That La Kid

I don’t like New Year’s resolutions.  Probably because I make them every year and here I am morbidly obese, biting my nails, no children’s book written, no job to go to, no savings account of my own… you get the idea.

I don’t like being fat.  Now, before you even go there, it’s okay.  I am fat.  I am.  There are fatter out there, but yea, it’s true.  Obese.

I very diligently dieted and exercised in 2009 and I started to shape up.  Then i plateaued, lost hope and gave in to Aussie Cheese Fries.  Every year, it seems, I watch some documentary that scares the crap out of me and then decide to be healthy for a little while.

So, I’m not doing it.

There are some things I’d like to see happen.  I’d like to see a reduction in my facial hair.  I can’t help but think that this is connected to PCOS and being damn-near pre-diabetic.  I’d like for my knees to stop making that noise when I walk upstairs.  I wouldn’t mind weighing less.  But, I’m not setting myself up for failure with some New Year’s Resolution to diet and lose weight.

I have to confess, the genesis of this idea actually was a documentary again.  I watched “Hungry for Change” on Netflix.  The movie opens by saying something like, “we’re no longer eating food, but food-like products” that look and taste more amazing as technology improves.  But I don’t want to eat technology.  I don’t want to put engineered products inside me.  I want to eat… well… food.  Food like my ancestors ate.  Tomatoes.  Spinach.  Lettuce.  I am betting my ancestors didn’t eat kale, but I hear it’s good for you, too.  They sure didn’t eat Krispy Kreme donuts and waffle fries and chocolate milkshakes.  I’m not saying I’ve had my last Baskin Robbins, I’m just saying I want my diet (defined as the typical foods a particular species eats, by the way, as opposed to Weight Watchers) to be based on healthy, real food.

For example… a typical day after I had Bruce:

• No breakfast. 
• Lunch around 2: Chickfila sandwich, large fries, large Dr. Pepper/Coca-Cola split.
• Dinner pretty late: something delicious that Tom made (spaghetti, garlic bread and a salad), or if we’re tired, Outback (12 oz. steak, cheese fries, steamed veggies, salad with ranch and some Bloomin’ Onion).  And either way, another Coke.

Today, I had:

• Everything bagel, 2 eggs.
• Dark leafy green salad, organic chips and salsa.
• Hamburger with mushroom and shallots, dark leafy green salad, steamed brocoli, carrots and snow peaas.
• More chips and salsa.
• No soda, tons of water.

See, I’m not saying no to beef forever.  I just don’t want my diet to be based on that kind of stuff.  If at all possible, we are trying to cut out processed stuff.

Now look, I like Krispy Kreme and Outback and Chickfila.

I heard this thing in church once.  A Biblical scholar was teaching when a student asked him, “So, now that I am saved, I am free to do as I please?”  And the teacher replied, “Yes.  But what now pleases you?”  If you have truly become a follower of Christ, you want to drop everything and follow him, live your life to glorify his name, and be a missionary every day.  It’s kind of the same way with this.

Instead of saying, “I’m on a diet, I can’t have that.”  I’m feeling, “I can have that, but I don’t want it.”

It’s not proven science, but I feel like the excess fat contributed to the PCOS, which contributed to the cyst, and facial hair growth.  “If you are what you eat, then I only want to eat the good stuff!”  I don’t want to have a fatty liver made of french fries and barbecue and high-fructose corn syrup.  I want to have vibrant, thriving cells made up of spinach and heirloom tomatoes.  I just want to be healthy.  You know what I mean?  I FEEL like the cyst was made of poor choices.  I don’t want to make those choices anymore.

They compare sugar in a lot of ways to cocaine in the documentary.  It was really good.  You should watch it.

Anyway.  No resolutions, but Tom and I are going to give this a shot for 2 weeks and see how we feel after that.  We might even see what we can do about exercising.

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

600 people reached the top of Mt. Everest in 2012. This blog got about 3,300 views in 2012. If every person who reached the top of Mt. Everest viewed this blog, it would have taken 6 years to get that many views.

Click here to see the complete report.

I’d like to say that Bruce wasn’t all that impressed with Disney World, but you know… I think, actually, he was.  He was impressed with the things he saw and the stuff he heard, the sweet smells of Main Street and lots and lots of time with Daddy, Grandpa, Gran, Aunty Cray Cray and Uncle Haley.  I think he was actually very impressed.

I’ve said all along that I would withhold judgement on other mommies until after I had put in my time.  Well, now that we’ve spent our 10 days running around with the stroller, let the criticizing of others commence.

It’s not that difficult, people.  It’s really not.

Halfway through the trip we traded our diaper bag for a backpack.  Tom said it’s much less convenient during changing time – and he may be right.  But it was a whole lot easier to carry.

Baby swap was a snap, when we needed it.  Half the time, Gran and Grandpa weren’t interested in taking their ride turn.  They just wanted all the Bruce they could get.

Not ONCE did I change Bruce in full view (and smell) of throngs of tourists.  Don’t have to.  There is a little piece of heaven on Earth called the Baby Care Center at each park.  Even if the Baby Care Center is by Pizzafari and you’re over at Chester and Hester’s in Dinoland, USA, the bathrooms are all clean and big and just really nice.  And I have learned since having a kid that they are kind of predictable.  Feed him, he’s going to poop.  So, we feed him, change him and do whatever we want to do until it’s time to eat again.

You know what irritates me more than anything else?  Strollers.  I guess they irritate me as much as bad drivers.  I wonder if there is some correlation between people who suck at driving cars and people who suck at driving strollers.  It’s not that complicated.  Disney has the most sophisticated system that I’ve ever seen anywhere for handling the stroller derby.

At the Hollywood Hills Amphitheater, where they perform Fantasmic for you and 8199 of your closest friends nightly (sometimes two shows), there is a stroller parking lot with numbered rows.  It was incredible.  Anyway, Tom took the baby and threw the diaper back-pack over his shoulder while I went and tossed the stroller in the lot.  It’s not that tough.  I watch other people struggle with it and it’s like watching an infomercial.  All the other ways to remove the hair from your legs are just too tough.  The one lady gets hot wax all over her entire bathroom, the other one cuts herself… yeah, maybe that’s because she’s not standing in the shower and the shave gel is on a dry leg – but I digress.  Watching other people deal with their own stroller is very similar to watching one of those infomercials where the person just can’t figure it out.  That miracle product you’re looking for?  That’d be a brain.  It’s not that difficult!  Pass the baby to someone for a second, fold up your stroller.  B’BAM!  Done.  You KNOW you’re going to have to take all of your crap out of it before you fold it up – so, hey – don’t put a bunch of crap in it!

Sheesh.

There was one lady, and I’m not talking shit about her – I feel bad, but anyway there was this one lady that had a real rough go of it.  She was probably my mom’s age.  She was a grandma, but her grandson was way older than Bruce.  Still in a stroller, though.  So, anyway… we are waiting for the Old Key West bus on night at Epcot.  We didn’t have the baby that night.  No stroller.  When we got to the bus stop she was the only one there.  She got on the phone and was cussing the crap out of somebody.

The bus pulls up.

She immediately went into, “Well, I don’t see why you can lift those wheelchairs up and down all day but I have to take him out of the stroller…”

(Remind me to complain about the wheelchairs in a minute.)

The bus driver just kept saying, “It’s federal law, I’m so sorry, it’s federal law.”  She just did NOT want to fold that stroller.  Some beefcake walks over in an orange reflective vest and is all, “is there a problem here?”  The bus driver kind of motions at him behind the lady’s back that it’s okay.  Eventually she takes the kid and gets on the bus while the driver and the beefcake try to fold the stroller with everything in it.  They take out some Disney bags and start putting clothes from the stroller basket into the bag and there are not one but two foam swords for this one little boy and his Kidcot Perry thing…. just a mess.  She is slamming stuff around and she looks at us and says, “you all are going to have to wait!”  We didn’t care.  Clearly she was having a bad night.

We all eventually got on the bus.  Tom and I talked about how unhelpful we were and how embarrassing it was for all parties involved.  At the first stop, our stop, we walked up to the front of the bus and sat beside her and told her we’d be happy to help.  She was crying.  She said they just left her.  Her daughter went to get her purse and when she couldn’t find her way back to wherever they were she just went back to the resort.  Left her kid and everything.  The kid had been playing in the fountains so he was in his underwear wrapped in a blanket.

When we got to the bus stop, the daughter was waiting.  As she got up Tom and the bus driver helped with the stroller, I grabbed the wet clothes and swords… then here comes the daughter.  Yanking the stuff from our hands, she said, “Sorry I’m a bad MOM.”  The way she said it… I just… ::sigh:: I know it was a long night for that family.

Anyway.

At Hollywood Studios on another night, these ladies were struggling with their stroller in the tram line.  One lady, Auntie, was like twice as wide as I am.  There were two little girls.  They were all over the place.  The Cast Member loading the tram said that they needed to be behind the yellow line, looked at me and said, “someone should probably take their hand.”  My dad said very, very loudly, “They’re not ours!”  Their mom was like, “I think some of the cast members just get on too much of a power trip…”  I THINK YOUR BRATS NEED TO BACK THE F UP BEHIND THE YELLOW LINE.  Have you not been doing this all day?  I should give them some credit for folding up their stroller, but not until they had already missed one tram trying to do it.  Dad whispered that Auntie thought they were taking over our lane, too.  Anyway… “Ladies and gentlemen, lower your head and watch your step…” Dad and I jumped on immediately.  Tom got trapped behind them struggling with the stroller somehow.  Auntie cuts Tom off and jumps on the tram closing the door behind her.

Tom eventually got on, but not before Dad had to point out to Auntie that the tram seats seat 5 adults, and there were 3 adults and one little girl in ours.

This is basic stuff, folks.  Stay behind the yellow line.  How are you not conditioned by now?  Every attraction has a yellow line and someone is always trying to cross it and cast members have been saying, “behind the yellow line” to somebody in the room all day.  How have you not learned?  The CM’s not on a power trip… he doesn’t want a lawsuit and job loss on his conscience because you couldn’t keep a handle on your kid.  And hey, if Auntie is as big as a house and you brought the stroller from hell, maybe you want to plan ahead and grab two rows, eh?  Or that double row in the front.  If you rode the bus TO the theme park and they made you fold up the stroller, guess what?!  Yeah!  You have to fold it up for the ride home, too!

We were champs.  We had a great team.  I grabbed the bag, Gran grabbed the baby, Tom folded the stroller and Haley ran it over to stroller parking.  Even when Haley and Mom weren’t with us, Tom and I handled it.

It’s not that complicated!  Handle it!

…so much more to post, stay tuned!

…the day I put my mom’s ring back on!

Nothing gets my motor running like Disney Theme Park music.  My two favorite websites are Subsonicradio.com, which has links to open up the stations in itunes, and SRSounds.com, which plays right in the browser.

In two weeks, we are going to Disney World.  Me, Tom, Bruce, Gran, Grandpa, Aunt Lindsay, Uncle Haley and our Disney pals Michael and Alyssa.  Have I told you about Michael and Alyssa. I love them.  I do.  I spent a total of 15 minutes in their presence on the Magic Kingdom ferry one night.  I feel like I did tell you about them.

Meanwhile!

I’ve got a week until Kayce’s baby shower, so I’ve got to finish her gift.  Not to belittle the gifts she and Erika made, but I’ve found it’s much easier to be crafty when you’re not all like, craft-craft-craft-WAAAAH, MOM, I’M POOPY-craft-craft-craft-WAAAAH, MOM, I’M HUNGRY-craft-craft-craft-WAAAH, MOM, I’M TIRED OF MY SWING!

It’s literally something every freaking minute with this kid… he wants something all the freakin’ time.  I still love him, though. 🙂

So, anyway… there’s that, and I’d like to paint a wooden advent calendar that I bought on clearance last year.  I’d like to paint it before December starts and we are counting down.

I wouldn’t mind a clean house, either.  Haley’s boyfriend, Matt, came down and stayed at our house while we weren’t home.  All our electronics were stolen but the dishes were done.  Ha.  I was kidding about the first part, but dead serious about the second.  You’d expect the opposite from a young guy, right?  His parents did a good job.  He left us chocolates, too.  I’m trying to pace myself.

So there is a lot going on every day here at home.  The upstairs guest bedroom has become Christmas Closet Central.  Bruce has what I think is a penile adhesion.  So, we’re going to look into taking care of that, too.  This poor guy – always something with his most sensitive areas.  Breast feeding is, I think, on it’s way out for me.  I think.  When I do pump, I don’t get much and I’m spotting.  It’s sad, but it’s kind of like a really old person.  I don’t know what heroic measures I want to take to salvage it.  It’s relatively late in the game.  Bruce likes to fall asleep nursing, the whole process takes a really long time.  I really wish they hadn’t terrified me at the hospital about his weight loss and supplemented him with formula.  At this point, he’s 90% formula.  We’ve done some traveling and it’s inconvenient to nurse on the road.  We have to pull over, whereas with a bottle I can sit in the back seat and hold it for him while we are still making progress movin’ down the road.  It’s very awkward for me to nurse in public, and honestly, it’s easiest to completely disrobe.

It’s awful, but I keep wondering how I am going to stop every 2 and a half hours at Disney for a half hour to 45 minutes to breast feed with my parents and sisters in tow.  Awkward turtle… and I can already see Dad rolling his eyes like he does when we go with smokers.

Bruce seems healthy and handsome on his almost entirely formula diet as it is.  Might just have to chalk this one up to inexperience and try again with the next kid.