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.)