7.3

Crap. I thought I hit 8 this week and that sounded so good, but then I realized that couldn't be right based on the whole 40 weeks vs 9 months dealio, so I found a calculator online and I'm...7.3. As in months pregnant.

That's not nearly as milestone-sounding-y.

But it is over 80% complete, so that's something, right?

I'm not really in a rush to be done, because I'm quite far from being ready, so why this even matters, I don't know. I have been pregnant a really long time though, or so it feels. With Playette, I found out late. With her brother, I found out super early. It is what it is.

You know what I woke up thinking about this morning? Weight gain. Specifically, weight gain due to pregnancy after losing 52 pounds and then gaining back six, but who's counting.

I haven't done such a great job with this whole weight thing. I thought I'd do fantastic since I was thoroughly Weight Watchers-ized and in really good shape last summer, but the first trimester had me losing my mind by eating things regularly that used to be treats or Absolutely Nots. And then the whole working out thing went away.

So I'm up 30 pounds. Totally my fault. But strange all the same.

I didn't gain this much with Playette. I think it was 25 pounds by the time I gave birth.

But, then again, I started out 24 pounds lighter this time.

This is boring, I know. But it's what I've been thinking about.

You know, when I'm not busy stuffing my face with Pop Tarts.

At least they're not buttered.

Gymnasstics

What? That's not how you spell it?

So this whole gymnastics thing started out on a high note. The lady who taught the class used to offer one, gratis, to children with special needs via Special Olympics. For some reason, that stopped. I heard it low participation. I called her early in the summer after seeing a sign and asked if the class might start up again. She said she'd call me once school started and let me know. And she actually did. She told me the available time slot and offered a free trial throughout the month of September.

The following month, we began as full, paying customers. The number of children in the class fluctuated between two and three. I worked on helping the teacher reach more students, but, really, it was fine by us the way it was and the teacher never mentioned anything so we rode it out. The girls seemed to need more one-on-one interaction as they were easily distracted and seemed to work as a team to conspire against what they were supposed to be doing sometimes. It was all in good, four-year-old fun though.

They were super cute, and sometimes comical in their endeavors. Remember how I told you that Playette rolled like a triangle? That got better. In fact, everything was getting better for a while. She began to do amazingly well on the trampoline, started rocking the balance beam, followed instructions, and just seemed less afraid, overall. She was definitely the less adventurous of the twosome (read: scaredy cat), so every little bit was a huge victory in my eyes. She ran, she jumped, she had fun.

But then that stopped. I'm not sure what happened. Even I didn't want to go anymore. But I figured it was a phase for both of us and I was just tired after being at work all day and the whole human-growing portion going on.

And then I started noticing things. The instructor, an award-winning Russian gymnast who certainly knows her stuff, didn't seem to have the same rules for us as other classes. We parents were required to stay, while those in other classes were able to drop their kids off and come back when it was all done. I kinda let that slide and chalked it up to being part of the price of admission that came with the extra chromo. On one hand I understood that maybe more help was needed in keeping them on task. But then, I also couldn't help but think, "There are only two of them!"

Sometimes, we'd have other children in our class. Typically developing children whose parents maybe couldn't pick them up and they needed a ride home at the end of the night. That was fine if the kids were helpful. But sometimes they weren't and just added to the girls being distracted even further.

One evening, the teacher just up and left the class. I think this was right before Christmas and Playette may have been without her counterpart that day. I watched at the teacher went to meet the people who had entered the lobby and were obviously looking for her so that they could say hello after being away for a while. I fully expected her to offer some niceties and then explain to them that she was in a class. She didn't. She didn't even excuse herself from the room when she left. I gave her the stinkeye for what I now know was way too long and eventually she came back. I was really trying hard not to rock the boat. I didn't want to ruin this opportunity for both girls. But I am a huge customer service nut. And what she did by leaving my kid on the trampoline, leaving and coming back without ever saying a word to me about what happened? NOT COOL.

I also tried to give her an extra dose of grace by thinking that maybe what we were experiencing was some difference in cultural norms. Maybe in her eyes she wasn't being rude?

So, I sat back.

And then, when I was in TN earlier this month, BD reported back to me that one night another group of children (4) and instructors (2) were sharing the gym. He said that "our" girls were completely distracted, but the other people were only there for half of the class, so maybe it wasn't such a big deal. Maybe it was a one-time thing? Again, our instructor, the owner, said nothing.

I think it had been two weeks since the other class had been there when I showed up on Wednesday night and was met with a new group in the waiting area. I asked the other mom if these were the same people from before and she said yes. This time, though, they started at the same time we did. I made up my mind to address this with our instructor after class and let her know up-front that I needed to talk to her later. I watched to see how she would handle the girls running over to be with the other children instead of following her directions. Because they did. Several times. Also, what about when Playette would be staring at them instead of looking ahead on the balance beam? Normally, I would have helped. That night, I did nothing.

Now, I had spoken to the other mom the week before about how I had been feeling about everything. I wanted to be extra careful because, as I've mentioned, this would might them as well. My worst case scenario was that we would leave and then the other little girl would be in class alone.

After class, the teacher asked me what I wanted to talk to her about. I didn't touch any of the other issues I had, but simply asked her about whether or not the other class would be sharing the space from here on out. She said yes and then went on to tell me that she had to do that for her business and that she couldn't continue to give us "private lessons" any longer. If we went to another gym, we would be sharing space. I asked her if another gym would share that information with us up front. She said no. I reminded her that these children have special needs and appeared, at four-years-old, not to be quite ready to handle those types of distractions. Didn't she notice their lack of presence? She said no. She then told me that she was upset that I would even have this conversation with her.

SCREECH!!

Pump the brakes.

Did this woman not realize how flippin' patient I was being? Did she not appreciate my calm, even tone? Did she not see in my eyes that what I really wanted to do, instead of being the kind, professional mom, was go upside her head with a shoe?

Such is the cost of playing the nice role, huh? You get underestimated.

Back to the convo.

She had the nerve to be offended that I would approach her with such a thing?

I asked what she would rather have me do instead?

No answer.

So, if I have a concern about the class, I shouldn't come to her?

Nothing.

She then said that she was bothered that I think that she wasn't giving the children enough attention.

"Sweetie, that's guilt talking. I never said that," I thought.

The other mom then pretty much said what I was thinking in a more tactful way. She confirmed that was not what I said at all.

And then we were unceremoniously dumped.

She told me that class was now canceled. For all of us.

I asked her as of when.

She did not understand.

I asked her when this brand new decision would be effective.

She said that she would no longer offer our class in February.

I asked her when she was planning to tell us that. Was this conversation the catalyst?

She said yes.

I asked her if I had never asked the question, would this still be the case?

She said no.

(Which I believe. Before class, she had asked the other mom for the contact info of the local Ds group so that she could place an ad looking for more students.)

I looked at the other mom and apologized. I told her that I had no idea this would happen.

The instructor then told me that there was no need to apologize.

Say huh?

I told her that there was. I said that because of my confrontation and attempt to address an issue, that their daughter would miss out on class (nevermind the start-up and uniform fees!).

My brain was fried. Isn't this what grown-ups are supposed to do? Talk things through? Address and solve conflicts in a mature manner?

I took Playette's hand, told her to tell Miss M thank you and good night and then we left.

Pleasant as ever.

By the way, when I came in that night? I saw a calendar on the wall of all of the classes. None of the others classes share space. She must think I have "Yummy the Dummy" written across my forehead. Two things you don't mess with: my kid and my money. This was far from charity and I expect for us to be treated as equals.

What a nutball night.

So. Do we go back next week, y'all?
I'll have to check with BD, but I don't think we've paid for January yet. I'm guessing that we should, because that's the right thing to do, even though I don't want to. And then, if we do, I don't want to miss out on a paid-for class. It's not like I feel like tipping this lady. But I also don't want to be held liable if I go off on her next week. A shoe upside the head feels too kind now.

'Tis the Season

Around these parts, the end of June marks the ushering in of about a fortnight of celebrations at the Smith-Smiths'.

Today alone, we've got Juneteenth, Father's Day, and Playette's Birthday.

Which also means that I've been blogging for another full year. Wow.

We'll have a few days to enjoy our usual routine and then then comes my birthday, Independence Day, and our wedding anniversary.

I hope I'm not leaving anything out.

But, yeah, this is pretty much our holiday season.

Yesterday, we hosted a party for the Littlest at our neighborhood pool and clubhouse. She's wayyy into Dora these days so we had a luau themed pool party with a some character references sprinkled in.

Cate, you should know that one of her friends came in the suit and I gasped and clutched my non-existent pearls.

The party actually went really well, so I've been told. The kids were happy. The parents were cool. If something was awful, I missed it. Do I want to know? Eh. I think yes, but maybe I should remain blissfully ignorant and go with the whole success thing. We had help along the way, so I needn't be such a pessimist. I mean, from the decorator/photographer to the extra-juice-purchaser to the sure-I'll-wake-up-at-dawn-and-make-your-side-dishes-no-problem and more, we had a lot of great support and I really, really appreciate it.


It was short and sweet. The kids swam during the first hour and then we brought them inside for a lunch of hot dogs, chips, drinks, fruit, and salads.

On Friday night, I panicked, worried that we wouldn't have enough seats for all of the kids when it came time to eat. I pictured everything crumbing to pieces as children cried because there was no spot at a table. On Saturday morning, it came to me that we still had the rubber alphabet/number mats somewhere. Those were found and became the ultimate dining circle.


I was so impressed by our guests, let me tell you. They all were on their best behavior. Amazing, it was. I'd show you pictures of how poised they really were, but I didn't get permission to put their pics on the interweb, so you'll have to trust me on this one.


After eating, we - well - we ate again. This time it was ice cream and cake after singing to the birthday girl. She was soaking it all in and loved being the center of attention.

This is her SURPRISE! face.


I tried to skip out on opening presents, but thankfully I checked in with a friend first who informed me that kids actually enjoy that part and it's way different than the way most baby showers make my eyes go all glassy for two hours.

She was right. Of course. They were all into it, wanting their gifts to be opened next, wanting to help rip the paper off, wanting to see Playette get excited about what they had picked out for her. It was really cute.

Man. The presents. How could I have been so naive? I totally didn't expect the massive pile of presents. I mean, she has never been given so much stuff at once. We're very grateful for everyone's generosity and she's going to be trying out new things for a very long time.

So, after that, we were officially done. Tra-laaaa!

A little later than I had planned, but it seemed that just about all the kids were appropriately worn out and the parents I spoke to were happy that naps were imminent.

Those of us that remained took our time cleaning up while taking intermittent swim breaks, followed by margarita breaks, along with burger and cake and ice cream and dance breaks.

Gotta love a good after-party.

Dora's on to something with that whole "¡Lo Hicimos!" thing.

We did it, indeed.

Four years and counting...

=====

We came back to the house to find the AC had conked out on us. Thankfully, the day had cooled off some so that the indoor temp of 85 didn't feel a degree over 83.

Ah, it's the little things.

We had houseguests and I tried to assure them that this was not the norm and that sweating in your sleep is not a typical occurance when you come to visit us.

And then, of course, we woke up to everything in the freezer being melted. Ha!

When it rains, it pours.

But that was nothing that a gluttonous celebratory breakfast couldn't fix.

Hey, I felt like I earned it. Not only did I get back into Weight Watchers' good graces this week (yay for not having to pay!), but I also ran an 8K race on Saturday morning (yay for my fastest time yet!). I'm not sure that I completely leveled the scales, but it was something and this weekend is one of no-guilt-allowed. Tomorrow, I'm back on the wagon.

And both items are now fixed. Huzzah!

=====

For those that enjoy hearing more about the details, we offered sunglasses, water wings, leis, and flower hair clips as take-home items for all that were interested in such things. Finding luau items was pretty easy and I just added them up piece by piece from places like Oriental Trading and Party City. I was thrilled to find the Dora and Diego water wings at Family Dollar.



Also, anyone who was there? I probably have cute pics of your kid. Holla at me.

Restating the Obvious

I'm not Superwoman!

I am reminded of that every time our chosen way of life sends my husband away from home for extended periods of time.

I mean, it was no deployment, for sure, but two weeks away is two weeks away. And I had to manage on my own. Which I happen not to enjoy. At all.

I know, I know...I'm not the first and I won't be the last.

But I am SO HAPPY that BD is back home. The first time he took Playette up for a bath after he got back, I was just stuck. Right there, in the middle of the floor with my mouth hanging open. My buddy was home!

What I do appreciate, though, is knowing that when I have to do it, I can do it. Shoot, a trip to the beach one day and a pool the next? Total rockstar status for this mama.

I wish I felt comfortable sharing my thoughts and emotions while BD is actually, you know, gone, but I can't. I created that boundary long ago on this here blog and so, lucky you, you just get to wonder a lot and then read these boring blah-blah-blahs once the time is up.

I'm so sure that my in-the-midst-of-it-all whining would be much more entertaining.

*blank stare*

=====

We've been keeping busy this week. Today alone, we all woke up in a hospital (cheap family vacay FTW!), BD and I went to another one across town, and then spent an hour in a pharmacy, all before noon.

It's an exciting life we live.

I'll share some more about what we were doing tomorrow.

=====

Oh. And I'm party planning.

She who hates kids' parties is now knee-deep in frivolous details.

So, uh, if you know where I can get a Dora shirt with a Hawaiian theme, please let me know. Birthday reference would be a bonus.

Because if she doesn't have this exact item, the party will be ruined!

Do you feel guilty yet?

Don't worry. I've already ruined the party once.

Now, it's all about how many times it will happen - not if - so, no pressure.

=====

At some point today, I will get around to completing Week 4 - Day 3 of Insanity.

For the record, I do not look like the lady in this random Walgreen's Gatorade display ad that I took a picture of and am using for motivation.


I mean, yet.

I don't look like her yet.

Obviously...my hair is too short.

And, uh, she probably doesn't consider Cupcakes to be a major food group.

Like some people I know.

This may end up taking a leeettle bit longer than 60 days.

I Blame Blogger

The last time I posted was over two weeks ago.

Sure, the site may not have been down that entire time, but since I did try to write something yesterday and I couldn't? That totally counts as a valid excuse for not staying in touch.

Well, that and the fact that my reserve duty time didn't exactly leave me bored and alone in a hotel room for any good length of time like most of my trips. I worked all day and partied all night.

I mean, I didn't party every night, but the nights I did party kinda seeped into the nights that I didn't. Because I don't party often. I'm out of practice. Quite the cheap date, I am. Plus, on the night that I partied the hardest? I ended up sitting and crying on a curb.

You do not want to take this old lady to a club. You can now never say I didn't warn you.

Most evenings, I found a way to workout in a new and exciting or much-missed way (Tae Bo with my peeps! Zumba at my old church! Running through the nation's capital!) and then I used that as the ultimate justification to eat like every meal was my last. The cupcakes and the burgers I consumed, alone, were enough to feed a small village. But then I also had to have the Greek restaurant I've always wanted to try and then the Thai I missed eating and the pizza I'd heard so much about and the white chocolate bread pudding and the special strawberry lemonade drink...and, and, and. Yeesh.

I dared to weigh-in at Weight Watchers on the Saturday after my first week was done. It wasn't pretty. So I cried. Yes, again.

This weight loss thing is a beast, yo. I've been meaning to talk about it for a while. Have you ever had the thought that you'd be so happy if you could fit into those skinny jeans just one. more. time?

Well, I didn't have any skinny jeans, but I bought some. At the end of December, right before we left California, BD went with me to Banana Republic and I bought jeans that made me feel like a rockstar. I was 3 pounds from my personal goal and it felt amazing.

A week later, those jeans didn't fit.

Almost 5 months later, I don't think I can get them above my knees.

Maintenance...it's more difficult than I ever anticipated.

I wish I could say that's Blogger's fault, too, but I know it's all me. We moved, I got lazy. Not with working out, really, because I've been into all kinds of things like Bootcamp and Zumba and Double Step and swimming and weights. I even joined a local running group full of crazy people that like to run up hills for an hour.

No, it's not the activity. It's the food.

This place is full of temptation and I've been succumbing on a regular basis.

It's totally unfair that I live walking distance from a Sonic and I've pretty much become a regular at the Dairy Queen and Chick-fil-A up the street.

These place simply did not exist in my small Central Cali coastal town. They're a lot easier to avoid that way, y'know?

I guess it's good that I'm acknowledging this now, before I blink and end up right back at my starting weight. Because I'm totally liable.

I'm up 10 pounds and if you add in those last 3, I've got 13 to go. That sounds like a mountain to me right now. Which is nutty, I know, considering that I'm still at 42 pounds lost. But it does. It seems insurmountable.

If anyone has any advice, I'm listening.

So...I came here to talk about what I've been up to lately (Mother's Day weekend in NYC via bus!, IEP meeting, doctor's appointments, etc.), but I guess this is weighing heavy (ha?) on my mind, so I'm dumping.

I need some motivation.

A kick in the pants.

Some accountability.

Something.

Anything.

Blah.

Who left the gate open?!

Well, someone did.

'Cause I'm back.

*exhale*

No, really this time. I mean it.

And now I can finally tell you why I was gone.

See, BD's job is kinda awesome and then it's kinda not sometimes.

He was deployed for four months. And that kept me very busy.

Not a long time in the military world, I know, but I'm one of those spoiled newbie wives who never had her husband away for more than a few days. As a matter of fact, the longest we were ever apart previously was the 12 or so days when I was away. When we met, he had a desk job and then our first move together took us to a place where he could go to graduate school. So, in five years, most evenings he would beat me home.

That all changed on August 30, 2010.

Playette and I, along with a group of motivated friends who share our sense of humor, saw him off for a 6am flight, complete with amusing (to us) signage and hugs and overreacting fall on the floor craziness a little emotion.

The days went by slowly, the weeks passed, the months eventually added up.

We were able to talk by phone once or twice a week and email almost daily. Unfortunately, Skyping wasn't an option at sea, but we were able to do so before he got to the ship (Bahrain) and during the last port stop (Greece).

Playette and I heeded the advice of more experienced folks like Michelle and Renee and stayed busy. That's why we seemed to be moving around so much. We went to Sheree's and Michelle's and Andrea's and a total of three Buddy Walks and experienced many, many flights (yay for coupons that needed to be used!). We visited friends and family in Arizona and spent a mama-daughter few days in San Francisco over Thanksgiving and soooo many things in between.

I ran my second half-marathon and we even made it into a front page article of our small town paper. I lost my final 15 pounds over those 16 weeks and achieved Lifetime status with Weight Watchers. Grand total: 52 pounds.

And because I know I would want to know, it took me 20 months.

Since then I've fallen off the wagon a bit because...

Then BD came home! WOOHOO!

But the day before he was due, my herniated disk (occurred totally randomly and reared its head after I had finished the race, thank goodness) flared up on me and I ended up in the ER. They IV'd me (ACK!) and gave me bueno drogas (ahhh) and an epidural (WHOA) and kept me overnight. Luckily, I had a sitter over at the time everything was going down and she was able to help me before friends jumped in and took care of Playette while I couldn't.

By the time BD walked in our front door after hours of traveling across the country and way too many delays, I was home and feeling a little better, yet heavily medicated. With the big guy back, we've been doing tons of eating out in the midst of happy, family-together-again time and then there's the whole "I can't exercise" thing, so, well, I'm not planning to step on a scale anytime soon. My pants are tight, yo.

And in case that wasn't enough, we thought we'd throw a cross-country move in there.

[INSERT STRESS HERE]

Now, the three of us are living in a hotel room, waiting for a place to call ours. Exotic, right? Darn tootin'.

In between moments I'm not entirely proud of, I am taking this all much better than I anticipated. Alone with the kiddo while my typically very active partner was away? Scared me. A lot. But I did it.

I've wanted to write so many times, but my words kept reaching into "I'm overwhelmed because my husband isn't here" territory and I just didn't want to allude to us being alone in the house. I couldn't do it.

I'll tell you more about how Playette did during that time in my next post.

Thanks for sticking around.

Update?

There is no update.

The teacher was supposed to call me back regarding Playette moving to the morning session, as we had planned and discussed ad nauseum in June, after a meeting they had about the topic at noon.

That was a long time ago and everyone has long gone home, I'm sure.

I did get a call from the Special Education Student Support Services Director though. Awesome, right? Progress!

Except, she rushed through telling me that they needed us to fill out the transportation paperwork since we failed to do so at the IEP.

Wow.

She was at our IEP. In her office. Where BD and I filled out every paper they gave us, including one that said we had to allow them to "restrain" our daughter on the bus. I had a problem with that. And then they explained that, basically, the 5-point harness seatbelt was considered a restraint to them and if we wanted her strapped in, we had to agree to it.

I hate being told that I haven't done something when I know good and well that I have. Or vice versa.

She had someone fax me the paperwork - the very same paperwork that the Associate Superintendent confirmed that she had last Thursday - I filled it in, and I faxed it back.

Then, I called the Special Education Student Support Services Director back and told
her voicemail what I had been trying to tell her whilst she kept cutting me off and rushing me off the phone.

The voicemail and I had a much better conversation.

I reminded the voicemail about the restraint paperwork (that we "didn't" fill out *cough cough*) and how if it truly was necessary, could they please send me that to fill out again, too, please?

I mean, if you're going to try to play me, at least send me the complete packet to fill out againsomemore. It's not like I have anything else to do with my life, right?

By the way, I've upgraded to snacking on pita chips and edamame dip.

At least that sounds healthy.

Though I still love me some graham.

Oh, and I ran four miles. Like this situation, it was tortuous, but at least I burned calories.

I also had a very good conversation with an advocate/mom in the place where we may move to next. We chatted about schools and she basically talked me off the ledge. So that was good.

Tomorrow is another day...

Graham, Graham, Grahaaaammm!

Shout-out to Florida Evans.

Ok, first of all, I'm dead wrong for having graham crackers in my house. I'm in the midst of a weight-loss struggle and I have minimal willpower. I thought it was a good idea to purchase them last week (in bulk) when I was in the grocery store as a treat for Playette, but guess what? She's refusing them.

Of course.

And you know what's extra-nifty about graham crackers? They come in this plastic wrapping that's not re-sealable.

So me, being the non-waster that I am, instead of simply putting the remainder in a ziploc bag, I've been feeling obligated to not only eat what she's left on her plate, but I've also been finishing off the leftovers in the wrapping.

Consistently.

On top of that, probably because I watch too many cooking shows, I've been sprucing the graham crackers up a bit.

You know, a little crunchy peanut butter here...a little Nutella there.

Total "healthier lifestyle" fail.

=====

And in other news that really makes me want to use bad words, Playette's whole "starting preschool on Wednesday" thing is starting to really stress me out.

The notes I have from our June IEP say that parents get calls from Transportation 4-7 days before school starts. Well, last Thursday, I still hadn't heard anything so I checked in.

The lady that answered the phone told me that Playette's school doesn't have transportation. "Really?" I asked, "That's not what I was told."

"Well is she special needs?"

"Um, my daughter has special needs, yes."

"Oh, well, I don't have any information on those kids."

Those kids. She said it like she was spitting it out because it tasted nasty. That's kinda like saying "you people" to me. Even if you don't mean it negatively? Not cool.

So, anyway, I called around and around and later that afternoon, I got a call back from one of the Associate Superintendents. She knows me. We've (ahem) talked before. She assured me that the teacher would contact me to confirm Playette's placement in her class and that I would also hear from someone in Transportation on Friday.

Well, no. That didn't exactly happen.

So I called this morning and got that same lady on the phone in Transportation. She still doesn't use People First Language, by the way, but I tried to model it for her again. I think she laughed at me. I. Don't. Like. Her.

She transferred me to someone else who wasn't there. I called the Associate Superintendent's office back and asked if someone could please ask the teacher to call me since I didn't know how to get in touch with her directly.

Shortly thereafter, the teacher called!

Yay!

Yay?

Apparently, someone decided, without telling us, that Playette would be in the afternoon session. The one that's impossible for me to get her to and from. Based on what we were told in June, I changed my work schedule so that she could go to preschool in the morning, be picked up by me, dropped off at her daycare, allowing me to come back to work and finish my day before picking her up later in the afternoon. Not perfect, but doable. Not so with a 1045-1345 session.

Nevermind the fact that she naps everyday from about 1200-1400.

Oh and also? Someone told the teacher to cancel transportation because we don't need it.

Awesome, right?

I am really craving graham crackers right now.