Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Mom support and stuff like that.


So after our whirlwind trip to San Diego (which I still dream about, oh warm weather, come hither), I've dropped off the face of the earth. Not quite. But.

Basically, I've been up to my eyeballs in all things bridal-shower, not to mention regular life stuff like work, meetings, keeping small children alive and relatively healthy, and trying to be a somewhat decent wife. Obviously, I'm failing at a few of those things, I'll let you be the judge with the following story.

I don't know how other mothers get ready in the morning (ahem, mid-morning...err closer to noon if I'm being honest about yesterday), with a few small children running around, one who is in this almost-3-I'm-naughty-now-and-hate-to-listen-phase, the other who is just beginning to crawl and explore the world. But, I usually have to put on PBS, while they sit quietly roam, destroy, pull out every q-tip in the box and watch a show in my bedroom. We're all right there. Within a few feet of one another. Remember, small townhouse. It's always a matter of milliseconds minutes before someone, or both of them, end up in my bathroom right around my feet, anyway. (Why do I bother?)

Yesterday, at one point--they both ended up literally under my feet, Emeline reading a book to Lucy. I admit, it was a sweet moment. In fact, I grabbed my phone to take a picture of the sweetness as you can see. Other momma's know this feeling, I'm sure. Always tripping over little people. Even if you put them a little distance away, within seconds, it's like there's some hidden magnetic field between you. Amiright?

I digress.

The busy toddler-girl ended up back to God-knows-where and Lucy was playing with an elmo book in the same place her sister left her. She was sitting there, happy as a clam for a good 5 minutes, while I got my makeup all done. In the meantime I had thrown my phone on my bed (details are a little I've relived this multiple times in my mind), and a few minutes later my phone dinged. I got distracted. Between Emeline and my phone, I turned my body away from Lucy for just enough time that she reached over, pulled the cord on my hot straightener right down on her little hand and wrist.

I heard both the fall of the straightener and a coinciding scream/cry and I was so close by (a few feet, literally) that I had her swooped up in my arms within a second and huddled around the sink running her wrist under cold water. I was doing the semi-shaking-omg-I'm-a-failure-babyareyouok?-thing. Emeline snapped out of a PBS coma and noticed my panic and that the atmosphere changed, running up to me shouting, Lucy, YOU OK? LUCY YOU OK?? Reassuring her it will be okay, all the while she begins running down the steps shouting, Don't worry, I'll give you a checkup! I go get my doctor kit! K, Lucy girl? You be okay!

Dear Lord, who am I to stop The Doc, anyway.

It sounds like a lot of time went by, but honestly, it had been maybe 1-minute at this point. Thankfully, Lucy stopped crying after, a minute? 30 seconds? It was short. But I could see her little wrist got burned and so did a spot on her hand.

I was pissed at myself. So mad, feeling like a failure because I DID get distracted. I am normally 3948304 steps ahead of my children. Other mothers know this feeling. You can survey a scene, see every potential bad thing that can or will or is bound to happen. You try your best to protect them and keep them out of these situations. The truth is, without even thinking yesterday, I clicked my straightener on (and I didn't even use it!) (double infuriating!).

As I was nursing Lucy's little wounds I just kept thinking why-katie, whyyyy. You could have waited. Nothing was more important than staying present and being able to watch as Lucy's little face got intrigued by the cord dangling down. Whether it was hot or not. I do blame myself.

I posted about this on instagram a few hours after it happened. I don't care if it seems silly, but it weighed on me, heavily all day. I felt like I had to let it out, tell on myself.

As the comments & stories came in on instagram, I read every single one and I laughed, smiled, and felt-for every momma. It was probably the most supported I'd ever, ever felt as a mom in the social media world. Over 70 comments and stories from you guys...telling me your bad-day-mom-fail-moment/story to make my bad day feel a little bit better...a bit lighter. There was no one who (told me) that I sucked or how could you have let such a thing happen? There was a lot of 'don't be so hard on yourself'. There was many a 'been there, done that', and some 'I know how much this hurts a mom heart'. There was support. And encouragement. And everybody keeping it real about life and the fact that things happen, and our babies get hurt, sometimes under our watch, and sometimes as a result of something we do, or sometimes out of pure coincidence.

It helped me. And it reminded me why I love being connected with other moms, many of whom I don't necessarily 'know'. Who will keep it real, share their stories, offer a I know the feeling, momma-comment. So, thank you.

And most of all? I'm glad she forgave me.


Thanks :)

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Let memories win. {our california sort-of recap}

I am having so much trouble starting this post and I don't know why. In my head, I know what I want to talk about. For some reason, it's not coming out eloquently. So I'm just going with it. Forgive me, choppy waters ahead.

Our trip to California was awesome. It was short. It went fast. It was really, really special and memorable. Traveling clear across the country with your two small children for a 4-5 day trip? While at points I may have traded some of my was worth it for the memories.

It's so easy to look at beautiful photos, sun-shine'y goodness, beach and smiles, and think everything is always perfect and great. Well, HA-HA. We all should know better than that, right? Unexpected happens. Turns out that toddler meltdowns travel, too. I'm thankful they were few and far between. More bribes and "you get ___ if you do ___" were used than I care to admit. Oh, and the amount of snacks/candy/treats it takes to keep a nearly 3 year old quiet and well behaved on a 5.5 hour flight? Let's not go there. One required candy to stay quiet. The other required boobs. It worked. They were both amazing. 

Before we left for this trip, I told myself I had to ease up. I've dealt recently with higher anxiety than normal--and I didn't want to be my own worst enemy to soaking this up and having fun. I'm pretty darn proud of myself though. I didn't let the 3 hours time difference bother me. I let the girls roll with the punches. We were flexible. They were fine. 

The first night Declan ended up with a serious stomach virus. It was awful. You know The One. Poor guy had to deal with that IN A HOTEL and seriously? Does anyone want to become familiar with a hotel toilet? I think not. I was feeling all woe-is-me and the-trip-is-ruined, when 6 hours later he woke up as good as new. I love that man, and am so grateful we still got to enjoy the rest of the days as a family.

In between the toddler-testing-limits, and unexpected stomach virus-thing---we really had so many moments of fun. We visited my little brother's office at Invisible Children, where Emeline ran around, met all his friends, and acted like she owned the place. We went to Coronado, put our feet in the sand, shopped, ate more mexican food than you can believe, had ice cream, and when dinner plans went wrong one night? We ate from a food truck instead and it.was.amazing

We snuck in some time after the kids were in bed to hang out with my little brother, where he showed us a few fun places he likes to hang out & grab a beer. We even ended up getting a Valentines Day date. Which was kind of awesome. We got to show Emeline the wonders of Sea Word and Shamu. We went to Sunset Cliffs and Ocean Beach, and I nearly died of a panic attack at how close my brother held my daughter at the edge of the rocks. He rolled his eyes at me and basically told me I'm overprotective. I cannot wait until the day he has kids and I can be all I told you so, chump. (still love him. but seriously.)

I watched my littlest baby touch sand for the first time and squeal with absolute delight. It was pure bliss. I probably messed her "schedule" up even more than it already was. But. IT'S ALL FOR THE MEMORIES. And? Schedule Schmedule. She literally slept on the go whenever she was tired. And she slept in a king size bed with Declan and I the entire time. She got to be barefoot half the time, and for this sock-hating little girl....pretty sure that made her little life. 

My parents, well--they were awesome. They had Emeline stay in their room the entire time and she absolutely loved that. It helped us out big time, too. We love all the memory making that happened on this trip. I treasure that, big time.

It wouldn't be the end of a trip without a finale, right? 

At about 12:30am the morning we were flying out, I woke out of a dead sleep to what sounded like someone breaking into our hotel room. I woke Declan up with a panicky voice and started shoving him to get out of bed and check what the heck was going on. Then I heard screaming. And cursing. And people rumbling. There was a full-blown fight going on right outside our door. Involving multiple people, both men and women.

Without going in too much depth, police had to come and handle the situation (this wasn't a motel either, it was a classy Marriott--but alcohol makes people genuinely stupid when abused), and they were literally asked to leave the hotel and escorted out. It took them FOREVER to pack their bags, all while screaming profanities, I mean, LOUDLY--and I was shaking like a leaf from the adrenaline/sheer panic of waking up out of a dead sleep to that. My mom and I were texting back and forth from room to room, and thank God, Emeline stayed asleep. If she'd woken up to that, honestly, it would have broke my heart if she would have been subjected to hearing that. I'm not quite sure how she slept through it, but thank God she did. 

In the morning, over breakfast, we all rubbed our eyes from sheer exhaustion from the middle-of-the-night-chaos, but agreed we wouldn't allow that to ruin our trip. Because we really did have so many fun, beautiful moments.

We made it to the airport without any issues--except a minor detail that I lost my ID. The good news is, I lost it at just the right time, since I'd already been through security. We walked all around to find it, I knew it was in my back pocket last--but I'd been to the bathroom, and, well, we all know how that goes.

The flight was uneventful. Again, even though Emeline was overtired, un-napped (and refuses to sleep on a plane, not even for a split second), we made it through with relatively happy children and not a single eye-roll. In fact, at one point, Eme almost had half the plane singing in Old McDonald had a Farm in rounds. I wish I was kidding.

Mid-way home, I pulled out this little plastic handbag thing of my toddler-girl, and saw my ID poking out. Whicka-what? There was no way it could have ended up in there. Unless my toddler pick-pocketed me. Which we all know is possible. We all just smiled and laughed and thanked God since we prayed it would show up miraculously. And it did.

We were one of the last people off the plane, and walked out to find one wheel of our stroller completely snapped off and unusable. Emeline was 10 hours overdue for a nap (ha-ha), and like a crazy-child jetted for the street, where my dad had to chase her down. It didn't end well, she tripped, face planted--has a bloody-scuffed up nose and knee to show for it. Her screams set off Lucy, and at one point Declan and I both muttered words we weren't proud of and joked that we must be on a reality show, because this ish is insane, yo. Oh, and then we lost the parking ticket for our car. It sounds funny now. I assure you, it.was.not.funny.

It's in those times that I have to remind myself to not let those stressed out-why-the-heck-is-everything-going-wrong-predicaments change my overall outlook.

It wouldn't be real life without real life obstacles. And we had them.


The good wins. The beauty wins. The memories win.

And it was awesome.


If you missed my recap video (just one song long), here it is again:

Monday, February 18, 2013

It's true.

We've been off enjoying the California sunshine the last five days. We're home now, and I'm in mourning of the lovely sunshine.

So I had to re-live it again--hence, my video.

I've yet to edit all my photos. But. I will be back with some this week because it's been too good not to share. Oh, and I have some funny stories too. All trips come with crazy, random stories and behind-the-scenes-chaos. Beautiful moments are always sprinkled with craziness. Especially with children. Am I right?

For now? Enjoy Shamu. The sun. My dancing baby. Toes in the sand. Fun times visiting my little brother.

(if the quality isn't good, you can change it by clicking the little gear/wheel thingy and making it HD)

Okay. Can we go back now?

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Weight Loss Update: I did it.

Let's just get right at it, shall we?

In my post earlier this week a few people caught wind where I mentioned I'm at my lowest weight yet. Yep, even lower than when I finished my whole weight loss journey in October of 2011, just prior to getting pregnant again with Lucy girl. Good timing, right? Thank my husband. I kid. I kid.


I had planned to do a weight loss update soon. I know how intriguing this stuff can be, especially after having a baby. Everyone wants to know, did she lose the weight? I get it. Especially because I talked so often about how determined I was to get back to my pre-Lucy weight again.

The good news is: I am back. Hallelujah, thank ya Jesus.

The bad news is: I actually had to do work to make it happen.

Also, I'm a big myth buster. You know how everyone is all, Oh second baby weight is so hard to drop versus the first? Well, I disagree. I get it, it's different for everyone. I just didn't feel that was the case for me. Maybe it's because I had the tools to do it this time? Maybe because I just knew what needed to be done? Or I tasted success before and wanted it again. Either way, I made it happen.

Since you'll divert your eyes to pictures anyway. Here I am now.

Now. Let's talk about this for a second.

Remember when I wrote this post? I was 4 weeks postpartum, totally motivated, got my butt on the treadmill even before my clearance--but I wanted it. I even posted my 4 weeks postpartum flabby belly, large legs, chunky arms on the internet. I obviously have zero pride.

I had a goal to run ONE 5K before Christmas. I ran TWO. (If I had emoji's, this is the part where I'd do a pounding fist, bump bump, just picture it.)

I started tracking weight watchers points again (they have a great program that gives you extra points for nursing mothers).

To be honest, I did it half-heartedly. The holidays were HARD. I lost some weight, yes. I was running some, yes. But I still had some more to go.

It wasn't until I got the holidays over with and my New Years Resolution (yup) on, when I really went to work. I was more committed to tracking. I still ran a little (not near as much as I should have). But mostly? Eating. I watched the small remainder of the weight come off weekly.

Here's a good visual to see the transformation and that it just.doesn't.happen.overnight.

Which leads me to now. Or, a week or two ago, rather. I hit my pre-Lucy weight. But I know that I can probably go a little further. Right now, I'm about 2-3 pounds under that weight. It's not really noticeable, obviously--just a few pounds. But here's some comparison:

note: still nursing. those suckers are heavy. 

See? The few pound difference isn't noticeable. And basically--that means one thing to me. I hit my goal. I did! It feels good. But I don't think I'm done yet. 

Six months. That's what it took me to really do it. That was losing 31 pregnancy pounds (plus a few). To be honest, I'm one of those girls who leaves the hospital weighing about the SAME as when I went in WITH a baby inside (HOW?!?!? I have NO IDEA and I might have cried tears over it). But, whatever. Deal with the cards your body deals you.

If this wasn't over the holidays, there's a possibility I could have lost the weight quicker, I bet. But for now, I feel pretty darn good about 6 months. Because I had to work for it, and I did.

It feels good to be back.


Thanks for all your support, really.

Monday, February 4, 2013

The ring that fit.

This weekend I had some annoying cell phone drama. I was the girl who dropped her phone into 2" of soda (yea, I know), causing it to fry up and die in a matter of 2.2 seconds. I was in utter disbelief that I was capable of such stupidity, but alas, the second you think that? It's bound to happen, am I right? (pssst: also, please, for the love, no one tell me to put my phone in rice for the 934830948th time, I may die. I do not live under a rock. K, love ya)

Anyway. Because of all the running around trying to get phone repaired/new one/annoying/stupid stuff--we happened to have two cars out near the mall. We were doing that come-from-work-car-juggling thing. This actually has NOTHING to do with what I wanted to actually write about, butttttt...I'm laying the story foundation. Bear with me. 

On the way home from getting my new phone on Saturday around lunchtime, we stopped and picked up Declan's car. Of course I jumped at the chance to drive his car home (in peace, sans children), and also opted for a few errands on the way home.  A momma's gotta do what a momma needs to do.

Honestly? I just had to return a phone case that I didn't like to Best Buy. But on the way, I realized my rings needed to be inspected by the jeweler, and well, it's right here so let's do it. I popped in thinking this would be no big deal, fast, in and out type thing--like it normally is.

Did you know it's almost Valentines day? No? Well, I'm warning you that jewelry stores are nuts. Recession? What recession? Wouldn't have known it on Saturday. 


I waited my turn.

Without kids? Waiting is no big deal.

With kids? I would have wanted to pull my hair out.

After about 20'ish minutes someone got to me. I started to tell her how I just wanted to get my rings inspected and cleaned, and here sign my card so I can leave and do more errands, please and thank you!

She was all, Honey-child, your rings are too big! You're gonna lose them

I told her I was aware, but I had just had them sized down multiple sizes right before getting pregnant with my last baby, and I was at a good weight, and well--I just didn't want to have to do it again. 

But then she told me I really, really needed to do it, and get them re-dipped at the same time. And I'm a sucker so I'm all ooook, fine. Plus it's free with my lifetime guarantee. So it's not really a huge deal except the annoyance of being sans rings for two weeks, you know?

So she proceeds to get out the big ring of rings thing. For sizing. 

I start slipping them on my fingers thinking like nahhh this isn't going to fit.  Then it does. Then the next one smaller, etc. And this is when I'm realizing that holy cow, my fingers are kind of average size now.

My rings needed to go down another half size, in fact, even 3/4 of a size down would have been just fine (but I always lean to the safe side, and think about summer-heat-swelling...yuck). 

She grabs a bundle of rings out of the glass case, a beautiful little princess cut antique ring with a wedding band attached, too. And said, here, this is what a size 7 will feel like with multiple rings. She slid it on my finger like it was nothing. In fact, it was still a little big.

I stopped. I stared at pretty blingy ring on my finger. I did that thing where you hold your hand out and admire pretty ring. And I think, for a moment, my eyes got a little watery. I had to blink through what felt like oncoming tears so the sales lady wasn't all what in the world? about me. 

You see---I've always had fat fingers. AKA: the rest of my body was overweight and so were my hands. When Declan and I went ring shopping to look at engagement options umpteen thousand years ago, I was the girl who couldn't actually try on rings because they only slid down halfway. It was embarrassing. Oh how I just wanted so badly to be the girl who fit the rings right out of the glass cabinet, who could do the extend-the-arm-and-admire-the-ring action. But I couldn't. I was the girl that had to get hers sized up (a lot). I just wanted to be the cabinet-ring-size. 

I know in reality, it sounds kind of stupid. And although in my head, I know that I've lost so much weight from where I came from years ago. And I've done a really great job losing it after Lucy, too (I'm actually my lowest weight yet, hollaaa!). But sometimes, you still see yourself as the fat girl. 

This little ring thing? While it might sound silly to some, it was just one of those moments that was a reminder of how far I've come. 

Sometimes I wonder why I couldn't have kicked my butt into gear a year before my wedding. I admit, I don't love looking at my wedding photos because of this. But all that matters is at some point, I had my Get-it-Together, Katie moment. And I did.

That shiny, out-of-the-glass-cabinet ring? That reminded me of that. And I let myself be proud.