Up to Speed

I don't know if you keep up with both  of my blogs. If you do, you've already read THIS and THIS. If you haven't, you should read those two posts to catch you up to speed on our whereabouts and whatabouts. Go head... I'll wait...
...waiting.

...waiting.

...all caught up? good! If you are nice and observant you'll note that those were posted about 2 months ago, and there has been no update since, oops. We've been a little busy. We moved into that gorgeous house. We unpacked every box that first week-- because my mom is an animal, I tell you! He help was invaluable in setting up our household and creating a homey space. I couldn't have done it alone... I'd still be unpacking the first box and fretting over where to put each and every last item inside. So thanks to my family and friends who helped move and helped unpack and helped make our home awesome in such a short time. What a blessing!
Since the move we've been staying nice and busy.
Slowly rooms are coming together and looking like maybe design was intentional... and not just where things landed when they came out of a box. This is a slooooooooow process though and kind of driving me nuts.
We still don't have any grass in our yard, but we get closer every day. Getting the house in June, it was too late and too early to sod or seed. So we've been killing time prepping the yard for beauty in september. My Dad spent a weekend tilling and grading the yard, it was kind of a mess, and tons of gravel in our top soil... which is really thick, dense clay. Then last week the boys put in a 40+ hour weekend and now we have a beautiful cedar fence surrounding our property. We threw in some simple landscaping (perennials around the front porch) and a few trees and it's starting to be a yard.
Next week the pros are showing up to put in a sprinkler system... and then hopefully by the first of september we'll be ready to lay down some sod. GRASS! Oh em gee. It will be such a blessing and such a facelift to not have this yard of mud. It's been extra bad because the past couple weeks have been rainy... mud mud mud. I am sick of it.
The hardest part about everything has been my limited involvement due to the kid I'm growing. I feel guilty chillin' inside while everyone is working their buns off outside. Not only that, but I want to be involved in the DIY stuff too. sigh.
This kid seems to be growing steadily and healthy-- and is right on track still for our Dec 6 due date. We are super excited for another busy baby boy, and if in-womb activity is any indication, this guy is going to be just as busy as his big brother.
And... that's just about everything for now. This was kind of a wordy not exciting post. Sorry about that. I will have more interesting things to share soon. :) Until then, you can check out the other blog for all kinds of new house info and projects that should be going up shortly.
And now you are officially caught up.

Out of Shape and a Deal breaker

I generally consider to be in decent shape. I mean, I'm not an elite athlete by any means, but I run semi-regularly. We get out and do active stuff. I can run a mile and hold a conversation without dying. I mean, that's an acceptable level of  'in-shape' right?
But there is one thing, more than any other athletic feat, that gets me every time. It is monstrous both in it's everyday simplicity and the sheer amount of physical stamina it requires. Nothing else can get my heart pumping, panting for breath, and sweat pouring in such a short amount of time. Do you know with this immensely physically demanding task is?
Carrying laundry baskets up the stairs.
No I am serious.
There are two big flights of stairs between my laundry machines and my closets. Nothing makes me doubt my level of physical fitness more than carry full baskets of laundry up and down those stairs.
Seriously. It is my least favorite and most labor intensive household task. And the reason why I have decided when we buy a house, the location of the laundry room is a DEAL BREAKER.
Idealy, I would love a ranch style, so I don't have to haul anything up and down stairs... but if there are stairs I insist that the laundry facilities are on the same floor as the bedrooms. I am not even kidding.
It's a non-negotiable for me at this point.

Vocab (16 mos)

At 16 months Sam says the following things... (and adds to this list daily)

 
Names
Mama
Daddy
Poppy (Grandpa S)
Memaw (Grandma S)
Papa (Grandpa P)
Nana (Grandma P)
G.G. (Great Grandma P)
MeMe (Aunt Melodie)
Cookie (Aunt Cookie/Amy)
Cha Cha/Charlie
Wi Wi/ Weanie (Winston)
(When prompted to say Sam, he says, ME!)

Food
Mooony (smoothie)
Turkey
cookie
Cheese
Nana (banana)
Juice
Hungy (hungry)
eat!
Wa-dee (water)
More
BEAN! (jelly beans, or any candy)


Animals
Doggy
Puppy
Munny (bunny)
Mooo (when he sees a cow)
Roar!(when asked what a Lion says)
Woof woof (when asked what a doggy says)
Pops his lips (when asked what a fishy says)

Other
No (or shakes his head)
Baby
Jesus
Ahhh-meeeen! (Amen, after bedtime prayers)
Potty
Poopy
Bootie (when he sees his naked bootie in the mirror)
Ball
B-ball (baseball)
(makes motorcycle noises when on his rocking cycle)
Go!
Car
Keys
Kiss/Kisses
HI! (especially when he sees or holds a phone)
Bu-bye.
Ni-night
Boo! (like he's scaring you)
No no no (when he's doing something he knows he's not supposed to)
Peas (please) (rarely when prompted)
Tank you (occasionally when prompted)
Shoe
Pocky (we have no idea what this means, but he says it constantly, it is by far his favorite word)

Phrases
All done!
Ohhhh nooo!
uh oh
(Will sing jibberish if you ask him for a song)

Signs (etc.)
More
All done (turns up his palms and shrugs)
Berries
Bye bye (waves)
Blows kisses
Will point to his Head, tummy, toes, ears, nose... and penis (his Dad is very proud and amused by this last one.)

Sam is a chatty kid, and talks or sings jibberish all the time. When not using recognizable words, he still mimics the things we say and our inflections. He loves being sung and read to, and loves singing along or patting rhythms along with music that's playing. We, of course, believe he is of superior language and musical intelligence (unbiased parents that we are)... but he is a joy to watch learn and communicate each day!

Mama Confessions #17

I hate kid music.
There, I said it.
I mean, with all the wonderful, complex, beautiful, interesting, fun, and richly educational music available to us at the click of a button these days--
WHY is there a whole genre dedicated to silly, simplistic, poorly orchestrated, nonsense, bad grammar, and character voices with terrible vocal technique that you are supposed to expose your children to before anything else? It's horrifying. Not to mention obnoxious.
Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog... No.
You put your belly in, you put your belly out... Are you serious?
I like to ate, ate, ate, aepples and banae-naes... UGGGHHH!
Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere... please shoot me.
I can't do it. I don't want to.
Sam listens to the radio with me. We listen to my playlists. We listen to classics, top 40, broadway, progressive rock (thanks, Daddy), instrumental and choral music, easy listening, folk music, alternative... and whatever else we feel like that day. (As I write this, Sam is jammin' out to his all time favorite song-- Phillip Phillips' Home)
But I can't do it. I can't turn Pandora to that toddler station. I won't put in the CD of 'silly songs' someone gave us. I can't. It hurts my head and offends my musicianship.
And you know what? Sam seems to be developing well. He loves to sing and has above average rhythm skills for a 1 yr old. Sooooo...
Why does that stuff even exist? Does anyone enjoy it? Can anyone tolerate it? Can we sign a petition to make five green and speckled frogs sitting on a speckled log GO AWAY? I can't be the only Mama who feels this way...

Vocab

@ 14 months Sam says the following words:
Mama (His first!)
Daddy
Puppy (whispers)
Doggy (whispers) (Puppy and doggy are used interchangeably for any animal)
Cookie (whispers)
(ba)Nana
HI!
Kisses (whispers)
Bye-bye
Thank you
...Shakes his head no, waves, and occasionally signs 'More'

And names the following people:
Mama
Daddy
Poppy (Grandpa S)
Papa (Grandpa P)
Nana (Grandma P)
MeMe (Aunt Melodie)
...And bubbles his lips whenever he sees G.G. (Great Grandma Mary)
...When asked to say 'Grammy' or refer to Grandma S in any way, he just says 'Poppy'

We can't be the only couple who had this conversation this week.

Z: How about a foot rub?
Me: Sure, then we can make out.
Z: (makes a face) I'm not really feelin' that tonight.
Me: Then I am not really feeling a foot rub.
Z: But I have a coupon! You gave it to me for Valentine's day!
Me: Maybe you should have given your wife a coupon to make out, if you were planning to cash that in.
Z: But you told me not to get you anything for Valentine's Day!
Me: That was a trap. It's always a trap, you know that.
Z: (Defeated) I know. But how am I supposed to surprise you when you control all the money?
Me: Be very clever and thoughtful.
Z: What, am I supposed to make tiny withdrawals and hide away $5 a week for months in advance?
Me: Yes. If that's what it takes. PLAN AHEAD.
Z: (pause)    Sooo... no foot rub?
Me: No foot rub.
Z: (Walks away grumbling about how unfair life is...)

A list of nothing in particular

1. I'm inconsistent in posting. I am also inconsistent in caring about that.

2. My child can whip out outlet covers and cabinet locks in .2o seconds. He's like a baby ninja. I can't even get those dang things off, and he just laughs at my efforts to keep him from caustic chemicals under the sink and live electricity.

3. I made Red Velvet Cheesecake Swirl Brownies (yes, there's a lot going on there) for valentines day gifts. They are yummy, but didn't change my life. But I have discussed my feelings on Red Velvet before, so this should not come as a surprise to you.

4. It's February 12 and I still have up Christmas decor. I mean the tree is down, but I still have sparkly red balls hanging about. They are red so I tell people they are valentines day decor, but lets be honest, I'm not fooling anyone.

5. I watch Bunheads when I can catch an episode. Usually on hulu during naptime while I'm doing about 15 other things. And I KNOW the show is ridiculous. But I love it still. It's like... Gilmore Girls with the fast talking and the witty banter, but it's got my girlfriend Sutton Foster in it? So I feel like I have to love it. And also I love fast talking and witty banter. My inner dialogue is fast talking and witty banter. My writing style is fast talking and witty banter. I hope you read in a similar manner. Fast. Witty. Bantery.

6. I made my one year old son's valentine a spoof on one of the trashiest shows on television. Which I don't actually watch-- no for reals-- but my dad does-- yeah, for reals-- and so you have that to look forward to in the next couple days.
(Oh, but Oopsies, that post will be on that other blog so check that out on Valentines Day for your cute attack plus outtakes of epic amazingness.)

7. Amy Lee talked me into doing Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred with her. I have been shredding for less than a week, and OMG it hurts. But I can't stop because Jillian will yell at me. And she tells me I am not allowed to do a 20 minute workout and phone it in. And she tells me abs aren't free. And I believe her.
Amy suggested we take before and after bikini pictures... and though I never plan to wear a bikini in public ever again, I did it and it was so gross. But I haven't deleted the pictures yet because *fingers crossed* I wanna go, "Wow look at the difference!" in about 24 more days.

8. Nothing else to add, I just needed there to be 8 things, because seven is odd AND prime, so I couldn't stop there for obvious reasons. Here's a picture of Sam with a pineapple:

Mama Confessions #16

I was a Dog-Mom before I was a Mama to Sam.
This has mostly been no problem. Both of them are still loved and cared for in a manner befitting their specific species and everyone is happy.

But I do occasionally (okay, all the freaking time) slip up on terminology.
"Sam-- I mean, Winston!"
"Sam has been barking-- err, crying at me all day!"
"Sit! Quiet! ...and that doesn't work for you because you are Sam, and not a dog."

And more than anything...
"I'm gonna go put the baby in his kennel. Dang it, I mean crib."

Mama Confessions #15

Sam is learning to walk right now. Sam is a busy, ornery little boy. Sam runs into, knocks over, crawls over, falls on, and bumps his head on just about every piece of furniture he sees. Sam has lots of bruises.
On christmas morning he pulled a wooden stool over on top of himself leaving him with a giant, bruised, goose-egg on his forehead. Later that day he was at my parents house and walked straight into the the piano, which left another prominent bruise on his face. A few days before he had fallen and busted his lip while playing at my parents house.
All of these incidents happened under the care and careful watch of his parents and grandparents. All who love him and take excellent care of him, and felt terrible about the situation. Sam... if he cried about each of these incidences was over it within seconds and on to his next battle no worse for the wear. But here I am, his loving mother--on Christmas, no less!--carting around my bruised and battered child.
We were at a resturaunt ordering some food, and Sam was waving and being friendly and our server asked how old he was.
"A year," I answered.
"Is he walking yet?" the server asked.
"Not, yet. He's trying... thats why he has all these bruises... " His face really was sad and pathetic looking. Poor battered child.
"Oh," said the server. "I just assumed you beat him."
And my heart dropped... because that server just confirmed my worst fears-- that people were looking on my child and judging me and assuming I was at best negligent, but maybe worse-- abusive. And I started to go into a full terror/rage/panic when I looked up at that server who chuckled and winked at me.
"I have an 18 month old at home. Walking is tough. He looks great." He said and left our table with a smile.
Deep breaths. He was joking.
Sometimes I forget that I am not the only one who has ever done this. Tons of parents have felt guilty about accidental bumps and bruises on their kids, and it doesn't make them a bad parent. It doesn't make me a bad parent. It makes me a parent. One of many out there who understand.

Mama Confessions #14

Motherhood means giving up things.
Obvious things like... Your flat, smooth, sz 4 tummy. A sleep schedule. Rooms of your house and the back seat of your car to baby stuff.
It is the less obvious things that I wasn't expecting and kind of resent.
Things like... that last delightfully crusty corner of bread that you set on the side of your plate for your last bite... and then your toddler sees it and starts pointing bellowing until you hand it over.
Things like... clean water, as waiters can't seem to get a child's cup to the table at the same time the adult water glasses, and of course the kid must have a drink NOW and doesn't know how to drink without spitting backwash and floaties in your glass.
Things like... all the yummiest bits of chicken from your Chipotle burrito bowl, because you know Dad's not gonna share his, and you are not going to buy a separate burrito just for the kid who only wants the chicken and maybe a few beans...
Food.
You have to give up your food.
You hand over choice pieces to chubby hands that will pass it back and forth a few times then often throw it on the floor with a smirk. And you stare at that morsel you were planning on--looking forward to-- consuming now on the floor... and you remind yourself that you are thankful to be a mom.
But really, you wish you could also be thankful for that last bite of delightfully crusty bread in mouth.

Meeting Santa

It's one of those moments, almost a milestone in your child's life. It's Christmastime and the first time they will meet Santa. This meeting can really go one of two ways. Your child will be delighted and coo happily at the jolly man, or they will scream in terror as you try to hand them off quickly enough to snap an awkward photo of them with a strange man in red. While we hope for the former, we prepare for the latter. We knew it could go either way.
We were nearing the front of the line and the three kids in front of us were of the screams of terror variety. Samuel looked on intrigued, giving no hints of what his response would be once his turn arrived.
We stepped up to Santa. Santa smiled. We handed him our baby, and I don't know if I was prepared for what happened next...

...


...


...

 

Santa made exactly NO impression on our child. Sam studied him for a moment, then stared straight ahead, expressionless, kicking his feet until a picture was taken and we went to collect him.

Sooo...

That was that.

I think I'd have been less disappointed if he had screamed? At least then we'd know where we stand on the Santa issue... This particular experience was... anticlimactic?

Well, until next year, Santa... Merry Christmas!

Making Spirits Bright by Keeping Expectations Low

A brand new family of three.

You may or may not recall that last year we had a baby a week and a half before Christmas. Holiday celebrations were... understated. I was pregnant, and/or in the hospital, and/or hormonal and recovering from childbirth throughout the festivities all month long. Once Sam was born I was was excited and determined to make my baby's first Christmas perfect and memorable. I had plans for pictures with Santa, handmade ornaments, sweet christmasy birth announcements, and nothing but happy, glittering, beautiful memories of this first perfect holiday as a family.
None of those things happened.
You want to know my memories of the holiday? Being scared and huge and uncomfortable. Crying in the back bedroom as the rest of the family ate and celebrated. Feeling guilty and inadequate that I had made nothing significant happen for my baby's first Christmas.
Not exactly... what I planned.

Sweet baby bundled up on Christmas

On this side of things... I am disappointed with myself. Not because I didn't complete holiday crafts, but because I had far too many unreasonable expectations. I wasted the holiday, and wasted the moments I could have had with my family frustrated that they didn't look blog-worthy. I beat myself up about it for months. Kinda disgusting, huh?
Earlier this year-- like, June-- I started thinking about and dreading the idea of another Christmas. All the traditions I wanted to establish, creative endeavors I wanted to accomplish, and expectations I would surely fail to meet. Sigh. It made me feel stressed, overwhelmed, and miserable. I saw myself in the back bedroom crying and punching a breastpump again.
I didn't want that.
Obviously.

Santa Baby 2011

 So I sat down and made a list of the things that were important to me to accomplish for the holiday season. It was a long list full of all good and wonderful things, rich traditions and fun memories. And then I (and this is a big thing, pay attention...) forgave myself in advance for not accomplishing every last one.
Then I crossed about half the things off the list, so I had just the most important things on the short list in front of me. And I felt like if I got those things done I would be very happy.
Then I put stars by about three things that were most important on the short list. And I decided I would focus on those three things, and if the rest of the short list didn't happen, I would be okay with just the short short list.
You know one of the things that made the short short list? Enjoy my family.
Already I have failed to accomplish things on the long list. And... I am falling behind on the short list too. My living room has been cluttered with storage boxes for an entire week becuase I can't seem to find time to finish the decorating in between all the other stuff going on. I have already had to tell people 'no' to festive holiday events I would have enjoyed being a part of. And despite my efforts to do 'on the side' work for cash, I don't have the money for the special surprise I wanted to buy for my husband.
But Sam and I watched Charlie Brown Christmas the other day with hot cocoa (for me, warm formula for him, but still!) and he smiled and giggled and my heart was warm and memories made. My dad is building a magnificent gift for Sam that we have spent a lot of time creating and collaborating on. He gets giddy just talking about it, and it makes my heart happy to see him enjoy it so much-- for my Dad, the anticipation of Christmas morning and giving this gift is nearly unbearable. Which is so much more than any department store Santa could give us. My husband works all day, and comes home to a wife who is content and happy to see him-- and not stressed and angry over what has not or cannot be accomplished. The Grandmas got the sweet Baby's First Christmas ornaments that I started last year this time-- only a year late, but still cherished. The short short list.

2012 Christmas Traditions

I'm already happier with the way this holiday season is going. I decided to be realistic, and keep my expectations low, my house clutter at a normal level, and my stress level around 6 (which is kind of my normal functioning level, so that's good! ha!). I'm focusing on the short short list:
Jesus
My family
Generosity
I'm forgiving myself for the times I will undoubtedly fail. I am calling a truce with myself over all the lovely christmas ideas on pinterest that will not happen. I'm keeping my plans few and my expectations low...
Except for expecting this year to be worlds better than the angry, regrettable, hormonal mess that was last year.

Okay, you're right.
(Deep Breath)  
Valerie, I forgive you for last year, too.
There.

Happiest Holidays to you and all your loved ones!!!

Thirteen point freakin' one

I DID IT!!!
I just thought I would throw that up there at the top so you wouldn't be in suspense until the end.
I did it. I completed a half marathon. Before the 6 hour time limit. In an upright position. With a smile on my face.

Thursday night we went to the airport to pick my sister up. She was coming in from NC to run with us, and I was so excited to see her! It had been a long time since she was home! Sam even made a sign for her, because he was so worried Aunt Melodie would not recognize him-- he's so big!
We had a little fun at the airport.

Friday morning Sam and I headed over to my parents house for a running super-food breakfast of pancakes! Then we got to spend the day shopping and playing with the family before heading downtown and checking into our hotel. (My parents got us a room downtown so we wouldn't have to get up so early the next morning.) We crammed 5 adults and an infant in a pack and play all into one room!

Sam gets fitted new running shoes... :)

 Then we went to packet pick up and the expo. This is the first race i have ever been a part of that actually had an expo! It was interesting walking around and looking at all the junk people wanted to sell you... we bought sparkly headbands! And we grabbed wristbands for our pace groups. Then we went out to dinner. We attempted the pasta place but it was over-run with racers... so we went a little further and found a better option... SUSHI!
So good.

Early morning pre-race shot

Z had to work all day, so he joined us at the hotel that evening, and we tried to sleep... but I was so nervous-- I think everyone was-- that it was difficult to get much rest. We got up at 6 the next morning, got dressed and headed down to line up. The race started at 7:05 and it was COLD out.
I kept debating what pace group I should join-- or if I should join one at all. I had some pretty significant differences in my training times and my race times from the 5k and 10k I had recently done... and i just didn't know how to gauge it for the half marathon. I decided to join the 2:40 group, even though I was pretty confident I could do better than that. But I stood there in the cold chit-chatting with the other runners in that pace group and trying not to waste precious energy shivering.
It was the biggest race I have ever been a part of, and my pace group was so far back that I couldn't even hear any kind of starting gun... we just heard a cheer go through the crowd and saw the first runners sprint up the hill about a half mile ahead of us. Oh boy. So we walked up to the starting line, took a big scared breath, and started it at an easy jog.

Liberty Memorial behind me

I quickly knew I was in the wrong pace group. I tried to stay with them for the first mile... but it quickly became a challenge... they were so slow! I was wasting more energy staying with them than it was worth... so I ditched them. And fell into pace with another runner who suggested we try to catch the 2:35 pace group, and we did before the 2nd mile. The third mile was a beast-- running up the hill by the liberty memorial! At the top of the hill I caught sight of the 2:30 pace group and I was all, I'm a rock star! And then Bam!, another hard hill by the hospital. And... I never caught them.
But that's okay.

I ran along at my own pace. I enjoyed the scenery. I enjoyed my own company. I talked to myself the whole time, a little amazed that I was actually doing this-- that I was actually enjoying it!
I loved turning from Westport toward the Plaza down this canopied street of beautiful fall colored trees. I loved the bands they had along the way playing music all morning for the people running. I loved the energetic church choir that was running the water station at mile 8, they were my favorite. at the 11 mile water station the marathon leader passed me (sigh) but he had a police escort and they were playing dramatic music as he (at mile 24 of his own race) went breezing past all of us half marathoners gutting it out at mile 11 of ours. Passed us like it was nothing. Jerk. Not really. He earned it.
It was my secret goal not to let the marathoners beat me accross the finish line. Obviously that didn't happen. But I am happy to report the marathon leader (who came in at 2:320000000something?) was the ONLY marathoner that beat me. Ha!

Me being awesome.

I picked up my pace a smidge at that point and tried to run it in pretty hard. Before the race I had a friend tell me-- the first three miles and the last mile are all run on pure adrenaline, so you really only have the 9 in the middle to worry about, and you've got 9 miles in you. haha. She was right, though. That last mile was all adrenaline. I was close, I was almost done, I was... I was amazing, you guys. You don't even understand. I felt so good, so proud. I was smiling and waving at everyone. I rounded the last corner and could see the finish line and started sprinting in. I was scanning the crowd along the sides for my family-- I wanted to hear them cheer for me, but I really wanted them to see me cross that finish line. I wanted Z to see me cross the finish line with this smile on my face.
And I was yards-- feet-- from the finish line-- and there they were-- and it was awesome.
And I did it.

Crossing the finish line (the clock is wrong...)

Two hours, thirty-four minutes, and forty-seven seconds. Thirteen point freakin' one miles.
I did it.

I couldn't stop smiling. My family met me and hugged me and I thought I might cry for a minute-- I was so excited, so happy, so proud. Four or five months earlier when I first said I wanted to do it, I didn't honestly believe I would follow through. But I did, for once in my life I stuck with the program and gutted it out to the end. I had my family with me-- encouraging and helping me along the way, and yelling for me at the finish line as I accomplished my goal.
It was awesome.

Half marathoners!

(I'll share a number breakdown soon... for anyone who cares.)

It's Different This Year

Source: mialinnman.blogspot.com via Alyssa on Pinterest

I can't believe it's been almost a year...
...Since I quit my full time job to be a stay at home Mama.
...since my little man was born, and melted our hearts forever.
...since the last holiday season came and went!
And now it's almost here again. If you are one of those people about to go all nutso on me for mentioning the holidays in october... cool your jets and wait a month to read this, deal?
Actually I've been thinking about holidays and birthdays for months... because I know everything is going to be different this year. Going from a two income household of two, to a one income household of three has made a significant change in our financial situation. (Shocker, I know.) But that is also going to make a significant change in how we celebrate the holidays this year.

When I worked full time, I didn't always like my job. I worked with some over the top 'characters' and a typical day played out more like an outrageous workplace sitcom than your every day office. Some days it drove me nuts, some days it amused me to no end, and some days I was bored to tears-- but with as crazy as the work environment was, the owners of the company were always very kind to me and very generous. Every year at Christmas especially, they would give a very generous bonus, and that bonus check was one of my favorite parts of Christmas each year.
That sounds bad-- it was my favorite because I never counted on it being there... I went about my holiday as if it weren't coming so that it truly was a bonus--surplus-- when I got it... then I would take that check, cash it, and go spend it all as fast as I could buying toys, food, and clothes for an 'adopted' Christmas child. I loved that lavish, guilt free shopping spree so much. Truly, it was one of my favorite parts of Christmas every year.
And this year... it's going to be different.
Because obviously I am no longer working at that job, and my current job doesn't pay in cash. ;) I am not getting a Christmas bonus check this year, and that is so disappointing to me because even though finances are tight-- I don't want to have to 'cut back' to exclude that part of our (okay, my) holiday traditions.
Soooo... I've been working for months on several little side projects trying to squirrel away enough money for us to adopt another kid or two this Christmas.  I sold a bunch of Sam's baby clothes, I'm going to have a booth at a holiday market selling handmade accesories, and... I spent hours upon hours this fall picking, cleaning, peeling, cooking, and canning fruit that I am selling. So far I have been successful in making about half of my goal amount... which is exciting!
I also talked to my extended family to get them on board, with the suggestion that we cut back on the extravagant gifts we give each other and in place of that... help someone else out. They agreed (some of them begrudgingly--cough-Dad!-cough cough) and we are going to hopefully be able to adopt a larger family this year and go on a family Christmas shopping spree... which I am actually looking forward to.

So things are different this year. Not... different bad. But different. But it kinda feels even better. Because this year I've been working through it and thinking about it for months. I have been planning and saving and already praying for the family we will 'adopt' this year. It's different... but maybe even different better?

Mama Confessions #13

It has been nearly a year since I was pregnant and I still have a couple maternity tops in regular rotation in my wardrobe. They are just sooooooo comfy, I can't give them up. They are a guilty pleasure, a bad habit.

I try to justify it...
They don't look maternity. 
Flowy blouses are a thing, right? 
No one would know if they didn't check the tags...
Whatever, Mama, you are rockin' this look like childless early-twenties-something. 

Um... Don't judge me.

Mama Confessions #12

My child is better looking than yours.
Oh, don't judge me. You think the same thing.
Look, I am not saying that your child is unattractive. When I told you she is adorable and beautiful, when I told you he is handsome and charming... I wasn't lying. You know I'm a horrible liar, so it's true, I believe those things I said about your child.
But lets just go ahead and fess up here and be honest about the fact that every mother, while capable of recognizing beauty and attractive qualities in other babies, will always believe that her own are the most attractive. And when we see other children-- even exceptionally cute children that we need to comment on out loud... we are still in our head thinking, wow I'm glad that my kid is even better looking than that kid!
See I'll prove it to you...

This is a cute kid. You can't deny this is cute. I dare you to find bluer eyes, longer lashes, a sweeter smile with little teeth poking out...
You just imagined a picture of your own child in a similar-- but cuter-- situation, didn't you? See? Guilty.

Mama confessions #11

I still feed my family grain.
I do.
And I know some of you are thinking SO? and some of you are thinking... don't you know, that's the sure ticket to obesity, sickness, and death!
Look, some of these trends in healthful eating are just that-- trends. And I have consistently stayed several trends behind.
I try to feed my family a balanced, unprocessed, (mostly) organic diet. So I am on that wagon. We do pretty good, but sometimes we have fail days. Regardless, I feel pleased with our eating habits, for the most part.
I have yet to find reason to restrict gluten in our diet, and I am convinced the husband would revolt if I did. He has a love affair with wheaty, gluteny goodness that rivals any I have ever seen.
I've done some research on the topic, and though I recognize there are benefits, I am still not convinced Paleo is right for our family either. I know, I know...  I am opening myself up here for a lot of unsolicited info from all my 'Paleo' friends. I know there are a lot of you that sing the praises of it, and can't believe that with the obvious benefits and information available lousy moms like me still choose to consume and serve my family grains.
Let me say though, I am proud of you-- and impressed at your dedication if you have selected this for your life and for your family. I just can't. I am not there yet. I am not convinced. And on top of that-- I am pretty sure our financial situation limits us even further from venturing into that realm. And sometimes I feel a little judged-- a little out of the loop-- a little not trendy-- a little worried that what I am doing is not right.
But I see the generous supply of good foods on our table, in our pantry. And I look at the chubby cheeks, and round belly of my little man. He is strong, healthy, and thriving. I am doing my best to provide the best possible sustenance for my family, and we are doing well.
Even eating grain.
So we're going to keep going on that train for now... until I have good reason to change our course.

Tapering

We are nearing the end of the training program, and the end of the training means the start of the race and I am more terrified the closer we get.
But the start of the race also means the week before the race-- that special week that may possibly have been the motivation for this whole plan to begin with. Guilt-free carb-fest all week long. Can I get a woot and a wooty-woot?!?! I have been planning the last week of training before I started training 10 weeks ago. And as scared as I am for this race... hullo carbfest! It's going to be EPIC. And you know how I feel about that word. I use it seldom and judiciously, so you know I mean it.

Anyway... I've come far. Did you know I ran 22 miles last week? 22 miles in a week is intense for non-athletic me. Double digit mileage runs. Running for more than 2 hours at a time. Running-- and not just to the nearest cupcake store, you hear me? I have come so far that now I get to go back. Well, a little at least... after building and building mileage it's time to start tapering so I am 100% for the race in... OMG a week and a half?

This is all really mind boggling, and even more boggling that I am the one doing it. Sometimes running is an out-of-body experience and I see myself running down the road and I am all-- who does she think she is?
And I feel sheepish going into the running store to ask a question about my shoes, because I am not a 'real' runner. And Z says-- that's crap. You are a real runner. You run. You stuck to a training program, you are about to complete a significant race. You are a real runner. You do better than most people in this country.
Bless him, for playing the 'You're less lazy than average america' card.

Anyway. I don't have impressive running stats or times to impress you with. In two weeks I am running a half marathon and people keep asking me what my projected finish time is, and I keep saying-- well, they open the streets back up after six hours for the marathoners, so I hope to cross the finish line before then.
I have also been joking that I plan to collapse at the finish line and never run again-- but thats a lie too, as we have another race scheduled the following month.

I know it's going to be a real physical and mental challenge for me to complete the race. But I feel like I can complete it. I have nearly completed the 12 week training program, and I don't think I have ever committed and stuck to ANYTHING for that long-- other than pregnancy, probably. But that's different.

Anyway, here we go... wish me luck. And if you want to cheer me on at the finish line? I should be completing the 13.1 miles somewhere between 1 and 6 hours!

*We were in Iowa at the beginning of the month visiting family, and my MIL took these pics of Z and I getting our training runs in around the cemetery. At first I thought it was weird to run around a cemetery, but this one is pretty big, and it was beautiful too. And then I thought it was weird to think a cemetery is beautiful-- but it was. Very fall-ish and peaceful. Lots of trees and hills and lovely paths and scenery. Just so you know, cemeteries aren't weird.

Mama confessions #10

I hide the toys that light up and make noise. I told people not to buy them for us, because I didn't want them cluttering up our house and my brain with their horrible electronic renditions of nursery songs... GAH. Anyway, that might make me a mean mom, but whatever, I'll take the ridicule along with my sanity, thank you.
Even still, there are a few that found their way into our house, and I hid them in the far back corner of the closet. I hid them so that I could take them out on days like... yesterday.
After a hard run I was so tired and so exhausted and so in need of a shower. And Sam was being so sad and so clingy and so if-you-put-me-down-you-will-regret-it. So I set him down in his crib [screams] and fished that little blinking singing piano toy out of the closet and handed it to Sam [more screams]. Then I pushed the little button and it started blinking and singing [awe-filled silence]. And he sat silently pushing the button over and over again for the next 15 minutes while I took a bubble bath in the next room and tried to ignore polly-wolly-doodle-all-day spewing forth from the new 'magic' toy.
And that is why I hide the noise making light up toys; Because sometimes Mama needs a little magic up her sleeve to make it through those days. Woe is me the day my son is de-sensitized to the magic. But for today, the magic is hidden away for another desperate moment.

Daddy's Rhymes

Z started reciting nursery rhymes to Sam the other night during his bath. I listened quietly for a few minutes, then encouraged him to continue... well, becuase it was just so darn entertaining. Here are a few nursery rhymes, Z style:

"Slickery, dickory dock.
Alice jumped off the clock.
uh... Bat mobile lost a wheel.
Or something. The end."

"Little Miss Muffet sat on her tuffet,
eating... I don't know, cottage cheese? I think.
The wolf came down, and passed it around.
uh... 98 bottles of beer on the wall."

"Old mother Hubbard sat in her cupboard...
whats this even about? I don't know." 
 
He would laugh after each one, and eventually I would tell him the correct words to the nursery rhymes, and he would usually respond, that's kind of terrible. Which he's right. Nursery rhymes are disturbing mostly. So maybe we'll just stick with Z's versions.
Tell me our kid is going to have a normal childhood. :)