robert Ullrey and running and the universe in general.

But then, there was the moment at the end, when I got to celebrate completing 20 minutes of running. When I walked the neighborhood listening to Mumford and Sons and felt my legs tingling and my heart pumping and my face, flush with sweat. When I said to myself, "Fuck YOU, and your doubting. You did it. YOU did it!"

Five weeks ago, I couldn't even run 90 seconds without feeling like I needed to go home and ice my shins and sleep for 14 hours. Five weeks ago I dreaded every run. Six weeks ago, I wasn't even trying. And now? I did it.

Week 5.

2011-12-18T23:33:00.000-07:00

Tonight I started C25K week 5, and as much as it pains me to write this, it wasn't as bad as I'd expected. And maybe...just maybe...I was hoping it would be bad enough to justify quitting? I'm not claiming it was easy by any stretch, but I walked out the door this evening expecting to want to quit, and that never happened.

My week 5 day 1 routine was a 5 minute warm up then 5 running/3 walking/5 running/3 walking/5 running, then a cool down. And while I ran two 5 minute stretches all 3 days last week, doing it 3 times tonight was quite a workout. But I did it, and I didn't struggle nearly as much with it this week as I did last week. I think I actually find the routines with less intervals but longer ones to be a bit easier to manage. Just like with walking, I get into a groove and am not anxiously counting down to when I get to stop or when I have to start again.

This week is unique in that each of the 3 run routines is different. Day 2 will be 8 minutes running and 5 minutes walking, twice. And day 3 is the scary monster at the end of the road with a 20 minute run with no breaks. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dreading those days, especially the last one. But at the same time I look at where I started, barely able to run more than 60 seconds straight without feeling totally winded and really sore, and I feel amazing and strong.

My coworker and I have talked quite a bit about the struggle to keep going, and the battling voices in our heads while training. The voice that says, "You are a fucking idiot and should just walk home right now, pour yourself some wine, and not get out of bed for the rest of the weekend." is just barely drowned out by the voice that says, "Bitch you are DOING this and you're amazing and you keep those feet RUNNING!" When it comes to motivation, I'm only mildly embarassed to admit that when I'm struggling to finish a run I've said to myself more than once, "You had a baby. In a plastic pool in your living room. If you can go through labor and deliver a human, you can do anything." And then, other times, I zone out on problems or issues I need to work out in my own head and have practice conversations with 'the enemy'. The only problem is that I'm not sure either of these tactics is going to work for 3.2 miles!

I should also note that I haven't weighed myself in 2 weeks. After 3 weeks of running I hadn't lost anything, so I sort of gave up on the scale. I'm giving myself permission to avoid the scale and focus on the non-scale victories until I hit the end of my training program. I'm about halfway through, and as long as I can maintain my routine through the holidays, I'm going to consider it a victory whether I lose weight or not.

But I can't lie: It would be nice if I stepped on the scale at the end of this and saw a loss.

From Surf to Turf in A Week's Time.

2011-12-15T23:50:00.000-07:00

The first weekend of December, we celebrated like this:

A few things about these pictures, in no particular order:

~ The green green above is my Grandma's backyard, smack in the middle of not-so-nice LA. And oasis for great grandkids.

~ The beach is Santa Monica

~ It was cold, but during our beach outing the weather was perfect and beautiful

~ Yes, my husband and son went in the water. No, the rest of us did not.

~ Yes, my husband has a black eye. No it's not from me, but from coaching wrestling.

~ Funniest misunderstanding of the trip: When my aunt asked Darrick about his injury and he said, "I make black guys look good, huh?" And it took all of us about 3 times making him repeat himself before we realized he wasn't being awkwardly racist. "Black EYES. EYES."

~ That matriarchal beauty with my kids is the woman of honor who we traveled to visit: My gramma!

This past weekend, we mixed things up a bit by heading in the other direction:

Notes on these pictures:
~ We cut our tree this yaer just south of Heber. There was about a foot of snow on the ground in most places from a storm during the week.
~ Snow angels are all the rage this year, you know.
~ Also: snowman, complete with charcoal eyes and carrot nose. She left the nose and 'buttons', but insisted we bring home the hat, smile, and eyes.
~ The tree is obscenely large and we love it.
~ We strung white lights and haven't touched the tree since. And we like it that way.

One good thing about Arizona is that we can do this. We can fly to LA one weekend and bask on the beach and love on my grandma, then head up north to tromp in the snow and get cold and drink hot chocolate in the back of my mom's pickup truck the next. I am loving it. I am loving my kids this year and how engaged and excited they are about Christmas.

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Post-Script: We hung our stockings from the banister, though we later had to move them to acommodate the tree. Luca pulled out the stockings we had for our dogs and asked about them. I asked what she wanted to do, and she said, "I want to hang them up, mommy. We should try to remember them all the time. I think it's important." And then tonight I was out finishing my last run of C25K and a little mini pinscher dog came running up to me barking. Her elderly owner was waving frantically from the driveway, no doubt afraid I'd freak or get mad. Without thinking, I called out, "Don't worry! I have dogs!". But I don't, and I still miss them. Rest in peace, little loves.

Review Time.

2011-12-13T23:16:00.000-07:00

On the topic of avoiding false modesty, I had my review at work this week. I like reviews, in general, because I think they can provide really good feedback and insight into ways to improve, but also because they give me a chance to talk about what I like doing and where I want to go next.

What I don't love about reviews is the process we use for them. I had a pit in my stomach all day on Monday waiting for it to be review time. Reviews at my job are a shared process, with the boss and me both using the same form to evaluate objectives, goals, effectiveness, etc. I do the review first and submit it to my boss, who adds her feedback and scoring, then we meet to discuss.

This is where I confess that in the past I've scored myself modestly. I am not sure why, but even after 5 years with my boss, I struggle to talk myself up and stand up for my work when I have any doubt over how she feels about it. I've always approached reviews as my opportunity to get my boss's feedback on how she thinks I am doing on where she thinks I need to improve. But, in keeping with not feigning modesty when I know I'm kicking ass, I looked at the review as a chance to talk about the things I love and do really well, and also honestly approach the areas where I need to work.

It was scary. Scary as hell. I sat across from my boss in her office and all I could think was "Is she looking at my comments and scores and wondering just who the hell I think I am?"

Turns out, she wasn't. There were a few areas where she wasn't sure how to score me and we needed to talk them through. But it wasn't for a lack of effort or solid work on my part; it was due to the fact that a good portion of the work I do is fairly independent and she is hands-off with those projects. Really, she just needed to hear more about them to gauge how I was doing and what kind of score I deserved. I had to pep-talk myself quite a bit during the review, reminding myself not to undersell the work I do and not to apologize for things that didn't deserve apology. And, honestly? In turn I also found it much easier to talk honestly with her about the areas I know need improvement and what I need from her or others in order to make those improvements a reality.

And? I think she respected my approach more in the end. My boss is a no-bullshit kind of person, so being honest and upfront about the good AND the not-so-good was well received by her and helped us facilitate better conversation about where I am professionally.

The verdict of shaking off false modesty in this case? It was really difficult for me, but in the end I think it was important for me to approach my review as an opportunity to showcase my growth and the great work I do.

First We Learn to Say Thank You. Then We Add Excuses.

2011-12-10T00:09:00.001-07:00

When was the last time you paid a woman a compliment and she thanked you? When was the last time she thanked you without then excusing it away?

"You're adorable!" (to the gorgeous and thin pregnant woman)
"Oh gosh...thanks...but no, I'm HUGE! Look at these ankles!" (to me)

"Your son is so sweet to the other kids on the playground. Kudos to you." (to mom of a 5 year old boy who, I can guess based on society's expectations of little boys, is not used to his behavior being complimented)
"Oh, thank you. Really, he's usually a total terror." (to me)

"I love those shoes!" (another mom at preschool to me)
"Thanks. I got them at Target on clearance for a steal. They are so worn out!" (me, to her)

What's the deal with this phenomenon? And why is it disproportionately women who do this? When's the last time you complimented a man and he responded by deflecting the compliment or excusing it away?

"You look hot." (me, to husband)
"I kind of do, don't I?" (husband, to me, as he checks himself out in the mirror)

Experience tells me that if I compliment another woman, she's going to find a way out of the compliment. It's the clothes that make her look fantastic (nevermind her 5 miles a day, 4 days a week running ritual and healthy eating). She looks good in that purple scarf, but only when she uses a lot of undereye concealor so the scarf doesn't play up the bags under her eyes (nevermind there are no bags and if there are, I wasn't looking for them anyhow). Her kids are only well behaved right now because they're going to Santa later (nevermind the fact that her 5 year old son stopped to make sure my 2 year old was ok when he ran by and accidently knocked my kid down). Cute shoes (but SO uncomfortable!). Love the new haircut (but it only looks like this because her stylist did it for her). She did great on the presentation (it's just too bad that she stuttered and forgot the figures on that one part no one else noticed).

Look, we're all guilty of this to some degree. I can't remember the last time someone said something nice to me and I didn't deflect it or excuse it away. I can't remember the last time someone told me I'm awesome at something and I replied, "Thanks, I really work hard on it." I can't remember the last time I said something nice to another woman and she accepted it graciously with a "Thank you" and then shut the fuck up.

It must stem from somewhere, and if I had to guess I would point my finger at social norms girls face growing up. I know it's not born in most of us, this desire to never ever accept a compliment graciously and freely. I know because I listen to my daughter when someone compliments her. Even at 4.5 years old, she sometimes has to be reminded to thank a person for a kind word, but that's not because she's too busy coming up with ways to pish-posh their kindness. It's because she is too busy agreeing with them.

"Your hair is so pretty." (woman at the store to my daughter)
"Yeah." (my daughter to her)

"Luca, you've been so nice to your brother today." (me, to her)
"Thank you, mommy." (her, to me)

"I just LOVE your artwork. It's so creative!" (grandma, to Lu)
"Thank you. I drew the best apple in class." (her, to grandma)

How do we get back there? How do we return to a time when society and our own insecurities don't hamper our ability to say thanks and just accept the damn compliment? How do we stop ourselves from making excuses for our achievements when what we really should say is, "Yeah, I kicked some ass, huh? Thanks!"

I remember a long time ago, when Darrick and I first got serious together, he chastised me (lovingly) for this very thing. "You say 'sorry' too much," he said. "You shouldn't say sorry all the time. You say it when you mess up, but you also say it when someone else messes up and inconveniences you." And it's true. When I went into a health food store 3 days after Luca was born in search of fenugreek and the woman asked me when I was due, I didn't laugh it off. I didn't give her the evil eye for asking. I didn't even ignore it and ask her to show me the way. What I DID do is look her in the eye and apologize to her for her fuck up. "Oh, I had the baby 3 days ago. Don't worry! I hear it's normal to look pregnant for a while after giving birth!" I said. "Oh, well...yeah..." she stumbled over her words. "Sorry," I replied, "I should have told you she was a newborn and I needed fenugreek to up my milk supply."

Sorry? I should have told you? It's my fault you lack basic social graces and don't know better than to ask a woman when she is due unless she says to you, "I am currently pregnant."?!?!

And the thing is, my daughter hears and remembers everything. I know she is watching me. I know she needs me to model for her what a woman is, and I know that I don't want her to be 'sorry' girl when she gets older. I don't want her to minimize her achievements to make other people feel more comfortable. To talk badly about herself because she thinks she should. Because when you do it for long enough, you start to believe it's true yourself. I look down the line, toward her future, and it crushes me a little. She is a bright light in the world, a wonderful and funny and kind and smart-as-hell girl, and the idea of her one day excusing those parts of herself away until...well...until they GO away? It scares me. I owe her better, and I am unapologetically capable of giving it to her.

So, false modesty? I'm sending you on vacation for a month. I'm going to try something new*: not allowing myself to apologize for someone else's faux pas, not excusing away genuine compliments, and not underselling myself for the sake of modesty.

This next month is Mission: No More False Modesty for me. I invite you to join me. I'll post more as the month goes on.

*No assholery will be accepted during this time. I'm not on a mission to become an egotistical asshole.

Week 4 Begins.

2011-12-09T23:32:00.000-07:00

Week 3 finished a little belated thanks to travel and difficult schedules for my husband and me, but by the last run it was definitely feeling manageable. I was even feeling optimistic going into week 4.

And then I did the first run, tonight. It consists of a 5 minute walk to warm up followed by 2 circuits of a 3 minute run/90 second walk then 5 minute run/2.5 minute walk. And it was really, really difficult. I'm not sure if it was the jump from 3 minutes being the long run to 3 minutes being the short one, the shorter recovery walks, or the move from about 9 minutes of running total to 16 minutes. Whatever it was, though, I was definitely dragging and feeling the pain.

The good news is this: I completed the whole thing tonight. The 3 minute runs honestly came pretty easily and I didn't even feel apprehensive about them like I was feeling last week. I might even call them easy. And while in the past I've found the cardio aspect to be the biggest challenge on the runs, this time my cardio felt great. However, my legs were like lead by the end of the first 5 minutes and by the end of the second 5 minute run I was dragging big time.

I'm finding myself alternating between being really proud about my ability to complete each night of training and the dread of what the coming weeks of training will bring. At this point, I can't even imagine running for more than 30 minutes to complete the 5k in January, but on the other hand I couldn't imagine running for 5 straight minutes a month ago either.

I'm not going to give up. I am so happy I have a goal in mind, and thankful to have people in my life who support me and even a few who are putting up with my crazy goal and training right along with me. I just can't wait for this to get easier.

Conversation with a 4 Year Old.

2011-12-02T07:18:00.000-07:00

Me: Do you know how much I love you, Luca?Luca: This much! (stretching arms above her head)
Me: Yeah, sweets. That much and so much more. So much I can't stretch my arms that far. I love you enough to fill the universe with love.
Luca: Mommy, do you know how much I love you?
Me: How much?
Luca: More than all the buildings that were ever built and all the babies that were ever in a pregnant mommy's belly.
Me: Wow, that sounds like a lot!
Luca: Yeah.

I get up to leave her in bed, and she calls me back.

Luca: Mommy, how did that happen? How did the oldest first babies get borned? I mean, if there were no other babies yet, where did the first ones come from?
Me: That is an excellent question. And, uh, I'm not sure how to answer. But I bet if I talk to your daddy we can see if together we maybe know the answer.
Luca: Ok. But momma? I bet I know. I bet the dinosaurs laid a bunch of eggs and they had magic in them, and every time a new egg hatched, it was less like a dinosaur and more like a person baby.
Me: ::silence::

What We Teach Our Kids.

2011-11-28T23:03:00.001-07:00

We met my family for 'brunch' on Sunday at a cute little restaurant in Gilbert. Over delicious food, we wished my oldest brother a happy birthday and talked about the upcoming holidays. Driving home, I skipped the freeway in favor of streets that take us by big houses and huge green yards dotted with horses and herding dogs.

Soon enough, the suburban splendor gives way to a pocket of town between the meal and home where you're more likely to see big families pushing a stroller and dragging 3 little ones down the road, each of them clutching a few bags from the grocery store. Doing their part to get the food home without a car. People hanging around outside convenience stores in a way that's completely benign but instills a small flutter of caution in my belly if the store they are haunting is one where I need to stop for gas.

We sat at a red light talking about our plans for the rest of the day, when suddenly my husband asked why I thought that big white car was stopped at such a funny angle, halfway in the center lane used for left turns, one turn signal appearing to blink but showing them turning the opposite direction from that which the car's nose was pointed. My gut kicked in and I answered, "Who knows." and looked up at the red light, waiting for it to change.

"I think they need help," my husband answered. And so, as the light turned I flipped on my blinker to get over to the right lane and turn onto the road behind the car, but someone was in my way. Instead I decided at the last minute to go straight and make a right into the convenience store's parking lot. My husband was compelled to go see why the car was stopped where it was, hastily blocking half a lane of traffic. I'm not as good a citizen as he is and would have driven on, but the truth of my husband is this: you never doubt that you're safe when he's around. It's not just the fact he's bigger than most other men. It's not even his street smarts from growing up in one of the worst parts of the Valley. It's just that I always assume that his knack for talking to people and making them feel instantly safe with him around will transfer to strangers. Even strangers in dodgy cars in dodgy neighborhoods.

Just as I parked the car, a big guy - bigger than my husband - stepped out of its driver side door and went around back to begin leaning his body against the rear fender. Not thinking twice, my husband had his door open before our car was in park and was darting across 2 empty lanes to help. I watched him as he leaned into the trunk as well and his whole lower body hunkered down to move the car forward slowly on sleepy wheels. Within a few seconds, they were crossing the road and the big man was jumping in the front seat to steer the car into the lot where we were parked.

"What's daddy doin', mama?" asked Rohan in back.
"Don't worry, buddy," Luca answered before I could, "he's helping that man with the big car. It's the right thing to do, you know."

A lump sat in my throat as I smiled and caught her eyes in my rearview mirror. I nodded in agreement.

Seconds later, Darrick was pulling open the passenger door. "He ran out of gas," he told me. "Oh," I stupidly answered. My brain wasn't connecting what he was saying, so he did the work for me. "Right over there, on that corner...that station has gas and this one doesn't."

We turned out and made our way to the convenience store across the street. He grabbed a fistful of dollar bills and went inside. I watched him in my car's side mirror as he disappeared through sliding doors and reappeared with a gallon jug of water. Stopping by some plants, he emptied the whole thing and then came to the pump. Three dollars later, the gallon jug was nearly full and we left the parking lot to go back over to the man with the big white car.

I pulled intot he spot right next to him, all 4 of our windows down because the kids were curious and wanted to hear what was happening. "You came back." said the man, astonished and grateful.

I reached behind my seat and pulled out an empty water bottle. With a pocket knife, the man cut out the base of the bottle and used it as a funnel to pour a gallon of gas into his car. Darrick talked to him as he did so, in a voice I couldn't really hear. And anyhow, even if I'd been able to properly listen in, The Grinch was on the radio and the kids were demanding that I turn up the volume.

Getting back into the car, Darrick told me the man had thanked him. He worked just down the street at a restaurant as a chef and had worked an unusual early morning shift to make some extra holiday cash. He thought he had enough gas to make it the three miles home, but obviously he'd been wrong. He turned toward the convenience store to get gas, forgetting that it was the one across the street that had gas pumps. He had offered Darrick money as a thank you. Darrick turned it down. He offered us a free dinner the next night at his restaurant, and Darrick said we'd try to make it.

He thanked us profusely. I put my hand on my husband's arm as we drove away, told him he did a good thing.

"Nah. He needed help. We've all been there. It's the right thing to do, you know," he replied, as Luca caught my eye in the mirror and smiled.

Three.

2011-11-27T22:23:00.001-07:00

I started week 3 of C25k tonight. This week is a 5 minute walk, 90 seconds each of walking and running, 3 minutes each of walking and running, repeat both intervals, then cool down. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the 90-second runs were not hard at all. Last week I struggled quite a bit with those runs and with pain in my shins and calves after they were done. I expected tonight to be much worse since the 90-second runs were now the short ones, not the long ones. But it really was not as difficult as I'd feared. The 3 minute runs were pretty manageable too, though they did seem to take forever! I couldn't believe how much ground I covered in 3 minutes, which made it feel like I had run much longer.

I know this is a tough time of year to start this kind of program because I keep hoping the running 3-4 nights a week will make some weight start to melt off me, and it's just not happening yet. I know I need to try to look on the bright side, which is that I didn't gain anything over 4 days off work and Thanksgiving food galore. But it's hard not to get discouraged that the scale it not yet moving. I'm trying to be optimistic and believe that in the next week or two it will happen. I can already feel some difference in my legs - most specifically my calves - so I'm believing it will show everywhere soon.

The Finishing.

2011-11-26T09:36:00.001-07:00

After my last post, about the Thankful Wall, the unfinished interior trim on our french door was really driving me nuts. So when my mother-in-law came by to say hi and asked about it, I immediately took her up on her offer to help us finish the interior and exterior.

When we installed the door over the summer, we measured the interior dimensions of the door opening and the exterior and counted our lucky stars that the doors sold at Home Depot were the same size. We had installed french doors in our old house, so we figured we had this down. Home Depot offers installation, but the doors were $400 and so was installation, and we just couldn't justify spending the same to have someone install the doors as we did to buy them in the first place.

We'll call that our second mistake. The first was one we wouldn't uncover until we were a few hours into demolition of the old doors and installation of the new ones.

Anyhow, we had my mom help us haul the doors home on the bed of her pickup truck, and when we were ready we first had to remove the old sliders. They had been installed when the home was built, and while popping out the doors themselves was easy and pulling down the vertical blinds on the inside was amazingly gratifying, the metal frame itself was a whole other issue. This is where we started to suspect maybe we'd made our first mistake: measuring. Because as we pulled the frame away from the wall with a crowbar, we discovered that the door had apparently been installed before the exterior wall had been completely finished, and while we could pull the frame out of the wall there was a piece of drywall overlapping the opening. So when we had finally prepped ourselves to pop the doors into place (shims at the ready, door caulking prepped, window and door seal glue spread out and ready to grip to the kickplate), we were disappointed to discover that the french doors wouldn't fit. They were sized for the same width as the sliders, but the drywall and stucco edge was blocking the door from sliding into place.

About an hour later, after using various tools to cut away at the drywall and stucco (which, p.s., had a layer of chicken wire between them), we finally had enough space to get the doors into place. But we were left with a very messy exterior and a gap between the top of the frame and the doorway. That gap was easily filled with a piece of wood cut to size and foam used to fill in the gaps, but by then we'd lost steam and figured we'd fix the finishing issues later.

That was in July.

So last night, we hit Home Depot again for some trim and door caulking. The interior was the easy part, with just a trim piece that is 1 5/8" nailed in with finishing nails and some caulk to fill in the gaps between the top of that board and the doorframe. The exterior was a little trickier, however. At the time we put in the door, we'd chosen to limit our sawing to one side of the door rather than going from left to right and back again. As a result, the gaps and exposed drywall/stucco edges were uneven from the left side to the right. We started with the top, filling the top edge out until it was flush with the door by nailing in 3 small boards (1" x 3/4"), then adding a piece identical to the trim piece we'd used on the inside. The sides required some quarter rounds placed flush against the door and caulking to fill them out. Then my mother-in-law did a light coat of paint over all of it. We'll have to go back on the exterior with colors that match the house's colors, but it's already so much better!

Interior. We added the curtain rod too, so now we just need to agree on curtains.

Close up. Needs some touch-ups still, but much better already.

The exterior. MUCH improved.

Close up of the exterior. This is actually MUCh improved from how it was before but still in need of some finessing. Where the trim piece is above was all exposed wood, and where the quarter round is on the side was exposed drywall, stucco, and chicken wire.

Thankful Wall.

2011-11-23T00:02:00.001-07:00

Last year, we had the Thankful Tree. This year, I wanted to do something like that again, but different. And what better place to do it than surrounding the new french doors we installed this summer?

Nevermind this totally highlights the fact we need to finish the interior door frames. I am loving having fall all over that wall.

Also, while you're excusing my door frames, pleae also ignore the mess. I DO live with 2 little kids and a husband.

The process is simple. I free-form cut leaves out of red, orange, yellow, and brown construction paper and try to get at least one member of the household to tell me what they are thankful for each day. It gets written down, attributed, dated, and taped to the wall. Some of my favorites include Luca's proclamation that she is thankful for her 'buttocks' and 'Santa' and Rohan's proclamation of thanks for 'pretty awesome'. I can only assume he's being thankful for his own astounding level of awesome with that one. It's sometimes a challenge to get a 'thankful' from the kids each day. Luca sort of gets it, partly because she remembers doing this last year and partly because they do 'thankful' activities all of November in preschool. Mo, on the other hand, stares at you like you just spouted a second nose if you ask him to tell you what he is thankful for. Instead, I ask him what makes him happy or what/who he loves.

But my favorite leaf, hands-down? This little red guy who lost his stem and won Luca's favor. I asked what she was thankful for, and she grabbed the leaf and said she'd write it herself thankyouverymuch. She even added her name (though I cheated and did the date for her, since dates are still a very abstract concept for her):

And just because I am in love with how this looks, another angle on the whole wall of thanks:

Weak, Too.

2011-11-21T21:48:00.001-07:00

Tonight I started Week 2 of training for January's 5K. Technically, I was supposed to start last night, but my husband wanted to take me to see Breaking Dawn. And when one's husband offers to take one to see a decidedly teenie-bopper chick flick when one and her husband are decidedly NOT teenagers, one must agree. So i skipped night 1 of training last night and did it tonight instead.

Week 1 was a 5 minute walk, then 8 intervals of 60 seconds of jogging followed by 90 seconds of running, then 5 more minutes of walking. By the end of the week, I was definitely comfortable witht hat routine and in no rush to change it up at all. So I was not looking forward to this week, which shifted my routine to 5 minutes of walking, 6 intervals of 90 seconds running and 2 minutes walking, and another 5 minutes of walking.

It wasn't fast. It wasn't easy. It sure as hell was NOT graceful. But I did it.

I think, however, I may be the only poor soul in the world who could GAIN 3 pounds after a week of cooking healthy meals at home and starting a running routine.

Either way. I'm moving forward.

Colorfied.

2011-11-17T22:52:00.001-07:00

The reason I am training using Couch to 5k? The Color Run! Not much could get me off my ass faster than the idea of being pelted by soft powder in rainbow hues. That's pretty much my dream come true. And to do it on my birthday, joined by friends? Perfection.

With week 1 of training over, however, I've realized I have really far to go. The good news is I'm able to complete the training using this podcast. it's a 5 minute brisk walk for warm-up, then alternating 60 seconds of running with 90 seconds of brisk walking 8 times, then 5 more minutes of walking to cool down. I love that I just hit play and the music starts while someone orders me around and tells me when to do what. It's so mindless, which is exactly what I need. If I had to use a stopwatch or a pedometer or any other tool, I'd be a lost cause.

My body, however, hurts. It's mainly my feet, which could probably use some new shoes fitted to my particular needs. But other than the pain, I am really finding myself looking forward to moving on to the next week. The first week definitely challenged me and pushed me out of my comfort zone, so I expect the second week is going to majorly suck ass. But I'm ready!

Forward.

2011-11-16T23:07:00.001-07:00

2011. I knew from the start it was going to be a pisser. Shooting in Tucson. Vomiting up everything but my pancreas on my birthday. An IRS letter telling us we owed over $500 in unpaid taxes we didn't know we'd missed paying to kick off summer break. Not to mention hurricanes, tornadoes, and tsunamis worldwide. I think 2011 had it in not just for me, but for people all over the world.

But 2012? I predict a banner year. Already, the tide has started to shift for not only my little family, but several people I know and love. And I couldn't be MORE excited to usher in a new year very, very soon.

To kick it off right, I'm going to celebrate my birthday next year by completing my first 5k. Now, please not, I DO NOT run. As in, hate it. As in, would rather do pretty much ANY other type of exercise. As in...guuuuh. But I've always wanted to be the kind of girl who DOES run, so in honor of that dream I agreed to joining a team when my friend invited me. She promised I didn't HAVE to run it, but could walk part or all if I wanted, but I'm always up for a challenge. So run it I will. I began my training this week, and I'm optimistic and also scared entirely shitless about the prospect of completing the training and getting my big old butt out there on my birthday to run. But what has really inspired me, more than the idea of finally getting myself motivated to run a 5k and more than getting older and wanting to accomplish this one little thing to ring in a new year of life, is how the people around me have rallied. My friend invited me to join her team. And when I told some co-workers about it, they decided to run it too. When I told them I'm doing Couch to 5K for training, they agreed to do it at the same time, so we could compare notes and commiserate. My husband is cheering me on and encouraging me to train.

And then, there was the first night of training. We got to the park with the plan being I would run to the podcast while my husband took the kids to the playground, then we'd meet and eat our picnic dinner. As I settled in to my warm-up walk, I realized that (a) I'd somehow deleted the podcast AND all the music except one album and (b) the battery on the iPod was almost dead. Not willing to give up, I put the one album (thankfully one I enjoy) on shuffle and used the iPod stopwatch to time my walking and running intervals. And then my iPod battery died, just as I was about to run past 2 teenaged girls. In the sudden silence, I heard my labored breathing and my loud foot falls as I jogged past them. And I also heard them. I couldn't pick up exactly what they said, but I can only imagine it was something in the vein of "Hope that fat chick doesn't die before she gets back to her car." Or perhaps, "Look at her big old ass jiggling while she tries to run." Or even, - - -

But then I decided to change my outlook. My ass isn't bouncing, it's clapping in appreciation of my efforts. This body made two beautiful children and sustained them well beyond the womb. It's not perfect at all, but in 10 or 15 years those cute teenage girls will probably look in the mirror and see a reflection more like mine than like the one they see today.

I finished that night's training and moved on to day two. I have one day left and then :poof: like that I am on to week 2. And before I know it, we will be celebrating Thanksgiving, then Christmas, then the new year, our anniversary...and then the run. And I am excited to start 2012 in that way.

I Guess It Makes Sense?

2011-11-06T19:58:00.002-07:00

The weather has taken a turn for the colder, and this weekend in particular was pretty cool for Arizona. We decided to meet my mom at the train park near our house for dinner tonight. Midway through eating, Mo announced he needed to pee, and Luca wanted to go too. We walked toward the bathroom, and on the side closest us was the men's room door.

"Are we going into the men's room?" Luca asked.
"No way! I'm not a man. We're going into the women's!" I replied.
"Oh, why? Because the boys' bathroom is stinky?"
"I suppose it might be."
"Right. Because there are a lot of penises and toots in there, right?"

I love this kid so much.

We Tricked. We Treated. And Now, It's A Downhill Run To Thankful.

2011-11-01T23:12:00.000-07:00

Halloween this year could easily be put into the 'extra fun' category. We had just the right mix of excitement over the festivities and simple joy that comes with kids so little that EVERYthing about the holidays is SO MUCH FUN!

As far as I know, Rohan has never watched Super Man cartoons, so imagine my surprise when I asked what he wanted to be for Halloween and his answer was an emphatic "Supeeer Man!". Fortunately, after looking at pictures online, Luca became excited about the idea of being Super Girl, and my mom offered to make their costumes.

Other than the shirts, which were purchased at the store for less than it would have cost her to make something similar, she made their entire costumes, down to the fake boots. In a word? Awesome.

They were a hit in the neighborhood and got SO MUCH candy it's almost criminal. Already I squirreled some away to work and have plans to make even more of it disappear.

But before Trick or Treating, there was a preschool party for a certain honey bee:

Yeah, that's Luca again. Nothing says 'diva 4 year old' like a wardrobe change between the party and the outing. We were worried she'd mess up her Super Girl costume, so we took her to Goodwill to get her a witch costume (her request), but instead she fell in LOVE with this bee hoodie. For under $8, we got her that and the black and gold tutu, and she was set. I had plans to get a yellow shirt and put black stripes on it because a hoodie? in Arizona? on Halloween? Not weather appropriate. It was a high of 91 yesterday afternoon. But life got in the way, and I didn't get her the shirt. Luckily, the teachers at her school have all the kids put on 'normal' clothes after they trick or treat on campus, so we didn't have to worry after all. And Daddy dressed as the Grim Reaper (I really need to improve my Halloween make-up skills...he looks sad, not scary!) which was pretty awesome as well.

All in all, Halloween was great, and the kids already can't wait for next year! Tonight as I was getting him ready for bed, Rohan said, "You just wead da book and den we go walk and say "TRICK OR TREAT!" and den bed?" Optimistic little dude. Love him.

Now we are facing down the barrel of a LOT of holiday prep work and fun. We made a decision to pay off 2 credit lines we have open before year's end, as both have interest-free payments until January 1 (they were for major dental work I needed and insurance barely covered), which means money will be tight for presents this year. We're ok with that. We have SO MUCH already, and I am planning on making a few gifts and keeping it simple for the kids. And I confess I am very much looking forward to kissing 2011 goodbye! We've had a hard run of it in many ways, and January is shaping up in such a way that I think a lot of the things we've been stressed over will be resolved. In addition to paying off 2 credit lines, we had one of those life events that knocks the wind out of you when it happens but ends up being for the best recently. Our beloved day care provider, who watched Luca for 3 years and has watched Mo since he was 4 months old is moving a few hours north of us in mid-November. We were sad and stressed and just anxious when we found out, until my mom insisted we let her take over Mo duties through May when Darrick starts his summer break. This is perfect, because it means we don't have to search for a new provider for the next 6-ish months and after summer break he'll move to preschool and Luca will be in kindergarten. It's also perfect because it's going to mean several hundred more dollars in our pockets every month. Add that to getting rid of 2 credit payments a month, and we're finally going to be seeing a change in our financial situation for the positive.

With all this optimism abounding, I am VERY MUCH looking forward to taking some time off around the holidays to be with my family and to keeping things simple and spending this holiday season witha focus on building traditions rather than building piles of stuff.

Last year, when November came and it was time to pack away the Halloween in favor of pretending it's winter, we created a Thankful Tree. I think we'll do something similar this year and I'm excited to involve both kids.

Welcome sweet November!!

Astronaut Resume.

2011-10-24T08:19:00.002-07:00

(A conversation with the 4 year old, courtesy of her daddy)

Luca: "I think maybe when I grow up I want to be an astronaut."
Daddy: "That sounds like a good idea."
L: "I can go to the moon."
D: "Well, first you have to go to school and learn a LOT of things. It takes a lot of book work and studying to be an astronaut."
L: "Mickey and Minnie are astronauts. They go to the moon."
D: "Mickey and Minnie aren't astro physicists, though, sweetie. That's what you would need to be to become an astronaut."
L: "They don't need to be asro missifizz, daddy. They know how to do the hot dog dance."

Well, there you go.

Just Love.

2011-10-17T22:41:00.002-07:00

Say Nice Things: Awkward Facebooking, Part 2.

2011-10-17T13:20:00.003-07:00

Katie, Thank you for the kind words. I'm still teaching at Name Of School (this is my 27th year) and am also teaching an English 102 class at Name of College. I encourage you to write your book--it takes work and dedication, but it's definitely a journey worth taking. I see you're a mom--I'm now a grandpa, with a grandson named Z who turns 5 in a couple of weeks. Time flies! Again, thanks for the contact, and I wish you blessings and peace. Sincerely, Mr. W.

(See: This.)

Halloween Craft: Paint By Letters.

2011-10-15T14:50:00.000-07:00

We decorated the house for Halloween this week, and when we were finished putting up all our decor, Luca commented we needed more things to hang on the walls. I agreed.

So off we went to the craft store, where I bought some washable paints and two 8" x 10" canvasses.

The next day, we set out to paint, but she wasn't sure where to start. She asked me to draw a picture of a family of pumpkins for her, and said she'd color them in. I took some chalk to the canvas, drawing a 'big daddy' pumpkin, a 'mama' pumpkin, and 2 'kid' pumpkins (Luca and Rohan, didn't you know?). We decided on some gras below them and a night sky with a full moon and clouds above them.

When it came to colors, we didn't want the 4 pumpkins to look like 1 big orange blob, so Daddy Pumpkin was orange, Mommy Pumpkin was red-orange, Luca Pumpkin was pink-orange, and Rohan Pumpkin was yellow-orange. To signify which colors went where, we used the first letters: O, R+O, P+O, and Y+O. Then we put a G in the grass, a B in the sky, and a W in the clouds and moon.

I outlined the first one for her before she started, just so she could get the hang of it. And that she did! I was actually impressed with her ability to stay pretty much in the lines and match the colors properly.

Rohan woke during the process and joined us to create his own 'art', though it was less Halloween themed and more abstract, if you will. Also, messy.

I confess: one of the things I MOST looked forward to about having kids was things like this. I couldn't wait to do art projects and holiday crafts and spend hours painting and making a huge mess and soaping up messy kids in a warm bath when it was all done. And it's truly all I'd built it up to be in my head.

And this? This togetherness they exhibit and the sharing and helping and co-conspiring? Makes it all the sweeter.

When all was said and done, Luca's Halloween artwork was quite the lovely piece to add to our collection.

Reasons I Love My Husband.

2011-10-14T14:43:00.003-07:00

We went to the mall today with the sole mission of spending a gift card I have on some new work clothes. Our mission was partially successful, and after we were done the kids were hungry and thirsty. They wanted pretzels and cheese, so we obliged, and in an odd turn of events we got 1 for free.

We went to sit on some couches to eat, and spied a woman by herself. Her clothes were a touch wacky and she was rocking back and forth on the couch opposite us. I smiled at her, but she didn't seem to see me.

My husband followed me over and saw the woman. Without a second thought, he said to her, "Hey, would you like a pretzel? We have an extra." To my surprise, she said yes.

When we left the mall, I told him I thought that was nice of him, offering this woman all alone a pretzel. And I told him I was surprised she said yes. Though she was clearly dancing to music only she could hear, she had a pile of bags beside her, so I assumed she had money.

"Those were Wal-Mart bags, honey. I just saw her and figured maybe she deserved to have someone give her something without her begging for it or having to work her butt off to get it."

"That was awesome of you, babe. That's why I married you."

"Well, thanks. But I didn't do it for the recognition. I just thought she might need someone to be nice to her."

Clean Bill.

2011-10-13T00:12:00.002-07:00

Luca had her first dentist appointment today. I realize the ADA now recommends you start bringing them in as soon as they start growing teeth outside the gums, but I think that is insane. Which is part of the reason we waited so long. The other parts are:

1) She wasn't on our insurance until August and we're cheap
2) I was scared her teeth might be weak like mine and didn't want to face the 'treatment plans'

I need not have worried. She did AMAZING at the dentist, which was no surprise, actually. It's not that she's a perfect kid or anything, it's just that little pleases Luca as much as impressing adults and making them tell her repeatedly how well behaved and awesome she is. They did a set of x-rays, a cleaning, and an exam, and she sat patiently through the whole thing AND got a clean bill of health! So proud of my girl and the teeth she clearly inherited from her daddy!

Say Nice Things: Kid-Friendly Version.

2011-10-12T23:59:00.002-07:00

My niece, who we lovingly refer to as 'Birdie' (so nicknamed in utero by Luca) is a spirited girl, and I love her for it. I know it must frustrate her parents sometimes, but when I am around her I just see a girl who is always going to know what she wants and never be afraid to ask for it. And I like that in a little girl, because I think those kinds of little girls, with proper guidance, grow to be self-assured and strong women.

I took the kids to meet up with my sister in law and Birdie this afternoon for an impromptu ice cream cone. We had a few hours to kill and the temps were in the mid-90s, so we sat outside and let the kids run around on the enclosed patio and toss gravel and little sticks around. Birdie was so excited to see her big cousins, and she dove right into playtime, even finding a small pink sample-size spoon and using it to dig in the dirt. We stayed for about an hour, eating ice cream and talking and watching the kids have a blast together.

When it was time to go, Birdie was not thrilled.

We walked to our car on the east side of the building, and they walked to theirs on the north side. The sounds of Birdie's shrieks in protest followed us to our car. I held both kids' hands in mine as we crossed the parking lot, and Luca looked at me and said, "Hey mama? I think Aunt Syd is a really good mommy."

I agreed with her, and smiled to myself as I got both kids strapped into their seats. And as we pulled out, I saw my sister in law and Birdie standing by their car in some sort of battle of the wills. Syd is pregnant with baby #2, and there she was looking a little defeated as she held a stubborn Birdie on her hip and tried to coerce her into the carseat without a fit.

We made a sharp left, pulled up behind her car, and rolled down our windows.

"It may not seem like it now, but I just wanted you to know what Luca told me, Syd. She told me, 'I think Aunt Syd is a really good mommy.'"

The look on her face? The gratitude for the kind words just when they were needed? Priceless.

Sometimes, the littlest among us know best what to say.

Keep It Short.

2011-10-09T21:27:00.003-07:00

I needed a change, so I got it.

I lost just over 10 inches of length and gained layers and bangs. This is me shortly after getting it cut by my sister in law. It was wet when she cut it and we didn't dry or style it, so it's hard to see the bangs and layers (but easy to see my natural, uncooperative waves), but I feel refreshed. It was time for a change.

And, for good measure, here's another from after I took a flatiron to the bangs and front pieces.

Say Nice Things - Pregnant People.

2011-10-09T13:48:00.002-07:00

"You look so beautiful pregnant. If everyone looked as amazing as you, we'd all want to be pregnant all the time."

Say Nice Things: Potentially Awkward Facebooking.

2011-10-06T22:39:00.001-07:00

My husband has a soft spot for kids who struggle in school. It's the real reason he became a high school teacher and the basis on which he decided to coach not one, but two, sports. It's the reason, too, that he's such an effective teacher. He was not a star student himself, so his expectations are that his students will commit to hard work and follow through, not that his students will be the best at everything.

My husband. He's amazing.

But this isn't about him. This is about the piece of paper he brought home with him the other day. I was elbow-deep in finishing up making dinner while trying to keep an eye on two hungry and hyper kids as they dismantled the living room systematically when he walked in about 40 minutes later than expected. I wasn't too shocked since he's currently coaching football and any spouse of a coach could tell you that schedules during the team's season can be unpredictable at best. So when he set down a piece of paper on the counter and asked me for a favor, I believe I mumbled back something to the effect of, "Sure, hon. Can you get the kids set up for dinner, please?"

When I finally had the time to look at the paper, I recognized it immediately as a high school essay. Rather, the terribly written thesis paragraph of a high school essay. His request was simple: look it over and provide some feedback. And when I dug a little deeper I couldn't say no: it was written by a kid whose mom raises him alone and works 2 jobs, so she's never home to read his homework.

Later, he told me he was impressed with how quickly I'd been able to edit and provide feedback. Mind you, I didn't correct the kid's paper for him. What I DID do was give him some prompts to help him clarify his writing and improve his thesis. But the conversation about my ability to do that quickly and help him rewrite his thesis so it at least got a passing grade prompted a discussion about how much I love editing writing. Which, of course, lead to a discussion about how I should have gotten a literature degree. (Add that to the list of about 5 or 6 other things I wish I had the time and money to do with my life.)

Which, in turn, led me to remember one of my favorite teachers, Mr. W. He was my honors English teacher in 8th grade, and he really impacted my life in so many ways. So on a whim, I decided to google him to see if he still teaches.

He does. And he has a Facebook account. You know where this is going, right? (And I confess I lied a bit about the context under which I found him on FB, but only because I didn't want him to think I was e-stalking him.)

Hi Mr. W. You probably don't remember me, but I was a student of yours (You also taught my older brother, X) in year - year. I was going through an old yearbook the other day and reminiscing about your class. I remember my mom telling me a few years ago that you'd written a book, so I decided to look it up and found you on here.

I just wanted to let you know that, almost 20 years later, I still remember and appreciate your class. I've always had a love for writing, and I think classes like yours helped make that love stronger. It's a dream of mine to someday write a book, and it was great teachers like you who gave me the foundation to be able to write and trust my voice. I realize this is a random message to get on Facebook, but I have always believed that rather than just having nice thoughts about a person, one should share them. So, thank you for being an amazing teacher.

I hope you are well.

To date, I haven't heard back from him, but that's ok. What matters is that I wrote it, right?

Say Nice Things.

2011-10-05T21:44:00.002-07:00

How many times have you thought it, but not said it?

"That girl over there has a nice smile."
"That little kid is being so nice to the other kids on the playground."
"What a breautiful pregnant belly."
"That man wrote something that really changed my perspective."

I do it all the time. Think nice thoughts, but never have the guts to say them aloud. Sometimes it's because I don't want to embarass the other person, but usually it's because I don't want to embarass myself. I mean, what if I compliment her smile and it's dentures? Tell his parents he's behaving so sweetly just as he throws sand in my daughter's eyes? Compliment the pregnant belly and get a litany of complaints from her about carrying it around all day? Tell him he changed my life and get a cold shoulder?

So I bite my tongue, more often than not. And I suspect we all do. We think nice, lovely, kind, heart-bursting thoughts about others and we never share them with the person who inspired us.

One time, probably 10 years ago, my husband and I (then boyfriend, but who's counting?) had just parked our car off Mill Ave. in Tempe and were walking to a restaurant. I had my hair down, which wasn't typical for me. I've always favored long hair but hate it in my face so 98% of the time it's pulled back. We turned a corner, and a beautiful girl with a hippie vibe slowed, then reached her hand out to me. "You have beautiful hair!" she said, smiling warmly. And I swear to you, I not only smiled the rest of that day and through the weekend, I also wore my hair down almost all the remainder of the week.

And now, 10 or so years later, I vividly remember her unprovoked and spontaneous moment of kindness.

It matters. Kindness matters. A wise man I know very well once gave my husband and I (then fiance, but agains who's counting?) an incredibly important piece of marital advice: "Always try to be kind to each other." I took it to heart, but wasn't sure my husband would remember it 7+ years later. But then, the other day, I overheard him talking about my dad to someone, and repeating the advice my dad had given us that day.

And we're not perfect, you know. We go many days sometimes so wrapped in kids and work and bills and house and and and and that sometimes he goes up to the bathroom and never returns, having decided to crash out for the night and forgetting to come down to kiss me goodnight. Sometimes I mutter bad names to him under my breath when the kids aren't listening and there have been times we've gone to bed angry. Kindness doesn't always prevail in every little thing we do in life. We don't always win that battle. Sometimes, we forget. And everyone knows we often save our most harsh words for those we love the most fiercly. It's true, too, that sometimes I say the words, "Please stop crying and use your words to tell me what you need." to my kids, and in my head it sounds more like, "For fuck's sake, quit being a jerk and just spit it out!". But at the end of the day, we try to remember that kindness should prevail and we hope to raise our kids so they remember to, "Always try to be kind to each other."

The other day, we were out somewhere in public and the kids were playing pretty peacefully together. Suddenly, we were joined by another mom and her two boys. The younger was probably Luca's age and the older was probably 5 or 6. I confess I cringed a little, too, because mom was on her cell phone and released her two wild young boys to play without really watching them. History tells me that's the perfect storm for one of my kids coming to me crying, sand in hair and eyes or a slide being blocked by 2 bigger boys who won't let them come down.

Instead, I was pleasantly surprised. The boys were rowdy and wild. They ran by Rohan at full speed, and he was clipped on the shoulder and fell hard on his bum. I waited for a beat, not sure if Mo would get up and keep playing or start to cry, and felt such happiness in my heart when both boys stopped running and came over by him. The older boy helped him stand, and both leaned over him and spoke in quiet voices. Luca ran over to check on the situation, and though I couldn't hear the conversation, I saw Mo nod and the smaller boy pat his back before both boys were off and running again. Luca came over to me, and when I asked what had happened she assured me the boys apologized and made sure Rohan was ok before moving on. The rest of the time there was pretty tame, but I did notice the boys letting Rohan and Luca by them on the playground equipment with no drama and even once helping Rohan when he couldn't figure out how to turn to climb down the stairs. When we got up to leave, I turned back and said to my family, "Just a second." I walked over by the mom (now off the phone but talking to a friend next to her) and told her, "I just wanted to let you know that your boys were very kind to my kids today, and I really appreciated it." She looked a little puzzled, so I explained, "Sometimes when kids who are a little bigger than them come play we have to referee because the bigger kids don't always notice the littler ones. But your boys were very nice to my kids and I think you should be really proud."

I'm not sure what I said made much of a difference to her (she still looked a bit puzzled by me when I turned to leave) but I felt good about it. And a little part of me hoped she told those boys what I'd said so they would know their kindness was seen and appreciated.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

My point comes down to this: it's been a rough few months around here. I remember looking forward to 2011 but feeling some anxiety about it, and now I know my instinct was correct. 2011 has been a challenging year, and sometimes those challenges take me away from the mental space I try to maintain. They shift my focus to bad things rather than positivity.

So I'm dedicating October to Saying Nice Things. This month, I am going to make a real effort to say that nice thing that just popped into my head without worrying that it sounds stupid, might embarass me, might embarass the person it's directed to, etc. And just deciding to do this has already had one positive effect on my life: it's made me keenly aware of the fabulous things I notice about others already. Because kindness matters.

Good-Bye Ruby Tuesday.

2011-10-02T21:49:00.001-07:00

I will share more when I am feeling up to it, emotionally, but this weekend we said good-bye to sweet Ruby. Her health was failing and we were at a point where we had to choose to try to treat her or, at the age of 12, almost 13, if we could let her go. It was one of the hardest choices we've ever made together as a family, and she is now and will be missed incredibly. She is the dog we raised from puppyhood, who changed peoples' perceptions of pit bulls and who gave so much faithfulness, love, and devotion to our family. She was Rohan's best friend, and for our son who's not old enough yet to understand, I mourn more than I do for Darrick and Luca and myself. She was everything a family dog should be and more, and mere words cannot express how heartsick we are over saying good-bye to her a mere 15 months after making the same decision for Miss Piggy.

What an immeasurable blessing to be entrusted with the heart and the life of a dog. They give us more than we could ever give them and in return we owe them this one gift of setting aside our mortal emotions and attachments and freeing their souls to run on endless green lawns once more.

Rohan has been asking about her, and when he says to me, "Where's Ruby?" my heart knows the answer is "With her sister Piggy, giving herself to the earth once more. She, like her sister, is everywhere."

Rest In Peace, Sweet Ruby love.
May, 1999 - October 1, 2011

Growing Pains.

2011-09-29T22:58:00.003-07:00

We took a walk around the neighborhood tonight, all 4 of us, stopping at the big grass field to run around and play with a wayward football found in the shadows. The kids ran back and forth and back and forth through overgrown late-summer grass that was damp from the earlier sprinklers, sprinting until their legs itched from being whipped by grass blades.

We practiced our 'Power Super Girl' (and Boy) walk, balancing on the curb that circles the grass, hands out and palms up toward the sky. Luca named herself Power Super Girl Sparkles, and then allowed me to choose the name Power Super Girl Glitter. We let the kids yell at top volume and giggle and tackle each other in the somewhat swampy grass. And instead of turning and going home when that was over, we walked a little further to another grassy area in the neighborhood.

Luca asked to ride on her Daddy's shoulders, which of course meant Rohan wanted to ride on mine. They are 22 months apart in age, but he outweighs her by at least 3 pounds. And 3 pounds? On your shoulders? Is a lot. Still. "Sure buddy," I answered, and he raised his arms up in the air so I could lift him over my head to sit on my shoulders. We started to walk, and I could feel his little (big) hands rubbing one of my cheeks and then meeting below my chin to clasp together and hold him safely in place.He gets heavy quickly and my shoulders start to burn a little, but I hold him there. It's such a literal moment that clearly illustrates the nature of motherhood: we are strong because we need to hold them up.

They ask us to hold them to remind us how much we are needed. And how much we need them. As much as I float him free of gravity's pull to earth, he grounds me and gives me roots.The rest of the walk we hold hands, and I absorb every sweet second of feeling the weight of his tiny hand in mine. I am too painfully aware of just how soon this era of motherhood might be ending. I don't know when it will happen, but someday I won't be able to hold his hand anymore.

He stops once, asking to be held. I say, "On my shoulders?" and he shakes his head and points to my chest. "On there. It fits." he answers. So I lift his warm body, heavy like a bag of wet sand, and hold him in front of me like a koala holds her joey. It does fit there, just perfectly. I struggle a little under the weight of him clinging around my waist, but I carry on. I am painfully aware, as well, how soon this era of motherhood might be ending. There are times I hold them in my arms and am acutely aware of how their feet dangle almost to my knees and how it might not be much longer before I can't carry them on a hip anymore.

And so I sing him all the way home:
Sittin' in a railway station
Got a ticket for my destination
Woah-oh-oh-ohhh
On a tour of one-night stands
My suitcase and guitar in hand
And every stop is neatly planned
For a Rohan and Mama band

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When I picked up Luca from school today, she seemed a little withdrawn and quiet. I couldn't figure out why, but I didn't want to miss the window right after school to find out if something was bothering her. I sat on a large rock outside the preschool and pulled her close. "You ok, buddy?" I asked. She dipped her face down so I couldn't see her eyes, just the long curl of lashes dusting her apricot cheeks.

After a few seconds of silence, she turned those giant green jewels on me and told me something I never expected her to hear, "I don't like this school."

This year has been different for her. Last year she had a problem with a girl in her class, who I will call "M". M was one of the older kids and quite bossy and pushy, and Luca came home repeatedly telling us that M was mean to her. We asked, and she assured us it was just her who M was being mean to, so after hearing it several times, I started to really ask her some questions about M. Mostly, I wanted to know why she thought M was being so mean. She didn't know, couldn't understand, and I got that. Luca's got not a single mean bone in her body so being at the receiving end of meanness was so foreign to her. So I explained it to her like this: M is not very good at knowing how to be a nice friend. She really needs someone to show her how, so when she is mean you might want to try ignoring her mean attitude and just being nice to her.

It never worked. She just kept being mean, so I finally worked up the courage to talk to her teachers and they nodded in agreement about M's attitude. But then they assured me that M was like that to everyone. It was not just Luca, but Luca just so happened to be one of the few kids who was bothered by it because she has the intelligence to take someone else's behavior and internalize it.

It still broke my heart into 100 pieces to hear Luca tell us that M wasn't nice in school, but I felt confident that her teachers had it under control and it wasn't personal, so we just looked forward to the day when M would move on to kindergarten and Luca wouldn't have to worry about her anymore.

Because, really? These are 3 - 5 year olds we're talking about. Surely M is an anomoly.

I am so naive sometimes. Almost as soon as school started this year, we uncovered M version 2. After school one day I asked Luca about who her new friends are this year, and she said, "No one plays with me."

My heart stopped under the weight of my soul crushing down on it. A little more digging revealed that it wasn't that no one played with her, it was that there are 2 girls in her class who were there last year who only play with each other. I agonized again over what to do or say, settling on telling her that there are a lot of other kids in class and if those two aren't nice she could play with someone else. She half-heartedly accepted that answer, but when it came up again a week or so later, I knew I had to talk to the teachers again.And once again, I was told it wasn't about Luca, it was about the girls themselves. Apparently M trained them well in the art of being exclusive and harboring all the toys for themselves. The teachers were splitting those two girls up during most of the day, having them do centers apart and sit by others at the lunch tables.

But the cycle seems to be continuing, with other girls creating little factions of twos and excluding Luca. And my heart is crushed for her. There are only 6 girls in the class, and I can tell she badly wants to make good friends with one of them, but for whatever reason it doesn't seem to be happening that way.

So when she told me she didn't like the school, I expected it to be a friend problem and I steeled myself to get all mama-bear on the situation and find a better resolution to the situation. Turns out, she's just not feeling challenged. The activities and general syllabus are the same this year as they were last, and she's frustrated by having to re-learn things she already learned. It's frustrating, but I think it's workable with some conversations about why repitition is important in learning and maybe a tete-a-tete with the teachers to see if there is a way to challenge her more.

Challenge in scholarly ways I can do. it's that other kind of challenge I'm still not prepared for, both in terms of mom-skills and in terms of raw emotion. I know this is Girl Crap 101, and from here it's going to get harder. I know there will be tears and jealousy and cliques and anger and meanness. And I am not prepared. I want to wrap her up in a blanket and snuggle with her on the couch for all of eternity instead of letting her out into the big, mean world.

Conflicted and Looking for Feedback.

2011-09-22T09:58:00.000-07:00

Pre-Script: To my vegetarian friends/readers, please take no offense.

I have this sinking feeling that I'm mere steps from vegetarianism. And it worries me a bit. Because, if we're being honest, no one likes a vegetarian except maybe another vegetarian.

So what's this about? As it is, I hardly eat any meat, but I've always reserved the right to have turkey on Thanksgiving (or on a sandwich if it's Boar's Head) and to eat chicken. But just recently even thinking about chicken makes my stomach churn.

No, I am not pregnant. So how can I explain this sudden aversion? I could blame it on re-watching Food, Inc. and feeling mildly ill all over again. Maybe it's the fault of the chicken I cooked recently that just seemed a little less-than-stellar. Maybe it's that weird sensation I get sometimes when I think of chicken and my tongue feels little furry. (And, no, there is absolutely no way to get around the gross and completely random factors of that confession.)

Any way you shake it out, I can't shake this sinking feeling that my chicken-eating days are numbered. Did you see that sentence right there? It sort of made me gag. Add that to the list of reasons why I just might be done with chicken for good.

I tease about no one liking vegetarians (HI, vegetarian friends! I really do love you!), but I am not kidding about the internal conflict created by the idea of a meatless lifestyle. And it's not just a matter of eating meat being more convenient in general. It's all of the implications that come with being 'vegetarian'. Like, am I going to be a 'bad' vegetarian if I don't think to ask if that French Onion Soup has beef stock in it? Or what if I can't resist the turkey on Thanksgiving?

And how in the world will I explain this to my kids? In particular, what kind of impact would being a vegetarian have on Luca, who of late has become very tuned into how I already eat differently than she does? As it is, she notices when I don't have sausage or bacon with breakfast and almost wants to test me about it, aggressively offering me bites of meat off her fork and incessantly questioning my reasons for saying no. So far I've managed to slip by with a 'I have plenty to eat on MY plate. YOU need to eat your own food.' but for how long will that work? I know this seems like a weird conflict to have, but getting her to eat a variety of healthy foods has always been an issue, and if she sees me consistently passing on meat I worry she'll decide to do the same. And, even though this might rile the vegetarians I know, I don't necessarily believe in letting a kid her age (4) become a vegetarian when it's not a choice she's really able to carefully weigh from all angles and make an informed decision about.

Future meat-shunning hippie?

I admit I am being sort of tongue-in-cheek about some of my concerns, and I also realize that much like not having to buy into the belief that I have to label my parenting style (have you SEEN the mommy wars and the women who worry over whether a decision they make about parenting is or is not in line with their self-proclaimed 'style' of parenting, rather than just doing what feels right to them?) I also don't have to label how I eat. I CAN just decide not to eat meat today because the thought of it is grossing me out, but decide TO eat it next week. But I do have some genuine parenting concerns about my impressionable, picky-eating, somewhat eager to be like mommy 4 year old and whether my choice to not eat meat might impact her choices.

SO I am turning to my readership to ask you mommies out there (or non-mommies who just want to chime in) what YOU think about this whole issue. If you're a vegetarian or other-special-diet family, and your kids are on the same eating plan, how's that working out for you? Do you have concerns about the impact to their health, social life, etc. in the long-term? If you're a mixed-status household (like my family where I eat almost no meat, but the hubby and kids love them a good steak) how do you feel about the issue? And for everyone, at what age do you think a child should be given full disclosure about their parents' eating habits and full decision-making power on their own (specifically in terms of meat vs no meat type issues, not in terms of 'please just feed me popsicles and blueberries' issues)?

Thanks for any feedback!

2 and 4.

2011-09-21T23:35:00.000-07:00

The sun was behind the mountains to the west when we showed up to the football game. My husband's team plays on a field that's backed by a horizon of mountains, and at that time of night their silhouettes stand crisp in front of a backdrop of cherry red sky.

Following the lead of my kids (is there any other way?), we climbed the bleachers and settled in a seat behind a man and his wife. Turning to smile at us, the man commented, "What beautiful children you have!" and I smiled and thanked him.

"He's so blonde, isn't he?" he continued.

"Yeah, he gets it from his Daddy. They both do." I answered. Experience tells me he's probably silently questioning whether I, with the dark brown hair, am the nanny.

The man lifted his hat to show a bald head that gleamed under the stadium lights. Rubbing his hand over it, he smiled at my son and said, "I used to have blonde hair JUST like yours, son."

Grinning and seeing his moment, Rohan pointed to the man with one hand and grabbed some strands of his own hair with the other. "Oh, I have more than YOUUuuuu DOooooo!" he answered, laughing.

And his audience cracked up at the joke.

----------------------------------

I am officially in love with the sweet spot found at the intersection of 2 and 4.

(I feel as though the black plastic on the floor and the absence of baseboards are deserving of an explanation, so here it is. We are broke as hell, so though the new floors are all in, we haven't yet purchased the new baseboards to be installed, and thus we have not trimmed the plastic to sealed the cracks between flooring and wall/foundation. I'm hopeful that it'll happen over Christmas break.)

They fight like crazy people, her bossing him and deciding that the exact toy she needs is the one he just reached for/mentioned and him shrieking at the top of his lungs and curling into a ball on the floor while saying, "Leave me alone!"

The "Leave me alone!" kills it, either making us crack up at the melodramatics of it all or hurting someone's feelings. And, ok, I can admit that when it's aimed in my direction it stings a bit. I know Luca will probably hate me by the time she is 11, being that she's a girl and all, but I expect Rohan not to hate me until he dates the first girl who tries to convince him I am the devil. (For the record, I already hate that imaginary-possible-in-the-future little trollop.) So hearing that he wants me to leave him alone hurts sometimes.

But, as soon as it's out of his mouth he runs over to me, almost without exception, saying, "I want you!" and begging to be held and cuddled.

Meanwhile, she sometimes tests the patience of everyone in our house. Luca and her daddy can be like oil and water sometimes, though they adore each other to no end. I think they have more in common than either recognizes, which leads to them butting heads like crazy. I'm not a complete believer in things like horoscopes, but I think it's no surprise that you'll often find Rohan (Pisces) and me (Aquarius) sitting on the couch cuddling and giggling while Luca (Taurus) and Darrick (Leo) battle out the wills over some inane point of contention.

She is tender and sensitive and fiercely protective and intelligent. He is tender and wild, a typhoon of hilarity and touch. I adore them when they are nothing but soft skin and heads bowed together, her honey hair and his wheat strands blending into one flare of sunshine. I love evening bathtime, with two naked bodies sharing a tub of bubbles, warm water, and soap as they create their own narratives of play. I cave willingly when they beg me to let them sleep in the same room or even the same bed, their sleeping faces all cheeks and curled lashes and puffy lips.

I hope they stay best friends. I hope his raucous sense of humor always cracks her more serious shell, and I hope she continues to protect him like a lioness would her cub.

Lego Fun

2011-09-15T22:46:00.005-07:00

My kids are both in a phase where their favorite toys are building toys. Be they blocks, puzzles, or Legos, they want something that they put together, where the parts are awesome and the sum is even more so.

I absolutely love this phase. Other than crafts, no play-at-home activity is as fun to me as building things. And none is as fun to Rohan as tearing them down.

So the other night, it's entirely possible I went a little nuts with Legos. I really can't help it. It's a compulsion.

By the way, this is totally baby propaganda. Seeing them together, at these super-fun ages, makes me want more.

Today

2011-09-12T14:39:00.004-07:00

Today is a sick day. Luca woke from naptime yesterday complaining of ear pain and feeling hot. We used peroxide to clean her ears and then put Hyland's drops in them and sent her to bed with some Tylenol to ease the pain. Her fever was back this morning, at about 99.8 when she woke. It got up to 101.8 late this morning, then appeared to break and go back down. I could tell it was getting better because she went from laying on the couch moaning and asking me to 'just come sit' by her to playing in the fort Rohan and I were making and bossing him around.

Grandma came over just in case to check her ears (grandma, being a retired nurse, has her own otoscope) and brought lunch. Her ears checked out with just minor redness and her fever is definitely retreating. I'm glad she's feeling better, but I also confess I don't hate sick days. I actually love spending the day watching 'kid shows' on the couch and having a built-in excuse to feed my kids popsicles after breakfast.

I Am Thinking About...

2011-09-10T23:58:00.001-07:00

...Being a mom who has a full time job out of the home and a husband with a full time job out of the home plus a coaching gig 5 days a week is hectic. Most days I rush out of the house in the morning (routine: wake, get kids and their clothes, make coffee and lunches for Luca and myself, pack backpacks and my work bag, put on make up, get dressed, make sure kids are ready and do Luca's hair, run out door with them and help Darrick load/buckle the kids), work a full and busy day, and rush out at exactly 4 p.m. so I can get them both picked up by 5. When we get home, they play while I make dinner, then we eat, play more, get on jammies, play more, give baths, brush teeth, read books, put them to bed and sing songs. Even with Darrick coming home usually before dinner's done cooking, it's a lot of work and energy, and I love every second of it but I miss the days when everything wasn't so rush-rush-rush.

...I had a full blown fantasy the other day that involved short selling our house and renting. I'm fairly certain I could find us a bigger place in a better location (I love our house and its location, but that's not the point) for much cheaper. And with our A/C nearing 20 years old and a lot of upgrades needed on this house, the idea of scrapping the debt and starting fresh with something that hits the wallet less is super appealing. Of course, we all know Darrick and I would never do that unless we had absolutely no other choice, but once in a while the idea is so appealing.

...Every summer I wish I was a teacher. I long for summers off. I hit my 5 year anniversary at my job, which means I now get 6 weeks of paid time off a year, so in theory I almost could take a whole summer. Just wish my job was the kind where I don't dread how much catching up I'll have to do when I take a vacation.

...These two little birds had their first sleep over without mom and dad a few weekends back. It was less emotionally traumatic for me than expected, probably because I have had to travel away from them overnight before. And probably also due to the sheer quantity of alcohol I consumed in their absence.

...Speaking of absence, I've been a little bit absent around here as of late. Some weeks I need to write, and write a lot. Other weeks, I need to rest my hands and my mind and let my thoughts appear, manifest, and then disappear into the ether. I miss writing when I don't do it much, though, so maybe soon I'll be back to a more regular writing schedule.

Deadpan.

2011-09-06T11:58:00.001-07:00

If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you probably know that a year ago this summer, we made the really difficult decision to put our dog, Miss Piggy, to sleep. We put it off as long as was humane, then took her one evening to say good-bye. We also brought her remains home and buried her in a hole in our backyard.

Life's lessons about life and death are never just taught and let go when you have kids. You don't have the conversation about how the dog is dead and gone just once, but many many times in multifarious ways. You explain it on the day you make one of the toughest choices of your (dog loving) life. You explain it the next day as you read a book about saying good bye to a family pet. You talk about the body returning to the earth and enriching the soil with its power, just as the animal once enriched your life with her love.

And, if you have a very literal toddler in the house, you talk about it in practical, measured, real terms.

The dog was ill. No, it's not the kind of illness you can catch from her. She died. When someone or an animal dies, they are gone from the world we can see forever. No, she's not really gone forever. She's in your heart as long as you remember her. Her body will help the flowers and trees grow, so she lives on through them. Where is she? (Shit? Do I believe in heaven for dogs???) Um. In a hole in the ground. Out back.

Ever since she made the connection that "Piggy's in a hole in the backyard." we hear her talk about it ocassionally. There was the time when my mom took both my kids to storytime, and the story was about a dog. When the reader asked the kids who had a dog at home, Luca called out, "I have two. Ruby who is lazy and Piggy who's in the hole." Surprisingly, no visit from CPS, nor animal control, was paid us that week.

My kid is nothing if not linear and literal. She's one of the most sensitive kids I've ever known (take that for what it's worth, since she's also the first kid I've ever know this well) but one thing she is not is sentimental. So talking about her dog in a hole doesn't make her sad or wistful. It's just another fact of life.

Meanwhile, our other dog Ruby is no spring chicken. At 13, she's been having issues off and on with one of her front legs, and other than giving her supplements and managing the pain for her, there's not much we can do about it. Surgery IS an option, strictly speaking, but not a viable one in her case. Her condition took a nosedive about a week ago, and as a result she's now struggling more with things like climbing the stairs to sleep in our room or jumping on the couch. Real first-world dog problems, I realize, but those creature comforts are very much a part of the lifestyle with which she has become accustomed.

Yesterday, she made a leap for the couch and didn't make it, falling back on the new wood floors and doing a roll/flip move that left her righted lying on her belly in the middle of the floor. Once we assessed that she hadn't hurt herself more in the fall (she hadn't) we started talking about how sad it was that she couldn't get on the couch anymore.

Luca was deep in trying to force her brother to play some game she was making up as it went (that no doubt involved her being in charge and him obeying) when she looked up at us and said, with the most deadpan delivery yet, "We should probably just go ahead and put her in a hole now, guys."

And then, she went back to playing.

That Mom.

2011-08-29T21:12:00.002-07:00

I was at the grocery store tonight on our way home after picking up both kids. No, I will never learn not to take my kids to the grocery store when it's dinnertime. Apparently I enjoy making the same mistakes repeatedly.

This time I decided it would be different. I would hurry in, buy just a few essentials to carry us through the week (meat, milk, produce) and be out before the kids lost their cool. And this time it worked!

...almost...

I pushed my cart into line and grabbed my wallet to find my debit card, and next thing I know Luca is about 3/4 of an inch from some man's cart, staring longingly at his ice cream. "Luca," I said calmly, "Could you please come back closer to me so that man has some space?"

Smiling, he turned to me and said, "Oh, it's ok. I have 4 at home. She's not bugging me."

Such a kind gesture, and one he regretted about 7 seconds later when my kids simultaneously started to wiggled their butts and sing -LOUDLY - "Shake your bootie! Shake your bootie!"

Mortified, I figured I'd nip it in the bud quickly and bent to their level to tell them they needed to stop. And stop one would, while the other would defiantly continue to sing. The quiet one would inevitably lose it and start giggling, thus encouraging the singer to sing LOUDER and agitating me enough that I would again stoop down to reprimand both offenders.

And...repeat scene. I swear I contemplated just laughing it off at one point, until I caught the judging eye of the mom behind me in line as her toddler daughter was paying close attention to the spectacle. I wanted to be annoyed with her, but at one poitnt I WAS her, smug and sure I'd never be the one with kids causing a borderline-inappropriate commotion in a public place. Still, her condemning glare was enough to make the heat rise into my face and suddenly I could feel sweat trickling down my back and I was starting to panic. But kids smell fear, you know, so the more anxious for them to behave I became the more obnoxious and defiant they became.

Finally, after the 4th or 5th round of "SHAKE YOUR BOOTIE! SHAKE YOUR BOOTIE! ::giggle:: SHAKE YOUR BOOTIE!" accompanied by actual bootie shakes aimed in the general directions of the (now wishing he hadn't been so) nice man in front of me and the (unwarranted) judger behind me, I crouched down and pulled both kids to me. I was thisclose to lowing my damn cool, but I knew it would do no good, so instead I tickled both kids to get them giggling, then quietly begged the crap out of them, asking for good behavior just long enough to get out of the store without someone throwing a head of lettuce at us or calling CPS for my subpar parenting.

It worked. Well, the begging + the promise of peanut butter cookies at home did anyhow. I'll take it.

The sourpuss behind us was still giving me judgy-face as we left, so I made sure to give a nasty look back to her. And a look of sympathy to her husband.

Back Burner.

2011-08-24T23:01:00.000-07:00

My husband was roped into coaching football this year. It's the Freshman "B" team...a group of guys who couldn't quite make the cut for the Freshman "A" team. And now they are relying on him to coach them into better skills and hopefully a slot on the JV Team next year. You know...the REAL JV team, not the "B" team where they only get the games the "A" team can't/doesn't take.

If you don't really know my husband, you think he knows a lot about football. You probably even wonder how many years he played in high school. You assume he's got Sunday Ticket and is a rabid fan. Being 6'5" and broad shouldered, it comes with the territory.

His knowledge of football is really sort of paltry. He knows enough to yell at the ref while he drinks a beer and watches a game. And then we beg him to turn off the TV so we can go/see/do and next thing you know it's spring training for baseball and we've only watched pieces of a few games.

So coaching is a challenge for him. He feels bad that he doesn't know drills and plays. Crap, he feels bad that he doesn't know what a Cornerback does. But he'll learn, and I know he will. My husband is amazing in many ways, but his dedication to his students is one of his most amazing qualities. For those nervous and falsely pompous freshmen all fighting to be a hero, he'll do anything. Including dragging his family to the Wednesday night game of the Freshman "A" squad on a day that hit 116.

So there we were, watching him stand on the field and try to soak up football through osmosis, when we ran into the wife of the "A" squad's head coach. Her eldest daughter is in Luca's preschool class this year. Her other daughter is a year younger than Rohan. And she's pregnant with Baby #3.

We made small talk which quickly turned to kid talk which then switched to baby talk. First, about the son she is expecting and how excited they are. Next, to how nervous they are to have 3 under 4. That's 3 kids in daycare/preschool at the same time on 2 teachers' salaries in case you were counting. Which she was.

And then she asked me that fateful question, "Just 2 for you guys?" and I stumbled over my response.

If you'd asked me in those hormone-laden days and weeks after Rohan's birth, when I was flying high on my amazing little family and feeling like SuperWoman, I'd have insisted there was another baby in our future. Truth be told, I still feel pretty strongly that we're not done. It's almost like there's another little baby waiting in the wings, and on those days when Darrick and I both talk wistfully about sweet newborn peach cheeks and baby fuzz I can see it like it's a foregone conclusion. We joke about how maybe this next one will look like me rather than being another little Daddy Clone. We talk about how much easier it will be to afford the baby when Luca's in kindergarten, or even better when she's in 1st grade and Rohan is 1 year away from Kinder (i.e. one year away from us not having to PAY for his schooling). We let Luca muse over possible baby names (She wants a girl, who will be named Flower, of course.).

But on other days? Our life as a family of 4 is pretty sweet. We have a rhythm. We have balance. We have dreams of a future that involves long road trips and a 10 year anniversary trip somewhere exotic. We don't miss diapers, especially now that we're down to only using a few Pull Ups a week since most mornings at least 1 kid wakes dry. We have faith that just about the time we're done paying for daycare/preschool we'll also have paid off our car and all our credit cards and we'll be able to live without worrying about money for 4 days before every payday. We have a small car that we hope will last for many years and doesn't really have room for a 3rd carseat.

But then: pretty soon Luca will be in a booster seat, which takes less space than a carseat. And soon enough our daycare/preschool costs will go down dramatically. And....and....and....and.....

It's a stalemate. And I don't know what should be our next move. I don't think Darrick does either, so most days we don't talk about the subject at all. On a date night recently, when conversation was flowing and I looked at my best friend across the table from me, I had the courage to lay it all out. I asked him if he thought he'd ever want to have another baby, even though I was sure I knew his answer. I guess I was feeling brave enough to hear him say no; he was done.

He didn't say that at all. He also didn't say he wants another baby someday for sure. In fact, it turns out that if we're perfectly attuned in any way at all, it's in uncertainty. Neither of us knows what the future will hold, and we're not ready to permanently close the door on babies in the future. So for now, we're moving it to the back burner. We're committed to reaching some other goals together first, from paying off the car and other debts to some home improvements. And we're talking careers long-term and a possible career shift for one of us. I guess time will tell whether or not another baby will fit into our life, and I'm finally ok with the decision not to make any decision at all.

More, Please.

2011-08-24T09:03:00.000-07:00

Broccoli from Bountiful Baskets.
Squash from my mom's garden.
Frozen corn.

Sauteed over low heat with olive oil until tender, then heat turned high to brown the edges of the veggies.

Insanely good.

Snapping Out Of A Funk.

2011-08-23T23:44:00.000-07:00

Ever had a moment of clarity that you really didn't want to face? Mine was last week, when one of my biggest professional achievements was married to one of the biggest hits to my ego.

In my line of work, I interact quite a bit with a national group that does a lot of research and public policy issue analysis. They frequently release reports with state or local level data, and last week was no different. They released a report, and I initiated the process of having a press release sent from our agency regarding the local/state impacts noted in the report. It wasn't pretty, and it needed to be shared. The press release got immediate coverage from local radio stations and even local news stations, which chose to interview families impacted by the issue covered.

And then, there was a request from our local PBS station for someone to appear on their evening 'interest' program where current issues, politics, economy, etc. are discussed with a host. We got the email inviting us and my heart sank into my stomach. I can write 100 press releases and talk to radio interviewers, but ask me to be on TV and I am instantly 13 all over again.

I worry about how I will look in general. I wish I'd had more warning so I could do my hair and wear my most flattering outfit. I cross my fingers that someone will do our make-up before we go live. I want to run far, far away. I am afraid of saying the wrong thing, sure. But more than that I am afraid I will look horrible and my voice will sound horrible.

It shames me to write that paragraph, by the way. To admit that instead of feeling proud of this moment I was vainly worried about how I would look. But there was no time for my 13 year old self to get out of going on TV, so within a few hours my boss and I were taping the segment to air that night. We taped at 5:45 and it aired on our local PBS affiliate at 7 p.m. In a way, I was relieved that it happened so quickly because it meant less time to worry and obsess and stress.

I got home just as the show was starting. Knowing we were the final segment, I set my DVR and turned off the TV to have dinner with my husband and play with my kids. An hour later we decided we couldn't wait to watch it any longer, so we hit play and sat back.

"Oh no. OH no no no!" <--- my reaction to the first screen shot of me on TV. I couldn't hear a word I was saying because all I could think about was how my cheeks looked huge and my hair looked awful and my shoulders could easily get me a spot on the high school football team my husband helps coach. The world went into slow motion as I wondered how many people I know had seen it and whether they thought I looked as horrible as I thought I looked. And then I started to cry.

Meanwhile, my husband didn't know what to say to me. Luca had already lost interest and gone in the other room. And just as Darrick tried to convince me that I didn't look as bad as I thought I looked because really I didn't look like that in person anyhow (no, really...he was trying to make me feel better...) Rohan turned to the TV. Smiling, he ran up and put his hands on the screen and said, "That's my mama!".

And I cried some more.

The next day I went to work and couldn't remember anything I'd said on the show the night before. Within an hour of getting to work, I had over a dozen emails from people with whom I work, applauding the show and our success in covering such an important topic. And while I should have been basking in the glory of all the accolades, I just kept thinking of how all these people had seen me on TV looking like THAT. I cringed when I realized the link had been sent to our entire Board of Directors and posted on Facebook.

I made self-depriciating jokes. Because it's better to be the one to make the first crack than to be blindsided by others, I made fun of myself. My favorite joke below the link on Facebook when my sister posted it:

"Do not be alarmed, friends! It only LOOKS like I am planning on eating Ted. No hosts were consumed or otherwise harmed during filming."

My sister deleted the link. Apologized for not asking me if it was ok to share first. And it finally hit me: Shut. The fuck. Up.

My boss has been in her position for over 8 years, and this was her first appearance on this show. And she was there because of my press release inspiration and my knowledge. The host? He interviews everyone from politicians to leaders in business to non-profit executives. And he didn't once doubt that I belonged there, right beside them. And when I dared listen to the audio without watching the video I had to confess: I kicked some major ass. I was knowledgeable. Fast on my feet. On message and on point and a pretty awesome advocate for people who normally don't have a voice. Hell, I didn't even sound OR look nervous.

And then a text from a good friend sealed the deal. She knew about my insecurity and she said just the right thing to remind me of what's important. And most of all, this friend who I admire and look up to so much said she was proud of me.

So why couldn't I just be proud of myself????

It took me a few days to move past that visceral reaction to seeing myself on camera. Honestly? The me on TV must have 30 pounds on the me I see when I look in the mirror. It was a wake-up call, but at first I didn't take it as such. At first? I was defeated. I've lost nearly 20 pounds. I eat well. I work out 4 days a week. I see THAT girl in the mirror. On TV, I saw the girl 20 pounds and years of couch-potato-ness past. So I gave up a little. I couldn't seem to get off the couch or step away from unhealthy snacks. I let myself wallow for a few days.

Then I thought of my daughter. My son. Myself. I thought of what it said to them that I couldn't stop focusing on how I looked for long enough to celebrate this professional victory. I thought of what it said to ME that I was letting my perceived shortcomings overshadow what was not ONLY a professional but also a personal victory. So I didn't look thin and gorgeous! I sat my butt in front of a camera with my boss and held my own on TV. I knew my shit and I knew it well.

I had to make a decision, and though it was a struggle I decided to use this experience as inspiration, rather than letting it derail me entirely. I got back on track and back on the wagon with my healthy eating and exercise. I promised myself there WILL be a 'next time' I'm on that show, and that I'll be proud of how I look AND what I have to say that time. I even shared the link with a few people and tried not to do the self-depriciating jokes and cringing.

I'm a work in progress. If I've learned one thing through the years, it's to try to be as kind to myself as I would be to a friend. And that's often the hardest lesson. Patience isn't always my forte and neither is kindness to myself.

The Wagon

2011-08-21T22:20:00.000-07:00

I not only fell off the wagon this past week, I got run over by it and then dragged for a few days. It was a combination of feeling defeated by slow progress (or no progress?), getting sick, and a schedule at work that hasn't given me any kind of break.

But those are all excuses. Because the truth is I may have had obstacles in the way of best-laid plans, and I may not have been able to work out as much as I wanted to, but there's no reason I couldn't have at least stayed on that damn wagon.

But the week is done. And so are my excuses. I started this morning with an awesome healthy breakfast and worked out during naptime and snacked on fruit. And I'm ready to take on a new week.

This week, I plan on dragging the wagon behind me.

Not Whole Yet.

2011-08-15T21:58:00.002-07:00

I feel lately like I am working on ME in phases.

Not linear phases, even. Strange phases that start and stop and overlap. There aren't enough hours in the day to give energy to everything that piques my interest and to every bit of motivation for self-betterment I experience.

I'm piecing it together. It's not a whole picture yet and I honestly can't say I see a time when it will be. Right now I want to do X so that in a few years I can do Y, but in order to do that A, B, and C must be in order.

It's tiring, sometimes. It's exhausting to try to remember which iron is in which fire and why the crap I bothered to put it there in the first place.

And then I remember I'm happiest when I keep it simple. Simple goals. Simple relationships. Simple home. Simple fun. Simple health. Simple food.

I have to remind myself to put good out there, into the great unknown that we all share so that it can spread and lay seeds of good elsewhere. I have to remember NOT to put good out there, into the great unknown we all share so that I can get it back someday. I have to remember to bite my tongue when someone makes me crazy because it's the kind thing to do, not because I am afraid of being caught. I have to care for myself so that my kids can learn to do the same when they are older.

I used to say I love to bake, but hate to cook. That cooking was a waste because no one appreciates it. It might take 40 minutes to make a dinner that my husband and son can polish off in less than 4. "Why bother?" I would say.

But when it looks like this, it seems like maybe it's worth it after all:

Cous Cous, pan seared chicken with garlic, cucumber, tomato, corn off the cob, black beans (drain and rinse) and scallions.

Somewhere along the line, I realized that the memories I want for my kids are not necessarily the ones we're actively creating. We eliminated background noise. Going out to eat during the week. Arguments over where the shoes should go at night.

We created a quiet home. Music while the kids play. The sights and smells of dinner being made with love. Healthy and hearty foods. Shoe baskets for each family member.

(What? The shoes everywhere could drive a girl batty!)

Sometimes we keep the kids up a little late, and night swim. We watch the stars pull their faces through the night sky. We watch the kids watching the stars. We carry damp naked bodies, sticky with honeydew drippings and warm with fatigue, up to the bath. We sing songs about washing our hair; brushing our teeth. We tuck into bed and kiss and 'ting tongs' and kiss once more. We sit downstairs and await the first little bunny hops from upstairs and tell them to 'get back in bed'. They protest, but secretly I think they love it. I think they love the routine. The warm soapy water and cool green lotion and soft blankets on clean skin and mommy and daddy shushing them and admonishing them to bed.

The safety. The security. The love.

The smell of garlic lingering in the kitchen. The dishsoap bubbles crackling and leaving little prints all over the dirty dishes.

All I can do is hope that someday, these things are part of their memories of a happy childhood.

Fresh.

2011-08-08T11:05:00.001-07:00

A new school year starts today. Luca is in her 2nd year of preschool (too young for Kindy just yet), Rohan is back at Laura's after a summer hiatus from daycare, and Darrick's back in the classroom.
I had some proud moments dropping off the kids this morning. Being able to tell Laura that Rohan is potty trained ("Even at naptime?" "Yes! Even at naptime! Shoot, almost overnight already!!!") was definitely mom-brag worthy. And dropping off Luca at school only to see her walk right in and hug her old teachers made this Monday morning so amazing. I'm excited for a new year for her and can't wait to see how much fun they both have at school and daycare.

I promise, she is wearing shorts under that.

The only thing I'm nervous about? Coaching started Friday for Darrick, so the pick-ups are squarely on my shoulders from now through February for the most part! I'm on a new work schedule which is going to take some work to figure out, coming in earlier and leaving by 4 at the latest so I can have both kids in the car by 5. Should be interesting. Thank goodness I have my amazing mom not 2 minutes from daycare, just in case I need back-up now and then.

It should also be noted, we finally bit the bullet and cut Rohan's hair. I never thought I'd let my son's hair grow too long, but Rohan has exceptionally beautiful hair for a little boy. It's super blonde and thick and shiny and soft. In addition, it grows really fast so haircuts don't happen as often as they should. It was getting embarassingly long, as you can see here:

This is also an exceptionally bad picture of him, but let's just say we were verging on rat-tail territoy in the back. We started making jokes about braiding and beading it.

But look at how amazing that hair is! There are a LOT of women in Scottsdale who pay a pretty penny every 6 weeks to try to get hair this blonde.

But when I came home from work last week to find his sister trying to sit him down for a pretend "Free-Off Haircut" I got the message.

Him? Not so much with the shorts. Yes, my son owns pants. No, he doesn't like to wear them. Please see 'potty trained' above.

My sister-in-law offered to cut it for us on Sunday, but then my husband took the kids to visit his parents on Saturday night and my mother in law took her kitchen scissors to his bangs, then straight back over his ears. I didn't take a picture because I couldn't bear to, but suffice it to say he looked a lot like this:

From here.

So now it looks more like this. Super cute AND super grown up! Ack! Where'd my baby?

Pause.

2011-08-07T15:19:00.002-07:00

I'm not taking any kind of intentional break from blogging. I was on 'vacation' for 10 days, most of which was spent lounging, snuggling on the couch, watching movies, going to museums, and napping with my family. We closed out vacation with a 3 night camping trip, and since then both Darrick and I have dove back into work. School starts for him tomorrow, and that means it starts for Luca tomorrow too and Rohan goes back to daycare 3 days a week. In addition to teaching and coaching wrestling, Darrick was offered a coaching job for the JV "B" Football team (aka the guys who weren't good enough to make the squad yet, but who are too young and/or inexperienced to rule out entirely, so they get the "B" squad to keep them interested and get them some practice). My husband knows almost nothing about football, other than what the casual watches-football-for-an-excuse-to-drink-beer-and-eat-wings knows, so it's going to be a huge learning curve, but it's a great opportunity for him and given the economy in AZ any chance to secure his spot at the school is a no-brainer.

So, we've been busy. And I've been lazy about writing. Sometimes, living this gets in the way of writing about it. And I'm ok with that.

3 little beasts ready to go camping.

Mad love for these two. They are troopers and were best buddies the whole trip.

Morning giggles.

My love.

Watching the world go by.
Things I love about this picture: we're all in it, Luca's finger is wrapped in a lamb's ear bandage made by daddy, Rohan's grubby hands in the lower right corner, I look like I have a waist.

Museum. Rohan was riveted by a volunteer's explanation of all the dinosaur 'parts' including a tooth and a toenail.

Super Rohan. He also got a star on his chest, but I don't have a good photo.

Snow White demanded a heavy application of make-up.

No words. Just love.

Cuddle Puddle 2011.

True Story: We're Trash Pickers.

2011-07-25T15:19:00.000-07:00

The other day, we were at my in-laws' house and we all decided to head out for lunch. As we backed out of their driveway, my eyes caught site of something amazing:

a huge pile of limbs and yard clippings (we're talking, it was taller than the Civic) with a beauty of a some-kind-of-furniture-in-antique-green upside down amidst the branches.

I pulled to a stop and threw the car into reverse. "LOOK! Babe, look! What IS that???" I demanded.

So my husband, sweet and kind and dutiful and way more willing than my lazy self to get out of the (air conditioned) car and pull this beauty from the (probably scratchy) pile of yard trimmings, went and retrieved said item (in 100+ heat at 11 am after mowing his parents' acre all morning while I lounged at home with the kids reading books and snacking on cherries). He placed it in the middle of the street, checked it for sound construction, and deemed it worthy of being stolen from the front yard trash heap of his parents' neighbors to come home with us.

Let me say this: his parents live in a very well-to-do neighborhood, and this was obviously a trash pile, so we definitely didn't feel like we were maybe stealing from the poor to give to ourselves.

And, also: at Goodwill I guesstimate this would have cost about $35-65, depending who priced it and which Goodwill it went to for sale.

Alas, it's not in perfect condition, but it is a solid wood, antique green with gold leafing vanity that looks absolutely perfect in Luca's room. With a damp cloth we cleaned off the small amount of dirt on it, and welcomed it to its new home.

Long live Trash Picking!

The Abusive Boyfriend In the House

2011-07-21T11:26:00.000-07:00

I have a confession to make. I have an abusive boyfriend. He lives with me. He has for years. He takes up both physical and emotional space, and no matter how many times I promise to quit him, he whispers sweet-nothings and makes empty promises and I go back to him. Sometimes several times a day.

He's an asshole. Mostly because he tells me lies, but sometimes just because he tells me the truth I don't want to hear.

And yet, I keep going back.

It's time for me to admit the truth: I have no intention of quitting this relationship, even though I know it would probably be best if I did. Instead, I let him live with me, and I depend on him to tell me everything from what I should eat today (or shouldn't have eaten last night) to how I should feel about my body and what my mood for the day will be.

It gets worse, though. I think my abusive boyfriend is having an affair behind my back! That's right, the cad is a jerk AND a cheat. And the culprit is a lady I know well.

My abusive boyfriend and his lady like to team up against me, confusing and confounding me on a monthly basis. They tell me one day that I look great ("Your butt is SO getting smaller!") and the next day they chastise me and call me a fatty ("Dude...put down the trail mix and ice cream, chubs!"). And then, a day later, they lure me back with skinny promises and those darn sweet-nothings ("I'm sorry, I didn't even SEE you there. You're getting so skinny!!").

My abusive boyfriend is my scale. I love him, in spite of his one missing foot and his bad attitude. In spite of his inconsistencies (up a pound?!?! Down THREE!!!! Wait, up 0.5???). In spite of his lies (I'm totally getting skinnier!!). Mostly in spite of his truths (Yep, shouldn't have had Mexican food the night before weigh-in!).

I know I should toss him. Take out his batteries. Make him break up with his lady so the two aren't secretly meeting up one week out of every month to screw with my mind and my vision of reality. But despite many, many efforts over the years, my actions speak louder than my words. I am not going to break up with him. I am going to have to accept that he's not always right (Hello, men everywhere, right?) and that he lies when I need the truth and tells the truth when I wish it was just a lie. I am going to have to learn not to let him control me, rather to use him as inspiration and motivation instead of as a mirror of who I am and what I am worth.

If I can have one kind of revenge, let it be this: at least I make him live in the bathroom.

Don't Skip Any Parts.

2011-07-20T22:52:00.003-07:00

After dinner and some swimming time, I piled the kids into the car for a pre-bed McDonald's ice cream run. As we're waiting in an impossibly long line, Luca pipes up from the backseat, "Mommy, turn this music down. I need to talk about things."

I cooperate and turn the radio off, asking what she wants to talk about.

"Let's talk about babies."

"Ok?"

"How do the babies get out of their mommy's belly?"

"Well, remember we talked about this before? The baby grows in the mama's belly, and when it's ready to be born the mama pushes with her tummy."

"And then she goes to a hospital?"

"Sometimes sweetie. But sometimes, like when your brother was born, the mommy decides to stay at home."

"Oh." She pauses for a minute to think. "But how does the mommy push the baby out?"

"Um, she uses her tummy muscles. Kind of like when you go potty."

"But where does she push?"

"Um, well....she pushes with her tummy (here, I take a rolled up tube of fabric I have in my car and place it in my palms, then web my fingers together around one side of it) and the baby moves. Pretend this (gesturing to fabric tube) is the baby and my hands are the tummy muscles. They tighten and push and the baby moves down (I mimic this with my hands and the fabric). See?"

"That's cool!"

"Yeah, it is pretty cool."

"So then the baby comes out through her tummy?"

"Sort of." shit shit shit shit shit

::I interrupt this story to explain how I feel about having these kinds of conversations with kids. My husband and I decided long ago that we would always tell the truth about these types of issues, but that we would try not to over-explain (see Parenting 101: Don't Overthink It). In other words, the last time Luca and I had this conversation, I was able to avoid directly explaining the anatomy and physiology of giving birth and making babies because she wasn't really asking about that. She was happy with a vague explanation that matched the reality of images she's seen of birth. If she's not asking the question, I don't need to try to answer it just yet.

But when she does ask the question? I owe it to her and I'm only being true to myself and my husband and how we choose to raise our kids, if I answer her in an honest but age-appropriate way.::

deep breath

"Actually, the baby doesn't come out through the mommy's tummy, Luca. It lives there while she's pregnant but when it's ready to be born she pushes it and it comes out her vagina."
"Oh."
"Yeah." And then, from both of us, a moment of silence. I turn the radio back on.

"Mama? Turn the radio down again. How does the baby get in the mommy's tummy? I wanna know the WHOLE story mama. Don't skip any parts."
shit shit shit shit shit double shit

For a second I considered not really answering. I mean...the girl is FOUR. Does she really need to have that much information? But then I thought about it a different way. She doesn't need to know it all at 4, but I also don't want to be having this conversation when she's 11 or 13 and wishing we'd been talking about it all along. The way I figure, if we talk about it all along, she not only will feel more comfortable talking and asking questions as she gets older, but we'll also have time to ease into being comfortable with these conversations. Plus, at 4 she has no idea that her questions might make people uncomfortable, and I'd rather she get the answer from me than ask others who might not know the right way to answer.

"The daddy's body makes something called sperm and the mommy's body makes little eggs. When they want to make a baby, the daddy puts some sperm in the mommy and it meets the egg and then grows into a baby."

"Oh. That's really neat, mama. I want to see how that happens someday."
"I hope you will, sweetie," I answer, silently saying to myself When you are at least 25.

I know it's not the most eloquent explanation, and it definitely glosses over the finer details. But she was satisfied with the answer to that one as well. I really never knew a kid her age could be so observant of her world and so inquisitive. I love it, especially how she warns us not to bullshit here and to be sure to give her 'the whole story'. Here's hoping our approach doesn't mess her up forever!

Parenting 101: Don't Overthink It.

2011-07-18T21:57:00.001-07:00

My brother and his wife had a baby, and my kids are fully obsessed. When Rohan was a newborn, Luca often could be found 'nursing' a doll or stuffed animal while I nursed Rohan. As soon as there were no nursing mommies in her immediate life, however, she switched to mostly feeding her babies from bottles.

Since Patrick's birth, Luca has been around a few times when he's nursed, and it's reignited her interest in breastfeeding her own 'babies'.

The other day, we left the house to meet my family for dinner, and when the kids dragged their feet a bit, I encouraged them to hurry so we could see Patrick. On her way out the door, Luca grabbed her baby, who she has named Rainbow, and brought her along for the ride.

A few minutes into the drive, from the backseat, she chirps up, "Mama? How can I feed my baby?"
"You can nurse her, sweetie."
"No."
"Well, you didn't bring any bottles, so you'll have to nurse her."
"But how? How can people feed babies with their boobies?"
(This is big, I thought. I have to handle this correctly. Explain how a mom's body makes the milk and the hormones and the biology...)
"Well, honey, a mama's body was made to make milk for her babies. When she has a baby, her body knows how to make milk and the baby knows how to drink it."
"But how can I feed the baby my boobie milk, mama?"
"Well, sweetie, you just lift your shirt and...you remember, right? You just hold your baby and she can eat. And if you're the mama, your body will -"
"Mommy. Mom?"
" - make the - yes, honey?"
"I mean, how can I feed my baby when my seatbelt straps are in the way?"

Double-Braggin' It.

2011-07-17T00:23:00.000-07:00

Rohan's officially potty trained. I guess it's safe to say this now that it's been a few months, though I'm pretty sure the law of the universe says tomorrow he'll poop all over our new floors.

I took the day off work on Tuesday to spend time with good friends who were in town from St. Louis. The morning involved pool time, Goowill hunting, lunch at a favorite pizza spot, a Target run, and then home for naps. Rohan was acting a little like he needed to pee as we left Target, but he denied it so I figured we'd be home in 10 minutes and he could go then. Only he fell asleep in the car and couldn't be roused. No problem, I figured, and I strapped a diaper onto his sleeping body.

A mere 45 minutes into naptime, he was standing in the hall upstairs crying for me. I went up, wondering why he was awake already, and found him clutching his diaper. Figuring he'd wet it, I scooped him up and discovered it was dry. On a hunch, I took him to the bathroom, took off the diaper, and supported his sleepy body in the potty. He peed, leaned into me, and closed his eyes. Back to bed we went, where he was fast asleep again for another hour. Odd, I thought. And then I realized: he'd woken to pee. But I knew it was probably a fluke.

Not so. Since then, he's done this same thing to me 3 times, to my mom while at her house once, and one more time to Luca, who happily escorted him to the bathroom and helped him out. Yeah, she's really an awesome big sister. And it's not just naptime. The past two nights he's done this as well, peeing on the potty before letting me tuck him right back into bed. I'm considering putting a little training potty in his room and putting him to bed in undies. Any of my readers out there have insight on whether that tactic would work or backfire?

Either way, I remain 100% impressed by his ability to pretty much potty train himself only 3 months after his second birthday. That boy is amazing!

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We spent most of today prepping the last area of downstairs for laminates. Our entry way feeds into the stairs, the garage, the front door, and the den, which is sunken and includes two steps. When we ripped up our tile back in October of last year, we didn't rip out everything on those steps because we didn't know what we'd do in that area. Today, we realized it needed to be stripped and cleaned in order for the entry flooring to be completed. Once that was done, we installed more floors, took the old sliders and stove to donate at the Habitat for Humanity REStore and Goodwill, and then came home for more flooring work. Darrick did most of the work while I entertained/intercepted the kids and made lunches and dinners to keep everyone's bellies happy.

After dinner, Darrick and Rohan went to my ILs' house to check on their pets and pool since they are out of town until tomorrow. Left alone, Luca suddenly deemed our night, "Girls' Night Out Only" (I think she heard me talking about a GNO invite I'd received earlier in the day) and decided we should do something 'just for the girls'. So, together we colored pictures, then put on our suits and went for a swim. She kept saying over and over how it was time for 'just the girls' and how 'the boys can't come with us', and then she would get very giddy and laugh loudly before running into my arms and giving me kisses and cuddles. We played basketball in the pool and she practiced floating, then together we came inside to put on 'super warm jammies' and watch a 'kid show' (Netflix of the show BusyTown). It was so amazing to get to spend even a few hours one-on-one with my girl, and to see her excited about it as well. We spend as much time together as possible when I'm not working, but the truth is I very rarely get one-on-one quality time with either kid to do whatever they want and luxuriate in it being special time for us together. I love watching my sweet baby growing into a sweet girl, listening to her ideas for games and her stories. I love hearing her thoughts and being asked by her to do things together. There is just something so sweet about individual relationships with each of my kids. Before I had two, I worried I'd get along with one better or feel more bonded to one over the other, but the reality is I have so much love for both of them that sometimes it overwhelms me. I see the girl Luca is slowly blooming into, and I love that girl, but I also really, genuinenly like her. She's smart and creative and imaginative. She's kind and tender and loving and just the right amount of sassy. And she loves spending special time with her mama and doing things that are ours and ours alone. And I love her even more for that.

That's Life.

2011-07-13T23:47:00.000-07:00

This week was not a banner week for me in terms of WW. I did well with the eating and exercise, but sort of blew it all by going out to mexican food with friends who were in town for the week.

Here's how I dealt with that: I ordered a skinny (125 calorie) margarita and chicken street tacos (under 500 calories). And I ate chips. And, I went to the meeting today knowing I was probably going to see a gain. And I did. And you know what? I am ok with it. As my meeting leader said to me today, "That # isn't the truth. Your week was the truth." And my week was something I was pretty proud of. For this to be a lifestyle for me, I have to be able to splurge on mexican food and a margarita and not stress over it showing on the scale.

Look, everyone wants to get on the scale and see a smaller number every week. I'm no different. But I also am willing to accept that life happens and I'm not going to give up a night out with friends for a smaller number in the morning. Also, I'm proud of the dinner choice I made. In the past, I would have ordered up a bean burrito with a side of sour cream and a normal margarita and eaten endless chips. Was I a dietician's dream? No way. Was I a healthier version of me? Yep.

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For workouts, I've been mixing up netflix DVDs that you can get with just a streaming membership. It costs me something like $7/month and I watch 4-5 a week, which is close enough to free for me. I mix up boot camp, pilates, yoga, dance/salsa/zumba style, and general cardio workouts. There are some days when I've worked out the night before and wake up feeling it in my legs and glutes and abs and shoulders. And there are other mornings when, the night before I got super sweaty and I wake up in the morning not even feeling it and wondering whether or not it was worth it. It's always worth it. I might wake up tomorrow and wish I'd said no to pretzel M&Ms, but I know for a fact I won't wake up tomorrow and regret the workout I did tonight.

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On a different note, I've had several moments this year when I've done something kind for someone and been the recipient of random acts of kindness in return. Like the time I bought the coffee and donut for the guy behind me in the Dunkin drive through, and a week later the man in front of me bought my coffee at Circle K. I don't do it for the reward. Or the praise. Or the hope that someone will 'get me back' for it. I do it because it's the kind of thing the person I strive to be would do. The person I strive to be would see the girl dressed in heels and a pencil skirt looking paranoid over her shoulder as she went into Circle K and a disheveled man followed her, and would go inside and offer that other girl a ride. The girl I want to be would hold open the door for the mom with a double stroller who's obviously stressed and struggling to get through as not 1 but THREE men stand behind her and wait impatiently for her to get out of their way. The person I hope I am would see a girl in line in front of her at the gas station have her card declined, then see that same girl and her young son sitting in the parking lot looking lost and would insist that she take $5 to get enough gas to get home.

But more than doing things because they are examples of the person I want to imagine myself into being, I do them because I want my kids to see. I want to be an example of how we treat others: with kindness and respect and humor and heart. I want them to know that it's ok to help someone you don't know who looks scared and in need. That it's kind to lend an able hand to someone struggling. That sometimes $5 to a mom whose car window is duct-taped up might make the difference in her week. And when I see the way my kids think and feel and process, I have a true glimmer of hope that it's working and paying off. I took them both to Goodwill yesterday in search of a bookshelf for their books. It was almost lunchtime and they were restless. And Goodwill is a haven for curious hands and wild toddlers. Maybe it was the novelty of having a weekday off with both kids, alone, but my patience was at a maximum and they were doing such an amazing job of listening to my 'rules'. As we headed down an aisle, a woman stopped me. "Mom," she said, "I like how you talk to those kids. And I can tell they have good parents because they are just so well-behaved. It makes this old lady so happy to see you young parents doing things right and raising up your kids with kindness." I almost cried. We talked for a few minutes and I thanked her from my heart for taking the 20 seconds it took to brighten my entire week.

Words have power. Kindness has power, and it grows exponentially.

Facing Reality.

2011-07-11T11:17:00.001-07:00

I really, really thought I could lose weight if I was diligent about following Weight Watchers. I've never been a particularly unhealthy eater, but I tend to fall back on fast food and sweets when it's hot/I'm too tired to cook/I had a long day/I'm hungry NOW/I could really use something delicious to cap off a meal. So, naturally, I assumed that I could cut down on those fast food runs/late night freezer dives and the pounds would simply drop off.

That only worked for the first 4 pounds. Literally, changing my eating habits dropped 4 pounds immediately. Everything after that has come off slowly, through dedication and some self-discipline. We've all but 100% cut out fast food, opting only for the ocassional weekend run to McDonald's for breakfast or Kids' Night at Chick Fil A. And even when we do that, I'm eating the breakfast sandwich with no meat and with half the bread or a salad with grilled chicken and just a few stolen waffle fries. I've replaced my ice cream and cookies with Skinny Cow ice cream sandwiches and smoothies made of fat free yogurt, ice, and fruit.

And still...the scale ever so painfully inches down by ounces.

Finally, I admitted to myself that I was either going to have to make another big change OR I was bound to give up, go back to eating whatever I want, and gain back what I'd lost plus a few bonus pounds. So, the big change came a few weeks ago when I bit the bullet and started working out again. It started as a little challenge with a good friend to help keep us accountable. I expected one or both of us would lose steam and next thing you know we'd probably find ourselves helping each other make excuses. In other words, I underestimated us.

I've done challenges before. I've tried to lose weight or exercise with friends before. And it never worked. Because there was never accountability and there was never honesty. AND I always felt like I didn't have to keep up my end of the bargain because whomever I was challenging was in it to win it, not in it to be successful together. That's the key for me this time: we're challenging each other to succeed together, not so someone can win.

In the past 3 weeks, I've worked out 3-5 times a week. It's not easy. It's not always fun. The other night I tried my best to keep up with some insane Netflix streaming version of zumba that was so fast-paced and complex I ended up frustrated and almost crying. I sweat a lot. Sometimes, I catch site of my reflection in the back door window and I am embarassed with myself. I have to work out late at night, and I end up compromising my sleep for the workout, which probably has its own set of potential problems. Some nights, I would rather go to bed early and read than get up off the couch after everyone else is tucked in and snoozing.

But I do it. I get up and make a fool of myself in front of no one but me and the ladies on TV. I sweat. I curse when I can't keep up. I feel it the next day in my glutes or my thighs or my abs or my arms. I report back to my friend, telling her what I loved and hated about the workout for the night and deciding whether to keep the DVD in my queue or give it zero stars.

And the next night, I do it again.

Last weekend, over the 4th of July, our TV sat in our garage and our stove sat in our backyard waiting to be replaced by a new stove. We went out for almost every meal. I didn't do a single workout. I did, however, spend hours a day sweating and installing flooring. And still, by the time Wednesday's WI came around, I expected a maintain or a gain. I was ok with either, knowing I hadn't stayed on track and I hadn't followed plan. But I HAD worked out 4 times throughout the week, and loss or no loss I was counting that as a success.

I lost almost a pound last week. And you know what? I was happy. I feel motivated to keep going, and optimistic to weigh in this week. And despite my natural inclination toward laziness, I'm willing to admit that my husband (and you, anonymous) was right and exercise might really have been the missing piece to my weight loss puzzle.

This is How We Do It.

2011-07-10T22:04:00.001-07:00

After a long 3-day weekend of work around the house last week, we started Saturday off by tearing out our old sliding glass door and replacing it with french doors.

They look amazing. But it was 108 with almost 40% humidity that day, and it took 6 hours to get the job done.

That same day, my mom showed up with the beauty above: a 15' wide by 42" deep above ground pool. It's no diving pool, true, but it was heaven to my tired and sweaty body last night. It took awhile to get it set up, since it required assembly and pre-leveling of the ground first, as well as sand put in a thin layer on the ground to help level and cushion it. Not to mention, it's going to take something like 10 hours to get it full all the way to the top. But none of that mattered, because after splashing in about 6 inches of water before bed last night, the kids were up at 5:30 this morning begging to swim. We spent hours today in this pool, the kids getting their water legs and splashing and giggling and Darrick and I just enjoying our very own watering hole.

In my dream world, we'd have an in-ground pool with a baja step and a waterfall and a diving board. But in real life, this pool is pretty sweet and it was worth every single drop of sweat that went into assembling it just to see my kids so happy. As a bonus, my mom bought it for more than half off the regular retail price because it was on clearance at Big Lots (local discount store).

I can't wait to sink into this baby after work tomorrow!

The pool fills to 42", but we didn't fill it all the way to the top. With it filled where it is now, both Luca and Rohan can stand and walk on their own without assistance. We're going to leave it there until they both get a little more sure-footed.

In the meantime, it's noodles and rings and practice blowing bubbles.

Unplanned Benefits.

2011-07-08T00:49:00.000-07:00

Our floors aren't done. We're on hiatus during the work week, but hope to finish the floors and put in our new door this weekend. But that's won't stop Luca from embracing the change. Her new love is changing into dance clothes in the morning because, in her words, "It's like ballet class in here!"

Every little girl needs a tutu, sparkly shoes, and a daddy who can help her spin.

Eyes in a Time of Blindness

2011-07-07T09:21:00.003-07:00

I stole this from Dooce. I can't stop watching it. One of my favorite U2 songs ever, plus an amazing example of awesome heart.

Pretty Doors.

2011-07-05T14:56:00.000-07:00

We're still knee-deep in flooring renovation, but the finish line is getting closer and closer. And since we already bit the bullet and invested in new flooring, we decided it was high time to check another item off our 'dream list' for the house (yes, there really IS one of those, on our fridge) and buy french doors to replace our old slider. To keep costs down, we got the kind that are primed and have to be installed by us.

I've been dreaming of painting the interior side a pretty color that would bring some more variety into our rooms. The great room, where the door is housed, is a very soft yellow by Behr called Social Butterfly:

The walls in the kitchen/dining area are Behr's Eucalyptus Leaf:

I wanted to pull a green into the room, but I'm not sure which direction to go with it. Something apple or lime, but not too dark and not too vivid. I also find myself drawn to these bluey-greens, so for inspiration I gathered some pictures:

Benjamin Moore Vienna Green from here.

From here.

No idea what color this is, but I like it. From here.

Not sure what color this is either. From here.

Not sure what color this is, from here.

Technically a cabinet color, but would work for a door. From here.

Cooking Apple Green by Farrow & Ball, found here.

Cooking Apple Green seen on a door here.

The doors will probably go in next weekend, so I've definitely got some time to make a decision. And convince my hubby.

Through Hell to Get to Heaven.

2011-07-03T00:21:00.000-07:00

If there's one thing you can say about Darrick and I, it's that we sure know how to celebrate time off together. Last fall, I took the week of his fall break off and we ripped out our saltillo tile and refinished the concrete.

The big problem here? The sales person who helped us pick the finish for our floors advised that we get a product we pretty much ended up hating. I mean, it looked pretty fresh and light and breezy when we first did it, but there were some serious issues here. First, the product we were sold to fill in holes and divits was useless. Rather than filling them flush with the floor's surface, it created 'bubbles' inside the holes that looked super tacky. Second, the surface of this floor is not dog-and-kid friendly. Dirt gets on it and never seems to come off of it. Nothing short of scouring it on hands and knees with soap and a scrub brush will lift the dirt, and who has time for that? Third, without something on top of the concrete, the baseboards didn't fit back in place right, meaning we never finished freshining them up and re-attaching them to the walls.

So, in short, we have: uneven floor with weird holes in it that are filled with bubbles, dirt that won't ever be fully removed, and missing baseboards. Nice, right?

We decided this 3 day weekend was our perfect opportunity to go up north and get out of the heat. And then, we got sidetracked and ended up cancelling our hotel reservations and spending 7 hours today installing laminate flooring in our kitchen. It took much longer than we'd expected and was tedious and tiring, but the kitchen floor looks so good you could kiss it! At some point today, we had to run to Home Depot to get a tool to help us install the edges and corners, and decided on a whim to buy MORE flooring so we can extend this into the dining room this weekend, and eventually into the great room as well. In my perfect world, our front room (aka the catch-all play/exercise room) will get done at some point too, but probably not for awhile.

It's not how everyone would spend their weekend, but once you see the pictures I think you'll understand why I'm more than happy to spend ours installing floors.

For now, a sneak peek:

Did I mention it was 118 today in Chandler, and we sweated our butts off?

We made a decision today, too, to not put the shitty old stove back in there. Since we had to pull it out all the way to get in the floors, and since it is completely crappy, we're kicking it to the curb and buying a new stove in a stainless finish. We eat at home far more than we used to these days partly because of cost, partly because of health, and partly because Rohan acts like one of those kids in restaurants most of the time. So a new stove is a non-negotiable.

I'll have a ton more pictures to share soon!

A Very Special Customed Lunch Just for Me and Only Me.

2011-07-03T00:03:00.000-07:00

It's no secret that Luca is not a big eater. In fact, it would be fair to say she's a horrible eater. Her appetite is small, she is picky, and she would rather do almost anything more than eating.

Several months ago, Darrick and I really started working on changing the way we eat and feed our family. It's not just about what foods we choose, but about our attitudes in general. He has a chip on his shoulder about dairy products, for example, insisting on whole fat products instead of reduced or non-fat. I am super picky and love sweets. We're not perfect, but we decided to start working together to find ways to get more healthy food in our bellies and more positive interactions around meals: shopping with the kids and talking about why we eat certain foods, prepping dinner as a family, letting the kids make their own sandwiches, etc. But one elephant in the room was Luca and her tiny appetite.

Luca is a healthy kid. She is smart and strong and loves healthy foods. But she also loves junk food and doesn't eat much quantity of food, meaning it's really easy to get through an entire day with her and realize she's barely eaten from 3 of the 4 main food groups. We've struggled to get her to eat healthy foods in enough quantity to get her nutrients that she needs, and we have struggled even more over how much we should push her. Like a typical toddler, when we push she pulls, and it never ends well.

So we decided on a new approach. No repeatedly asking her to eat. No nudging her to finish her plate. If she refuses a meal, that's fine; she can eat something healthy later when she says she's hungry. And if meals aren't working, we move to healthy smaller items, like half an apple with some peanut butter and a low-fat string cheese or some slices of turkey and a yogurt. It's not ideal, and it drives my husband more batty than it drives me, but we're conscious of not wanting to make food an issue with her, and so far this method is working.

Most successful? Giving her some options of healthy foods she loves and can eat in smaller quantities. Less of a 'meal' as our generation knows it and more of a healthy plate of foods she can eat and will enjoy, and which will give her the things she needs.

The other night, I gave her some options for dinner, and she ended up with this meal. She not only ate the whole thing, she asked for more. She was so proud of her meal she kept calling it her "Very Special Customed Lunch Just for Me and Only Me." In the end, she ate about 2 oz of hummus, a tbsp of peanut butter, 1.5 pitas (amazing for her, since she's not a bread lover), 8 baby carrots, and a handful of blueberries.

The real winner here was the pita cut out to make the letters of her name. She LOVED them, so I'll definitely try to find ways to incorporate more fun into her fuel in the future.

Patrick.

2011-07-01T00:04:00.000-07:00

My new nephew arrived last night at 9:16 p.m. He's absolutely perfect, and everyone is 110% smitten.

Patrick Robert:

"Slower Is Faster Than Never"

2011-06-29T15:43:00.002-07:00

Today in our WW meeting, someone said the phrase, "Slower is faster than never" and it really rang true for me.

I don't know if I'll ever be ok with how slowly I lose weight. I mean, who wants delayed gratification when the instant variety seems so much more fun? I know this is something I just have to accept as truth about my body: I'm not going to lose weight quickly. I never have, no matter what changes I've made in my life. I lost 24 pounds on WW once, but it took me just over a year to do so. I will lose weight on WW this time, but it's going to take me a long time to get to my goal. And while I don't know if I'll ever truly be 'ok' with that, I have at least come to terms with it being my reality.

Slower IS faster than never. I just would prefer Faster,because Faster is Faster than Slower. Is that so wrong?

----------------------------------------------------------------

One of my friends is also doing WW, and though we live too far apart to do meetings together, we do keep in constant contact to support each other and check in. For both of us, staying 'On Plan' in terms of eating within our points and meeting the WW Healthy Guidelines is totally manageable, but we struggle with getting in exercise.

I'll admit, I'm the first to make excuses that keep me from getting in exercise. It's hot. I'm tired. I don't have time. I already wake super early, and any earlier would kill me. I don't like being sweaty. We can't afford the gym membership. I don't like to run. I don't like to work out at night.

But you know what? I know those are just excuses. I know I need to prioritize better and make time. Find the energy. Get over my aversion to sweat. Put myself and my health first more often.

So (thanks for the prodding, Anonymous) this week we started a new 'challenge' of sorts, though it's less a challenge and more a fun tool for keeping both my friend and me active. We discovered we both have Netflix streaming through game systems in our houses, so we made a pact. Each week, we aim to work out at least 3 nights a week. To keep each other going, we have a system. At the start of the week, we each choose 2 workout DVDs that can be streamed, for a total of 4 workouts. During the week, we each have to do at least 3 of the 4 workouts, and preferably all 4. Granted, we just started this week, but so far I'm loving having someone to exercise 'with' and being motivated by not wanting to 'let her down'. I know she wouldn't judge me if I didn't complete every week, but I also know how much she's going to encourage me when I do. And it's nice to get a little shove outside of my comfort zone and be forced to do DVDs I might not have chosen that add some variety to my week.

I only lost about a half a pound this week, which was sort of a let-down after working out 4 times. Last night, I laid in bed with my head on my pillow and my mind starting to fuzz at the corners, and a thought came to me: This week has been a success. I may not have a huge weight loss to brag about. No one but me will notice a difference for several more pounds, I'm sure. I'm still far from all my goals. But you know what? I notice a difference. I like the glow in my cheeks when I am done working out. I like laughing with my co-workers the next day and feeling a burn in my ab muscles. Hell, I like being able to tell I still have ab muscles. Working out makes me feel good. Strong. Capable. Healthy. It's not a magic pill. It won't change my body overnight. It won't make weight loss infinitely easier. But it WILL be good for me.

I rolled over onto my (sore) tummy to sleep, and thought to myself, "That's going to hurt tomorrow." And smiled.

After Dinner

2011-06-27T23:45:00.000-07:00

"I wanna go twimmin!"

"Me too!"

-------

I Won't....

2011-06-25T21:28:00.000-07:00

...Give Up.

On Me.

(lunch)

This Body: Will I Ever Be Happy?

2011-06-23T15:31:00.002-07:00

"When in your life have you most liked your body?" my co-worker asked me.

I had no answer, at first. I thought back of the many versions of my body over the years. Me in high school, insecure and sure I didn't have a boyfriend because I didn't have a teeny waist. Me in college, packing on the weight and then picking away at it with Weight Watchers and hour-long sessions on the workout bike while watching Paradise Island. Me now, so uncomfortable and ungainly in my body that I sometimes find myself standing talking to someone and realize my hands have subconsciously gone in the pocket of my jeans and are pressing into the fat on my hips. Me, in junior high, lying on the floor on my back and feeling how my tummy still jutted above my hipbones while noticing that didn't happen for some of my friends and feeling jealous of their concave bellies. Me, freshman year of high school, awkward and chubby in my ill-fitting one-piece, swimming with my tall thin friend in her bikini and my curvy friend in her Speedo with the very high cut legs.

"Never," I answered her. And instantly I felt like a failure. For never loving my body. And for never doing something to really change it. "I came close, once," I said, "around the time I got married. I was ok with my weight, but I needed to tone up. It never happened."

Me, 3 years after our wedding and about 15 pounds over wedding weight. Honestly? I'd settle for being that size right now, and at the time I thought I needed to lose about 20 pounds.

How sad is that??? How awful is it that there's not a single point in my life when I can remember really, truly loving my body. Aside from the few months around my wedding day when I was almost to my goal weight and working out 3-5 days a week, the only other time I liked my body at all was when I was pregnant with Luca. I was a bit self-conscious as my boobs grew a cup size in the first 6 weeks and my belly looked more 'too much burrito' than 'cute little baby' for the first half of my pregnancy. But I also really, really loved being pregnant. I loved that belly, and I felt pretty good about what my body was capable of doing.

Just about done with my pregnancy with Luca. This was probably about 37-39 weeks, and other than looking super exhausted I feel good about that body.

The thing is, this co-worker? She's 5'6" and a size 4-6. She is adorable and has almost no fat on her body. And when I posed the same question back to her, her answer was almost the same as mine. "Never," she said to me. "When I was skinnier I wanted more curves. When I was in high school I hated being pale and flat chested. Now, I wish I could get rid of my thighs and tone up."

I guess I forget, that somewhere deep inside most women have body insecurities. Sometimes I struggle about talking openly about my journey to get healthier and lose weight. I worry what people will think of me. I worry I am opening myself up for other people to criticize and analyze. And then I remember: I'm no different than the average woman, whether that woman is a size 4 who longs for more womanly curves, a size 14 who wishes she was her high school size 10, or a size 24 who just wants to be able to ride coach in an airplane without feeling the armrests pinch into her hips and the scorn on the faces of the people in her row. We all struggle, in our own unique ways.

This week, I decided to do something just for me. Something that will make me feel better about my body. After everyone is in bed at night, I spend 30-60 minutes working out (THANK YOU streaming Netflix on my hubby's X Box!), and then I spend 10 minutes or so just reading quietly, in a quiet house. It's only been a few days, but already I'm remembering how much I really DO enjoy spending time caring for my body and waking up the next day feeling it in every muscle group I forgot I had.