Aqua Fit

Every once in a while my workouts need a bit of a shake up. Usually this means shifting from 4 pounds weights (too light) to 6 pound weights (still too light) for a few strength training classes or switching from the elliptical trainer to the treadmill for a couple of cardio sessions. This time, I took the "shake up" to the next level. So much so, that I switched gyms. Or maybe I should say that I switched from a gym to a "health and fitness" club. So mature and fancy of me...

Mostly this shake up involved the well being of my little C girl. She is ready to rock and roll and the health club has a pool with many open family swim times. Plus the child care is big, busy and full of fun things - including a mini basketball court! So cute. I should also mention that child care at the health club is F-R-E-E, included with my membership, totally gratis. Can you believe it? You many be thinking that I must spend well over $100 a month for my membership. Right? Nope, $62 a month. Just five dollars more than the gym - where I was paying a daily child care fee on top of the $57 a month for myself.

The problem with all of this goodness is that I am a total creature of habit. A lot like my 'ol daddy. I don't really like change or interruptions in the flow of my schedule. Which is why many of my posts have had to do with my inability to function on the disrupted sleep schedule that C has brought to my life.

C and I are getting into the groove of things at the new club. She loves it and is showing the many women that work these just what being a "busy" child really means :) She wanders around the place, and gives them a run for their money with diaper changes, but she also uses her sign language skills with them, dances to their music and blows them kisses goodbye. What more could you ask for?

Today was the day. Day six at the new health club. The day for the big plunge - Aqua Fit. I've been wanting to try this water aerobics class. My joints still hurt from child birth - I swear - and I hear these water classes are easy on the bod. Last night I began the preparations. I got out my "swim" suit (that is a little dig at my husband because where I am from it is called a bathing suit) and tried it on to make sure there was not too much cleavage showing. I knew the population of this class would primarily be made up of an older crowd and I didn't want to embarrass myself. The first suit was a total no-no, but then I found my "mom" suit from C's swim lessons last summer.

Let's just take a minute and talk about something depressing, embarrassing, personal, true and HYSTERICAL. No matter how much I diet or work out or switch things up, there is nothing (besides going under the knife) that I can do about the change in the skin elasticity that occurred during pregnancy. There is something unnatural about a 26 inch waist growing to the size of Santa Claus's belly. My old taunt inny belly button has now, apparently, developed a hood. This is not something you would notice or be horrified at upon staring at it, but I know it's different. Now I am not used to this little hood of skin, because if I were, I would be more careful in dressing myself. I should mention that my bathing suit has a zipper on the front of it from lower abdomen to chest. Need I say more? That's right, I caught my belly button hood in the zipper of my bathing suit. I call it a "mom" suit, but the zipper up the front makes it cute - kinda Bond Girl-esque. CAUGHT MY SKIN IN THE ZIPPER...ouch. There's nothin' like a stinging belly button to remind you that your body has changed...

So here I go with my gym bag, C's bag, swim stuff bag, and C in tow on the way to the gym at 7:55 in the morning. It was like the first day of school all over again. Where do I hang my towel? Bring it into the pool area? Wrap it around me? Let it all hang out? I decided to ask an older lady dressed in a bathing suit and aqua socks standing on the scale in the locker room, surely she'll know. All you have to do is engage an older woman in a locker room in conversation and you have a friend for life. Anya. My new friend. She and her sis have been taking this class for two years. Great, I have a mentor!

Life is SO funny. I consider myself to be somewhat fashionable and definitely someone who likes to be "in the know" about popular trends and what's hot. Never, in all my life, did I think that Aqua Fit would be the place that would make me feel like the odd ball, the uncool one, the newbie who doesn't know what's going on because I didn't have my "water shoes."

How would I survive? I could SLIP! SLIP while doing water aerobics. Oh no.

There I was amongst a group of men and women who were easily 30+ years my senior, and I was envious of their apparent preparedness for this class. They all have Speedo suits - without zippers to get skin stuck in. They had on water shoes. It was slippery in there! Why didn't I think of this? Some even had bathing caps. CRAP. I was going to have wet hair and stubbed toes to go along with my burning belly button. Shit.

I'm in the "water walking only lane" (who knew?) before the class started, tryin' to up the 'ol heart rate, and I am secretly laughing hysterically inside my brain. If-they-could-see-me-now. I don't want you to get the impression that I am knocking anyone here. If anything, I am knocking myself. These people are amazing. I mean they had to range in age between 60-123. These people got up, got on bathing suits (and water shoes) and got themselves to the club and into a pool. That is down right amazing. I love to see people of all ages keeping up with their fitness and challenging themselves. That's what it is really all about. I mean was Aqua Fit anywhere near as challenging as a spinning class with heavy metal music blaring in your ears and an instructor swearing in your face? Uh...let's go with no on that one. BUT, I could feel my core and glutes burning and working really hard. I was doing the moves a bit more vigorous than gram and gramps, but I am sure they were exerting themselves as much as they could. All in all, I loved it. I had some energy afterwards to get some time in on the elliptical, but I am pooped out now.

Through all of this I realized some things.
1. I no longer think it is necessary to have a "dark as night" tan before putting on a bathing suit.
2. I don't even think I own a bikini.
3. No one cares if I have a pedicure with the latest nail polish color.
4. I constantly try new things and that feels good.
5. I can hang with anyone - regardless of age - and feel like I fit in (well maybe in spirit, apparently not in fashion).
6. I really don't like being splashed or getting water in my ears.
7. I will never get naked in the locker room and talk about what I'm making for dinner while standing there with my business out.
8. Wet locker room floors are gross, not matter how fancy the club, and if the edges of my pants gets wet, I might vomit.
9. I am terrible at working my heart rate monitor and that irritates the heck out of me.
10. I really need to be a bit kinder to myself. I try really hard to be fit and if I want to eat some chocolate - it'll be alright.

I'm exhausted just reflecting on this whole experience. From the outside looking in it would have looked seamless. I guess that's due to the fact that I started preparing for this a DAY ahead of time. I'm looking forward to taking another class. I really want to get my hands on those Styrofoam "weights" and we didn't use them today. The men and women of Aqua Fit were truly inspirational. As we got our "sweat on" together I wondered what their life experiences were. Were they always into fitness? Is this something they have been doing for years? Will I be doing this when I am 75? Lord, I hope so.

Don't be fooled though. Even if I didn't have a Speedo or water shoes, I had the best towel. Hot pink with a lime green monogram. A matron of honor gift from Michelle. She keeps me in fashion, no matter what the social setting may be. She too may even agree that I need to invest in this Speedo athletic swim suit. I should look the part, shouldn't I?

This Old Mare Ain't What She Used To Be

So Tuesday was my husband's 33rd birthday and I am thrilled that he has the same philosophy about birthdays as I do. Birthdays are holidays, in a sense, and are meant to be celebrated and made special. The only way to truly do this if your day happens to fall on a weekday is to take it off from work. Even though when I was teaching I didn't do this because if I did I would just sit home alone. Besides, first graders have an even better view on birthdays so they were always fun to share my day with. So when your wife is a stay at home mom, if you take the day off, you are most definitely not going to have to spend the day alone :)

A took the day off for two reasons. 1. because he worked the overnight shift on Monday and needed to sleep (a basic human right). 2. because it was his day and I told him we would do something fun! I had a nice little day planned for us. Thank goodness the babysitter was available for us to go on our "day date." We have both been wanting to see Avatar (a-w-e-s-o-m-e movie, nice job James Cameron) and the movie is 2 hours and 40 minutes long. I would never be able to stay awake for the whole thing if this were a night date so it's better to go to a matinee for this lengthy film. After the movie we would grab something to eat and then head home where our friends would meet us for cake and ice cream! One of my favorite things about my husband is his sweet request each year for his favorite cake - Pillsbury Funfetti. How cute is that? A grown man who requests a white cake dappled with rainbow sprinkles. Plus it is super easy to make - hello cake mix - so I am not complaining!

I was all excited after I put C down for her nap. This was my time to "get ready" for my date! Yippee, a date!

OH MY GOD. I had totally forgotten what "getting ready" entailed. For the love of God how did I get ready for work EVERY morning and then, on occasion, do the whole routine again if I had plans in the evening? I mean seriously, I am lucky to get my hair brushed (which has been happening less and less these days for some unknown reason), teeth brushed and face washed on a regular day. So I started my primping at around 1:05 pm. First a shower AND hair washing (woo-hoo). Second, moisturizing and full makeup application (ok, now I am starting to sweat). Third, a cute outfit which involved boots WITH heels and earrings which were NOT studs because I am pretty certain no one will be trying to yank them out of my ears. Lastly, this head of hair. I think I have as much hair has humanly possible. Now ladies, I know you understand this. Blow dry with a styling brush and to REALLY finish it off, ten minutes with hot rollers. Now I am really sweating and needing to stick my head out the door to let the tundra cool me down. After which I remove the hot rollers, run my fingers through my hair, spritz some hairspray on my locks and finish my lips with some gloss. I give myself the once over and am pleased BUT I am already exhausted and I notice it's 2:04pm. ONE WHOLE HOUR OF MY LIFE to prepare to go out with the man who sees me everyday looking like I am on the brink of death. Now if that isn't love then I don't know what is.

The best part is that when he came back from the gym, he noticed. He complimented my outfit and that made it all worth while. I guess it's easy to notice an outfit when I am usually wearing Guitar Hero themed pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt covered in dog hair, yogurt and drool. I won't tell him that I am totally wiped out from preparing for this date. Who cares if I fall asleep from exhaustion caused by getting ready. At least my eyelids will look nice since I took the time to put on eyeshadow. Then again, it is a 3D movie which means I'll be wearing special glasses. No one will know if I am sleeping!

The movie was fantastic (so good in fact that I didn't even doze off once) and a dinner at the Outback is always a treat. The babysitter even managed to put C to sleep before we got home at 7:30. Although I was sad that I didn't get to say goodnight to her, it was a treat to enjoy our company, cake and the first night of American Idol. I hope my husband had as much fun on his birthday as I did.

I hope you take the time to do something fun on your special day. After all, you deserve it! Happy Birthday A!

The Things I Forget To Tell Them

I should be ashamed of myself, and part of me is. That is the reason for this post.

I walk around every day in such a sleep deprived stupor, that I find myself telling anyone that will listen about little C's runny nose, poor sleeping habits, or the way she turns the house upside down. I don't know why I do this. Perhaps I'm trying to make light of the tough parts of parenting? Again, no clue.

As I climbed the stairs with C in my arms, she wrapped her little legs around my waist and gave my head a bear hug, like she always does on the way to go night-night. It was at that moment that I realized that I rarely share these moments with my friends and family. For that little one, I apologize.

More often I should tell of the times she giggles as I lay her on her back and cover her with her blankie, waves hello when she sees me in the morning and laughs when I take her out of her crib, sits alone in her "toy corner" looking at books giggling at the pictures she thinks are funny, rubs her daddy's ears when she's sleepy, reaches for me when she's tired, hungry, sad, happy, lonely, fearful, or giddy, plays peek-a-boo with me when she catches my eye in the rear view mirror of the car, caresses my hair when she's trying to relax, sits in my lap and snuggles.

Parenting is tough, no doubt, but there are no words for the rewards. This year I plan to take it all in stride and share more of the treasures of parenting.

A Mother Should ALWAYS Follow Her Instincts (Part I)

In my frantic attempts to get little C the H1N1 vaccine, I went on a kick of calling her pediatrician's office on an every other day schedule to see if they got any of the vaccine. Of course they did not. The nurse who answered the phone on one of my calls was very kind and knowledgeable about what mothers of young children were going through with this epidemic going on. Her words rang in my ears, "Don't take her to grocery stores or church where people could be touching her and be too close. If you go to a play group or story time and there is a child there that appears sick, don't even take her coat off. Just turn around and leave."

And that is exactly what I didn't do. Shame on me. Last Wednesday I did my best Olympic attempt in planning our morning to keep C awake until her 11:15 music class at the rec center. We went to the gym and the grocery store and stopped home quickly. I was feeling all proud of myself as we pulled into the rec center with a happy child in the backseat. That is until I put the car in park and realized that she was sound asleep. Should I just take her home and put her down for a nap...? NO...this is MUSIC class! She loves music class. I undid her straps and removed her from her car seat, big puffy winter jacket and all (even though it warmed up and it was like 55 degrees by now and she was dressed like the Nanook of the north). I carried her almost all the way into class before she woke up. I expected her to bounce from my arms with an "oh my goodness mommy, look, we are at music" hop to her step, but she was very calm staying in my lap for most of the class. See, she knew we were in the company of the seasonal enemy. I knew she was smarter than me.

Upon entering the room I noticed a little boy, one I hadn't seen at the first session, nose running and cough in full swing. At that very moment I heard his mom say, "Sorry we couldn't make it last week. I had the flu." Ummmm...wait...what did you just say...???? She must have said she likes the color blue, for she could NOT have just admitted to having the flu and now she is HERE coughing in the crook of her arm and wiping her child's running nose. Oh. No. She. Didn't.

Well she did, and I was the one who didn't run out of there like the nurse had told me to. For all of the class I played defense trying to keep C away from buggies and protect her from the germs that I swear I could see coming from said boy's mouth as he coughed. Those germs were looking right at me. I could hear them whipsering, "We're coming for you..." That was around noon on Wednesday. Around noon on Friday (there's that pesky 48 hour window of the germ world) a little trickle of clear liquid came sneaking its way out of C's nostril. Deep in my heart I knew. I knew what this meant. But I pretended it was just a little water and wiped it away. I knew what was coming. I just did not want to admit it to myself. I did not follow my instincts and now I would pay and the germs would win.

Save Me A Seat

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Something Smells...

So here I am, exactly two months from my last post. Shame on me. My goal was to write at least one thing per month. September got away from me, with traveling for the weddings and all, and apparently so did October! It took me about a month to get the house organized after being away for three weeks. Who knew traveling with a toddler would require turning the entire house upside down and bringing along everything that she has every touched.

Anyway, this morning was a flashback to April. You remember, when my life revolved around poop? Today was no different. Poor Q lost his manhood on Wednesday. That's right, he's already nine months old and our appointment for his "fixin'" came exactly one day late. I don't mean to give you the wrong impression, we aren't expecting puppies with the neighbor's dog or anything. It's just that he found C's life size blue stuffed bear and basically had his way with him. The whole senerio was very disturbing so I won't post specifically about that.

Last night was his first night home from the vet. He slept down in his bachelor pad in the basement and was very happy to do so. When I went to get him this morning around 7:30 he was laying in a cage of diarrhea. It was stinky, gross, and everywhere - including on him. I didn't know what to do first, so I woke up A. Remember his vow to take care of the dog and help out? Despite the fact that he worked all night and was on his first hour of sleep, I was totally cashing in on that promise. As he was getting on his "clean up the crap clothes" to join me in my sh&*$y morning, I decided to leash Q and bring him outside. As we were mid way through the kitchen, he did one of those huge doggie shakes and got poop all over my cabinets and refrigerator. Thinking back it was kind of like a slow motion scene in a movie. You know the ones, you are watching and can't believe the mess that is unfolding in front of the character's eyes. No character here, no cleanup crew, just my REAL life. Lovely. So now a gross mess in the basement has become a full on disaster in the living space of our home.

There was a time in my life when something like this would have brought me to immediate "why me??" tears. I was so utterly defeated and exhausted this morning that I didn't even have the energy to make the tears come out from wherever they hide. I mean seriously, what a horrible way to start a day. S*$t on the refrigerator?

I worked cleaning the kitchen, while A worked at cleaning the basement, then together we went outside to tackle the dog. I am going to make a mental note of that the next time I whine and say, "We don't do anything together anymore." I need to be careful what I wish for...

So you are probably wondering what little C was doing while her parents were preoccupied with poop that did not belong to her. She was gated in the fortress AKA living room. We peeked in and there she was standing on a push toy that she rightfully pushed up to the desk, full on clacking away at the laptop keys! Can you believe this? We are cleaning up after her dog and she's trying to surf the Internet? She didn't successfully log on, but she did manage to change the font size of my email inbox to colossal. I have no idea how to fix it. I'll have to wait until she gets up from her nap to help me.

Little Q is all cleaned up and sleeping soundly in the kitchen. I feel bad for the poor guy. He's had a traumatic week. I look forward to his full recovery and getting back to the days of living with a potty trained dog. I say dog now because that little fourteen pound bundle of joy we brought home in April is a whopping sixty pounds of pure love!

Cold Feet?

Footed jammies are the best. Well, not my cup of tea, but for a baby they are perfect. It's like wrapping them in a second skin before bed, certain to keep them warm when they inevitably pull their covers off of them in the night.

After a long, long day I mustered up the energy to wash the few dishes that remained in the sink. We don't have a dishwasher so I wash dishes at least 7-10 times a day. It's so defeating when you get them all done and then notice that butter knife laying on the table. I give C her bath in the sink because bending over the tub is something that my creaky body can not tolerate. I guess when she gets a little bigger I won't have a choice, but then again, she'll be "solid" by then and I won't have to worry about her slipping away and going down the drain. Anyhow, you know the drill. Clean the sink, prepare for bath, chase child around living room, undress child - whoops poopy diaper, clean diaper, put child in sink. Then the hard part. Keep child from pulling the drain plug out and chewing it, turning on the scalding water, remaining seated and somewhat still. In our case, lather up a wild mane of hair, scrub and then try and rinse as much soap out as possible. Drain the sink, dry the babe, comb hair, diaper and finish the squeaky clean situation with the last CLEAN pair of comfy cotton footed jammies. Now you are thinking, perfect! There's probably a little milk in this scenario and then off to bed, right? Wrong.

Now that the baby is clean and ready for bed, she gets loaded up in the stroller to take the puppy for his nightly walk. She usually likes this walk. She sucks vigorously on her binky as she stares up at the trees and sky. It's the perfect way to calm her down and get her nice and relaxed before bed. On most nights as soon as we get home from our walk, I take her upstairs and put her to bed. This night in particular I did not bring her milk along on the walk, I figured I'd give it to her when we got back.

We get home and I de-collar the dog of the walking collar and re-collar him with his inside collar. I take the baby out of the stroller and put her in the kitchen - now I am completely exhausted at this point. I'm standing there in the kitchen thinking about how in just a few short minutes I can retire to the couch where I will lay motionless for at least fifteen minutes, staring at the ceiling, before I will decide to do my favorite thing - eat dessert and possibly read a little or watch TV before I too, drift over to dreamland. The thought of relaxing put a little hop in my step and as I was pouring the milk into the sippy cup, I look over and you will never guess what I see...

Little C, in her nice comfy footed jammies, is S-T-A-N-D-I-N-G in Quincy's water dish. That's right STANDING in three inches of water - in her footed jammies - the last clean pair she has! UGH! You can only imagine that my dessert and rest was preempted as I undressed the 'already ready for bed' child, redressed her in some sort of sleeping attire (something nowhere as comfy as footed jammies) and eventually put her to sleep!

Did I mention that she's into everything? Exactly why is it that kids make an absolute dash to any and all areas/things that are not intended for them? After she was asleep, seeing the trail of water across the kitchen floor provided a little (more) comic relief to my day. But cleaning it up reminded me of just how exhausting raising a toddler can be.

I'll save what happened in the morning for another day. Let's just say that it left me unexpectedly cleaning (on my hands and knees) the dining room floor at 7:30 in the morning. (Did I mention that I'm not a morning person?)

Sleep

Ahh, the August 12th post seems so so long ago. I can't believe I had a whole night's sleep just two and a half weeks ago. I think that rest was supposed to last me until now. We've been having a heck of a time with C's sleeping. We had to regress to the "Ferber Progressive Waiting Approach" last night. I thought my days of "timing the screaming and entering the room to console a screaming child without being able to pick her up" were over until my next child. How mean is that approach anyway? I mean you go in there, pat the child, tell them everything is OK, lay them down and leave again ONLY to have him/her start screaming louder than before you entered the room. 3 min, 5 min, 7 min, 9 min. That's really only all it took though. Once she was finally asleep she slept through until 6am, at which point I regressed once again and handed her a bottle in her crib and went back to bed. She downed it and quietly fell back to sleep until 8. The approach might not be the cuddliest, but it sure does work.

I do have to say I felt SO much better today having had a good night's rest. I was on the verge of death yesterday. When your sleep is messed with, you might as well cancel everything on the calendar for that day and stay in your PJs. I'm so miserable on those days, no one wants to see me, believe me.

I will say that little C was just as tired and mixed up as I was yesterday. In an attempt to get her to nap so I could nap - which wasn't happening yesterday - I fed her everything in the house that I thought she would eat. That did the trick. Could it be that I'm not feeding her enough and something triggers her brain the second that I put her in the crib? Anyway, I think this photo says it all. After a really big snack yesterday afternoon she went into her crib at 3:45pm and slept until 7pm. One would think that would have messed up last night's sleep, but it didn't.

We are going to start to try to train her to take the one big afternoon nap instead of playing this morning and afternoon guessing game with her sleeping. Plus, I'm going to bump up the caloric intake during meals and snacks to try and satisfy that little belly.

I cooked her scrambled eggs in butter - which is a total no-no for the way I would prepare eggs for myself. It smelled SOOOOOO good though! A came in from walking the dog and he was like, "Wow! That's what breakfast is supposed to smell like." If only I was able to eat like a fourteen month old. They have no idea how good they have it! Imagine someone preparing you delicious foods, bathing you in nice warm water and then saying all you have to do is go in your nice comfy bed and nap. Heaven...

Ahh..So close...

So night two of our hopefully new sleeping pattern didn't go over as I had planned. C went down at 8:45 and was out like a light in no time. The all so familiar sounds of her muttering and grunting were quickly heard at 4:15am. I let her fidget for about half an hour then I went in to change her diaper. I held strong to my new "no nighttime bottle" policy. Although she was not happy to see me quickly disappear into the dark night right after her diaper change, she was back asleep by 5:15. It was a little hard to hear her crying and stirring around in her crib, but I know it's best for all of us to give this a good, hard shot. I truly believe that I have fostered this nighttime waking by going in and being her source of comfort. I know she is able to self soothe, I just need to have the patience - when I am about to fall over tired and just want her to go back to sleep - to let her practice this skill.

So because she didn't have a bottle in the night NOR did she have one during the day - sippy straw cup all the way - that's two days in a row without a bottle! I think this could be it. I think I might have washed my last bottle until baby number 2 comes along. Wow, I really disliked washing those bottles. They have five parts to take apart and wash. I'm going to encourage a different, simpler version for my next child.

My husband's away at a conference for the weekend so I'll have to be strong and battle the nighttime cries alone. It's always easier to have someone else here to remind me that it's OK if she cries and she'll go back to sleep (eventually). I'm hoping by the time he's back she's sleeping through the night or just simply returning to sleep with a new diaper and not a bottle.

Wish her (and me) luck!!!

A Dream Come True

When I quickly awoke to my husband's alarm this morning at 6am, I thought something was terribly wrong. C hadn't woken up AT ALL last night. No whining, muttering, crying, wet diapers, need for milk - at say 1am, 2am, 3am, 4am - nothing. Complete silence. That doesn't mean that I didn't wake up on my own and have a spoonful of ice cream and a piece of bread at 12am, but that's besides the point. That's my own vice and I'm hoping to grow out of it (before it causes me to grow out of my clothes).

She actually slept all night! You may be thinking that she's like four months old or something, but at almost fourteen months old, she hasn't slept through the night in probably the last seven months. I've just resigned to the fact that my kid doesn't sleep. The other day at music class another mother and I watched as our children made googlie eyes at one another and ran the room looking for mischief. She asked, "Are you totally exhausted at night? Because I am." I answered with a "for sure" yes and also added that C didn't sleep well at night on top of being super active throughout the day. I've actually given up that it will even happen. I've managed to learn to function on fragmented sleep - minus the time I left the house door wide open, went out and forgot, came home to discover the open door, freaked out, called 911 and realized when the police arrived that it was just me and I forgot...but that's another post.

I should have known that she would sleep like a rock last night. After swim class we took C and Q for a walk and she was so, so tired. The good kind of tired where she just lays in her stroller, so calm and peaceful staring up at you and then the sky as her blinks get slower and slower and her eyes begin to droop right in front of you. That's the great kind of tired vs. the "screaming and kicking off of shoes tired" that happens when mommy's pushed the limit at Target.

She went down instantly when we got back from our walk and I didn't hear her until 6:45 this morning when her eyes popped open and she was ready to say, "Good morning WORLD!"

The best part about not waking in the night is that she didn't have to have the every so necessary BOTTLE to go back to sleep at 4:45, that's right, at fourteen months I still hand over a bottle full of warm milk at this God awful hour to get her to go back to sleep. Worst parenting mistake. It wasn't until she was like 9 months old that I read an article somewhere that after like 5 months they shouldn't need to eat in the night. I was all "WHHHAAATTTT???" I created a nighttime bottle monster because I didn't READ THE BOOKS.

I've been trying so hard to transition her to sippy cups instead of bottles, which has been quite the challenge I tell you. I finally found one, after seeing my friend's son with one. A munchkin soft straw cup, that she will actually use. I have this mental problem though. I won't consider her graduated from a bottle to a sippy cup until she will use the kind that has the traditional hard spout with three holes in it. You know, a sippy cup.

Anyway, it was such a milestone reached when I realized that she slept all night, was able to take her downstairs, warm some milk (she likes her drinks warm, sweet princess), put it in her "sippy" cup and have her drink it with her giant blue stuffed bear in the living room! What a great feeling!

Now I'm sure that this will not happen again tonight, but I will celebrate this accomplishment for the next fourteen hours and look forward to the next time it happens!

Our Little Fishy

I'm having so much fun participating in all of these baby enrichment classes! I'm not so sure about baby C, but I'm surely loving it. Last night we had our first of eight swimming lessons. I registered for the evening class so A could join us and assist with the drying and changing the baby at the end of the swimming session. I am sure you have heard someone, if it wasn't you yourself, say that they took their baby to swim class. Have you ever really sat and thought about what that actually involves?

Mistake number one - putting the baby in her "swim diaper" before we left the house. I knew this so I don't know why I made the mistake, but did you know that those special diapers are made to contain poop, not absorb pee? It makes sense because the diaper would hold ten pounds of pool water in a nanosecond. So picture it. I put the baby in her swim diaper thirty minutes before class. That means she peed on daddy, peed on me, and peed in her car seat on the way to swimming! Luckily I put a plastic bad and a towel on her car seat when I realized why we were all wet!

Mistake number two - Mommy wore a bathing suit with a full front zipper. That means that baby can pull the zipper down. It was nice to see that my post baby breasts float in the water giving them the appearance that they are ten years younger, but family swim lessons is not the place for this type of revelation. Next week I'll pin that sucker closed.

Success number one - bringing daddy along for the ride! It was so fun to have him there and although I know I looked like the mom that couldn't handle this so she brought along support - I couldn't give a rat's ass! If those people knew how I run this show solo, almost exclusively, they'd be cheering me on that I finally had some help! If I ever needed his set of hands, it was last night. Which brings me back to asking if you ever really thought about swim lessons with a baby. A soaking wet baby, a soaking wet mom, and a yucky wet floored locker room. How exactly do you pull this off alone? Hopefully daddy will come every week and I won't have to figure that one out.

Success number two - taking swimming lessons in the summer. This is upstate NY and it's cold in July. I did my best to dry us off but we were still damp. I could NEVER imagine doing this is the dead of the winter. They offer classes then! You won't see C or I there come snow season. Snow and swimming, no thank you.

Success number three - babies and swimming equal exhaustion (for both of us). It wasn't long before both of us were asleep after swimming. I'd love to report that it was for the whole night, but last night turned out to be a three time wake up night. Binky, diaper, and morning milk - mommy at your service...

We are all looking forward to next week's lesson. Who knows, maybe I can even hold the camera this time and daddy can take the plunge!

Now She's One!

The party weekend was fantastic. I freaked out the morning of because the weather did not cooperate with my "barbecue" theme. It poured buckets. I'm surprised the basement didn't flood. It's probably because the weed roots are so intertwined beneath the 17 inches of mulch around the foundation of the house, that not even water can get through. Anyway, it was a really "rainy feel bad for anyone who was planning an outdoor party" kind of day. My behavior was out of control. I was the party planner from hell and I felt really bad about my snippy outbursts. Only if you were in my house that morning would you know just how bad I felt. I have repeatedly apologized to those people who happened to be here that morning. Anyway, they have forgiven me because they are my family and they have to :)

Once the guests started to arrive everything fell into place. The kids really enjoyed the music and movement activities my genius friend Jen, who happens to be a music teacher, led them in. The adults got to eat in peace and the kids sang, danced, and almost jumped their way though the ceiling with their excitement. Little C thoroughly enjoyed her cupcake and needed a bath mid party to clean the frosting off of her. Don't you love being one? Getting stripped down naked at your own birthday party and it's totally acceptable? No facebook pictures surfacing the next day to ruin your life or anything! All of the partying made her so tired that after her bath she took a nap.

While she slept we all sat around and ate cake and opened her presents. They were all so fun! When she woke from her nap to find new toys strewn about the living room, she was especially happy!

We can't thank our family enough for traveling the distance to celebrate this special event with us. Our hometown friends made the party complete. We thank everyone for their generosity. Happy Birthday little C!

If You're Happy and You Know It

It is amazing how being proud can make you feel like you are on top of the world. Watching my child grow and learn new skills makes me want to burst with excitement and bring her out into the world to yell, "Look! Look at what she can do! She can hold a sock to her foot. She knows it goes there!" Parenting is the best. Today as we were driving back from Target for the fourth time this week, while listening to Barney's Great Adventure (what is playing 90% of the time I am behind the wheel), the purple dinosaur's rendition of If You're Happy and You Know It began blaring through my speakers. I glanced in the rear view mirror and there was little C, clapping her hands at the appropriate time! Now I thought it was a miracle that she clapped when I asked her to, but now she's doing it for Barney while no one is watching (or so she thinks). This is a huge step in her language development. This baby understand words! I love it. I was so happy, I started clapping too. Can you really get this kind of satisfaction at work? I think not.

I'm Neurotic

Ok. There I said it. I believe if someone can admit their own faults than perhaps they are somewhere on the road to fixing them. I am neurotic and I hate it. Being neurotic steals all the fun away from things. I get so excited about things such as getting together with friends, planning a party, participating in celebrations, decorating, crafting, painting, and making things - to name a few. However that little lady inside my brain who whispers the need for perfection in EVERYTHING takes over and makes all of the above no longer fun.

I've spent some time lately thinking about how and why this came to be part of my personality. Having gotten married just six years ago, I can clearly (well, almost clearly) remember the wedding planning process. I was an involved bride and certainly had certain things that I WANTED for MY wedding day, but I was not neurotic. A perfect example is when I was totally cool, relieved in fact, to use the "house" centerpieces at my shower. Thought it was a great idea. And although they were gorgeous and saved money and were way prettier than something I could afford to make, I would NEVER agree to such a thing now. Everything has to be special and unique and that is down right STRESSFUL.

I am SO SO SO excited about C's first birthday party next weekend. So many of our friends and family are coming to visit and stay for the weekend. I think we have a really nice party planned. First of all, we have the cutest baby in all the land to celebrate, we have good food, great people, adorable decorations and entertainment for the kids. So why am I stressing about the algae that is on the siding 25 feet high on my house? Or the seventy year old windows on the second floor that don't open so I can't clean them properly? Or the slightly broken door that we can't quite afford to fix right now? These things don't really matter to people, do they? And do they really matter to me or am I just worried that they will matter to our guests? I've told you about the gardening and the landscape. I spent another couple of hours out there this week and things are looking pretty good. Not perfect, but OK. Will it matter to anyone else that there are weeds? I sure hope not.

So in my reflection, the only thing I can come up with is the fact that I moved three times in four years and had to start new jobs each time. So that means I taught in four states in the matter of five years. Contrary to the popular belief that "teachers have an easy life and we can say or do what we want to children or we can plan our lessons ahead of time or not plan them at all because no one is monitoring us" it is NOT that way. I assure you that starting over in a new state in a new grade is hard, you do have to have patience with children at all times, and your lessons better darn well be planned ahead of time and executed PERFECTLY because someone is WATCHING (and judging) ALL OF THE TIME. And I do believe that that is how it should be. I would never as a professional try to get away with any less than what is absolutely in the best interest of children. But that requires a mentality that things are "just right" or "perfect" because your job and reputation depend on it. If you stay in the same place and job your reputation takes you a long way. When you are new you are always proving yourself. So I came to the conclusion that being in new situations - state, job, home, social circle - has caused me to become neurotic. I always feel the need to have things perfect.

And maybe this year, as I am in my new role as mommy, the anxiety about having everything "just so" is heightened. And even though I know and believe that little C could care less about weeds, broken doors, or algae it stills eats away at me - just a little. Not enough that I will take off my cute sundress and put on old clothes and go scrub it, but enough that it will continue to pop into my brain until the party is over.

Live a simple life. That's what I keep telling myself. It doesn't have to be perfect. I deserve to rest and relax sometimes too, don't I? It's a process and hopefully, sooner than later, I'll get there.

My My, Look Who Has Grown

I have to say that I am secretly happy that we are quickly crusing through this "ever so cute" puppy stage and getting on with life! Is that terrible? I realize now, that I craved a dog. Not so much a puppy.

Quinn is growing quickly as you can see. He's not as big as you might imagine though. When you see him in person it puts it all in perspective. He's only about one third of Fin's adult size. I predict he weighs about 23 pounds now. He's going to the vet this week so I'll find out for sure.

We've progressed from the stage of my life that revolved around poop. There hasn't been that kind of an accident in the house in longer than I can remember. Now it's all about teeth. Both C's and Q's. C finally has the clear signs of four teeth. Did I mention that I was secretly worried that we were going to have to purchase her a set of dentures before Kindergarten? There's also evidence of a molar popping out. Quincy has a few loose teeth and I noticed this morning that two bottom ones fell out and the adult teeth are popping through. I love the idea that I can use the word adult and Quincy in the same sentence! Puppies are TOUGH.

The potty training has gone really well, he's listening to the word no, he's nipping considerably less, and he's starting to show C the respect she deserves as a superior member of our pack :) A and I have been watching A LOT of Cesar Millan the Dog Wisperer. That guy is amazing. A has even made the time in his hectic life to read his book Ceasar's Way. Speaking of A, I have to hand it to him. He has a really, really tough work schedule. On top of that, he's managed to hold every singe solitary one of his promises to help with the puppy. I really appreciate that.

If only I could freeze time for C and speed up time for Q. That would be perfect. But I know the reality. Before he's one chill, calm bulldog, she's going to be one running, talking toddler. Deep breath and sigh. I can see it now. They are both going to be self sufficient and I'm going to be preggo...

The Next American Idol?

Considering I'm an American Idol fan, I think it's appropriate that little C had her first Grow With Me Music class today, the day of the season 8 finale. It was precious to be on the other side of the fence, so to say. I always had a slight sense of annoyance when parents would show up with their child to class early to "look around." I felt like that was secret code for "we want to check up on you." Everyday you learn something new...

Even though the class was 3.2 miles from my house, we left 35 minutes before class was scheduled to begin - I didn't want to be late, God forbid, and interrupt by coming AFTER the welcome song had already been sung! We got there fifteen minutes early, which was just enough time to get a library card while we waited. Ms. Barb, our teacher, kindly asked little C and I to wait in the hall "because class will begin in 15 minutes" and "I'll open the door to welcome you in at that time" (as Ms. Barb smiles). Yikes! I've done that smile and said those lines before! Really Ms. Barb, I'm just happy we made it and I know you are lovely, I'm not spying on you. We'll wait outside, point taken :)

The kids in the class were ADORABLE and C was the youngest member of the class. You have to be eleven months to participate and she will be...tomorrow. Everyone else could stand on their own and all but one other girl walked. C didn't let any of this hold her back.

As the welcome song was about to begin, she crawled off my lap, straight across the circle and "gently" used Ms. Barb's limbs to stand herself up RIGHT NEXT TO THE TEACHER as SHE WAS TRYING TO SING AND TEACH! That's my girl! She preferred to sit next to Ms. Barb, near Ms. Barb, and did I mention, ON Ms. Barb! I looked like I was there alone without a child! It was so interesting that she knew that Ms. Barb was in charge, out of all of those new people... She was amazed by all of the singing and movement activities. She even clapped at one point! Who cares if it was after the clapping portion of the song? She's so talented.

She got the chance to play with egg shakers, instruments, and scarves. We sang songs and danced around, patted our legs and pointed to our toes. We hugged and swayed, ran and walked.

What an amazing gift to be able to experience all these things with your child. I don't know who is more excited for next week, me or C! I think the highlight was when she got a musical note stamped on her hand at the end of the class. How cute is that?

Mulch Update

Just to keep you in the loop, newspaper trees have grown along side of thousands of dandilions and other prickly weeds. I spent much of yesterday morning cursing the concept of gardening while digging weeds out of my "already mulched" flower beds. It is official, A is fired from yard duty. Perhaps that was his mission. If so, he can bask in this victory while I hire a pricey landscaper for next year :)

My friend, S, put it all in perspective for me yesterday. While ranting about my gardening woes she said, "Well, remember it's just mulch and dirt. I went out and saw that I had some weeds too the other day. I started picking them and then thought to myself, this is stupid. I'm pulling things out of the dirt right now. It's not like I'm going to bother replacing them with flowers or anything. So I stopped and went back in."

Then we went back to talking about more important things that REALLY matter like designer jeans and Tory Burch flats. Gotta love girlfriends.

Am I really that strange?

I am starting to realize that there have been multiple times in my life when I have made requests or sought out information that has made people tilt their head to the side and squint their eyes at me.

I'm not talking WEIRD, R rated stuff or anything silly like that. Now that I think of it, most of it has to do with decorating or party planning. I've told you about that side of me that likes things to be done in a grandiose manner. I thought I had conquered that side and on most days I do live my simplest life, BUT there are big events coming up and the need for glitz and glamor are starting to reemerge.

Both my brother and best friend are getting married in the fall. I have a hand in some of the planning of my future sister in law's bridal shower and am fully in charge (I love being in charge :) of my best friend's shower. Now these are glamorous events. I'm used to planning, preparing and executing the annual mother's day tea party for my first grade students - all the while pretending I'm Jennifer Lopez in the Wedding Planner, so this is the real deal. I'm so excited about these two events because there actually is a budget and the centerpieces don't need to be origami paper flowers painstakingly produced by six year olds. Both of these events are well under way and I can't talk about them too much here for fear that my brides will read this entry. So I'll leave this topic for now and we'll return at another time when all surprises are revealed.

Next up, C's first birthday party!! Now this is an exciting event. We live 6-7 hours away from both of our families so we are really excited that many of them are making the drive to join us for this special event. So certainly, with the people we love driving such a distance, I want them to be comfortable and enjoy their stay.
So when you live on .17 acres and one fourth of that is backyard, where do you comfortably put more than four people? Well, first off they will need chairs. I don't have that many chairs.

When on vacation, I've contacted rental places for things for little C to use while away from home. I've heard people say that they've rented party supplies from similar types of places. I've also been told that you could rent just about anything you'd want. I looked in to local rental places for folding chairs and banquet style tables. I found them, at a very reasonable price, but then started wondering if folding chairs would be comfortable and function properly on the uneven terrain of our backyard.

Then the answer came to me. Picnic tables! We need three eight foot picnic tables! It will look neat and orderly and I won't have to worry about someone going head over heels in a rickety folding chair. Perfect! Now where do I find picnic tables for hire? None the rental places have picnic tables.

I remembered there was a store, Outdoor Accents, right down the street from our house. It's one of those places that you drive by, never a need to go in, but always an interest in what they are selling in there. It's located at the bottom of a steep driveway, off a pretty busy road. They have many of their goods outside of the store. Picnic tables, Adirondack chairs, wooden swings, you get the idea. So I pull in the driveway, Murano on two wheels, hoping to see a "picnic tables for rent" sign in the window. It was quiet, no other shoppers at 10:01 on a Monday morning. There was no way I was getting C out of her car seat for this so I drove up and looked around, squinting at the sale price of picnic tables. Because if they are reasonably priced, maybe we just need to BUY three eight footers...

There's a man! I roll down the window and ask him if they rent picnic tables. He leans in closer to my passenger side window, "What?" (there he goes with the head tilt and squint...)

"I'm looking to rent some picnic tables!" I say with my "bright and cheery I've been up for hours" smile.

"Uhhh...Let me get the owner..."

There is a quick exchange between the two men behind the gazebo (I could see them through the lattice). There was some pointing to my car and some shoulder shrugs.

Here comes the owner! He approaches my passenger window and asks how he can help me.

"I'd like to rent some picnic tables!" (again with my cheery smile)

"Um, I can't say anyone has ever asked that question before." (head tilt and squint)

Then I go on with some explaining about why I need them, all the while C is making animal sounds in the backseat. The man is looking at me like I'm crazy and then I realize that he cannot see the baby so he's more perplexed about the strange animal sounds than my wacky request. So I interrupt myself on my Martha Stewart rant about setting the perfect picnic tables for my BBQ and say, "Oh! That just my daughter. There's no wolf or anything back there."

Seriously Christie, a wolf? What the heck is wrong with me?

Anyway, he saw my legitimate concern about the comfort of my guests and offered to rent me some of last year's "worn" tables. I'll have to check back a few weeks before the party to get an update on "last year's inventory." Something tells me they aren't going anywhere...

I am a woman of my word. For years I've been telling kids, "No question is silly. Ask away." See, it pays to speak up for yourself and find the answers to your queries, no matter how strange they sound. Maybe I'll set a trend and you'll easily be able to rent picnic tables as well! Nobody wants to see granny flip out of a folding chair.

Guess Who Can Say Da-Da!

Maybe it's because she finally got to spend a whole weekend with her daddy, that our little girl became obsessed with the word da-da yesterday! After fourteen days of straight working, A got a weekend off - at last. C had so much fun playing with daddy and getting princess kisses from him. She was "ever so pleasantly" surprised when he would be the one to pop in her room during the night or in the morning.

So all day yesterday - in the house, outside, in the car, from her crib - I could hear her saying her new favorite word.

"A da-da-da! A da-da-da! A-ba-ba-ma! A-da-da-da!"

She has such great communication skills. She also told me that she's looking forward to spending this weekend with her favorite man too.

Mulch

I was deceived by the pleasing aesthetics of the landscape when we came with our real estate agent to look at this house. Oh, everything was beautifully edged, mulched, planted, arranged! It was a new homeowner's dream! The ivy draped over the fence was a blanket of luscious green.

Only just after living here for a few weeks, we moved in in June 2006, the height of the growing/drying out season, everything started to look...well...not as pleasing to the eye. Who the heck knew you had to water all of this stuff? I thought you had to water FLOWERS, but the greenery? Before I knew it the vibrant greens were slowing morphing into brownish-tinged weeds.

So we enjoyed getting to know that lay of the land that first summer. I took a hack saw to many things I did not like, only to learn the next spring, that what you cut back grows in thicker and stronger. Damn those ferns. So really I cut my nose to spite my face, because the summer of '07 brought about a garden of all the things I hated.

I should rewind and tell you that I started having literal nightmares about how I would clean up the mess from the fall/winter AND mulch the yard in '07. I began asking around to the people at work who were noted for having a green thumb. Bags of mulch vs. delivery (in yards? huh?) by truck. Landscaping company vs. doing it alone. Red mulch, black mulch, brown mulch...who knew this project had an endless array of selections...I wished there was one answer, cut and dry, that would have just made my life easier.

I sweat through doing it myself in '07. The truck dropped off some ungodly amount of mulch yardage on my front lawn and I went at it little by little. SO little by little in fact, that the lump in the front yard started growing mold and passerbys started making comments as if we were the neighbors with the 15 junky cars propped up on cinder blocks on the lawn. Jeez...don't they know I'm doing this alone? I should mention that my husband works 1,000 hours per week and was unable to assist in this project.

Luckily, my knight in shining armor, took some time on a weekend off in '08 to get this project DONE - man style. He decided bags would be easier so he went to Home Depot and bought 25 bags of red this time. 25 was enough to do only the backyard. So the backyard got done. Remember, man style, one weekend. What didn't get done that weekend, didn't get done. So who cares if we have two sides to our yard and a front? No one will notice! Gosh C, every little thing bothers you. The weeds in the other flower beds grew so tall that year, I could barely find Finster out there. I was pregnant at the time, 7 months along, so all I felt able to do was give the mulch in the back a little shush with my hand to flatten and spread it out. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I was VERY grateful that I could look out the back window and see my beautiful yard. I just kept the shades on the sides and front drawn that year. Heck, it was only a year.

We live on .17 of an acre and .16 of it is mulch. The other is grass which we pay a landscaper 20 dollars per week to mow. Come to think of it, I could probably cut the one blade of grass with a scissors, and use that 20 bucks to get a manicure every week...I'm going to revisit that "property upkeep" portion of the budget and consider some tweaks...

Here we are 2009. Post-baby, with my pre-baby body, fellin' strooong. I'm a parent now. Practically superhuman. This yard is gonna look F-I-N-E this year. Again, my husband planned to use this weekend off to tackle this job. Only he approaches gardening a little like decorating a dilapidated house. Imagine walking into the grossest house ever. Mold, rot, cobwebs. You take a throw pillow, put it on the dusty couch, put your hands on your hips, breath out, stretch your back and yell, Home Sweet Home! You would NEVER, right? So why on God's green earth would we approach landscaping like that? He wants to take EXPENSIVE mulch and throw it on top of weeds, leaves, pieces of newspaper that blew into our yard, dog poop - you name it - and call it beautiful. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Mulch was NOT designed to be strategically placed around dandelions. They are not flowers we want to accentuate!

Long story short. The yard is mulched, some dandelions still in place. If you were to remove the mulch, half the yard is clean. The other half might be growing newspaper trees and weeds in a few weeks. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt this year. If no weeds grow in the "dirty" parts of the yard, then next year I say screw it, I'm not edging, raking or cleaning a darn thing.

The moral of this story is don't be tricked by beauty. The previous owners of this house were obviously given a talent by God for yard design and gardening. As for myself and A, we are one step above couch potatoes, with allergies and a fear of yucky bugs. Buyer beware, the gardener doesn't come with the house, but the nastiness of the insects and weeds, well, they do.

The next time you think, "Hey! Let's remove that patch of grass and plant some flowers and mulch around it!" Think again. Let's give the grass some overdue credit. It's a beautiful thing.