under-achiever

Not only am I not an over-achiever, I'm not much of an achiever. When I start something, I usually will get a great deal too eager and excited about it. I drive myself crazy thinking that this thing, whatever it may be, will forever change my life; that I will forever be defined as the girl who did "this". Once the excitement has worn off, I'm usually left with a pile of work that I just can't quite get motivated to finish. So I don't. Knowing this about myself, I tend to opt out in the first place, because it will more than likely end in money wasted...and me being disappointed in myself.

Although this sounds a tad bit depressing, I am okay with it. I know my personality, and if there's something that's important to me, I'll always do it. I just prefer not to waste my time on things that aren't worth my energy. Because if I'm too busy, my TLC shows might start backing up on the PVR, and the amount of stress that could potentially cause is just not worth it. 

So now you know. I am not good at finishing things. And, hopefully, now that you realize that - I'll be able to impress you...

After I was finished being pregnant and gave birth to Hen, I was feeling pretty damn sexy. I remember being in the hospital and thinking I was totally rocking my hospital gown. Braless and pantless, bleeding and swollen from head to toe, I can honestly say I never felt better about myself. I looked amazing (my opinion only). My mom kept telling me that I looked "skinny minus the belly". Aghast, I responded "WHAT belly??!"...

 (rocking it)

If you've had a baby, you know that that feeling soon wears off and you're left with some lovely weight around the mid-section (and in my case, my FACE) that is floppy and saggy and nothing like you've ever seen in your life.

I decided I'd do something about it, and I promised myself not to flake this time as I began the wonderment that is P90X. I made sure I told everyone I knew about this great adventure I was soon to embark on. I told my family, friends, I am pretty sure I blogged about it, and I put it on IG and FB. That way, I knew I'd try harder. Al lovingly joined me in my efforts (because he's an angel sent from above), and after being as lazy as humanly possible and eating as much food as I could ever imagine during Christmas break, we started. And a few weeks ago, we finished. We got up at 5:50 every morning before Al left for school, and I didn't miss a work out. I impressed myself and am here to brag to you about it in hopes that you'll be impressed...?

Are you?



No?



People finish P90X all the time?




You want me to shut up about it???



Ok fine. But that's something we've been up to in our house. We're feeling healthier and better about ourselves. I can't praise this program enough. It has changed how I feel about working out, and I now know every Tony Horton quote there ever was. I didn't change my diet....

 So, I'm sure there would be room for improvements...but I got back to my pre-Henry weight, and mostly, I'm just glad I finally was able to finish something I started.

I couldn't find a picture of myself that was any less worse than this one and wasn't a selfie (typical mom problem). I'm no supermodel by any means, but I feel good (sometimes) and that's all that really matters...

Now that I've rambled on about something you didn't care to know about, I'll give you what you came for - pics of my sweet babe, playing with a balloon. 

                               

the cookie monster's got nothin on me

About once a week, I find an excuse to bake cookies. And ya, the excuse is usually "I want a cookie", but that's excuse enough for me. So I make my favorite chocolate chip cookie recipe, eat half the batter and 10 cookies, and then look at my counter completely engulfed in cookies and wonder what on earth I'll do with them all. Within a few days, they're gone. And as much as I like to tell myself I'm not the one who ate them all, I am. 

My brother posed a challenge to our family a couple weeks ago to go without Coke and chocolate for a week. If you know my family, it was quite a feat. I accomplished it (please hold your applause until the end), but it was a long week. Dieting is for the birds. I love chocolate. I love baked goods. I love eating and enjoying my food. I love the extra fat on my neck, because for me, that means I'm happy. I do hate the fat hanging over my pants, but I just blame that one on this kid - 

Food is how I cope. And right now, with the weather and Alan still having a month left of finals when everyone else is done, my countertop full of cookies is serving me well.

And along with that, comes my happy baby (wait a second, didn't I just post about how whiney he is?) Ya, sometimes I complain about him complaining, but he's happy. He smiles at everyone, and he sleeps like a.....baby...? This week I took a picture of Hen and when I went back to look at it, I almost fainted. He looked huge. He IS huge. He has been going through a growth spurt. It was like it happened over night - his pants are making his thighs look like they're in a vise, his shirts are all so tight around the waist that they won't stay down and his toes are poking out of the shoes I made him. In accordance with this, he's inhaling his food. I feed this kid all day long. Literally. Tonight, I fed him dinner and watched in awe as he just kept eating...and eating and eating. An hour later, he wanted more. And more. And so it went on until he passed out for the night.

My baby aint much of a baby anymore, and although I quite like the excuse to go shopping, it makes me nervous. I need a pause button. But I guess I'll have to settle with taking 500 pictures a day.

Turds-day

Today, after a long, whiney morning, Henry was finally allowed to be naked after his bath. I found him on the floor playing with his snot sucker (the BEST toy apparently). He had rolled and plugged his soother in to shut himself up, since I'm sure he figured it was bothering not only me but the guys in our basement. It was one of those tender moments where I thought to myself "aaawe" instead of saying it out loud because with any noise comes the realization that mom is near, and the complaining begins again. So I watched him for a while, too long I suppose, because pretty soon his face went red, as he held his breath and laid a big turd on my floor. Happy Thursday, everybody :)

you should see him reach

About once a month, I get out my inconveniently gigantic camera, and take pictures of Henry. For the last 4 months, they've been the same - Hen sitting laughing and smiling and being a doll while I act like an idiot and crawl around, having no clue what I'm doing. But lately, things have been different. Observe -

The other day Henry had his usual head-to-toe smothering of oranges/bananas/goldfish and had covered his entire highchair in it when Alan reached over and nonchalantly picked a golfish off of the tray and ate it. He laughed and commented on how he would never in a million years have thought he would do that. Well, I never thought I'd post a picture of my kid drooling and bawling. Drool is disgusting. Unless it's your kids, then it's just a fact of life, and, yes, sometimes it even get's in your own mouth. And, no, you don't care. Henry is drooly and whiney and sometimes inconsolable. He wants me to pick him up all day, and once he's up, he's clawing at my shirt. Depending on the shirt I'm wearing, he's pulling it off of me and putting his hands down there, or swiftly launching his head in the direction of a boob or two. When I finally give in and let him nurse, he's yanking and he's biting. He's just plain cray cray.  

 I'm not trying to complain. I love every second. My heart skips a beat when he cries. Something inside of me loves having to console him. I love to feel needed. I love his tears, even though they make me sad. I love his snot, even after he's sneezed it all over his face and rubbed it in his eyebrows. He's an angel, even if he's not acting like one.

He's 10 months old next week and is just too bloody heavy to move himself around, so he's become an expert at reaching. When asked where he's at I say "sure, my baby can't crawl, but man - you should see him reach!" SO PROUD! 

I'm still getting smiles between the wailing, and they're nice :)

And now I'm just posting pictures cause that's how I do.

 Henry's red ball - classic dollar store purchase that would probably be a more enjoyable time for everyone if he could crawl after it...

And one more because I just love that belly!!