{31 Things} Day 11: Nourish

For the most part, I am an extremely predictable eater. Mostly because I have a tight group of favorite foods that I’m happy to eat over and over again, and partly because it’s a lot easier to put most of my food decisions on autopilot. I think I come by this honestly, as I can only remember about ten meals being served at my dad’s house during my entire childhood. We had a tight schedule: Friday was Wendy’s (kids meal for me, classic single with cheese, no onions no mustard for him), Saturday morning was toast, or pancakes if we were feeling fancy, dinner was Kraft Mac and Cheese- maybe with a hot dog. Sunday breakfast was usually cereal- kid favorites like Special K or Product 19- and then dinner was Tuna Helper. (During lent the dinners were rotated so tuna night fell on a Friday). I don’t specifically remember lunches, but I know there were a LOT of grilled cheeses, with a bologna sandwich thrown in there for variety. Before you retroactively contact child services, let me say that while this is how I remember it, my brain probably stored only a kiddie version of the actual truth, so I’m sure there were other foods- such as Neapolitan ice cream, and strawberry shortcake- that I’m forgetting. There might have even been a vegetable or two thrown in over the years. (I kid- there definitely were veggies- we had three favorites from the frozen section, but they’re still veggies.)

Dustin has similar memories of childhood meals (though his revolve around Stouffer’s lasagna, ground meat and gravy, and something he calls “Sh*t on a Shingle”.) So it’s not exactly a surprise that we have a set routine when it comes to eating. With about 5% variance, here is my daily food intake:

• Breakfast: banana, Activia light yogurt (four rotating flavors), granola bar. In the winter I swapped in a cup of instant oatmeal and if Dustin gets ambitious and the pantry allows, he’ll make me a piece of toast with cream cheese and cinnamon & sugar. (though this was mostly an occurrence during my pregnancy) 
• Lunch: lean cuisine and a bag of veggies (bell peppers, baby carrots, cucumbers, snap or snow peas). 
• Snacks: red seedless grapes, raw almonds, a gala apple, and crackers and cheese (again, only if we’ve been diligent about going to the store, and Dustin had ample time to pack “fancy lunches”)  

Dustin’s menu is pretty similar, but his breakfast is a protein shake, and he swaps the lean cuisine for a salad- either homemade or bought from the company café. About once a week we’ll each get sick of whatever we packed, and “treat ourselves” to a lunch out- grabbing sandwiches at Subway or hitting up Qdoba for Taco Tuesdays.

The big question mark to our dietary day is dinner. As much as I like consistency during the day, I crave variety at night, but that requires a level of planning and effort that I find it difficult to muster up on a regular basis. We’ve tried to get better at meal planning, but our inconsistent schedule, spotty grocery shopping, and pure laziness when it comes to cooking, makes it tough to have a freshly prepared dinner on the table each night. The challenge is that by the time we’re both home from work, and Piper is fed, it’s already getting late, so dinners need to be quick and easy. We also have to resist the urge to skip cooking in favor of fast food, pizza or take out. Our current goal is to plan three meals a week- figuring that each one will feed us for two nights, allowing us a break from cooking every other night. We have a master calendar with categories lined up (like pasta, slow cooker, or sandwiches), and then we match up choices from my overflowing recipe pile. So far it’s been a mild success. We’re definitely cooking more (or at least Dustin is!) and we’re getting better at using up the food we buy (nothing is worse than spending a ton of money at the grocery store, only to have all the food go bad because you spent a ton more money eating out instead). Meal planning and prep is definitely one of those necessary evils of being a grown up, but if we’re diligent, maybe Piper will remember us for something more than our weekly quesadillas.

It's a Girl!

As I mentioned, a ton of my friends are pregnant right now, and they seem to all have reached that magic 20 week mark around the same time. And if you don't know what's magic about 20 weeks (besides being halfway mark of pregnancy!)- it is typically the time that you get to find out the sex of the baby! Hearing all the excited (and nervous) comments from my friends as they go through this stage remind me of our experience, and I thought I would share one of my journals from that time. I'm not always proud of the mixed up emotions that happen in my mixed up head (and heart), but they're real. And there is beauty in honesty, even when it's still a little messy.

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Written 6/22/11


You’re a girl. Despite what we thought…and what others predicted…you are a girl. A perfect little girl. The girl that God has chosen to join our family.



I had been looking forward to the ultrasound for weeks- at least the 16 weeks that I had known about the pregnancy, but honestly probably years before that. Seeing your baby for the first time is known as one of life’s great joys, and I couldn’t wait for it to be my turn to look into that little screen with awe and wonder and have my life changed forever. And, as with most pregnancy and parenting topics, this moment did live up to all the splendor of its hype, while simultaneously being a relatively mundane experience. With this pregnancy I’m learning that the most earth-shattering, heart-altering experiences also have a way of feeling so natural that they seem mundane. Yeah, this morning we watched our 20-week-old fetus flutter around on a monitor…what did you do today? I suppose it’s because we can’t possibly wrap our minds around the miracle of life being formed, so I waffle back and forth between being positively dumbstruck by the possibility that I am actually making a baby as we speak, and so comfortable with the idea, that it seems impossible that it would be any other way.

But between the extremes of disbelief and quiet understanding, we got to see our baby. There was warmed up goo, a magic wand of sorts, and a small TV screen that added up to real, live moving pictures of our child-to-be. Dustin and I stared in rapture, taking in every wiggle and twitch…finally confirming that this was all really happening, and it was all really amazing. One fear I had with the ultrasound is that I wouldn’t recognize our baby- not that I wouldn’t be able to pick it out of a crowd- but that the image of our child would blend in with the unfamiliar setting, and I wouldn’t be able to tell a hand from a head, from an ovary.  It turns out  that the hands were easy to identify, the head makes sense in profile, but then easily can be confused with a belly from other angles, and my ovaries just look like black holes on the monitor. I had no idea how thorough the exam would be- and I was fascinated to watch the technician expertly maneuver her wand to capture every little angle and view of our baby. She measured limbs, counted toes, checked organs…We saw kidneys, and brain sections, and heart ventricles. At points, the baby was less than cooperative. It lay at a funny angle, making it hard to get all the photos we needed, and at other times moved around so much that the screen couldn’t keep up, and went fuzzy. But the tech barely blinked, just shifted her wand, changed direction and continued the exam to determine that every tiny detail of our baby was perfect. And it was.

From thirty minutes of watching and recording, the technician was able to confirm that the baby had all of its necessary parts, was an appropriate size for its age, had a strong and normal heartbeat (that we got to listen to- and to our surprise it was even louder and clearer than when we heard it on the dopler), and had plenty of room (and fluid) in which to grow. (That had been my number one fear- beyond some terrible complication- I hoped I was giving it enough room and nutrients that it was able to grow and flourish. Thankfully, all was well.)

And then we got to the moment of truth: we reminded her that we did indeed want to know the sex of the baby (a fact we had to double confirm, which I suppose saves people from hearing the big reveal before they’re ready). So she set about getting the baby in a position to see the “goods”, which turned out to be quite a task. We were able to see the baby’s little rump from underneath (adorable!!) but its stubbornly refused to separate its little legs. The tech was undeterred- and began to press and wiggle the wand against my belly, encouraging the baby to pose, by repeating “open up, open up!” At this point I looked at Dustin and attempted to warn him (entirely too late) that we might not be able to determine the sex of the baby in this visit, and if not, he shouldn’t be too disappointed. He half-heartedly lied that it would be ok either way, just as we both had half-heartedly responded to the technician that we weren’t hoping for a boy or a girl…just a healthy baby would be fine with us! The whole truth is not only did we both think it was a boy, we both deep down wanted a boy. I had gone back and forth in my mind about what I truly wanted, and had thought I didn’t have a preference- but the truth is, it was a little like choosing a restaurant with friends. You say you’re fine with anything, until they choose pizza, and you realize you had your heart set on cheeseburgers all along. And so went my self-denial. Throughout the exam as I watched the little profile dance upon the screen, watched the baby open its tiny mouth, flex its itty bitty tongue, move its baby baby fingers, I was sure- it was a boy. It felt like a boy, and looked like a boy. So when the baby moved its legs apart, giving us all a clear view of its “down theres”, and the technician was able to quickly, and assuredly announce “It’s a girl”, I found myself not only surprised…But disappointed.

And that is the word that I am never supposed to use. No mother is supposed to be disappointed with their baby. Ever. And if you are, you certainly not supposed to say it, or write it, especially in an adorable little keepsake journal that you plan to pass on to said baby later in life.  But for real: I was disappointed. I had hoped for a boy to start our family- to be the older sibling, to look just like Dustin and follow in his footsteps, to pave the way for many siblings to come. A girl had always been a possibility of course, but just didn’t feel like what we meant to have.

But these were not appropriate thoughts for the occasion, so I quickly shoved them back, looked at Dustin, and smiled! A girl! Was I excited? Of course! Who wouldn’t be! That’s just great! A girl!

Dustin was quick to notice my half grin, and empty expression, probably because he was wearing a similar mask. I knew in my heart that he shared my feelings. He was disappointed, which could only mean that I had let him down. I failed to give him the boy he so desired. But there wasn’t much time to dwell….the exam was wrapping up. The tech burned a DVD and checked my ovaries (for what? I wasn’t sure…) She then announced that she was going to have the doctor come in and check- making special note to assure us that nothing was wrong. Dustin and I exchanged glances during our brief alone time, and kept up the fake assurances, that Sure! We were fine! A girl is amazing!

The doctor came in, again telling us that nothing was wrong, he just wanted to take a look. And so he did. And a quick swish of the wand later, he informed me, “There’s nothing wrong with your ovaries…we thought there might be, but based on your history, I wouldn’t worry about it.” We were left a little dumbfounded by this- especially after the multiple specific reassurances that he hadn’t come in due to a problem. But based on the news, we didn’t make and issue, and were quickly ready to go. (Though I was informed that my placenta was in a low position, something they would need to check at the 28 week mark. The tech told me again not to worry, especially because there is nothing I can do to  “move it” so we’ll just wait and hope for the best. Not exactly the words I always dreamed of hearing, but in light of all the good news about having a healthy baby, we decided to take the Zen route, and save the placenta worries for another day.)

Dustin and I gathered up our stuff, now proudly toting photos and video of our very own baby…but there was still a thickness to the air between us. We each tried to keep of the charade that we weren’t disappointed in the slightest, by telling each other how happy we were…but we didn’t want to overdo it (if you’re really that happy, you don’t have to go out of your way to prove your happiness, right?) so it led to a quiet, slightly somber trip up to the doctor’s office.  Soon enough we gave up the ruse, and graduated to making any effort to convince each other (and ourselves) that this was the best news! We named first-born girls that we thought turned out ok, we brought up how happy my mom, and Janet would be, and I in particular repeated more than once, “It’s ok…I’ll totally be excited about this someday. I’ll get there.”

But as the days passed, I worried that I might not get there. I actually had a small fantasy for the first few days that the technician must be wrong- we shouldn’t even prepare for a girl, because we would undoubtedly find out at our next appointment that it was all a mistake. Our baby boy was in there after all! I lamented to myself that it just didn’t feel like a girl, and more dramatically, I wondered if I would ever really bond with her. I felt like a failure for not producing a boy, and an immensely bigger failure for being anything less than elated about our baby, regardless of sex.

A scant ten days later, I can’t say that I’ve had a one hundred percent change of heart. After all, I did think for four months I was having a boy, so it very well may take more than a week to adjust to the new reality. But I have had moments where I’ve begun to see the blessing that this girl will undoubtedly be. When writing a Father’s Day journal, I was brought to tears thinking about the men in my life, and how well they love me…I was struck by how lucky I am, and how special they are, but most of all how much I look forward to seeing that love poured out on my baby girl. I can picture Dustin falling in love with her sweet little face, and the imaginary image of them cuddled up together is enough to erase any doubts or fears I had about raising a girl. I love my mom tremendously, so it would make sense that I would want to recreate that bond with my own child (and I do!) but for some reason at this stage, my heart has become set on envisioning the relationship between my little girl, and her daddy.  I know that regardless of his jokes about wanting a boy, or even his initial reaction of slight disappointment, Dustin will love our girl beyond anything I can describe, or maybe even understand. And knowing that he is ok, makes me ok.

Plus- I bought the cutest little striped romper…and thinking about our baby’s chubby thighs sticking out of that little outfit might just be enough to convince me I want nothing but daughters. Almost…

You’re a girl. Despite what we thought…and what others predicted…you are a girl. A perfect little girl. The girl that God has chosen to join our family. A girl that we already love beyond measure.

8 months

You didn't think I forgot, did you? Noooooooo. Just got caught up wrangling our little 8 month old monkey and didn't get a chance to post this month's faces. (plus we were on vacation during her actual "month-birthday" so we had to take these shots when we got home). But better late than never, I always say (seriously...I'm starting so say that more and more).

 

She's got as much (more!) personality as ever, but it's getting harder and harder to capture her sweet little face each time. Pics 2 and 4 showcase her full on frustration, and in shots 6 and 8, she's got her arms out in an attempt to escape. She doesn't want to lay on the blanket (or anywhere really). She wants to be on the move! So between successful snaps, I also have quite a few of these:

I give her about 2 days before she's full on crawling, and life as we know it is officially over (again.)

 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7.

Babies, Backyards and BBQ's

...those are just some of my favorite B's of Summer....(along with bathing suits, breezes, boat rides, and a certain Bowden Boy)....

But somehow, someway, without my consent, we're already almost halfway through July! Summer will be gone before we know it, so we've been trying to taking advantage of all this season has to offer. Only trouble with that is we've been too busy making memories, to stop and document them much...so allow me to dump some slightly random, but totally adorable Summer fun on you....

Happy Friday!

(For more alphabet fun: Check out some of our favorite Summer B's from three years ago!)

{31 Things} Day 10: Evening

Something about even just the word "evening" is so calm and relaxing. We often have a lot to do after work, so our evenings aren't always restful, but usually we try to squeeze in a least a little quiet time together. I crave a break between a crazy afternoon and a sleepy night. Ideally, we aim to protect a bit of special evening time to hang out and wind down before settling in for the night.

Our routine isn't set in stone, but we do have a typical pattern for weeknights. Work has to wrap up by five-fifteen for whoever is picking up piper. I'd like to say we take turns, but more often than not, Dustin is the one who can slip away first. I try to follow shortly, leaving by six. Piper usually needs a nap first thing- her nap schedule at daycare is still all over the place so she tends to be super tired when we get her. She'll sleep for an hour or less, and we'll use that time to tidy up, wash bottles, and make dinner. By seven she's usually up and ready for to eat. I nurse her upstairs (my bed has become our designated nursing spot) and then we head down to eat dinner as a family. I tend to plan the meals, but Dustin does the bulk of the cooking, which is awesome. It's so nice to come down the stairs with a full, happy baby, to be greeted with a delicious meal.

Growing up, my family ate together almost every night, and it's a tradition that is important to me. Piper may not know the difference yet, but I like setting up a routine of gathering around the table each evening to break bread (or at least pizza!) and talk about our days. We've been introducing Piper to food, so she typically noshes on something while we eat our meal. We're trying to let her feed herself if possible, so that we're free to focus on our own food (rather than having to spoon her mush while our dinner gets cold). If we're lucky she'll stay content in her seat until we're done. If we're not so lucky then one of us holds her while the other finishes eating.

After dinner we have some time to play. Depending on how messy dinner was (meaning if Piper fed herself) we might have bathtime. She’s really learning to love the bath, which makes it a lot more fun. We divide and conquer usually, with one of us scrubbing Piper, and the other cleaning up a bit more around the house (Dustin usually takes her, while I buzz around folding clothes, and clearing clutter). After she’s dried off and jammy-‘ed up, we try to squeeze in some storytime. Her attention and patience is typically wearing thin by this point so we’re lucky if we make it through a whole book, but I love snuggling up in our bed, even if she’s more of a wiggle worm than a bookworm.

Bedtime for Bonzo (an old saying my dad was fond of) is around eight-thirty. She’s getting better at going to sleep, so we’re able to lay her down fairly easily, with only a few minutes of crying before she’s off in dreamland. We try to wrap up any chores- washing bottles or remaining dishes, bringing up clean laundry, etc.- and the night (or what’s left of it) is ours! Typically we’ll watch an episode or two of TV online, or we’ll each surf the internet for a while (blogging for me, Eagles website for him)- but it’s usually not more than an hour before we can’t keep our eyes open anymore. I miss the days of staying up late indulging in milkshakes and full nights of Must-See TV or similar guilty pleasures. We both struggle to feel like we have any free time to ourselves, and though we could probably make better use of this late evening hour, after a long day of work, it’s a challenge to find the motivation to do anything but veg-out. It may not always be the most productive use of time, but a nightcap of couch snuggles and no-brainer comedy (or even more brainless Bachelor episode) is fine by me. After all, there will always be more chores to do and errands to run…That’s why God created Saturdays.

Red, White and Cute

Someone's suitcase is 4th of July ready...

Those Villagers (Village People?) are going to eat her up.

Fris-cup

Sometimes I keep things from you, dear internet friends, and it makes me feel guilty. Sure-you know all about our precious baby, you've gone on virtual tours of our house (even the messy parts) and we've shown you more photos of our food than you probably ever want to see….But I’ve been holding out on you, and it’s time to come clean.

 Internet- meet Fris-cup. Fris-cup, internet.

Friscup is a game that was introduced to us by a former Young Life kid (thanks Seth!) a few years ago, and we’ve been playing ever since (not literally…I mean, we do have to work sometimes.) We’ve shared it with our families at various bar-b-que parties, and I’ve taken a hundred pictures of the action, but somehow I’ve never bothered to share it here. But with 4th of July shin-digs coming up, I figure it's the perfect time to get your outdoor game on. So on the off-chance you’re not familiar with the awesomeness that is Fris-cup, allow me to fix that.

It’s a (really) simple game- akin to the summertime classics Ladderball and Cornhole- boasting easy to learn rules, appropriateness for all ages and incredibly cheap materials (a Frisbee, Solo-cups, and reflective parking sticks from Home Depot.) It requires only 2 minutes to set up, and takes next to no space for storing/transporting. (no, the Fris-cup association isn’t paying me for this endorsement…but I’m open to it!)

Here's the "official" rules: 
Plant 2 sticks in the ground about a Frisbee width apart and place an upside down cup on each. Duplicate the set up about 20ft away. Two teams take turns trying to knock the cups off of the opponents’ sticks by throwing a Frisbee. If a team knocks a cup off- they get one point. If the opposing team catches the cup- they get the point. (No points for hitting the sticks, or for catching the Frisbee.) If a team gets the Frisbee through the sticks field-goal style, without knocking over the sticks or cups- they get 3 points. Take turns throwing until one team reaches 11 points.

So easy, and so fun! I love to play, but I also get a kick out of watching others….the expressions that are made when straining for a catch are priceless.

It's still kind of a little known game (though it does have a few names: Fricket anyone?), but I think it's only a matter of time before it hits the big time, and people are playing in every in backyards, on beaches, and at bbq's across the country. Fris on!

P.s. This post reminded me of our backyard cornhole tournaments, and led me to this little gem in the archives. If you haven't seen this video, it's worth 14 seconds of your time to see my husband get ridiculous.