--I have lost most of the "baby" weight without even trying. Who knew that all I needed was a lot of stress and a health scare (still in the middle of this, but I'm hopeful that all will be OK). --I turned 41 last week. Less traumatic than turning 40, and yet, I am now fully into my forties. --The girls are marvelous. They drive me bonkers, but they are smart, funny and creative. --Had two papers published in the Fall. Right now, it looks like a smooth ride to full professor. I go up in Fall 2011.
I'm going to start a new blog this weekend. It will be a little different. My identity will be a little more transparent and my husband may occasionally chime in. I'll post a link as soon as I get it set up. I hope you'll visit me there. I'll still post here some. Can't really make fun of my mother-in-law (who spent a rocking $5 on my younger daughter for Christmas) if my husband is reading. He gets touchy about these things.
Now that the doctor called me fat--well, not fat, but used-to-be-thin--I'm determined to do something about my baby weight* before it gets worse and he does call me fat or overweight or bmi challenged or something equally appalling. That means I was out the door at 6:30 a.m. for a short run before work this morning and that I just had a boring salad for lunch. In other words, it is a very jolly Monday around here.
*Is it still baby weight if the baby is now three?
When I signed up for my blog, I used a hotmail address. I was pretty happy with hotmail until I met Gmail, which was smarter, more handsome and more clever. I was smitten. So I turned my back on hotmail. Dropped it like a hot .. .well you know.
When I tried to switch my Blogger account to Gmail, Blogger wouldn't allow me to do it* so I had to continue to use the hotmail address to login. Sometime this summer, I forgot my blogger password, but because my blog account was linked to my by now inactive hotmail account, I couldn't get it reset.
I just remembered the password. This time, I'm going to write it down.
*Why blogger won't accept gmail accounts is beyond me. They are the same company. ______________________________________________________________________________________
I wish I could report having successfully lost the extra pounds that have weighed me down, but I'm about where I was two months ago.
Two days ago, I had to make a visit to my general practitioner because my allergy and asthma symptoms have been worse lately. Because my GP had a heavy day, I opted to be seen by one of her colleagues who had an appointment available. He was quite thorough, and he took a little time looking through my chart asking good questions like, "Do you really need pets?" and "Do you really need the Ambien?"**
After about a minute of flipping backward through time in my chart, he stopped suddenly and looked at me, "You used to be thin!"
Bastard. He was looking at my chart from 2001 when I was running marathons.
M hasn't had a single accident since we potty trained on Monday. Of course, she hasn't pooped in the potty, either, so we are only part-way potty trained. I started her on Miralax yesterday, and she finally did have a BM during her nap today (I had put her in pull-ups hoping for this outcome because stool retention is a "thing to be avoided" according to our wonderful pediatrician). I'm hopeful that a few days of the gentle laxative will get things running which will give me opportunities to get her on the potty. This worked for E, and I can't see why it won't work for M. . . eventually.
This weekend, after I take pictures of the nursery (which I don't think I've ever done), we are going to convert M's crib into a toddler bed and redecorate a bit. Out with the jungle animals and in with pink and purple polka dots. I've kept her in a crib this long partly out of laziness, but partly because I dread her wandering. This is the child who, at fifteen months, climbed atop the kitchen table while I showered and who, at 16 months, learned to get out of the crib*. She has a knack for finding the single most precarious spot upon which to perch wherever we go, be it the edge of a steep retaining wall at my in-laws mountain house or the side of a duck pond. I shudder to think of what trouble she will find while we sleep. Still, with her third birthday six weeks away, it is time to move her.
Today I ran 2 miles and took the girls to a play date using the bike trailer rather than the car (very pleasant day for Coastal SC in July). I mainly stayed away from crappy food and tried to focus on filling, healthy foods.
Though 2-3 miles is about as far as I have been going, partly because of the heat, partly because of my spinal issues and party because of laziness, I'm going to push myself tomorrow to go 5 miles even if I need to alternate walking and running to do so. I keep thinking about signing up for a December or January half-marathon. Part of me thinks that this is exactly what I need in terms of a mental and physical challenge, but the another part of me thinks this is crazy talk given the previous spinal fusion and the new, but currently stable, herniated discs. Then there is my recently diagnosed hernia to consider. . . Crap. I'm getting old.
After months of trying to convince M to potty train, she hasn't had a single accident since the light bulb came on Monday afternoon. In case anyone stumbles across this after googling some combination of the following words potty training, stubborn, holding urine, scared of potty, screaming, almost three, terrified, or big girl pants, here is what finally worked after M had held her urine for about five hours and was obviously in pain from the effort.
1. Run water in bathtub. 2. Strip child from waist down. 3. Stand child (who may be screaming) in running bath water. Wait for trickle. 4. Quickly transfer child to toilet so business can be finished in correct place. 5. Praise child, suggesting that this was their wonderful idea. 6. Repeat.
The ah ha moment came the second time we did this. The third time, she asked me to run the water and that was enough. After that, she got it. There have been no accidents in three days. Of course there has been no poop in two days, but I have a plan for that.
Last night as I was telling J how happy I was about finally having payoff in the form of potty training success (I did 100% of the potty training), he said, "She was bound to get it on her own." Bastard.*
While M is off to the races, I am not eating well at all. I was too chicken to check my weight this morning. I have stepped up the exercise, however. This morning I ran a few miles and this afternoon I worked on machines at the gym and then lifted M in and out of the pool while E took swim lessons. I also charged my Gowear Fit and started wearing it again.
*Right answer: "You were so patient to stick with this. She wouldn't have been able to move up to the three year old classroom if not for you. You are a goddess. Which foot should I massage first?"
If I was exhausted yesterday, today I am roadkill. As predicted, my pyromaniac neighbors shot fireworks late into the evening. And as predicted, my dog went apeshit bonkers. Having been sternly warned by the vet last week that we should not exceed the recommended dose of Xanax for fear of interaction with the dog's newly prescribed daily dose of clomicalm, we were expecting the meds to at least slow her down. Instead, she flung herself at the window, panted, shook, whined, and barked for hours on end. Over the course of the evening, we looked at one another guiltily, but we tripled her prescribed xanax dose. When she was finally calmer, but not yet asleep, we discussed the possibility that perhaps we would wake to find our dog dead of overdose. But barely an hour later, during round three of the pyromaniacs's festivities, we heard barking and pacing again. I did the only thing reasonable at that hour: I took an emergency Ambien.
Too bad they don't make pediatric Ambien, because M could have used it last night. It turns out that, like the dog, she is terrified by fireworks. As the dog barked, M wailed. Unlike the dog, M is allowed in our bed in cases of bad dreams, illness, or frieworks. We put her in bed with us and finally moved her to her room in the wee hours of the night. Less than an hour later she woke mid-dream freaked out s it was back to our bed until 6:08 a.m. when she woke insisting that I feed her NOW.
Now that the house is quiet (no!I hear fireworks again and I WILL go talk to the pyros if this upsets beast or child), I am trying to take stock and plan my week. Tomorrow is forecast to be rainy so I'll need to come up with some indoor activities for the girls. The house is a mess so I may try to make cleaning up some sort of game. Both girls see the ENT at 2:45 and E has swim lessons at 4:45. I have the sitter from 9-2 Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday and will be at my office each day attempting to be focused.
Today's being better stats:
Weight: 124.6 (down .2 lbs from yesterday, or 1.4 lbs from Wednesday) Diet: I had crackers today. And m&m's. Tomorrow is a new day, right? Exercise: Half hour beach walk using waves as resistance. Dogs: Did not kill the Vizsla. Husband: Very annoyed with. Just because. Beauty: Sunscreen at beach? Patience with children: M was a sleep-deprived beast today. I didn't snap at her because I knew where the behavior was coming from. E had her first good day of the long weekend.
A month after being told that there was a less than 1% chance of conceiving again using my own eggs, I found myself pregnant. After an anxious pregnancy, I found myself blessed with another daughter. We decided to temp fate and try for a third child. Two miscarriages later, I'm trying to figure out what comes next. In this space, I talk about mothering, working and life in general.