Fat and Jiggly... Like I'm Apparently Supposed to Be

This morning the girls went to Grandma’s house with Daddy. This way I could attend a local gardening class put on by a woman from the mommy group.

I had dreams of sleeping late. (In fact, I was dreaming about lost panties and planting seeds, but you know what I mean. Right?)

Tom brought Fynnie in to nurse around 3:30 this morning. He brought Madelyn in half an hour later to gather up the Fynn girl and get going.

Getting going takes about half an hour, even with my considerable help, and even with the girls heading out in their jams with a bag of clothes for the day.

Only the bag of clothes got left here. And Margaret and I had recently weeded through what she had to remove things the girls have outgrown. They have outgrown a lot. I haven’t replaced those things yet, so I couldn’t tell Tom to just keep going when he called seven minutes after leaving to say he was coming back.

By the time they were on the road again (do do doo do dooo), it was quarter to 5:00 and I was up. Thoughts of what I might do to fill the next four and half hours floated through my head.

I can exercise!

I could use some of those very ripe bananas and learn how to make banana bread!

I could…

The reality was messing around on Facebook, catching up on some banking and an earlier shower than I’d initially planned. Oh, and I used the face file to get rid of reduce the stray eyebrows on my chin. Exciting, I know.

The gardening class was awesome. And by awesome I mean it was freaking fantastic. We have almost 100 starters going already, and it was nice to know that everything but the winter squash mix (doh!) should do well. I am sitting here with a seed catalog that is, as the instructor said, full of gorgeous wall art.

And, because I am admittedly weird about things like this, I will tell you that the catalog smells great, too. There are a lot of modern printings that smell horrible. Nothing smells as good as old books, but this is a very nice alternative to the nastiness that is the modern paper. In case you were wondering.

On the way home, I stopped at the grocery store to pick up a few things. (And to curse my stupid phone that will only hold a charge for about six minutes if I, you know, use it. But that’s another story.)

Came home and reconsidered the list of things I could do. The first one, again, was exercising.

It’s a sad state of affairs, this body of mine. I had started using Jillian Michaels’ 30 Day Shred a few months back. By started using, I mean I used it two days in a row. It was definitely painful effective. But it was hard. One hundred times worse than hard, it was boring. So a few weeks ago I bought a Zumba-like DVD called Rhythmica.

Where Jillian Michaels’ DVD is physically challenging because I’m rather weak and out of shape, Rhythmica is freaking impossible because… as it just so happens… I’m not a hip hop dancer. How did I not know this?!

I realized pretty quickly the Rhythmica DVD is beyond my capacity. (Seriously, I wasn’t even close to keeping up when he was doing what was apparently just the “let me slow it down and show you how we’re going to do this” segments. And then he’d take to triple time.)

Fortunately, one of the moms on my group recently posted a link to a series of free exercise videos on YouTube. And I saved the link in a new Favorites folder entitled Exercise. Because I am going to conquer this fat, jiggly ass. Right?! I stopped the DVD and clicked on the YouTube link.

Started exercising. Thirty seconds in or so, I was feeling confident that this was much more my speed.

And was thwarted by a loading error on AOL.

Switched to Google Chrome and can’t get it to load. (I’ve even tried a few times while writing this post into a Word doc since I can only post on here through Google.

I am beginning to wonder if it’s just the universe saying, “Sure, your ass is fat and jiggly. Keep it that way. I like it! It’s fun watching you stress over which pair of pants will make you least resemble a certain desert animal or TSA worker!”

That's my new story, I look this way for entertainment purposes.

It's Been One of Those Days

The kind with new friends, who come over to your house and make themselves at home.

When comments like, "I'm just randomly going through your stuff to find what I need," make perfect sense.

The kind of day when the roar of 11(!) kids from nine months to four years old and all those musical instruments you were so excited for your girls to have suddenly turns into background noise while you and five women hang out.

How is that memory peaceful even though it's only from a few hours ago?

It's been the kind of day where homemade heart cookies and frosting colored with beet juice made it all even sweeter.

Can You Keep It Straight?

Today my girls and I went to a cookie exchange.  We took cranberry pumpkin bread that I learned how to make because of Bossy Betty.  So yummy.  Especially if you realize you didn't add sugar before popping that last batch of mini loaves into the oven.  *In our oven, the cranberry pumpkin bread (second recipe in that link) took about 34 minutes for four mini loaves.  We're just under the 3000 feet above sea leave mark, so I'm not sure if that's the difference.

To avoid minimize potential problems, I didn't tell Madelyn that it was a cookie exchange or even that cookies would be involved.  I said we were going to see friends.

These friends?  They're from an online mommy group that I just couldn't bust into last year to save my life.  This year?  Not to brag (seriously, I'm just grateful and kind of in awe), but the cookie exchange was changed from yesterday to today so I could go.  I'd only met one of the women in real life before, but it wasn't at her house.  The rest were friends waiting to be made.

As far as Mad was concerned, she was already friends with everybody.

As I pulled her from the car seat, a woman came out to greet us and see if I needed help bringing everything in.  Mad went up to her and said, "Hi, can you call me Rocket?" and then ran into this house we've never been to before.  Went straight in and found the kids in a back room of the house.

Eventually she came back to the front, where another little girl was playing.  Mad walked over and said, "Hi.  I want to be called Rocket.  Can you call me Rocket and keep it straight, please?"

And then I was forced to reveal that Mad's real nickname is The Director.

Celebrate Good Times, C'mon!

Mad wanted ducks and frogs, chocolate cupcakes and white and a spoon for her birthday party.

I admit these frog cupcakes are rather pitiful.  I found the best frog cupcake toppers, but Tom decided "we" should make these instead.  In the picture we'd found online, the green candy stayed in a smile.  Ours would hardly stay bent at all.  When I tried putting a very bent piece on one cupcake, it dragged the frosting down until the frog looked even more grim than the others.

Corey said these look less like frogs and more like green French people. Vohoho!

Oh, and what they lack in style, these cupcakes made up for in ability to stick to the paper.  I don't say I completely forgot to put oil in the batter.  I say I made fat free chocolate cupcakes.

The same lady who made these perfect ducks was the maker of the frogs Tom said we shouldn't buy, because "we" could make our own.  (Our order was perfect and shipped a lot more quickly than I'd expected.  Not only that, but since we'd purchased the candy for the frogs at an overpriced mall candy shop, the cost savings for doing it ourselves was $3.)

Banana nut muffins cupcakes with cream cheese frosting.  Um, yes please!

I am just so relieved that Tom didn't insist we make duck cupcakes, too.  Oh, I found an adorable ducky cupcake.

But I also found a blog that showed exactly what my ducks would look like, should we attempt such a feat.  I think the fact that the writer calls her sister-in-law's (I believe) effort "mutant rubber ducks" speaks to the horror.  You can check that out here.

When the kids arrived, they hunted for butterflies.  The butterfly nets had one "catch" in it and the kids had to find the matching prey.  Good thing Grandma put the butterflies out and not me.  I envisioned them being spread high and low around a couple of rooms in our house.  She put them all in one tiny little section.  The kids are two, so easy finding and matching is different for them than for me.  Note to self.

This little lovely is still on the wall.

Critter tree.  For looks.  We are using it for Easter, too.  Just as you see here, only without the balloons.  It may also become our Cinco de Mayo tree.  Arribe!

Making caterpillars in our weed-ridden backyard.  Check out those short sleeves.  It was a balmy 53 degrees in the sun.  With wind.  Jackets were brought out shortly after this.

Lots of activities to do, but what's better than digging in cement-like clay?

Each of the kids had a pot and a selection of veggies to choose from.  Samantha and her mother opted for an ambitious looking watermelon plant.  I am not kidding.  That's what she called it (the mother, not the child).  I love Valeria.  She's from the mommy group I was in when Mad was born.  We were the rare group that had nothing in common aside from our babies.  Valeria is from Belarus and a model.  Now she's working on her own clothing line.  I can be counted on to not wear makeup, accessories or, often, shoes and a bra.  Somehow we make it work.

Mad got some great gifts. Apparently people felt like they could help us furnish our barren abode house at the same time as they celebrated Mad's third birthday. She received a puppet theater and a table and chairs.

Safety is important.  We were all happy to read this on the box.

Not as happy to see this on each and every chair.  At least they won't pinch!

And now for the dramatic conclusion...

Right after this was taken, Mad seemed to have a seizure.  Thank god my mother-in-law was there.  Her nursing skills, speed and calm exterior helped us all cope a little better.

Yes, she's seen a doctor.  He said it could've been a seizure or she could have been holding her breath from all the excitement.  Waiting on a neurology referral.  Yes, that's a ridiculous thing to have to wait this long for.

Support System Down

When Madelyn was able to come home from the hospital, we were advised to take her the next day to Healthy Beginnings.  It was part of the hospital's services for new moms and babies.  In addition to the best baby boutique anywhere, they offered breastfeeding and newborn support.  You could deliver anywhere and still get free services.  One of the coolest things was that they had this wand to check bilirubin levels, whereas the doctor's offices in the area all do blood tests.  Considering that my poor baby had to be heel-pricked no less than four times a day for monitoring of the meds she was on while in NICU, I was relieved she didn't have to go through that again.  Mad and I ended up there several times a week for a while, because we had so much difficulty establishing breastfeeding.  Although she started out at 8 pounds, 3 ounces (slightly above average), her weight quickly had her in the 20-25% range for weight (and 95th for height... probably the only time in her life she'll be called scrawny).  Once she was six weeks old, we switched from newborn support to a breastfeeding support class.  Those weekly group meetings were a lifeline to keep up the effort as my milk supply limped along.  Advice was offered and taken.  I took herbal supplements and increased my water intake.  I nursed-pumped-bottle fed.  But it was not militaristic.  When the recommendation was finally made to supplement with formula, I sobbed.  The lactation specialist, Jeri, held me in her arms and whispered soft words about what a good mother I was, and all the benefits my baby had gotten from all of my hard work.  She talked about a study she'd read that said babies who get four ounces of breastmilk a day still appeared to reap all the benefits.  "A full baby is a happy baby," I was told, and I knew it was true.


Mad and I attended that group until she was about a year old.  If I had questions about sleeping or solid foods or milestones, I knew I could go to Jeri for guidance.


Even though we're so far away, it has been our plan to use their services with Fynn, too.  I mean, hopefully we'll get to start nursing right away, and nothing will hamper our chances for success.  But to whatever degree we need, we've planned to be there.


When Tom and I attended the early pregnancy class, Pamela mentioned to us that the grant used to fund Healthy Beginnings was in jeopardy.  After we took the refresher course for prepared childbirth a few months ago, she said things would likely not be free anymore, and she didn't know what would be offered until the grant was finalized one way or the other.  One of our good friends, Dayna, recently took her newborn daughter over to Healthy Beginnings because they have a woman who does the most adorable clay handprints.  This woman mentioned that services are no longer free, and that they don't offer all the services anymore.  Dayna mentioned it to me, so I went to investigate yesterday before my checkup.


The first thing I noticed were the hours of operation.  Tuesdays and Thursdays used to be their long days.  Now the clinic area is only open until 1:00.  When I went in, my beloved receptionist, Sandy, wasn't there.  Why do I love Sandy?  Because for all the women and babies who've been in there, and I must have met 60 or so over the time we were going, Sandy always knows who I am.  She never calls my daughter Madelyn, she calls her a nickname she made up based on our last name. 


Phew! Turned out she was just off for the afternoon.


The stand-in receptionist explained the new fee structure to me.  It's not horrible but, along with the commute, it will add to the reasons we (hopefully) won't go as much. 


Breastfeeding support group?  Gone.
Postpartum support group?  Gone.
Moms Supporting Moms (the mommy group where we met Madelyn's first friends) that Pamela ran?  Gone.
Pamela?  Gone. 


Well, in her case it's all worked out for the best.  Her older daughter is in Washington and her youngest just left to Utah for school.  Pamela and her husband had talked about moving out of California anyway, I guess.  So they put their house on the market, sold it after a bidding war three days later, went to Utah and found their dream house the following weekend, had a short escrow and have been gone for a few weeks.  Utah is a very lucky state these days.


The good news from that recon mission?  Jeri was there.  She explained that the hospital had stepped in to keep the center open when a new grant was not forthcoming. We spent almost an hour catching up and talking about the changes at the center.  We talked about our sons, who are very similar.  I was there so long that I was almost late for my prenatal appointment.


I had already looked into mommy groups up here.  My backup hospital has one.  Since it's a Catholic hospital, I'll be calling to find out if it's a religious-based group or not.  Hopefully they'll take a heathen and her baby.  If that works out, it could be just the thing I need to start making good friends up here.