Friday Round-Up

Lots of interesting and/or humorous things tend to occur during the week.  The problems with writing about these weekday occurrences are as follows:
1.            Sometimes the topic isn’t enough for me to base an entire post.  Okay, I could, but some of you have already complained about my wordiness in previous posts (side eye…you know who you are).
2.            Miles usually hits the hay around 9p.  This leaves me with a couple options: I could write; or, I could flop on the couch and watch all the TV programs that have nudity, swearing, vampires, zombies, toddlers (and their tiaras!) with the volume at a normal level and without having to mute anything, or worry about whether Miles’ first words will be, “SPARKLE BABY, SPARKLE!!!”
3.            I’m tired.  Like, a lot.
4.            Wine.
So, in an attempt to share the fascinating things that happen in our day to day lives during the week, I thought I’d start a “Friday Round-Up.”  I am also accepting suggestions for a better post title.  Now, on to the good stuff…
This week, Chobani tried to poison me.  I am a huge fan of Greek yogurt (and not just because of the John Stamos commercials).  Recently, Chobani came out with a line they call “Flips.”  They have that little separate cup on the side, full of delicious, crunchy, sweet things to dump into your yogurt.  It is awesomesauce times a million.  I’ve been eating them for breakfast every day this week.
On Wednesday, I decided to try the banana yogurt.  It had almonds and dark chocolate chips to dump in.  I just knew it was going to be delicious.  I took a bite, and it was not at all what I expected.  Greek yogurt can be sour, yes…but this was like kick you in the teeth sour.  It was weird.  I asked a co-worker of mine to taste my yogurt (WITH MY OWN SPOON – that’s how you know this was serious) and she said it seemed okay, just tasted extra sour.  So I ate it, because I’m cheap and don’t like to waste food.  Also, I had Mylanta in my purse, just in case.
Thursday, I decided to try the key lime yogurt.  It had graham crackers and white chocolate chips.  It was like pie for breakfast.  I started to open the yogurt, and noticed the peel-off top seemed a little puffy.  Whatever, I was hungry.  I opened the yogurt, and noticed some seemed to have leaked out the side.  Whatever, I was hungry and now I could see white chocolate chips.  Then I looked at the yogurt, and saw what I thought could be mold, but decided must be pieces of key lime.  I ate the heck out of that yogurt, and it was wonderful.
Friday, my co-worker (who told me the banana yogurt was safe) saw on Chobani’s Facebook page that they had issued a recall on “certain” yogurts with a particular lot number and expiration date.  I went to the fridge to check the yogurt I brought for that day’s breakfast…contaminated.  In fact, all of the yogurts I had purchased (and subsequently eaten) for the last five days were from the recall batch.  Every.  Single.  One.
I still almost ate the blueberry yogurt, though.  I was hungry and figured since I hadn’t gotten sick yet, what would be the harm?  Instead, I settled on an English muffin.  I have seven yogurts sitting in the fridge, waiting to be returned to Publix.  Damn you, Chobani.
Also this week, I’ve found our daycare parking lot turns into a demolition derby once you get too close to 8am.  You know that scene in Fried Green Tomatoes where Kathy Bates’ character beats the stupid college girl in the VW to the good parking spot at the Piggly Wiggly?  You know, “TOWANDAAAA!” and “Because I’m older, and I have better insurance.”  Yes, that’s our parking lot at 7:58am.
Maybe not every parent realizes this, but toddlers/young children are short.  Like, barely taller than the tires on your super obnoxious Hummer that you park at the very front and take up two – sometimes three – parking spaces.  Even though your child, who is FOUR YEARS OLD, can walk perfectly fine leaving you know real reason to take the spots that parents with children in carriers/strollers would really appreciate having.  Hummer McDouche has nearly backed over a child three times in the past month, because of she’s always running late and always has to park thisclose to the school.
No one likes inconsiderate drivers, I get it.  But they really, really irritate me.  To the point that I would like to carry a dozen expired eggs around with me at all times, hurling them at drivers who make selfish decisions on the road and in parking lots.  The only thing stopping me (besides my husband, who reminds me I could get shot and/or arrested) is asking myself, “WWJD?”  Jesus would not throw eggs at bad drivers.  But maybe, just maybe, Jesus will make sure they get six red lights on their way to work.
Finally this week, Miles has continued his attempts at crawling.  He’s getting really good at working his back end, getting up on his knees and sometimes up on his feet with his legs locked (imagine a horse with its front end asleep and its back end totally ready to run the Derby).  He moves himself forward, but he hasn’t quite mastered the arm movements.  So most of the time, he ends up shoving his face across his floor blanket.  He’s also gotten his Army crawl/pull down, and will drag himself forward by pulling on the blanket.  If he has a toy just out of reach, he’ll use the blank to pull it closer.  Lazy kid.
I have said it 10,786,455 times (and I’ll say it a lot in the future, too) but it is so super cool to watch your child learn, discover and grow.  Every time he figures something out, the expression on his face is amazing.  We could just sit and stare at him for hours, if he didn’t think it was so creepy.
Alright, it’s feeding time at the zoo.  Happy Saturday, y’all!
Not throwing eggs,


Back to the (Coffee) Grind

I remember the last few days of my pregnancy very well.  As our April 16thdue date inched closer, we wrapped up lots of “last minute” things around the house: finishing touches in the nursery, organizing kitchen cabinets, tree trimming, installing the carseat, learning how to use all the “baby gadgets” we were given.  And by our April 14thappointment with our midwife, we came to the realization that Baby C was going to take after mom…punctuality was not important.
So, I continued working.  I desperately clung to each working day, wanting to wait until the very last possible minute to start maternity leave, because I wanted as much time at home as possible.  Finally, my midwife advised that I should just go ahead and begin leave.  By continuing to work, I could end up delaying my own labor.  I needed to be home relaxing (which, in hindsight, really was a blessing).
I was anxious and sad about starting leave before Baby C arrived; I was so sure that I would waste a week or two still being pregnant.  I started my leave on a Wednesday, and at 2:30a that Sunday (five days past our due date) my water broke.  But, that’s another story… J
I spent 10½  weeks at home, 10 of which I enjoyed with our sweet Miles.  Then, the day arrived: back to the grind.  It was a bittersweet feeling; I had a fair amount of sadness, guilt and fear about Miles starting daycare – but I was also excited to be back at work, knowing I would be just a few blocks from Miles during the day.  This put an extra layer of guilt to my Emotional Sandwich, because I kept thinking to myself, “Why am I excited about going back to work?!”
Some women were made to be stay at home moms (Carol Brady); some women were made to be career moms (Murphy Brown), and some women (most that I know, myself included) thrive on a combination of both work and home life.  I love Miles endlessly, and love every single second of every minute of every hour I spend with him…but I also enjoy my career and the challenges it brings.  I recognize the blessing of a two income household, and consider all the things we’ll be able to do for our children because of that choice.  For us, the small sacrifice of working during their early years will be worth it down the road.
But that first day back to work…man, was it tough.  Evan went with me to drop Miles off at daycare that morning.  I felt good about our daycare choice; it’s an excellent, faith based daycare, with the most incredibly loving staff.  I knew Miles was in good hands.  But me?  Sheesh…I was getting ready to head back to Corporate America.
I cried my New Mom tears as I hugged Miles goodbye.  I reassured him I would be back, and told him how much fun he would have.  He smiled and cooed, not the least bit concerned about me leaving.  I made it to the truck, and the waterworks began.
The next few days grew gradually easier.  Then, I began to notice something at drop-off and pick-up…I had joined a new club.  Working moms and dads came and went, hugging their kids, telling them they’d be back in the afternoon, reminding them of how much fun they’d have at daycare/preschool that day, and it was all smiles.  The walk back to the parking lot was sometimes smiley, and sometimes not, but one thing was common: we all gave each other that knowing “working parent” look.
There is a sense of camaraderie among the Working Parent Club.  We all have the same struggles: mental, physical and emotional.  We are the ones who will let the dinner dishes wait until 11p, because we can get an extra hour of playtime with our babies.  We are the ones who will still read “Goodnight Moon” six times, even though we’ve been mentally taxed for the better part of the day.  We are the ones who will cry both tears of sadness and joy when the gal at daycare tells us our baby rolled over, pulled up, walked, talked, or tied his shoes on his own.  We are the ones who will work extra hours, take an extra case load, or push for that bonus, just to ensure we have the most wonderful summer vacation imaginable.  We are the ones who can make a few hours of time together the most awesome, incredible, fun-filled hours ever…and the weekends even better.
Yes, we share the knowing looks, smiles and chatter with each other in the parking lot, because we know we are not alone in our struggles.  The Working Parent Club is just another extension of family, and an incredible blessing to have in good times and not-so-good times.  These are the people who know exactly what you’re going through without explanation, and are there for you without hesitation.

And, they understand why you bought the extra-extra large iced coffee with the double turbo shot from Dunkin’ Donuts.