Tips to help you improve your shape in the post-partum period:
After 9 months of waiting patiently and doing all the right things to maintain a healthy pregnancy, you are finally holding your precious baby. Whether your labour was long or short, challenging or easier than you expected, you are probably tired and relieved that your pregnancy is over and labour behind you.
After a few hours of cuddling, feeding and falling in love with your baby, your thoughts turn to a nice long shower to rejuvenate you and ease the muscle soreness you are experiencing after giving birth. You pad your way to the bathroom, either with the support of a partner, or the wall (because your legs are still shaky and tired) and you undress to get in the shower. When you look up and see yourself in the mirror for the first time, you are shocked. For 9 months you had a growing, but firm tummy, and although all the books tell you that you can expect to look 4-5 months pregnant after the birth of your baby, you really aren’t prepared for what that actually looks like: the saggy, baggy elephant. The taunt skin that once enveloped your baby now resembles a bowl of Jell-O, and perhaps you notice that you have a few stretch marks or badges of honor, as I like to call them. Later, as you emerge from the shower feeling refreshed and relaxed, you make a secret pact with yourself to lose the weight, tone your tummy and fit back into your jeans in record time.
Before you get started on your new post-partum workout routine, there are a few things you should keep in mind:
Set realistic expectations:
As determined as you are to lose your baby weight, remember that it is better and safer to lose weight gradually. You can expect to lose about 10-15 lbs. in the early days after giving birth (this weight loss is represented by baby’s birth weight, placenta, amniotic fluid, uterus and water retention), but it takes most women 9 months to 1 year to regain their shape and return to their pre-pregnancy weight. Remember that this is just an average; some women may take less time, and others, longer. It took you nine months to grow that big, beautiful belly, it won’t disappear overnight.
Eat Small Frequent Meals:
It is important to continue to eat a healthy, balanced diet. Eating a variety of fresh fruits, vegetables, grains and meats will ensure that you get the appropriate vitamins and minerals needed in your daily routine. Try to avoid overly processed foods, as they are higher in fat content and may make you feel more tired. If you are a breastfeeding mom, you will need to increase your caloric intake by up to 500 cal/day (more if you are also exercising regularly). Your body is working hard all day long producing milk for your baby. Also by having a lot of variety in your diet, you introduce new flavours and tastes to your baby through your breastmilk. This may make the introduction of solid foods (after 6 months of age) easier as your baby will have already experienced a wide variety of flavours.
Get Sleep:
Sometimes that is easier said than done! However, it is important to realize that 1) your body will store fat for longer periods of time if you are not well rested and 2) without adequate sleep you may not have the energy to exercise on a regular basis. Also, when we’re tired we are more likely to reach for junk food and caffeine to boost our energy, which in the short term is great, but counter-productive in the long run. So, although you may have heard it 100 times before, “sleep when your baby is sleeping”. Cat naps during the day will benefit you.
Stay Hydrated:
Drink water. This is especially important for breastfeeding moms who need to ensure that they are drinking enough fluids so that they can make breastmilk. Also, it’s possible to mistake thirst for hunger, so reach for the glass of water before reaching for a cookie.
Start Slowly:
It may take you several weeks before you are ready to workout again, and even when you are ready, it’s important to take it easy. FITMOM™ recommends that you complete your 6 week post-partum check-up prior to starting a new exercise routine. Light walking, pelvic tilts, kegal exercises and gentle stretching are things you can do in the early post-partum period. When you are ready to increase your intensity, remember that the hormone relaxin can be found up to 9 months post-partum. This means that joints are still loose and injuries are still possible. Injury prevention is top of mind for FITMOM™ coaches so you can rest assured that modifications, postural reminders and safety checks are part of the FITMOM™ experience. Go slow, listen to your body and modify your activities to meet your current physical conditioning. In time, as you build strength and stamina you will find that you can do more and last longer.
Treat yourself:
It can be very frustrating and un-motivating to stand in front of your closet and feel as if you have nothing to wear. Most of us are eager to toss the maternity pants aside and yearn to put on pants with real buttons but your old wardrobe may still be out of reach for a few months. Take the time to invest in 1-2 pants and tops that fit your current body and shape. It will make you feel better, boost your self-confidence and have you feeling like a yummy mummy in no time. You do a lot for your family, so it’s important (and recommended) that you do something nice for yourself.
The last tip is to relax, have fun, and enjoy the ride. You are taking all the right steps towards leading a healthier and more active lifestyle. The pants will come in time!
Showing posts with label Getting it all done. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Getting it all done. Show all posts
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
I am an ox·y·mo·ron
Ox-y-moron
noun, plural
A figure of speech by which a locution produces an incongruous, seemingly self-contradictory effect, as in "cruel kindness" or "to make haste slowly".
Or in my case, the oxymoron is "works from home".
I may have mentioned that I have left the comfort and security of a regular paycheck for the 'we may not have much, but we have each other; everybody needs to make sacrifices, because mommy is working from home' option.
The tipping point that lead to my decision to leave my full time job and venture into self employment, came after a discussion with Big Daddy when he asked me if we wanted to leave Big in charge of the house at the age of 5. We had already seen a version of "Lord of the Flies" over the Christmas break when four 4 year olds ran around our place like the tazmanian devil, leaving a trail of destruction throughout the house. Would that display of wild crazy children be our future if I returned to work? More than likely, and we were in the unique position of being able to make the investment in our children to modify our work lifestyles. Most families aren't in the position to make those kinds of changes.
Also, my supportive (but blunt) mother described for me in great detail that should I return to work, my positive and healthy relationship with my sons would likely turn into a full fledge battle partnered with copious amounts of yelling at children who never seem to move fast enough to get out the door. This would of course cause extra stress, that would be followed by name calling (which I would later regret) and frustration for all parties involved. Some families are able to handle the stress of this push and pull of childcare arrangements, pressures of demanding jobs, friends and family better than others. We are not one of those families.
So after some long discussions and a lot of courage we jumped feet first into self-employment.
The home office is now the dining room table. The laptop I purchased is always on so that I can try to get 5-10 minutes of work done every 3-4 hours between nap times, play dates, laundry, snuggling babies, disciplining 4 year olds, feeding, changing and diapering. I work alot at night and drag the boys with me when I have an appointment. To make it up to them, we make lots of trips to local parks.
We are all adjusting to this new lifestyle.
I work from home, and sometimes, I even get work done.
Maybe I am not an oxymoron after all.
noun, plural
A figure of speech by which a locution produces an incongruous, seemingly self-contradictory effect, as in "cruel kindness" or "to make haste slowly".
Or in my case, the oxymoron is "works from home".
I may have mentioned that I have left the comfort and security of a regular paycheck for the 'we may not have much, but we have each other; everybody needs to make sacrifices, because mommy is working from home' option.
The tipping point that lead to my decision to leave my full time job and venture into self employment, came after a discussion with Big Daddy when he asked me if we wanted to leave Big in charge of the house at the age of 5. We had already seen a version of "Lord of the Flies" over the Christmas break when four 4 year olds ran around our place like the tazmanian devil, leaving a trail of destruction throughout the house. Would that display of wild crazy children be our future if I returned to work? More than likely, and we were in the unique position of being able to make the investment in our children to modify our work lifestyles. Most families aren't in the position to make those kinds of changes.
Also, my supportive (but blunt) mother described for me in great detail that should I return to work, my positive and healthy relationship with my sons would likely turn into a full fledge battle partnered with copious amounts of yelling at children who never seem to move fast enough to get out the door. This would of course cause extra stress, that would be followed by name calling (which I would later regret) and frustration for all parties involved. Some families are able to handle the stress of this push and pull of childcare arrangements, pressures of demanding jobs, friends and family better than others. We are not one of those families.
So after some long discussions and a lot of courage we jumped feet first into self-employment.
The home office is now the dining room table. The laptop I purchased is always on so that I can try to get 5-10 minutes of work done every 3-4 hours between nap times, play dates, laundry, snuggling babies, disciplining 4 year olds, feeding, changing and diapering. I work alot at night and drag the boys with me when I have an appointment. To make it up to them, we make lots of trips to local parks.
We are all adjusting to this new lifestyle.
I work from home, and sometimes, I even get work done.
Maybe I am not an oxymoron after all.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Thank you for calling.....
I love call display. We have just recently added this feature to our phone bill and I have thoroughly enjoyed screening all of those pesky sales calls that used to trap me prior to this glorious feature.
Well, imagine my surprise today when across the screen of the cordless phone were the words 'Government of Canada'. For a moment I thought it might be Steven Harper calling me himself, and I guess technically it was. Either way, I wasn't prepared to pick up the phone and let the call go straight to voice mail. If Mr. Harper really wanted to talk to me, he could leave a message like the rest of the world. Moments later, the words 'Voicemail' appeared on the display. I guess Mr. Harper had something he actually wanted to say to me. My good friend was over visiting and we conspired as to the nature of the call. Maybe it's a courtesy call thanking me for starting a new small business in Ontario. According to my friend, that was highly unlikely. The government's not really all that concerned about customer service, unless there is an election. Maybe that's it. Perhaps Mr. Harper is calling me to find out what I think of his fake lake, new tax structure and views on women's health.
As I punched in the password to collect my messages I held my breath. "Hello Jennifer, this is Nadia calling from Employment Insurance, can you please call me back at our toll free number?Thank you."
Gulp. Whatever they wanted, I was sure it wasn't going to be good news.
I was right.
Several weeks ago I met with my employer to tell them that I would not be returning to my position following the end of my maternity leave. They took it well, were dissapointed, but understood and supported my decision.
A few weeks after the meeting I checked my bank account only to find a large sum of money had been deposited. Hooray! Aren't I lucky? A mini windfall to boost the family's savings up as we head into our new business venture. I quickly moved the money to a savings account and did a money dance.
All is good.
And then came the phone call.
My employer being so totally on the ball had paid out my vacation pay, nice. Except that it screwed up my final EI payments. Not nice. You see, you can't earn extra money while you are receiving EI. If you do, then they deduct the amount from your assistance.
Crap.
So lovely Nadia gave me two options. I can a) continue receiving the final EI payments and then pay the government back or b) end payments immediately as the balance I would owe equals the amount I would receive for the final payment. How convenient.
I thought about the option for a split second and decided to part ways immediately with the government.
I know a few things in life, one of them is not to owe the government money. The other is not to mess with a Sicialian when death is on the line.
Well, imagine my surprise today when across the screen of the cordless phone were the words 'Government of Canada'. For a moment I thought it might be Steven Harper calling me himself, and I guess technically it was. Either way, I wasn't prepared to pick up the phone and let the call go straight to voice mail. If Mr. Harper really wanted to talk to me, he could leave a message like the rest of the world. Moments later, the words 'Voicemail' appeared on the display. I guess Mr. Harper had something he actually wanted to say to me. My good friend was over visiting and we conspired as to the nature of the call. Maybe it's a courtesy call thanking me for starting a new small business in Ontario. According to my friend, that was highly unlikely. The government's not really all that concerned about customer service, unless there is an election. Maybe that's it. Perhaps Mr. Harper is calling me to find out what I think of his fake lake, new tax structure and views on women's health.
As I punched in the password to collect my messages I held my breath. "Hello Jennifer, this is Nadia calling from Employment Insurance, can you please call me back at our toll free number?Thank you."
Gulp. Whatever they wanted, I was sure it wasn't going to be good news.
I was right.
Several weeks ago I met with my employer to tell them that I would not be returning to my position following the end of my maternity leave. They took it well, were dissapointed, but understood and supported my decision.
A few weeks after the meeting I checked my bank account only to find a large sum of money had been deposited. Hooray! Aren't I lucky? A mini windfall to boost the family's savings up as we head into our new business venture. I quickly moved the money to a savings account and did a money dance.
All is good.
And then came the phone call.
My employer being so totally on the ball had paid out my vacation pay, nice. Except that it screwed up my final EI payments. Not nice. You see, you can't earn extra money while you are receiving EI. If you do, then they deduct the amount from your assistance.
Crap.
So lovely Nadia gave me two options. I can a) continue receiving the final EI payments and then pay the government back or b) end payments immediately as the balance I would owe equals the amount I would receive for the final payment. How convenient.
I thought about the option for a split second and decided to part ways immediately with the government.
I know a few things in life, one of them is not to owe the government money. The other is not to mess with a Sicialian when death is on the line.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Friday Funny
I am not sure if this is funny or just sad.
Our Air Conditioner is broken. In the middle of a heat wave. The motor has blown; perhaps from overuse.
Excuse me while I rock in the corner and eat my sweat drenched hair.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Summer Daze
I used to love the summer, when my days were care free and my time was spent playing outside with my friends, seeking shelter in the shade and spending hours on end waterlogged in a pool or a lake. You would think that these activities I am reminiscing about took place in my youth; and of course they did. But today I am remembering the care free summers of my life with no kids. Oh those blissful days when I answered to no one, and had all the time in the world.
Weekends and weekdays were spent at cottages, swimming, boating, playing cards, having fires, laughing and making memories over beverages. In fact one weekend in particular I remember playing Monopoly for a solid 8 hours, and really, if I hadn't spilled my drink across the table we would still be at Long Lake taking over the world one street at a time.
Yes, I remember those summers.
Fast forward a few years and now my summers are so very, very different. Especially this one. The biggest change (other than the 2 kids!) is that I am officially a mom that works from home. What an ironic term. It actually implies that I get work done! The reality is that this is a HUGE challenge. As I try to get a new business off the ground I am still responsible for running a household,and I have already told you that I am no June Cleaver, but I do my best and try to keep up appearances. Basically I make sure that the really dangerous choking hazards are off the floor, feed family members, and entertain or provide entertaining activities for Big and Little. It's the entertainment part that is killing me. I often sit back and wonder how the rest of you manage to do it (if you have suggestions/tips please send them my way!). Of course, I knew that it would be a juggling act, and I do surprise myself when I get stuff done, but what I wasn't prepared for though was the whinning. And I have to tell you I HATE whinning. It is the most annoying sound in the whole world. In fact, I really wish there was a cure for whinning. At one point I thought the cure was Carona's, but the side effects (aka hangovers) were no longer acceptable.
At 4 years old, all day long all I hear is "I'm Bored" and "I wanna watch a mooovie" or "I wanna play Lego Star Wars Video Game". I thought I had a few years before these words would be on repeat. I know, I know- so naiive. The crazy thing, is that I am tempted. Tempted to just plop the monkey in front of the boob tube for the day so I can have uninterrupted work time. Of course I don't let him sit there for the day; but sometimes you have to use the 'babysitter' to knock off some items from the 'to do list' or nothing would ever be accomplished.
So, in my vain attempt to manage my house, get work done, have fun, connect and bond with my kids and enjoy the summer I made a schedule.
Summer Rules for Big & Little:
Weekends and weekdays were spent at cottages, swimming, boating, playing cards, having fires, laughing and making memories over beverages. In fact one weekend in particular I remember playing Monopoly for a solid 8 hours, and really, if I hadn't spilled my drink across the table we would still be at Long Lake taking over the world one street at a time.
Yes, I remember those summers.
Fast forward a few years and now my summers are so very, very different. Especially this one. The biggest change (other than the 2 kids!) is that I am officially a mom that works from home. What an ironic term. It actually implies that I get work done! The reality is that this is a HUGE challenge. As I try to get a new business off the ground I am still responsible for running a household,and I have already told you that I am no June Cleaver, but I do my best and try to keep up appearances. Basically I make sure that the really dangerous choking hazards are off the floor, feed family members, and entertain or provide entertaining activities for Big and Little. It's the entertainment part that is killing me. I often sit back and wonder how the rest of you manage to do it (if you have suggestions/tips please send them my way!). Of course, I knew that it would be a juggling act, and I do surprise myself when I get stuff done, but what I wasn't prepared for though was the whinning. And I have to tell you I HATE whinning. It is the most annoying sound in the whole world. In fact, I really wish there was a cure for whinning. At one point I thought the cure was Carona's, but the side effects (aka hangovers) were no longer acceptable.
At 4 years old, all day long all I hear is "I'm Bored" and "I wanna watch a mooovie" or "I wanna play Lego Star Wars Video Game". I thought I had a few years before these words would be on repeat. I know, I know- so naiive. The crazy thing, is that I am tempted. Tempted to just plop the monkey in front of the boob tube for the day so I can have uninterrupted work time. Of course I don't let him sit there for the day; but sometimes you have to use the 'babysitter' to knock off some items from the 'to do list' or nothing would ever be accomplished.
So, in my vain attempt to manage my house, get work done, have fun, connect and bond with my kids and enjoy the summer I made a schedule.
Summer Schedule*:
7:30-9:00 Breakfast, get dressed, brush teeth, FREE ACTIVITY
9-10:00 Little goes for a nap, T.V. for BIG (Mommy showers)
10:00-10:15 Morning Snack
10:15-12:00- Let's have fun (Park, outside play, play dates, crafts, reading, activity books)
12:00-1:00 Lunch
1:00-3:00 Quiet Activities, Little Naps, Mommy works
3:00-4:00 T.V. is okay with a snack
4:00-Daddy's home T.V. off; get ready for supper.
Summer Rules for Big & Little:
- T.V will be used in moderation. If mommy says you can't watch, you need to respect her choice and find something else to do; or, you can go in your room ( you can imagine what BIG has been choosing lately. Yup. His room!)
- Listen and respect each other (gawd this is soooo hard for both of us to do!)
- Everyone helps out with chores
- No Whinning (litterally, that is a rule I wrote, I know. Naiive)
- Try new things/activities
- Have Fun
- Wear Hats & Sunscreen
- Have Fun
Big of course hates my schedule. He thinks its dumb. He says I am not fun. We are no longer friends. Oh, and my rules are dumb too.
What do you think?
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Did someone say spa?
I decided to take a little time for me.
A time to unwind, recharge, refuel, pamper, polish and exfoliate.
I made this decision after learning that Big Daddy was going to be gone all day on Sunday in a golf tournament, leaving me to spend another full, jam packed day on my own vs the tag team approach that weekends normally allow for.
Before Little joined the family I was a 'regular' at my local spa, visiting every 6-12 weeks for facials, or massages, pedicures, hot stone massage, body wraps and the like. I love the spa experience: donning the robes, drinking the 'specialty teas' and pouring water filled with fruit, cucumbers, lemons or other treats into goblets while someone takes the time to look after me and tend to my needs. Over a period of time I began to view the treatments as necessary, in order to maintian my youthful appearance, rather then viewing them as a treat. Sadly, during my pregnancy with Little and the post partum period there has been a tremendous time lapse since my last visit. 1 year to be exact. So when I made the phone call to book my appointment I did so without an ounce of mommy guilt.
It felt so good to make the call. In fact, once the call was placed and the treatments and times were booked a long time staff member greeted me over the phone. "Jennifer, it's Heather! It's been a while. I look forward to seeing you."
'Hi Heather, yes it has been a while. Too long in fact. I am looking forward to coming in. See you Saturday!".
When I hung up the phone, I felt a little bit like Norm from 'Cheers' as he took his regular seat at the bar. Moments after the appointment was booked a quick text to Big Daddy told him that I was escaping the mad house for a few hours and he was in charge.
When I woke up that morning I worked diligently to ensure all of the morning chores were done. The kids were fed breakfast, diapers were changed, the kitchen was tidied (knowing that if I left it for Big Daddy, I would only be faced with more dishes. He is many things, but a multi-tasker when children are outnumbering him, he is not), and I showered and began to mentally prepare for my treatments. Today's menu was a massage + pedicure. Delicious!
Moments before heading out the door I confer with Big Daddy to rattle off the last minute instructions for Little. The conversation included me explaining the appropriate time for his morning nap (knowing it would be delayed because Mommy and her Magic Boobies were otherwise engaged); providing suggestions for a mid morning snack, and what to serve for lunch. It was simple. So I thought. I explained that Cheerios & pear were a great idea for a morning snack and that the Couscous & Sweet pepper dish I made the day before were in a freezer tray, not yet having a chance to bag it. Before I turned to leave I asked Big Daddy if he had any questions and if he knew where to find everything. He said he was good, and that he had it all under control so I turned and got the hell out of Dodge.
I ran out the door and sjumped into the car, and noticed how brightly the sun was shinning. I put down the windows, cranked the tunes and I am pretty sure the tires left skid marks on the road as I peeled off down the street.
I arrived at my destination with time to spare and enjoyed reading trashy magazines before I was seated for my treatments. Two and a half blissful hours later, I emerge a new woman. I walk back to the car and begin to wonder what fun we can have in the afternoon.
As I walk into the house Big greets me and tells me to be quiet as Little is napping. Excellent! Daddy did have it under control! As I walk deeper into the house though, the real story begins to reveal itself.
There are new dishes strewn across the table, food has litterally been thrown onto the floor and the walls, the toy box has exploded, Big is still in his pj's (it is at this point, almost 1:30 pm) no one has had lunch and Little fell asleep only minutes before I walked in the door.
I peruse the mess, and I notice that of course Big Daddy has chosen not the couscous, but straight chicken to serve to Little and never thought to mix it with something, which explains why the food is on the floor and the walls. Poor Little has actually gone to bed hungry, is going to be overtired from lack of sleep (which you all know means a wakeful night ahead for mommy) and from what I gather, ended up crying himself to sleep because all other sleep strategies failed.
Frustrated to hell by the disaster that is my kitchen, I begin to tidy up for the gazilionth time. The lovely, blissful feeling that had only moments ago filled my aura, was starting to melt away. Now home, looking at the beautiful mess that is my life, I begin to feel the telling aches from a deep massage, and I notice that although I had a beautiful parafin wax applied to my heels- the damage of a year of neglect can't be undone in 1 treatment. So I reach for a glass of water, as well as a glass of wine, sit back on the couch, tip my head back and sigh. A mom's work is never done.
A time to unwind, recharge, refuel, pamper, polish and exfoliate.
I made this decision after learning that Big Daddy was going to be gone all day on Sunday in a golf tournament, leaving me to spend another full, jam packed day on my own vs the tag team approach that weekends normally allow for.
Before Little joined the family I was a 'regular' at my local spa, visiting every 6-12 weeks for facials, or massages, pedicures, hot stone massage, body wraps and the like. I love the spa experience: donning the robes, drinking the 'specialty teas' and pouring water filled with fruit, cucumbers, lemons or other treats into goblets while someone takes the time to look after me and tend to my needs. Over a period of time I began to view the treatments as necessary, in order to maintian my youthful appearance, rather then viewing them as a treat. Sadly, during my pregnancy with Little and the post partum period there has been a tremendous time lapse since my last visit. 1 year to be exact. So when I made the phone call to book my appointment I did so without an ounce of mommy guilt.
It felt so good to make the call. In fact, once the call was placed and the treatments and times were booked a long time staff member greeted me over the phone. "Jennifer, it's Heather! It's been a while. I look forward to seeing you."
'Hi Heather, yes it has been a while. Too long in fact. I am looking forward to coming in. See you Saturday!".
When I hung up the phone, I felt a little bit like Norm from 'Cheers' as he took his regular seat at the bar. Moments after the appointment was booked a quick text to Big Daddy told him that I was escaping the mad house for a few hours and he was in charge.
When I woke up that morning I worked diligently to ensure all of the morning chores were done. The kids were fed breakfast, diapers were changed, the kitchen was tidied (knowing that if I left it for Big Daddy, I would only be faced with more dishes. He is many things, but a multi-tasker when children are outnumbering him, he is not), and I showered and began to mentally prepare for my treatments. Today's menu was a massage + pedicure. Delicious!
Moments before heading out the door I confer with Big Daddy to rattle off the last minute instructions for Little. The conversation included me explaining the appropriate time for his morning nap (knowing it would be delayed because Mommy and her Magic Boobies were otherwise engaged); providing suggestions for a mid morning snack, and what to serve for lunch. It was simple. So I thought. I explained that Cheerios & pear were a great idea for a morning snack and that the Couscous & Sweet pepper dish I made the day before were in a freezer tray, not yet having a chance to bag it. Before I turned to leave I asked Big Daddy if he had any questions and if he knew where to find everything. He said he was good, and that he had it all under control so I turned and got the hell out of Dodge.
I ran out the door and sjumped into the car, and noticed how brightly the sun was shinning. I put down the windows, cranked the tunes and I am pretty sure the tires left skid marks on the road as I peeled off down the street.
I arrived at my destination with time to spare and enjoyed reading trashy magazines before I was seated for my treatments. Two and a half blissful hours later, I emerge a new woman. I walk back to the car and begin to wonder what fun we can have in the afternoon.
As I walk into the house Big greets me and tells me to be quiet as Little is napping. Excellent! Daddy did have it under control! As I walk deeper into the house though, the real story begins to reveal itself.
There are new dishes strewn across the table, food has litterally been thrown onto the floor and the walls, the toy box has exploded, Big is still in his pj's (it is at this point, almost 1:30 pm) no one has had lunch and Little fell asleep only minutes before I walked in the door.
I peruse the mess, and I notice that of course Big Daddy has chosen not the couscous, but straight chicken to serve to Little and never thought to mix it with something, which explains why the food is on the floor and the walls. Poor Little has actually gone to bed hungry, is going to be overtired from lack of sleep (which you all know means a wakeful night ahead for mommy) and from what I gather, ended up crying himself to sleep because all other sleep strategies failed.
Frustrated to hell by the disaster that is my kitchen, I begin to tidy up for the gazilionth time. The lovely, blissful feeling that had only moments ago filled my aura, was starting to melt away. Now home, looking at the beautiful mess that is my life, I begin to feel the telling aches from a deep massage, and I notice that although I had a beautiful parafin wax applied to my heels- the damage of a year of neglect can't be undone in 1 treatment. So I reach for a glass of water, as well as a glass of wine, sit back on the couch, tip my head back and sigh. A mom's work is never done.
Friday, June 11, 2010
I'm Flaky; But it's Friday, and it's Funny
Okay, well now that I have calmed down and my blood pressure has returned to normal, I can look back at the crazy morning I had today and laugh. However at the time; it really wasn't funny.
The morning actually started off okay, but it did not take long for it to derail. It looked like everything was going to go my way- Little was up at 7am this morning, and Big got up in a good mood. Eeveryone got their breakfast, got dressed and we were all ready to head out the door on time. My plan was to drop Big off at school, swing home to nurse Little then send him off to Lala land, all before my mom would show up and look after the baby so that I could attend day 2 of the course I am taking.
Since I am not much of a morning person I took the time the night before to pack the lunches and organize what I needed for the day. I did all of the preplanning to make sure I was on time.
All I needed to do before we headed out the door was grab my keys.
Where are my keys?
They are not where they are supposed to be! Hmmm. I quickly search the other 'spots' that my keys sometimes find themselves in. Unfortunately, they are nowhere to be found and I am starting to panick. The perfect plan I had laid out before me was uncoiling rather quickly.
Time is ticking faster now. I am running around the house like the mad hatter, tearing up and down the stairs in vain, searching desperately for my keys. I call Big Daddy on the phone. He doesn't pick up. I call him again so that he knows I am serious. I start to yell at the phone, "Why won't Big Daddy pick up? Where are my keys?" Big starts to cry. "Mommy can we walk to school?" " No sweetie, it's a 15 min walk and I have a course to get to, I am already going to be late".
Minutes later I receive a text "I am in a meeting until 9am". I respond with where the F**ck are my keys?????? He says "I never touched them". I look for the extra set, and I remember that Big Daddy has them on his key chain- GREAT!
I continue to run around the house like a nut. Big continues to cry. Then, CRASH. What's that? Oh, Little finally figures out how to open the front panel to the gas fireplace, sweet. So now off I tear to recover the baby from fatal disaster (the pilot light was off though!) and stick him in the chair as he cries his head off that the big noise startled him. I yell for Big to go and comfort Little as I try to retrace my steps.
Big is trying to be helpful- "The last time you lost your keys Mommy, they were in the laundry room" (Don't judge me). I consider this may again be a possibility, but no.
They are not in the laundry room. They are not in the cupboard, or my purse, or the diaper bag, or the counters, or bathroom, or dining room, computer desk, or jacket. I am still panicking but I am trying to calm myself down so that Big doesn't develop any further anxiety and I say to him, "Don't worry Mum-Mum will be here in a few minutes and I will take you to school in her car". Then he starts to cry for his Mum-Mum. Whatever. Just help me find my freaking keys!
I start to sweat, I want to cry with the kids when I finally step outside and look in the door. Right? WRONG. They are not in the door. I walk out further, perhaps they are on the side table. NO. Wrong Again. I look out to the car, and I see them. Right where I left them the day before. On the roof of my car.
The morning actually started off okay, but it did not take long for it to derail. It looked like everything was going to go my way- Little was up at 7am this morning, and Big got up in a good mood. Eeveryone got their breakfast, got dressed and we were all ready to head out the door on time. My plan was to drop Big off at school, swing home to nurse Little then send him off to Lala land, all before my mom would show up and look after the baby so that I could attend day 2 of the course I am taking.
Since I am not much of a morning person I took the time the night before to pack the lunches and organize what I needed for the day. I did all of the preplanning to make sure I was on time.
All I needed to do before we headed out the door was grab my keys.
Where are my keys?
They are not where they are supposed to be! Hmmm. I quickly search the other 'spots' that my keys sometimes find themselves in. Unfortunately, they are nowhere to be found and I am starting to panick. The perfect plan I had laid out before me was uncoiling rather quickly.
Time is ticking faster now. I am running around the house like the mad hatter, tearing up and down the stairs in vain, searching desperately for my keys. I call Big Daddy on the phone. He doesn't pick up. I call him again so that he knows I am serious. I start to yell at the phone, "Why won't Big Daddy pick up? Where are my keys?" Big starts to cry. "Mommy can we walk to school?" " No sweetie, it's a 15 min walk and I have a course to get to, I am already going to be late".
Minutes later I receive a text "I am in a meeting until 9am". I respond with where the F**ck are my keys?????? He says "I never touched them". I look for the extra set, and I remember that Big Daddy has them on his key chain- GREAT!
I continue to run around the house like a nut. Big continues to cry. Then, CRASH. What's that? Oh, Little finally figures out how to open the front panel to the gas fireplace, sweet. So now off I tear to recover the baby from fatal disaster (the pilot light was off though!) and stick him in the chair as he cries his head off that the big noise startled him. I yell for Big to go and comfort Little as I try to retrace my steps.
Big is trying to be helpful- "The last time you lost your keys Mommy, they were in the laundry room" (Don't judge me). I consider this may again be a possibility, but no.
They are not in the laundry room. They are not in the cupboard, or my purse, or the diaper bag, or the counters, or bathroom, or dining room, computer desk, or jacket. I am still panicking but I am trying to calm myself down so that Big doesn't develop any further anxiety and I say to him, "Don't worry Mum-Mum will be here in a few minutes and I will take you to school in her car". Then he starts to cry for his Mum-Mum. Whatever. Just help me find my freaking keys!
I start to sweat, I want to cry with the kids when I finally step outside and look in the door. Right? WRONG. They are not in the door. I walk out further, perhaps they are on the side table. NO. Wrong Again. I look out to the car, and I see them. Right where I left them the day before. On the roof of my car.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Summer
I love summer.
It is my favourite time of year. The sun shines, the days are long and I feel like I get so much more accomplished than I do in the winter. And although summer doesn't officially start until the 21st of June, the sights and smells of summer are in full gear in central Ontario. The BBQ has been fired up, the bugs are out and sunscreen is being lathered all over my babies beautiful skin.
One summer tradition we have not yet participated in is a street sale. Next week, however, that will no longer be the case. Participating in this event has meant that we have had to comb through old boxes in the garage and under the stairs to purge ourselves of the crap that we hold onto, that will never be used. We do this in the hopes that some other schmo will purchase said crap and love it and use it. Or better yet, sell it again at their next Yard Sale!
Big is pretty excited about this . He loves to look for the signs advertising Yard Sales on our drive to the Y every Saturday morning for swim lessons. He is hopeful that one day he will come upon a plethera of vintage Star Wars Toys for a real deal. He's so sweet, he thinks he can buy that stuff for cheap. However, he is less enthused about the purging of his toys, and he keeps putting back the toys that I want to put out to pasture. I am sure I will be filling garbage bags full of stuffed toys in the cover of darkness and I hope he will be distracted by the other tables on the street so he doesn't see his toys carried off by some other kid!
As we prepare for this event the big question that is lingering over me is whether or not we sell, gulp, the baby stuff. For four years I made Big Daddy hold onto the Exersaucer, Baby swing, strollers, wagons, bumbo seats, chew toys and the like. He was forever wanting to rid us of 'the clutter' so he could put a car in the garage, and I kept reminding him of the cost to buy it all back after we had our second baby.
Well, the second baby has arrived and is here to stay, his 'stuff' however is on the chopping block. He has begun to outgrow several items that are taking up space in our house, and my parents house too.
I know that the past few entries have been about my frustration regarding my lack of sleep and a baby that won't cooperate, and that this current state was putting a damper on the desire for baby number three. But here I am watching him roll around the hardwood floor trying to remove the vent covers from the floor and he is looking so cute in his AC/DC onesie, and his head is huge, and his eyes are blue and he has fat wrists and inverted knuckles and rolls on rolls, and baby toes and, and, and......
Big Daddy says he's done. He's happy with two and he has said he couldn't love another (which is of course a lie, he would if we had one, but I get it). He is also a firm believer of the rules created by my father: Rule #1 Never let them outnumber you Rule #2 Don't break Rule #1. I used to be a firm believer of that rule. Yet here I am. Sitting on my couch on a beautiful sunny afternoon watching Little roll around the floor while Big has a nap upstairs. And although I don't want a baby right this second, I honestly can't say that I am done having babies.
So what do I do about all the crap? The swing, the bumbo, the bouncy chair, the baby clothes that Little has grown out of?
Well, for now, it looks like we have to keep it. I just can't part with those items. Sorry folks, no crazy deals for a new family hoping to get some baby items on the cheap For now I suppose it will continue to take up space in our house, and I am sure it will all collect a thick layer of dust before I ever come to a decision about being a family of five, or four.
It is my favourite time of year. The sun shines, the days are long and I feel like I get so much more accomplished than I do in the winter. And although summer doesn't officially start until the 21st of June, the sights and smells of summer are in full gear in central Ontario. The BBQ has been fired up, the bugs are out and sunscreen is being lathered all over my babies beautiful skin.
One summer tradition we have not yet participated in is a street sale. Next week, however, that will no longer be the case. Participating in this event has meant that we have had to comb through old boxes in the garage and under the stairs to purge ourselves of the crap that we hold onto, that will never be used. We do this in the hopes that some other schmo will purchase said crap and love it and use it. Or better yet, sell it again at their next Yard Sale!
Big is pretty excited about this . He loves to look for the signs advertising Yard Sales on our drive to the Y every Saturday morning for swim lessons. He is hopeful that one day he will come upon a plethera of vintage Star Wars Toys for a real deal. He's so sweet, he thinks he can buy that stuff for cheap. However, he is less enthused about the purging of his toys, and he keeps putting back the toys that I want to put out to pasture. I am sure I will be filling garbage bags full of stuffed toys in the cover of darkness and I hope he will be distracted by the other tables on the street so he doesn't see his toys carried off by some other kid!
As we prepare for this event the big question that is lingering over me is whether or not we sell, gulp, the baby stuff. For four years I made Big Daddy hold onto the Exersaucer, Baby swing, strollers, wagons, bumbo seats, chew toys and the like. He was forever wanting to rid us of 'the clutter' so he could put a car in the garage, and I kept reminding him of the cost to buy it all back after we had our second baby.
Well, the second baby has arrived and is here to stay, his 'stuff' however is on the chopping block. He has begun to outgrow several items that are taking up space in our house, and my parents house too.
I know that the past few entries have been about my frustration regarding my lack of sleep and a baby that won't cooperate, and that this current state was putting a damper on the desire for baby number three. But here I am watching him roll around the hardwood floor trying to remove the vent covers from the floor and he is looking so cute in his AC/DC onesie, and his head is huge, and his eyes are blue and he has fat wrists and inverted knuckles and rolls on rolls, and baby toes and, and, and......
Big Daddy says he's done. He's happy with two and he has said he couldn't love another (which is of course a lie, he would if we had one, but I get it). He is also a firm believer of the rules created by my father: Rule #1 Never let them outnumber you Rule #2 Don't break Rule #1. I used to be a firm believer of that rule. Yet here I am. Sitting on my couch on a beautiful sunny afternoon watching Little roll around the floor while Big has a nap upstairs. And although I don't want a baby right this second, I honestly can't say that I am done having babies.
So what do I do about all the crap? The swing, the bumbo, the bouncy chair, the baby clothes that Little has grown out of?
Well, for now, it looks like we have to keep it. I just can't part with those items. Sorry folks, no crazy deals for a new family hoping to get some baby items on the cheap For now I suppose it will continue to take up space in our house, and I am sure it will all collect a thick layer of dust before I ever come to a decision about being a family of five, or four.
Monday, May 24, 2010
"Well, whatever it is, it's going to be different".
I can't believe it.
I thought for sure we would be over this mini roadblock and back to our blissful life of love and happiness.
When I was pregnant with Little I remember having a conversation with my dad about the person that was growing in my belly and what he or she would be like. I wondered if he would be loud like Big, and if that baby would also be lacking in the department of volume control (Big has limited ability to find and use his 'inside voice'). Would the baby be wiggly like Big always wanting to be on the move, or content to just be. Every visit I had with my parents I would contemplate the person that was to be and my dad, the wise man that he is, looked at me and said: "Well, whatever it is, it's going to be different". As usual, he was right.
Where Big could be put to sleep by anyone and anywhere, Little has proven to be more sensitive. He needs the familiarity of his own room and a consistent routine. Where Big could fly by the seat of his pants happy to be on the go with me from one place to another. Little is content to just sit with you and snuggle, taking in the antics of his louder, older brother, and observing the world through his unblinking baby blue eyes. In fact most visitors comment on how quiet he is. The kid even came with me on the all girls weekend with my girl themombshell , and except to dissapear for a short period of time to nurse him and put him down for a sleep, you would never have known he was there!
I can't believe that I am still dealing with sleep issues.
I thought for sure we would be over this mini roadblock and back to our blissful life of love and happiness.
Boy, was I wrong. It turns out that Little is alot more stubborn than I thought.
When I was pregnant with Little I remember having a conversation with my dad about the person that was growing in my belly and what he or she would be like. I wondered if he would be loud like Big, and if that baby would also be lacking in the department of volume control (Big has limited ability to find and use his 'inside voice'). Would the baby be wiggly like Big always wanting to be on the move, or content to just be. Every visit I had with my parents I would contemplate the person that was to be and my dad, the wise man that he is, looked at me and said: "Well, whatever it is, it's going to be different". As usual, he was right.
Where Big could be put to sleep by anyone and anywhere, Little has proven to be more sensitive. He needs the familiarity of his own room and a consistent routine. Where Big could fly by the seat of his pants happy to be on the go with me from one place to another. Little is content to just sit with you and snuggle, taking in the antics of his louder, older brother, and observing the world through his unblinking baby blue eyes. In fact most visitors comment on how quiet he is. The kid even came with me on the all girls weekend with my girl themombshell , and except to dissapear for a short period of time to nurse him and put him down for a sleep, you would never have known he was there!
So as I sit here and contemplate the differences in my kids, I am trying, desperately, to find the positive.
If you know me at all, you know that I am not one to sit and rest. Until recently, I could be found attending an event for work, volunteering in the community, teaching my Lamaze classes, at the gym, out with friends, mothering the boys, and taking a course, all while trying to keep this house tidy. All of this was possible when I had a baby that would sleep anywhere. Gone are the days when I could just bolt out the door with Big in tow, who was happy to be tagging along on 'an adventure'. Since the arrival of Little I have had to shift many of my priorities that had 'others' before me and sometimes, my family.
Now, I find myself saying a two letter word that, to me, is the dirtiest word in the world: No. I have had to say 'no' to many things over the past year and a bit, and, I have to admit, it does get easier every time I say it. The pit of dispair that normally fills my gut at the thought of dissapointing someone, or letting someone down is easing up, a bit. Well, enough that I know that the world won't actually end if I don't do something. Perhaps this sensitivity Little has to sleeping out of the house, is actually a gift (like I said folks, I'm trying to find 'the positive' and I believe in alot of self talk!).
It has forced me to be still, and to live in the moment (even the horrible ones). To stick close to home and spend time with the people that mean the most to me. Sometimes this new lifestyle can be inconvenient and the old Jen gets frustrated and stir crazy at the thought of staying home. But then I remind myself that this is a short term problem. Soon enough my life will be back on track with the comings and goings of my busy life.
Don't get me wrong. I will continue to fight the good fight, and I plan on fixing Little's wagon so that getting out of the house will be easier. But while we work on developing this new skill, you'll know where to find me. At the bottom of a wine glass (just kidding!). At home, with Big and Little.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Knock, Knock Jokes, & Birthin' Babies by: Big
We love to read in our house. Big's favourite passtime, next to playing Star Wars or Spiderman, is to read. Books are always scattered around and we are often found cuddled up on the couch. Earlier in the year, Big and I attended the Family Literacy Night at his school and when we visited the table with book suggestions for boys I picked up a title that was the most age appropriate. It was a knock, knock book. Well, that went over very well. Big lauged his head off at all of the humerous puns and was trying his best to recite them back. I made sure that on our next trip to the public library, joke books would be on the menu, along with the usual repitoire of Spiderman or Star Wars (May the force be with you!).
As time went on, Big's ability to deliver the punch line improved. Although, he still struggles with the knock-knock joke that involves a banana and an orange. You know the one:
Knock- Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?
Knock-Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana Who? and so it continues until you say Orange.
Orange who? Orange you glad I didn't say Banana!
In his defence, my mother can't tell that joke either! Oh Mom!
Fast forward a few weeks plus several knock-knock and joke books later, and we find ourselves on a Monday evening. I am preparing to teach a private Lamaze series to an expectant couple. I have been a certified Lamaze Educator for 3 years now, and have always taught private or group sessions in my home. Big is very familiar with the routine and has always enjoyed welcoming the clients to the house. This night was no different. My husband was trying to settle Little into bed, so Big was playing on the main level while waiting for his dad to collect him and put him to bed. Unfortunately, on this night, Little was putting up a fight and my husband was detained for longer then he planned. It wasn't long before Big started to creep down the stairs and ask to watch me while I taught. I said that was fine as long as he was quiet. Silly me!
Soon my little side kick had crept his way from the stairs to my side in order to 'help me' with the class. Since that was tolerated (only because daddy was still upstairs having been taken hostage by Little) Big thought it would also be okay to share some jokes with his new friends. As I am trying to explain the physiological and emotional changes they can expect during labour, Big pipes up with a knock- knock joke:
Big: "Hey Guys. Knock-Knock"
I of course give him 'the look', but the parents to be find him charming and buy into this entire routine, so they respond with "Whos there?"
"Dwayne"
"Dwayne who?"
"Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwowning"
We all chuckle and I thank him for the joke and attempt to send him back to the stairs to be quiet. Big, of course, was just getting started.
"Knock-Knock"
"Who's there?"
"Police"
"Police Who?"
"Police open up, it's freezing out here"
"Thank you Big. Now it really is time to go back and be quiet". I apologized to the clients, who still find my son so charming, polite and handsome (all of which he is, but the point of the gathering was to talk birth, not swap knock-knock jokes).
To his credit, Big took the hint and retreated back to the stairs rather quickly. Unfortunately my husband was still dealing with Little who was continuing to scream his head off because mommy was unavailable to give him her magic boobie. Mildly distracted by the screaming upstairs and the interruptions by Big, we press on through our content. Then it seems like the next time I turn around, Big is back beside me. This time though he is interrupting me to explain what he is seeing on the chart that I am using to describe the stages of labour.
"Oh, that orange spikey line makes the mommy crazy". Huh? What are you talking about? So I look at the chart and notice that the lines that represent a contraction are orange and very spikey, indicating transition. So I say to Big, "You are right. This part of labour is very difficult, and sometimes we feel a little crazy during the intense part of birth, it's really hard work. Thank you for your contribution to the class little helper, now away you go".
But wait, he was not done yet. He decides at that point that a demonstration is in order to teach this couple how babies are born. So, he picks up the baby doll and the pelvis skeleton that I use as a teaching aid, turns to the mom and says "Don't worry. The baby just goes down like this (he puts the baby in head first, which I thought was great!), and they come out very gently". He was so honest and sincere with this comment that I had to chuckle, hug him and send him on his way again.
I then turned to the couple and apologized again for the interruptions. Big went back upstairs, and I thought for sure that the comments and interruptions from the peanut gallery were finally finished. I could hear the footsteps of a free man making their way down the stairs to collect his other son and put him to bed. However, before the teachers helper was tucked tightly into bed with no ability to escape we heard him whisper:
"Hey Guys. What do teeth ride down the highway? Molarcycles!"
Hahahahah!
As time went on, Big's ability to deliver the punch line improved. Although, he still struggles with the knock-knock joke that involves a banana and an orange. You know the one:
Knock- Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana who?
Knock-Knock
Who's there?
Banana
Banana Who? and so it continues until you say Orange.
Orange who? Orange you glad I didn't say Banana!
In his defence, my mother can't tell that joke either! Oh Mom!
Fast forward a few weeks plus several knock-knock and joke books later, and we find ourselves on a Monday evening. I am preparing to teach a private Lamaze series to an expectant couple. I have been a certified Lamaze Educator for 3 years now, and have always taught private or group sessions in my home. Big is very familiar with the routine and has always enjoyed welcoming the clients to the house. This night was no different. My husband was trying to settle Little into bed, so Big was playing on the main level while waiting for his dad to collect him and put him to bed. Unfortunately, on this night, Little was putting up a fight and my husband was detained for longer then he planned. It wasn't long before Big started to creep down the stairs and ask to watch me while I taught. I said that was fine as long as he was quiet. Silly me!
Soon my little side kick had crept his way from the stairs to my side in order to 'help me' with the class. Since that was tolerated (only because daddy was still upstairs having been taken hostage by Little) Big thought it would also be okay to share some jokes with his new friends. As I am trying to explain the physiological and emotional changes they can expect during labour, Big pipes up with a knock- knock joke:
Big: "Hey Guys. Knock-Knock"
I of course give him 'the look', but the parents to be find him charming and buy into this entire routine, so they respond with "Whos there?"
"Dwayne"
"Dwayne who?"
"Dwayne the bathtub, I'm dwowning"
We all chuckle and I thank him for the joke and attempt to send him back to the stairs to be quiet. Big, of course, was just getting started.
"Knock-Knock"
"Who's there?"
"Police"
"Police Who?"
"Police open up, it's freezing out here"
"Thank you Big. Now it really is time to go back and be quiet". I apologized to the clients, who still find my son so charming, polite and handsome (all of which he is, but the point of the gathering was to talk birth, not swap knock-knock jokes).
To his credit, Big took the hint and retreated back to the stairs rather quickly. Unfortunately my husband was still dealing with Little who was continuing to scream his head off because mommy was unavailable to give him her magic boobie. Mildly distracted by the screaming upstairs and the interruptions by Big, we press on through our content. Then it seems like the next time I turn around, Big is back beside me. This time though he is interrupting me to explain what he is seeing on the chart that I am using to describe the stages of labour.
"Oh, that orange spikey line makes the mommy crazy". Huh? What are you talking about? So I look at the chart and notice that the lines that represent a contraction are orange and very spikey, indicating transition. So I say to Big, "You are right. This part of labour is very difficult, and sometimes we feel a little crazy during the intense part of birth, it's really hard work. Thank you for your contribution to the class little helper, now away you go".
But wait, he was not done yet. He decides at that point that a demonstration is in order to teach this couple how babies are born. So, he picks up the baby doll and the pelvis skeleton that I use as a teaching aid, turns to the mom and says "Don't worry. The baby just goes down like this (he puts the baby in head first, which I thought was great!), and they come out very gently". He was so honest and sincere with this comment that I had to chuckle, hug him and send him on his way again.
I then turned to the couple and apologized again for the interruptions. Big went back upstairs, and I thought for sure that the comments and interruptions from the peanut gallery were finally finished. I could hear the footsteps of a free man making their way down the stairs to collect his other son and put him to bed. However, before the teachers helper was tucked tightly into bed with no ability to escape we heard him whisper:
"Hey Guys. What do teeth ride down the highway? Molarcycles!"
Hahahahah!
Thursday, May 6, 2010
When Pigs Fly
Last night I couldn't sleep. I wanted to, I really, really did. There were passing moments of REM, but most of the time, I was half aware that I was only half asleep.
What was keeping me up, you ask? My brain. Yes, that's right. The parts of my brain that I have managed to retain and keep in fairly good condition following the birth of 2 babies and little sleep over a 4 year period, was functioning in high gear last night.
Thoughts would zoom in and out as I tossed and turned in bed. I thought about what the kids and I would do today (perhaps a trip to the zoo?);check weather report; made mental lists of all of the chores I need to accomplish; made a mental 'Honey, Do' list for my lovely husband (paint mainfloor powder room); mentally pictured what main floor powder room should look like; call accountant; spend tax return to renovate front porch(yes, finally we get our money BACK from the government); put finances in order; brainstormed over topics that would be appropriate to post in my blog; planned a vacation to visit my brother in California Christmas 2010; put finances in order; thought about my blog; renovate front porch; spend tax return; call accountant; paint main floor powder room, what colour? Grey?; Return to and expand 'Honey, Do' List; Mommy chores; trip to the zoo; check weather report; Repeat.
Hmmm, maybe if Big and Little don't want to go to the zoo then maybe we can all stay home and nap. Yeah, right; when pigs fly.
What was keeping me up, you ask? My brain. Yes, that's right. The parts of my brain that I have managed to retain and keep in fairly good condition following the birth of 2 babies and little sleep over a 4 year period, was functioning in high gear last night.
Thoughts would zoom in and out as I tossed and turned in bed. I thought about what the kids and I would do today (perhaps a trip to the zoo?);check weather report; made mental lists of all of the chores I need to accomplish; made a mental 'Honey, Do' list for my lovely husband (paint mainfloor powder room); mentally pictured what main floor powder room should look like; call accountant; spend tax return to renovate front porch(yes, finally we get our money BACK from the government); put finances in order; brainstormed over topics that would be appropriate to post in my blog; planned a vacation to visit my brother in California Christmas 2010; put finances in order; thought about my blog; renovate front porch; spend tax return; call accountant; paint main floor powder room, what colour? Grey?; Return to and expand 'Honey, Do' List; Mommy chores; trip to the zoo; check weather report; Repeat.
Hmmm, maybe if Big and Little don't want to go to the zoo then maybe we can all stay home and nap. Yeah, right; when pigs fly.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Better luck next time
I would never describe myself as a 'domestic diva'.
Unlike our friend June, I have a very hard time keeping my house clean.
There are always dishes in my sink, or laundry that is waiting to be folded and put away. Toys are always strewn across the floor, even though I swore I just tidied up that very spot only moments ago. The central vac is pulled out daily as I drag it all around the kitchen floor in my vain attempt to suck up all of the crumbs the family has left behind from the previous meal (really, do we get anything in our mouths?!?). I wash the floors when our feet start to stick, and the bathrooms get cleaned once a week whether they need it or not. I try to cook a decent meal most nights and over the years, my cooking skills have improved.
As I attempt to cross off all my chores from the 'to do list' I try to spend spend quality time with 'Big' playing a variety of make believe games that include, but are not limited to:
- Star Wars
- Spiderman
- BatMan
- lego
- reading
And in between my adventures with the Caped Crusader and Robin or Han Solo and Luke, I try to engage, nuture and interact with my 8 month old baby.
Every once in a while though, I hit my stride. I get it all done. I clean the house, I play with the kids, I participate in my community and get a kick ass meal on the table. On the occasions that I manage to pull it all together I give myself a pat on the back, open up a bottle of red wine and settle into the couch and indulge in a little me time.
Unfortunately, today was not one of those days! Maybe I will have better luck tomorrow.
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