Hey Y'all!

Dudes!

Yes, I am still alive.  Doing quite well, just busy as all get out.  Seriously?  Two kids?  No JOKE.  Some of you may already be aware of this, but I even forget to pee most of the time.  I'm all, remember two hours ago, when I meant to run to the bathroom?  And then I remind myself that it is okay to put down the baby and pee; just do it lightning quick, lest the toddler chucks a car at her delicate head.

(Yep, that happened.  And I lost my mind and starting sobbing.  Things are better now, I swear.)

So I have approximately a second before one of these little miracles wakes up.  A few things:

• H started preschool. PRESCHOOL. He goes twice a week for five hours a day. He has had three FANTASTIC days and one day where he bit a dude and pinched the other kids' bellies for no reason. That was a stressful day; but he's coming around. He has "goals" (Be gentle! No hitting!) and he now carries around papers ripped from his coloring books, scribbling on them and muttering about said goals. Last week, he asked his 20 month-old buddy: "Christopher? What are your goals?" My heart could explode with love for him.

This shot was taken shortly before he tried to throw his sister down the front steps. 

 

He perked up though.

• He knows more about pop music than any other two year-old on this planet.  Seriously, somebody get this kid on Ellen.  He is a man obsessed: each time a new song plays on the radio or the iPhone, he demands: "Who sings dis song?"  And once told, he repeats to himself, "Edward Sharpe sings dis song."  And then he never forgets that.  Ever.  To date, he can correctly identify Pink, Rihanna, Neo, Edward Sharpe, The Lumineers, Johnny Cash, "5 Maroon", Taylor Swift, "Jepsen" (for Carly Rae Jepsen), Jason Mraz, Gavin DeGraw, and likely some I'm forgetting.  My boy is wicked smart. 
• Ailie Eden is a dream.  She is so expressive and smiley and lovely, despite the fact that, this weekend, she started balding and developed an awful case of baby acne.  So despite looking like a middle-aged man/pubescent teenager at present, she is the most gorgeous lady that was every birthed.  Naturally.  She is also not quite fitting into big bro's cloth diapers (which are essentially destroyed, despite my best intentions) and so she poops and pees on me regularly.  It's still wonderful. 
• I've been cheating on you guys, a bit.  Check out my new venture, http://totalmamamakeover.wordpress.com/ , which is a fitness/lifestyle type thingie.  I don't know exactly where I am headed with it yet, and the look of the site is also under major construction.  But I feel compelled to write about health and wellness and exercise and finances and happiness and pop music, so I thought I better start a new blog in that vein.  Thanks for reading!

This is Your Life Now.

Hey! I had a baby two weeks ago today.  At this time on August 16th, I was getting contractions that were only mildly uncomfortable!  

Oh, labor: how I don't miss you at all.

The amazing Ailie is adjusting well to the world.  She sleeps a whole lot during the day; and a bunch at night too. We're doing a few good 2 - 3 hour stretches, with an hour or so of delicious alert time through the evenings.  She is wetting and stinking up diapers like a true champion, and breastfeeding is going great this time around.  I busted out the nipple shields for one day only; and then the girls just adapted.  My heartfelt thanks, girls.  

I hear often that girl babes are a bit easier than boys, and up to this point, I would have to concur.  We are now at the two-week mark and I'm on edge waiting for a complete personality change.  So far, so good.  She's a doll, and we adore her.

Her bro is... adjusting.  He seems to like her alright, but he's very grabby and sometimes smothers her and JC, when did his head get SO BIG?  He asks a million times per day to "see baby", which always involves manhandling baby.  I play a lot of defense.  It's frustrating.  It's difficult to be patient when you're perpetually sleepy.  But we're trying.  I know this is a huge adjustment for him; and so far today has been much better than the days prior.  

I'm recovering too.  In fact, this recovery is much easier than the last.  I've kept my postpartum tears at bay, only really feeling the urge to cry a few times since Ailie came into our world.  (And this was mostly because I watched A League of Their Own, which is a movie I decided I now fucking hate as it made me horribly cranky and distraught.  What were you thinking, Dottie?  The game made you come alive!  And then The Scene with Betty Spaghetti, you guys.  And then suddenly, we blink and everyone is 80 and all the husbands and Jimmy Dugan are dead.  I just had a beautiful baby girl, and now I have to lament that her life will fly by in an instant?  Thanks a lot, Penny Marshall.  And the final kicker: Madonna starts singing that maudlin tune that gets stuck in your head for 18 years.  The end.)

(Sorry.  That movie really messed me up last weekend.)

Where was I?  Physically, I'm feeling great.  I can't wait to get out there and start exercising again.  I've lost 26 pounds thus far.  My belly is rapidly shrinking.  I have no idea when I shall stop wearing maternity tanks; or when my rings will fit again, but still.  Oh!  And I drank some pumpkin ale beers.  They were as glorious as I remembered.    

So things are going well.  I've been alone with the kiddos the last three days, and I've managed to hold down the fort and get H out of the house a bit.  I can't complain, though it's been fairly exhausting making sure H doesn't accidentally kill his sister.  I told J as much yesterday, to which he replied: "This is your life now."

Indeed.  And I wouldn't change a thing.

  

Happy Halloween It Was.

Greetings, friends!

Let's catch up. When we last left the HomeValleyians, they had an adorable 16 month-old babe. Now, this babe is 17 months. Fear not: still totally adorable. Peep Yoda on Halloween.

Everyday is a new adventure with Hank. He very much enjoys "driving" the Altima. He hops in the front seat before you can catch him, makes himself comfortable, fiddles with the radio, and grins maniacally. Just try to remove him from that seat when it is actually time to drive somewhere. I dare you. The dude can thrash with the best of them.

When we finally wrangle him into his seat and get on the road, he controls the stream of music. He appreciates a lot of different genres, but especially loves Adele at the moment. When he hears her voice - any song of hers will do - he literally screams with delight. He also squeals for LMFAO, that bizarre song about partying on the rooftop even the white kids, and the Pumped Up Kicks tune.

Beware the wrath if he does not like the music however. He will yell and shout and kick until you change that station, goddamnit, and he can't be reasoned with. Toddlers are really irrational, you guys.

But what of his parents lately? Last week J took off on Thursday and Friday for our "Staycation". (Oh my God yes we actually called it that.) And like anyone trying to relax at home for a few days, we decided it would be the perfect time TO DO A CLEANSE.

Here is what I have learned about cleanses. The most important thing you can do is formulate an answer to the question: What is the purpose of this cleanse? If you cannot answer this question with any degree of convincing, you are ill-suited to do a cleanse ON YOUR VACATION, HOLY SHIT.

Even more humiliating, we chose a Dr. Oz cleanse. I liked that you could eat actual food (I would last about 6 seconds drinking a cayenne-pepper-maple-syrup concoction).

So what did we have for breakfast? Quinoa, with almond milk and prunes and GINGER. J got this down quite easily, but I struggled. I love ginger, but something about the combination of flavors... It's hard to think about, you guys. The trauma.

Lunch was a blueberry banana smoothie, which actually was delish. Dinner was a homemade cabbage soup with traditionally fermented sauerkraut and apples. At this point, our 48-hour cleanse became a 24-hour deal. And also, the fun-sized Snickers bars I had purchased for Halloween turned life-sized and started taunting us from the pantry.

Other takeaways? First: Mom and Pops are pretty addicted to food. To be sure, we normally eat pretty well; but deciding what to eat and when is a distinct pleasure. The absence of choice actually made me feel quite blue.

Second: We might be alcoholics.

Third: You will destroy ANY benefit of a VACATION CLEANSE the next day, when you will eat every Snickers bar in a five-mile radius and drink copious amounts of wine, celebrating the fact that you can eat anything your heart desires. In essence, a cleanse (deprivation) is completely counterproductive to good health. Periodic indulgences = good. Cabbage soup with mushrooms and a whole fennel bulb = bad.

Don't say I never learned you anything on this here blog.

A New Season

Recovering from my (fake) brush with death yesterday. My left temple is a lovely green shade and my shoulder and wrist are aching. Nothing a little light exercise and Management reading can't fix. And perhaps I should consider one of those benches in the shower, made specifically for seniors?

So what's new? I've started my grad school courses, though due to Hurricane Irene and Labor Day, I still haven't actually attended my Management class yet. I'm also taking Accounting, which I quite enjoy. All in all, a good semester thus far, a mere three weeks in.

Today marks Day 1 of half-marathon training. I intend to run the Dallas White Rock in early December; and thank Jesus, because I am quite jiggly these days. I managed to gain nearly FIVE pounds on our three-week sojourn through the Northeast (cheese fries, cheese nuggets, ice cream, Italian hoagies, cheesecakes, cupcakes, and the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru will do that to a gal), and I am currently trying to rid myself of the extra girth so I can button my pants again one day soon.

Oh! I found an old journal, one I've been missing for quite some time now. And this one is GOOD, y'all. It is juicy and sordid and paints a picture of a very self-centered lass from 1997 through 99, during which time I move to New York and mercifully gain some perspective and stop obsessing about boys a tiny fraction. As I was skimming, I came across an entry in which I divulge my weight - 10 full pounds less than I am now - and write, "I need to lose at least 10 - 12 pounds; starting to feel like a heifer!" And now I'd like to personally thank anyone who hung out with me in high school, because damn: I was annoying.

Finally, yesterday I hobbled along with my boys to a new friends' place to watch the Eagles game. (Fellow Birds fans: huzzah!) At one point I got down on the floor to color with Hendrik and their two young daughters. Later, back home, J and I were sitting on the couch when he started giggling and burst out, "How 'bout your plumber's crack today?" When I asked him why he didn't nudge me to pull up my jeans, he just laughed and replied: "I'm sure I'm the only one who noticed." Right, J: because no one ever picks up on a person's butt checks billowing out of the top of their pants.

Informal poll this Monday morning: Divorce?

I'm Your Candy Girl

I think we can all agree that the days of "relaxing" on a vacation are kaput once the babies arrive. The only breaks I had in Colorado were when little man was napping or asleep for the night. (Since J was not with us - he was at a conference in Seattle - I read. Oh, and it was glorious.)

But if I cannot relax on vacation as per usual, I can certainly reassess my life's goals, goddamnit. As with every sojourn away from home, I returned to Dallas with renewed purpose. This time, I decided to do something once and for all about my health.

Bob Greene (Oprah's "brother" and fitness guru) said earlier this year: "When you are motivated, you are out of excuses." Word, Bob. And when you have a young'un, you have a million excuses, not least of which is: I'm really fucking tired right now and I deserve this king-sized Snickers bar. Bitch.

I'm still about ten-ish pounds away from wedding weight, five pounds from pre-baby poundage. This is not the end of the world, and I feel pretty good. Unfortunately, my clothes are just ever-so-slightly too snug. You know the feeling? Oh for sure, I can button those jeans, but beware the muffin top. And I can squeeze into this sleeveless shirt from 09, but it is really pinching my wobbly arm bits.

We're a one-income family now, with a large mortgage and graduate school and an electricity bill that I opened a few days ago and said: "Wait. This must be two months of energy, right?" New clothes are just not an option right now, save the occasional top I buy at Target that falls apart after three washings.

So my mission: she is clear.

I have to get back to my fighting weight.

If there is one thing I love in this life, it is vodka JJ Abrams Coach Oprah Snickers sugar. And so I first decided to assess this addiction. I eat sweets constantly, particularly if I am feeling blue or bored or it's a day of the week. Recently, Hendrik and I ran out to Target and I returned home with a Snickers bar AND a Toblerone. I gobbled up the candy in 3 minutes flat. I did not feel good afterwards.

Lately, it's been ice cream and chocolate and caramel corn and chocolate and Heath bar on my Tasti D-Lite and chocolate. I have several frequent buyer cards stamped at the Marble Stone Creamery, and my mom left behind a wake of Twizzlers and M&Ms. In Colorado, my Far-Mor put sugar on fruit and fed me incredible pound cake and homemade whipped cream, as well as a steady supply of Dove chocolates.

Yet the scale hasn't budged. Imagine!

Aside from the L-Bs, I believe sugar may be a carcinogen. For sure, it causes a plethora of health issues (hello, diabetes). There is no nutritional value, only potential detriment. To this end, when someone tries to give it to Hank, I tend to react like they have offered him arsenic.

No, I am not cutting out all sugar (it's virtually impossible and I still want to have some fun), but I am looking very closely at my intake. I remembered hearing on one of those PBS infomercials that you should max out at 16g of sugar daily. To put this into perspective, my hazelnut coffee creamer has 9g in 2 tablespoons. One teaspoon of sugar = 4 grams.

I relaxed my standards a bit when I read that most docs recommend you do not exceed 32g daily, or 8 teaspoons.

Oh! And I rejoiced when I learned that most red wine has about .96g per 5 ounces. BOO YEAH.

It's been going well. I've been tracking my intake for a week now, and the highest I've gone is 34 grams. Most days I average 24. I dare you to start tracking your own intake. One tiny Nature's Path granola bar has 15 grams of sugar. This new focus is rocking my world.

My other health/fitness resolutions?

1. Get thee to the gym, at least 3 times per week. This is based on monetary concerns, because cash rules everything around me, y'all. I can't justify a $50 monthly expense unless I get my ass there. The fitness? Just a bonus. I've been taking Hendrik to the Kid's Club, which is wonderful for him. It gives him some independent time with other kids - and other adults - and he seems to really enjoy it. I've also been to several Sunday morning yoga classes, and I'm actually thrilled with the caliber of the practice there. I can't afford a studio right now, but I am very pleased with the instructors at LA Fitness. We've also been walking outside before 10 AM, at which time all Texans must be inside, lest your face melt off in the 120 degree temps. (Another post, my pets.)



2. Drink 64 ounces of water daily. I suck at this. But I am trying.



3. Cut out the booze. Did I tell you J got me a wine fridge? Slid it right into the kitchen where the trash compactor used to be. It is unspeakably awesome, yet lends itself to one to two glasses of pinot noir daily. For now, I'm saving vino for the weekends. So far, so good.



4. Take vitamins. Multi, calcium, D - what up??



5. Eat at least five servings of fruits and vegetables daily. You know when you really want a starchy carb or a pint of Ben and Jerry's? I have been reaching for cucumbers and celery with hummus instead. It sucks, and it makes me very cranky at first; but then I realize I am doing something good for my body, my health, and my son. And then it makes me only slightly less stabby.

Jada Pinkett Smith said in this month's Redbook (BTW, I don't remember subscribing to Redbook. It justs keeps coming every month and I keep reading. I think they just know I am over 30 and married with children and thus subscription is mandatory.) that for her, "food is fuel." I really like that. It forces me to ask myself what will nourish my body and make it work better? when all I long to do is curl up with a jar of Nutella and a spoon.

What about you all? Do you monitor your sugar intake? Any fitness resolutions this summer? And do you read and/or like Redbook? Do tell.

Everything's Bigger in Texas.

JC, what am I doing with this nouveau blog design? I feel like I am in blog limbo. Blimbo, if you will indulge me. And in this blimbo, I must find my bloggy path, or perish trying.

Very dramatic, this blogging. Obvi.

So, we're back in Iladelph. Only it feels bizarre; this house isn't really ours anymore. Our new home really isn't ours yet. So we wait. I am trying to suck the joy out of every moment here in Manayunk. The last weeks of single parenthood before Hank and I become full-time Texans. Real life is also a little blimbo-y, but I feel remarkably calm about it all.

(Also? Mouse turds. I mean, like, three. And they could have been old. But still. If I was feeling sentimental about leaving, I just need to remember the horror of this day. Peace out, Yunk. Keep your damned raccoons/squirrels/mice and any other hybrid creature you might throw at me and let me be on my way to Big D.)

(Where, at our new home inspection, the exterminator told J that field mice were "HUGE" in Texas. Did you just picture rodents of unusual size? I did. But what he meant was "RAMPANT." Fuck me, I can't win this battle. I am waving the white flag, you cheeky little rodents. I might as well invite you to tea, you bastards.)

(See, everything is BIGGER in Texas.)

What else can I tell you? I used the spa gift card I received for Christmas today at this spa in Chestnut Hill. I adore a good Swedish massage. Consider the things we demand of our skin and bones; a professional rub-down is a necessary luxury in my book.

I indulge mostly on vacation, and perhaps once or twice a year at home. Through our travels, I've visited spas all over the world, as well as one very questionable backroom in Chiang Mai, Thailand that J and I still recall with abject terror. Laying on the table today, I felt grateful for each of those trips, and for my dimpled thighs. I wondered why I've been so hung up on my mangled-by-baby frame, because the things my body can do? Nothing short of miraculous! And to have my health... Well, it's downright disrespectful to worry about a few extra L-Bs and some cellulite.

(Of course, I did fit into my skinny jeans today. I managed to lose 6.5 pounds in the last 2.5 months through a very specific regime of Nutella on whole wheat mini-bagels and caramel macchiatos.)

And that's alls I got, kids. I'm off to snuggle up with a glass of vino and some HGTV, and to ponder the important existential questions in life, like what should my next blogging adventure entail?

HomeValley Runs on Dunkin'

For those of you keeping score at home, since my Starbucks boycott?

I have lost TWO pounds. In slightly over a week.

J will tell you I did not lose TWO pounds; that I can gain and lose two pounds in an hour depending on the size of the burrito I just housed... BUT: I have weighed myself twice, in the morning, and the scale has read two pounds lower than it has been for about three weeks.

AND!

I am wearing a pair of pre-prego jeans that I have not squeezed into in a year. To be sure, I am stuffed into them like an adorable sausage; but they zip and that is what matters in this life.

(Also? I have sworn off Dunkin' Donuts, as I am incapable of passing through their uber-convenient drive-through without ordering a vanilla creme donut.)

Hendrik and I are off to the mall. The last time I went shopping with this child, I called J and barked that if I ever DEIGNED to MENTION shopping with this child again, to slap me across my face and tell me to Wake up! Your kid is a terrible shopper! It is a suicide mission!

But I have bought approximately three gifts, and I'm getting a little nervous.

Merry Christmas, holy shit.

Tramps Like Us

And just like that?

Mama ran a half-marathon, chickens.

Ha! "Just like that." I saved y'all the details of my training. Some weeks were better than others. Some runs hurt like hell; others felt like I could have continued on for days.

When I started, I could barely jog a mile. I crawled around the local high school track, with J yelling, "Push yourself!"

"I AM!" I growled.

I was.

When I birthed Hendrik (really, I will tell you that story one day), I remember thinking: half-marathon? I can run an ULTRA-marathon! I am a fucking warrior.

And then I fought for every tenth of a mile, until it got easier.

The change is gradual. One day, your lungs feel like fire as you begin your fifth lap. The following week, you realize you've run several miles, unfazed.

One Sunday, your long run is an insurmountable THREE.

Another Sunday, weeks and weeks later, you run 10.2. And you don't die.

The half meant a lot to me. It was nearly six months to the day after I gave birth to my son. I am proud of the physical accomplishment. Running also became very spiritual for me; I would trot along Kelly Drive and tell myself: I run for the crunch of the gravel beneath my feet. I am so thankful that my legs are strong. I'd use the time to reflect. I thought. I wrote blog posts I never had the time to transcribe.

Most importantly: I finished something I started.

When Hendrik was born, I vowed to do better. To be better. And that begins with being a woman of my word.

I accomplished that on Sunday. And because of that, each of the 13.1 miles I ran were filled with joy. I was thinking: I'm doing this! Me!

I've never been an athlete. And I. Was. Runnnnnnnnnning!

I'd like to thank the Academy, but most importantly: my amazing husband. The one who encouraged me each day; who - thanks to road closures - dropped me in the more questionable neighborhoods in Philly, and followed me with his blinkers on until I reached safer ground so I could be sure to get my miles in. The man who forced my family to be there to share in my moment; the man who stood on the course by the finish line snapping my photograph; the man who didn't balk when I ordered the eggs benedict and the brioche french toast at brunch.

His selflessness humbles me. I am eternally grateful.

I did it, you guys. And I feel weightless.

What's next?

BAB Project: Week 10 - SAB. O. TAGE.

There is nothing like feeling fancy about your weight-loss and then promptly eating a floppity-jillion calories in a week, all: Look at me! I can lose weight! I should probably polish off this Nutella and then have a date night with J in which I consume THREE alcoholic beverages and garlic bread and fried green tomatoes and pasta with seafood in a rich pesto sauce and espresso and almond cheesecake! I am sure this will help the pounds melt off!

Ugh. I want to bitch-slap myself.

On Monday, I weighed 153.2. If you are playinga along at home, that's a one-pound gain. This morning I weighed in at 151.6, but then after breakfast weighed 152.8 (damn you, Honey Nut Cheerios). So, in summary: still chubby. This week was a wash.

I've been thinking a lot about my relationship to food these days. Why do I eat more than I need? Why do I crave sugar? It struck me that food is one of the only remaining pleasures I have these days... that is, something just for me. I can't really drink much; even if I am dumping my milk, you can't be hammered when you're responsible for a tiny nugget. I can't flit off to the bookstore and luxuriate in the stacks for endless hours. I can't hop on a flight to Colorado, just because. I can't blare the radio in my car; when H and I roll about town, we're typically listening to the sound of a vaccuum on blast. I can't even just pop out to the mailbox anymore. Popping out - when J is at work - requires very careful planning around naptimes and nursing.

So what can I do? In the evenings, when H is sound asleep - gearing up to wake FOUR TIMES A NIGHT BUT THAT IS ANOTHER POST CHRIST ALMIGHTY - I can eat. I can smother Nutella on everything. I can polish off my trail mix and my strawberries and my dried mango slices, and then head back to the fridge for some frozen, chocolate-covered coconut milk bars.

It strikes me that this relationship has surreptitiously crossed into unhealthy terrain. Suddenly, food is like a no-good ex-flame, only texting me for late-night booty calls. It's really time to re-read my copy of He's Just Not That Into You and pump the brakes on this harmful new habit. Ya dig?

My mother came over on Monday afternoon, just returned from a three-week vacation in Florida. "You look good, Melis," she said to me, and my mother doesn't say anything she does not mean. "You've lost weight."

"I haven't," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm still 15 pounds away from where I started, which isn't even my ideal weight."

"Well, I never got back to my pre-pregnancy weight after having you."

GAH!

"Noooooooooooo," I moan. "I won't allow myself to not get back."

And the REAL work begins.

Half-marathon training began this week. Lord have mercy. I also tried the 30-Day Shred, which I found surprisingly easy. (Anyone can handle 3 minutes of abs, right?) I'm also trying to get out and walk with Hendrik as much as possible.

Determination, thy name is HomeValley.

BAB Project: Week 9 - Schwimmer and Me.

This week I had a sex dream about David Schwimmer.

I don't know. I have no excuse for this.

And really - we didn't get too far. I was actually Jennifer Aniston in the dream, and Schwim and I were dating in real life. The reason I disclose this at all is because we were about to get at it, when Schwim took off his shirt to reveal spectacularly-sculpted washboard abs.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, as Jennifer Aniston. "Dave - how did you get that body?"

To which David Schwimmer replied: "I cut out sugar."

Methinks this is quite possibly the most boring "sex" dream of all time. (Though I am eyeing Ross appreciatively on TBS since. Meow!)

Yep, I am obsessed with fitness, but that didn't stop me from ordering a rootbeer float yesterday at brunch. (For real: how good does that sound right now?)
.
This morning I weighed 152.2! I've lost 6.2 pounds so far. Still not eating any meat (save fish), and changes I've noticed in two weeks? My skin looks better. I can't directly correlate this with our new diet (I have been using Lumene night cream for a few weeks now), but my skin is clearer and noticeably less red and ruddy. To wit: I didn't use foundation on Friday, and I wasn't horrifying to gaze upon. So there you go.

I've been slowly easing back into running, but let me tell you, it's a grueling slog around the hills of Manayunk. The humidity is unpleasant, and the fifteen extra pounds on my frame likely add to my discomfort.

But I'm out there. At least I'm getting out there.

I invested in some new workout gear from Target. I only had two sports bras that fit, and I figured I could use a few more to avoid having to wash every other day.

The real athlete in the family though? Hendrik, who learned how to roll over from back to tummy this week, and now does it all the DAMN time. With the milestones, buddy!

BAB Project: Week 7 - Fluctuation Nation.

Evening, chickens!

Where in the world has I been? H and I have been all over the place: the Jersey shore, Georgetown, and Clarksburg, MD. We're just such social butterflies these days - today we took a trip to dad's office for lunch, in which H wooed all the ladies - I haven't had a moment to write.

Don't worry though: I still find time to eat. (Modo Mio, I'm lookin' at you.)

So weight-wise, I stepped on the scale yesterday morning, and I weighed 153.8. Cheers! After a hearty dinner of whole wheat pasta and a tofu-zucchini-onion tomato sauce, I weighed 158.4. You might remember that weight from such numbers as THE BEGINNING OF THIS MOTHER EFFIN' PROJECT HOLY CHRIST.

The scale is lower today, but... dudes, I gots no idea.

Here's what's new this week:

• J and I are vegetarians this month, except for fish. I'll let you know how that goes.


• I registered for the Philly Half-Marathon. This means I better start training right quick.


• I am deep in the world of Fidelity investments and Roth IRAs and rollovers and conversions. It has nothing to do with weight loss, but it blows just the same.


• It's hot as hell in Philadelphia. I am THIS CLOSE to updating my Facebook status to reflect this fact. You know it must be serious.


• Still on the fence with Twitter. It hurts my heart.

More tomorrow, loves.

BAB Project Week 6 - I Totally Have 2 Week Fours. Meh.

First, what you are all really clamoring to hear about: MouseWatch 2010.

Guys?

Six.

We've caught six of those motherfuckers. I am in denial that so many could have been actually living here; we live in a row home, and J and I think they are just gallivanting from home to home, cheeky little buggers. Each day, I hope and pray this horror will cease, that someday I shall be able to remove the yellow post-it note, and run the dishwasher again. (The detergent is under the sick. Blast!)

The silver lining is that they really can't get to our food, which is stashed in the higher cabinets. They seem to reside only under the sink and the drawer below the oven, which is REALLY a shame for the organic banana-walnut muffins I baked and devoured last week using a muffin tin housed BELOW THE OVEN.

Mmm... mouse turd muffins. Delish!

Oh! Before this rodent assault, J moved the toaster from a high cabinet to the lazy susan cabinet located between the sink and the oven. J is under the false impression that I will use this toaster EVER AGAIN IN LIFE.

Mmm... mouse hair English muffins!

Okay, this post is revolting. Apologies.

Moving on, I've lost a grand total of: .2 pounds this week! (Lo: I am stressed.) I am down 4.2 pounds in 6 weeks (the first post was actually the start of week one, blahbleenoonecares), and I'm okay with that. My BMI is currently 24.1, which is good. But according to Self magazine, a BMI between 18.5 and 22.9 means you may be 2.5 times more likely to age free of disease. So sign me up.

This week, I am going to register for the Philly Half-Marathon. I've been trying to run again, but it's difficult in this heat, and I loathe running on the treadmill. But hardcore training for the race will begin in a few weeks, and I am confident that the fitness boost will finally get my weight in check and I will see consistent results.

In the meantime, I am embracing my temporary curves. It's actually quite fun to shop in my own closet (I haven't seen these things in a year(s)), and make the larger-sized pieces work together. It is also fun to color-coordinate with H:

Preparing mah boy for a career in fashion, I also make him sit in his chair and help me sort through my closet. Sometimes he giggles, but lots of things are so tight on me he has to spit-up in distaste.

The one thing I really need help with is crushing my sugar addiction. Any advice - or clever sugar substitutes - for a mama?

BAB Project Week 5: Mmm. Cake.

Imma - seriously, I don't think there is currently any non-phrase/word I hate more than "Imma." - but for emphasis, Imma switch up the BAB Project postings from here on out.

Starting weight: 158.2

Current Weight: 154.2

Total L-Bs lost: Four, chickens! I'll still take it.

And that's yer update, folks. Fitness-wise, I've been doing okay. I've been running a bit since my back finally healed; I've been going for long, sweaty walks with H in the morn. Nutrition-wise, I seriously almost had a nervous breakdown at my grandfather's on Sunday because I promised J we would leave at 4:30, and by 5 we still hadn't eaten the ice cream cake. I nearly killed a few family members to get to those sweet, sweet crunchies.

But the scale is still moving in the right direction. I am going to pull out my old copy of Spent this week in an effort to will myself out of my sugar addiction. This might also be the week I break out the ole P90X again. Might.

Annnddd.. the little lord is screaming his face off. Night, y'all.

Body After Baby Week 4: Panera Brownies = Weight Loss. Science, y'all.

Starting weight: 158.2

Current Weight: 154.4

Total L-Bs lost: 3.8! The scale is my bitch.

Number of gym visits this week: 2, plus one family exercise outing at Wissahickon Park. Didn't make the two-mile run this week, as my back is still smarting. I don't know what I did to it... Maybe it has something to do with my 11.5 pound meatloaf baby?

Other physical activity: Volleyball in Grandpop's pool wearing a maternity swimsuit. At least the bottoms were a bit loose.

Most triumphant moment this week: The scale finally budges! I think one pound a week is about all that can be expected during breastfeeding. I have no idea how long I'll breastfeed... I'd like to make it to one year, but for now I'll say: as long as the girls allow.

Most soul-crushing moment this week: My entire wardrobe is from Old Navy. I'm a 13 year-old girl.

What's motivating me this week: Strong, muscular legs that take me through my first half-marathon this November. Also, how about Courteney Cox? That woman looks damn good for 45.
Things that would make Jillian Michaels weep this week: Panera. Voted healthiest fast food, though.

This week's mini-goal: Same as last week: 3 gym visits, another two-mile run, two days of strength training.

This week's reward: Mani/pedi. I live for you, Cinderella Nails.

Week Three - The Good, The Bad, and The BBQs.

Eh, Week Two. Until Friday, I ate pretty impeccably. I also got some good workouts in, and accomplished my goal of running two miles. I didn't get to the gym 4 times, but I got to the gym once, and the track three times, so I guess that counts?

Either way, there were BBQs. And cupcakes. And brownies. And banana-chocolate-strawberry shortcakes, for the love of PETE.

This week, we start anew.

Starting weight: 158.2

Current Weight: 158.4 (I was 156.2 at my doc appointment this week though! Efffff.)

Total L-Bs lost: Go to hell.

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.

Most soul-crushing moment this week: Gaining .2 pounds. And not having the will power to avoid ANY of the sweet treats.

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.

This week's mini-goal: 3 gym visits, and another two-mile run.

This week's reward: Will finally put that Sephora gift card to good use, because I don't feel that deserving after this weekend's antics.

Slow and steady, y'all.

Week Two - Surprised to Not be Perfectly Thin Yet.

Made it through Week 1, and there are still things I need to tweak. Overall, though, I am pleased with my resolve. I've started eating salads for lunch instead of delicious organic pot pies and pizzas, which should help a bit, no? I also avoided chocolate and candy, but I did notice troublesome sugar intake elsewhere, like my lattes, strawberry preserves, and the two fruit drinks I gulped at Arts Fest because they were just ridiculously good.

Here goes:

Starting weight: 158.2

Current Weight: 157.8 (Amazing, right? I am just pleased the scale is moving in the right direction.)

Total L-Bs lost: .4! Boo yeah!

Number of gym visits this week: 3

Other physical activity: 3 walks with Hendrik in the punishing heat

Most triumphant moment this week: I reached last week's goal and avoided all chocolate and candy! And that spa pedicure was sweet, y'all.

Most soul-crushing moment this week: Not dropping 10 pounds. Looks like this is going to be challenging, huh?

What's motivating me this week: A very fit fellow mama, who told me in no uncertain terms recently that staying fit and losing weight after kids? Is hard. But she does it with will power, and by tossing those chocolate chip cookies I voraciously devour. Sometimes you just need to hear there is no magic bullet.

Things that would make Jillian Michaels weep this week: Grande decaf non-fat caramel macchiato. All those empty calories! Fail, HV. Fail.

This week's mini-goal: 4 gym visits, and one two-mile run.

This week's reward: Will finally put that Sephora gift card to good use.

At this rate I will be bikini-ready next summer. Hooray!

Body After Baby - The Inaugural Post

Supporting his mama with adorableness.

So lo and behold - I write about my desire to get back into shape, and look what I find on Sarah's blog! The gods, they are smiling.



So this is my inaugural post, in which I tell you that my goal is to drop 25 pounds (Yep, I've tacked on a few extra for good measure) by October 1.



And hey! I went back to the gym this past weekend, only to find out I'd mysteriously been kicked out of my Healthy Lifestyles program (inactivity?), and that yep, I'm out of shape. Whilst on the elliptical on Saturday, I had imaginary conversations with Jillian Michaels in my head to keep me motivated.



HomeValley: I can't do it!



Jillian: YES YOU CAN! Do you wanna be fat forever? Do you WANT to lose this baby weight or NOT?!?



HV: Yes... But I can't go on, Jillian! It's too hard!



JM: DO YOU WANNA WEAR A PENCIL SKIRT AGAIN, HOMEVALLEY?



HV: Yes!



JM: I SAID - DO YOU WANT TO WEAR A FUCKING PENCIL SKIRT?!?



HV: YEEESSSS! *breaks down into heaving sobs*



JM: *softly* Why is this so hard? Why is it so difficult for you to give up the chocolate chip cookies?



Obviously, I need to develop a better playlist.



So here goes... On Sunday, I banished chocolate and processed sugar from my diet. So far, so good, including when J remembered his secret pregnancy stash of Snickers bars for moi, and devoured that satisfying conglomeration of chocolate, nuts, and caramel in front of me.



I suppose this is how we'll track this:



Starting weight: 158.2



Current Weight: Talk to you in a week!



Total L-Bs lost: 24 since H was born. So that's cool. Unfortunately, we're starting here at 0.



Number of gym visits this week: 2, thus far



Other physical activity: 1 walk with Hendrik, thus far



Most triumphant moment this week: Snickers avoidance, y'all.



Most soul-crushing moment this week: SNICKERS. YUM.



What's motivating me this week: My son. Putting healthful things into my body, drinking more water, and avoiding sugar mean Hendrik reaps the breast milk benefits. Also? A shopping trip to Kohl's. The jeans I purchased are two sizes bigger than normal, and holy hell FLORESCENT LIGHTS. Jiggly bits.



Things that would make Jillian Michaels weep this week: All of the chocolate and sugar I ate on Saturday in preparation for Sunday's start date. And I enjoyed every calorie-laden morsel.



This week's mini-goal: No chocolate, no candy. Really, really challenging for me.



This week's reward: A trip to the nail salon.



Let's DO THIS!

DENIAL: Thy Name is HomeValley.

A medium? She CRAZY!

On Sunday we ran errands, which is always interesting with our little buddy. (Now, all errands generally involve a diaper blow-out, because I think Hendrik just enjoys effing with his parents.)



J waited in the car with the babe whilst I ran into Target. I had only a few items to pick up:

• a digital scale


• a one-piece swimsuit


• a cover-up, Jesus Christ cellulite jiggly bits

We needed a scale, as our old-school Ikea one was falling apart, and desperately inaccurate. I figured it would help me get back on track, and bonus: we can weigh the boy, which helps with my piece of mind.

I am not sure why I needed the suit. I was thinking I was going to finally swim in the pool at the gym. Honestly? I am frightened of the pool at the gym. I mean, I am just not a very strong swimmer (I have no form), and there are typically a lot of elderly people wearing swim caps in that pool. Also, I haven't been to the gym in five months. Still. I have plans, people.

I grabbed a MEDIUM, non-descript, brown one-piece, made sure it was returnable, and brought it home to try on (there is no time to try on a swimsuit with a 4 week-old infant pooping in the car). Also, Target lets you return bathing suits. Gross, Target.

Dudes: I grabbed a MEDIUM. The size I mostly wore pre-pregnancy. When I was about 22 pounds lighter.

Stuffed sausage, party of one.

"Oh," I mumbled to J as I waddled into the bathroom to get a good look at my form. "I guess it will be awhile before I wear this, huh?"

"Why did you buy that? Because you are a mom now, you need to wear a one-piece?"

(Aside: maybe. I mean, because I am a mom now, I understand reverse mullets, y'all. They must be damn convenient. I have blown dry my hair once since May 15th.)

"No, J! I had to buy it on account of my pooch!"

Oh, my pooch.

I mean, I know I gained a ridiculous amount of weight during my pregnancy. I am thankful to be down 23 pounds or so. Alas! Would that this pooch would just melt away on its own! Then I could continue to eat copious amounts of chocolate chip cookies and pizza and cheeseburgers, and have my old flat belly and wear pencil skirts. I need to wear pencil skirts! What about the PENCIL SKIRTS?!?

Sigh.

Apparently, I think I can carry around an extra 22 L-Bs and still maintain my old size. I also believe that my pre-prego jeans should fit, as I torture myself by trying them on periodically. They don't make it past my KNEES! Gah!

(PENCIL SKIRTS!)

I am going to have to get serious, for the love of Bob Harper. My problem? I am not sure how to this whilst breastfeeding. My initial inclination is to cut out chocolate (which is also a win for my gassy, reflux-y offspring), and processed sugars. To stick with fruits, veggies, and whole grains.

Easier said than done when you're caring for a tiny infant, and all you want to do is eat all of the M&Ms. (Crap - what did I do with those M&Ms?)

And so we begin, folks. I am saying this: in two months time, I would like to be down at least 16 pounds. I feel like 2 pounds per week is realistic for nursing, though I know I can't do any major calorie-restriction, I can amp up my diet and haul my ass to the gym.

Also? I need to buy some new pants. I can't live in maternity jeans for the next 2 months. It's uncivilized. I am sure I will hyperventilate when I learn my new non-pregnant size, but thems the breaks. Hendrik is well-worth the body woes, y'know?

(Oh, here's a charming little anecdote to start your weekend. Last Saturday, J and I got all dressed up and took Hendrik to dinner on Main Street. I was wearing this dress, and I asked J, "So, how pregnant do I look now?" He gave me the once-over, and said, "Well, you didn't start showing until month 4... so I'd say... Like, 25 weeks pregnant?" Me at 25 weeks pregnant. LORD.)

Resolutionary

So I am in Dallas, living the dream. I'm at a conference here, and I have to tell you, I am completely committed to my work in 2010. It's strange; Ninja will be here in less than 5 months, and my only instinct is to be better at EVERYTHING. To be a fantastic, calm mom, of course; but also to rock standardized tests. To get into a good Master's program. To be amazing at my job; so damn phenomenal that I kill it around bonus time. I figure, that way my company has every reason to accommodate me when I am just too madly in love with mah baby to board a plane come late August.


I confess: I sneak up to my room during breaks to take a peak at baby photos. I only brought two of the 7839 ulrasound pictures our tech was kind enough to provide us, but these shots are exquisite. Have you seen my baby's ears? His/her shoulder? It's all so real now. Ninj is no longer just a tiny little bean with a microscopic beating heart. Miraculously (and holy shit, this is the most spectacular miracle), Ninja has functioning kidneys. And a big old heart with four whole chambers. Eyes. Lungs. A perfect spine. I wanted to kiss the doctor when she came in to thoroughly examine the ultrasound screen.


"Looks great, guys!" She said, and was on her way.


"We're so lucky," I said to J as we hustled back to the parking garage. "How did we get so lucky?"


The second ultrasound pic I have tucked in my planner is a regular 2D (3D?) profile shot of the entire baby. I promise I'll scan it tomorrow night when I get home, because y'all have to see this. Ninj has the most precious chin; a tiny mouth that is upturned in the slightest smile; and a miniature button nose. It's surreal, but the baby looks like J, which makes me imagine I have a little boy dancing around my placenta. But either sex is fine by me. A cliche, yes, but all I want is a healthy child.


So, so lucky.


Now, I will stop staring at Ninj for three minutes to recap my resolutions for 2010. I have never felt more equipped to handle all that is on this list, which I almost hate to admit. I worry that if I gush to much about how wonderful life is, some horrible malady will inevitably befall me. So:



1. LESS WORRYING. In my book, 100 Ways to Motivate Yourself, the author contends that once you become an adult, the only time you engage your imagination is to concoct worst-case scenarios. Ha! That's, like, the most true statement ever in the history of the world. I suspect this only gets worse as you become a parent. So I have decided to tell my worst-case scenario imagination to fuck off this year. Every time a bad thought creeps in (Oh man, my ankle hurts. I am obviously dying of cancer.) I am going to think something positive and life-affirming instead. That's right: fuck off, imagination. I shall now only use you for good.



2. MORE EXERCISING. Oh, original. But also: I been lazy. Time to be a truly hot mama. Rawr.



3. LESS PHONE SCREENING. I keep trying, guys. We shall overcome.



4. MORE GREEN-ING OF ENVIRONMENT. I am starting small: organic cottons for Ninj. A reusable coffee mug for Dunkin' Donuts. A reusable water bottle for the gym. More water and energy conservation. Plants. Also, maybe vacuum and dust a tad more.



5. MORE SEX. Apologize if you are blushing, gentle readers, but the H and I are still young, and we're having a baby. I am preemptively putting this high on the priority list for 2010. (J: You're welcome.)



6. LESS ROAD RAGE.



7. NO TEXTING WHILE DRIVING.



8. MORE STANDARDIZED TESTS. Setting a date for the GREs ASAP.



9. MORE WRITING. Ugh, I hate listing that one. But year after year, I need to make writing a higher priority. I mean, I love you guys. And I probably should write a novel one of these days.



10. MORE HEALTHY COOKING. Mmm, organics.



11. LESS PROCESSED FOODS. I won't go on a diatribe here. In summary: processed foods are evil and so delicious. Cutting back.



12. MORE QUALITY READING. I thoroughly enjoyed Belly Laughs by Jenny McCarthy, but I don't think it made me any smarter.



13. LESS TELEVISION. Shut up, talking picture box.



14. MORE AWESOME. Just that. Bringing the awesome.



15. MORE GRATITUDE. To everyone. For everything. It is ultimately a lovely world.



16. MORE WATER. I totally don't drink enough of it. J thinks Ninja's home will dry up or something.



17. LESS TECHNOLOGY. Says the girl with the new Kindle and iPod Touch. But still.



18. MORE COMMENTING. I read so many amazing blogs, and then get shy when it comes to joining the discussion. That ends now.



19. MORE CALLS. To friends and family. Maybe even some enemies. I just need to stop communicating solely on Facebook. Real interaction is neat.



20. MORE (okay, first) BlogHer convention.

And there you have it, kids: a nice, round number of things that will make a better HomeValley. Pray tell, what will you do differently in 2010?

%&$*#@@(!)

Arrrrgggghhhhh.

I'm having one of my days today, which is particularly trying, as I had one of these days yesterday. Hungover and sore from sleeping on The Real JC's air mattress, J and I sat on the couch all day, only removing ourselves from the gripping life of John Adams long enough to take a delirious trip to Wawa for chocolate peanut butter ice cream. (The need!)

And so I pulled out my planner last night, resolutely, and wrote down all of the things I needed to accomplish today.

And then I woke early, ready to start the day. But instead, I groggily plopped down on the couch at 6:30 to watch DVRed episodes of Chelsea Lately.

And then... nothing.

I walked the mile to the track, but found myself stifled by the heat and humidity. The run did not go well. So I walked home. I decided I needed to get out of the house today, so I showered and dressed and headed to my favorite coffee shop on Main.

But I couldn't pay attention to my conference calls; and after I composed and sent a few rambling emails, I packed up my laptop and planner and headed home by way of Machismo Burritos. (Damn you and your addictive power!)

I'm in my office now. I am trying to work, but I'm not present. I'm not sure where my mind is. This isn't working, I said to myself a few moments ago. This isn't what you're supposed to do with your life. The thought honestly occurred to me out of nowhere, as most days, I like my job a lot.

But I wonder if maybe there isn't a little kernel of truth to that last part. If this is my passion, wouldn't I be more, er, passionate? I wake everyday with the best intentions, but suddenly at 7 AM I feel... drained.

I blame E! True Hollywood Story.

When you watch that fucking show, you get the feeling that though everything doesn't come easily per se, these celebs know what they want and they work tirelessly - ruthlessly - to get it.

And then I'm suddenly inspired and embarrassed, because I have all of this potential, that I waste on the frivolity... Like E! True Hollywood Story!

It's a damn shame.

I don't know what's next. J and I talk about it all the time. We'll move, we say, once J is finished with grad school. Then I'll quit my job, and I'll go to grad school. While I'm at it, I'll write and have babies and be perfect and healthy and rich. The end.

I'm not sure where I am, or what I want, but I know I am at a crossroads.

To be continued.

**************************************************************

D'oh!

Believe it or not, I started this amazingly well-written and structured post to give a little fitness update. So here you go:

Meh.

That is my update, y'all. I have been running, but not so well the last two weeks. I am okay with that, as my half-marathon training needs to start twelve weeks before the event; so after J and I return from vacation (August 15th) I'll begin the program in earnest.

P90X is on hold, as I have a lot of difficulty keeping to a routine with my constant travel. But I am determined to complete P90X at some point this year. I'll just have to develop a tighter schedule, as I am just now beginning to take back the reigns on time-management.

And the diet? Well, my Far-Mor told my sister Cat that I was "too skinny" after the Colorado trip. So, good on me! Alas, I'm not too skinny. I'm slim. I wa able to sustain the no-carb diet for 2 weeks, and I felt great, though completely bored. Then J and I went to a family party in which I ate a cheeseburger sans bun, and the paparazzi got wind of it and asked me what kind of crazy diet I was on, and when I said South Beach my cousin Lauren told me I was going to desTROY my kidneys, and then my mom called me the next day to say of course everyone was talking about this CRAZY diet you are on, and I'm all, hello, if any of you MFers read my blog you would already know about this diet! And also: South Beach! NOT crazy.

I guess the moral of the story is my family doesn't support me, and also thinks I'm crazy.

I lost three - four pounds on Phase 1 of South Beach, then I let my amazing weight loss skillz get to my head and started eating everything under the sun. This weekend I drank 85004 Hoegaardens at the Beer Garden in Queens, and so today? Fare thee well, carbs. I'm not sure how we are ever truly going to make this work, but right now, I just need some time by myself. I really need to focus on my career - obvs! - and what I want out of this life. And what I want involves passion, and most certainly does not involve a giant ass. (Sorry, babe.)

Love, HV