Henry and the Holidays

Henry has officially celebrated his first holiday season. And, due to his age, I am sure he will have absolutely no memory of it, yet I cared so much to make sure it was special and Christmasy (no offense to those Hannukahns out there). I decorated the tree while holding him, as if we were doing it together. I let him watch me make dozens and dozens of cookies. I wrapped his presents. I really took the time to wrap presents that in the end, my husband opened while Henry gnawed on one of his toys. Clueless to the wonder and excitement going on around him. He got spoiled with toys and clothes and love. And I would have had it no other way. 

We've also have this new thing going on called food. Not just boob food. But real food. My kid loves food. He's a beast. We're kind of going with the flow and letting Henry lead the way with what and how he wants to eat. Which has been our philosophy for the better part of the last 5 months. We figure why fight his instincts, his body knows what he needs and he can figure things out as we go. 

First it was a banana on his 5 month birthday. And he's now had some almost every day since. He never ceases to impress me. It's like he just knows how to eat, we didn't really have to teach him. So it goes without saying, we will be buying more bananas than usual now that we've got a 3rd mouth to feed. 

And if that wasn't enough for my poor slow-time-down-please mom of a heart, he also just had Sweet Potatoes when I made his first puree. And he couldn't get enough. He even spoon fed himself. Without stabbing the back of his throat or poking his eye out. Way too cool to be my kid. Except he came out of my lady parts, so I know he is in fact my kid. 

But still, I couldn't have dreamed up a more amazing little human. Or more of a dirty laundry creating human either. Seriously. That's my life now, a constant cycle of laundry. Clothes covered in spit up, drool, food, poop. And yet it's all worth it, the trouble of chores is a very small price to pay to see a crazy little dude having an awesome time eating grown up food. But I wouldn't go as far to say I enjoy laundry. Because I really don't. It's miserable. Probably my least favorite bit of housework. Not the doing laundry part but the folding and hanging up and putting away the laundry part. 

And so it is, what it is.

Blergh, is that really what I look like?

Now that 2013 is nearing (and clearly the world didn't end so there is in fact consequences to being terribly irresponsible with my eating habits), and I've seen some pictures of myself from this holiday season, I realize how incredibly dreadful I feel about how I look. And no, I'm not fat. I don't think I look like a beluga whale or anything. Perhaps a narwhal. But then again, as the old saying goes, "The camera adds 10 lbs." However I've always been skeptical about this much mentioned optical illusion. I think it was something said by an overweight person to make themselves feel better. Or to convince that person on the online dating website that they aren't actually as heavy as they appear in their profile picture and they are worth meeting up with, even with their sizable photo. 

So, given the above circumstances -- a new year approaching and seeing myself in pictures -- I have decided it's time to get healthy and lose some weight. For my own comfort and confidence. And I've also decided my husband will be joining me. But I don't think he will argue, sympathy pregnancy weight gain is no longer applicable, and he has been saying he feels like a walrus. His words not mine. Side note: His mustache smells like magic. Abandoned his kiss to get a wiff and it's like snickerdoodles and christmas tree all mixed together. 

As I was saying, getting healthy [slash] losing weight is one of many things I intend to tackle this next year, some of which I will be posting further about. And if that plan goes like most of my resolutions do, I'll get around to it by spring. Getting healthy and losing weight isn't enough incentive for me to actually get healthy and lose weight, with that in mind, and wanting nothing but to set myself up for success, I'm creating a point system, where we earn points for our exercise and then we can trade in our points for special things. My points will be used for things like "ME" time, a nap --which would be so incredibly glorious-- and a Crumbs cupcake. For my husband, his incentives are things like, an hour playing Starcraft and not having to go exercise. We're the worst. But I assure you, we are the best of the worst. 

I want to lose 10 - 15 lbs. That's ideal. Well 15 lbs is ideal, but I don't even know if I can physically lose 15 lbs, considering each of my boobs weigh like 8 lbs. Which sort of isn't fair. I've lost all of my pregnancy weight, and then some, but my boobs are now kind of huge. But, no excuses or martyrdom or anything. If you see a grumbly lady taking laps at the park, it's probably me, trying to earn my way to a cupcake or a trip to the bathroom in peace and quiet. Because going to the bathroom alone is a treat. Being stared at by a baby in a bouncy chair while taking care of my business has become the new norm. So if I don't earn enough of these points to earn some time to myself, I might just have to get another cavity so that I can spend an hour in the dentist's chair with my feet up. 

Wonderful, wonderfulness. 

it's that time of year again

I get so excited when it's cloudy and rainy out. It's because I'm from SoCal. I mean, Southern California. I hate saying "SoCal" because I feel like I'm acting all hoity-toity [which I just learned isn't an actual word, but I think it's an actual saying?]. "SoCal" reminds me of being in sixth grade when all the girls had their AIM screen names and they all started with "Cali," stuff like CaliGirl5769 or CaliCutie2290.  Like it was so cool for us to be from California, that we wanted to include it into our screen names and to make it that much easier for the internet creepers to figure out where we lived. I want to make one that is like IdahoHoe or MinnieSoda or something all cute like that. Throw the creeps off my trail, having them search the empty plains of middle(ish) America. Except no one uses AIM anymore and I'm not 14. So cancel that super clever plan of mine.

It's cloudy and rainy and I love it because I don't feel all hermit-y for not leaving the house or for staying in my oversized sweater and slippers all day. I'm just obeying the laws of nature. And I just looked at my iphones weather and it says it's meant to rain on Thursday--Thanksgiving! What? A SoCal holiday that has a fitting weather prediction? Yes! My whole childhood I woke up on Christmas mornings disappointed to see the sun was out. We never had snowy Christmas' and very few that were even cloudy. Sad SoCal childhood. Though I'm sure if we suddenly had snow all winter I would be moaning and groaning about how cold it was and that I couldn't leave the house. I'm never happy. 

My lovely little family is coming up for Thanksgiving, so it will be the 5 of us. I sent out a handy little email to sign up for the items they wanted to help make and I'm going to prepare my grocery list and kitchen schedule/organization for the day of. I'm not usually this anal about things, but I am taking all measures and precautions necessary to avoid a stressful day. Because I'm a grown up, and I shouldn't have to stress if I don't want to. Thanksgiving is about eating good food, being with awesome people, and relaxing. Not stressing and sweating and slaving over the meal while almost-kind-of-accidentally-dropping-a-pan-on-someones-head. I plan to fight the inevitability of crowded kitchen tension by blasting Christmas music, eating all the desserts before dinner, and getting everyone drunk, I mean relaxed, with some nice wine. 

Yeah, this is actually my family. Pretty bad ass.

And this guy of course, super husband. love.

Oh yes, and did I mention this Thanksgiving is very special. It will be the first Thanksgiving in 7 years that I will be eating turkey! Yep, I've thrown my vegetarian ways out the window and have been a happy chicken and turkey eater for the past month or so. No red meat for this lady, but bring on the chicken and turkey. My sister so perfectly put it this way, "The way you're headed, I wouldn't be surprised if you ate your own baby." Not quite sister, not quite. Oh, and no baby yet, but one day when we do have one, I still won't eat my baby. Unless that baby is made out of Chik-fil-a or juicy turkey.