This Is Lindsay Blogging About Hats

When I was pregnant with Tristan I decided to actually knit something. I'd learned a basic knit and purl stitch when I was younger, but had never been motivated enough to learn to follow a pattern or make something other than a scarf (or 5000 unfinished scarves). I bought a kit for a baby cardigan/hat/booties and actually made it. It's pretty hideous and I have no desire to put in on Tristan, but it gave me enough practice to make some cute hats:

My first project - I also made a white hat with a pink flower.



Who doesn't need a hat like this?



One of my favourites that I didn't think would turn out well:



On my lovely assistant and hat model:



Anyone notice the girl theme going on there? Those were from when I was sure Tristan was going to be a girl. Oh, but I did get me some blue yarn to make this...



...which is girly nonetheless, according to my mom. Hey, I didn't add the frilly thing around the bottom that it was supposed to have. It fits on Roanen's melon head too:



Ok, Roanen isn't really a melon head. That title belongs to child #1, who partially stretched this baby onto his noggin after I had finished one "ear", changing it from a 12-18 month size to a 18-24 months size. Thanks buddy:



That one took me the longest to make. I was nearly done it when I went into labour with Tristan, and sadly put it aside to make a little green cap for his little boy head. *sob* I finally had enough time last week to sit down and actually finish it and start another. Coming soon: the Chick Hat.

I Stand Corrected.

Me: "Roanen, do you want to stay in the car?"
Roanen: "Nooooo....IT'S A VAN!"

Me: "Look, you get to wear a onesie with a bunny on it!"
Roanen: "That is a rabbit."

Fortunately he has yet to use the "disdainful teenager" tone of voice that Josey is perfecting.

This Is Lindsay Blogging

I've been neglectful of my blogging duties, so I will generously offer up a boring blog update.

Christmas is over! Yay! The boys got about a zillion presents (ok, not really, but over 50 anyway which is a ridiculous amount), but naturally it wasn't enough for Josey. After each present-opening session he would drag himself around sullenly, announcing to whomever was listening that he "only got (x amount) of presents...*sigh*" Poor kid. I really felt for him, hmmmm, not at all. The award for most unappreciated present goes to the big bag of MegaBloks given to him by his great aunt and uncle. He ripped off the wrapping paper to reveal a box previously occupied by a blender. How exciting! However, upon opening the box he found not a blender, but a bag of MegaBloks. Later, he sadly asked me where his blender went. Yet another disappointment.
The boys were all sick over the holidays, coughing, sneezing and expelling copious amounts of thick green stuff. In the spirit of the season they tried their best to share with others, resulting in both Russ and I being sick. Thank you, sweet children.
Best of all, when we got home after being gone from Christmas Eve to Boxing Day we somehow had enough laundry to cover half the playroom floor. I did laundry non-stop on Thursday and didn't even finish it. That amounted to three huge overflowing baskets which took me over an hour and a half to fold. Yesterday there were 1 1/2 baskets. Today I might get caught up. Laundry is no longer my favourite chore.

How I Measure Up.

Here's the story:

When I got pregnant with Josey I weighed a very normal and acceptable 125 pounds. I wasn't thrilled with my level of tone and was definitely not in even remotely good cardiovascular condition, but I found myself physically tolerable - for me. I gained 16 pounds during the pregnancy, and my weight ended up as low as 109 pounds while I was breasfeeding. I was pretty skeletal and gross looking, with only a tiny bit of extra skin around my belly to show that I'd been pregnant. I was 115 pounds when I got pregnant with Roanen, and this time I gained 25 pounds, and went back down to around 115 pounds afterwards, looking pretty much the same as before. Then came Tristan. I gained an amount somewhere between the first two pregancies, but having my second and third so close together, combined with my really bad eating habits ("the baby NEEDS me to have ice cream every night!") really messed up my body - FOR ME.

(Has anyone noticed the bold yet? That's my disclaimer, because I know you're all thinking WAH WAH, sucks to be you, and you have to understand that it's about how I perceive myself and not what anyone else thinks. I am allowed to be unhappy about the way I look because my standards for myself are super high and I don't want to look "good for a mother of three". I want to look amazing, period. So shut up.)

Anyway, now that no one is reading anymore, I will continue. I am completely disgusted with the way I look right now. I'm back to 125 pounds, which is a fine weight, but my proportions and my tone are totally whacko. After Josey and Roanen, the last thing to return to normal was my hips. I couldn't fit into my regular pants for about 4 weeks give or take, but eventually it happened. This time my hips barely moved afterwards, which isn't such a bad thing on it's own, but my stomach turned to flabby mush and somehow any weight I had in my face, shoulders and neck slipped down into my belly and thighs. My wardrobe, which used to consist of tight shirts and teeny jeans, has turned into two pairs of pants (my maternity jeans and a pair of khakis that fit through more than half of my pregnancy), a maternity/breastfeeding tanktop with a maternity zip-up sweater, and two long, baggy at the waist breastfeeding shirts. NOTHING ELSE FITS. It SUCKS and I'm miserable about it. While I've finally given in and bought larger clothes, I've also decided that I'm going to start doing something about it. This thought was only partly motivated by the fact that my dad poked me in the belly today like I was the Pillsbury Doughboy and commented that I must be "relaxed". (No I am not mad or upset about it, in fact he's the only person that is honest enough to tell me - in that subtle way - that I don't look as good as I used to.) The problem is it's freezing and snowy outside, and I have a baby attached at the boob, which is not conducive to the things I want to start doing, like running and yoga or pilates. For now I'm just going to make a couple of changes so I can ease into the whole process (because I have a tendency to go all out, then burn out).

First, I'm going to start drinking more water. I'm horrible at keeping hydrated and I often go from morning to evening without peeing. Not good normally, but particularly bad when breastfeeding. So I'm going to get some kind of yummy little chocolate thingies and reward myself with one for every 16 oz of water I drink, because I always need a reward. I'm going to aim for 3 litres a day while I'm breastfeeding.
Next, I'm going to stop eating after dinner. I've gotten into the habit of having a bowl of ice cream or a bunch of cookies almost every evening and I'm sure it's not helping the cause.
Finally, I'm going to incorporate some kind of physical activity into my day. When I'm stuck inside it's going to have to be something like going up and down the stairs a million times, but if I can muster up the motivation I'll strap the baby to myself, get the kids suited up (groan) and go outside, where I'll walk up and down the driveway (which I'll have to do anyway to keep Tristan from freaking while in the wrap).

If you're totally disgusted with me, head over to Proud To Be A Fit Mom . She explains the reasons for a "skinny" mom wanting to look good way better (and less offensively) than I do.

Now the fun part. I took some basic measurements today as a starting point so I can monitor my progress:

Upper Thighs (my newest problem area): 22"
Hips: 38 1/4"
Waist: 32"
Shoulders: 38"

I didn't bother with my bust measurement since that changes hourly :) I also got Russ to take pictures of me in a bikini which I will post once I upload them. And when I stop hyperventilating about it.

I Like Talking About You You You You Usually. But Occasionally...

I Want To Talk About Me!

Aren't you impressed with all my literary and musical references lately? Makes me feel like not all my brain cells were expelled during childbirth...

So anyway, although technically the baby of the family, I've realized that I have a serious case of middle child syndrome most likely due to the fact that my mom started babysitting a younger and way cuter kid when I was 2. I dealt with this by a) punching him in the nose, giving him chronic nosebleeds and b) feeling the need to be the center of attention at all times. Naturally it has been difficult for me to relinquish this attention now that I have kids. When I started this blog I intended for it to be all about them (hence the name), and so far I've managed to keep it totally kid-related. The problem is that when something interesting happens to me that isn't about the kids I feel like I can't blog about it. I might lose my gazillions of readers who faithfully log on with the sole purpose of hearing the latest on my pants-peeing, night-screaming, explosive-pooping children (in that order). However, now that my life involves approximately 3.4 seconds per day of non child-related activities like running as fast as I can to the chicken coop to get eggs before the boys realize I'm gone and start trying to pull Tristan out of the swing, I've decided that I reeeeeeeally want to share those moments with you all (that's "youse" to those of you living in my neck of the woods...all one of you). Therefore, in true middle child spirit, from now on my blog will include charming stories about yours truly. If anything charmed ever happens to me.

A Snack, By Any Other Name, Would Not Taste As Sweet.

Look at me - I read a book once.

Russ started his new job yesterday morning and had to leave at the same time he used to get up. This caused some major issues when it came to the boys getting up (which is usually at the same time as Russ or shortly thereafter) and having their snack.
When Josey was just over a year old Russ started giving him a snack every morning to hold him over until I dragged myself out of bed and made breakfast. For the longest time he had a banana and his vitamin for snack day in and day out. Then he started having some dried apricots and his vitamin. This continued with Roanen, to the point that Russ was pretty much giving them a full breakfast some days. Up until yesterday, asking the boys what they had for snack yielded answers anywhere from "a vitamin and a little orange" to "my vitamin, some cottage cheese, an egg, and a piece of toast with jam". Regardless of how little or how much they had eaten earlier on, Josey still insisted on needing both a snack and his breakfast, which was anything from a bowl of cereal or oatmeal to pancakes to eggs, toasts and fruit. If he woke up after Russ had left he would freak out when I suggested just having breakfast. If, by chance, he forgot about the snack and I just made breakfast, a little while later he would suddenly remember that "we forgot to have snack!" and insist that we eat something else "for snack".
Now that I'm in total charge of the boys pretty much from the time they wake up, I've informed them two days in a row that they will not be having two meals first thing in the morning, and that I will make one large breakfast a little later than we usually have snack. This has caused crying, screaming, and the insistence that they NEED a snack or else they may die of starvation in the hour between waking and breakfast (they can have fruit if they really need something in the meantime, but I ain't making pancakes). I'm standing firm on this point though, so this morning I dubbed our meal "sneakfast" to avoid mentioning the forbidden "s" or "b" words. They did not appreciate my cleverness.

Last night Tristan slept 6 hours straight, from 9 to 3. Amazing, yes, but did I get to enjoy it? No, because Roanen woke up for the third time at 1:30 and fussed and cried, even in our bed, for an hour and a quarter, when Russ finally tossed him into his bed where he immediately passed out. I'll forgive him a little, because he's still sick and coughing pretty badly at night, but I really would have liked to sleep during the 6 hours that Tristan did. It may be a little premature, but I'm hoping that Tristan's apparent laissez-faire attitude about nursing at night may be to my advantage when it comes to him sleeping fully through the night. Seriously, I have to have one good infant sleeper. I'm entitled.

Just Call Him Beaver

There's a book out called Even June Cleaver Would Forget the Juice Box. Think the preschool teacher has read it?

Is That Your Final Answer?

I'm back on milk. On Saturday night I had a mini-freakout about not having prepared for dinner, and we ended up deciding that last week's bad days probably weren't dairy related after all. We got some really good cheesy, buttery, yummy takeout from a restaurant in town and crossed our fingers. So far Tristan has had no reaction to it. I'm still avoiding chocolate just in case that's the problem (which makes more sense since I have chocolate allergies) but I'm looking forward to trying it out sometime soon...

In other news, Josey has croup and is feeling crappy, and Roanen somehow hurt his wrist and is having a hard time doing normal things like lifting food to his mouth with his left hand and climbing on things (that one's a shame). Both the boys have been getting up at 5 AM and Roanen freaks out when we don't immediately "GO DOWNSTAIRS!" like he wants. I think daylight savings time hasn't kicked in yet for them, and wasn't helped by the fact that we started putting them to bed an hour earlier last week.

I think I'm going to start posting stuff about our little farm soon, if only to be just like the Pioneer Woman. Actually I just think everyone is dying to see graphic pictures of the next time we get our chickens slaughtered. Admit it, you are.

And The Bad Mommy Award Goes To...

Yesterday was our busiest day of the week, with Tristan's 2 months doctor's appointment (complete with shots) and Josey starting his preschool class. It had crossed my mind that the timing may be tight since the appointment was at 11:15 and preschool started at 12:30 and we had to fit lunch in somewhere, but I wasn't that worried since morning appointments are usually quicker and I figured that I could do drive-thru at Wendy's or something in a pinch. Naturally on this particular day the doctor was running behind and also ended up talking to a patient on the phone for about 20 minutes while we waited. I was watching the clock, and we seemed to be doing ok for time provided we skipped lunch and hauled ass over to preschool. The boys behaved well during the appointment, but the couple of minutes grace time we had were eaten up when Josey decided to run directly out of the office and into the cubby between the two glass doors leading outside. I was waiting for my next appointment booking while holding Tristan when this happened and I peeked out the door to see a woman standing in there with him. After all the warnings we'd given him about not running outside without anyone, I thought he'd know better than to go all the way out, but sure enough when he saw me looking at him, he took off out the door. Roanen was playing with the toys, so I set Tristan into his carseat and ran out after Josey (and the woman), who was tossed into the van and told to buckle himself up. Back in the office I walked past all the staring, disapproving people, announcing that he was in the van just in case they thought I was just letting him run through the streets by himself. Tristan, who started screaming as soon as I put him down, was being held by some woman who was evidently madly in love with him. Just as I got the carseat ready (while this woman unhurriedly walked him around showing him off) Josey came running back into the office, because apparently he now knows how to get out of the van by himself. By the time I got everyone into the van it was 12:33 and I was freaking out about being late and Josey not being fed. I told him he could reach into his bag and eat his snack that I had packed for preschool (that was just a precaution because I didn't think they'd actually have a snack there). When we got to the rec center, I rushed them out of the van with Tristan screaming and Josey moving as slowly as possible because he doesn't like people to know that he's with me, and brought them inside. As I got his jacket off, the organizer wanted to verify that I had packed a snack for him so I pulled out the snack bag, which now contained 3 half eaten crackers. Fortunately Josey was perfectly happy to stay by himself (yippee!) so I said goodbye and rushed out, remembering once I was outside again that he hadn't peed since well before leaving the house and was sure to wet his pants since I hadn't told him about asking one of the teachers to take him to the bathroom. When we picked him up at 2:30 I was happy to find out that A) he had a great time and didn't want to leave and B) when he had to pee he had asked the teacher to take him. The happiness ended when the teacher asked Josey "And what are we going to tell Mommy to pack for next week?" to which he responded "A drink". The teacher had to share with him, and I can only imagine what she was thinking about a mother who packed some chewed-up crackers and no drink for a snack. He was wearing pretty ratty looking clothes too, so she probably figures I'm just another one of those white trash welfare moms. Yay. Next week we're making muffins FROM SCRATCH and cutting up veggies for snack. And I'll give him TWO drinks. Yeah, that'll show them.

Just Get Off The Cow!

For the record, I didnt go too crazy on the dairy. Aside from the sorta-cheese on Monday night I didn't have any pure dairy like milk or yogurt and I even restricted foods with dairy ingredients in them. I was good, really I was. Unfortunately Tristan has been excessively cranky since Tuesday evening and I'm going to have to cut dairy out again to see if it helps. His nights have been really good though (after he finally passes out after screaming for hours) and he's slept 5 hour stretches at the beginning of the night 3 nights in a row. I'll be talking to both the doctor and a lactation consultant about it all today, but I'm already preparing myself for a long cheeseless, rice milky year. Ugh.