tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71450957262663414622024-03-13T15:02:35.720-07:00Make It Work, baby!Life is a never-ending balancing act filled with choices that can make or break you. I'm just trying to get through it with my sanity intact.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.comBlogger37125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-86445274860555192512020-09-14T12:52:00.002-07:002020-09-14T12:52:36.363-07:00An End to the Haitus?<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAusebVN2QN_7a-7Qrm5UEXc_vjDJbsgdBcYBSObePgg5MiRG6WrJMaQrTp1oqHbzy2wUi0Dj8wBghqnSjRw8sLM1-2u5KUbTwaF5J9mplorPRJsdlxsFERA4E3pf_iYNyv6QS1UO7koU/s2048/arnaud-mesureur-7EqQ1s3wIAI-unsplash.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Seeing the sky through the trees" border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAusebVN2QN_7a-7Qrm5UEXc_vjDJbsgdBcYBSObePgg5MiRG6WrJMaQrTp1oqHbzy2wUi0Dj8wBghqnSjRw8sLM1-2u5KUbTwaF5J9mplorPRJsdlxsFERA4E3pf_iYNyv6QS1UO7koU/w640-h426/arnaud-mesureur-7EqQ1s3wIAI-unsplash.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>It's one of those things that sits at the back of your mind. The ever-neglected blog, languishing in internet anonymity as its brethren sigh into the void and tumble off the screen, one by one. </p><p>When I visited this blog today, it wasn't with the intention to create a new post. I've been back periodically in the last five years to pull that old recipe (yes I still use some) or to just take a spin down memory lane. My intention today was similar - looking for a recipe (which, it turns out, I never even blogged about). But then I read the last post. And revisited a few others. And updated the list of "blogs I like," finding that more than half of them no longer exist.</p><p>I'm still the same person I was when the cursor last blinked at this URL five years ago. But my life has become so much more expansive. There are so many things that could be said about that last post, which will now become the penultimate once this gets published, and then perhaps relegated even further back on the "recent posts" list. </p><p>The most important thing, though, is probably to say that I did, for once in my life, get help. I don't have a diagnosable mental illness, though my obsessive-compulsive traits are probably in borderline territory. But I finally, finally scrounged up courage and found a therapist. She was the first person I called, and I only stopped seeing her earlier this year after relocating during the pandemic (what a loaded sentence). I can't say enough about the benefits of therapy. She was crucial to my efforts of establishing a normal life pace and some sense of peace. Everyone should have a therapist like that. </p><p>Aside from that? My own business continues to flourish. I now have three beautiful kids, and my oldest, the baby in my blog thumbnail, is now in middle school. Over a decade removed from some of those older posts, but I find myself going through the same things with my newest son, who is the tender age of 9 months. I'm not sure what it is about babies, but something makes me want to capture every moment and hold it close. Maybe that's why I'm back. I hope it sticks. I love writing. </p><p>If I can make this a new habit, I'll be back with more. Even if I'm writing for an audience of one - myself - words matter, and important moments get foggy through the lens of time. There's so much to say, and per usual, very little time to make it happen. Eleven years later and I'm still trying to make it work. There's no secret sauce to life.<br /></p>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-60324640570313066662015-05-18T20:49:00.000-07:002015-05-18T20:55:12.520-07:00The signal has been lostHow do you revamp a blog that's been let down so many times? It's been two years since I last posted here. I've <a href="http://makeitworkbaby.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-am-urbanite.html" target="_blank">moved to the suburbs</a>, watched my kids grow, and now I have a kindergartner and a 4-year-old. So much is different, and yet, laughably, <a href="http://makeitworkbaby.blogspot.com/2010/07/out-of-balance.html" target="_blank">so</a> <a href="http://makeitworkbaby.blogspot.com/2011/03/my-exercise-demons.html" target="_blank">much</a> <a href="http://makeitworkbaby.blogspot.com/2011/11/revelation.html" target="_blank">is the same</a>. I'm back to where I was before, though in reality I never actually left. Overwhelmed, sleep-deprived, overworked, under-appreciated. <br />
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From the outside, things really seem to be looking up. They're not. My own facade is cracking, my motivation waning, and my desire to ESCAPE is escalating. I know that's not good. I probably just need a good vacation. And a housekeeper. A chef/nutritionist. Personal trainer. A nanny would be awesome too. And a secretary. But honestly, I'll settle for a vacation sometime this summer.<br />
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There's a decent chance I won't get one, however. For starters, we gave in and became a two-car family in December. The Versa had one payment left, and we were struggling with suburban family life, two kids, and one car. And we all know how much I've wanted a bigger family. So in December, we packed up the kids, dropped them off with my parents, and went car shopping. We returned a few hours later with a minivan.<br />
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I know, it's so cliche. Have two kids: a boy and a girl. Move to the suburbs. Get a minivan. All we're missing is soccer practice and a little stick figure family on the back of the van. And probably a dog, but that's not happening. <br />
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But I digress; around the same time we bought the van, we decided to upgrade some of our furniture. We were <a href="http://makeitworkbaby.blogspot.com/2009/12/finally-back-home.html" target="_blank">co-sleepers</a> from the time my son was 4 months old, but as our family grew in number and we all grew in size, our queen bed ceased to work. DH was constantly sleeping elsewhere in part because he simply didn't fit with me and two kids. So we got ourselves a king-sized bed, bought a new frame for the queen and relegated the mattress to the guest room. Next came the new dresser and end tables for the guest room, too. And of course, with bigger kids, came bigger beds for them. Gone were the tiny toddler beds. We bought a sturdy bunk with a full on the bottom and twin on the top. Plenty of space for story time and snuggling when needed.<br />
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On top of an abnormally unrestrained Christmas shopping season, all of this buying things set us back. I knew we'd overspent, but I wasn't too concerned until I sat down to do our taxes. Since I became primarily self-employed, we'd been compensating on taxes by having DH withhold at the single rate. Every year we'd gotten a lot of money back at tax time, which as everyone knows is essentially loaning the government your hard-earned money interest-free. To avoid doing that, and to help cover the increased costs of our new domicile, I adjusted DH's withholding last year. Unfortunately, I kicked it too far in the other direction. Instead of getting lots back, we were going to owe lots.<br />
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After that, I put the taxes away and resolved not to file until just before the deadline, to allow more time to pay what we owed. And then the final shoe dropped. DH's computer broke, and certain parts needed to be replaced. Expensive parts. When the dust finally settled, we had roughly a $7K swing from where I'd expected us to be, not including all of that extra Christmas spending. <br />
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Unfortunately, when we suffer from debt, there's only one solution that makes sense. I have to work more hours. I make a pretty good hourly rate, and I have oodles of work that I'm behind on. So I've been burning the candle at both ends. Staying up late getting work done. Feeding the kids and making lunches in the morning, getting them to their respective schools (relatively) on time. Coming back, feeding myself (sometimes), and getting to work. Heading back out to pick up DD, coming back and spending time with her or trying to distract her while I attempt to get things done. I'm not keeping it together well, and everything is suffering.<br />
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I have deadlines that are so long past I can't remember when they were. I have unanswered emails, a neglected work website (and blog), an exploding laundry room, three floors of grimy, unvacuumed carpet, an overly-cluttered desk, two unwashed cars, a sink full of dirty dishes, an overly-cluttered desk, a disastrous mess in every room, and a front walk that desperately needs sweeping. My DVR is full-to-bursting, new novels on my Kindle remain unread, I haven't watched a live TV show in ages, I haven't seen the inside of my gym in weeks, my fridge is sad lacking in essentials, and none of my clothes fit. Remember when I lost all of that weight? It's all back, and then some. I've already had to buy new pants, shorts are going to be next since I've run out of clean skirts and dresses.<br />
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I have had some small wins recently though. I keep getting new clients without trying. DD turned 4 and continues to nurse daily (more on THAT later, I hope). I'm co-leader of ICAN of Northern Virginia now, and we had a great meeting over the weekend. I get to sing some amazing songs in church. I finally got an EIN for my business, and a bank account, and a credit card (all this week, actually).<br />
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There are just so many more stressors in the coming days and weeks and months that I'm beginning to despair about it ever ending. I desperately need to take better care of myself. Go to the dentist. Go see a new chiropractor. Get a massage. Go to the gym. Start meal planning again. Walk. Shower and comb my hair. Maybe even find a new hair dresser that specializes in natural black hair (more on THAT later, too). But in order to do those things, I need money and time. I don't have either right now, and I can't exactly make them out of thin air. More money means less time. More time means less money. We can't afford less money right now, so there you have it. No time.<br />
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I'm honestly not sure how long I can go on like this. I've been in manic mood for too long, and there's no end in sight. I need help.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-26388829221972616952013-06-01T07:50:00.000-07:002013-06-01T07:50:00.138-07:00Crock Pot Italian Butter ChickenAnother day, another hybrid slow cooker recipe. It's the weekend, and I have big plans to get a lot of work done today. My goal is to get enough done that I have time to read a book and enjoy a glass of wine before bed tonight. Sounds like heaven to me! To help facilitate that, I threw together one of the easiest recipes I know. Just a few ingredients, most that you probably have in your house, and you'll have a tasty dinner waiting for you. Like most of my recipes, this one is a hybrid of two different ones that I found on <a href="http://pinterest.com/sh0rtchica/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>. Unfortunately, the original blog that posted one of those doesn't seem to exist anymore. So I've linked the pin for the source instead, which has all of the instructions posted on it. My husband is not a fan of cooked carrots, but he really enjoyed eating this. I hope you do, too!<br />
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<b>Sources:</b><br />
<a href="http://www.crockadoodledo.blogspot.com/2012/04/italian-chicken.html" target="_blank">Italian Chicken by Crock-a-doodle-do</a><br />
<a href="http://pinterest.com/pin/179932947583658163/" target="_blank">Crockpot Lemon Chicken from Pinterest</a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_A-60_bXkoA3mjI142qnZr2AinxCP8qF7aGDj73gG0QkJwJW981FLckfxw3_qpZEptoaPHAbXKZ8_lnHdBRvePjHz4pvH341iw6nSWqRlK040IC_nTutvrt79BHgiT3cLU8ssGjITE4Q/s1600/crockpot-butter-italian-chicken.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_A-60_bXkoA3mjI142qnZr2AinxCP8qF7aGDj73gG0QkJwJW981FLckfxw3_qpZEptoaPHAbXKZ8_lnHdBRvePjHz4pvH341iw6nSWqRlK040IC_nTutvrt79BHgiT3cLU8ssGjITE4Q/s320/crockpot-butter-italian-chicken.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a><br />
<b>Crock Pot Italian Butter Chicken</b><br />
1 lb Organic boneless, skinless chicken thighs (you can use chicken breast, but organic thighs are cheap!)<br />
1 stick butter (8 tbsp)<br />
1/2 lb mini carrots<br />
2-4 tbsp Italian Seasoning (<a href="http://onceamonthmom.com/homemade-italian-dressing-mix/" target="_blank">make your own</a> or use a packet)<br />
Juice of 1 lemon (optional)<br />
4-6 potatoes, washed and quartered<br />
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Throw everything in the crockpot, starting with the chicken, and cook on low for 6-8 hours. That's it! It helps to sprinkle the Italian seasoning on every layer. I like to stir it with about 1-2 hours left to make sure the carrots and potatoes get adequately covered by the butter. It's not low fat, but it's damn good!<br />
<br />Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-37172350994328168482013-05-16T23:53:00.001-07:002013-05-29T07:31:21.522-07:00Review: Gravity<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13571899" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px;"><img alt="Gravity" border="0" src="http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1366109437m/13571899.jpg" /></a><br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13571899">Gravity</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5181752">Dannika Dark</a><br />
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My rating: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/603364318">5 of 5 stars</a><br />
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I was introduced to Dannika Dark's Mageri series only a short time ago, but since then I've devoured each book multiple times and was chomping at the bit for the chance to read Gravity. Fans of the series are going to adore it. There are some serious highs and some devastating lows, but the conclusion left me yearning for more.<br />
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The book begins with Silver as she gets settled into her life with Justus and contends with Logan's courtship. It was frustrating for me to see her still fighting the inevitability of it. As has happened in previous novels, the action takes off quickly and makes it hard to put the book down. Throughout the narration bounced around to the POVs of several different characters, which I found a bit frustrating since all I really wanted to know was what would happen next with Silver. On my first reading, I sailed through in just over 3 hours and skimmed several sections with characters I wasn't as interested in. I've never been a huge fan of the Knox/Sunny relationship for no particular reason other than the characters don't resonate with me as much, so I tend to skim pages that involve them on the first read-through. When I re-read it, I'll tread more carefully so I can gain a full appreciation for their storyline. There are also some interesting steps forward for Justus, who was left broken at the close of [b:Impulse|13571893|Impulse (Mageri, #3)|Dannika Dark|http://d.gr-assets.com/books/1343774034s/13571893.jpg|19152347]. I hope we'll get to see more development of his storyline in the coming novel. We also get to see a good bit of Christian, but not enough Simon for my tastes.<br />
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What I appreciate most about this series, and Gravity in particular, is Dannika Dark's unwillingness to pull any punches. Her love scenes are some of the more believable and stirring that I've read, and her characters grapple with themes we can all relate to, despite not having any magical powers or DNA. There was a pretty huge amount of heartbreak in the novel, but it was tempered beautifully. I love that Dannika's readers are respected and not spoon-fed details, at the close we are left satisfied in some areas while wringing our hands and asking why in others. I'm excited for the release of the next book, and will definitely be pouring over this one, and the previous novels, several times before its release. <br />
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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/603364318">View all my reviews</a>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-52254022579585692692013-03-27T21:41:00.001-07:002013-03-27T21:51:21.713-07:00(Somewhat) Healthified Slow Cooker Chicken Bacon Ranch PastaI never knew how much I would love cooking until I got the opportunity to practice it. Being able to cook almost every night of the week for almost two years now, I think I can say I've gotten pretty good at it. One thing I'm terrible at is following recipes. Oh, I follow the spirit, so to speak. But I'm a big fan of guesstimating measurements and making off-the-cuff substitutions when I find my pantry is not up to snuff. With that in mind, I've decided to start posting my recipe combinations here on my (much-neglected) blog, in hopes that the next time I look for a particular recipe, I'll remember that I rejiggered it and will know where to look.<br />
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Most of my recipes are pulled from <a href="http://pinterest.com/sh0rtchica/" target="_blank">Pinterest</a> (and I'm currently sitting at 1000+ on my personal pinboard), though before that I was a big fan of <a href="http://allrecipes.com/">Allrecipes.com</a>. Tonight's dinner creation (which smells heavenly by the way!) is a mish-mash of a few different recipes, all sourced below. We don't use cans in this household, and I added broccoli to the original following the recommendation of my kids' playgroup teacher, who told me about it in the first place (thanks Patty!).<br />
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Here are the original recipes:<br />
<div id="comments-title">
<a href="http://normalcooking.wordpress.com/2012/08/31/slow-cooker-bacon-ranch-chicken-pasta/" target="_blank">Slow Cooker Bacon Ranch Chicken Pasta by Normal Cooking</a></div>
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<div class="entry-title">
<a href="http://simplehomemade.net/healthy-substitutions/" target="_blank">Healthy Substitutions: Ditch the Condensed Soup by Simple Homemade</a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFWIcVpKh1NMAhXL9xzPTPEFBQFJSpvA1_Tp0uJo2y9mNkoMMraOYJV2wpVyttDX_LxtuvTx1oZZ4C9unj5HOdN_frhokQur_RRFIOxGDa5qZC4samc-ooI54AAKs05k6f7-dmZw-hKM/s1600/chicken-bacon-ranch-slow-cooker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFWIcVpKh1NMAhXL9xzPTPEFBQFJSpvA1_Tp0uJo2y9mNkoMMraOYJV2wpVyttDX_LxtuvTx1oZZ4C9unj5HOdN_frhokQur_RRFIOxGDa5qZC4samc-ooI54AAKs05k6f7-dmZw-hKM/s640/chicken-bacon-ranch-slow-cooker.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a name='more'></a>And here is what I did:</div>
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<b>(Somewhat) Healthified Slow Cooker Chicken Bacon Ranch Pasta </b></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6mFVxqJc__OlzzlPEp5s6Yy2KLWX365oozx6W0c4ZFIq0xxNur0uYnR1vc6Vry8je2Gf9bJUeKR5brIE3FXwbrGbsQ3BGJhcOWNVgDzUvx-x7VHDeTzLcW8guB5ljUEBDW7zCWTGBj8/s1600/bacon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6mFVxqJc__OlzzlPEp5s6Yy2KLWX365oozx6W0c4ZFIq0xxNur0uYnR1vc6Vry8je2Gf9bJUeKR5brIE3FXwbrGbsQ3BGJhcOWNVgDzUvx-x7VHDeTzLcW8guB5ljUEBDW7zCWTGBj8/s320/bacon.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmm turkey bacon!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b>Ingredients:</b><br />
3 Organic, free-range chicken breasts<br />
3 tbsp Organic, unsalted butter <br />
1 cup Whole Wheat Flour<br />
Pinch of salt<br />
1 cup low-sodium, organic Chicken broth<br />
1 clove garlic, minced<br />
1 package ranch dressing mix<br />
1 cup plain Greek Yogurt (I used nonfat)<br />
2 cups broccoli (fresh or frozen) <br />
4 slices Turkey bacon<br />
8 oz Whole Wheat pasta<br />
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<b>Directions:</b><br />
Spray crock pot with nonstick cooking spray and place in chicken breasts.<br />
In a small pot over the medium heat, melt the butter, then whisk in the flour and salt until bubbly.<br />
Stir in the chicken stock and whisk until well-combined.<br />
Remove from heat, stir in the Greek yogurt, ranch dressing mix, and minced garlic.<br />
Pour sauce over chicken and turn on high for 3 hours (longer if your chicken is frozen, mine was not)<br />
When you have one hour left, add broccoli to the slow cooker.<br />
Cook bacon (oven, stovetop, microwave, your call) and cut into small pieces. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIBw6ZdCGLzILirSPDzp3_Bm3RDjBFhG041aHwNqRQbf1Twy3on_kv14OYAd5hywd4ANAz9jjdziJaW7Hyumwd5hEEctt6cr2giwp-NJ4rnFMPKkCC_J5zH41uFq8H8fIcoTIL4n4V1I/s1600/chicken-bacon-in-the-crock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiIBw6ZdCGLzILirSPDzp3_Bm3RDjBFhG041aHwNqRQbf1Twy3on_kv14OYAd5hywd4ANAz9jjdziJaW7Hyumwd5hEEctt6cr2giwp-NJ4rnFMPKkCC_J5zH41uFq8H8fIcoTIL4n4V1I/s320/chicken-bacon-in-the-crock.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mixing it up. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Cook pasta according to package directions, then set aside<br />
When chicken is done, shred with a fork, mix in bacon pieces, and place over pasta (or throw the pasta in and mix it all together, heck I love improvisation).<br />
Enjoy! <br />
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For a little kick, throw in some red pepper flakes, cayenne pepper, or ground black pepper.<br />
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I really enjoyed it, and so did the husband, so I'll call this one a success. I'll definitely make it again, though this is not one of the easy, one-pot-set-and-forget meals. It's worth the extra work, though! Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-58388671500342177462013-03-14T15:45:00.000-07:002013-03-27T22:21:22.540-07:00Back at it, againI've forgotten how cathartic writing can be. I do have a degree in English, after all, so you'd think that's something I would remember. Silly me. Nothing stays for long in my colander of a brain these days.<br />
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It's been just about 18 months since I wrote a post, even longer than that since I've practiced regular upkeep. I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things, again, because it's helpful to me, and I feel like I have a lot to share.<br />
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How to sum up 18 months, though, in one post? And really, two full years, since that last post was really just an internal cry for help and a little shy on details? Here goes nothing:<br />
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In 2011, I gave birth to my little girl in a glorious HBAC. I have the birth story posted elsewhere, so eventually I'll transfer it over here. It was a really difficult year in a lot of ways. Going from working FT with one child, to working as a freelancer with two kids and no childcare was a disaster in many ways. I went through multiple schemes with swapping, babysitters, and nannies, until I finally broke down and re-hired my old sitter to come once a week.<br />
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In 2012, I decided to get back in shape, in part thanks to the support of the ladies in my May 2011 DDC from Diaperswappers. I joined the local masters swim team in February of 2012 and proceeded to lose close to 40lbs last year. By Christmas, I was smaller than I'd been since freshman year of college. I had to buy all new clothes, and rediscover a few old ones. Still working on the pants situation, though. Those are expensive and I'm cheap.<br />
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Also last year, I worked through some serious relationship issues. Despite a fairly reasonable income goal roughly half my former take-home pay, I earned barely half that and only averaged about 20 hours/month of working, less than an hour a day. That is absolutely dismal. In no small part, it's because I was still trying to get work done during the day. I didn't want to annoy my husband by frantically shoving the kids at him every night the minute he walked in the door, so I didn't. The reality is, my life (and most parents' out there) is like a 4-way teeter-totter. Each day I have to juggle taking care of and spending quality time with my kids, keeping up the house, working, and taking care of myself. Something always loses - last year it was work. I ended 2012 healthy with a relatively clean and organized house (though my bedroom is a dump-room disaster), and feeling as though I hadn't squandered my time with my kids. Unfortunately, I also ended 2012 very broke and incredibly anxious about my family's finances.<br />
<br />So this year, I've shifted my weight on the teeter-totter in a different direction. I've barely worked out at all since the New Year, and have put on about 10lbs. I don't cook dinner every night now, and I've added quick and easy (but not exactly healthy) meals like pasta and pizza back to the menu. Adrian started preschool in November, so two mornings a week I plop Carmen in front of Sesame Street and get busy with my long work to-do list. I work most nights, including weekend nights, often until 2 or 3 am.<br />
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The result is that in January I made more than in any single month last year, exceeding my income goal though not my hourly goal, and while February was a bit down, it was 100% higher than 2012 because I didn't even bill anyone last February. I sat down at the beginning of the year and figured out my average hourly rate from last year, then figured out how many hours I would need to work each day and each week to meet my goal. It's only a measly 15 hours/week, a little more than 2 hours/day. So far, 11 weeks into the year, I've only met or exceeded 15 hours three times, all in the last three consecutive weeks.<br />
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That all comes at a price. I find that my self-control around junk food has essentially evaporated. Apparently people who sleep less eat more. I can definitely attest to that. I'm also incredibly concerned about the amount of TV my kids are consuming. I was always adamantly opposed to the "TV babysitter." Now I'm not sure how to get anything done without it. As my kids get older, I find they are better at entertaining themselves, but that's not why I left the workforce. I'm starting to make a concerted effort to limit their screen time, which at the moment I'm finding difficult as they are both addicted to Cinderella and the iPad. The coming warm weather will mean more outdoor time and less screen time, unfortunately it will also mean less work time - both for money and around the house.<br />
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I'm not sure what the remainder of the year will bring. I'm going to do my best every day to find that elusive balance, the balance that I feel like I've been chasing my entire life. Maybe someday, I'll make it work. Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-27620098544469830572011-11-30T00:00:00.000-08:002013-03-27T22:21:49.595-07:00RevelationThere's been a lot going on.<br />
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I left my job in April.<br />
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I had a baby - at home in the water - in May.<br />
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I started working for myself in June.<br />
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Now it's November. My baby is 6, almost 7 months old. I'm not sure where the time went. Every day I hold her, kiss her, smile and play with her, and try to burn the image of her into my retinas. I don't want to forget this. I can't wait to do it again. Babies are more precious than anything else. They are life, love, and laughter.<br />
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But that's not why I decided to post today, after an 8-month hiatus.<br />
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It's almost 3am here in Virginia. I'm up this late for the second night in a row. Not sure if I'm developing insomnia, but it seems that the most transcendent thoughts can happen in the wee hours of the morning.<br />
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Since becoming a freelancer and leaving behind a very well-paying, high-profile job, I've been struggling. Mentally, financially, emotionally, socially, and even physically. Most of those are posts for another day. My revelation this night/morning, however, deals with the first.<br />
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I never realized how difficult it would be to work from home full-time. I did make an awesome plan that got disrupted through uncontrollable and unforeseeable circumstances, but that didn't mean I needed to throw in the towel. However sometimes it feels like I've done just that - day after day and I can't seem to find the time to work.<br />
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The time is there, most days. I'm blessed with children who actually like napping. I just seem to find other ways to fill it. Laundry. Cooking. Cleaning. Taking my kids to the park, on the bus, to playgroup, to DC. Chatting with my friends on Facebook. Reading news stories and blog posts. Catching up on the DVR. All of that makes for a full life, but none of it pays the bills.<br />
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Part of me is balking at the responsibility. I've always been the bread-earner, but now if I don't make enough, we can't afford our rent. That's a scary thought, because there's no steady paycheck coming in. I have to work. And yet, over and over again, I find other things to do, and at the week's end my billable hours = 0.<br />
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I'm a hard worker. But I'm also greatly affected by my work environment and co-workers. Both of those are huge reasons for leaving my last two positions. I didn't realize until today, an hour or so ago, that it's happening to me again. Home is now my place of work. And most days I feel like I'm the only one who is pulling any weight around the house. All of it. So what do I do? I rebel. I procrastinate, I slack off, I take myself down to the level of those around me. There's no pressure, other than from myself, to get things done or do them right. But in the end that's not healthy, or helpful.<br />
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I'm not sure how to get myself out of this slump. Realizing that I need to treat every day as if I were hopping on the bus into DC may help. Getting up at a set time, instead of whenever the kids wake me up. Planning out what to wear and checking the weather the night before. Getting myself dressed first. Making a to-do list every day, and every week. These are things that got me through 6 years of working full-time in DC. Now I need to rely on them to get me through full-time mothering and part-time freelancing.<br />
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I know I can do this. I'm ashamed that I haven't gotten myself together yet. My mother says to give it more time - it's only been a few months, after all, and we all need a little transition time when starting a new position. This is more than a new position, though, and maybe that's why I've been subconsciously shrugging off the load on my shoulders. It's a life-altering process. Raising children can't be re-done, can't be quit, and there are no bosses checking on my progress. <br />
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All that's left to me is to make it work. I CAN do this. Starting now, by going to bed.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-40989430508584553292011-03-07T20:43:00.000-08:002013-03-27T22:19:06.312-07:00My exercise demonsYes, I spelled that right. I don't have demons to exorcise, I have exercise demons. I'm terrible at getting myself up and going, and I've always been that way. That's why, after gaining the freshman *cough* my first year in college, I walked-on to the swim team. Nine practices a week got my tushie in shape and ensured I'd be staying healthy(ish - my diet wasn't great) and fitting into my clothes.<iframe class=" woxuaypntpwxzzqhfftl woxuaypntpwxzzqhfftl xzrhkicpvydkdqiiasyf" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?lt1=_blank&bc1=000000&IS2=1&bg1=FFFFFF&fc1=000000&lc1=0000FF&t=maitwoba-20&o=1&p=8&l=as4&m=amazon&f=ifr&asins=0972018417" style="height: 240px; width: 120px;"></iframe> After college, I had my wedding to get ready for almost immediately. After that was when my waistline, thighs, and pretty much everywhere else started to bulge. Before getting pregnant with Adrian, I actually managed to lose 20lbs through a combination of being more active (taking the stairs, free weights) and a better diet. I have <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0972018417?ie=UTF8&tag=maitwoba-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0972018417">Eating for Life</a> to thank for much of that - it's a great book to change your philosophy on food, and contains a meal planner and some healthy recipes.<br />
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But then I had a baby. And, you know, life gets in the way. I've never been a gym rat, past NCAA-athlete status aside, and even paying for a membership hasn't gotten me to go with any regularity. I know I need to be working out. Working a desk job, plus a long commute, lead to a fairly sedentary lifestyle. I hate running, I stink at trying to do TV exercise, and basically unless someone is standing over me with a whip I have a lot of trouble finding the motivation to work out. I wish it weren't that way.<br />
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So I'm writing this post with the hopes that it will serve as a surrogate coach for me. I gained 50lbs in my last pregnancy. It was too much, and even though (thankfully) Adrian wasn't too big, I believe that my weight gain and lack of conditioning lead me tired me out too quickly, and aided in taking the fight out of me. I can't have that happen this time - there will be no drugs to help me sleep, and I will need to get myself through from beginning to end.<br />
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I'm at about 24lbs gained right now. I started 10lbs up from my first pre-pregnancy weight. I'm in dangerous territory, with a little under 2 months to go, and I need to be smart from here on out. Tonight I walked for 30 minutes on the treadmill. Feeling a little better about myself, but only if I can keep this out. I wish I'd had the time for a group yoga class, or gotten myself back into swimming a few times a week, but if wishes were fishes.... Roughly 50-ish days to go. I can do it.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-82541822883387437082011-02-24T09:03:00.000-08:002013-03-27T22:19:25.115-07:00Is this how it's supposed to work?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Life has been so overwhelming recently. I guess having a full-time job (with a commute), a toddler (almost 2 years old!), and being 6+ months pregnant will do that to you.<br />
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But still, part of me wonders if the problem is me - why am I not satisfied with the way my life works right now? I have a good job (minus some boss issues) that pays really well, I have a dedicated caregiver for my kid, and I have excellent support from my family and friends.<br />
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It's still not enough. I'll admit to being a perfectionist, a tad neurotic, and a control freak. Those are excellent qualities when it comes to the work I do. Not so much when I have to depend on other people for so many things in my life. I'll admit to being overly critical when people don't do things the way I want them to (which is, of course, the only way things should be done). I know the answer to that is, if I don't like the way things are done, I need to do them myself.<br />
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That is SO easier said than done.<br />
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At least now I have a plan. It's been hatching in my brain for about two years now. I'm done with the full-time work force and have no plans to come back anytime in the near future. I'm going into business for myself - a scary prospect - but one that will give me the ultimate control over my life's direction. I just need to hang in there a bit longer. This baby is due in just 67 short days. I think I can make my current situation work until then. I don't really have a choice.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-67822978680301255792011-01-11T13:14:00.000-08:002013-03-27T22:19:38.726-07:00My Tale of Booby TrapsThe website <a href="http://www.bestforbabes.org/2011/01/we-need-your-booby-trap-stories-for-the-us-surgeon-general-the-press-by-jan-18/">Best for Babies</a> has put out a call for stories from moms about the booby traps they faced when attempting to breastfeed.<br />
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I think I've experienced every booby trap in the book - with my first baby. Now that the second is due in a few months I'm armed and ready for battle again. I hope it won't come to that.<br />
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My story of booby traps started with birth preparation - I went to a collaborative OB/Midwife practice that prided it self on a low(er) c-section and epidural rate. I was never, not once, asked about my plans to breastfeed.<br />
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The only class I took was a hospital-based birth prep class. I don't even think breastfeeding came up, and if it did all I really remember is my shock at hearing 94% of the women giving birth in that hospital had epidurals.<br />
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While the first 15 hours or so of labor in the hospital went fine, I ended up with the lovely "cascade of interventions" culminating in a horrible c-section. It was horrible because I think something went wrong, but I was never told this and it's not in my records. I was worn out, devastated, and had a TERRIBLE reaction to whatever it was I was on (the epidural, the anti-itching drugs, etc.). I was shaking so uncontrollably that it was probably an hour, at least, before I was able to even hold my baby. That didn't last long, either, before he was whisked off to the nursery for tests due to maternal AND infant fever (thanks to the medicine, not infection). <br />
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It was probably another 2 hours or so before I saw him again and was able to even attempt nursing. Post-bath, traumatic blood draws and separation, he was sleepy and I couldn't get him to wake up. We spent four frustrating days in the hospital trying to nurse. We had to track down the LCs, who just shoved the baby on my breast and left, leaving me wringing my hands in confusion. I was told not to keep him in bed with me, but if we were alone I could not get up and get him out of the bassinet when he cried. Well-meaning family and friends continually urged me to send him to the nursery so I could get some sleep.<br />
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I could still barely walk when we left the hospital, with our free diaper bag of formula, still unsure how to latch and high on pain killers. That first night home was one of the most traumatic of my life, with a screaming, hungry baby, a husband who was never breastfed and didn't understand my desire to, a hand-me-down pump from a friend that I couldn't get to work, and a feeling of utter failure. I felt I had no choice but to supplement with formula. My milk had finally come in and was leaking profusely, but I didn't know what else to do. To top it off - my husband contracted the flu while in the hospital. We were a total mess - first time parents where dad couldn't touch the baby and mom couldn't get out of bed.<br />
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I made an appointment with the hospital lactation counselor the next morning. There we rented a pump, weighed the baby, and worked on latch issues. I was given a nipple shield, syringe, and all other paraphernalia, with instructions to come back for a group class later in the week. Later that day we had a pediatrician appointment with a young doctor who didn't even have kids yet. She was nice, but with a bit of "know-it-all" attitude that rubbed me the wrong way. She told me I needed to pump, nurse, and supplement 1-2 oz at every feeding because our son had lost 11oz since birth. That routine sounded nuts to me, but I'm not a doctor.<br />
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The next day we went to see my OB/MW practice for follow-up. I was still in a TON of pain, but they were very flippant and told me I needed to wean myself off the painkillers. They removed my staples (5 days after surgery), said I looked great, and sent me home. My mother came to stay and help - she had breastfed myself and my two siblings, but had no idea how to help me. We still had problems nursing due to poor latch so I spent my days attached to the pump while someone else held my baby.<br />
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The following day was our group breastfeeding class for new moms at the hospital. There were 8 or 9 moms there, with 2 LCs. I was seated in the middle of the horseshoe, and the LCs started at the ends and worked their way around, assisting with positioning and latch. I was the last to get seen - and the most in trouble. Out of all the babies there, mine gained the least during the 1-hour class. He was lethargic, I was sore, and we were almost beyond help it seemed. The LCs instructed me to return the next day, for a reduced rate (none of this was free), so we could get more help.<br />
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So the next day we returned and got another private session. The boppy hadn't been working well, so we bought a My Breast Friend and worked hard on latch problems. We made some progress. The next day we returned to the pediatrician for a follow-up, and despite that I'd only been supplementing with my own milk for the most part (against the pediatrician's advice), we were given a thumbs-up on weight gain.<br />
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That was our first week home. It would be nice if the story ended there, but unfortunately it continues.<br />
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The following week, after having the steri-strips removed from my incision, I awoke to sopping wet underwear. My incision was leaking all over the front of me. We made another OB appointment, and I was diagnosed with an incision infection. The treatment I received during this was horrific, but in regards to our breastfeeding story it's neither here nor there. Suffice to say I was put back on bedrest and assigned a home-visit nurse, who would come and change my bandages & repack my wound for the next 8 weeks.<br />
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During this time of forced bed rest, we still experienced difficulties nursing. I was still supplementing with formula on occasion, though normally it was with my own pumped milk. We worked on a variety of positions, holds, and latch techniques. I went through one serious bout of pain that, after some internet research, I suspected was thrush. The pediatrician's office told me the OB needed to treat me, and the LCs there gave me two cans of formula. The OB's office told me they couldn't help me either. I had to start working from home at 6 weeks post-partum, because my job did not offer maternity leave and my sick and vacation leave were almost out. I was blessed to have a good employer that allowed me to work from home part-time for the following six weeks - but during this time I was still on bed rest and still having breastfeeding issues. A friend stopped by to visit, and seeing the problems I was having, left me with some reading. On Becoming Babywise was the first ever book on childrearing or breastfeeding that I ever read. I could never, ever recommend that to anyone as it's been linked to failure to thrive in breastfed infants. I'm glad I was too lazy/tired/overwhelmed to do more than read it and feel bad that my child wasn't perfect, and that I was a horrible parent for not putting him on a strict feeding schedule.<br />
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I eventually gave up on the LCs and sought out help online. I discovered the <a href="http://forums.llli.org/index.php">LLL online forums</a> and <a href="http://kellymom.com/">Kellymom.com</a>. It was there that I learned what turned out to be the key in fixing our nursing relationship - I had oversupply and overactive let-down. It went unnoticed and undiagnosed by everyone we'd seen, but a website with some practical tips taught me how to fix it. Gone was the love-hate relationship my baby had with nursing. Gone was the screaming before and after nursing, the engorgement, and the general feeling of hopelessness. This took a total of 11 weeks - one week before I had to return to the office.<br />
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Going back to work presented its own set of new challenges. I was already friendly with the pump (I'd bought my own after renting the hospital pump for a week), and I had oversupply, so milk production was never an issue for me, thankfully. I was even able to donate my extra milk via <span id="goog_1563860189"></span><a href="http://milkshare.forumotion.com/">Milkshare<span id="goog_1563860190"></span></a>. <br />
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My son turns 2 in March. As of this writing, we are still nursing, though that may cease as my pregnancy progresses. Well-meaning LCs, family and friends could not help me, and if I had listened to any of them I would have given up a thousand times. I'm not normally an emotional person or a crier, but I don't think a day passed when I didn't break down in tears during those first three months. The only reason I made it this far is that I HATE to be told I can't do something, when I KNOW I can. That makes me ornery sometimes, but in this case that's what I needed.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-47851670828153108412010-11-18T09:36:00.000-08:002010-11-18T09:36:57.803-08:00Over itI am so done. I've never felt this physically and emotionally sapped in my life. Actually, I probably have, but I'm a champ at repressing and forgetting bad memories and this will certainly be one of them.<br />
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The culprit? Work. What else. I just can't do this anymore. I give and give and give and get nothing in return. I guess a paycheck counts. But that's not enough. It's never been enough. So unfortunate that I need that paycheck. Because I might be tempted to just walk out the door, go home, and not come back.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-70700059010879100642010-10-12T19:30:00.000-07:002013-03-27T22:20:03.822-07:00I am an urbaniteA good friend of mine currently lives in a busy metropolitan city, but dreams of having a big house in the suburbs. One of these days, she and I will sit down to discuss her desire to live there. But it's made me think of my own strong aversion to suburbia.<br />
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First off, I've never lived in a suburb, at least that I remember. I grew up in a very rural setting, with trees and cow pastures, country roads and dirt or gravel driveways. My house was on a street - no neighborhood, no subdivision, no HOA, just a street. It was off the beaten path and away from traffic, but also from people. Sure, we had neighbors, but I had no friends whose houses I could walk to, even if I'd been allowed to walk on the street (I wasn't).<br />
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For a too-brief time in college, I lived in Spain in the city of Bilbao. My room was in a dormitory, ten stories up and looking out over a bustling city. I loved it. I could walk out of my door and hop on the bus or the metro. Walk down the street and see families and singletons taking a stroll at all hours. Bop in a bar or restaurant, shop or park. I felt alive for the first time in my life. It was also the first time in my life when I probably went more than a day or two without riding in a car. I knew, then, that I belonged in a city.<br />
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Cities in Europe and cities in America are very different animals. American cities are meaner, more gritty. Where I live now, I've managed to capture some of that old European feel here in the U.S.<br />
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Things I love about cities, and mine in particular:<br />
Public transportation, sidewalks, parks, paths, the waterfront, activities, shops, restaurants, entertainment, people.<br />
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My only hang-up - are cities really good places to raise families? I had wide open spaces and no fear of violence growing up. If I stay in the city, my kids won't really have that. I like to think that they'll have so much more, though. More life, more fun, and more experiences. I guess I just need to pick the right city. I think I've found it.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-28449891322745108022010-09-24T13:08:00.000-07:002013-03-27T22:20:20.283-07:00Did it work?After my last post about work-life balance, I took a long break from blogging (and from reading blogs - my Google reader was up to ~800 posts. yikes!). Recently I bought a book about getting work and life to be in better harmony (review on that to come another day). So, did the time and perspective help any?<br />
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Unfortunately, nope.<br />
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I actually ended up doing that oh-so-embarrassing thing called practically killing myself (OK, maybe that's melodramatic, but I WAS told to go to the ER). Instead of life getting simpler, it got busier. <span style="color: #666666; font-size: x-small;">And then I got pregnant</span>. And anyone who's been there know how entirely awful first trimester can be. I won't list all of my woes, but suffice to say my body gave up on me.<br />
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Wednesday I had to leave work early - even got my darling husband to drive INTO DC (which he abhors) because I wasn't sure I'd make it on the metro. I was shaky, my chest felt funny, and I couldn't concentrate. Every other word I wrote looked like Klingon (while I don't actually know what that looks like). I tried getting an appointment with my old OB/MW office (even though I'm not going back there for this baby, more on that later too), but I made the mistake of mentioning that funny feeling in my chest. "Oh chest pains! You MUST go to the ER!" Pretty sure I wasn't dying, or having a heart attack.<br />
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So, self diagnosis: dehydration, low blood sugar, and exhaustion. Lovely, huh! So yesterday, I made up for it by laying around in bed all day and reading Sookie Stackhouse novels (finished #9 last night!). I did do some work in the AM, and made sure I ate healthily throughout the day. Drank plenty of water and went to bed early. One of the nice things about having a sitter is not having to worry about my kid. Yesterday reminded me of the perks of not being a SAHM.<br />
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From here on out, I will take better care of myself. I will sit down with my boss and discuss options for flexibility. If she cannot work with me on that, I will find a new job that values me as a worker AND as a person with a life. Because I like being able to have both.<br />
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So, perspective was earned. Balance? Still working on it.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-75539970460422754612010-07-20T11:52:00.000-07:002010-07-20T11:52:18.872-07:00Out of balanceI've always been a busy person. It's part of my personality - as an <a href="http://typelogic.com/estj.html">ESTJ</a> I am a "joiner" and thrive on interacting with and belonging to different groups (more about personality types on another day!). So, of course, that translates into being just a bit busy.<br />
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When I was in high school, I was in numerous clubs. National Honor Society, National Art Honor Society, Spanish Club, Key Club, Forensics, and the high school swim team plus a year-round swim team. And it wasn't enough to just show up for the attendance check - I was an officer in several and on volunteer committees for others. In my last two years I also held down several jobs and had a serious boyfriend (my nowadays-husband). I rarely partied and was a classic example of How To Keep Your Kids Out Of Trouble. If they're so busy they can barely sleep or get homework done, they're probably not out boozing and having sex. At least, I wasn't.<br />
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In college it was much of the same. Any one of my extracurriculars would have been (and was) enough for most people. Not for me! I had a few jobs (my record was 7 one summer), NCAA swim team, a cappella group, and was elected to the Honor Council all four years. Maybe not as impressive as my high school activity resume, but you do have to fit drinking in there somewhere! My senior year, I was selected to speak to a large group of high school seniors and their parents about college. My assigned topic? Balance.<br />
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The irony was not lost on me. The best way to achieve balance? Do less. Pick one or two activities and stick with them. Plan and schedule your classes and homework to spread out your workload. Too bad I could never follow my own advice. I regularly had (non-medical and probably minor) nervous breakdowns that consisted of lots of crying and wringing of hands. After I graduated and made it into the "real world," all of that changed.<br />
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At first, I had four hours of commuting every day and was planning a wedding. So those few months were a blur I'd rather not remember. But then, it was done. I was married. I'd moved closer to work. For the first time I could ever remember, I had free time.<br />
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I won't go over the particulars, but I did find some ways to amuse myself, including re-discovering internet message boards and TV.<br />
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But fast-forward a few years, and I find myself almost back to where I was in my youth. Overwhelmed, out-of-balance, and on the verge of a breakdown. I could blame it all on my new job. As wonderful as it is (what with normal co-workers), it's a longer day. I've also lost my telecommute day, and am beginning to despair that I will not get it back.<br />
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But I know it's me too. I'm trying to do too much again, and I'm lacking the proper perspective to cut back. I'm fairly entrenched in two different groups that meet monthly - during the 3rd week of course. And I'm trying to get into others. I'm back singing with my church group. I'm still working part-time on other people's websites. I'm still doing cloth diapers, though my diapers are starting to show the signs that I can really only wash them once a week.<br />
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And then there's all the mommy chores. Cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping and meal planning. Paying the bills and setting our budget. Washing the baby's clothes and sometimes washing my own. Nursing - though not as often anymore. Arranging appointments and play dates. Trying to see my non-mommy friends so they don't think I've gone to the Dark Side (which I have, but I'm trying to strike that balance again).<br />
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And now, if I follow my "life plan," I will be trying to get pregnant next month. Is it too much? Will this really push me off the deep end? Last time around the first trimester was awful. I'm pretty sure I was depressed, at the very least I know I was incredibly apathetic. That won't work with a toddler underfoot.<br />
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Am I being selfish by wanting a big family? I know a lot of people think that way. I tend to disagree, but my own life has me wondering lately. I'm clearly out of balance. I'm not sure how to get realigned. Maybe pregnancy will do that for me. Maybe next week, or next month, I'll have an epiphany and get things in order. Or maybe, I'll make a slow descent into crazy-town and everything will fall apart.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-28139443991271432942010-07-09T12:19:00.000-07:002010-07-09T12:21:56.592-07:00Why I love lists<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq0S_gwLoPFhBEa8SG5F1LTqZI6swJqmq4ztMmozEArj9M8bEVIrLeYR8K-xPE9ysnY4H3EcYRB-1jC5DISnC-eAfKP7nWATxzw4Rr9N8tsYVxFM2MITVWB6pVuRB-TQyxChG4DN7KsI/s1600/procrastinare.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPq0S_gwLoPFhBEa8SG5F1LTqZI6swJqmq4ztMmozEArj9M8bEVIrLeYR8K-xPE9ysnY4H3EcYRB-1jC5DISnC-eAfKP7nWATxzw4Rr9N8tsYVxFM2MITVWB6pVuRB-TQyxChG4DN7KsI/s320/procrastinare.jpg" /></a></div><ol><li><b>They keep me organized</b>. Who doesn't love organization? Except when you have lists of lists. Watch out for that.</li>
<li><b>Crossing items off gives me a sense of accomplishment</b>. Which is why it's terrible that my to-do list for work today has nothing crossed off, and I've been here for 6.5 hours already.</li>
<li><b>They're useful in all situations</b> - for work projects, grocery shopping, Christmas, errands, weekend activities, books to read, and blogging.</li>
<li><b>Everyone else knows I've got my shit together</b>. Boss - "What are you working on today?" Me - "I've got a list!" Husband - "What's for dinner?" Me - "I've got a list!" Friend - "Are we going out this weekend?" Me - "I've got a list!"</li>
<li><b>Once a list has been created, I can turn my brain off.</b> This is especially useful on Friday afternoons at work. I don't need to think about what I need to do, I just need to look at the list. </li>
<li><b>You can dress them up</b>. My current "To-Do" list has different color pen and highlighter on it. Because some things are more important than others, but that doesn't mean I remembered to write the most important things first. Or second. Or at all.</li>
<li><b>Superlatives rule</b>. Some lists (unlike this rambling, unordered one) are all about Top 10, Top 5, Top 1000. They tell you the best vacation spots, top beaches, best recipes, hottest nightclubs, cheapest stores, ugliest prom dresses. Without lists, how would any of this information come to light?</li>
<li><b>They come in all shapes and sizes</b>. Like I mentioned in #7, you can have pretty much any "Top [insert number here]" list. And people will read it, regardless of how ridiculously long. You can also get them in print, on a post-it note, in a magazine, or on a website. I've even seen billboards with lists.</li>
<li><b>They make a great crutch/scapegoat</b>. If I forget something at the store, that's OK - I'll blame it on the list. Maybe I forgot it, or maybe I just missed an item. Doesn't matter, I can't be held to blame for a missing/faulty/hard-to-read list. And if I'm out without a list, well then obviously I won't be able to function until I find some paper and a pen and make a list. Until then, I wander aimlessly asking, "What do I need? Where am I? What year is it?"</li>
<li><b>They're fun!</b> Ok, maybe this is just me. But when it comes to re-prioritizing my life, re-balancing, and re-directing my energies - list making is key. I've made three lists today, and already I feel better. Try it for yourself!</li>
</ol>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-27200836688438741532010-06-29T12:20:00.000-07:002020-09-14T12:20:59.054-07:00Fluff Post"Fluff" can take on a lot of meanings. Aside from the dictionary definition, it can mean your cloth diaper stash, your baby carrier/sling stash, or having a little extra padding around the middle. Today, it means "something of little substance or consequence."<br />
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I can't remember if I've mentioned this, but I adore reading. I feel very lucky to have been brought up in a family where we were more likely to sit around in the evenings with books, rather than around a television. As sedentary activities go, it's probably one of the more mentally stimulating.<br />
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And the great thing about a good book is that it can take you away from life. Not that my life is a terrible thing that I need to escape from, but let's admit it - everyday life is mundane. Waking, sleeping, eating, commuting, working - all rote. Sure, there's joy to be found in small things, accomplishment in work well done. But it's a constant ho-hum. Motherhood is certainly one of life's greater joys - but once the newness of it rubs off (and it does), books start to regain their allure.<br />
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I've always been a fan of fantasy. When I was very young, I remember pouring over Madeline L'Engal, C.S. Louis, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. As I got older, I found L.J. Smith, R.L. Stein, Christopher Pike. And then one day I discovered Mercedes Lackey.<br />
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It was the artwork that did it, Jody Lee's paintings and drawings are absolutely beautiful. Every writer who has been fortunate enough to have her design their book covers should thank their lucky stars. <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0886775167?ie=UTF8&tag=maitwoba-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=0886775167"><img border="0" src="7195176HKZL._SL160_.gif" /></a><img align="right" alt="" border="0" class="iftvqnrthozuaylvjdfe iftvqnrthozuaylvjdfe iftvqnrthozuaylvjdfe iftvqnrthozuaylvjdfe uwljujrclmrudbkzeymb uwljujrclmrudbkzeymb" height="1" hidden="" src="http://www.assoc-amazon.com/e/ir?t=maitwoba-20&l=as2&o=1&a=0886775167" style="border: medium none; display: none !important; margin: 0px;" width="1" />My first Lackey book was Winds of Fate. The cover looked fascinating - a girl with a sword, a horse, and a boy with an arrow. That trilogy got me into the world of Valdemar, and hooked me on to Mercedes Lackey - and the world of fantasy - for life. I was 12. Now, 15 years later, I own most of her books. A few of them, I've read at least a dozen times since.<br />
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Which brings me back to the reason for today's post - I've lately been re-reading Jacqueline Carey's epic Kushiel's series. For fantasy lovers, this series is a must-read. It's got all the trappings of a serious fantasy epic - while it doesn't start in medias res, most everything is recounted from a point of perspective, which serves a similar intention. The heroine is amazing. The writing is superb. Each book (and there are 6 in this series, 2 in the subsequent) takes you across the globe and back, on foot, by sea, by accident and intention. The writing takes your heart and holds it in a vise - you feel the characters' pains, longings, fears and joys. <br />
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I just finished book 6. It was soo good! And it was my second read-through.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-27093095998369550252010-06-16T12:01:00.000-07:002010-10-06T08:22:17.044-07:00Sweden does it againYesterday, a friend sent me a really interesting article on the <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/10/world/europe/10iht-sweden.html?pagewanted=all">proposed extension of paid paternal leave in Sweden</a>.<br />
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Anyone familiar with US law will note a few interesting tidbits in that sentence:<br />
<ol><li>Paternal leave - yep, something nonexistent in the US</li>
<li>Paid - the mother of all qualifiers. </li>
<li>Extension - which means that not only did they already have it, they're making it better.</li>
</ol>Excuse me while the waves of jealousy rage over me...<br />
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Ok. Now I'm better. Where do I start? I was shocked, aghast, and amazed (and not in a good way) when, upon getting pregnant, I learned the US doesn't mandate paid maternity leave. I'd read my employer's personnel manual, and honestly when I read the words "up to 12 weeks of family leave" never did it cross my mind that this "family leave" was unpaid. Sure, some private employers offer paid leave (less than 3 percent), and two states have stepped in to do the same (California and New Jersey), but the federal government does not. And <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parental_Leave#Americas">our country</a> is one of four - <a href="http://www.momsrising.org/maternity">yes four</a> - in the entire WORLD that doesn't.<br />
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What is wrong with that picture? So, so much.<br />
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But getting back to the article - it lays out the current picture in Sweden. 85 percent of Swedish fathers now take paternal leave. The country allots 13 months of paid leave to new parents - and currently sets aside two of those months just for dads. There will be a decision soon on doubling that. <br />
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How awesome. Seriously. Yet here in the U.S., not only do we not have paid leave for mothers, anyone suggesting something of the sort for fathers is laughed at. Or committed. Why?<br />
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I understand that everything isn't all roses and rainbows in Sweden. Yes, their taxes are 47 percent. Yes, the country is not as big or diverse as the U.S. Yes, they're socialists (though contrary to popular belief socialists are not communists and neither eat babies). <br />
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But in this aspect, they set a beautiful example that the rest of the world would be smart to follow. In this country, we're so far away from that goal it's astonishing. <br />
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So, all of this has been on my mind recently because I'm getting the itch again. My current job, with a total of three employees, doesn't follow FMLA. I may very well lose this job when I have another baby. Knowing that may happen, I can take steps now so that we're not in dire straights when the time comes, but woe to those newly-pregnant mothers AND fathers who can't.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-49935560079569709302010-05-09T08:29:00.000-07:002010-05-09T08:29:26.843-07:00Happy Mothers' Day!This is my second mothers' day. Adrian is in good sorts today, despite the several molars that are just now poking through, and the fact that we're visiting with my parents this weekend rather than in the comfort of our own home.<br />
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Happy Mothers' Day to all of the moms out there - it's a hard job, but someone's gotta do it! And it's worth everything. It's wonderful to see all of the facebook postings with good wishes for today, and this is probably the one day when the whole mom community comes out to support each other, rather than bickering over parenting choice. What brings us all together today is the fact that we are ALL parents, and regardless of our choices, we do the best we can.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-37313351080860960852010-04-29T09:50:00.000-07:002010-04-29T09:50:31.729-07:00Back HomeLast week was trying. Mostly in good ways, but I've decided it's probably not healthy - mentally or physically - to be that busy. Which is ironic, considering that's how I spent my high school and college years. <br />
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I'm not sure how, but I made it through last week. It was a bit of an emotional roller coaster, to say the least.<br />
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DS is teething something major. I think his molars are coming in, though he won't let me look and bites me if I try to get a feel. That led to a rather sleepless night last Sunday (before my trip), which led to both of us passing out around 7pm on Monday night. So I got nothing done that evening. Tuesday and Wednesday night were meetings, and I got home at 10:30 and 11:00 pm, respectively. Thursday night was departure night! My flight didn't leave until Friday morning, but I wasn't driving and the ladies who were lived 20 mins away, and closer to the airport. It would be a bit much to expect to be picked up at 4:30 am just so I cold hold DS for a few hours more. Didn't stop the tears, though.<br />
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Let me say that I am not a crier. No offense to those who are, but I tend to keep my emotions in check and hate the thought of being seen as "weak." A pride issue more than anything, but I'm working on it. Regardless, I was bawling like a baby when I left home Thursday night. I barely slept that evening and spent a marathon day traveling on Friday.<br />
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California itself was a blast. Everyone was really cool, and I had a lot of fun. And a lot of drinks. Really took me back to my college days (not that I was a boozehound, but I knew how to party). And, as sad as it is, being drunk each night certainly helped me sleep, instead of laying awake worried about DS.<br />
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We got back Sunday evening. He was in tears on seeing me, and spent about 2 hours firmly attached to my breasts. He had refused any bottles or sippy cups of milk while I was gone, so he was making up for it with a vengeance. And that made me very happy, though I can't tell you how sore I was the first part of this week. It was almost (almost) as bad as nursing a newborn again. But the emotional joy makes up in spades for the physical pain. I know which one is temporary, and which one will be with me forever.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-126053574213580402010-04-21T08:33:00.000-07:002010-04-21T08:33:46.357-07:00First time for everythingThis has been a stressful week. The new job is going well, but I have two meetings (one yesterday and one tomorrow) at which I must represent my new company, take notes, and write something intelligent for distribution. That would be much, much easier if I had any clue what was going on. A lot of the information is highly technical, and my English degree didn't include a concentration in trade policy. My new boss understands, though, and just wants to expose me a bit more to the industry. I wonder if they'll be serving wine at the lunch meeting tomorrow? I could certainly use some fortification.<br />
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In addition to work stress, one of my part-time web business clients has given me a slew of information to post and set up this week. And that would normally be ok, except the 3rd week of the month is my "meetings week." LLL and ICAN meetings Tuesday and Wednesday night. Even with the stress I'm not willing to miss those - they keep me grounded.<br />
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And to top it off, this week I'll be going on my first overnight trip sans-baby. And it's not a small trip, either. I'm flying to California and will be gone for 3 nights and 3 days. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't freaking out something major.<br />
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A is still night nursing and co-sleeping. He stopped taking bottles two or three months ago, and doesn't really care for expressed milk in a sippy cup, either. I've been a bundle of stress worrying about how he is going to do at night, if he's going to drink any milk at all, if I should resume pumping this week, if there's enough milk in the freezer should he decide he likes it again... so many ifs!<br />
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Thankfully, the wonderful ladies at LLL last night talked me down. DH has been saying these things all week (well, really all month), but it was good to hear it from others. It was unfortunate that no one there had been in a similar circumstance, but they convinced me of what I already knew - trust your baby.<br />
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So I'm working on that. And on not stressing. And on being organized enough to get everything done that needs to get done. And clearly, blogging is not on that list.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-17121871467541878542010-04-10T07:12:00.000-07:002010-04-10T07:12:54.197-07:00When the breasts hit the fanI haven't blogged in a while (sorry!), but this week the blogosphere has been exploding and I can't NOT write. A <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/04/05/breastfeeding.costs/index.html">study came out this week</a> that concludes that breastfeeding saves lives and money. Obviously, it met with a LOT of contention as it touched on that most sacred of all mommy-wars topics, breast vs. formula.<br />
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How sad it is that we as a society, and as women, have come to such a silly dichotomy. Instead of addressing the issue head-on of WHY more women don't breastfeed exclusively for 6 months (currently <14%), we bicker about guilt trips, power trips, and egos.<br />
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I've been following The Feminist Breeder for a long time, and <a href="http://thefeministbreeder.com/when-it-comes-to-breastfeeding-we-cant-handle-the-truth/#comments">her post on the issue</a> hit the nail on the head, in my book. Yet glossing over the comments, there are still women who got angry at Gina for her statements. If breastfeeding is physically impossible for you, why would that make you feel guilty? Allow me to throw out my own crazy analogy. If you happened by a car wreck, and saw someone trapped under a 2-ton truck, would you feel guilty that you couldn't lift it up off of them? Of course not! And I'm sure you would do all you could to help - calling 911, talking to them, giving the police your witness - and then go home and feel good about what you did. So the same can be said of mom's who tried, really, really hard, and still couldn't do it.<br />
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Now let me flip that example on it's head. Say you're a body builder, and your trainer and everyone else in the world expects you to be able to lift 2 tons, easy no problem. Except your trainer hasn't been helping you with a good weight lifting program, and your nutritionist said it was OK to eat junk food and skip the protein and carbs, and your family made it almost impossible for you to get to the gym every day. So, you SHOULD be able to save that person's life by lifting that truck, no problem. And everyone looks at you and says, "hey she's a body builder she should be able to do this." But you try, and you can't. You keep trying and give yourself a hernia. But you fail. THIS is what (in my best guess) over 90% of women who don't breastfeed experience. They should have all of the tools and support, yet they are undermined and simply not up to the task when it's presented to them.<br />
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I was one of those moms. Incredibly ill-equipped to handle breastfeeding. I had a terrible c-section, an awful recovery, and a post-op infection that saw me bedridden for over a month. But guess what? I did it. My baby is now 13 months, and still breastfeeding like a champ. I saw two LCs in the hospital. When I was discharged, I was still clueless. He just wouldn't latch. We had to feed him formula our first night home because he was screaming from hunger. The very next morning, we packed up and went back to the hospital LC. Rented a pump and got more private instruction. Went home and I still managed to fail. Saw the pediatrician (and my OB) the next day and asked for more help. Went home - and did just a little better. Returned to the hospital for a group class the next day. Failed at that, and had to return the next day. All this time I could barely walk, or function, but I was determined. The next week we had to return to the pediatrician again, because DS's weight had dropped so much. I saw an LC because we were still having tons of pain and latching issues. She gave me 2 cans of formula. We returned to the hospital, brought back the rental and bought a pump. I gave myself oversupply and that caused another host of problems.<br />
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The pain and problems didn't let up until I was almost ready to return to work at 12 weeks. But they did resolve. We persevered. It cost a lot of money in LC fees, pump rental and purchase, and a lot of stress and sleepless nights. I probably cried several times a day, and I am NOT a crier. Once a month when the hormones get to me, I might shed a tear. That's about it. My family and friends were at a total loss as how to help me, because they'd never seen me like that before. My own mother - who breastfed all her kids - kept telling me to give up and give him formula.<br />
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How do we expect women to succeed in this type of environment? I know I persevered, in part, because I HATE IT when people tell me I can't do something. I like to be contrary. And I'd already failed at birth, so I wasn't going to let this get to me too. But not everyone is like that, and not everyone should HAVE to be like that in order to make something natural work out.<br />
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So next steps? The addition of <a href="http://parenting.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/09/new-rules-about-breast-pumps-at-work/">pumping space requirements at work</a> in the Health Care legislation is a start. Getting<a href="http://www.babyfriendlyusa.org/"> free formula out of hospitals</a> is another step. And <a href="http://www.momsrising.org/maternity">establishing paid maternity</a> leave across the board will help immeasurably. But at the end of the day, we need a dialog change. We need to stop the bickering, look at the facts, and then re-frame the issue and argument. Only then will we save lives and protect our bottom line.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-46679118183479322572010-03-09T08:51:00.000-08:002010-03-09T08:51:56.956-08:00It came and wentMy baby boy is one year old. His birthday came and went without much fanfare. A birthday card from his great-grandparents. A birthday phone call from my MIL. A little extra snuggling time as I realized how fast he's grown, and how he won't fit in my arms much longer.<br />
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Thankfully, his birthday was tear-free for me. No repressed memories struggling to the surface. No panic attacks with fuzzy recollection of the lights in the OR. I guess this means I'm really back to myself - that calm and happy person who rarely cries and never in front of others. Who has her shit together and confronts each day with a plan and a purpose. Maybe things are a bit more helter-skelter than they were pre-baby, but I wouldn't have it any other way. In the end, he's totally worth it.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-33599059561254300702010-02-12T09:15:00.000-08:002010-02-12T09:15:09.123-08:00Snow days<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9EXZputMkByrt5pz9P6KQV32_NgMjEUBwjkVPQK2m_mksfQONaQdeboHr7CJFwbneLy0sVuzI7r5c02Eo7eIXYIFBX4vPsYO5zdM4oVm313UHpxhlIijV8jD6QpxdSN_CXUYnHpunR8/s1600-h/IMG_0127.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA9EXZputMkByrt5pz9P6KQV32_NgMjEUBwjkVPQK2m_mksfQONaQdeboHr7CJFwbneLy0sVuzI7r5c02Eo7eIXYIFBX4vPsYO5zdM4oVm313UHpxhlIijV8jD6QpxdSN_CXUYnHpunR8/s200/IMG_0127.JPG" width="200" /></a>The DC area has been hard-hit with snow this Winter. I must admit, I've loved every minute of it. The snow has been absolutely beautiful to watch fall, and it really offers a sense of peace to my busy world (the blizzard we had earlier this week notwithstanding).<br />
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My favorite part of all the snow? I didn't have to go to work! Staying home with my baby (DH is essential personnel, so he worked all week) has been wonderful. We played together. Took long walks through the snow. Rolled around on the bed and stayed in our PJs all day. Tried new foods and I tried my hand at baking. Danced to music, read books, and rocked ourselves silly.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Orzqip4ljDTL9Al3gqUNBYJJIcMQtRcHZcHhSbNFVr0Jr7Lx9rqMTaA6_7geX7V9H5tkRAA4FIUjLl1W5vyjp3SrLHZmzariNs18ohgux5BcdNX40Mq44ySYE70oDdDWPUpgVTYUUv4/s1600-h/11+months+073.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9Orzqip4ljDTL9Al3gqUNBYJJIcMQtRcHZcHhSbNFVr0Jr7Lx9rqMTaA6_7geX7V9H5tkRAA4FIUjLl1W5vyjp3SrLHZmzariNs18ohgux5BcdNX40Mq44ySYE70oDdDWPUpgVTYUUv4/s320/11+months+073.JPG" /></a></div>I was supposed to go to work today, but my bus never came. Oh well! So I'm working from home today, but it's not the same. I'm stuck at my computer (clearly working hard - don't judge it's lunch time!), and Adrian is enjoying lunch with his sitter. (One day I'll write a little more about her.) I actually took a shower and got dressed this morning. Combed my hair, packed my lunch, and was ready to head into the city.<br />
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I'm really glad I didn't have to go.<br />
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This leaves four more days in the office at my current job (Monday is a Federal holiday). I went from nine days to four days in the blink of an eye. I can't say I'm sorry about that at all. I didn't factor in any "time off" between jobs, but Mother Nature saw fit to grant me a little time. So, thank you! I think I used it well.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWE8gUEiabrb6z1_WxQxNetbTeQYoOlgUU_ajKRBZelxJbHp3b3DzFOv1ZfRDGQCLoZuFkmHTZAmc3jAeScQlkR75U4xj-RoU90Ny4BZVkCljEKuITc2ttXpcKedLGP45NEjdvjytK_M/s1600-h/IMG_0151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWE8gUEiabrb6z1_WxQxNetbTeQYoOlgUU_ajKRBZelxJbHp3b3DzFOv1ZfRDGQCLoZuFkmHTZAmc3jAeScQlkR75U4xj-RoU90Ny4BZVkCljEKuITc2ttXpcKedLGP45NEjdvjytK_M/s640/IMG_0151.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-70458689290946468542010-02-05T21:18:00.000-08:002010-02-06T09:24:25.068-08:00And then there's the birth story...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJoeXxU3NtsIEONh2gXkKNgPczWZvT-i9jKDNJu2Nzm18w5Rk5HClC2DTJBpX81lB80tJVx_7TI_WI7oMOIu3-dXWocPWJWkIZK0DSvG6Fq8xd65H6qcb5ooId0HPUw-Mu230athUKko/s1600-h/IMG_0093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggJoeXxU3NtsIEONh2gXkKNgPczWZvT-i9jKDNJu2Nzm18w5Rk5HClC2DTJBpX81lB80tJVx_7TI_WI7oMOIu3-dXWocPWJWkIZK0DSvG6Fq8xd65H6qcb5ooId0HPUw-Mu230athUKko/s320/IMG_0093.JPG" /></a></div>My baby is 11 months old today.<br />
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It's hard to believe that much time has gone by already. He's still not crawling or walking. He's not clapping, saying words, or waving. Sometimes I'm afraid that I've already failed him as a parent.<br />
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But no. My baby is happy and healthy. He laughs and smiles. Gets frustrated and intrigued. Communicates through facial expression, tone, and posture. Eats like a horse and nurses like a champ. He may be a bit behind all of the milestones, but for now I'm still OK with that.<br />
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I'm not crying tonight because of my perceived inadequacies as a parent. Instead, I'm remembering where I was 11 months ago. How I felt. There was some joy. There was a <b>lot </b>of love. But it was mostly horror. Pain. Sorrow. Frustration. Helplessness. Failure.<br />
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<i>"From his mother's womb untimely ripped." </i><br />
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I had a cesarean section. <br />
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It is really, really hard for me to write about this. Especially in a format that lays bare so many other personal details. I hate to seem like <i>less</i>. I don't think I will finish this story tonight. I'm not even sure how far I'll get. But I will finish it eventually, and expose all of my ignorance, arrogance, shame and enlightenment.<br />
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A real birth story never begins with the first contraction, or even the first prenatal appointment. It begins, sometimes, even before conception.<br />
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I've always wanted a big family. I have a lot of reasons for this that I won't go into now, but I've known for a long time that I wanted to start young(ish) so I wouldn't still be having kids well into my 40s (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not in my life plan-yet).<br />
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Three years ago a friend invited me on a girls' trip to Hawaii. I obliged (of course!) and decided to make that my last Hurrah! The final trip before relegating myself to the eternal office of parenthood. The timing was perfect. Being ever practical, I didn't want to be huge and pregnant during the Summer. So a Spring baby was on the menu. Our trip was in May, and when I arrived back to the east coast I set out on some furious babymaking.<br />
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Apparently my DH says he was not aware of my plans. I thought I'd told everyone. Oops!<br />
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Either way, it worked like a charm. Having sat through the rigors of NFP and being familiar with my body's cycle, I knew to the day that I conceived. He was scared shitless. I was elated. Baby #1 would be born on schedule. I would be a mommy. It couldn't get any better.<br />
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Going into this, I had no knowledge of birth. Bodily fluids have always grossed me out. I'd never seen an actual childbirth. My reaction to it was "ick." DH thought that was hilarious (he used to be a CNA in a nursing home) and kept telling me I would need to watch some births. Of course, I informed him haughtily, just because I was having a baby didn't mean I needed to watch it happen!<br />
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At that point, I didn't have an OB/GYN. I had no idea what midwives were, but due to a historic distrust of doctors on my part, I knew I wanted one. I used Google search. The first place I called was the local birth center (though I had no idea that's what it was). Their first available appointment was October. Since it was June, that was too far away for my comfort. The next place I called was a practice of midwives and doctors. Their website was impressive. They could fit me in the next week. I was thrilled.<br />
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There's so much I could say about my experiences there. The red flags were practically beating me over the head and I ignored them. My ignorance was honestly staggering. Not only about birth itself, but about my rights as a patient and a human being. I never asked the questions that needed to be asked because I never knew what to ask. I allowed them to turn me into a name on a chart, to forget who I was and why I was there, to make assumptions that left me in tears - and I did nothing.<br />
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Honestly, I believed naturally what so many women don't, and what OBs abhor. I trusted birth. Women had been doing it for centuries. I didn't need to read books, or take classes, or ask questions because my body was created to give birth. I wasn't afraid or even anxious. I'd seen it on TV and heard women talk about it. Contractions would start, my water would break, I would go to the hospital, I would have a baby.<br />
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What's so funny is that I was never under any illusion that it would be easy. I knew it would hurt like hell. I knew it would be hours, maybe even days, of labor. But I also <i>knew </i>I could do it. Having been an athlete for 16 years and pushed through all sorts of pain, I was never, ever afraid of my own ability to make it through the birth of my child. It is to my everlasting sorrow that I'm the only one who felt that way, and that I allowed others to completely erode my confidence.<br />
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In many ways, my biggest mistake was not my overconfidence. It was trusting in others rather than trusting in myself. If I had trusted in myself, I would never have stepped foot in a hospital, and I would not have a permanent, disfiguring scar stretched across my abdomen. A reminder.<br />
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When I was laying on the operating table having my entrails rearranged, I felt as though someone had cut open my heart. And since then, knowledge and a close-knit community of women have opened my mind and rearranged my thoughts -- they've also helped heal my heart. Maybe everything really does happen for a reason. Maybe I wouldn't have fought so hard to breastfeed (and succeeded) if I hadn't been denied a natural birth. Maybe I wouldn't have found a cause to rally around and a support group to lean on. Maybe my cesarean was necessary to make me a better person, even if it wasn't necessary to bring my baby into this world.<br />
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<i>NB: I began working on this post at 9 PM EST, but multiple nursing breaks later the day has turned. I will return to this story at a later date, but not tonight.</i>Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7145095726266341462.post-56843370515658575992010-02-03T19:18:00.000-08:002010-02-03T19:18:52.611-08:00Paths Not TakenEvery day I have a roughly half-hour commute to work in the mornings. The afternoons are my chatty Kathy times, but mornings are reserved for reading. Sometimes news, sometimes novels, but today it was poetry.<br />
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I was fortunate enough to study poetry in college under Pulitzer Prize winning poet <a href="http://claudiaemerson.org/">Claudia Emerson</a>. Much to my shame, I never took the time to read her award-winning work until now. But I'm so glad I waited. The me of my college years would not have appreciated the depth of feeling with which she writes, especially in the book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0807130842?ie=UTF8&tag=maitwoba-20&linkCode=as2&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=0807130842"><i>Late Wife</i></a>. About her first failed marriage, the time in-between, and her second marriage to a widower, there was a lot that spoke to me.<br />
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After college, I decided to get married and get a career. A practical one that paid the bills and allowed me to live comfortably. Several of my classmates went on to get their MFAs in creative writing and got to take their skills to the next level, though I don't know if any of them have been (monetarily) successful at it. I wonder what my life would have been like if I'd followed that route. The phrase "starving artist" flashes through my mind, but of course that's just the pessimist in me speaking:) Still, reading Late Wife reminded me that putting thoughts and feelings on paper can be beautiful.<br />
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I'm going to try and write more often.Lisahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12232226024437878940noreply@blogger.com0