Friday, July 30, 2010
Thursday, July 29, 2010
"I can't do it!" I wailed to J as lithe runners breezed by me. "I forgot my sneakers!" I couldn't bear to look at his face, he was so disappointed in me. For me.
I was angry with myself. In the dream, I wondered if I will ever manage to finish what I start.
I woke up resolved.
Remember, back earlier this week, when I told you I was a parenting genius?
I'm a jackass.
Last night, it was J's turn for a night with the boys. We're both completely committed to keeping our sanity as we navigate first-time parenthood, so time away - alone or with friends - is of the utmost importance. We strive to make sure the other's solitude is well-guarded, which is actually a passage from Rilke that J's sister read at our wedding:
The point of marriage is not to create a quick commonality by tearing down all boundaries; on the contrary, a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of their solitude, and thus they show each other the greatest possible trust.
So where was I? J = out.
"I'll be home by 8:30," he told me, reluctant to leave us.
"No - stay out until at least nine. H'll be asleep by 8:30, and I'll be on this couch with a glass of wine when you get back."
Hendrik was extremely agitated last night. Nothing I did worked. He wanted to nurse or scream. There was no middle ground. I could barely eat my sad little dinner (pasta with jarred spaghetti sauce) as the poor child would not stay calm.
So I rocked him, and I nursed him, and I shushed him. I swaddled him and I nursed him and I shushed him. I put him on my chest facing the TV, thinking he might like to watch So You Think You Can Dance with me, but he was seemingly as horrified by Mia Michaels critiques as his mama. I turned off the television - thinking it too distracting - and rocked him. When I went to nurse him for the FLOPPITY-JILLIONITH time, he clamped down on my left nipple so hard I groaned from the searing pain.
It was a groan born of frustration and hurt and exasperation. It was louder than I anticipated.
And my baby pulled away from me, pouted his lower lip, and began to sob.
When J arrived home, he wordlessly took a dozing H from my arms and commenced rocking him.
"Go," he whispered. "I've got him."
I brushed my teeth. It was 9:15, and I had not done that yet all day.
I showered, and when J came into the bathroom a few moments later - babe tucked peacefully in his bassinet - I cried.
"I scared our baby! I've traumatized him for sure."
And J told me that of course I had not traumatized him. I dried my tears and we went downstairs like a real-live married couple and I poured myself a VAT of wine. And we had an actual conversation - about my old job, about my career prospects, about Master's degrees - and suddenly I started to feel better. I admitted to J that I might be a little depressed. Not clinically depressed... just sad. I've been in a relationship with my company for over 6 years; severing ties will take some getting used to, as any break-up would.
HomeValley circa 2000 could handle a break-up. There were the requisite tears; the long, self-indulgent diatribes to good girlfriends; the pensive walks - discman and Britney Spears "Stronger" in hand - around Manhattan. The new haircut, the more svelte physique, the 4.0 GPA. A break-up is a wonderful excuse to be self-indulgent; to recommit to myself, to reinvent myself, to learn from past mistakes and resolve to be better.
And so that's my mission. I choose to accept it.
A very wise woman once said:
"The hardest part of moving forward... is never looking back."
- Sally from Felicity
I'm ten years older, ten years wiser; but some things never change.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Current Weight: 154.2
Total L-Bs lost: Four, chickens! I'll still take it.
Monday, July 19, 2010
I've just subscribed to O Magazine again after a long absence. Welcome home, old friend. How I've missed your sage advice!
Do y'all read O? You'd be wise to pick up a copy. It's therapy in crisp, colorful pages; at 4.50 an issue, it's a bargain. Plus, this month is the "deals" issue. Oprah be giving you Vizio TVs at 30% off; AND there are over $200,000 worth of prizes to win! Oh, O. Would that we could meet and be best friends, and would that I thought of this.
At the end of the magazine, Ms. Winfrey regales us with what she knows for sure.
Here's what Ms. HomeValley knows for sure, in no particular order.
- Our wedding reception playlist? Hands down the greatest wedding playlist you could ever conceive. It will blow your mind and knock your socks off and then slap you in the face. I will sell it to you at a discount rate. It only had one flaw, which we can remedy for you: we didn't end the evening with H to the Izzo, by Hova. I mean, that would have been RIDICULOUS.
- I am really overthinking Twitter. I have nightmares about hashtags, and no, I still don't really understand what the fuck that means, damnit. I am at the crossroads of information overload; and I need to decide if I will stay or if I will go. (Unfollowing Roger Ebert helped. Lord, that man tweeted about every three seconds. No lie.)
- My son is an absolute joy. How did we get along without him for so long? Brother sleeps nearly nine consecutive hours in the night, and then takes a three-hour morning nap. His mama is very, very blessed.
- All women should have ONE YEAR at home with their babies, PERIOD. Six weeks short-term disability, plus another six weeks of unpaidFMLA - if you qualify? Shame on you, United States government. Shame. On. You.
- I need to get my ass in gear and get moving. In career, fitness, and domestic life. Stay tuned...
Things that would make Jillian Michaels weep this week: Panera. Voted healthiest fast food, though.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
- I AM TEAM JACOB. I hate proclaiming a "team," but come ON, girls. The abs. Can I get a witness? But really, Ed just doesn't do it for me. Maybe it's all the "protection" bullshit. Maybe it's the fact that he's completely humorless. Maybe it's the overall codependent relationship between the two star-crossed lovers. Either way, I will take the warm-blooded Native American any day. His only flaw? His incredulous infatuation with -
- BELLA. Lord, Bella. First, you assault my eyes with that ATROCIOUS wig. Then, you crush my feminist soul with your complete lack of ambition, save to have sex with your boyfriend and be with him for all eternity. Did you seriously just offer to go to college ALL SO HE WOULD hit that? Sister, wise up.
- I really dig Anna Kendrick.
- The man seated behind me gave a running commentary throughout the entire movie. "God, that's cheesy!" He'd proclaim to his lady friend about every three minutes. "Ugh, so cheesy." We get it, dude. Your girlfriend dragged you to the show. You're not a homosexual. It's not Citizen Kane. Now please shut your big yapper. Damn.
Who saw it? What say you, friends?
Monday, July 12, 2010
Current Weight: 157
Total L-Bs lost: A whooping 1.2, But I'll take what I can get, y'all.
Number of gym visits this week: 3, plus one track visit. Didn't make the two-mile run this week, as my back has been aching.
Other physical activity: A walk with H to calm him down. My man loves to be in motion, which is a good way to amp up my activity level.
Most triumphant moment this week: The dirty Grey Goose martini at Buddakan. J and I went out on Saturday night for an anniversary celebration, and that ice cold drink was so good I nearly wept with joy. The martini has nothing to do with weight loss, I know; but sitting in a trendy Philadelphia restaurant with my husband, sans baby, talking about things other than my nipples and breast milk? Heavenly.
Most soul-crushing moment this week: I'm breaking out. So that extra 20 lbs, no make-up, no shower, no wardrobe, PLUS pimples? You've got yourself a recipe for a very teary lady. The chocolate bento box at Buddakan totally helped though.
Things that would make Jillian Michaels weep this week: The Mcdonald's I picked up in desperation, dealing with a very fussy little man.
This week's mini-goal: 3 gym visits, another two-mile run, two days of strength training.
This week's reward: Pride.
Monday, July 05, 2010
Current Weight: 158.4 (I was 156.2 at my doc appointment this week though! Efffff.)
Number of gym visits this week: 1, plus 3 trips to the track.
Other physical activity: Again, 3 walks with Hendrik in the heat.
Most triumphant moment this week: Two-mile run! I'm back, baby.
What's motivating me this week: Jennifer Aniston. Her body is slammin'.
Things that would make Jillian Michaels weep this week: Oh Em Gee, Jillian's head would explode if she witnessed what I ate at Grandpop's picnic yesterday.
- Diaper babe.
- Babe pees and poos.
- Change babe as you would a disposable wearin' kid. We store our diapers in the bottom drawer of his dresser for easy access during changings.
- We haven't graduated to cloth wipes yet, so we toss used wipes in a trash can placed next to the changing table/bureau.
- I toss the dirty diaper aside. Sometimes for longer than my husband would prefer. (Just the charm of me!)
- Once I do get around to rinsing the soiled adorableness, I do so in the sink in our laundry room, which is conveniently located on our second floor, next to Hendrik's nursery. I separate the outer diapers from the inserts, then rinse and wring out; finally, I toss them into a dry pail next to the washer. And done! Nothin' to it, I tell yous.
- When it comes time to wash the diaps (usually when H is down to two), I simply toss the contents of the dry pail in the washer, along with the machine-washable bag.
- Cold soak and a hot rinse, then low heat in the dryer.
- Once dry, I stuff the inserts back into the outer pants, and restock the diaper drawer. Fin.
We even travel with cloth! We spent all weekend on the go, and when we're out on the town I store the dirty diapers in a FuzziBunz tote specifically designed for this purpose.
We've done the math, too, and we figured your average diaper costs about 29 cents. (Huggies and Seventh Generation seem to be right here.) We probably go through 10 diapers a day, but we said for the sake of argument that we'd average 8 per day each year. That equates to 847 bucks annually. If we assume we'll be diapering for three full years, the investment is roughly $2500 per baby.
Our investment? About 400 dollars at his point. There may be a minimal bump in water usage, but you can't really deny the cost savings, in addition to the environmental impact (that's nearly 9000 diapers per child not ending up in a landfill).
Sure, there are a few extra steps, but admittedly... I think cloth is fun. Not because I particularly like being wrist-deep in my precious's poop, but because cloth diapering feels decidedly old-school and... purposeful. I quite enjoy the process, which makes me unspeakably weird. And I'm okay with that.
Oh! And! Cloth diapering means little-to-no diaper rash, and early potty-training! I mean: WIN.
And there you have it friends: a cloth diaperin' diatribe, brought to you by your best good friend HomeValley, who used to talk about drunken nights spent in VIP rooms in Atlantic City and Manhattan and trips to South America. This is not lost on me either. Until tomorrow!