It's baby weight, people, and it's got to go.

Is it really almost Thanksgiving?  I am ill-prepared for how quickly time is flying...it seems as though I blink and another day is over and done!

Somebody slow it down!  Please?!  That way I can at least pretend to blame the fact that "I just had a baby" for my weight. 

What I mean is, last night I went shopping - for the first time since having a baby (Yes, I realize that he is 4 months old.  Yes, I realize that still wearing my maternity pants is like giving away hooch at the Betty Ford.  Quit judging.).  It was a disaster of epic proportions.  And by epic proportions, I mean I feel as though I have a body of epic proportions.  I have never considered myself slender, (except for that one time years ago before my friend's wedding when I did the Atkins and could be found at the gym most mornings with my Mama.  I was definitely slender then...) but I've never considered myself huge, either.  Mostly, just...festively plump.  But now...now I feel like my body isn't even remotely my own.  It's as though one minute I knew body - what styles worked, how my stubby legs fit in certain pants and that the right pair of heels could instantly change how I looked - and then I had a baby and clothes fit differently, shoes fit differently and even my hair feels different.  My waist doesn't suck in like it used to and even with a good bra...well, draw your own conclusions, friends.

So, I've made a commitment to myself - and I'm writing it down because if I don't, I can't hold myself accountable - I am going to eat better.  I am going to exercise 3 days a week.  I am going to take my vitamin.  I am going to be happy with the body that I have - saggy boobs and jiggly bum and all - and I will not set unattainable weight-loss goals for myself.  Slow and steady, my friends, wins the race every time. 

Is it really almost Thanksgiving?  I am ill-prepared for how quickly time is flying...it seems as though I blink and another day is over and done!

Somebody slow it down!  Please?!  That way I can at least pretend to blame the fact that "I just had a baby" for my weight. 

What I mean is, last night I went shopping - for the first time since having a baby (Yes, I realize that he is 4 months old.  Yes, I realize that still wearing my maternity pants is like giving away hooch at the Betty Ford.  Quit judging.).  It was a disaster of epic proportions.  And by epic proportions, I mean I feel as though I have a body of epic proportions.  I have never considered myself slender, (except for that one time years ago before my friend's wedding when I did the Atkins and could be found at the gym most mornings with my Mama.  I was definitely slender then...) but I've never considered myself huge, either.  Mostly, just...festively plump.  But now...now I feel like my body isn't even remotely my own.  It's as though one minute I knew body - what styles worked, how my stubby legs fit in certain pants and that the right pair of heels could instantly change how I looked - and then I had a baby and clothes fit differently, shoes fit differently and even my hair feels different.  My waist doesn't suck in like it used to and even with a good bra...well, draw your own conclusions, friends.

So, I've made a commitment to myself - and I'm writing it down because if I don't, I can't hold myself accountable - I am going to eat better.  I am going to exercise 3 days a week.  I am going to take my vitamin.  I am going to be happy with the body that I have - saggy boobs and jiggly bum and all - and I will not set unattainable weight-loss goals for myself.  Slow and steady, my friends, wins the race every time. 

31

Today I have been ruminating on turning 31.  Don't misunderstand...I have always been an advocate of the aging process; I've earned my age and you can be damn sure that I don't want to be 23 again (what a weird age) or 18 (grody).  I liked each year when I experienced them (some more than others), but I appreciate every year that I have under my belt and the knowledge that comes with it.  I also had the benefit of growing up in a house that embraced birthdays and aging.  I don't ever remember hearing my Mama or my Dad lament their age or not want to celebrate a birthday because they felt they were getting old.  They've always been very comfortable with where they are in life and I think I've picked up on that.

Yesterday was a good birthday...very laid back.  Finn let me sleep in until 8:15 (which felt like a miracle), I left him at day care only long enough to get my hair cut and then Uriah picked us up for a late afternoon lunch (which was actually a cocktail and appetizer snack).  I got to pick out a couple of presents, which Abby wrapped and gave to me, oblivious of the fact that I picked them out...my surprise face was very convincing and she is none the wiser.  She signed the card from her and Finn.  Uriah made me dinner and we watched our "Tuesday Story" (The Good Wife) and I was sound asleep for hours when Sarah tried to call me at 11:45pm (still technically my birthday, it was a nice message, though).

There was no huge hoopla.  No sparklers or a late night party or hangover the next day.  I'll leave that stuff to the young kids.  I'm 31, after all.  And happy to be here.

Today I have been ruminating on turning 31.  Don't misunderstand...I have always been an advocate of the aging process; I've earned my age and you can be damn sure that I don't want to be 23 again (what a weird age) or 18 (grody).  I liked each year when I experienced them (some more than others), but I appreciate every year that I have under my belt and the knowledge that comes with it.  I also had the benefit of growing up in a house that embraced birthdays and aging.  I don't ever remember hearing my Mama or my Dad lament their age or not want to celebrate a birthday because they felt they were getting old.  They've always been very comfortable with where they are in life and I think I've picked up on that.

Yesterday was a good birthday...very laid back.  Finn let me sleep in until 8:15 (which felt like a miracle), I left him at day care only long enough to get my hair cut and then Uriah picked us up for a late afternoon lunch (which was actually a cocktail and appetizer snack).  I got to pick out a couple of presents, which Abby wrapped and gave to me, oblivious of the fact that I picked them out...my surprise face was very convincing and she is none the wiser.  She signed the card from her and Finn.  Uriah made me dinner and we watched our "Tuesday Story" (The Good Wife) and I was sound asleep for hours when Sarah tried to call me at 11:45pm (still technically my birthday, it was a nice message, though).

There was no huge hoopla.  No sparklers or a late night party or hangover the next day.  I'll leave that stuff to the young kids.  I'm 31, after all.  And happy to be here.

It's a not-so-Merry Meatloaf Christmas

I cannot make meatloaf to save my soul.  I can, however, take some moderately good pictures of my kiddos.

Let's start with the pictures, since they weren't a complete bust. 

I am determined to send out Christmas cards this year.  Last year there was no Hefter Family Christmas Missive because I was freshly pregnant and too tired and very crabby and my appetite was voracious and I had no idea what I wanted to eat and my pants were fitting a little (ok, a lot) tight and suffice it to say there was no way I was going to smile for a damn Christmas card, much less address and stamp the envelopes in a timely manner.  Something had to go last Christmas and since I'm pretty sure Abby would have staged a full-scale revolt if I nixed the Christmas presents, I let the Christmas card slide.  Fast forward one year: I have a waist again (sort of, well, more than I did last year, anyway, and I have ankles, too, but that's not really the point, I just like to point out that I have ankles again.) and loads more energy and two cute kids who I haven't photographed together for some time.  So I took advantage of the final days of fall here and we struck off for the wilderness.  And by wilderness, I mean the local park becasue this is the big bad city, after all.  And by we, I mean Uriah and me and the kiddos.

And we got these:

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a 4-month old to look at you?  Quantum Physics hard, that's how hard (unless you're Uriah, then that analogy would not apply).  I did get a couple of photos where Finn and Abby are looking the same general direction, but I'll save those for the Chrsitmas card surprise...Uriah plans to pen a "family upadate" and I am trying to prepare myself, because I can but barely imagine what he will try to include in that letter.  I feel my editing pen quivering in my fingers...

And now, the meatloaf, which was not a complete bust, but did leave a little to be desired.

Flavor-wise, it was great.  I tried a recipe that was not my Mama's and I will admit, it was not as good but it was okay and I added bacon to the top and bacon really does make the world (me) smile.  I'm going to do a little combining of the two recipes to see if I can't make a new meat loaf hybrid.  First, though, I have to figure out how to make it more loaf-like.  I cannot seem to get it to stick together.  I've tried more bread,which you would think would help to dry it out a little bit.  Nope.  I tried two eggs, which I thought would help bind it a little bit better.  Not happening.  By the way, I hate the word loaf but I like meatloaf and, alas, there is no alternative.  Final result: Uriah has offered to tutor me in the art of making a meatloaf (lucky me) - I think we've come up with some possible reasons as to why my meatloaf does not, in fact, resemble a loaf.  I forsee another night of meatloaf in our future...and to be honest, I'm not really that upset about it.

Tonight, however, I will leave you with this:

This was the last picture that I took this afternoon and Finn was pretty much over it.  We had been to two different parks and at this point had wound up at Hillcrest (Uriah's golf course) where I had plans for some really good pictures on the cart path and maybe a couple scenic ones on the 18th hole.  Finn had other plans: namely, a snack.  He was a half an hour late for his afternoon snickety-snack and even his sister was not going to get him to smile one last time. 

I like it, though.  I think it accurately portrays our family.

I cannot make meatloaf to save my soul.  I can, however, take some moderately good pictures of my kiddos.

Let's start with the pictures, since they weren't a complete bust. 

I am determined to send out Christmas cards this year.  Last year there was no Hefter Family Christmas Missive because I was freshly pregnant and too tired and very crabby and my appetite was voracious and I had no idea what I wanted to eat and my pants were fitting a little (ok, a lot) tight and suffice it to say there was no way I was going to smile for a damn Christmas card, much less address and stamp the envelopes in a timely manner.  Something had to go last Christmas and since I'm pretty sure Abby would have staged a full-scale revolt if I nixed the Christmas presents, I let the Christmas card slide.  Fast forward one year: I have a waist again (sort of, well, more than I did last year, anyway, and I have ankles, too, but that's not really the point, I just like to point out that I have ankles again.) and loads more energy and two cute kids who I haven't photographed together for some time.  So I took advantage of the final days of fall here and we struck off for the wilderness.  And by wilderness, I mean the local park becasue this is the big bad city, after all.  And by we, I mean Uriah and me and the kiddos.

And we got these:

Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a 4-month old to look at you?  Quantum Physics hard, that's how hard (unless you're Uriah, then that analogy would not apply).  I did get a couple of photos where Finn and Abby are looking the same general direction, but I'll save those for the Chrsitmas card surprise...Uriah plans to pen a "family upadate" and I am trying to prepare myself, because I can but barely imagine what he will try to include in that letter.  I feel my editing pen quivering in my fingers...

And now, the meatloaf, which was not a complete bust, but did leave a little to be desired.

Flavor-wise, it was great.  I tried a recipe that was not my Mama's and I will admit, it was not as good but it was okay and I added bacon to the top and bacon really does make the world (me) smile.  I'm going to do a little combining of the two recipes to see if I can't make a new meat loaf hybrid.  First, though, I have to figure out how to make it more loaf-like.  I cannot seem to get it to stick together.  I've tried more bread,which you would think would help to dry it out a little bit.  Nope.  I tried two eggs, which I thought would help bind it a little bit better.  Not happening.  By the way, I hate the word loaf but I like meatloaf and, alas, there is no alternative.  Final result: Uriah has offered to tutor me in the art of making a meatloaf (lucky me) - I think we've come up with some possible reasons as to why my meatloaf does not, in fact, resemble a loaf.  I forsee another night of meatloaf in our future...and to be honest, I'm not really that upset about it.

Tonight, however, I will leave you with this:

This was the last picture that I took this afternoon and Finn was pretty much over it.  We had been to two different parks and at this point had wound up at Hillcrest (Uriah's golf course) where I had plans for some really good pictures on the cart path and maybe a couple scenic ones on the 18th hole.  Finn had other plans: namely, a snack.  He was a half an hour late for his afternoon snickety-snack and even his sister was not going to get him to smile one last time. 

I like it, though.  I think it accurately portrays our family.

Friday with Finn

His socks say "Butter Me Up" on the bottom...

A long time ago, when I had lots of free time and a subscription to Bon Appetite I would wait anxiously for it to come every month and then spend hours pouring over that magazine when it came in the mail, placing post-it notes on pages of recipes that had a nice variety of ingredients and pictures that made my mouth water.   I could look at a single month six or seven times and find something new each time I flipped through the pages.  It was in the pages of Bon Appetite that I learned to make a Thanksgiving Turkey and found the most delicious breakfast egg and mashed potato dish.  Back then I lived with my parents and each month I would choose one recipe every month to try out...we ate really well on a regular basis, but it was always fun to try something outside of our comfort zone.

That was then...the days of wine and roses.  Now my magazine of choice is Parents and my week is a goat rodeo at night when we're getting home from work, making dinner, getting Finn organized, hearing about Abby's day, showers/baths and lights out for safety.  I rely very heavily on having a menu planned out so that we're not scrambling to get something thrown together for dinner.

On the weekend, however, I can experiment.  And I still pull out my old Bon Appetite magazines, which I have moved 4 times (even though my Dad told me he'd never move "those damn magazines" again and Uriah tried to forbid me from bringing them South because he didn't want to lift the boxes).

I have time to devote to the kitchen even if I have to pause half way through because my favorite helper needs a snack or a nap.  Last weekend, I utilized my BFF Beverly to make pumpkin bars - with real roasted pumpkin, not the canned stuff! - and cream cheese frosting.  And I am telling you what...I may never go back to the canned pumpkin.  Ever.  I also found a recipe for Thai Chicken pizza, which was good, but a bit spicy for Abs.  And I employed BFF to make some honey wheat bread.

This weekend is going to be more of the same...I'm going to experiment with meat loaf (because it's rainy and cold and it feels like meat loaf weather) and I found a couple of cranberry sauce recipes that I want to try.  We're having the having Post Family dinner at my house on Sunday (and by Post Family, I mean those of us that have defected to the dirty, dirty South) so I get to do some experimenting on Sunday, too.  I'm giddy with anticipation right now; after I put Baby Boy to bed tonight, I'm going to dive into that stack of Bon Appetite and find a couple of good appetizers for Sunday.

The days of really experimenting with food again are a ways into the future, and my subscription to Bon Appetite won't be renewed for a couple of years, but Abby is ever the adventurous eater, so it is my fervent hope that Finn learns to love food - all food - as much as the rest of us so that I can continue to do what I love to do...cook something interesting and make my family happy.

His socks say "Butter Me Up" on the bottom...

A long time ago, when I had lots of free time and a subscription to Bon Appetite I would wait anxiously for it to come every month and then spend hours pouring over that magazine when it came in the mail, placing post-it notes on pages of recipes that had a nice variety of ingredients and pictures that made my mouth water.   I could look at a single month six or seven times and find something new each time I flipped through the pages.  It was in the pages of Bon Appetite that I learned to make a Thanksgiving Turkey and found the most delicious breakfast egg and mashed potato dish.  Back then I lived with my parents and each month I would choose one recipe every month to try out...we ate really well on a regular basis, but it was always fun to try something outside of our comfort zone.

That was then...the days of wine and roses.  Now my magazine of choice is Parents and my week is a goat rodeo at night when we're getting home from work, making dinner, getting Finn organized, hearing about Abby's day, showers/baths and lights out for safety.  I rely very heavily on having a menu planned out so that we're not scrambling to get something thrown together for dinner.

On the weekend, however, I can experiment.  And I still pull out my old Bon Appetite magazines, which I have moved 4 times (even though my Dad told me he'd never move "those damn magazines" again and Uriah tried to forbid me from bringing them South because he didn't want to lift the boxes).

I have time to devote to the kitchen even if I have to pause half way through because my favorite helper needs a snack or a nap.  Last weekend, I utilized my BFF Beverly to make pumpkin bars - with real roasted pumpkin, not the canned stuff! - and cream cheese frosting.  And I am telling you what...I may never go back to the canned pumpkin.  Ever.  I also found a recipe for Thai Chicken pizza, which was good, but a bit spicy for Abs.  And I employed BFF to make some honey wheat bread.

This weekend is going to be more of the same...I'm going to experiment with meat loaf (because it's rainy and cold and it feels like meat loaf weather) and I found a couple of cranberry sauce recipes that I want to try.  We're having the having Post Family dinner at my house on Sunday (and by Post Family, I mean those of us that have defected to the dirty, dirty South) so I get to do some experimenting on Sunday, too.  I'm giddy with anticipation right now; after I put Baby Boy to bed tonight, I'm going to dive into that stack of Bon Appetite and find a couple of good appetizers for Sunday.

The days of really experimenting with food again are a ways into the future, and my subscription to Bon Appetite won't be renewed for a couple of years, but Abby is ever the adventurous eater, so it is my fervent hope that Finn learns to love food - all food - as much as the rest of us so that I can continue to do what I love to do...cook something interesting and make my family happy.

Sleep: Interrupted

Happy Hump Day.  Did yours start at 3 am like mine?  No?  Well, then you're in luck!  Finn is throwing a middle-of-the-night-party...and y'all are invited.  Please show up at my house between 12:30 am and 4 am for a swinging good time with one very alert boy.  No RSVP necessary, I'll just open the door and pass him off to you...entertain at will; lock the door behind you when you leave.

What?  You don't want to show up at my house in the ass-crack of night?  You don't want to get out of the warm softness of your bed, walk across a cold hardwood floor to a crying baby?  You don't want to wipe away snot form his nose and real tears from his eyes and change his diaper and have a lovely conversation before the sun has even started to think about maybe rising?  I can't imagine why not.

Monday night (so I guess, technically Tuesday morning...) he woke up about 12:30 am.  I changed him.  I rocked him.  I talked to him.  I rocked him some more.  I gave him a snack.  And then he and I had a bit of a come-to-Jesus chat when he decided that he still didn't want to go to sleep and the clock said 2 am.  Last night he was awake at 3am.  Uriah got up with him and, of course, he was only up for about an hour...but it's hard to fall back  to sleep when you've been rudely awakened and then once I do, it feels like I'm only asleep for 12 seconds before the alarm goes off.  On the plus side, my alarm clock is set to the Christmas music station.  Don't judge.

I'll be happy when he has his 4-month check up in a couple of weeks because I'm not quite sure what's going on.  He went from sleeping really well through the night to waking up in the middle of it.  We thought maybe he was hungry, so we fed him a little more before bed, but that does not seem to be the problem because, clearly, he's still waking up.  I'm hesitant to put some rice cereal in his bottle yet, although everyone I've talked to said it's like the nectar of the Gods and it got their kiddos through the night.  I may buckle if this late-night trend continues because I am dang tired today. 

In other news...Abby's birthday is coming up.  She lets us know just about every night.  And she also marked it on the calendar.  In case we forgot.  Let me just tell you that if I have another baby (in 74 years) it will not be born in December.  It is too hard to come up with a tween-appropriate gift for one holiday, much less two in the same month.  Suggestions would be nice since she put cowboy hat and cowboy boots on her list.  Seriously?  I'm gonna need some help here...

Happy Hump Day.  Did yours start at 3 am like mine?  No?  Well, then you're in luck!  Finn is throwing a middle-of-the-night-party...and y'all are invited.  Please show up at my house between 12:30 am and 4 am for a swinging good time with one very alert boy.  No RSVP necessary, I'll just open the door and pass him off to you...entertain at will; lock the door behind you when you leave.

What?  You don't want to show up at my house in the ass-crack of night?  You don't want to get out of the warm softness of your bed, walk across a cold hardwood floor to a crying baby?  You don't want to wipe away snot form his nose and real tears from his eyes and change his diaper and have a lovely conversation before the sun has even started to think about maybe rising?  I can't imagine why not.

Monday night (so I guess, technically Tuesday morning...) he woke up about 12:30 am.  I changed him.  I rocked him.  I talked to him.  I rocked him some more.  I gave him a snack.  And then he and I had a bit of a come-to-Jesus chat when he decided that he still didn't want to go to sleep and the clock said 2 am.  Last night he was awake at 3am.  Uriah got up with him and, of course, he was only up for about an hour...but it's hard to fall back  to sleep when you've been rudely awakened and then once I do, it feels like I'm only asleep for 12 seconds before the alarm goes off.  On the plus side, my alarm clock is set to the Christmas music station.  Don't judge.

I'll be happy when he has his 4-month check up in a couple of weeks because I'm not quite sure what's going on.  He went from sleeping really well through the night to waking up in the middle of it.  We thought maybe he was hungry, so we fed him a little more before bed, but that does not seem to be the problem because, clearly, he's still waking up.  I'm hesitant to put some rice cereal in his bottle yet, although everyone I've talked to said it's like the nectar of the Gods and it got their kiddos through the night.  I may buckle if this late-night trend continues because I am dang tired today. 

In other news...Abby's birthday is coming up.  She lets us know just about every night.  And she also marked it on the calendar.  In case we forgot.  Let me just tell you that if I have another baby (in 74 years) it will not be born in December.  It is too hard to come up with a tween-appropriate gift for one holiday, much less two in the same month.  Suggestions would be nice since she put cowboy hat and cowboy boots on her list.  Seriously?  I'm gonna need some help here...