Friday, December 17, 2010

Fat Chick Friday: Fat Chick Fail

Ask me how many times I ran after the last post?

Go on.....

Once.

Did I ever tell you guys that I have a huge problem with motivation? Yup. I do...

But I so plan on going tomorrow. Really! I do! It's just, it gets so busy around the holidays, then Aunt Flo dropped in, blah blah blah. I know excuses, and crap ones at that.

But tomorrow? Now that the chaos of holiday shopping is done, and I don't have to work, and because if I don't I'll just sit around my house eating M&M's and playing WOW all day. I must run.  I mean, I need to at least do one thing productive.

But on the plus, I did lose 3 of 4 holiday lbs gained. Go me!

Too bad I'll probably put it back on next week.

Merry Christmas you saucy minxes you :)

Friday, December 10, 2010

Fat Chick Friday

This blog originated as a means for me to document my weight loss journey, with a sprinkling of other fun stories and anecdotes along the way. Well, since I've been a very naughty girl and have ceased all "getting healthy" projects for oh, I don''t know, a few months, I've managed to get away from the really important issues at hand. Such as the diary of an angry fat chick.

This week I have decided to introduce a new weekly feature on my blog. Fat Chick Friday will probably be every week, every other week as the hilarity and sob stories of me going from fat chick to former fat chick ensue. 

This last weekend while my best friend, and fellow blogger,  Andrea came to visit for the extended weekend. This meant that fast food in the form of In-N-Out, Del Taco, Cafe Rio, and other wondrous places, was consumed. As well as an unhealthy slew of other delicious foods. Slothfulness was also a great pass time for us. Nice.  But the other activity that occurred during Andrea's visit was my sister running the Las Vegas Rock N Roll  half marathon. Yes, the one I was supposed to run with her.  Well, it's obvious I did not. But she did, (and alone thanks to me) and did amazing! And I got to thinking as we waited for her to finish,  with hundreds of runners parading by as we sat, I really did want to do this. I should have done this but I chickened out. Well, I STILL want to be a runner!

Today, my husband and I started running again. For me, I started the C25K program over, from day one, and it totally kicked my ass.  My boobs were aching (damn you giant boobs!) and I was way out of breath at the finish but dang it I got my ass back on that treadmill after *cough4extrapoundscough* and months of inactivity and did it.

And starting over was one of the hardest steps I've ever taken.  But it's going to be one of the most worth while!

And that's how Sue (C) see's it!
Just kidding, stay classy San Diego!

But really, Let's hope my fat ass sticks with it this time. Until next week, or the week after, whatever....

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

I really am thankful

Thanksgiving has never been one of my favorite holidays.  I usually volunteer to work each year, including this one (hello holiday pay!). But this year I was passed over and ended up with it off, for the first time in a few years.  And the icing on that cake? My family has decided to come out here this year. Joy!

But really? Thanksgiving, what a weird holiday.  A day we "Americans" (I use the term lightly since so few of us are actually native to this land) celebrate with a giant feast giving thanks for the settlers that crossed over and made a new start here in this great land.  We won't go on to say what else those settlers did to the natives after that. But I don't celebrate Thanksgiving for that reason.  I use this as a time to be with my family, and to truly reflect on what I am thankful for in my life. 

The last two years have beaten us up pretty badly.  My husband lost his job two years ago in October.  Needless to say it was hard to be thankful at that Thanksgiving, having no income, and no prospect for jobs, and an impending move from a house that we loooooved. And last year we were trying so hard to recover from a brutal economy, having lost over $18,000 in savings, retirement, bonds for Ethan's college just so we could survive. My husband's car was repossessed and we were facing another move since we couldn't afford to live in a house anymore.  Not to mention, we were stuck in Vegas, just the three of us, while our families got together to celebrate.  It's hard to feel grateful when you've faced such a rough few years. 

But this year? This year has been a much better, not quite good, but better year than we have had in a while.  I have so much to be thankful for.  For the first time in a few years, we are living well.  Gone are the days when my husband and I were living off top ramen just so we could have milk and food for our son.  Gone are the times when we were overdrafting our bank account each and every pay period, gone are the days of only having one car, and my husband bringing in $350 every two weeks.  Things aren't perfect, but they are so much better.  We actually donated about $85 this Thanksgiving to needy families, not huge, but for us it was.  Now don't read this as me saying, hey we have money now and are super happy! Because that is not it, nor is it all I'm thankful for.

I have a beautiful, fantastic and supportive family.  Our families have helped pull us out of the rubble of our old lives, never once lecturing, or being condescending as parents and families can be at times.  Just extending a hand, sending a thoughtful card, a random check.  I am so thankful for my family! I feel truly blessed.  And my husband? An amazing support.  He knows just how hard it is for me at my job.  How much I hate being away from my son and how much I ache to be a stay at home mom again.  He is working so hard at school, and is constantly nurturing me and supporting me through some pretty ugly times. My son? A little ball of wonder and energy. Pushing us to our limits, testing us, growing and learning.  He knows how to push all the right buttons and then turn around and make you fall absolutely in love with him in one second. 

I am also thankful for amazing friends! Friends that have been like family, helping us out in a pinch, lending a house to stay in, or money, or free child care (you know who I'm talking to here.) And friends that no matter what the distance is between us, they can surely be counted on for anything (late night blogging advice, books for my kiddo, ect!)

I don't need fancy clothes, cars, expensive purses or any other kind of material junk in my life. I currently have all I need.  And that is what I am truly thankful for.

 What are you thankful for? Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Monday, November 8, 2010

Tales of a former dancer part 2

While I was taking my time (four years) to get my associates degree I danced through college.  (Which was probably the main reason it took my four years was because half of my credits were dance classes.)  There was one semester I was taking 12 hours of classes 4 days a week.  But I loved it dearly.  There hasn't been anything before or since that I have truly loved doing more.  Maybe horizontal dancing....maybe...

Most people would probably wonder why I did not aspire to make dancing a part of my career.  There are many reasons for that.  Sure, I was talented enough to make it in some form or another as a professional (not stripping kiddos!) but I wasn't ever motivated enough.  I mean, lets be practical, as I was (am).  Dancer's have pretty short lived careers as far as "performing" is concerned.  Injuries can end a dancers carrer in an instant, and I alrady had bad knees and ankles. The semester before I stopped dancing, I pulled my hamstring, badly, and have since not fully recovered.

Dancers have to fit a certian "body type." I have always been thick, short and sturdy, not the tall, lithe, and graceful type that embodies most of the greats that I have come to know and  love.  I may get thinner, but I'd never grow the extra five inches I needed to be a professional ballerina. Thanks mom and dad. And lastly, it takes a lot of No's to finally get a yes.  I'm not one to deal well with rejection.  I mean, from the girl who once wanted to drop everything and move to New York to pursue a career in Theater at 18,  I had acquired enough knowledge in my advanced age (for a dancer) that I must be practical and find a career that would have more longevity. 

Thus dancing became just a passion.  I still decided once I enrolled at UNLV to become a dance minor, maybe I would be able to teach one day. (I have strong philosophies on what qualifies one to be able to teach dance, professional experience is one, education second.) Which would still enable me to live apart of my dream while making some sort of a living, which would have been teaching art.  But I soon decided against finishing my education at UNLV and quit dancing all together.  I was 25, newly engaged, and other wise, pretty well pre-occupied with being in love (and lust) that I dropped everything and quit school and dance.

Do I regret that? Well, not really. I mean I do want my B.A. eventually. It's not until I watch a show like "So You Think You Can Dance" or movies like "Flashdance" or "Staying Alive" or hear music that makes me want to jump off my chair and do tour-jete's around the room that I deeply miss my passion.  But my life as wife and mommy has become my new food. Writing has replaced my need for an artistic outlet.  Dreaming of dancing, going to shows, and watching old dance videos have silenced the need for me to perform.  And I'm still waiting on my dream career as a stay at home mom/ angsty blog & book writer to come to be.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

A free show

Today after I took my shower, I realized that I had no clothes to change into in the bathroom. Freshly shaved (ahem) and lotioned, I walked out into my bedroom to grab some clothes. At some point my husband must have opened the blinds. And I noticed my neighbor was outside the window, getting into his car rather quickly. While I bolted back into the bathroom for my bathrobe, I realized this is the same neighbor whom I believe knocked on the wall when last night's procreation attempt got a little loud.

I'm not sure if he saw me or not, I wouldn't doubt it. I think it's time to move.

Friday, October 22, 2010

If I could

What would I say if I had one more afternoon with you?

I'd tell you how much I love you.

Tell you that you were such an amazing example of love and kindness. I mean 65 years of marriage? Who does that anymore? And we both know Grandma isn't particularly easy to live with! That you have set the standard for marriage in my book.  Everytime we would take either you or Grandma to the doctor or somewhere where only one of you would be going, you'd give each other a kiss goodbye. I loved that.

I'd make sure Ethan got to spend as much time with his great-Grandpa, so that he would be forever burned in his memory. You and your legacy living on in my family.  That our next child, if it's a boy will carry his great-Grandpa's name, proudly.  Because you are so dear to me.  So loved. 

I'd talk to you about all the random things we used to talk about. 

I'd remember your scent, peppermint, because you always carried them in your pocket. I'd breath it so deeply as I gave you the biggest hug.

I'd tell you again how very much it meant to me to be able to dance with you at my wedding.  I'd tell you the same thing I told you that night. "You know how much I love you right?" with tears streaming down my face, just as they were then, and just as they are now.

I'd want to know more about your 90 years on this earth.  What changes you saw, what things you miss and what new things you love.

Do you ever hear me when I talk to you, I'd ask.  Do you ever visit us? Grandma?

I'm not sure if it was a blessing having you in my life for so long.  Because it was so hard to let you go. It's been over a year and it still hurts.  But it would be one of the best afternoon's I could possibly ever spend, being with you just once more. 




This post is part of The Red Writing Hood prompt "Spending an afternoon with someone who is no longer living."





 

Monday, October 18, 2010

Crazy (wonky) fatchick rantings

I'm not sure how I'm feeling today.  Pretty certian I'm going through some PMS, which if you have been following me at all means we failed at baby making.  So naturally I cried my eyes out in the shower today.  (Um, Aunt Flo isn't due for about a week, so welcome back obsessive lady!) Then I ended up getting so sick to my stomach I felt that naturally, I was indeed pregnant.  So I took my last pregnancy test. Negative, of course, since they aren't that sensitive. Stupid girl.  Early detection is five days before your missed period, not eight days.  Well, to my defense, I was never good at math. Nor do I have great patience.  So I may have chalked up the nausea to my vitamin, which I had taken about four hours earlier.  And the new zit that I have acquired? PMS OR due to the fact that last night I was too lazy to wash my face before bed? You tell me.

I don't know.  So I then proceeded to eat almost an entire pizza (during the course of the day kids, don't get crazy with the judging and staging of interventions just yet.) Preliminary cravings or just me being fat and PMS-y? Fuck! This whole thing has been waaaay too difficult.  I am torn here today with my wonky, effed up, emo ball of hormones, pregnancy or period induced. On one hand, I would be pretty devastated if despite all my efforts, calculations and money spent on massive efforts to get knocked up, have indeed failed. But like, really? It's been ONE month? STFU and try again next month with out the fucking dog and pony show! Which is what the hubby has pretty much been telling me.  But if I am pregnant and this is just a part of all that jazz going on in the good ol' uterus? Bra-fucking-vo! There will be no living with me after.

Yes, I am certifiably crazy. More on that later.  And on whether or not I am with child.

Yea for my first Word Up, Yo post!!!


Thursday, October 7, 2010

tales of a former dancer part 1

It's insanely appropriate that Survivor's "Eye of the Tiger" is playing on the radio right now as I regale you with my tales of all things dance. I'm feeling all inspired, maybe I should go find some stairs to conquer first....
Ok! I'm back....Just kidding, like my fat ass would go scale some stairs with out someone holding a gun to my head, right?

But I digress.....

I used to dance.  Now if you say that around here (aka Vegas) people seriously think one thing, no, I was never a stripper, (though I did consider it a few times, sorry mom and dad.) I mean ballet, jazz, modern. The real kind of dancing. 

In my day I did all things art related, theater, singing, painting, sculpting ect...but my artistic forte was definitely dancing. 

I danced for a little while when I was around 5 or 6 at a community center, but apparently that stage was way too small for a little star such as myself and I decided to quit.  I picked it back up in high school, and while I wasn't particularly good at that point I sure thought I was.  I had no formal training except for a few random things put on by the school. But my sophomore year in high school I managed to make it onto the high school dance team. So naturally I thought I was hot sh*t. 

The day before our first football game, and first performance, I was at a church youth function with one of my good friends, and naturally there were cute boys there too.  I had just learned about grand jete's (pardon the lack of accent's there) so I figured I would show off to these boys my crazy awesome dance skills and super high jumps.  Now never before or since have I EVER fallen on landing a jump, but this time? BAM!! I landed wrong, and hard, and rolled my ankle.  Way to go dipshit.  But me being the badass that I am, pretended that it was nothing.  Ha ha! I'm cute and kind of gravity-challenged! Notice me!

The next day, the day of the big first football game/first performance, I got out of bed for school and collapsed into a heap on the floor.  Couldn't walk on that ankle. At all.  Shit balls.  So my mom made me an apt to see a doc right away, where my ankle was x-rayed and later presumed un-broken, but badly sprained.  I was told to stay off it for at least a week.  Psh, ya right.  I was so not screwing my team over for a measly ankle.  I performed that night at the football game, ankle tightly wrapped, happily smiling in the front row, displaying all my star power to the world. Ok maybe not quite like that, but I still rocked that football game.

Years later, every now and then that ankle still bothers me somethin' fierce!  Guess I should have stayed off it right? But that is how I received my first dance injury.





Badasses to the core, I mean look at those headbands? This is proof of two things, that 1) I am  naturally blond and 2) Andrea at crazy with a side of awesomesauce and I have been besties for a long ass time. Seriously, ask her about band camp, or about a cold September night behind Albertsons.  Good times man, good times.

dance on

Monday, October 4, 2010

How are babies made?

No seriously.

Getting pregnant the first time was so easy.  I got off the pill, thinking I'd have a good three months for the hormones and shit to leave my system and BAM! One month later I'm knocked up. I didn't have to do a thing. (well....)

But this time around? When we are actively trying to have a child? I am consulting every resource known. Calculating the exact moments of menstruation to ovulation to conception. Re- examining how the whole female cycle works (do you ovulate 14 days after your period and or 14 days from the start?) Re-visiting old health class lessons on how a baby is made. Because when you are trying to have a baby, this shit is a matter of science!

I think that I am driving my husband crazy here. Yesterday I bought a set of ovulation testing kits and he looked at me, with a tiny shred of fear in his face and said,  "really?"
Two days earlier I told him, after aunt flo leaves, we're copulating every day until I get pregnant or the next visit commences or I WILL divorce you!

Clearly obsessed.

And not only having a baby in general, oh no. But a female child at that.

Oh yes, I have done some homework here too. Chinese lunar calendar, the "girl" diet (high in Magnesium and Calcium) (mmmm, pumpkin is high in magnesium), different positions conducive to having a girl.

I even know the intimate ins and outs of the female swimmers.  Did you know that they are slower than the male swimmers, but stronger and therefore live longer? Hmmm?

See? Bat shit fucking McCrazy sauce right here!

My husband, who's sex drive has suddenly plummeted a little, is terrified. But he should know that when I want something, it's going to take hell's army to try and stop me!

My calender is full of "test for ovulation here" and "estimated period arrival" and "test for HcG (pregnancy hormone) here." Because I really don't know how exactly to have a baby. But I'll be damned if I do not get knocked up this month!

Friday, September 24, 2010

where I'm from

This is my second scary leap into the blogging world. I'd like to thank my new friends Nichole, Natalie and Cheryl for inspiring me to do this!

I am from small town charm with big city dreams, from Target and chocolate chip cookies on Sundays and the smell of coffee in the morning wafting through the house, letting us know dad is up.

I am from a gray house on a busy street, a backyard full of dogs, and toys, and dirt and the sounds of children playing in the neighborhood.

I am from tumbleweeds and Joshua trees, the warm brown earth of the desert and gusty winds tangling blond hair on an impossibly starry night.

I am from Christmas celebrations with the scent of baked goods wafting through out the house, and  tons of presents surrounding a 7 foot tree.  From a tight knit band of Nomads, from Drinkwine's and Clausen's.

I am from  stubbornness, resilience, and incredible hot tempers, and kind and loving hearts.  From softball games and riding bikes for hours around the block.

I am from "which part of NO don't you understand?" and "You can do anything you want as long as you're happy." From reading Nancy Drew with my mom, and reaching for the starts and dreaming big.

I am from faithful Lutherans, and my own freedom of choice.  From coloring while snuggling against mom or Aunt Jan during the sermons and testing the waters of religion and faith.

I am from the golden state, perpetually tan and French wine tasters, perpetually drunk.  From  rich Cabernet's and Del Taco and pizza.

I am from my grandfather's purple heart from WWII, from classic cars and trips to Disneyland with my brother and sister, listening to the Jurassic Park soundtrack, skin prickling with the anticipation  and excitement of the fun ahead.

I am from endless books of photos tucked away in a dark closet, video taped dance recitals, the smell of peppermint, a thousand happy memories tucked into private corners of my mind.

And I can hardly ask to be from more.

For your own where I'm from click here

 


Wednesday, September 15, 2010

A win for team West

Today was the magical day. I fought a long and lengthy battle with my Mirena. (If you don't know what it is, ask me or google it.) After 2 years and 3 months, the IUD is out.

The hormone laden, plastic Hoover dam of my uterus put up a tremendous fight. Severe mood swings, (I'm suprised I am still married folks) Extreme fatigue, (like sleeping ALL fucking day) losing tons and tons of my hair, and that's just to name a few of the un-pleasantries that came with this little gem.


Yes, that's the little devil right there...

This small victory for team West means that now? We get the green light to start working on baby #2. Am  I crazy? Well, Ethan is hell on two legs most days so, number 2 can't be worse right? Ya, I figured I'm probably just kidding myself.But, I think that Mr. E needs a permanent playmate! And you best believe I'm trying every trick in the book to get a girl over here, if you haven't noticed, team West is dripping with testosterone. We need to tip the scales in our favor here!

So my girly parts and I are celebrating today's triumph!


( I work in the medical field kids, I know how this shit looks in real life.)

As I left the exam room, I opened the trash can in which the evil Mirena was tossed, gave it the finger, and walked out. Fuck you! I'm getting knocked up!      Bitch!

* these photos are inspired by an amazingly hilarious blog that I love hyperbole and a half Get on reading her if you haven't, you will not regret it*

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

I heart Fall

Fall is my favorite time of year. 

The weather changes and summer's death grip is loosened making way for crisp fall air. Truly there is nothing better than taking a walk or run on a fall morning when the cool air fills your lungs and refreshes you completely.

Fall flavors come out of their yearly hiding. Nothing tastes better than anything with pumpkin in it! Starbucks visits become a two to three times a week thing vs. a once every week/every other week visit when the pumpkin spice latte and pumpkin goodies arrive.

Sweatshirts. Anyone who knows me knows that come fall whatever fashion sense I have is abandoned and I'll done hoodies, sweatshirts, and jackets at any chance. I live for comfort and coziness!

Flannel sheets. The cooler temps are reason enough for me to bust out my ultra soft, super warm flannels. I used to have flannel sheets on year round, but one summer in Vegas will change anyone's thinking on that. So I put them up at the first sign of cooler weather. (Which means they will be on in about two weeks here!)

But my favorite fall moments are pulling out the Halloween decorations the first part of September and covering every inch of my home in orange and black. I know, most people go nuts at Christmas time, but not me. I go nuts at Halloween, (and often incorporate Halloween into my Christmas decor, a la Nightmare Before Christmas.) I have more boxes of Halloween decorations than Christmas! It's sad, well, if you LOVE Christmas anyhow...

And we always dress up for Halloween.

2007: We found it appropriate since I was preggo....I mean, after all I am an angel!! (snort!)

2008: E's first Halloween, we all went as a pirate family but alas I do not have a picture of the three of us. We were dang cute though. But he wins, as usual.

2009: We were dirt poor due to the hubby losing his job not long after the last Halloween, but dammit we were dressed up anyhow! Dr. E, nurse mommy (what a stretch for me) and daddy was the patient.

The ideas for this year are as follows....
A Peter Pan theme
The Wizard of Oz
Or a brave knight, dragon and princess

I will post more pics. It will look pretty interesting trying to fit 3.5 boxes of Halloween crap into 900+ sqft this year!

Monday, August 30, 2010

S is for sickenss!

So, I again am sick. I blame my allergies for the chronic sinusitis that I get about 4 times a year, And it is a BITCH!
a) my head feels like a big balloon (so Pink Floyd)
b) can't sleep unless I'm sitting at a 90 degree angle
c) random bouts of hot flashes and chills
d) shortness of breath due to the fat kid asthma
e) I could go on, but you clearly get the picture.
It is ugly. I am inconsolable. And? I still have to go to work, because missing a day of work results in an approx $230 loss on my paycheck, and that? That is groceries right there. So cannot miss work.

Yesterday after toughing it out for 12 hours at work I came home and tried to sleep at 7 pm. It was nice until I woke up feeling like a 350lb man was sitting on my chest, at midnight. Well this wasn't too much of a problem, I thought I would just take a breathing treatment and be back off the the land of snooze in about an hour. Then I would feel somewhat ok when the alarm went off at 4 am. ( I know, waking up at 4 is tragic enough)
But alas, my illness had other plans.
Pretty soon, it's 1 am...still feeling crappy and uncomfortable.
2am...tried sleeping a variety of different positions, including standing up, no fun kids...and  then took some cold medicine
3am, well, I may still get that last hour in...
3:30...finally I fall into the most pleasant sleep that one can  while sitting straight up in bed...
at 4 am, that dammned alarm goes off...

"Must go to work....Must feed family..."
Like the night of the living dead I manage to fumble my way through getting ready, surprised that I actually got to work with a bra on, and brushed teeth, as it was quite difficult to function properly with a sickness induced fog hovering around my brain.

I had at one point in the night debated about calling in sick, as it is never a good idea to work with needles and blood when one isn't in the proper state of mind, but I had left a project half finished and I was terribly worried about not completing it.
"I'll just try to work a half day." I decided.

When I got to work, my coworkers took one look at me and asked "why are you here you look like crap!"
"I was worried about the path room, I didn't finish it, I think I'm just going to work a half day."
"That's probably a good idea. Please don't breath near me." Everyone kept their distance and no on argued over me leaving early

At some point I went into the bathroom and gasped as I saw what I  looked like. I'm not joking it was quite similar to this:


But with black hair and mascara. 
I"m still not certain how I didn't frighten the hell out of everyone in that hospital, but I toughed it out, and went home at noon to rest.  I am now stepping outside my sick chamber to tell you all my tales of woe. Pray for my wellness, and for more sleep tonight as I do have to try to work and entire day tomorrow!

Friday, August 20, 2010

paranormal experience

It's Sunday night.

I'm awake late for some unknown reason. At my normal bed time of 10 'o clock I simply could not fall asleep.

Husband came home from work right around midnight. We stayed up and chatted, I tried very hard after that to get to sleep around 1 am.

I here my son start screaming.

My husband is in his room trying to console him.

"What's wrong?" I ask him.

"I don't know, he was screaming 'wait, wait' when I came in."

"Why does it smell like vanilla in here?" (I hate and am very sensitive to vanilla smells and have NOTHING in my house that smells like that) "do you smell that?" I ask.

"Yes," my husband replies. "Do you...think something was in here with him?"

"Give him to me... Maybe, I don't know." I say. "Oh my goodness, his head! His head smells like vanilla! What the fuck SMELLS LIKE VANILLA? I mean you smell it too right? I'm not imagining this right? Whatever it was it was TOUCHING HIM!!"

"No, I do, I smell it too, but right now not as much as when I first came in here."

We all retreat back into the master bedroom, me clutching E with all my might, my husband looking suspiciously around the room. We are both on high alert.

"There has to be some logical explanation to this. There has to be!" I say

"Do you think I should sleep in there, see if anything happends to m..."

"No! I need you here!" I yell.

Ethan has fallen back asleep, me clutching him tightly to my chest. Chris is sitting on the bed highly alert. My brain is wracking all the possibilities of what really happened. Chris slumps a bit and turns to me...

"It's my lotion." He says.

"Holy shit you're right, it has coco butter in it right?" I reply.

We both erupt in laughter.

Go us for changing our lotion brand and thoroughly freaking us both way the fuck out. We watch WAY to much tv. (we haven't had cable for 5 months.)
True story.



Sunday, August 15, 2010

The sleep dilemma

We are truly blessed by how well our little man sleeps. Well, in the past that is.  You see, we were the cocky parents who got plenty of sleep when he was first born. Only to be woken up every three or four hours to feed. He was sleeping through the night by three months old (mostly thanks to a progressive doctor and forward thinking, new age-y parenting by me) And the kid sleeps, like the dead all night long. Well, again, he did. You see making the move from California to Nevada the first time should have thrown off his perfect sleeping ritual. Or even the fact that we lived in a direct flight path of our airport, but after our normal routine of dinner, bath, and story time, E and I would sit in the rocking chair and he would fall asleep. Those were some of the best times I had with him.  I would sit there and hold him long passed the time he fell asleep and just hold onto my little boy with all my might. Truly blessed by his great sleep habits.

When the time came to make the transition between crib and toddler bed we thought it would be more difficult. Would he stay in his bed all night? Would he be up at ungodly hours staring us down in our sleep like a serial killer stalking his pray? We put up a gate on his door the first few weeks to *aid* the transition along some, but soon found he didn't need it. He stayed in his own bed until he awoke in the morning. Life was great. We had a kid who slept so perfectly!

Then we decided to move. And things got ugly, real quick.

First, Eth kept falling out of his toddler bed on a regular basis, prompting him to wake up in a rude fashion, and accordingly, come cry it out with mom and dad. So to solve this problem we used our twin sized air mattress in lieu of his tiny toddler mattress. (anyone who has seen my kid knows he's huge for his age)
When we first laid it out he was stoked....all this bed for ME? I'm sure that was what he thought by the look on his face. But we still had a toddler in our bed just about every night.

Then we were gone for the Christmas holiday. And instead of sleeping in his usual play yard at his auntie's house, he was just too damned big, so  in bed with mom and dad he slept. When we got home, the house was in such disarray that his normal sleep habits were not enforced. It became easy to just bring him to bed with me on nights when my husband was away. Eventually, we cleaned out his room and it was probably just too lonely for him to sleep in there by himself.  Then we moved.

Now we decided to get him a grown up bed once we had moved, since he has become accustom to this new way of sleeping. Good money spent on a great twin sized mattress for a not-quite-then-two-year-old. Now don't get me wrong here, that kid loves his bed. He jumps on it, rolls around on it, plays on it, reads, ect...but trying to get him to sleep the whole night through on it? Slim chance.

At some point, we just started laying with him in his bed to ease him to sleep. Yes, I know here most of you are shaking your heads thinking, well there is part of your mistake love! I already knew that, but pick your battles right? And when it's 11 pm and you have to be up at 4 am the next morning, you get pretty desperate! MMMkay? So this is where we are now.  Almost 7 months into our bad habits and starting to try our hand at sleep training, a thing many of you went through at 6 to 9 months old. And our first night? EPIC fail. Epic. I just ended up caving in and sleeping at the foot of his bed for half of the night, not very comfy kids!

It's not awful, him waking me up at 4 or 5 am, wanting to curl up with us in our bed. Nor is it really bad falling asleep with him in his bed, and then slinking off into our own bed later on. But he was such a good sleeper that I am trying very hard to reclaim my bed, and sleeping through the night un-interrupted.  I really want him to regain that independence. And yet at the same time, I cherish him wanting me, needing me to comfort him and cuddle him to sleep. He will not be my baby for much longer. I know this kid, he will be shoving me off him at 5! I want my baby to stay just that, my baby, for a little while longer. To have him come snuggle up to me, shoving me into awkward, tiny spaces in my bed, so tight that an astronaut would be uncomfortable. And, I love those mornings when I wake up in the middle of my man sandwich.

Tonight I'm lucky. He fell asleep, all 3'2" of him curled up on my chest, (at two he knows how great boobs are) fast asleep.  I let him stay put for almost an hour after he passed out, just relishing that moment, feeling him breath and twitch. Then I put him in his bed, and if I'm lucky he may just stay put all night long, but I won't mind much if he doesn't! Maybe sleep training can wait a while...

*I'd really love to hear anyone's thoughts, suggestions, critiques on this subject. I'm truly torn by the whole thing! Thanks ;)