Raleigh March for Babies

The March for Babies here in Raleigh was today. We had a pretty big team marching for Maddie.

Marching for Maddie
From left to right, that’s: me, Catie, Dave, my sister Tracy, (sitting) baby Austin, my cousin Cat, Elizabeth (in the stroller), Tony, and Megan. We’d never met Megan before today (if you’re reading this, hi Megan!), but she was super fun and a very good sport about us lagging behind with our slow toddlers and general foolishness. (We really are sort of a goofy bunch when you get us all together.)

purple manicure
That’s right, I painted my nails purple for Maddie. And I felt the need to document it with photographic evidence, since it happens so very rarely.

Tracy & Catie on the March for Babies

The walk was good. It was a little hot, but not as brutal as the weather forecast predicted. Also, no thunderstorms – that was the other thing on the forecast that had us worried. We felt a few random drops of rain here and there, but not even enough to call it a drizzle.

I told Elizabeth to smile

The kids had the most fun after the walk. There was a DJ playing all sorts of dance music at the finish line, so the kids (who had either ridden in strollers or been carried for the entire walk) needed a chance to burn off some energy.

my girl makes a run for the DJ booth
I got Catie the smallest Maddie t-shirt I could get, and I still had to knot it in the back so it wouldn’t look like a dress on her. The part that broke my heart was that when Catie saw the shirt this morning, she pointed at it and said, “Maddie!” She knows her face from being on my lap so many times when I’ve read Heather’s blog. I almost cried then, but I just said, “Yeah, baby, that’s Maddie.”

Throughout the day, she kept pointing at her own shirt, or mine or Dave’s, and screaming “Maddie! Purple!” Yeah, sweetie. You got it.

after the finish line

Elizabeth in her purple ballerina dress

After a while the toddler energy was contagious, and we all had to dance too.
Catie on Tracy's shoulders

Dave, Catie & me

And we had to snuggle on some babies.
Austin & his mommy

There was one guy who came over to us to ask about Maddie’s story, because he read her dates on our t-shirts. I told him, and he told us that he has 2 daughters, both of whom were born around 26 weeks. One of his daughters is now 8 years old and the other is about to turn 13. He thanks the March of Dimes for them being here and healthy today. Talking to him for just a couple of minutes was really moving.

Oh, and I believe that when you factor in the almost $200 that my cousin raised through bake sales at her office, our team raised a combined total of almost $1,000 for the March of Dimes. So that’s a pretty great day right there.

Baby's (and Mommy's) first camping trip

Those of you who know me, know that I am not an outdoorsy type of girl. I freak out when I see a bug, I have horrible seasonal allergies, and I’m not a big fan of being out in the elements if it’s too hot or too cold or even remotely unpleasant. I’m a big wuss, basically.

In light of that, I’m not quite sure why I agreed to go camping this past weekend. I guess because it’s becoming Dave’s latest hobby, and I’d like to be included in it. Plus, springtime means the weather is nice and moderate. And Dave told me that the campsites have electricity, water, and a building with toilets and showers, so it’s not like I’d have to pee in the bushes or anything. Heck, some of the campsites now offer wi-fi. So it seemed like something that I could handle. Maybe.

Let the record show: I’ve never slept in a tent in my life. I mean, sure there was once at a slumber party that we set up a tent in the neighbor girl’s backyard, but I was back inside the house with my sleeping bag on the floor of the playroom before midnight. My family took “camping” trips when I was a kid where we’d go hiking in state parks, but we stayed in motels or cabins. And honestly, all I remember of those trips is blistering heat (summer in the South, not the best time to plan an outdoor vacation) and feeling like I was dying of thirst (since this was before people carried bottled water with them, so there was nothing to drink until we stopped for lunch or dinner).

Mostly, I remember the fighting. There was always lots of fighting. I hated those trips. But like so many other things, I thought that this might be an opportunity to do something for Catie that’s completely different than my own childhood. Turning my bad memories into happy ones, something like that.

So we set off for Asheboro, North Carolina, and set up camp at the Deep River Campground. It was very pretty.

view from our campsite

Check out our fancy-pants accomodations.

our accomodations

I know you’re jealous.

It made me nervous to be camping right by the lake, since Catie doesn’t always seem to understand that she can’t jump into any body of water like it’s her own personal bathtub. But we told her that it was ok for her to throw rocks and twigs into the lake, but she absolutely could not go in there, and she seemed to get it. Still, we had our eyes on her pretty much constantly.

Catie by the lake

And really? The camping was not so bad. Only two complaints:
1) The bathrooms were gross. Really gross. I sort of wish I’d taken pictures so I could prove my case, but I didn’t think of it until later. But I quickly decided that since we were only going to be there one night, I’d be ok with just skipping the whole shower thing until we got home, thank you very much.
2) Sleeping in a tent actually sucked worse than I thought it would. It dropped down into the 50’s that night, which is pretty darn cold when you’re basically outside. We got a sleeping bag for me before this trip, but the zipper wouldn’t come more than halfway up, so my legs were sweaty and my upper half was freezing. And poor Catie was miserable. She started crying from being so cold around 3 a.m., and it took almost 2 hours to get her settled back to sleep. She woke up in a pretty good mood, though.

SERIOUS case of bed-head

She also woke up with a horrendous drippy, snotty nose, which I’m hoping is just a reaction to sleeping outside during the peak of pollen season, and not the onset of a full-blown cold. Especially since her asthma tends to make colds about ten times worse than the average kid’s.

Since we were in Asheboro, we decided to stop by the North Carolina Zoo on Sunday, to wear Catie out in the hopes that she’d sleep the whole drive home. We’d never been to the NC Zoo before, it’s really beautiful. We only hit the Africa exhibit, since we knew that’s where the animals Catie likes would be (elephants, zebras, giraffes, monkeys, etc.), and I think we made the right call. She had a great time.

Catie & me with the zebra

Dave & Catie on the elephant statue

Catie playing in the display helicopter

Catie & me on the carousel

Oh, and the plan to exhaust her so she’d sleep on the way home? Worked like a charm. Easiest road trip with a toddler ever.

Here are the rest of the pics from our camping and zoo trip. Overall, it wasn’t horrible and I might go camping again. But I think I have to exchange this stupid defective sleeping bag that I got, and maybe wait until it’s a little warmer. Generally, though, I think I’d prefer to rent a cabin. Even a really rustic cabin would be ok – as long as there are walls to shield us from the wind. And an attached bathroom. That’d be nice.

techie'd out

Ready to be jealous of me?

iPhone & Kindle

That’s right: an iPhone and a Kindle. Both. I would never have dreamed of dropping that much money in one swoop, but it was Dave’s idea (he surprised me with the Kindle, then suggested we go get the iPhone), so who am I to object? They are both so cool, I can’t decide which I like better.

But seriously, I have to go see an eye doctor. The more I try to read these tiny little consoles, the more my right eye keeps going all wonky and blurry and then OH MY GOD, the headache. I love that the Kindle lets you make the text extra-large, or else I probably wouldn’t be able to use it for more than about ten minutes at a time. Trying to use Twitter on the iPhone, though, is killing me.

Other random stuff, in bullet form because I’m lazy:
* I finally got the pictures from Kris & Tony’s wedding uploaded.
my favorite pic of Kris & Tony

Leslie and me
(I know you read this site sometimes, so hi, Leslie! Love you!)

me & Kris
You can see the whole set here.

* We’re really enjoying having Mags here a few extra days. Her black eye is pretty impressive, but she’s otherwise feeling ok, so that’s good.
Mags, Dave & Catie
I think there’s a slight family resemblance there, no?

And for the record, my mother-in-law is a bad-ass, because I don’t think she’s taken so much as an ibuprofen for her concussion, and she still stood on her feet to make us a shepherd’s pie the day after her accident. She is one hardcore Brit.

the no-fun snow day

Like most of the east coast, we got a pretty decent amount of snow on Sunday night. I’m not sure exactly how much we got in our little section of North Carolina, I heard it was around two to four inches. It was enough for all of the schools to close down, anyway.

My plan for Monday consisted of, well, nothing. I wanted to get a couple of freelance articles written, maybe tidy up the house a little and make dinner, but that was about it. No major plans on the agenda. I was thinking how fun it was going to be to get more pictures of Catie frolicking in the snow like we did on our last snow day. As is usually the case, life had other plans.

If you follow me on Twitter, you already know this, but on Monday morning, we ended up in the emergency room. Dave started having chest pains, his face turned all red, and it seemed like he was on the verge of hyperventilating. I’ve never seen him have any sort of episode like this, but it scared the living hell out of me, so we immediately set off for the ER. I paused for about 90 seconds to drop Catie off with our next-door neighbor, but that was the only thing that slowed me down. (And seriously, our neighbors? LOVE. SO. MUCH.)

Fortunately, if you find yourself at the admitting desk of an ER, and you use the words “chest” and “pain,” they tend to get you to a room tout de suite. They ran some tests on Dave: EKG, chest x-ray, bloodwork. And of course, as with all hospital visits, there was a whole lot of sitting and waiting. So much waiting.

Everything came back normal, so we don’t really know what happened. Panic attack? Too much stress and caffeine? Weird reaction to some new medication? No idea. They sent him home with a few Valium and an order to follow up with his regular doctor for more tests. Which I fully intend to make him do, because Dave’s granddad died when he was 50, and I’m terrified of something like that happening to him. Dave keeps reassuring me that his granddad had some sort of heart defect, plus he ate bacon and fried bread (i.e., white bread that’s been deep fried in bacon fat) for breakfast every morning, but still. I don’t eff around when one of his symptoms includes chest pains.

So yeah, it was basically a horrible, terrifying experience, and it seems that we have already broken my “no hospitals in 2009” goal, but at least Dave seems to be ok now, which I’m thankful for. And Catie had a great time at the neighbors’ house. When I went to pick her up, Meredith (the mom-next-door) was feeding about 8 of the neighborhood kids lunch, and Catie was sitting at the dining table with the big kids, chowing down on chicken nuggets and apple slices. Kind of hilarious to see my relatively tiny girl sitting with all of these other kids who are about 7-10 years old.

That night, I was in the kitchen making dinner. Dave came over to give me a kiss.
Him: “Thanks for being such a good wife today.”
Me: “That’s ok, thanks for not dropping dead.”
Him: “You’re welcome! Anytime.”

We joke, because sometimes that’s the only way we know how to cope with these really scary things.

health update

Dave and I are slowly recovering from our colds, but as of yesterday, Catie has it too. So far her only symptom is a seriously gross runny nose, which has been keeping her from sleeping comfortably. But her energy level is about the same as usual, which is good. I’ve basically resigned myself to not having a pillow to myself until she’s over her cold. When she’s sick, she wants to sleep in our bed, and she wants to be as close to me as possible. Which is sweet, until my arm falls asleep or I get a crick in my neck.

Catie is getting her steroid (Pulmicort) via the nebulizer twice a day, and so far this cold hasn’t caused any asthma flare-ups. I hope that it’ll stay that way, although I’m worried that this is just the beginning and it’s going to get a lot worse. (I’m basing that on the symptoms that Dave & I have had so far.) Let’s hope I’m wrong, and that her version of this cold is much milder than ours.

the ways in which yesterday did not suck

1. SNOW DAY!!!

family shot (thanks to the neighbors)

We had so much fun with the snow, Catie absolutely loved it. I thought she’d decide that it was too cold after a few minutes and want to go back inside, but no way. She really is a January girl, she had an absolute blast and cried when we dragged her inside after 45 minutes because Dave and I had had enough.

2. We got a new president. I don’t even know where to start in trying to describe how happy this makes me. As moving as Obama’s inauguration speech was, my absolute favorite image of the entire day was the photograph of Barack and Michelle Obama waving to George and Laura Bush’s helicopter as they left Washington, DC. Forever. ::happy sigh::

3. I beat Dave at Scrabble for the first time ever. He and I play each other on Facebook sometimes, because we’re nerds like that, and he usually obliterates me. It’s not that his vocabulary is that much better than mine; I think we’re pretty evenly matched in that department. But he’s got this whole strategy with triple-word and -letter scores, and he usually completely kicks my butt. Yesterday I beat him by 6 points, and I may never stop bragging about that. (Like I said, we’re nerds.)

4. Catie took her nap on time, which allowed me to do my “30-Day Shred” workout. This was the second day in a row, and it hurts like a mother-of-pearl (my new substitute swear word for little toddler ears that repeat everything). But I also feel really good, because I know that this means I’m doing something right.

The ways in which today also should not suck:
1. The season premiere of “Lost” comes on tonight. Oh, Sawyer, how I have missed your muscular, shirtless self.

2. The snow is just melty/icy enough that we ought to be able to make a real snowman. Yesterday it was too powdery, it wouldn’t stick together.

3. Day 3 of the “30-Day Shred.” My legs are killing me, but I sort of can’t wait. Weird, I know.

Diet Time

Announcement: Dave and I are starting a new diet. Well, technically Dave’s already been on one for a while – he lost 30 pounds before the holidays. He’s been doing great, I’m really proud of him. But he got off track during the holidays, and now that he’s trying to start back on his diet, I’ve decided to join him. It’s always easier to tackle a challenge with a partner, right?

And this doesn’t count as a New Year’s resolution, because I don’t believe in them. Besides, I’m starting this on January 3rd, so it has nothing to do with New Year’s, and everything to do with not liking the way my clothes feel on me. Yes, my size 12 jeans still fit, and I only weigh maybe five pounds more than I did when I got married, but I’m feeling decidedly flabbier. I figure it’s better to tackle these things when I have a small, manageable goal in front of me, rather than waiting until my size 12 jeans don’t fit me anymore, or waiting until I hit 200 pounds or something. So, I would like to try to lose ten pounds. Maybe 15, but that would put me at the peak of my weight loss after my gastric bypass, and I think I only stayed at that weight for a few months, so I’m not terribly optimistic that I can maintain that again.

It’s awkward for me to write about this because I don’t like talking about my body image issues. I feel like I’m probably going to get one of two reactions: (a) people who don’t have a problem with their weight can’t believe that I’m happy being a size 12, and they wonder how I can stand to look at my fat ass in the mirror every day; or (b) people with real weight problems can’t believe that I’m whining about wanting to lose a measly ten or fifteen pounds. What do I have to complain about? The latter reaction is probably how I would’ve felt myself before my gastric bypass, so maybe I’m projecting a little bit of my past there.

The thing is, I have accepted that I will never, ever be super-skinny. Even after surgery, a size 6 is just not in my future. It’s not in my genetic make-up. And that’s fine, I’m totally at ease with being the size of the average American woman. I don’t have to be perfect. I can walk into pretty much any clothing store and find something that’ll fit me, and that alone is more than I ever dared to hope for, before my surgery. So I’m really not complaining, I’m just scared to death of regaining the weight that I worked so hard to lose (seriously, if you think surgery is the easy way out? You are dead wrong), so I’m trying to be proactive about nipping this flabby feeling in its proverbial bud before it becomes an issue.

I think part of the problem is that having a two year-old in the house makes it impossible for me to eat healthy all the time, so I’ve just given up on even trying. If I make a peanut butter & jelly sandwich for Catie, and she only eats a quarter of it, I figure that heck, I went to the trouble to make the sandwich, and I don’t want to just throw it out, right? It seems so wasteful. So I eat it. Or when she gets a free cookie at the grocery store and decides that she doesn’t want the last two bites of it, she hands it to me, and what am I supposed to do with a piece of a cookie while I’m trying to push a grocery cart? I wolf it down and move on. And what I should do is find a trash can and toss it.

I hesitated to even mention anything about this diet on the blog, because like I said, I’m not really comfortable talking about my weight issues. But I was worried that some of my posts over the next few weeks might have sort of a cranky, “grrr I will kill the first person who crosses my path in exchange for a cookie” vibe, and I thought that might warrant some explanation. So that’s what’s going on. I don’t suddenly need Prozac, I’m just suffering from junk food deprivation. Poor widdle ol’ me.