Dear Buddy,
I just brought you home from the hospital- you with your big head of dark hair, you with your ready-for-a-steak-at-birth appetite.
You can't possibly be 18 months old already. Yet, here we are. You are now older than your sister was when we brought you home that day.
You, my son, are an imp. Your Great Gram Eldred would agree if she were here with us.
You get into everything and anything you can get your hands on. I've joked that since you started crawling at 9 months, I feel like I save you from imminent death every day.
I still feel that way.
Your latest feat is to climb onto any chair that is available, and then climb onto the table. I have also seen you stand up on the seat of a grocery cart (you have to understand- your sister was so not adventurous- I never buckled the belt on the seat- I know, Bad Mommy).
You are such a little man. You are a ball of energy, love and giggles. You love to be chased, and boy, you run fast these days! I actually have to really hustle now when you start booking it down the driveway. Have I mentioned what a daredevil you are?
As much as you don't like to sit still, you are a cuddler. When you feel like you need snuggles, like after you get up in the morning and after your nap, you rest your head against my chest and suck on your thumb. I cherish those moments more than you can imagine.
See, I know from watching your sister, that 18 months is the turning point. At 12 months, you were still very much a baby. Now, you're half baby, half toddler, with the toddler side gaining ground every day. I know now that your 2 year birthday will be here before I can blink, and my heart actually seizes for a moment.
You are my last baby. Your dad and I have decided to stop at two, and now that it's definite, I'm cherishing your baby moments even more than I was before.
You are so, so special. I love the way you dance to "Call Me Maybe", and your affinity for closing any and all doors you come across. Your giggle is the sound of pure joy, and is even more special because you are such a serious little guy in general.
Happy Year and a Half, Buddy Boy. Dad, Rosie and I love you so much.
Love,
Mom
Wednesday, July 31, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
My Mother's Hand
On our way back from an outing a few weekends ago, we noticed that the CD player on my 2006 Ford Focus showed two words: Low Battery.
Huh. We had never seen that before...
The car seemed to be running fine, and we couldn't find anything in the owner's manual about it, so we hopped on I-91 South.
I am thankful to tell you we didn't break down on the highway. Instead, on Route 9 in Williamsburg (the town next to ours), all the gauges on the dashboard stopped working. Steve had experienced this before in his mom's car, and knew the car was about to die. I thought quickly and said: "Pull it into the Blacksmith parking lot". He did just that, and as soon as he did, the car died.
Our car died directly in front of the door that my Mom used to work behind for almost 20 years.
She was the sole person in charge of shipping for the Williamsburg Blacksmith Shop. She did it all by hand- no machines- just wrapping orders in her perfectionist way (I do say that with love), using packing tape, and carefully writing out the addresses in her beautiful handwriting. This was the 1980s and 90s and she never used a computer to do her work.
She worked in a tiny hole of a room- no windows- but she had her door. She also had a screen door, and would get a nice breeze through it. My mother never wanted for much. This room fit her to a T and didn't bother her at all. I loved watching her work the few times I went in with her. She did the packing of the cabinet latches and coat hooks with a grace that comes from experience. She enjoyed interacting with the few other people that worked there (I believe she was one of only five employees). She was blue collar and tomboy, through and through. She wore men's button down shirts, Levi jeans, tan work boots, and smoked through the entire day.
I don't think it's just coincidence that we happened to break down directly in front of where she used to work. As I've said in an earlier post, I Believe. I Believe that my mom is one of my guardian angels, and that she, with the help of God, made sure we broke down in a safe spot, and not on the highway. Our car could have lost power anywhere between Ludlow and Goshen, and it happened to lose it right there.
I Believe that my mother's hand, the same one that braided my hair and packed latches and handles with such care, led my family to a safe spot so we would be kept out of harm.
Thank you, Mom. I love you.
Huh. We had never seen that before...
The car seemed to be running fine, and we couldn't find anything in the owner's manual about it, so we hopped on I-91 South.
I am thankful to tell you we didn't break down on the highway. Instead, on Route 9 in Williamsburg (the town next to ours), all the gauges on the dashboard stopped working. Steve had experienced this before in his mom's car, and knew the car was about to die. I thought quickly and said: "Pull it into the Blacksmith parking lot". He did just that, and as soon as he did, the car died.
Our car died directly in front of the door that my Mom used to work behind for almost 20 years.
She was the sole person in charge of shipping for the Williamsburg Blacksmith Shop. She did it all by hand- no machines- just wrapping orders in her perfectionist way (I do say that with love), using packing tape, and carefully writing out the addresses in her beautiful handwriting. This was the 1980s and 90s and she never used a computer to do her work.
She worked in a tiny hole of a room- no windows- but she had her door. She also had a screen door, and would get a nice breeze through it. My mother never wanted for much. This room fit her to a T and didn't bother her at all. I loved watching her work the few times I went in with her. She did the packing of the cabinet latches and coat hooks with a grace that comes from experience. She enjoyed interacting with the few other people that worked there (I believe she was one of only five employees). She was blue collar and tomboy, through and through. She wore men's button down shirts, Levi jeans, tan work boots, and smoked through the entire day.
I don't think it's just coincidence that we happened to break down directly in front of where she used to work. As I've said in an earlier post, I Believe. I Believe that my mom is one of my guardian angels, and that she, with the help of God, made sure we broke down in a safe spot, and not on the highway. Our car could have lost power anywhere between Ludlow and Goshen, and it happened to lose it right there.
I Believe that my mother's hand, the same one that braided my hair and packed latches and handles with such care, led my family to a safe spot so we would be kept out of harm.
Thank you, Mom. I love you.
Friday, July 26, 2013
I Did This Right
I think it's only human to reflect on what you could have done better or how you could have handled a situation differently. I have a tendency to reflect on these things more than I do the things I Did Right.
I had an "Aha!" moment the other day. Rosie, over the past couple of weeks, has been willingly, and on her own accord, using the potty, and has been doing so very successfully. She's not fully trained by any means, but I'd say she's well on her way.
It's really, really hard not to compare your child to others his or her age. Most kids I know started potty training way before 3 years old. It's not to say that I didn't try to set the stage. She's had a potty chair for well over a year, heck, I even bought a DVD called "Potty Power". (Not realizing it had the most annoying songs ever, including "What Do You Like to Do When You're Sitting on the Potty?").
I asked her, day in and day out, if she wanted to use the potty. "No" was almost always the answer. I could tell she was afraid of the regular toilet, and she thought her potty chair was "too cold". (Of course anyone who's been around a toddler knows that anything not desirable might be described as "too hot/ cold/ tired" etc). I worried. When was she ever going to potty train? As she got older, and Preschool loomed before us, I got anxious.
I should have known that the answer lay within the parenting mentality that I've been using for almost three years now- I needed to just let her tell me when she was ready. And that's exactly what she did. All of a sudden, she decided she was ready, and she started to do it. It was, exactly as other parents had described, as if a switch had been flicked on in her head.
It made me realize, this is my parenting style- I don't push my kids into doing things before they are ready. They will let me know. So many things come to mind. I worried about how we were ever going to stop Rosie's finger sucking that she did when she was nervous or tired. She dropped it herself at 2.5 without any cajoling from us. I worried that because Buddy didn't like to read books with me, that he was going to not talk as much. Now he talks up a storm, and demonstrates daily that he thinks in different ways than Rosie does.
When you just let kids do things on their own time, there's a lot less crying and frustration all around. There are definitely exceptions to this rule, but in general, I like that we operate in this fashion. My daughter is using the potty, no problem, because I'm not forcing her to. Buddy is coming around to books because he wants to, not because I'm making him.
I have many moments where I question or second guess aspects of my parenting, but today I feel like I'm Doing this Right.
I had an "Aha!" moment the other day. Rosie, over the past couple of weeks, has been willingly, and on her own accord, using the potty, and has been doing so very successfully. She's not fully trained by any means, but I'd say she's well on her way.
It's really, really hard not to compare your child to others his or her age. Most kids I know started potty training way before 3 years old. It's not to say that I didn't try to set the stage. She's had a potty chair for well over a year, heck, I even bought a DVD called "Potty Power". (Not realizing it had the most annoying songs ever, including "What Do You Like to Do When You're Sitting on the Potty?").
I asked her, day in and day out, if she wanted to use the potty. "No" was almost always the answer. I could tell she was afraid of the regular toilet, and she thought her potty chair was "too cold". (Of course anyone who's been around a toddler knows that anything not desirable might be described as "too hot/ cold/ tired" etc). I worried. When was she ever going to potty train? As she got older, and Preschool loomed before us, I got anxious.
I should have known that the answer lay within the parenting mentality that I've been using for almost three years now- I needed to just let her tell me when she was ready. And that's exactly what she did. All of a sudden, she decided she was ready, and she started to do it. It was, exactly as other parents had described, as if a switch had been flicked on in her head.
It made me realize, this is my parenting style- I don't push my kids into doing things before they are ready. They will let me know. So many things come to mind. I worried about how we were ever going to stop Rosie's finger sucking that she did when she was nervous or tired. She dropped it herself at 2.5 without any cajoling from us. I worried that because Buddy didn't like to read books with me, that he was going to not talk as much. Now he talks up a storm, and demonstrates daily that he thinks in different ways than Rosie does.
When you just let kids do things on their own time, there's a lot less crying and frustration all around. There are definitely exceptions to this rule, but in general, I like that we operate in this fashion. My daughter is using the potty, no problem, because I'm not forcing her to. Buddy is coming around to books because he wants to, not because I'm making him.
I have many moments where I question or second guess aspects of my parenting, but today I feel like I'm Doing this Right.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
This Old House
We hosted a family reunion this past weekend.
It was a lot of work but more importantly, a lot of fun. We took on the annual picnic that has been happening once a summer for almost 100 years. Over that many years, the families have grown so much, that everyone who attends now is mostly related to each other by their great grandfathers, grandmothers, aunts, uncles, etc. It's the "Packard Picnic", but very few people who attend still have the name Packard.
Something that made this picnic very special was that it returned to the spot where it began all those years ago- to the Packard homestead. Our house.
Many of the people who came hadn't stepped inside the house for over 30 years. I loved seeing their expressions as they walked through room after room, seeing in their mind's eye what they remembered from so many years ago. They talked about large family gatherings and holidays in the room that's now our stove room, but used to be the dining room. They talked about the pantry, which is now the bathroom, and the sewing room, now our living room, which had a good couch for napping.
You could see that each person was experiencing a flood of memories. My only wish is that I could see it the way they remembered it.
The rain held off and we were able to hold the Picnic outside. It was the best weather we had in days. We ate delicious food, chatted and played games like Balloon Toss and Egg Toss.
As I sat in the cool shade, and listened to my relatives laughing and chatting, I couldn't help but feel our ancestors were smiling down upon us, glad that we had all come Home.
It was a lot of work but more importantly, a lot of fun. We took on the annual picnic that has been happening once a summer for almost 100 years. Over that many years, the families have grown so much, that everyone who attends now is mostly related to each other by their great grandfathers, grandmothers, aunts, uncles, etc. It's the "Packard Picnic", but very few people who attend still have the name Packard.
Something that made this picnic very special was that it returned to the spot where it began all those years ago- to the Packard homestead. Our house.
Many of the people who came hadn't stepped inside the house for over 30 years. I loved seeing their expressions as they walked through room after room, seeing in their mind's eye what they remembered from so many years ago. They talked about large family gatherings and holidays in the room that's now our stove room, but used to be the dining room. They talked about the pantry, which is now the bathroom, and the sewing room, now our living room, which had a good couch for napping.
You could see that each person was experiencing a flood of memories. My only wish is that I could see it the way they remembered it.
The rain held off and we were able to hold the Picnic outside. It was the best weather we had in days. We ate delicious food, chatted and played games like Balloon Toss and Egg Toss.
As I sat in the cool shade, and listened to my relatives laughing and chatting, I couldn't help but feel our ancestors were smiling down upon us, glad that we had all come Home.
Monday, July 22, 2013
What No One Tells You: Delivery Room Edition
What no one tells you about labor/ the delivery room is that:
- laboring in water is so much better than laboring out of water. I was blessed to have a hospital that had Jacuzzi jet bathtubs in every delivery room. With my second labor, I sat in there for hours, and the whirr of the jets helped me through my breathing and contractions. As soon as I got out, the pain increased ten fold. I would actually consider a water birth if I were to do it again.
- your nurse may have all sorts of ideas on how to help you with your labor. You may want to hug her or smack her. Mine told me I should bounce on the exercise ball and let Steve massage my shoulders. I laughed at her even though I knew she was just trying to help. Every woman labors differently, and you don't know your style until you're doing it. I liked to sit as still as possible, with no one talking to me or touching me in any way. I just wanted to breathe through it with as few distractions as possible. Both times, Steve sat near me, playing games on his iPad or resting, while I labored quietly. I thought I would need more from him- turns out I just needed his presence.
- it really is so much better if you put off the epidural for as long as possible (or go totally without- my hats off to you women!). When I got the epidural early on the first time, I couldn't feel my legs for a long time afterwards and I overall felt crummy. Second time, I waited so long, that by the time they gave me the epidural, I was ready to push. After birth, I was able to nurse, shower and eat almost immediately.
- your husband might become violently ill with a stomach bug right after you have your baby, and the nurse is not allowed to do anything for him as he is not a patient. You may have to call your in-laws in hormonal tears, asking for one of them to pick up your germy husband, and for the other one to come ride in the backseat with your newborn son on his ride home.
Most of all, what no one tells you about labor, is that birthing babies will give you a confidence you didn't know existed. Bringing life into the world is no small thing; once you've done it you pretty much feel like you can do anything. Doing it twice just doubles that confidence level. You gain an even greater appreciation for your own mom, and the women in your life who are mothers. You start doing things like speaking up more about what matters to you, and letting go of people and circumstances that bring you down instead of up. Once you've given birth, you know how fragile and precious life is. Why waste a single second pretending to be anyone but your true self?
- laboring in water is so much better than laboring out of water. I was blessed to have a hospital that had Jacuzzi jet bathtubs in every delivery room. With my second labor, I sat in there for hours, and the whirr of the jets helped me through my breathing and contractions. As soon as I got out, the pain increased ten fold. I would actually consider a water birth if I were to do it again.
- your nurse may have all sorts of ideas on how to help you with your labor. You may want to hug her or smack her. Mine told me I should bounce on the exercise ball and let Steve massage my shoulders. I laughed at her even though I knew she was just trying to help. Every woman labors differently, and you don't know your style until you're doing it. I liked to sit as still as possible, with no one talking to me or touching me in any way. I just wanted to breathe through it with as few distractions as possible. Both times, Steve sat near me, playing games on his iPad or resting, while I labored quietly. I thought I would need more from him- turns out I just needed his presence.
- it really is so much better if you put off the epidural for as long as possible (or go totally without- my hats off to you women!). When I got the epidural early on the first time, I couldn't feel my legs for a long time afterwards and I overall felt crummy. Second time, I waited so long, that by the time they gave me the epidural, I was ready to push. After birth, I was able to nurse, shower and eat almost immediately.
- your husband might become violently ill with a stomach bug right after you have your baby, and the nurse is not allowed to do anything for him as he is not a patient. You may have to call your in-laws in hormonal tears, asking for one of them to pick up your germy husband, and for the other one to come ride in the backseat with your newborn son on his ride home.
Most of all, what no one tells you about labor, is that birthing babies will give you a confidence you didn't know existed. Bringing life into the world is no small thing; once you've done it you pretty much feel like you can do anything. Doing it twice just doubles that confidence level. You gain an even greater appreciation for your own mom, and the women in your life who are mothers. You start doing things like speaking up more about what matters to you, and letting go of people and circumstances that bring you down instead of up. Once you've given birth, you know how fragile and precious life is. Why waste a single second pretending to be anyone but your true self?
Friday, July 19, 2013
New Memories
We were on a drive a couple weekends ago when I saw Mt. Sugarloaf rising above us. I knew our day was about to get a little more fun.
Once a summer, my family would get take out from our favorite hot dog stand- Tom's- and bring it to the top of Mt. Sugarloaf for a picnic lunch. Once I met Steve, we started doing the same every summer, but when we had kids it went to the wayside.
On this day, there was no reason why we couldn't re-start the tradition and have a picnic lunch on the mountain. So we did just that.
We got hot dogs, fries and a milkshake and sat on our blanket in the shade with a light breeze cooling us off. It was a quintessential summer day, and the kids actually stayed on the blanket and ate lunch, much to our surprise and delight.
Steve mentioned to Rosie that we would be going up onto the lookout tower, the tower where all the princesses live. Neither he or I thought too much about his passing comment, but someone did.
We started up the spiral staircase to the second level of the lookout. Rosie did a quick scan of the layout, and announced "I need my princess dress!" Because of Steve's offhand remark, she was convinced that for the first time in her almost 3 year old life, she was in a castle, a Princess Castle, and obviously she needed her Princess items. We laughed and told her, sorry, we didn't have it with us, but she could dress up when we got home.
I took her hand and brought her up to the third and final level of the lookout. I was lifting her up so she could see the view when she announced: "Put me down. Princesses don't carry me" which is Rosie language for "Put me down. Princesses aren't carried!" I laughed and I laughed and I laughed.
Who would have thought, 15 years ago, when I stood on this lookout, as an angsty teenager who didn't want to be with her parents, that I would be standing here when I was 30, with my 3 year old daughter making Princess demands. I never would have predicted it!
One of my favorite things about being a parent is bringing my kids to the places I have fond memories of from when I was a kid. I get to relive my childhood a little, and the new memories we're making just make these places even more special. I don't think I'll ever go to Mt. Sugarloaf again without remembering that the lookout tower is a Princess Tower, and probably in 12 years, 15 year old Rosie will roll her eyes when I tell her the story.
Once a summer, my family would get take out from our favorite hot dog stand- Tom's- and bring it to the top of Mt. Sugarloaf for a picnic lunch. Once I met Steve, we started doing the same every summer, but when we had kids it went to the wayside.
On this day, there was no reason why we couldn't re-start the tradition and have a picnic lunch on the mountain. So we did just that.
We got hot dogs, fries and a milkshake and sat on our blanket in the shade with a light breeze cooling us off. It was a quintessential summer day, and the kids actually stayed on the blanket and ate lunch, much to our surprise and delight.
Steve mentioned to Rosie that we would be going up onto the lookout tower, the tower where all the princesses live. Neither he or I thought too much about his passing comment, but someone did.
We started up the spiral staircase to the second level of the lookout. Rosie did a quick scan of the layout, and announced "I need my princess dress!" Because of Steve's offhand remark, she was convinced that for the first time in her almost 3 year old life, she was in a castle, a Princess Castle, and obviously she needed her Princess items. We laughed and told her, sorry, we didn't have it with us, but she could dress up when we got home.
I took her hand and brought her up to the third and final level of the lookout. I was lifting her up so she could see the view when she announced: "Put me down. Princesses don't carry me" which is Rosie language for "Put me down. Princesses aren't carried!" I laughed and I laughed and I laughed.
Who would have thought, 15 years ago, when I stood on this lookout, as an angsty teenager who didn't want to be with her parents, that I would be standing here when I was 30, with my 3 year old daughter making Princess demands. I never would have predicted it!
One of my favorite things about being a parent is bringing my kids to the places I have fond memories of from when I was a kid. I get to relive my childhood a little, and the new memories we're making just make these places even more special. I don't think I'll ever go to Mt. Sugarloaf again without remembering that the lookout tower is a Princess Tower, and probably in 12 years, 15 year old Rosie will roll her eyes when I tell her the story.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Vacation Anticipation
Is there anything better than counting down to a vacation? I'd daresay it's better than the vacation itself, because your hopes of how good it could be are very high and there isn't anything that can get you down.
Not even the planning. Or the packing. Or the list making. These things can be daunting, especially when you're packing for two adults and two kids for three nights (the longest we've ever stayed, anywhere).
Which brings me to realize... my kids and husband have it easy! I always do the packing. I'm honestly not complaining- I like it that way. I know that everything that needs to be packed will be packed, and if isn't, I can only get annoyed at myself! I do have to pause for a moment and think about how nice it must be to just go on a vacation and have someone pack everything you could possibly need for you. Those lucky ducks! Steve does do all the driving, though, both ways, which I am very grateful for. It does work out equitably.
We made our reservations back in January for our favorite hotel on Hampton Beach. This will be our third year staying there. While not on the main drag, we can see the beach from our hotel, which is a very good thing when you're standing there with two little hands that need holding, beach umbrella, chairs, cooler, etc. I think no matter what, it'll take two trips this year, unless we sprout extra arms overnight and scare everyone on the beach in the process.
I. cannot. wait. Last year was both Rosie & Buddy's first time at Hampton, but Buddy was only 6 months old. This year, I can't wait to watch his reaction as he runs in and out of the water for the first time.
These kinds of "firsts" are the things I looked forward to most about having a family. We're now getting to do them and I couldn't be happier. 10 years ago, when Steve and I went to Hampton for the first time, I thought I couldn't be happier then. Life is so much richer now.
There will be tantrums. There will be crying. It's inevitable. But as long as I get to feel the sun on my skin, smell the salty air, and feel the sand between my toes, I think everything else will seem small in comparison.
Hampton Beach, here we come!
Not even the planning. Or the packing. Or the list making. These things can be daunting, especially when you're packing for two adults and two kids for three nights (the longest we've ever stayed, anywhere).
Which brings me to realize... my kids and husband have it easy! I always do the packing. I'm honestly not complaining- I like it that way. I know that everything that needs to be packed will be packed, and if isn't, I can only get annoyed at myself! I do have to pause for a moment and think about how nice it must be to just go on a vacation and have someone pack everything you could possibly need for you. Those lucky ducks! Steve does do all the driving, though, both ways, which I am very grateful for. It does work out equitably.
We made our reservations back in January for our favorite hotel on Hampton Beach. This will be our third year staying there. While not on the main drag, we can see the beach from our hotel, which is a very good thing when you're standing there with two little hands that need holding, beach umbrella, chairs, cooler, etc. I think no matter what, it'll take two trips this year, unless we sprout extra arms overnight and scare everyone on the beach in the process.
I. cannot. wait. Last year was both Rosie & Buddy's first time at Hampton, but Buddy was only 6 months old. This year, I can't wait to watch his reaction as he runs in and out of the water for the first time.
These kinds of "firsts" are the things I looked forward to most about having a family. We're now getting to do them and I couldn't be happier. 10 years ago, when Steve and I went to Hampton for the first time, I thought I couldn't be happier then. Life is so much richer now.
There will be tantrums. There will be crying. It's inevitable. But as long as I get to feel the sun on my skin, smell the salty air, and feel the sand between my toes, I think everything else will seem small in comparison.
Hampton Beach, here we come!
Friday, July 12, 2013
In a Funk
Lately, I've been a little more frustrated and irritated than usual.
I'd love to blame it on the humid weather, but that's really not it. I have a bad habit of letting the little things get to me a little too much.
- I was frustrated that Steve's awesome work repainting the side of our house was stalled for over a week and a half because of bad weather.
- I was irritated that plans made far in advance were being changed or cancelled (You think I would know, from being a parent, that this is just par for the course. Instead it gnawed at me).
- I was disappointed that training in my new job wasn't happening as quickly as I was hoping.
In other words, the little things started to get me down to the point that I was getting short and snippy with everyone- husband, kids and dogs included.
Everyone is allowed a funk once in a while. But I knew I had to dig myself out of it because it had been going on a little too long. I organized our closet (dorky, but this is the kind of thing that puts me in a better mood) and set up an "Invitation to Play" for the kids- I put out fake flowers, glass beads and clear cups for them to make bouquets with.
They loved it and I felt productive. It's then that I made a deal with myself:
I need to just take life day by day and realize that there will always be things that are out of my control. I need to bloom where I am planted, which can mean several things, but for me, right now, it means I need to be productive and make the most of every day, despite what might be happening around me.
I need to shake off any negativity and soldier on. It's amazing how much work that feels like sometimes.
I'd love to blame it on the humid weather, but that's really not it. I have a bad habit of letting the little things get to me a little too much.
- I was frustrated that Steve's awesome work repainting the side of our house was stalled for over a week and a half because of bad weather.
- I was irritated that plans made far in advance were being changed or cancelled (You think I would know, from being a parent, that this is just par for the course. Instead it gnawed at me).
- I was disappointed that training in my new job wasn't happening as quickly as I was hoping.
In other words, the little things started to get me down to the point that I was getting short and snippy with everyone- husband, kids and dogs included.
Everyone is allowed a funk once in a while. But I knew I had to dig myself out of it because it had been going on a little too long. I organized our closet (dorky, but this is the kind of thing that puts me in a better mood) and set up an "Invitation to Play" for the kids- I put out fake flowers, glass beads and clear cups for them to make bouquets with.
They loved it and I felt productive. It's then that I made a deal with myself:
I need to just take life day by day and realize that there will always be things that are out of my control. I need to bloom where I am planted, which can mean several things, but for me, right now, it means I need to be productive and make the most of every day, despite what might be happening around me.
I need to shake off any negativity and soldier on. It's amazing how much work that feels like sometimes.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
My Happy Weight
After 11 months of dedication, I think I have finally done it.
I have arrived at, what I deem to be, My Happy Weight.
Last August I weighed 209 lbs. On June 2nd of this year, I weighed 149 lbs. Today I weight 150. As I have not gone below 149, and have not gone over 152 in over a month, I believe my body is telling me: "You're done. You've gone from obese to normal weight, and this is where I want you to be."
The entire time I was losing weight, the most common question I was asked, aside from how I did it, was how much I wanted to lose. I didn't know. My goals changed over the months- first it was just to get out of the obese category, next it was to make it to my high school weight, next it was to get in the normal weight range for my height. Done, done and done. The way my body was responding to a new diet and active lifestyle, I just had a feeling that I was going to stop losing weight when my body decided to.
I was right. I am still giddy stepping on the scale and seeing 150. Not a number over 200, not a number even really close to it. I would be happy if I weighed this the rest of my life. Because I know that weight fluctuates, I'm giving myself a four pound range to stay in (149-152), and I will continue weighing myself every day to make sure I don't get complacent. (Some people call that obsessive, I call it How I Lost 60 Pounds).
I was a little worried that I might get "addicted" to losing weight. Thankfully, this is not the case. Could I lose more weight? Probably, if I went extra strict on my diet. But I don't feel a need to do that. I am happy in my new body and this weight allows me to have a few drinks or an ice cream cone once in a while and not feel bad about it. During the whole process, I was looking for Reality. Reality is, I will always have a sweet tooth, and will need to satisfy it with more than just dark chocolate once in a while. Reality is, I couldn't eat salads every day because A. I didn't think it was practical and B. I don't like salads that much anyway! Reality is, I started a diet plan that included most all of the foods I loved, with a concentration on portion control, because overeating, not necessarily what I ate, is what did me in over ten years ago.
I am happy to be where I am.
I have arrived at, what I deem to be, My Happy Weight.
Last August I weighed 209 lbs. On June 2nd of this year, I weighed 149 lbs. Today I weight 150. As I have not gone below 149, and have not gone over 152 in over a month, I believe my body is telling me: "You're done. You've gone from obese to normal weight, and this is where I want you to be."
The entire time I was losing weight, the most common question I was asked, aside from how I did it, was how much I wanted to lose. I didn't know. My goals changed over the months- first it was just to get out of the obese category, next it was to make it to my high school weight, next it was to get in the normal weight range for my height. Done, done and done. The way my body was responding to a new diet and active lifestyle, I just had a feeling that I was going to stop losing weight when my body decided to.
I was right. I am still giddy stepping on the scale and seeing 150. Not a number over 200, not a number even really close to it. I would be happy if I weighed this the rest of my life. Because I know that weight fluctuates, I'm giving myself a four pound range to stay in (149-152), and I will continue weighing myself every day to make sure I don't get complacent. (Some people call that obsessive, I call it How I Lost 60 Pounds).
I was a little worried that I might get "addicted" to losing weight. Thankfully, this is not the case. Could I lose more weight? Probably, if I went extra strict on my diet. But I don't feel a need to do that. I am happy in my new body and this weight allows me to have a few drinks or an ice cream cone once in a while and not feel bad about it. During the whole process, I was looking for Reality. Reality is, I will always have a sweet tooth, and will need to satisfy it with more than just dark chocolate once in a while. Reality is, I couldn't eat salads every day because A. I didn't think it was practical and B. I don't like salads that much anyway! Reality is, I started a diet plan that included most all of the foods I loved, with a concentration on portion control, because overeating, not necessarily what I ate, is what did me in over ten years ago.
I am happy to be where I am.
Monday, July 8, 2013
What No One Tells You: Pregnancy Edition
What no one tells you about being pregnant is that:
- some day in the future you may look at your daughter and tell her she's made out of hot ham & cheese grinders and ice cream, because that's what you craved. And ate a lot of.
- your ankles might disappear. Entirely. Especially if it's summer and you're eight months along. It's possible that the only shoes you will be able to wear to work are flip flops.
- your baby might be an iron-eating machine while he or she grows inside of you. I was taking 2 iron pills, eating Total cereal plus other iron rich foods every day, and I was still barely above the anemic level on both pregnancies.
- even if you've never had heartburn in your life, you might get it now. Plain water had me running for Tums, and I believe I helped stimulate the economy by buying so many. The good news? As soon as you give birth, the heartburn ends!
- if you care to find out the sex beforehand, you might be labeled by some as someone who "spoils one of life's greatest surprises". (Real quote from an almost stranger during my first pregnancy!) The controversy behind finding out vs. not finding out was one of the more curious things I came across during my pregnancies. We found out the sex for both at 20 weeks, because to us, it is a surprise no matter when you find out. I'm a planner, and I wouldn't want to go 40 weeks thinking it was a girl when it was actually a boy. More to the point- Who. Cares. Live and let live!
Last but not least, what no one tells you about being pregnant is that when it's all said and done, you might remember how miserable you felt on 90 degree days, but most of all you will remember the baby movements, the ones that ranged from a butterfly landing to full on kicks, and how it felt like you were never alone. You had a little baby growing inside of you; you were already a mom. You felt protective like you had never felt in your life, and when things seemed to be going to hell around you, you could put your hands on your belly and know that something had gone right in this crazy world we live in.
- some day in the future you may look at your daughter and tell her she's made out of hot ham & cheese grinders and ice cream, because that's what you craved. And ate a lot of.
- your ankles might disappear. Entirely. Especially if it's summer and you're eight months along. It's possible that the only shoes you will be able to wear to work are flip flops.
- your baby might be an iron-eating machine while he or she grows inside of you. I was taking 2 iron pills, eating Total cereal plus other iron rich foods every day, and I was still barely above the anemic level on both pregnancies.
- even if you've never had heartburn in your life, you might get it now. Plain water had me running for Tums, and I believe I helped stimulate the economy by buying so many. The good news? As soon as you give birth, the heartburn ends!
- if you care to find out the sex beforehand, you might be labeled by some as someone who "spoils one of life's greatest surprises". (Real quote from an almost stranger during my first pregnancy!) The controversy behind finding out vs. not finding out was one of the more curious things I came across during my pregnancies. We found out the sex for both at 20 weeks, because to us, it is a surprise no matter when you find out. I'm a planner, and I wouldn't want to go 40 weeks thinking it was a girl when it was actually a boy. More to the point- Who. Cares. Live and let live!
Last but not least, what no one tells you about being pregnant is that when it's all said and done, you might remember how miserable you felt on 90 degree days, but most of all you will remember the baby movements, the ones that ranged from a butterfly landing to full on kicks, and how it felt like you were never alone. You had a little baby growing inside of you; you were already a mom. You felt protective like you had never felt in your life, and when things seemed to be going to hell around you, you could put your hands on your belly and know that something had gone right in this crazy world we live in.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Lemon Graham Squares
I stumbled across this recipe when I was looking for a lemon dessert for my non-chocolate loving friends who we had over for dinner. Wait- are they really my friends if they don't like chocolate?!
I highly suggest you bring these to your next family BBQ if you want to impress!
Lemon Graham Squares
14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup lemon juice
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
3/4 cup whole wheat flour (or regular- I use whole wheat for everything)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch salt
1/2 cup butter, melted
In a bowl, combine the milk and lemon juice; mix well and set aside. In another bowl, combine the graham cracker crumbs, flour, brown sugar, baking powder and salt. Stir in butter until crumbly.
Press half of the crumb mixture into a greased 9-in. square baking dish. Pour lemon mixture over crust; sprinkle with remaining crumbs. Bake at 375 degrees F for 20-25 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on a wire rack.
Hope you enjoy them as much as we did!
P.S. I do not know the calorie count on these, but my general rule of thumb for dessert bars and cookies is that one is a serving size.
I highly suggest you bring these to your next family BBQ if you want to impress!
Lemon Graham Squares
14 oz can sweetened condensed milk
1/2 cup lemon juice
1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
3/4 cup whole wheat flour (or regular- I use whole wheat for everything)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Pinch salt
1/2 cup butter, melted
In a bowl, combine the milk and lemon juice; mix well and set aside. In another bowl, combine the graham cracker crumbs, flour, brown sugar, baking powder and salt. Stir in butter until crumbly.
Press half of the crumb mixture into a greased 9-in. square baking dish. Pour lemon mixture over crust; sprinkle with remaining crumbs. Bake at 375 degrees F for 20-25 minutes or until lightly browned. Cool on a wire rack.
Hope you enjoy them as much as we did!
P.S. I do not know the calorie count on these, but my general rule of thumb for dessert bars and cookies is that one is a serving size.
Wednesday, July 3, 2013
Independence Day
Ahh... Independence Day. If Memorial Day is the unofficial start to the summer, July 4th feels like the actual start.
We will go to the parade in the town next door to us, and have a front row seat from my Grandpa's yard. I've been going to this parade for as long as I can remember- with my parents and sister, with Steve, with Rosie and with both Rosie & Buddy. One year I had to work and was down right devastated that I missed it, another year I was in it, which was fun once but maybe not again.
This little parade means a lot to me.
After the fire trucks, marching bands and floats have made their way down the road, I'm sure we'll meander up to the center of town to check out the fireman's muster and the petting zoo. After Buddy has pet enough rabbits, we'll head back down to my Grandpa's and enjoy a simple picnic with my mom's family.
After that? It'll be a day like any other. Diapers will be changed, dishes will be washed, kids will go down for nap time. It never ceases to amaze me how on holidays, all the menial tasks and mundane chores still need to happen. I guess that's what being an adult is about.
We'll still try to do something special that evening. I believe we have some sparklers around here somewhere, and I saw that chix lobsters are on sale for less than five dollars a pound. We've decided to forgo fireworks because they start so late and I don't see Buddy being able to stay up for them. Maybe next year. There will always be fireworks, so I'm not too worried.
And probably by the time we've been going to fireworks regularly again for years, I will somewhat miss these years when we couldn't go, when life sometimes seemed too scheduled but also was like a crazy whirlwind that left you breathless, like how you feel when they blast the sirens on the fire trucks as they barrel down the parade route.
We will go to the parade in the town next door to us, and have a front row seat from my Grandpa's yard. I've been going to this parade for as long as I can remember- with my parents and sister, with Steve, with Rosie and with both Rosie & Buddy. One year I had to work and was down right devastated that I missed it, another year I was in it, which was fun once but maybe not again.
This little parade means a lot to me.
After the fire trucks, marching bands and floats have made their way down the road, I'm sure we'll meander up to the center of town to check out the fireman's muster and the petting zoo. After Buddy has pet enough rabbits, we'll head back down to my Grandpa's and enjoy a simple picnic with my mom's family.
After that? It'll be a day like any other. Diapers will be changed, dishes will be washed, kids will go down for nap time. It never ceases to amaze me how on holidays, all the menial tasks and mundane chores still need to happen. I guess that's what being an adult is about.
We'll still try to do something special that evening. I believe we have some sparklers around here somewhere, and I saw that chix lobsters are on sale for less than five dollars a pound. We've decided to forgo fireworks because they start so late and I don't see Buddy being able to stay up for them. Maybe next year. There will always be fireworks, so I'm not too worried.
And probably by the time we've been going to fireworks regularly again for years, I will somewhat miss these years when we couldn't go, when life sometimes seemed too scheduled but also was like a crazy whirlwind that left you breathless, like how you feel when they blast the sirens on the fire trucks as they barrel down the parade route.
Monday, July 1, 2013
I could eat cheese and drink wine here forever
I got to go dancing Friday night with Steve and two of our friends. I picked a little outfit, put on some earrings I never usually wear, and did my thing on the dance floor.
I couldn't help but remember how I used to care so much what other people thought about me. Now, not so much. Being a mom and losing weight has given me a confidence I never had before. I was there to have fun, and the people potentially judging from the sidelines? They obviously weren't having as good of a time, or they would have been out there on the floor with me.
The four of danced the night away, and we went back to our friends' house where we stayed overnight. We had big plans for the next day!
They made us breakfast burritos (a first for me, and we will definitely be making them now), and we were on our way. We drove to the remains of a castle in New Hampshire (awesome! you have to check out Madame Sherri's Castle in Chesterfield, NH), and then visited a winery in Putnam, VT, a distillery in Brattleboro and ended at another winery in Jacksonville.
It was at the last winery, Honora Winery, that I wanted to freeze time.
We had our tasting, then we went out to the stone deck that overlooks three states' mountains as far as the eye can see. It was perfect weather- warm and sunny, but just enough of a breeze that we didn't feel hot. We each had a glass of wine, and we broke out the four year cheddar we had bought earlier in the day. The four of us talked, laughed, ate and drank. It was the perfect ending to the perfect day.
At that moment I thought about how I could eat cheese and drink wine at this beautiful place forever with these three people.
You just can't beat conversation that flows easily, laughter that doesn't have to be contained and a glass of some of the best wine you've tasted in a while. I know when I look back at this summer, it will be one of the moments that stands out most.
I couldn't help but remember how I used to care so much what other people thought about me. Now, not so much. Being a mom and losing weight has given me a confidence I never had before. I was there to have fun, and the people potentially judging from the sidelines? They obviously weren't having as good of a time, or they would have been out there on the floor with me.
The four of danced the night away, and we went back to our friends' house where we stayed overnight. We had big plans for the next day!
They made us breakfast burritos (a first for me, and we will definitely be making them now), and we were on our way. We drove to the remains of a castle in New Hampshire (awesome! you have to check out Madame Sherri's Castle in Chesterfield, NH), and then visited a winery in Putnam, VT, a distillery in Brattleboro and ended at another winery in Jacksonville.
It was at the last winery, Honora Winery, that I wanted to freeze time.
We had our tasting, then we went out to the stone deck that overlooks three states' mountains as far as the eye can see. It was perfect weather- warm and sunny, but just enough of a breeze that we didn't feel hot. We each had a glass of wine, and we broke out the four year cheddar we had bought earlier in the day. The four of us talked, laughed, ate and drank. It was the perfect ending to the perfect day.
At that moment I thought about how I could eat cheese and drink wine at this beautiful place forever with these three people.
You just can't beat conversation that flows easily, laughter that doesn't have to be contained and a glass of some of the best wine you've tasted in a while. I know when I look back at this summer, it will be one of the moments that stands out most.
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