Baby No Name

List of Potential Baby Names

Dana

Dante

Holden

Sebastian

Spencer

Simon

Gianvincent

Rocco

Theodore

Jude

Silas

Dillon

Gabriel

Harrison

Sawyer

Jasper

Greg

Oscar

And there we are. 

Fresh Mouth

Apparently it's normal for 4 years old to have a fresh mouth.  However, I feel that Leah's is super fresh. 

Supa fresh.

I spoke to her teacher today about it and she told me that it's important for Leah to understand that failure to listen to mom and dad and/or fresh mouth will result in losing fun stuff. 

For Leah, the absolute worst thing you can do to her is not allow her play outside with her friends.  OH MY GOD THE HORROR OF HAVING TO STAY INSIDE WHILE ALL THE FUN IS GOING ON OUTSIDE WITHOUT HER!

This week has been particularly trying for us and each night has brought a special kind of hell that has made us re-think the decision to add to this family, despite it being way too late.

Tonight Greg is working late so it's going to be just me and Leah from 3:30 p.m. on.  I am hoping that the rain stays away so we get some outside play after school.

And other than that, I am hoping that my 4 year old doesn't reduce me to tears with the fresh mouth.

My Cup(s) Runneth Over

I have recently embarked on a mission to find a maternity swim suit.  I am during non-pregnancy times what one would consider "well endowed", so you can imagine what the girls look like as they prepare to enter the third trimester.

Seeing as though my only saving grace this summer is the zero gravity feeling a pool provides, my plan is to spend as much time in one as possible.  At first I was thinking of just heading to my nearest fabric store and purchasing enough spandex to cover my car and then just wrapping it around myself. 

Since then, I've decided that perhaps purchasing an actual maternity bathing suit is the way to go.

I have only a few requirements. 

First and foremost is that all naughty bits must be adequately covered.  In addition to the obvious, you can add belly to this category.  (Which, as a 35 year old woman, is quite obvious to me, but apparently there are a lot of pregnant women who don't share this thought.)

I would like some sort of structure...I want the body parts that belong towards the north part of my body to remain north and not sag so low they look like they are resting on my stomach.

I would also prefer the bottom of the suit to include some sort of skirt or shorts.

BLACK.  BLACK.  BLACK.  BLACK.  FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAKE IT BLACK. 

No horizontal stripes.  The fact that I have to include this pisses me off to no end.  I don't wear horizontal stripes in my non-pregnant, thinnest days, so why in the land of all that is good and holy do maternity manufacturers produce clothing with horizontal stripes?  It's like their mocking us.

That's it.  I'll keep you posted.

Happy?

I'm not sure how I feel about being home.  I am happy that I don't have to get up at the crack every morning and leave my house sometimes before my daughter even wakes up, but it's taking me some time to be okay with that.  Believe me, not working is way better than working.  But for someone who's worked consistently for 14 years, save for 10 weeks around Leah's birth, it's strange that I'm not working.

1-I feel lazy.  I guess because I am such a big proponent for working.  I see people complaining about not having money or not feeling important, and I'm like, Duh, then get a job.  Problem solved. I don't know why I judge value by whether one works or not, but for some reason I feel like I'm lazy or less of a person right now because I'm not working.  And not actively looking for work.  And have pretty much made up my mind that I won't be working again until November.

2-I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing.  Clearly I shouldn't have free time, right?  I should pack my days with laundry, dusting, and vacuuming, and then I should pack my afternoons with bike rides, park visits, and playdates, and I should know what I'm making for dinner at 9 a.m. so that the meat can defrost, and I should always be in a good mood because hey, the stress of working is now gone, and, well, is this right?  Am I on the right track here?  Because if so, then staying home is sorta just as stressful as not staying home.  Clearly, I've missed something...huh?

3-I am very concerned about us paying our bills for the next five months.  We've never lived without my salary, and I'm pretty much putting our near future in Greg's hands and I am an enormous control freak.  So, this is very hard.  When I am bringing home the money, I know how much is coming in and when and where it's going to go.  And now there's significantly less than that, and I am nervous.

4-If there is not enough money to pay the bills, we are pretty much SOL since there's a very good chance that I couldn't even get a job if I wanted one since I'm 6.5 months pregnant.  So, there's that.

Ok, so other than that, I think I like being home.  I already feel a lot more laid back and I can already see a difference in my relationship with Leah.  I am looking forward to the summer and the time we'll be together. 

And I'm feeling a lot more grateful towards Greg.  I know not every woman has this opportunity, and I would like to really take advantage of it. 

So, for now, I'm using May to get the baby's room ready, declutter my house, and clean every nook and cranny, since Leah's still in school full time. 

And as for the rest of the summer?  Who knows...

Is Jesus a Bad Word?

We are very much into bad words these days.  As far as Greg and I can tell, the only bad word she is currently sure of is stupid,which she refers to as the "PS Word."  We have no clue why. We have thought about it over and over and over, and...we've got nothing.  PS Word?  What the hell?

But, she loves asking me if words are bad.  Just this morning she asked me if totally and buttitude are bad words.  The second one baffles me as much as it baffles you, but she claimed that Martha from "Martha Speaks" says buttitude.  I told her that both of those words were in fact not bad and then made a mental note to pay more attention to "Martha Speaks."

My favorite memory on the subject of bad words goes back a couple of years when she asked me if Jesus is a bad word.  We are not a religious household and I was taken back by the question, but I answered honestly, figuring she had heard of a guy named Jesus and thought, hey, I wonder if that's okay to say.  So, I told her, "No, Jesus is not a bad word."

A few minutes later, Ruby walked by and rubbed up against Leah, and I heard,

"JESUS Ruby!  Don't do that!"

And I thought, Oh, that's what she meant.  Ah, well, oops.

Parenting is obviously not my day job.

A Little Rusty

I'm a week into my new gig of non-working, pregnant mother and I still feel like I need to make sure my day is filled with a list of tasks to complete before I pick up Leah at 3:30.

I'm also having a hard time figuring out what is my job (role, responsibility, whatever) as a SAHM and what, as a pregnant woman, I am justified to ask Greg do...ok, demand Greg do...ok, be disappointed and sigh dramatically when Greg doesn't do it automatically.

Also, if Greg works from home, do I still need to cook dinner if he totally has the time to do it?  If he has a slow day and doesn't have much to do am I still obligated to wash all dishes?  Yes, he's technically the bread winner and I'm technically the homemaker, but does that mean he doesn't touch any task related to homemaking anymore?  Does it really mean that I work from sun up to sun down at my new job while his is over at the end of the workday?

Am I overthinking this?

In other news, yes, I've been gone and this blog has been neglected.  I'm not certain if I'm back for good so forgive me if I don't pretty it up immediately.

The Finish Line

Again!

It wasn't easier.  But I trained less this year.  And I gave myself permission before the race to walk if I needed to.  But I guess I never really needed to, because I never stopped to walk.

It was different this time.  I wasn't doing something for the first time.  I wasn't at the brim of tears for achieving something I worked so hard at.  It wasn't as emotional.  I didn't have as much riding on it.  I was just doing something that I now do each year and am really proud of myself for doing.

I shaved a couple of minutes off of my time from last year, but I am not really concerned with time.  When I am running the 5K, I only care about finishing.  (Said like a true slow runner.) 

And, as always, there is no better feeling than the one that you feel when you see Mile Marker 3.  Because that means there is only .1 left.  And that .1 is the easiest running you'll ever do.  It's the type of running that you can do while holding your daughter's hand and smiling.  It's feel-good running, and I wish I could capture that feeling and bottle it and use it in other aspects of my life.

This year has been different than the past few.  I can't say it's been great, but it's been better.  Life without my mom has always been a journey, I've said that before, but there have been times where I've seen the metaphorical Mile Marker 3.  Where it's not only no longer a burden to go on, but a joy.  There have been times where I've been living in the .1--me: pessimistic, sarcastic Dana, seeing mile 3, moving faster, grabbing my kid's hand, smiling, smooth moving for the last bit of the race, happy to finally cross the finish line.

Life Goes On

I left home at 17 and went to college in Boston.   It was there that I wore baggy jeans and Simple sneakers, gave up red meat for a year, stopped believing in God, questioned authority, and realized that if you don’t like something in your life it’s up to you to change it.

I returned to NJ after graduation and moved in with my parents.  My dad expected me to follow his rules, after four years of following my own, and so I moved out at 21 and got myself an apartment. 

It’s been my way or the highway ever since.

Don’t like my job?  Get a new one.

Don’t like my weight?  Change it.

Don’t like my house? Move.

Losing my mom has been the only thing that I have not been able to change.  I don’t want to be motherless.  I don’t want to raise children without their grandmother.  I don’t want to not have her here when I need her.  But I can’t change any of that.

That’s why I started this blog.  I was looking for a way to cope with something that I could not change.  All of my life I’ve been lead to believe that I am in control of my own happiness, and here I was, not happy and not able to change it.  I felt stuck.  I wanted my mother here and there was no way to make that happen and therefore, I would never be happy again.

I was wrong.  But I didn’t know it.  It took time.

For the first few years after her death, I felt like I was walking through a dark tunnel.  I was trying to get to the end, walking aimlessly with my arms out, reaching for anything that felt familiar, trying to figure out how to get out of this dark hell.  Every once in a while I grabbed a hold of something that brought me comfort-- a hobby, an achievement, a memory, a good time—and I thought, “Ok, Dana.  Move towards that.  That’s the right way.”  But then there were times when my eyes refused to acclimate to the darkness, and I lost hold of that good feeling, and I continued on my dark trek through the tunnel. 

Lately, however, the tunnel hasn’t been that dark.  It’s actually well-lit.  There are paintings on the wall and friends at every corner.  The ground is carpeted and the bathrooms are spotless.  The tunnel isn’t even a tunnel.  It’s a wide residential street with large leafy trees.  It’s a sunny day.  It’s jacket weather.  My daughter is riding her bike next to me.  My husband is holding my hand.  My dog doesn’t want to eat other dogs.  My daughter doesn’t have a potty mouth.  Greg isn’t lecturing me about leaving my purse on the kitchen counter.  I make a stop at Weight Watchers-I’ve lost 10 lbs this week!  How awesome.  Suddenly I’m jogging down the street.  I’m waving to people who are here to cheer me on.  My family is holding up signs.  My dad is smiling.  My sister is running next to me.  I’m the winner of the race.  The ribbon breaks against my stomach and I get a trophy and I’m laughing and we all break into a flash mob to Jessie J.’s Domino.

Maybe I can change this situation.  Maybe bringing my mother back is not the only way to be happy again.

Bee-Bay-Doze

Seriously, this is ridiculous. We went to Barbados and got back on September 25^th and I am still playing catch up.

 

 

First-there will be no pictures of the trip at this time since they are on a camera that broke when Leah dropped it over the weekend and while I am sure there is a way to upload (download?) pics from the camera to the computer without actually using the camera, I do not know how nor do I feel like learning.

 

 

Barbados was GREAT! We saw turtles hatching and helped them reach the ocean. We went swimming in the ocean and the pool. We drank lots of beer and rum punch. (Leah especially--the lush.)  We explored the island and got lost over and over and over. I highly recommend Barbardos to families.

 

 

Now, I know I sing this song all the time, but I have laundry to do.

 

 

I’ll be in touch.



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Sorry About That

I did not mean to take a vacation from this blog.  It just happened.  Kinda like the earthquake.  And then the hurricane. 

There's nothing new to report, really.  I still run, loosely follow Weight Watchers, lament over Leah's behavior.  For a couple of days last week, there were actual times that I didn't want the world to open up and swallow me while dealing with sticky Leah situations, but then Friday night turned out to be the worst yet behaviorally-wise, and we are back to some days sucking and some days not sucking.

We fared okay through the storm yesterday, only losing power for 6 hours and having some downed tree branches and closed roads today.  I've lived through quite a few hurricanes and the only thing that truly worries me are falling trees.  I mean, if there's water flooding my house I have time to get out and I know how to swim.  You don't have time to move out of the way of an enormous tree falling on you.  Because you're dead.

So, on that note, I leave you with an idea how yesterday went when we didn't have power for 6 hours.

Exhibit A: The face a kid who gets to watch TV makes.

Exhibit B: A face a kid who is told there is no power therefore no TV makes.

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We Had A Time

Over the weekend Aunt Abbe and cousin Stacey came to visit.  We talked about Weight Watchers and the trials and tribulations we've been experiencing.  We gave each other exercise tips and discussed new recipes.  We talked about our feelings: how it feels to be overweight, how it feels to lose weight, how it differs from how we thought it would be. 

We discussed the next Turkey Trot, and I convinced Stacey to do it with me!  Stacey and Leah went swimming for a bit.  Aunt Abbe told me she send me some of her old pants that are now my new size. 

We had a good weekend, and, like you could imagine, we got to the part of the conversation that talks about how you were not there to talk with us.  How you would have been making this weight loss journey with us; how you would have been interested in the 2 point zucchini muffin recipe; how you would have resisted doing the Turkey Trot but ultimately would have tried.

The fact of the matter is that you should have been there.  But you aren't.  YOU gave up.  You looked for an easy out and you didn't find one.  And, therefore, you missed out.  We had a time.  And you weren't there.

My Little Baby, No More

I purchased some bathing suits on sale for Leah for next year.  I bought a size 4T.  They might as well have come from that Justice store because they look enormous.  I can't imagine, that next summer, in 12 short months, Leah will be wearing those bathing suits.  They are just so damn big and I don't want her to fit into them.  I mourn for the baby she once was and attempt to remain optimistic for the girl she is turning into.



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Friday Night Sights

Ah, it's that time of year again.  The time when the families of Sparta gather on the field on Friday nights to listen to music and frolic and dance the night away.

Or, more like the parents get to sit down and have a drink and allow their kids to run around like lunatics for a few hours with some music in the background.

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Run, Dana, Run

I am having such a hard time exercising.  Or, I should say, finding time to exercise.  It seems like the day just contains too many other priorities, and when I finally stop for the day it's too late to go for a run. 

I've taken another employment position and I'll talk about that at some point soon, but I am hoping that with this new position, some more free time becomes available to me.  I have to convince myself, however, that this free time is permitted to be spent on me, and my life goals, rather than using it to spend more time with Leah or Greg.  I have to give myself the okay to spend some time alone doing something positive for me. 

OT: My Shoes

Before I had Leah I wore a size 6.5. I had amassed an enormous amount of shoes and most of them held a special place in my heart. I am not a shoe snob—meaning I don’t care what brand or store they come from—if they are attractive and don’t hurt (much), I’ll wear them. And love them.




Once the aftermath of what I call pregnancy and its related fallouts settled, my feet stopped shrinking at a size 7, which is where they are today. While most of my summer shoes still fit, thanks to the backless varieties, most of the winter boots and loafers had to be replaced.



Three weeks ago I went to my basement where I keep off-season clothes, found the bag of summer shoes, and brought it up to my room. As I opened the bag and peaked inside, I knew immediately that something was very wrong. The smell alone was my clue, but the shoes—covered in a green and black moss-like substance confirmed my biggest fear. The shoes had gotten moldy in the basement and it looked like it might be the end for them.



Not quite sure of what I should do, I quickly closed the bag and shoved it into my closet, as the best way to put something out of your mind is to hide it in the back of your closet. But every time I opened the closet door, despite the fact that I couldn’t see the bag since I had shoved it really far back, I was reminded of the memory of the bag of sad shoes and the idea that something had to be done.



I decided to wash the shoes. Like in the washing machine. And surprisingly only two pairs didn’t make it! Two of my most beloved pairs, but this gave me a reason to replace them. Which I did. At a half off sale at--and I am not embarrassed to admit this--KMART!



So, there’s really no point to this post today, other than to say that shoes are shoes and life goes on, and also as a reminder to my husband that there’s something wrong with the basement and I’d like for him to fix it immediately. And also to solidify the notion that my washing machine is the best appliance in the house. I’ve always believed it, and I think that this story proves it.

Hair Come The Tears

She had to put every clip in her hair.  Wouldn't let me touch one, help out, or make any suggestions.

And then, like a mini Paris Hilton, threw a huge fit when I told her it looked nice.

And forget when I told her that she should wear it out.  FOR. GET. IT.

It's times like these that make me very scared for the future. 

Jeez, I didn't do anything wrong!  Unless you count complimenting you!  For the love of god, lighten up!

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Thoughts

I think of my mom every day and probably will forever. Sometimes it stings and sometimes it doesn’t. I know that they say that if something doesn’t hurt then it no longer means something to you, but I don’t care. I’d rather be able to think of my mom and not have it hurt. I’d rather it just be a thought in my head, along the lines of “buy pull ups” and “dvr Glee.”




Marco, Adriana, and I took my dad out for brunch on Sunday. Afterwards everyone came over to my house to swim. Marco threw everyone in the pool. The family raft was a big hit. Bella fell asleep in the stroller. I made pastina and then ordered pizza. We sat in the shade. Greg kept changing the station. Leah screamed “god bless America” like a mad patriot.



And I didn’t really think of my mom. And it was such a good day.



Yesterday was a good friend’s birthday. Happy Birthday, Gabrielle. Sorry you missed out on your birthday party.

No Reason

Things are good. So good. Yet I am still not right.

There are milestones and careers and success stories and new schools.

There are open windows and open doors.

There are anticipations, excitements, and things to look forward to. But I have started reaching for the phone to call her again.

I began running again. Running makes me think of my mom. Dieting, eating well, being healthy, being unhealthy, seeing grandmas, reading about people dying in their 50s, pregnant women, shopping, cleaning, lipstick, the vacuum, and the Gin Blossoms. Everything. It’s disgusting, really.

My anxiety is out of control. I can’t stop thinking about how Leah is probably dying every time I’m not with her.

Songs that have nothing to do with moms that have died make me think of my mom that died. I mean, songs that are clearly about other things I think were written with me in mind.

Never mind, I’ll find someone like you

I wish nothing but the best for you too

Don’t forget me I beg, I remember you said,

Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead.

 

~Adele

 

It’s just a minor setback, and I’m sure I’ll come out of it, but it takes a lot out of me and it wears me down.


God, I hope I lose weight tonight at Weight Watchers.*

Here we go again.

*My priorities are warped.

 
 
 
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Le Weekend

Hmm, where shall I start?

Gymnasties on Saturday morning.

Followed by marshmallow roasting at night.  (Oh, it was just soo much fun not eating these since I had completed my daily points intake for my stupid diet.  Er, I mean lifestyle change.)

A little cuddle between Mommy and Baby...

Followed by Matthew's birthday party on Sunday.

Mmmm, cake.

And we rounded out the weekend checking out the swing set at Adriana's new condo complex. 

Two feet up!

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A Week of Firsts: Me

I joined Weight Watchers a couple of weeks ago.  So far I've lost 4.8 lbs.  It hasn't been easy, but it's necessary.  My butt is large, yo.  Now that Greg's got a new schedule with his job, and Leah's in full time school, I am really hoping to start back up with the running.  Eventually I'd like to run 45 minutes three days a week, but this week my smaller goal is to complete three 15 minute runs.

I've been here before--joining Weight Watchers and thinking this time it's going to work, so I'm not going to wax poetic about how I should be at my fighting weight in a year.  But I'd like to be.  I really, really want to.  And wanting it is half the battle.*

*Total bullcrap.  Not eating is half the battle.  Exercising is the other half.  Wanting to lose weight just helps you stay motivated.


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