Sometimes in this blog I will be brutally honest. Judge, don't judge, whatever. I think being honest with myself (and you) not only motivates me to do better, but also I know that as moms, we keep a lot inside. And sometimes what we keep inside starts to become destructive and we explode, or we bury frustrations in our vices, or make stupid mistakes that only seem to make difficult situations more irritating.
Now, quickly, let me assure you last week wasn't THAT bad. Chalk it up to hormones gone awry, or the fact that I was totally unmotivated to exercise and my whole household was infested with pink eye and bad colds, or that it was just one of those times where the world was not meshing, but last week was a rotten one in our household. I yelled a lot. There were a lot of tears shed - some by the kids, some by me. I felt lazy and resentful towards things that usually I enjoy. I could have been a better, stronger person last week. I know I could have been a better mom and wife.
Were there parts of last week that went wrong or were legitimately frustrating? Absolutely - 3 of us woke up Friday morning with bad pink eye (myself, the baby and Jenna), Tim had put in another crazy week at the office (my gripes on this are for another blog rant), I was trying to figure out how to budget in some unexpected expenses, and I was simply not where I needed to be at the end of the week (think piles of laundry, dishes, a messy car, a crazy dog with cabin fever, and a seemingly endless list of to-do's). You've been there. In the midst of our crazy Friday morning while I was trying to get some important papers together to mail and make sure we were ready for school and our just-scheduled emergency doctor's appointment, Kaitlyn made the double-foul that was the game changer. I caught her in a blatant lie AND she didn't finish her homework which she had assured me had been finished much earlier in the week. It was the straw that broke the camel's back. I was furious and said a lot of angry things out of extreme frustration. She was super upset and frazzled but we had to pick up the pieces and get in the car and get to school on time (with aforementioned homework not finished) with a lot of the issues vented but unresolved. Jenna and Matt, who were not feeling great, were walking on eggshells as they could see that I was barely keeping it together.
And then the guilt set in.
Self therapy analysis: Dropping off K at school after a fight like we had was setting her up to fail. Did she have the confidence or focus to do well on her spelling test and school work? Did she know that I love her no matter what and that I believe in her and want her to be strong and confident and happy? Hell no. Unlike a Dora or Bubble Guppies episode, our issues were not ironed out in a half hour with a little song. She went to school as frustrated and upset as I was. I can only imagine the ugly thoughts she had about me in her little head. As I said, it was unfair. Although honesty and school work are top priorities and she was in the wrong, that morning should not have played out like it did. And that was my fault. I am the adult, the example, the mom. And so my feelings of anger gradually diffused into questions of why I was really so mad at the world. And after a lot of thought, I admitted to myself that the whole week had been really off balance for me. I was in the "mom funk" of a million little things building up and eating at me until I blew. Well done me.
Tim and I used to have a rule when the girls were babies - that if we were ever angry or sad or felt crazy, we would put the baby down and go compose ourselves before we held them again. When K was tiny, this rule was steadfast and necessary. I was working full-time and trying to get a baby to & from daycare, etc. and Tim was in law school full time and getting his Master's in Taxation (super nerd, I know). We had a teeny house, no money, and had a crazy string of bad luck with appliances, cars breaking down, and family drama. So when either of us got home, we would kiss the baby hello and then take 15 minutes to pull ourselves together (grab a quick shower, change clothes, go water the garden - whatever it took to reset and clear our minds a little). Although our counterpart would be anxious and needing to hand off the baby, it was the understanding that by giving the other these few precious minutes to transition, then none of the anxiousness and craziness from our adult lives would transfer to K. I have no idea if it worked but it seemed awesome in theory and makes for a nice story.
I can't remember the last time I really took that 15 minutes to unwind (and I didn't feel like I shouldn't be doing something else more productive). Although exercising is an awesome way for me to clear my head and get my blood flowing, I feel like it is also a means for me to rev my day into go-go-go speed and I expect my family to keep up. I know I am not alone in this fault. My sweet mom even said to me a few months ago, "I couldn't be a mom today. You hold yourself to all sorts of expectations that I never had to." This from MY mom (and those of you who know her can attest) who is the very paradigm of a woman who did it all - four kids with a million activities, an amazing volunteer/non-profit career, head of the PTA, the consummate cook/cleaner/housewife, a huge supporter of my father's career and more. I think in all honesty we, as women and mothers, are the products of several generations of over-achievers and glass-ceiling-breakers now under the stressful and constant eye of Facebook and Pinterest.
The reality is we can only keep that speed and the illusion going for so long. Especially as kiddos get older, bigger and more important balls begin to drop (in this case it was my sanity and a few incompletes on a 2nd grade report card). Friday afternoon, I owned up and tried to repair the damage. K was still "grounded" and on suspension from television/computer/i-pod and had to devote her time all weekend to reading for AR tests or working on her book report due in a few weeks or cleaning chores, but I admitted that while I was really hurt and frustrated, that my behaviour and temper were out of line. Mostly, I was sorry and wanted to do better and we talked about mistakes both of us had made throughout the week that led us to the breaking point. I'm hoping that some of the repair-work might keep her out of therapy later in life.
As a mom, there are a thousand things we are in charge of and unsaid expectations that we hold ourselves to, even when we are exhausted and on the brink of breakdown. And sometimes we have to pick ourselves back up. Readjust our expectations and find the energy to do better. There are little people involved and dependent on us, and when your sh*@ hits the fan, it makes their world miserable which is unfair. So that is where I am at right now. Starting a new week. Getting my diet and routine and lists back in a row. Fitting a shower in when I can. And trying to take a few minutes each day to unplug and close my eyes. It's not a fix-all but I'm trying to do better. And with my chin up, this WILL be a better week.
Monday, February 4, 2013
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Artistic Inspiration
After an insane week and subsequently crazy weekend, Sunday was our day off. THANK GOD for days off. It sounds silly but every so often my kids start to show signs of wear and tear. They get cranky with each other, start to feel "sick" and basically have this look to them (its actually them giving me the stink eye because its totally my fault we are all over-scheduled). I probably look a little the same way. After a week of sports and activities, homework, the elementary school spell-a-thon, Kaitlyn's first holy Reconciliation and retreat to prepare, selling Girl Scout cookies, and a trip to the Carson Valley Swim Center for a swim day with K's troop, we were toast. So I announced Saturday night (after two of the three littles told me they felt sick), a family day off. Starting with pancakes and a music jam session thanks to J's guitar, we stayed in our pajamas all day. We played games, read books, watched movies, organized some closets (guess who had THAT fun), and mostly worked on some art projects. It was an awesome lazy and very deserved Sunday.
One of our very favorite books to read (as a family) is called The Dot by Peter Reynolds. The girls (who still LOVE to be read to), picked it out among a pile of others we were reading and I was reminded how much I love it. A phenomenal story about a little girl named Vashti who doesn't think she can draw and her art teacher that encourages to explore her creative spirit and "make her mark". Totally a simple story and message but I watched it inspire my girls to get out their art box and go to town.
One of our very favorite books to read (as a family) is called The Dot by Peter Reynolds. The girls (who still LOVE to be read to), picked it out among a pile of others we were reading and I was reminded how much I love it. A phenomenal story about a little girl named Vashti who doesn't think she can draw and her art teacher that encourages to explore her creative spirit and "make her mark". Totally a simple story and message but I watched it inspire my girls to get out their art box and go to town.
If there is something I always manage to justify spending money on, it's art supplies. The good people at Michaels and Joann's know me and my kids by name as we are constantly there getting something for our latest and greatest project. Clay hand prints, tissue paper stained glass, sea creatures out of crepe paper, paper mache or watercolors or pastels, jewelry kits, super hero shields and swords, holiday decor and gifts, you name it. I'd blame Pinterest but in all truth, most of our projects come from my head or from past art projects I remember doing as a kid. Some of them are worth saving, most often, they decorate our walls for a couple of months and then go in the trash. And to be honest, most of the reason we do them is for the experience of doing them not for the end product.
Some key lessons I have learned over the course of our many successful and not-so-successful art projects:
1) Regardless of what the picture on the box (or on the Pinterest site) looks like or how much you dictate the materials and how to use them, the project will NOT turn out how you are expecting. BE OKAY WITH THIS. Even if you are making a gift, let your "artists" make it their own. Let them choose their colors and decorate with imagination. Jenna, one year, was hell bent on painting all her Valentines brown, green and black. I sat there for twenty minutes and tried to talk her out of it (ha, I could sooner convince my dog to pick up his own poop). And in the end they turned out very cool camo-looking and totally her own. Not a dot of pink or red or any hearts, and she LOVED them. She delivered each one with a great deal of explanation and style, and truth be told, they probably meant more to the recipients than any other valentine in their box.
2) Be wary of getting too complex for the artist (this might be my number one flaw). Although the color-by-number or cool beading or make-your-own mosaic might be calling your four-year-old's name, be realistic with their attention span and their tactile ability. Jenna's attention span with art projects is phenomenal (and always has been), with Kaitlyn on the other hand, I usually have for 20-30 minutes at best. Start small and have plenty of supplies. If they want to do more, then be ready to go. And if there is a partially painted object with 90% white space, still have them sign their name - DATE it - and tell them its perfect. In their eyes it is.
3) If you need instruction or inspiration, first do some research on-line or look for a kit on sale, look at the materials, and buy extra materials. I have had many moments where I have bought the super-amazing Martha Stewart project for $20 and gotten home to realize I just paid a 10,000% mark up on some white tissue paper and pipe cleaners and ribbon. Ugh. Kids art project sets are notorious for this. And often, the included materials are listed on the back of the box in a neat little list, sometimes even with pictures. It is a 100x better to be able for every girl to make 3 or 4 headbands in their favorite colors rather than one in the pre-chosen colors and it is AWESOME to be able to have back-ups in case of a mess up (like when your glue gun explodes or you have a paint pen leak). And if you do buy a kit, save the instructions in a file! You can go back in the future and recreate as many times as you want.
4) Be prepared for the mess. If you are using glitter anything, or paint, or felt balls or jewels, have a big area. I am a champion of using trash bags and masking tape to transform my kitchen table. Since the trash bags are so handy, I even use them as paint smocks to save clothes. Cut out arm holes and a head hole with a neck slit down the back and they are covered from inevitable stains. And for the more environmentally conscious, save the bags and reuse. I can usually get about 3-4 projects out of my homemade smocks and drop cloths.
5) Take pictures. I have tried to save many an art project but after a few weeks/months/years it is a waste of time and the craft usually doesn't last. The picture lasts forever and it is awesome to look back at some of our most dazzling creations (even as works-in-progress). You can even put together a book of the photos of your art projects and Viola! An awesome coffee table album or gift for grandma.
6) Invest in some core art materials: Watercolors or tempra paint, felt of all colors and stiffness, sharpies (for mom to sign things), construction paper, stamps, modge podge, foam board or cardboard, spray varnish, glue dots (I could write a whole blog on how awesome and easy glue dots are), a small glue gun, and a ruler. Especially as K has started school, these supplies double as the back bone of any good project or book report. And start saving some things as "life" happens. Egg cartons double as easy paint cups or bead sorters. Extra wrapping paper can make cute flowers on cards or presents. We have several jars of buttons and knobs and stickers. And I can name about 500 uses for tissue paper so by in bulk or hit up the dollar store.
Good luck! Have fun! And if you need ideas or have great project ideas, let me know!
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Mental Peanut Butter
Today was one of those mornings where I was operating in hyper drive. I credit several things for my stage-five sense of urgency: 1) We spent the weekend up at the family lake house having a fantastic few days of skiing, snowshoeing, ice skating, and playing games so of course, when we got home last night we dumped all our gear, bags and snow stuff in a mammoth pile in our front hall, 2) I slept in a little later than usual as did my kiddos, 3) the cleaning lady was coming so I was trying to clean the house so she could actually CLEAN the house, and 4) I may have had too many nespresso shots (oooooh I love my new coffee machine) this morning.
You've got to love the day after a long weekend. You're mentally and physically wishing for one more day off and you've got that "oh crap - we have to fit five days into four" realization. So like I said, I was in turbo. Making lunches, doing hair, pulling school stuff together, talking with the girls about our schedule for the week, making my checklist for the day, feeding Matthew, trying to clear the mammoth gear pile into appropriate bedrooms and tie my own shoes to make it to school and Boot Camp (for me) in time.
The littles (my kids) were being troopers. A combo of them being used to seeing mom in this morning frenzy and stepping up and actually pulling themselves together for school without serious nagging (Matt gets credit for not screaming his head off when I put him in his carrier). I was feeling pretty good about my day in the way that a morning with everything clicking into place makes me feel. I was doing a few last minute put-aways as we were about to head out the door, and opened our closet to throw in some errant art supplies that had been on the kitchen table. And there it was...the peanut butter.
This damn, super-size jar of extra-crunchy Jif happily staring at me on the shelf next to my fondue and crock pot (I should point out that this is the most random closet in our house as it stores all our kitchen appliances, tablecloths, and as aforementioned, the art supplies, but it does not house any actual food items). This particular jar had been causing me grief for the past five days because I could not find it. I bought it last week at the store and KNEW that it was somewhere in my house (at one point its absence inspired a serious search through all my kitchen and laundry room cabinets, trash, recycling and more). The missing PB was driving me crazy.
I should explain that peanut butter in our house is like gold. For Jenna and Tim, it is a food group all its own and is consumed at pretty much every meal and snack. Bread, apples, pretzels, spoons, fingers are all conduits for consumption of this sticky protein. To go ONE day without, and our house becomes like the hunger games - arrows start flying (thanks to Jenna's Brave bow-and-arrow set from Christmas), there's one-on-one combat, and everyone is that nasty irritable starvation creates. And here I am stubborn enough to not go to the store for almost a whole week and get more because I just spent $12 on this huge jar that had to be somewhere. And here it was. Sitting in one of the most illogical spots possible.
Crazy runs in my family. A dangerous genetic mix of multi-tasking perfectionism and awful short-term memory that has been passed down from generation to generation. My grandmother's searches for her car keys are legendary. I used to tease my mom when I would find things in a random places - the remote control in the refrigerator, the laundry spray starch in the bathroom cabinet and so on. And now I officially and humbly join the ranks. All the littles started laughing (even Matt) as I shouted that I finally found the PB and they saw its elusive hiding spot. And I had to join in, partly because I'm so relieved to not have to buy a new jar, but also secretly because I know that in 25 years they'll be afflicted with the same issue.
Happy Tuesday everyone. May your peanut butter be on the shelf it's supposed to be. :)
You've got to love the day after a long weekend. You're mentally and physically wishing for one more day off and you've got that "oh crap - we have to fit five days into four" realization. So like I said, I was in turbo. Making lunches, doing hair, pulling school stuff together, talking with the girls about our schedule for the week, making my checklist for the day, feeding Matthew, trying to clear the mammoth gear pile into appropriate bedrooms and tie my own shoes to make it to school and Boot Camp (for me) in time.
The littles (my kids) were being troopers. A combo of them being used to seeing mom in this morning frenzy and stepping up and actually pulling themselves together for school without serious nagging (Matt gets credit for not screaming his head off when I put him in his carrier). I was feeling pretty good about my day in the way that a morning with everything clicking into place makes me feel. I was doing a few last minute put-aways as we were about to head out the door, and opened our closet to throw in some errant art supplies that had been on the kitchen table. And there it was...the peanut butter.
This damn, super-size jar of extra-crunchy Jif happily staring at me on the shelf next to my fondue and crock pot (I should point out that this is the most random closet in our house as it stores all our kitchen appliances, tablecloths, and as aforementioned, the art supplies, but it does not house any actual food items). This particular jar had been causing me grief for the past five days because I could not find it. I bought it last week at the store and KNEW that it was somewhere in my house (at one point its absence inspired a serious search through all my kitchen and laundry room cabinets, trash, recycling and more). The missing PB was driving me crazy.
I should explain that peanut butter in our house is like gold. For Jenna and Tim, it is a food group all its own and is consumed at pretty much every meal and snack. Bread, apples, pretzels, spoons, fingers are all conduits for consumption of this sticky protein. To go ONE day without, and our house becomes like the hunger games - arrows start flying (thanks to Jenna's Brave bow-and-arrow set from Christmas), there's one-on-one combat, and everyone is that nasty irritable starvation creates. And here I am stubborn enough to not go to the store for almost a whole week and get more because I just spent $12 on this huge jar that had to be somewhere. And here it was. Sitting in one of the most illogical spots possible.
Crazy runs in my family. A dangerous genetic mix of multi-tasking perfectionism and awful short-term memory that has been passed down from generation to generation. My grandmother's searches for her car keys are legendary. I used to tease my mom when I would find things in a random places - the remote control in the refrigerator, the laundry spray starch in the bathroom cabinet and so on. And now I officially and humbly join the ranks. All the littles started laughing (even Matt) as I shouted that I finally found the PB and they saw its elusive hiding spot. And I had to join in, partly because I'm so relieved to not have to buy a new jar, but also secretly because I know that in 25 years they'll be afflicted with the same issue.
Happy Tuesday everyone. May your peanut butter be on the shelf it's supposed to be. :)
Friday, January 18, 2013
My not-so-little girl
So often as moms we hear "It goes so fast." or "Cherish these moments they'll be gone before you know it." or "I have three babies too. My little one just turned thirty." You seem to hear it from everywhere and everyone.
Usually, I politely agree, but all too often, I'm in the throes of my five-year-old having a breakdown, my five-month-old in a dirty diaper and food everywhere, and pleading with my seven-year-old to finish her homework. Truth be told, I'm envious of my peers who are still charging forward in their careers and sipping cocktails in swank bars or have the money to travel the world. I dream of the day when breakdowns over missing polly pocket princess shoes, or nightmares, or diapers are a thing of the past and my laundry pile fits into one basket. But more and more it seems I'm beginning to realize the old adages are starting to ring true and it not only makes me sad but makes me panicked. Have I done everything I'm supposed to teach her? Are we both ready for the looming pre-teen and teenage years ahead? Will she remember all the special baby and little girl moments we've shared?
Last night, we were eating dinner and Jenna asked for more milk. I was in the middle of listening to Tim tell me about his day and feeding Matthew his rice cereal and although I heard her, I didn't respond with any urgency. Without any prompt, Kaitlyn got up, went to the fridge, poured Jenna's milk and sat back down and finished eating her dinner. Doesn't seem very ground breaking but its one of those things that I don't know if I've ever thought about her doing. Usually, I pour the milk and do things like that to avoid the inevitable spills and messes. But the reality is, K is way beyond that point.
My little, timid Kaitlyn is almost eight-years-old. In a flash it seems, she is now a busy second grader. She dresses herself and does her own hair. She can make herself lunch and I trust her to cut things with a knife. She reads chapter books and listens to "her music" on her i-pod. She made a "cootie catcher" last week and was amazed I knew how to make one too. She dances and plays soccer and can do a flip in gymnastics. She can diaper and feed her little brother or braid Jenna's hair. She has her friends and opinions and is often my "go to" in a pinch because she is one of the most reliable and responsible people I know. How did that happen?
I have a Masters in Communication. I have studied chronemics and gender differences, society influences, and inter/intra-personal communication strategies and methods, and many times I have read about how people "hear" but tend to not "listen". But here I am mystified at how I can watch and interact with a person daily and not often realize the person they have become or what they are capable of. Kaitlyn, truth be told, doesn't NEED me to survive anymore.
Not only that, but she demands and deserves to be treated the age she is. Long gone are the days of Dora and wearing "little girl" hair bows. Nick Jr. and PBS shows are too simple for her and she likes to watch non-cartoon movies and shows with me instead. She asks thought-provoking questions, listens to the news and world around her. She challenges things she doesn't agree with and patiently works to teach her siblings games, rules, and how to do every-day tasks like tying their shoes. On our family vacations to Disney and Sea World last year, she eagerly waited in the long lines for the roller coaster and adult rides, and although she enjoyed herself immensely, it was obvious that the "magic" and awe and wonder that she found three years ago is not there anymore.
As with any turn of one's life, I look back with equal amounts of fondness and regret. I wish I could take back all the times I was impatient or yelled or wished she would "grow up." She did grow up and never again will I have that dimply, clumsy toddler dumping the goldfish crackers on the ground or learning to crawl/walk/potty/eat/etc. I now find myself grasping to keep her innocence and wonder in a world that is scary and often cruel. I want her to hold on to her love of fairies, and belief in Santa, and dressing in ruffly dresses. But I think the best thing to do as a parent (I hope I'm doing it right) is to cherish each day. Take a moment every night or morning and hold them and be quiet. Say a prayer, take a breath, close your eyes and smell their smell and look at the size of their fingers or nose or ears. Physically remind yourself to do it because life gets hectic, and hey, bed time and a glass of wine and a quiet house are precious things too. But never again will you get "today" back with them, and as everyone warned me, time goes way too fast.
Usually, I politely agree, but all too often, I'm in the throes of my five-year-old having a breakdown, my five-month-old in a dirty diaper and food everywhere, and pleading with my seven-year-old to finish her homework. Truth be told, I'm envious of my peers who are still charging forward in their careers and sipping cocktails in swank bars or have the money to travel the world. I dream of the day when breakdowns over missing polly pocket princess shoes, or nightmares, or diapers are a thing of the past and my laundry pile fits into one basket. But more and more it seems I'm beginning to realize the old adages are starting to ring true and it not only makes me sad but makes me panicked. Have I done everything I'm supposed to teach her? Are we both ready for the looming pre-teen and teenage years ahead? Will she remember all the special baby and little girl moments we've shared?
Last night, we were eating dinner and Jenna asked for more milk. I was in the middle of listening to Tim tell me about his day and feeding Matthew his rice cereal and although I heard her, I didn't respond with any urgency. Without any prompt, Kaitlyn got up, went to the fridge, poured Jenna's milk and sat back down and finished eating her dinner. Doesn't seem very ground breaking but its one of those things that I don't know if I've ever thought about her doing. Usually, I pour the milk and do things like that to avoid the inevitable spills and messes. But the reality is, K is way beyond that point.
My little, timid Kaitlyn is almost eight-years-old. In a flash it seems, she is now a busy second grader. She dresses herself and does her own hair. She can make herself lunch and I trust her to cut things with a knife. She reads chapter books and listens to "her music" on her i-pod. She made a "cootie catcher" last week and was amazed I knew how to make one too. She dances and plays soccer and can do a flip in gymnastics. She can diaper and feed her little brother or braid Jenna's hair. She has her friends and opinions and is often my "go to" in a pinch because she is one of the most reliable and responsible people I know. How did that happen?
I have a Masters in Communication. I have studied chronemics and gender differences, society influences, and inter/intra-personal communication strategies and methods, and many times I have read about how people "hear" but tend to not "listen". But here I am mystified at how I can watch and interact with a person daily and not often realize the person they have become or what they are capable of. Kaitlyn, truth be told, doesn't NEED me to survive anymore.
Not only that, but she demands and deserves to be treated the age she is. Long gone are the days of Dora and wearing "little girl" hair bows. Nick Jr. and PBS shows are too simple for her and she likes to watch non-cartoon movies and shows with me instead. She asks thought-provoking questions, listens to the news and world around her. She challenges things she doesn't agree with and patiently works to teach her siblings games, rules, and how to do every-day tasks like tying their shoes. On our family vacations to Disney and Sea World last year, she eagerly waited in the long lines for the roller coaster and adult rides, and although she enjoyed herself immensely, it was obvious that the "magic" and awe and wonder that she found three years ago is not there anymore.
As with any turn of one's life, I look back with equal amounts of fondness and regret. I wish I could take back all the times I was impatient or yelled or wished she would "grow up." She did grow up and never again will I have that dimply, clumsy toddler dumping the goldfish crackers on the ground or learning to crawl/walk/potty/eat/etc. I now find myself grasping to keep her innocence and wonder in a world that is scary and often cruel. I want her to hold on to her love of fairies, and belief in Santa, and dressing in ruffly dresses. But I think the best thing to do as a parent (I hope I'm doing it right) is to cherish each day. Take a moment every night or morning and hold them and be quiet. Say a prayer, take a breath, close your eyes and smell their smell and look at the size of their fingers or nose or ears. Physically remind yourself to do it because life gets hectic, and hey, bed time and a glass of wine and a quiet house are precious things too. But never again will you get "today" back with them, and as everyone warned me, time goes way too fast.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Momfession #1
Momfession::
This is the fourth blog I've tried to start and I am hell bent on succeeding in 2013 [note success = posting at least once a week and keeping it up for at least three months]. We all have to start somewhere.
So where to actually begin? I suppose the logical spot is explaining the blender reference in the URL. As I sat here this morning in my somewhat clean kitchen, I'm staring at my blender which is making its usual January appearance on my counter space as I work to adhere to my crazy (krazy) Kaia Brik diet. As much as I want to punch myself in the face for saying it, I'm a Kaia girl. A returning veteran of this exercise program, I wake up at 4:30 in the morning, throw on my gear, make a half-hearted attempt to not wake my poor husband or kids or hyperactive dog, and drag myself to an hour long women's intense functional training program four or five days a week. Several times throughout the year, they offer a BRIK - a six week commitment where you ante-up your usual exercise routine, give up alcohol, sugar and processed foods (think "Lean and Green" or as my husband lovingly refers to it the "Rabbit Diet"). This is my forth BRIK and it usually comes at a time where I need a solid kick in the butt. This year, after giving birth at the end of summer and imbibing heartily over the holidays, I feel I need an NFL punter's style kick to get back on track. Hence the blender as I concoct a power smoothie that despite its greenish yellow color, actually tastes pretty good.
Moving on in my digressive thought process, as I sat here feeding my kiddos, asking Kaitlyn her spelling words and staring at my to-do lists (various tasks that are weighed by priority vs. how much I don't want to do them) I played a little creative game in my head. I was trying to decide if I were a kitchen or household appliance, what would I be? Everyone wants to be something svelte and modern (think the Electolux Dryer shamelessly plugged by Kelly Ripa where the laundry flies out folded into the kid's closets) but the reality of "me" is that often I feel like my life is a basic blender on power 10 trying to mix the 10,000 different parts of my day into something smooth and sensible (and hopefully nutritious) and usually consumed on-the-go. Hence the name and forth coming, the blog. I'd like to have a neat little blog for the various aspects of my life (motherhood, fitness, marketing/pr clients and ideas, food, etc.), but lets be frank. That's not my life - and I rarely have the luxury of focusing on one thing. My life is a constant, ever-changing jumble, namely because of the little, important people in my life (I often refer to them as "the littles") pictured here:
So here we go. A little this, a little that. All mixed up together in my crazy, lovable, laughable life.
This is the fourth blog I've tried to start and I am hell bent on succeeding in 2013 [note success = posting at least once a week and keeping it up for at least three months]. We all have to start somewhere.
So where to actually begin? I suppose the logical spot is explaining the blender reference in the URL. As I sat here this morning in my somewhat clean kitchen, I'm staring at my blender which is making its usual January appearance on my counter space as I work to adhere to my crazy (krazy) Kaia Brik diet. As much as I want to punch myself in the face for saying it, I'm a Kaia girl. A returning veteran of this exercise program, I wake up at 4:30 in the morning, throw on my gear, make a half-hearted attempt to not wake my poor husband or kids or hyperactive dog, and drag myself to an hour long women's intense functional training program four or five days a week. Several times throughout the year, they offer a BRIK - a six week commitment where you ante-up your usual exercise routine, give up alcohol, sugar and processed foods (think "Lean and Green" or as my husband lovingly refers to it the "Rabbit Diet"). This is my forth BRIK and it usually comes at a time where I need a solid kick in the butt. This year, after giving birth at the end of summer and imbibing heartily over the holidays, I feel I need an NFL punter's style kick to get back on track. Hence the blender as I concoct a power smoothie that despite its greenish yellow color, actually tastes pretty good.
Moving on in my digressive thought process, as I sat here feeding my kiddos, asking Kaitlyn her spelling words and staring at my to-do lists (various tasks that are weighed by priority vs. how much I don't want to do them) I played a little creative game in my head. I was trying to decide if I were a kitchen or household appliance, what would I be? Everyone wants to be something svelte and modern (think the Electolux Dryer shamelessly plugged by Kelly Ripa where the laundry flies out folded into the kid's closets) but the reality of "me" is that often I feel like my life is a basic blender on power 10 trying to mix the 10,000 different parts of my day into something smooth and sensible (and hopefully nutritious) and usually consumed on-the-go. Hence the name and forth coming, the blog. I'd like to have a neat little blog for the various aspects of my life (motherhood, fitness, marketing/pr clients and ideas, food, etc.), but lets be frank. That's not my life - and I rarely have the luxury of focusing on one thing. My life is a constant, ever-changing jumble, namely because of the little, important people in my life (I often refer to them as "the littles") pictured here:
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