Grass Stew, Healing update and Halloween

                          Today on The Current Lifestyle: Grass stew, a healing update and Halloween

Grass Stew: What the heck is grass stew? Well my friends, grass stew is just as you might think, a bunch of grass combined into a delicious "pretend" stew. Yesterday, I really needed to get myself outside, and since I haven't been cleared to drive until today, I brought my chunk of love outside into the yard and we dug around in my flower planters and the grass. One of her favorite games to play with me is to hand me items until my hands are full. Since we have an abundance of grass, we must have spent 45 minutes playing and making grass stew. She would grab handfuls place it into my hands until they were full. Afterwards, we would give our stew a little magical kick with a spell. "as strong as mountains as soft as hair, Chunks positive grass stew will be shared." I would then toss the grass back to her lap where she would happily kick it and scream. Then we'd repeat the entire process all over again. It was nice to be able to get some play time outside. Here in the tropics of South Florida, sometimes its just too hot, however yesterday was a perfect day. We ended our outside play with digging dirt in my planter. I realized this was a bad idea when I wasn't fast enough to keep a fist full of dirt from going into chunks mouth. Oh well, everyone has to "eat dirt" at some point in their life. At least Chunk chose too. Lol.

Healing update: since my last post, things had been rocky. I ended up back in the hospital for troubled breathing. After x-rays, multiple blood work, my device checked, and a very interesting CT scan, I was diagnosed with inflammation of my heart wall and told I was feeling my new leads on my heart. I stayed another night in the hospital for observation. The on call doctor was happy that I called and came in. I was worried that I was maybe blowing this troubled breathing out of proportion, but he assured me, that it could have been worse, like one of my leads puncturing my cardiac sack and needing another surgery or a pulmonary embolism. I was releases back home the following day. Since then, I've been getting stronger each day. Its difficult healing so slowly. I want to be back to normal, like yesterday. I'm able to hold some weight in my left arm now. Up to five pounds. I can even move my arm a little more and take a shower! Showers require me to place Glad Press and Seal over my incision site, but at least I've been cleared. Yes, I can see where the device sits under my skin, and yes I can feel it with and without my hands. As much as that might be a bother to some people, its not so bad for me. Its not as obvious as one would think. One feeling I didn't expect to have is a feeling of what new things can I do now? Having this device placed has really given me a sense of assurance.


Halloween, one of my favorite holidays. Since I didn't get my costume finished before my surgery, I went as a martial artist. Its just my TKD uniform. Simple, I know. But it was easy on my arm and chest too. My husband however, has been building and sewing his costume for months. He even incorporated chunk into his costume. He made a really awesome X-wing pilot costume complete with an R2 unit, from Star Wars. Here is their picture.

That's all for now my friends. I wish you all a great day full of cool breezes and sunshine. Get outside today and if you can't make some grass stew, at least take some time to feel the grass with your bare feet. It can be very healing.

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Mommy is now Iron Man

How I view myself now

Tonight on The Current Lifestyle: Mommy is now Iron Man.

I survived. Yep, as I write this, I'm a little hopped up on Percocet. Thankfully for you my reader, I cut the dose in half. I'm not going to lie, this wasn't fun, but now that the worst is over, I'm glad I can now move on with my new back up plan.

This is the story of my ICD implant and how I became Iron Man.

Thursday, I needed to be at the hospital at 10:30 am. I wasn't too thrilled that it was that late in the morning, because prior to any surgical procedure, you can not eat or drink anything after midnight. My last meal was at, no joke, 11:53 pm. My husband drove me to the hospital where we were told to check in on the 2nd floor. The gentleman that checked me in then handed me a cup and said, " the doctor wants a urine sample before the surgery." I swear it took every once of my being not to lose it on this nice guy. I went to the ladies room, and squeezed out any remaining fluids my bladder could muster. I walked my sad looking sample back to the check in guy and said, "how could anyone request and even expect a decent urine sample after I've had nothing to eat or drink in over 10 hours?"  He laughed and said," I don't know, I don't understand it either." Shortly after, I was taken into a pre-op holding room. It had several beds circling a nurses station. Each bed was separated by those amazingly secretive curtains. A sweet nurse showed me my bed. She asked me to take everything off, place my belongings into a bag and before donning the gown that fits no one, asked that I again scrub myself with warm surgical soap pads that she was in the process of opening. I did as I was instructed, and then sat on my bed. Soon after the nurse came back and placed a heart monitor on my back. (Since my operation will be in the front.) She then started my IV which was by far the best one I've ever had. I barely felt it.

my hubby

She told me that she would then go get my husband and also return with something to make me relax. When she returned, Scott was with her, smiling. I guess he wanted to try and not look concerned. That or I looked so funny and small in my gown. The nurse asked me my name and birthdate then gave me a drug that she promised was a cocktail without the hangover. She was right! Unfortunately my doctor was held up in an EP study and the OR was behind on schedule and my meds started to wear off. I was supposed to be in surgery at 11:45. I wasn't wheeled back until 2:30. Needless to say, that nurse just kept giving me cocktails.

When the OR nurses came to get me, they placed my hair into a surgical cap. They loaded me up with blankets and wheeled me down hallways that I swear are kept at a fridge temp in case you die and they need your organs.

brave face

When I was in the OR room, I was able to look around. I saw the thousands of instruments that had already been sterilized and out for my procedure. I saw the massive lights hanging above the OR table. The anesthesiologist was already in the room waiting for me. Another nurse asked me to scoot myself over onto the table. As I did so, I was able to see through to another operating room. Through the glass doors, I could see a man with tubes hanging out of his mouth and several doctors standing over him. The next and last thing I remember was a nice nurse placing a non-rebreather mask on my face.

I woke up in PACU on my right side around 3:30ish. Apparently the first thing I said to that nurse was, "was I good?" I don't remember much after that first hour, but I slowly came around from the anesthesia. My husband was allowed in to visit with me. We sat in PACU and waited for a room upstairs. My husband said the procedure went pretty fast. He said my doctor came to speak with him about 50 minutes after I was taken back. My doctor said," are you the boyfriend?" My husband replied, "uh no, I'm her husband." Then my doctor said, "okay well its in and should be a very tiny scar. Everything went well." I laughed when Scott told me this. I guess I can understand why my doctor thought we weren't married. 90% of his patients are in their 60's or older. Although, he shouldn't have assumed.

Just woke up in PACU

I was allowed to finally eat some crackers and fruit after 5pm. Scott had returned home to check on my sister who was watching our little chunk and at my request bring me sushi. I didn't get a room until after 7pm. When I did finally make it upstairs it was shift change. I wasn't thrilled because at this point my pain meds had worn off and I couldn't receive my meds until the shift change was complete. My father, his wife, my sister and brother visited me soon after. They stayed and chatted with me glad to see I was okay when Scott walked in with sushi. I was so excited.

Me in my room

My family left shortly after we started eating. A nurse came into my room to give me my pain meds around 9ish and asked if I had any questions. I'll spare the rest of the boring details of this story. To make it short, Scott had to go home to be with our chunk. I tossed and turned most of the night because either I was in pain or someone was in my room for vitals or checking to make sure I was still alive. My resting heart rate dips into the low 50s and the hospital doesn't like that. Plus, my blood pressure was 98/65 and the nurse was very concerned I could be bottoming out.

The following day, I was finally allowed to go home after noon. I had received a dose of Zophran before leaving to cure the nausea the Percocet gave me. I was also told the best discharge instructions ever.

1) no shower for a week
2)no driving for 2 weeks
3) schedule a visit to see your doctor next week
4) no lifting of your left arm
There was more but those were the most important. I think number 1 is my favorite. For fear of getting my surgical sites wet and infected, I get to stink. Awesomesauce.!!!!!!

That's all for now. I'll write more on this subject later. I'm actually feeling nauseous from the pain meds as I type. Thank you to those who called, visited, texted or prayed. Like what I post? Then please leave a comment or subscribe.

My surgical site

my nauseating pain meds

My new device

always get back up

Pre-OP thoughts

Tonight on The Current Lifestyle,

Pre-OP thoughts.

my arm band

I headed over to the Rothman Center at JFK Hospital this morning around 9:15am. I walk in alone because my husband needed to take care of little chunk. (She can't sit still for a couple of hours while I check in and get work done.) So, I tell myself to be brave. "You must be brave today, this is only blood work, a chest X-ray and paper work," I told myself as I walked through those glass doors. Its amazing how numb one can feel when just trying to go through the motions as quickly as possible. After I checked in at security, I was placed into a room to wait for a nurse. You're left alone with your mawkish thoughts of what is and what is not possible in the next two days to come. The not dirty but not chemically clean either smell of the traffic run pre op center wafts its odor all along the hospitals' first floor; making one cringe at the thought of even touching a waiting room arm chair. A lovely elderly nurse walked in and introduced herself to me. She reviews my pre op instructions about proper bathing before surgery and when I can have my last meal. I actually have to bathe with a special solution I was sent home with. She asks me a few questions and informs me that the blood work for today will be a type and match. "Just in case you may need a blood transfusion." she said.  To be honest, I've never really considered the thought of someone else's blood running through my veins. I would welcome it gladly should I need it, however, its truly someone else life force.

I let the nurse continue her questions about why I'm here and my medical history all the while as a short young phlebotomy technician comes into the room to take my blood. The only thing I like about getting my blood drawn is when its a phlebotomy tech.They are usually quick, as painless as possible and don't leave me with any bruising. This young woman lived up to my expectations and was in my vein and out quickly. The last piece of the check in was a chest X-ray performed in the radiology department. A young, still in school radiology technician, came to escort me and directed me through the hospitals maze of hallways to the X-ray room. Once there, I was asked to stand in front of the machine for 3 pictures. I'll spare you the rest of the boring details of this visit. On the way out however, the funny thing the technician said to me as he was then escorting me back to the front door was, "you'll have your results in about 2-3 days." I silently chuckled at what he said. I wasn't there to get results of anything. I know first hand that he had no clue why I was there and if a doctor wanted them stat, X-rays are instantly placed on computer screens now for instant viewing. They already had the results, which are nothing. My doctor just wanted a clear view of what's underneath my skin before placing my new device.

I guess this post is just random thoughts of experience before the big day. I'm scared. Things at home are tense and I'm not one to talk about how I'm really feeling. I'm better at expecting my husband to already know how I'm feeling then get angry when I'm asked what's wrong. Yes, I know that's not fair to him.

my goody bag and body scrub

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Pumpkin patch and thoughts on life while eating candy corn

Chunk at the pumpkin patch 2015

I type this with a sadness and a little bit of fear wedged somewhere in between. This week has been so much fun. Today, I took Chunk to the pumpkin patch at one of our local farms. I was more excited to take her this year, because she is now old enough to get some enjoyment out of touching the pumpkins. As far as I could tell, she had a blast. She experienced her first hay ride around the farm and got the chance to play with some pumpkins. I didn't brave the corn maze with her, for fear that we'd get lost. During the hay ride, she squealed with delight as the tractor pulled us around the farm and the wind blew her hair. It was such a joyous moment to see. This week has been full of those wonderful moments whether its with her or my husband and I have been happy just to have witnessed them. The sadness and fear that fall within these moments are a causation of a future surgery I must undergo this coming Thursday. For those readers that don't know, I was born with a serious heart disease and though its been under control with medication for sometime now, doctors want a defibrillator implanted. Yes, I know that this is a routine procedure, however, there is always that slight chance that your heart doesn't start again once they test the device. Its difficult for me because I know this is what's best,however, what happens to my family if it goes wrong? I dislike very much putting my life in other peoples' hands. My husband will be the first to say that I do this everyday on the road, but I logically can't log it into my brain. I am one of those cruncher type of people that will do anything to keep foreign items or chemicals from my body. I like to believe I'm as close to holistic and natural as mother nature intended. (I'm eating candy corn as I type this. I also can contradict myself, candy corn is full of everything but nature and her intended ingredients.) I know my readers have previously loved my posts because they have been humorous in nature. I do apologize for the lack there of as the last 4 or so posts have been somewhat serious or dull.

touching hay for the first time

If I ask anything now of my readers its a wish, prayer, spell or kind words for a speedy recovery.

Thank you for reading, updates will be available as the date and time draw near.

Chunks first hay ride

Cup of morning tea and apple chips

Our beautiful morning here in Florida. This is my backyard.

Good morning fellow readers. It truly is a magical morning too. The temperature dropped below 74F here in sunny Florida and I'm stoked. That means I'm feeling fantastic and Fall has started. To kick off this glorious cooler than normal morning I have decided to share one of my favorite fall recipe treats with you. They are called Homemade Apple chips.

Fall is the perfect time to make apple chips because its when apple season is at its peak. Plus, the three simple ingredients and instructions are just too easy to not throw together and then be on your way.

I can not take credit for this recipe. All credit goes to: The Italian Dish http://theitaliandishblog.com/imported-20090913150324/2012/1/2/homemade-apple-chips.html

Apple Chips

Materials:
2 cookie sheets
Mandolin
Parchment paper
2 Bowls
Whisk
Tongs
Oven


Ingredients:
1 Apple (I used 5 and made a big batch)
1tablespoon Cinnamon
2 tablespoons Brown sugar

Directions:
Pre-heat oven to 225 degrees. Mix with whisk in a bowl your cinnamon and brown sugar. Place parchment paper onto cookie sheets. (I have a mandolin with rubber grips and place it over my second bowl, you could also use a cutting board) Slice apple(s) as thinly as your mandolin will allow. Place 4-5 slices into cinnamon and brown sugar bowl and coat the apple slices. Place onto the cookie sheet and repeat until cookie sheet is full. Repeat until both cookie sheets are full. Place both cookie sheets into the oven for 1 hour. At the one hour mark, take cookie sheets out, flip the slices with tongs and place back into the oven for another hour rotating the sheets, (the one sheet that was on the top rack now place on the bottom rack. Etc.) the apple slices will begin to harden.

I hope you enjoyed this tasty recipe. I loved it so much I just had to share. I can't wait for Chunk to wake from her morning nap and try them.

If you haven't noticed by now, Fall is my favorite season. It is the cool relief that comes for those of us living in the tropical climates that seems to bring out a little more happiness in us all. I seem to do more Fall cleaning too than Spring cleaning. Lol.

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Overwhelmed.....but I think finally the good kind.

I'm putting this out there, even though its nothing new for most people with children. OVERWHELMED.

If there is a word that even begins to make overwhelmed seem small, then, that my readers is how I truly feel.

I can't seem to feel any satisfaction even if I have accomplished everything on my "to do" list. I find it so fulfilling yet irritating that I can not and will never be able to catch up on everything I want to do. From me time to taking care and teaching Chunk, to taking care of the house, to earning a little extra income, to spending time with my husband. It all adds up. I want to start making money at home, research takes time. I want our family to eat organically and more raw, research takes time. I want to make a diy (insert occasion or seasonal holiday) project, research takes time. I want to learn to play the piano, speak Spanish, knit, work with leather, work with wood, about the policies of the numerous candidates for future president, read both a fiction and non- fiction book.... again either the research or just the act alone takes time.

I guess what I'm trying to say is, at this point with Chunk now a year and a month old, I thought I'd have it all together and I'd be that SAHM that knew how to accomplish it all. I try. I write out lists everyday, and at the end of everyday, I'm utterly exhausted. The best time saver I did for my self as well as a stress reliever was give up social media, which was FB because I didn't even bother with Twitter or instagram or whatever else is out there. On a very positive note, I'm so grateful to be in this predicament. Yes, I'm complaining that I have too much on my plate and admitting that I don't have it under control, but I chose this. I wanted that Chunk of myself and husband in my life. When Chunk takes even just one second to sit still and lie her head in my lap or randomly come over to me with a book in her hand for me to read, I know that this chaos is what I've always longed for.

So, to the friends I forgot to call back, to my cousin that waits longer than she should for my hand written letters, to my friends that witness me losing my mind over a forgotten wallet after arriving late, to my family that I do speak with on the phone yet sometimes my interruptions sound like turrets, please forgive me; I'm in the middle of being the most absolute awesome human being to my Chunk.

To myself, I forgive you too for not being able to get everything on your list done. Its okay, there is another day. That Chunk was so worth it and playing with her today was truly magical. Didn't you just love that smile?



Chunks worth it. I love her so much.

When did I start thinking like this?

On tonight's episode of The Current Lifestyle, When did I start thinking like this?

This post has taken some thought and time. I really have no idea how to start it. At first I was going to title it, when did I start thinking more like a feminist? However, I'm not sure I completely agree with every single point feminists stand for. So, I guess when did I start thinking like this? Even though it was more broad, it didn't single me out one way or another.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have noticed, as well as my husband, that I have been increasingly argumentative when it comes to any topic on human rights. I may not always be right or win the argument, but the passion behind it is real enough. I then can turn anything into a wrong doing against women.

 For example, after my husband had left for work one morning, I was cleaning up my daughter after her breakfast. While I do this I like to listen to NPR. NPR had reported that two male university students from country A (because I can't remember the country I'll call it that) had traveled to country B and had been sexually assaulted. Country A was now getting involved with country B for mistreating it's two male citizens. (I tried to find this article online so that I could use it as a resource, however, I can't remember the title.) Because this assault had taken place in the middle east, and this had happened right around the time India was taking up a big rape case for the first time in defense of a woman, I was pissed, for lack of a better word. Country A and country B, I'm glad they got involved to help their citizens. No one, male or female deserves to be sexually assaulted. However, knowing the history of those two countries, I was angered by the thought that had those students been female, those countries might have killed them, beat them, or it might have gone unreported out of fear. (Also assuming the females were permitted to go to school in the first place)


So, later on that evening when my husband returned home, and we were lying in bed, he happilly showed me a picture on FB. Now, I can laugh at jokes, but this day I wasn't laughing.

This was the FB post

I immediately became defensive and responded, well, our friend so and so is a vegetarian and he doesn't have a vagina. I think he's pretty manly. Then I kept going with, why does the worst insult to a guy have to be something that is feminine? Why can't you just call him an ass? Everyone has one, male or female. My husband responded with, because "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, unless he's a vegetarian then you can get there through his ass??? Doesn't sound right." Now, I'm not trying to make you as the reader hate my husband, he has a point, no, it's not as funny, but it still bothered me.
I started to tell him about how this morning news story bothered me. That's when he said, "what or where has this all come from?" I angerly responded what the hell do you mean? It's just not right, and even though it's far away, similar things happen like that here in the states too. Women get paid less then men in the work force, female sports aren't broadcast anywhere near to the extent of male sports, much less are the athletes paid like them, look at the difference in medical care, our government has to decide if to "make" companies cover birth control, abortion (enough said), maternity leave in this country vs lets say Canada, female parts are either made to be dirty or slutty in our society, and I'm sick of hearing the phrase, "you hit like a girl...or you do such and such like a girl!" Why do we do that to our females? Then we also on the same token wonder why girls have self esteem issues.

The argument heated up further when my husband concluded that the source of all of this anger was from an ad I had also seen on FB from the company, Always. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjJQBjWYDTs

(Click the link above to view) I thought it was a powerful ad and tastefully done.We eventually were able to get our points across and we had to agree to disagree on some issues.

Now some of you would point out that I'm a feminist. The definition of feminist is advocating social, political, legal, and economic rights for women equal to those of men. Yes, by the definition, I could be labeled as such, however, I'm now a stay at home mom and I'm not out their physically advocating for equal rights. I also like my job at home. I clean and cook and believe it or not, I like it! I depend on my husbands income to survive. When I was working as a teacher and brought home a paycheck, that made my claims stronger, however, we as a family chose for me to stay home with our daughter. Also, I believe there needs to be a healthy balance advocating for equal rights. Most feminists today, are being shamed for what critics are saying, that feminists want special treatment. I don't believe that true feminists want special treatment. 

So, back to my real question, when did I start thinking like this? Was it when I had my daughter? Was it when I turned 30, or did I finally grow up? Maybe a combination of all including thinking for myself. Maybe my husband was right, the Always ad might have sparked a little flame in me. Let's say that is so, then I thank you Always. Because now, I ask the questions. I ask WHY. This country needs to seriously take a look at it's people. We are all people. From the racism issues to the equality for GLBT community, to disability equal rights to gender rights, our country needs to take a step back. We need to fix our county on the inside before going off and changing other countries. Just like a doctor tells you, you can't help others with out helping yourself first. How are you going to take care of someone when you can not take care of yourself? (In no way is this insensitive to those men and women serving this country. I have family in the military too. Without them, I couldn't even bitch about this topic without my some sort of punishment. Thank you for fighting for my first Amendment rights among other freedoms.)

I believe our country can be better than it is today. I want that for my daughter. I know this post is nothing like my previous posts, however, I needed to get that out. Feel free to comment and agree or disagree. I'm not bothered. I can handle it.

Want to discuss another topic that pushes my buttons? Ask me about sexual abuse.
 

 Please leave a comment. Make sure it's tasteful though, because otherwise, I wont read it.




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Running back into the house for forgotten items more than 5X is normal!?!?!?!

Hello there readers, yes it's been awhile since my last post. Thanks for reading and your patience. Tonight's topic on The Current Lifestyle:

Putting our toys away

Running back into the house for forgotten items more than 5X is normal?!?!?!?
Sadly, yes it is.

I honestly thought after giving birth to Chunky P, that pregnancy brain would have some how slithered it's way out of me, just like how I pushed chunk out. I mean, seriously, there are parts of my pregnancy in the early months that I don't remember. I was ready to get my brain back as well as other things and enjoy life. Well, out of the millions of moms I have met over the years or became friends with, they too, FORGOT to mention that I'd never get my fully functioning brain back. For example, today, is Thursday, I have dubbed this day grocery shopping day. I do the same thing every Thursday. After Chunks morning nap, we go to the local produce stand for fruits and veggies, then to the grocery store for everything else. Well, one would think I would check my purse to make sure I had everything. I pull into the produce market. Get chunk out while shes strapped to her heavier than hell car seat carrier. We then make our way through the market selecting what we need for the week. Be mindful, we live in South FL, it's already 88 degrees and humid and the market is outside. I pick a lane to purchase our goodies, and as the girl tells me our total and has now bagged everything into my re-useable save the Earth bag, I don't have any form of payment. None, zero, like where the hell did my wallet go? I don't know what was worse, panic or embarrassment. She assured me that she would save my cart and that I could return to pick it up. When I did finally return with my wallet in hand, she did have my cart saved for me. Where was said wallet? In my Taekwondo bag. I had taught classes the night before and it had fallen out of my purse when I shoved my purse inside my TKD bag.

Things could have been worse. Like the time I drove an hour to work, went to change into my TKD uniform only to discover I left my uniform pants at home. Thankfully, my place of employment sells extra pants for people like me. Or, like the time I seriously counted how many times I shut my car door than reopened it and ran back into the house for Chunks things so that she could stay the night at her Nanny's place. (My mother) 5. YES 5 times. I have discovered throughout all of this forgetting, that you can either "survive" without it or you find it somewhere out on your travels, and hate yourself for having to spend more money on something other than a brain transplant.

So, to all of my mommy friends out there, I'm no longer angry with you for not telling me about this continuous pregnancy brain. I have come to the realization that you all just FORGOT. And, to all of my friends who don't have children yet....................................................Oh, look a piece of candy!

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The hard way. Lesson #422 bringing baby to the beach by yourself

Tonight's topic:
Learning things the hard way. Lesson #422 Bringing baby to the beach by yourself.

Playing in the back yard with the hose

Last Friday, I had planned to meet up with a group of mommies and their babies at one of our local beaches. The meet up time was set for 10:00am and the beach that had been chosen, was one that we all knew the parking lot filled up quickly and was pretty much first come first served. After breakfast that morning, I put chunk-o-love down for her morning nap and packed the car. I was excited to be even going to the beach. I knew it wasn't going to be easy but I knew if we did get there, we'd have fun. It'll be fun. FUN......F....U...N.... the magic word.

 Chunk and I left for the beach at 9:00am. While packing the car, I discovered that my swimsuit bottoms were missing and I couldn't find them to save my life. So I planned a little stop on the way at Target to get a black pair of bottoms. We were in and out of Target in no time. I paid for and changed into the swim bottoms at Target and we made our way to the beach. I should've known things were going to go wrong when my swim trunks went missing before I left the house. I should've known things were going to go wrong when I was stopped at the bridge for 20 minutes to let a sail boat pass. I should've known that things were going to go wrong when, we made it to the beach 20 minutes late and the lot was full. But, I didn't.

I text the mommies of the group to let them know that I was just going to go to another park beach entrance near by and maybe we'd meet up with them later. Chunk and I waited in the lot for 15 minutes just in case someone else was leaving, but luck didn't shine down on us that day. I drove us to the nearest beach entrance. All the while, Chunk is now screaming in the back seat. Nothing consoling her. I parked the car, frazzled made my way over to her side of the car and discovered a poo diaper. Easy enough, I've had practice with this. I changed her, and put her into her swim diaper. I then somehow managed to get her, the diaper bag, the blanket and beach bag out of the car and to the beach. That required, arms full, crossing a busy street and up a 25 meter path to the ocean. When we got there, I dropped the bags, some how managed to get the blanket down on the sand one handed and placed chunk on top of it. I lathered her little legs in sunscreen for the first time since I couldn't also carry the umbrella to the beach. About this time, is when her paci fell into the sand. Now, for those of you that have ever been to the East coast beaches in Florida, you know, this isn't normal sand. It's really crushed up shells dragged out of the water from off shore and placed back on the beach because of erosion. Our beaches haven't had that beautiful white soft sand since I was a kid. Because of this, the stuff we now call sand, sticks to you wet or dry. So, I made a poor attempt at cleaning off her paci with some water from my water bottle and placed it into the beach bag. Next, I grabbed chunk and we made our way towards the water. The waves were unusually rough, so I only put my feet in. I put chunks feet down in the wet sand and when the waves rushed in to meet her little piggly wigglies; all hell broke loose. She instantly screamed like I was trying to drown her while at the same time picking her legs up and refusing to stand. People walking by were laughing at my sad attempt of getting my natural Florida born child into the ocean. I decided to try torture my child one last time and placed her feet down again in the wet sand and water. NO. It was not going to go my way. I walked chunk and myself back to our blanket and decided to just pack up and go home. She wasn't going to last long on the sand playing because it was so hot and sunny. So, I packed everything up with the exception of the blanket that chunk was sitting on. I placed her sitting up in the sand, packed the blanket and looked down. There chunk was, eating fist fulls of sand. Lovely, I picked her up, and the 3 bags of stuff, tried to brush her off and realized she was tired from the one glorious sign she gave me, rubbing her sandy hands over her eyes.
Great! I thought. She's got sand in her mouth and eyes. Cursing under my breath, I walked us back to the car as quickly as possible. When we got there, I started the car, then walked around to chunks side put her into her car seat, and proceeded to make her a bottle. (I stopped breast feeding due to medical issues) I grabbed her bottle already filled with warm water, and the zip lock baggie I placed at least 8oz of formula into. As I'm trying to rip open the zip lock bag, I get distracted by another family in the parking lot. Before I know it, the bag completely bursts open and formula powder explodes everywhere on me, chunk and in my clean car. It looked like someone took powdered sugar and dusted the inside seats. This was the point, I laughed, gave chunk what formula I hadn't lost and shut the door. I walked around to the drivers side of the car and cried. Not for long though. Some guy was watching the entire scene play out in the parking lot from his truck. Since, I'm not an actress or side show act for everyone's viewing pleasure, I backed out of my spot and went home. On the way, Chunk fell asleep instantly after her bottle was finished. To wrap this long story up, we played in the back yard with the hose when she woke up. It was nice to have her and myself finally clean of sand, formula and enjoying the water.

Asleep on the way home

No officer, it's formula dust in my car I swear

So my dear friends, if you take your infant to the beach by yourself, I pray that you have a better time than we did. I'm not sure if I'll ever do it again to be honest.


Live and laugh my friends. Sometimes, it's all you have.

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His way or my way? When you don't see eye to eye.

Chunks eyes are my favorite

Tonight's topics are:

1) His way or my way? When you don't see eye to eye.
2) Cloth diapering and the car. Only cloth families understand


His way or my way? When you don't see eye to eye. So lately, my darling hubby and I have had it out. He's expressed his concern that while raising our chunk of goodness, I tend to do things my way and I'm not open to his way of raising her. "Fair enough," I tell him. "I'm with her at home all week and have figured out ways to deal with multiple situations. My ways or solutions may not be the quickest or the best, but its the only way I know how." He has tried to show me on two different occasions how to handle our little chunk, however, I get easily frustrated with him when he tries to tell me how to do anything with our child. Why? Well, some things I either don't agree with or I'm not fully understanding what he is communicating to me. The same happens when the situation is also reversed. I expressed this frustration to my therapist last week. She told me that it was good for our little to learn that there is not just one way to do things with her. She'll learn that there is mommy's way, daddy's way and her grandparents' way etc. No one way is better than the other and so long as she isn't being harmed and has all of her basic needs met, she will be fine. She also said I should be a little more open to daddy's suggestions and not be so quick to right them off. I might find he does have an easier way with her and some tasks. We could learn from each other. Lastly, she said to try and find the positives in the different ways that my hubby does things. He loves her and wants to share her. So, this week has been a challenge since I left my therapists office. However, it's been a good challenge and a funny one now that I can choose to see the positives instead of the negatives. Below are the different ways we feed our child a bottle. The positive in the picture with daddy is, she has learned how to hold her own bottle. He did teach her that. Also, he can multitask.

Mommy's way of feeding a bottle

Daddy's way of feeding a bottle

Cloth diapering and the car. Only cloth families understand.
If you've read some of my previous bogs or have been on my FB, you know that my chuck of goodness, loves to share her body fluids generously. I like to think of it as her way of giving me little reminders to smile at my day and to not be so serious. I mean hell, I used to be so carefree until I had a child. It's like someone gave me a dose of "grow up" when she entered the world. So imagine this.
It's a beautiful spring day. There is a clear bright blue sky with warm Florida sunshine. It's shinning all of its beautiful light and warmth out onto the state. My little and I are sitting in a parking lot changing her fully loaded cloth diaper in the car before heading into Old Navy. What do I do with a cloth diaper on the go? Well, I have special bags I place the dirty diaper in so that my car and other belongings are protected as well as I can then clean it when I get home. However, I don't want to carry around a cloth diaper that's completely filled with poo. (If you do that, sorry, I'm being honest when I say, I'm judging you as a shit carrier.) The only other option is to leave it in the car. Yes, the car. The car that sits in the hot Florida sun. The hot humid state that everyone hates between the months of September to May because of envy. I did leave that poo in the car. I guess I can be judged as a shit leaver. I tried too, as best as I could to be quick in the store. But, Florida heat and humidity don't care. They laugh at you the second you turn your car off even if you have already planned the quickest way to get in and out of a store. You can only imagine the smell we returned to when we did make it back finally from the store. I can't describe it. It did make for a wonderful ride home though. It's rare when I roll down the windows in the car and let fresh air hit our faces. Chunk thought it was grand. I like to think she just wanted us to feel the wind on our face. In all reality though, we were riding in a poo smelling car. Ask me how long it takes to get the smell out. Well, I have put those Fabreeze car clips to the test and as far as I'm concerned, either the thing works, people don't want to tell me my car stinks or I have some weird friends and they like the smell.

Chunk in a cloth diaper and swing

Live and Laugh my friends. Remember to be open to new ways or possibilities and to laugh when things go to poo.

Wearing blue for Autism Awareness Day

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helmets and shots, shots and helmets.

Happy baby

Tonight, on The Current Lifestyle:



Helmet or not to helmet..... that's the question
and
Shots....... yes please!


Helmet or not to helmet..... that's the question
Friday I took the chunk-o-lot to her 6 month check up at the pediatricians office. I usually like going because I get to find out how much she weighs, which in all honesty is ridiculous since we have a scale at home. LAZY!!! Anyway, that's really the only reason. I dislike toting around my now 15 pounds of love, not to mention the car seat carrier, to the doctors office, only to have them ask me to strip my child of all clothes. Don't they know I fight with her to wear just a onesie every single morning? Haven't they read my past blogs; that she pretty much pees and poo's on me with clothes, why would I chance it without?!?! Well, we are there, I undress her, they measure and weigh her. She's now a whopping 15 pounds and 26 inches long. The doctor then comes into the room and meets us for the first time. (our previous doctor left to have her 3rd child.) She's a nice young gal and asks how my lovely little talker is eating. I tell her our feeding schedule and she seems satisfied. The doctor was also impressed that our little has slept in her crib since 6 weeks old and has slept through the night since she was 4-1\2 months old. (Stop sending me hate thoughts! It is possible even without CIO) :-) She then performs a physical check of our little chunk talker. The doctor seems very satisfied with her assessment then turns to me and asks how much tummy time we do. I tell her probably not as much as we should. I explain that she's either in a carrier on me, in a jumping contraption, sitting up or on her back. I don't believe she's on her back too much. I put her down to sleep on her back, but when I check on her, she's either rolled all the way over to her tummy or on her side. I have seen her roll from tummy to back and back to tummy. I have also seen her push up, so I know she's capable. The doctor then told me that our chunk has a flat spot on the lower right side of her head. She said that it won't effect her developmentally, but it is cosmetic. She said we need more tummy time and when we come back at her 9 month check up if I wanted she could send me to someone would pretty much put her in a helmet. She then said, its just cosmetic  though, and her hair will hide it too. So I asked her, does it bother you? She replied, its flat. I went home that day wondering if I was being a good parent in telling myself, I see it, but it doesn't really bother me. I told my husband later that night what the doctor said, and he agreed with me. Yes, its a little flat, but not really noticeable. Is your head really supposed to be perfectly round in the first place? I think since we here in the states have so many babies born via C-section, (thus no squeezed oblong head shape from the vaginal canal,) we've forgotten what vaginal birth babies heads look like. My husband and I have decided, yes, we will give her more tummy time, it can't hurt, but we are going to pass on the helmet. Judge what you will, but you really can't tell.

see my round head

Shots.... yes please

That leaves us with the last topic tonight, which no does not include tequila. Last but not least the doctor ordered chunks 6 month vaccines. (if you're a non-vaccer, then please don't leave a rude comment if you continue reading.) Poor kid was so happy until this point. As I can imagine, it hurts. I look at it as, my love for you sometimes hurts and I'm saving your life from all of these diseases and germs. She first received an oral vaccine which she swallows, then followed by that were 3 injections to her chubby legs. I distracted her as best I could, but crying will and did happen. If I did anything right, I had a bottle ready and waiting for her when she was all finished. The bottle settled her down and seemed to forget almost instantly what had just occurred. She was all smiles as we walked out the door. For the rest of the day, like her 2 month and 4 month shots, she slept. Pattern tells me and I've now had it happen three times. That after every vaccination she receives, she sleeps the rest of the day and the following day her schedule is slightly off. Two days later, she bounces right back to normal. I just wish there wasn't so many vaccines if I had a complaint. Every 2 months from the day new babies enter the world, they're poked until after their first birthday. (With month 8 and 10 being the exception.)

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vaccine schedule

"I'll stand barefooted in my own front yard with a baby on my hip 'cause I'm a redneck woman"

Mommy put a flower in my hair

Good evening everyone. This week has been rather busy, exciting and successful. It seems everyday we have something planed. Tonight's topics include: the very first mommy and me meet up group and strolling the hood like a redneck.

Mommy and Me meet up
Today, my chunky goodness and I went to our very first mommy and me outing. I honestly have been very hesitant with going to a meeting, for reasons I won't bore you with, but then I thought what the hell, one outing at a park shouldn't hurt. At 10:30am I packed up the chunk-o-potamus and we went to a local park in our area which had been designated the meet up spot by the host mommy of the group. We had fun and met three mommies. Two of which had more than one child. All of them were extremely friendly and introduced themselves to Caroline and myself. Today's meet up was like a teachers dream because it was a baby and mommy read a book at the park meet up. We brought a couple of books and shared the books when we were finished reading to our children. It was cute. I find it hilarious that my chunk wunk loves "This Little Piggy". The book, that we were aloud to read  from another mommy, had a finger puppet of a piggy that followed the entire story line and she was so focused on it. The meet up was fun and it was nice to finally get out with chunk and socialize with other mommies. By the way, if you're looking for meet up groups in your area, (it doesn't have to be a mommy and me) check out the free app called: Meetup. Browse topics that interest you such as; arts and crafts, sports, reading clubs, politics, etc. The app will show you all of the groups in your area meeting to either do or discuss those topics.


Strolling the hood like a red neck

Showing off my Palm Breeze disguised as a Due South brew.

After a wonderful afternoon at the park today, chunk and I ran some errands, took naps, cleaned the bathrooms and watched Doc. McStuffins and Sesame Street. We felt that the perfect end to our glorious day would be to walk around our neighborhood. Since it was "5 O'Clock somewhere," (Literally it was) mommy decided to grab a Palm Breeze. What could make mommy look more red neck than that? Oh, add her wardrobe. I was still in my cleaning clothes of a faded black spaghetti strapped tank which is so old it shows the tops of my bra, (not just the straps.) Pair that with the shortest shorts I own that ride up the crotch when I walk and are at the same time, to big for me in the waist. My stripped underwear could be seen if my tank rode up my back. Top it off with broken flip flops and I had just won America's Next Top Red Neck!  The best part? I could care less. I walked our circle like I owned it. I owned all 0.7miles of it. (All the way around, the damn circle is short 3 tenths of a mile. Kills me every time I run it.) I just wanted some sunshine before the day was done. Was it a beautiful sight for our neighbors? I guess it depends on who you ask. The only thing that could make it more beautiful would be if I was blasting "I'm a red neck woman" by: Gretchen Wilson

Chunk in her stroller

Be Bold and be daring my friends. You only get this one beautiful life.

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Where did my superpower go?

Tonight's luxurious topic will be on postpartum depression and socializing after baby. It's luxurious damn it because I said so.

How I once viewed my days. 

I didn't want to write this. This topic was something I had only read about and it happened to other mothers, not me. I'm perfect! I don't get sad, angry, lonely, or feel like I want to leave the perfect life that I had worked so hard to achieve.



But I DID...


Flash back a month ago, that is when my husband started to notice changes. Changes such as: the way I spoke to him, the constant obsession and over-protectiveness with our daughter, my incredibly short temper and outrageous busts of anger, always complaining of being tired, how every morning before he left for work, I looked as if the world was ending and when he came back home, I had on the exact same clothes (PJ's) and probably didn't shower that day. Something had happened.Something had changed. He tried with all of his strength to talk to me and help lift me back up to the person I once was, but it wasn't helping. Stress levels would build when guests would visit and as soon as they left, I was obsessed about cleaning. It got so bad, that he was worried about going into work everyday and wondering what was happening at home. Would I hurt our baby? Would I hurt myself? These questions raced through my hard working husbands mind all day.

The face of depression isn't always someone crying with their head in their hands. 

I tried talking to him when I could. However, I was confused and felt guilty for feeling the way I did and it usually ended in an argument. I didn't understand how I'd become this way. I once was a happy, easy going person. I was motivated and ready to learn and explore the day. I had a beautiful family and was proud of it. Damn it, I was the Queen of the Current household and there was nothing you could do about it. I jammed out to Katy Perry, Dark Horse. Why? Because I played with magic and I worked it! Boom! (Look up the lyrics for further understanding) I honestly had no idea what the problem was, and that, was the biggest problem. I knew I needed to take my husbands advice and seek out help when I didn't want to call my two closest friends and talk with them about it. I felt lonely, yet I never called to talk to anyone. I had every excuse from, he/she works and I don't, to he/she lives too far away, to I don't want to put my problems onto others. I finally told a friend about my struggle. I won't lie, I felt horrible talking about it. I didn't want to burden her with my problems. She sat quietly and listened, and I thank her for that.

Two days later, my husband, our little chunk o poo, and I went to the therapist appointment I had finally been able to set. Believe me when I say my motivation was gone, it was. I couldn't even perform the simple task of looking up therapists covered by our insurance company. After two prior failed attempts, I called my OBGYN for a list of names they could recommend. Walking into the office was intimidating. I once had the pleasure in nursing school of doing rounds in a psych ward and I felt as if I was going back, only this time, I was committing myself for treatment. Before I was seen, the doctor asked me to fill out the most uplifting paperwork of my life. In all honesty its a check list of anything bad that you do or feel. Sad to say, that lovely little stack of questions took me 20 minutes to complete. Afterwards, I was directed to the doctors office. It was, you guessed it, the standard couch and desk room scene complete with a book shelf and indoor plants. The doctor then directed my husband and our now screaming for food child into a kid friendly room for him to feed and play with. I stayed in that room for an hour. We chatted over my responses to the answered questions and she also assured me that what I was feeling and doing, was completely normal for a new mom. I couldn't believe it, she said, I was normal.  I wanted so badly to scream down the hall at my husband, "She said, I'm normal!" However, I knew that would probably not be a normal thing to do. Then she asked me what I found to be the greatest question I had ever been asked by a doctor. She asked, what I wanted to gain from her working with me? It was simple, I wanted to go back to that happy person I once was without medication. I wanted to hold conversations with people and not react negatively or angry towards others. I wanted my energy back, and to be able to let some things go.    "Let it go, Let it go!"

So, those my fabulous friends are what I'm currently working on. I was given a homework assignment to figure out what calms me down. Sadly, it's guitar playing or Taekwondo. I'll have to find other things, because both of those don't really work out in an argument. Well, Taekwondo could, however, that throws me back to square one if I'm now going to start assaulting people. She also suggested finding some mommy and me classes or groups. She said that should help get me holding conversations with other moms and cure some feelings of loneliness. I've researched a few with my husband and I have decided to give some classes a whirl. I'm excited to say that I'm looking forward to our next meeting on Tuesday. I'm also looking forward to a couple of planned outings with our chunk snuggle muffin.

I guess what this post is really about is to let you know and me, you're not alone out there suffering. You also don't deserve to suffer. Find someone to talk to. Life doesn't have to be so hard. Have to be, are the key words. Somewhere deep inside you is some part of you screaming to fix whatever problem(s) there may be, so find that will power no matter how small it is and help yourself. You deserve a life of happiness and love. Hell, I'm here to listen, just leave a comment. I'm no trained professional, and shouldn't be handing out emotional advice, but I can lend an ear and share experiences.

Here are some helpful links:

1) http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/postpartum-depression/basics/definition/con-20029130 What postpartum depression (PPD) is

2) http://www.apa.org/pi/women/programs/depression/postpartum.aspx Statistics of PPD

3) http://www.buzzfeed.com/laurasilver/this-is-what-depression-really-looks-like?bffb&utm_term=4ldqpgp#.klMGMDr6Ve an article I found interesting

and just in case,
4) http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/  For when you have a serious emergency



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Getting back the pre-mommy body

March 16, 2015

 Until you've experienced the miracle of carrying a child, you can not fathom how difficult it is to motivate yourself to get back to the person you once were. (Physically speaking) Before I became pregnant with our daughter, I was skinny fat. That's skinny, with no real definition or toning of the muscles.

Skinny fat

Doctors always said I was healthy but I knew I could be better. I never had those 6 pack abs or those really beautiful biceps that Jillian Micheals or Jackie Warner have thought I've always wanted them.
Flash forward, I'm 8 months pregnant, and weighing in almost 30 pounds more than my pre-pregnancy weight and I'm bawling. My husband walks into the room and can't possibly understand why I'm so upset. Didn't I know that pregnant women were supposed to gain weight? Didn't I know that my clothes would have to change and I would lose sight of my feet and my southern lady parts? What happened to my V-Jay??? While I understood and knew these things would happen, nothing prepares you for that day when you look at yourself in the mirror naked with a bulging belly and swollen breasts and you think oh my god!
Then came the guilt. Oh how I knew there were so many women who couldn't have babies and would probably tell me how much they would give anything to be able to carry a child. It's the miracle of life I should be enjoying every single moment of my growing body. I, however, wasn't. I also discovered that I wasn't the only one. I held discussions with other mothers who couldn't stand the sight or look of their growing bodies. We felt the same. I also realized, that it was okay to feel that way. It didn't make me a horrible person or mother.

9 Months pregnant

After I gave birth to our daughter, I knew that two things had to happen before I could get back to the person I once was. I had to heal for at least 6 weeks, and be given the all clear by my doctor to exercise after having been in labor. So, during those 6 weeks, I rested, enjoyed the new life I had been given and read up on fitness and nutrition. I used our daughter as my motivational drive. When I told people that I was going to start working out, they laughed. (I had to unexpectedly wait until January due to surgery to start my new journey. That was 3 months after I had given birth.) The reason for laughter, everyone starts a new fitness journey in January. It should be dubbed fitness month. Anyway, I took pictures of myself on January 4th, weighed in and set a small goal of getting back to my pre-pregnancy weight. At first it was hard. I remember not being able to walk correctly the next day because I pushed myself so hard. I learned after a week of jogging everyday and working out everyday that I was doing too much and I needed to scale down my plan and rest. So I took out a calendar and on it wrote what I would focus on on each day. I even wrote in my rest days. I posted it on a cork board which has now become my goal board that I look at everyday, several times a day. It's located in the hallway from our garage to our kitchen. We enter and leave from that hallway multiple times a day so you can't miss it. I started changing the way I ate. I tossed the junk food out, I only purchased food from the store that had very little to no processed junk and sugar intake per serving less than 5 g. If it had more, forget it. I looked up new recipes and tried things like beet hummus. I guess you could say I became obsessed. I put down soda cold turkey and haven't touched it since watching a you tube video of a Russian, boiling off the water in the bottle and showing all of the nasty corn syrupy tar that we ingest. Believe me, it's disgusting. I also started following other baby mommas on Facebook who refused to give into society's acceptance of the post baby body.

I guess the reason for this post is to show you that it is possible to look even better than you did before you conceived your new chuck of love. I still have areas I'm working on and I've never felt better physically or sexier in my life. I'm now 3 months into my workout and nutrition routine and I've lost all of my pregnancy weight and inches in my waist, hips and thighs. I'm proud of where I am and I know I can be better.

Post workout shake

Building my abs after baby

Here are my 6 ways of getting the post baby body I want:

1) Create a motivational board and look at it everyday. Keeping track of where you are and where you want to be.

My motivational board

2) Set realistic and measurable goals. (I changed mine from a set number on the scale to body measurements. When you build muscle, you gain weight. Measurements like hips and thighs help motivate you to target those areas and it's easy to measure and see the results.)
3) Slowly change your diet. Don't cut every junk food out cold turkey. Still to this day, I have items in the house I eat and shouldn't, however, I also don't feel guilty about it. Slow and steady helped me transition better to healthier foods. Doing too much at once with a new exercise plan and nutrition plan can cause you to slip backwards.
4) Try new recipes. I found this fun.

Body measurements taken monthly, with photos and weight

5) Reward your hard work with something other than food. I use new equipment or clothes as my reward.

My goals and rewards

6) Workout with your child or children. My chunk gets strapped into the jogging stroller every other day, and then when I've completed my jog, she gets strapped into her Jolly Jumper and I tell her we are exercising together. She jumps to my workout tunes and I workout right beside her. After 20-30 minutes, we're both done.

Here is a top 10 list of items I use from equipment to websites:

1) free weights and dumb bells 8 lbs to 25 lbs....check Craig's list.
2) Exercise ball...the only equipment I purchased new.
3) Jogging stroller.....purchased on Criag's list and got a steal of a deal on a Jeep Jogger used only twice.
4) Yoga mat
5) My martial arts training once a week
6) a yoga dvd (the only one I own is P90X)
7) Running shoes
8) Jackie Warner's Book, This is Why You're Fat. (Amazing tips, workout circuits and recipes.)
9) Subscription to Strong magazine
10) This is a wonderful blog written by Sia Cooper.  fitmommydiaries.blogspot.com/ 





I can do it, you can do it, we ALL can do it!

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