heeby-geebies

Someone at my husband's work got head lice from their kiddo...now I'm all itchy.

a mad kitty

I've always known it but been afraid to admit it. I was in denial for a very long time but I'm finally able to own it: becoming a parent has made me a terrible pet owner. I woke this morning to not one but two piles of cat poop; one on the bathroom rug, the other in the little boy's room. There was also the piss on the little boys chair. I'm not sure which of our two felines is responsible but I'm sure our cat is trying to tell me something? If he could speak it might sound something like, "Hey, listen here family. I know you have a lot of new responsibility but do you think you could pay me a little attention?! By the way, no one did bother to ask how I felt about your decision to procreate, I'm against it! Based solely on my experience of you two as caretakers, you're selfish and don't think of others. But go ahead, what do I know. I'm only your cat. Please accept my small symbols of gratitude."

I'm taking all of this way too personally. I did a little research this morning and it probably has more to do with the fact that we put a baby gate in front of the litter box than my cat's unhappiness. At least, that's what I'm banking on. I've found out that once a cat defecates in a place other than his litter box, he is more likely to continue defecating in that spot. So I'm off to buy some magic spray that tells my kitten "you don't need to mark this spot". If this doesn't work I don't know what I'll do. I don't know anyone foolish enough to take two adult indoor cats...anyone but me that is.

little steps in between

Today I lost a bet. Apparently winningest is a real word. Who knew? Well, the mister did. Hence me losing. In other news, I visited my best friend today and her new baby girl. Newborns are so tiny!

This blogging every day is tougher than I thought...I'm running out of ammo. I could write about dinner; pork roast with mashed potatoes or the weather: cold and cloudy. I could get a little more personal and write about how I haven't talked to my mom in over a week and our relationship is feeling weird again. But I won't write about that. Instead, I'll tell you that I'm working to stay grateful for every moment. I'll write about how when I was little I would dream of what my life would be like when I was older and I'm fortunate that I'm living that dream. Okay, I'm not a Hollywood celebrity but the other dream, the one of having a husband who adores me and a quaint little house full of life...that dream it's mine.

Here's the problem with dreaming though, I haven't stopped. I don't know that that is a huge problem but sometimes it keeps me from enjoying what's here right in front of me. I start thinking about how I wish I had something fabulous to share, an outrageous idea, a beautiful project, a great story or adventure and I'm whisked away from all of the beauty that is my life right now. My life - mundane, safe and full of the mess of living. When I stop long enough to really be present and put the dreaming aside for a moment I can experience all of the fullness of it. A belly full from a rich dinner, the mister on the rug (that the cat peed on again) playing with the little boy.

My little boy who is learning to walk gets so much forward momentum his weight teeters him over, his head leading, his little legs can't keep up and he falls onto his hands. I live much of my life this way, thinking, worrying and dreaming of the future, moving too fast forward to appreciate all of the little steps in between now and then. I'm going to work to move slower, appreciate all of the steps and nuance... I bet I'll have more to share then too.

*On a post post note: Blogger's spellcheck does not recognize the word winningest! Hah! ... It apparently doesn't recognize the word Blogger either though...

this weekend

I'm really hurting for something to blog about. It's not interesting but it'll do. My weekend, in a list:

• work on Saturday
• attending a baby shower for my sister-in law
• the birth of my best friends second daughter
• dog sitting
• sleeping in
• breakfast with the mister's parents
• swimming
• more laundry than I can imagine
• yoga
• pigs in a blanket for dinner
• grocery shopping

Yep, that was our weekend. I almost forgot, the little boy is starting to walk without assistance! The fun is just beginning!

difficult is getting easier

I had a difficult day at work and with the cranky child. My husband is wonderful and I am so lucky to have him. The busy baby shower and then in the middle of the shower another baby is born. We are so fortunate to have all of these children that are very healthy in our life. Other than all of that it was a pretty uneventful day. Funny how all of this seems normal now, but I think that I am beginning to get used to everything. It will be nice to have a Sunday to recoup and get ready for our first significant snowstorm.

more on the skinny

So yesterday I wrote about how women rock. And believe me we rock for lots and lots of reasons. Yesterday was primarily looking at our tremendous role in procreation but there are lots of other reasons why we rock (more on that later, maybe a list even). I want to write more about this weight issue. It's been on my mind. Here's the low down.

Recently I've lost some weight. I'm a few pounds lighter than I was before I got pregnant but it's all redistributed so I think I look like I weigh considerably less. At least that's what everyone keeps telling me, and telling me and telling me. And by everyone I mean all of the women in my life. The men, remarkably either don't notice, don't care or are afraid to mention it.

Here's my weight loss secret: I had a baby and I breastfeed. I don't have time to sit down and eat the way I used to and most of the time I wish that I did. That's it. Really. Oh and I walk but again that's mostly because the little boy enjoys it. Did I also mention that he weighs about 30 pounds and loves to be carried? And really, that is all.

I haven't tried to lose weight. I loved the way I looked before I got pregnant. Mostly. I mean, it's really always been a struggle. I've always been ... not small. I've been referred to as sturdy, comfy, fluffy, voluptuous. And I had good days and bad days but mostly I loved my body. And now, I am so way over it.

Today, I love my body and not because it lost weight without me trying (because now I'm between pant sizes and had to buy a whole new wardrobe). I love my body because it is incredible. I mean really incredible. There is so much more to me and my body than the weight it does or doesn't carry. Here are some examples. My body rocks because:

-it will withhold getting sick if I'm in the middle of transition and wait until I'm in a place to be able to get sick

-I heal really quickly

-I, just me and the miracle of my being nourish and feed another human being ... and that other human being thrives! 30 pounds!

- my body has signals and lets me know when I am taking on or doing too much or more than what is healthy for me

- my body doesn't judge me if I continue to push myself past a point of health ... in fact it adapts!

- my body holds all of my organs perfectly, allows me to sometimes abuse them or treat them poorly and goes on to process and continue to allow me to thrive

I could go on and on and start talking about the processes of the body and the relationship between my mind and body (that I mostly ignore but is there as my resource anyway). People, women...we are so much more than our weight! Health and beauty are about so much more than a number that is meant to fluctuate and change as we do.

I believe

Yesterday I wrote about the birth of my little boy. I feel so fortunate that we are all safe and healthy and that my pregnancy and his birth were both empowering experiences for me. Unfortunately for the mister, they were a bit more gory and traumatic. I've never been squeamish but especially after the birth of our son, I was left feeling strong and brave.

I can remember being a youngster thinking about and being terrified of what I saw as the inevitable pregnancy and labor experience. It felt so unfair that my fate as a woman meant that I would some day have to first carry another human being in my body and second push it out of a very small orifice. Fortunately time seemed to have pacify some of my fears. Also, when I became pregnant I surrounded myself with women who knew and believed in what my body was capable of, even when I didn't. I was able to express my fears to my midwife and her assistants and over and over again they assured me, "your body knows how to birth a baby" and "your body was created in way to allow this to happen naturally" After I heard it enough I started to believe them. Also, I may have felt some pressure to grasp at something reassuring as my body continued to expanded to a point of ridiculousness. Hear me out here, I think pregos are absolutely gorgeous! But they are also preposterous looking. This may be why I find them so beautiful...I also have a soft spot and find beauty in handicapped animals, obese pets and diseased trees (I know that's weird).

Anyhoo, here are some things I wanted to share. These are things that I have come to believe since taking part in the incredible procreation journey:

- women's bodies are amazing*
- pain is release (or at least, it can be)
- women are natural warriors
- birthing has the potential to be an empowering experience

Telling our birth stories can be healing and empowering. I know that we are not all blessed with amazing experiences of birthing. Sometimes women feel disempowered through their labor, they may feel scared or helpless. Sometimes things go wrong, sometimes we blame ourselves taking responsibility for things that were out of our control. I believe that regardless of our story, telling it in a safe environment can help us to make better sense of it and through sharing we can learn about ourselves, our surroundings and our journeys. Telling our stories to others can be healing and empowering. I encourage you to tell me your birth story! Leave a link in the comments!