california

 A couple of weeks ago I went to California with the kids.  I love going to California for so many reasons.  The mild weather, the beach, my father's sailboat, see old friends....but I mostly love going because being a mom can be tiring and in California I get to be lazy.  Like really lazy.
In California I don't have to cook, clean, organize, pick-up constantly, and if I wait around long enough, I don't even have to do my own laundry.  Don't get me wrong, every once in awhile I do these things so I will continue to be a welcomed guest in my parents home, and to prove to my parents that I have matured past 13, but really my contributions are pretty weak.  It is fabulous.

I also love that I get to go on jogs everyday.  I always come to California with some absurd fitness goal that I never accomplish, but motivates me to at least do something.  My Dad took Zachary on all his errands, plus had endless patience with playing black steam engine, which freed me up to take Baby Kate running for her morning naps.  I love how once you have two children life seems so easy breezy when you are are only caring for one.  While Zachary spent lots of time with other family members, Baby Kate and I spent lots of one on one time together.  It was nice.  We watched some bad TV, went shopping, and took some killer naps.  And I got some great pics of this cutie.

this picture makes me laugh every time. if we ever buy a grown-up house with a fancy serious adult room you will find a framed version of this.

couldn't leave this cutie out of the post......

The second week of my visit my sister came with her boys from New York. It was a blast, and I was going to write about it, but I just read my sister's blog and she did such a great job.......... http://roboboogiephone.blogspot.com/2013/07/june-cali-trip.html

You can take the lazy girl out of California, but she will still be a lazy girl in Utah.

fat pants

For Christmas this past year my sister gave me two pairs of fat pants.  This was quite possibly the best gift I have ever gotten.  She told me that after baby number two she had an ah-ha moment when she bought some pants that fit the body she had in that moment, instead of trying to squeeze into her old pants that made her feel bad about her body.  I think that she told me all this while I was eating some sort of chocolate covered nut/carmel/pretzal/toffee, or all of the above (it was Christmas time) and so I declared it genius and couldn't wait to get my very own new fat pants.  She then asked me for my postpartum waist size.

Grub, (I know, awful nickname) I don't think they make pants that big at this store.

I then tried to quantify my body size by saying I'm not like fat fat, just a little fat.  I'm pretty sure I still fit into sizes they sell at the stores.
And so the story goes, Cameron measured her own waist, realized my chub was within range, and found me two amazing pair of jeans.

The first pair, the ones that I wore non-stop for about three months, were a pair of Joes.  They were soft, and broken-in, and didn't squeeze or taunt any of my flesh.  I missed them when they were in the wash, and always felt much better when I woke to find them waiting for me in my closet----like a gentle outstretched hand ready to welcome and love.  They seemed to go with all of my tops and nursing camis; the options and potential were endless.

The other pair were more of a dress jean.  On the way too infrequent date night with Clint, or the occasional dance concert with a friend, these were the fat pants I reached for.  They were a heavier denim, dark wash, perhaps more slimming, really needed to be hemmed, I mean seriously they make jeans for seven foot tall ladies now!!, but did have one serious flaw, the flaw that relegated them to kid-free evenings out, as opposed to the everyday zoo/park/costco pant.  Its what I call the harried mom (plumber) smile epidemic.  With the onset of the low-rise pant I am sure we have all witnessed, possibly fallen victim to this problem, but I feel it necessary to make a distinction for some of the moms out there that find their upper bottoms on display:

It is our children's fault.  Not our fault! (raised fist pump) Perhaps the smile that you see is    because our waists' have still not shrunk from pregnancy and our pants stubbornly hang lower than they should.  Not our fault!! Perhaps the smile that you see is because we hold on to a hope that sometime during that particular day a miracle will happen and the said pants will fit.  We are a hopeful bunch!! (arms outstretched) Not our fault!  And perhaps that smile that you see is because even though we wore a longer shirt to accommodate and anticipate the too-low low rise we find ourselves in a situation where one child is playing on non-child friendly piece of construction equipment and the other other child is awkwardly hanging from a hip, and the strategically chosen long shirt that worked so well before our children were in the equation has raised above the muffin top and those damn jeans are dropping lower and lower by the second as we desperately try to preserve the lives of the two children that we are somehow solely responsible for.  Safety first!! (index finger pointed)  Still not our fault!!!

In an alternate universe we would all be extremely well-dressed with perfectly tailored clothes that never bunched, crunched, raised, or puckered.  We would not have four or five different categories of "transitional" clothing that were constantly being rotated to accommodate varying waist sizes.
I must say, after all this drama I now see the beauty and functionality of the mom jean.  Yes your crotch may be a mile long, but at least you can rest assured that you will never show the harried mom (plumber) smile.

When my sister gave me these jeans she prefaced it with you know, you will probably only be in them for a month or so, but even then it is well worth it.  Well, I must admit I was in them a lot longer than a month (ugg getting back after baby number two is much harder), but even now, as they sit in the basement patiently awaiting yet another post-partum day, I think of them with only the best of feelings.  These are the pants that were with me as I transitioned to being a mother of two children----two nap schedules, two bellies to feed, two car-seats to buckle, two diapers to change, two little faces to kiss, and two perfect beings to marvel at.

Baby Kate reigns victorious

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To my fat pants and my wise sister that got them:  You have seen me through a lot. Cheers, I love you both.
 



 

the good life

 Being a mom is the best.  Two years into this biz I think I have finally got it all figured out---ok maybe not, but at this moment Z is sleeping, the baby is cooing, the house has that warm slightly messy feeling of a home, and life just feels sweet.

I was so unsure of what life would be like with two children, and would often think if I am tired/overwhelmed/busy with one, how am I going to do two?!!  But somehow it is all working out, and maybe we are just living in a golden moment, and pure chaos is about to erupt, but things actually feel easier with two then it did with being pregnant and taking care of one.

Baby Kate is mellow and easy-going, quick to smile, and has this deep throaty laugh that I wish would never stop.  She loves her brother in small doses and loves to rock out to the blow-dryer and the microwave vent.  Right after I had Kate I was on such a high that I swore I could keep having babies the rest of my life, and this feeling has pretty much stayed with me.  She is just a joy to take care of; I find myself getting nostalgic for the baby phase that I know will pass all too quickly.

Zachary is full of life and boundless energy.  At night, after Zachary is asleep, and we have taken a breather from the whirlwind, Clint and I will often lie in bed and laugh at all the funny things that he did and said that day.  Zachary loves to hoard his toys, and was recently introduced to a man purse (his jack-o-lantern pail from Halloween) so that he could easily transport all his trains, cars, balls, and what ever else made the cut, from spot to spot.  He often has to take his hoardings to bed with him, and the other night cuddled up with a bag of uncooked pasta.

Clint and I both grew up in Southern California, where we spent the summers at the beach surfing and swimming.  I used to charge the water with my board, taking on each wave with determination to get out past the break as fast as I could.  It took me a long time to realize that waves come in sets, and in between the sets the ocean could become flat and calm, making it much easier to get out.  When Zachary was a baby I would get so upset when things weren't going smoothly.  It felt like every screaming session or frazzled moment was an indication that I was doing something wrong.  Now during the hard moments I try and breathe, step back, and wait for the break in the set.

Oh and remind myself that bed-time will be here soon.

Baby Kate

Today baby Kate is six weeks old.  Time is going by too fast, and the newborn that I knew a month ago is already gone.  She is beginning to fill out clothes that seemed impossibly big her first week of life.  Before her birth gets too far away from me here are the highlights:

Saturday October 20th I woke up super grumpy.  It was that time in pregnancy when you are just done lugging another human being in your belly.  I took myself on a small shopping trip to try and de-grump myself---it sort of worked.  I went to bed that night positive that I would wake up in the morning still grumpy and still pregnant.

Surprise!  At two in the morning I woke up to my water breaking.  I called my midwife who told me to keep her posted as to when my labor started.  Right after we got off the phone I started to experience those lovely labor pains, but nothing unbearable.  I started straightening up the house and I made Clint do the same.  I'm sure he thought it a bit unnecessary to clean house at two in the morning after being woken from a dead sleep, but he is smarter to know not to argue with a pregnant laboring woman.

By the time Rebecca got to our house it was nice and clean.  Labor progressed super quickly and Kate Rose Womack was born not even four hours later! at 5:48 in the morning.  I loved birthing at home.  This birth experience was everything I wanted; calm, spiritual, and empowering.  She started crying right away and I did as well.  I was overjoyed that I was holding my daughter and relieved that labor was over.

After bonding, nursing and Clint cutting the cord, I took an amazing hot shower.  There is something very important, maybe even ritualistic, about taking that first shower after having a baby.  Your body is once again yours and a new phase in life is about to begin.  I remembered this part of Zachary's birth and looked forward to it with Kate's birth.  After everyone was checked out and deemed stable and healthy Rebecca suggested that we all take a nap.  Clint of course fell asleep immediately (watching a woman give birth can sure tire a man out), but I was too excited to sleep.  I kept looking at this brand new addition to our family, in awe of her every perfect detail.

I eventually got hungry so I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and marveled at how good I felt.  The recovery, or really lack of recovery of this birth has turned me into a believer.  After eating my sandwich I started to miss Zachary, who had been at our neighbors house since 4am.  It was surreal walking across the street to pick up my son, while Kate slept at our house, independent of my body.  It was only a few hours earlier that she took her first breath and became her own person.

Kate is such a sweet baby, I love being a second time mom.  The good moments are sweeter and the bad moments are less dramatic.  

Welcome to your beautiful life Kate.

Kate Rose Womack

Sunday October 21st 2012

5:48am

6 pounds 13 ounces

19 inches

for the grandparents

birth

The birth of my daughter is quickly approaching.  A part of me wants to have the baby, like right now, and another part of me wants to prolong the inevitable.  I find myself cherishing moments with Zachary, knowing that our family dynamic is about to drastically change, and worried that he is not going to be thrilled with the upcoming shift.

Sorry Zman, there is no undoing this one.

I had Zachary at a birthing center in Murray Utah.  He was born November 20th at 7pm, and his birth ushered in the first big snow storm of the season.  I remember Clint and my midwife Rebecca commenting on 'how much it was coming down' and me not caring one bit.  Who cares about poetic metaphoric moments when you are giving unmedicated birth???  It is only now that I can appreciate all the beauty and magic that surrounded his arrival to this world.

I also remember Clint and Rebecca talking about mortgage rates as I was in the pushing stage of labor and thinking 'midwifes know about low interest rates??!!!'  Which is of course completely ridiculous and illogical, similar to when I was in second grade and completely shocked upon seeing my teacher at the grocery store.....teachers buy groceries?? and at the grocery store???!!!!  Impossible!!!

I also remember thinking that maybe I should be upset that this converation was even taking place during my birth, but this is where the beauty (and the beast) of unmedicated birthing lives.  It was my expereince.  It was my pain, my struggle to get through.  It was Zachary and I in the throws of one of our first, but certaintly not last, epic struggles.  And regardless of outside static, and the shear difficultly work and pain of birth, we did get through it, and you my child, were born.

I cannot say that I am excited to go through the birthing experience again, the naivety preceding my first birth has been long shattered.  I.E maybe I will be one of those women who experience no pain.......in fact if I have no fear there will be no pain---calling b.s. on that one hypnobirthing.......)
But I am excited to hold my baby girl and smell her sweet smell and welcome her into this uncertain world with all the love and beauty that I am capable of.

Lets do this.

Dad's Workout

it really was impossible to pick just one