Sitting Still

I call it the "Shake Your Big Booty" playlist

I'm still trying to get in regular workouts.  I stopped going to the gym for a bit while Gage was having some major separation anxiety, but he seems to have gotten over himself, thank heavens.  We headed back yesterday morning, and he charmed the childcare lady while I kicked some booty on the treadmill. 

THIRTY MINUTES, y'all.  THIRTY. Of running. Continuously.

It's a good thing, too, since I'm signed up to do the Komen Lowcountry Race for the Cure this Saturday.  I'm still having a few doubts about whether I can run the whole thing, as I run slowly and seem to have an easier time on the treadmill than on actual pavement.  However, Debunot is coming to visit and to run with me (in addition to some girlfriends here), and she's likely to yell at me to keep running like the slavedriver she is inspire me to go the distance.

A couple of people were interested in my iPod playlist, and since it is a fantastic soundtrack for getting yourself moving, I will share it now.  If you get the sense that I need a lot of positive self-talk, you're right.  Just READING at the titles of these tracks will stroke your ego.  Listen to the lyrics repeatedly and you might actually start to like your body.  (You're welcome.)

These Are The Days - 10,000 Maniacs (warm-up)
Headlock - Imogen Heap (warm-up)
Friday Night - G. Love and Special Sauce (R)
Hollaback Girl - Gwen Stefani (W)
SexyBack - Justin Timberlake (R)
Gold Digger - Kanye West (W)
Afrika Shox - Leftfield/Afrika Bambaataa (R)
Don't Cha - Pussycat Dolls (W)
Hot in Herre - Nelly (R)
Release - Timbaland (R)
Your Body is a Wonderland - John Mayer (cool-down)
Baby's Got Sauce - G. Love and Special Sauce (cool-down)

A dozen songs, about 45 minutes.  When I was doing the run/walk combo, I would warm up walking to the first two then alternate running and walking, though I usually run Hot in Herre and Release consecutively.  Then John Mayer and G. Love then tell me positive things about being gorgeous and saucy while I cool down and the sweat drips off of me.  Gross, sure, but effective.

Afrika Shox is the best song for running.  I kick the treadmill speed up a bit for that one. 

By the time I get to Release, it feels good.  Sometimes I even repeat that song if I still feel like running a bit.

I don't expect that you'll want all of these songs or do things the way I do, because that would be weird.  I think the key to sustaining exercise is finding what works for you and what you like to do enough to do it almost every day.  That said, it is fun for me to hear how other people operate, and I borrow and steal bits to suit me all the time. 

So, there you have it.  Steal ideas or ignore at will.

two months later, and all I have are some pictures

Well, hello there.  How y'all been?  Me, I'm good.  Just insanely busy.  And when I'm not busy, I'm lazy.  A gal deserves a break, I think.

In truth, everyday in the past couple of weeks I have said to myself, "Self, today is the day that you return to blogging at Sitting Still."  Then it's 11 pm and I finish up contractually obligated posting elsewhere and I don't post.  That is, until now.  All because my little sister, who never demands anything at all (not even a birthday gift on time) said to me Friday: "It is your job to get some new pictures up on your website by the end of the weekend."

Uh, yes, ma'am.

Here are the kids.  They are still cute.  That hasn't changed.

 

Claire started back to her small church preschool.  And lo, there was much rejoicing.  Hallelujah, indeed.  (And can someone please tell me when my baby got all grown-up?  Look at that.  She's like 4 going on 17 and should model that backpack for L.L. Bean, she loves it so much.)

 

And Gage?  Well, Gage is getting big.  Dude, he crawls.  And pulls up on things, many of which are not reasonable to pull up on.  Thus, he also bonks his head a lot.  It's still a cute head, though.

 

That's all I've go for tonight.  Now that I've dusted off the ol' Typepad password, I'll be back. Be well.

friday brain dump

Bullets are for the busy.  (Ok, you say lazy, I say busy.  I'm right, you know.)  There are actually a billion things going on for me -- big and small -- so let's just see if you can hang with the summary. 

• Work: I started a new job this week, back in my field of graduate training.  It'll settle into one day a week in mid-August, but right now I am in the midst of a panicked flurry of training and orientation.
  • Things that rock about my new gig -- awesome coworkers, using a part of my brain that needed some exercise, not having to wipe anybody's bum, free Post-It notes, a copy machine that will scan and e-mail a PDF (OMG. orgasmic, almost), a commute long enough to make an uninterrupted personal call without child noise in the background, helping people in anxious circumstances, finding a whole wardrobe that now fits again.
  • Things that suck about my new gig -- pumping (sucks! ha!), missing my kids, and pantyhose.
• Writing: I am feeling WAY out my league now that it's reality, but I have an article published about The Soccer Mom Vote in the August issue of Redbook.  They've featured a number of awesome bloggers for this piece, and it is an honor for us to be there with them.  I have always felt like credit for The Soccer Mom Vote should go to all those who contribute (past and present) and comment, so if you are in that category -- thank you!  I'm also still plugging away at Being Savvy Charleston.  I write posts there 5 days a week, which is why I've been scarce here.
• Traveling: We took an impromptu trip to Asheville, NC for the Fourth of July weekend and had a fabulous time.  We stayed with our friends Angela and Robert at the Sweet Biscuit Inn, and they helped us hire a babysitter from the neighborhood to get a date night while we were there.  It was AWESOME.  Last week, pretty much on a whim, I decided to take the kids north to visit friends in Raleigh and visit Debunot along the way.  Lots of summer vacation fun.  Also? Mothereffin' exhausting.  We are done for now, until a trip to Michigan in September.
• Kids: are good. 
  
  • Claire is long and lean and tan, despite the fact that we liberally apply sunscreen all the damn time.  She can add single digits in her head and it is kind of freaking me out.  Preschool starts in September and she is so ready to go every morning.  I predict the school year to be an explosion in letter obsession and pre-reading skills.  She's also started drawing random objects that actually look like what she says they are.  A pumpkin, for example, was an orange circle with curved vertical stripes and a stem.  Amazing. 
  • Gage is almost seven months old and has two bottom teeth he isn't afraid to use (on my nipple) and grabs at everything, namely hair and glasses and expensive necklaces on strangers.  He can sit up and reach for toys for short periods, though he usually ends up toppling forward and ending up on his tummy, at which point he looks at me pitifully because for some reason he is not convinced that he can roll himself over even though he definitely can.  Still rocking the chubby thighs and belly rolls, which jiggle when he laughs.  Awesome.
• Workouts: have been neglected last week with the travel and working, but I got back on track today with the treadmill.  I'm shooting for a 5K here in October.  I may not run it all, but I successfully covered 3.25 miles today with a run/walk mix in about 40 minutes, and I've got 10 or so weeks to improve on that.  My friend Amy passed a double jogging stroller to me while I was visiting her in Raleigh, and so it is at least theoretically possible to run with the children in the stroller.  I haven't tried it yet but am thinking that the treadmill doesn't make me stop to feed it snacks and might just be the easier way to go for now.
• General assessment: Exhilarated and exhausted at the same time.  Suffering from sleep deprivation and BlogHer envy.  In need of cute new work shoes.  Behind on laundry.  In other words, the usual ;)

How are you?

big booty shakin'

The Debunot Cellunot month-long challenge has come to an end, which means that I have reason to summarize for you all of the fun I've been having at the gym lately.  Note that I participated in this challenge -- and plan to take it, ladies -- for the sake of winning a Sigg bottle.  A Sigg bottle that I could surely go and buy my damn self.  But it is all about the competition.  Is it possible to trash talk a self-improvement contest that has no set criteria for winning? OH YES IT IS.  Hope you brought your best game, ladies.  Not that it matters, because I'm taking the prize. ;)

For me, this month was all about getting into the routine of going to the gym.  First off, the fact that I joined a gym -- and committed to membership for 15 months in one chunk of cash (thank you economic stimulus check) -- is nothing short of remarkable.  I've been a member of gyms on and off as an adult, but always a community center type of place, like a YMCA or county rec center.  This gym is one huge ass place, and it is incredibly intimidating.  However, it has free childcare and showers and a "gym-within-a-gym" that is for ladies only.  Thank god for that last point, because I have stayed mostly on the estrogen-laden side, where no one cares that you're wearing an old T-shirt and that you didn't put on make-up to come sweat your butt off.

I've been going at least three times a week for the last six weeks or so, which is a huge improvement on what I had been doing -- namely walking or Nia classes as time allowed, and it often didn't.  I've tried quite a few of the fitness classes and spent some time on the treadmill, and I have tales to tell.  Let me begin, because even if I don't win, I should at least entertain you at the expense of embarrassing myself. 

(You're welcome.)

I got scolded in an aerobics class.  Seriously, SCOLDED.  By an older woman who was standing at the very back of the room when I came in.  I wasn't late, and class hadn't started, but there were only a couple of people up front and a whole bunch set up in the back.  I chose the best spot I could -- in front of but sort of in between these two older women, when all of a sudden I hear one mutter, "Oh no.  You can't come in late and stand in front." 

"Excuse me?" I asked, sort of taken by surprise, because WTF?  Not late. And where exactly would you have me stand when your ass is against the effin' wall?

"You can't stand in front of me.  I need to see the mirror," she said.

Now let me say that, while I understand the desire to see the instructor and check form and all of that, this particular room has mirrors on all of the walls.  As if you didn't feel bad enough about your fat already, you get to look at your pudge jiggle in 360 degrees.  It's not possible to block someone's view.  Trust me, I've tried to strategically place people in front of me so I don't have to watch.  Can't be done.

I scooted my equipment over to afford her a clear view of her bad self in the mirror.  "That better?" I asked.

She nodded.  And then, three seconds later, changed her mind.  She harumphed and pulled her step and weights up next to mine, a little to close for comfort.  Then she proceeded to do the entire class half time and out of sync, which is totally her prerogative, except that she was effectively flailing in my personal space.  Crazy.

That was a general cardio class, but my favorite class so far is Tae Bo. 

Quit laughing.  I know the whole Tae Bo craze was something like 10 years ago.  I had the original Billy Blanks workouts on VHS.  While the fad may have long passed, one thing remains true: it's a damn good workout.

Also, at my gym, it's the punk rock lesbian class.

Ok, so really there are just two punk rock lesbians in the class, along with a whole bunch of non-punk-rock non-lesbians.  Considering that I had gone a year in Charleston without meeting a single punk rock lesbian, TWO in a single class was notable.  A quorum of sorts.

(I don't have anything more to say about that, but thought it needed to be shared.)

In addition to fitness classes of various sorts, I've been spending some time on the treadmill.  My first time on, I walked for thirty minutes at a constant speed, no incline.  Eventually I got more daring and tried one of the preset programs, with the idea that it would check my heart rate on these sensor handle thingies and adjust the incline to keep my heart rate within the target zone, say 150ish.  It worked for awhile, and I was walking along, until the heart rate sensors made a serious mistake and said my heart rate was 63.  So there I was, huffing and puffing, and the incline goes up.  62. Up again.  62. Up, up, up.  I went with it for a bit, thinking the challenge was fun and that the machine would eventually register the right heart rate and bring it back down.  Nope. Up again.

I hit a 7% grade before I came to the realization that the machine was obviously idiotic, thinking there was some mountain-climbing Buddhist monk on board instead of an out-of-shape soccer mom. OVERRIDE.

I've since abandoned the autopilot treadmill option, but I have come up with a great 45 minute iPod playlist for my walk/run workout.  It lets me walk for about 15 minutes, then alternate running a song/walking a song for the next 30.  Did you see that? RUN. Well, ok, it's more like plodding along, but it totally qualifies.  At about the 35 minute mark it starts to feel good -- hello, endorphins! -- and I start to contemplate signing up for a 5K in the fall. 

And here's the thing: I just might do it.

A month ago, I never would have considered running a road race.  I never would have thought I'd be going to the gym and liking it so much that I MISS the release on the days I don't go.  I never would have met the aerobic scolder or the punk rock lesbians either, and they definitely offer some humor and distraction from the everyday routine of kids and laundry and kids. 

The weight loss will come.  The toning has started and will continue, especially as the insulation comes off.  But the best thing I can say about the last month is that I'm proud of myself.  I'm proud that I joined a gym, tried classes and equipment despite my fear of embarrassment, and found a way to get out the door with two kids and their crap (which is a feat of strength all its own) several times a week to talk care of myself.

I want this, and I'm going to make it happen.  I am off to a great, moderate, realistic start.

(I'm also going to get that damn bottle.  And if I don't win, I'm going to go buy one for myself.  Along with a new workout outfit.  Because I totally deserve it.)

veggie booty

Somewhere around the middle of May, after a lot of consideration, I decided to become a vegetarian.  Actually, I'm sort of a complicated vegetarian, because my label is technically a pesco-lacto-ovo vegetarian.  That's Latin for "I still eat seafood, milk products and eggs."  I've considered going veggie for a long time and dabbled in variations of it on and off since high school.  The time had come to resolve the issue for myself: either change my diet, or stop worrying about it.  And, since I knew I couldn't just let. it. go. (I'm charmingly obsessive like that), I decided to commit to the change.

It's been surprisingly easy.  Keeping seafood on the menu, at least for now, has definitely lessened any feelings I might have had about "restricting" myself. While some may argue that fish and shellfish also suffer to become food, I personally just have less of an ethical problem with eating a creature that a) has lived a normal life up until the time it's caught, and b) is available to me locally, fresh and sustainable.  Of course, these contingencies mean that I try to eat local, in season, wild-caught seafood -- a task at which I mostly succeed.  The other reason I'm keeping fish and shellfish is that we like to eat out quite a bit, and the menu is a lot bigger for me with those things on it.  Selfish? Yes, undeniably so.  But it's where I'm at right now and I'm ok with it.

I think a lot of people think of vegetarianism in all it's forms, including vegan, in terms of what you can't eat.  Reading the book Skinny Bitch -- which I enjoyed and helped catalyze my decision, although they propose a vegan diet and I'm just not ready for that -- reframed this point for me.  It's not that you "can't" eat certain animal products, you're just choosing not to.  And it's not about what you "don't" eat, it's about what you DO.

Bottom line: It makes me feel good.  I feel better about contributing less to the mistreatment of animals, and I feel healthier eating a diet rich in fruits and vegetables and whole grains and (mostly) plant proteins. I'm trying lots of new products and experimenting with recipes that demonstrate just how much YUM you can get on a vegetarian diet. For instance, the soybean?  It's an amazing plant.  I have a new respect. And I've eaten these amazing vegan chocolate chip cookies made fresh by our local health food store that put that processed Keebler crap to shame.

So, the girl who once claimed that she couldn't live without a little pork in her cooked greens is now delightfully bacon-free.  And she's pretty darn happy about it.

Happy (slightly belated) Father's Day

Do you remember distinct moments of falling in love?  The words, or images, or touches that let you know, yes -- this is the one.  Because I have some, and I remember the moment I knew my husband would be a good father.

Ron was seventeen years old when his niece was born.  When I started dating him and met her, she was six months old.  One day while looking through pictures of her doing the latest cute-baby thing, I saw a photo that made me fall in love.  On the couch, Ron lay flat on his back, wearing a white undershirt and some pajama pants.  On his chest, curled up like a tiny pink frog, was his infant niece, asleep.  And while I wasn't at that point sizing him up for his ability to care for little humans, I think there was a primal part of me that etched that image onto my deep memory.  Note to self: this might be a good one with whom to share your genes.  Maybe all those make out sessions aren't such a bad idea after all.

Many kisses and fifteen years later, that teenager napping with the baby on his chest has two kids of his own. It's a crazy thing to watch the twenty-something cutie you married turn into a father.  Trades are completed: shot glass for sippy cup, action films for cartoons, trips to Thailand for trips to the zoo.  He learns how to wrangle a wriggling baby into a diaper, and he teaches a preschooler how to cast a fishing line with her new pink Barbie rod.  Discussions are had about serious things -- discipline methods, college savings plans, life insurance -- like we're real honest-to-God grown-ups with a constant sense that the decisions we make now affect these little folks who depend on us.

Ron works incredibly hard to provide our family with what we need and want.  He became a father for the first time just as he entered the most rigorous part of his training, and balancing work and family was not easy.  In the last year, however, some of that pressure has eased, and with it has come more time for family life.  Of course, that doesn't always mean the fun stuff.  Sometimes it means standing in the midst of chaos while the baby spits up everywhere and the preschooler loses her shit for no apparent reason and your wife slowly goes crazy because of the spitting-upping and the shit-losing.  And all three of them look to you to make things work better. 

Talk about pressure.  Microsurgery ain't got nothing on the insanity we call fatherhood.

But the 17-year-old who babysat his niece has stepped up nicely to the challenge of being a dad.  And just as I fell in love with him that day, there are moments he shares with the kids everyday that make me do it all over again.  Playing soccer with Claire.  Looking for a way to learn Chinese with her.  Going fishing two days in a row just because she loved it so much (didn't catch a thing).  Taking her to work and teaching her about "fixing kids' eyes."  Promising her that we'll go camping this fall in a tent with sleeping bags.  Snuggling Gage.  Making him put his hands on his hips and say "oh, no you didn't" just to make me laugh.  Discussing your shared interest in my boobs.  Taking a nap together.

So today, I just want to say thank you.  Thank you for giving all that you do to this family -- time, energy, support in many forms.  Thank you for partnering with me to muddle through the uncertainty about doing the right thing for them.  Thank you for trusting me to mother your children as best I know how, and thank you for forgiving me when I screw it up.  Thank you for believing with me that one of the best gifts we can give our children is a happy, healthy marriage, and thank you for working with me to create that despite all the challenges we've faced.

Thank you for being a man who puts his family first, and who shows that in the decisions, big and small, that you make every day.  

We love you.  Happy Father's Day.

Gage at 5 months

My son is five months old.  Five and a half, to be exact. Cue the whining mama: where does the time go?

He just had his four month check-up last week (at five months, as I neglectfully missed the visit I'd scheduled -- oops) and weighs in at almost 19 pounds, 27.5 inches long.  He's in the 97th percentile all the way around, which makes me say good job buddy -- a solid A in the eating department!

We still haven't managed to establish any kind of schedule, but he generally falls into the pattern of eat, play, sleep (which, come to think of it, would be the infant's answer to Eat, Pray, Love, dontcha think?).  I seem to think Claire was in this nice two-naps-a-day pattern by this age, but then again, Claire did not get carted all over town because her mama and big sister were bored at home.  So there's that. A week ago I would have told you he is consistently sleeping through the night, and that is still mostly true, except for the days when I've stayed up far too late -- then he's up at the least convenient time! (The children, they prey on your weaknesses...)

But, ah, the giggles.  They are plentiful, especially if you tickle him in the sweet spot between his chins or lift him up into an airplane in the air.  And he likes nothing better than to be naked, squirming, kicking, and grabbing his penis.  Yes, he's found it, although it's not unusual for him to stick his hand down there and grab hold of the fat roll right next door on his thigh instead, which cracks me up like nothing else.  Claire is the BEST TOY EVER, and even when she is right up in his face and practically laying on top of him and I'm yelling "Don't break his ribs!" -- even then, he's laughing at her.  It's easy to see already that these two are going to get into all kinds of mischief and that I'll be lucky to stay one step ahead.

When I found out I was having a boy, I was a little uncertain about what that would bring.  Now, I can't imagine having it any other way.  He's my buddy, and my constant companion, and his gummy smile and grabby, curious hands are a source of much delight.  I have a little boy, and he's awesomeness.

confession

 Hi there.  Long time no talk. I'd love to make excuses, but the truth is that I've been cheating on you again.

About three weeks ago I was hired as a "city expert" for SavvySource, a preschool resource guide rolling out city-specific blogs for parents of young children.  About two weeks ago I got the list of 15 topic assignments that had to go live last Monday, at which point I started staying up far too late and praying to meet deadline.  Now, I'm at Being Savvy Charleston, writing about getting out and about with preschool-aged children in my fair city.  Check out the list of cities on board -- there are others blogging in 20+ cities across the U.S., with more to come in the next month or so.

Now I'm busy scoping out the best free and low-cost summer enrichment fun for the short crowd and calling it "work."  Sweet.

Come and see:

• Who I think I am to be called a "city expert"
• How we like to enjoy the South Carolina Aquarium (stay for the joke at the end)
• My half-day walking tour suggestion for a kid-focused visit of downtown

I hope you'll say hello to me at the new place.

Now that I'm up and running over there, I hope to be back here more often as well.  (Trust me, the gym membership alone has given me more blog fodder than I could have ever hoped for.)

P.S. This blog was sort of broken for a period as well.  The good folks of Typepad fixed it. For the friends who frantically e-mailed me, please note: a disappeared blog doesn't mean that I've died, promise.  Heck, I blogged from the delivery room, so I'd probably do it on my deathbed as well.

getting in shape, because "round" is not a good shape

After listening to DBN go on and on about her obsession with the gym, I decided that I couldn't let her be the only skinny bitch around. Monday, I joined a gym. A gym with free daycare. I figured, if nothing else, I could go take a shower without interruption. That alone would be worth the monthly fee.

Tuesday morning I had hoped to get to the CardioGroove class, because everyone knows that a 30-something white woman is precisely what an aerobic dance class needs. However, the class time fell right when Gage was going to need a feeding, so I dropped into the earlier PUMP class instead. 

The schedule provided to me did not give a description of PUMP. After Monday's experience, my version would be something along the lines of "Holy hell that hurts." I should have known I was in trouble when I walked in and everyone had pulled out one of each of the pieces of equipment: a step, two sets of weights, a ball, a resistance band, and a personal trainer named Mario. 

Just kidding. They don't keep buff men in the equipment closet. They keep them in the free weight area, silly.

An hour later, and I'd strength trained every major muscle group in my body. Two days later, I'm finding it hard to sit on the toilet because my quads hurt so damn much. But it's a good hurt. Yeah, sure it is. 

Class ended with a set of abdominal strengthening exercises, and learned that I am a medical marvel: I have absolutely no abdominal muscles and yet I somehow manage to stay upright. Thank goodness for skin and a quality Cesarean repair, because otherwise my guts might just be dangling, and even elastic waisted pants couldn't help me then.

* * * * * 

If anyone else is looking for a little friendly competition/support for getting back into shape, come join us in the Debunot Cellunot challenge! 

don't think, just type

Hi! How y'all been?

Busy here, of course, though that's the lamest ass excuse in the book. Truth is, I've had plenty to write about but got out of the habit of writing and the longer I waited the more I felt like I had to write something good rather than the meaningless navel-gazing I usually indulge in here, and so I waited and waited and before I knew it, it had been a few weeks and I still hadn't thought of anything provocative to say. So I decided to just login and spew some randomness and get it out of the way, in hopes that TOMORROW I might get all insightful, though it ain't likely, as obviously it hasn't happened in three weeks, and who am I kidding?

So, anyway. How y'all been?

Lots happening here. Big things. Let's take it slowly, and with fewer run-on sentences:

Claire is finishing up her preschool year. This year, she only went three mornings a week. Next year, if she stays at the same school, it will be every morning, and then (gulp!) kindergarten. She's currently obsessed with High School Musical and can sing the soundtracks from both movies. Her gymnastics class finished up last Friday with a demonstration and awards ceremony, and she got a trophy. Then today she had her dance recital, which was awesome and hilarious, and she got another one. She could not be more pleased. 

Gage is being kind of a pain-in-the-ass, which is out of character for him. I think it's teething -- either that or he's got an unusual taste for his own fingers and an overactive salivary gland. I'm hoping those suckers are all busting through simultaneously because he seems miserable. He also takes after his father and his father before him in that the least amount of discomfort is cause for much bellering and carrying on. High drama -- it's a family tradition!

I am actively looking for a job and had an interview last Friday that seems promising. I'd love to be part-time, working into full-time as Gage gets a little older and Claire heads toward kindergarten. It's hard to figure out what to tackle first -- a job or childcare -- and I spent a few days chasing my tail until I decided I had to get a job first. I'm also sewing again. First I tackled an insane yardage of pink spandex and blue sequins to make dance costumes for the recital. Next I'm going to whip up some hand-crafted baby gifts to put in a friend's indie gift shop. We'll see if they sell. There's also a chance I'll be in Greece at the end of September for a much-coveted vacation alone. More on that later.

Ron is finishing up his training, and in about a month gets elevated from "overworked trainee" to "sugar daddy." KIDDING. But this is a real job, with a schedule of his own and an office and everything, so it's a pretty big deal. He's surfing again. Oh, and planning to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro sometime in the next few years.

We've had some visitors and some vacation time and some family adventures, including a kayak trip (Ron and I), a visit from my MIL and her friend Laura (much wine), a trip to AZ (me and kids), and time back at the beach (all of the above). Charleston is awesome this time of year, and the Spoleto festival begins this weekend. Ron got me tickets to see Monkey: Journey to the West this Thursday, and I'm looking forward to it. I might even ask him along, if he behaves between now and then.