So, I drop M off at preschool this morning, and there's a small gaggle of moms clustered around one of the cars, peering under it and looking concerned. After I brought M in, I decided to give in to the nosiness and see what was going on. There was a copperhead snake hiding under the car -- apparently, it had crossed the parking lot right in front of one of the moms, then found a place it liked and was taking a nap two feet from the preschool's playground.
I'll admit, my first reaction was "oooh, cool! A snake! Let me see!" I've never seen a snake outside of a zoo before, so I was kind of curious. But as it was pointed out that copperheads are poisonous, I remembered that M would be the first kid to try to hug snakey should it ever venture onto the playground. Not so good. Clearly, the snake needed to move faaar away from the kid-infested area.
We called animal control, but they said that (a) it'd cost $150 for them just to come out, (b) it would take them at least an hour to get there, and (c) someone would have to stay and "babysit" the snake, because they'd charge extra if they had to search for it. So, lord forgive me, I mused out loud that maybe it'd be better if the mom whose car it was simply, oh, moved her car forward a foot or two and --ahem-- ended the problem.
So that's what we decided to do. One of the other moms queued her car up behind to do the actual rolling, and I was positioned between the snake and the playground with a garden rake, just in case he decided to make a break for the playground. Which, of course, he did. So I beat him to death. And then I burst into tears. I've never killed anything larger than a spider before (and even then, I feel a little guilty), and killing the snake was horrible. It didn't mean any harm and it couldn't fight back.
Ugh. I feel terrible and guilty and wrong. I keep telling myself that it could have bitten M or any one of the other kids at school, but it's really not helping.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
How things change
E is three months old now, and in many ways, it seems like she's just slotted effortlessly into our family. The schedule hasn't really changed much -- she's so easygoing that I can basically tote her around wherever we would normally go, and she'll do fine. And again, because she's easy, it definitely doesn't seem like there's much more work to do around the house (except for laundry. Adding one little person to the family seems to have added an avalanche of laundry).
However, there have been some changes on our lives (aside from the extra happiness of having a much-wanted, long-awaited bundle of cute hanging around). For one thing, my house is a mess. I feel like I should be getting back into the swing of things, but finding the time and energy to clean is proving difficult. More precisely, finding the time to clean at the same time I have the energy to do so is rough. M doesn't actually nap anymore, so my time is limited either to when she's in preschool (excluding travel time, I have 2.5 hours 2x a week) or when E is sleeping and M is watching tv or something. This happens surprisingly infrequently, and my preschool time is usually filled with errands and such. So the place is messy. Insanely so, even for me. I've really got to figure this out before the health department gets wind of us.
Of course, since I don't have time to do more than the most basic chores, many of my "me-time" activities have fallen by the wayside, too. As you may have noticed, there's barely any time for blogging these days. And I've gone from reading 3-4 books a week to being lucky to read one book a week. Heck, it's a miracle if I read one magazine a week these days.
Actually, the only leisure time activity that still claims as much time as it used to is, shamefully, television. That's the big indulgence for both The Boy and I. By the time we get both kids to sleep at night, it's usually close to 10 pm, and we're both shot. I know I could get a lot of chores done each night, but I just can't. It's almost all I can do to stay awake for an hour or two staring at the tube.
The funny thing is, as "busy" as things are, I don't feel busy. By and large, our days pass pleasantly, with lots of trips to the park or long meanders around the neighborhood. When M is busy, I get to spend time playing with E (who, for the record, can roll over both ways now, a trick she learned when she was still only two months old!). I manage to cook real dinners every night, and clean up a little bit here and there. And then the day is over and we do it all again the next day. It's a nice life, full of love and cuddles and laughter and play and heaps and heaps of joy. So it's ok that I'm drowning in clutter, right?
However, there have been some changes on our lives (aside from the extra happiness of having a much-wanted, long-awaited bundle of cute hanging around). For one thing, my house is a mess. I feel like I should be getting back into the swing of things, but finding the time and energy to clean is proving difficult. More precisely, finding the time to clean at the same time I have the energy to do so is rough. M doesn't actually nap anymore, so my time is limited either to when she's in preschool (excluding travel time, I have 2.5 hours 2x a week) or when E is sleeping and M is watching tv or something. This happens surprisingly infrequently, and my preschool time is usually filled with errands and such. So the place is messy. Insanely so, even for me. I've really got to figure this out before the health department gets wind of us.
Of course, since I don't have time to do more than the most basic chores, many of my "me-time" activities have fallen by the wayside, too. As you may have noticed, there's barely any time for blogging these days. And I've gone from reading 3-4 books a week to being lucky to read one book a week. Heck, it's a miracle if I read one magazine a week these days.
Actually, the only leisure time activity that still claims as much time as it used to is, shamefully, television. That's the big indulgence for both The Boy and I. By the time we get both kids to sleep at night, it's usually close to 10 pm, and we're both shot. I know I could get a lot of chores done each night, but I just can't. It's almost all I can do to stay awake for an hour or two staring at the tube.
The funny thing is, as "busy" as things are, I don't feel busy. By and large, our days pass pleasantly, with lots of trips to the park or long meanders around the neighborhood. When M is busy, I get to spend time playing with E (who, for the record, can roll over both ways now, a trick she learned when she was still only two months old!). I manage to cook real dinners every night, and clean up a little bit here and there. And then the day is over and we do it all again the next day. It's a nice life, full of love and cuddles and laughter and play and heaps and heaps of joy. So it's ok that I'm drowning in clutter, right?
Thursday, April 30, 2009
It's the little things
I bought new shoes today. Two pair, in fact. I don't think I've ever bought myself two pairs of shoes at once, and it felt incredibly decadent.
Even better? They were these crocs and these, and I paid only $10 a pair. Now I'm sitting here admiring my pretty new shoes and contemplating whether I really need to go back to the store and collect more shoes in more colors. I can find somewhere to wear teal ballet flats, right?
Even better? They were these crocs and these, and I paid only $10 a pair. Now I'm sitting here admiring my pretty new shoes and contemplating whether I really need to go back to the store and collect more shoes in more colors. I can find somewhere to wear teal ballet flats, right?
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Penultimate
This one's for Rachel, who asked for a post about nursing:
Since M was born, I've had a love/hate thing going with nursing. I had a really hard time nursing M for the first four months -- I was in pain every single day, and the two of us just really seemed to have a hard time getting it right. I think M was well over four months old before I ever dared to nurse in public, let alone without a boppy or the My Breast Friend pillow.
For those first few months, we weighed M every few days and kept meticulous track of how often and how much she ate. I pumped pretty much every day, usually twice a day, just to make sure my supply would be adequate. I was miserable, but not quite miserable enough to quit. Instead, I told myself every day that if at the end of the day i really couldn't do it anymore, then the next day I'd go and buy some formula. That permission to stop somehow made it much easier for me to keep on going.
And then, suddenly, things worked out. Nursing wasn't hard anymore, and I wasn't in pain anymore. From that point, nursing became a matter of convenience more than anything. It had become easier to pull up my shirt than it was to prepare bottles. M was happy, I was happy, and there we stayed.
I didn't start out with the intention of nursing beyond one year -- in fact, I'd been of the camp that thought "if the child is old enough to ask for it, she's too old to be nursing." But once M turned one and showed no sign of interest in weaning, I figured it was fine to keep at it. Yes, she could ask to "nuss," but that turned out to be ok with me. She was on solid foods, of course, so we no longer needed to nurse in public, but it was something both of us enjoyed at home. To the best of my memory, she probably nursed about four-five times a day -- definitely before nap, before bed until she was about 13 months old (at which point we weaned her to a bottle of milk), and usually at least once in the middle of the night.
I seem to recall that from about 16-21 months, I halfheartedly attempted to wean M. I followed Dr. Sear's advice on weaning, which amounted to "don't offer, don't refuse." That didn't work so well, as M (like her mom) never, ever forgot to ask to eat. That was ok with me, though, because though I would have been fine if M had weaned, I didn't particularly care that she was still nursing.
Finally, though, our fertility situation became such that I had to wean M. We decided to start a cycle of clomid in October 2007, which meant that M needed to be weaned by the time she was 22 months old. So I stepped up my efforts -- when M would ask to nurse, I'd explain that my breasts were empty. To my surprise, that seemed to work (though my memory here could be faulty. I know I discussed weaning on this blog, so if you really want to know what happened, you might check my archives for September and October '07).
Once I did decide to wean M, I was shocked at how easy it was. I think I'd given myself a month to wean completely, but it only took a week or two.
With E, nursing has been easy from the very first moment. I had some pain for the first few weeks of her life (and a brief period of vasospasms), but nothing like the pain I was in with M. Plus, E latched really easily and was much sturdier at birth than M was. I've barely used the Boppy pillow at all, and only use the Breast Friend pillow when I want my hands free to do something else while E nurses. Instead, E literally eats on the run, either in the Ergo while we're out and about, or just in my arms while I do other things around the house. With M, I think I spent the majority of her first three months on the sofa, just nursing (and watching TV) because I felt like nursing required all of my focus. With E, if I'm not doing something else while she's eating, I feel like I'm being a slacker.
E's attitude towards nursing is also totally different from her sister's. M was definitely a comfort nurser. Every time she was sad or hurt or upset, she would turn to my breasts for comfort. E does not. When she got her two-month shots, she did not want to nurse. She was pissed off, and wanted to scream it out! E's attitude certainly requires a little more imagination and effort on my part than M's did, since I can't just rely on using my body as a handy pacifier. On the other hand, it's nice that E is a little bit more independent, even at this age.
I don't know how long I'll end up nursing E. I suspect it will depend largely on her. As with M, I'm in no particular hurry to wean, especially since I know E's my last baby. I'll be interested to see if she's as avid a long-term nurser as her sister was.
Since M was born, I've had a love/hate thing going with nursing. I had a really hard time nursing M for the first four months -- I was in pain every single day, and the two of us just really seemed to have a hard time getting it right. I think M was well over four months old before I ever dared to nurse in public, let alone without a boppy or the My Breast Friend pillow.
For those first few months, we weighed M every few days and kept meticulous track of how often and how much she ate. I pumped pretty much every day, usually twice a day, just to make sure my supply would be adequate. I was miserable, but not quite miserable enough to quit. Instead, I told myself every day that if at the end of the day i really couldn't do it anymore, then the next day I'd go and buy some formula. That permission to stop somehow made it much easier for me to keep on going.
And then, suddenly, things worked out. Nursing wasn't hard anymore, and I wasn't in pain anymore. From that point, nursing became a matter of convenience more than anything. It had become easier to pull up my shirt than it was to prepare bottles. M was happy, I was happy, and there we stayed.
I didn't start out with the intention of nursing beyond one year -- in fact, I'd been of the camp that thought "if the child is old enough to ask for it, she's too old to be nursing." But once M turned one and showed no sign of interest in weaning, I figured it was fine to keep at it. Yes, she could ask to "nuss," but that turned out to be ok with me. She was on solid foods, of course, so we no longer needed to nurse in public, but it was something both of us enjoyed at home. To the best of my memory, she probably nursed about four-five times a day -- definitely before nap, before bed until she was about 13 months old (at which point we weaned her to a bottle of milk), and usually at least once in the middle of the night.
I seem to recall that from about 16-21 months, I halfheartedly attempted to wean M. I followed Dr. Sear's advice on weaning, which amounted to "don't offer, don't refuse." That didn't work so well, as M (like her mom) never, ever forgot to ask to eat. That was ok with me, though, because though I would have been fine if M had weaned, I didn't particularly care that she was still nursing.
Finally, though, our fertility situation became such that I had to wean M. We decided to start a cycle of clomid in October 2007, which meant that M needed to be weaned by the time she was 22 months old. So I stepped up my efforts -- when M would ask to nurse, I'd explain that my breasts were empty. To my surprise, that seemed to work (though my memory here could be faulty. I know I discussed weaning on this blog, so if you really want to know what happened, you might check my archives for September and October '07).
Once I did decide to wean M, I was shocked at how easy it was. I think I'd given myself a month to wean completely, but it only took a week or two.
With E, nursing has been easy from the very first moment. I had some pain for the first few weeks of her life (and a brief period of vasospasms), but nothing like the pain I was in with M. Plus, E latched really easily and was much sturdier at birth than M was. I've barely used the Boppy pillow at all, and only use the Breast Friend pillow when I want my hands free to do something else while E nurses. Instead, E literally eats on the run, either in the Ergo while we're out and about, or just in my arms while I do other things around the house. With M, I think I spent the majority of her first three months on the sofa, just nursing (and watching TV) because I felt like nursing required all of my focus. With E, if I'm not doing something else while she's eating, I feel like I'm being a slacker.
E's attitude towards nursing is also totally different from her sister's. M was definitely a comfort nurser. Every time she was sad or hurt or upset, she would turn to my breasts for comfort. E does not. When she got her two-month shots, she did not want to nurse. She was pissed off, and wanted to scream it out! E's attitude certainly requires a little more imagination and effort on my part than M's did, since I can't just rely on using my body as a handy pacifier. On the other hand, it's nice that E is a little bit more independent, even at this age.
I don't know how long I'll end up nursing E. I suspect it will depend largely on her. As with M, I'm in no particular hurry to wean, especially since I know E's my last baby. I'll be interested to see if she's as avid a long-term nurser as her sister was.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Look Everyone, No Hands!
Ok, this two-kids thing isn't exactly hard, but it is intense. The girls seem to be staggering their needs so that I never have too much on my hands at once (with the exception of the fact that the second I start nursing E, 8 times out of 10, M will head straight for the bathroom, thus ensuring that I'll have to come clean her up rather than focusing on the baby). However, this also means that I have about 1 hour a day when I don't have one or the other of them demanding immediate attention. I've been using that hour for such frivolities as showering, cooking, cleaning and otherwise trying to pretend I still have a grip on my household responsibilities. So, not much posting here, at least until I figure this out a little bit better.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Fashion Mavens, I Need Your Help
Usually on this blog, I give way more information about myself than anybody needs. I know this. And I also talk somewhat incessantly about how I'm fat, but I've always been cagey on exactly how fat. But now I need some advice, so here we go with the details.
I'm 5ft4 on a tall day, and I wear somewhere between a 20-24, depending on the clothing manufacturer and style. My body is definitely pear-shaped. I have smaller (proportionally) arms and chest, but a big belly and a huge bottom. Most of all, I have tree-trunk legs. Even when I was skinny, my legs looked fat. I don't really have ankles, and since I've been fat, much of that weight has actually settled in my thighs and calves. Seriously, my calves have a larger circumference than the thighs of the normal-sized people I know.
For this reason, I rarely wear skirts, but I do love nice, floaty dresses. Every spring I develop a hankering for them. I never actually buy or wear dresses, because I have absolutely no desire to cause traumatic blindness in everyone I encounter. But now Old Navy (pretty much the only place I shop anymore, despite my well-documented love/hate relationship with them) is carrying these, and I kind of want one. They're nice and long, and would cover up most (if not practically all) of my legs. And their empire waistlines seem like they'd be pretty forgiving of my belly.
On the other hand, these dresses make even the models look like they're hiding something. On a short, fat, girl, wouldn't it just look like I was wearing a mumu? Or worse, a housecoat, like Edna in Hairspray? And also, do you think these would be inappropriate for the park or a playdate? It's been so long since I've departed from my uniform of jeans or khakis with a v-neck t-shirt that I honestly have no idea how to wear anything else.
Help me, people who know how to dress. You're my only hope.
I'm 5ft4 on a tall day, and I wear somewhere between a 20-24, depending on the clothing manufacturer and style. My body is definitely pear-shaped. I have smaller (proportionally) arms and chest, but a big belly and a huge bottom. Most of all, I have tree-trunk legs. Even when I was skinny, my legs looked fat. I don't really have ankles, and since I've been fat, much of that weight has actually settled in my thighs and calves. Seriously, my calves have a larger circumference than the thighs of the normal-sized people I know.
For this reason, I rarely wear skirts, but I do love nice, floaty dresses. Every spring I develop a hankering for them. I never actually buy or wear dresses, because I have absolutely no desire to cause traumatic blindness in everyone I encounter. But now Old Navy (pretty much the only place I shop anymore, despite my well-documented love/hate relationship with them) is carrying these, and I kind of want one. They're nice and long, and would cover up most (if not practically all) of my legs. And their empire waistlines seem like they'd be pretty forgiving of my belly.
On the other hand, these dresses make even the models look like they're hiding something. On a short, fat, girl, wouldn't it just look like I was wearing a mumu? Or worse, a housecoat, like Edna in Hairspray? And also, do you think these would be inappropriate for the park or a playdate? It's been so long since I've departed from my uniform of jeans or khakis with a v-neck t-shirt that I honestly have no idea how to wear anything else.
Help me, people who know how to dress. You're my only hope.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Back on the diet bus
I knew it was too good to last. I've gone a little crazy since E was born (plus, I've been super-hungry), and so I've stopped losing weight and started gaining again. So, it's back to dieting for me. I think I'm going to go back to following (loosely) the GD diet, with some adjustments for the fact that I'm no longer pregnant (less fatty red meat; more fruits and veggies). Some aspects of the diet were quite difficult for me to adjust to at first (particularly the "wait at least two hours between meals/snacks instead of continuously stuffing your face all day" part), but I'm thinking they were also the wisest advice for someone like me.
I'm also taking things slow this time around. I have about 65 pounds to lose, and I'm giving myself at least three years to do it. In fact, my only goal for the rest of 2009 is to lose 14 pounds. I think (I hope?) it's possible that I can do that in the next 9 months.
I'm also taking things slow this time around. I have about 65 pounds to lose, and I'm giving myself at least three years to do it. In fact, my only goal for the rest of 2009 is to lose 14 pounds. I think (I hope?) it's possible that I can do that in the next 9 months.
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