A Breath of Fresh Air

Finally, after a ridiculously long stretch of cruel and frigid temperatures, it reached 50 degrees in Chattanooga, TN!  Believe me, we took full advantage of this weather.  We walked across the Walnut Street Bridge, stopped at a local bakery, enjoyed a homemade soft pretzel, walked along the Tennessee River and then headed back to the north shore.  A cup of coffee outside of Greenlife Grocery was the perfect way to end our day out of the house.  This kind of a day sounds down-right romantic, but I'll be honest. This was less of a "wouldn't this be fun?" trip and more of one of those do-or-die kind of outings.  

Seriously.  

I was going so stir-crazy that I wasn't sure if I'd survive another day.  I know, I sound like I'm being dramatic, but 1) In the words of one of my sisters, I come from a long line of over-reactors, and 2) I really don't care.  When I decided to be a stay-at-home mom, I wasn't really prepared for how incredibly true the "stay at home" part would be.  Leaving the house with an infant is a lot harder than it sounds.  Between the diapers, wipes, strollers, extra outfit, burp cloths, hooter hider and, in this weather, blankets, the process of leaving the house without Christopher's help isn't easy. If you throw the need to shower in the mix, some days leaving the house just isn't an option at all. Trust me, there is NOTHING that I love more than being with my little girl.  I would gladly sign up for a life-long case of cabin fever if it meant that I could be with her every day, but this winter has turned into a whole lot of togetherness, and let's be honest - too much of a good thing can be... too much. So when I checked today's forecast and then confirmed that Christopher didn't have a job to do this afternoon, I shouted "FREEDOM!" and pulled out the jogging stroller.  Pathetic, I know.  I really don't care.  

Now that we are back home, all worn out and all together, I feel like a different person.  I feel refreshed and like myself again.  Who knew that a little fresh air would be all it took? Today was just what our family needed. I have hope now that Spring might really be right around the corner, and that maybe- just maybe- along with all of the azaleas and camellias, sanity will soon be in full bloom. 

Here is one of the pictures from our day...

Table Talk

Today is the day that we nationally remember Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  I have spent a good bit of this afternoon considering the significance of today; I have thought about the way things used to be, the way things are and the way things should be.  I have thought of Dr. King's courageous fight, his heroic death and the things he begged our nation to recognize.  I've come to the realization today that all of his convictions that he communicated through his poignant speeches were, in part, instructions for parents.  Doesn't it begin with us?

I have to commend my mother.  I always knew that if I said a bad word, that I'd spend a good bit of time without any trace of a social life, and I'd probably get myself a spanking I'd still to this day remember. But what I didn't know - what I never even allowed myself to wonder - was what would happen if I said the "N" word.  I still don't know. I still don't wonder.  It wasn't even in the same category as bad words.  See, saying a "bad" word might mean that we were full of anger, full of rebellion or full of our teenage, know-it-all selves. Saying the "N" word meant that we were full of hate, and that wasn't tolerated.  She taught us that before she taught us to walk. 

I'm 23 years old.  My mom can't chase me with a wooden spoon anymore, and she can't take away any special privileges, but the fear of punishment isn't why I believe what she taught me.  I believe what she taught me because it is inarguably and permanently true. What she taught me every single day of my life was that people are people.  Period.  She was careful about it; she knew that she couldn't exactly make it a non-issue and expect her children to learn from society what it means to respect others.  That'd be a reckless chance to take.  So we talked about it a good bit.  Learning to see people for their character rather than their color was a process that started at our breakfast table. Most lessons that really take root start there. 

So, having a family of my own now begs the question, "what will my daughter take away from our breakfast table?"  I hope that she will take away lessons of gratitude, selflessness, patience and respect.  I hope that she will learn to stand up for people who are being picked on and befriend people that are friendless.  I want her to be kind to people who aren't kind and to never define someone by the color of their skin.  I have to be the one to teach her things things, because if I don't, who will?  And if every parent was committed to teaching these lessons to their children, would our society finally transition from "the way things are" to "the way things should be?"

Double or Nothing

I was out for a run with Sarah Claire in her jogging stroller, and it had been a while since I had hit the pavement.  There has been a 6 inch layer of snow on the ground, so there has been a temporary lull in outdoor exercise.  Today, being that it was my first day back at it, was shamefully tough.  After about a mile (yes, only a mile) I was ready to quit. So I did. (tempted to enter perpetually-exhausted-due-to-baby excuse here.)  I started walking, and about the time that I did, my phone rang.  It was my sister who had just weeks before agreed to make a co-resolution with me towards better health.  Seriously?  How did she time that call?  Needless to say, after we chatted for a minute and ended our phone call, I started running again.  That kind of perfect timing couldn't be ignored, and as it turns out, guilt is a pretty effective personal trainer.  In spite of the cigaret-smoke-blowing girl with a horrifying dye job that nearly ran us over, I made it another mile.  I'm not proud to say that two miles did me in today, but it did, and I'll take it.  Two is better than one!

After realizing how much work I have to do in order to build up to my goal (half marathon in April) I went home and signed my sister and myself up for a local race in February.  If the arctic temperatures return, I might regret my decision, but I'm motivated to shake this baby weight.  The only thing left to do is recruit the other 4 siblings.  Scenic City Charity Challenge, here we come!

Want to run it too? Here's the link!

http://www.active.com/running/chattanooga-tn/scenic-city-half-marathon-5k-and-charity-challenge-2011?cmp=23-2

Checkpoint

It's 7:00 a.m, and my 14 pound, blue-eyed alarm clock goes off.  She's ready to get up for the day.  I get her out of bed. She reaches up, and with one hand she "honks" my nose, and with the other she pinches my cheek.  Hard.  So hard, in fact, that I actually have to check to see if she drew blood with her little baby talons.  So I walk to the mirror, catch a glimpse of myself and stifle a scream.  My hair looks like I licked an outlet. Great.  On my way out of the bedroom, I trip over a pile of laundry and just before we both hit the hardwood floor, I catch myself on the door frame.  Sarah Claire thinks our near-concussion experience is hilarious, and squeals to prove it.  I'm glad someone is enjoying this.

We make it to the kitchen and I see my checkpoint: the coffee pot.  I reach in the cabinet and nearly laugh out loud when the mug I grab says "Best Mom" on it.  It's about the size of a five gallon bucket. Even my hazy, sleep-dprived brain can connect the ironic dots: I'm not sure that the "best mom" would require this kind of caffeinated help.  I do, though, and I fill my mug to the brim.

I put Sarah Claire in her jumperoo and sit down at the table beside her.  I take a few sips of my coffee.  It tastes like Heaven.  I pull my knees up to my chest and  watch her as she squeaks every toy around her.  I have to laugh.  She's so proud of herself.  She looks up at me, blows raspberries and grins.  She stretches her arms up to show me that she wants me to hold her, and I realize something: She doesn't care one bit if my hair makes me look like Dolly Parton and Russell Brand's offspring.  My hair, in fact, is at the bottom of her priority list.  Realizing this makes it drop a few notches on my list too.

I pick her up, and realize that I can't live today again.  I decide just to be thankful that I have a daughter and husband who don't care if I fix my hair or not.  I'm so grateful for that.  That- and my five gallon mug of coffee.

Normal Changes

I am overwhelmed with how much I love being a wife and mother.

I have a feeling that veteran mommas caught the key word in that sentence, but I know that before I had Sarah Claire, I never would have.  Overwhelmed.  

I've learned what that means lately.

I'm overwhelmed when I go to bed at midnight, after starting the 3rd load of laundry for the day, doing the dishes, and checking my email, only to have Sarah Claire wake up for the first time at 12:30.  Then at 2:00.  Then at 3:15.  Then at 5:05.  And she's ready to be up for the day.  

I'm overwhelmed when I put her down for her morning nap and try to make our bed, only to accidentally knock the alarm clock off of the bedside table, and wake her up.  Then the process starts all over.

I'm overwhelmed with guilt when I am all out of patience by the time Christopher gets home from work, and I meet him at the door with Sarah Claire, begging for a moment to eat a snack and sit down for 15 minutes.

I'm overwhelmed when I'm bouncing Sarah Claire to sleep, and she picks her little head up off of my chest, and she looks up at me and just stares at me for a moment, and then she smiles as big as she knows how, and then puts her head back down, as content as only a baby can be.  

I'm overwhelmed. Sometimes it's with guilt.  Sometimes it's with exhaustion.  And sometimes it is with the most intense love I think anyone is capable of feeling.  

I used to think that research papers were overwhelming, especially if I lost sleep over it.  In hind sight, that wasn't so bad. 

I will say that "overwhelmed"is relative.  It's not something unique to motherhood; it's just part of life.  I am sure it's one of those "it makes us who we are" kind of things, and I feel confident that there are dozens of books in the Self Help section at Books-A-Million that are full of coping strategies, but I'm not buying it-  Not the book and not the idea that there is a prescription or a method that works.  It's too complicated for that!

I can't wish the magnitude of motherhood away, and if I could, I wouldn't.  Not in a million years.  As unbelievably difficult as it is some days, it is so, so wonderful.  The day I met Sarah Claire was -so far- the best day of my life, and all of the sleepless nights in the world couldn't make me wish things were different.

It's possible, by the way, to want two conflicting realities at once.   At 1:00 a.m. I can want to be sleeping soundly and want to be wide awake with Sarah Claire at the exact same time.  Accepting the fact that motherhood makes me a walking example of contradictions such as that one has made me feel less crazy.  Or care less that I might just be crazy.

Besides, once you have a baby, "normal" changes.  

Baby Steps

If you've ever had a baby, then you know that it goes without saying that the first few months are tough.  You are faced with challenges of all kinds, but one that seems to be one of the toughest is the adjustment to a postpartum body. Yuck.

Inactivity is not an option for a new mom; there are diapers to change, dishes to wash, a baby to bounce and meals to make. But in spite of (and because of) this constant to-do list that inevitably keeps you on your feet all day, there is not a whole lot of energy left for actual workouts. And even if there was time in the day for such a luxury, there is the ambition factor.  One look in the mirror might send some moms to the gym, but I think I speak for the majority when I say that there is a certain form of discouragement that only a mom could experience when she sees her new body staring back at her in the bathroom mirror. And that discouragement can send her, ironically, right into the sugary, trans-fatty comfort of the ice cream carton.  After all, that will at least offer instant gratification!  But what about the long term goal?

Put on your shoes. Go! Do it now.  I'm not kidding.

Put your baby in the car, and go to the store.  Live in Chattanooga?  GreenLife or Earth Fare are both great stores for this.  Load up on oranges (in season and delicious right now), bananas, grapefruit, and almonds. Carrots and celery and a low fat dip.  As you peruse the aisle, read labels and look for items with the fewest ingredients, and get things that you LIKE to eat, just avoid the things that give you that guilty feeling afterwards.  Grab a dark chocolate bar by the register if you want.  Opt for organic if you can.

Go back home, and prepare these snacks ahead of time.  (If you have a baby carrier, this will be a much easier task!)  Slice the oranges and the veggies.  If portion control is hard for you, use small storage containers to divvy up the crackers or the nuts.  Break the chocolate bar into a few pieces so that you won't eat the whole thing in one sitting.  Just make sure that all of the good stuff you bought is easily accessible.  Manufacturers make things like Oreos easy to eat on the go.  You'll eat more, so you'll buy more.  You have to be intentional to make better options just as easy.

Do you feel better yet? You should.  You've just taken an active step towards losing that baby weight.

Now, look up local races.  Even if you aren't a runner, you can walk them!  The beauty of this is, a jogging stroller lets you take your baby along too.  No more "can't find a babysitter" excuse!  A 2 miler or a 5k is a great place to start.  Need help finding one? Look online.

If you live in Chattanooga, here's a link: http://www.active.com.  There is a half marathon and a 5k coming up in February, and they benefit the community kitchen.

Find a workout buddy.  Plan your meals ahead of time.  Don't have a good cookbook?  Look online. You'll find more recipes than you know what to do with. Make it a family affair- this will make it easier if you all vow to do away with the candy jar!

And most importantly, stop obsessing and worrying about the changes that pregnancy caused.  Stretch marks and new curves are, without a doubt, evidence that you love your child enough to let them leave their mark on your body.  Be in the best health that you can- absolutely do that. But don't be tempted to hate all of the changes that you see.  They really are sweet reminders of the 9 months that you selflessly carried your baby.  It's hard to hate the proof that you did that!

Flip, Flop.

I grew up in flip flops.

The Gulf Coast was home to me for the first 22 years of my life.  I remember going entire winters without ever seeing a thermometer drop below 30, and when summertime rolled around, sunbathing in triple digits was a daily ritual.

So, you can imagine how I felt when I woke up this morning and  looked out of the window and saw 8 feet of snow.  Or maybe it was 8 inches.  Honestly, that's irrelevant.  When you're not even used to flurries, anything more than an inch or two is all the same.

I'm closeting the flip flops.

We've been here a year, and it's taken some time for me to feel like I can put my roots down in Chattanooga. I think that my hesitation had something to do with the fact that the ground - and everything else- was frozen, but over the course of the last year, the weather warmed up and things thawed out a little.  I've really started to like Chattanooga, and even though today's weather is making me feel totally out of my element again, I know that this is just part of the cycle.  The snow is going to melt, and spring will (eventually) get here.

I might not be able to load up the car with towels, sun-tan lotion and a mixed CD (featuring Otis Redding) and head to the beach for the day, but I have a lot to look forward to.

Come to think of it, for the most part I absolutely love it.  I don't have to love it every day to be genuinely happy that we live here.  I can go back and forth on how I feel, depending on the season, and I do.  We'll make it to Mobile again soon, and I'll be able to pull out my flip flops again.

The strange part is, once we get down there, I'm sure I'll miss my snow boots. Go figure.