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My new yoga socks. Hot? Yes. Do these socks make my ankles look big?

In Denial

So I guess I've been in denial for a while, but it's finally time for me to admit it. I'm getting old.

A few months ago I turned 31. By most people's standards, that's not too incredibly old. But it seems like in the past few months, my body's age has increased by at least a decade. I wake up every morning in pain with a stiff back. I've been nursing all kinds of minor injuries, like low back pain, muscle cramps, and now I have knee pain.

Knee pain? I'm not active enough yet to have knee pain. I only really started working out seriously about a month ago. I'm still running 3 miles at a pop, at best, a few days per week, and the exercise classes I teach/take aren't brutal enough to justify knee pain. I think I might have twisted something on Tuesday night in ballet...since I'm so hard core in class. But I can't think of what I could have done. Turnout occurs at the hip, and my hips are fine.

My feet even hurt, like I've been running on the treadmill at top speed barefoot. I've never had achy feet before. And I even got new shoes last month!!

I used to make fun of my coworker because he would hobble in every morning, complaining of back pain and sore legs, pop a few Pain Aids, and get on with his day, but this morning I found myself at the medicine cabinet at work, looking for the Pain Aid just to get through the morning!!

I took a quiz on Facebook a while back that was supposed to estimate your "real" age. Since Facebook quizzes are widely known for their accuracy, I was surprised to see that my "real" age was 0. Might explain me, mentally, but physically? Add a one and another zero in front.

I've really got it in my head that I'm a runner. Or I should be. So I'm having a hard time accepting that it might not be the best thing for my pathetic crumbling body. I'm trying a different path these days. This weekend I'm attending a workshop to become certified as a Yogafit instructor. Then in February I will attend a similar workshop to become certified to teach Pilates. Since I have zero time at home to practice these things, I thought teaching would not only make me more marketable, but allow me to get in some good workouts on the clock.

On a completely unrelated note, I brought Pearl in for her 4-month checkup this week. Apparently this beast of a child is 16 lbs 5 oz already, which puts her in the 90th percentile for both height and weight. I'm not sure where the Amazon woman gene comes from, but the doctor couldn't have been happier.

Dance Star

I've had some really lousy luck the past few months, and my method of dealing with these heavy situations and emotions is to take full advantage of the effects of retail therapy. Since the idea of trying on clothes depresses me, I got a kickass cool phone with a data plan, GPS and unlimited texting, a new car with bluetooth and satellite radio (didn't have much of a choice with the car since I totaled my last one, but the addons were optional), and splurged on a couple of workout DVDs and some other stuff.

One of my splurges was to enroll my ungraceful self in ballet lessons.

Are you finished laughing yet? No? It's ok, I'll wait.

Now? Good. I took ballet for many years as a youth. We moved around a lot, but I pretty much took lessons on and off between moves from the time I was 3 until I was 16. At that point, I begged my mother to let me continue jazz and tap but drop ballet. I likened myself to the dancing hippos from Fantasia's Dance of the Hours.

But I chose to enroll in this class for several reasons:

• As a working mother of 2 young-uns, I need some alone time


• I could use some flexibility


• I could use some gracw and poise


• I'm in love with SB's dance teacher and she teaches the adult ballet class on the one evening that I could actually take it!


• Dancers are hot.

Nuff said.

So I've gone twice so far. I'm doing pretty well in the class, but holy moly, let me tell you that those mirrors are HELLACIOUS. Now, I'm no hot mama quite yet, but I thought I was doing pretty well in the get back to a normal human female non-whale shape department. That confidence was completely shattered when I glanced in the mirrors in class. The person I saw staring back at me was a short, squat, butternut squash with a ponytail and legs. Short, stubby legs. That jiggled a lot.

The good thing is that I didn't have to look in the mirror long, because my barre was at the opposite end of the room and we do a lot of stuff facing the barre so my back was to the mirror. But then one of the last things we do are sautes (jumps) right in front of the mirror.

I almost cried. The butternut squash was made of Jell-o!! OMG. I have never seen anything so disgusting in my entire life. Well, maybe this. Actually, that's kind of what I looked like, only less scantily clad. Well actually, not really since I was in dance class. OK that's really video from my dance class.

Anyway.

So yeah. Now I'm really motivated to buckle down and lose the rest of my Pearl whale weight. I started the plan by consuming only half a panini at lunch today instead of a whole one! Not that it was by choice...but it's a start!

Here's hoping that by the time I go to the Grammies, I'm back to the normal flounder of a person I was before.

Hint, hint.

You know who you are.

Call me.

Peace out.

Awkward...

On Sunday night, my husband got a really bad flare up of gout on his foot. It helps to soak the foot in epsom salt, and we were out, so he sent me to the Rite Aid around the corner to pick some up. Now it's impossible for me to go to Rite Aid and only get one thing, especially when those first few rows are filled with Christmas goodies. So of course on my way back to the first aid area I picked up a Cinderella toothbrush holder, a Barbie and the Three Musketeers book (for SB), a couple of Reese Christmas Trees (for TB- they're his favorite), and some Reese/Oreo-type cookies (we were out of treats for SB's lunch the next day). I grabbed a huge bag of the salt and headed to the checkout.

There was this guy standing there, kind of back from the line, but kind of in line at the same time. Rather than stand behind someone who was just waiting for a bus or cut in front of someone waiting in line, I asked if he was in line- he was not. As I was asking him, a woman came up and took her place in line in front of us. Since there were 2 cashiers working, I didn't care, I just took my place in the other line. No big deal.

My cashier finished first, and without even glancing in my direction, motioned for the lady in the line next to me to approach her. The other lady refused, saying she was in her own line and we had gotten there at the same time so I should go up. (How polite!!) During this entire exchange, I was just observing. No expression on my face whatsoever, except mild interest in what was going on. I hadn't made any movement towards the counter, I wasn't getting angry or even confused, though I should have been.

After hearing the other lady, my cashier looked at me and put her hands up in the air and said "I'm not trying to start anything, I just wanted whoever was next...it doesn't make any difference at all to me...don't get upset at me."

Like I was about to tell her off. Honestly? Technically that lady was there before me. Sure, she was in another line and it was a little weird for the cashier to try to get her to go first- I mean in my opinion, you choose the wrong line and you're just screwed. It's one of those things you just accept. I ALWAYS choose the wrong line. But I wouldn't have made a peep if the lady had in fact gone ahead of me in my own line.

So why the heck was this cashier acting like I had just read her the riot act? To make matters worse- and I don't know if she did this because she was trying to butter me up, or because she's just socially inept, but she made a point of commenting on every. single. item I was purchasing. "Oh, these look good...and these are sooooooo delicious" (about the cookies and Reese trees), "Someone was in here earlier and got the same thing but in Spiderman" (about the toothbrush holder), "Someone has a daughter who likes Barbie" (about the book- and how does she know it's my daughter? I could totally be a Barbie fan...who reads picture books that come with paper dolls), "Wow, this is a heavy bag! What do you need all this salt for? I'm not putting anything else in the bag with this"...and on and on.

Keep in mind this was RITE AID. Thank goodness I wasn't buying condoms or tampons or hemorrhoid cream! What would she have said then?!?!

Know What?

I changed my mind. I want to keep Bmore Mama. Mostly because I forgot my password to that other blog, but also because I'm lacking the creativity to enhance the new one. So I'll stick around here for a while. I'm not going with the 2-year contract here but I'll do the monthly thing. If you'll have me back.

Anyway.

So lots of news that I'm sure I'll get into as I go but I really don't feel like recapping the last few months. Obviously Pearl made her apearance into this world. I realized earlier this week that she looks kind of like Emeril. BAM! No seriously...see the resemblance?




Clearly Pearl is a heck of a lot cuter. And it's a strange coincidence that we were in NOLA (which I think is where he lives) just before I got pregnant.....



Moving on.





It's good to be back!

Reality Check from TB

This post is an email my husband sent out yesterday.


Life is short...

....so don't take a minute for granted!

Exactly one week ago my almost 4-year old daughter, SB, woke up at 12:30 w/an acute croup attack (1st one). For a minute or so she really couldn't breathe......we thought we were going to lose her. Then it gradually went away. 911-ambulance-emergency room...the whole nine yards.

Today, my pregnant wife, due in August, was in a car accident on rt. 70 (major highway). While avoiding an accident in front of her, she was forced into a lane where the side of her car was hit by a pickup truck and threw her spinning across the 3 or 4 lane highway. This highway is normally packed w/tractor trailers, etc... She came away with only a stiff neck...and an eight hour, precautionary stay at Howard General.

The last few years I've been trying to appreciate what I have and always keep the big picture in mind. Events like this just make me try to live every day like it's my last.

Everyone who knows me KNOWS that the last thing I am looking for is pity. I'm sharing this so everyone can do a little reality check and remember what is really important.

See pictures below......

TB

Say What?

When I was pregnant with SB, and I mean very pregnant- like 8 months pregnant, I got on the elevator at work along with 2 other women. Once the door closed, one woman glanced around and said "Wow...on the elevator with 2 pregnant women. I hope we don't get stuck!" I kind of laughed, but after a minute's pause, the third lady said, very quietly, "I'm not pregnant."

The remainder of the ride was very quiet.

It's amazing to me what people have the balls to say to total strangers. And I seem to be on the receiving end of a lot of uncouth comments lately.

One of the members at my gym commented the other day, as she was walking by me, that I was getting bigger (duh, that's usually the idea with pregnancy). I smiled (phony) and mumbled out some unremarkable reply, mostly in agreement. This prompted her to stop to have a full-blown conversation with me. Which I regret taking part in.

Her: Actually, you look kind of gassy. Do you have gas?

Me: No, I'm pretty sure it's just a baby in there. No gas.

Her: Funny, because you look like those people in the commercials who have gas.

Me: Yeah...no gas.

Her: Has anyone else told you that?

Me: That I look like I have gas? No.

Her: Yeah, well who else would really say that to you but me?

Me (thinking): I think you're on to something there.

Since I've been very irritable these past few days...weeks...months?...I have since not made any effort to initiate conversations with this particular lady. But I can't avoid her, she's one of the lunchtime class regulars. One morning she called in to sign up for class, and felt the need to further irritate me.

Her: I can't make the 12:15 class so sign me up for the 11:30 class. Are you teaching that?

Me: No, The Intern's teaching it.

Her: What are you teaching today?

Me: Nothing.

Her: But you're there...

Me: Yes I am...but I'm not teaching anything.

Why do people assume that just because I show up to work that I have to teach a class? And the weirdest thing is that a few weeks ago, she was giving me a hard time because I was still actively teaching classes...so now that I'm 8 months along as opposed to 6 months, it's all of a sudden unacceptable for me to lighten my teaching load? Or show up without having a class to teach?

I don't get it.

Anyway, even total strangers are taking part in this whole crossing the line with comments. I brought SB to the pool tonight (not the one with Rick James, this is the outdoor family pool). Since I feel too obese to squeeze into my bathing suit, and too sick and tired with a sore crotch to get into the pool myself, the plan was to just let SB splash around the wading pool. That way I could just sit on the side of the pool and not really exert myself, but SB could wear her little self out.

There were 2 little boys in the pool when we arrived, and one grandmother. At one point, Grandmother yelled at the lifeguard on duty because he had picked up her noodle that she had left at the edge of the big pool, and was smacking the water with it while on the phone. Personally, I didn't really think he was hurting anything by being on the phone because there was NO ONE in the big pool. Every single person there was in the wading pool area.

But that's not my business. I tend to keep to myself.

But out of the blue, Grandmother looked over at me and said "It must be 4:30." I had just checked my phone for messages so I knew that it was actually closer to 5:30, so I told her that.

Her response: Oh, because usually at 4:30 the pool changes color.

It took me a minute to digest that and figure out what she meant by that. Honestly, my first thought was that she was implying that someone peed in the pool every day at 4:30. But after glancing at the big pool, which had by this time become a little more populated, I realized she was referring to the color of the people enjoying the pool.

I didn't respond to that. It's one thing to warn me there aren't any Jews in Manchester, or to tell me I look gassy, but I was raised to be pretty much oblivious to color.

You Snooze...

...you lose.

At least, that's my motto.

For some reason I've started to get very irritated lately whenever TB falls asleep on the couch. At first, I would just get grumpy. Then, I started making SB pound on his chest and yell "WAKE UP, DADDY!!" Then I resorted to taking photos of him with my cell phone and sending them to all my friends, including him.

But now that's not enough.

So be aware. If you do this:

Then I will do this.

Where To Begin?

So....I've been busy lately. My husband calls it nesting. I call it making sure the baby has a bed to sleep in and clean clothes to wear. In addition to all the work around the house that I've been doing, it's also the end of the year for dance class, the start of the family fun season, and the start of the busy season for my husband. So here's a recap, in no particular order, of what we've been up to.

A few weeks ago, we went to Cascade Lake. This is a big smelly lake in Hampstead. We paddle boated around for all of 15 minutes then headed off to the "splash pad" to let SB get wet and wild. Which she did. TB even joined in the fun.


Our next adventure was a trip to some farm who took all the scenes from what used to be the Enchanted Forest. It was here that I got to take a creepy photo of my child peering out from the eye socket of a giant face.


Then last Monday we took a trip to Dutch Wonderland. This was exciting.
First, SB entertained us all with an interpretive dance in her "kini".


Then, TB knocked over all of the blocks that were sitting on a platform, and won SB a giant banana, who was subsequently named Mr. Banana. SB insisted on carrying him around the park herself. He now spends his days in the living room and his nights in the corner of SB's bedroom.


Then, being the awesome mom/wife that I am, I made my family do this. You can tell by the look on TB's face that he was thrilled to take part.


Since I am about the size of a whale who just ate another whale, and is bloated as a result, the number of rides/attractions I could take part in was limited. They actually had signs posted in front of a lot of rides that looked a lot like this. Except there was only one pregnant lady, and she wasn't quite as naked...or droopy.

Coincidentally, I stole that photo off the internet, but I can tell you that it was a photo of the back of a packet of Accutane tablets. I went on Accutane twice and am a total slob, so there were little "no pregnant women" labels everywhere in my apartment. I found it quite amusing.

Anyway, since I was pretty much forced to stand around a lot while TB and SB were on rides, I made friends with this guy. We spent a lot of time together. I felt that we got pretty close, but he would never tell me exactly what he was doing with his left hand.


Next we headed over to the Howard County Relay For Life event, where The Band was playing. Here, SB got her face painted.


After they finished playing, SB went up on stage to help her dad pack up, which I thought was cute, so I took some photos. Later, as I was going through them, noticed this one with some random dude in a sequined dress standing in front of them. Only in Baltimore.


Then was SB's dance recital. This will probably be its own post later on, but I had to throw up a couple of really cute photos.
My little ballerina.


And a not-so-great shot of the Father-Daughter dance. There will be video coming, but not for another month or so. I'm not sure why the little girl in the middle doesn't have a father at this point.


The last of our exciting couple of weeks was me getting a flat tire on the way home from the Bay Cafe on Sunday night. We (me & SB) waited on the side of 83 for about 15-20 minutes until TB could get there to change the flat. A police officer in an unmarked Infiniti had pulled over with me (he was the one who told me, because at this point I still was just thinking I was having problems driving straight) but couldn't stay. Something about a gun shot victim he needed to tend to.

Once TB got there, he put the donut on for us, which was no easy feat considering he had lost a contact lens on the way. With nothing better to do with myself, I decided to take a photo to chronicle the event.

Like you would expect any less at this point.

So of course, I sent that picture to several of my girlfriends, thinking they would reply with concerned comments about us being stuck with a flat late on a Sunday night with a 3-1/2 year old. But all they did was comment on his ass.

I think that pretty much brings you up to date with me. This weekend looks promising as well, with 2 gigs in DC, one in Catonsville, and my father and his crew coming to visit.

Rick James, See-Through Bathing Suits and My Water Breaking

Yes, you can see all three of these at my new gym!

Let me explain.

I joined a local commercial gym because I decided that, as I enter the final 10 weeks of pregnancy, doing things like walking and teaching step classes hurt my peepee. To the extent that it feels like someone spent a good 30 minutes roundhousing me in the crotch. And I mean that not in a kinky way, but in a martial arts way. So I decided to spend a few sessions a week swimming, which would ideally provide me with a good cardiovascular workout (trying not to drown) without all the wear and tear on my poor lady parts. Because they'll be going through enough in 9.5 weeks anyway.

The whole bathing suit ordeal is another post altogether. So fast forward to me, doing my best whale in a skirted one-piece imitation at the pool. I decided this time around not to worry too much about coordinating my breathing with everything else, because the last thing I need to be doing is hyperventilating or drowning. So I just grab a kickboard and kick away, back and forth.

I was kicking away last night, when the door from the men's locker room opened up and slap me with a trout if that wasn't Rick James standing there in his tight swimming briefs. Well, ok, maybe Rick James is dead and this wasn't exactly him. But it was his long lost twin brother, at best.

Maybe just a little shorter. And almost naked.

And with more of a long fro than jheri curl. But it still looked just like him!

Anyway, I went back to kicking up and down my lane. Both Rick and I were not in the best of shape, swimming-wise (at least I have an excuse), and we both stopped kind of frequently at the shallow end to catch our breath.

During one break, I looked around and noticed a few of the older ladies (by "older" I mean anywhere from late 40's to early 70's) who had been in the whirlpool when I first got there were now chatting on a bench near the entrance. One older lady in particular (who was on the younger end of the older lady age spectrum noted above) was wearing a lima bean colored one-piece bathing suit. Which, in and of itself, was not notable.

But the fact that when she dropped her towel, I saw that it was COMPLETELY SEE THROUGH, was. Since she was sitting, I didn't see anything below her waist (thank goodness) but I could completely make out what her entire breast looked like, including how big and how dark her nipple was.

Waaaaaaaaay tmi.

I tried very hard not to look in her general direction for the remainder of my workout. After I left, I wandered into the locker room to change into dry clothes (I was going to shower at home). As I was reaching into my locker to pull out my bag of clothes, I felt something dripping down my leg.

Now, I know I was wet from the pool, but this was a more forceful drip. Almost like I was peeing on myself. But I knew I wasn't peeing. And it wasn't letting up! Immediately I freaked out, thinking my water broke while I was in the pool and I didn't notice it.

I looked down and eventually realized that the water was coming from the stupid little skirt they put on the ugly maternity bathing suit. Somehow it had collected there, and was dripping down my leg.

It was an interesting night at the pool, I look forward to more "Stories from the Gym".