My head is famous now

People say you have less free time once you have kids, but that's not always true. I used to start searching for the perfect cake recipe weeks before my birthday, and spend time planning exactly what would make for an absolute perfect day. This year, I didn't have to waste time with any of that, because I have the secret ingredient for a perfect day right under my nose.

This smile.

To make things even more perfect, my mom and stepfather came down to visit Thursday night.

My birthday was the first day of summer vacation, so I got to spend the whole day with my boys in air conditioning. Life does not get better.

We did a lot of eating and drinking. Well, I did.

Birthday pizookie (sp?). Good, but we left most of it and went home for better things.

Strawberry lemonade poke cake

I set the bar pretty high during my 31st year. I got my master's degree, which wasn't very exciting, but it does mean I am sort of done with homework and got an extremely nominal pay raise. As a result, I began purchasing the mid level boxed wine, which was an upgrade for me. #treatyoself

I finished up ten years of teaching, and made it to the end of the school year still breastfeeding (sounds easy, isn't easy)! 9 months tomorrow and so far haven't had to buy any formula. I'm putting away the money we're saving to stock the fridge for when he's 15, because if his appetite now is any indication, we are screwed.

 He definitely inherited my hanger.

We bought a house. It's been about 5% pain in the ass and 95% freaking awesome.

And, obviously, nothing in life even comes close to how much happiness this little man brings me. 

I think my 32nd year has the potential to be even better, since this guy will be around for the whole thing.

The excitement didn't stop with my birthday. We've lived in our house for two full months and just made the first IKEA trip. My parents got me this awesome chair as a birthday gift. 

Because I love sitting.

Saturday night there was a tornado warning. I used to kind of glance out the window for those and be like "eh, I'm sure it's fine". Well, things have changed, and now I couldn't get everyone to the basement fast enough. Dalton seriously thought it was the BEST THING EVER. I've never seen anyone so happy.

Until it was time to go back to bed. Then he was not so happy.

Luckily everything was fine.

We celebrated Eric's first Father's Day.

He was bartending, and we attempted to surprise him at work. Too bad we went to the wrong bar. We eventually found him though.

Last but not least, my big TV debut. My school, and a student I taught for four years, were in a documentary on the Discovery channel! I was interviewed and everything, but they cut it (I'm really not joking about how awkward I am in person). Still pretty cool though. It's called "Rise, the promise of my brother's keeper" and it's on all week. Our school is Halstead, featured at the end. My class is in it and if you look closely you can see my head several times. 

We watched it at Eric's bar. Except Dalton. He just watched me.

He likes to make sure I don't escape.

And now I'm back to working full time. Yay.

What's your claim to fame?

One decade down

IT'S THE LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!

Ten years done, just twenty to go until I can retire, but who's counting?

No, sadly I'm not excited to get to spend the whole summer doing nothing but snuggling my gorgeous little man, because I'm working all summer, and totally not bitter about it. 

Ignore my weird expression

Sometimes I get tempted to whine but then I remember I'm an adult and we just bought a house and bills don't pay themselves, so I stop myself from being a whiny little bitch. I'm really lucky to have gotten a summer school position and I'm doing the Maryland Writing Project and is there any better way for a blogger to get paid? I guess posting about yogurt would be better. But this is an actual job and looks good on a resume. 

There will still be plenty of time for stuff like this!

The end of this school year was actually bittersweet for me. I started out with my class in third grade, and (by my request) moved up with them to fourth and then this year, fifth. Here in Baltimore that means they are moving on to middle school next year, and I've shed a lot of tears the past few weeks about them leaving me. 

We had their "graduation" this past Friday and I was a wreck. I cried all week every time I so much as thought about it and then I cried on stage while saying my little goodbye message and made all the parents cry. Imagine an elementary school gym with about 400 people while it's nearly 100 degrees with nearly 100% humidity and no AC and me on stage crying. It was awesome. 

To cheer myself up, I snuck a date in.

My friends were kind enough to let him join their (air conditioned) pre-K class while I was busy. 

I followed up all that excitement with a wild weekend. One of my favorite running buddies was in town from St. Louis!

It was hot as balls but we went for a run anyway. It was too hot for me to bring Dalton  in the stroller so I couldn't even take breaks pretending I needed to check on him. Somehow we survived 5.3 miles. And RIGHT at the 5k point in our run we ran by the finish line of a 5k. I can't even make this stuff up.

Yup, stopped for a photo op

Eric brought Dalton down for a lunch date afterwards.

Saturday night, I left after bedtime for the second time ever. I went out, downtown and everything, for my BFF Casi's birthday! 

We took an awkward selfie at a secret karaoke club.

I texted a friend who lives downtown to see if he wanted to meet up while I was actually out. He texted back around 11 saying he was leaving his house and I was like well I'm already home and in bed. Wild. 

We signed Dalton up for swimming lessons this summer! I'm so excited, I hope he loves it. It was like $30 more to just join the YMCA myself for the summer rather than sign up as a non-member, so I did. 

I tried out the child care for 20 minutes on Sunday and it was horrible. I could see Dalton crying and fussing the entire time and Kara and Kari had to talk me down from rushing in there to give him a real chance to try it.

Watching from the elliptical like a creeper

The people in there looked about 16 but they stayed strong and tried really hard to comfort him with moderate success. When I came back he grabbed me and held on so hard and I felt horrible and I haven't gotten over the guilt yet. 

My mom and stepfather arrive to visit tonight! My 32nd birthday is tomorrow. Tomorrow was supposed to be the last day of school (it got moved up). I can't think of a better way to spend a birthday than with my family, snuggling my little sweetie pie all day, in AIR CONDITIONING. 

There will be more chasing than snuggling.

Trying to contain his reign of destruction

YUP

How to rock a bikini after a C-section

Step 1: Already own one, back from those pre-breeding days.

Here I am on our beach trip in 2011. 

Step 2: Laziness

Every moment I spend at the mall searching for a mom-bod bathing suit is one less moment I could spend on the couch (ok, floor) eating chocolate covered pretzels and drinking wine, or coffee, depending on the time of day.

Do not judge me for using Snapchat even though I will be 32 on Friday.

Step 3: Rationalize

I probably won't be the fattest or ugliest, and even if I am, I'm not putting a gun to anyone's head to look at me.

Mind your own business.

Step 4: Focus on positives

My badass scar is covered up by any bikini I've ever owned, but even if it wasn't, I would probably go full speed ahead just for some street cred. 

But, truly, I don't understand how it was a big enough exit location for his head and whole body.

Step 5: If it's ill fitting now, or you still feel uncomfortable, don a cover up.

My flab is all a secret under here.

Step 6: Take selfies, to prove to the internet how brave you are.

You can always crop yourself out.

Step 7: Remember, you are beautiful.

*No babies were harmed in the creating of this post.

Baltimore Ten Miler recap

Alternate title: I wish I had tried harder to find the body glide.

This was my first real race that I trained for as a #motherrunner, 8.5 months postpartum. I think I've run this race 4 or 5 times now. My runner friend was all like, shoot for "1 hour 20 minutes!" That's my ten mile PR from way back when. Then he became a new dad and was all like "shoot for 1:40!". And I was all like, hey, try having a human cut out of your abdomen and get back to me.

In reality, it's hard to train with a kid, and two jobs - teaching, and I've recently been informed that blogging counts as a job. If screwing around on Facebook counts as a job, mark me down as triple employed.

One of my main problems is that my kid eats all my food, and drinks all my water.

I love it when races fall the day after National Doughnut Day. #carbloading #cleanliving #goodparenting

Right, because I don't need to hydrate or anything. #greedy

I think my friends thought I was exaggerating, but we just went to dinner and they witnessed this hungry hippo's appetite first hand. He ate an entire cooler full of food I brought him, crab dip, and then was screaming for more of my chicken sandwich. Crawling takes a lot of fuel!

As much of a pain in the ass this child is, requiring sustenance and care and all, he did help me out a bit. He knew I would be busy coordinating and instagramming the perfect race outfit, so he read himself a bedtime story.



And helped out with some household chores.

Nobody loves doing laundry. Suck it up, kid.

The night before the race, my friend Ashley (we met through blogging, the best way) came up from Virginia to spend the night. We fired up the grill, and is there anything more adorable than a tiny burger for a baby?

No, there is not.

To prepare for the race, we took creepy selfies from odd angles and sent them to Kara.

Ashley clearly read that internet list of what to do when visiting the almighty MOTHER. She watched my kid, did our dishes during bathtime, and brought these. 

She is officially welcome in my home any time.

I hadn't run double digits since the Frozen Heart Trail race in February 2014 (and really a lot of that was walking through frozen wasteland), so while Ashley was all like "it's only ten miles", I was more like "I HAVE TO RUN TEN MILES". 

Kara showed up around 6 on race morning, to drive us to the race in style. It was her birthday and she lives two hours away. That girl knows how to party. Team "I used to be faster" was now assembled (minus Ashley, she's still fast).

TMI #motherrunner warning. In addition to the problem of running a ten mile race being crazy, I had the worst clogged duct ever. I get them all the time but early last week I got the largest, most painful one yet. It was BAD. I tried to get it out all week and was kind of freaking out about running like that. 

But, a miracle happened, and it turns out pumping in a goldfish filled minivan on the way to the race was the key. 

Race bib, nursing bib, pump, Garmin, CHECK. 

I've written a lot of words and now I don't even know what to say about the actual race. It started at 7:30, we parked at 7:26, hopped in line, and ran. Baltimore in June. Hot, humid, and hilly. Everything you would expect. I wanted to keel over the majority of the time. It felt like a sprint, but our pace didn't back that up.

If you are able to take a picture, you're not trying hard enough. Photo credit: me.

Somehow, we made it to the finish line in 1:36, and Instagrammed it, as proof, of course.

Making sure to highlight the skinniest angles.

The best part of the day, other than the cold, fresh watermelon at the finish, was seeing my boys waiting for me.

Is there anything sexier a man can wear than a baby?

Love of my life.

I don't know if it was the humidity or what, but things took a turn after that. Thankfully Dalton took a two hour nap, which allowed me to lay in the fetal position moaning (Eric was at our kickball playoff game, I obviously had to drop out). I enjoyed a delicious post race meal many hours later.

Nope, not pregnant, trust me on that one. 

Dalton is Mr. Independent these days and isn't interested in me at all. I'm always up in his grill trying to get some attention, and he just wants to crawl and cruise from toy to toy with no parental interaction. That did work out for me while I didn't feel well, and I just laid back and watched him play, with intermittent sprints when he tried to ingest something lethal.

Between the clogged duct disaster and being out of commission the whole rest of the day, I'm not sure I'll be signing up for any more races this summer. I definitely had fun though, and the jacket is sweet.

Porch blogging selfie #suckitin

What's the weirdest problem you've ever dealt with at a race? 

Baltimore Ten Miler - I'm ill prepared

The Baltimore Ten Miler is like 36 hours away. Actually less. Back when I started this blog, I worked really hard to follow training plans and prepare for races. And now...not.

Kara is coming to run with me. Our team name is "I used to be faster". We were going to make shirts or something. But we have things to do. So we didn't.

Ashley is coming for the race too. But she's super fast. Like, so fast I won't even see her. She's coming to stay over tomorrow night so we can actually talk and catch up.

I have done a few things to prepare for the race.

• Long runs. 7-9 miles. LONG. In my mind, since I did maybe half of them with the stroller, the race will feel really easy, since I'll be on my own. Don't rob me of that fantasy, please. 

• I picked up our race bibs. NAILED IT. 

Weekday runs. 2 miles at a time. Sometimes I get ambitious and do 3. I could do more...but I'm tired. And pumping. And work. And like this morning, I got my running shorts on...then Dalton was up and being all snuggly and cute and I HATE HATE HATE leaving him to go to work and I was just like...nah. 

Sometimes he wakes up in bed with me. Because cosleeping. Because I need sleep to not get fired.

• Running will always be there. These sweet little baby cuddles will not. But then Eric texted me he was picking him up because he was doing errands near daycare so I ran after work today! That was not intended to be a separate bullet but these bullets are not working with me. 

No running post is complete without a creepy selfie

• Hydrate. I'm always all over that one.

Whether it's with water...

Or other beverages...

What this post has been sponsored by.

• Dalton has been working hard to get me down to race weight. By eating all my food. I get really excited to share my favorite foods with him but then he eats it all because he's so cute I can't deny him. And then I'm still hungry. But too lazy to make myself something else. I'm so screwed when the teenage years arrive.

His daycare lady sent me this while I was at work - LOVE. 

Long story short - I'll run slow, most likely suffer, and probably regret ever signing up. I don't have the motivation to exercise because it takes time away from my little love. But I've enjoyed some stroller training runs, some non stroller training runs with friends, and I'm looking forward to seeing my blogger friends. The end.

Pumping at work - an update

I hate to tempt fate by posting this preemptively, but with just 13 school days left and a healthy freezer stash still intact, I think it's safe to say I'm going to hit one of my HUGE breastfeeding goals. The end of the school year. Dalton will be just shy of 9 months then.

It sounds anti-climatic, and I just don't think there's any way to put into words how wild this ride has been. I truly never thought I would make it here back in the winter. I LOVE breastfeeding. I HATE pumping with the passion of a thousand suns.

Warning: I've decided to fill this post with breastfeeding selfies.

JK

Really nothing could have possibly prepared me for how much this has taken over my life. Having to be half naked, if not more (depending on outfit choice), hooked to a machine, every few hours at work, come hell or high water. Constantly obsessing over how much I was pumping and if it would be enough. Pushing back and forth with daycare about whether I was sending enough (I was). Dragging the pump and cooler with me all over the place on field trips (but thank goodness for Tara lending me her pumping backpack!).

Before, I probably didn't have a frame of reference for how much liquid an ounce was. HA. And now that measurement has consumed so many of my waking thoughts for the past five months. Every day is some variation of "ok well I pumped x oz so far so I need x more at lunch and x more after school...". It's definitely a horse of a different color, and if you haven't had the luxury of dragging that pump bag into your place of employment, I'm sure this sounds dramatic and insane. Thank god I've had some wonderful friends (and amazing 5th grade teammates helping me out!) on this journey with me who get it, or I probably would have lost it by now.

We are finally now at the point where Dalton is eating massive amounts of solids, and has naturally cut down on nursing/bottles.

Last night he pretty much destroyed my black bean enchilada. Should have gotten two.

Finally figured out how to suck down those pouches!

I've gradually gone from pumping four times a day to just two! The freedom is glorious.

I can honestly say I have worked for every last drop that I've pumped. I've taken Fenugreek since we came home from the hospital. I hydrate like a madwoman. Oatmeal every day, brewer's yeast, flax, coconut water - I eat every food known to man rumored to help out. Before my wild little man was mobile, we would do babywearing/skin to skin time every single night (although much like eating lactation cookies, that wasn't exactly a huge sacrifice).

At Wegmans, not skin to skin, but you get the idea. TINY here in the fall.

And in the spring...less tiny. (Staring at a helicopter)

I've left many lunches hungry, because I had to, quite literally, milk myself, and it was a two hand job. I've spent planning periods pushing that stupid let down button over and over and cranking the pump up to top volume (that feels just as good as it sounds) and playing crying baby videos desperately trying to get something out before I need to pick up my class. My favorite is the times when things are actually chugging along smoothly and then I get a nasty email from someone and I start stressing out and BAM no more milk. Or the random comments - "Mrs. Lindsey why do you have baby bottles in your lunch bag? Your baby isn't even here!".

But I always wish he was!

On maternity leave I would just hook the thing up, watch TV, and check out the bottles 20 minutes later or so and it seemed easy. I didn't even know there was a point when milk would stop coming out until I returned to work. Such ignorant bliss.

It's a pain logistically, and it sucks emotionally too. I've already mentioned how draining it is to constantly be reaching towards that quota. Aside from that, it's just a lame reminder of how much I miss my sweet little baby and what a poor substitute it is for actually feeding him. Like any mom needs a reminder anyway. Every day, all day, I'm counting the hours until I'm back with him.

After the school year ends, I'm working a handful of days the rest of June, then summer school. Since that's mostly part time, I plan to not pump at all unless I'm there for the full day (and I don't know how I would be able to anyway since we are with children the whole time). I'm hoping it doesn't affect my supply too negatively since it's only four weeks.

When we return the following school year, Dalton will be almost 11 months, so I'm really hoping not to be pumping then either, or at least only once a day. I don't plan to quit nursing at any particular time (ideally it would happen naturally but we'll see how things go). However, once he smashes that first birthday cake he's cut off from breast milk at daycare. Unless, by some miracle, I still have a freezer stash then, in which case he can finish that up in a sippy cup or something.

And that's my story, although I'm tired so I might think of more and randomly include it in unrelated posts. If I didn't want a second baby eventually, I'd be smashing my pump with a baseball bat on September 23.