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July 28, 2010

The gift that keeps on giving

Here is today's post.

Both kids are sleeping. Well, A is sleeping and Mads is in her room not sleeping. But the point is, both kids are in their rooms. I'm giddy.

July 28, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBack

July 27, 2010

I'm moving...

Well, sort of. For the next little while I'll be redirecting you to peruse my daily drivel and fascinating insights elsewhere.

I'm not abandoning the blog - at this point I doubt I'd stay even semi-sane without it - but I've signed on to join the gang over at Babycenter's wonderful Momformation site because I just figured that with a preschooler who is not in preschool for the summer and a newborn baby and an in-process ppd recovery I just have too much free time on my hands, you know? 

Today is actually the launch of their shiny new design, and my first post is here: Depression, Denial & the Shopping Trip from Hell

***

For those of you with an unhealthy interest in celebrity offspring (oh, just admit it already), I also still do some writing at Babycenter's Celebrities blog as well as at the fabulous Celebrity Baby Scoop

So yeah... come visit and chat if you have a chance. :)

July 27, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 22, 2010

Top of the muffin to you!!

Both girls are napping and I'm sitting here trying to talk myself into putting in Jillian Michaels' 30-Day Shred. I'm on Day 3 and my entire body feels like it's going going to fall apart. Everything hurts. She scares me, Jillian. She always seems to be mad at me and I'm pretty sure she could cut me with her hip bones. I think she knows about all those times I laughed my way through episodes of The Biggest Loser with a glass of wine and a bag of BBQ chips.

The good thing about the 30-Day Shred is that the workouts are 20 minutes, which is about all I have to spare these days. If Mads is up she does it with me, jumping around and asking, "Why are you tired, Mommy? I'm never tired!" Try taking a few less water breaks and doing a few more push ups there, hot shot.

In any case, I'm hoping that if I manage to make it past Day 3 scary Jillian and her torture machine will help me get my old pre-baby physique back. Not that is was all that great to begin with, but despite being almost down to my starting weight, things just jiggle and hang in ways I'm pretty sure they shouldn't.

Okay, here goes, off the couch.... If you don't hear from me in the next couple of weeks I've probably thrown out my back. Or Jillian has hunted me down and killed me.

July 22, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

July 17, 2010

My (other) girls

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I had an evening pass from the asylum... I mean, home... last night so used it to spend some time with a group of girlfriends I haven't seen in way too long. I didn't think I was really missing my social life since A came onto the scene. Truth be told, I'd rather spend my free time in my PJs in front of the TV. But last night, over Indian take-out and a glass or two of wine, I realized that I was wrong: I have been missing it. Desperately. 

Girls have a reputation for being real bitches to one another. Competitive, insecure, snarky. But I am lucky enough to have only girls of the best sort in my life: Generous and smart and funny, and confident enough to say (out loud!), "Sometimes I hate this" and "What if I'm doing everything wrong?"

I think part of it stems from the fact that we're not girls anymore. I am starting to see that it might be true, what so many people say (hello, Oprah!): Life gets better as you go. Love, marriage, divorce, careers, pregnancies, babies. Happiness and sadness, the depths of each. Successes and failures. The things you question and the things you know to be true. This is the stuff of life. And maybe it's found in the highs and the lows even more than the smooth, flat stretches in between. 

What I wish for my girls is what I've been fortunate enough to find for myself: Someone to love who loves them right back, and a good group of friends with whom to share the ups and downs along the way.

July 17, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBack

July 10, 2010

You've got to be kidding me...

I feel like I need to record this moment in time for prosperity: Today was, officially, the most hellish day so far in my life as a mom-of-two. F has both girls outside at the moment and with the benefit of a tiny bit of hindsight and a huge glass of wine, I can almost see the humour in it all. Note the 'almost.'

The books reassure me that newborn crying peaks at 6 weeks, but apparently A. missed the memo because she is now 9 weeks and seems to be crying more and more all the time. And on top of that she's getting harder and harder to calm. Inconsolable is probably the word that best describes her - well, both of us, really.

So this morning, after a quick trip to the Farmer's Market, the three of us headed to a nearby park so that Mads could expend her pent-up energy on something other than treating me as a human jungle gym. A. has never been a fan of the carseat, but in the past few weeks she's really devoted herself to loathing it. So we're in the car for all of 30 seconds before she starts shrieking. It's bad enough from the front seat, but poor Mads is about 8 inches away from the constant wailing. Her solution? She decides to drown out her baby sister, shouting out every preschool song she's ever learned at the top of her lungs. Meanwhile I'm attempting to drive while wondering if jumping from a moving vehicle could possibly hurt more than this.

When we finally get to the playground I stick a bottle in A's mouth as Mads makes a beeline for the waterpark - in her shorts and T-shirt. No problem. An hour later, we all head back to the car, where Mads gets into a little panic attack about wearing her soaking shorts in the carseat. So I take them off and load her in. A, of course, has already started her ear-piercing wails.

We make a quick pit-stop along the way so that my mom, who is with us, can quickly pick up something from the produce store. While we wait, I get A. out of the car so that passerby don't start thinking that somebody has shot her. Mads comes along  - "When can we go hoooome?" - and the three of us find a tiny sliver of shade beside a "new age" store, where A. continues her incessant screaming as I jiggle, rock and plead with her.

Enter the store owner, poking her head outside the back door: "She's overheating! Poor baby!"

Me, jiggling: "Oh, she's just tired" (after all, she'd been crying her f'ing head off in the AIR CONDITIONED car).

New Age: "She's just too hot, poor little thing. I have a 1-year-old."

Me (crying openly now): "Thanks, we're okay."

So New Age goes back inside, where she none-too-discreetly peels back the curtain of the back window and stares at us.

Me: "Where the f. is grandma??!"

Mads: "Why did you say that?"

A.: "SCREEEEAAAAMMMMIINNNNG"

Me: "Nothing, sorry Mads. Okay, let's go see where Grandma is."

So the three of us - A. wailing, me still semi-crying, Mads still wearing only her panties and a T-shirt, which I only realized later - head through the store and then out onto the street in search of grandma. 

Anyways, very long story only sort of long:: We're all back home, all alive and only one of us is still crying. I'll leave you to make your best guess as to who it is. 

Serenity now. Holy hell, this is hard.

July 10, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBack

July 09, 2010

Good morning, sunshine

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So here's what I've learned today. 90 degree heat and a baby that does not want to be put down: These are two things that do not go together. After rocking, jiggling, bouncing and begging A for 2 hours this morning I was literally dripping with sweat, not to mention the stench of sheer frustration. I peeled her off of me and deposited her in her crib - wide awake and silently mocking me - so that I could take a 2-minute time out and a freezing cold shower.

I'm sure many of you have had this exact experience many times over. Those who haven't yet had the pleasure may be thinking, eh, 2 hours isn't that long. Let me tell you, IT IS LONG. It's a good movie, a great conversation, a hard-earned glass bottle of wine. It is a long, sweaty, mess of a time.

And then part of me thinks (and I blame those damn Huggies commercials for this), What's so bad about rocking my baby? I'll miss this time when it's gone. But you know what, I don't really think I will. I really haven't ever looked back and wished for these moments back with Mads. There are certainly passing moments I've longed to have back, but all of this doesn't really make the list.

I've missed her splashing around in her little baby tub, her chubby little arms around my neck, those gummy open-mouthed kisses. I've missed all of those wonderful firsts: Smiles, steps, words, rainbows, puddles, discoveries. I've missed that brief moment in time when absolutely everything was new to her.

The good thing is I have all that to look forward to with A. I guess it'll just take a few more hot and frustrating mornings before we get there. 

(Thanks to all of you who leave little comments here and on facebook... it makes me feel slightly more normal knowing that you all get it.)

July 9, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBack

July 03, 2010

A good day

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Miraculous: Both babes are sleeping (at the same time!) and I have my feet up and my coffee in hand and everything about this life is good right now. The laundry can wait and the dust can continue to pile up, because I haven't sat in this kind of silence for so long. It's luxurious.

A is 8 weeks now, another milestone for us. Some moms love that new baby stage - the balled up little fists, the tiny toes, the way they need you so desperately. I'm not one of them. These early days, for me, are all about survival, just making it from one minute to the next. But then one day she smiles, and then coos, and then giggles. One day she looks up at me with her sweet almond eyes and it feels like maybe there is something important here, between she and I. And then before I know it, one day I realize that nothing could ever be more important than this. We're getting there.

As for Mads, for her it was definitely love at first sight. She holds A's little hand and kisses her head, brings her rattles and books and toys, sings her songs and talks about all the things they're going to do together one day. She breaks my heart, that girl, in the best way possible.

July 3, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBack

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"Having a two-year-old is like having a blender that you don't have the top for." ~Jerry Seinfeld.

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