Unannounced Visitors

Buddy Frazzled...

As I finished cleaning my kitchen this morning, after already doing the laundry, dusting, feeding the baby, skyping my mom, and sneaking in breakfast, I wondered to myself “why doesn’t anyone just ‘drop by’ just after I’ve made my house spotless?”  Why must there always be an unannounced knock at the door when my house is absolutely disheveled?  Granted, my house doesn’t stay spotless for long after I clean it because something about a tidy kitchen makes me want to bake and then there is no telling what it might look like. Really though, my house is spic and span right now and there won’t be a soul knocking at that door.

Yesterday the house was blitzed and there were two different unannounced visitors. What happens when they show up? Well that is when I start to sweat excessively, my hands get clammy, and I start to apologize uncontrollably for the mess that they are walking into. It goes like this: “Hey, how is it going? Come on in, please excuse the mess, we were just…” There is no telling what will follow the just… Usually something about starting to clean or in the middle of cleaning, but if I were being honest with them I would say, “ignoring the mess that has encompassed our kitchen, dining room, living room, and well basically the rest of the house and we were hoping that it would magically clean itself because it is Sunday and we would rather be screwing off than cleaning, we’d rather be getting it on than getting to work, ya know?”

Then I start to wonder, why do I find it reasonable to apologize to people for my “messy” house when they show up unannounced? They are the ones that are presuming that we are available for their entertainment or are just dropping in to borrow, beg, or steal. Not that I’m totally against people coming over, I just wish that they would call first. You know, give the ole heads up. I mean really, what would they do if I answered the door in my birthday suit with a whisk and broom in my hand and said, “now isn’t a good time; we’re in the middle of something.”

I find myself ashamed when people just drop by and the house and I aren’t in a magazine ready state. I’m sure that this is just a personal insecurity but it does interfere with my mental state when people drop in. I should just remember that in reality, my house is lived in. I haven’t swept because I have been playing with my son, my face isn’t perfect because my five month old is much more fun to look at than the mirror these days. I’ve decidedly stopped caring if my eyebrows aren’t arched…

I should not be the one apologizing anyway! If someone has just dropped by without invitation and without a heads up then guess what, they are getting the real deal. If they don’t like it then they can just keep on driving. Ha! Yeah right! I am sure that I will continue to apologize and make excuses and get frazzled because I feel inadequate but I am going to try and reduce the apologies and the angst that I feel when it happens.

Do you get frazzled when people just ‘drop in’ on you?

Breastfeeding

Let’s talk about breastfeeding…

For the first two weeks of Clark’s life his nickname was Titty Terrorist. That’s right, I called my sweet little baby a titty terrorist. The boy latched on in the delivery room and didn’t let go until he was two weeks old, and then only for short snippets at a time.  The first time he latched on he made me bleed. For the following two weeks in order for him to latch on he felt the need to “bite” down on my nipple just to make sure that it was in his mouth prior to sucking. Had I not been determined to breast feed for the first year of his life, I think that those two weeks just might have broken my resolve. I truly understood why so many women give up on breast feeding. Just knowing that his scheduled feeding was around the corner on the clock would make me cringe, taking my breast out of my nursing bra struck pure dread in my mind, and as soon as my sweet little boy caught whiff of me and turned his little face to my breast I would tense up, curl my toes, and wince as he terrorized my chest to fulfill his need for food.

Luckily the pain of breastfeeding only lasted for a small amount of time. The pain was momentary in those first two weeks, after the initial “bite” the pain subsided, and after those two weeks the pain disappeared altogether.  Clark got better at latching on, I learned his hunger cues and together we got through it. I wouldn’t change it for the world. I think that breastfeeding was my first lesson in motherhood, my first tutorial in how to read my baby and his cues.  I cherish those first moments of his life.

Breastfeeding now gives me one on one time with Clark, it provides me the opportunity to turn the world off and stare into his sweet little face. Sure, there are moments that I absently feed him and I have to remind myself that these moments are fleeting, that he will soon enough be running around and absent from my lap, that snuggling mommy will be too much to ask of him and the world will be calling, and in those moments I am usually smart enough to take a break from my thoughts to just breath him in.

I am by no means a lactation specialist and I know that breastfeeding is not something that all mothers are able to do, there are some extenuating circumstances that make it impossible, but I truly wish for all mothers to be able to share this special bond with their babies. Even when those little bundles of joy are titty terrorists in the beginning.

Was your baby a mammary murderer?

Impromptu Party...

Clark with one of our friends, not the tequila culprit...

So Travis and I were invited to a picnic to hang out with one of our friends that has moved back to the good ole US of A and was making a short appearance in our neck of the woods. YAY!

Well a few days prior to the scheduled event I happened to check the weather for the big day and noticed that it was going to be cruddy out.  I sent a quick email out to the event organizer and all of our other friends that were going to be at the picnic asking about a contingency plan... No Reply. What ever...

So we all head out to the park for the picnic, it is less than 50 F out and cloudy, I've bundled the baby up like the kid off of "A Christmas Story" and have cut cheese, sausage, and made dip. Travis and I get there to hang out with everyone for all of forty-five minutes and then the sky opens up and the rain comes down. Contingency Plan??? Nope still nothing.

One of our friends offers up their apartment to go hang out in. "Um... there are 25 people out here and you have the European apartment the size of a shoe box." This just came out of my husbands mouth... I instantly have the look of fear come over my face. I know exactly what is about to follow... "Why don't you all come over to our house, we can light up the grill and hang out there?!?"

FU&*)*(*&(*&(*&(&&(&(*!!!! That's right, I am married to the nicest guy on the planet, the guy that offers up his house to his friends, the guy that doesn't check with his wife first because he forgot they have a baby and she is tired and that "Party Throwing" Jack left the building mid November... I suck it up. I will allow it because we haven't seen our friend for some time and because everyone got together to celebrate her... Sure Come On Over...

So everyone converges on our house and we lock the dogs up and pull out snack food and pull out the cooler and stock the fridge with beer, etc... All goes well, they don't stay too terribly late (by non baby standards, because if they knew what life was like for people with a baby they would have left at 730) and my house is relatively clean (as far as parties go).

But then the next day arrives and we start to notice that things are strange... 1st, where is the dogs collar? Removed and hidden... WTF???

Next the thing that GOT MY GOAT: Travis says to me, "Let me tell you a story... Last night I heard B ask G, "what are you drinking?" G says crown, B says "EW", G says, "it is better than that crap rum you're drinking." B says, "I'm not drinking rum, I'm drinking tequila."" So Travis goes on to tell me that he didn't think much of the conversation and walked off to do something else... Well apparently he realized after the party was over that B had decided that it would be fine to just open up our $70 bottle of Patron without asking... Are you shitting me? Who does that? Really??? The least he could have done was ask if it was okay... Dude where in the hell are your manners? Your mother would be ashamed, and if she isn't then her mother should be!!!

Have you ever had a party and had people do random things that make you question their sanity or manners?

Battling my inner Negative Nancy

Still catching you up on March and some of April...

I ran my first post baby race on 10 March. It was the Shamrock Shuffle and I managed to knock it out in 34:14, that is an 11 minute pace people! With a baby that was under four months old, I felt like I was doing something!  Plus you see that little leprechaun I ran with? Yeah, I had to DRAG him for about a mile... There was a lady that fell behind us with a basset hound and little Gizmo decided that he wanted to go back and play with the damn thing. Talk about an upper body workout!

In other news, we are running a ½ marathon in less than a month.  We’ve been training for about four weeks so far and our farthest run has been 8 miles. We’ll run ten this coming Sunday. I have to admit that I don’t remember it being this painful the last time I trained for a ½ marathon. I am sure that it was just as difficult but the added weight from pregnancy, the lactating breasts, the change in body composition, and having not run for a year have made this reintroduction a little daunting.

I have incorporated speed work throughout the week during my short runs and am happy to say that on I am running faster than even before I had the baby (at least on the treadmill). I did happen to run my fastest 5k the other day with Travis, though it wasn’t an actual event, just clocked on my Garmin. You see, I am a 10+ min miler… I am a “slow” runner.  Because I am so slow, I have had a running battle in my mind about whether or not I can actually call myself a runner. (No pun intended) I know that I am not the only person to have this inner battle, Callie has written about the same topic. However, I have come to realize that I AM A RUNNER, I manage to get off my couch when I don’t want to, I put on my running shoes even when I’d rather be eating cake, I hit the pavement and move my feet, and I am doing more than the person that doesn’t do it. I am not going to win any races and probably won’t win any awards (though I love to collect those medals, and I’ll wear it like I won the race), but I am going to win the battle against my lazy self. I will not let that inner voice that says, “you aren’t a real runner, you can’t complete the distance, who are you kidding?” take over. Nope, I am going to beat that girl down because who likes a Negative Nancy? NOT ME!!!

Do you have to battle your inner Nancy?

Easter

This was my first Easter as a mommy. I LOVED IT!!! Clark is still too little to actually dye the eggs himself or to hunt for eggs but that didn't stop us...



I made Clark his first Easter basket:

First I had to make the inner rope. I cut plastic bags and taped them together with masking tape.

Next I wove the inner rope together using cut strips of fabric that I had on hand from another project that I'm working on for Clark.

Once I finished the basket project we were free to dye eggs.

And the highlight of all his waiting:

On to updates and baby food…

The last day of March we got to see Clark roll over for the first time! I cried like a baby. That’s right, I’m not ashamed, I cried! They were tears of joy, excitement, and sadness. I was overjoyed that my little boy was making the move, excited to see him learn a new skill, and sad to know that he is going to grow up and won’t be my little boy for long. Yes, I know just how crazy that sounds! He’s only 5 months old now (as of 19 April) we still have a “lifetime” to go, right? WRONG!!! I never knew how fast 5 months would fly by. People always say that it just flies by, and let me tell you… IT DOES!!! He’ll be off to college before I know it. So I have been doing my best to soak up all of his littleness…

April first brought the introduction of solids into his life. We started with sweet potatoes and have since gone on to butternut squash, plums, pears, and peas. So far he is not so much a fan of the plums or peas, but he really likes the other stuff. Next up bananas! I’ve decided that I am going to make all of his baby food because I am not interested in starting his life with preservatives and processed food.  So here is how I’ve made the purees so far:

Sweet Potato:  I stabbed a metal skewer through it and baked it at 450 F for one hour. After letting it cool, to a temperature that I could handle without sacrificing my first layer of skin, I scooped out all of the “meat” and placed it into my VITAMIX. Then I blended it to a fine paste.  When serving to Clark I add enough breast milk to thin it out.

Butternut Squash:  I cut the squash in half lengthwise and placed it on a cookie sheet “meat” side up. I added a quarter cup of water to the cookie sheet to keep the squash from drying out. Bake at 400 F for 45 minutes (though I started with 25 and checked it every 10). Again, once the squash has cooled enough that disfigurement of the hands from napalm like burns is no longer an issue, scoop the “meat” of the squash out into a food processor or super duper blender, puree.

Plums:  I took the advice of a friend and “poached” the plums by scoring the skins and then simmering them for 10 minutes. I then pulled off the skin that wasn’t holding on for dear life and proceeded to puree them. I will be trying a different approach next time, these turned out strange and Clark doesn’t seem to like them.

Pears

Pears:  I used 2 pears.  Peel the pears, core them, and then steam them for 5-7 minutes to soften. Place in super duper blender or food processor and puree. These are a little watery and are a great additive to the sweet potatoes or squash if breast milk is unavailable.

Peas: I used a bag of frozen peas. Steam the peas for 3-5 minutes. Remove from the pot but save the water that you steamed them with. Place the peas in a food processor or blender and puree. The peas will create very thick paste, slowly add a little of the saved water and puree some more. I continued to puree the peas until the hulls were no longer visible. I don’t want little pieces of pea skin to get stuck anywhere in the baby’s intestinal tract.

I add breast milk to the purees to make them a little thinner and to sweeten them up for Clark, you could use the water that you steam them with or even the pear purees.

Disclaimer: Speak to your pediatrician before starting your baby on solid food. Please make sure to discuss possible allergies and possible complications with your doctor before starting any new foods with your child.

Grieving

Our last photo together

Okay March I was a no show… I was MIA in the rest of life too, really.

It finally hit me that my Dad had passed and I was really struggling to cope with it. I am by no means an expert on grief and even though I’ve had my share of heart break and loss, the loss of my Dad was by far the hardest thing that I have ever had to endure. It is a daily struggle to not cry. It was a dark spot in life. The smallest things would set off the water works for a few weeks. I cried for so many different reasons from not having him here any longer, fear of the pain that he went through, fear of not having told him how much I loved him, not letting him know how much he meant to me, sadness that he won’t get to watch my little boy grow up, sadness that he won’t get to meet future children, sadness over the loss of one of my best friends. You see, my Dad and I were exceptionally close. I know that people say that all of the time but really, I called my Dad every day, we had that same dry sense of humor, the same dislike for stupidity, the same cynical thoughts about the world (not all of our thoughts are cynical but we do tend to mock a bit). My Dad was my hero, he was my friend, my confidant, my sounding board, he was the measure to which I’ve held almost every other relationship up to in my life. Some might say that equates to “Daddy Issues” but I don’t think that is the case. My Dad wasn’t always perfect and he knew it. He battled his demons and he apologized when he knew he was wrong. He taught me that people can change, even when you think that there is no way, they can. 

I was given the opportunity to tell my father how much he meant to me, how proud I was of him, and how I thought that he had done a good job as a parent. It wasn’t enough. Let me say that again, IT WAS NOT ENOUGH!!! Even though I got to tell him all of those things, I still feel like there are words untold, joy not conveyed, and questions unanswered. I know that I did what I could while he was here, I took the time to be with him, but it still feels like I missed out. So, if you have someone in your life that you love, someone that means the world to you, TELL THEM!!! Tell them every single day! Tell them!!!!