Saturday, February 27, 2010

Speed bumps, hiccoughs, stalls, hurdles and the like

A couple of weeks ago I told the whole wide world, or 3 people who read this and few who stumble across it, that I started a weight loss challenge at my gym. I'm still participating in the challenge and am watching what I eat but a few things have changed. My endeavors feel thwarted by forces out of my control and by good old fashioned self sabotage. I'm really good at self sabotage.

What has been going right:

Food consumption. I'm not buying little 'treats' at the grocery store. It's amazing how quickly those little treats add up to 50 pounds. I'm not drinking soda every day or even every other day or even every three days. I may have a soda once or twice a week. To placate the beast within that thinks it needs soda I have started working on an addiction to flavored fizzy water (think Talking Rain Peach Nectarine - yum).

Exercise. Kind of working. I see my trainer twice a week. Twice a week she kicks my butt. I feel strong and like the little aches that come with tearing down and building up muscle.

What has not been going right:

Sleep.

Theo, who started out his life like a little rock star in the sleep department, decided he should grow teeth and try to double his birth weight. That means he's a drooling, crying, feasting machine. He wakes up every two hours at night. Sometimes every hour. No joke.

If you come to the conclusion that not getting sleep in more than 1-2 hour stretches is taxing on ones physical (and emotional) health then you are spot on. Some days I muster up enough energy to be a kind, loving, doting mother. Other days I muster up just enough energy to not be hellish walking zombie. The days that I am hovering above zombie level and I have an appointment with the trainer is just awful. I told her last time that I was on the verge of tears.

I've discussed the exhaustion with my trainer and I've told her that I feel like I'm making up an excuse but she said it's not an excuse - it's a legitimate reason. My midwife said the best way to lose weight is to be well rested (as a starting point for the weight loss). My trainer agrees.

Sleep is the main limiting factor right now. I'm going to put more training sessions on hold until I am able to get more sleep. Paying for the trainer at a time when I'm not exercising in between our sessions and am not fully present during our sessions is a waste of money, a waste of her time and a waste of my time.

What I'm not putting on hold is my diet. Although, I must say I've been tempted since I started kicking around the idea to suspend my session with the trainer to revert back to my old eating habits. When I do that the thin angel on my right shoulder says, "No, April. Don't do it. Just go home and make yourself a nice cup of chai. That will work for you." No sooner are the words out of her mouth then the fat little devil on my left shoulder say, "Shut it, you stupid, smug angel! One little treat won't hurt."

Under normal circumstances I am able to keep the fat devil's mouth covered in duct tape. Under normal circumstances. When both boys are screaming or one is screaming (Theo) and the other is emitting a whine that could paper off a wall (Gavin) the fat little devil's voice can be heard above the din, "Chocolate! Chocolate! Chocolate!"

With a glint in my eye, I hear the chocolate cry and think, "Yes! That sounds really good," race over to the pantry and root around for the chocolate chips. If I'm not completely gone I will count out one serving size of chocolate chips. If I'm on the verge of tears, screaming and/or hyperventilating it is a miracle I don't just open the bag and pour them into my gullet like Homer Simpson.

I savor the chocolate and take a big, deep breath and turn my attention back to the wild beasts, er, I mean, children. It feels like a mobster scene from the movies. Classical music - or some kind of music that would normally conjure up images of something serene and peaceful - is playing in the background to a scene that is a blood bath of bullets and baseball bats.

Of course, instead of bullets and baseball bats, its toys to be tripped on, snotty noses to be wiped and dirty diapers to be changed.

Another hurdle in my goal to lose weight is my stupid freakin' second toe on my right foot. Yeah. One teeny, tiny little toe! If I don't tape it just right I'll incite the wrath of the tendon and it will flare up rendering me a gimp for a few days until the pain with each little step subsides.

So, I figured since I'm not well rested and have an on-going bout of tendinitis a 5K fun run would make everything better.

A girlfriend is going to send me a link to a website that has an exercise program that takes you from couch potato to 5K. She may join me on the race. Another friend, Heidi, who does marathons and half marathons, may join, too. I think we would keep her back, though. Maybe she can run circles around us on the race so she doesn't get too bored.

I've been a little hesitant to start running because when I do run I can't breath. My airways constrict and fill with mucous. I think I may have a touch of asthma. Just a touch. Dr. Fiala went through a little check list - do you wheeze when you have a cold? Yes. Does it hurt to breath when it's cold out? Yes, when it's really cold. Have you ever been diagnosed with asthma? When I was pregnant with Gavin. Have you ever been prescribed an inhaler? Yes. Did it work? Yes. Anyone in your family have asthma? Yes.

She also tested my lung capacity and found it to be outside the normal range, on the low side. So she prescribed an inhaler and if it doesn't help me when I run then I'm to go back and she'll try something else and maybe do some fancy tests to see what's up with my lungs.

I'm hoping the albuterol does the trick. I can run through the pain but I can't run without air.

So, I'm really hoping I can get a little more sleep and do this run. Really. Really. Really.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

What Makes the World Go 'Round

I have discovered what makes the world go 'round. One would think I would have made this discovery two years ago but I think I was too far gone to have had the wherewithal to ponder such a thing.

Most have bought into the fallacy that love makes the world go round. Hog wash. Bull hockey. Psh. Whatever. As if. Yeah, right.

Let's break down the theory that loves makes the world go around, shall we?

Remember back to the days of new love. When your new loved ones hand so much as grazed your own you felt tiny bits of tingly electricity flow up your arm. You walked around half the day with a silly grin on your face. You went through the motions at work - sure you were able to look productive but really, all of your mind's energies were focused on your new love. How incredibly perfect they were. How you were the luckiest person on the face of the earth to have met him/her. How you could not believe someone as awesome as him/her thought you were just as awesome. You were thinking, "Is my new love thinking about me right now?" "How is it that someone so incredible things I'm so incredible, too?" "Oh, and his eyes." "And her laugh." "And the way he actually likes my cat?!" Unreal!

Does that above drivel sound like someone capable of making the earth revolve?

No!

The earth revolves in SPITE of them.

So, just what does make the earth go round?

Sleep.

Yes. Sleep.

It never ceases to amaze me how much I can get done in one day when I am well rested. Conversely, it amazes me how little I can do when I'm an exhausted heap.

The other night Ryan and I were sitting on the couch, half watching the Olympics, half watching Gavin play, half playing with Gavin. Don't get on my case about my math of halves - remember, tired people do not contribute (well) to the order of operations. Ryan said something to me and I replied, "Eh."

To which he replied, "Eh. Yeah. Me, too."

If only we had a crystal ball when we were newly in love to look into the future to see how thrilling our lives as new parents would be. Communicating like cavemen on the couch.

"Even my jaws are tired," I slurred. "I suppose that's good for a diet." I was so tired I couldn't even laugh at my own joke. The day I can not cackle at my own joke is a tired one.

It has been years since I've been well rested. The days of rest hearken back to my childless days. Days when I had no idea that I needed to cherish the sleep I was able to get. Gavin started sleeping through the night right about the time I got pregnant which meant Theo started keeping me awake long before he ever exited my womb. Now I get to look at the bundle of cuteness that is waking me at all hours of the night. And I do mean all hours. Pick one. He's up - or will be shortly.

Something happens between one child and two, though. If they both nap at the same time I may try to lay down with them but chances are there is a lot to be done. Namely laundry. Oh, how I hate thee, Laundry! It never ends! NEVER!

Last night when I tried to sneak into bed Theo woke up. I put my hands under him to reposition him so I could nurse him in the bed. He was wet. Stupid Earth's Best diaper came off on one side which led to diaper failure. Which led to wet jammies, wet sleep sack, wet sheet, wet incontinence pad. At least I had the pad on the bed. But this was the 3rd sheet change this week. I really dislike changing sheets in the middle of the night. Really. Although it is nice when I finally crawl into bed to have a clean sheet. I didn't care enough to change the still clean top sheet to have them matching. It won't be too long before each component (bottom sheet, top sheet and two pillow cases) is from a different set.

So now I have even more clothes to sort, wash, dry, fold and take care of. Even with all of this I still managed to go through a laundry basket of stuff (papers, miscellaneous toys, wipes, bills, gifts) that was taking up permanent residence on top of the dog's kennel and sort it all on the table. Now most of it is taken care of. It feels good to only see a quarter of the mess that was there yesterday. Next on the list is to tackle the mantle. Then the hall closet. Then my dresser top. Then my dresser innards. Then the basement.

Then I think it will be time to start over with a basket full of miscellaneous stuff that is sitting on the dog's kennel. And one day, far far from now, I will be rested and will be able to contribute to the world in ways greater than sorting little papers and mismatched socks.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Flowers, Babies, Dogs & Glass



Clematis over the front arbor


Daffodils - or as Gavin calls them, "lellow flowers"





I think it's safe to take the chains off the Daphne now



What the punk didn't steal - at least he left it all in one pile.



There was a lot of screaming that went with this - its never easy leaving the playground.

ball hog






woah, mittens. Cool


Kea being obnoxious. All other toys cease tto exist the moment she sees a soccer ball.


Before she saw the soccer ball.


"Well. You seee the ball, don't you? Throw it already!"

Theo checking out the park.





Gavin is thrilled to bee petting Bob. Bob? Not so much.


The quickest way to get a laugh out of Theo is to start undressing him.


Berries. Delicious and messy.


My boys.


What started out as making a V-day card for Daddy turned into a sticker adventure for Gavin.



Gavin waiting for me (I was in the car listening to NPR) with ballooons..



Little jailbird. His crime? Stealing hearts.



A toy cradle made by my uncle & aunts. All of my girl cousins got one.



I Hope He Breaks a Tooth on a Piece of Candy

Someone rang our doorbell this morning around 9. Ryan answered the door and I recognized my neighbor Jeff's voice but I could only hear Ryan's end of the conversation.

"What? No. We didn't know. Hmfph. Thank you."

Then I saw him leaning out the door. At that point I jumped up and said, "Did someone break into our car?"

"Yes."

I was furious! The timing is just impeccable. For Lent this year I am giving up anger. Trying to give it up. Feeling angry is fine - it's just the expression of the anger that I'm really trying to work on. If there was a test for this sort of stuff I think I would have failed based on my vocabulary choices alone.

We thought at first we knew who it was since we caught someone skulking along the curb a couple of months ago peering into cars before he walked off camera and smashed our neighbor's Jeff and Ron's house sitter's car window. I sent the video out to the neighborhood listserv and people said it was Albert. Our resident car prowler.

Having an idea of who it was Ryan said he wanted to go to his house and smash all of his windows. Of course, I piped up and said, "Is that what Jesus would do?" We had a little back and forth and came to the conclusion that even if Jesus wouldn't turn the other cheek and smashed out Albert's windows he would at least get caught and be the one to get in trouble.

So as I'm swearing at the punk in the video and Ryan turned to me and said, "And you think I was being unchristian like?"

Enough said.

Then I thought about watching the Oprah show where she interviewed Jim Jones, Jr. - son of Jim Jones of the Jonestown massacre. If he could forgive his father for killing his wife, sister, a brother, and unborn child then surely I could refrain from swearing at the punk who broke a window on my van.

Since we had the smash and grab on video the police came out to the house to take our report and to look at the video. Ryan answered the door a few minutes later to let the officer in and ran downstairs to get the video for the officer to watch. I told the officer he could come into the living room since he was just standing behind the baby gate in the entry way. Gavin marched straight over to the officer and put his hands in the air and said, "Up."

The officer didn't understand what he was asking so he tried to make small talk with him but Gavin kept saying, "Up." I told the officer that Gavin wanted to be picked up. So the officer bent over and picked him up.



The officer gave Gavin a sticker badge. Gavin said thank you (with some prompting) then asked to go up again.

Since we had the video the officer dusted the inside of the van for prints and encouraged us to call when we see suspicious people walking around. I will call but if I had seen the punk at 5 am this morning I would have seen him breaking into our van. If I had seen that I would have screamed at him from the front door. I probably would have screamed some unkind words.

The only thing that would have kept me from running and ramming his body into the van (he was half way in) would be the guy who caught someone in the act of breaking into his car who was stabbed and left with life threatening injuries up in North Seattle a couple of days ago and Maurice Clemmons (the guy who killed the four Lakewood officers a couple of months ago) stole a car in the south end of my neighborhood - the owner of that car saw Clemmons stealing his car but he called the police instead of confronting the monster. Good call.

That and I'm a wee little weakling.

Ryan and I watched the video to see if he made off with anything since we didn't remember leaving anything in the van. There were a few receipts, a Jack Johnson CD case, and a coupon to Cedars on Brooklyn in the U-District sitting on the drop down console. Under the console and out of sight was a plastic white Target bag with candy conversation hearts.

The little punk broke into our van when NOTHING was in sight. We had no change in the glove box, No tell tale chargers to indicate we had electronics stashed away. NOTHING. The little cretin broke the window in the hopes he would find something. It's a freakin' minivan?! What was he hoping to score? Hotwheels?

He did find something. On the video we saw him walk away from the van rifling through a white plastic bag.

After I took the carseats out of the van and put them in the car and had the boys strapped in ready for church I stood next to the car and said to Ryan before hopping in and driving away, "I hope he breaks a tooth on a piece of candy."

Monday, February 15, 2010

Political Fist

Getting Gavin to eat can be a challenge. All he wants is warm milk to drink. Some days he just wants peanut butter toast - or as he calls it: peabuh tote. Tonight we thought he would like some yummy sticky brown rice with peanut sauce since he loves rice and he loves peanut butter. We asked him if he would like to try a bit. Rookie mistake. Never ask a toddler a question when you don't want the answer to be 'no'.

Gavin looked at Ryan and said a very matter of fact, "No," complete with a shake of his cute little noggin. Ryan took a new approach. "You try a bite of the rice and then I will give you warm milk."

"Warm milk?" Gavin was suddenly much more amenable to trying a bite. He opened his mouth to grant access to the spoon bearing brown rice with peanut sauce. In the spoon went. He didn't spit it out but instead had a little surprised look on his face as he realized the food was actually kind of tasty. Then he leaned forward a bit more and licked some more peanut sauce off the spoon.

Encouraged, Ryan asked, "Want another bite?"

"No."

So, he got half a cup of warm milk. If he wanted more he would have to eat something else. We offered up hummus which he was very excited about. Only thing is we were out. No fear. Hummus is one thing I can make quickly and it tastes pretty good.

Part of me feels bad feeding my kid a hummus sandwich because it sounds so gross. Hummus with veggies? Yum. Hummus on whole wheat bread? Not so yummy.

Gavin liked it so much Ryan and I didn't notice that while we were chatting Gavin was busy shoving his mouth to capacity and beyond with his disgusting little sandwich.

"Whoa! Gavin, you don't have to shove the whole thing in your mouth. Slow down, buddy." Ryan said as I looked on.

The G was trying really hard to chew his food and keep the food in his mouth. The act required great concentration as he could hardly keep his lips together. His forehead was furrowed in a semi-scowl and he slowly moved his jaws up and down, trying to keep it all in side.

His facial expressions were so cute I thought I was going to burst so instead of bursting I balled up my hand into a fist Bill Clinton style and, for emphasis, pounded it (ever so gently on the table) as I said, "I (thump) love (thump) you (thump)!"

As soon as Gavin could manage he looked at me and with his little hand balled up in a fist he said, "I (thump) love (thump) you (thump), too (thump)."

Friday, February 12, 2010

Bravery

What is bravery? Is it facing ones fears? Some fears I understand completely. Fear of heights? Sure. I see it. Unless that fear is all consuming when standing on a step ladder. Fearful when you are several stories in the air and looking down? It seems only natural to be afraid. Fear of flying? Now that makes complete sense to me. God did not create human beings to be sealed in a metal tube and flung through the atmosphere at speeds that can break the sound barrier. Really.

Every time I have to fly I wake up the morning of with a premonition that something awful is going to happen. There is really only one awful thing that can happen when you fear flying - crashing in a fiery inferno. Wait, isn't an inferno by definition fiery? Right? Or crashing in the ocean or getting blown up by a crazy jihadist. All of those roads lead to death. Not a good fate.

Each time I fly I have that premonition. Each time I take that premonition and I walk it over to a drawer in my brain labeled, "crazy". I take a small gold key and carefully unlock the drawer and open it just wide enough and just long enough to shove the crazy flying premonition inside and as soon as it is safely tucked inside I slam the drawer shut before other stored crazies try to escape.

Having secured the crazy premonition in the crazy file where it belongs I walk over to the very small drawer labeled, "logic". I open the drawer and thumb through the smattering of files until I come to "safety". There I learn it is far safer to fly than it is to drive.

Uh-oh. Just by mentioning how much safer it is to fly than it is to drive leads one to ponder how dangerous it is to drive. Before long I am fearing a fiery car crash on the way to the airport.

Ugh. Time to take the fear of driving file over the "crazy" file. But, wait. It's not crazy to be afraid for your life when you are in a car.

Round and round we go.

But I digress. Actually, I'm stalling. I think I'm hoping that if I ramble enough people will lose interest and quit reading because I'm trying to build up enough courage to write about this. A month or so ago when I set out on this quest a girlfriend said I should blog about it so she can follow along.

Gulp.

I've told many girlfriends about this goal I have for myself. But telling a couple of people is one thing. Putting it in writing is another thing.

But it is in writing and soon it will have a photo to go with it. And that photo will have my name scrawled above it. And a number below it. And it will be posted at my gym.

I entered a weight loss challenge at my gym.

It is pretty scary because I know a lot of people from my previous job, my old neighborhood and my church who go to my gym. They are going to see me in ill fitting clothes with my weight clearly posted below the very unflattering picture of me.

Yes! I'm not making this up! This probably sounds like a nightmare for most women. The fitness manager at the gym tried talking some sense into me when I was nervous about having my photo and weight up for all to see. He said, "People see you every day just like this. Now it's just a photo."

Um.... whatever. First of all, I go to great lengths to buy clothes that minimize my size. He specifically asked me to wear clothes that show my shape which I understand. It's hard to get a good idea of a before and after if I tried to camoflauge my shape with the help of clothes that hit in all the right spots to hide my bulging, well, everything. And second of all, I don't walk around with an a-board on me that has my weight written down for all to see.

It's really hard to put this down in writing for everyone to read. Friends who have known me for a long time knew me as a thin person. A few years ago when I first gained a bunch of weight my younger brother couldn't believe his eyes when he saw me at Christmas. He told me the following year after I had lost the weight that he was in shock at how much weight I had gained. If I lose 20 pounds I will be at that heavy weight that first shocked him.

The super vain girl in me - yes, I do have a resident vain girl but you would never know it by my lack of fashionable clothes, make-up and put together hair - thinks about the horror of an old flame somehow reading this and thinking, "Whew, dodged that bullet." It's all lame, I know. Why should I care what anyone thinks?

But I do.

So, any readers left? Is it safe for me to be brave and tell the world how much I weigh?

*deep breath*

176 pounds.

As of tonight.

I have already lost 10 pounds since Christmas.

Oh, wait. I think if I listen carefully enough I can hear people thinking of excuses for me.

"But, April, you just had a baby."

"You had two babies in two years."

"You look great."

"It's just a number."

I can only blame 10 pounds on baby. I gained all of this weight, save 10 pounds, before I had kids.

My goal is to lose 50 pounds. I have 40 to go. Fortunately for me I have breastfeeding on my side. I also have breastfeeding working against me. As a breastfeeding woman I am allowed an extra 500 calories a day. If I weren't breastfeeding I should only consume 1500 calories a day but since I have a resident milk muncher I am allowed 2000 calories a day.

To help me get to my goal I hired a personal trainer at the gym. I see her twice a week and twice a week she kicks my butt. And my abs, and my arms, and my glutes...

Since starting with the trainer a few things have happened that kind of put a damper on my exercising.

1) Two colds. Nothing like the inability to breath or swallow your own saliva without it feeling like gargling broken glass to put a damper on your exercise.

2) Tendonitis and various foot ailments. Really? Really? A stupid tendon in a stupid toe wants to come between me and a size 6? I would say it is trying to come between me and a bikini but I have no hope of my stomach being bikini worthy ever again. Sure it will shrink in size but my stomach may end of giving Suki the Saggy Baggy Elephant a run for his money.

3) Sleep deprivation. Theo quit sleeping well. He decided to wake up every 1-2 hours, 3 if I'm lucky. It's really hard to get your cardio in when your head feels like a lead balloon. Last night I laid my head down on the dining room table with my arm spread out on either side. I felt like could have slept comfortably for hours. But nooooo... I had to go make dinner. And by make I mean "make". There was some button pushing and re-heating of rice and beans from Taco del Mar for Gavin and heating a frozen Indian chicken and rice dinner for me. Take that Pioneer Woman.

But I am doing something right. I'm counting every little calorie. Every. Little. Calorie. I'm walking a bit more and when I have a bit of energy left over in the evening and am not doing the head bob on the couch I do my Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred DVD workout.

And it's working.

My face looks a little thinner and by thinner I mean slightly less fat. My jeans fit a little better. My tops aren't so darn snug.

When I notice I'm losing weight it strengthens my resolve to stick with it. Success begets success.

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Birch Bay, B'ham & Vancouver, B.C. photos

Here are some pictures we've taken while on vacation in Birch Bay. Yep. Birch Bay.


Theo taking a little nap.


Gavin loves climbing on this coffee table. Good to know it will still be years before we get a coffee table.



He's getting better at keeping toys in his hands. Look at that concentration.






Gavin put the blankie on his little brother.



Buckled up and ready to drive to Canada. Gavin's second foreign country and Theo's first.



An Olympic venue in Vancouver, B.C.









Vancouver is a pretty city.





These were all over the city. It reminded me of Seattle's pigs.





A church smack dab in the middle of the city.












Paper (or what looked like paper) lanterns hanging in a street that has been closed for the Olympics.










Gavin had fun playing in these Olympic figure cut outs.





I just thought this building looked pretty cool. It overlooked the ice hockey venue.



Streets were closed everywhere - a full week before the Olympics.





This was right next to the creepy bathrooms (see previous post).










For the consumer who wants an organic high.





Leaving Vancouver.




Preparations get under way at the Peace Arch crossing for the Olympic torch relay.




Waiting in line at the border crossing.












So CUTE!!!






Nice comb over.






Great toohless grin.










Me 'n Theo




Gavin watching a video compilation of himself. He loved it!





He didn't want to wear his shirt.




There was no stopping him.


Doing his best to not touch the sea life at a tiny aquarium in Bellingham. Best $5 for a family activity yet.





Starfish eating a crab.






Ryan in the bubble tank.





Taking this family photo was not easy. Someone was full of energy.





He was in there for about 2 seconds and then on to the next thing.





At the Children's Museum in Bellingham.



The museum is tiny as compared to the one in Seattle but it was just big enough to spend a little over an hour - toddler sized.




Theo enjoying the Children's Museum. He took a nice nap - and it was small enough that we could keep an eye on him from the stations Gavin liked.














He carried this tea pot around the museum - at one point he called it a 'tea bucket'.




He had a cow when I took the canteen off as we were leaving.


Brushing and picking his hair.