Old News: Past Blog Posts

Monday, March 17, 2014

Two Under Two: The Final Chapter



This is the very last time I can plead that my life is insane because I am the mother of 'two under two.'  In just a few short hours, I will commence to mothering an 8-month-old and a two-year-old. 

(Gasp!)

This is not to say my life will suddenly be not-insane.

Next, we will turn car seats around, start considering a toddler bed, and learn to master the art of managing a full-on public tantrum.  

This past weekend, we hosted nearly fifty moms, dads, grandparents, aunts, friends, toddlers, and infants for a blissfully chaotic BBQ, honoring the fact that time has ruthlessly kicked another year at us--during which, time simultaneously stood completely still and also raced by like it stole somethin.

Presently, I am sitting here dumbfounded and wondering why five seconds ago, I was just starting college and my biggest worry was how I could get my hands on cheap beer and also make it to class on time.  Then I take out a calculator and discover that it hasn't been five seconds.  In actuality, it's been over 13 years and I have a nest of gray hair and handful of crow's feet to prove it.  

If the past 13 years is any indication, I am totally screwed.

This means that in five seconds, I will be parenting a 15-year-old (and 13-year-old) and frankly that scares the bejeezus out of me.  

These past two years have been action-packed with challenges and triumphs.  We have weathered a heart-defect scare, two premature deliveries, one week of hospital bed rest, a total of 8.5 weeks in the NICU, a meningitis hospitalization, and more trips to the pediatrician, ER, and pharmacy than our health insurance company can stomach without puking a little in it's mouth.  

We've also seen both babies come home to us with no apparent long-term health concerns, watched them both meet milestones, been on the receiving end of smiles, hugs, and kisses, and fallen hopelessly head-over-heels in the meanwhile.

As I close this tiny snippet of a chapter on my life, I would like to think that I will take a minute or two to enjoy these tiny boys before they suddenly morph into smelly teenagers and then grown men. 

After bedtime stories tonight, I just sat and held my little boy close to me.  He snuggled his head (uncharacteristically) against my chest and we rocked for awhile while I grappled with the fact that this time is fleeting.  When I finally was able to tear myself away from the moment, I lifted him into his crib and whispered my goodnight mantra ('love you bunches and bunches and always and everywhere').  He then burrowed into his blankets, but not before rolling over and pressing his forehead onto the space between the slats of his crib to receive a kiss from his crazy mom.   

We have no choice but to be a slave to the relentless march of time; but tonight I rebelled by stealing a moment that I will carry with me and treasure...even in five seconds when I am suddenly living with two teenage boys. 



Monday, March 3, 2014

My Gain



Every road trip has it's traffic jams.  Every romantic comedy plot hits a snafu, usually about 45 minutes in.  Every rose has a thorn...etc etc.

Well ladies and gentleman, after eight weeks of playing by the rules and hearing nice things from my scale (13.5 lbs down!), I stumbled, staggered, and slipped my bouncy ass right off the proverbial wagon.  This week, I saw a gain.  And every weight loss journey has a gain (or two, or four...or 10).

I was super lucky.  This particular gain amounted to only one pound.  

Considering the booze and the late night calzone and breadsticks, the brownie and cheese dip, and the multiple skipped workouts, it really should have been more.

In fact, before I even stepped on the scale, I found myself feeling relieved on a number of levels.  It was like I had been holding my breath, waiting for my slip up week, and here it was...finally, in all it's carb-filled, greasy glory.  

I had been struggling with a logistical  snag in my workout regimen (had to cut out weekday Bootcamp in favor of returning to teaching a morning spin--THURSDAYS AT 530, JOIN ME!!), several nights of a sleep-striking baby ('hell no, we won't go...to sleep!' That tiny picket sign is adorable) and a weekend of booze and binge-eating in the name of free babysitting and of catching up with old friends.

My excuses were running rampant and I was worried I'd fallen too far behind the wagon to ever hope to hop back on again, 

When I was finally able to drag myself out of bed and to the gym for two consecutive mornings and saw that the damage was much more containable than I had anticipated, things suddenly started feeling less hopeless and more temporary than originally feared.  This slip up was nothing more than just that, a slip up,

A little light sprinting and I was able to launch myself back up and onto the wagon again.

No more excuses.  No more calzones (at least not the whole thing and not for a while).  No more silencing my alarm at 445. 

Time to settle in and focus on my next goal (145 by tax day!).  I may have gained, but it was bound to happen, so now I can stop fearing it's eventuality and move on with even greater determination.

SIDENOTE: It doesn't hurt that Ready or Not Dad has joined me in losing the baby weight (over 10lbs down in just over a month!) and he lost like crazy last week.  I can't resist a little healthy competition and that dude is going DOWN this week.