I used to sing in the car.

It didn’t matter what was on the radio – Carrie Underwood, Britney Spears, Steppenwolf, Michael Buble, Jay-Z.  I even have Moses Hogan CD’s that I popped in, just to belt out Elijah Rock (don’t know what that is?  youtube it. you won’t regret it, I promise).  It was a free-for all for harmony.  Except  Nickelback.  I hate Nickelback.  & speaking of harmony?  I had it.  I could sing a third or a fifth with pretty much any song, thanks to four years in high school chorus.  I was that nerd that belted out show tunes, using hands for gestures, completely oblivious to the stares from other drivers.  I had no shame.  No worry.  Just pure exhilaration.

About eight months ago, I stopped singing.

& I didn’t even realize it.

Sometimes, it’s those little things that make me realize how sick I was this past year.  I stopped singing.  I stopped finding joy, searching for joy, or even wanting joy in my life.  The little things that made me who I am, that made me happy…they all slipped away.  Little parts of my soul that made up my quirks & character.  I became a shell of a person.

The other day, I put in an old Relient K album, turned up the volume.  Without a care in the world, I took in a deep breath & began belting it out with the band.  It didn’t matter that I sounded like a strangled cat in a garbage disposal.  It only mattered that the windows were down & a little boy was happily chirping in the backseat.  It struck me as odd & a little uncomfortable, which confused me…until I thought, “I haven’t done this in so long.”  I had not felt that free, that light, or that searching of little joys in the day.

But these days, I’m singing again.

me & mrs. lusher, belting out kelly clarkson.

Filed under: Blair's a nerd, PPD, the uphill battle | 35 Comments »

Sometimes, I forget my husband.

I forget that my husband has fears & doubts & worries.  Partly because I see him as a pillar of strength, the unwavering head of our family.  Mostly because I can’t remove my head from my ass long enough to consider him.

& that’s just awful.

I forget that he’s worried too, when we drop Harrison off at daycare.  I forget that this is hard on him – that as much as I had yearned to stay home, he wished he could solely provide for us.  I forget that it’s not just my own sacrafices, but his too.  I forget that every day that I am tired from work, he is just as tired, plus he probably feels guilty that I have to work.  & that’s probably why he rubs my temples every night.

I skate over the fact that Harrison is his son, too.  That he’s as much of an extension of Nate as he is of me.  That it may be my chin & nose, but it’s Nate’s eyes & curls.  I forget that every time Harrison falls, Nate’s stomach flips just as much as mine does.

I forget my husband.

Because I am too obsessed with my own worries, my own fears, my own selfish desires.  & in a world where good, involved fathers are hard to come by, I have been too selfish in my own worries to appreciate the man that is raising our son with me.

In short?  I suck.

& I owe him about 4,000 temple rubs.

Filed under: Adult Club, FAIL, Fears, The I Do's | 39 Comments »

You know when you stumble across a blog post that completely rocks your world?  & it’s sweet because the owner of said blog probably doesn’t even comprehend the magnitude at which she may or may not have just changed your life.  By a few paragraphs, a few thoughts, & penning it all down on the internet.  It happened to me the other day when Chrisa wrote this.

About falling in love with your own reality.

How often do I wish for a different reality?  I play these mind games so often:

“I wish I was a better mother.  It’s because I work.  I wish I could change my work hours or schedule or commute so I could be a better mom.  I would cook more & clean better & interact more.  I bet our house would even be cuter because I would have more time to think about pillows.  & curtains.  Maybe I could join a mom’s group!  That’s all it would take.”

“I hate our house because of how far away it is from everything.  & we can’t sell it because of this stupid economy.  When we can sell our house, I’ll be so much happier.  In our new house, I will decorate it even better.  & the yard will be immaculate.  I’ll have more friends!  Because they’ll live closer & we will entertain more!”

“I wish I were thinner.  I hate being fat.  I’ll be thin for the beach next year.  Next year, I’ll wear a bikini.  Next year, I’ll be happier frolicking on the beach instead of worrying about ass flab scooting out of my briefs.  One year to get into shape – I can totally do it.”

This is just so….UNFAIR to myself.  & it’s a miserable way to live, always wishing for something else, therefore making everything unobtainable.  Why torture myself?  Why cause hurt & resentment & grief when the answer is so simple?

Love my reality.

What if I completely put aside all the self-entitled wishes for the future, & simply decided to accept what life really held in the moment?  Would it keep me from jealousy & resentment?  Would it keep me living in the moment, rather than seeing each moment as an opportunity?  & without any jealousy & resentment & seeing life as each breath rather than anticipation…would I be happier?

(Not settling.  Don’t misread this to mean that I simply throw up my hands, drown myself in peanut butter M&M’s  – zomg, that would be so awesome -  & never strive for anything great ever again.)

But enjoying.  Really, really enjoying the life I live down to my fingertips & toes.  Go ahead & plan a football party & know that only two couples may come because of the distance – but enjoy the small group instead of wishing to be Hostess of the Year.  Buy a one-piece that flatters my body, rather than stuffing it into a bikini that makes me feel uncomfortable, just because I feel like I should be in a bikini.  Take those moments with Harrison to teach & instruct, rather than get frustrated in the discipline process.  Realize that I don’t have the time & money to spend at a fancy gym, but instead be satisfied in 20 minutes with Jillian Michaels’ because it is the best I can do & it’s what my reality affords.   Yes, I have to work for regular bills, but I can take pleasure in also being able to afford activities for Harrison & maybe help him through college down the road.

Fall in love with what is & what will be, rather than what I wish for.

Because y’all?  My reality is pretty awesome.  I’ve just needed to embrace it.

____________

edited to add:  i swear, i wasn’t trying to be a douchecup & say that stay at home mom’s sit around & dream about curtains. promise. i simply meant that i’d be in my house more, therefore surrounded by it, therefore having it on my mind more.  ::headdesk::  i is a genius.

edited again to add:  twitter has decided that it is totally normal to dream about curtains.  normal & socially acceptable.  especially with windows staring you down over a cup of coffee & a dining room table that desperately needs to be dusted on a saturday morning.

& twitter never lies.

Filed under: Adult Club, All about Blair, Life in General, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts | 53 Comments »

Harrison starts daycare this week.

{It’s no mistake that I have an appointment with my psychiatrist the next day.  I know my limits.}

I’ve been…apprehensive.  It’s hard to put my finger on it.  I KNOW he’ll be fine.  I know this is an excellent chance for him to spread his wings, become more independent, & learn social skills.   In my heart, I know it will be fine.  More than fine.  So why have I felt like gnawing off my toenails one by one in anxious fits all week?  Why have I felt that cement lump in my throat?  It’s not like childcare is a new territory for us – we’ve been rocking the working mom gig for over six months.  But still…I worried.  I worried that he would be afraid.  That he would not get along with the other children.  That he’d feel ignored, abandoned, or even resentful.  After months of one-on-one nanny care with my sister, a daycare center is a HUGE move for him.  In a desperate move to help calm my worry, I did what every obnoxious, over-bearing parent would do – I took him to daycare for an hour today.  You know, to “introduce” him to the teachers, room, & see how he’d do with the other babies.

I KNOW, I HAVE BECOME THAT DOUCHEBAG PARENT.

But at least I still refuse to have stick figures on the back of my car.

Every other parent simply drops their kid off, like normal people.  Me?  CAN’T HANG WITH THE NORMAL FOLK.  So I came by on my lunch break, nervously chewing on my lip & clasping Harrison to my hip.  We walked back to the room with the director & I sat down on the mat with Harrison, preparing for him to cling to my side with uncertainty.  Steeling myself for the separation & fear of a new environment.  Instead, he stood up, toddled on over to the teacher, & gazed up at her with a big grin.  He squealed with delight & made his way over to one of the cribs, reaching through the bars to the sleeping baby within.  & seeing two babies sitting on the floor, he dropped to his knees & crawled between them.

I held my breath as he & another 9-month-old wrestled over a toy, waiting for tears to come & the momma bear in me to sheath her ugly claws.  But as they struggled briefly, Harrison let go of the toy & moved on without any true trouble.  My heart burst with pride – he was smart & social & displaying skills far above his age.  All of my worries?  Unfounded.  & I realized while I sat in a puddle of baby drool on the floor of the center…

I’m the one that is clinging.  Not Harrison.

He’s brave & self-assured & assertive & everything he should be.  Whether it was the cheers when he fell, a kiss for no reason, an answer to every cry, I must have done something right as he learned to hold his head high & take on the world.  He will be fine in daycare.

It’s his momma that has to learn to let go.

Filed under: Outsourcing Parenting Skills | 47 Comments »

You know how I like to get obsessive about this kind of thing.

Remember The Momma’s birthday party?

I jotted down “pumpkin pie pops” on my list of tasty treats.

Next to it, I wrote “I AM INSANE.”

Filed under: Blair is effing crazy, Suzie Homemaker | 32 Comments »

I worked hard this week.

Last week was a wake-up call for me, & I kicked it into high gear.  I stuck to my Nutrisystem food & plan.  We walked four nights out of the week.  On Saturday, we took a long walk in the park with several hills.  I sweated.  I pumped up the hills.  I pushed the stroller, felt my muscles burn, & chugged water.  I veered from the program twice – once on Friday morning with breakfast at work, but made up for it with a workout Friday night.  & then Saturday night on date night – but I immediately split my plate in half, & took home half of the meal.

I worked HARD.

On Tuesday morning, I hopped on the scale just to see if any progress had been made.  For motivation.  (also because I’m a scale addict)  Because even if I was down a few ounces, it would keep me going.

& the scale said 204.2 lbs.  Roughly four pounds lost in…two days?

huh??

I made sure the scale was flat on the floor, reset it, & stepped on it again.  204.2 lbs.  I fist-pumped the air, & didn’t step back on the scale until this morning.  At 207.4 lbs.

HUH??

I hate to do the typical cop-out.  I really wouldn’t pull this card if I wasn’t truly perplexed.  But y’all…I think my scale might be broken.  An almost eight-pound weight gain, then a four pound loss in two days, then a three pound gain even though I was doing everything right?  With my clothes fitting better?  I don’t know.

LE SIGH.

But I did my best.  & that’s what matters.

Also?  I’m going with me losing four pounds this week.  JUST BECAUSE I CAN.  & we’ll just have to see next week whether or not I need to buy a new scale.

I did, however, realize a few things this week – like how I like my body.  I LIKE MY BODY, Y’ALL.  I don’t know whether it’s the drugs talking, or the fact that I’m at pre-baby weight & fitting into my clothes, or whether it’s just me accepting my reality.  But when I look in the mirror, I’m okay with the reflection.  Sure, I’m a little softer around the edges.  I have a pouch of fat & skin around my belly button.  I’ll never look like Heidi Klum.  But I look pretty okay for just having had a baby.

awww, man. I don’t really get to use that excuse anymore with a near one-year-old, do I?

But I look pretty okay.  & I’m comfortable with it.  I need to keep striving to lose more, because my BMI numbers still aren’t in a healthy range, but it’s good to feel good about myself.  To be comfortable in my skin, to know that size is only a number that says nothing about who I am as a person.  & I feel a mental shift towards wanting to be HEALTHY, rather than a specific number in my pants or on the scale.

Granted, that number on the (potentially broken) scale can be an indicator of health.  So I can’t completely disregard it, no matter how badly I want to throw the (potentially broken) scale out the window.

Where do you think you need to be to feel good about yourself?  Are you there?

Also…does my scale need an exorcism?

Filed under: McFatty Monday | 34 Comments »

Filed under: Harry in General, Videoblog | 39 Comments »

I love Sunday mornings.

I know, I love a lot of things these days.  It’s a good thing.

But I love how we get up, bleary-eyed but happy to see our boy.  We sit downstairs in pajamas, coffee in hand with the sunlight streaming through the windows, not even bothering to turn on the lights.  There’s simply no need.  The house is warm & the world is still other than Harrison is toddling around in his jammies.  & after breakfast, we  head upstairs to the loft area to play.

Today, Nate & I sat & played “monkey in the middle” with Harrison, tossing a ball over his head while he giggled with glee.  The giggles were infectious, bubbling over until with every ball toss, Nate & I were sharing in the laughter.  Toss, toss, toss, toss…SMACK.

My breath caught.  In the WORST PARENT OF THE YEAR move, I accidentally chucked the ball right into Harrison.  I expected tears but instead came even harder belly laughs.  & you know how kids get all overwhelmed with how awesome laughter is & they just sort of…get discombobulated?  That was Harrison. He laughed until he was absolutely giddy, pulled up on all fours, & crawled like a madman, panting & laughing with his head down…right into the media cabinet.  Head first.  Like a bull in a china cabinet.

I really wanted to feel bad.  I really, really did.  That’s what a good mother would do.  But y’all…he just PLOWED into it.  & I kept laughing.  Harrison sat with uncertainty, wavering that fine line between tears & laughter, until he finally gave in to laughing.

He laughed, all the way down to his toes.

I laughed until my sides hurt.

& when Harrison stood up, his diaper had come undone on one side.  He considered it for a minute, considered his near-hysterical parents, then reached down & in one massive Superman-esque move, ripped the entire diaper off.

Seriously?  It was too much.  I know it’s lame.  I know it’s that thing that only parents find hilarious & when they put it on their Facebook status, everyone else is like SHUT UP ALREADY, LAME PARENT.  But y’all?  It was the end of us.  Nate & I laid down on the floor, tears squeezing out of our eyes, howling with laughter while Harrison stood, proudly naked from the waist down & holding his Rumparooz victoriously in the air.

The kid, I fear, has a sense of comedic timing that will put us over the edge for years to come.

o

Filed under: Dirty Harry, Harry in General | 28 Comments »

Thankful for this week.

(it’s been a good one)

A week to come back to reality & to fall in love with reality, no matter it’s faults.

(like missing my little boy after our sweet lunch dates)

Thankful for these boys, that make me smile & our little family.

(& ruffled shirts from j. crew)

Thankful that the ocean will be there next year, just as it is every year.

(ready to kiss my toes with sweet waves)

Thankful for friends like good ol’ Mrs. Lusher, who is always there.

(& the encouragement & sarcasm she brings into my life)

Thankful for new opportunities & butterflies of nerves.

(& a confidence I never knew before this year)

Thankful for fresh green beans sprinkled with garlic salt.

(especially when I bake them in the toaster oven & they’re ready quickly)

Thankful for silly hairbows & giggling boys.

(especially when hairbows are a gift from my sister)

Thankful for a sweet glass of wine while I curl up in yoga pants after a long day.

(which I’m about to do right now)

Filed under: Thankful on Thursday | 18 Comments »

Nate & I have realized pretty quickly that we’re nearing that time.  That time when nothing we say is sacred or safe.  That time when Harrison begins repeating everything.  He has “hey” down pat.  Along with nana, momma, dada, & some form of “no” for Tuck (ha!) & it won’t be too long until “arsehole” is added to that repertoire if we don’t start watching our language.

Or even worse, “effing arsehole.”

It’s not that we’re the world’s worst potty-mouths.  I promise.  But Nate & I have both been known to drop bombs even in casual conversation & not only is it unladylike & ignorant-sounding, but I’m also pretty sure that Jesus wouldn’t approve.  Granted, most of my cursing includes the word’s “damn” & “ass,” which can both be found in the Bible.  & I’m certain that Jesus has enough to think about other than my occasional profanity, given the state of nuclear weapons in this world.

& I’m pretty sure that Jesus would be happy to sit on an ass & drink a glass of merlot with me & discuss the sins that REALLY matter, like how I used to get really, really drunk in college or that time I called that girl from high school a walking STD.

But it’s not like it’s my fault she was dripping gonorrhea & Forever 21.

ANYWAY.

So this past week, we’ve come up with a system – $1.00 into Harrison’s piggy bank every time we curse.  Nate was all like, “Baby, that sounds pretty steep” & I’m all, “Darling, this is our child’s FUTURE we are talking about, let’s set the stakes high.”  So we shook on it & promised our child that from now on, nothing but lilting lovely sounds of harmony will reach his innocent little ears.

That lasted thirty minutes.  Because someone (me) hadn’t gone to the store to fulfill someone’s (me again) duty of purchasing coffee for our Keurig & so we were forced to wait in line at Dunkin Donuts because a) the line to McDonald’s is far too long & b) I have to have coffee by 7am to function.  We pull out of Dunkin Donuts, coffee in hand, no donut for me….& hit school traffic.

Nate y elled out the F-dash-dash-dash word.  You know the one.

I gasped.

& we started a talley.

By the end of yesterday, Nate had 9 offenses.  I had 4.  We bumped it down to $0.25 per offense.  Because that shit’s getting expensive.

::sighs & marks the talley sheet::

Filed under: FAIL, Life in General, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts | 59 Comments »