Saturday, February 27, 2010

Who says Big Girls Don't Cry?

Is it just me or do all those 'Proud Sponsor of Moms' Olympic commercials really get ya all welled up inside?

Damn Mom hormones. Making me cry at a silly commercial.

I blame Bjorn.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Bucket List

So, I copied this from a friend, who had copied it from her sister-in-law, who, I am sure, had copied it from someone else. And this is the song that never ends, it just goes on and on, my friends. . . . . .

But it's fun, it's a quasi Bucket List and it means that I don't have to think to write a blog post today. It is Friday after all. No Thinking Day.

Instructions: copy the list, bold the ones you've done, and share!

1. Started your own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. Played in a band (does Rock Band count??)
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than you can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyworld
8. Climbed a mountain
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sang a solo (I used to be Karaoke Queen!)
11. Bungee jumped (and would LOVE to do it again)
12. Visited Paris (Not even Paris, Texas. How lame is that?!)
13. Watched a thunder and lightning storm
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child (But I did adopt a dog. Does that count?)
16. Had food poisoning (Yeah, more than once. Thanks, McDonalds. And Hawthorne Suites in Sacramento. . . )
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown your own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitch hiked
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill (Um. . hello? Who hasn't?!)
24. Built a snow fort

25. Held a lamb
26. Gone skinny dipping
27. Run a Marathon (Nope. But I signed up for one two years ago. And then chickened out. . . . )
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse (My parents were very educational. We did the whole cut-out-ahole-in-a-shoebox thing.)
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset
31. Hit a home run (Good thing I can run fast - I don't have a strong bat. But I can cut those corners with the best of 'em!)
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught yourself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied (And then promptly deposited it in the nearest slot machine.)
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke (See #10!)
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had your portrait painted (Does a caricature count? If so, then YES. Many times! I love stupid cartoony drawings!)
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling (Tried scuba a half dozen times and keep getting freaked out. So then I just snorkel. Muuuuuch better.)
52. Kissed in the rain
53. Played in the mud
(In college, my sis in law and I played in a mud volleyball tournament. It was awesome!)
54. Gone to a drive-in theater
55. Been in a movie
(An indie flick in college. I never saw it on the big screen, but my Hubs did and then told me I 'didn't miss much'. I don't think he was impressed!)
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class (and then broke my 6 foot and male sparring partner's ankle. Whoops. Sorry!)
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62. Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma. (In college, the plasma donation place was right next door to a Beer Joint that had Penny Pitchers. That's where my plasma donation money went!)
65. Gone sky diving (That's next on my list!)
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy (Snoball, my Pound Kittie.)
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar
72. Pieced a quilt
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone (Uhhh. . . yeah. I'm pretty clumsy. Broke a toe, a finger and my nose.)
78. Been a passenger on a motorcycle (Heck yeah! Love me some motorcyclin'. Once I was so comfortable I even fell asleep on the back of a bike. NOT a good idea!)

79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person (In college I hiked from one rim all through the canyon and back up the other rim. Five days. AWESOME.)
80. Published a book (Next up!)
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car (And then sold it two years later!)
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had your picture in the newspaper (Honor Roll, Softball, and the plays I did in college. I still have all the clippings, too. I'm such a hoarder!)
85. Kissed a stranger at midnight on New Year’s Eve
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating (Yuck. But my Hubs has and he thinks its great. I could not eat something I had to kill and pluck!)
88. had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous (When you're a flight attendant, you meet lots of famous people. My fave? Thunder Down Under (about ten of them) were on one of my flights. And Smokey Robinson. I didn't know who he was, but he was a really nice guy, we started talking and I told him he had pretty eyes! Ha!
92. Joined a book club
93. Got a tattoo

94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee

54 out of 99. And some of those I don't ever WANT to do (Get stung by a bee? Go deep sea fishing? No thanks!)

Now what have you done? And link back to me when you cross off your own bucket list!

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Where's my Gold Medal??

Do you ever do the most seemingly ordinary tasks, but congratulate yourself like the Superparentyou know you really are?

My kid puked all over himself, and I gave him a bath after changing my own puked-on clothes.

I cleaned out my son's humidifier for the first time in 8 months and didn't even complain about touching the gross algae stuff swimming in the water.

I shopped, and put away all the groceries while only eating 4 girl scout cookies.

I spent the entire night playing nurse to my sick baby by feeding him 2 ounces every thirty minutes and letting him fall asleep on me between feedings which let me catch up on reruns of Grey's Anatomy and The Office.

Yeah, that's me. SuperMama.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Growing Pains

As it happens, babies grow up.

Not all at once. Not even quickly sometimes. But they do. They grow up.

They grow in simple little ways that you might not even notice at first, but then dawn on you like. . . . well, like a sunrise. (Maybe that's why it's called 'dawn'? Hmmmmmm.) At first you notice it, but it's just a little sneak peek. Then, blink-blink, and the sun has risen.

I know, I know. You're thinking. . . "Her baby is, what?, like, 8 months old? What does she know about babies growing up?"

Any Mom can tell you. You can always see your babies growing up.

So what grown-up moment prompted me to notice this?

Bjorn is getting so independent now. I no longer make my daily peanut butter sandwich one-handedly while holding a squirmy wormy on one hip. He crawls around the kitchen, racing from the singing animal magnets on the fridge to the empty aluminum foil roll to the tupperware and wooden spoons. (My kitchen floor gets quite crowded when he's in there!) Then, I get to make a lunch for myself like a normal person - with both hands.

But that wasn't even enough for me to really notice.

Then the sunrise burst into view.

As I'm making lunch today, I hear his little baby hands and knees padding across our hardwood floor. I look down and he's no where to be seen. Following the pitter-patter, I look down the hall, only to see a glimpse of Bjorn as he pads into his room.

On his own.

I followed him into his room and saw that not only had he crawled all the way out of the kitchen, and all the way down the hall, but also all the way across his room. To his toy box. Where he had promptly pulled himself up on the side of it, reached in to grab a few blocks and was now banging them against each other, shouting 'Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da.'

And I saw the day when he would no longer need me around to play with him. The day when he would shut his door when his friends were over because no one wants their Mom to play trucks and Army men.

So I did what any Mama would do.

I crawled over to his toy box, reached in, and grabbed a couple blocks of my own to bang.

When in Rome.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Midday Thoughts

There was once a time when I thought I could do anything.

I wrote a letter to Nolan Ryan at the Texas Rangers, requesting to be a bat-girl for a season.

I interviewed with Oscar Meyer to drive (and promote) the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile.

I even published my first poem for an anthology of young writer's when I was 10.

Never did I think that I would be turned away. Never did I think that I wasn't good enough, or that someone might have just the be the teeniest bit better than me.

But somewhere between the resumes and the mochachinos, along the too-late nights and the way-too-early mornings, I lost my edge.

Never have I lost my desire. (I still kick myself every time I think of my third-round interview for Oscar Meyer. I was really hotdogging it, relishing every minute, until I choked at the last minute!) Never have I lost my will. (I still carve out moments of each day to write, whether on a napkin, the back of a receipt or my ever-trusty blogs.)

But I've lost my edge. And my only edge was that I didn't know how many others out there who were just as good, or (gasp!) better.

My edge allowed me to star in a couple (local) commercials and reap the benefits. ("Don't I know you? Oh, wait - you're the city's 'Save Water' girl!") My edge got me writing for a local newspaper and it sent me jumping headfirst into an event planning and promotions job I had absolutely no experience for but loved every moment of.

So what happened to my edge?

Did I drop it on the road when I drove away from Texas? Did someone find my edge lying across the gravel of I-10 somewhere between Houston and El Paso? Did I forget to put a doggie tag on it so someone could mail my edge back to me, with a nice note saying 'Found this in a cactus thorn. Thought you might want it back'?

I've got to get it though. Stop talking and start doing. Stop worrying and start doing. Stop planning and start doing.

Hmmm. . . I think I see a theme there. Just do it. Maybe Nike has a point. . . . . . .

Monday, February 22, 2010

Murphy's Law #67

How is it that when Bjorn's awake all i can think about are the things I need to do that can only be done when he's sleeping. . .

and when he's sleeping, I just can't wait for him to wake up and play with me again. . . . .

Update: Better Body After Baby

My two week update of Fitness magazine's Better Body After Baby Workout.

And. . . I'm not doing too well. I have no willpower with Girl Scout Cookies (love me some samoas!) and I have no motivation to get my butt out of bed and run (which, really, is the only way to get a cardio workout when you have no gym membership).

I did, however, convince two friends (shoutout!!), who also want to get rid of that baby body, to walk in a 5K with me in two weeks. Sports Loving Mama just had a family member have surgery to remove prostate cancer (Benign. Yay!) and since this 5K donates to the American Cancer Society, I figured it would be a good fit. And, hey - its only 5K (3 miles) - anyone can do that, right? We will see. . . . . .

But, for my update - here are my numbers. I'm actually very surprised, considering that one box of tagalongs, one box of thin mints and two pizzas are no longer in my pantry, and somehow I was still able to lose weight. I attribute it to my weight training with a can of enchilada sauce and a super size peanut butter (both 1 lb 12 oz). Why buy weights when you can use what you got??

Weight: 142 (- 4 lbs)
Chest: 36 (- 2 inch)
Waist: 36 (same)
Hips: 40 (same)

I would like to get into the 130's by the beginning of March, but that's one week away, so I think I will actually have to work to get there. Maybe my "training" for the 5K will help. By training I mean, watching others run while I casually stroll along beside them. . . . .

Saturday, February 20, 2010


I don't post many pictures on here, so get a gooooooood look at the Little Man in all his glory!!!

**Sorry, but I am technologically stupid and have no idea how to rotate the picture on this newfangled picture thingy. Just cock your head to the left. And check out that awesome dino hat made by one of the coolest girls I know. Trust me. You'd like her.**

**This was taken in a store so years later when B tells us he never gets anything cool, we can show him this picture and disagree. **

That Mom You Saw. . . .

Remember that mom you saw?

The one you turned your nose up at, and whispered disgustingly about to your husband? (Who was shopping with you on a Thursday morning and whom, I can only assume, was holding your purse. Or was that a murse?)

Remember that mom? You turned away from her as she changed her baby's dirty, poopy diaper in the trunk of her car.

You coughed in that I'm-trying-to-be-obvious-that-it-smells-in-a-completely-passive-aggressive way as you walked past her Volvo and stepped up to your minivan.

You looked at that mom and thought to yourself "I would never be that mom. I could never change my baby in the trunk in front of a store that could possibly have a changing table inside."

You turned away as that mom pulled up her baby's pants, put the dirty diaper in a baggie and had the balls - the nerve, the gall - to throw that dirty diaper baggie in a trashcan in front of the store.

You would never throw a diaper - even in a bag - in a public trashcan where others might smell it. Or worse, see it. You would never change your baby in a trunk. Your baby is perfect and wouldn't even think about pooping at a time when you have other things to do.

Your baby would never try to stick his hands down his pants to get at that squishy stuff.

And, you - well, you are perfect. In your minivan, with kids who don't poop in public.

Remember that mom?

Hi. **waves** Nice to meet you.

We'll meet again someday. And I can only hope that on that day Bjorn knows how to throw and has finally figured out how to get into that squishy stuff in his pants. . . . .

Questions, questions and then. . . another question

When I became a Mama, I knew that I would become the chief bottle washer and diaper changer. I knew I would become a karaoke machine, singing Bjorn to sleep. I knew I would become a maid, a (literal) cow and a budget analyst.

I just didn't realize I would become a nurse. I didn't know that I would have to diagnose. I didn't know that sick is not cut and dry - sick doesn't show up as a raging fever or a crying monster. It doesn't always throw up gallons or cry rivers of yellow snot. (Painting a pretty picture, eh?)

I knew that my kiddo would get sick. I knew that sometimes I would have to miss work not because I was sick, but because he is.

What I didn't know is that sometimes "sick" is entirely subjective.

Is coughing, but with no fever, too sick to send a kid to daycare?

Does a gurgling chest congestion mean that I shouldn't fly halfway across the country because it is very possible that in a few hours, I will get a call from Mrs. Daycare to pick him up?

It seems that quite often, sick is too sick for daycare but not too sick to go to the doctor.

Maybe it's different because of my job. I can't just cart him off to Mrs. Daycare's, get a call in three hours and pick him up. By that time, I'm in Buffalo and the next flight gets me home nine hours later.

What do you do when your kidlet gets sick? Do you go to work and hope for the best? Stay at home a day or two to watch him? And if there is no fever, but cough, congestion and that nasty yellow nose, is he really sick? Is sick only a fever?

Friday, February 19, 2010

Mom Confessions. . .

Mom Confession #453: Sometimes I give Bjorn my car keys to throw around. He likes them so much more than his toy car keys and it keeps him happy and occupied. How bad can it really be?

Mom Confession #572: Sometimes, even though some experts say not to, I will hold Bjorn the entire time he is sleeping. For two+ hour naps. And I won't move and I won't go to the bathroom, and I won't even answer my phone. It's the best sleep for him and it is so nice for me. The time will come all too soon when he won't let me hold him while he sleeps. . . . . .

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

A letter to remember

Dear Bjorn:

You are growing up so fast! Sometimes when I come home from a three day trip on the road, I sneak a peek in your room and worry that I won't recognize you. Each time I see something new - a sliver of a tooth, the dimple that seems to pop in and out depending on the cheek chubbiness that day. Every day you become less a baby and more a little boy.

You love to crawl and spend your entire day racing from one end of the house to the other. I used to carry you with me whenever I left the room, but now I just holler as I walk down the hall and in a few seconds, I can see your little face peeking around the corner looking for me! You're very fast, and I've learned that I can't turn my back for more than a few seconds!

Right after you mastered crawling, you began trying to pull yourself up to stand. It didn't take long before you mastered that, too! You now would rather stand than sit, crawl than lie down. It makes Mama and Daddy very nervous, but you have shown yourself to be very resilient! You have helped Mama baby-proof the house by pulling newspaper off tabletops, jackets off chair backs and phones and cups (empty, thank God!) off the coffee table. Every day is another chance to break something else!

You have discovered the doggie door, which you love almost as much as you love the Dog. You spend about an hour each day playing with the doggie door. It's only a matter of time before you figure out how to get in and out, and then we are in trouble. For now, you are content to stick your arm outside, bring it back in, giggle, and do it all over again. Hey - whatever keeps you entertained is ok with me!

You can now hold your bottle all by yourself. You are definitely your Daddy's boy, because when you tip that bottle back it is exactly the same way your Daddy tips back his favorite beer. Then chug-a-lug-lug and your formula is gone is less than five minutes!!

You drink between 6-8 oz of formula a feeding - usually feeding 4-5 times a day. Sometimes when you only have 6 ounces, you cry and cry and cry until I refill you another 2-4 ounces. You are one hungry boy! You also eat solid foods three to four times a day. Your favorite is peas, but you are also partial to apples (Or eyeballs, as we call them. You love eating your morning eyeballs and hairs - apples and pears!!).

You began eating Cheerios lately, and your favorite trick is pretending to put them in your mouth, but really dropping them all over your lap. Then, when Mama picks you up out of your high chair, they fall all over the floor and your Dog gets a treat! What a trickster you are!

Depending on the day, all your toys are your favorite toys. But you still love non-toy toys the best! No matter how many baby keys or baby phones Mama buys you, you always like her keys and phone the best! Mama's favorite "toy" to entertain you are two or three plastic hangers, a few different size Tupperware containers and a long wooden spoon. That can keep you happy for hours!

You love watching TV (yes, I have the TV on alot of the time!), but the funniest thing is when Mama is watching The View. No matter what you are doing, when Whoopi talks, you stop and listen. You watch her intently, and nod your head as if agreeing with her! Then you race to the TV, pull yourself up on the media console and just stand there watching her. Looks like you like a woman who can speak her mind!!

We are trying to teach you sign language, and Daddy swears that you know how to sign "milk". I have seen you clench and unclench your fist (the sign for "milk") often, but I'm not sure you know what you're signing yet. We are also trying to teach you the signs for "eat", "Mama", "Daddy", "doggie", "yes", "no", and "all done/finished". You just laugh whenever we sign to you. Glad you think we're so amusing!!

You still don't like taking naps, so I have devised a devious plan to get you to sleep. I will wait to plan all my errands for your naptime, then put you in your carseat and by the time I have made it to the first stop, you are fast asleep. And if you wake up while I'm still out erranding, I just drive the long way to the next stop on my list. Usually you fall back asleep and I can get more done, and you can get a good nap.

Mama and Daddy like putting you in "big boy" clothes the best. We tend to stay away from onesies and rompers (although I think rompers will probably be nice in the summer time.), and always dress you in pants and a t-shirt. Our favorite is your khaki pants and your camo pants. You look just like a mini version of Daddy!

You love being outdoors. When you cry (which isn't often!), we take you outside, and suddenly you're in a great mood! Last week we took you hiking for the first time, and you had a great time. We didn't think it was possible for you to smile and laugh more than you normally do, but boy did you!

You are also a little bit of a daredevil. You love being carried upside down by Daddy, playing SuperBaby on Mama's knees and anything in which you can throw yourself around and make Mama nervous!! I hope this reckless streak continues, and in 18 years, you and I can compete in a show like The Amazing Race. We can win it, I just know it!!

In the nature vs. nurture debate, nature wins when it comes to hand-sucking! Daddy was a thumb-sucker, Mama was a finger-sucker and you, wonderful little boy, are also a finger-sucker. No matter how many times we take those fingers out of your mouth, they always find a way back in! It might have something to do with the fact that you have four teeth poking their sharp little points through your gums, but I also chalk it up to the genetics of being born to two rehabilitated finger suckers.

Bjorn, you make Daddy and I so happy. Yesterday, when you went to daycare and Mama stayed home, the house was so quiet and a little bit lonely. You really have changed our lives - for the much, much better. Homes are made from love, laughter and a mess of toys. Thanks for bringing all of that into ours!

Yours always.


Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Ash Wednesday is tomorrow. . . .

Last year, I was pregnant during the Easter season.

Which, according to, allowed me to abstain from abstaining. In other words, I got away with not fasting on a technicality. (I know, I know. That's not exactly in the spirit of the season or anything, but fasting is never any fun - it's not meant to be - but when you're pregnant??? Whew - don't even think about it!!)

This year I won't be getting out of it.

I knew there was a reason to continue breastfeeding a little longer!!!

Being a Mother = Dealing with Guilt

I gotta admit. . . . I'm feeling a little guilty.

I just got back from two days on the road, and I am on call for today. But have not been called out yet to work. And, still, I took Bjorn to daycare.

Daddy asked me. "What are you going to do today? Why don't you just keep him until you get called to work?"

Because I want to take a long shower in my own bath. Because I want to sew and write and finish the cleaning and the laundry and the schtuff that was started last week and (thanks Hubs!!) he worked on a little while I was gone, but it's impossible to get it done with a cute, little baby plodding along after you.

And, yes, I know that cleaning is a daily thing and what is most important is spending time with my Bjorn.

That's why I'm feeling a little guilty. Because I am taking a Me day. Even though I was just gone for two days.

In my defense, I have no more work scheduled for the rest of the month. So there.

And now that that is off my back (whew!), I am going to enjoy this day. I think.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

To sleep or not to sleep. . . .

I am terrified of waking my child.

Terrified. Like shiverin' in my boots terrified.

A few nights ago, I wanted to give Little Bjorn a kiss before I left to go to work. I slid into his room, slipping my shoes off so as to lessen the noise, and literally tip-toed across his room to the crib. He made a few grunting noises and I jumped out the door, hiding around the corner, peeking around every few seconds to see if the coast was clear.

This really shouldn't be necessary.

The kiddo can sit through an action/adventure movie with bombs exploding in our high volume surround sound, but the mere whisper of a foot on carpet (or of pants legs rubbing against each other!!) can wake him from a deep sleep.

And then he just screams and screams until we pick him up, where he promptly falls asleep after two seconds in our arms.

The kid's crazy, I'm tellin' you!!

It is making me terrified to go in and see him before I leave for work at times like 3:30 and 4:30 am, because I want to give him a little good-by kiss and pat, but I don't want to leave the Hubs with a screaming baby at oh-dark-thirty. So i just don't say bye. I know he doesn't notice, but I do. And I don't like it.

Is this a phase? Will he soon be able to sleep through a snuggle and a kiss as well as the latest James Bond flick?

And while we're talking about sleep - when will I stop going in at night to check on him? How old will he be before I stop putting my hand on his chest or back to make sure he's still breathing?

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

It's all a Numbers Game

Writing my "numbers" down is a little bit of a scary thing. Once they are here, they are indelibly marked on the wide world of blogs forever and ever. *Shudder*

I never cared about numbers before, but then, I never had my Wii Fit tell me I was overweight before. It's not really about numbers anyway, but about how I feel. And I feel overweight.

First, before I get to today's numbers, a little history.

In 1999, when I entered college, I weighed 110.

In 2006, when I married my husband, it was 120.

And in 2008, right before I found out I was pregnant with Bjorn, I weighed 130.

20 pounds, one decade. Let's hope that trend doesn't continue.

So, starting weight for my pregnancy was 130. Ending weight: (are you ready for this??) 181. Yup, that's right folks. I gained 51 pounds during my pregnancy!!!! I would blame it on Bjorn, but I really think it was the french fries and three avocados a day that really did me in.

I started tracking my numbers on July 6 - one month after Bjorn was born.

July 6: Weight - 159. Chest - 41. Waist - 37. Hips - 42.

October 20: Weight - 144. Chest - 39. Waist- 35. Hips - 39.

And for the final weigh-in. . . . . .

January 11: Weight - 146. Chest - 38. Waist - 36. Hips - 40. (Yes, that's right. I went UP in everything but chest. Unacceptable.)

So, there you go. For all the world wide web to see, those are my numbers. My goal weight is my wedding weight - 120. (But my ideal weight is 112. Yes, I know that sounds ridiculously low, but let's face it folks, I'm barely 5 foot 2. And the 8 pound difference between goal and ideal shows alot on a five foot body.)

But, then again, even though I have an ideal and a goal weight, it's mainly about how I feel. How my clothes feel. How comfortable and happy and confident I am. It's not really about the numbers on the scale. (And if you believe that, I have some ocean front property in Arizona I'd like to sell you. . . . . . . )

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Day Two

Day Two of Better Body After Baby.

My thirty minutes of cardio were spent walking around this lush resort of a hotel (i.e. walking through a jungle of palm trees outdoors to get to the rooms), searching for the fitness center. Twice I asked the front desk for the location and twice I was told the exact same directions and twice I was unable to find it.

I wound up back in my hotel room doing the strength exercises with the only dumbbells I have with me - a can of Light & Healthy Progresso Soup and a half-empty jar of peanut butter.

This time, it's going to work. I think. Maybe. . . .

Yesterday I started Fitness magazine's Body After Baby program.

Before I get to the point, I want to give a quick shout-out to my Sis in Law for the magazine subscription for Christmas. This is exactly why I wanted it- thanks!!

Anyways. . . .

The program sounds really simple: 30 minutes of cardio 3 times a week and a set of simple strength exercises twice a week. The strength exercises are designed to be done during a naptime, or in about thirty minutes. Involving nothing more than a pair of lightweight dumbbells, and done in bare feet, this seems to be one exercise that epitomizes low maintenance.

Did I mention that the average tester of this workout lost 1 1/4 inches from their waist in ONE MONTH???

Sounds too good to be true? Who cares?! It can't hurt to try, right?

Yesterday marked the first day for me, and being as I am at work, on the road - again, it was simple. No baby needed anything from me, I already finished the book I brought with me and I was in El Paso with nowhere to go and nothing fun to sight see. What else was I going to do but work out? My hotel has a very well stocked gym, so I hopped on the treadmill and followed Fitness' 26 minute interval run.

Afterwards I was sweaty and out of breath, but I didn't feel like stopping the workout yet. I grabbed a fitness ball, crunching out to the beat of Law and Order in the morning.

Not a bad first workout day.

Then I got on the plane for an 11 hour day of non-stop work (11!!) and all my good intentions flew right out the window.

I stuffed every kind of food I could find into my starving belly. Goldfish, Animal crackers, cheerios (yes, I know - I pack my food bag like a mom!!!). What's a girl to do - it's not like I can run home to my nicely stocked refrigerator for some fresh fruit!!

So today is another day with another treadmill. A little sore from yesterday's exercise, but I'm going to power through. There's a pair of shorts and a bikini calling my name and I intend to answer.

Anyone else wanna try to lose the baby weight with me? Log on to and share your stories.

And look out in the next coupla days as I share (gasp) my numbers with you. That would be waist, chest, hips and weight. Scary. . . . . .

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Milk: It does a Baby good

I think I stopped breastfeeding this week.

I say 'I think' because it wasn't really a conscious decision. It just happened.

The past three weeks or so I have been breastfeeding pretty sporadically. Somedays he is nursed only in the morning. Sometimes in the morning and evening, and sometimes (if I don't leave the house and don't even bother to change out of my pajamas) I am waaaay too lazy to make a bottle, so he nurses all day.

Lately, though, it's almost been a battle to get him to breastfeed. He likes to look around, so he stops and starts. He gets frustrated because he actually has to work to eat to breastfeed, where with a bottle, it's pretty much like a beer bong - funnels right in.

He also has started this new thing where he likes to sit up to breastfeed. He sits on my lap and turns his face into me, then looks away, garbles some nonsense words, and then turns back in to eat. Not conducive to breastfeeding in public.

And being that I was never attached* to breastfeeding like some other Mamas I know, it's not really a big deal to me.

Yesterday, Daddy got out of bed, started the coffeepot brewing and made a bottle for Bjorn. Usually this is where I stop him, saying 'Nah, just bring him to bed and I'll feed him.' But I didn't do that. I got up slowly, and watched as Daddy finished feeding the little man. I drank my coffee when it was hot and fresh and loved every second of it.

Today, when Bjorn let us know that he was ready to get out of bed ("Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! Waaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"), I got up, started the coffeepot brewing and made him a bottle. It didn't occur to me until a few hours later that I have never myself given him a bottle in the morning.

And I don't mind. It's no big deal. People don't breastfeed all the time. There's no loss of bonding between us - in fact, there may even be more now that I don't feel that I have to be around him all the time. Now I choose to be there - for feeding, for playing and for crying.

*By attached, I mean that I was never a La Latte Leche Loving Mama. I know that breastfeeding is important for development, and I also know that I have no excuse not to breastfeed. I stayed home for 7 months, and after the first three weeks it was quite easy for me and B, so there was no reason for me not to use my own liquid gold. But I never felt the "baby bonding" feeling that I heard so much about. I never felt closer to Bjorn because he was nursing. It was something that I knew I should do. But, to be honest, I was very glad when he started taking a bottle.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Help for a Non-Napper

Does anyone else have problems with a non-napping child??

For the last few months I have dealt with this on my own and today decided - I am going to post this to the blog world for help!

Bjorn is 8 months old. Google tells me that the average nap time for an 8 month old is 1 hour, twice a day.

B naps 20-40 minutes twice a day. And has been doing that for the last three months. (Even though google also tells me that a 6 month old should be sleeping 3-4 hours a day!) He also sleeps about 11 hours through the night and since this teething thing has slowed down (yay!), he doesn't wake during that time.

What that means is that while the average mom probably only gets 2-3 hours to herself to clean, bathe, read blogs, eat bon-bons, etc during the day, I get about 45 minutes a day.

Yes, I am completely feeling sorry for myself here. Why? Because it sucks.

Because I sometimes feel guilty about it but I crave 7:30 pm to come around when he starts to sack out and I know I might have some time to do my things soon.

Because I feel that if I had just one hour more a day, I would be a happier and better person.

Because I am pulling my hair out.

I have tried feeding him before a nap to make his belly full. Or feeding him after a nap so he doesn't have any discomfort or gas while he's napping. To play a CD. To put on a humidifier. To turn off all the lights. Turn off all the lights. Have normal noise and activity. Have no noise and activity.

The only way I can get him to nap is to hold him. And although it's sweet and he is definitely at his cutest while sleeping, that still doesn't help me when I really need to shower.

How long does your kid sleep? And what in the hell can I do to get mine to do that?

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Hard at Work

For those of you wondering, I went on my first three day trip for work this past week.

Not of my own choice. I was on call, playing the odds, and the odds wound up playing me. So I went three long days away from my home, my Husband and my kid.

And what happened?

I got two 9+ hours of uninterrupted sleep.

I took a shower in which not only did I shave my legs, I deep conditioned my hair, luxuriated in hot water I didn't have to pay for, and sang as many Britney songs as I could remember.

I worked out in a very well equipped hotel gym for almost an hour.

I read a book and when I finished that one - I read another.

I ate a meal. A meal with another adult without a small hand greedily reaching for everything on my plate. Granted, the other adult was pregnant, so our entire conversation revolved around babies, but, still, it was an adult meal.

You know what else happened?

Daddy and Bjorn made it. Not without a few mishaps - but those happen to me everyday, too. Perfection is over rated and I don't even strive to come close. I have many mishaps and make many mistakes. And I am sure it is just the beginning. Is it any wonder that Daddy makes mistakes, too? Not at all. It's a learning process called life.

Daddy stayed home with Bjorn on Sunday, grilling meat and hanging out. He took him to daycare on Monday, came home from work, fed him and put him to bed. Ditto for Tuesday. And, barring some major vomit episodes which called for Bjorn getting rinsed off in the kitchen sink under the faucet, they seem to have done pretty well.

He even remembered to give him his medicine every day. Without my reminder. How great is that?

I've heard of moms who worry when their husbands can handle the day-to-day aspects of parenthood. If the Daddy can do it, then what is the Mom really good for?

I am so not one of those moms.

I am the kind of mom who rejoices knowing that Daddy can do it. I am the kind of mom who loves that I am not the only one is completely responsible, and although the maturity hat may sit on my head most of the time, Daddy is fully capable of putting it on if needed. I am the kind of mom who does my job better knowing that I don't have to do it - I choose to do it. I am the kind of mom who does not hesitate to take the time that I need - whether it be to go to the gym, to work, or just to the bathroom.

That's not to say I didn't miss my boys. I did - very much. And going on a three day trip is definitely not my choice of work trips. But if I had to do it once a month, I wouldn't complain (too loudly). I can handle it. And so can Daddy.

***On a completely different note, I am still pumping and breastfeeding sporadically, so I brought my mondo electric two-pumper pump with me on my trip. Going through security was not fun. The first day, it was taken and searched. The second day, it was questioned and I was told the best way to bring it through security. The third day? I had just about had it, so when the 20 year old boy grabbed my bag, I spoke as loudly as I dared. "It's a breast pump. For milk." After the look on his face, I no longer cared if they searched it or not. That shocked/scared/horrified look just about made my day!***