Obligatory "New Year, New Me" Post

When you're a blogger, even an occasional one like myself, it's like an unwritten rule that you have to post a New Year's blog.  So, here's mine.

The last part of 2013 was eye-opening for me.  In October, I realized that I weighed more than I ever had in my my life, including when I was nine months' pregnant with my daughter.  My skin felt uncomfortable.  I wasn't sleeping well at all.  I had no energy to play with my preschooler.  I felt very much like a human tank, lumbering through life and crushing anything calorie-laden in my tired jaws.

I also take medication for hypertension (high blood pressure), aspirin for blood clots, and Celexa for anxiety and depression.  I'm basically a disaster with boobs.

Knowing myself and my inability to control myself around food, I decided to look into bariatric surgery.  My OB/GYN referred me to a surgeon she trusted.  I had a consultation and he determined that I was an excellent candidate for a gastric sleeve procedure.  I felt relieved!  Having a physical limitation that would keep me from overeating was just what I needed.  Then, I found out that my insurance would not, not ever, not for any reason, cover bariatric surgery.

I cried.

Then, I put on my (very) big girl panties and had an honest, unflinching conversation with myself.

"Look here, Self.  YOU put yourself in this position.  YOU are the only one who can change it.  It is YOUR responsibility to make yourself healthy and whole.  YOU must take charge.  Blow your nose and get to it."

Myself is pretty hard-core when she wants to be.

The bariatric surgeon referred me to his nutritionist, gratis (probably because I had already paid him a co-pay), so I sat with her for two hours one afternoon.  She went over my medical history, my vitals, my family's medical history (also a disaster), and my goals.  She helped me understand that having an emotional relationship with food is as bad for me as being in an abusive romantic relationship ("Would you stand by and let your best friend be abused by someone she loved?  No.  So don't let yourself be abused, either.").  She laid out a few different meal plans for me, referred me to several websites and books, and told me I should be proud of myself for taking this first step to better health.

I started the very next day: I began a Paleo-influenced diet, with limited grains and dairy, no wheat or white flour, low fat, and minimal sugar.  Very limited alcohol (boooooo).  I have to count calories until I'm familiar with portion sizes by sight.  The nutritionist asked me to do 30 minutes of cardio 4 times a week and to do some form of strength training every day.  Within a week, I'd lost two pounds, my stomach bloat had greatly diminished, and I felt better overall.

And I've stuck with it, for the most part.  I confess that I have enjoyed the treats of the holiday season and haven't exercised much and, as a result, my stomach has bloated back up and I gained back 5 pounds of the 13 I'd lost prior to the holidays.  Instead of berating myself though, I'm taking it as a lesson on what my limits need to be.  I've been experimenting with recipes that are low in calories, dense in nutrition, and above all else, tasty!  I'll share them here in the coming weeks and months.

Here's what my typical shopping list looks like now:

For comparison, here's me in late September:

And here's me on Christmas Eve:

Sure, I'm wearing more make-up and my crazy hair is slightly less crazy, but my eyes are brighter, my face isn't as puffy, my skin is clearer, and the bags under my eyes aren't as heavy and dark, because I've been sleeping so much better.

My sister-in-law recently started a "Fit For '15" challenge on Instagram (follow her here) and I'm using her extensive knowledge to get my booty in shape.

A few other inspiring Instagram accounts:

Confessions of a Clean Foodie

Nom Nom Paleo (also, their cookbook by the same name is fantastic)

FlavorGod Meals (his spice blends are game-changing, by the way)

So there ya go.  I've fulfilled my blogger's responsibility.  Here's the thing: if I can, you can.  Let's do it.

Groovy Recipe: Superhero Smoothie Boost

I am not SuperMom.  

I am TiredOverworkedStressedOutPartiallyBrainDeadMom.

My daughter is SuperheroOnOverdrive Kid, aka The Naked Tornado.  It's nearly impossible to keep up with her.

I need help.

Since a month-long, expenses-paid vacation in Tahiti isn't going to happen, and the Super Nanny isn't knocking at my door, and coffee just isn't cutting it, I decided that I needed to find a super-awesome, super-nutritious boost for my daily smoothie (the kid's, too).  While discussing this with my SuperMom sister-in-law one day, she mentioned that she had been thinking of making her own protein powder, but wasn't sure what to put in it, how much to measure, if it would be cost-efficient, etc.  "Well, you'd probably want to use, like maca, and probably chia, and some flax seed.  Maybe some kind of supergreens concentrate or something?" came rambling out of me.  And then, because I have oodles and oodles of  free time, I offered to experiment on it for us.

It only took two adjustments to come up with this, and I'm pretty happy with it.  It's 100% vegan and NO SOY.  I definitely feel the effects of the ingredients: physical energy, mental focus, and, um... healthy bowel movements.

Look, that last bit is really important, even if it's not lady-like to discuss.

Superhero Smoothie Boost

(can also be added to fresh juice)

*Makes about 1 cup

Ingredients

1/4 cup raw chia seed

1/2 cup raw maca powder

2 tbsp raw flax seed

2 tbsp concentrated greens powder (I used MacroLife MacroGreens)

I used a spice/coffee grinder to very finely grind the chia seed and flax seed.  Combine all ingredients together in a glass jar with a tight-fitting lid.  Shake all your frustrations out on that jar.

Simply add a tablespoon to your smoothie while blending, or to fresh juice (just make sure to really stir it in well).  For children under 12, add only 1/2 teaspoon.  If you are pregnant, breastfeeding, or have medical concerns - please speak to your care provider first!

Nutritional Info

per tablespoon; approximate

Calories: 41

Fiber: 3.5 g

Fat: 1.5 g

Protein: 2.5 g

Iron: 18% DV

Plus, a ton of potassium, magnesium, vitamin C, B vitamins, vitamin A, and minerals.

I make our smoothies with a handful of frozen spinach or kale, two handfuls of frozen fruit, coconut water, and local raw honey.  You can't taste the boost at all, but you definitely feel the effects.

Go on, SuperMom!

And Then We Became Me

When I first began seeing my therapist, shortly before Babydoll's Daddy passed away, I was struggling with the idea of no longer being half of a couple.  His passing was imminent and we had been us for so long, I didn't know how not to be us.

I was sitting on her couch, legs tucked under me and tissue clutched in hand, when I asked her: "When will we become just me?"  She looked at me, with a slightly sad smile and said simply: "It's going to take awhile.  But you'll get there."

Nearly a year later, I have gotten to the point where I am mostly thinking in terms of "me" and "I" instead of "us" and "we."  It's been hard.  It's been shitty.

It really fucking sucked, to be blunt.

When I started this blog, after the birth of our daughter, I would have never guessed the direction it would take.  The point of my writing, then, was to track our progress as a family in becoming healthier, happier, and tighter.  It was more for me, than anyone else.  A place to store recipes I came up with; the transitions we made in what we ate; the struggles we faced as new parents and then as parents of a toddler; my personal struggles with being an impatient person, a working mother, a Judgy McJudgerson, basically an unhappy lady.

Lord, if I'd only known then the extent of unhappiness I could feel, I'd have kept my damn mouth shut and just stuck to ranting about GMOs and toddler terrorism.

The thing is, I've learned a lot and done a lot in a year's time.  I've had a few breakdowns and more than a few rebounds.  What cancer did to our family, and what I allowed BD's mother to do to our family, as bad as that all was, I'm a better person for it.  That's the point, right?  God wouldn't have thrust so much upon me if I didn't have a few things to learn.  It was an opportunity to grow.  I have made peace with that.

I still miss him.  Every day, I miss him.  I still love him.  I've come to terms with who he was and who we were as a couple, and I've sorted through the guilt and grief associated with that.  That was a real bitch of a process, let me tell you.

What you don't know, until you lose someone you really love, is the extent to which you can miss them.  It's unfathomable.  It's consistent.  It sometimes takes over your whole being.  It becomes an extra body part, in that you always carry it with you, no matter where you go or what you do.  You forget what it was like to NOT miss them.

So, anyway.  Just some things that have been floating around in my brain lately.  Thanks for hanging out with me.  Have a great day!

Missing

I miss you, sweetheart.  I miss you everyday.  Our daughter asks for you, asks about you, everyday .  She tells me, clearly, that you are happy in heaven.  She tells me, "My Daddy is happy."  It's hard for me to believe that, to understand it.  How can you be happy, when you aren't with us?  When my heart splinters every morning that I wake and you aren't here?  Perhaps the freedom from pain, and suffering, makes you happy.  I want that, for you.  I want that, for me too.  But I miss you so much.  It's almost Christmas, here.  I put up our tree.  I hung your ornaments, and your stocking.  What do I fill it with?  It seemed wrong to leave it in a box...but I don't know what I should tuck inside it.  Our dear, darling daughter is excited for Christmas this year.  She's told Santa that she wants a big girl princess bike and a puppy.  The bike, I can do.  The puppy?  Yeah, I'm not sure I can keep another living creature alive.

I really miss you.  I miss your mocking of my collection of Barbie ornaments.  Guess what?  Our sweet daughter has requested a pink, sparkly, dolly tree.  I guess my Barbie ornaments will come in handy this year.

I really miss you.  I miss Bailey's and coffee and pancakes with real maple syrup and your insistence upon pork sausage, not chicken sausage.  I miss our dreams of teaching our sweet daughter to ride a bike on Christmas morning.  I miss our late-night toy-building sessions on Christmas Eve.  We only got one of those and it's not fair.  I miss sipping a glass on wine while you struggled to make heads of a trike building instructions.  I miss the Christmas Eve toasts we gave each other, before slipping into our warm bed

I miss all of you.  I miss you so much, that I can't stand it.  But I know I must.  Our daughter was the most important person in the world to you, and I promised you, at the end, that I would do everything I possibly could to make her happy.

So, my sweetheart, I will do as you would have.  I will make this time of year magical, and enchanting, and special, and everything we promised each other, for her.

I love you.  I miss you.  I hope you are happy and at peace.  That is all we ever wanted and it's all I want for you.

Just Wait

"Just wait."

People start spewing those two hideous little words as soon as you announce your pregnancy.

"You think you pee a lot now?  Just wait until after you give birth, you won't be able to sneeze without wetting your pants."

If someone says this to you, give them a detailed description of Kegel exercises.  Perhaps ask if they'd like a demonstration.  By the way, this little gem isn't true for every woman. 

"Oh, you think your back hurts now?  Just wait until you're in labor."

No pregnant woman on Earth expects her labor to be a breeze.  Don't be Captain Obvious, idiot.

"You should sleep as much as you can right now.  Just wait until the baby is born.  You'll never sleep again."

Obviously, you've never been nine months' pregnant.  It is impossible to get a decent night's sleep, between the constant trips to the bathroom, the inability to get comfortable, the aching back and hips and breasts.

"You guys should have all the sex you can right now.  Just wait, after the baby is born, you'll never have sex again."

A: gross.  Your sex life is no one's business.

B: again, you've obviously never been nine months' pregnant.

C: yes, you will have sex again.  Probably even frequently.  You're not sleeping anyway, right?

"So you're thinking of natural childbirth?  Just wait until you're in labor.  You'll trade your husband for an epidural."

This one drives me up the damn wall.  Women planning on natural childbirth should be encouraged, supported, heralded even.  I believe in you, mama.  You can do it.

"You think you're hormonal now?  Just wait until you have the baby and postpartum depression sets in."

This one drives me nuts, too.  First of all, every woman experiences major hormonal shifts during pregnancy.  That emotional roller coaster can make you feel crazy, happy, sad, listless, energetic, sexy, extremely un-sexy, and excited.  After giving birth, many women experience Baby Blues.  It's temporary, it's normal, and it's okay.  Baby Blues is NOT the same as Postpartum Depression and anyone who gives you the idea that they are has, again, never been pregnant and given birth.  Postpartum Depression is a serious condition and your care provider (OB/GYN, midwife, and/or doula) can help determine if you have it. 

"You think your toddler is driving you crazy?  Just wait until the new baby comes.  You'll lose your mind."

Hey jerk, instead of saying that, why not try this: "After the baby is born, I'd like to come over and give you a hand with Toddler.  I'll bring dinner, too."

Honestly, I don't know why our family, friends, co-workers, and strangers think any of the above comments are helpful.  They aren't funny, either.  And really, WHY would you mess with a pregnant woman?

20 Truths About 2-Year-Olds

Nothing strikes fear into the hearts of parents everywhere more than the words: "two-year-old."  The Legend of the Terrible Two's is not a myth, friends.  It is for real, and it is frightening.

The first year of parenting is essentially about survival - for both you and the baby.  If you can keep the baby alive until her first birthday, you have conquered the world.  You can relax...for a minute.

Then, your baby turns 15 months, or 18 months, or 23 months, and suddenly, it's a whole new game and guess what - there is no instruction manual.  Here are the twenty truths I learned during my daughter's second year of life.

1.  There will be a fight every day.  

Sometimes, it will last from morning until the middle of the night.  Sometimes, it will come on like a blitz attack and be over just as quickly.  But no doubt about it, you and the two-year-old will fight about something EVERY SINGLE DAY.  Also:

2.  You have no hope of winning the fight.

There is no rhyme or reason to the two-year-old's mindset.  Don't try to understand.  Just wait out the storm, then take a few minutes to cuddle your child and remind yourself why you had him in the first place.

3.  A two-year-old mind moves like lightning.

They are brilliant, these small people.  A two-year-old will pick up on language (so watch your mouth), behavior (so watch your finger), and any number of things with a quickness you wouldn't believe.  Tied to this truth, is:

4.  A two-year-old grows bored immediately.

Because their minds are working overtime, the two-year-old needs almost-constant stimulation.  My daughter will insist upon coloring, then promptly discard her crayons in favor of her VReader, only to discover that her play kitchen needs immediate attention.  Try not to get dizzy.

5.  She will watch the same movie five times in a row.

Every day.  Get used to it.  We've seen/listened to "The Lorax" approximately 18,000 times.  She loves it.  I sing "How ba-a-a-d can I be?" to myself subconsciously.  No big deal.

6.  They will save their very worst behavior for the public's viewing.

The two-year-old will be having a fantastic day, behavior-wise, so you'll think that it's a good time to run into Target.  This is two-year-old trickery at its finest.  Mid-store, the child will suddenly flail about in the cart, throwing his popcorn, screaming at the top of his lungs, and possibly hitting you.  He will do this until you are a sufficient shade of red and at least ten people have noticed his behavior before he will chill the F out again.

7.  You can't predict the two-year-old's mood.

They are as moody as, if not moodier than, teenagers.  See # 6.

8.  The two-year-old attitude knows no bounds.

Your sweet child will "humph" at you, kick up the sass in an instant, and stare you down with her hands on hips.  Try not to lose your shit, and remember: you aren't going to win.

9.  She will become a kid overnight.

You will put your baby to bed one night, and the following morning, you will realize that she is most definitely not a baby anymore.  Also:

10.  She will tell you daily, hourly even, that she is "a big girl."

This is usually in response to your trying to assist her with anything: going potty, getting dressed, fixing dinner.

11.  Embrace that she is "a big girl."

Use it against her when she acts like a baby.  When she screams and cries because WHATEVER has happened, you can calmly remind her: "I thought you were a big girl?  Big girls don't behave this way, do they?"  But:

12.  Don't expect reverse psychology to work.

Like I said before, they are brilliant.  Whatever scheme you can come up with is no match for the two-year-old's brain.  She will call your bluff and you'll be left standing there, like "Oh God, now what?"

13.  Every day is Independence Day.

We all hope that our children will grow to become independent adults, capable of handling whatever life sends their way.  Well, my friends, the independence starts early.  It is great and horrible at the same time.  She will insist that you do not help her with her shoes, only to scream at you a moment later that she can't put on her shoes.  Your child will insist upon dressing himself.  Let him.  He'll choose pajama bottoms, a Sesame Street t-shirt, flip flops, and his superhero cape.  No one really cares what the kid is wearing.  Anyone who DOES care, well, whatever.  It's not worth the fight.

14.  The two-year-old will take on her own responsibilities.

She wants to put away her laundry?  Let her.  She wants to load the dishwasher?  Let her.  She wants to feed the dogs?  Let her.  She won't do it perfectly, of course, but it is far more important to her pride and to her development that you let her do it herself.

15.  The two-year-old needs to hear how awesome he is.

ALL THE TIME.  Major self-esteem development is happening right now.  Your child is more likely to take pride in himself and in his actions if he hears you tell him how well he's doing.  My daughter loves being told "You are such a good helper!  You are so smart!  You are amazing!"  She lights up like fireworks when I express how proud of her I am.

16.  Hunger strikes will happen.

Try not to freak out if the child insists that he only wants four grapes and a cube of cheese.  All day.  More than likely, he'll plow through your fridge the following day.

17.  Naps may not happen.

Your child, who previously took a two-hour nap every single day without fail, may suddenly decide she doesn't need a nap today.  It will occur on the day when you have the most to accomplish in that two-hour window.  Don't fight it.  See # 2.

18.  The two-year-old is hilarious.

My daughter is beyond silly, when she's not pitching a fit.  Her sense of humor is off-beat and cracks me up.

19.  The two-year-old will make you feel like the best and worst parent ever in the history of time.

You are The Meanest Mommy In The World (actually you aren't, because I AM).  You feel like this small person is going to send you straight to the madhouse (actually, you already live in the madhouse).  You will question every single decision you make, every word you say, every action you take.  Don't sweat it.  Really, don't.  At the end of the day, your little person loves you to death, thinks you are amazing, and is in awe of you.  There is nothing better in the world than having little arms wrapped around your neck while a little voice says "Mommy, I love you."

20.  My two-year-old is not like your two-year-old.

Just as with infants, you really can't compare one child with another.  You can, however, commiserate with other parents.  More than likely, they are all too familiar with the tantrums, the fits, the weird outfits, the hunger strikes.  Don't be afraid to vent to other moms and dads just how f'ing frustrated you are with the two-year-old's attitude.  You'll feel much better and, trust me, you are not alone.

Seven Months Down, A Lifetime To Go

I'm feeling a lot lately...the gamut of emotions is running a marathon through me.  I'm overjoyed and deliriously happy about my Babydoll's growth this year.  She is speaking so well and making connections.  She's very affectionate, and independent, and sassy, and funny.  SO funny.  Her memory is amazing.  Physically, she is just beautiful (sure, I'm biased, but really she is).  She's even beginning to read.  I couldn't be prouder of her.

Then, I'm overtaken by sadness.  Her Daddy is missing all of this.  He hasn't seen the last of her babyness fade away to her becoming a full-blown kid.  He hasn't heard her be bossy with the dogs (and everyone else).  He hasn't witnessed the unbelievable growth spurts.  He doesn't know that she has watched "The Lorax" 86,000 times.  He hasn't sat beside her and listened as she read one of her books all by herself.  

"He sees everything from Heaven."  Well, that sure is a nice sentiment, but IT IS NOT THE SAME.  This morning, another child told my daughter that she doesn't have a dad.  My heart split into a million pieces.  My spunky little girl shook her head and said "My Daddy is in Heaven!"  Pride overflowed from me, but the sadness has been pricking my eyes for hours now.

He's been gone for seven months.  It is not getting easier.  There have been periods where I thought it was, but nope.  It actually seems harder now than ever before.  In the grand scheme of things, seven months isn't that long, I suppose.  But F-WORD, I need to know that it's not going to hurt forever.  Some days are a lot harder than others...today is one of those days.