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Archive for Just me – Page 2

The First Time

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (22)· November 9th, 2011

My DVR is going to have to wait little while. I need to take a night and not catch up on any of my shows. Why? Because I watched last night’s Glee, and I don’t want that feeling to get chased out of my brain yet.

Yes, I know. Forgive me, I’m about to go totally off-topic and talk about Glee. Feel free to blame NaBloPoMo and click away. I understand.

I’m a shameless fan of the show, but not a blind one. I will be the first to say that the show is wildly inconsistent, and I have come close to removing it from my DVR queue several times, thinking it had finally jumped the shark for good. I mean, really, did you see last week’s episode, “Pot of Gold?” Holy Grilled Cheesus, was that awful. And then… then this week happened.

For anyone still reading who didn’t watch the episode (“The First Time”), it centers around the two main couples (Rachel and Finn, Kurt and Blaine) toying with the idea of having sex for the first time, as well as the opening of the school’s production of West Side Story (my all-time favorite musical).

Of all the (many, many) times the show has struggled, this week they captured the perfect emotional pitch of those four characters. Do you remember the early days of a relationship, when you knew you were falling fast, and thought this might really be going somewhere? The constant butterflies in your stomach, the feeling like every nerve in your body was shimmering with anticipation? When your heart skipped a beat at the sound of that voice on the phone, or felt like it might explode when you made eye contact?

I’ve been married for seven years, and there were almost four years of our relationship before that. It’s been a while since anything has been “new.” And yet, last night’s Glee radiated that feeling so strongly from the TV, I was instantly transported. I was grinning from ear to ear, feeling those old butterflies by association. Poor M, I was making puppy-dog eyes at him for the rest of the night. (OK, he didn’t really object.)

And the chemistry… I know people love the Rachel and Finn characters, but I thought Kurt and Blaine smoked them by a mile. Between what I suspect was good acting and excellent direction, I was completely drawn in to every little bit of the two of them. They were both, in a word, hot. HAWT, even. It’s possible I re-watched their scenes together ~~a few~~ an embarrassing number of times today, and not just because Darren Criss could sing the phone book and I’d swoon a little. Even the ones with a bit of conflict in them, again, I thought that emotional content was so totally right on. As for the actual “sex” scene that had all of the conservative groups with their knickers in a twist? They somehow managed to be PG-rated and totally hot at the same time. They got the point across without going graphic, they kept the whole thing so tasteful and sweet while still being sexy. For a show that can so easily go fully cheese-ball or completely raunchy, this was quite something.

The best part is that I think the chemistry and the hotness and the connection was totally irrespective of the fact that it was two men. As, frankly, it should. Hot is hot, chemistry is chemistry. And boom, there it was. That’s one of the things I love about Glee – the fact that this big hit TV show has this young gay couple not only integrated into the fabric of the show, but as one of the major focal points. I love that their relationship is out there for the entire audience to see. I can only hope that such a thing becomes less radical an act on network TV as my own kids get older and start to watch these kinds of shows.

I feel like I’m struggling to find the words to describe why this episode has so touched me, but it really has. I hope you don’t mind me using this space to try and work it out.

So, tell me, what did you think of the episode? Are you as big of a Blaine/Kurt fan as I am, or do you think I’m way off base? Are they positive young gay role models, or somehow written to speak to straight married ladies like me? Did you think the whole sex thing was dealt with well?

Sound off, my fellow g(l)eeks. I’m leaving comments way open and would love to hear your thoughts and get some conversations going. While I usually like to respond to comments via email, I’m going to keep them in the thread this time.

That is, if anyone comments at all. Will you?

Comments (22)

Categories : Just me

Tags : Glee, NaBloPoMo, TV

Awesome

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (7)· November 7th, 2011

It doesn’t bode well that it’s Day 7 of NaBloPoMo and I’m already searching for ideas. Well, that’s partially true. I have a few ideas kicking around that I’m not ready to actually sit down and write, yet. Like how much I hate feeding therapy, and the fact that my 4-year-olds are obsessed with death. I’ll get there.

Tonight, I turned to M and asked him what I should write about. He said, “write about me. Because I’m awesome.”

He tried to backtrack and say he was kidding. Too late, buddy.

Marriage isn’t easy, even when you’re married to the “right” person. Toss a few kids into the mix… well, you know how it goes. So much stress, so much to do, so little free time. I know I’m not the only one who unintentionally puts her marriage a few steps too low on the list of priorities.

This weekend was a really good thing for us. We’ve both been mighty stressed recently, and a lot of it has been cumulative over the last, oh, eight months or so. 48 hours completely to ourselves was unbelievably restorative. A three-hour drive, just us. A hotel, no kids, no laundry, no cooking, no to-do list. Just the two of us, doing whatever struck our fancy.

It was a wonderful reminder that we actually, you know, enjoy each other’s company. That conversation and company is as easy and funny as we remember it being. It was comforting to quiet that nagging little voice in the backs of our minds that wonders if we’d lost something, and lost it for good.

It’s still there. We’ve still got it. It’s hard to see sometimes, amid the daily grind and hassles and irritations and pet peeves and obligations and pressures. But it’s there.

So, a public thanks to my beloved M for our much-needed and much-appreciated weekend away. Thanks for convincing me I was ready to leave Ellie with the grandparents. Thanks for indulging my requests for a fancy massage and some hibachi for dinner.

Thanks for 7 years of marriage, for holding on tight, for not letting go of my hand, through all of the bumps in the road. I wouldn’t want to travel it with anyone else. On we go.

Comments (7)

Categories : Just me, My beloved, Travel

Tags : NaBloPoMo

Four Miles

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (13)· November 6th, 2011

I ran four miles this morning.

I have many friends for whom that would be an easy weekday run, easily completed in under 40 minutes and ready to get on with their day.

For me? It’s the longest I have ever run. It took me close to an hour, and I had to tell myself to just keep moving the entire time. It was mostly pride that made me not walk. I ended up with a massive headache that hung around for our entire three-hour drive home, and only backed off with three bottles of water, two Tylenol, and a quiet catnap in my own bed.

I don’t know if it was simple dehydration, over-exertion, or some other trick I’m missing. Runners in the know, any tips?

Or, it’s possible I shouldn’t have three shots of tequila and a margarita the night before I run. Maybe. Though, in my defense, I get this kind of headache post-run even when there’s no hard alcohol involved.

All that said, it was as nice a run as I could hope for. Directly outside of my hotel was access to a beautiful, paved, flat trail that meandered back and forth across a quiet river. It was cold enough that I was fully dressed and ready to go, and then checked the weather and decided to give it another hour to warm up. But in my layers, I would happily take all of my runs on a clear 25-degree day. Beats the hell out of anything over 70 degrees if you ask me. I even felt, somewhere around that last half mile, that I could have gone to five miles if I really needed to. It would have been hard, but I could have done it. It gives me hope for my Thanksgiving race. I might go at a snail’s pace, but I seem to have found the pace that works for me right now.

I was thinking today, in the midst of my throbbing headache, why in the hell it is that I run. I don’t exactly enjoy it. It kinda hurts, sometimes a lot. It’s not something I have a particular talent for. I’m certainly never going to win a race, unless it’s me and a bunch of octogenarians with walkers. And yet, right now, I absolutely run for the race. I do it because the race is a clear and concrete goal, because the training plan is explicit in its steps to get to that goal. Because it’s still not enough a part of my routine that I can do it automatically, it helps me to have a sense of obligation. I also like that I can easily quantify my progress – that I ran farther or faster today than last week. As my friend Jane and I discussed a few weeks ago, there is so little in our day-to-day parenting life that has an easily quantifiable outcome, it’s nice to have a discrete accomplishment we can point to. (OK, in her case, it was an actual marathon. For me, it was four miles. To each her own.)

Anyways, on my last morning of mini-vacation, when I could have stayed lazily in bed until check-out time, I went for a run. And while I sincerely wish I could have skipped that pounding headache, I’m proud that I made the choice to go, and finished as strong as I know how.

Comments (13)

Categories : Just me

Tags : exercise, NaBloPoMo, running

Luxury

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (0)· November 5th, 2011

Would that every Saturday could start with a spinning class, immediately followed by an 80-minute aromatherapy massage.

A lazy lunch, a spur-of-the-moment drive through rural roads, a stop at a fabric shop for an early birthday present.

Tomorrow, we’ll return to reality, and be glad. For today, we’ll appreciate this luxury.

Comments (0)

Categories : Just me, My beloved, Travel

Tags : NaBloPoMo

When in Vermont

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (4)· November 4th, 2011

Me and M.
48 hours.
Grandparents have all three kids.

Why not stop for the factory tour?

Oh, the sweet sweet freedom.

Comments (4)

Categories : Just me, My beloved, Travel

Tags : NaBloPoMo

Running, again

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (17)· October 17th, 2011

I’ve started running again.

Let’s be clear, I use the word “run” very, very generously. It’s kind of a bouncy limp, only marginally faster than actual walking, yet somehow a whole lot harder. But since that is kind of awkward to say, I’ll just say “run” and you can insert your own mental picture.

I was off and on with Couch to 5K for the summer and into the early fall, and ran in a race a few weeks ago. While I am proud that I did not walk (with a nasty head cold, no less), it was an absolutely pitiful finish. 41 minutes to travel three miles. 13-minute miles. A full minute-per-mile slower than the race I did a year and a half ago, and let’s not forget that, for that race, my right calf was so jacked up I could barely walk and ended up in months of physical therapy.

But I did it. Dammit, I did it. Every step of the way, I repeat my mantra: it does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop. If the internet is to be believed, that’s Confucius, but even if that’s a big fat lie, it’s still my mantra. It’s what I have to keep telling myself as I slowly bob along.

I’m trying not to get discouraged. I’m trying to let go of being frustrated at how damn hard it is for me to run a mile in less than 13 pathetic minutes. I’m trying not to be ashamed of that. I’m trying to just accept that fitness and weight management (ha!) is something I will ALWAYS have to work on. Sometimes I’ll be in a better groove than others, but it will never come easily or naturally. There won’t be a magic fix, I’m not going to finally hit on that one winning strategy that will stick forever and end my struggle. It will always be hard, it will always require attention and purpose. I will work hard to get good habits going, and then slowly or spectacularly, I will fall off the wagon and have to find my way back. That’s just how it goes for me.

So here I am, trying. Again.

After my friends and I huffed and puffed through that 5K, before my face had even come down from its beet-red state, we decided to sign up for another race together. Five miles, Thanksgiving morning. Two miles farther than the three that just felt like it might kill me.

It seems a little insane by my standards, but here I am, on week three of an 8K training program. I have learned there are a few good strategies to try to keep myself on track: a deadline (no changing the date of the race that I’ve already registered and paid for!), a clear plan (this program has something scheduled six out of seven days), and peer pressure/public commitment (I’ve told everyone I’m doing this race, and have recruited others to sign up, too). The only thing missing is making an actual bet with someone for a substantial amount of cash. Laugh if you want, but my intrinsic motivation is pretty low at the moment. I need something external to kick my ass out onto the pavement.

It hasn’t become a good routine yet, something I can do on auto-pilot. Every day, I’m grasping at how and when to get the workout done, between preschool and naps and doctor’s appointments. But as much as I possibly can, I’m getting it done. I don’t want to collapse on Thanksgiving morning, after all.

I’ve even gotten the big kids involved. They love the idea of running a race, like Mommy. Which pretty much makes all of the sore muscles and over-exertion headaches worth it. Because really, me? Being the example for physical fitness? Wow. Sure, they ask if I am going to win the race. I try not to laugh as I assure them that I am definitely not going to win, just that I am running for (ahem) fun and to be (ahem) strong and healthy. So, on Thanksgiving, they’ll suit up with me, pin a bib to their bellies, and run that 100-yard dash for the four-year-olds. And I will be so proud of them.

And, hopefully, I’ll be proud of me, too.

It won’t be fast. It won’t be pretty. But dammit, I am going to finish that race.

Comments (17)

Categories : Just me

Tags : couch to 5k, exercise, running, weight loss

Of course I remember

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (3)· September 10th, 2011

I’ve never written about September 11. I looked back at 5+ years of archives to confirm, but nope, never. It’s not that I’ve forgotten, or that I somehow don’t care. I just never quite felt it was my story to tell. I was lucky, I didn’t lose anyone I loved.

I was 22, barely more than a year out of college. It was probably my third week in a brand new job, I was a guidance counselor in a suburban high school. It was the beginning of the year, so I was up to my neck in schedule changes in a curriculum I didn’t even yet grasp. I remember the secretary, Judy, telling me as I walked out to get another student.

“A plane crashed into the World Trade Center.”

Oh, how terrible, I thought. Some local pilot must have lost control of his little four-seater airplane.

I’m sure it wasn’t long before the reality trickled in. I don’t know if it was the school’s paltry internet connection or a worldwide server overload, but I couldn’t get to any of my news websites. I don’t think I had a radio in my office at that time, and I hadn’t yet been introduced to NPR, anyways. Nobody had smartphones, nobody I knew sent text messages. I panicked and tried to get a hold of my dad, the constant business traveler who always flies United in and out of New York and Washington. Thankfully, he was in Ohio that day.

Emails started to come through. Sorority sisters in New York were all accounted for, some worked in other WTC buildings, most were thankfully not that far downtown. After the initial “I’m OK,” they sent descriptions of the eerie silence that night, everything covered in ash and dust and paper blowing by.

The school nurse’s son had an interview in one of the towers that morning. He overslept his alarm and missed it.

I spent an hour with one of my most annoying students, shifting around her gym class so she could have the right study hall. In disbelief that I was wasting my time on something so trivial on a day like that day.

School got out around 2 in the afternoon, and I headed straight for M’s apartment. We had been dating less than a year, and were just coming off of a rough summer. Late riser that he is, the attacks had already happened by the time he got up in the morning. He never went to work that day. We sat together on the couch all afternoon, horrified by the TV but having a hard time turning it off. I cried myself to sleep on his thin, crappy futon bed, unable to erase the thought of people jumping from the 100th floor.

Even though everyone I knew and loved was safe and accounted for, I don’t think anyone came away from that day unaffected. Here we are, 10 years later. 10 years, three addresses, three jobs, seven years of marriage, and three kids later. I haven’t been able to stop reading the feature stories on Boston.com. I’ve been in a touchy mood, simultaneously extra annoyed by the kids and desperate to hold them next to me.

However distant our connection, we all have a story of that day. So this is mine. I don’t want it to seem as though I have forgotten. I couldn’t forget if I wanted to. Could you? I had to write about it, probably just this once and not again.

I’m going to try to avoid the TV coverage tomorrow. I’m just about all remember-ed out. I’m not ready to talk about it with my kids, who are already hitting that weird phase of being strangely obsessed with death and bad guys. I can’t explain it to them at four years old. Instead, we’re having their postponed birthday party. Gymnastics and bounce houses and cake. Life marches on.

Comments (3)

Categories : Just me

Tags : 9/11, September 11, tenth anniversary

Superhero

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (6)· August 27th, 2011

I may have mentioned in passing that I did a photography class/workshop this summer. It was Laura’s idea, and something about it spoke to me and I decided to sign up. And you know what? I think you should, too.

The class was Superhero Photo, and it was led by Andrea Scher, the super dreamer behind Mondo Beyondo (which I haven’t done, but may…). I really loved it, and I credit the prompts and information from the class for some of the best shots I took this summer (you can see my photo set on Flickr, if you want all of my submissions). Some of them you’ve seen already, like the fourth-birthday shots I did of my big kids.

In this class, each week had a theme or topic, such as self-portraits or color. There were emails with ideas, challenges, and technical tips to help you get the shot you want. Each week included a “treasure hunt,” or a set of prompts for shots to take. The topics were great – specific enough to give you a focus for the week, but general enough to leave plenty of space for interpretation. And the pace felt just right. Sometimes I find the one-a-day-every-day style to be too overwhelming. This let you take the week (or the class as a whole) at your own pace.

But while I got some good technical information and ideas and stretched my skill level, the biggest part of this class was bringing joy into your photography, or actually taking time to document and recognize the joy in your life. Sound a little cheezy? Perhaps. But it was wonderful. I wasn’t trying to fight with my camera to get something perfect, I was having fun and taking chances and seeing opportunities right in front of me, and even seeking out scenes and making them happen instead of just waiting for inspiration to fall into my lap.

You don’t need a fancy camera or extensive knowledge of shutter speeds and lighting and lenses. You can do this with a point and shoot. Hell, you could probably do it with your iPhone. It’s not, exactly, about technical skills. It’s about experimenting and having fun and making more out of your shots. Wherever you are as a photographer, whether totally in the dark or fairly experienced, you will get something out of it.

The next class starts in a few weeks. Click on this link to register, and yes, I get a small kickback if you do. Which is bonus and all, but even if I didn’t, I would still tell you to do it. I am literally laminating the treasure hunt prompts with contact paper and putting them in a bowl for whenever I need a bit of inspiration.

Comments (6)

Categories : Just me, Photos

Tags : andrea scher, class, inspiration, joy, superhero photo, workshop

Behold, my shiny sink

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (21)· June 16th, 2011

[And now, on a completely different note...]

I’ve really gone off the deep end this time. My husband is humoring me, but thinks I’m a little nuts. In the last five days, I have become obsessed with shining my sink.

I’ve mentioned it before, and those who have ever been to my house can attest, I am not a particularly neat person. Not filth-and-squalor, just clutter. Piles. Haven’t-taken-out-the-recycling-yet kind of mess. In addition to the general feeling of “I wish my house was cleaner,” I also felt like this situation needs to be addressed because, at some point in the next year or so, I believe we will try to sell this house. And that means staging, showing, cleaning, and packing. And it gives me heart palpitations just to think about it.

But if I have learned anything about myself, it’s that I like a plan with structure. I like rules, I like small steps. I like it laid out for me. I can’t lose weight by simply saying, “I’m going to eat more vegetables and less dessert.” I need to count my points on Weight Watchers. I can’t up and run a few miles just because I feel like it. I need to follow Couch-to-5K.

Enter, FlyLady.

For those who may not know about the FlyLady system, I described it to a friend of mine as “Couch-to-5K for cleaning.” You start with little steps. No need to think about running three whole miles, or decluttering your entire house. Day 1? Just shine your sink.

Shine the sink? Seriously? This is going to help me clean my house?

It would seem so.

In our house, it had long been the “deal” that, while I am in charge of all of the groceries and cooking, M is in charge of dishes and cleanup. Works for me, I hate doing the dishes. The trouble is, that often leads to a sink nearly overflowing with dishes by the time M gets home from work (since I’ve been too lazy and distracted to keep up, and have justified it with “it’s M’s job”), and a full dishwasher that hasn’t been run, and yesterday’s skillet never actually got washed in time for tonight’s dinner. Frustration abounds.

As of this week, though, I am nuts for an empty sink. For as much as I have always hated doing the dishes, it turns out it’s not that bad when you just get it over with immediately. And as silly as it seems, it really does make me a little calmer to go to bed with an empty (and shining) sink.

It’s already having a bit of a ripple effect. Spending all that time emptying the sink, I found myself annoyed with the state of the window above it, so both kitchen windows got cleaned, inside and out. There’s less crap left on the kitchen table, and I got rid of a bunch of old papers taking up space on the counter.

There’s still a long way to go, both in the program and towards the mess that is still the vast majority of my house. But using this tool as a way to chip away, bit by bit, I might just see some real progress.

Any other FlyLady devotees out there? Anyone want to hop in and do this program with me? With a buddy or two, I might be convinced to do before and after pictures of my messy house…

Comments (21)

Categories : Home, Just me

Tags : cleaning, clutter, FlyLady, mess, shiny sink

History does, and does not, repeat itself

By Goddess in Progress · Comments (24)· April 25th, 2011

Eight weeks and two days. That was when I officially stopped trying to breastfeed my older kids. And that was when I stopped pumping for Ellie.

I first seriously considered stopping about two weeks ago, when my supply officially stopped keeping up and she had her first full formula feed in more than a month. Seeing the color of formula, not a breastmilk combo, in that syringe pump sent me into an initial wave of tears and had me stepping back. It was so demoralizing to spend so much time and effort on pumping when it wasn’t even enough. Eight times a day, 30 minutes at a time, for that scant two ounces, maybe two-and-a-half on a good day. But sheer volume alone wasn’t quite enough to get me to stop. I backed off for a day or so, then stepped back in. I wanted to keep going, even if it wasn’t 100% of her nutrition.

But the final death knell for pumping was the combination of our return to the Big Hospital and the big kids being on spring break. Spending that much time attached to the pump went from “challenging” to “ludicrous.” It stopped making sense. I was taking literally hours away from all three of my kids to do it, and was being rewarded with a slowly dwindling supply, anyways.

One of the things that kept me going during previous periods of doubt (oh, and I’ve had plenty in the last two months), was when I asked myself a simple question. If you stop now, will you be able to say, “I did my best?” Before, I never felt like I could say yes to that question. But today, I’m done with the tears. I’m disappointed, for sure, for a lot of reasons. But I’m done. I did my best.

Stopping isn’t too hard when you never had a gangbusters supply to begin with. I stretched the every-three-hours schedule to every four. Four became five, then six, then seven. Last week was crazy enough that extending the intervals between pumping sessions happened pretty naturally – once I stopped letting my pumping schedule dictate everything else, it took a dramatic backseat to the rest of my life.

I didn’t bother with the “pump just for comfort” advice that everyone gives, because I knew the supply would dry up quickly enough on its own. I’d go six hours, then pump for 35 minutes and still only get 2.5oz. I last pumped at 10PM on Sunday and got a single ounce. It is noon on Monday and I’m not in pain. I’m done.

I’ve saved about a day’s worth in the freezer to give to her next week, for her first feeds post-surgery (yes, she’s having surgery next Monday, more on that soon). I want her to have the stuff that’s easier to digest. But I knew I wasn’t going to be able to keep pumping until then. It was time.

So much for the hooter hiders I made. So much for the unused nursing pillow in the closet. So much for my preparation and determination and dreams of breastfeeding redemption. Life had other plans. Ellie had other needs. So it goes.

I lasted the exact same number of days. I’m even publishing this post on her two-month birthday, just like I did three and a half years ago. This time is different for a hundred reasons, but for one, I’m not beating myself up about it. I did my best. I tried again. I’m done.

Comments (24)

Categories : Feeding, Just me

Tags : Breastfeeding, breastmilk, exclusive pumping, milk supply

Archive for Just me – Page 2

The First Time

Awesome

Four Miles

Luxury

When in Vermont

Running, again

Of course I remember

Superhero

Behold, my shiny sink

History does, and does not, repeat itself

Got to pay the bills!

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NaBloPoMo – November 2011