Introduction

Old camera…

…meet the new Batman

…and his Robin.

 

Weekend

We had one of those great lazy weekends and although I felt more then under par on Saturday and we didn't necessarily move mountains, we did accomplish a few things.

We got nekked…

…and chillaxed.

We cuddled…

…and rocked it out.

We smooched…

…and told Daddy he needs to shave.

We popped our collars…

…and sported our bling, er, Nuk.

We fed our addictions…

…while we dawned our PJs.

We got our hair did…

…Jersey style.

And we two-fisted…

…with the best of 'em.

Bring on Monday.

Mantra

I am not an overly or overtly religious person. On a scale from say atheist to Tim Tebow, I reside somewhere in the middle. To that end, I will not make this post about my (evolution of) faith but instead, I will simply report that we have been attending church again lately and last week's sermon made me revisit that resolution of mine (to find balance). The pastor ended with a mantra that stuck with me. By that I mean when I heard it, I thought it was worth remembering. So when I forget it, I emailed the pastor and kindly asked if she would send it to me. She did and it is below.

Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

Now, I'm a nerd at heart so it's quite possible I'm just as much intrigued by this mantra because of it's literary structure as by it's depth, simplicity and intrinsic meaning. It might be sad but I think it's just genius the way it is written. Each phrase is a repetition of the previous and although each subsequently subtracts a word or two, the absence seems to add to it's overall meaning. Further more, each stance can hold it's own but as a complete thought, it is even more powerful. I know. Nerd.

You can interpret your own conclusions and meanings but to me, it ultimately means have faith. Faith in a higher being, faith in yourself, faith in your family, faith that this too shall pass and all will again be right with the world. Or as my very wise Grandma puts it, "…it'll all come out in the warsh." I need to take time to just be present in whatever I'm doing and enjoy it for what it is and not what I wish it would become. Be present in the moment and not the memory.

P.S. So as not to make you think I've completely fallen off the philosophical deep end, I leave you with this. Did you know Dr. Seuss invented the word nerd? I learned that on the radio this morning. 

Touchdown!

We've been practicing. Maci is now ready for the Super Bowl. The Giants beat my Niners AND I picked them to win in a pool at work so even though I'm not a fan of either team and especially of either quarterback… GO GIANTS!

P.S. Yes, that is the Star Wars onesie seen here.

145

This is my current weight. Don't tell Shawn. To be fair, I was clothed during the weigh-in therefore I'm going to (generously) assume my clothes were two pounds, so technically, I could've listed 143. But for all intents and purposes, and because I'm type A, I'll leave it rounded to a digit divisible by five. I believe I am justified in my reporting of this fact. My reasons are three-fold:

1. Mortification produces motivation.

2. The removal of denial allows for the entrance of accountability.

3. To promote breastfeeding.

Pre-pregnancy, I weighed 134. That was the most I had ever weighed up until that point. I'm one of those bitches women who didn't reach 100 pounds until I graduated high school. Coincidentally, that's also when I reached five feet tall and finally started to "bloom." I couldn't help it, it was genetic and it was all I knew. But I digress… For the most part, I usually flirt with 130 pounds, give or take a few dozen Oreos. Two days before Maci was born, I weighed 171. That's a 37-pound weight gain. In actuality, I treat it like a 40-pound weight gain because I consider 130 my starting point and well, see paragraph number one.

Last October, I made the public proclamation, via FB, that I was giving myself six months to lose 20 pounds. I believe that would put me somewhere close to 130 by the time the big 3-0 rolls around. Well, I have 50 days left to make that happen. (Is everyone with me yet? Did you digest all the numbers I just served up? Like the pun I just used?)

Now I'm of the nature that in order to lose weight, I can't possibly be asked to eat less or give up pop or treats or beer. Everything's okay in moderation, right? So that leaves me with exercising. To that end, I have returned to the land of yoga. Last night, Brooke L., aka my favorite instructor, swiftly and calmly kicked my ass. I left feeling exhausted, nauseous and wishful that if we could just do savasana (corpse pose) for the entire hour next time I would be a much happier camper. However, as with almost every time I make it to yoga, I was grateful I went if for nothing more then to be able to exist within the four corners of my mat listening to some very calm music where I'm needed no where else in the world and in a studio void of judgement (aside from my own). Hopefully, when the frost lifts and Como thaws, Shawn and I will get back to running. I do actually miss running. I know, right? Me. Color me nuts but I liked working my way up to longer distances and being outdoors, moving at a reasonable (snails) pace and people watching. I still have last year's resolution to run a 5K to deal with and if you start to let these resolutions pile up, well…

Now while the scale mocks me by producing a number akin to the likes of peeps much taller, broader or more "blessed" then me, I don't particularly feel too huge. True, I'm not, but weight is all relative. I'm used to being less then I am so inevitably, my goal is to get back to where I was. It's not really the number I'm after though. It's the clothes. I would like to be able to wear at least 50% of the clothes I used to. It's just not fiscally possible for me to replace my entire wardrobe so I have to at least try and get back into what I got. I realize with the new shape of my lower half I will never again fit into my jeans. I finally got me a booty and it aint of the Jack Sparrow kind. I also realize losing pregnancy weight is a process. A line I love from A Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy says something like, it takes 10 months to put on the weight, give yourself at least 10 months to get it back off. Noted!

Now, regarding breastfeeding. After I took some time to absorb the number I was given, I realized I wasn't doing too bad considering I haven't really done an iota of exercise since the squirt was born. Therefore I attribute all pounds currently shed to Maci, water weight and nursing. The calories a woman burns simply by using her "boojies" for what they are designed for is astonishing. That coupled with the fact that it's healthier for the baby, it's FREE, it reduces the risk of cancer (which my Ma survived a couple years ago), it's FREE, it helps bonding occur between you and your offspring and it's FREE and I'm convinced I personally could never do anything else. Then again, Maci has yet to produce any teeth so ask me in a few months. I realize it just doesn't work for some people and the pain I had to endure the first week almost made me reconsider but after seven months and about 25 pounds, I'm so happy with my decision.

Now, lay it on me. Advice for women to lose 15 pounds. Shawn has the same goal and I just know that bastard and his self control is gonna whoop up on my cushy tushy but at least he can't breastfeed. That I know of.