Pumping problems

While I'm at work, I get the pleasure of pumping every 3 hours. I try to think of this time as "me" time, where I can read books and magazines, catch up on social media nonsense, and maybe someday, I'll figure out how to get in a quick cat nap. 

My office has a locker room type bathroom on the first floor, so it's not all that bad. There is a chair and a shower and, oh yes, did I mention this is where every gal in the office comes to poop? Yup. So far I have been pretty lucky and have somehow managed to avoid having to pump in someone else's recent stink. 

Not today.

As I was about to go into the bathroom, the door swings open and out comes one of my co-workers. She was obviously startled because she knew that I was about to go in there and bust her bomb. So she says, "yeah....you might want to give it a minute."

Come ON!!!

So I am making a mental note right this instant, to make sure I tell maxwell of the times that I sat in other peoples stink to hook myself up to a machine for 30 minutes, all to provide him with nature's milkshake. 

You are welcome, my sweet boy.

(He's going to thank me someday, right??)

Food for thought

Working in a non-profit that is dedicated to health has inadvertently caused me to be more thoughtful about my lifestyle. Does this mean I have taken up hiking and triathlons? Heck to-the no! But what it does mean is that I'm more prone to prepare healthy lunches instead of road rage to Taco Bell every day. This means enjoying the 3 flights of stairs up to my office (it could also be my fear of the crickety elevator that makes me take the stairs, but lets pretend like its my healthy ambitions). Lately, this has also helped me to frame my thinking about what kind of eater I'd like to raise Maxwell as.

While I was on maternity leave, I started thinking about how people get fit after having babies. I started following a lot of clean eating blogs/Instagram. I was really surprised at the creative meals that these women were preparing, and it wasn't plain 'ol chicken and veggies either. I let this inspiration lead me away from King Soopers and to the aisles of Sprouts, where I felt like there were less "Easy Mac" opportunities, and more fresh produce and proteins purchases. I started to really think about ingredients: what's necessary and what's added in as a gross bonus? Why does peanut butter have 30 ingredients? Shouldn't it just have one - you know, PEANUTS?? So, one day I made my own almond butter. Turns out, glory hallelujah, ITS JUST ALMONDS. My head started spinning. What if Maxwell never knew the Jiffy peanut butter world? What if he only knew a world of homemade almond butter?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

I was raised with a grandma who loves to cook, loves to eat, loves to make us eat, loves to reward us with food, etc. It's all fun and games until you realize that your attitude towards food is extremely unhealthy, and it's even scarier when you think about the threat of passing those attitudes on to your children. I don't want Maxwell to struggle with his weight. I don't want him to be motivated by a Schwann's Man golden nugget bar. I want him to love fruits and veggies. I want him to recognize that good, pure food makes you feel like an Olympian; bad, "enhanced" food gives you a food hangover.

I'll always remember the guilt and humiliation I felt as my parents returned from a weekend away and our babysitter told my parents what a "good eater" I had been, even finishing my sister's burrito. I felt like a monstrous garbage disposal.  I never want Max to feel that way. Ever. (To be fair, said burrito was like a homemade chimichanga and it was DELICIOUS.  See?? I am a freak. This happened at least 15 years ago and I can still recall the flavor.)

So while I may be a lost cause, who will always feed a bad day with ice cream and get wayyyy to excited when I think about eating Mexican food, maybe I can attempt to break the cycle.  Maxwell will be starting solid foods next month. Jigga whaaaaa, you say? Yes, it's true. My little buddy is growing like a weed. What if I raise him to appreciate good, well-prepared, and simple food, and to not crave the crap that I grew up loving?  What if he and I started a garden next summer and we bonded over harvesting cherry tomatoes? (Assuming that my hypothetical cherry tomato plants will actually produce real vegetables.)

I would just love it.

PS: This video makes me feel so proud of these kids.  Way to break the stereotype that all high school kids are texting, bullying, life-hating, up-to-no-good, perps.  Gives me chills to see all the different clubs, having spirit and loving life! (almost like Todd Helton chills)

Dream report (warning: violent content)

Last night I dreamt that I was going to take Max to a Rockies game but I needed to buy something warm for us to wear.  So I rode a series of elevators up from a parking garage to get to a store...meanwhile I'm also trying to coordinate picking up a new TV for my mom in Greeley, so she ends up buying my Rockies game gear.  Then all of the sudden, my friend Erinbear and her mom are trying to fly into Denver from Boston but their flight is cancelled because of an attempted terrorist attack.  Later, we watch a small plane nosedive crash and explode into flames.  A shooting happens on the street and we retreat to our apartment in a highrise.  We hear a knock on the door and it's this suspicious little kid who is trying to hide from all the violence.  I make him a bed on our couch and keep my eye on him.

Dreams like this make me welcome my alarm.

As I ponder where these violent dreams are coming from, I think I know...Mike made me watch a video of his brother's hunting company, where they shoot an elk.  This has happened before and normally he tells me when to stop watching, aka right before the murder takes place, but this time I watched the whole thing.  I've never seen such a site.  The noises associated with this type of thing are not pleasing to me.  Based on the narrative I provided and the comments I made, I can guess I won't be invited on any Atkinson hunting excursions in the near future.  

Everything you ever wanted to know about flu shots and my meals

I got my flu shot this week.  I had to pep talk myself that if Max can get 3 shots in one day, I can get one measly flu shot.  Even after all the pokes and prods of having a baby, I still get scared to get a flu shot.  And as soon as they stick me, I'm like, hey now that wasn't so bad!!  But within a day I forget that it really doesn't hurt and I go back to being a weenie.  I mean come on...I had a freaking epidural, for goodness sakes...a little prick in the arm should be nothing!  But there I am, shaky and feeling weird after the 1 second flu shot.  The nurse was ready to give me the shot while I was standing up.  Something about that felt unsteady and weird.  Mostly I was scared that if I remained standing, I would be more inclined to jump away from her.  So I asked if I could sit.  Then the nurse told me I didn't need a band aid, but I insisted.  There is just something about the pressure of a band aid that makes it feel better.  On the way back to my office, my arm stung and I felt weak.  A quick investigation revealed that it was the band aid pulling on my arm hair that hurt, not the injection site.  Phew.

This weekend, a grand reunion/introduction is taking place!  My college gal pals are getting together for Homecoming, and while this is something we often do, this year will be especially adorable as there are lots of new babies that joined the world this year.  It was quite the baby boom with our little clique: March-Jonas; April-Emerson; May-Maxwell; June-Sophie; July-Jackson; November-TBA.  The TBA baby will be honored with a little baby shower while we're all together too.  Weekends like this make me wish that my best pals lived closer together.  Some of my very best friends live much too far away.

In honor of Crocktober, I performed my very first crockpot meal yesterday.  I have known that crockpots are sweet for a while now, but I never really did anything about it.  But finally...yesterday, at 6:30am, I threw some frozen chicken, salsa, taco seasoning and water into a crockpot.  Then, when we finally got home last night at 7:30, we feasted on delicious chicken tacos.  Mike should get the majority of the credit though, as he shredded the chicken (the worst part, I think) made a delicious chopped spinach/avocado/tomato salad, AND went above and beyond the call of duty by grilling the tortillas to add a little crispiness.  If we had tacos every night, I don't think either of us would be sad.  However, most week nights I do my own thing because he is working, which results in me making one weird meal in bulk on Sundays and eating the same thing every night - this way, when I get home and I am FAMISHED like usual, I don't have to choose between making dinner and loving on Maxer. The last couple of weeks has been Meat Cakes - meatloaf baked in a muffin tin.  I like to "ice" the meat cakes with some mashed cauliflower - I find that since it looks cute or comical, it helps me to forget I am eating meat wads and fake mashed potatoes.

Whenever I am in meal prep mode on Sundays, Mike offers me the challenge to make something that looks so good that he can't resist eating.  So far, I haven't been successful in that.  I would say that's both a good and a bad thing.  I haven't quite reached the balance of healthy AND appealing to many.  I'm not so sure I'll ever get there...my staple meal used to be a baked potato with ketchup (special occasions called for baked potato with black beans and avocado).  I mean come on...how is that not delicious!  But when I revealed that meal to Mike when we first started dating, he was horrified.

As I blab on and on in this post, I realize that this is not fulfilling my blog's goal of helping me to remember the special moments of my life.  Try again tomorrow, I suppose!

Helicopter mom

I'll be the first to admit that I am an extreme worrier.  Duh.  I worry about everything.  I worry that the second I stop worrying, the worst will happen.  So, I continue to worry.  It's my way of forecasting the horrible things that can happen, so that I will never be caught off guard.

But what started as a funny phrase now offends me.  "Helicopter Mom".  Oh I'm sorry, did you mean that I care for my child's safety and well-being?  Because that, I'm fine with.  What I'm not fine with, is the visual of me fluttering around Max like a psychotic butterfly, and being so up in his bizness that I don't allow him to flourish.

What offends me the most is this:  All my life I have wanted to be a mom.  Throughout my life as I realized things that I am not good at, I always had in the back of my mind, the idea that I would be a mom and I would be a good one.  So, if my worrying keeps me from being a good Mom, then what the $@%# am I good at???  Piano lessons didn't pan out...  Sports, nope... Science/Math/school in general, that's not on the list of skills.  So come on, life, please.  Can I just have this one thing:  Mothering.

I want to be cool, calm and collected.  I want to always be one step ahead and be prepared for everything, but have it all appear seamless.  Is this possible?  All of that takes effort, but if the effort is so apparent, then does that still count?  Am I trying too hard?

I haven't had a pity party in a while, so I guess I am due.  Table for one please.

PS. To add insult to my injury, I attempted to put on this pink lip stain so that I would stop biting my lips.  It backfired in the worst way possible.  Now my lips are: raw from trying to rub off the stain; still stained; clown-like.  Can I go home yet?

Week in Thoughts

Target has scary produce.  This week, they had the largest, creepiest apples I have ever seen.  (exhibit A).  I can't even imagine eating that.  I would feel like I was eating a prop from Honey I Shrunk the Kids.

Exhibit A

In other news, our health insurance is going up $111 per month next year.  Which is fine...I work for a non-profit and Mike is self-employed, so we will probably just pay for it from our treasure chest that is filled with gold coins and diamonds.  This is just an added incentive to reach Mike's goal of having Max potty trained by 6 months - then we can use diaper money on health insurance.   See, it's tricky. I'm not mad at ya, Obama.  You my boy.  You have a tough job and you gotta start somewhere.  But, with the way my health insurance plan is looking for 2014, I can guarantee I will not be visiting a doctor when I'm feeling a little under the weather.  I generally don't do that, but even more so now.  And the problem I have with that, is that the purpose of this legislation is to provide health insurance for those who previously couldn't afford it.  But, I still see quips on Facebook of people saying they still can't afford it and will continue to refuse health insurance.  So, I'm trying to be responsible and healthy and have health insurance for my family, while bozos who claim "can't afford it" will refuse coverage, inevitably end up getting sick and go to the doctor, and the responsible ones will cover those costs.  Why I oughta........... I have been following a pretty fascinating debate on The Book, and saw this quote: "You're driving a car?  You are required to have car insurance.  You are living a life?  You are required to have health insurance!"  Now as I've mentioned in the past, I'm no politics expert.  But that seems pretty solid right there.  These are just my thoughts.

I had a realization last night: I am no longer the center of attention queen.  It is theme week in GoKickball world and so we got Mike dressed as his staple "Blind Ref" and got Max into his FREAKING ADORABLE hot dog costume (exhibit B).  We didn't have time for much else, and on the drive there, I was thinking...aw shucks, I am totally missing this opportunity to wear a costume!  Then I realized, while I am not giving up costumes all together, it is time to pass the torch to Maxwell.  I need to take on the role of getting him gussied up and parading him around while in my civilian clothes.  I would hate to steal the show from him.  So, while I still plan on begging for attention in other ways, it is kind of cool to assume this new role of Assistant {to the} Center of Attention.

Exhibit B

Maxwell woke up twice last night.  Each time, it was so hard to get out of bed...but once I'm in his nursery with him and we are snuggled in the chair, I don't even care what time it is.  He has started to rub my arm when I am nursing him and it is 1 part: adorable; 1 part: funny; 1 part: similar to a massage.  That kid is my fave!!  I can't wait to get home today and introduce him to snow!  Because, it would appear that winter has arrived in Denver.

I am getting a hair cut today.  A significant cut.  Not a mom pixie cut, but something substantial.  I realized that I get a lot of comments about how long my hair is, but that's not necessarily a good thing.

"Your hair is so long!" - what I generally hear
"Your hair is so long and it looks great!" - what I should hear
"Your hair looks great!" - what I'd like to hear

So, armed with a photo of Selena Gomez's shoulder length hair, I will hope that this hair cut doesn't result in tears.  Oh that's never happened before, but I'm just saying.

Welp, see ya!