Archive | July, 2013

The Many Ways I’m Sucking.

Welcome! You’re just in time for Sarah’s pity party! Take off your shoes and make yourself at home. The crappy refreshments will be out aaaaaany second, just as soon as that good-for-nothing hostess gets her act together.

Refreshments will include a punch made from Sarah’s tears and a cornucopia filled with Sarah’s guilt. It’s not quite filling and it will go straight to your hips.

In order for me to go back to work, I started watching sales and sale sites and whatnot, even back when I was still pregnant. I even ordered clothes from those mass sale sites when I was all laid up in bed with contractions. I’ve ordered some clothes recently from online stores having insane sales.

I cannot wear any of them. ANY. OF. THEM. BECAUSE I AM MASSIVE.

This impacts my self-esteem like nothing else I can articulate. I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want anyone to tell me that I “look great!” Don’t even get me started on what I don’t want my husband to do to me.

Because no one should have to do these things. Have you seen me? No one should be subjected to this.


So, funny story. I wrote this yesterday.

This past weekend – and it kind of came to a head yesterday, obviously – I was in a pretty dark place. Exhaustion is one thing. I know that, eventually, the not sleeping through the night thing ends. (IT SHOULD, ANYWAY.) The finding quality one-on-one time with all of the kids is also hard, but it’s necessary.

Clearly, though, I was having a bit of an issue with Me. And My Body.

Then last night, I went to a kick-off meeting for my next No Boundaries 5k training class.

Man, I didn’t want to go. I was tired – ALWAYS tired – and I didn’t want people to see me. I just knew what would happen: they’d see me and say Oh my God, look at how HUGE she is! She had that baby almost two months ago! Why does she still look pregnant?!

But I went anyway. And as always, NoBo proved me wrong.

There were hugs and high-fives. Chants and cheers. Lots of laughing.

And in this really weird turn of events, I was really really sad we weren’t running last night. I realized how much I missed it – the running, the people, the distraction, the pace. Starting a run and eventually finishing it had become a necessary therapy for me.

I drove home elated and in an insanely good mood. I was still tired, but I was clear-headed. I was focused. And I was Me again.

I’ve run a few times in the last few weeks, and it’s HARD. My feet feel like lead, and my endurance is nonexistent. My pacing is off and my breathing is shallow. I struggle. I’m sore for days afterwards and then I dread the next run.

But after last night? I cannot WAIT to do up my laces again.

Comments { 2 }

And We Have Re-Entry.

“And I’d like to welcome back a mother of three..”

This was brought up in a meeting I attended yesterday at work. What follows are my honest-to-Jeebus thoughts, in the order they occurred.

Three kids? THREE? Geez, who has THREE kids? Are they trying to build their own football team?

Wait, three kids? I think I have three kids now.

Holy crap. He’s talking about ME.


I am at my desk right now. At work.

I have no carseat in my car with which to pick up the youngest child.

I might as well be a brand new parent, for all of the stuff I’ve forgotten.


Vinnie had his first day at daycare yesterday. How’d he do? He was great. He slept a LOT. Like, HOURS. STRAIGHT. And then was up from 10 p.m. till 2:15 a.m. – I think, because at 2:15 a.m. I just gave up and put him in his crib and then passed out – and then was up again at some point because Bryan had just put him down at 5:20 when my alarm went off. And the child was still awake.

Since this is NOT my first child, I have the benefit of knowing that this does get better.

But man. MAN. It better improve quickly.


Tony is having some emo moments, where he’s clearly realizing that he’s no longer the baby of the family. While I’m exhausted and crabby, I can’t help but be heartbroken over his adjustment.

He’s such a sweet soul, guys. One day last week, daycare called because he had asked to go to the office and speak to the administrator, where he put his hands on his head and said, “I just need to go home now,” while sobbing.


And I think that there’s no good way to prepare a child for a baby, because you know what? Babies are downright boring. They don’t do ANYTHING right out of the womb, outside of noise disruption and dirty diapers. So poor Tony had such ideas of all the stuff he was going to teach his baby brother, and then lo and behold, said baby brother is barely a sentient being.

We’re all adjusting, so I’ll give him time. (And maybe some extra attention.)


One of these babies is Vinnie, the rest are Tony. ISN’T THAT INSANE?

Comments { 2 }

Preparing for Re-Entry

Every time I’ve started a new job or assignment in my professional life, I’ve had to talk myself down from ledges early on, calmly rationalizing to the perfectionist part of my brain that no one is perfect at a new job/task/assignment on the first day. Probably even the second day. So a little slack and a lot of patience would probably go a long way in guaranteeing success .. and my ability to stay out of a padded room.

I think parenthood is much like that. The first few weeks, I remember thinking, God, I suck at this and I don’t know how Tony’s not ruined, but I’m SURELY screwing this newer model up and WHY DID I HAVE ANOTHER KID and other such things. I think there’s a reason I can’t remember the early, early newborn weeks with Tony and that’s because, as a kindness, our brains erase the really terrible parts so that we might continue procreating.


But now, five weeks in, I don’t feel so overwhelmed. While saying we have a “routine” is probably a stretch, I’m much more relaxed with whatever the day brings. I’m actually enjoying it now, believe it or not. I’ve relaxed enough to nap on occasion, and I’m learning how to balance housework with babywork and time for me. (I actually am not good at the last part, but I’m still learning.)

Of course, since I’m finally feeling comfortable in my new role, IT’S TIME TO GO BACK TO WORK.

I know I’ve said (more than a few times) that I was ready to get back to work and be a grown-up. And that’s true. I have the privilege of loving my job and what I do, and I realize how rare that makes my existence. I miss my coworkers, I miss the adrenaline and deadlines, and I miss having something substantial to talk about. (Right now, my conversations revolve around bowel movements and feeding schedules, and then I fall eerily quiet.) I really am looking forward to getting back to what is a defined, comfortable space for me.


I have high, high, HIGH anxiety about other parts of my returning to work. And since this blog serves as my therapist, let me make myself comfortable on this here couch and share them with you.

I’m busy. Although – obviously – my work would never force something on me if I said it was a difficulty for my family, my work schedule as I left it was a hard one. I was at work most mornings by 6:45 a.m. and rarely left before 5:00 p.m. Now, again, I could raise my hand and say This won’t work anymore and maybe that’s what’ll happen. But most likely not. See, I chose this. Loving what you do sometimes means that you spend long hours doing it. But the reality is that this means Bryan will have THREE CHILDREN to get ready for school. And after a month, none of them will actually attend the same school. (Downside of having children spaced out as we do.) So I don’t know the right answer here. Cue anxiety.

I’m fat. This sounds like a silly thing to fret about, doesn’t it? I KNOW, IT TOTALLY DOES. And while, sure, my personal demons are tormenting me all the time, the larger issue at hand is that I have nothing to wear. Seriously. Although it’s slowly coming off, I’m still needing to shed about 35 baby pounds. You can’t just coerce those pounds to fit into what I was wearing before pregnancy. Luckily, my employer is health-focused, and my new office building has a fitness center. (And five flights of stairs to my office.) I also signed up for the next 5K training class, which is a 2x/week class. So I have a path. But day one? Will totally be sporting maternity clothes. Cue anxiety.

I’m emotional. The biggest struggle for me, as a woman, is not being emotional at work. Empathetic, sure. Compassionate, yes. But emotional? Rarely. The last time I cried at work was when a coworker showed me a video of a soldier surprising his family with his unexpected return. (THANKS, PATRICK.) But I’m still sweating out the hormones over here, and I tend to blubber a bit. Over STUPID stuff. (Today, I cried at The People’s Court because a woman’s iPod was ruined and it had her wedding song on it.) Cue anxiety.

I’m new. While I’ve actually been on this program since Tony was five months old, I’ve been gone for six weeks. Which, coincidentally, began the day after our new program director came on-board. So I have NO idea what’s been going on over there. I’m walking into a potentially new program, overhauled in my absence. I’m usually a quick learner (she repeats to herself to calm her nerves), so I’m sure it’s not long before I fall into a rhythm. BUT WHAT IF I DON’T? WHAT IF I DON’T HAVE A PLACE ANYMORE? Cue anxiety.

Disclaimer: I am incredibly fortunate to 1) have a job that offers 2) paid maternity leave and is 3) not affected by furlough. I am aware of these points, so no need to make them in the comment section.

All in all, the bottom line is this: a week from today, I’ll scan my badge and find my desk again. I’ll be lost for a little while, but I’ll muddle through it. I’ll figure it out because that’s the only answer. And I promise: I WILL NEVER TAKE MATERNITY LEAVE AGAIN.

Gratuitous baby pics:

Comments { 5 }

The Baby Stuff I’ve Bought Lately

It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Because let’s face it: I don’t have a whole lot going on right now. I blew through the seasons of Downton Abbey WAY too quickly and now I’m suffering withdrawals – although Bryan is glad it’s over, because I tend to speak with a British accent and throw dramatic shady looks his way when I’m in my Downton throws. I have three series waiting for me to begin them (Sherlock, Justified, and Sons of Anarchy), but it’s getting harder and harder to find time.

That’s what’s insane about the newborn period. You’re bored. BORED SILLY. And yet? You have no time. You’re exhausted, but the baby sleeps probably 15 hours a day. You’re overwhelmed, but dying to go back to work so you have something to do. NONE OF THIS MAKES SENSE. It’s amazing we’ve continued as a species, because why would anyone willingly go through this more than once?

We’re doing well here, in spite of the insanity of a new baby. We got new carpet this week, which has made this place feel like a whole new house. I didn’t realize how dire our old carpet situation was until this new stuff got put in, frankly. Vinnie is a relatively good baby, although he’s a bottomless pit. We worried for the first three weeks that he had lost a significant amount of weight, so we switched to formula and he chunked right back up. (I call Vinnie the frat boy – he’s loud, he gets [milk] drunk and then vomits, and he has no idea what to do with a boob.)

Anyway. Stuff.

I’m a big believer of the swaddle for newborns. This is mostly because I like to sleep. When we were registering prior to the baby, I mentioned registering for some premade swaddles (as in Insert Limbs Here and Here and TA DA! Swaddle Complete!), but Bryan said he was really good at swaddling with a blanket. I did not remember this, but I didn’t remember us swaddling Tony, either. When the time came and Bryan looked lost at the prospect of forming a baby burrito, I ordered two SwaddleMe blankets with a quickness. These are SUPER easy to use (Insert baby / Zip / Sleep), and the zipper is a two-way, meaning you can change a diaper without completely unswaddling. They wash well, too.

We registered for Tommee Tippee bottles for no discernible reason other than I thought they looked cool. A month into feeding with them and .. meh. They’re okay. The shape – while cool looking – is kind of not made to fit into any normal diaper bag holders or things of that nature. The design of the bottle itself is not bad at all, although their is a vent-hole in the nipple that has to be facing up for air to pass through. At three o’clock in the morning, trying to find a miniscule hole is not the easiest task. But in the pro side, the numbers are EXTREMELY easy to read, which is a problem we’ve found on other bottles.

My mother was nice enough to pick up a Brest Friend Pillow for me early on, and I cannot rave about it highly enough. (Although, COME ON with the name .. at least SPELL Breast correctly!) I used a Boppy with Tony and while it was okay, it wasn’t stable enough for me to feel safe using it. This thing is seriously sturdy, enough so that I make Tony wear it when he feeds Vinnie. It’s comfortable, it supports your back, and it’s straight up like a tray table. I would have an entire plethora of stuff on mine around the baby. It held my wine glass PERFECTLY. (I kid.)

.. or do I? MWUAHAHAHA. (Again, not a lot of sleep happening here guys.)

Comments { 0 }