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True Story

I’ve been trying to publish this post for the past few days, but Pinterest keeps getting in the way.  . .

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And then my life change forever.  As the minutes ticked on by while I amass boards and pins, I realized that there are phases of Pinterest,

1. Discovery  – When you get that invitation -cue Handel’s Messiah – and create your account. It’s like getting into the Skulls, minus the whole murder cover-up thing and Paul Walker (ooh, I should pin him to my Crush board). You start scrolling through the pages, clicking on various images of foodstuffs, clothing, funny quotes, and great photos.  You start piecing together how the whole “pinning” concept works.  You create a board or two, like “Recipes to Try” or “My Clothing Style”.  They remain conspicuously empty for a while.

2. Flirtation – As you peruse the ‘net one day, you realize you can keep better track of stuff you like now that you’ve got some boards in place.  It’s so nifty it is to see stuff and simply pin it on a board as opposed to Control +D ing it for a bookmark that you’ll forget about later.  It’s better than printing out page after page of screen captures.  When I look at it this way, pinning is good for the environment! I’m going green by pinning!  Look! Stuff I like! Right at my finger tips.  This is fun! This is cool! This is becoming an. . .

3. Obsession – Everything is Pin-tastic.  Ooh, look at those earrings! Pinned.  Hey, I’ve always wanted to make a chalkboard out of mirror that I found at Good Will! Pinned. This photo of six pack abs and this snarky, yet motivational quote  is just what I need to get my workout started! Pinned. I’m working Pinterest into my daily conversations. Someone asked me where I got my outfit the other day and the first thing that popped out of my mouth — even before “thank you” was “You know, I was on my Dress Me Up board on Pinterest . . .” *gag*

I showed my mom how to freeze coffee in an ice cube tray so that she had coffee cubes that wouldn’t dilute her iced coffee. She marveled at my ingenuity. “Pinterest!” I said with a knowing smile.

The kids ate de-constructed cobb salads for dinner the other night. That translates into all of the salad fixin’s in separate bowls so they get to pick and choose what to eat rather than pushing around the stuff they don’t like.  Co declares that this is the best meal she’s ever tasted.  If it had been a commercial for dinner time in America, I’d have looked into the camera and said with a wink, “Thanks, Pinterest!”

I am clearly defining who I am with my myriad of boards that have cute and clever titles.  Instead of Stationery I like, I call it, “Le Papier”.  If it’s food that I want to eat (but will probably never make), I’m going to call it “Munch, munch, munch!” If it’s places I want to visit (but will probably never get to), I’ll call it “Leaving On a Jet Plane”,   Crafts I want to try? Hello, “I’m So Crafty” board — do you see what I did there? Heh, heh!  I’m so witty! I need a board to catalog how witty I am!  I’ll call it,  “Wit-tastic” or “What’s So Punny?”

Seriously, I’m that girl.  Here are the names of my boards. Try and guess what’s on them.
1. Munch, munch, munch
2. Down the Hatch
3. Imelda Marcos
4. I.Just.Want.It
5. Let’s Play House
6. Leaving on a Jet Plane
7. Apis Melifea (that’s a tricky one)
8. Crush
9. Glam-tastic
10. Pearls of Wisdom
11. Bounce Back
12. Paris is Always a Good Idea
13. Roy G. Biv
14. And You Can Quote Me on the Quote Unquote
15. Tu Me Fais Sourire
16. Le Papier
17. I’m So Crafty
18. Au Naturel
19. Shutter-Bug
20. Everything In It’s Place
21. Dress Me Up
22. Me, Myself and I
23. Permanence
24. Saw It. Bought It.
25. Pinned It. Did It.

Oof, that’s a lot of boards!

I’m pinning with reckless abandon, knowing full well half of what I see I’ll never do and I’m (kinda) okay with that.

4. Ambivalence – Pin overload. I see something now and I’m like, “Eh, maybe I’ll pin it. Don’t want people to think I’m obsessed!  Pin Board jealousy — oh yeah, I’ve seen it, not that I have it.  Not familiar with the concept.  Jealousy over pins and boards,  as in she pins the best stuff or I pin because I can’t do it, go there, look like that, or I pin because my goal is to do it, go there, look like that. Seriously, overheard at the YMCA, two women talking about another woman’s pin board.  Evidently the third woman was like a Pinterest Svengali.  Whatever she pinned, the other two were compelled to seek it out, try it, do it, buy it, whatever.  It was the weirdest conversation because they were both repulsed and fascinated at their own behavior.

Buffy: Did you see that Tiffy pinned avocado, cream cheese and salsa stuffed pastries to her Tapas board? 
Muffy: I know! I tote re-pinned and liked it. Then I went to Martin’s and got all of the ingredients.
Buffy: I thought you were allergic to avocado!
Muffy: I am! Look, I”m breaking out in hives just talking about it! But, I had to make it so that Tiffy and I could talk about it at the next TRX class.  Did you see where she pinned the TRX picture? How TRX makes her sweat so much, it’s her fat crying! 
Buffy: Hold on while I pull it up on my Pinterest app.

I kid. . .or do I? (insert Dr. Evil eyebrow here). As for me,  I’m motivated and I’m saturated at the same time.  I’ve hit the proverbial pinboard, full on in the face. I’m just over-pinned.

5. Moderation – I take a Pinterest hiatus, for an indefinite amount of time.  Slowly I come around because we decided to have some people over and I want to make something tasty. There was a recipe for scallion meatballs/corn and avocado salad with cilantro vinaigrette/tilapia tacos with cucumber relish somewhere around here. Oh, I know where it went! And back to Pinterest I go. . .with a self-imposed time limit (one visit per day- – – oh who am I kidding?) and a promise that if I pin it, I’ve got to try it.  I should probably take a picture of it with Insta.gram when I’m done.

Oooh. . . Insta.gram. . . that’s a whole ‘nother story.

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IN: ON: July 10, 2012 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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From the Archives. . .

I was going to write a post about trying to break off my relationship with Ben and Jerry since the weather has gotten warmer and the clothes are becoming shorter and smaller.  Then, I had to feed the baby. Then I had to feed the girls. Then I had to change the baby. Then I got on Pinterest. Then I got on Facebook. Then I had to feed the baby and the girls. Then I had to. . .well, you get the idea.  So, I decided to reach into the vault and let a former incarnation of myself do the talking.  Enjoy!
Originally published on August 11, 2009
So you know you need to change your dietary intake when Weight Watchers uses your photo in their advertising.
Yes, that’s Mo-dizz at about 8 weeks and she was quite put out, despite her commanding hourly rate.
And I will be the first to admit that I have horrible self-image issue and have wrangled with my weight for as long as I can remember. Let me back up for a second, though — this post is by no means a solicitation for compliments. I’m just trying to relate a story within its proper context. So let us continue.
Back in May, when it was unseasonably cool for a period of several days, I went to put on a pair of jeans. Shockingly, this same pair of jeans that I had worn just a few short weeks before had shrunk while waiting idly in the closet. I mean, really, imagine my surprise when I go to hoist those jokers over my hind parts and am met with considerably resistance! I couldn’t believe it. The combination of lack of use plus an as yet to be identified microorganism that nests in the fabric of individuals favorite articles of clothing, rendering them at least a size too small is the only explanation I have as to why these jeans didn’t fit.
I tried to suck in the gut, lay flat on the bed and fight my way into the jeans, but no haps. And after trying every trick in my book to get into those bad boys, I pulled out my last trick — I cried. Oh, how I cried. I cried so hard that DH came running upstairs thinking that I had slammed my hand in the closet door or lopped off my foot trying to shave that tricky space where your foot and leg connect. Imagine his surprise. Wife crying over jeans that don’t fit — sounds like Miller time to me.
Suffice it to say, DH very diplomatically and very chivalrously suggested several ways to make peace with the jeans and even get back into them. Hence the return to the double W. So, for the last 17 weeks, I have been increasing the fruit and veggies, reducing the junk, working out and have been met with some good results. It’s not rocket science, but it burns me every time because I just want to have the metabolism of a fruit fly, eat a Cinnabon or two and not feel like I could balance a tray on my bloomin‘ onion riding behind me.
17 weeks is a long time. DH has really been a trouper, going so far as to read labels, inquire about portion sizes and such when he’s in the kitchen. For the most part, I eat what I want, just less of it. I am a sucker for the 100 Calorie packs and our pantry is a Nabisco who’s-who of cookies and crackers. I make lunch for me and the girls everyday, our standard fare consisting of sandwiches, fruit, goldfish for them and some lo-cal chips for me, which brings me to the point of this whole diatribe.
I don’t ask for much. I just want to eat my own breakfast/lunch/dinner by myself. I know you moms out there know where I’m going with this. My own mother used to say, “If I had $#!t on a stick, you’d want to have some.” Oh, truer words were never spoken! I always was cajoling for a taste of this, or a bite of that. Not once did I think that roles would be reversed. Everyday, at almost every meal:
Breakfast for Mo and Co:
Buttered Toasted Oat Nut Bread (mmmmm, oat nut bread)
Yo-Baby Yogurt
sliced apple with Peanut butter
Breakfast for Me:
Buttered (spray butter) Toasted Nature’s Own White Wheat bread
Weight Watchers Yogurt
sliced apple, plain
Their bread is squ-oval, my bread is square. Evidently they are traditionalists because they want square toast. I cut theirs into a square. Nothing doing — they want mine.
Mo: Hey Co, want some of Mommy’s yogurt?
Co: Yes! Yes!
Waiiiiiit! How are you going to offer up my yogurt?!
Lunch is just a variation on a theme. Sandwiches for us all, goldfish for them, Light Ruffles for me. Guess what they want to have? This story wouldn’t have to be told had I not had to take them to task about it while we were out with friends at the pool. All the kids are water-logged and sun-screen slick, sitting at the picnic table while moms dole out juice pouches, quartered sandwiches, goldfish and sliced fruit. The kids are grubbing, and the moms start to take bites and nips of their food. I reach for my little bag of chips and Co’s voice floats on over, “Some? Some. Chips. Mommy?” And knowing the re-direction is a cardinal rule in parenting, I redirect the little dickens over to her goldfish. Nope. Again — “Some. Chips. Mommy?” and again, the redirect followed with a firm, “No, Co. You eat your lunch. These are Mommy’s.” Back and forth, we do this dance, my partner inevitably becoming Mo before it’s all said and done. Throughout it all, I don’t relent, a fact that does not go unobserved by my friend we are breaking bread with.
Since that episode, I know she’s humorously regaled at least two other people with how I denied my own children food I had reserved for myself. It’s not as though these chips were $20 a bag or the last bag on Earth. The bottom line was, I was hungry and I wanted to eat something that I knew wasn’t going to be detrimental to my eating plan on the double W. A few goldfish wouldn’t have killed me, but those who know me know that I like dinner and I love dessert. Why blow it at lunch on goldfish when there’s much better stuff to be had later?
At any rate, I have since shared the coveted chips with the girls at lunch at a later time. And after chomping down a fistful, my two sweeties said, “I don’t like these. Can I have goldfish?”
Of course.
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IN: ON: June 29, 2012 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Randomness on a Wednesday

I was up at 2:13 this morning, giving Miss V the first of her two middle of the night feedings when a myriad of random thoughts coursed through my sleep deprived brain.  Surprisingly, they had taken up residence when I awoke at 4:57, so I thought I’d share them with you.

1. Housework is extremely sucktastic. This PSA brought to you by Captain Obvious, but truly, it needs to be said. There are some people I know who say that doing housework is therapeutic and I call BS on that.  I mean, I get total satisfaction at having a clean house, but my therapy lies in having someone else do the cleaning.

2. You don’t realize how big your kids have truly gotten until you see them holding a three week old.  Mo and Co have turned into veritable giants since Viv-o’s arrival.  I knew that they were growing up; Mo’s shorts from last summer make Speedos look like board shorts.  Co’s feet have shot forward a few sizes. Suffice it to say, Mo’s getting a wardrobe overhaul, Co’s got a ton of hand-me downs and Viv-o has her summer wardrobe already for her when she hits 4T, though she’s so mini at this point, she might be 6 or 7 years old before she fills out enough.

3. All these celebrities popping out babies and whittling their middles in record time is really doing wonders for my self-esteem and my relationship with my post-baby bulges. Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m only three weeks post-partum.  I consider myself pretty active and having to table the workouts for six weeks is killing me! I knew my weekly threesome with Ben & Jerry was going to bite me in the butt once the wee one arrived; and what big ol’ bite it has been.

4.  Speaking of weight watching, I’m back on that wagon.  Even though this is my third, fourth, latest visit to the WW, I still have my measuring cups and spoons out to make sure I’m on track.  The other day at dinner, Mo asked me why I had the measuring spoons next to me at the table. I told her it was because I wanted to make sure I ate the serving size of salad dressing.  She turns to Co and say, “Oh, Mom’s doing that Weight Watching thing again. That’s why we can’t eat those ice cream sandwiches at the back of the freezer.”  I’m not sure if she was complaining or trying to make herself an ally to my cause.   Her inquiring as to the status of my “breast health” in the middle of the grocery store has me thinking it’s not the latter.

5. I’ve got a list of books that I want to read, but when I was at the library the other day, I picked up the latest book by Tucker Max.  If you don’t know who Tucker Max is, that’s probably a good thing. In a nutshell, he’s the world’s worst frat boy stereotype come to life and he writes about his exploits with such a sharp wit and sarcasm, you could shave your legs with it.  I know I shouldn’t enjoy his essays about his constant hook-ups with an endless stream of girls, none of whom escape his vitriolic description of their shortcomings (real or imagined), his bar-crawling, his out and out douchbaggery and overall inflated sense of self-aggrandizement, but truthfully. . .he’s so freakin’ funny.  Last night, I was reading an account from a party he attended where he offended every.single.person in attendance. He was so drunk, he didn’t remember any of it and the essay was in fact an email recounting his misdeeds written by his friend who was at the party with him.  This essay covered at least four pages, each bullet point of foolishness more wicked and ridiculous than the last.  I can’t believe all of these things happened and continue to happen to one guy, which is probably why I keep reading it.  I’ve found that my suspension of disbelief is extraordinary.  And that stories about farting will always make me laugh.  Hard.

6.  Why haven’t I been buying pre-cut vegetables at the grocery store before now? Holy crap!!  Pre-diced peppers and onion? Cubed zucchini? Prepared fajita fixings ready to cook? What have I been doing all my life, wasting time, energy and a few finger tips?  Have I totally been blazing through the produce aisle with blinders on? I feel like the cosmos has totally thrown me a bone to make meal times more manageable.  Yay for 5-6 servings of fruit and vegetables per day!

*sigh*

These late nights are catching up with me. Here’s hoping to catch a snooze while the wee ones occupy themselves. . .

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Occupy themselves?! yeah, right.

You know I’ll be putting the TV on.

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IN: ON: June 13, 2012 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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June

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The girls get out of school in about 5 days.  Then the summer will officially begin.  Oh sure, there are a few camps in the mix, but when those requisite summer activities are completed, it will be a summer of no plans. Shock of all shocks, right?

I’m hoping that me and the three love-bugs will spend many days outside just watching the clouds roll by and waiting for the delicious melody of the ice cream man rolling through the neighborhood.

There will be sidewalk chalk.
There will be bubble juice and every conceivable contraption to make bubbles.
There will be sprinklers and new bathing suits.
There will be trips to the pool.
There will be trips to the playground.
There will be Popsicle stained mouths and dirt stained knees.
There will be bug bites and lightening bugs trapped in jelly jars.
There will be cook-outs with ketchup stained paper plates.
There will trips to the Vineyard, to the grands.
There will be smiles and laughs and happiness.

Let’s get started. . .

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IN: ON: June 1, 2012 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
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Pause

A lot can happen in a few days. . .

Introducing Vivian

I went in for my week 37 check and ended up staying to have a baby! 

Now that the littlest biscuit has arrived, my time is not my own. Mo and Co have only a few more days until the end of school and then we are deep in the throes of  the summa, summa, summertime!

I think it’s best that I put the blog on pause for a little while, just until I find my feet as a mom of three! I hope to post more – more words, more pictures – when I get a chance, so please check back often. Until then, have a safe and wonderful Memorial Day week-end!

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IN: ON: May 25, 2012 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
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Mother’s Day Wish List

I was hanging out with my mom the other day and she casually mentioned that Mother’s Day was coming up.  Then, she not so casually blurted out, “So what are you going to get me?”

Uh. . . .

Truth of the matter is, aside from a detour to Hallmark, because I care enough to send the very best, I hadn’t really planned on getting any additional items beyond that. I think my DH mentioned ordering some flowers, but it sounded like a project he was spearheading.  I guess we’ll all find out come Sunday.

My mom took it another step further. We were in the car, going to get the girls from school, and she picked up my sunglasses to try them on.  Flipping down the visor mirror, she started admiring her face from various angles, noting how the sunglasses complimented her bone structure and so forth.

“I think I’ll put these on my list,” she said with a note of finality.

“What list, Mom?”  I’m not a total moron; I’ll bite.

“Well, I figured I would put two or three high priced items on my Mother’s Day Wish List, then one or two reasonably priced items, and then you and your brother can buy the reasonably priced items so that in the end, I end up with what I want.”

This woman is a genius! Why haven’t I thought of this before?!

If I were to get myself a gift for Mother’s Day, I’m thinking I’ll start with a nice manicure and pedicure. And then, to showcase all that hard work that was done to my feets (yes, there is an S), I’ll need some new sandals. . .

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And maybe something shiny for my fingers, like this. . .

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I could finish up the day enjoying my new favorite ice cream. . .

while I lounge around in my comfy new pajamas (a medium, please, in orange or pink). . .

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Or  I could be using a lovely gift card to Barnes and Noble. . .
Or a coupon to have the house cleaned (*ahem* check out Living Social and Groupon for ideas *ahem*).
Or just having a lazy day where I don’t have to jump up every time some needs something wiped, like a spill, a nose, or a butt.

See what I did there? I put a couple of big ticket items on the list, balanced it with something reasonable, and stacked the odds in my favor.  Truth be told, I don’t need some big to-do for Mother’s Day. What I’d like is for all the good behavior that comes on that one day to carry over to the rest of the 364 days a year. You know, when the hubs tells the girls to make Mother’s Day special by not fighting with one another or following directions the first time and so on and so forth? That’s what I want, the gift that keeps on giving — knowing that my parenting skills are paying off. Finally.

As for my mom, aside from a pair of Ray Bans, which I’m hoping is the high priced item, she also mentioned some Pandora charms, and maybe some perfume.  I mentioned the Ray Bans to my brother and he just laughed.  I think he’s still laughing, actually.  He never did say what he planned to do for Mother’s Day, but I’m sure he’ll come through for her in the end.

There’s a Rite-Aid around the corner from his house and they’ve got a pretty decent selection of cards.

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IN: ON: May 11, 2012 TAGS: , BY: Hilary
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