Archive | October, 2013

Fall Foto Fun (Phall Photo Phun)

27 Oct

IMG_2698

Obsessed with pumpkins.  Also known as puh-puh!  I gave her some pumpkin bar the other day and J was concerned she’d be upset about eating her friend.

IMG_6930

More pumpkins.

IMG_6914

We went to a corn maze.  We were very confused.  We found our way out, but it took half the time it should have, which leads me to believe we did something very wrong.

IMG_6940

Yay, hayride!

IMG_2731

My life at 7am.  I took this picture so I’ll never forget how fun it is.

IMG_2795

Oh, hey, look at me.  I like pumpkins too.

IMG_2803

Emilia runs on Honey Dew.

IMG_2845

My bestie, a cookie, and a Pats win.  What more could a girl want?

Advertisements

Two Race Reports

6 Oct

Remember all those races I ran in 2011?  And then I ran one in 2012?  I haven’t done much better in 2013.  And I actually watched a race, while drinking coffee, still in maternity jeans with a 6 month old.  (I then took that 6 month old on a Providence pub crawl.  Not my finest day).

I only ran 3 races (so far) in 2013, and two were in one week.  The first race was in June, and I did pretty awful, yet drank a warm Guinness at 10am to celebrate not dying.  I earned that gross beer!

My first race since then happened to be Emilia’s first race ever.  J& I ran the CVS 5K in Providence, and pushed the little freeloader in her fancy jogging stroller.  I don’t know if you’ve ever run with a jogging stroller, but it has its pros and cons.  The cons are that it adds 40ish pounds to push (stroller + 1-year-old), it feels like its going to steal your child and launch her down hills (thank goodness for that wrist strap!) and it’s just kind of awkward.  The next time you run, try doing it with both hands just hanging out in front of you at chest level, not letting your arms swing.  Weird, right?  It’s still weird (but better) with one hand.  The pros are that you have somewhere to stash your stuff, and you can use it as leverage if you find yourself falling on a trail run.  So, really, the pros aren’t that great (side note: I suck at trail running).

I’ve been out on a few runs with the jogging stroller, thanks to my running/marathon buddy Michelle and our summer tour of the MA DCR parks.  J also pushed the stroller for about half of the course (he may have run over some toes at the start, but who’s counting?) so that helped.  Emilia was great the whole race, she ate her cookies, almost fell asleep, and even held J’s fingers while he ran at one point.  There is a large hill at the end of the race, and J offered to take the stroller, but, being the martyr I am, I said – no, I’ll do it, but I’ll tell everyone you made me push it.  And then I beat him by a second.  Emmy’s favorite part was after the race, when she got to sit on the grass and have pizza (I think it was J’s favorite part too).

Six days later (coincidentally, the next time I worked out), I ran the Color Me Rad in Seekonk with my BFF and 3 of her buddies.  I left Emilia at home for this one, since they throw colored cornstarch at you, and, while I’m no doctor, I’m pretty sure that’s no good for a baby’s lungs, especially one who’s had pneumonia.  It was an early day, we met at 7:15 and got to the race by 8 or so.  We were pretty psyched to start, we all had on white to capture the color, they gave us cool neon sunglasses, and we applied “RAD” tattoos.  We were scheduled to start in the 9:20 wave, but since no one was paying attention to what wave you were in, we just jumped in with the 9am wave.  Along with everyone else.  We counted down to the start about 4 times before we were off, but we were able to throw some color bombs at each other to keep us occupied.  Finally, we were off!

And we were in a field running in circles.  No music, nothing to look at, and the color bomb stations were set at every kilometer, so not even that much color.  The field was rocky & muddy, and you had to run on an incline in some spots.  That is, where you could run.  Since this wasn’t a timed event, walkers were mixed in with runners.  And they were walking four across the narrow path, so there was a lot of bobbing and weaving to get around them, making for a frustrating run.  The color bomb stations were ok – you either got someone throwing handfuls of colored cornstarch or squirting some warm, dirty water like substance at you.  And there was nothing to do at the end, you would have thought that with 7,000 people they could have wrangled up some food trucks or something else to eat besides mini Lara bars.  We tossed some more cornstarch, got our picture taken, and headed for the car, where we took some more pics and dusted off, daydreaming of Bloody Marys and Eggs Benedict.

And we sat in the car.  And sat.  And sat some more.  For about 1-1/2 hours.  The man next to us ranted and raged at his kids, a fun family day ruined by a parking jam.  We gathered more supplies (stupid Lara bars) and almost got in a fight with a girl who wouldn’t let us out (“we” and “almost” are both strong exaggerations).  My BFF listened to 4 hungry girls yelling directions at her as we darted across the lot into better lanes, finally free.  And then we sat in more traffic.  But THEN, we got beers and food and re-designed the race and all was right with the world.  I think we’ll all be passing on this race next year.

So, what’s next?  Definitely the Mews 5K in November, but I’d love to sneak in a couple of races before then.  Once I get over this sore throat that’s kept me whining on the couch all weekend.

 

The Mommy Wars

2 Oct

This is what’s wrong with being a mom today. Everyone has an opinion. Everyone. Even strangers.

The poor (ha!) Duke & Duchess of Cambridge were torn a new one by BabyCenter and its crazy-mom harpies here about their car seat usage for the little prince (George, after my dad, I assume). Because all moms are so great that they know how to use a car seat perfectly the first time they use it, one day after pushing a kid out, looking perfectly put together. Give me a break. We’ve all done “dangerous” stuff with our kids. I have to admit, I did notice the baby looked like he was a little loosey goosey in that seat, but SINCE I WASN’T IN THE CAR, I have no idea if he was driven away that way or not. (I also noticed that his blanket looked like an aden +anais, which Emilia has and loves. Or, rather, I love. So maybe they’ll get married and she’ll be Queen!)

And you know what? Even if he was driven away that way, I don’t care. He’s not my kid. I’m sure someone showed Will and Kate how to use a car seat, or will show them now. I’m sure they’re not idiots and have every intention of keeping their child safe (especially, as the commenting harpies noted, Diana died in a CAR CRASH!).

But I’m adopting my new mentality here: Not my monkeys, not my zoo. As long as what you do with your kid isn’t affecting my kid, I’m good with it. I’ve got my own screaming little monkey to worry about, I don’t need to worry about other people’s monkeys. (I’m trying to adopt this theory at work too, where sometimes I think I am literally working with monkeys, but that’s another issue).

Which leads me to my other rant in the mommy world: mommy bloggers. First of all, why do we need to “mommy” everything? “Mommy friends,” “Mommy runners,” “Working Mommies.” Can’t I just be all those things and a Mommy too? Separately? Because as far as I know, I’m Mommy to one girl (and a fur baby – gag) – not to the rest of the world.

Back to Mommy B … er, bloggers that happen to be Mommies and love to blog about being a mom. I think they fall into two categories: Those who think they are awesome, and therefore imply you’re not good enough, and those who want you know that its okay that you’re not good enough (because you need a stranger to tell you that). The first ones will show you their homemade Valentines and pictures of how they wore their newborn (while nursing!) into their toddler’s classroom to deliver them, along with organic, peanut-free, vegan treats for all the kids who had signed permission slips to eat them. The second will tell you that the Elf on the Shelf will turn your child into a spoiled, entitled brat who will grow up to have daddy issues, but that’s all okay, as long as you teach her the 59 things all girls need to learn before they turn 3.

I started this post a while ago, and originally wondered – why do you have to be one or the other – can’t you use the Ergo for things you need both hands for (i.e. wine tasting and double fisting beer) but not live with a child attached to your body 24/7? Can’t you rock your kid to sleep when she’s having a bad night, but not have to let her sleep in your bed till she’s 18? Can’t you have a big first birthday party and then invite the family over for pizza and beer the next few years? Can’t you make the baby food that’s easy to make and buy the rest? (if you’re wondering, blueberries and apples are big pains to puree) Is my kid really scarred by eating chicken nuggets at 10 months and almost being baby-napped by a dementia patient in a nursing home? (The last one is most likely “yes”).

Since when do we have to commit to a “method” of parenting? When did it become all or nothing? Why can’t we just do what we want with our kids, change it as we go along, and suffer the consequences if we started a bad habit we can’t correct? I mean, that’s how I picture it rolling in my zoo, at least. And my monkey seems happy so far.

When I went back and read what I had written, I realized that committing to one way or another wasn’t really the issue – the issue is what everyone else thinks.  And I read this tonight and realized she summed it up better than I could.  The “Mommy Wars” work both ways.  You may automatically think someone who does something differently than you do is implying you should be doing it that way too.  But I think more often than not, they’re just doing what makes their family, and their monkeys, happy.  So go pick your monkey up from the day orphanage you leave her at (even when you have the day off!) and do what makes your family happy – whether it involves mason jar crafts or the McDonalds drive thru for the 5th night that week.

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

So, I’ve been hanging on this post for a while, debating if I should post it, if it sounded right or just came across as ranty and bitter.  And then this popped up about five times on my Facebook feed yesterday, and I almost lost my shit, because the last thing I need is someone feeling sorry for me for keeping my baby fed and happy and healthy with formula (which really isn’t that hard to make).  Ugh, just ugh.  Okay, back to not caring about what people think.  I guess its easier said than done.

562867_558750210840067_1070137456_n