Newflash to no one: It's hot. Really, really hot. For me to say that, it's gotta be blazing outside. I love mid-80's summer days with a pool or a beach nearby. 100 degrees, though? That is just oppressive and unfun. Getting into my car almost made my heart stop earlier. When I got into said deathtrap, however, I was in a state I rarely, if ever, find myself: I was alone. No baby, no child, no husband, no dog. Blissfully and completely by myself. Levi is spending the day at my parents' house so I can get some things accomplished, and I cannot believe how much I am appreciating being by myself. I ran to Walmart, the library, and the Wendy's drive thru and it was glorious not having to lug the car seat in and out. Levi travels with me everywhere, and he's a chill little dude, but to just be able to run in and out in 3 minutes was marvelous.
The things I need to accomplish, besides my errands, involve eradicating our home of fleas. Either Pippa (the puppy) or Brooks (the fat, long-haired cat who recently began sneaking out of the house on clandestine missions) contracted the nasty little buggers and then shared them with the other two animals. I had an inkling when, night before last, Pippa would not stop scratching. I woke up at 1:30 a.m. to her incessant scritch-scritch-scritch and my mind starting racing. I've experienced fleas once before when I lived with my parents and they were horrendous. What do you know--when Zach got home from work at 7 he looked at Pippa's stomach and there they were. I'm shuddering just reliving that moment. I ran to the store for flea bath, flea collars, flea spray, flea powder, flea treatment, the works, and have been cleaning, washing, vacuuming, treating, and spraying ever since. Brooks had some in his long hair, and bathing him was an experience I hope never to repeat. I have symmetrical gashes on my wrists from his teeth when he went psycho-kitty and tried to kill me to get out of the tub. I swear he turned into a possessed cat from "Pet Cemetary" or something. Anyway, I don't want Levi around the spray so I sent him away with Grandma and Grandpa for a while. They love having him, and the Flea Huntress (I'm thinking of trademarking that... maybe I should mock up a suit, too?) gets a little time to herself. Alone, with three itchy animals and who knows how many heinous little creatures in my carpets and couches. We're trying everything we can shy of boarding the pets and bombing our house first, so any advice on speeding up this process would be appreciated.
It's definitely wild here these days. A bit too wild for my liking. Damnit.
Flea Huntress, out.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Recipe of the week #2
Last night I tackled my second new recipe of the week. This wasn't a brand new recipe exactly, but Zach and I had never eaten it--I made it a few months ago for our friends Ryan and Ashley when their second baby was born. I remember, just a few months prior, how wonderful it was when friends and family brought a frozen meal for us. It was just one less thing to think about as I tried to rein in my hormones and grab an hour of sleep here or there. So, when Owen came home from the hospital I knew I wanted to send over a casserole of some sort. I Googled easy casserole recipes until I came across one that sounded good. The name, which now escapes me, had the word cheeseburger in it I'm fairly certain. Ryan had already eaten dinner the night I sent the dish over, but because it was still warm and smelled good (and Ryan has a bottomless stomach) he had some anyway and said it was good.
So, I fished the recipe out of the cabinet and made it for us last night! Here are the deets:
Ingredients
2 lb. ground beef
1 onion; chopped
15 oz. tomato sauce
2 tsp. chili powder
1 T. garlic salt
1 cup cheddar cheese; grated
1 cup sour cream
2 eggs
2 cans Pillsbury biscuits
Prep
Brown the ground beef with the onion. Drain oil. Add tomato sauce, garlic sal, and chili powder and bring to simmer. In a separate bowl, mix the shredded cheese (save some for the topping), sour cream, and eggs and then add the mixture to the meat. Bring to simmer again. Press one can of biscuits to the bottom of a 9X13 pan, ungreased. Add the simmering meat mixture on top of the biscuits and then layer the top with the other can. Bake at 375 F for 45 minutes. Top the casserole with some more shredded cheese and bake until it melts.
For the biscuits, I used Grands Jr. flaky layers Butter flavor. I was worried Buttermilk might be too sweet. It was pretty buttery, but if you're like me and grew up eating bread and butter with pretty much every dinner it'll really hit the spot. I also tore each biscuit in half to be able to cover the entire bottom of the casserole dish. While it baked I got all of the dishes done, switched some laundry out, and continued reading Brooke Burke's Naked Mom. I don't think she's the best host on "Dancing with the Stars," but her book is honest and funny and I am using her reflections to think about my own life. So, that's a win.
Zach complimented the meal mid-chew, which I think is a good sign, and we both had heaping platefuls. I think this one's a keeper! It definitely seems kid-friendly, too. If you're not a big onion fan, I'd suggest only browning half of an onion with the meat (there was onion in every bite, but Z and I love spice, so that worked for us.)
Here are a couple of mid-prep photos for your enjoyment.
Levi and I are going to find something fun to do today. I've discovered these last few weeks off work that if I don't leave the house at least once a day with him, I start to go crazy. I need a diversion and some adult intereaction, even if it's only with the grocery bagger, to keep my sanity. Happy wild life!
So, I fished the recipe out of the cabinet and made it for us last night! Here are the deets:
Ingredients
2 lb. ground beef
1 onion; chopped
15 oz. tomato sauce
2 tsp. chili powder
1 T. garlic salt
1 cup cheddar cheese; grated
1 cup sour cream
2 eggs
2 cans Pillsbury biscuits
Prep
Brown the ground beef with the onion. Drain oil. Add tomato sauce, garlic sal, and chili powder and bring to simmer. In a separate bowl, mix the shredded cheese (save some for the topping), sour cream, and eggs and then add the mixture to the meat. Bring to simmer again. Press one can of biscuits to the bottom of a 9X13 pan, ungreased. Add the simmering meat mixture on top of the biscuits and then layer the top with the other can. Bake at 375 F for 45 minutes. Top the casserole with some more shredded cheese and bake until it melts.
For the biscuits, I used Grands Jr. flaky layers Butter flavor. I was worried Buttermilk might be too sweet. It was pretty buttery, but if you're like me and grew up eating bread and butter with pretty much every dinner it'll really hit the spot. I also tore each biscuit in half to be able to cover the entire bottom of the casserole dish. While it baked I got all of the dishes done, switched some laundry out, and continued reading Brooke Burke's Naked Mom. I don't think she's the best host on "Dancing with the Stars," but her book is honest and funny and I am using her reflections to think about my own life. So, that's a win.
Zach complimented the meal mid-chew, which I think is a good sign, and we both had heaping platefuls. I think this one's a keeper! It definitely seems kid-friendly, too. If you're not a big onion fan, I'd suggest only browning half of an onion with the meat (there was onion in every bite, but Z and I love spice, so that worked for us.)
Here are a couple of mid-prep photos for your enjoyment.
 |
| Step 2 |
 |
| Levi enjoying some pears and wrestlemania with Daddy while Mommy cooks |
 |
| The finished product! |
 |
| This one's from last week, but it's my adorable family post-swimming at my brother-in-law's. Awwww! |
Monday, June 25, 2012
A walk in the park
I'm feeling incredibly thoughtful today. Maybe it's because it's not oppressively hot for once and I was able to reconnect with nature this morning. My dad and I took Levi to Kesling Park for a 2-mile stroll, and the weather was absolutely perfect. Mid 70's, a glorious breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. My dad, who refers to himself quite often in the third person as Jaybird, is honestly one of my favorite people in the entire world. I think that's how most girls feel, but I might think that about him even if he weren't my father. He is patient and giving and really very funny. At 75 he works harder than almost anyone I know, and he has never complained about raising two families and "retiring" 20 years ago to only pick up more work than he left behind. He has the best attitude--give him any situation, any setback or disappointment, and he'll accept it, let it go, and move on with positivity. He looks at life as a blessing, at each day as something to embrace and enjoy. Zach loves teasing me about my dad's enthusiasm for the simple things; he'll open a new shirt and literally whistle and exclaim, "How about that?" even if he already owns three just like it. He's happy, and I want to be just like him.
Jaybird is known for his love for barbershop, his friendly and outgoing demeanor (he can make friends with anyone, anywhere, any time), and his penchant for terrible jokes. He also gives simple but powerful advice. He always tells me that worrying is like a rocking chair--you can go back and forth for hours and still not get anywhere. When I'll learn to heed his advice and quit worrying is another story. I'm just so good at it, why give it up? He also taught me back in the fifth grade an advanced rendition of "Three Blind Mice" that I still bust out at parties occasionally. (It's called "Three Sightless Rodents" if you're interested... I can perform it any time for ya! Actually, some of my students recorded me singing it this year so it very well may be on Youtube already.) Most of all, my dad is a lover. He loves those around him so much. I don't know how he can find that much love to give, honestly. I'm lucky to have him as my dad.
I also spent some time this morning on the wonderful timesuck that is Pinterest. I've long been a fan of quotes; as a writer, I find immense power in words. During my perusal today I came across this little gem:
To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the things I teach in Literature 10, and I adore this book. It's so powerful and still resonates loudly. I'm struck by this quote today, especially, because I had that time outdoors with my dad and my son. I had no television, no phone, and no internet to distract me. I was able to open my eyes and ears to the beauty of nature, the kindess of strangers, and the peace and joy of being alive. I want to be someone who truly listens to those around her, who can be fair and honest and authentic. I don't want to be blinded by my preconceptions or opinions. I want to learn, to grow, to connect. I can do that by appreciating the goodness my father exudes, by being thankful for a beautiful morning, and by striving to keep my eyes open to the wonders (and wonderful people) around me. Be grateful. Life is so good.
Jaybird is known for his love for barbershop, his friendly and outgoing demeanor (he can make friends with anyone, anywhere, any time), and his penchant for terrible jokes. He also gives simple but powerful advice. He always tells me that worrying is like a rocking chair--you can go back and forth for hours and still not get anywhere. When I'll learn to heed his advice and quit worrying is another story. I'm just so good at it, why give it up? He also taught me back in the fifth grade an advanced rendition of "Three Blind Mice" that I still bust out at parties occasionally. (It's called "Three Sightless Rodents" if you're interested... I can perform it any time for ya! Actually, some of my students recorded me singing it this year so it very well may be on Youtube already.) Most of all, my dad is a lover. He loves those around him so much. I don't know how he can find that much love to give, honestly. I'm lucky to have him as my dad.
 |
| Giving me away |
I also spent some time this morning on the wonderful timesuck that is Pinterest. I've long been a fan of quotes; as a writer, I find immense power in words. During my perusal today I came across this little gem:
To Kill a Mockingbird is one of the things I teach in Literature 10, and I adore this book. It's so powerful and still resonates loudly. I'm struck by this quote today, especially, because I had that time outdoors with my dad and my son. I had no television, no phone, and no internet to distract me. I was able to open my eyes and ears to the beauty of nature, the kindess of strangers, and the peace and joy of being alive. I want to be someone who truly listens to those around her, who can be fair and honest and authentic. I don't want to be blinded by my preconceptions or opinions. I want to learn, to grow, to connect. I can do that by appreciating the goodness my father exudes, by being thankful for a beautiful morning, and by striving to keep my eyes open to the wonders (and wonderful people) around me. Be grateful. Life is so good.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Fifty Shades review
It seems like I am incapable of updating this with any semblance of regularity, but it's summer and I have two children, so I'm allowed to struggle with schedules. That's like a law or something. I'm taking the kids to my parents' pool here in a bit, and this afternoon we are hitting up the Sacred Heart Polish Festival for some yummy fare, so as far as blogging is concerned, it's now or never.
I think I've hit the summer wall. I feel like I should be accomplishing something or having a lot of fun every minute, so when I'm not doing anything of note I feel guilty. That's sort of defeating the purpose of time off, yes? I'm working on it. I have finally finished the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy, so that's something as far as enjoyment goes, and I intend on reviewing it here in a hot minute. I've moved on to a really interesting nonfiction book, For Better, The Science of a Good Marriage by Tara Parker-Pope, and I'm tearing pages out of Health and Fitness magazines like it's my job. If only the act of tearing paper counted as physical fitness. Actually, I quite like the feeling of working out. I feel strong and energized, and the rest of my day is much better. The problem for me is putting my shoes on and starting the workout. If someone literally picked me up and plopped me down in a gym every day I'd be golden. I'm also struggling a bit with my one-new-recipe-a-week plan. Only part of my issue is lack of motivation; mostly, we haven't been home or together for dinners the last couple of weeks. We eat at one of our parents' houses, or we meet someone out for dinner, or one of us is out of town or golfing or whatever. I am not going to try out a new recipe and go to all of that work for just me. Like I said, I'm content with frozen pizza. Zach and I will be home together Monday night, so I've deemed that my next new-recipe night. I think I'm trying a crockpot recipe this time. Updates to come :)
On to the salacious book review. (The book is salacious, not necessarily the review. Though I could try to spice this up, I suppose....) I first saw a clip about Fifty Shades on E News. Throngs of women were displayed in Britain at various book clubs, clutching the black paperbacks to their chests with looks of passion on their faces. I was intrigued. What would rile up so many English women with equal fervor? The segment was focused on how filmmakers had the task of casting actors who would live up to the giant fanbase's ideals. I was surprised by the fact that I hadn't heard of these books. How could a casting frenzy already be underway? I'd kept up with the Harry Potter and Hunger Games franchises and grudgingly read and watched the Twilight series, so a new popular thing piqued my interest. The next day (literally) all of my female coworkers were talking about the books. I kept hearing how naughty the story line was, how my friends couldn't put the books down, and how their sex lives were being affected. If English teachers were recommending raunchy literature commonly referred to as "pulp", I knew this was something I had to read.
The first book is a shock. I felt self-conscious reading it around others; I definitely did not bring it to school, and once while reading in the car with my mother-in-law, I had to put the book away. The sex scenes are a lot to take in at first. By the third book, I became anesthesized to them, anticipating then based on the author's very obvious cues, and skimming through some to get to the action of the plot. Overall, however, the racy descriptions are enjoyable and voyeuristic. I have never read erotica, and I think this series was a great introduction to the genre.
The characters are interesting, but I wouldn't describe them as fully developed. What I mean by that is I didn't leave the books feeling sad that I'd left friends, a feeling I often experience after really connecting with an author's characterization. Christian Grey is so complicated and tortured he doesn't seem real, and the female lead, Anastasia Steele, comes across as juvenile and, frankly, annoying. She is young and unsure of herself, which I assume was a conscious choice by the author so that readers could feel like they, too, could have something like this happen to them, but her inconsistencies bothered me. I also really hated the fact that she referred to her sexual parts as "my sex." The author often italicized that word, too, to really emphasize its awkwardness. Maybe the word vagina would have been obtrusive and taken away from the sensual flow of things, but I rolled my eyes every time I saw the word. It made me feel a little dirty, actually, like I was reading the thoughts of a teenager. My other biggest pet peeve was the author's repetitive word usage. I cannot tell you how many times she describes something as heady. Each time my eyes hit the word (the feeling was heady, a heady mixture of power and desire, etc.) the reading voice in my head stumbled. I even noticed it twice in one short paragraph in the third book--that's how much it interrupted my reading. The author overused many words and descriptions, so much so that the sex scenes became almost rote and the excitement all but disappeared. I know these books are fantasy, and that's why they're so appealing, but let's be honest--NO ONE has that much sex. Three times in one evening, followed by once in the middle of the night and again in the morning before work? Really?! I guess I'm too much of a realist to be fully swept away by the "perfect" fictional relationship. I don't think I could have tolerated Grey's controlling nature for a day, much less a lifetime. The relationship aspect just seemed like too much work.
I will say that overall I enjoyed the books and I'm glad I read them. I'm especially glad I saved them until summertime, as they are perfect poolside entertainment. If you are interested in stretching your mind fantasy-wise, they're a great inspiration. If you are traditional or very religious I'd suggest staying far, far away. I never thought I'd see the day that my mom would ask to borrow this type of book from me, but she has devoured the first and is anxiously awaiting the second. I guess these books appeal to many types.
Leaving one wild topic for another, I've got to go tame my children into swimsuits and sunscreen. Adios, readers!
I think I've hit the summer wall. I feel like I should be accomplishing something or having a lot of fun every minute, so when I'm not doing anything of note I feel guilty. That's sort of defeating the purpose of time off, yes? I'm working on it. I have finally finished the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy, so that's something as far as enjoyment goes, and I intend on reviewing it here in a hot minute. I've moved on to a really interesting nonfiction book, For Better, The Science of a Good Marriage by Tara Parker-Pope, and I'm tearing pages out of Health and Fitness magazines like it's my job. If only the act of tearing paper counted as physical fitness. Actually, I quite like the feeling of working out. I feel strong and energized, and the rest of my day is much better. The problem for me is putting my shoes on and starting the workout. If someone literally picked me up and plopped me down in a gym every day I'd be golden. I'm also struggling a bit with my one-new-recipe-a-week plan. Only part of my issue is lack of motivation; mostly, we haven't been home or together for dinners the last couple of weeks. We eat at one of our parents' houses, or we meet someone out for dinner, or one of us is out of town or golfing or whatever. I am not going to try out a new recipe and go to all of that work for just me. Like I said, I'm content with frozen pizza. Zach and I will be home together Monday night, so I've deemed that my next new-recipe night. I think I'm trying a crockpot recipe this time. Updates to come :)
On to the salacious book review. (The book is salacious, not necessarily the review. Though I could try to spice this up, I suppose....) I first saw a clip about Fifty Shades on E News. Throngs of women were displayed in Britain at various book clubs, clutching the black paperbacks to their chests with looks of passion on their faces. I was intrigued. What would rile up so many English women with equal fervor? The segment was focused on how filmmakers had the task of casting actors who would live up to the giant fanbase's ideals. I was surprised by the fact that I hadn't heard of these books. How could a casting frenzy already be underway? I'd kept up with the Harry Potter and Hunger Games franchises and grudgingly read and watched the Twilight series, so a new popular thing piqued my interest. The next day (literally) all of my female coworkers were talking about the books. I kept hearing how naughty the story line was, how my friends couldn't put the books down, and how their sex lives were being affected. If English teachers were recommending raunchy literature commonly referred to as "pulp", I knew this was something I had to read.
The first book is a shock. I felt self-conscious reading it around others; I definitely did not bring it to school, and once while reading in the car with my mother-in-law, I had to put the book away. The sex scenes are a lot to take in at first. By the third book, I became anesthesized to them, anticipating then based on the author's very obvious cues, and skimming through some to get to the action of the plot. Overall, however, the racy descriptions are enjoyable and voyeuristic. I have never read erotica, and I think this series was a great introduction to the genre.
The characters are interesting, but I wouldn't describe them as fully developed. What I mean by that is I didn't leave the books feeling sad that I'd left friends, a feeling I often experience after really connecting with an author's characterization. Christian Grey is so complicated and tortured he doesn't seem real, and the female lead, Anastasia Steele, comes across as juvenile and, frankly, annoying. She is young and unsure of herself, which I assume was a conscious choice by the author so that readers could feel like they, too, could have something like this happen to them, but her inconsistencies bothered me. I also really hated the fact that she referred to her sexual parts as "my sex." The author often italicized that word, too, to really emphasize its awkwardness. Maybe the word vagina would have been obtrusive and taken away from the sensual flow of things, but I rolled my eyes every time I saw the word. It made me feel a little dirty, actually, like I was reading the thoughts of a teenager. My other biggest pet peeve was the author's repetitive word usage. I cannot tell you how many times she describes something as heady. Each time my eyes hit the word (the feeling was heady, a heady mixture of power and desire, etc.) the reading voice in my head stumbled. I even noticed it twice in one short paragraph in the third book--that's how much it interrupted my reading. The author overused many words and descriptions, so much so that the sex scenes became almost rote and the excitement all but disappeared. I know these books are fantasy, and that's why they're so appealing, but let's be honest--NO ONE has that much sex. Three times in one evening, followed by once in the middle of the night and again in the morning before work? Really?! I guess I'm too much of a realist to be fully swept away by the "perfect" fictional relationship. I don't think I could have tolerated Grey's controlling nature for a day, much less a lifetime. The relationship aspect just seemed like too much work.
I will say that overall I enjoyed the books and I'm glad I read them. I'm especially glad I saved them until summertime, as they are perfect poolside entertainment. If you are interested in stretching your mind fantasy-wise, they're a great inspiration. If you are traditional or very religious I'd suggest staying far, far away. I never thought I'd see the day that my mom would ask to borrow this type of book from me, but she has devoured the first and is anxiously awaiting the second. I guess these books appeal to many types.
Leaving one wild topic for another, I've got to go tame my children into swimsuits and sunscreen. Adios, readers!
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Writer's block
Good morning, all! It's been tough for me the last couple of days to get a blog in because I have a very clingy 7-month-old. He's adorable and hilarious and I love that he always wants me, but
I can totally see why celebrities have nannies. I've realized I no longer feel like myself very often. I've morphed into "Mom" and that seems to now define me. Gotta' be honest--I don't love it. So I'm making a point of holding on to the old Erica by whatever means I can. Today, I'm letting Zach quiet Levi down when he reaches freak-out decibels so I can type this blog, find some great frames for our new family photos at Hobby Lobby, and catch some sun at the pool. My working out has hit a 3-day lull, but I'm feeling better about the levels of crap I'm ingesting. Less crap, more fruit, work out when possible. It'll be more like a 35-day shred than a 30 day shred, but whatever.
Here's what I've been up to in the blogging interim. On Monday Levi and I roadtripped to Peru, Indiana, the Circus Capital of the World, to visit Leslie and Nolan. This was the boys' first meeting, and they really hit it off. Nolan was born one year and one month before Levi (October 2, 2010), and at the time I had no inclination to have a baby yet. Fast-forward a few months. Following a Power Cut class at the Y I watched three pregnant women settling in for a prenatal yoga workout, and I said, out loud in my jealous/whiny voice, that I wanted to be pregnant. There's definitely something to be said for voicing your goals to make them a reality. I found out I was pregnant on February 28, 2011, and the rest if history. Anyway, it was wonderful to have our boys together for an afternoon. Nolan is a bit of a biter, but he was really great with Levi. He would tickle Levi's feet to make him giggle, hold his hand if they were sitting next to each other, and bring me the pacifier or bottle every 5 minutes. Leslie and I had so much fun doing our normal stuff (laughing, dancing, eating, reminiscing), the things we've done for years, but this time with our babies in tow. She asked me if I'd have thought we'd both have sons by the age of 26 back when we were at the Cactus every Thursday night dancing, and I shook my head. It's crazy to think how much has happened since I graduated from Purdue in 2008. My life is completely different from how I imagined it then, but it's a different I wouldn't change for the world. I thought I'd be living in a big city (Chicago, most likely), working at a publishing firm, single and independent and fabulous. I obviously had Carrie Bradshaw delusions. Here I am, though, married with children, a dog, two cats, and the most traditional, unfabulous job you can imagine. I really do love teaching--I think it is the skill I most naturally possess. Part of me still wants to enter the publishing world and work at breakneck pace, donning pencil skirts and heels every day, but making my students laugh, helping them understand a concept they've struggled with, and having the perfect schedule to be a mom is pretty wonderful. I have always wanted to write a novel, and I think it's about time I actively pursue that goal. Better start brainstorming...
Yesterday I took Levi and Pippa (our crazy puppy) to my parents' house for a swim. Actually, the baby stayed inside in the air conditioning to avoid our 95 degree weather, but Pippa and I splashed around a bit. She's hilarious in the pool--she will only jump in if me or Zach is in the water, and that's because she immediately crawls up into our arms and wants to be held like a baby. She can swim just fine, but she prefers being cradled and walked around. So spoiled. Then I met Angela for coffee. She and I often have catch-up dates and they really make my day. She is an amazing listener, we always make each other laugh, and I really don't know what I'd be doing right now without her. I always say it's hard to believe we've only known each other a couple of years because it feels like we were meant to be friends. Finally, in the evening Levi and I headed to my sister-in-law's house for my first Scentsy party. Definitely a cool set of products!
We have Norah now for the next four days, so we're off as a family to do some shopping and then some swimming. Happy wild Wednesday!
I can totally see why celebrities have nannies. I've realized I no longer feel like myself very often. I've morphed into "Mom" and that seems to now define me. Gotta' be honest--I don't love it. So I'm making a point of holding on to the old Erica by whatever means I can. Today, I'm letting Zach quiet Levi down when he reaches freak-out decibels so I can type this blog, find some great frames for our new family photos at Hobby Lobby, and catch some sun at the pool. My working out has hit a 3-day lull, but I'm feeling better about the levels of crap I'm ingesting. Less crap, more fruit, work out when possible. It'll be more like a 35-day shred than a 30 day shred, but whatever.
Here's what I've been up to in the blogging interim. On Monday Levi and I roadtripped to Peru, Indiana, the Circus Capital of the World, to visit Leslie and Nolan. This was the boys' first meeting, and they really hit it off. Nolan was born one year and one month before Levi (October 2, 2010), and at the time I had no inclination to have a baby yet. Fast-forward a few months. Following a Power Cut class at the Y I watched three pregnant women settling in for a prenatal yoga workout, and I said, out loud in my jealous/whiny voice, that I wanted to be pregnant. There's definitely something to be said for voicing your goals to make them a reality. I found out I was pregnant on February 28, 2011, and the rest if history. Anyway, it was wonderful to have our boys together for an afternoon. Nolan is a bit of a biter, but he was really great with Levi. He would tickle Levi's feet to make him giggle, hold his hand if they were sitting next to each other, and bring me the pacifier or bottle every 5 minutes. Leslie and I had so much fun doing our normal stuff (laughing, dancing, eating, reminiscing), the things we've done for years, but this time with our babies in tow. She asked me if I'd have thought we'd both have sons by the age of 26 back when we were at the Cactus every Thursday night dancing, and I shook my head. It's crazy to think how much has happened since I graduated from Purdue in 2008. My life is completely different from how I imagined it then, but it's a different I wouldn't change for the world. I thought I'd be living in a big city (Chicago, most likely), working at a publishing firm, single and independent and fabulous. I obviously had Carrie Bradshaw delusions. Here I am, though, married with children, a dog, two cats, and the most traditional, unfabulous job you can imagine. I really do love teaching--I think it is the skill I most naturally possess. Part of me still wants to enter the publishing world and work at breakneck pace, donning pencil skirts and heels every day, but making my students laugh, helping them understand a concept they've struggled with, and having the perfect schedule to be a mom is pretty wonderful. I have always wanted to write a novel, and I think it's about time I actively pursue that goal. Better start brainstorming...
Yesterday I took Levi and Pippa (our crazy puppy) to my parents' house for a swim. Actually, the baby stayed inside in the air conditioning to avoid our 95 degree weather, but Pippa and I splashed around a bit. She's hilarious in the pool--she will only jump in if me or Zach is in the water, and that's because she immediately crawls up into our arms and wants to be held like a baby. She can swim just fine, but she prefers being cradled and walked around. So spoiled. Then I met Angela for coffee. She and I often have catch-up dates and they really make my day. She is an amazing listener, we always make each other laugh, and I really don't know what I'd be doing right now without her. I always say it's hard to believe we've only known each other a couple of years because it feels like we were meant to be friends. Finally, in the evening Levi and I headed to my sister-in-law's house for my first Scentsy party. Definitely a cool set of products!
We have Norah now for the next four days, so we're off as a family to do some shopping and then some swimming. Happy wild Wednesday!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
With love in her eyes and flowers in her hair
Levi is napping in his crib for the second day in a row (huge triumph!) so I am sitting in silence. It's glorious. I forget sometimes how much I enjoy being alone. I value time to think, to sort my feelings, to catch up with myself. I like to clean when I'm alone; organizing my physical space helps me clean up my emotional space, too. I like to read or journal when I'm alone. I like to sit on the front step, close my eyes, and turn my face to the sun. Somtimes I enjoy going to the bathroom alone (actually, I always enjoy that, but it's a rarity now that I have children). I just feel a bit more composed and centered after some me time. Life is temporarily calm over in wildville.
Last night Zach and I booked our first trip (other than our honeymoon) together. We are heading to Denver in July for the wedding reception of one his Army buddies. I cannot express how much I am looking forward to this trip. I absolutely love airports, for one thing. People-watching is a writer's wonderland--imagining where each person is from, filling in the blanks of the lives that pass me by. I also really love the magazine kiosks and Starbucks stores every 30 feet. Mostly, though, I think the excitement of going somewhere gives airports their magic. Holding that ticket in my hand, knowing that within a few hours I'll be miles above the Earth, headed to another place, is intoxicating. Fleetingly, I wonder if I'll be a different person once I reach my destination. I'm extra excited about our vacation because I get a chance to show Zach Estes Park. This is the place my family has been going since I was 6 months old; my parents have this photograph with me in a carrier on my dad's back, smiling in the sun, on a giant rock in front of the Rockies. My dad has a huge walking stick and short-shorts. They've been telling me recently that it was on that trip that I learned to pull myself up (in the crib they'd set up on the backseat of their Cutlass.... evidently seat belts and car seat laws were much more lax back then.) Anyway, Estes Park follows the Big Thompson River and features the nearby Rocky Mountain National Park, possibly the most beautiful place I have ever been. I have so many memories stored up from this place, trips with my parents and brother, like the giant cinnamon rolls at the base of Crosier Mtn. or the time we got sucked into the women's U.S. soccer final in the Olympics and missed our morning plans. I used to pull the phone book and my journal onto the back deck, which jutted out over the river so you'd hear gurgling water as you slept with open windows, and pretend I was working in my spy office. Trust me, spies receive lots of important phone calls. It's a bit like coming full circle that now Zach and I can create our own traditions, possibly around places we visit on this trip. There's just something so special about sharing things from your childhood with the one you love. I'm letting him glimpse parts of my life he wasn't around for yet. Like I said, I'm really excited.
It'll also be an adventure for us because we are camping in Chatfield State Park. I've never actually camped. Not because I hate nature, but because my parents' idea of "roughing it," as they put it, is the Holiday Inn. I'm mostly worried about being cold at night, because I HATE being cold when I sleep. One thing is for sure: We'll make plenty of memories. And wild stories, knowing us.
Last night Zach and I booked our first trip (other than our honeymoon) together. We are heading to Denver in July for the wedding reception of one his Army buddies. I cannot express how much I am looking forward to this trip. I absolutely love airports, for one thing. People-watching is a writer's wonderland--imagining where each person is from, filling in the blanks of the lives that pass me by. I also really love the magazine kiosks and Starbucks stores every 30 feet. Mostly, though, I think the excitement of going somewhere gives airports their magic. Holding that ticket in my hand, knowing that within a few hours I'll be miles above the Earth, headed to another place, is intoxicating. Fleetingly, I wonder if I'll be a different person once I reach my destination. I'm extra excited about our vacation because I get a chance to show Zach Estes Park. This is the place my family has been going since I was 6 months old; my parents have this photograph with me in a carrier on my dad's back, smiling in the sun, on a giant rock in front of the Rockies. My dad has a huge walking stick and short-shorts. They've been telling me recently that it was on that trip that I learned to pull myself up (in the crib they'd set up on the backseat of their Cutlass.... evidently seat belts and car seat laws were much more lax back then.) Anyway, Estes Park follows the Big Thompson River and features the nearby Rocky Mountain National Park, possibly the most beautiful place I have ever been. I have so many memories stored up from this place, trips with my parents and brother, like the giant cinnamon rolls at the base of Crosier Mtn. or the time we got sucked into the women's U.S. soccer final in the Olympics and missed our morning plans. I used to pull the phone book and my journal onto the back deck, which jutted out over the river so you'd hear gurgling water as you slept with open windows, and pretend I was working in my spy office. Trust me, spies receive lots of important phone calls. It's a bit like coming full circle that now Zach and I can create our own traditions, possibly around places we visit on this trip. There's just something so special about sharing things from your childhood with the one you love. I'm letting him glimpse parts of my life he wasn't around for yet. Like I said, I'm really excited.
It'll also be an adventure for us because we are camping in Chatfield State Park. I've never actually camped. Not because I hate nature, but because my parents' idea of "roughing it," as they put it, is the Holiday Inn. I'm mostly worried about being cold at night, because I HATE being cold when I sleep. One thing is for sure: We'll make plenty of memories. And wild stories, knowing us.
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| My beautiful children (Levi excels at old man face) |
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| Two more shots from avophotography.blogspot.com. |
Friday, June 15, 2012
Protect Us
It's taken me a few years to get used to the firefighter's schedule, but I've adjusted to our version of normal: Holidays are often spent apart or celebrated early or late, some important life events cannot be made by both parents, and fire station visits can make a terrible day a lot better for 5-year-olds (and wives, too!). In keeping with our wild life, we celebrated Father's Day yesterday. Norah and I holed ourselves up in my bedroom to wrap Zach's presents and sign his cards. We found a sweet book at the grocery store called Thank You God, for Daddy and I ordered a sterling silver Saint Florian pendant and chain. For those of you who don't keep up with the Saints (I'm one of them... the only Saint I can remember is Anthony, because Sam used to pray to him when she had lost something and it always came back to her) Florian is the patron saint of firefighters. The pendant is in the shape of the maltese cross and says PROTECT US on one side. Zach is a difficult guy to shop for; he will ask for 3 specific gifts for a holiday or birthday, and those are my only options. He knows what he wants and that's it. He also hates surprises, so I think knowing with 33.33% accuracy what he'll be getting makes him happy somehow. He's even set up a gift ideas tab in our search engine's favorites section to make my shopping easier. About a week ago he mentioned that he didn't have a Saint Florian, only a Saint Michael, the patron saint of paratroopers from his time in the Army. I immediately knew what I'd get him for Father's Day.
When Zach opened his gifts he seemed genuinely happy. He gave us thank you kisses and ran to the bedroom to add his Saint Michael pendant to the chain. There is a lot of pride in firefighting, well-deserved pride, and I think following in his dad, uncle, and brother's footsteps in the profession has made it extra special for Zach. As he nears 30, he's getting more sentimental, too, particularly when it comes to things related to his dad. Wearing Saint Florian close to his heart is a way for him to show respect to those who have served before him, remembrance for those lost on duty, and peace and protection for him. It's incredibly fitting, I think, for him to wear the words PROTECT US, because that is exactly what he does. He puts his life on the line when the call comes in without a second thought. If there is someone in need, Zach is the first guy to offer a hand. He is selfless and brave and noble in that way, and Norah isn't the only girl who thinks he's a hero.
As we approach the actual Father's Day, I look forward to honoring my dad and father-in-law for their love and protection, too. You may not believe in saints, or you may not have a father to hug this weekend, but take a moment to thank whoever it is protects you. And don't forget the sacrifices firefighters and police officers make every day. They do it for their families, and they do it for you.
Happy wild life!
When Zach opened his gifts he seemed genuinely happy. He gave us thank you kisses and ran to the bedroom to add his Saint Michael pendant to the chain. There is a lot of pride in firefighting, well-deserved pride, and I think following in his dad, uncle, and brother's footsteps in the profession has made it extra special for Zach. As he nears 30, he's getting more sentimental, too, particularly when it comes to things related to his dad. Wearing Saint Florian close to his heart is a way for him to show respect to those who have served before him, remembrance for those lost on duty, and peace and protection for him. It's incredibly fitting, I think, for him to wear the words PROTECT US, because that is exactly what he does. He puts his life on the line when the call comes in without a second thought. If there is someone in need, Zach is the first guy to offer a hand. He is selfless and brave and noble in that way, and Norah isn't the only girl who thinks he's a hero.
As we approach the actual Father's Day, I look forward to honoring my dad and father-in-law for their love and protection, too. You may not believe in saints, or you may not have a father to hug this weekend, but take a moment to thank whoever it is protects you. And don't forget the sacrifices firefighters and police officers make every day. They do it for their families, and they do it for you.
Happy wild life!
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Weighty issues
Good morning, blogosphere! Zach took Norah to the Y to participate in the Guinness Book of World Records' largest swim lesson, so Levi and I are hanging out around the house together. He's currently scooching across the floor toward Norah's Barbie RV (at 7 months he already has an affinity for leggy blondes with big boobs... definitely a Vince) and whining because he isn't in my arms but instead 20 inches away from me. That's one of his new favorite pastimes, the whining. Can't say I'm in support of it.
Today I plan to get a walk in with my boy and/or the dog. It's a bit much for little ol' me to handle the stroller and an excitable puppy, but I may give it a whirl. I also need to tackle Jillian Michaels' "30 Day Shred" workout. My first day of the 30 was yesterday, and I am SORE. Like, ridiculously sore for someone who looks like she has sculpted arms and some level of physical fitness. Evidently carrying a baby and a carseat does NOT count as working out. I decided I should push myself to do the DVD for 30 days and see if I actually will be shredded come the end of it. More than that end goal, though, I want to actually choose a plan and stick to it for once in my life. I tend to be a bit of a quitter when it comes to self-imposed plans. Case in point--I have yet to cook this week's meal. Tonight's our last dinner as a foursome (Norah goes back to her mom for 5 days and Zach is back on duty) so I better hop to choosing a recipe!
Thinking about working out got me to thinking about Norah and some of the comments I've heard her make. She vacillates between thinking "fat" is inherently bad (she called one of her grandmothers fat a few months ago, which lead to a conversation about how everyone is different and we shouldn't comment on the way people look) and thinking she needs to put some meat on her bones since she can't keep her pants up. I am trying my best not to saddle her with my body image noise, but as any parent can attest, it is so difficult to shield your child from the media. She sees commercials, movies, music videos, and even cartoons with thin women in revealing clothing. She hears weight loss advertisements and understands the importance of being physically active. I want to find a way to keep all of those pieces from creating a demon in her brain like one so many girls wind up having. I see most of my female students struggling with weight and self-confidence. I hate knowing how insecure they feel and feeling powerless to help stop their worries. I can imagine the thoughts they have because I have had them.
I have struggled with my body image for years. I think it began when I was about 11 or 12. That is 15 years of worrying about my weight! More than half of my life has been spent wishing I could lose just 5 pounds. It's ridiculous and sad. I'm aware of that, yet I still catch myself wishing I could buy a smaller pant size or have less jiggle in my middle. Having a daughter now makes me realize that it's a habit I MUST break. I cannot let her hear me say negative things about my body or else she will begin to internalize them. She is beautiful and funny and smart, and her value does not come from what she looks like. As a parent, that is so obvious to me. Why I can't see that about myself I don't know, but I'm certainly going to try harder. Norah deserves to feel confident, strong, and amazing, because that is exactly who she is. Helping her to see that, and helping my students to value themselves based on what's inside, is something on my to-do list that I will not quit.
Today I plan to get a walk in with my boy and/or the dog. It's a bit much for little ol' me to handle the stroller and an excitable puppy, but I may give it a whirl. I also need to tackle Jillian Michaels' "30 Day Shred" workout. My first day of the 30 was yesterday, and I am SORE. Like, ridiculously sore for someone who looks like she has sculpted arms and some level of physical fitness. Evidently carrying a baby and a carseat does NOT count as working out. I decided I should push myself to do the DVD for 30 days and see if I actually will be shredded come the end of it. More than that end goal, though, I want to actually choose a plan and stick to it for once in my life. I tend to be a bit of a quitter when it comes to self-imposed plans. Case in point--I have yet to cook this week's meal. Tonight's our last dinner as a foursome (Norah goes back to her mom for 5 days and Zach is back on duty) so I better hop to choosing a recipe!
Thinking about working out got me to thinking about Norah and some of the comments I've heard her make. She vacillates between thinking "fat" is inherently bad (she called one of her grandmothers fat a few months ago, which lead to a conversation about how everyone is different and we shouldn't comment on the way people look) and thinking she needs to put some meat on her bones since she can't keep her pants up. I am trying my best not to saddle her with my body image noise, but as any parent can attest, it is so difficult to shield your child from the media. She sees commercials, movies, music videos, and even cartoons with thin women in revealing clothing. She hears weight loss advertisements and understands the importance of being physically active. I want to find a way to keep all of those pieces from creating a demon in her brain like one so many girls wind up having. I see most of my female students struggling with weight and self-confidence. I hate knowing how insecure they feel and feeling powerless to help stop their worries. I can imagine the thoughts they have because I have had them.
I have struggled with my body image for years. I think it began when I was about 11 or 12. That is 15 years of worrying about my weight! More than half of my life has been spent wishing I could lose just 5 pounds. It's ridiculous and sad. I'm aware of that, yet I still catch myself wishing I could buy a smaller pant size or have less jiggle in my middle. Having a daughter now makes me realize that it's a habit I MUST break. I cannot let her hear me say negative things about my body or else she will begin to internalize them. She is beautiful and funny and smart, and her value does not come from what she looks like. As a parent, that is so obvious to me. Why I can't see that about myself I don't know, but I'm certainly going to try harder. Norah deserves to feel confident, strong, and amazing, because that is exactly who she is. Helping her to see that, and helping my students to value themselves based on what's inside, is something on my to-do list that I will not quit.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Meanspeak
Ask my husband what I like to watch on TV, and he'll likely say, "Crap." Being a woman, I enjoy shows meant for women, and most of these tend to be rather inane. I spend the school year on high brain alert, constantly thinking, planning, grading, instructing, and changing those plans and instructions on a dime. When I get a chance to take a mental break, I really go for it--television is meant to be an escape, and I dive in to my shows headfirst. After a long week, the more dramatic and ridiculous the show, the better. I am a particular sucker for Bravo and its endless "Real Housewives" chronicles. Just yesterday I was catching up on the new season of NYC, and one of the husbands (who very rarely get a word in edgewise) said something that really resonated with me. Say what you mean, but don't say it mean.
That's a perfect mantra to follow when one wants to be successful without sacrificing relationships or integrity to do so. I've long struggled with a fear of confrontation, and I've been known in the past to let myself be walked on, but in the last few years I've made a lot of progress in standing up for myself and learning to speak my mind. I've discovered that it's liberating to get things off my chest rather than let them fester. I always feel better getting an emotion out somehow, be it through journaling, late-night discussions with my husband, or a long chat over coffee with a good friend. That same idea has proven to do wonders in my career as well. Rather than sit quietly and watch when someone says something with which I disagree or misuses authority, I speak up. I say what I mean, but I try to do so in a constructive way.
One of my master's courses began with a color typing quiz. After answering several multiple choice questions about how I would respond in different scenarios and analyzing pictures and words that represent my belief system and aspirations, I was deemed one of four colors. I was of the second smallest group, the Golds. Golds are known as perfectionists, control freaks, and planners (I was always the "mom" in my group of friends); organized, responsible, and logical thinkers; and structured learners. I had hints of blue (compassionate, loyal, caring) and orange (outgoing, fun-loving, opinionated), but I found myself to be pretty solidly gold through and through. My professor, a gold herself, found our group to be the most reliable when it came to mediating class discussions. I somehow became the Gold spokesperson and was expected to play the foil to some of the Oranges' outlandish ideas. Learning to work with that many disparate personalities while still getting my ideas across really taught me the meaning of that New Yorker's saying. By learning to say my piece without alienating, offending, or hurting others, I have become a stronger, more successful woman, and I've established some fantastic friendships along the way.
My mother-in-law once told me that criticism is often given because it makes the giver feel better about herself. Learning to believe that has helped strengthen my sense of self, and choosing to speak up without speaking down to people has served me well every time. I hope to teach my students this pearl of wisdom, as well. We can embrace individuality and share our opinions without insulting one another. It's so easy, but so powerful. I guess my silly "crap" shows aren't totally vacuous (but let's be honest--they mosty are!).
In mama news, today Levi is 7 months old! I know it's cliche, but I honestly cannot believe how fast he's growing. He can army crawl like a pro, he's become increasingly attached to Mommy and Daddy, and he has discovered the fun of sucking on lemon wedges at restaurants. Last night we had family pictures taken in New Buffalo along Lake Michigan, and he was such a good sport. Norah had a blast screaming up and down the beach with her cousins, and all 13 of us headed to Oink's afterward for some delicious ice cream (Red Velvet Cake for me.) Ashlie Ostergren took the gorgeous photos--check her out at http://avophotography.wordpress.com/.
I'm off to juggle one of the three books I'm currently reading (The Vanishers, The Naked Mom, and Fifty Shades Freed) and *hopefully* squeeze in a workout.
Happy wild life!
That's a perfect mantra to follow when one wants to be successful without sacrificing relationships or integrity to do so. I've long struggled with a fear of confrontation, and I've been known in the past to let myself be walked on, but in the last few years I've made a lot of progress in standing up for myself and learning to speak my mind. I've discovered that it's liberating to get things off my chest rather than let them fester. I always feel better getting an emotion out somehow, be it through journaling, late-night discussions with my husband, or a long chat over coffee with a good friend. That same idea has proven to do wonders in my career as well. Rather than sit quietly and watch when someone says something with which I disagree or misuses authority, I speak up. I say what I mean, but I try to do so in a constructive way.
One of my master's courses began with a color typing quiz. After answering several multiple choice questions about how I would respond in different scenarios and analyzing pictures and words that represent my belief system and aspirations, I was deemed one of four colors. I was of the second smallest group, the Golds. Golds are known as perfectionists, control freaks, and planners (I was always the "mom" in my group of friends); organized, responsible, and logical thinkers; and structured learners. I had hints of blue (compassionate, loyal, caring) and orange (outgoing, fun-loving, opinionated), but I found myself to be pretty solidly gold through and through. My professor, a gold herself, found our group to be the most reliable when it came to mediating class discussions. I somehow became the Gold spokesperson and was expected to play the foil to some of the Oranges' outlandish ideas. Learning to work with that many disparate personalities while still getting my ideas across really taught me the meaning of that New Yorker's saying. By learning to say my piece without alienating, offending, or hurting others, I have become a stronger, more successful woman, and I've established some fantastic friendships along the way.
My mother-in-law once told me that criticism is often given because it makes the giver feel better about herself. Learning to believe that has helped strengthen my sense of self, and choosing to speak up without speaking down to people has served me well every time. I hope to teach my students this pearl of wisdom, as well. We can embrace individuality and share our opinions without insulting one another. It's so easy, but so powerful. I guess my silly "crap" shows aren't totally vacuous (but let's be honest--they mosty are!).
In mama news, today Levi is 7 months old! I know it's cliche, but I honestly cannot believe how fast he's growing. He can army crawl like a pro, he's become increasingly attached to Mommy and Daddy, and he has discovered the fun of sucking on lemon wedges at restaurants. Last night we had family pictures taken in New Buffalo along Lake Michigan, and he was such a good sport. Norah had a blast screaming up and down the beach with her cousins, and all 13 of us headed to Oink's afterward for some delicious ice cream (Red Velvet Cake for me.) Ashlie Ostergren took the gorgeous photos--check her out at http://avophotography.wordpress.com/.
I'm off to juggle one of the three books I'm currently reading (The Vanishers, The Naked Mom, and Fifty Shades Freed) and *hopefully* squeeze in a workout.
Happy wild life!
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Lobster tales
The title for this post made me chuckle out loud. Too bad only Rocco the cat was around to appreciate it. I will explain the reason for the aforementioned pun momentarily, but first I must ask all of my readers to check out Ben Konowitz' HILARIOUS blog here: http://willpowerthru.com/. He makes my blog look incredibly boring and low-tech but it's so entertaining he gets a plug anyway.
This morning I am enjoying the French Open Finals between Nadal and Djokovic. I was explaining the rules to Norah at the beginning of the match, filling her in on the players' records and such, and I happened to mention that I find Rafa to be quite attractive. Fast-forward half an hour as we deliver a dozen donuts to the fire station, and what do you think Norah announces to Zach? "Guess what, Daddy? Erica said that guy is cuuuute!" I guess I'll have to teach her that girl talk is classified. At least my pick for cute guy on TV is young and relevant. Last weekend we watched "Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" and Norah decalred Robin Gibb to be dreamy. I think it might be due to his flowing locks, but still. Robin Gibb? She has suffered from questionable taste in men before (she once told me that Austin Scarlett from "Project Runway" looks like Prince Charming), but usually she pines after Captain Jack Sparrow, and that is a crush I can get behind.
Aside from Nadal making my heart go aflutter, I was marveling this morning at his, and Djokovic's, mental game. Two hours in to intense volleys, accompanied by annoying rain, and they can maintain precision-focus. It's incredible to think about athletes. So much of their talent comes from their mind, their dedication to a goal and refusal to give less than their best. They can power through pain and cramps and being down 2 sets and still return impossible shots at over 100 mph. I think I'm extra impressed by athletes' willpower because that is one area in which I seriously struggle. I have always let my mind get in the way. I overthink like it's my job, and I can worry myself into not attempting something because I've already envisioned myself failing three different ways. Intellectually I know worrying is pointless, but my emotions are often much more powerful than my brain. I also never played sports, so instead of honing that intense focus, I've had years to improve my excuse-making. One of my goals for the Summer of Productivity is to lose the remaining baby weight (it's back up to 10 pounds thanks to daily indulgences of whatever sounds good), so I've got to find a way to channel some of my excuse-making skills into sweat sessions. Wish me luck!
Now on to the sea creature this post is named after. The lobster would be me. Shocking, I know, but I got sunburned yesterday. Bad. My stomach is so red it's creepy, and my upper thighs are stinging pink. I worked high school graduation last weekend and got a sweet farmer's tan, so I've been trying to even that out. In doing so, however, I burned other, larger portions of my body and ended up with potentially more awkward tan lines. Go me. I've been really good about sunscreen the last few years thanks to a healthy fear of wrinkles and skin cancer, but yesterday on the pool raft with Fifty Shades Darker in hand (my trashy summer indulgence!) I lost track of time and the need to reapply. Thanks to my toasty bod, I will be spending the rest of today inside. Maybe I can finish that book, though ;)
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| Austin Scarlett--manly? |
Aside from Nadal making my heart go aflutter, I was marveling this morning at his, and Djokovic's, mental game. Two hours in to intense volleys, accompanied by annoying rain, and they can maintain precision-focus. It's incredible to think about athletes. So much of their talent comes from their mind, their dedication to a goal and refusal to give less than their best. They can power through pain and cramps and being down 2 sets and still return impossible shots at over 100 mph. I think I'm extra impressed by athletes' willpower because that is one area in which I seriously struggle. I have always let my mind get in the way. I overthink like it's my job, and I can worry myself into not attempting something because I've already envisioned myself failing three different ways. Intellectually I know worrying is pointless, but my emotions are often much more powerful than my brain. I also never played sports, so instead of honing that intense focus, I've had years to improve my excuse-making. One of my goals for the Summer of Productivity is to lose the remaining baby weight (it's back up to 10 pounds thanks to daily indulgences of whatever sounds good), so I've got to find a way to channel some of my excuse-making skills into sweat sessions. Wish me luck!
Now on to the sea creature this post is named after. The lobster would be me. Shocking, I know, but I got sunburned yesterday. Bad. My stomach is so red it's creepy, and my upper thighs are stinging pink. I worked high school graduation last weekend and got a sweet farmer's tan, so I've been trying to even that out. In doing so, however, I burned other, larger portions of my body and ended up with potentially more awkward tan lines. Go me. I've been really good about sunscreen the last few years thanks to a healthy fear of wrinkles and skin cancer, but yesterday on the pool raft with Fifty Shades Darker in hand (my trashy summer indulgence!) I lost track of time and the need to reapply. Thanks to my toasty bod, I will be spending the rest of today inside. Maybe I can finish that book, though ;)
Friday, June 8, 2012
Friday, Friday
Good morning, folks! I have enjoyed my daily dose of iced mocha, WGN morning news, and giggling with my little dude, so this Friday is off to a TGIFeriffic start. (Evidently I've gotten my morning dose of corny, too. You're welcome.)
In an hour Zach and I are taking Norah to her swim lesson at the Y. Because I'm the only parent totally on vacation, I've had the joy of chauffering her each day this week to her class. She's an eel, the second level for 4-6 year olds, and she has been deemed a no-bubble swimmer. (This means she doesn't need any sort of floaties. I'm so proud.) Norah loves to swim, and she's quite strong, but she is not too keen on getting water in her face. Normally she will go under only if she psychs herself up and plugs her nose. Lessons, though, are making a huge difference. She is getting so brave! Yesterday she swam through the hoop UNDERWATER and Wednesday she held on to the 12-foot pole in the deep end and went under twice. This is huge news. We're planning on spending a lot of time in Zach's brother's pool this summer, and we want her to be confident and comfortable chasing her cousins and jumping in with screaming abandon. Another week as an eel and I think she'll have it :)
Tonight Zach and his brother Jeff are taking their dad to Wrigley Field (holla, Chicago Cubs!) for a Pink Floyd experience concert. To celebrate the men's absence, myself and my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and all of the kiddos (7) are heading to Hacienda, our favorite fun family dinner destination. I for one am quite looking forward to a frozen margarita or two.
I'm on a family high right now, excited about all of the things we plan to do this summer. I might be feeling family so much because I got to spend time with two of my nephews yesterday. Sam had a Little League game in Elkhart, so Dad and I headed over with Levi to do some cheering. Sam is FAST. He stole two bases twice and played catcher the entire game.. Zane, my youngest nephew, sat next to me and played Legos. It was so relaxing to chat with my sister, Wendy, about her current home-schooling adventures and be surrounded by fellow Worts. I'm also feeling inspired about our summer plans because I just caught up with one of my favorite blogs, Enjoying the Small Things (http://www.kellehampton.com/), as she chronicled her family's road trip preparations. The games, arts and crafts, and friendly gas pump messages just make me smile. I don't know if I have the inspiration or the time to be nearly as creative, but I love her enthusiasm for making life as fun as possible for her girls.
Speaking of Kelle Hampton, I am currently enjoying her memoir, Bloom. Buying the hardcover was my Mother's Day gift to myself. Filled with beautiful photographs and moving details about her family's adjustment to her younger daughter's Down Syndrome diagnosis, this book reminds me about all of the triumphs moms feel each day. Kelle just seems like a friend I'd love to have :) Definitely a chick book, but as a chick, I dig it.
Levi says, "Have fun today! I know I will."
In an hour Zach and I are taking Norah to her swim lesson at the Y. Because I'm the only parent totally on vacation, I've had the joy of chauffering her each day this week to her class. She's an eel, the second level for 4-6 year olds, and she has been deemed a no-bubble swimmer. (This means she doesn't need any sort of floaties. I'm so proud.) Norah loves to swim, and she's quite strong, but she is not too keen on getting water in her face. Normally she will go under only if she psychs herself up and plugs her nose. Lessons, though, are making a huge difference. She is getting so brave! Yesterday she swam through the hoop UNDERWATER and Wednesday she held on to the 12-foot pole in the deep end and went under twice. This is huge news. We're planning on spending a lot of time in Zach's brother's pool this summer, and we want her to be confident and comfortable chasing her cousins and jumping in with screaming abandon. Another week as an eel and I think she'll have it :)
Tonight Zach and his brother Jeff are taking their dad to Wrigley Field (holla, Chicago Cubs!) for a Pink Floyd experience concert. To celebrate the men's absence, myself and my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and all of the kiddos (7) are heading to Hacienda, our favorite fun family dinner destination. I for one am quite looking forward to a frozen margarita or two.
I'm on a family high right now, excited about all of the things we plan to do this summer. I might be feeling family so much because I got to spend time with two of my nephews yesterday. Sam had a Little League game in Elkhart, so Dad and I headed over with Levi to do some cheering. Sam is FAST. He stole two bases twice and played catcher the entire game.. Zane, my youngest nephew, sat next to me and played Legos. It was so relaxing to chat with my sister, Wendy, about her current home-schooling adventures and be surrounded by fellow Worts. I'm also feeling inspired about our summer plans because I just caught up with one of my favorite blogs, Enjoying the Small Things (http://www.kellehampton.com/), as she chronicled her family's road trip preparations. The games, arts and crafts, and friendly gas pump messages just make me smile. I don't know if I have the inspiration or the time to be nearly as creative, but I love her enthusiasm for making life as fun as possible for her girls. Speaking of Kelle Hampton, I am currently enjoying her memoir, Bloom. Buying the hardcover was my Mother's Day gift to myself. Filled with beautiful photographs and moving details about her family's adjustment to her younger daughter's Down Syndrome diagnosis, this book reminds me about all of the triumphs moms feel each day. Kelle just seems like a friend I'd love to have :) Definitely a chick book, but as a chick, I dig it.
Levi says, "Have fun today! I know I will."
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Smommy?
The one piece of writing advice I have always followed, and dispense often to my students, is to write what you know. I believe I gleaned this little nugget from Harriet the Spy, my most favorite book. The best inspiration most often comes from real life. The truest voice most definitely comes from experience, and my writing has always resonated strongly when I write from the heart, from what I know.
One of my main focuses (foci?) for creating a blog was to discuss what it's like to be a step-parent. My mentor recently suggested that I use my unique perspective in the world to get back into writing, and I know part of that perspective is coming in to a preexisting family and trying to find my place. I've been in Norah's life since she turned 2. She doesn't remember life without me, and while that has certainly made our transition easier, the hiccups and struggles of step-parenting still exist. I know there are enough parenting blogs, step-parenting blogs, blended family blogs, etc. to make someone want to live alone under a bridge just for the peace and quiet, so I don't claim to be any kind of expert. What I know, however, is that being a stepmom is not easy. There are very few thanks for stepping in and raising someone else's child (though I do my very best to consider Norah my own child) but plenty of criticisms. I've struggled, and still very much do, to be honest, with jealousy over the relationships that existed before me. These relationships include the one that made Norah, and the one she and her father share that I can't be a part of. Yes, he proposed to me, yes he vowed to be my partner until death, and yes, he has made it clear that we are a family now, all of us included, but a part of me (that really ugly part inside that rears her head from time to time and says particularly nasty things about me) worries I'm still an outsider. My insecurities and anger only hinder me from fully enjoying the beautiful life that I live, and it really is up to me to get past these feelings, but I have to admit that I feel them. I'd rather be real and fess up to the immature, selfish, whiny version of me that still exists than pretend I've got it all together.
I still remember talking to a hairdresser just before my wedding about my soon-to-be family dynamic. She told me that her stepdaughters call her Smommy (for step-mommy), and I thought that was cute but not for me. To Norah, I'm just Erica. She loves me for who I am, regardless of title, and I'm trying to learn how to love that way, too. Follow along as I try to make it work!
On a side note, I also want to use this blog to keep track of the things I'm reading. I love hearing book recommendations from others, and I've always wanted to record my reading but have never figured out a way to stick with it. I'll try to end my posts with what I'm reading and a recommendation here and there. This week I finished Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible, and it is an amazing piece of work. If you like to connect with characters and come away from a book feeling changed, this one is definitely worth a read.
One of my main focuses (foci?) for creating a blog was to discuss what it's like to be a step-parent. My mentor recently suggested that I use my unique perspective in the world to get back into writing, and I know part of that perspective is coming in to a preexisting family and trying to find my place. I've been in Norah's life since she turned 2. She doesn't remember life without me, and while that has certainly made our transition easier, the hiccups and struggles of step-parenting still exist. I know there are enough parenting blogs, step-parenting blogs, blended family blogs, etc. to make someone want to live alone under a bridge just for the peace and quiet, so I don't claim to be any kind of expert. What I know, however, is that being a stepmom is not easy. There are very few thanks for stepping in and raising someone else's child (though I do my very best to consider Norah my own child) but plenty of criticisms. I've struggled, and still very much do, to be honest, with jealousy over the relationships that existed before me. These relationships include the one that made Norah, and the one she and her father share that I can't be a part of. Yes, he proposed to me, yes he vowed to be my partner until death, and yes, he has made it clear that we are a family now, all of us included, but a part of me (that really ugly part inside that rears her head from time to time and says particularly nasty things about me) worries I'm still an outsider. My insecurities and anger only hinder me from fully enjoying the beautiful life that I live, and it really is up to me to get past these feelings, but I have to admit that I feel them. I'd rather be real and fess up to the immature, selfish, whiny version of me that still exists than pretend I've got it all together.
I still remember talking to a hairdresser just before my wedding about my soon-to-be family dynamic. She told me that her stepdaughters call her Smommy (for step-mommy), and I thought that was cute but not for me. To Norah, I'm just Erica. She loves me for who I am, regardless of title, and I'm trying to learn how to love that way, too. Follow along as I try to make it work!
On a side note, I also want to use this blog to keep track of the things I'm reading. I love hearing book recommendations from others, and I've always wanted to record my reading but have never figured out a way to stick with it. I'll try to end my posts with what I'm reading and a recommendation here and there. This week I finished Barbara Kingsolver's The Poisonwood Bible, and it is an amazing piece of work. If you like to connect with characters and come away from a book feeling changed, this one is definitely worth a read.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Three generations
Summer has always held a magical power for me. A summer morning brings with it possibility. An owl coos near my bedroom window in the pause between sunrise and the day, and in that moment I feel like I can do anything. When I was younger, the days of summer would stretch before me endlessly. Sam and I would make lists of our must-do activities (usually a trip to the waterpark topped our plans) and take notes on the new things we discovered. I vividly remember the summer I learned to like blueberries and wear gold jewelry. That was also the summer I graduated from high school and would be leaving her for college 2 hours away. We had to make every second of that summer count even more because we saw the end of what we'd known for 11 years barreling toward us.
Now, I have a family and a job that offers me summers of freedom again. Sam is the one who is hours away at school now. She is startling no one with her success in medical school, but we see each other much less frequently. She'll be home next weekend and we've already made plans to squeeze about 8 of our favorite summer activities in--Redamak's, taking our pups to Doggie Beach, Lighthouse Outlet Mall, Hacienda, and ice cream to name a few (seems like our friendship revoles around food!).
I have dubbed this my Summer of Productivity. I don't want to go back to school in August and feel like I let my summer pass me by. I want to make it count, to get done all of those things I never get to during the school year, to make memories and photographs and laughter with my children, to create new traditions with my husband, and to return to my classroom feeling invigorated and inspired. That right there is a lot to tackle already, but my list is much longer. One of my goals is to try one new recipe per week. If you know me, this is HUGE--I do not cook. I don't like to cook, I don't like the prep time, and I certainly don't like the clean-up involved. I'm still in single girl mode when it comes to food. I'm content with cheese quesadillas, egg and bagel sandwiches, cereal, and pizza. My husband and children, however, require slightly more prowess in the kitchen. My New Year's Resolution last year was to try one new recipe a week, but then I found out I was pregnant and used that as the perfect distraction not to cook. So, the Summer of Productivity will also be the Summer I Start Cooking.
Last night was meal #1. Zach was coming back from a bachelor party in Las Vegas and I thought it'd be a nice way to welcome him home. I headed to my mom's to snag one of her recipes. I plan on trying out new Pinterest dishes and using the cookbooks collecting dust in my cabinet, but there's something about a meal you grew up with to make you feel like a proper wife and mother. I chose stuffed peppers. As I was copying the recipe from my mom's recipe card box, I noticed a date in the bottom right-hand corner. 7-1-1968. I asked her what that meant, and she said that's when she copied the recipe from her mother, one year after she'd graduated high school. I was so excited. Here it was, 43 years later, and the same recipe my grandma created would be prepared for my children. She passed away when I was graduating high school, and she meant the world to me. Her cooking is one of the things I most remember about her. As a matter of fact, writing that now, I'm surprised I've never tried to emulate her in the kitchen before.
Anyway, the dinner turned out pretty OK. The sauce wasn't as thick as my mom's, and I had to use minced onion because I forgot to buy a real onion, but it was pretty tasty. Zach devoured it and said it really hit the spot after a weekend of overpriced food and ample drinks.I felt happy that I'd fed my husband, and proud that I'd started working on my goal. More than that, though, I felt connected to my mother and grandmother. Three generations of women have made those stuffed peppers, a Moore, a Wort, and a Kanney, and I now had at least one dinner to add to my repertoire. The Summer of Productivity is off to a great start :)
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| Sam and I on my wedding day, Sept. 18, 2010 |
I have dubbed this my Summer of Productivity. I don't want to go back to school in August and feel like I let my summer pass me by. I want to make it count, to get done all of those things I never get to during the school year, to make memories and photographs and laughter with my children, to create new traditions with my husband, and to return to my classroom feeling invigorated and inspired. That right there is a lot to tackle already, but my list is much longer. One of my goals is to try one new recipe per week. If you know me, this is HUGE--I do not cook. I don't like to cook, I don't like the prep time, and I certainly don't like the clean-up involved. I'm still in single girl mode when it comes to food. I'm content with cheese quesadillas, egg and bagel sandwiches, cereal, and pizza. My husband and children, however, require slightly more prowess in the kitchen. My New Year's Resolution last year was to try one new recipe a week, but then I found out I was pregnant and used that as the perfect distraction not to cook. So, the Summer of Productivity will also be the Summer I Start Cooking.
Last night was meal #1. Zach was coming back from a bachelor party in Las Vegas and I thought it'd be a nice way to welcome him home. I headed to my mom's to snag one of her recipes. I plan on trying out new Pinterest dishes and using the cookbooks collecting dust in my cabinet, but there's something about a meal you grew up with to make you feel like a proper wife and mother. I chose stuffed peppers. As I was copying the recipe from my mom's recipe card box, I noticed a date in the bottom right-hand corner. 7-1-1968. I asked her what that meant, and she said that's when she copied the recipe from her mother, one year after she'd graduated high school. I was so excited. Here it was, 43 years later, and the same recipe my grandma created would be prepared for my children. She passed away when I was graduating high school, and she meant the world to me. Her cooking is one of the things I most remember about her. As a matter of fact, writing that now, I'm surprised I've never tried to emulate her in the kitchen before.
Anyway, the dinner turned out pretty OK. The sauce wasn't as thick as my mom's, and I had to use minced onion because I forgot to buy a real onion, but it was pretty tasty. Zach devoured it and said it really hit the spot after a weekend of overpriced food and ample drinks.I felt happy that I'd fed my husband, and proud that I'd started working on my goal. More than that, though, I felt connected to my mother and grandmother. Three generations of women have made those stuffed peppers, a Moore, a Wort, and a Kanney, and I now had at least one dinner to add to my repertoire. The Summer of Productivity is off to a great start :)
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