Mathematical Mama

I love to run. Never in a million  years would I ever expect myself to write those words.  Especially when I was in highschool and we needed to run a 12 minute mile.  (Honestly. I'm pretty sure I cheated to pass the class.  The gym teacher would give us paper clips for every lap we completed, and I found one on the ground.) I HATED running.  H.A.T.E.D. It was dead to me. My little sister ran all thru college.  I found this out once she moved back in with my parents and ran everyday after work and would run 5 and 10k races locally.  She even finished a half marathon last October in 2 hours and 15 minutes.  She is a total rockstar! She was never the athletic one when we were growing up.  Knowing that she ran and was so good at it gave me hope that maybe I could get into it as well. After I was diagnosed with a DVT in February of 2010, I started running.  I had gotten to the point where I could run 2 miles without any breaks (not fast, mind you.  I was still running 15 minute mile

I have craft ADD. For real.  I have 2-5 started projects hanging either from crochet hooks or knitting needles shoved in a canvas bag in my living room.  A fuzzy scarf knitted on needles that are too small to make progress in the speed of my liking.  The scarf I started for my husband.  The practice pieces, including the crocheted circle and the knitted ribbing.  And that's just my yarn projects... (Thanks to the craft night that was hosted at the GTOC last Thursday, I can finally say I know how to purl stitch.) I think that's the reason I never succeeded in writing at all.  I would start a short story that was brewing in my head and end up rushing, summing up events instead of expounding detail.    Again with the ADD... can't even stay on a subject for very long. I want to knit like my Aunt.  I want to make hats and sweaters and purses and such.  I want to make clothes for myself and my kids and for gifts. I just wish I had the patience.

My daughter is almost 5 months old. I have to keep repeating this sentence as not to completely lose my mind or drop to the floor in a fit of sobs. I stepped on the scale today. The number that flashed back at me I haven't seen since days before Z was born. I'm a small 3 pounds away from my heaviest. Ever. Even while housing children in my womb. What brought on this need to check the scale? I caught a side view in the mirror after my shower today. And about threw up. Surely this could not be MY reflection! MY body has never been in this state, surely it could never. I started to think back on my last couple of weeks. The breathlessness after walking up and down the stairs to the basement. Once, only to restart the dryer, so I can't even blame it on the over-filled laundry basket that needed to come upstairs. The terrible for me but oh so wonderful food that I had been consuming. The California dip, spinach artichoke dip, the olive spread, the pizza, the ch

Potty training, that is. A week and a half ago I was fed up. Completely done with changing diapers on both of my children, when one was so obviously old enough to not still be in them. Let me back up. I like to think that I'm a pretty patient person, all things considered. I love my kids and I don't lose my cool very often. But even the thought of beginning the whole potty training process terrified me. No wonder JP was so tense about the whole thing. I was dreading cleaning up messes on the floor and, I was convinced, on the walls, in the carpet and on every toy in the toy box. I had horrific visions of him going Picasso on the living room walls with excrement. And forget about going anywhere, whether it be visiting relatives or grocery shopping. I had heard horror stories of children still peeing everywhere after weeks, nay, months of rigorous trips to the potty every 30 minutes without success. We were starting to make some real progress until my daughter was born

My grandfather passed away while I was sitting next to him. It's taken me over a month to type more than that sentence. I've needed time. Not necessarily to grieve, tho I'm sure that has worked it's way in too. Just time. Time to wrap my head around the reality of the situation. My grandfather hasn't been himself in a great long while. Over 6 years to be exact. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 2005, right after he turned 70. His decline was quick all things being relative. It didn't take long for him to stop recognizing me as his granddaughter. He would come up to me and say things like "That M, she is such a good sister! She is so good with her sisters and brother." At the time, I didn't realize I should correct him. So, when I should have said "Grandpa, I am M" I said "Yeah she is!" It felt good to know that he still remembered me, even though he no longer recognized me. I miss the man he was. The man th

I have been blessed time and again. First with a husband that does everything in his power to make me happy (not that it takes a whole heck of a lot). Then with a son who has been, for the most part, the picture of a perfect child. Most recently, we have been blessed with a perfect, particular baby girl. She is a happy baby, but only when she is the perfect temperature, fed, dry, and in a comfortable position. Let's not forget rested, either. She loves to be sitting up and looking around, even at 10 weeks old. She doesn't like to be reclined in the typical new baby position, which is kind of the go-to hold when anyone new holds her. *cue screams* Today, she broke out into a nice scream when a girl from church kissed her cheek. Who knows if the sound was a little closer to her ear, of if she just did not want to be kissed... When JP was born, we had people lined up to keep him so we could go out to dinner or anything really. Last night, we had an event to attend with my husb

I didn't have an OBGYN set up when I needed to go in for my first exam. I didn't really think about needing a separate doctor for that type of of thing, so I went to my family doctor. It was exceedingly awkward. The nurse stayed in the room per my request and I ended up kicking the doc (not on purpose) when I went to "dismount". My mom suggested the next year that I see the OBGYN she had been seeing for years. I made an appointment and actually saw her for several years. I don't really remember what she said to me when I asked to be put on birth control. It had a lot to do with responsibility. My mom loved this doc, but even after I was married, she still talked to me like I was a kid. (I was only 23 when I got married, but still) Matt and I started talking about kids after we had been married for a year and a half or a so. I didn't want mom's OBGYN to deliver my baby, so I started asking some girlfriends at work. One office that got a good recommendati

Tuesday was the day parents dread. The 2 month well baby check up. Complete with shots and inevitable tears for the mommy. Z was a complete trooper. She did not shed a tear when getting her temperature or measurements taken (lil miss gained 3.5 lbs and over an inch in length).  She cooed and smiled when the doc checked her out. She started getting a little hungry right before the nurse came back in to give her the first set of vaccines. I'm so glad the nurse was quick. I remember when JP got his first ones, it seemed to take forever. Like, well over a minute. Z was done within a matter of seconds and stopped crying the second I picked her up. Of course we had to hit CVS to pick up some Tylenol, then back home to snuggle and nap for the majority of the afternoon. I'm not going to get on a soap box and grind down every parent that decides not to vaccinate their kids. It's a choice that we made, and I'm confident that it is the correct one for us. My best friend has c

Its about that time. My daughter is 2 months old and I have not yet started to shed the extra weight that stuck around after her delivery. Until yesterday. I decided to start the couch to 5k program (c25k) from the beginning. It had been almost a year since I have been on the treadmill. I decided that I was going to kick up my run speed, so I set the walk portion at 3mph and the run at 5mph. When i was running before I conceived Z, I was only running 15 minute miles, but i could do 2 miles at once. I know, barely a run, right? So I thought if I started the program running 12 minute miles, I wouldn't have to kick up the speed as much later. Worst. Mistake. Ever. I only finished half of the workout. Not only that, but 20 minutes after I suffered thru the cool down, my lungs still burning, I schlepped into the shower, almost unable to stand. The rest of the day, I got progressively more sore and unstable. I finally understood the term "over doing it". Today, I'm s

I wanted to start watching the show Mad Men when it first came out. For whatever reason, scheduling conflict or whatever, we didn't. It recently popped up on our instant Netflix, so we decided to give it a try. I have to say I'm having issues with watching the show. Not because it's extraordinarily old fashioned and based on a late 50's world where guys rule and it's unheard of for a woman to be unmarried and have a career. Nope. It makes me miss smoking really bad. I know, it's completely gross and yucky and everything else. I started thinking about the days before I was married and Mommy. When my husband and I were dating, going out to dinner every night, drinking and smoking with friends and not worrying about the long term effects of such actions. Once Matt and I were married, we tried to curb our habits of eating like crap and consuming alcohol more than once every week or so. The smoking stuck around, however. We started talking about the poss

Seriously. I wish that I was a big, milk producing cow! Alright, strike that, I wish I could keep up with my little piglet of a daughter! I used to giggle when the nurses at the hospital or our pediatrician talked about nipple confusion. JP had jaundice his first week that resulted in an extended stay at the NICU and under the lights. IV in the head and everything. Our options were stay another X days in the hospital with him trying to get him to nurse for 30 minutes every 3 hours... not an easy task when your little one is very fatigued and the atmosphere is less than comfortable. Or we could supplement with formula and go home the next day. I'm a hardcore advocate for breast feeding, but the decision was a no-brainer. We started JP on formula and once we got home he continued to nurse, only taking a bottle when it was offered, which was several times a day once I returned to work 6 weeks postpartum. Now the piglet... She was quite upset at me starting with day 2 after we lef

Now that I have been home for a little over a week, we are finally falling into somewhat of a routine! The reality of my situation hasn't fully sunk in. I still feel like I'm on vacation. Or perhaps a leave of absence. The first week was most excellent! Matt was on vacation from work, so we were able to get the house clean and in proper order first thing. It felt so good to get everything cleaned without stressing out about then having to get ready for work, and then work 8 hours.I think that's what really made working difficult... aside from leaving my kids, never seeing my husband, and existing in a consistently filthy house. It was that I felt like I spent the day caring for the kids, getting myself together, getting the kids together and getting us to my mom's house. Then my work day began, and I spend 8 hours on the phone, putting out fires. Not to say that I hated my job...quite the contrary! I loved my job. I loved being able to fix people's problems, e

My little girl is 8 weeks old! Here is the beginning of her story! My pregnancy was horrible. Don't get me wrong, I loved every kick and stretch and hiccup. I enjoyed every moment I could, knowing that this was the last time I would be pregnant. I had migraines horribly for the entire 9 months. They got so bad that my neurologist finally took me off work early. I was at home from the middle of April, and I wasn't due until June 22nd. It was nice to be able to nap and hang out with my son and not stress out about whether or not I could be productive for long enough to justify the 30 minute drive to work. However, I was still in pain what seemed like all the time. I started to get really antsy about giving birth, even though it would have meant cutting my maternity leave short. My sister in law came into town from Florida to be here for the birth. She wasn't able to be up here when I had Jack, so she decided to come visit for a month as not to miss it this time. She came p

My husband played for a charity golf tournament this weekend. What came along with this adventure was a ridiculous beard. He decided that for this tournament, he needed a wicked handlebar mustache. Why, do you ask? I wish I had an answer. So, beginning with Thursday this week, he began systematically shaving down the full, bushy beard that he had been working on for weeks. First, there was the Chester Arthur: Then, there was the fu-manchu: Finally, he trimmed everything else down, and we were left with the handlebar... Doesn't it look like a fake? Like he went to Foy's and got a costume facial hair kit? It's almost too good to be true! The 'stache has since gone... maybe it will come and visit again one day. Also... I'm trying to get him to send the other pictures he took of the process... of course I will post such nuggets of joy upon receipt.

I'm not trying to be cute... I'm totally serious. I'm over the whole thing. We started talking potty training with JP before I started my maternity leave, around February or March. He would go if it was incidental, but we weren't very consistent. I wasn't waking up until 10:30 at the earliest, which made staying dry at night impossible as he was up at least an hour before me playing in his room. We were at the house until 3 or so before heading to NeeMa's so I could get to work by 5 (NeeMa... My mom... Only lives 20 minutes from us, but then I would have to leave her house at 4:30 to get at work a little early to be ready to rock by 5) She has a potty, but they always seemed to have too much fun to stop and try to potty. The whole situation was extraordinarily inconsistent at best. Once I started my leave, we pushed the subject more. I would have him sit on his potty whenever I had to go, which since it was the tail end of of my pregnancy, seemed to be every

My first weekend as a stay at home mommy wasn't filled with cleaning as I imagined. Sure, I did the everyday stuff... Dishes, laundry. I also got the kids together for my baby brother's graduation party. He's 11 years younger than I, and he just graduated from highschool last month. I couldn't be more proud of him! It was pretty neat being kind of a second mom to him growing up. He taught me a lot about the way kids work. We shared a room for the first 5 years of his life and he was always at my heels. Whenever I was studying for a test he was there next to me, asking questions about the text I had my nose in that day. He was the first kid I babysat for on a regular basis. Playing video games with him taught me to let the little guy win every now and again... Eventually. This was after I would mercilessly beat the crap out of his character. He has never let me forget it, and always asks if I want to play whatever new game he has just acquired and mastered. Today

Today is my last day where I'm part of the full time / mommy workforce. It's exciting, bittersweet, and terrifying all at the same time. It's always been the goal to stay at home with my kiddos. When JP was born, we lived in a tiny house in a yucky neighborhood and I was resigned to the fact that I would have to work for us to afford a bigger house in a better part of town. Since we have moved to our new house, more than ever I knew I would be the one to continue working. Matt would eventually quit his job at the bank to pastor the church exclusively and we would need my income and insurance. I don't think it's completely hit me that after today, I'm a homemaker. I'm the person that cares for the kids, maintains the house and makes sure that dinner is ready when Matt gets home. I'll also have a ton more time to give attention to my church responsibilities, which have been falling to the wayside. There are only so many hours in the day! So... Stay tu

I woke up this morning to a growling 6 week old and a text from my husband to call him when I woke up. He asked how much I could cut from my allowance (I get a set amount in my account every 2 weeks for groceries, fuel for my car, and to take care of my credit card payment. Any leftover funds are mine to spend... I call it my allowance). I thought it over and gave him a figure that would cut out extra fuel I'm using to drive to and from work, money I spend on fast food cause its convenient, etc. He went over all our expenses and all he brings in. Turns out we can totally make it work with me staying home! Who would have thought... I drafted a letter of resignation and am officially a stay at home mommy as of Friday. I'm over the moon. The hardest part is to keep my head in the game knowing that in 3 days I'll be spending all my time with the kidlets. It's so hard to be the responsible adult.

So, after 3 months of leave from work and only one crying fit since Z was born (and that is a story all its own) I finally lost my cool today. My husband was on his way out to the evening service at church and asked if I wanted him to bring dinner home after. Since its my last evening home before I go back to work, I was touched that he wanted to do something special. He said he was going to grab Joe's pizza since "its going to be the last time I see you for a while. " *cue tears* It's not about working at all. I love my job. I love the people I work with. I love the fact that I don't have to leave my babies with a stranger. I hate leaving my babies at all. I really hate that I see my husband on Saturdays and Sunday mornings only. Well, while we're conscious anyhow. I started crying and telling Matt that I didn't want to go back and how I would miss him and the kids so much. He starts smiling and telling me how great it makes him feel that after bei

Holy crap. My baby girl will be 6 weeks tomorrow. So all working mommys know what that means. It's back to the grind with you! You haven't lost enough of the baby weight to wear anything other than maternity jeans, yoga pants, and baggy tops as not to accentuate the rather sizable spare tire that has staked its claim on your midsection. You haven't a been out of the house for longer than a few hours and have not been away from your newborn at all. Come Monday... All bets are off. Now add to this equation a 3 year old boy who one day is all about potty training and the next is screaming "I don't want to sit on the potty!!! " I truly don't have a lot of room to complain. My husband and I work opposite shifts. He is a branch manager / vice president of a bank during the week. He also pastors a church. Our son, JP, has been the picture of a perfect child. He was sleeping thru the night at 6 weeks. He hangs out in his room and plays quietly even if he doe