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.

Balance

I have one resolution for 2012. I'm quite certain it's the most unoriginal a person can have but here it is none the less. My 2012 resolution is: find balance (or some semblance of it at least). Balance between work and play, laziness and exercising, spending money and saving pennies, putting things away and living among the chaos, chocolate and vegetables, beer and wine, you know, the essentials. Ironically, this new goal is what has kept me from blogging for a while. I've been too busy trying to live my daily life to take any time to record it.

I heard a great quote the other day that sums up my new mentality: Live in the moment, not the memory. Instead of trying to get the greatest photo of Maci so I can blog about it later, putting the camera away and just being present in her presence. Instead of having the perfect meal out with Shawn, being okay with driving around lost for an hour only to arrive at the destination and realize there's an hour wait. Instead of offering to correct a mistake at work so as to ensure perfection, accepting something as "good enough" so I can get home to see my family. Instead of waiting until I've returned to my pre-pregnancy weight so I can fit back into my old clothes, buying new clothes to fit my new physique and even greater still, being okay with it because damn it, I sure do feel much better about myself when I wear clothes that actually fit.

That last example, about money, is probably the hardest with which to find balance. Shawn and I, for better or for worse, are planners. Painfully so. And it isn't any more apparent then in our quest for a new TV. Initially, I was just going to buy one, bring it home and surprise Shawn for his birthday. The more I thought about it though, the more I feared getting the "wrong" one and spending such a big chunk of our money without getting his opinion. Inevitably, I caved and told him about my plans. After some mild persuading, he agreed to the purchase and we returned to researching the latest, greatest, fancy models but have yet to actually buy a TV. His birthday was December 19th. We're stuck between 2D and 3D. (I'll let you take a guess at who wants what.) I struggle with wanting to save money and be "safe" or just splurging and living life and rewarding ourselves with things we like, ie a TV. My Dad made it through some very, very tough financial times with hard work and a lot of budgeting to end up debt free by the time he was 50. He took his life a month before he would've turned 51. It's a blunt, painful example but it's also just that, an example. As I've heard so many times from so many people, you can't take your money with you when you go so you might as well enjoy yourself while you're here. We're too level-headed to take that to the extreme but it's a good theory to at least dabble in once in a while. Keep it in your back pocket for the day you finally allow yourself that trip to [ENTER DESTINATION HERE] while your husband's off to Canada, fishing, for the third year in a row.

Whether to save money for the "what ifs" or spend it on the "why nots" is only a drop in the bucket. I struggle to find balance on an hourly basis. Do I clean up the house or watch a movie with Shawn? Do I try and entertain Maci or help her learn to exist in her own space? Do I eat a donut or choke down an apple? Do I go to yoga or take a nap? Do we work on the house or go on vacation? Should I be proud of my cynicism or work on being positive? And the thing that trumps all other things when it comes to trying to find balance: how does one be a mother, a wife, an employee, a woman and an individual, all at the same time and all without getting completely sucked into the vortex of one or two of the above. Unfortunately, as with all wonders of the universe, I fear there is no right answer. As someone of the type A persuasion, this is hard to swallow. I fear open-endedness. Pretty sure that's not a word but maybe with the hyphen I can get away with it? Enquiring minds want to know: How does one achieve balance? I'm actually asking you dammit!

Eyes

In the words of yoda, slacking I have been. Every day I have the intention of penning a new post and every night I trudge my tired, sorry ass to bed having completely given up on the blog for yet another night. One of these days I will catch a second wind, crack the whip and get to writing but in the meantime, I'll upload photos of Maci. Cause let's face it, that's what you're all here to see anyway. Tell me I'm wrong. Yeah, that's what I thought.

So I was downloading some photos from the ol' busted up point-and-shoot the other night and noticed a trend. Maci's eyes. She got her Dad's best feature. Well, he has a mighty fine tushy as well but that's just my personal opinion. Too much information? I told you I was tired right? Well, so is my filter. Okay, anyway, back to the beautiful baby and her blues…

Birthday suit time… she LOVES being nekked.

If that 'aint the most angelic, sweet-potatoed face…

Orange and blue happen to be complimentary colors.

Even when they're tired and red from the shower, they're still bright and blue.

Even her eyes smile (don't mind the matching blue feet… the color comes back eventually)

She looks a little stoned here, but John Mayer says that's okay so we're good.

Unrequited

Dog haters avert your eyes.

The following is a sequence of photos depicting a recent meeting between baby and basset.


Maci starts interested, intrigued. She makes eye contact.

Norman seems disinterested, disengaged. He's playing hard to get.

All of a sudden, he has a change of heart.

He goes in for the kiss. Maci is alarmed.

Her fright continues. Apparently his love is unrequited.

But that doesn't stop him from planting the big one.

I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Recommendation

It's no secret, I can't stop raving about our daycare. Recently I was asked to write a recommendation letter for Bree so I thought it only appropriate to share my thoughts (again) with everyone.

To whom it may concern,

I met Bree Bielejeski at my previous employment, where we worked together from August 2008 until May 2011. She opened Owl Tree Daycare the following summer and I enrolled my daughter Maci in September, when she was just eight weeks old. As a new parent, my priority was safety and security. Since day one, Bree has exceeded at providing not just that but so much more.

I believe the greatest feature of Owl Tree Daycare to be its open-door policy. Parents are welcome any day, any time, which to me shows Bree’s confidence in the care she provides in her home—a home that is very safe, clean, organized, warm and cozy, boasts an impressive, wonderful, bright space just for the children and sits right next to a new greenway that leads straight to a park.

While Bree provides everything you might expect from a daycare: daily art projects, story time, outside adventures, music and free play, it’s her unexpected gifts that constantly remind me, Maci couldn’t be at a better daycare. The most rewarding of these are the photos I receive on a daily basis showing just how much fun Maci is having and how much she is loved at her home-away-from-home. Maci is also sent home every day with a log sheet communicating all the important facts (diapers, meals and naps) and then some (the day’s activities, upcoming events, fun notes or requests for supplies). Bree was brave enough to take on cloth diapers with us and was instrumental in teaching Maci how to self-sooth and put herself to sleep for naps. Another gift is Bree’s nonstop communication via email, text, phone or in person. She never stops asking questions or having conversations about how things are going and how she can improve upon her part. Her relentless desire to provide great care never goes unnoticed or unappreciated for this new and adapting mother.

Bree is personable, flexible and shows her love of what she does through her interactions with my daughter. Maci is currently six months and thriving, thanks in part to the extended family Bree has created with Owl Tree Daycare. I simply could not be more satisfied, happier or feel more at ease dropping Maci off every morning where the first thing she does is smile at Bree. I have nothing but great things to say about Owl Tree Daycare and would highly recommend Bree to anyone.

Sincerely,

Kali DeBoer

Click here to learn more about Owl Tree Daycare by viewing Bree's post on Craigslist.

Someone

…discovered a love of wrapping paper.

…turned six months old.

…and went on a little vacay.

So much is happening on a daily basis with Maci Mae, it's hard to keep up and even harder to keep track. The abbreviated version is, she's growing, rolling, laughing, talking, screaming, scooting, smiling, pinching, biting, drooling and sticking anything she can find right into the toothless abyss. She's happy, she's healthy and she's got a sweet spot for her father as of late.

Right now, my sofa beckons, but I vow to return with all things Team DeBoer just as soon as I can catch my breath, hug the hubby, pet the pooches, smooch the squirt and most importantly, take a shower. I have yet to bathe in 2012. I think I'll declare that my first resolution…

Holidays

I'm sure it comes as no surprise when I admit that… I haven't really been big on holidays. Nothing good has come from them, for me, in a long time. Growing up with divorced parents, my holidays were always spent splitting my time equally among all parties, never really feeling quite settled in one place or another. Since then, they've been mediocre at best and if they were uneventful, they were considered a success. Then a couple years ago, my Dad died on Easter. The Christmas that followed was my worst to date and it's pretty much after this sequence of events that I wrote off all holidays and their ensuing celebrations, for good.

BAH! …humbug.

I had just contented myself to my supreme cynicism regarding the holidays when… Miss Maci Mae Mo was born. With her comes the chance to reinvent the holidays and once again, experience them through the innocent eyes of a child. Color me sappy but after experiencing the following…

Maci's "Baby's First Christmas 2011" ornament hanging adjacent to mine (circa 1982)…

an empty hook awaiting Maci's stocking from Grandma Miller…

Maci's successful introduction to the jolly big guy…

a Polar Express reading from father to daughter…

…something Grinch-esque has happened to me.

I've realized we're not only experiencing holidays anymore but Shawn and I are creating traditions. We're composing annual events that Maci will grow to love. Therefore I'm bound and determined to adjust my holiday attitude and soak up all the firsts this season brings for me and my family of five. The squirt may still be a little too young to really understand what's going on, but if nothing more, for now, she can just enjoy the simplicity of a few extra twinkly lights.

A Tradition

Guess what we did last weekend…

No, that's not a saw in Shawn's one hand…
…and our daughter in the other.

The DeBoer family Christmas tree.
(Yes, those are plastic bags over our shoes.)

Our little Eskimo.

And we didn't have to borrow a vehicle this year!

Us girls. Recovering.

Norman

My Norman.

He turned six years old yesterday. 42 to those in the four-legged world.

I remember the day we got him like it was yesterday. We headed south of the cities to "take a look at" some basset puppies we'd read about in a newspaper ad. When we got there, two female, rowdy, hyper, jumping, barking, biting bassets sat awaiting our attention. We were less then thrilled and admitted to the breeder we were looking more for a male but we thanked her for letting us take a look anyway. Before we turned to leave, she mentioned she did have a male puppy… in the back.

Out she brought him. An all brown, lazy, dopey, brown-eyed, crooked-legged, low-ridin', long-eared, beautiful basset boy. He was exactly what we were looking for! We saw him, we fell in love, we paid a discounted price for him and took him home with us. He sat on my lap in the bitchin' Beretta the whole way home, quietly whining and looking a bit sheepish. On the drive, he came to be known as Norman; named after the cow in City Slickers. To this day, he remains the only impulsive thing Shawn and I have ever done.

While he tests our patience with his barking and his ever-present goober, Norman truly is a sweet, loving, good-natured, dopey old soul. He loves to sniff up and kiss on Miss Mae and she can't get enough of watching our gentle giants. If Norman had his way, he would eat peanut butter and cheese every single day whilst laying butt-to-butt with his buddy Leo in front on our fireplace. He does not like to be outside because he does not like to be cold and really, he just likes to be where we are. Going for a walk is the highlight of his life, although he generally peters out pretty quickly. His face is going prematurely white and his leg is as crooked as ever. He has a fear of wires, plastic bags, vacuums, brooms and pretty much anything else with a handle. He favorite spot to be rubbed is right between his two front legs, which is coincidentally right where his patch of naturally white hair resides. His reputation precedes him on Ruggles Street and thank goodness because he has managed to escape a couple times. Each time he meandered two houses down and thankfully, was easily coerced and returned by Mr. Tim. He is not the brightest light in the harbor, not by a long stretch, but he remains the cutest dog I've ever seen.