What do Hippies, Shaving and Tofu have to do with it?

There used to be a time when I updated this website regularly.

Man, those were some good times.

Today I want to talk about boobs. Okay, now that I have your attention I can get down to what I really want to talk about.

When I found out I was pregnant with Kyan the thought of nursing my child appalled me. In fact, I was downright disgusted by nursing since at that point my boobs served one purpose and it wasn't to feed anyone. But, my husband pleaded with me to just try nursing, for our families sake. So, I did.

At first my goal was six weeks. After six weeks, I set my goal for six months and at six months I knew I wanted to nurse my child for at least two years. Breastfeeding was something my mother never did....and I have no idea why.

Shortly after Kyan turned one I found out I was pregnant with Aspen. I nursed my entire pregnancy. When Aspen was born I nursed them both for four months before weaning Kyan.

Aspen turned 2 in August and Kyan turned 4 in September and do you know what that means? It means that I have been nursing for 4 years straight.

4. YEARS. STRAIGHT.

I've been nursing so long I don't know what not nursing feels like.

After the first birthday of both of my children we never once nursed in public. I do not share this intimate detail of my life with anyone except family. The few times I have - I've regretted it as I may regret hitting publish on this post. Nursing is a touchy subject. You are damned if you do and damned if you don't.

It's funny because before I was a mom I thought that the only women who nursed were hippies who didn't shave and cooked with Tofu. I guess I just want the world to know that I shave and I nurse my toddler and that I am allergic to Tofu.

Am I the only person allergic to Tofu?

What Does Not Kill Me...

Last week after finishing my first run in over 6 months I made a decision.

I decided that day was going to be the first day of healthier me. I know you've heard it before but this time I meant business. Which is the exact reason I did my best not to mention it here because this time I didn't need the encouragement of others - I was doing it for me.

Something for myself, a novel idea, really.

Anyway, despite the muscle aches and pains I faced on Monday morning I ran, sure not as far as I could six months ago but a whole mile without stopping seemed better than sitting in front of the computer complaining about the ever expanding rear region. By Saturday I ran the entire 5k distance without stopping.

In one week I went from sitting on my couch to running 3.1 miles straight - a feat that had previously taken me 9 weeks. I figured, it's only been six months, in a week or two I'll be back to the 5k no problem.

Except, on Saturday, when I finished running the whole 5k, I couldn't walk. Not because I had sore muscles or was out of breath. I injured myself. As in my ankle was throbbing so bad I thought I about just laying down in the middle of the road hoping someone would rescue me from my misery, either that or just freeze in the elements and never make it home.

Except I made it home because who needs a cell phone when you are just jogging around the neighborhood? Oh, that's right, you carry it in case of emergency. Not being able to walk totally qualifies as an emergency.

I made it through Sunday but not without having my husband offer me some cheese to go with my whine.

This morning I woke up with the pain and the limp still present. It was at that point I was certain that I should be calling a doctor but I hate being the sissy who shows up who is all, I'm hurt. I'm really freaking hurt. Only to be told that my stubby broken fingernail will grow back in a week or two. Not that that has ever happened to me or anything, I just fear that it will. I just want to be certain I am really hurt before forking over my co-pay.

So, during my "waiting" period before seeking medical advice I navigate through WebMD and discover I am suffering from many chronic disorders, most importantly, Hypochondria fueled by the Internet.

I determine that the injury was caused from doing too much too soon during which time I also discover that shoes that offer poor support can also cause the pain I am experiencing. I let that marinate in my brain while I decide that a support brace is in order.

Funny thing about my support brace search, it landed right smack dab in a running shoe store. Seriously, I looked in Target, REI, the local pharmacy and found every brace imaginable but not the one I was looking for. That is until I got the Running Shoe Store.

I found the brace I was looking for and I was ready to check out but all of the employees were busy helping customers. To kill time I strolled the shoes. All the pretty, pretty shoes. The possibilities seemed endless, really. I figured I'd try a few on, you know just to test them out. Well, I hadn't planned on the fact that they would determine my stride and have me walk barefoot and then bring out a few to try.

As you can imagine, I not only have a sore ankle, but now I have a support brace that hurts me more to wear than it does to not wear, I have a new pair of shoes I cannot wear because of the sore ankle, I have a new set of inserts I cannot wear because of the sore ankle and I am out $140 more than my co-pay.

On the plus side, I've decided that I will call a doctor on Friday if rest does not help the pain.

Go Figure!

This afternoon I was going to write all of you to say that I got the mold out of Aspen's favorite shirt (and by Aspen's I mean mine!).

I was super excited when I woke up this morning to find that soaking the entire garment overnight in Tilex Mold & Mildew Remover had removed the stain entirely. Not to mention most of the color but that is one detail that didn't bother me so much. It was still pink-ish and that would do.

To say I was giddy would be an understatement. I felt like I had just completed a marathon or at the very least discovered a little laundry secret - one I would whittle away and expose on blog and impress all the other bloggers with my Ninja like laundry skills. Mwahahahaha, I thought to myself. But, that would have to wait until the kiddos went to bed.

In the meantime like any good housewife I knew that chemical soaked shirt would need a few hundred good washing before touching my babies skin. I figured I would wash it once by itself and then with each load of laundry this week I would just keep tossing it in.

Anyway, the first wash and dry was a success. The shirt was spotless. But, it stunk like my shower after the Nanny gets a hold of it. So, the next load included a pair of jeans. I didn't think much of it. That is until the load was done and I was removing the clothes and happened on the infamous shirt.

THE.STAINS.WERE.BACK.

Except this time they were not black specks they were larger circles a light bluish color.

Please do not think for one second I just sit around wasting water for no good reason. Before coming to the Internet for help I went to the store because surely a new shirt would be the simplest of all solutions. Except when I got to the store the shirts were on clearance and only a 3-6 month size remained on the rack. It was a sad realization that the brown, pink and cream striped pants were never to be worn again, after all, the browns, pinks and creams of other stores would never match.

So, Internet, I turned to you and Bleach was all you offered.

Bleach does not reside in my house.

Nor does Tilex Mold & Mildew Remover.

But, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Do you want to know why those chemicals are forbidden in my house (aside from my daughter's proneness to licking all things liquid)?

Because, I ruin things.

Things like that nice purple shirt I was wearing while simple removing the Tilex from the bag where the Tilex decided to leak.

So now I have nothing to show for all my hard work except two ruined shirts when I only started out with one.

Go figure.

Dearest Internet

Please Help!

My daughter's favorite shirt which she happened to be wearing during her brother's fourth birthday party, yeah, the one where she projectile vomited all over the floor beneath the table where all of the food was being served, was just found in the garage. Approximately two weeks after it was thrown up on.

Oh! Did I forgot to mention that my son turned four and we celebrated with a party - one where his sister decided she was disgusted by the fact that it was not at all about her and decided to change that in a second? Well, actually, it was not calculated BUT it was very sad.

Anyway, the shirt. I found it. It has mold. I've washed it 4 times and the mold won't budge.

Send help.

Internet, what gets mold out of clothes?

Spanglish 101

Remember that Nanny? Well, we hired her. Occasionally things get lost in translation.

It took about four times for both her and I to introduce ourselves before we both felt like we knew each others names. But, it's difficult for me to actually know someone's name without seeing it on paper, my mind is funny that way and it didn't really occur to me to have her write it. Anyway, the fourth conversation went like this:

Me: What was your name again?

Her: Nay-thee

Bob: Naidy?

Her: Yes. Nay-thee.

Me: Nay-thee?

Her: (confused look) Nay-thee.

Bob: Naidy.

Me: Nay-thee?

Her: (smile)

Me: Okay.

So, like a moron, I start calling her Nay-thee, after all that is exactly how she pronounced it to me. A few weeks go by and I see an art project where she wrote her name.

N-A-I-D-Y.

Oh, I thought, Naidy, just like Bob said.

Confused as to why exactly my husband knew what she was saying despite her insistance of pronoucing her name with a thee sound and not dee sound, I asked him how on earth he knew what she meant.

He simply responded with confidence that he is fluent in Spanglish.

Spandex, how I love thee...

Yesterday morning I rolled out of bed when the alarm blared. Okay, so Bob rolled out of bed while pretended I didn't hear the alarm. After much prodding from Bob I gracefully slipped into my running pants and tank top while doing my best to avoid the mirrors that seem to be everywhere in our house. On my way out of my room I caught a glimpse.

It wasn't pretty.

Let me first start by saying my running pants are made of spandex. Twenty pounds ago these pants would fall off me until I got sweaty enough for them to stick. But now? Twenty pounds heavier it's a whole other story. The pants are, to put it mildly, snug.

It's not a good look, I know this, yet I refuse to buy bigger.

On our drive to the race I contemplated why they even make spandex big enough to fit my fat ass but could not for the life of me figure it out. It just did not make sense yet there I was on my way to race with about a thousand people who would, if nothing else, mostly be donning spandex despite their varying sizes.

It wasn't until last night that I figured out why in world spandex is such a fashion trend in the running world. Let's face it spandex is never really a good look, I mean, even if you are bulging out of it with muscles and not muffin tops. Last night while my husband and I were recapping the race (and I was totally hounding him for ditching me) he let me in on a secret - not only was he sore in places he didn't know could get sore he also had what I refer to as chub rub.

Yes, chaffed...between his legs.

It was at that point that my spandex pants had me at hello.

Sure I was sore. Sure I was tired. Sure I was certain I would never let myself get this out of shape again. But, I was not fighting the burning of the chaff.

And, you know, in life, it's the little things that matter.

Spandex, oh how my fat thighs love you!

In No Particular Order!

I think it's important for all my readers to know that I married the world's best human being ever. I know, I know, you are all thinking that quite possibly you married the world's best human being but I assure you that the human YOU married would not be right for me. Plus the chances of your human putting up with me is slim to none.

A few recent reasons why my husband is the world's best human for me! (In no particular order.)

1. He planned a night out alone for my birthday despite my repeated attempts to tell him that I did not want to do anything for my birthday especially alone. It was really fun.

2. He planned a surprise party and invited my entire family.

3. When I whined that no one in my family actually called on my birthday he said he was sorry no one cared with a straight face.

4. My husband's mother (Hi, Alona!) cooked for my birthday despite the fact that the hour before the party I told my husband that his mother was in no way to cook my birthday dinner. BUT, in my defense that was before I knew there were guests. I honestly thought he was pawning off my dinner on her, which I thought was rude.

5. When I recently suggested that we could call the Nanny and tell her not to come in the next day because I did not really need to work he said that is ridiculous - if she doesn't come the house will be a disaster. Music to my ears, people.

5. While in Target last week when I suggested that a Halloween party would be super fun his response was THAT sounds expensive. Seriously, he talked me off the ledge people I was ready to start loading up the cart with decorations and crafts. It was really close. So close that here I sit thinking that it can't be THAT expensive.

6. After months of me begging my husband actually suggested we take a vacation and acted like it was his idea.