Hugs, Not Drugs

My husband had knee surgery and all of my Christmas help went home. Since their departure, it's been a blur of ice packs, physical therapy, meal service for 2 big eaters and trying to get over my cold. Needless to say, things have been crazy-busy and I was running out of steam trying to keep up. I'm hoping that after reading the above, you won't judge me for what happened next...

So, I was cleaning our room and put my very curious son next to me while I tidied up, threw snot rags away, picked up dirty clothes, ect. He was playing with his toy and I was keeping an eye on him as I ran around like a cleaning lady on crack. He got quiet and I knew he had done something he didn't want me to know about.

Indeed, he had just helped himself to one of Trait's prescription painkillers that had fallen on the floor.

You want to see me go psycho-Mommy? That about did it. I jammed my finger in his mouth and gagged him, trying to get out the little blue pill he was chewing on. I was able to get it out whole and then I made a mad dash to the sink to rinse his mouth out. As he sputtered and choked, still unsure why Mommy ruined his fun, I started running around my house, trying to find where I put the damn Poison Control Number. (It is now happily installed in my speed dial for any future incidences...) I'm sure they get hysterical parents all the time, but I appreciated how calm she was:

Poison Control, this is Toni

MY BABY TRIED TO EAT A LORITAB!!! He's drooling blue powder, but I got it all out, rinsed his mouth and made him gag. Do I call 911??!! MY BABY TRIED TO EAT A LORITAB!!!

If you got it out whole and rinsed his mouth, he's fine.

Huh? (sniff, sniff) Will he go into a coma? (sniff, sniff) Do I need to take him to the hospital? (sniff, sniff) I promise it was an accident!

If you got it out whole and rinsed his mouth, he's fine. He just sucked off the coating.

Oh.

Anything else?

No, that's about it. (sniff, sniff) Thank you.

I held him and cried the rest of the night. Then, I called my sister and told her I was sick so she'd come rescue me. And, she did.

Mommies need to be rescued, too.

A Year Ago Today

A year ago today my heart burst open and has never been the same.



Happy 1st birthday, little man.

All is Merry and Bright

I was cooking up a storm for 2 weeks. I had been planning for 2 months. I had sent the schedule to everyone arriving and planned corresponding activities for each day. 13 family members were coming to my house for Christmas, and I was ready to make it fabulous. You know, hostess with the mostest. I couldn't wait to hear:

*Wow, Sara, what a fun and organized holiday you've arranged for all of us!
*What delicious meals! Can I have the recipe?
*I'm having so much fun, we'll have to do Christmas every year at your house!

Then, the big bummer happened. My husband had knee surgery and I got strep throat the day before everyone arrived. My beautiful plan came crashing down before my eyes.

After my penicillin shot, I had to rest and recover for 24 hours, leaving my family to fend for themselves. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I thought about the mints I was going to leave on everyone's pillow and the homecooked dinner I needed to get started. I couldn't even lift my head from my pillow to greet everyone, though.

Then, a really beautiful and unplanned thing happened. My precious family took over my meals, my grocery trips, (I believe we were at 9 when they left yesterday), my son's care, my husband's post-surgery care and clean-up duty.

I actually went to my room and wept at the love I felt. It hit me: this is family. I don't think they cared that I couldn't do it all. I desperately needed them, and they took care of everything, right down to Kleenex with lotion and extra paper towels.

I've never had such an incredible Christmas, or a more timely lesson about what's important in life.

Merry, merry Christmas!

The Little Prince has Challenged the Queen

I am noticing an alarming trend in my sweet baby boy. The first time he did it, it was because my Mom was washing his hair and he truly hates to have clean hair. We laughed it off and I told her it served her right since he seems to like her more than me. However, he did again yesterday when he wanted me to get off the phone and I ignored him.

He bit me and then rammed his head repeatedly into my leg.

I could understand this if it was my sister's kid. As a toddler, she bit anyone and anything for a period of time in which Mom took her to the doctor because she thought something was medically wrong. In fact, if memory serves correct, she bit me on the hiney and drew blood. Sisters are a blessing, I tell you!

However, this is my angel and I have no idea where this came from. It's like one day he woke up and decided to "sport a 'tude." It must be from my husband's side of the family, or, even more scary, some of Aunt Amy's genes were leaked. Whatever the case, I think I am entering the part of parenthood that includes boundaries, time-out and a good sassing. I'm ready though, I've been sassed by the ultimate disciplinarian that was so good at keeping me in line that, even at 30-years-old, she can control me with "the eye." *shivers*

In other news, I went to my husband's office party and fell off my diet wagon. Stupid, sexy chocolate brownie. My attempts since then have been half-hearted as I can't seem to keep up with the holiday rush on 800 calories a day. So, I have to do this "ruin my life" diet again after the New Year.

Until then, I am stuffing myself with red velvet cake balls that put the "merry" in my "Merry Christmas!"

I Dreamt About Hamburger Helper Last Night

It's Day 3 of the "ruin Sara's world" detox diet.

I went to my second training session and am proud to report that I did not pass out, throw-up or yell at anyone. It was much less mortifying than my first visit.

I did, however, have to do 2 humiliating exercises called the "crab-walk" and the "fire hydrant." That's right, the "fire hydrant." Guess what that consisted of? Me hiking my leg like a dog for 45 reps. The "crab walk" involved sticking my arse in the air and walking like a crab twice around the studio. To add insult to injury, I kept falling down because I was trying to hurry to lessen the time my trainer was staring at my jiggly derriere.

I'm so glad he chose that moment to burst into singing the theme from "Spiderman."

I finished the day off eating a big plate of green beans and edamame. I wanted to grab my husband's plate of Hamburger Helper and make a run for it, but I figured I'd better be sweeter to him after the Jello incident.

8 more days to go!

I'm Friggin' HUNGRY!

My special detox diet started today. I woke up ready to take on the 10-day eating plan, but noticed an intense reaction ensued when my husband eyed my sugar-free Jello. It reminded me of when he eyed my food when I was pregnant.

Complete irrational food obsession.

I don't get to eat much at all, STAY AWAY FROM MY FOOD, PAL! He didn't help things when he logically stated that he could go buy me more Jello and orange juice. A hungry woman is not a rational woman. In my defense, I did tell him I would need extra grace this week. Poor guy.

So that's how my day started. Then, I had two 11-month-olds all day, and they chose today of all days to fight over every toy in the house. I noticed myself getting weaker and more tired as the day went on. This was Day 1:

Breakfast-Toast, 1/2 an orange
Snack- Cereal Bar
Lunch- Salad (I was tempted to get a taco salad from Taco Bueno since the diet wasn't specific..)
Snack-Sugar-free Jello
Dinner- Zucchini and edamame

It's now 7 p.m. and I'm getting ready to go to bed. I have another training session at 6 in the morning. I don't know if even the Backstreet Boys can help me now.

You're Looking a Little Pale...

So, I went and met my personal trainer on Saturday. I kept my head hung in shame as he measured every inch of me and put me on the scale. I kept waiting to hear, "I don't know if I can help you," but thankfully he was super-positive and told me that we all have a starting point. He immediately put me on a cleansing diet which will, after careful perusal, probably ensure that I will be cranky for the 10-day duration. It involves lots of fruit, salad and lean meat. And no donuts.

This morning at 6 a.m. sharp, I came face-to-face with the consequences of not working out for a year and a half. (I did power-walk and do yoga, but rarely broke a sweat...) Landry put me on the treadmill and I almost lied and said I had bad knees to get out of it, but thought better of it. After ten minutes of rocking out to the Backstreet Boys, (I don't want to hear it, Ty), I was huffing and puffing and wondering if it was over and I looked like a bikini model yet.

Far from it.

I did squats, crunches, leg presses, weight training and lunges, all the while cursing the cupcakes I stuffed in my mouth over the weekend. (Note to self: never tell your personal trainer about the cupcakes. He'll punish you.)

After 45 minutes of a 1-hour session, I started feeling dizzy. I mentioned that to Landry and it was like an alarm went off. "Lay down NOW and breathe!" He ran and got cold towels and put them on my neck and ears. (Apparently that cools you down the quickest.) I also was very pale and shaking.

How embarrassing.

My work-out was officially and prematurely over. I got to lay on a bench for the remainder of my time and stretch. He said my reaction was normal and that I would get stronger. I then limped out of the studio, determined to never be in such bad shape again.

Did I mention the 50-something woman that was working circles around me? Nah, I'll save that humiliation for another day.

My Saturday Torture Session

I can't avoid it anymore.

I won 4 sessions with a personal trainer at a charity event about a year ago. That's right, a whole year ago. I've tried to pawn them off to my husband in a great showing of self-sacrifice. However, they're about to expire and I have no other choice but to go in and hear the thing that makes a postpartum woman cringe:

Her body-fat check and BMI.

I know what's going to happen. He's not going to be impressed with my excuse that I had a baby a year ago. He won't be impressed that I went off sugar for the whole month of October. I also doubt that he will give me a high-five for doing yoga in the morning about once a week.

He's going to insist that I stop making excuses and start taking my health seriously.

In preparation, my husband is taking me out for cheese fries and buttercream cake tonight.

I, too, am ready to take my health seriously.

Adventures with Little Boys

This is a sampling of how my day has gone:

"No, son, we DO NOT play in the toilet, there's millions of germs and we certainly DO NOT splash the water on Mommy."

"No, son, we do not push Lola down when she has a toy you want. Is that a good choice?"

"Are you supposed to pull all of the tissues out of the box? No, sir!"

"You do not get in your wipey box and eat the baby wipes! Stop biting Mommy, these things could give you the trots!"

"You are going to the island of safety, (the pack-n-play), until Mommy calms down."

And, after all of that, the little stinker said "Momma" for the first time.

I'm a big puddle of lovey goo now.

I think I'm also in big, big trouble.

Fancy Goes to the Mall

I ran over my cell phone.

I wasn't mad or PMS-ing, it was just an unfortunate consequence of being too busy and having a sick baby. Being without a phone proved to be similar to being without my morning coffee, so I made a mad dash to Sprint to correct the problem.

Looking back, I can only imagine how I looked as I stormed into the mall, spotted an available Sprint employee from across the room and shouted:

"I ran over my phone! Don't try to sell me anything fancy, I don't text, I don't bluetooth, I don't internet and I don't take pictures! I have a sick baby and I NEED A NEW PHONE NOW!"

I must have looked frightening in my sweats with Velveeta plastered on them and my lack of hair products and lipstick, (sadly, I am one of those people who look ghastly without lip color). I should have looked in the mirror before I went to the mall on the weekend after Thanksgiving. You know, the busiest shopping weekend of the year.

Within 10 seconds of my grand entrance, I had 4, yes 4, employees setting up my phone, filling out my rebate form, and taking my credit card. The sweet employee was telling me the features of my new phone and somehow slipped this in:

"You know, ma'am, this our most dependable, sturdy and strongest phone. It's not fancy, kind of like you, but it's so reliable."

Yep, that's me now: sturdy, strong and not a bit fancy. Maybe it was the Velveeta that gave it away?