Sunday, March 28, 2010
Now that summer is approaching and we have a few vacations on the horizon, it occurred to me that accompanying the warm weather and buds on the trees is also that most dreadful time: swim-suit shopping.
Oh, pre-pregnancy weight, how you elude me! So, what am I supposed to do? I haven't actually tested this theory of mine out yet, but I'm pretty sure that I will not feel confident in my swim-suits of yore. I fear that is in my future (this is from http://modest-swimwear.net/)
I would like to avoid the leggings/skirt/print combo. I only have a few requirements for this season's swim-suit:
1: I don't want to look like a mom in a bikini. I want to look like I'm sixteen and I can eat hamburgers and french-fries all the live long day and not put on an ounce of fat.
2: I don't want to see any cellulite. It doesn't matter that I gained so much weight with Haven that my body reached a surplus and thus started depositing fat wherever it could at a frantic pace. I don't want to see it.
3. I'd like to show off my six-pack abs. I don't actually have them, but I want to look like I do; instead of the loose skin that was left behind (accidentally?) after birth.
It truly is a predicament. I'm not ready for a one-piece with a skirt attached. But, I think I'm too old and too post baby for a bikini. Someone said that mom's are the reason the tank-ini was made. Maybe my issue is that I'm not quite ready to look like a mom. Mom's wear 80's jeans and curl their bangs under. I'm way too cool to look like a mom.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
I get REAL focused when I do crafts. I think because I don't do them very often I suddenly tap into some dormant perfectionist gene. And, I don't even want to eat. Chris was talking about dinner last night and asking me what I wanted while I was feverishly working on this project. I told him I didn't care. I heard him mumbling to Haven: "once a year mommy does a project and doesn't care what we are eating." It's true. Only once a year. Anyway, I think they turned out pretty cute. I'm no Martha Stewart, but she probably has a design team.* If my mother ever decides to come home I plan on giving my grandmother and her one. Obviously they don't know what they're missing or they would have been here by now.
*I wrote this in an email to a friend and feeling rather lazy today I cut and pasted word for word. I'm just that kind of girl.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
While my neighbor is in Switzerland, she asked me to feed, water, and care for her chickens. Last time she left, her husband took "care" of them and half of them were eaten by neighborhood dogs (fortunately, my dogs were not part of the posse that annihilated her beloved pets--this time).
I was the one who found the unfortunate mass of feathers indicating where once a chicken had existed it did no more. I was some months pregnant with Haven at the time, and I frantically made my way to the coop to see if any of her pets had survived. Four had, they were all huddled on the uppermost beam in the coop shivering in fear (you may say that chickens are incapable of shivering, but I would counter with: you didn't see these chickens. I maintain they were shivering in fear). After ensuring the safety of the survivors, I called Chris on the phone to tell him about the massacre. I was bawling. Bawling. I was thinking of those poor frightened birds watching in horror as their unfortunate counterparts were gobbled up by a dog. And, I was feeling badly for my neighbor because I know how she feels about them.
This story has absolutely nothing to do with today's pictures. However, I did just provide valuable insight into the pregnant female mind. Sometimes I'm amazed that I do this for free.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Bedtime: observe the two fingers in the mouth and one on the ear (ala her grandpa Allen)
We went to an Iranian restaurant tonight which also had a small grocery section. Haven made right for the baskets and hopped in. She really digs climbing into things right now. Fortunately, the owner of the restaurant was amused rather than annoyed that she refused to budge.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
One of the things that Chris really enjoys doing is checking out new restaurants. They usually aren't nice, and they are never chains. As ethnic as it gets is typically what he goes for. For about a year now when we've been driving from Amarillo to Pampa, he's pointed out an African cafe that he's wanted to try. It never works out because we are always with other people or we are in a hurry. Also, to be completely honest, no one would want to eat at this restaurant except for my husband. And, maybe people from Africa who are missing food from home. Since we were in town, and we also had a vast array of babysitters, I told Chris we should go try it out. I was much more gung-ho about it until we were truly on our way.
I was pretty nervous when we drove up. Instinctively I knew that we are so white bread that we stand out like a sore thumb. Besides the fact that there was only one other car there. I am all for trying new things. I love trying new food--really, there isn't anything I'll say no to in that department--I may never eat it again, but I'll definitely taste it once.
As soon as we walked in a small man sitting at a table with a huge plate of food in front of him started chatting us up. He told us he was Ethiopian (I've had Ethiopian food and liked it). The restaurant, however, was Somalian. He asked us if we liked goat. Umm, OK. I was willing to try it, although my tastes definitely run more towards vegetables and rice rather than meat. Chris had goat in Chicago and thought it was tasty, so he was down.
They brought out two huge plates of goat meat. Which is to say--a bunch of hacked up pieces with the bones still attached. As well there was a salad with a section of onion, a lime, and soup. And Ranch dressing. Can't eat your African food without Ranch dressing. The goat really was tasty. Kind of like a dry roast beef. And, very fatty. There were three round pieces of thin bread unlike any I've had before--but, I'm happy with bread. I'm comfortable in the realm of bread, and so I gladly ate it and the soup. I let Chris have most of my goat. And, the dogs enjoyed the goat bones.
After we played "Guess How Old I Am" with the Ethiopian diner, who guessed that Chris and I were around 21, we ended our visit to the African Safari. It truly was an interesting dining experience. Not only did we get to see fellow patrons praying towards Mecca during our visit, we got to watch the incredulous looks of people coming in to place to-go orders when they saw us white folks there. I really think that since the owner asked us numerous times as he sat the food down in front of us, if what he brought us was OK, that he thought we'd stumbled into the wrong cafe.
Monday, March 15, 2010
We've just returned from my grandpa's funeral. It's still surreal to me that he isn't around anymore. He'd been ill for quite sometime, so I'm glad he's in a better place, but it's strange to think about not seeing someone for the rest of your life. It's difficult to watch your family's pain as well. My mom and my uncle and my Nana. They feel the loss of their dad and their spouse very acutely.
My Sandpa (I named him that when I was a baby because for some reason I couldn't say Grandpa) loved Haven. He saw her for the first time when he was in the hospital in May. We thought we were losing him then because he died at home, but EMTs brought him back. I wanted him to meet Haven, and so we drove down with her. He lived for months afterwards, obviously, and got to see her a few more times, but as soon as he saw Haven his eyes lit up and he told my Nana that he loved her instantly. She won't remember him, but since he was quite a lively character I have lots of stories about him that I can tell her. I also have a vast store of songs to sing her that he taught me (some of them may need to wait until she's a bit older).