Yah. I have a really bad haircut. Like really bad. Like Courteney-Cox-playing-Monica-on-"Friends"-in-1998 haircut. It's so bad.
I never intended to go down this path, but here I am. It almost makes getting up in the morning the worst idea ever, because no matter what I do, it just doesn't look good.
I've always been one to be whimsical with my hair, knowing full well that it will grow back. I had it long, up until first grade when I wanted it cut short like a boy. I have no idea why my mom thought it would be okay for a 7-year-old to make such drastic decisions, but I think I was the third child and at that point, she knew it wasn't going to hurt anything. So that was an awesome period in my life that no one ever brings up or makes fun of me for. Ever. Not once. Not even the time when we found an old figure skating picture of me and my sister wearing these really fru-fru costumes and basically it looked like someone dressed up a little boy in drag. Nope, everyone was very complimentary and extremely poised when reminiscing about that skating number. It was also the one where they paired me up with the only other little boy in our group. Yes, super supportive they all were.
I've had it long, short, medium, brown, blonde, brown with blonde, blonde with brown, bangs, no bangs, layers, and bobs. It's like I'm 7-years-old again when I go to the salon, I have this great idea in my head, because I saw it on someone that looked nothing like me and was somehow able to see myself rocking that same look. Sometimes I nail it, other times it bites the dust.
This time it bit dust. Hard.
I decided that I was going to save a little money and hold off on a haircut when I got back to Minnesota for Christmas and go to a girl I had gone to several years ago. I am also trying to grow my hair out for Casey's brother's wedding in June. My latest style was extremely cute, but I couldn't put it up in a ponytail and that's a deal breaker. I thought, a little trim to even out the inverted bob and a refresher brown color did not seem complicated, not even that inspiring, either.
I will say that I just love the girl who did my hair. We are the same age, we both have kids, she dresses so stylishly, and we have so much to talk about when I get my hair done. The experience in her self-owned hipster salon is awesome, and I think that's why I keep coming back. I forget that her haircuts are not that great.
After cutting for what seemed like seven-too-many minutes, she blow-dryed my hair, but stopped before it was completely dry. I know that it's better for your hair if you don't dry it completely, but if I allow just a little moisture to hang out, something from 1987 springs to life and I all of a sudden have a body wave. To finish the look, she only halfway straightened it and did no bumping, teasing, and spraying, which is essential in my hair-doing. When it was all over, I was still laughing from our conversation about TOMS that I was smiled and said, "Oh, great. Thanks so much." I paid her and left.
When I got home, I realized that it wasn't that great. The ends were not blended well and the layers were very obvious. I thought that perhaps the next day, I would do it myself and it would look better. It did not and again, I looked like seventh roommate on "Friends". When we got back to Phoenix, I himmed and hawed over the style and have been using bobby pins and lots of hairspray to try and make it look cute. Just recently, I decided to buy a new flat iron because my other one wasn't straightening that well, anyway, and it was my last hope. It helped somewhat, but something was still amiss.
So now I am contemplating. Do I ride this haircut out, feeling like a frumpy mom that's stuck in her high school years or do I bite the bullet and make an appointment at my regular salon to pay $50 for my snotty stylist just to blend and contour? Part of me is saying, yes, of course it's worth it. But the other part of me is saying, maybe in a couple months it will grow out and my next haircut will be done right.
Ugh! Decisions, decisions! Until I do make that final decision, you can find me sipping a coffee at Central Perk.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Thursday, January 19, 2012
Fo' Sale Fo' Sure
Ever sold a house? I'm a FTHS (a first time house seller). After living in this "starter" house for almost five years, we have terribly outgrown its walls and need to find a place where I can have a desk, not a converted dining room closet that we made into an office. Which is actually really charming, I'm not going to lie.
I often wondered, "What were we thinking?" as we repainted every wall and cabinet, replaced all the lighting, installed new floors and an air conditioner, and carefully planned the backyard. I apologize, I did none of this. Casey did it all, but I was an excellent pointer outer of the things that needed to be changed. When the house was finally looking good, I just couldn't be satisfied. The bathroom and kitchen cabinets, the master bathtub, the windows, the sliding glass doors all needed to be replaced and the list continued to grow and grow.
Enter baby. All of a sudden the house's walls got smaller and it felt like we were packed in like sardines. A 2-bedroom home should be enough space for 3 people, but it's not. If you have kids, you especially know what I mean. Kids have lots and lots and lots of crap. And they have lots of clothes. I'm talking a change of clothes for 2 months straight without repeating. Not only that, they get a new wardrobe every 3 months. Clothes, toys, and baby items were being shoved in corners, in closets, in gargage shelves, and under beds.
To be frank, this house was a POS when we bought it. A single guy, that we are sure had some hoarding tendencies, was the previous owner. There was ugly wallpaper hung all over, brown 1984 tile, outdated brass lighting, and dirty carpeting. And we paid entirely too much for it in 2007, before "it" happened. You know, the economy. It was either this very unloved, tiny home or a glorified apartment they were selling as "condos". We opted for an actual house that needed a lot of TLC.
"It has good bones." We reassured eachother. And it was fun to look through magazines and envision a similar look in a room 5 times smaller. But those things cost a lot of money to change, so we did what we could, when we could afford it, while working full-time and paying a huge mortgage to boot. I can't even tell you how many Christmases and birthdays we asked for fans, mirrors, lights, and appliances. Bonuses were for the big ticket items like curbing and replacing the patio.
I often wondered, "What were we thinking?" as we repainted every wall and cabinet, replaced all the lighting, installed new floors and an air conditioner, and carefully planned the backyard. I apologize, I did none of this. Casey did it all, but I was an excellent pointer outer of the things that needed to be changed. When the house was finally looking good, I just couldn't be satisfied. The bathroom and kitchen cabinets, the master bathtub, the windows, the sliding glass doors all needed to be replaced and the list continued to grow and grow.
Enter baby. All of a sudden the house's walls got smaller and it felt like we were packed in like sardines. A 2-bedroom home should be enough space for 3 people, but it's not. If you have kids, you especially know what I mean. Kids have lots and lots and lots of crap. And they have lots of clothes. I'm talking a change of clothes for 2 months straight without repeating. Not only that, they get a new wardrobe every 3 months. Clothes, toys, and baby items were being shoved in corners, in closets, in gargage shelves, and under beds.
Needless to say, we realized that our cute little fixer-upper was not meant to raise a family and we never really intended to stay in this house for very long. But, you know, with the economy and all, we didn't really know if it was the right decision to go through the scariness that our parents would never dream of doing...like short selling or even FORECLOSING on a home! However, it's 2012 and what more can I say?
After recieving some very sound advice from an expert in the field, we have taken the plunge. We are giving the next buyer a 50% discount from what we paid! Aren't we so kind? I haven't been a home buyer in the new real estate situation, so I don't know what people are looking for or what they see out there. All I know is my little house and all the blood, sweat, and tears that [Casey] did to make it our home.
After recieving some very sound advice from an expert in the field, we have taken the plunge. We are giving the next buyer a 50% discount from what we paid! Aren't we so kind? I haven't been a home buyer in the new real estate situation, so I don't know what people are looking for or what they see out there. All I know is my little house and all the blood, sweat, and tears that [Casey] did to make it our home.
It's a process of vulnerability. We want to let people know how good this house has it now. How far this little lady has come from five years ago and the steal they are getting with her current price tag. But people are ten times more critical than I am to her. They, too, see all her flaws, like there isn't tile in the master shower and the windows need to be updated. I want to tell people about the chapter we have written in this home. We want them to see the good qualities that we really tried to emphasize with the little bit of money that we had. It's the first home we bought and came home to after we got married. It's where we brought home our first baby and gave him his first bath in the kitchen sink. We want this home to be nurtured and loved the way we have in the last five years.
But it isn't like that. It's stressful as we try to keep the house immaculate, putting its best foot forward, just in case people want to look at it. It's terribly difficult with a toddler running around specifically removing those items that I have placed just so. I am rearranging nap times to accomodate their schedules. And I can tell when shower curtains have been moved and closet doors have been opened after a showing. Let's hope none of them assume the dresser is included in the home, no one needs to be rummaging through my undies! You never know, though.
I want to ask them what they think and tell them the story about how we made the house better. I also don't want to know what they think, because seriously, whatever, they can suck it. I hope the house gets sold quickly to a person who will continue to make the house look warm, cozy, and inviting.
However, this is the nature of the beast and we are at the mercy of these fine folks who might perhaps want to buy it so we can move on in our lives, too. If you, or anyone you know is looking for a great, affordable 2-bedroom home in the Southeast Valley of Phoenix, AZ, please come on through!
Monday, August 2, 2010
A Recipe to Share
I have another recipe for everyone and by everyone I mean even my vegetarian friends, that's how aware I am of my readers, all four of you.
I am stealing it from Clean Eating Magazine. If you don't have a subscription, I highly recommend it. Ask for it for your next birthday or Christmas present. Our meals are usually cooked from those magazines. The only downfall is when you make something really good from it, then you can't remember which magazine it was in or what page it was on. I'm sure that could be easily remedied by simply writing them down in a little booklet. That would be too easy, right?
This recipe is perfect for everyone because we had it for dinner, but you can make it and keep it for lunches, and it's contents can be completely altered to your liking! I loved it, Casey did not, but I know how I would change it so he would like it.
Quinoa Bowl
3 c. dry quinoa
1 c. cilantro, chopped
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
1 can of black beans, drained
2 avacados, diced
4 limes, juiced (this may be a little less depending on if you like citrus)
zest of 1 lime
Dressing:
1/4 c. olive oil
1/4 c. white vinegar or rice vinegar (I used rice.)
2 or 3 cloves of garlic, minced
sea salt and pepper to taste
Here's how you make it:
1. Cook the quinoa so it's nice and fluffy...I cook it in about 2 c. water, bring to a boil, put a lid on it, turn down the heat and let it cook through. Then I fluff it with a fork.
2. While quinoa is cooking, dump beans, tomatoes, and cilantro into the bowl you are going to use to serve/store it in.
3. Chop avacados, put in a small bowl and squeeze a little lime juice over them so they don't brown.
4. Make the dressing by putting olive oil, vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper into a food processor or a mini chopper until it gets all blended and creamy looking. Keep it to the side.
5. When the quinoa is done cooking, squeeze the limes and put in the zest and stir. HERE IS WHERE I LOST CASEY. He doesn't like lemon or lime to take over a dish. I like it. I squeezed 'em all, but next time I make it, I'll probably just squeeze one or two. Add a little salt and pepper to it.
6. Dump quinoa into the tomato/bean mixture and stir. Pour the dressing on and stir it up again. Top with avacados.
I loved it. Casey would have liked less lime and some chicken diced up in it. You could add green beans or asparagus or whatever else you think would make you love it.
There are lots of leftovers, the magazine said it's 12 servings, but in our house, that translates to about 6...we aren't trying to lose weight or anything, we like being a little thick, you know. Casey is going out of town for the next 4 days, so Shannon and I will eat it happily as lunch!
Bon appetit!
I am stealing it from Clean Eating Magazine. If you don't have a subscription, I highly recommend it. Ask for it for your next birthday or Christmas present. Our meals are usually cooked from those magazines. The only downfall is when you make something really good from it, then you can't remember which magazine it was in or what page it was on. I'm sure that could be easily remedied by simply writing them down in a little booklet. That would be too easy, right?
This recipe is perfect for everyone because we had it for dinner, but you can make it and keep it for lunches, and it's contents can be completely altered to your liking! I loved it, Casey did not, but I know how I would change it so he would like it.
Quinoa Bowl
3 c. dry quinoa
1 c. cilantro, chopped
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
1 can of black beans, drained
2 avacados, diced
4 limes, juiced (this may be a little less depending on if you like citrus)
zest of 1 lime
Dressing:
1/4 c. olive oil
1/4 c. white vinegar or rice vinegar (I used rice.)
2 or 3 cloves of garlic, minced
sea salt and pepper to taste
Here's how you make it:
1. Cook the quinoa so it's nice and fluffy...I cook it in about 2 c. water, bring to a boil, put a lid on it, turn down the heat and let it cook through. Then I fluff it with a fork.
2. While quinoa is cooking, dump beans, tomatoes, and cilantro into the bowl you are going to use to serve/store it in.
3. Chop avacados, put in a small bowl and squeeze a little lime juice over them so they don't brown.
4. Make the dressing by putting olive oil, vinegar, garlic, salt and pepper into a food processor or a mini chopper until it gets all blended and creamy looking. Keep it to the side.
5. When the quinoa is done cooking, squeeze the limes and put in the zest and stir. HERE IS WHERE I LOST CASEY. He doesn't like lemon or lime to take over a dish. I like it. I squeezed 'em all, but next time I make it, I'll probably just squeeze one or two. Add a little salt and pepper to it.
6. Dump quinoa into the tomato/bean mixture and stir. Pour the dressing on and stir it up again. Top with avacados.
I loved it. Casey would have liked less lime and some chicken diced up in it. You could add green beans or asparagus or whatever else you think would make you love it.
There are lots of leftovers, the magazine said it's 12 servings, but in our house, that translates to about 6...we aren't trying to lose weight or anything, we like being a little thick, you know. Casey is going out of town for the next 4 days, so Shannon and I will eat it happily as lunch!
Bon appetit!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
School's in for the Summer
School is starting in a week and a half. Can you believe it? Where did the summer go? In Minnesota, I bet you are quizzically furrowing your eyebrows and thinking that there is another month of summer to enjoy. I was once a believer that summer was June, July, and August. However, in Arizona, summer is May, June, July, August, and September. These poor kids are stuck inside their summer break because it's too hot to even breathe! There are no kids riding their bikes around the neighborhood, no mamas pushing their strollers to the park, and no kids running drills on soccer fields. Since we have such dormant summers, they start school EXTRA early.
I don't have to go back to work. Ha! Not until September 5th, when the rest of the country starts the day after Labor Day. You are probably excited and smiling for me that I get to have time with Tommy at home. And goodness knows I deserve the time off because I hoarded my sick days and didn't take any personal days for the last two years so I could have a full pay maternity leave. I accomplished that, plus another six weeks, just in case.
Unfortunately, this job doesn't just start itself. I accepted a fifth grade position for this year and had to move rooms down a different hallway. I also knew that I wasn't going to start the school year either, which adds some extra stress to this big mess. The end of last year, I was one week away from giving birth (technically 3 days) and I was hauling boxes, books, and binders down the hall with my students dragging the really big items. I dumped it in the hallway outside the door where the teacher whose classroom I was taking had not even started packing up her room. When I left on May 26th, I was relieved to be done, but anticipating the mess I would walk into come the end of July with a small baby.
As much as I never want the end of my break to come, there is some excitement to setting up my classroom. Have you ever moved and packed up your things over a period of time and then when you unpacked your boxes in your new place, you are always surprised by a few items? That's what it's kind of like when I set up my classroom each year. Oh, I had forgotten about you, I say to some hot pink fabric. And this new Eric Carle border will compliment you so well. I buy new punch out letters that have a great pattern on them. How super fun will you look on my walls? I spend long hours and late nights painstakingly stapling up all my bulletin boards, borders, lettering, posters, and pocket charts. I use my best creative handwriting to write "Mrs. Huberty" on my welcome poster. I can't wait to get my hands on my class list so I can finally write out nameplates for their desks. I put together their supply buckets neatly and make sure all their Crayola crayons have pointy tips and none of their scissors have glue or tape stuck to the metal. The room is always colorful, inviting, a little overwhelming at first, but totally awesome.
This year didn't have the same excitement and attention to detail that I always try and improve upon each year. Trips to Target were late this season because I can't take Tommy in public. The Lakeshore trip was uneventful as I grabbed my usual supplies, but nothing extra to save a little money. I was given two small windows of time that my sister would be able to watch Tommy during the day last week. I would drive 40 minutes down to Casa Grande and run into my room--literally, I was jogging with the flatbed cart down the hallway so I wouldn't waste any time. I locked my door and turned up Glee Volume 1.
The first day I scrubbed, wiped and dusted all my shelving and organizers (those things get dusty in a year!). I threw things in piles and pushed all my desks and chairs to the center of the room. It has been quite liberating to not be pregnant, I've gone back to my old obnoxious carrying-and-pushing-things-that-I-really-shouldn't ways. When I left that first day, I felt a bit defeated and my muscles ached. There was no way I could revive this classroom in the little time that I had. The next day I again ran to my classroom and I started unpacking boxes. I didn't marvel at their old newness or attempt to conjure up old memories. They were put into a pile in a general location where they would be later. I hauled things out, I tossed out anything that looked like crap, I sorted books and all of my curriculum and when I left, it still looked like a tornado had passed through it. How did four hours go by like five minutes? Again, I left feeling tired, but at least my mess was an organized one.
This week I knew I only had two days to whip my classroom together. It was a big day yesterday. I'm no spring chicken and this is my sixth year putting together a classroom. I ran and I was literally out of breath stapling with such haste. Fabrics were flying up at lightning speed, borders were quickly disguising my poor cutting jobs. Lettering was signifying all of my focus walls for all subjects. I organized my desk into neat purple plastic boxes. I had things in cubbies and my teacher manuals lined up in order. I left again four hours later with a sweaty brow and somewhat of a classroom.
Oh, but today....today was huge! My sister came with me and we brought the little monster. We didn't really know how it would go, but alas, with a constant parade of visitors in the room, the two of us finished the room. One would feed Tommy while the other put together supply buckets. One would cuddle Tommy while the other cut folders. Both of us would staple while Tommy was in his swing sleeping. Tommy watched from his bouncy seat as I arranged the desks and stacked chairs.
As we were just packing up to leave (with carrier, stroller, bouncy chair, travel swing, diaper bag, breast pump and two purses in tow) my principal and our school's reading coach walked into my room. It was the true test. I took a deep breath as they surveyed my room. I crossed my fingers as they took in each wall and corner.
"Oh, my gosh!" they said with shocked voices. Was it good or was it bad? Smiles spread across their faces. They couldn't believe that I had taken four walls, piled up furniture, and my mess shoved into a corner and created my masterpiece. They said it was perfect. It was ready for my substitute to come in and start the year. It was bright, it was inviting, it was a little overwhelming at first, and it was TOTALLY AWESOME.
What a relief to have it done. And just before I left, I put in my final touch and hung up a picture. Casey and Tommy sitting together and smiling pleasantly back at me. Now it was the perfect classroom.
WHEW!
I don't have to go back to work. Ha! Not until September 5th, when the rest of the country starts the day after Labor Day. You are probably excited and smiling for me that I get to have time with Tommy at home. And goodness knows I deserve the time off because I hoarded my sick days and didn't take any personal days for the last two years so I could have a full pay maternity leave. I accomplished that, plus another six weeks, just in case.
Unfortunately, this job doesn't just start itself. I accepted a fifth grade position for this year and had to move rooms down a different hallway. I also knew that I wasn't going to start the school year either, which adds some extra stress to this big mess. The end of last year, I was one week away from giving birth (technically 3 days) and I was hauling boxes, books, and binders down the hall with my students dragging the really big items. I dumped it in the hallway outside the door where the teacher whose classroom I was taking had not even started packing up her room. When I left on May 26th, I was relieved to be done, but anticipating the mess I would walk into come the end of July with a small baby.
As much as I never want the end of my break to come, there is some excitement to setting up my classroom. Have you ever moved and packed up your things over a period of time and then when you unpacked your boxes in your new place, you are always surprised by a few items? That's what it's kind of like when I set up my classroom each year. Oh, I had forgotten about you, I say to some hot pink fabric. And this new Eric Carle border will compliment you so well. I buy new punch out letters that have a great pattern on them. How super fun will you look on my walls? I spend long hours and late nights painstakingly stapling up all my bulletin boards, borders, lettering, posters, and pocket charts. I use my best creative handwriting to write "Mrs. Huberty" on my welcome poster. I can't wait to get my hands on my class list so I can finally write out nameplates for their desks. I put together their supply buckets neatly and make sure all their Crayola crayons have pointy tips and none of their scissors have glue or tape stuck to the metal. The room is always colorful, inviting, a little overwhelming at first, but totally awesome.
This year didn't have the same excitement and attention to detail that I always try and improve upon each year. Trips to Target were late this season because I can't take Tommy in public. The Lakeshore trip was uneventful as I grabbed my usual supplies, but nothing extra to save a little money. I was given two small windows of time that my sister would be able to watch Tommy during the day last week. I would drive 40 minutes down to Casa Grande and run into my room--literally, I was jogging with the flatbed cart down the hallway so I wouldn't waste any time. I locked my door and turned up Glee Volume 1.
The first day I scrubbed, wiped and dusted all my shelving and organizers (those things get dusty in a year!). I threw things in piles and pushed all my desks and chairs to the center of the room. It has been quite liberating to not be pregnant, I've gone back to my old obnoxious carrying-and-pushing-things-that-I-really-shouldn't ways. When I left that first day, I felt a bit defeated and my muscles ached. There was no way I could revive this classroom in the little time that I had. The next day I again ran to my classroom and I started unpacking boxes. I didn't marvel at their old newness or attempt to conjure up old memories. They were put into a pile in a general location where they would be later. I hauled things out, I tossed out anything that looked like crap, I sorted books and all of my curriculum and when I left, it still looked like a tornado had passed through it. How did four hours go by like five minutes? Again, I left feeling tired, but at least my mess was an organized one.
This week I knew I only had two days to whip my classroom together. It was a big day yesterday. I'm no spring chicken and this is my sixth year putting together a classroom. I ran and I was literally out of breath stapling with such haste. Fabrics were flying up at lightning speed, borders were quickly disguising my poor cutting jobs. Lettering was signifying all of my focus walls for all subjects. I organized my desk into neat purple plastic boxes. I had things in cubbies and my teacher manuals lined up in order. I left again four hours later with a sweaty brow and somewhat of a classroom.
Oh, but today....today was huge! My sister came with me and we brought the little monster. We didn't really know how it would go, but alas, with a constant parade of visitors in the room, the two of us finished the room. One would feed Tommy while the other put together supply buckets. One would cuddle Tommy while the other cut folders. Both of us would staple while Tommy was in his swing sleeping. Tommy watched from his bouncy seat as I arranged the desks and stacked chairs.
As we were just packing up to leave (with carrier, stroller, bouncy chair, travel swing, diaper bag, breast pump and two purses in tow) my principal and our school's reading coach walked into my room. It was the true test. I took a deep breath as they surveyed my room. I crossed my fingers as they took in each wall and corner.
"Oh, my gosh!" they said with shocked voices. Was it good or was it bad? Smiles spread across their faces. They couldn't believe that I had taken four walls, piled up furniture, and my mess shoved into a corner and created my masterpiece. They said it was perfect. It was ready for my substitute to come in and start the year. It was bright, it was inviting, it was a little overwhelming at first, and it was TOTALLY AWESOME.
What a relief to have it done. And just before I left, I put in my final touch and hung up a picture. Casey and Tommy sitting together and smiling pleasantly back at me. Now it was the perfect classroom.
WHEW!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
I Scream, You Scream and it isn't for Ice Cream
I may go nuts. Literally, I may have to check myself into the nearest mental health facility very soon. It's probably really quiet there. They will probably have drugs stronger than Tylenol that will make me very sleepy and I will take them without reservation. I will be their best patient as I tell the psychiatrist EVERYTHING from my extremely uneventful childhood to what brought me to my current state. Screaming.
Why does my baby scream? When I gave birth (a different story all together), Tommy came out with one eye open, like he was winking at me. It was like he knew. He didn't cry and it made the delivery nurses a little nervous. There was a little whimpering, but after a close examination, he checked out as a very healthy baby boy.
"Oh, you are so lucky he doesn't cry that much! I hope this is a sign of what's to come!" one nurse exclaimed as he lay contently in my arms.
And he didn't really cry that much the first week we brought him home. We even went to church that first week--to church! Tommy really was the perfect baby. I praised the heavens for this good karma, I knew opening doors for people and always returning my cart to the cart corral was going to pay off. Here it was, my perfect baby.
He's still perfect, buuuuuut, there are a few minor adjustments I would suggest if he could understand me. After a couple of weeks, we had ourselves a squealer. Is that even a word? I don't know, but his ear piercing screeches can sometimes only be heard by the barking dogs next door. We would cringe after feeding him, not knowing what to expect after dispensing liquids down his throat. Will he burp and go to sleep? Will he cry inconsolably? Will he just plain scream?
It was usually the last one. As new parents, we will do ANYTHING to make the crying/screaming/screeching stop. We gave each other tips on how to possibly tame the beast. I suggested to Casey to hold him at a 45 degree angle not quite directly under the fan, but more at a three o'clock stance and to put his pinkie into the hole of the pacifier and gently bounce, but not too aggressively because one time it worked for me. Later on that evening, or maybe it was early the next morning, when Tommy was testing out his pipes again, Casey recommended that I hold him like Simba from the "Lion King" and move him in a swooshing motion, while saying "heeeeeeey" in a really deep voice.
We were desperate for him to stop screaming. I called the pediatrician and I think they just humored me and gave him a prescription for heartburn and said to put a little rice cereal in his breast milk. It was awesome the first day. He was actually pleasant to be around and we played in his Boppy. Then he stopped pooping. Besides our world revolving around his screaming, it is also very much affected by his poop. Which there was none. For three days. After reading the information packet, it turned out constipation was a side effect of the medicine and the rice cereal. We asked ourselves what's worse--a screaming baby with heartburn or a screaming baby with painful constipation? We loaded Tommy back up again to the pediatrician to get an expert answer and she recommended to stop the rice cereal and continue the medication. Righty-o, we obediently responded.
I wish I could say that it's been smooth sailing ever since. I am a stay-at-home mom that literally stays at home. We can't leave the house. Tommy has taken it upon himself to scream everywhere and anywhere that does not have a My Little Lamb Cradle 'n Swing. No shopping trips to the grocery store or Target--he screams. No quick errands to the post office--straight up screaming. No indoor walking track--cry/scream combo. No visiting homes that don't have his swing--you guessed it. As of now, we have three locations where minimal screaming takes place: our house, his Uncle Ryan and Aunt Trena's house (only because they have all the luxuries of home plus more), and the pediatrician's office. I am dreading a playdate I agreed to this Friday where we are going to walk at the mall and have lunch...ha! In my dreams this will have a pleasant ending!
It's difficult to feel happy when the walls of your little house feel like they are closing in at a rapid pace. I have had so many suggestions and advice given to me which I graciously accept, but until experiencing the screaming first-hand, it's difficult to understand the magnitude of it all. I can mostly read his screams and when we are at home, I can tend to the scream immediately. While in the grocery store, my resources are limited and my arm count is still only at two, which makes it almost impossible to hold him and push the cart...trust me, I've tried!
I want to enjoy him when he is so little, as everyone has also told me to do, but how do you enjoy a screaming baby? I feel more like I'm doing damage control and praying that he will just go to sleep, so then at least he won't scream. I get angry with Casey for being even 15 minutes late. I am losing my mind a little bit and wondering if I really was ready for all of this. How come other mom bloggers have really awesome kids that only sometimes act up and always pose perfectly for pictures? Where is my "mom gene" hiding that I can't lovingly and patiently accept my healthy baby with a screaming problem? I think it's lodged in some of this belly fat I'm still trying to lose.
Why does my baby scream? When I gave birth (a different story all together), Tommy came out with one eye open, like he was winking at me. It was like he knew. He didn't cry and it made the delivery nurses a little nervous. There was a little whimpering, but after a close examination, he checked out as a very healthy baby boy.
"Oh, you are so lucky he doesn't cry that much! I hope this is a sign of what's to come!" one nurse exclaimed as he lay contently in my arms.
And he didn't really cry that much the first week we brought him home. We even went to church that first week--to church! Tommy really was the perfect baby. I praised the heavens for this good karma, I knew opening doors for people and always returning my cart to the cart corral was going to pay off. Here it was, my perfect baby.
He's still perfect, buuuuuut, there are a few minor adjustments I would suggest if he could understand me. After a couple of weeks, we had ourselves a squealer. Is that even a word? I don't know, but his ear piercing screeches can sometimes only be heard by the barking dogs next door. We would cringe after feeding him, not knowing what to expect after dispensing liquids down his throat. Will he burp and go to sleep? Will he cry inconsolably? Will he just plain scream?
It was usually the last one. As new parents, we will do ANYTHING to make the crying/screaming/screeching stop. We gave each other tips on how to possibly tame the beast. I suggested to Casey to hold him at a 45 degree angle not quite directly under the fan, but more at a three o'clock stance and to put his pinkie into the hole of the pacifier and gently bounce, but not too aggressively because one time it worked for me. Later on that evening, or maybe it was early the next morning, when Tommy was testing out his pipes again, Casey recommended that I hold him like Simba from the "Lion King" and move him in a swooshing motion, while saying "heeeeeeey" in a really deep voice.
We were desperate for him to stop screaming. I called the pediatrician and I think they just humored me and gave him a prescription for heartburn and said to put a little rice cereal in his breast milk. It was awesome the first day. He was actually pleasant to be around and we played in his Boppy. Then he stopped pooping. Besides our world revolving around his screaming, it is also very much affected by his poop. Which there was none. For three days. After reading the information packet, it turned out constipation was a side effect of the medicine and the rice cereal. We asked ourselves what's worse--a screaming baby with heartburn or a screaming baby with painful constipation? We loaded Tommy back up again to the pediatrician to get an expert answer and she recommended to stop the rice cereal and continue the medication. Righty-o, we obediently responded.
I wish I could say that it's been smooth sailing ever since. I am a stay-at-home mom that literally stays at home. We can't leave the house. Tommy has taken it upon himself to scream everywhere and anywhere that does not have a My Little Lamb Cradle 'n Swing. No shopping trips to the grocery store or Target--he screams. No quick errands to the post office--straight up screaming. No indoor walking track--cry/scream combo. No visiting homes that don't have his swing--you guessed it. As of now, we have three locations where minimal screaming takes place: our house, his Uncle Ryan and Aunt Trena's house (only because they have all the luxuries of home plus more), and the pediatrician's office. I am dreading a playdate I agreed to this Friday where we are going to walk at the mall and have lunch...ha! In my dreams this will have a pleasant ending!
It's difficult to feel happy when the walls of your little house feel like they are closing in at a rapid pace. I have had so many suggestions and advice given to me which I graciously accept, but until experiencing the screaming first-hand, it's difficult to understand the magnitude of it all. I can mostly read his screams and when we are at home, I can tend to the scream immediately. While in the grocery store, my resources are limited and my arm count is still only at two, which makes it almost impossible to hold him and push the cart...trust me, I've tried!
I want to enjoy him when he is so little, as everyone has also told me to do, but how do you enjoy a screaming baby? I feel more like I'm doing damage control and praying that he will just go to sleep, so then at least he won't scream. I get angry with Casey for being even 15 minutes late. I am losing my mind a little bit and wondering if I really was ready for all of this. How come other mom bloggers have really awesome kids that only sometimes act up and always pose perfectly for pictures? Where is my "mom gene" hiding that I can't lovingly and patiently accept my healthy baby with a screaming problem? I think it's lodged in some of this belly fat I'm still trying to lose.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
It's My Duty to Rock this Booty!
I think this title may have some sexual connotations, however, that isn't why I wrote it. The truth of the matter is my booty is getting big. My thighs are rubbing a little too quickly and often times are excusing each other as they "brush" past.
I need to face some facts. This is not how I envisioned my pregnancy to be. I'm pretty upset with myself right now and can't believe that I've let myself go. I may just become a regular Kate Hudson, with a 70 pound pregnancy weight gain, which isn't a fair comparison because my starting weight wasn't 90 pounds.
I forgive myself for October and most of November. I couldn't move and anything unrelated to the couch or my bed was too much to handle. But I feel SOOO much better these days. There is no excuse!
I was a work-out gal before this baby thing happened. Four to five times a week I had my little routines. Monday was running 2-3 miles and an hour long yoga class, Tuesday was my weight lifting class with either the elliptical or a yoga class before it, Wednesday was my running and yoga again, and Thursday was elliptical and weightlifting class. Don't even touch my Saturday mornings. It was a hardcore run or weightlifting class followed by the most intense power yoga class ever. I was in heaven everytime I left the gym at 12:00.
One would think that I weighed 120 pounds with this much exercise, but I'm an eater. I love food and ate enough to maintain a healthy weight around 133 pounds. Good enough, I thought!
Since feeling much better, I'm back to my lovely eating ways sans exercise. Whoops. I don't have that kind of metabolism to eat that much without some physical counteraction. I am mad at myself. I don't know what has been keeping me from walking through the doors of LA Fitness, but I have been terrified to go. It was like I had this new body. It wasn't as tone or strong. I couldn't get on the treadmill and start running at 6.0 like I used to, I couldn't walk into my weightlifting class and push myself as hard as before, and seriously, would a yoga class be that beneficial? I can't lay on my stomach or bend as well. Can I even do a push-up anymore? I didn't even want to find out!
Shame on me!! I know better than that! I was making up stinkin' excuses! I fell off the wagon. Even if there wasn't a baby in my belly, I would still have a thousand other excuses why I'm not going. I hate when this happens.
So I've worked out two days in a row today and they weren't filled with hardcore runs or weightlifting, but the elliptical machine and those dainty weightlifting machines I used to scoff at. I'm so proud of myself. It isn't about my thighs rubbing together or my butt getting big, it's about having a more successful labor and delivery and a more content baby. It's about not getting gestational diabetes and making it so much easier to take the weight off after the baby comes.
The reasons for working out before were probably a lot more vanity-driven. Now I need to shift paradigms and create new exercise routines for new goals these next few months. I bought a prenatal yoga video that I feel more comfortable doing that keeps those goals in mind. If you have any ideas that helped with your pregnancy, labor, delivery, or post-partum, leave me a comment. I need a new kind of help with my routine!
I need to face some facts. This is not how I envisioned my pregnancy to be. I'm pretty upset with myself right now and can't believe that I've let myself go. I may just become a regular Kate Hudson, with a 70 pound pregnancy weight gain, which isn't a fair comparison because my starting weight wasn't 90 pounds.
I forgive myself for October and most of November. I couldn't move and anything unrelated to the couch or my bed was too much to handle. But I feel SOOO much better these days. There is no excuse!
I was a work-out gal before this baby thing happened. Four to five times a week I had my little routines. Monday was running 2-3 miles and an hour long yoga class, Tuesday was my weight lifting class with either the elliptical or a yoga class before it, Wednesday was my running and yoga again, and Thursday was elliptical and weightlifting class. Don't even touch my Saturday mornings. It was a hardcore run or weightlifting class followed by the most intense power yoga class ever. I was in heaven everytime I left the gym at 12:00.
One would think that I weighed 120 pounds with this much exercise, but I'm an eater. I love food and ate enough to maintain a healthy weight around 133 pounds. Good enough, I thought!
Since feeling much better, I'm back to my lovely eating ways sans exercise. Whoops. I don't have that kind of metabolism to eat that much without some physical counteraction. I am mad at myself. I don't know what has been keeping me from walking through the doors of LA Fitness, but I have been terrified to go. It was like I had this new body. It wasn't as tone or strong. I couldn't get on the treadmill and start running at 6.0 like I used to, I couldn't walk into my weightlifting class and push myself as hard as before, and seriously, would a yoga class be that beneficial? I can't lay on my stomach or bend as well. Can I even do a push-up anymore? I didn't even want to find out!
Shame on me!! I know better than that! I was making up stinkin' excuses! I fell off the wagon. Even if there wasn't a baby in my belly, I would still have a thousand other excuses why I'm not going. I hate when this happens.
So I've worked out two days in a row today and they weren't filled with hardcore runs or weightlifting, but the elliptical machine and those dainty weightlifting machines I used to scoff at. I'm so proud of myself. It isn't about my thighs rubbing together or my butt getting big, it's about having a more successful labor and delivery and a more content baby. It's about not getting gestational diabetes and making it so much easier to take the weight off after the baby comes.
The reasons for working out before were probably a lot more vanity-driven. Now I need to shift paradigms and create new exercise routines for new goals these next few months. I bought a prenatal yoga video that I feel more comfortable doing that keeps those goals in mind. If you have any ideas that helped with your pregnancy, labor, delivery, or post-partum, leave me a comment. I need a new kind of help with my routine!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
You Can't Make These Things Up
This class makes me laugh. I can't say that enough. I will give my 2 favorite examples. This little boy below, we'll call him "Chris", was waiting for me outside on Monday morning wearing these glasses. After taking off his coat, he went into full Steve Urkel mode with the voice and the walk. You can't not take a picture of it. I had tears in my eyes.
Another day before a long weekend, I let the kids clean out their desks right before the end of the day. I gave them a Lysol wipe to clean the inside and top of their dirty little desks. I also have a feather duster that I brought out and told them they could use it. The girls love using the duster, there's something sort of domestic about a feather duster that attracts young girls, I don't know why. The kids finished cleaning their desks, picking up the floor, and stacking their chairs. They were ready to go home and I sent them on their merry ways. I went to do outside duty and when I returned this was left on my desk:
It says "Baby come back" from the Swiffer commercial. I died.
I believe that laughing is a must in teaching. It's hard to pinpoint what humor does for children, but I just love their sarcasm sometimes! It's not malicious or rude, just funny and....experimental.
One of my students came back from the bathroom yesterday told me that another young boy put up his middle finger by the water fountain. Now, I know that I could hunt down that first grader and let him have it, but I just nodded my head. One of my fifth graders supplied us with the punchline we were in need of: "He sounds pleasant." All the kids started laughing and I couldn't help but join them.
What else could I do? We all got over it in .2 seconds and went on with our afternoon. So much easier.
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