Small confession

I broke down.  I had to.  It was raining, I couldn't go to the gym or go for a walk so really... I just didn't have an option.  So I got in my car and I did it.  I went to the mall and went shopping.  I've been so good lately.  Haven't bought anything in, well, 6 weeks or so, and I still haven't for myself but poor hannah has grown out of all of her clothes from last summer and she NEEDED some new clothes.  I didn't want her to be THAT girl with dresses so short kids would call her a Hoochie Mama or shorts so tight she had a constant wedgie.  I didn't shop anywhere extravagant.  Just H&M.  At H&M everything is so inexpensive (in comparison to most of the local stores around here) that my pile of stuff just gets bigger and bigger until it's not so inexpensive anymore.  The problem also is that when I'm shopping for Hannah, there's no trying-on involved which is always the deterrent in shopping for myself.  She also looks so darn CUTE in everything (if I only looked so good in a little shorts jumpsuit).   She is getting a little harder to shop for I'll admit.  She won't wear jeans (they're itchy), doesn't like anything with a seam that she can "feel" (like empire waist she says is uncomfortable), likes if there are pockets in the front (to put little treasures in), doesn't like long shirts (it either needs to be a dress or a shirt and if it isn't obvious which it is it's a no go) and for the most part doesn't like anything that doesn't have pink or purple in it (everything else is a boy color).  But I can work with these limitations.  I have a friend whose daughter won't wear anything with buttons.  At all.  Anywhere.  That would be harder.  So, there.  I feel better.  I confessed to my little shopping outing.  And I feel better because I went shopping.  I love shopping.  Even if it's not for me.  Can you tell?  

And I'll quickly explain why I couldn't go to the gym or workout instead of shopping.  My knee/back/neck were hurting so badly that I couldn't imagine any sort of exercise.  Why is my body in such bad shape you may ask?  Well, because I boogied down so hard in my 3 inch heels at a wedding this past weekend that I'm now paying for it.  Serves me right for trying to act like one of the many 20something year olds at the wedding, staying out until 2:00 in the morning and jamming to "Poker Face"...   I wore my Converse sneakers shopping.  

Hair woes

I'm trying to grow my hair out.  I had this amazing idea when I was pregnant with Luke to get it all cut off to give it some "style" since I felt like the everyday ponytail look just wasn't cutting it.  My hairdresser tried, I mean REALLY tried to dissuade me.  He said the pregnancy hormones often make women have crazy ideas about cutting off their hair and then they come crying back to him after the baby is born blaming him for the terrible decision.  I told him this was not the hormones talking that I really truly needed a good change to my look and he finally relented.  I am now angry with him for allowing it to happen.  I miss my flowing long locks.  Ok, I never really had flowing long locks but I do miss the long haired me.  I don't really like that whenever Tim looks at pictures of me with long hair he says, "oh look how long your hair was here... you look so pretty".  He always follows that up with, "not that you don't look pretty now but...".  I also don't like that I went to a dinner party recently where a child-less 29 year old family friend said, "you look like such a MOM now!".  That hurt.  I purposely was trying to get a non-mom haircut but i guess my trying to look like Katie Holmes missed the mark.  I'm also a little upset no one told me (at least not forcefully enough) that shorter hair is MUCH more work (especially if style was one of the criteria for the new haircut).   Sadly I do not have the kind of hair that air dries well.  It gets bad curls.  So I need either spend 45 minutes with a large round brush (which tooks months to master by the way) to have semi-stylish hair or spend no time and have frizz-top.  Boy do I miss my ponytail.  So my go-to product these days is a wide headband.  I think it looks more stylish than a hat, keeps my half grown out bangs out of my face, makes me look like I could have just gone to the gym (or played in a tennis match) and covers the top of my frizz-top.  I'm just hoping that I'll wake up one morning (soon) and my long flowing locks will have returned and I can drive by my salon in peace.

Tea Time

Tim ordered tea last night after dinner.  This was after his dinner of steamed salmon, asparagus and sticky rice.  I kept looking under the table wondering if her real husband was hiding under there.  Tea?  Steamed salmon?  What happened to the baby-back ribs and cappuccino?  This brings me to the fact that in the past couple of months he's lost a significant amount of weight - not that he even needed to lose weight but he kept saying he wanted his belly to be smaller to help his bad back.  Now his pants don't fit.  Mind you, he really didn't have to do much to lose this weight which I think always seems to be the case when it comes to guys losing weight.  They just alter one small thing (cutting out that afternoon icecream, jogging on the treadmill a few more minutes than normal, having skim milk instead of whole in their coffee, etc) - in Tim's case it was stopping his after dinner habit of eating 3-4 bowls of cereal as a snack.   Or eating 3 instead of 6 slices of pizza.  Or 2 instead of 12 fig newtons.  So maybe it's moderation that he's learned and maybe it does make sense that he's lost this weight.  Sometimes I watch him after he's eaten and I can tell that he's REALLY wanting more but he's sitting quietly, just waiting.  "What are you thinking about" I ask?  "They say it takes 20 minutes for your body to know it's full", he says.   I have heard this fact and I'm not sure if it's true but for me, there's no way I'm going to just sit around waiting to see if I'm still hungry... if I wait this long I think I just forget that I had wanted more to eat and have moved onto something else...  Tim actually does sit there though with his empty plate in front of him, looking at the clock for twenty minutes to pass.  And then he makes his decision and for the most part, he's not hungry any more!  Last night though... after the salmon and tea episode... after I had gone to bed... I heard some footsteps down the stairs and into the kitchen, some cellophane unwrapping and some chewing (well maybe I couldn't hear the chewing but it adds to the image doesn't it?) and when he came back to bed... Tim smelled strangely like Fig Newtons.   Ahhh... my husband is back.

"Suntimes"

I think I'm going to teach my kids to enjoy sunbathing.  I know it's probably not recommended by most pediatricians or dermatologists (or other moms, grandmas, or friends for that matter) but you know what, I am kind of dreading chasing my kids around the pool for fear that they'll fall in/jump in unassisted, so if they'd just learn to enjoy lying still with the sun beating down on them, we'd be all set!  Lying in the sun unfortunately is one of my most favorite past-times and biggest vice.  To me, nothing is more relaxing, stress-relieving, healing (ironic huh?) or heavenly than lying directly under the sun, comfy cushion under me, cold drink in hand, and quiet music in my ears.  Plus I look so much better with a tan.  Prettier, happier, skinnier and I'll tack on smarter too.  I've tried the tans in a tube (on me not my kids) and yes, they do help, but unless the tube includes a lounge chair, sand and ocean waves crashing, they just don't cut it.  Unfortunately, Hannah and Luke most likely won't allow me much lounge time this summer.  I'm sure they'll want me to be blowing bubbles, "swimming" them around the pool, pushing them in swings, running through the sprinklers, having picnics, and well, being a mom.  I guess I could look at my kids as kind of sunscreen... maybe the years they take away from me by giving me gray hairs from worry they give back to me by keeping me out of the direct sun.    Not to worry, I'll find my moments of bliss during naps and if they decide to give up their naps, well... I could always take up gambling.

Just for Kicks

I found the bitches in Stamford.  They hang out at the NYSC in the Cardio Kickboxing class.  Hopefully they don't read this blog (and I doubt they do seeing as so far I've made 2 page impressions).  So last week I decided I was tired of running on the treadmill and I missed the classes I used to take pre-kids in the city.  I was one of those girls who took two classes in a row, stood in the front of the class and chit chatted with the instructor.  It's been a long time since those gym rat days but I thought a yoga class was a great way to start back.  I chose this yoga class since Tim would be home from work and could put the kids to bed, there would be no rush, and no paying a sitter.  A perfect way to release some stress at the end of a long day.  I got to the class a few minutes early and was chatting on the phone when I entered the studio, grabbed a yoga mat, found a nice inconspicuous spot, unrolled the mat, started stretching and then hung up from my call.  As I hung up I noticed a group of women giving me a "look" and I looked from one to the other and said (appropriately), "what". 

 "Why do you have a MAT?" the "leader" of the pack asked.  

"Well it's a YOGA class right?"  I said 

"Uh, (snicker, snicker), nooooo, far from it" she responded.  "It's kickboxing".  (nudge, nudge to her friends, snicker, snicker)

"Oh, my schedule said yoga, so I assumed it was yoga".

"Well APPARENTLY you haven't taken yoga in a long time since it's been kickboxing for 3 months now!" 

"You're right, it's been a long time but that's fine.  I'll take the kickboxing",  I said and went to return my mat.  I heard her calling after me, "it's FAR from yoga... blah blah... really hard class..."

At this point I was a little annoyed, because I really wanted yoga but there was no way I was leaving after these comments (challenges).

It got better.

A six foot something, blonde bombshell approached me.  "Hi, I'm _____ (just in case I'll withhold her name) and I'm the instructor for this class and I heard you thought this was yoga?  Well, it's not, it's a really hard kickboxing class and as you can see I'm pretty tan because I'm a fitness competitor and I've started the tanning process and I'm not allowed to sweat because the tan could drip off of me.  So I'm not able to teach the class really, I can just call out the moves so if you aren't familiar with the class you're not going to be able to keep up because I won't be leading the class".  

WHAT?  At this point I thought I was being punked.  Was she serious?  I just looked at her trying not to laugh/cry and said, "I'll be fine".  My confidence level as far as how in-shape I looked and how fit I am after 2 kids started quickly dropping.  But now, game on.  I was going to "kick" ass in this class!

About 15 minutes into the class I was hyperventilating a bit, the choreography was straight out of a Madonna video and my knees wanted to give out but I did finish it.  I wanted to give a high-five to someone at the end but no one wanted to congratulate me on a class well done.  I didn't walk quite right for a few days after that class but I will admit - I have been back (Tim challenged me to go back with swim goggles and a hula hoop but I declined).  I'm not part of the "in" crowd there and although part of me wants to be... I think I'm ok just leaving without limping and the next newbie I see, I'll be sure to welcome with open arms.  

Mi Mi Mi MEEEEE!

I am a mom.  A wonderful mom to two amazing kids.  I do not work outside the house which allows me to get covered in magic marker, get glue in my hair, sing made-up songs all day, paint each fingernail a different color, not shower for days in a row, wear the same thing to sleep as I do all day and be called a full time mommy.  There, that's it.  That is all you will hear about my life as a mom in this blog because there's so much more to me than that.  I forget sometimes, as I think we moms often do, that our entire identity is not as a mom.  We are fashion-mavens, movie-goers, interior decorators, chefs, gardeners, makeup junkies, trend-setters, techno-geeks, and, well, women.  We are able to have conversations about politics (well not me really but many other moms, yes) and business.  We have strong opinions that revolve around more than just how horrible it is that Max and Ruby's parents are never around or how fantastic or horrid it is that Noggin is now on 24/7.  We like our homes to look less cluttered and less colorful than a daycare or a circus.  We like to wear shoes other than Dansk clogs (although BOY are they comfy!).  We do cherish time alone (and that does not include time "alone" in the shower with one or more of our kids banging on the shower door) and time with friends (WITHOUT the kids around too!).   Although it is often hard, we moms do like to remember the pre-kids days when we were just "me", in my case just "Becca".    So for the benefit of this blog I will be leaving my kids behind.  Believe me, they will be very close behind, so close that they can reach out and touch my tush, but at least that tush will be in a pair of "seven" jeans.