Operation Cut the Crap. Again.

Saw this card in a cute French store in Savannah.

Yeah no, probably just fat. That's what a bebe (or two) will do to a body. Especially a 30-year (almost) old body. So here we go again... trying to slim down so I can fit into my stinking pants. Currently, this is my plan:

Breastfeed. No news there. It's supposed to just "shed those pounds away" and all that jazz. Well, I still don't fit into those Gap jeans, you guys. I know, it's not been that long. Just chill, right? It's been 8 weeks and there's still a very incredible muffin top just waiting to depress me whenever I try to put those bad boys on. Luckily, I can at least zip them up. I'm about pass out, but anyway.

Box up those maternity clothes. I took of my maternity clothes and put them in the guest closet last night. They are no longer being used/worn/seen in my closet. I refuse to wear them. Which means I'm wearing fat jeans, leggings, yoga pants, skirts, cargo pants with stretchy waist, etc. It forces me to face the reality and find something in my wardrobe to wear.

Run 2x/week. I'd really love to get back into Zumba, but we're already pressed for family time as it is and I absolutely refuse to drop my little kidlet off with the random YMCA nursery. I can't even handle the thought of all those germies. Plus, I've done my reading and I surely don't want intense workouts to dry up my milk supply I worked hard to establish. I know 2 runs a week isn't much, but I can only really do so on the weekends when Ray is home. I just hate going when he gets home because by the time we both get a run in and dinner, it's just about shower and bedtime. That leaves very little socialization time and time for us as a family. I'd take B with me, but he's a bit too small for the jogger and I don't have a seat adapter. He's only a couple months away from that possibility, so I'm not investing in one now. Speaking of strollers, here's our lineup. Let me first preface things with the whole thought that I'm a little cheap. I don't want to buy the most expensive strollers for one child when I know we'll need to buy a double at some point. So for now, here's what we've got for just one kid:

Graco Snugrider Snap Stroller - super light, super easy and super convenient. Paid $25 at the local consignment store and I've put tons of miles on this already and traveled to Savannah with it. NOT jogging material. Brisk walks, sure. Jogging, no.

Britax B-Agile. Amazon purchase for $200 and that's about as expensive as I'm willing to go with one kiddo. It's light, folds up compact, but it's not really jogging material. Again, brisk walking. This will come in handy as our everyday stroller when B is sitting with better head control.

Baby Trend Expedition LX. It's the jogger we have right now. We paid about $45 on Craigslist. B is too small for it still and I refuse to invest in a adapter when he'll be big enough before we know it.

Now, when we have another kid, we'll invest in a much better double/jogger and the adapter for the carseat. This is my pick for when that time comes (not necessarily that color):

BOB double -- yes, I know most of you are super cool and already own this. I'm a little jealous but can't bring myself to buy a single BOB and a double BOB. I do want my children to go to college. ;) And truth be told, my dream double is the Bumbleride Indie Double. Now that's lovely... and a freaking down payment on a house. Hah.

Cutting out sugar. I've decided to take a sweet break. Last year I did this in the spring and worked out like a madwoman. It was incredible and I dropped the pregnancy weight stat-- but what wasn't incredible was the reason I wanted to lose it so stinking quick. This time, I'm just cutting out sweets for a month. We'll see if it lasts longer. I'm on day 6. And don't get me started on the Reese's Eggs I picked up on after Easter clearance at Target for $.09. They're stashed away.

Brisk walks for at least 30min/day. I've been walking pretty regularly with B because it gives us something to do, gets us out in fresh air, allows for some exercise, and it's a good 30 minutes of not having to walk around the house rocking him so he won't cry. He's a little sensitive lately and wants to be moving constantly. As long as I'm keeping up my heart rate, I'm pleased. It gives me 30+ minutes of heart rate elevation a day and without exercising any other way each day, it's all I've got. I'd love to use exercise videos or even the Wii to motivate me, but B is seriously clingy right now and cannot be put down for longer than 10 minutes. It's impossible to get a workout in. I went for a nice walk in the forest preserve with a friend yesterday and took B in the Ergo. It's not as easy as stroller walking, but I was walking fast enough to feel it-- shows just how out of shape I am. I wouldn't do anything more than walking (and even then had to hold Ray's hand because I was afraid to trip) with B's pregnancy and I can tell.

And with that, I'll leave you with my final motivation:

 

Yellow Zebra

I was having a nice little cuddle session after feeding B today and looked down later to discover a mysterious yellow zebra on the Boppy pillow. Zebras aren't yellow, you might be wondering. Nevermind that some of the animals on this pillow cover are of proper coloring and others, like giraffes are blue. But this zebra? This zebra is indeed white with black stripes (or isn't it that they are actually black with white stripes?). Anyway, this zebra was now yellow. And we're not talking about urine here. It was straight poo.

I was laughing as I talked with my friend Lauren about her twins having blowouts and how I hadn't experienced such things (lucky me! my kid is so special!) until literally, the next day I experienced my very own blowout. And let me set the record straight that I'm comfortable talking to Lauren about parent/baby crap because she went through hell and high water plus multiple miscarriages to get those babies. And then the next day, another blowout. Now we've lost count of how much poo has been discovered on our clothes, baby items, skin, you name it. I even *vomit* discovered some suspicious yellow on his bouncer yesterday. Let's just say I'm thrilled we chose a dark color for that thing. Baby crap can sure get massively dir-tay. We've also started giving him Poly-Vi-Sol drops (he drinks that baby straight and likes it) every other day and that makes the whole poo process even more grodie. I urban dictionaried that for you in case you needed more explanation on the word.

We've also decided that there is an acceptability factor when it comes to baby urine. Not only does he have blowouts (and please don't advise me that his diapers don't fit because we've tried two sizes and three different brands and none are blowout-proof-- and no I don't want to hear about cloth diapering because I'm too lazy), but he pees like a racehorse. I have been peed on probably 30 times, y'all. At this point, I don't even flinch and half the time, I don't even change my clothes. I know. I'm repulsive. If it's sort of small or in a place that will dry quickly or if I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, I don't change. I know. Urine is sterile, right? And somehow it feels more acceptable coming out of an 8-week old munchkin.

I'll update traveling with a newborn and our visit to Hilton Head, SC and Savannah, GA soon with some photos. Until then, I'll leave you with a photo that currently is without a caption. Because, I mean... it speaks for itself, no?

no. he did not sleep there.

 

Drooling Like Flip

My husband sent me an email yesterday titled, You'll Start Drooling Like Flip (if you remember, our nickname in utero for B. It still manages to find its way into everyday conversation. But now it has new meaning for him flipping out and going AWOL on us for no apparent reason. I do not claim to have that seriously perfect baby. That he is not. Quite fitting, considering I'm definitely not a perfect mom).

So, the title of that email. Once I opened it, I saw a link to this beaut:

That would be the 2013 Audi A4 Allroad. This is what I refer to as the hot mom car. Before I even became a mom, I had starry eyes for soccer practice duty and being an overall taxi for a couple littles in the backseat. For awhile, my heart was set on the Volvo XC (60/70/90, no matter. All sexy.), but then I got all nervous about the company going under and gave up on that dream. I still have a little matchcar Ray bought for me as a reminder of my desire to own said car.

I don't drive either, and oddly, I haven't been feeling very hot mom either. I love my Accord and purchased it for two reasons:
1. I owned a Honda Civic and it was one of the best investments I've made in a material thing. I knew the Accord would live up to that same potential and it has.
2. Ray owns an Audi and you can't even buy stinking wiper blades anywhere other than the dealer for an astronomical price. You can practically outfit a Honda at the nearest dollar store. And just about every single car mechanic can fix a Honda blindfolded.

But man, do I love the European car. The XC is more of a consolation vehicle at only about 70% sexy compared to that sweet Audi Allroad. We drove an Audi in Europe as well and loved every minute of that luxury. I'll be waiting a few years on that Allroad, if that dreams comes to fruition.

Gotta admit, that is one hot mom car, right? Sure beats the days of wood paneled station wagons. And for the BLM record, it's a hot mom car, with or without a kid in the back seat and cheerios stuck between the seat cushions. I stand firm on that and feel we've all earned that right, tenfold.

 

Friday Mish Mosh

 I'm not sure I've ever even used that term before... or if I'm using it right. *Also, update: It's Thursday. Obviously I don't know what I'm talking about.

I spent the day celebrating the life of the man who I mentioned in my last post. I only shed a few tears at his funeral. Partly because it was so well done and more of a celebration than anything. It was incredibly special to honor such a wonderful person and the celebration of his life was perfectly done. It was uplifting and beautiful. I brought B with me and he was good for the majority of it, but like any 6-week old, we had our limits.

Yesterday morning I got up early and headed 10 miles away to drop off some breakfast treats for the staff at the school I was working at through my entire pregnancies with Andrew and B. These people have been remarkably sweet and supportive. They've lavished me with support in words and gifts and I'll always be so grateful how they embraced me in my broken state and allowed me to feel so valuable. When I walked back into the house around 7:30 a.m., I saw this:

 B was perfectly still and getting a manicure from his dad. It was freaking precious. Doesn't he look like such a balding old man? My son, not my incredibly handsome husband.

Ray's parents were in town for a few days and spent lots of good quality time with their grandson. B has now been held more by grandmas than he has slept in total number of hours. Hah.

Here's a Yoda outfit picked out by my FIL.

Ray's grandparents, Gramie and Papa bought B a plate just like Andrew's and the one we have from our wedding. Each of the three plates has the same bridge painted on it. The bridge is a symbol from the Japanese Garden where our wedding reception was held. Don't mind how ridiculously tired we look. We're totally exhausted, obviously.

 Going for a riverwalk...

As for B updates, he's sleeping just fine. Just one caveat-- he'll only sleep, night or day on someone. It's a bit challenging to say the least. But I am reminded that he won't be like this for long and at some point, I'll wish he wanted to be near me so often. Otherwise, he's doing great. We're headed on our first airplane ride this Sunday. Lord. Help. Us. and the people next to us on the plane. My current plan of action is to Ergo babywear him and attempt to breastfeed as long as possible on the plane if I can. And keep him covered from all the germies.

I made a delicious dessert from Pinterest the other day. I was definitely taking advantage of having a few extra hands around. This recipe turned out excellent:

No bake, Strawberry Icebox Cake

I even added my own personal touch-- almonds. I love the extra crunch. I made a mini version for us to keep and Ray told me that he would love for me to make it again. The graham crackers really did soften, but even about 36 hours later, they were not mushy and still had some texture to them. Next time I'll attempt to make it a bit healthier (not that much heavy whipping cream), but otherwise, it was fantastic and insanely easy. I allowed 5 hours in the refrigerator before eating to allow the crackers to soften enough to be cake-like.

Now that I've written about dessert, I'll mention that I'm so over maternity clothes. I've had my 6-week postpartum checkup and I'm either wearing maternity clothes (like to the funeral since I have no suitable bottoms for the occasion that I fit into), yoga pants, or jeans that are skin tight and uncomfortable. I've also been wearing maternity for the better half of two years. They're comfortable, but I'm ready to feel like myself in my own skin again. It seems I've even gained weight since a couple weeks ago. Sigh. I've been for about 5 jogs since B was born, but nothing longer than about 2 miles at a time. I was in incredible shape after Andrew was born and before B was conceived. I wanted to control something and was an exercising machine! I also went on a 3-month stint with no sugar or alcohol. I was in better shape than before I got married. I'm not expecting to be slimming down that much since I'm breastfeeding and simply don't have as much time (thankfully!), but I'd like to fit into my regular jeans comfortably enough. Once we get back from our little vacation to Savannah, I'm thinking about giving up all sweets again for a month.

We left B with my in-laws to go see the Hunger Games! We rarely see movies in the theater because I think it's expensive and germs are everywhere. But this movie... we saw! Since we both read the series (okay, I'm still 1/3 through Mockingjay since B was born earlier than expected.), we wanted to see how it measured up. We both agreed that it was excellently done. A couple tidbits:

• For the amount of violence in the book, they did an excellent job being tasteful about the whole thing.
• Haymitch? He totally didn't look like I pictured. I thought he'd be less Fabio-like. 

Sort of weird to end on that note, but anyway. That's all I've got right now.

What Choice Do We Have?

Someone wonderful died this week and it's been on my mind ever since.

When we moved to the Midwest, we searched and searched through the good and bad to find a church that we could call home. The truth is, we didn't know any other way to meet people. We were out of college stage and we'd been married a couple years. Frequenting bars to lurk on people we might ask to hang out with us? It felt desperate. And weird.

We're Christian. Not specifically any denomination to claim, as we've literally visited or attended services in just about every Protestant denomination you can speak of. We like good music (a requirement) and a good community of people who are caring, considerate, and generous with their lives and actions. We also wanted to befriend people that we'd want our children to be around... because I was pregnant about five minutes after we touched down in Chicago from Germany.

This church we found. It's Lutheran (a new one for us). We have met some great people who have been so supportive of our heartaches and triumphs these couple years. We're thrilled that all of our living children will grow up with friends whose parents we admire and respect. One of the pastors of this church we attend was diagnosed with Stage 4 Carcinoma in November at age 55. And this past Saturday, he joined Andrew in heaven.

I shed quite a few tears over this. First of all, he was one of those realists. He always spoke from his heart and from a different perspective. He didn't appear to be overly conservative, but offered a fresh outlook on Christianity and life. He fit our style and although he didn't know us personally, we admired him greatly.

Fast forward to the next day, Sunday. The lead pastor spoke and basically admitted that he just thought for sure that God would heal him. That he'd be speaking on Palm Sunday and not him standing up there in his place. The message was about When God lets you down. Boy, did I feel the heat from that message and the well of tears from Andrew's death was refilled. Fresh. I appreciated his perspective. He didn't offer excuses for God not coming through. He just plain said that although God can let us all down, he still loves us. And to be honest, what choice do we have?

It brought me to tears thinking about Andrew. We laid in bed the other night talking about this message and how we prayed more for Andrew probably than anything in our lives. And yet, we feel God let us down. He's also been a great source of comfort and has been the center to finding wonderful friends. We all experience loss and sadness in life. We'll all die. I will just never accept death happening in such devastating ways and to such young people.

One year ago, almost to the day, I wrote a post about prayer. Not a lot has changed. I still pray, but it's definitely taken a beating. We still pray for B's health and life, but I'm not sure that really has much weight. We pray for peace, most of all. After all, what choice do we have?