Yoga Pants

I have become a fashion “don’t.” I’m not sure when it happened, and I don’t think I can pinpoint an exact date of my fashion demise even if I wanted to. I do suspect that the slide started happening shortly before my first child was born. I vaguely remember wearing the same pair of sweatpants through my entire pregnancy with The Boy. Coupled with a fancy red hooded sweatshirt that at one point in time belonged to my DH, I was a vision indeed. I remember DH trying to take pictures of me when I was pregnant, and I would always tell him not to because I was wearing my “grubby clothes.” He came back at one point with “you are always wearing your grubby clothes.” He was right of course, but I don’t think I had quite realized it yet. Of course I wore work appropriate maternity clothes during the day, but when I got home I immediately changed into those lovely gray sweats, a t-shirt of some sort, and that fancy red sweatshirt. Comfort was what was required after wearing horrible maternity pants all day long, pants that were either too tight or too big, but never just right. Maternity jeans that slowly rode down throughout the day, forcing me to pull them up any time I got up from standing, lest I have the crotch of my pants around my knees. Maternity pants that started out as “these pants are so big they will certainly fit me through all 9 months,” and ended up being too tight to wear much past 8 months of pregnancy. Ah, the memories.

After The Boy was born, I was so very eager to fit back into my pre-pregnancy clothes, but of course they didn’t fit me immediately. Maternity clothes could not continue being worn, because I had spent maybe 6 months wearing the same things over and over and over again, and since I was no longer pregnant just couldn’t stomach the fact that I still needed them. The old trusty sweatpants were so worn by that point, that I am fairly sure they had several holes in them in places pants cannot have holes and continue to be worn in public. I also had not yet reached the point where I found it acceptable to wear sweatpants in public. I think this is when I discovered yoga pants. Yoga pants are wonderful things, they are comfy like sweat pants, but have a nice boot leg that tries to deceive you into thinking they are “real” pants. They are fairly form fitting, which works to their advantage, by the 3rd day in a row you are wearing them they are feeling pretty good. They are somewhat stretched out, but not so much that you feel they need to be washed. The yoga pant also tricks you into thinking they are appropriate to wear in the outside world. Paired with a v-neck top you almost fool yourself into thinking you are dressed up.

Now that I have lost most of the baby weight from both children, I find myself still longing to wear the yoga pants. I love fall weather because it means I no longer have to suffer with shorts, I can hide my legs sufficiently with yoga pants again. I come home from work, go for my run, take a shower, and change into my beloved black yoga pants. The Old Navy yoga pant is very nice, but I just picked up a new pair of Danskin yoga pants, that are giving the ONs a run for their money. On the weekends, I consider myself dressed up if I am wearing jeans. Yes, I have become a fashion don’t. If I ever end up on What Not to Wear, they will have to pry the yoga pants from my hands, or maybe I would just have to hide them in our mini-van. Surely, nobody would suspect that a Mom of two kids under the age of 4 would be so addicted to yoga pants would they? I think I afforded myself too much comfort while I was pregnant, and now there is no turning back. I look at skirts and suits with disgust as I think about having to tuck in shirts all day long. Give me my yoga pants, and I am one happy camper.


Silver sickness

I’m gone and my baby girl is sick again. Have I mentioned before how much I hate traveling? I feel so helpless and useless stuck in a hotel room as my DH is the one to take The Girl to urgent care, and the one who has to take a day off work tomorrow (two days if I can’t manage to get home tomorrow rather than Friday). I want to be the one home with her. My poor little girl has croup. If I thought Mommy guilt was horrible when the kids are healthy, mommy guilt is 100 times worse when they are sick. Business travel sucks. If you ever come across another traveling Mom’s blog, please send me the link. It would be really nice to read how others handle this crap.

I got my Silver Elite package in the mail the other day. I remember the first time I made Silver Elite, back before I had kids. I was practically giddy when the package arrived. I was so happy about the prospect of first class upgrades, and intrigued by the “status” it implied. Now I see it for what it is worth, not much. 25,000 miles of my butt on an airplane this year, I haven’t yet worked backwards to figure out how many nights those miles had me away from my family, and I don’t think it would be productive or healthy for me to do so. I had hoped that I would never make any sort of airline status again in my life when I left my previous traveling job. Now I wonder how I let myself get back here again. Maybe the status will help me get a flight back home tomorrow without penalties for changes, there has to be a silver lining somewhere doesn’t there? Well, I already called and no, my status doesn't help one bit. Now to decide if $162 to change my ticket is worth it or not.


The Tables have Turned

I am the traveling spouse, not my DH, but this week my friends, the roles have shifted. DH is in China, much farther away than my trips ever take me. So far the week has been okay. I have a new perspective for how much DH does to help with the house and the kids though. I honestly think all single parents deserve a big round of applause, because to do this constantly would wear me down. I’ve actually been fairly impressed with myself, as I haven’t been resorting to more television watching time than normal (for the kids). I even distracted the kids when we got home yesterday long enough to make dinner without using the TV as a babysitter. Granted, they just had Easy Mac and peas, but at least their tummies were full. I have had to resort to letting the kids watch morning TV in my bed while I showered on a couple of occasions though. This morning The Girl woke up (she was in my bed after waking up crying in her crib at maybe 1 am, the path of least resistance – read sleep – includes just bringing her back into my bed and snuggling her until she falls asleep again) when I tried to get out of bed to head to the shower. I turned on Disney channel and she was mostly content with one of my not so favorite shows (still tolerable): Higglytown Heroes (someday I will write a blog post about the alternate “heroes” that DH and I have come up with, but not today). I can see her on our bed through the shower door in the master bathroom, so I knew she was fine. I can’t imagine what I would have done in the days before cable TV. I suppose we would have to make better use of some sort of playpen structure on occasions like this.

The rest of the morning at home went relatively smoothly, aside from The Boy not wanting to wake up, and loudly protesting about the fact that I pulled him out of bed, took off his PJs and plopped him on the toilet so he could pee. Oh well, at least he accomplished what I needed him to. I managed to coax him back to happy ever so gently, and I think he ended up forgiving me for the original offense. He watched Little Einstein’s, I took The Girl downstairs, made my lunch while eating a bowl of cereal, gave The Girl a piece of string cheese and a sippy of milk (protein right?), took the garbage can out to the curb, and somehow managed to coax The Boy downstairs to get his shoes and jacket on so we could leave. I even got to work and plopped onto an 8 am conference call just 2 or 3 minutes late. I think that went better than it sometimes does when DH is home. Is it sad though, that sitting down at my desk at work with a cup of coffee has me more relaxed than I was at home all morning?


Johnny and the Sprites

I don’t know how it is possible to have a song stuck in your head for three days, but it is. It would be one thing if it were a catchy tune, or even a song I enjoyed listening to. This song is neither. It is the theme song to a show on the Disney Channel. Scratch that, it is the theme song to a “mini show” on the Disney Channel, called Johnny and the Sprites. If you don’t have little children you likely don’t spend much time watching Playhouse Disney, but since I do have small children we watch far too much Disney Channel so I am all too familiar. The mini shows come on in between the other shows, since Playhouse Disney doesn’t have commercials in the traditional sense (they have plenty of advertising for other Disney shows though!). So, back to my Johnny and the Sprites rant, I will quickly sum up the story for you: Johnny went to live in this house in the woods, to work on his music On His Own, of course. Then he realized it was not just a house, but a magical place, he realized he was not alone. See you are starting to think this could be the good start of a cheesy horror movie aren’t you? Anyway, now he’s Johnny…AND THE SPRITES, Johnny, AND THE SPRITES, JOHNNY, AND THE SPRITES! The sprites are two horrible Muppet looking creatures, and they complain endlessly about things. Mostly I try to change the channel when they come on, but sometimes I am in the midst of getting ready for work and the TV is a great babysitter during that time. The only real problem is that the stupid theme song has been running through my head since maybe Tuesday. I’ll be sitting at my desk working away, and suddenly I’m humming Johnny, and the sprites, Johnny, and the sprites, Johnny! Ugh!

I won’t even get started on the Hot Dog song from the new Mickey Mouse animated clubhouse show; thankfully that hasn’t made it to my internal radio yet. Perhaps someone can tell me what they say at the end of the show though when they say: “We’re splitting the scene, we’re full of (cheer?)” I swear they say we’re full of beer, which frankly makes the show more enjoyable for me. I can now smile about Mickey kicking back a few beers at the clubhouse with Donald and Goofy (if anyone drinks Goofy does right?). Okay, now that I’ve veered off track, I have replaced the Johnny and the Sprites song in my head with the Mickey song. I don’t think it is a vast improvement, but at least it is different. Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog…


A race report

I mentioned several months back that I had signed up for a 10 mile race, so I figured I owe my loyal reader a race report. The race was the Twin Cities 10-miler, and it took place this past Sunday starting at 7:10 am. The race festivities began for me the day before when I packed up the kids and took them to the marathon expo to get my race packet. I think I had a temporary lapse of sanity when I offered to take both kids by myself, but since I had been gone all week I felt like DH deserved at least a brief period of time to be ALONE in the house. He didn’t protest in the least, so I suspect he was happy to be kid free for a few hours. Back to my story, we got to the Expo site and I decided to just pay the exorbitant $10 to park at the closest most convenient ramp, robbery I tell you! I had decided to just put The Girl in the Ergo backpack, and make The Boy ride in one of our many strollers. This plan was working well; I made my way to pick up my packet without incident. However, then I got greedy and decided to browse through the many booths at the expo. The Girl decided this was a great time to start pulling my hair HARD. I kept turning around to correct her, but it wasn’t working. She just kept grabbing huge chunks of my hair and pulling with all of her might. I finally had The Boy get out of the stroller, took her off of my back, and strapped her into the stroller instead. My scalp thanked me, but now I was dealing with a preschooler who likes to wander just a little too far away from me for me to feel comfortable in a huge crowd of people. We had to leave. $10 to park for maybe 20 minutes of expo attendance, not bad for the parking lot owners anyway. I took the kids home for naps, and tried to just relax for the rest of the day. Sadly The Girl fell asleep for approximately 5 minutes on the drive home, and seemed to proclaim “what do you mean I need a nap? I had a nap in the car, don’t you remember Mom?” The afternoon was spent fighting with an uncooperative toddler, and she never did take a nap.

Later that evening, DH and I were discussing the plan for getting me to the start of the race at approximately 6:30 am. Neither of us was enthused about our options, all of which involved waking up children earlier than they should be woken up. Out of the blue the phone rang, and our fabulous DCP offered to come over to sit with the kids in the morning so DH could drop me off w/o having to wake up the kids, problem solved! Have I mentioned before how fabulous our DCP is? I don’t even remember telling her that I was running the race.

The morning of the race, things went smoothly, I woke up, showered, ate, had some coffee, and it was off to the start. DH dropped me off a few blocks away from the start, I walked over and used the bathrooms a few times while I polished off a bottle of water. I made my way back to the starting line, and took my place in the second wave starting gate. Someone sang the Star Spangled Banner, the mayor of Minneapolis spoke, and wave one started. A minute or so later, wave 2 was released and we were off. I won’t bore you with a step-by-step recount of the race, because frankly I don’t even think I am capable of writing one. Mostly I felt good during the race. There were a few uphills that had my legs screaming, but cardio-wise I felt good through the entire race. I let myself walk up one big hill that just always gets to me whenever I run it (from the river up to Summit Avenue). I think my problem with that hill is mostly mental, but my legs thanked me for walking it anyway.

I tried calling DH (yes I had my cell phone in my pocket) when I was maybe one mile from the finish line, to let him know that I was close, but he missed my call. I didn’t realize until after I finished that he had tried calling me back immediately after that call. I decided to just give the last mile more effort than I had been giving the preceding miles, when I reached the Cathedral I really kicked it in. I sailed to the finish line, and was thankful to be able to stop running. The finishing chute is longer than you think it is when you see it from the Cathedral. I didn’t see DH or the kids anywhere near the finish, but we had agreed to meet in the family meeting area so I just made my way through the crowd, got my t-shirt and my free food and found the first letter of my last name sign. DH and the kids weren’t there, and DH wasn’t answering his phone, so I waited until he finally called me back. They found me, and we made our way to the car and headed back home.

My only complaint from the race was that my left foot was hurting from early on in the race and continued to hurt afterwards. I had been nursing a soft tissue injury (self-diagnosis from a visible bruise on the bottom of my foot) for several weeks, and I think the run aggravated it. I’m also wondering if my trusty Asics need to be switched out for something that fits my feet better. I’ve had arch issues before, and they were related to a new pair of Asics, and I think I ended up in Brooks for a time after that debacle. Of course the injury occurred in a very old worn pair of shoes, so I want to give the new shoes I have a few more weeks before I switch them out.

Next race? I’m not sure. I doubt I will run anything this winter, but perhaps a Thanksgiving 5K would be fun.