Tuesday, June 23, 2015

once every two years.

Oh hi. So it's been a while. For some reason I got the urge to blog today. I was in the garage working out while the baby napped and the big kids were at camp and I was considering updating my Facebook status with what basically amounts to a blog post. And here it is.  

I should bring you up to speed (if there are any of you left). The aforementionted baby is probably the biggest news. My water broke on Mother's day morning, I opted to go to brunch and have two mimosas (judge away) before checking into the hospital (thrid baby, hello!?!) and five minutes after Mother's Day Finley Scott (that's her up there) entered our lives. She's perfection. Just like the big kids. There's a lot of background, like why we decided to have a third, how the kids are handling it, my pregnancy, how I forgot that breast feeding is a full time job, all of that, that if I continue to blog I will share. But if not, just know that six weeks in we've hit a stride and things are good.

But on having a third kid. I was reflecting today while I stood in the kitchen at 4pm staring at breakfast dishes still on the counter, a pile of Pokemon cards, bills, junk mail and a passy. I was (and still am) unshowered and wearing my second pair of workout pants of the day, and had just gotten home from an unsuccessful hunt for shorts that fit my 'fourth trimester'  ass. I could have melted. My post first or post second baby self might have melted. But I didn't. I didn't cry. I didn't flip out. I didn't even do the dishes. It'll all get done eventually. I'm zen. Obviously. Or my priorities have undergone a major shift in the last six weeks. Either way, it's all good, and probably really good for my Type A self. 

But what I've noticed about being a Mom of three is that everything I do accomplish in a day feels like a major victory. Major. 

Got a shower? I deserve a ribbon. Got a workout in before the shower?  Blue ribbon. Everyone was where they needed to be when they needed to be there without any help from my amazing village?  Someone make me a cake. Went to the grocery store with all three kids and no one died or cried? I deserve a damn ticker tape parade. 

I'm sure this will wear off and I will no longer desire high fives from complete strangers for bathing three kids and getting them in bed before 8, but until then I'll celebrate the victories (albeit small ones) and let the rest of it go. It'll all get done eventually. 

The last time I blogged was April of 2013. So don't get too excited (Dad).

Thursday, April 25, 2013


I have this poor, neglected, blog.  It's sad.  I make promises I can't keep.  So I'm not making a promise today.  Cause history has shown, I suck at saying I'm gonna blog over here on the regular.  But I did get a note on my new photography blog from a loyal reader asking me when I'm gonna blog for reals.  One person misses me.  It's kinda nice.

And today it's appropriate that I write because I just went back and read this post from almost 2 years ago.  When I potty trained Cannon less than a month before moving a thousand miles away while I was on my own and hubs was already in FL working.  This morning we made the pilgrimage to Walmart.  Bought the princess underwear and we're on the way.  It's been 10 minutes.  No accidents.  Winning.  So far.  She's been going on occasion and when she went twice on the potty last night then again this morning I decided there's no time like the present.  Here's hoping it sticks.  And hoping maybe you'll get an update.  If you need us we'll be at home in our underwear.  Gotta support the girl!

Some other stuff.

I'm debating making my photography blog a photography and personal blog.  Cause I don't need two Facebook pages, two blogs, and two kids and I already have two of two of those.  Not sure if combining the two will drive people away or draw them into my web, right where I want them... bwah ha ha ha.

I've lost 15 pounds this year.  And kept all of it off.  I did Weight Watchers.  Now I have five pounds to lose and I think it's gonna take voodoo.  Or a magic spell.  Cause I'm over the WW.  Or I need a break.  Or something.  Either way, the good news is I'm not gaining weight.  Not losing it either.  Also I should probably want to lose 10 pounds but I think that would require quitting drinking and that's just simply not an option.

Read something about flax seed and unsweetened cranberry juice jump starting loss of the last five pounds.  Got the flax seed.  Couldn't find unsweetened juice.  So.  If I ever find that, maybe I'll try it.  I mean if it works for Rebecca Romijn it should work for me. Right?

I have the most awesomest friends around.  Thought you should know.

Can someone explain to me how to teach a 4 year old the concept of tomorrow?  It's the day after this day.  Friday is tomorrow.  Then every morning, is it tomorrow?  Well, kind of but no...

Alright.  Not bad for the first time back.  And who knows, could be another three months.  But maybe not.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013


Oh hi. Remember me? Probably not.  That's ok.  Sometimes something is going on and rather than telling everyone you see or screaming it from the mountain tops, you just blog about it.  So I'm blogging.

I spent the majority of the year last year 'trying' to lose weight.  Let me back up.  I'm not someone people look at and think 'she should lose some weight' (sidenote: if you look at people and think that you probably need to take a look in the mirror).  But by my BMI and my own standards, I am was overweight.  Baby fat around my belly.  Extra in my boobs.  It was there.  So I committed to working out, in a major way.  Boot camps at 5am, running more than ever before (cause before I didn't run).  Six, sometimes seven days a week.  I dropped carbs for a bit.  Wine for a hot minute.  I counted calories (using myfitnesspal which basically all but starved me).  I think the most I lost all year last year was 5 pounds.  And by the end of the year I had gained it back and added a few extra holiday pounds.  I never quit exercising.  Who knows what would have happened if I did.  It wouldn't have been pretty.

I blogged about how I couldn't lose weight. I all but begged my doctor to diagnose me with a thyroid problem.  I searched for any and all possible causes for what Google thought might be wrong with me.  I took fad supplements.  I cried.  I got angry.  But I didn't lose the weight.  Did I mention this went on almost and entire year?  A YEAR.  That's a long damn time.

January 2, 2013.  The day I joined Weight Watchers.

People my age (which by the way isn't all that young anymore) don't do weight watchers.  It's for people who are really overweight.  It won't work for me.  Crap, that's all crap.

I am telling you right now, I believe.  I have bought in HOOK LINE AND SINKER.  This is no joke.  I went in hoping for amazing.  I mean have you SEEN Jennifer Hudson?  And Jessica Simpson?  These are famous women who are NORMAL.  Who love food.  And it worked for them.  And guess what?  I'm not famous, but I love food.  And it's working for me!

On Friday I will weigh in for the fourth time, so my third weigh in since being on the program.  In that time (according to my scale at home), I've lost 10 pounds.  10.  Freaking.  Pounds.  And, it gets better.  5 inches.  5.  I could cry while I type this.  I'm sitting here in jeans I bought when I was in college and they button comfortably.  I don't even care that they're from Abercrombie and are stone washed with a huge hole in the knee.  Don't even care.  They button.  So I'm freaking wearing 'em.

I'm not aiming to weigh what I did when we got married almost 8 years ago.  I know that's not realistic.  Nor was my diet them on Slimfasts and Lean Cuisines for every meal.  Oh and fountain diet coke by the gallon.  I've had two kids since then.  My body is different.  But 10 more pounds and you'll never hear me complain about my weight again.

Ok, enough patting myself on the back.  Here's what I am doing that is (I think) making the difference for me:

I exercise.  I like to exercise. I love a good workout.  So the motivation isn't the problem but just exercise for me wasn't enough.  And I counted calories last year too, it didn't work.  I think I was eating too few calories and it wasn't sustainable.  So I joined WW and I'm doing the FULL program.  Not just online because I don't trust myself to be accountable to myself (hello? all year last year...).  So I'm doing the full program where every Friday morning I go stand on a scale in front of a stranger and we both look at my weight.  My ego is too big and I'm far too embarrassed to not lose at least a little weight.  I've been to one meeting and I really liked it.  Not sure I need the meetings but I'm 100% certain I need the stranger to hold me accountable.  LBS it's not like your husband is going to tell you to not eat something.

Also.  I don't use a lot of my cheat points.  I figure if I can exist within my daily points and use a few cheats on the weekend then I'll hit my goal more quickly.  I save the cheats for drinks on the weekend.

I am not drinking wine.  Even if it's within my points for the day, I'm on a hiatus.  The amount of sugar that's in wine is detrimental to me and it's horrible because I love wine.  So I either need to drink it only in the morning or I am just going to have it on occasion.  Right now it's on occasion.  I am still drinking.  Vodka and diet tonic or soda.  Maybe a light beer (but I hate beer.... like really hate).  Nothing to excess.  So I'm not nearly as much fun.  But that's ok.  It's better for me and my liver.

I'm not hungry.  I'm eating a lot more fruits and veggies than I was before.  And it's coming off. Finally.



Tuesday, October 30, 2012

Broken Promises.

I made a commitment to come back to blogging.  Then I disappeared again.  It't not cause I don't love you.  It's me. Not you.

I'm the dog who caught the car.  I had this 'oh wouldn't that be awesome' thing in the back of my mind and it worked out.  So with like five shoots a week and two kids with schedules and a household to run I am kinda busy.  A good busy.  A 'squeeze in three miles before 7am' busy.  And I'm in love with it.

Which mean blog neglect.

But I had to share this.  My 4 year old, when he gets tired, crumbles if you look at him funny.  Last night he turned on his toothbrush (one of those five dollar electric transformers ones) and the batteries were dead.  And I hear from the bathroom, 'Oh come on!'.  He might as well have said 'could anything else possibly go wrong on this horrible no good very bad day?!?!?' after he spent the morning at school and the afternoon in a bounce house in the backyard. Life is SO hard.

So.  Happy Halloween! Promise to be back before Thanksgiving! Or try to be :)


Tuesday, October 2, 2012

I'm back. For reals this time.

I was an awesome blogger in 2011.  Like really good.

I'm tired of blogging about not being able to lose 10 pounds (blah blah blah researching lipo... kidding.  Kind of) and death.  And chances are if there are any readers left, you're tired of it too.

So.  It stops today.  The poor me/sad me blogging stops.  Because the truth of the matter is that life is quite good.  Excellent even.  It's just that I get sad and I write.  I get happy and I laugh and play and savor the moment.  You get it.

So. Without further ado.  Some observations and revelations, old school styles.

My baby turns two this month. I'm not crying about it (see above note about no more sad blogging).  But 2? Really?  Cause I think she was born like a month ago and yesterday she started walking and now she's turning 2? How is that possible?  Serious. And here's the thing.  She's a talker. Her brother was and continues to be a talker and she's a HUGE talker.  Like full sentences.  And correct grammar.  It's the grammar that gets me.  Sometimes I wish when I hear 'Mommy I do it myself' (albeit in a sweet toddler voice) I secretly (or outloud) wish she'd say 'Mommy, my do it!'  And the potty.  She wants to sit on the potty.  I'm not begging to wipe her ass for a lot longer but come on, one thing at a time please.

Halloween.  It's a big deal in our neighborhood.  So big, in fact, that I made a burlap wreath.  Made one.  And I didn't have to start over and I didn't throw anything against the wall.

On a weight related note (but not a poor me sad face one) my husband hid the scale.  And for a month it's been nice to not have it in the bathroom taunting me, begging me to get on it every hour on the hour to see if I lost a pound by cutting some pineapple and doing the dishes.  But now I'd like to get back on it.  Not hourly, maybe weekly and he won't tell me where it is.  Do your grocery stores have giant old school scales? Ours does.  And I think that's where my weekly weigh ins will now take place.  At Publix.  See you there.

Back to Halloween.  Cosutmes.  The kids were discussing their costumes and Cannon was planning on Batman (until we went to Target and he saw Optimus Prime.  Game over) and E will be a princess (obviously).  And I overheard this from the playroom, "Since you're going to be a princess I will protect your kingdom." And I died. Of a happy full heart.

I was gonna do the mudroom project.  Pinterest style only hiring someone to do it.  And I kept getting these quotes where they would say 'It's $XXX and we'll put in a shelf and a cabinet" and no one told me what the cabinet would look like or the shelf or if it would be made of rich mahogany or freaking plywood.  So I bought a storage bench and hung some hooks myself and all is right in the mudroom.

The dog.  He wasn't putting any weight on his back foot (one of them, yes he has 2) and I was feeling all, 'oh my god the dog is broken cause I don't pay any attention to him and we have to take him to the vet immediately even though I have the two kids with me and it will be a giant pain in the ass'.  So I did.  $300 later he's got a sprained ankle.  Or possibly a dislocated ankle cause once we got home, it was fine.  So the vet thinks dislocated.  I call bullshit and he wanted attention.  $300 worth.

I started using myfitnesspal (yesterday).  Cause I got an iPhone (5 bitches) and it's easy.  And did you know you can just scan the barcode of whatever you're eating and it adds it!?!?  Even stuff from Trader Joe's (where I can now drive in a mere 90 minutes instead of 3 hours).  So between the app and the Publix weigh in's I should be able to shame myself into losing the weight.  If not, lipo.  Who's coming with me?

I got a new camera.  Cause I've got this business and it's going well and I really love it and it's actually all rainbows and butterflies.  And my new camera is smarter, and prettier than I am.  And the day it was delivered I missed the UPS man and almost chased him down in my car with one child at home asleep but I didn't.  I instead opted to BEG and PLEAD and incessantly call the distribution center to get him to come back.  And he did.  So I've got this new camera and I'm afraid of it a little bit.  But I'm less afraid and more totally psyched for a new challenge and a no longer 'bottom of the barrel' camera.

This is the time of year I really really really miss living in the midwest.  Because right now it's like 85 with 185% humidity and a dew point of a trillion.  And everyone else is picking pumpkins and making soup and jumping in piles of brightly colored leaves and having family photo shoots on pretty farms where the sun is golden and no one is sweating.  But we did go to the beach on Sunday and get a tan.  So take that.

Ok.  Not bad for my first day 'back in the saddle' of the fun side of blogging.  Maybe there will even be pictures next time.  But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

The Best part?  I'm baacccckkkk.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

happy birthday grandma.

I want nothing more today than to pack up my kids and go to my Grandmother's house and eat birthday cake and to sing 'happy birthday' to her and celebrate.  I want to celebrate her birthday so bad it physically hurts my heart.  And I can't.  I mean I could go to her almost empty house and visit but there's none of her left there.

It's been three months.  And sometimes out of no where like a damn ton of bricks it hits me and I just cry.  I cry cause I miss her.  Or because she's missing something I would want to share with her.  My kids birthdays.  Her birthday.  The holidays are coming.  She loved the holidays.

And then, sometimes, I can almost feel her standing next to me, her hand around my waist and her head on my shoulder.  I can almost feel her.  Those moments when you can actually see the rays of sunshine coming through the clouds.  I can almost feel her. There is comfort in those moments.

But dammit.  I miss her.  So badly.

But she would mad.  She would be mad if we just sat around and cried.  So we're going to celebrate.  The way she would want us to celebrate.  With our toes in the sand.  Maybe a few afternoon beers.  On the beach.  Watching the pelicans soar.  And we're going to remember. And laugh. And feel her.  And know she is watching over us.  Guiding us.  Loving us.

Happy birthday Grandma.  I love you.


Tuesday, August 28, 2012

on why I want to put my fist through the wall.

So.  At the end of January I wrote this.  The beginning of my journey to lose like 10 pounds.  By now I thought for sure I'd be rid of those 10 pounds.  I thought FOR SURE.

Since then I have been running, eating healthier, did a bootcamp twice a week for 16 weeks.  My clothes fit a little better, I'm definitely stronger.  I can run four or five miles now with relative ease.  All of this sounds well and good until I tell you this.

I have not lost ONE GODDAMNED POUND since February.  Not one.

The 'eating healthier' was fewer carbs and calories but until two weeks ago I was still drinking wine on the regular (my vice, seriously) and grabbing a handful of goldfish here and there.  We ate out a lot and despite good menu choices it's still not as healthy as eating at home.

So.  About 10 days ago I gave up carbs.  Wine.  I gave up wine.  And bread. And pretzels.  Sweet stuff.  Short of a spinach smoothie (with greek yogurt) with fruit in the morning, the amount of carbs I'm taking in is not even worth talking about.

And still.

I have not lost ONE GODDAMNED POUND.

I'm not asking for 30 pounds. 10.  Just 10.  For no one other than me.

And that, friends, is why I want to put  my fist through the wall.  Or the scale.

Cause... really... if I weigh the same when I don't eat (or drink) the things I love, as I do when I do eat them, they why bother???