face first

 

 

She's got it right, face first into a cup of coffee.

Lately, I've felt like I need an IV of this stuff.  Looks like she's taking after me.  I thought exercise, proper eating skills and losing weight was supposed to give you more energy. 

sympathy monster

I have a baby who doesn't snuggle.  I enviously look at my friend's pictures of their snugly babes, and wonder what secret they know that I don't know.  Bee never falls asleep on my shoulder, or snuggles in for a hug, or does anything that even resembles tender loving feelings.  Except for ONE time.  She had bonked her forehead on the TV stand while dancing (she really gets into it sometimes), and instantly was in a heap of tears.  

Now, I'm a staunch supporter of encouraging kids to "toughen up" and to soothe themselves when crying over little things (and no, I'm not heartless).  But this time I could see the red line on her forehead and I felt her pain.  Heads hurt more, and I wasn't going to let a prime "cuddle time" go to waste.  I swooped her up and was the perfect picture of motherly love.  I shushed, gave her kisses, rocked her, and handled her with all the gentleness and kindness of  Mother Theresa.  She let me cuddle her for about 30 seconds and then started pulling away, almost like she wanted me to see her face so I could see just how upset she was.  Eventually, I distracted her with a treat and she happily crawled away with it grasped firmly in her fist.  

I now believe, that day, I created a monster.  A sympathy monster to be exact.  She now crys over anything and everything.  And if I'm sitting on the ground with her, she immediately crawls over, sobbing, and drops her head into my lap.  Then lifts her scrunched up face and keeps on crying, to make sure I know how hurt her feelings are.

 And if she can't reach me, she'll sit there, giving me the same scrunched up face.  And she sounds so pitiful.  Most of the time, I want to swoop her up, cuddle her and give her whatever she wants.  So far, I've been good at standing my ground.  But I firmly believe that she knows how much it hurts my heart to see her cry, and she's waiting for my breaking point.  Any "no Bee, don't play with your dirty diaper", or "no Bee!  Don't hit the TV!"  or "No Bee, leave Mama's glasses alone" end up with that same tear-stained, scrunched up face.  Sigh.

Who knows, maybe she'll be a cuddly toddler?  HAHA yeah right!  

And by the way, she now has a second tooth, and has walked a few more steps on her own!  YAY! 

Update

Yesterday marked the half-way point for my 30 Day Shred, so I retook my measurements.  I was ecstatic to find out that in 15 days I have lost 2.5 inches off my waist and 1 inch off my hips!  Then since today was 57 degrees outside, I gleefully grabbed my jean shorts from this summer....and wait for it.....found out that they're too big!  YES!  I'm feeling so much better about myself these days, and even though I still hate working out, it feels good to sweat these pounds away.  To sweat away the negativity I've felt about myself.  I've still got a ways to go before I'm where I'd like to be, but my new measurements have made it all seem possible!

And now since I know the real reason any of you read this is because you're hoping for pictures of Bee, I'll shut up now! 

  

She's a-growin'!  We are so blessed to be her parents.

Briella wants........

 

Isn't this the most wonderful way to start your morning?  She was laughing a lot harder before I started recording, but she gets camera shy :D

charging rhino......err baby

 She's not aware yet that I've caught her with the wipes...

 Caught in the act!  "maybe if i charge her she'll forget I tore out an entire pack of wipes"

 "See how cute I am when I'm charging you?" 

 at least the pack was half empty! 

behind our couch is no-man's land.  it's where everything that doesn't have a home, ends up.

readin' books and makin' bubbles

Just a peek into what our evenings look like!

The humming is her reading voice....she is adorable!

Just Go With the Flow!

When I was pregnant, Josh and I talked endlessly on how we'd raise our child.  We decided what things we did like from our parents and what things we didn't want to copy at all.  And when I say we, it was mostly me.  I'm pretty sure he wasn't listening half the time, just nodding at the appropriate times since pregnancy made me a rambler.  In retrospect, I should have stopped planning and worrying about all the details since you'll never know how you're going to react to a situation until you've experienced it.  duh! 

things I planned:

natural birth, no drugs

cloth diapers

breastfeeding for at least 9 months

homemade baby food

plant a garden so I could can enough produce to last us most of the winter

no TV for our precious baby

only educational toys

sleep train right away

lose baby weight pronto

teach our baby sign language so she would be smarter than the other babies

and lots more, but I won't bore you any more than necessary

What actually has happened:

INDUCED, epidural

epidural headache

another epidural to reverse the damage the first one did

gave birth a month and a day early

Pampers

breastfeed 2 months, then had to bottle feed

no garden, harvested the bounty my landlords planted (Thank you!)

I DID make my own baby food, but then we moved and I couldn't take it with me..stupid CA laws

TV some mornings

 toilet paper rolls are toys, right?

at 11 months of age, finally getting a full nights rest

still losing baby weight

still trying the whole sign language thing, but she's not really interested.

I'm pretty sure the only thing that I planned that actually happened was this:

Do not give birth to an ugly child

And I definitely did not have ANY say over that one!

(I am quite ashamed of how shallow I was/am)

It all goes to show that I really should stop planning so much and just go with the flow.  It all will happen and we should survive.  If not, I'm sure there are many therapists who are still paying off student loans and would greatly appreciate the extra cash flow.

 Digging around in her toy chest, after demolishing her shelf of books

Who needs clothes?  Not this girlie!

the J-Lady works!

  I have a pair of jeans that I have a love/hate relationship with.  They never fit quite right after a wash.  I always have to squeeze into them afterwards and pray I don't have to leave the house before the denim gets a chance to relax and fit my curves more comfortably. It usually takes a whole day.  (I also have a pair that only fits right after a wash.  I do not have good luck with jeans.)  Since I had run out of clean clothes to wear like three days ago, I finally did the laundry yesterday.  This morning I grabbed those loved and yet hated pair of jeans and put them on. I zipped them up and started to walk out of our bedroom when I realized I hadn't had to do any "stretches" to make them fit!  I was amazed!  Hallelujah!  The J-Lady is working miracles with my body!

I've been working The Shred for 6 days now.  My body is no longer screaming at me all day, just during the workout.  But it's a good scream now.  And according to my nemisis, the J-Lady, "it's the ones that hurt that count the most"!  I've also remembered why I hated fitness exams during middle school.  Fitness exams equaled pushups, and Pushups and I are not friends.  (if I were an American, I'd say I would like to shoot Pushups, but since I'm Canadian, I'd like to rehabilitate Pushups to become Crunches instead.)  

Since my little cutie patootie (terrorist) of a daughter has decided to not take naps anymore, I've had to jail her in her playpen during my workouts.  At first she squawked her displeasure, but eventually grew to enjoy her cell. (aka I ignored her screeching)  Now, she plays with her picnic basket and dances along to the music, plastic cookie shoved firmly in her mouth.  I'm positive she's mocking me, "You see this mama?  You have to do pushups while I get to gnaw on my delicious plastic cookie!"  

Today while I was groaning my way through pushups, Briella was jumping her little heart out to the music and laughing.  Then Josh said something that made me think.  He said, "won't it be cool once she's older and she can do these alongside you?  She'll be amazing by the time she's older!"

Ok, I have to admit, my first thought was, "WHAT?  You mean I'll still be putting myself through this pushup hell when she's old enough to do jumping jacks?  You are crazy, my man!"

Then I started imaging how in love with my self image I would be if I could keep up exercising, and I made this new resolution. I'm going to finish these 30 days.  But instead of just stopping once it's done, hopefully that theory that it takes 30 days to form a habit, kicks in.  Because I'm going to commit to exercising 3-5 days a week after this program is done. I want Briella to know what healthy is.  How is she going to learn if I'm so melodramatic with my own body issues?  I need to take fitness off the back burner and keep it from burning.  And I'm not talking about hours and hours each day.  I'll be ok if all I do is pop the J-Lady's DVD in and sweat it out for 20 minutes, or go for a walk with my baby.  I don't want to go back to being lethargic and hating every picture I see of myself.  

And I should admit, I REALLY didn't want to complete my 20 minutes today.  BUT I DID!  

And yes, I realize it has ONLY been 6 days.  Can you imagine how awesome I'm going to feel at day 15? Or day 30?  I can't wait!

      

personal cheering squad

She was my little cheerleader today while I sweated the pounds away

Apparently she thinks I'm hilarious to watch, especially when I'm doing pushups and jumping jacks. 

motivation

Today I woke up, stretched and immediately regretted that action.  OUCH!  Every muscle I worked out yesterday was screaming at me, and I wanted to curl in a ball and go back to sleep.  Except that curling in a ball was not an option since that hurt as well.  So I gingerly got out of bed, and started my day.  I asked Josh, who had done the same workout with me, if he was as sore as I was, and he just smiled.  Bee went down for her morning nap and I forced myself to finish our workout.  The next 20 minutes passed with me huffing and puffing my way through Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred, only occasionally swearing at both her and Josh (who laughed at me the entire time. OK, I swore a lot.  It's something I need to work on), and finally collapsed in a "graceful" heap at the end.  I felt triumphant at conquering my reluctance, but groaned knowing I had the same thing to look forward to tomorrow.   

I think I'm out of my mind.  But that's just the pain talking.  Really, I'm just overweight, out of shape, and now incredibly sore from finally kicking myself in the butt and working out.

Last week after a lovely meltdown about feeling fat,  I decided to finally do something about it.  All this past year we had talked about how we SHOULD exercise and SHOULD eat healthier foods.  We'd do well for a week, and then one day I'd be too tired/lazy/angry/not enough time to cook, and we'd buy a frozen pizza.  That would then, obviously, derail me from continuing on being healthy.  (Because, you can't have pizza without having some chocolate ice cream as well, right?)

I started up my myfitnesspal account again once we had settled here, and was slowly losing weight with calorie counting.  But I like faster results and being home all day, is honestly, a bad idea for me.  I see food, I want to eat it.  So to see better results I started walking a little, but that was boring and living in a ghetto neighbourhood is a fantastic excuse to not go for walks.  I am the Queen of finding excuses.  Need one?  Just ask me and I'll find one for you.

Finally, I went on amazon and started looking at fitness dvds, anything that focused on weight loss.  I found Jillian Michael's 30 Day Shred.  It had great reviews and she's known for being a hard trainer, so I took a closer look.  Then I found out each workout was only 20 minutes long!  Surely I could commit to 20 minutes a day, I thought.  So I talked to Josh and he agreed to do it with me.  A friend of mine also has this dvd so we decided to do it together, since the more people I'm accountable to, the more likely I am to actually commit to the end.  So I have 2 people to be accountable to with this 30 Day Shred and another friend to be accountable to with calorie counting.  Hopefully I'll stick to it, wait...make that I AM GOING TO STICK WITH IT!

  

This is now day 2 of 30, and I'm ready to quit.  I know I won't, but I want to.  My whole body is sore after 2 measly 20 minute sessions.  I guess that means its working.  But in my mind it also shows how much I let myself go while pregnant, and its not a nice thing to think about.  

But I will finish this 30 day routine, even if it means that I'm extremely unladylike and curse out my trainer a lot more than necessary.  At least she can't hear me, since she seems like the kind of person who would get right back in my face, and really, I'm in no shape to beat her up, if it ever came to that.  Maybe that should be my motivation.  Get in shape enough that I could beat up Jillian Michaels, you know, just in case the situation should ever arise.

Lover of Dollar Stores

Just so everyone knows this is not the regular blog writer.  This post comes from the man who enjoys a good laugh with Leslie, but I think in order to tell this story I should do it, opposed to her.  

This story comes from the first few weeks in California.  We were trying to get our bearings on the new area and also purchase some necessary items we needed for our new apartment.  We had been settled in no more than 2 hours when Leslie started bugging me about going to the Dollar Store to "check it out."  Now for those of you who know Leslie, you know that she loves thrift stores and Dollar Stores.  I, on the other hand, am skeptical.  Dollar stores are cheap, their merchandise is obviously cheap and does not last, yet I give in to her badgering and we go to have a look.  The Dollar store in our area is on the main street, so its only 5 min away.  The parking lot is dirty, full of trash, and it does not smell great.  We walk in and to my surprise it is exactly what we both expected.  Leslie saw a store full of opportunity, a place she felt comfortable getting items at a good deal, and also finding fun and quirky items.  Meanwhile I see, and smell, a store that is full of junk we don't need and overpriced at even a dollar.  

We were in the store no more than 5 min when we heard over the speakers in the store.  "Lock down, Lock the doors."  What have we gotten into?!  The 20 min we spent in the store was filled with doors constantly locking; keeping certain people out as well as keeping people in the store.  I think someone was trying to steal cheap crap.  Yet everyone else paid no attention to the man on the big speaker and the things he was saying.  I thought we were going to see a shootout but the cashiers just kept ringing items up like nothing was wrong.  

We have been back several times now and nothing was like that first night but I will never forget how uncomfortable I felt and how Leslie thought it was all funny.  To the Dollar Store Lover... Leslie. 

con artist

 My daughter is the ultimate faker.

She goes from this:

To this:

As soon as she sees me with the camera.

Her teenage years are going to be WONDERFUL

And please don't judge me with how bad her highchair looks.  In her desire to be fed RIGHT NOW she tends to tear down whatever she can get her hands on, which has resulted in her ripping the little bands that hold the chair cover up, off.  I'm thinking maybe some Velcro will fix it right up.  But it may take me awhile to get it done.

it's gooey "love-feeling" time

 could you say "no" to this face?  

cause sometimes, I sure can't

super mom ninja skills

"No Bee!  NO!" I'm yelling.  I'm trying to change the worst dirty diaper I've ever had to change.  Since she's so little, we've been lucky...scratch that...BLESSED, with fairly normal diapers.  Well, last night changed that, Bee introduced me to the world of ninja/diaper changing/poop dodging skills. 

I picked up Briella from her crib after her afternoon nap (which was a 2 hour battle yet again).  I realized her leg and arm were a little wet.  Since she tends to lay on her bottle when trying to stay awake, I didn't pay attention and put her down in the livingroom so she could play, while I got her snack together.  

When I bent down to pick her up I was assaulted by the worst smell I had ever smelled before: and just so you don't think I'm a wuss, I've been to slums in India.  I sigh and proceed to change her.  I peel, PEEL, off her little pants and gag.  There is poop EVERYWHERE!  Since there was poop on her pants, there is now streaks of it all over her legs. And those chubby legs are pumping in joy, so she's got it on her feet.  And then she grabs her feet, so its on her hands. I freak out, grabbing baby wipes and throwing them anywhere I see poop.  Trying to keep myself poop free has become my mission.  

I manage to clean her legs, feet, hands, and by then, face.  Then I have to face my next challenge: getting her marinated onesie off.  This is also around the time I start plotting the death of whoever was the genius who invented onesies, and convinced all moms to use them.  

I become inventive after cleaning the onesie as well as I could, rolling it up first, to try and keep as much poop off my precious baby, who is way more interested in grabbing the dirty wipes and shoving them in her mouth as fast as possible.  Disgusting, yes I know.  Unfortunately, it happened.  

So far, I've succeeded in my mission to stay poop free.  

I open her diaper: Pandora's box erupts.  It's like Bee knew that as soon as her diaper was opened she could wreak havoc and I wouldn't scold her in my panic.  So before I could whisk the offending pile of disgustingness away, she firmly plants both feet right in the middle of it all.  

Then I swear time stood still.  And in that moment, this is what happened:  she gave me the look.  The "I am going to have so much fun with this".  And I gave her the look.  The "please don't, please don't, please don't".  Then she smirks.  And time continues on with her quickly twisting over AND CRAWLING AWAY!  

Oh wait, did I not mention that with our move to Modesto we had to leave some furniture behind?  More importantly, we had to leave our changing table behind?  Yeah.  

So my mission is aborted.  Staying poop free is no longer an option.  I lunge after her, and in the meantime, kneel in the pile of disgustingness.  Then my super mom/ninja skills kick in.  It was quite the phenomenon.  I'm sure if anyone than my mischievous daughter had seen me, they would have been impressed.  I grabbed her chubby little leg, pin her down, once again throw as many baby wipes as I could at her, manage to get a new diaper on a wiped down baby, and clean my poop-covered knee.  All that time, NO POOP ON THE CARPET!  

I felt quite exhilarated and exhausted at the same time.  I let Bee loose, and she crawls away.  She suddenly stops, sits up and looks at me with a look I have no idea how to describe.  All I can say is, I may have won this battle, but I haven't won the war.  Oh my.  

saintly or just high?

Let me give you an example of our battles at naptime:  Bee is crying, standing in her crib, giving me the "I hate you!" screamdown.  This is what I'm saying to her:  Briella, you have to sleep, making comforting shushing sounds like "Happiest Baby on the Block" showed us (like those experts know anything...right?) and I'm trying to not let her win,  knowing she's just fighting sleep, and the minute I pick her up she'll be all smiles and giggles.  What I'm thinking in my head: Why the bleep aren't you taking a bleeping nap!  I'm so tired I could bleeping cry (and sometimes I do).  Can you really be the joy of my bleeping life?  Who the bleep came up with this form of torture?  (motherhood has brought out my worse side at times....ok daily)

The last few books I've found the time to read are about families, and I've been hungrily reading them to learn more about family dynamics.  Which means I also read blogs by Christian women and books about "religious" families (ok mostly cults, because I am obsessed with those dynamics), and feel more and more that these ladies and authors are not really telling the truth.  How can a mother have complete patience day after day, hour after hour, with a wailing baby as background music?  I do not have that patience.  I barely hold it together when I try sleep training Bee, forcing myself to let her cry and feel like the world's worst parent.  These women that write, it seems to me that they must be smoking something funny.  Who raises 19 children without ever losing it, not even just once?  (Yes, Mrs. Duggar, I'm talking about you!)

Usually, I'm one of those people who point out that the not so nice parts of parenthood are evened out with one smile from your happy baby, but today I feel like being realistic instead of the sappy parent I normally am.

We are so quick to point out that our children complete us, and gosh! are so cute that all the negative aspects of parenting are evened out, but how often will someone point out that every once in a while, being a parent sucks.  Being the "bad guy", having to know all the answers and tricks to making a sick child feel better, the sleepless nights, the permanent baby food stains on all your clothes, the loss of daily adult interaction, the permanent bags under your eyes. If I had 19 children (which I am sure I will not), I'd be a mess, not the picture of loving parenthood that the Duggar's are.

I realize that I'm not being very nice to the Duggar family, and I really haven't read a lot about their family, since their seemingly perfect household drives me nuts.  I randomly flip onto TLC when their show is playing and I see their perfectly kept house, their children's perfect manners, and their unwavering faith in God.  Then I look at my apartment.  Don't get me wrong. I love my homey space, but there are days when we're lucky if I put away all her toys.  I mean I'm working on making sure all dishes are done before I go to bed and all toys put away, but some nights I'm so tired (lazy) that it just doesn't all get done.  My bathrooms rarely get their weekly cleaning, and there is ALWAYS a pile of dirty laundry waiting for me.  

   I love Bee, but am having a hard time being a complete stay at home mom.  I can feel my brain cells diminishing each time I sing along to her picnic basket: "a place for me, a place for you...thank you for sharing, your yummy cookie treat!...red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, it's a rainbow!"  But she loves it, so I keep on singing.  At least she doesn't care that I do not possess proper vocal cords for making melodies.  I find myself trying to make conversations with people at the grocery store check outs, my landlady, random people in our complex, the teenage girl who lives beside us, or the couple who smoke weed in the apartment below us.  Even with these feelings of growing stupidity I feel guilty for wanting time away from my daughter.  I bet Michelle Duggar never begs for "alone time".

But here I become sappy once again.  I watch Bee walking on her chubby legs, pushing her scooter and I flush with pride.  She smiles at me and instantly, all the resentment I felt earlier at her insistence to not sleep, goes away.  I am truly a puddle of gooey love feelings, and I'm not ashamed of it.  Guess that's why Michelle Duggar seems so saintly, all those kids are going to give her an ocean of those gooey love feelings.  That or she's been smoking weed with my downstairs neighbours.