The Charmed Life?

*Please let me preface this post by saying that I am well aware of how absolutely, fantastically, lucky I am. This is just me whining.*

I am wondering how my sister has lucked into the charmed life.
1. Never experiencing a broken heart. That skinny, dorky boy with freckles and red hair that showed up at her high school graduation is now her considerate, funny, way less dorky husband.
2. She's athletic. And skinny. And smart. And funny. And fashionable. And beautiful. Wow.
3. She finds amazing deals for designer products. I always feel like a cheap copy of what she has told me might look good together. . .
4. A pregnancy with zero complications or illness. Seriously. Z-E-R-O.
5. Spontaneous labor. 17 minutes of pushing. First baby. Seriously, does that really happen to people? The answer is yes. It happens to people that lead charmed lives.
6. Immediately following giving birth to her oh-so-perfect son, she looked amazing. I just looked bloated and greasy.

7. No apparent anxiety over the whole parenting-thing.
8. Breastfeeding is EASY to her. Easy.
9. 18 pounds lost 9 days after giving birth. Uh-huh. That's no exaggeration.
10. She can have really short hair and not look like a moon face.

Despite all of her luckiness, it does not diminish my love and admiration of this woman I find myself lucky to call my sister, even if sometimes it leaves me searching for how I have "character" from things not quite as charmed in my life when compared to her. In my less bitter days, I know that we are both remarkably lucky women, products of our parents' love, acceptance and attention.

Fulfillment & Frustration

Yesterday was crap-tastic. Of course, the high points are always the moments with Elliott (minus the face slaps, biting attempts and trying to rake my glasses off my face while trying to rock him into calmness each evening). So while filled with frustration at work, my Elliott laughed harder than ever last night--a tinkling of pure joy and amusement. Turns out my smarty-pants knows quite a few body parts, but not the tongue. I seized the moment to teach him when it came up in a book. As Elliott reached out with his plump,curious hands to touch my tongue (weird, I know)I pretended to be surprised and yelped. It was pretty funny so it must be repeated over and over, right? Yep. The third time we completed the sequence, I didn't know if Elliott could catch his breath and Chris had come from the other room to find out what had him cracking up. Purity and peace summed up in a moment with no toys, just parents, a child and a rocking chair.

Why is it that as adults it is so difficult to abandon ourselves to that kind of joy? I don't know the answer, but I do love the glimpses of it I sneak from time-to-time, almost all captured in laughing with abandon.

Laughter erased the dust of frustration layered upon my soul. It rocketed me away from my preoccupations and to find the connection that is my heart made human: my husband and my child wrapped up in laughter.

P.S. This is totally not the entry I sat down to write. I really thought it was going to be about running and how I totally rocked it tonight. I'm pretty sure what came out is better.

Aunt-xhiliration

I'm officially an aunt. Official. Elliott has a first cousin! Amanda had a smooth labor and delivery and all are resting at home peacefully. Calm before the storm, right? It was a hella long day on Thursday when this perfect little boy made his way into the world, and since my mom went to Austin with me, that meant no sitter for Elliott, which meant we all had to go together! Needless to say, 40 minutes of napping, 2 grilled cheese sandwiches and a 10pm bedtime made for a frantically hyper child. Luckily, he was mostly in a good mood. Poor guy was even chanting "nigh-nigh" when we finally made it to my sister's house. I'm going to save pictures of the little man so that his mommy and daddy receive all the glory from first glimpses. I know that Ben and Amanda are already fantastic parents, but I also know that the life and relationship that they have enjoyed over the past 10 years is now irrevocably changed. Changed for the better. . . or mostly so.

I keep telling people that I feel like I have PTSD left from the first 3-4 months of the newborn stage. It comes out like a joke, but like most humor, it's rooted in truth. As much as I want a sibling for Elliott, I am terrified of two. Sounds irrational to use the word terrified--I mean doesn't that sound all dramatic??? Well, I know of no other way to say it. Chris and I agreed to really focus our efforts on me getting pregnant when Elliott is 18 months old. Sounded reasonable and far away. Turns out that life is moving at warp speed and Ell turning 18 months old is NEXT MONDAY. Next. Monday.

I assumed that an internal switch would flip on this self-determined date and I would be 'ready.' Ha. That was stupid. I feel so ambiguous. My current train of thought is to let nature be our guide and if I get pregnant, so be it. Stop laughing. I am fully aware that anyone who knows me with any depth knows that me letting something be to chance is truly laughable.

So, in an effort to exorcise my demons, my fears must be named, right? (clears throat) Here you go:

1. How, how will I survive the nausea of the first trimester with a toddler and nasty, foul, rancid diapers to change?

2. How much will Elliott suffer because I'll be focused on another child and/or feel crapalicious?

3. I can't imagine survival of that first 3 months when the baby is up all the freakin' time with a toddler. It was damn hard the first time and I thought I was going to die.

4. Is it possible for me to divide love and make it multiply?

5. Can I go through the lack of sleep and screaming child again?

6. What if I get another baby that cries as much as Elliott did?

7. What if I put off getting pregnant so long that all my eggs are dried up?

8. How will we afford childcare for another little one?

9. I'm finally attempting to get back into shape, I know that getting preggers would put that on hold again. I don't want to start a pregnancy up in poundage.

10. How will I handle sleep deprivation with a toddler? (I know that's there twice, it's worth that)

There you have it. In the end, there is very little doubt that I want another baby, there's just so many unknowns and worries that goes with being a parent and seeing my dear sister embarking on this journey just awakens all of those thoughts for me.

A journey starts. . . steps. . . er,how does that go?

Point is, I've decided I'm doing the Couch to 5K program. I am. I'm going to do it. Have I mentioned that I pretty much hate running? Does this mean I've lost my mind? I think it just means I'm ready to get the ol' heart rate up and be more fit and this is a very attainable way to do so.

I did my first work-out with their interval schedule tonight and I DID IT. It was hot. It was difficult. But, I DID IT. I feel great. I'm hoping this feeling will carry me through the next work-out. . . and the next. . . and the next. . .

Stay posted for updates. I'm determined to run, just to prove to myself that I can. So if you see a fat girl trotting down the side walk, feet barely leaving the pavement, know she is on her own personal journey, full of determination and pride. Encouragement welcome.

Making changes

This week has been so freakin' crazy that I simply have had no time to post about my goings-on. No. time. Mostly my thoughts have been inwardy-focused. . . I don't know if that's good or bad or if it just is. I say stupid things. My inner voice torments me with thoughts attacking my self-esteem. Why? Is this the truth for all thinking people? Sigh. I don't know. But I do know that after seeing a disgusting picture of myself, I am determined to make some healthy lifestyle changes. Like doing something to get more physical activity into my life. Turns out that sitting behind a desk for hours on end does little for stamina, energy or overall health.

The problem is that I pretty much hate exercise. I've never like it. Never. I cried once when a boy told me in the 5th grade that he could walk faster than I could run. Cried. Of course my dislike is furthered by my absolute inability to successfully perform any athletic task. Couple that with the scorching heat and I am full of rationalizations to sit inside, moving as little as possible.

This week I triumphed over my hate and the heat. I took the Humphrey dog and we walked. And we walked. I know it's not much, but it's a start.

It's official. I want to be. . .

here:



Sigh. I used to think that I was not cut-out for being a stay-at-home mom. . . I'm still somewhat certain, but I sure do wish that I could at least work part-time. Vacation convinced me of that. Elliott is just hysterical and loving and lights up every corner of my life and I enjoyed those 10 days of togetherness. I mean, who could resist this:

Vacation Return Woes

We are officially back from vacation, much to my dismay. It was a fabulous week that passed far, far to quickly. Once again I was reminded of the natural beauty of Texas--our rented home was on the banks of the Guadalupe River in Gruene, and the purity of nature displayed for us was amazing.

Pictures to come. Soon.

Currently, I am avoiding laundry by the important task of catching up on The Bachelorette. Clearly, I have my priorities in order.

Living the Dream

We are leaving for vacation on Saturday. Saturday. I have a partial list of what to pack, a partial group of clothes, snacks and swimming paraphernalia actually packed. Elliott is running a fever. A hurricane is headed ashore, leaving rain predicted as possible each day of our vacation. Oh, and I have been working at my away-from-home job like a madwoman. Plus, plus it has taken a week to get my anxiety med refilled. Living the dream, I am. Just living the dream.