using aspirin during pregnancy weight loss | Jigsaw puzzle

using aspirin during pregnancy weight loss

Me, Im waiting so patiently, lying on the floor

Im just trying to do my jigsaw puzzle before it rains anymore?

-The Rolling Stones

Well, the past week has been an adventure. An adventure? Maybe a trial, a test, or a lesson in patience would be a better way to describe it. It sounds like one of my friends has had a similar week (see her blog: "A typical ordinary day").

This week was strange. I dont know why my babies have been resisting naps, which they otherwise enjoy. Our day yesterday:

O woke up at 0700, which is much, much too early for a momma who (now) rarely goes to bed before midnight and expects to wake up somewhere around 0830/0900. Begrudgingly, I realized around 0715 that his sporadic fussing was not going to cease and dragged myself to the coffee maker. After feeding O and D breakfast-- D was so excited to see Momma out of bed that early-- I did my devotional. D informed me that God likes "flat Bibles," as he opened his Bible and smoothed it open. If that means Bibles that are being read, I would have to agree. Around 0900, I realized C should probably come join the rest of the world. After sneaking into his room and gently waking him, he rolled over and gave me a look that I can only describe as adolescent, "Why are you waking me at this hour??" Breakfast for the tired baby before off to play time...

Play time didnt happen. C wanted to run after D, who did not want his toys touched. O wanted all of Cs toys; C want Os toys; D wanted Cs toys... round and round and round. Can I take one-year old twins and a three-year old to counseling to talk about the root of their sharing issues? "Why do you feel like you dont want your brother to push trucks with you?" "Well, it all started when I was around 13-months. You see..."

All three boys felt that the best person to get involved in a screaming blood bath was, of course, me. I had a one-year old hanging off my yoga pants. A one-year old clinging to me like a baby monkey. A three-year old following behind and whining. And a sweet, dumb dog thinking this meant we were going for a walk. ("Leash!? Walk!? Door!?" No, Louis, me walking around the house with all three boys hanging on me does not mean we are going for a walk. Please stop barking and jumping in front of me.) And so, at 1030, I felt naptime was the best solution. Off to bed with the one-year olds. To the couch with the three-year old. ("Do I get to watch a movie?" "No, D man, you do not." "Can I watch Hercules?" "Well, I guess so. I like Hercules." My three-year old has caught on to my weakness for Disney movies.)

Once in their cribs, do I hear silence from the moments ago wailing one-year olds? No. I hear peals of laughter. What. Are. They. Laughing. About. I want to go in and see, but, as Momma, if I walk in there, that will be the end of any naptime that possibly could have taken place. I read Ephesians instead. Perhaps Paul can rouse the peace of the Lord in me. (Psalm 119:165, "Great peace have those who love your law, and nothing can make them stumble.") I had previously written a blog concerning several of the verses in Ephesians titled "We can work it out." So I get all pumped up again. I will not exasperate my children. I will watch my words (much of chapter 4 and 5 are dedicated to our words-- extremely convicting for a parent who is constantly talking, "Sit down. Do not hit. We do not ride our brothers like horses. We do not throw books."). I decide to spend the time the boys are "sleeping" to write. Which does not happen.

D sees me sit down and is immediately intrigued. "What are you doing? Are you writing again? What are you writing? Can I write? Can I share a chair with you? Can I share your pen?" (Sharing is a very important concept to a three-year old when they are the beneficiary of the sharing.) The one-year olds now realize that I am perhaps going to leave them in there are long as they are not screaming. They remedy their situation by screaming. Out of bed they go. At this point, I figure they are hungry, especially O, who ate breakfast 2 hours earlier than normal. I should say, only O was hungry because C shoved most of his sandwich down his shirt (a day later and I think he still has jam in his hair). Lunch now over, play time commences...

Play time didnt happen (again). Screaming, wailing, not sharing, a certain someone insisting everyone share with him, a certain Momma walking around with three children hanging on her (again), a certain dog thinking it is time for a walk (again). I think, Christ intercedes for us when we make the same mistakes over and over again. Im going to choose the path of peace and show them how to play together. Psalm 120:7 basically sums up how that went: "I am for peace; but when I speak, they are for war."

O had a truck that he wanted to use to bang against my face. C wanted to eat my hair. D didnt want his brothers in my lap. Louis, the dog, of course, wanted us to go for a walk, until C found a dog toy--a squeaking hot dog-- to play with. Then Louis wanted the toy C was holding, which, of course, C did not want to share. When both C and Louis were interested in this squeaking hot dog, D wanted the toy. "I want the hot dog, please! Make him share with me!" "D, he was playing with the hot dog. Thank you for using please, but that does not mean you can have the hot dog." With now the dog and both his brothers vying for the same plastic, squeaking hot dog, O decided that he too wanted the hot dog. All of this took place in my lap.

Nap time (again). This time the babies babbled and played and squealed with absolute delight for 20 minutes before I knew one of them-- at least-- was asleep. Ten minutes later there was silence from their lair. This left me and D. I had every intention of writing a few more pages. D had every intention to annoy me within an inch of my sanity.

D: "What are you doing, Momma?"

Me: "Im writing, D man. Why dont you go play with your trains?"

D: "Well, I want to play with my trains, but I need your pen."

Me: "You cant have my pen, bud. You need to let Momma write. Can you please go find D man things to do?"

D" "Well, I want to find things to do, but I dont want to do anything."

Silence from me. That statement doesnt even make sense.

D: "I dont want to do anything. Hey, Momma, I dont want to do anything."

Me: "Thats fine, D. Why dont you go in the family room and do nothing while you lay on the couch?"

D: "Well, I dont want to lay on the couch, okay? I dont want to do anything in here."

Me: "D, you need to let Momma work. Im done talking."

D: "Okay, Momma. Im done talking too. Okay? Hey, Momma, Im done talking too. Momma?"

Me: "Yes, D. I hear you. Please let me work. Thank you."

D meanders to the family room where he peaks around the corner every couple minutes.

D: "Psst. Momma, I love you."

Me: "I love you too, D man. Please let me work."

D: "Okay, Momma. I will. I love you more."

Me: "Thank you, D man. Now, please let me work."

Silence.

D: "Psst. Momma, I love you."

Me: "D man. I love you too. You need to let me work."

And then guess what he finds? That hot dog. The plastic, squeaking hot dog. You know those dog toys that let out the really loud squeak as the air goes out of them, with the quiet, raspy squeak as the air goes back into them? Yes. The hot dog is one of those toys. At this point, I would rather have heard a pen click, click, click, click over and over again like that kid in high school who used to do that during essay exams.

SQUEAK....squeak.... SQUEAK...squeak.... SQUEAK....squeak.... SQUEAK...squeak....

Me: "D man. You have to stop that, please. I cant listen to that anymore."

D: "Okay, Momma. Im just playing with the hot dog."

SQUEAK....squeak.... SQUEAK...squeak....

Me: "D man. What did I just say?"

D: "You said not to play with the hot dog."

Me: "So what should you be doing?"

D: "Not playing with the hot dog."

Me: "Why dont you play the piano?"

D: "Okay, Momma."

Silence.

D: "Momma, I dont want to do anything. Momma? I dont want to do anything."

It would be an understatement to say that D is not a "self-starter." Unless you are playing the game with him, or talking to him, or in the same room as him, he is not very interested in playing the game. And so, I wrote with D man sitting quietly in the chair next to me, asking me something or rather every few minutes.

D, in a whisper, "Momma, how is your writing going?"

Me: "D, you are right here with me interrupting. How do you think it is going?"

D: "Pretty good. God loves you and sent his son."

Me: "Yes, he did, bud. God loves you too."

D: "Yeah, God is pretty cool."

Me: "Yes, bud, he is. Why dont you read your Bible?"

D: "Yeah, but I dont want to do anything."

Me: "Okay, then how about you let Momma work?"

D: "Okay."

And so, eventually, I couldnt focus and was just done writing. I close my notebook.

D: "Are you done working, Momma?"

Me: "Yes, I am."

D: "How was work, Momma? Did you get a lot done?"

This is the moment when that facial tick I joke about shows its twitchy head. You know what you want to say and you know what you should say.

Me: "Yes, D man, I did. Did you get any work done?"

D: "Well, not really. But, Im going to go play now."

There it is. That tick again. Oh, the irony. I am very blessed in the fact that I can find much amusement in irony. I had to laugh. And then he did-- he went and played. By himself. After all of that. I twiddled my thumbs for, say, four minutes before I heard the banshee shriek. And then silence. I crept down the hall. Are they awake? Is one of them awake? Silence. Still asleep. One probably woke up from a dream? I turn to creep back to the kitchen only to step on the foot of a preschooler.

D: "Ow, Momma! Why did you step on me?"

No reply. Finger over the lips in the universal sign for "Shhh!" and a stern point towards the kitchen. The rest of the afternoon was spent obsessively turning everything down when I thought I heard a baby cry and tip-toeing around the house. I banned D from flushing the toilet because his brothers finally were taking a good, long nap. We seriously walked on tip-toes if we had to go down the hallway. Eventually I told D I was going to go change my clothes, when I finally noticed the dried drool covering my black yoga pants (black is such a bad idea when you are staying home all day with young kids). D asked me why and I told him because Daddy was going to be home soon and I wanted to be in clean clothes. When I walked back into the family room, D says, "Oh, Momma! You got ready! Daddy will be so happy!" At that moment I didnt know if I should thank him or feel ashamed that even my three-year old has noticed my recent obsession with yoga pants. I did both.

Today was about the same, except we left the house. Yes, you read that correctly. We did leave the house. (And-- bonus-- I showered today too!) So I tried the morning nap approach while I got ready because they were, again, exceptionally fussy after breakfast. It didnt fly. They giggled and squealed until I was dressed and ready. I got everything else ready to go before going in to get them dressed. They flung themselves around their cribs, screaming with glee, happy to see me.

I stopped at Chic-Fil-A before going to Target. The line for the drive-thru was seriously around the building. I couldnt picture sitting in the line, so I decided to park and go in. Then I couldnt picture getting my stroller out just to go in to Chic-Fil-A for a to-go order, so I decided to go in sans stroller. Our first walking-in adventure. The babies did great. I held O in my arms, held Cs hand, and D held Cs other hand. We worked as a team to lift C down and up over the curb. Then we got inside. "Twins?!" "Are they twins?!" "God bless you!" "Look, honey, twins!" I ordered. A woman kept coming over and offering the babies straws. I politely took them from her. Finally she realized that I wasnt giving the straws to my toddlers and started handing them straws. Really, what it comes down to, is that getting out with babies is challenging, but the unforeseen challenges always prove to be the hardest. I told her that they cannot walk around with plastic straws in their mouths. She looked at me like I was crazy and both the boys started screaming because I took away a forbidden toy. And there I was. Without my stroller with two screaming toddlers, waiting for my order to come up. D ran to my rescue, "Momma! Do you need a hand?" He entertained one of the babies while I entertained the other. We grabbed our food and got out of there. (Why did she feel the need to give them straws? I will never understand that.) As we were leaving, a woman asked if they were twins. I said yes. She said to her husband, "See? I told you! They are twins." It was just a strange trip all around.

At Target, they ate their lunch in the stroller. D ate some of his lunch on the glider board, but was too excited to be at Target to focus on eating, "Momma! I love Target! Look at the Spiderman stuff!" The Target trip was exactly what you would expect with two one-year olds and a three-year old. Busy, but I managed. Dropped D off at his friends house. Went to the wholesale store. Dun. Dun. Dun.

C and O did not want to go to the wholesale store. They didnt want to sit in the cart. They didnt want up. They wanted to sleep. They wanted to throw things out of my cart. They wanted to pull on each others clothes. And, of course, this is the time that everyone noticed that I had twins with me. (Maybe because they could hear us coming from three aisles away?) The one line to be checked out by an employee was ridiculously long. I debated abandoning my cart and leaving, but felt too guilty to do that. So I jumped on a self-check out and made it work. They screamed, wailed, and flailed, then pathetically grabbed the cart handle and wept. I rushed. I did abandon as many non-perishables as I could. I used my card, even though I had cash (have you fed those self-check outs cash before?!). And we rushed home. Only for the babies to crumple into a weeping heap in my family room. Changed diapers. Laid them down for a late nap. And-- guess what-- I could hear the giggles and squealing as soon as I closed the door. I dont think they napped at all.

So, now Im going to go get them, give them dinner, and then play time... Hopefully play time happens.

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weight loss possible during pregnancy | Thanksgiving

weight loss possible during pregnancy

My small town, southern husband grew up living near all these different branches of his family. Thanksgiving was a time for them all to get together and cook great big, traditional Thanksgiving dinners. He told me he would then often drive over to friends houses and eat at there as well. Thanksgiving was a big holiday for his family. At my house, Christmas was the big holiday. Thanksgiving was the last stop before Christmas. We always decorated the day after Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving meant day-after sales (my favorite). You can imagine the look on his face a year or two ago when I suggested forgoing the traditional turkey dinner for something more fun-- something my family often did-- tacos. (Hey, we lived in California.) I managed to avoid any serious Thanksgiving conversations on our old boat because his division was always invited to a big Thanksgiving dinner at his chiefs house. Here in North Carolina we are on our own; Thanksgiving became my problem.

Last year I went through the motions and stressed over the prep work. Dont get me wrong; I loved the fruits of my labor, but it was a labor. This year I excitedly flipped through recipes, fine tuning last years feast. I took pictures all along the way to text to my parents. I baked four pies and a cheesecake. It was a rush and I loved it! As we were cleaning up, I told my husband about my plans for next year. Thats when I realized Ive become a person that loves Thanksgiving. So what does Thanksgiving mean to me?

?

Thanksgiving is about the only time in the year where I make multiple side dishes and cook for three days. Thanksgiving revolves around good food. I had a table set up just to hold the food! There was, of course, also a centerpiece (we had company). We dragged in our big folding table and set that up for eating. I bought a pretty table cloth and placemats and used my favorite decorating trick-- candles. Thanksgiving is about a festive mood. (The festive mood did arrive after my husband and Is fight about cooking the turkey. But what would Thanksgiving be without a fight over how to cook the turkey?) We laughed and snacked and hovered around the oven. We dressed the kids in some of their cuter clothes (read: not sweatpants and not stained). We talked about Thanksgivings in the past and where we will be next year. We talked about how much our kids had grown. When company arrived, we talked about family and the silliness of our kids. Thanksgiving is about quality time and reflection. I had a Thanksgiving day schedule of when what dish goes in the oven, for how long, and at what temperature. From 0830 to 1300, my oven was on. With all that time management, I still felt relaxed. We opened "bubbly" (apple cider) and later the adults had white then chocolate wine. I wore a silk shirt and my husband put on a pair of slacks. We helped each other out with the dishes and found the kids shenanigans amusing. Thanksgiving is about enjoying your blessings.

Next year we probably wont be living in this house for Thanksgiving, though we could be. Most likely we will be in South Carolina. My husband will be in power school. The year after that, we will most likely be back on a boat. Will he be home then? We have already spent many holidays and birthdays apart, between underways and duty days. It is such a treat to enjoy the holiday the day of the holiday. We know how blessed we are just to have my husband home to cut the turkey, something many of our military friends do not have this year. For us, Thanksgiving is also a time where we thank God for all the people serving in the military.

It took my husband almost six years. Persistence pays off; Im now a Thanksgiving person. Im looking forward to next years feast, cracking open my Thanksgiving recipe book, and starting our own holiday traditions. I cant wait to read Real Simples November 2013 issue. I love the idea of my children eagerly anticipating my many pies or for leftover turkey pot pie. I can already picture my boys excitedly planning playing football with Daddy Thanksgiving afternoon or napping during the game post-feast.

Hope everyone had a happy Thanksgiving!

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weight loss during pregnancy risks | Do as the toddlers do

weight loss during pregnancy risks

I am embarrassed to admit this, but up until recently I thought that our children were the additions to my husband and Is life, that we were supposed to adapt them to the rhythm of our lives. Surveying our house the other day, I realized how foolish this was. Whos calling the shots here? So Im re-writing the game plan. As they say, when in Rome, do as the toddlers do.


1. Reason is not real.
Who cares if you need a nap because company is coming over later? Who cares if you are only crying because you are tired? Who cares if there isnt more after all? These "reasons" are not tangible things and therefore they do not exist.

2. Throwing is a form of communication.
Whether you are done with your meal or showing your brother a cool toy he cant touch, throwing is a great way to get your message across.

3. Use your body language.
Take this very literally. If you are feeling down, flail on the floor. If you are excited or happy, run in circles with your hands in the air. If you want something, throw the weight of your body in the direction of the desired object. Arching your back is the absolute best way to show your dissatisfaction or to simply liven up an otherwise boring afternoon.

4. Cleanliness is next to weakness.
Wiping your nose, changing your diaper, or willingly taking your clothes off before bathtime are all signs that you were too weak to run away. The only time a clean nose and fresh baby powder scent is appropriate is after an epic battle. In that case, they are badges of honor.

5. Safety isnt just fun; its your job.
Books stacked on a case are a hazard. Drinks left willy-nilly on an end table are a hazard. Cell phones left emitting dangerous radiation on the couch are a hazard. Trash cans-- anywhere in the home-- are a hazard. Objects peaking over the edge of the counter are a hazard. It is your job to safely lay these objects out on the floor and thoroughly inspect them. Is that dog food or poison? There is only one way to find out.

6. Let your voice be heard.
Everywhere. Dont let the man silence you. Point and scream energetically at every balloon you see-- perhaps the others in your party havent seen it yet. If you are being reprimanded, throw your head back and cry loudly, "YOU CANNOT KEEP ME DOWN!" Church is a wonderful place to really stretch your vocal cords; the acoustics are fabulous.

7. Control your own destiny.
Is your stroller heading to Gymboree or the Gates of Mordor? Are you zipping past shiny objects on the ground or interesting benches that need to be climbed on? Dont let them strap you in! These things should be avoided at all costs: carseats, strollers, high chairs (especially restaurant high chairs), and shopping carts. It is near to impossible to escape these things once the straps close around you.

8. Sharing is for others.
Always insist on sharing. Your friends need to learn to share their toys with you. Your siblings need to learn to share the wagon. Your parents need to learn to share their food. But remember this: the people you welcome into your home are lucky you are sharing your time and oxygen with them. They do not need to touch your things.

9. Persistance pays off.
So someone says no to you when you climb on the kitchen table. Will they say no if you do it again? And again? And again? And if they really dont want you playing with whatever is in that cabinet, would they continue to store it in that cabinet?

10. Exercise each and every day.
Pre-bedtime runs are important; make sure to sprint in the opposite direction of the house as your bedroom when bedtime is announced. As soon as you get out of the car, take off running; parking lots have ample space to stretch your legs. Another great place is the mall. You can get a lot of exercise in doing figure eights around shopping racks or dashing from store to store. The best work outs are random. Run full speed in one direction then quickly cut left or turn around completely. If anyone tries to stop you, pretend you are on a tread mill while you are in their arms; that form of exercise is known as "cardio" and can be just as beneficial. Note: never work out with anyone; you will get less of a work out. If you find you are running with your brother, break away. Your health is important.

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