I hate it when people say 'preggers' or 'prego.' And I really hate references to babies being cooked: 'he's not fully baked yet, still needs more time cookin'.'
I do not like the current owl trend. If you're on pinterest, you probably know what I'm talking about.
Chalkboard paint or contact paper does not go on everything, and covering any old thing in chalkboard paint does not automatically make it 'cute' or 'clever' or 'so useful.' Covering a piano in chalkboard paint is a sin.
Blake went to work this morning with his hair spiked. His coworker said, "I can't believe your wife let you out of the house like that." He just laughed and said that I cut it, which is true. We get comments like this a lot these days. For the record, Blake is an adult, a grown man. I am not his mother. How he wears his hair is his business.
My decision to work (or not to work) has absolutely nothing to do with how much I love my daughter. Nothing.
Allow me to explain. I ate super healthy while I was pregnant. It wasn't hard, really. After the Bonnie-kins was born, however, I started craving sugar like it was water and I was in the desert. I won't chronicle all the sugary things I ate, because that would be embarrassing. I tried just not buying sugary things when we went to the store, thinking maybe I'd do better if there wasn't any sugar in the house. I still found sugar to eat and then found myself wanting to buy something sugary every time I went out. Oh, I'll just stop in for a milkshake, those cupcakes are on sale . . . you get the idea.
So I've decided to do a sort of reset and go off sugar until our race. That'll be three weeks sans sweets. I'm on day 4. So far, so good. I feel good. I've had some cravings but feel so much better about eating some fruit or trail mix instead of cookies or marshmallows. I'm not going SUPER hard core, still eating bread, just whole wheat, no white. I'm sure the sauce on the stir fry served to us last night had some sugar in it, but I didn't want to be rude to our host and just had water and skipped the cookies for dessert.
I'm not committed enough to this no sugar thing to say I'll never eat a dessert again, but I'm willing to give it a trial run. Anyone else tried this? Suggestions?
I don't have any plans yet for further editions, but I know myself well enough to know this could become a series.
Several months ago a friend of Blake's posted on facebook that he was putting together a team for a Ragnar relay in Napa Valley. I said I might be interested; Blake's friend responded that he had spoken too soon and their team was full. No big deal.
Fastforward to last week. Blake's friend contacts us, tells us two members of their Ragnar team dropped out, and asks us if we will take the spots. We talk it over for a day and commit. We're in!
For anyone unfamiliar with Ragnar, the race is 186 miles from San Fransisco to Napa Valley. It's a relay. Our team of 12 runs day and night until we finish. There are Ragnar races all around the country. I've been training for a 10k, so I should be okay. This is more running than I've been training for, but I still should be okay. Blake, on the other hand, has three weeks to train.
Everyone runs three legs. Our team was nice to us and let us choose the shortest legs in our van (the team is split into two vans of six runners). So Blake and I are running a total of 11.6 and 14 miles, respectively. Feel free to think we are completely crazy.
I've looked at the course maps and gotten a little scared. (Blake's runner three; I'm runner five.) The maps not only give you directions and total distance, they also show elevation change. That's the killer. I haven't been training for hills. As I've been checking the maps, I've come to realize how much of running and succeeding is mental. I keep thinking to myself "we're crazy," "we might not make it," "what if this is way harder than I think and I totally let my team down?" When I stop and take a look at what I'm actually doing now, I realize I'm going to be fine. When I do training runs around our neighborhood, I come home and use MapMyRun.com to see how far I actually went. Last Saturday my run was slightly longer than my shortest Ragnar leg. Check! I can do that one. Monday's run was half the distance of my hardest leg. I thought, "What would it be like if I turned around and did that same run again? Not too bad. I can do this." I've got three more weeks of training. I can do this.
I'm just going to keep telling myself that. Take it one leg at a time. I know I can do each of the individual legs. Doing all three in a 24 hour period and maybe in the middle of the night? That's the challenge!
I've always been a reader. I like books. So, school worked well for me. Since I've been out of school for the last two months, this is what I've been reading:
Ken Follett's World Without End. I read Pillars of the Earth while I was waiting for Bonnie to be born. I liked Pillars; this one was just okay. The writing felt rushed somehow. I thought the story was a little sloppy and there was way too much sex. I wasn't offended; it was just unnecessary. It seemed like the author was just throwing the sex in there to jazz things up a bit. See? Sloppy.
By Common Consent. It's a Mormon blog I follow and most definitely not one of the 'Mormon Mommy Blogs' that got so much attention a few months back. There are several different authors who post to this blog and is a place for discussing all things Mormon, from inspiring stories to oddities of the culture to history to the BOMM (Book of Mormon Musical). Recent posts I particularly liked: How to torpedo yourself at church,Hanging with my daughter in the Sacred Grove, and Perverting Modesty. I always look forward to posts by Tracy M, the author of the modesty post I linked to. A few weeks ago I found a link on BCC to Tracy's personal blog. I became enthralled. Because I have time for things like that right now, I dove into her archives. She is a beautiful writer and inspiring mother. I want to be like her.
Tina Fey's Bossypants. This was a quick, fun read. While I was reading it, Blake asked me if it was for women. I told him it wasn't. But since he asked me about it, all I could see as I read from then forward was that it really is a book for women. That didn't keep me from enjoying it. Don't read it if you can't overlook a few swears. It was my first eBook purchase on the new iPad Blake gave me as a graduation gift. I tried to keep the following bit of wisdom from Fey's friend in mind when I went out shopping recently, "'Don't wear what the designers tell you to wear. Wear what they wear.' His point being that most designers, no matter what they throw onto the runway, favor simple, flattering pieces for themselves. . . . It can't be said enough. Don't concern yourself with fashion: stick to simple pieces that flatter your body type." Love it!
Elna Baker's The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance. I picked this up from the bargain shelf at Barnes and Noble, and I LOVED it. There were several parts that were laugh-out-loud funny. Once again, don't read it if you can't handle a few swears. I knew that the author's struggle with her faith and dating life (she falls in love with an atheist) was a central part of the book. I was expecting it to end differently than it did but loved her ending way better than the one I was anticipating. It's not a missionary tool not is it 'anti-Mormon.' It's just delightful. Since I'm trying really hard not to hang on to things, I'd be happy to pass it on to anyone who is interested in reading it.
Jean Tweage's Generation Me. I picked this one up at the $1 bookstore at the mall. The tag line is "Why Today's Young Americans are more Confident, Assertive, Entitled--and Miserable than Ever Before." It's based on research the author conducted as part of her dissertation. She's labeled Generation Me, those born in the 70s, 80s, and 90s. I'm only about half way through this one and enjoying it so far. In a nutshell, she says that we've been raised in a culture where putting yourself first is a given (that's self-esteem curricula!) and where we were told we can be anything and deserve to be happy and valued for doing nothing, just because we're special. And that teaching has led us to have high expectations for ourselves and a lot of depression and anxiety when the reality of the world we live in doesn't match up. It's an interesting read.
I've also been reading a baby sign language book and my normal blogs and The New York Times. I've got a few more books on my to-read shelf thanks to the $1 bookstore, but I'm always happy to take recommendations. What are you reading? Anything I just have to check out?
The good: We're saving money by not buying formula. "Experts agree, breastfeeding is best," at least that's what the packages of formula say. As long as I'm with her, we never have to worry about how long we'll be away from the house and whether we brought enough milk with us. That also means carrying a smaller diaper bag. It's natural; I know exactly what she's eating. And, there are benefits for me too: easier post-baby weight loss, reduced chance of breast cancer and what not. I also really enjoy all the time for reading I get while Bonnie's nursing. I often let her keep sucking long after the milk has stopped flowing, because I'm pleased she is engaged in something and quiet. (I know this is a luxury of a first-time singleton mom, but that doesn't have to keep my from enjoying it while I've got it.)
Also good: products that make nursing in public easier. I got one of these from the fabulous Jennie.
I wear it every time I'm going out and know I will need to feed The Kins while we're away. I can pull up my shirt and not worry about showing off my love handles or back flab or underwears. Nursing in the bleachers at the demolition derby? Not a problem. Nursing while sitting on the lawn at the outdoor greenshow at the Utah Shakespeare Festival? No one even noticed. In a restaurant without the privacy of a booth? No sweat. I really, really like this product. I also have one of these:
a sarong.
We can pretend that is my tummy. However, I don't wear it like this for nursing. I tie two of the corners together, put my head through the hole, and have a wonderful nursing tent! The light fabric is 100 times better than sitting under a blanket . . . with another person . . . in the summer. There is ample fabric. The Kins likes to grab at the nursing cover and wave her arm around while she's eating. The little nursing covers or blankets I was using before I made the sarong discovery were a joke. It was like Bonnie was saying, "Hey, everyone, look at Mom's boobs. They're right here! Let me show you." Now she can wave to her heart's content and we stay covered. (Side benefit to having the sarong in the diaper bag at all times: we can untie the knots and lay it on the ground for her to roll around wherever we are or leave the knots in and it works as a light and breathable sunshade for the stroller!)
The bad: Nursing bras are terrible. No support; unflattering; very difficult, time consuming, and expensive process to find one that kind of fits my size. Enough said there. It hurt. For the first two months or so I hurt every time Bonnie fed and periodically for the next two months after that. Just when I thought the pain was gone, Bonnie grabs now. She gets full handfuls of me while she's eating and holds on. Sometimes, if I'm not quick enough for her, she decides to help herself and grabs on to my nipple and pulls it toward her mouth. So delightful. I realized earlier this week it was time to trim her nails when I looked down and saw that my chest looked like it had been attacked by a kitty cat. I look forward to feeling like my body is my own again.
The ugly: I have taken to calling the mother's room at church "the baby outhouse." When I was first getting the hang of the whole nursing thing it was really nice to have a separate, mostly private room to go to. I'm over it now. The chairs in there are gross. I try not to think about all the bodily fluids that have soaked into the upholstery over the years. It doesn't look like they've ever been cleaned. There's a counter for changing and a hand-washing sink in there. It's a good idea, in theory. In practice, the presence of this counter turns the mother's room into the baby outhouse. A whole trashcan full of diapers is just gross. We have afternoon church, so by the time I'm ever in there, we're at the tail end of two congregations worth of baby and toddler excrement. Mormons have lots of kids. Because the baby outhouse is at the exact opposite end of the building from the big people restrooms and because the building is cleaned by volunteers these days, sometimes the trash in the baby outhouse gets missed on the weekly cleaning. Foul, disgusting, and gross. After five months I have decided that I am done with the baby outhouse. Done. I'm changing her in the bathroom now and disposing of her diapers responsibly in special odor-containing bags. I nurse her wherever we are when she's hungry. Last week it was in Sunday School, the week before that in the lobby. If anyone has a problem with it, he or she can go sit in the baby outhouse!
After my experiences with nursing, I have absolutely nothing to say about any other parent's decision about how to feed their kid, as long as they're getting fed, of course. I've experienced some good, some bad, and some ugly (I didn't even talk about breast pumps or any self-consciousness about breastfeeding in public, you might have gathered that I have none.) and I say let each parent decide what works for his/her family and leave it at that.
So, I'm full-time, stay-at-home momming it up these days. This is mostly good. I'm reading a lot. I've stalled a little in my home organization project, but the general direction is still good. And, I'm cooking. I actually really like cooking when I have the time for it. So, I've been planning meals and browsing cookbooks and creating a food board on Pinterest.
For last night I had planned a fun summer cookout: a weenie roast. After a work-from-home day for Blake, it seemed like a great idea to get us all out of the house. After a quick pass by our storage unit to get the camp chairs and firewood and outdoor kitchen box, we headed to the closest state park for our outside dinner.
Day use fees at the state park are twice what they are at the national forest we usually go to. Fail one.
The campground inside the state park, the one where they have fire rings, is not included in the day use fee. It's an extra $20. Not worth it. Fail two.
We head for the picnic area, which was actually very nice. They don't have fire rings there, just little grills on stands, more ideally suited for charcoal briquettes. But, we have wood. We try to make the best of it and build a little fire for roasting in the grill thing. It should work, in theory. The wood we have is dense and oddly stringy. It doesn't chip or split off nicely as we whack at it with the hatchet. It comes off in these stringy but stiff clumps. After about half an hour of that, we decide to just start the fire with what we've got--some kindling and a pretty big log. The fire starts nicely, and the log catches. But, the space isn't quite right and the kindling to log ratio was a little off, and we can see this just isn't going to work. The little pile of coals we have is just not quite big or hot enough to roast two little hot dogs and some marshmallows. Fail three.
We douse our little fire, clean up the coals, and leave a partially burned log for someone else to enjoy in the "hot coals" bin. We discuss going back home and making our dinner on the gas grills in our complex. We're both too tired and hungry at this point for that to sound appealing. We hit a Carl's Jr on the way home and got BOGO Western burgers thanks a fundraising coupon we bought from an adorable little salesman in the Ralph's parking lot last week. So, there was that.
Bonnie seemed to enjoy being outside and didn't put up any kind of fuss that we were super late getting her dinner too.
Better luck next time. Tonight's dinner is a potato leek frittata using a recipe we've made before in the comfort and familiarity of our own kitchen. And, we'll get to use our awesome new skillet.
Once upon a time I was having a conversation with a guy I was dating (not Blake, several years before). The details are a little fuzzy, as memories tend to be, so this is my best shot at re-creating it.
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For some reason we were talking about being gay or having gay friends or something like that.
Him: Well, yeah, you should be nice to them, but I wouldn't let them come over to my house.
Me: Are you serious?
Him: Yeah, well, I wouldn't want them to be a bad influence on my kids.
Me: Um, okay. It's not like your kids are going to get "infected" with "gayness." What if your kid is gay?
Him: I don't know. I don't think that's going to happen. I guess my kid could come to the house but not his/her partner. I wouldn't want to bring in a bad influence on the other kids.
Me: So what, your kid is going to pull aside the siblings and "teach" them to be gay or something? I just don't agree. I think it's important to model for your kids kindness and openness and loving others who aren't like you or who have different beliefs. To me, that's at the heart of being a Christian.
(Trying to come up with the most extreme example I can think of, one that is so out-there any sane person would find it ridiculous . . .)
Me: So, if you start with not letting certain people into your house, where does it end? Are you not going to let your kids play with kids who aren't Mormon or something?!
Him: That's how I was raised.
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Oh crap! Open opinionated mouth, insert foot. Oh crap times two! Who is this person? And why am I dating him? Almost unbelievably to myself now, I waited for him to break up with me. But, that's another story. I've grown a lot since then.
The point is, I am an opinionated person. I have strong opinions and tend to be vocal about them. It's like I get an idea about something or think some thing is ridiculous, and I have to get it out. I blame my mother. I have fond memories of ranting about something or other and getting my mom in hysterics laughing. She encouraged me.
See? That's just the point. I have fond memories filled with laughter. I don't take myself too seriously; it's fun. So, I have a grand old time ranting tongue in cheek about the parental third person or mother's day songs or dino-nuggets and think nothing of it. But then every once in a while I wonder if I've hurt someone's feelings.
I have a tender and loving heart. I care deeply about my friends and family members. I am sincerely sad to think that you might have read or overheard one of my rants and thought I was talking about you and been hurt. I don't want to hurt anyone. In the wisdom that comes with passing years I've learned that even if I don't want to hurt anyone, I will. Careful as I can be (and I am careful about what I say), I will say or do something sometime that will hurt someone I care about. This won't just happen once. I happens over and over, all the time. It's part of the human experience.
Another thing I've learned with years is that opinions change. I have strong opinions, but they change. I know I'm not immune to being wrong. All I need is for a cousin or two to point out to me that there is a very logical reason behind using the parental third person, for example, and I'm okay with it now. On to something else.
I bring all this up, my bloggy friends, to let you know that I know I can be ridiculous with my rants sometimes (I don't know how many people even read my blog anymore, maybe this is why), to give you permission to point out when I'm being ridiculous or just plain wrong, and to ask for your compassionate understanding. I'd like to think that I'm the quirky but endearing extended family member at the reunion. I'll just be over here being my opinionated ranting self and you all can wink and smile knowingly at each other and say, "Oh, that's just our Becca and we love her."
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If you're interested in someone else's thoughts on being wrong, check out this great video. It's about 18 minutes long, but very worth it. Even just the first 5 minutes are worth it.
