You guys. Look at the new State of the Weight banner. Please. And thank you.

THREE POUNDS. Three pounds.

I’ve officially hit my first weight loss-related goal of 10 total pounds! Officially, in about 6 weeks, maybe 7?, I’ve lost 12.5 pounds.

I’m pretty pumped right now and I don’t care who knows it.

I tracked nearly everything I put in my mouth for the second week in a row and really focused on how I disbursed my calories throughout the day. My goal is roughly 350-375 calories per meal with about the same amount for snacks throughout the day. If I work out, I do eat back some of my calories, but not all. Never all.

It’s been difficult some days to stay under the daily calorie allotment. Some days I feel like I’m starving from the minute I wake up until the minute I go to sleep. But then other days I eat three meals and snacks and get to the end of the day and find I’m still under goal. I’m trying to look at it as a whole week instead of individual days.

Saturday I pulled my Gap Skinnies out of the dryer and put them on to run some errands. THEY WERE LOOSE. Normally when I first put them on, they’re a little snug and they loosen up over the course of me wearing them. But not this time. This time they just zipped right up with no weird sucking in or resistance at all.

And my shorts are looser too. The ones I bought last summer in a size larger than I was/had ever been because my mom-belly took up so much room I had to buy bigger clothes to squish it in. They’re looser now.

The mom-belly, “mother’s apron,” extra skin and flab that stretched beyond its limits while housing children on two occasions? It’s smaller. I can feel that it’s smaller.

I never thought I would feel that.

Ahhhhh!! 12.5 pounds! It’s time to buy a bra, I guess!

As for working out and adding weights, which is still something that plagues me, here’s what I decided to do.

My gym gives one free personal training session, but having worked out with a personal trainer in the past, I know that once isn’t really enough for me to feel comfortable on the weight floor. I would just do the same thing every time and that wouldn’t really be helpful in the long term.

Thanks to some great links and helpful comments last week, I’m going to do some weight/resistance exercises at home to start. I have some 3 lb weights and some walls and chairs for resistance. There’s a small step on our back patio I can use if I need to and a higher one on the back deck. All the tools I need for muscle building and toning I have at home already.

To figure out what to do, I turned to Pinterest and created a State of the Weight board to keep various arm, back, core, butt, and leg exercises in one place. This way, I can try out new routines and exercises in my living room where the only people who will laugh at me are those I birthed or the one who swore to love me for better or for worse.

Once I’ve got a system down and exercises I’m comfortable with, and perhaps start to see some improvements, I’ll move to the weight floor at the gym where there is advanced equipment. I feel like that makes sense for where I am right now.

State of the Weight is about small, sustainable changes. 

I’m making changes and I’m seeing the results of those changes. It feels good. I like it.

Weekly goal: Do 5 at-home exercise routines
Weight goal: Lose another 10 total pounds, bringing the total to 22.5 pounds lost.

My reward when I lose another 10 pounds will either be a heartrate monitor or new shoes. My current ones are probably 5 years old, minimum, and while they’re not worn out (because, Hi, I didn’t work out for 5 years) they probably aren’t as supportive as they should be or supportive in the right places. Heartrate monitor or shoes? What would you choose?

Are you joining in on State of the Weight? What was your success this week? What’s your goal for next?

If you’re blogging this journey, link up below so we can support each other!

The post State of the Weight Wednesday: Weight. Lost. appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

It gets so hot in our house in the summer, even with the air conditioning running full-blast, that the thought of turning on my stove makes me break into a sweat. (Thank you, older home with poor insulation.)

Suffice it to say, we’re big fans of grilling once the temperature starts to climb. And now that we’re both on this State of the Weight wagon, we’re also fans of finding healthier alternatives to our usual fare.

Enter one of our new favorites: Grilled Fish Tacos with Avocado-Cilantro Dressing.

Growing up, I didn’t eat a lot of fish. It just wasn’t something we bought and prepared. But I like it, and it’s good for me, so over our years together, I’ve slowly incorporated fish dishes into our menu. (Okay, total honesty: Dan has incorporated more fish dishes into our menu because I was scared to prepare it for a long time.)

A few weeks ago, I bought tilapia at Trader Joe’s and decided to make fish tacos. Dan gets them when we go to Barberito’s on Fridays, so I knew I had a decent chance of having a hit on my hands.

I had no idea what I was doing since I had never eaten fish tacos before much less cooked them. I just looked at what I had and what I thought would go well together and threw things into the Ninja and crossed my fingers.

Dan was floored. I basically knocked these out of the park. (Winning!)

Here’s what you’ll need:

2 flaky, white fish filets (tilapia and swai are both good choices)
fajita or taco-sized flour tortillas
coleslaw mix
1 avocado
1 lime
1 bunch cilantro
1/4 to 1/2 cup mayonnaise
3 oz. plain Greek yogurt (about half the container)
2 to 3 cloves fresh garlic, depending on size
onion powder
garlic powder
chili powder
cumin
dried dill
kosher salt
pepper

To prepare the dressing:

1. Halve your avocado and score it so it’s easy to remove from the shell.

2. Put avocado in food processor with (roughly) 1 tsp. kosher salt, 1 tsp. black pepper. Liberally sprinkle in the dill. Peel and slice the garlic cloves and toss those in, too.

3. Add the juice from half of the lime, reserving the other half of the lime for the fish. Add your yogurt and mayonnaise to the food processor. (Note: To make this low or no-fat, use low-fat mayo or skip the mayonnaise altogether and use double the amount of Greek yogurt. Your sauce might be slightly more tart, but it will still work well with the dish.)

4. Add the cilantro. This is more or less to taste. I use about 3/4 of the bunch in the container. If you want a mild cilantro flavor, add only the leaves. If you want a heavier cilantro flavor, add some of the stem pieces, too.

5. Process. The consistency will be a little more like mayo/yogurt than a pourable dressing. Taste it. If you want more of a particular flavor, add it and process it in. Put it in the fridge so the flavors can “marry” and then prep the fish.

For the fish:

1. Preheat your grill.

2. Season both sides of your fish with salt, pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, chili powder, and cumin. Easy on the cumin. A little goes a long way. (If you add paprika, this is basically the seasoning mix used when blackening fish or chicken.) You can play with this mixture a bit. If you like chiptle seasoning, add it. Cayenne? Fair game. Have fun.

3. Grill your fish, flipping your grill basket at around the 7 minute mark. (A grill basket isn’t required, but it definitely makes grilling fish, which tends to stick, much easier.)

4. After the fish is cooked, flake it. Squeeze the juice from the other half of the lime over the flaked fish.

Warm your tortillas. Layer the flaked fish and coleslaw in the tortilla and top with the dressing. Devour. Go back for seconds.

We serve this with corn on the cob and black beans, or sometimes no sides at all. Rice would also work nicely. With a main dish as good as this one, sides become really unimportant.

This dressing is really a multi-purpose condiment and is what makes the dish. Last night I used it to top blackened chicken and quinoa. You could mix it into the coleslaw and serve the slaw as a side for carne asada or fajitas. It would also make an excellent veggie dip.

To use a cliche’, the possibilities are endless.

Welcome to summer!

If you give this recipe a shot, let me know what you thought! Hope you enjoy it as much as we do!

The post Grilled Fish Tacos with Avocado-Cilantro Dressing appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

So, I opened ye olde dashboard at something crazy like, I dunno, 8:00 a.m. and here it is a full 14 and a half hours later and I’m finally coming here to write something, weary from a day that has quite honestly just kicked my ass. We had one of the most challenging days we’ve had in a while around here today and, well, it just sucked.

I had every intention of coming here to write all about the awesome afternoon Joshua and I had yesterday and I feel like today has sort of sucked the wind out of my sails. I find that I can’t really be open right now about the way the day went because I don’t want to be seen as ungrateful or uncaring or whatever. I kind of feel like my safe space has been torn away a little bit.

And then there’s the fact that the conversation I had yesterday with Alena is still ringing in the my ears. And I wonder how much of today was because of me. We talked about the act of parenting our children. Of doing more than just surviving. Of getting by. We shared our frustration with feeling like we’re not entirely sure what we’re doing with this age right now. But we walked away knowing that what we’re doing isn’t necessarily what we thought we would be doing.

After our conversation, I knew I needed to make a change in the way we do things around here, so after Emma’s nap yesterday, I asked Joshua if he wanted to go swimming.

“With Miss Becca?”

“No, just with Mama.”

“With my baby Emma?”

“No, we’ll take Emma to childcare and you and I will go swimming.”

“OKAY!”

A little light twinkled in his eyes when he realized it would just be the two of us. It’s so rarely just the two of us. And then a wave of guilt washes over me because for three years, it was just us. And now it’s us plus Emma.

I know that this has taken an enormous toll on him. I see the way he is with her and I can’t help but think that he feels slighted sometimes because I’m changing her diapers or nursing her or directing her away from trying to scale the coffee table.

So yesterday we went swimming. Just the two of us. We got changed and we left and we dropped Emma off and we hurried out the door.

We played and we laughed. I chased him. He chased me. We splashed. We curled up in a lounge chair and I held him and we talked. He snuggled into me and we sat there and we waited until we could go back in the water. My heart was so full.

I want that moment to be the way we are all the time.

The conversation she and I had made me realize that while I love my son, I could be doing more for him. I’m tell myself that I’m doing my best to raise him but deep down I think I’m just lying to myself.

Given his behavior sometimes, like yesterday after it wasn’t just us anymore or today, I wonder if I’m failing him. Is this the kind of person he’s going to grow up and be? Is this just a by-product of the fact that he’s a very, very sensitive 4 year old? Is this because he won’t nap but desperately needs more sleep? Is his behavior strictly attention seeking?

I don’t know.

And I’m not sure I can know definitively.

All I know is that I can do better as his mother.

He deserves better.

He deserves my best.

Contrary to his face in this picture, he was actually quite happy.
He just did the opposite of smile because I dared to interrupt his snack time.
Silly mama.

The post A moment like this appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Welcome back to State of the Weight Wednesday! This week we’re adding a link-up to the bottom so if you’re following along on your own and want to add a link to your post, please do so that we can all offer support. We’re all in this together. Whatever this is for you.

This week I’m…whatever…to report absolutely no changes at all. Not in the number on the scale and not in measurements that I took last week and this week to compare.

To be honest, it’s kind of discouraging. And this has been the hardest week so far so I’m kind of struggling mentally with where I am and how the week went and seeing no change.

I started tracking my food, water, and exercise on the MyPlate app last Wednesday. I actually didn’t find that to be the hard part at all. Tracking, that is. It was pretty easy to just go in at each meal and find out how much I was putting into my body in order to know where I was for the day. It was also revealing.

I’ve got to do something about my coffee but I’m not ready to switch to drinking it black nor am I a fan of artificial sweeteners. Agave has more calories than sugar and I’m not sure about the flavor of honey in coffee. I don’t know what the answer is.

I didn’t stick to the daily recommended intake allowance on Saturday and Sunday since it was Mother’s Day, but I didn’t blow everything out of the water either. And if you subscribe to the notion that the entire week’s intake is more important than a single day, which I do, I really did a great job for my first week of tracking and being responsible about what I ate and I’m proud of that.

I measured portions with a scale or scoop when I was unsure instead of just eyeballing. I planned healthy meals with lean meats and lots of veggies. I ate more fruits instead of crackers or pretzels. Small changes that make differences.

Through the Livestrong community, I also discovered that I might be overestimating my activity level, so I changed that in my profile yesterday morning and lost some daily calories. That made me grumpy.

Dieting is making me grumpy. Sluggish. Short-fused. I don’t like it. I know that part of this is the adjustment process. That my body has to find its new “normal.” But guys, this? This is hard.

I’m not giving up even though I really want to drown my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream with a side of Pinot right now, but this is hard.

Exercise continues to plague me because I can’t be as consistent as I’d like to be. Inevitably, one of the kids has an issue and I’m called away. Last Wednesday Joshua got physical with another kid and I had to “escort him out” after only 12 minutes. Saturday was short because I didn’t know what time childcare closed and we walked in at 5:15 when they close at 6:00. Monday Emma pooped after 30 minutes. It’s always something.

The number of calories I’m burning each time I exercise is all over the place depending on what I consult. The machine says one thing and the app says another. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle, but I have no idea how to actually measure that and don’t know if I should even worry about it. I mean, is it important that I know how “productive” my workouts are?

I know I have to add weights into my routine. It’s just daunting to think about. Probably as daunting as anything I’ve done so far. Cardio on the elliptical is safe. I can zone out while watching Claire have a baby and Boone die after Jack gives him a blood transfusion with a sea urchin (RIP, BOONE!) and before I know it, 45 minutes is gone.

I can’t do that with the weights. I have to pay attention to what I’m doing but what it feels like is that everyone else is paying attention to me. I know that’s irrational and that no one is likely to even notice the fact that I’m there, but there’s something about that side of the gym that feels like a spotlight is shining on me going “LOOK! LOOK AT THIS GIRL WHO HAS NO IDEA WHAT SHE’S DOING! LOOK AT HER MUFFIN TOP AND FLABBY ARMS!”

Gah. Sorry to sound so discouraging right now. I know that I’m doing something good for us so that keeps me going but there are just some weeks on this journey that are going to be harder than others. And since this is about being real, I guess I’m okay with that. I hope you are too.

Weekly Goal: Continue to track food and plan healthy, filling meals and snacks so I’m not so freaking grumpy
Weight Goal: 10 pounds total. A pesky .5 pound to go.

Remember we’ve got a link-up now, so, uh, link up. (Share the badge if you want! It’s okay. I don’t mind!)

The post State of the Weight Wednesday: Dear Diary appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Dear New Mama,

Congratulations! You just had a baby. Now fasten your seatbelt. That tiny little bundle of lungs and poop is about to rock your world.

I don’t know everything there is to know about mothering, and just as soon as I eliminate some options and figure out the correct answer to whatever seems to be the problem of the moment, the answers change.

Parenting is the world’s most complicated multiple choice test.

But I’ve picked up a thing or two since Joshua was born and since they might be helpful to someone, somewhere, here goes.

Let people help you.

No matter how your baby entered this world, your body has just done what seems impossible. It grew a small human and then delivered it into the world. Your job for now, for the next however long, is to take care of yourself and your baby. And that’s it.

If someone is coming over and you need milk and bread from the store, ask them to swing by on their way. If someone calls up to see about stopping by and you need the laundry flipped from washer to dryer, ask them to do it. Now is not the time to worry about whether or not they’ll see your knickers.

Or, if you need to feel more like you, let them hold the baby while you flip the laundry. Or take a shower. Or a nap.

But don’t let the tendency that many of us have to feel compelled to do everything lest the world fall in around us swallow you up. It’s okay to delegate. It’s okay to let some things go.

You don’t have to love every minute of motherhood.

It’s okay to hate the days where it feels like all you’ve done is feed or change or burp or bounce or walk or rock this baby while your hair (and probably body) have gone unwashed since you can’t even remember and you smell faintly of spit-up but you can’t exactly find out the origin point of the smell.

No one loves that. It’s okay not to love that.

You will second-guess yourself.

Don’t second guess yourself.

Listen to your Mama Heart. Trust it. Trust yourself.

You can do this.

Be kind to yourself.

The road to figuring one another out isn’t always an easy one, but remember that it’s a journey you’re on together. There will be bad days. For both of you.

As Emerson said, “Tomorrow is a new day. Begin it well and serenely.” Let go of whatever you perceive to have been mistakes and start over. Find your reset button and don’t be afraid to push it.

Change is inevitable.

Babies change. Quickly. While you are staring at them even. One minute they are just looking at you and then you blink and when you open your eyes, they’re smiling. Then laughing. Then they’re running and soon after that having real conversations with you about clouds or trees or Angry Birds.

Your heart will ache for time to slow down while it simultaneously bursts with excitement over all that is new. Get ready for your heart to feel a million things at once for the rest of your life.

There will be less.

Less sleep. Less time. And maybe a little less sanity.

Sleep when you can. If that means you’re up all night because your baby is up all night and then you’re sleeping all day because your baby is sleeping all day, well, in the early days that’s just what you do.

If it means snuggling into a comfy place and sleeping with a baby on your chest, do it. You can fix “bad” habits later. And remember that if it works for you, it’s not a bad habit, no matter what your mother, or neighbor, or random grocery checkout person says.

Right now you need rest. Get it however and whenever you can.

You might never be on time again. That’s just kind of a thing that babies do to us even when they’re too small to DO much of anything.

Not sleeping or being on time will not last forever. I think.

There will be more.

The amount of laundry created by something so small is truly amazing. Prepare to do more laundry. There will be more trash. More dishes. More more more.

But there will also be more love.

Already there is probably more love in your heart than you ever dreamed possible. (But if it’s not there yet, that’s okay. It will come.)

You will experience more joy and wonder than you could ever imagine as you watch this tiny human learn and grow.

You’ve done it, Mama. Now go snuggle that baby and enjoy it.

Congratulations Jackie and Daniel on the birth of baby Charlie.
He’s more beautiful than words and so lucky to have the two of you as his parents.
All my love to your little family of three. And Poco and Howell, too.

The post Dear New Mama appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

It’s nice, this weather we’re having around here. Like real Spring instead of just a week of nice temperatures before everything skyrockets to sun-hot. And because it’s nice, that means we’re doing things out-of-doors.

Things like picnics. And Zoo Atlanta. And picnics at Zoo Atlanta. And taking lots of pictures.

I’m not sure what exactly is going on here, but suffice it to say that when you have three kids and you want to take a picture of them together at least three of them won’t cooperate.

This was our second visit to Zoo Atlanta, and I have to say that I think the best times to go are either as soon as the zoo opens like last time, or in the afternoon like we did this time. By the time we finished our picnic, the crowds had thinned a bit, which I think is a good thing with three full-of-energy preschoolers in tow.

Stop #1 on every visit is The Flamingos.

The flamingos always remind me of my grandfather’s farm in Florida. I have no idea why. He didn’t have flamingos on his farm. But they always make me think of Florida and him.

Next we went on a walking safari through the animals of Africa.

This was a common sight on Friday. Three little kids leaning over a fence together to peer at whatever animal lay on the other side.

The last time we were at the zoo, the elephants weren’t in their enclosure. Or they were laying down and blended in to the scenery thanks to a generous covering of red clay.

Once upon a time I was a kid who watched Saved By The Bell. There was an episode where the gang would win something if they could answer the radio DJ’s question which was “what color is a giraffe’s tongue?” Mr. Belding knew the correct answer. Black.

This giraffe confirmed that answer by mocking my photo snapping by sticking his tongue out at me.

Meet our meerkats:

When those two weren’t being cute like that, they were being cute like this:

One of my favorite stops is always the gorillas. They’re so interesting to watch. I know how Jane Goodall did it because they’re just so observable.

We got a little lost near the gorillas and kept going in circles so we saw the gorillas a lot. But that just meant photo ops.

Then we found the tigers.

Cats? They just sleep all the time. It doesn’t matter what size they are. They just sleep. And also pounce on things. I do not wish to ever be pounced upon by a tiger, for the record. And I’m slightly curious as to whether my cat allergy transfers to tigers? But obviously not curious enough to ever actually find out.

I totally expected this one to fall asleep at some point, but no. Nope. Not a chance.

The thing about the zoo with children is that at some point, there will be tears. Probably. And if there aren’t, you’re one of the lucky ones.

Here’s a shot of happiness after visiting the reptiles:

After this picture, both boys took turns falling down and scraping their knees. Joshua spent the panda exhibit being sad. I spent the panda exhibit squeeing with delight because PANDAS.

Okay, I was sad that he was sad. I’m not heartless. But then pandas distracted me with being all cute and LOOK AT THE PANDA.

Lucas was fully recovered from his injuries by the time we got to the goat and sheep petting station.

Joshua, well, he was not recovered and decided to just sit on a log.

Never fear, though. The goats were happy even if Joshua wasn’t. This goat is totally smirking at me.

Finally, we made it to the Kid Zone (as if the entire zoo hadn’t been a zone for kids?). All three of them were eager to ride the train, but Joshua wouldn’t sit with everyone else, so I have no pictures of them together.

If Joshua wasn’t recovered from his knee scrapes after the train, the carousel did the trick.

After getting the warning that we would leave in 10 minutes, the kids set off for the playground.

And that was our day at Zoo Atlanta!

The post Where The Wild Things Are, Take 2: Zoo Atlanta appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Another Mother’s Day is upon us. And that means another Mother’s Day Rally for Moms’ Mental Health is here. What’s that, you ask?

Sunday, May 12th, is the 5th annual Mother’s Day Rally for Moms’ Mental Health, featuring 24 letters from survivors of PPD, postpartum anxiety, postpartum OCD, depression after weaning and/or postpartum psychosis. Their purpose is to inform and encourage pregnant and new moms who may be struggling with their emotional health. The Rally is hosted by Postpartum Progress, the most widely-read blog in the world on postpartum depression and other mental illnesses related to pregnancy and childbirth.

Today my heart is happy. It’s full.

Sure, I have days that aren’t stellar, but none of them are like those early days of motherhood. Those days when I thought I would suffocate from the weight of it all.

Joy was so hard to find then that I don’t really remember my first Mother’s Day. I hadn’t yet admitted to myself that depression was a thing I was facing. There was a prescription folded neatly and tucked away in my wallet and I hadn’t yet screwed up the courage to fill it.

I know I got a gift certificate to a spa for my first Mother’s Day, one that I wouldn’t be brave or mentally healthy enough to cash in for another 4 months, and even then, I remember feeling guilty for taking a day to myself.

But I’m in a different place now.

Today I’m at Postpartum Progress talking about the magic of self-care. The absolutely vital task of making sure your own needs are met so that you can meet the needs of others.

I owe my full heart today to the moms who were brave about their struggles. The moms who ARE brave about their struggles. Moms who make it their life’s work to help other moms who are struggling.

The work that Katherine Stone does and the platform on which she does it are so important to mothers and partners and medical professionals everywhere.

I’m happy to be a part of the Postpartum Progress Mother’s Day Rally again this year. I hope you’ll join me and the other moms in the rally. Read our words. Share them. Send your friends. There’s truly something for everyone.

Happy Mother’s Day.

The post Mother’s Day Rally at Postpartum Progress appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Okay, so I’m on this fitness quest or whatever, right? Right.

And when I lose 10 total pounds, I’m going to buy myself a new bra, right? Right.

I’ve been bra shopping online for two full weeks now. I’ve measured myself and re-measured myself to make sure I’ve got the size right. I’ve researched fit and function and brands. I’ve read reviews. I’ve looked at pictures.

I want a bra that won’t break the bank and will keep my jublees from jubbling and maybe isn’t ugly.

For the love of the sweet, tiny baby Jesus and his standard size counterpart, I cannot bring myself to click “buy” on a $70 sweat catcher even if it promises my boobs won’t bounce a bit while on the elliptical.

Which brings me to an even bigger rant entirely.

Can we talk candidly about the insane price of some workout apparel and how it is ALL targeted to the already fit? All of it. Because that’s what I’ve found in my bra search. Every single piece seems marketed toward those who already look great and are in shape.

And the problem I have with that is this:

When I feel like I look good, I am more confident. I can conquer the entire Universe when I feel confident.

But I’m “fat” and the world tells me I should hide myself in a muumuu.

When I’m dressing in a sorority function t-shirt from nearly a decade ago, with paint stains on the front and holes in the armpits, and yoga pants that are 5 years old, and a bra that is too small, or two at the same time,  it’s damn near impossible to feel even kind of confident.

Sure, workout apparel for plus-sized women exists. But most of it starts at double the price of its regular-sized counterparts or is so greatly over-sized we might as well just wear a tent. And they’re waterproof, so that sweat should just roll on off, right?

I can’t imagine that the cost is that much greater to produce a piece of fitness apparel for the full-figured. Which leads me to the only plausible answer as to why workout clothes in my size (which in reality isn’t even plus-sized in many places) cost so much and/or are extremely rare.

Our desire to look good and feel good is preyed upon. If we want to wear clothes that make us feel good, we better have the purses to pay up.

And in light of the discussion surrounding a certain heavily-scented store with scantily-clad models, I know this is true.

It kind of makes me rage-y.

Why is it so hard to believe that ALL people of ALL sizes deserve to look and feel their best at ALL times?

Why do companies price their products out of reach of normal people?

Big girls should get to wear cute workout apparel that doesn’t cost a fortune too, y’all.

I know there are brands out there who have plus-sized versions of their workout lines available. Online. Never in stores. Sure, they’ll sell us their products, but they don’t want us to walk into the store and try them on first. If we want their apparel, we better be prepared to hole up in the confines of our homes and wait for it to arrive on our doorstep via UPS.

Is this just a silly thing I’m thinking about? Maybe. But every time I walk past a mirror in the gym, I can’t help but think about it. I can’t help but think that I look frumpy. I can’t help but want to hide in a corner and hope no one actually sees me. I can’t help wanting to just be invisible.

Sure, I’m trying to fix it. But in the meantime, you know?

Maybe it’s completely silly to want to look good while working out when the point of working out for a lot of people is to look good.  But it’s kind of a chicken-egg thing, isn’t it?

When we look good we feel good. When we feel good our workouts are more productive. When our workouts are more productive we will end up looking good. So then we’ll feel good.

What’s wrong with wanting to feel our best while we’re trying to be our best?

The post Just a little ranty rant about clothes appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

It’s Wednesday again! Time for another State of the Weight!

I’m not calling this half pound loss all the way to my goal of 10 pounds lost, but I’m changing the pic because I think something is wrong with my scale. Or my bathroom floor.

Yep. That sounds ridiculous.

I noticed that the scale was straddling some grout lines in the floor and was way, WAY off. Then I moved it to be all on the same square and got a different number. Then I moved it to another square and got yet another number. This one popped more often than any other, so this is what I’m going with.

People weighing yourself, check your floors. <—Moral of my story?

210.5. That’s where I am this morning.

I only managed to make it to the gym 4 times instead of 5, which is my goal, but we walked all over the place at Day Out With Thomas and I wore Emma the whole time. I feel like that counts, even if it was light exercise. Claire is about to have the baby for those of you following my escapades with Lost. I am thoroughly addicted to this show and have not yet decided if I’m Team Jack or Team Sawyer. I have, however, decided that Hurley is the best.

It was impossible to keep up with my water intake beyond around 45 oz a day, and I completely, totally, brutally failed at healthy snacking.

Considering the way I ate like garbage (and drank a beer or three) this weekend, I’m not surprised. But I haven’t had a Moon Pie in a decade and it was so fresh and delicious I can practically taste it right now four days later.

::sigh::

What the failure with this challenge says to me is that the next challenge is the one I have been dreading.

Food journaling.

I had hoped that this wouldn’t have to happen yet. It’s a process I find to be daunting because hello, I’m tracking everything I put in my mouth and I’ll probably embarrass myself. But if embarrassing myself–if staring at the cold, hard truth of all the extra calories I consume–is what it takes to make me STOP GRAZING ON GARBAGE, then so be it. I’ll do it.

I know from my history with dieting that this is effective. It’s accountability. It’s a number that turns RED RED RED, glaring at me from the screen on my iPhone. It forces me to make healthy choices all day long. It’s a reminder that if I splurge it has to be just that–a one time thing. I cannot have ice cream every night and call it splurging.

So, I opened MyPlate and started recording my food.

No, I didn’t have a 674 calorie breakfast. I just didn’t put my lunch in the right place. ::shrug::

I know that calorie counting probably isn’t the recommended way of dieting right now, but it’s something that I know works for me. It forces me to make choices. I can have this unhealthy thing which won’t fill me up or I can have this healthy thing (and more of it) which will. Given those two choices I will almost always choose the smarter, healthier choice.

But I know I will fall off the wagon hardcore if I don’t have the flexibility to occasionally eat something really bad for me, like a burger. Or a piece of cake. Or a serving of fro-yo. So this is where I’m starting.

Weight loss goal: 10 total pounds, then I’m buying a bra that fits
Weekly goal: Food Journaling

What are your goals for the week? Did you have a success? Let me know and let’s celebrate it!

The post State of the Weight Wednesday: Snack Attack appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Joshua discovered Thomas the Tank Engine when he was 18 months old. ”Ta Ta!” he’d shout, as he monstered around the house.

We have no idea where he first learned about Thomas the Tank Engine, only that he did. It has been a love affair that, over the years, hasn’t died. His favorite varies from time to time. Sometimes it’s Percy. Sometimes it’s Gordon. Sometimes it’s Thomas himself. This kid just loves his trains.

When I heard that Day Out With Thomas was coming back to Chattanooga again this year, I jumped online, picked a weekend, and bought tickets. The chance to see Thomas up close and in person? That would be the best day of his 4 years on Earth.

I didn’t tell him where we were going or what we would do there. I asked him if he would like to meet Sir Topham Hatt, received various enthusiastic answers that yes, he would like to meet the Fat Controller (yes, that’s his actual title), and crossed my fingers.

Saturday morning we woke up early, piled into the car, and headed north. It was raining, but that didn’t stop us.

In fact, there was no way we would miss it just because of the rain. I’d already bought the tickets and we’re not really in the place to flush money down the toilet. So rain coats and umbrellas and wearing Emma in the Onya Baby and we were good.

Our very first stop upon entering the train yard was the gift shop where they had not terribly overpriced Thomas umbrellas for sale. After the walk in to the event, it was clear that the rain coat wouldn’t be enough to keep Joshua from getting completely soaked, so we bought one. Our one and only souvenir.

Because we had some time before our departure time, we decided to go ahead and introduce Joshua to Sir Topham Hatt.

The line was short. The rain was steady.

Joshua, who had expressed his desire both to give the good sir a hug and also hold his hand, turned out to be a wee bit scared to stand next to the Fat Controller for a picture.

Pretty much what I expected.

Since that was kind of a bust, and since we were at a railroad museum, we went around taking pictures of trains. In the rain.

I played with the color on this one just for fun. The sky was definitely not that blue on Saturday.

We still had stamps to collect on our adventure map. The storytelling station was packed because it was the only event occurring inside an actual structure. There were too many people for Joshua to be comfortable so we didn’t stay long, and by the time we left, it was time to climb aboard this guy:

We were in Coach 4. Joshua called it the Gordon coach because that’s Gordon’s number. There was a bit of a wait once we were seated, so we passed the time by taking pictures.

Emma was not amused with the fact that we wouldn’t let her walk around the train meeting everyone and instead restricted her movement to our laps and the four seats we occupied. She can be quite dramatic.

Joshua decided he needed to get in on the photographer action and said “I needa take a picture of your eye, Daddy.” So, I supported the camera while he took this picture. Which magically auto-focused right near Dan’s eye.

Finally, after what seemed like forever but was in reality only about 10 minutes, we were off. The train backed away from the station.

Joshua held on to our tickets so the conductor could come along and punch them.

He looked through that rainy, foggy window the entire time we were on the train, even if he couldn’t see much and saw the same things twice.

Emma looked, too.

And then our ride was over. We pulled into the station and climbed off the train. Joshua opened his umbrella and we hit up the play tent where Joshua took some Trackmaster trains for a spin.

This was his first time playing with a Trackmaster set after asking for one for a month. He watches the product review videos on Youtube and then describes them to me as “the one with the pistons that puff and go round and round and round like this” while moving his tiny finger in a circle.

We’re currently on a Gordon-is-the-favorite streak, so he snapped up Gordon to play with as soon as the “strongest and best” engine was available.

After a full morning of all things Thomas, it was time to say goodbye. But not before we went back to visit Sir Topham Hatt one last time.

The whole way over he said “I needa go see Sir Topham Hatt. I am going to stand next to him this time.” This is as close as he got, but the guy is kind of creepy looking, so I can’t blame him for needing to hold onto Dan’s leg.

Once we were finished, our feet and shoes and pants and popcorn soaked, we started the trek back to the car. Thomas was making another trip while we walked, so we got to wave goodbye.

And that was that. Our Day Out With Thomas was complete. At least until next year.

The post Day Out With Thomas appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

When I opened the dashboard on Wednesday to post for State of the Weight, I skimmed the numbers I saw staring back and saw that Wednesday’s post was #999.

That means that this is post 1,000.

1,000 posts of words and pictures and moments and vents and happiness and sadness all put out into the Universe to be stumbled upon someday. Or not. It’s a toss-up.

I started to think about what blogging has meant to me since I first dared to put fingers to keys on an April day in 2008. I went back and read those early (horrible, terribly awful, kind of embarrassing) posts and realized that well, I’ve come a long way, baby.

What began as the somewhat asinine and whiny ramblings of someone trying to have a baby has grown into something much bigger, greater than I ever imagined.

Yes, there’s still whining occasionally. Sorry. I think. At least sometimes I’m sorry.

But there’s a community of people here who impact my life. You guys matter.

This song and dance we’re doing here, we’re doing it together.

As much as we all want to say we’re doing this for ourselves, that we write for ourselves, and as much as that’s partly true, we also do it because we want people to read it. We seek human connections through these words we post online. We throw them out like a net and hope to catch a friend or two in the process.

I do what I do for me but also because of you.

If people weren’t reading, I probably would’ve stopped this long ago, and then I’m not sure where I’d be. This blogging thing, the compulsion to write, as much as it sometimes frustrates the daylights out of me, it’s become a part of my identity.

I’m slowly growing comfortable with calling myself a writer. Sort of. Maybe.

Since I first started out, this thing I’m doing has evolved, not unlike me. I’m not the same person I was when I made my first post. I became a mom twice over. I battled postpartum depression. I left my career to seek out a different path. There were tiny and relatively insignificant moments in between.

In the midst of everything, I found my voice. And while it may be a small voice, it’s a steady one. And it is mine.

In order to keep going, to keep thriving, it has to continue to evolve or I’m afraid it will die out.  And I don’t want it to die out.

I have to stretch my wings a little, push against my own resistance to change. I have to challenge myself in order to grow.

This is my 1,000th post.

Here’s to 1,000 more.

The post I wrote 1,000 posts and all I got was this t-shirt appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Welcome to State of the Weight Wednesday!

So, no new banner this week. I’ve decided I’ll make a new one when I hit my goals. Which means we’ll probably get a new banner next week because this week I’m down another 4 pounds!!

211, people!

I didn’t think I would see a drop like that this week. Last week was really frustrating and I wasn’t able to work out like I wanted and because I was sad about that I ate ice cream with Nerds and shame sauce.

Emma. Oh, Emma. She’s a fun one. A fun one who has decided to hate the gym daycare and scream her face off 85% of the time sending my anxiety into overdrive just thinking about the fact that she’s crying. And then the other 15% of the time she poops, causing me to get called to come and change her diaper. And since I know my child, I know I can’t just change her diaper and return to the gym floor. If she poops, it’s curtains for my workout.

(Seriously. None of the “just let her cry.” If I were okay with letting her cry, I would’ve sleep trained already. Please.)

I did manage to go four times when my goal for the week is 5, so that’s good. I’ve made it to yoga three weeks in a row and can do 45 minutes to an hour of cardio without my heart rate skyrocketing into the stratosphere like I might die, so that’s an improvement.

I also managed to rip through three more episodes of Lost so that’s good, too. Poor Jack is trapped in a cave right now and Boone just left his idiot sister in charge of the bottle rocket.

I know that these big drops won’t last forever. That would just be too easy. But, I’ll take them where I can get them, you know? Particularly in the beginning. I don’t feel different size-wise, but I do seem to have a little more energy, especially if I manage to get a good night of sleep (which doesn’t happen often).

My goal last week was to eat breakfast every day. I succeeded! Some mornings it was oatmeal, one morning it was a biscuit. They weren’t always “healthy” breakfasts, but at least I didn’t just have coffee.

I know and believe that breakfast is important. It’s the foundation for your day. I’m going to continue to explore my breakfast options to include healthy and filling options so I’m not hungry by 10 a.m., which is what I found happening quite a bit this week. I think being home and having access to food just made this worse instead of better which is a factor in this week’s goal, which I’ll get to in a minute.

Water, my secondary goal for the week, was also made difficult thanks to my darling 1 year old. If I have it, Emma wants it. Which includes but is not limited to: my boobs, my food, my phone, my mascara, my earrings, and my water bottles.

She absolutely flips her gourd if she sees me drinking from my water bottle, and since I don’t exactly love drool-flavored water, it’s hard to drink it when she’s awake unless I want to use regular ol’ open cups, which are still a hazard when a mama-climbing child is involved. I’m still managing to get in around 60 oz. a day, though. I think. Most of the time.

What I know I can work on is snacks. If I don’t buy things that aren’t healthy snacks, I won’t eat them. So, healthy snacks like nuts, cheeses, and dried fruits are on the next grocery list.

That also means paying attention to what I’m doing when I’m feeding Joshua and Emma. I can’t sneak a pretzel or bite of peanut butter sandwich. I’m not always mindful of that sort of thing so calories add up when I’m not watching.

(Food journaling is coming. Just not yet.)

So, that was my week. Another 4 lbs gone. Buh-bye.

Weight goal: 10 total pounds, (1 pound to go!)
Weekly goal(s): Eat healthy snacks, healthy breakfast, keep drinking water.

What are your goals for the week?

Have you jumped on the State of the Weight Wagon? Let me know so I can come by and lend you my support!

The post State of the Weight Wednesday: Breakfast of Champions appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

So, Emma turned 1, right? I know. I’m trying to pretend it didn’t happen, too.

Except it did happen. And we threw her a party. A Pretty Pink Party.

The inspiration for a pink birthday party came from a skirt I bought her on a swap page. It was so delicate and this amazing shade of light pink. So, I decided that pink would be the theme for her first birthday party while she’s still little and doesn’t have an opinion. (At least not an opinion about color.)

I like the color pink. One day she may hate it. I’ve got to use it while I can, right? And isn’t this skirt just amazing?

I knew I wanted the party to be girly and fun, so I turned to the internet for more ideas and, once again, used the invitation to set the tone.

Brooke at Graham Cracker Designs was my go-to girl once again. I threw out some ideas and said “pink” and she came back with this. A few tweaks of the font and we were ready to rock. I took the invite, added an overlay in PicMonkey to cover the invitation wording, and then typed in the words “Thank you” to create her first stationery. (That’s why the fonts don’t match.)

Then Zazzle printed them up and I mailed them out.

Next came the decorations. Tissue poms and lots and lots of tulle. Lots of tulle. So much tulle I can make tutus until she’s dancing in a recital in high school probably.

To make the garland, I bought multiple rolls of various colors of pink tulle and cut 3″-4″ wide strips and tied and tied and tied and tied and then tied some more. (The Hairbow Company sells rolls of 6″ tulle for the best price I found online. I found this out after I paid more to buy the rolls in the store. Womp womp.)

I also bought a bolt of tulle (on Amazon for $16. An entire bolt!) and several packs of tissue paper to create the backdrop for the table.

The giant letter E came from JoAnn. I painted it white with acrylic craft paint and then used glue dots to affix the tiny pink flowers which also came from The Hairbow Company.

I tried tissue poms once before, for one of Joshua’s birthdays, and they turned into giant, floppy messes. This time I figured out that cutting the sheets of paper in half
and using 8 layers helped give the pom more stability. For the larger poms, accordion folding along the shorter edge also helped. (That was my mistake the first time–folding along the long edge.)

I’m so happy with how these turned out they’re going to be repurposed as decor in her still unfinished bedroom, along with the E, and maybe the tulle backdrop, too.

Loce.

I used strips of the 6″ tulle to make a table runner and used white tablecloths from my stash. They aren’t sewn together or glued down or anything. Just draped across the table.

I briefly toyed with the idea of trying to make all the party foods pink and then decided that would mean lots of cookies and not much in the way of actual food, so we just kept it simple instead.

A chicken finger platter, a cut fruit bowl from the grocery store with some fruit dip, chips and dip, and ham and spinach pinwheels.

Open a package of crescent rolls and separate into sections of two triangles (to form a rectangle). Pinch together at the perforated seam. Spread with herb and cheese spread (like Rondelle), layer with baby spinach leaves and deli ham. Roll up and pinch dough together on the outside. Slice and then bake according to directions on the crescent roll packaging or until golden brown.

Emma approved. But she doesn’t really say no to food, so.

Her adorable little 1st birthday shirt came from The Hairbow Company. (I bought the shirt, and after having worked together before, they provided some of the flowers used on the big E.)

Now for the cake.

I didn’t want to make more fondant and just used a store-bought cream cheese frosting. Making my own frosting is my nemesis so far, and I’m determined to conquer it. I just didn’t set out to conquer it that weekend.

The cake was yellow cake with a strawberry cream cheese filling (that didn’t exactly fill and instead turned into kind of a runny mess but tasted good). One day when I master homemade frosting I will buy the correct tools to get a really super smooth cake. Until then, imperfect will do.

I made the pennant banner by cutting triangles from pieces of pink scrapbook paper and using glue dots to affix them to some curling ribbon I tied around bamboo skewers. Easy.

Super important details:

Pink party supplies came from Target and the Dollar Tree. No sense in spending a ton of money on the plates.

This punch was a hit. Dan mixed it up and added: 2 cans of pink lemonade concentrate, 1 can of pineapple juice, 64 oz. pre-made fruit punch, 2 L ginger ale, and sliced lemons for garnish. The dispenser was a TJ Maxx find!

Goodie bags contained items from the Dollar Spot at Target: a 4-pack of sidewalk chalk, a coloring roll, and a pack of cards. Flashcards for the littles and games like Old Maid, Go Fish, and Crazy 8s for the older kids.

And that’s that. Emma’s 1st birthday party was a pretty pink party!

Here are some extra cute photos of my kid for making it this far:

The post Emma’s 1st Birthday: A Pretty Pink Party appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

On any given day lately, I feel like I have a laundry list of about 103930 things on the verge of driving me completely insane. Like, one day I think I’m going to have PTSD from parenthood.

One day things are going to be smooth sailing (probably not until they go to college) and I am going to be in a corner rocking back and forth, drool puddling in my lap, and mumbling lines from Dora the Explorer. 

“Isa, turn the wheel! Turn the wheel, Isa! I’m turning the wheel! I’m turning the wheel! I’m TURNING THE WHEEL!”

That is probably going to happen.

I don’t know if it’s just my kids but something about right now is really hard. Or maybe it’s just me.

It’s no secret that sleep in this house is a contentious subject. I would like everyone to have more of it and Emma and Joshua would like everyone to have less. I am losing this battle mightily.

But even when I do get a good night’s sleep and there is plenty of rest during the day, the feelings of irritation and exhaustion are still there by the afternoon. Sometimes earlier.

I walk around feeling, quite frankly, like I’m drunk. Or hungover. My brain is foggy. I get dizzy spells. Everything seems louder than it actually is. If one more child touches me for one more second, my skin might actually burst into flames.

Joshua is demanding. So, so very demanding.

“Get me milk!”

“Get me a snack!”

“I. WANT. A SNACK.”

“I. WANT. MILK!!”

It’s like I’m raising the boy version of Veruca Salt. I’m working on manners and asking nicely. Success with being…not a brat…is slow-going but it’s happening. Mostly. I think. Sometimes.

He has absolutely zero patience and every parenting trick in the book to help him build patience has failed. Unless there’s a trick I haven’t tried yet and then maybe that one would work. Except I don’t know it.

Mostly I just get flustered and shake my fists up beside my face and clench my teeth to keep from yelling ”WOULD YOU JUST WAIT FOR FOURTEEN FREAKING SECONDS!!!!!!!111111″

Everything is an emergency. Except nothing is an emergency.

I’m trying not to yell so much. Trying really hard. It’s not working. I can tell it’s not working because Joshua yells. He’s a yell-er. Just like me.

He yells at me. He yells at Emma, telling her not to go down the hallway, not to sit on his cushion, not to cry. He yells at her for touching a toy that he’s not playing with because the minute she touches it the toy morphs into the very thing that he must play with right that very second.

I’m not willing to believe that yelling is a genetic trait so I can only guess that he’s learned it from me which makes me incredibly angry at and ashamed of myself but also frustrated with him. (Except sometimes it’s funny.)

Emma is so very into everything. Everything. And she wants everything. And she wants it now.

At least some of her behavior is related to the chicken pox vaccine. The rest of it is related to the fact that she’s So. Very. Aware. of the world and has no words. So she grunts and flails and points and scratches and climbs. OMG. She climbs.

She climbs on everything. She uses the dog to do it. The dog helps her by laying still and allowing it to happen. They are conspiring together to make me even more insane than she and Joshua will. (BTW, I do stop her from climbing on the dog when I see it. And I’m so very thankful for a patient pup.)

I’ve tried taking them to the daycare at the gym just to get a few minutes of no one touching me or screaming at me or demanding anything and then I go and pick her up and find out she’s been crying the whole time and feel like a giant, soggy poop sandwich.

And speaking of poop, Joshua always has to go in the middle of a meal, and not by himself, and Emma goes something like 5 times a day. Both of these things contribute to the wide-eyed, dazed face I have by 4:00 in the afternoon.

PTSD from parenthood is a real thing and I think I’m going to have it one day.

The post PTSD from parenthood appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Welcome back to State of the Weight Wednesday!!

Thank you SO much for the support and encouragement last week. So much. You guys are awesome.

Notice anything different about the banner up there?

No?

Well, let me just go ahead and point it out for you.

I MADE MY FIRST GOAL IN THE FIRST WEEK!!!!!!!1111!!!!

I credit you guys and your support and accountability. Knowing that I would have to come back here and tell you guys how my week went really made me pay attention.

I also give a ton of credit to all the water I drank and the peeing I did. Because dude. So much of that.

I bought a 20 ounce Thermos water bottle (non-insulated…because it was cheaper) and I made it my goal to drink 3 full bottles a day, plus water at meals. I inadvertently cut out sodas at the same time that I decided to drink more water and I think that definitely helped, too.

I decided not to let myself have a soda until and unless I had finished all of my water for the day, and by dinner, I was usually on my third bottle. If I drink a Diet Pepsi after dinner time, I have trouble falling asleep, so, no Diet Pepsi for me. I need as much sleep as I can get!

(Tomorrow will probably be an exception because Scandal returns. Not watching that show? DO IT NOW. So good.)

I definitely noticed the difference the water made in just about everything, and that was kind of surprising. Friday night I had a glass of wine and Saturday morning I woke up and we rushed out the door. No coffee, no water, nothing. Then I had a Mimosa at a baby shower. By the time I got home that afternoon, I felt hungover. From a half glass of champagne and some orange juice. All because I hadn’t had any water that day.

I pounded my three bottles in just a few hours and pretty soon I was feeling great again. Water makes so much difference.

I also went to the gym 5 times in the last 7 days. Three of those days were spent doing cardio on the elliptical, Sunday we went to family swim, and then I did a yoga class on Tuesday night.

On Monday I made it through 50 minutes of cardio thanks to the gym’s wifi and Netflix. I’ve always wanted to watch Lost and have never taken the time, so I decided now is as good a time as any. I fire up an episode when I get on the machine and watch until the episode ends or I get called back to the childcare center because Emma pooped.

I want the gym to be a place I go because I WANT to be there not because I NEED to be there, or feel obligated to be there because we’re paying for the membership. I mean, those are both motivators, for sure. But I want it to be more than that if that makes any sense at all.

I definitely feel better when I leave, so I know I’m getting there. It just needs to be part of my routine, you know? Something that I do just like eating lunch or brushing our teeth.

That’s what I want for me. That’s what I want for us.

One thing that I know I have to do is find a better bra. These girls are out of control and in NEED of some taming when I’m on the elliptical. So far the bras I’m finding in my size (which, OMG. 40FF!!!!) are CRAZY expensive. To me at least. For something that I hope to shrink out of. ($65 to $70. for a sports bra!!)

AH! I can’t believe I already lost 5 pounds. AHHH!!

Weekly goal: Continue to drink water, eat breakfast every single day.
Weight loss goal #2: Lose 10 pounds total

When I lose those 10 pounds, I’m buying a new bra.

What are your goals for the week? Are any of you jumping on the State of the Weight wagon?

(In case any of you were thinking about joining in, I made a button. Use it if you want. Don’t use it if you don’t want. But if you’re joining in, please let me know so I can come by and leave you some support! If enough of us are participating, I’ll make it a link up so we can all support each other!)

The post State of the Weight Wednesday: Water, Water Everywhere appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

I saw a meme floating around Facebook this morning that sort of gut-punched me. It said “Pretending to be happy when you’re in pain is just an example of how strong you are as a person.”

People. I’m about to get a little ranty. Hold on to your hats.

As someone who has battled both depression and anxiety on recurring occasions throughout her life, I can’t begin to tell you what a damaging statement that is.

It says pain is weak. Suffering is weak. It says only weak people hurt. It says that those of us who lie to the world about how we’re feeling are stronger than those of us who don’t. Or can’t.

Well, I call bullshit.

Sure, there are moments when we have to keep trudging along through the sludge of depression when what we’d really like to do is just curl up in bed for a decade and sleep all of our I-don’t-cares away. There are bills to pay and ice creams to be purchased. Sometimes we have to fake it ’til we make it.

But some people can’t fake it. Nor should any of us have to.

For some people, the pain of depression is so debilitating it can’t be shoved aside, and no amount of pretending to be happy will make that pain go away.

I’ve been there. It’s terrible. To feel like you’re going through the motions in your own life, completing tasks but not really living. Unfortunately, there’s not a switch that can be flipped to make a person suddenly feel better. If there were such a switch, I’m pretty sure we’d all have ours locked in the “on” position forever and ever amen.

No one wants to be depressed.

What people who are hurting need to hear isn’t “Oh, just be happy!” What they need is help.

The bootstraps mentality hurts more people than it helps, and quite frankly, I’m tired of hearing it spoken to people who need better help than to be made to feel even more broken than they already feel.

Bootstrapping negates valid emotions, and the emotions that come along with depression are still emotions, even if depression is an asshole that seeps into your brain and makes you think things that aren’t true. By saying that if people just chin up, they’re better, stronger than those who can’t, we’re causing more hurt than we’re healing.

And actually, I think the reverse is true.

I think the people who are open enough to say that they’re battling depression or anxiety or bipolar disorder, or even just a broken heart, are stronger than those who try to hide behind a façade of happiness.

Those are the people brave enough to face the challenges of depression head on. They are aware of their illness, and acknowledging that there’s a problem is the first step toward recovering.

When we admit that some of our places are broken, we can heal them. We can grow stronger in those places.

So, this is me, giving all of you permission to feel how you’re feeling. You don’t really need my permission, but I’m giving it. If you’re happy, that’s awesome. If you’re not happy, don’t pretend to be happy for my sake, or for anyone else’s.

Reach out. Seek help. But don’t ignore your pain and think that if you do it will go away. No more bootstraps, okay?

The post No More Bootstraps appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

At this moment, I am officially the heaviest I have ever been while not pregnant in my 31 years on this planet.

That is the kind of scary and uncomfortable truth about the state of my weight.

Yep. Those are my feet on that scale. And that number is my weight as of today. Seven pounds heavier than the day I left the hospital after having Emma.

It’s weird. All of this weight has crept on slowly, almost imperceptibly. Until one day I looked in a mirror and there it was.

I feel like I’m living in that movie with Gwyneth Paltrow where she’s a heavy woman but that one guy sees her as skinny.  Except in reverse. Sometimes I think all reflective surfaces everywhere in the world are lying. There’s no way I can possibly have gotten as…fleshy as this.

But I know that those reflections aren’t lying because I can feel the extra pounds weighing me down.

I feel the fullness in my chin. I feel the rolls in my midsection hanging over my jeans. My boobs are kind of out of control. (Which, contrary to popular belief, isn’t a great problem to have.)

Basically, I’m tired of it. I love my life and am generally happy with it, but I don’t much like my body and the reflection I see in the mirror. I don’t much like the way I feel.

I want more energy. I want to be healthier. I want my kids to grow up understanding what it means to be healthy, mentally and physically.

And so, I’m doing something about it.

First, we joined the gym. Again. The big gym. With childcare and a pool and yoga classes and row after row of cardio equipment and a giant weight floor that scares me a little bit.

As much as this is my journey, I’m not on it alone. If we’re going to be a healthy family, well, we have to do this as a family. When I drop Joshua and Emma off at the childcare center, I tell him it’s so I can go and exercise and be healthy. If we talk enough about it, and if I remember that I’m doing this for them, it’ll become a way of his life, too, right?

I’m meeting with a trainer at the gym this afternoon while Joshua is at his swimming lesson. I’m terrified of being judged but fully realize that fear is all in my head. Probably.

Second, I’m going to make small goals each week or every other week related not necessarily to my weight, but to my overall health. Small changes that I think will have a big impact in the long run.

My first goal is to drink more water. I’m terrible about drinking two or three cups of coffee in the morning and then sometimes nothing else for the rest of the day. I might grab a soda with dinner but my daily intake of fluids of any kind, much less the “right” kind are low.

Finally, there’s losing some weight, which was one of my 31 for 31 goals. 31 pounds to start and then we’ll see where it goes from there.

When Dan and I were engaged, I dropped 30 pounds in advance of our wedding. I weighed myself once a week, on Wednesdays. I chose the middle of the week so that if I had an indulgent weekend, I had Monday and Tuesday to get back on track.

I’m not sure it made a difference, but in my head it made sense, so I plan to adopt that strategy again. Weighing once a week on Wednesdays. Writing about it to keep me accountable. (So y’all, keep me accountable. But gently, mmkay?)

If you’ve been waiting for the right time to make some changes and you think now is it, join me. I’m not opposed to making this a link up if there’s any interest.

If you just want to watch from afar and don’t want to join me, that’s okay, too. Especially if it means you’re at a place in your life where you’re happy with yourself and where you are. I want to be there too, so I’m doing this anyway.

Here goes nothing, right?

Weekly Goal: Drink more water
Weight Loss Goal #1: 5 pounds

The post State of the Weight Wednesday: Inaugural Address appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

We’re living in an age where we’re all overscheduled, underslept, and chronically “busy.”

We sign our kids up for t-ball, soccer, chess club, tae kwon do, gymnastics, and music lessons and spend all of our time carting them from one activity to another while we’re also trying to keep up with work, friends, the gym, relationships with our spouses, and maybe even some celebrity gossip.

We have this deep-seated fear of missing out on, well, everything.

This post isn’t really about any of those things. Sort of.

But I have FOMO By-proxy.

As a child and teenager, there was almost nothing I wouldn’t try. I would audition for roles I wanted (which I wouldn’t get) and try out for sports teams (which I wouldn’t make) just because I wanted to. I put myself out there. Sometimes it paid off. A lot of times it didn’t. But even still, I gained something from the experience.

I considered myself a Renaissance person, and still sort of do.

Joshua is slow to warm up to new things and ideas. He often seems afraid of new things and almost no amount of “try it, you’ll like it!” will persuade him.

I watch him on the playground climbing some of the structures, studying them, carefully deciding where to place his foot next to go up another level. When he gets stuck, he wants down.

He already seems afraid of failure to the point that if he thinks he’ll be unsuccessful, he just won’t try. Not trying is easier to handle than trying and failing.

When I signed him up for swimming lessons, I tried to take him by the pool area so that he could see it. He turned into a Stage 5 Clinger and screamed when I stepped onto the pool deck. Watching him not only get in the water at his first swim lesson but also enjoy it made my heart soar in a way I didn’t know it could.

There was my boy. Trying something new. Smiling. Enjoying himself.

Tears welled up in my eyes. He took a chance after having been too scared to even come out of the locker room.

Where others are afraid of what they themselves will miss out on, I worry about what Joshua will miss out on if he remains afraid of trying new things.

I push him to try knowing I can only push him so far. So much.

I don’t want him to miss out on one single opportunity to enjoy his life, and live a full one at that. I’m afraid of all of the experiences he won’t have if he never tries.

I know I shouldn’t worry. I know I shouldn’t. But I do.

On Sunday, to keep him familiar with the water between lessons, we took him back to the pool. He was hesitant at first, but once he warmed up to the idea, he was in the water.

He splashed. He climbed in and out. He played with us and Emma. He had fun.

I know that he’ll figure things out in his own time and in his own way. He’ll go at his own pace.

He’ll decide for himself what he likes and doesn’t like. What he wants to do and doesn’t want to do.

But until then, part of me will always be afraid of what he’s missing.

The post FOMO By-proxy appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of White Cloud Diapers. Thanks to Wal-Mart and White Cloud Diapers for the opportunity to work together!

I feel like maybe it’s safe to say it now. Maybe. I hope. But Spring has sprung, guys.

That means I can’t use the “it’s too cold” excuse to avoid going outside, allergies or no. And Emma is a screaming banshee when she comes within 20 feet of an open door and will screamcry to go outside if she so much as sees a speck of sunshine.

I call her Dora. As in The Explorer. The girl loves to monster around and check things out with her serious baby face.

When we were invited to attend the Wal-Mart White Cloud Play-date, hosted by the lovely Meredith of Wait ‘Til Your Father Gets Home, I signed us up almost instantly. If there’s one thing both of my kids love, it’s a playground. And if there’s something I’m always looking for, it’s a new playground to keep them sufficiently entertained.

There were swings and slides. Climbing structures. A sand box. Other kids to play with. Basically, Joshua and Emma were in their element.

While they played, I got the chance to chat with the other moms in attendance. And adult conversation doesn’t come easily for me these days.

We talked blogging, babywearing, and, of course, the purpose of the play-date, diapers.

White Cloud diapers are hypo-allergenic and fragrance free. They contain an ultra-absorbent inner core to keep your baby’s bum dry and comfy. They’re also available at everyday low prices to help parents stick to a budget.

In newborn, size 1, and size 2, White Cloud Diapers have a wetness indicator strip which is perhaps the greatest little diaper invention since, well, probably the diaper itself. (Diaper makers–those wetness indicators don’t have to stop at size 2, do they?)

We use disposables whenever Emma gets a diaper rash (which so far is whenever she eats an orange vegetable :/ ) so that we can slather her bootycakes in some Dr. Smith’s and get her rash taken care of in 1 or 2 treatments. Since we don’t use them often, I like knowing what diapers are available that will help me stay within my budget.

Emma loved Hulk-babying these diaper packages. She knocked them off the bench. I picked them up. She knocked them down. I picked them up. The fact that I kept picking them up knowing that she was going to knock them down says something about me, right?

Whatever. She had fun.

What’s a play-date without snacks, right? Snacks matter, people. Joshua was quite a fan of the m&ms and Emma loved the Nilla Wafers. Until Joshua saw that Emma had something different and cookie-jacked his little sister. (!!!!)

The moms got to play a couple of games, too.

First, guess the baby food. Each diaper had some variety of baby food inside. I didn’t win this game, but let me just say this.

Peas? They are unmistakable.

The second game had us trying to be the first to finish our bottle. Props to babies. That’s way harder than it looks. I didn’t win this one either.

I did, however, win a Petunia Pickle Bottom diaper bag! So that was awesome. Like, WAY awesome. So awesome I did the running man inside my head. When it arrives on my doorstep I will do the running man in my living room for real.

The kids both brought home balloons, which I think are still rolling around here somewhere, and Emma took an epic nap. I’d say my little explorer baby had a great time!

Thanks, Meredith, and White Cloud, for hosting.

Diapering can be one of the biggest expenses in a family’s weekly budget and a great performing diaper is a must-have for parents. In order to make this affordable, Wal-Mart has reintroduced their premium line of White Cloud diapers to address the needs of today’s busy parents.

White Cloud Diapers provide your baby the highest quality diaper with superior leakage protection, exceptional softness and great fit. White Cloud Diapers are available exclusively at Walmart, where you can find low prices everyday on all your family’s needs. Check them out today!

This is a sponsored post written by me on behalf of #WhiteCloudDiapers.

The post Wal-Mart White Cloud Play-Date appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

So, apparently I complain a lot and some people don’t think I like motherhood? Or staying home with my kids?

Yeah. That was news to me, too.

“Parenting is a human experience,” as Jill so eloquently put it, and I was just being human.

The thing is I love this gig better than any 9 to 5 I’ve ever worked even though there is no PTO or sometimes even a potty break. The yoga pants all day thing is pretty sweet and since the only other way that’s acceptable is for me to become a fitness instructor (HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAH!) I’ll take this thankyouverymuch.

One of the perks of this job of mine is conversations with Joshua. About everything including but not limited to: Angry Birds, Angry Birds Rio, Angry Birds Star Wars (or, “Angry Birds Light Sabers”), Thomas, his Baby Emma, and why girls have vaginas and boys have penises.

This morning I was instructed in acceptable snacks.

Emma was ready for her nap and being extra cuddly. Joshua wanted me to blow raspberries (zerberts?) on her belly, but she was wearing a onesie. I was being extra playful and tickling her to hear her sweet little baby squeal-laugh. So I blew raspberries on her chunky, nommable baby thighs.

She was delighted. Joshua kept saying “do it again! DO IT AGAIN!”

So I did.

Then, I morphed into the role of Baby Toe Eater Extraordinaire.

“Oh, you guys! I’m so hungry! I’m so hungry I could eat some baby toes!!”

::om nom nom nom:: as she giggled and he stared me down.

“Oh, you guys! I’m so hungry! I’m so hungry I could munch on some baby legs!!”

::om nom nom nom:: as Emma continued to giggle, more loudly. Then Joshua decided that taking bites out of his baby sister was crossing a serious line.

He grabbed my face in his hands and lifted it up from Emma’s legs and peered into my mouth and shouted

“NO, Mama! NO! We do NOT eat BABIES! We do NOT eat baby toes! We do NOT eat baby legs!”

Not content with my lack of appropriate upsetedness at his reprimand, he continued:

“You spit it out! You spit out Emma’s toes! YOU SPIT OUT MY BABY EMMA RIGHT NOW!”

His face was so earnest and serious and I could not stop giggling. I faked spitting out the baby toes and putting them back on his sister and all was right with his world. Pretending, FTW.

So, lessons learned for Friday:

• It’s okay to be frustrated with motherhood and it’s okay to see others be frustrated and to be seen while you’re frustrated. You’re human.
• Baby toes are not appropriate snacks.

The post Acceptable Snacking appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

There were a lot of things I did with Joshua that I haven’t done with Emma. Like worry about every tiny scrap of anything he picked up off the floor and put in his mouth and what contaminants he might be ingesting.

So with Emma, I’ve tried to do things that I didn’t do with Joshua.

Like cake smash photos.

(To be fair, we have cake smash photos of Joshua. But nothing fancy. Just him in his high chair with awful lighting and bright red icing.)

The cake was homemade. Home decorated. That little cake stand? $1.99 on a Target end cap. Thank you, post-Easter baby Jesus for the clearance.

She was not so sure about this cake on a plate in her bloomers in the back yard business. And also unsure of all of the people standing around watching her.

“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyy!!!!!” She claps. It’s adorable.

This was her chosen method of cake-eating. Perhaps she is training for a future as a competitive eater?

She finally decided to use her hands. But pretty much just for this one bite.

A smize to make Tyra herself proud, right?

Okay, lady, you’ve had your fun. The big kids are playing on the swingset and I need to go and join them. Okay? Okay.

And she’s off.

She’s not amused. But she’s certainly cute.

The post Cake: Smashed appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Dear Emma,

Today is your birthday. The first of what I hope will turn out to be many. You, little girl, have blessed and enriched our lives in ways innumerable. All of those ways for the better. Except for maybe the sleep thing you seem to fight.

Watching you grow and change this past year has been nothing short of amazing. You are so different from your brother at this same age and seeing you and then remembering him has been a welcome dose of nostalgia. It has brought to the surface all the things I thought I had forgotten. You have helped do that, little girl. You who entered the world with the capacity to fix my broken places.

The year hasn’t been an easy one, that’s for sure. We’ve all had our moments of utter frustration and exhaustion. There have been tears and lots of them.

You and I are quite the team. While I sometimes wish you loved climbing all over everyone else as much as you love climbing all over me, I happen to think we make a great pair.

I worry that I’ve done the right thing by keeping you so close. In truth, I’ve been kind of selfish with you, mostly because I look at your big brother and know just how quickly time passes. In a blink, you’ll be big like him.

Oh, your brother. One of your three favorite people in the world. You see him and you follow him and you so desperately want his attention. You’re also a little jealous of him when he needs me, so we’ll have to work on that.

A magic thing happened when you were born. My love doubled in size. There’s more than enough for the both of you.

Don’t worry, Little. He loves you, too. I hope you will always be his Baby Emma.

People often remark how serious you are. And you are definitely serious. You do not trust freely. That’s okay. Perhaps good even. There are those who seek to take advantage of others, and while I hope you do not encounter those people for quite some time, being discerning is never a bad thing.

Reserve your smiles for those who earn them. Some smiles will be earned more quickly than others, but you do not have to smile at everybody. Because I said so.

When we tickle your belly, your laugh comes from deep in your stomach. It’s infectious.

You aren’t content to sit still. If you’re awake, you want to move. Outside is one of your favorite places lately. Anywhere outside. In the swing, the driveway, on my hip, wherever. You just want to see it all and take it all in.

The times when you curl up into me while nursing or just for a quick snuggle are made sweeter by your desire to go and do everything all at once. Pace yourself, though. Life is long. You’ll have time to do it all.

Despite the fact that it gives me near daily heart attacks, you are already so brave.  You explore. You climb. You run with wild abandon. You take risks.

You are so free.

You see the world and want it to be yours.

It is yours, sweet girl. All of it. But please share it and play nicely with others.

Happy birthday.

Love,

Mama

The post Dear Emma appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

I think I’ve written this post at least 364 times in the last year. Once every day for every day that Emma has been here in my life.

Emma.

My VBAC baby.

I remember asking Doc T during my consultation with him when I transferred to his practice if he was able to look at my medical records and confirm that what had happened wasn’t my fault. That I hadn’t failed.

He told me that anything he said would be speculation at best based on whatever the providers had chosen to include in my records. I felt like that was professional and respected his answer.

And then after I had her, after she came so quickly and amazingly into this world, he patted me on the knee, leg still in the stirrups, and said “and they called you a failure to progress at 7 or 8?” and just kind of chuffed a little with his breath.

And that was my answer.

Finding out I was pregnant with her was such a mind game. I hadn’t planned on her. Not then at least. I was toying around with the idea of only ever having Joshua. Of being “one and done.”

And then suddenly there they were, two pink lines. I was confused and scared. All of the feelings of brokenness and fear nearly swallowed me. I fought against those who thought I was crazy for attempting to VBAC her, whether their judgments were spoken out loud or just written on their faces.

I fought myself.

And I doubted. I doubted so much.

But then I think I didn’t really doubt any of it at all.

I think in my secret heart I always knew that her birth would be what I needed it to be. That it would restore my faith in myself and my body.

I think I always knew I would VBAC her.

(The med free and stitches thing I didn’t foresee. But I would do it all over again. Except maybe I’d skip the stitches.)

Every time I think about Emma’s birth, read her birth story, relive the day in my head, any of it, I cry. Happy tears well up in my eyes and burn my nose and then spill down my cheeks. Tears that say “Look! You did this! You aren’t broken! You were never broken!”

Because the truth is that I was never broken.

I was hurt, though, and Emma’s birth healed my very hurt places. Pieces of my heart that were sort of hanging on with Elmer’s glue and Scotch tape feel put back together.

My heart feels whole.

My body feels whole.

And it’s because of Emma.

My little piece of serendipity.

The post Serendipity appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

One of my 31 for 31 items is to say “yes” more often. Recently, I’ve decided to start saying “yes” to myself. To make myself a priority in my own life.

I hired a nanny. For one afternoon a week.

Just one afternoon, for two or three hours, to recharge my batteries and be alone. Except in public, so not alone.

Whatever. No one’s touching me.

Until recently, like maybe just in the past couple of months, Emma has screamed any time anyone so much as looked at her. The grocery store, the doctor’s office, Target. If they looked at her, she would scream like she was being abducted by aliens who planned to do tests on her cute little baby toes. And they are adorable so I can totally see why aliens would want them.

And then I noticed that she was screaming less and looking more.

And then I noticed that when we picked Joshua up from school, she wanted to get down and run away from me.

Seriously. I would go toward her and she would turn and go in the other direction.

It was like her little baby way of saying “Hey, Mom. You know? I think you’re awesome. But so is the world. I’ve got this. Now scoot.”

So I called up a former student who had offered up her services as a sitter and basically shouted “YOU’RE HIRED!” the minute Emma didn’t scream at her.

Well, okay. No. I sort of eased Emma into it.

I had the sitter come over for a full day with me there so Emma could get used to another person in the house. And so I could clean without Emma coming behind me and destroying my work. It was glorious.

And then Dan and I went on a date and had a real meal with no children nagging us for whatever it is they would nag for at dinner. That was also glorious.

The kids love her. I love her. This is awesome.

Anyway.

I’m quick to put myself on the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to whose needs get met in a given day. I don’t think or believe that moms are supposed to do that, but it’s something that I’ve sort of fallen into.

I think it goes back to when I was working and felt horrible missing so much time with Joshua. I never wanted to really go and do anything on my own because I felt like I was already missing so much. I put spending time with him above spending time with me. And when Emma came along, I put spending time with her above spending time with me, too.

But that was all at the cost of my own sanity. Or, maybe not sanity. But I was suffering from some burn-out.

I love my kids. I love me, too.

Self-care is important. I’ve advised it to many a PPD mom without actually putting it into practice for myself.

Not anymore.

I’m not cheating myself out of self-care by pretending that a glass of wine while I work in the evenings is me taking care of me because it’s not an acceptable substitute for the peace and solitude that comes with being surrounded by strangers in a Starbucks.

This is what self-care looks like.

The post Saying “Yes” To Myself appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

Ever since Joshua was a baby, it’s been clear that he’s a deeply emotional kid, prone to outbursts of the epic variety at the slightest provocation. Or sometimes without being provoked at all.

I’m trying to get our days more organized and scheduled since his therapist recommended that as a way to help him out a little, but I’m kind of floundering a bit. I feel like I’m failing.

I can’t seem to come up with a schedule that meets the needs of all three of us. Someone is always getting the shaft and in a lot of ways that can’t be Emma right now. She’s the most demanding physically and requires the most redirection. But that means that Joshua isn’t getting the attention from me that he needs. I could use her nap time to give him that, but then I can’t shower and take care of myself. And probably 4 days a week, I don’t shower or take care of myself. At least not when he’s awake.

I’m almost a year into this and I’m still fighting the same battle. It’s beginning to feel never ending. That there will never be a moment where I feel I’ve hit my stride and I’m capable of balancing them both.

Compounding everything is the fact that he’s given up his nap. I can’t even really make him lay down and rest most days and he doesn’t understand why resting is good for him. And for me.

And if he does understand, he’s doing an amazing job of pretending he doesn’t.

Everything has gotten worse since he stopped napping. Way worse.

So much worse that from 2:00 p.m. on, we’re pretty much trapped at home because I’m navigating my way through an emotional minefield of rage and tears. His and sometimes mine.

If we do venture out of the house, say to the playground like yesterday, he screams at the other kids who come near him. He thinks they’ll try to touch his bubbles or his sister or they’re just too close and SCREAM!

Or he falls down more often than usual and it’s the end of the universe even if he’s not visibly injured. And when we’re at the playground, or even outside in the yard, I’m also chasing a now-mobile baby, usually in an opposite direction.

I feel like a neglectful parent because I can’t watch them both and Joshua practically requires someone to play with. But when he screams at the other kids who come near him, he’s not exactly making friends.

He’ll be great and I’ll think that today is the day we’ll have a great day and there will be compliance and no meltdowns. And then suddenly he’s not great at all.

He’ll fall to pieces because Emma looked at him. Or he bumped his leg on the table and it hurts like he’s been shot in the arm. Or I gave him the peanut butter sandwich he asked for but he really wants grilled cheese and not peanut butter. Or the dog, who has been laying on the rug asleep, has licked her chops and made a sound. And then he’s wailing about it.

There’s a lot of screaming and yelling and anger and sensory-seeking behavior, like spinning in circles. And touching me.

He must be touching me. A foot in my lap. Sharing a single cushion on the 108″ couch. In my lap. I’m his lovey.

I try to give him as much of that as I can stand because I know that he seeks touch to calm himself. But I reach my limit after being touched continuously for so long.

He has invisible issues that the people who see him melting down in public don’t know about. I feel like I should carry a sign that says “My kid has a sensory processing issue. Stop staring. Where are your manners?”

But I don’t have that sign. I just try to hide my exasperation (and often fail to do so) and get both of my children out of wherever it is we are. And if we’re at home, on the really bad days I just count down the minutes until Dan gets home to help.

He’s over-tired. Every day. I am over-tired. Every day. And the mood swings as a result of his over-tiredness and sensory issues are awful.

This is really hard, y’all.

I feel completely beaten up by the emotions of someone half my size and 2/15ths my age.

And no, I didn’t do come up with that fraction in my head. Who do you think I am?

Math is hard. So is motherhood.

The post Emotional Minefields appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

A couple of months ago, I asked Joshua what kind of party he wanted for his 4th birthday. (4th!! AHH!)

“Mario!!”

Uh, okay, kid. Way to make this difficult-ish. Good thing I love to throw a party.

To say that Joshua is obsessed and in love with all things Super Mario Brothers is a bit of an understatement. One day Dan showed him Mario Kart on the Wii and then he started playing Mario Kart. To our surprise he picked it up quickly and was really pretty good at it.  Then he found Super Mario Bros. Super Show on Netflix and the obsession grew.

When he asked for a Super Mario party, I gulped a little and then dove in to planning it by scouring Pinterest and party sites for ideas. I’m pretty impressed with how his party turned out if for no other reason than I tackled fondant.

Luigi is Joshua’s favorite. I’m not sure if there’s any particular reason for that, but he is. I think it’s kind of sweet that Joshua digs the less popular brother. When I saw this hat and mustache on Amazon, I knew Joshua would love it.

Now, for the rest of the party goodness:

The start of a party is the invitation. It sets the tone and theme and also lets guest know when and where to show up. I’d say that’s pretty important information.

I tend to shy away from party packs when I’m planning a party. I’m kind of a control freak so I like all aspects of a birthday party to be exactly what I want. And while I’m the one doing the work and Joshua’s input only extends to theme, I’ll just go ahead and own my control freak status.

Brooke at Graham Cracker Design is my girl when it comes to birthday invitations.

I knew I wanted a square design for his invitation, despite the additional postage. My original idea was to have the back of the card be the gold question mark box from the Super Mario Bros. video game. But when I sent them to Zazzle for printing (love, love, love Zazzle!!) they were kicked back for having licensed images. Huge oops on my part. In my zeal to plan his party, I didn’t even think about trademark and copyright. Zazzle had my back and so did Brooke.

It took us several tries to get it just right and I probably made her crazy, but I’m in love with the finished product. I thought I selected full bleed printing on the front side when I was finalizing the product on Zazzle, but didn’t. So that’s my fault. Oh well. Still cute.

After the invites were in the mail, it all came down to decor and food and waiting for party day.

 Since I wasn’t using the party pack decor, I needed to bring out the theme of Super Mario–or Luigi as Joshua kept insisting–with the decor. I’m also kind of lazy, so when it comes to decorating, I don’t really go all out. Something around the table, maybe a thing or two on the mantle, but that’s usually it.

My original plan for the table used a fabric table cloth and a red and white chevron runner. Then I couldn’t find any chevron fabric at the store. (Also, a root canal is preferable to Joshua in a craft store.) So, I punted and used plastic table cloths in red and another in green for the runner.

For the backdrop, I taped a white table cloth to the wall so the beige wouldn’t throw off the look I was going for and then taped the streamers to the table cloth. The balloon banner took me about an hour of blowing up and tying balloons to a piece of twine. Fishing line would work but I didn’t have any and did have twine, so twine won. I put two screw-hooks into the wall and tied loops on the ends of the twine to hang the balloon banner from the hooks.

Juice box and water bottle labels are where I fully admit my party planning psychosis. I can’t help it. They’re just fun. Brooke was in the middle of a move, so Lauren and Jamie swooped in and saved me. I owe them much thanks and high fives and other goodies, perishable and non, for coming to my rescue.

I sent the labels to FedEx Office to be printed, picked them up when we went out for dinner, sliced them on a scrapbooking slicer, and then Dan affixed them with glue dots. I have a love-love relationship with glue dots. They should be in the arsenal of every remotely crafty person.

I had planned on solid colored napkins to make things a little easier but saw these at Wal-Mart and loved how they represented Toad and the 1UP mushroom!

Joshua is a fan of peanut butter sandwiches. They are one of his 5 food groups. He prefers honey roasted peanut butter and hates jelly, which is perfect because globs of jelly all over the floor would’ve been a disaster.

I always try to serve foods I know he’ll eat at his parties, but I didn’t want to throw out a plate of plain old peanut butter sammies. Cutting the sandwiches into star shapes carried out the theme and made the sandwiches fun for kids and adults.

(None of the guests at Joshua’s party had peanut allergies, so I was safe. Please check with your party guests before serving peanut butter. That should go without saying, but I just want to throw it out there.)

The rest of the menu consisted of chicken fingers, chips and dip, and a giant bowl of cut fruit from the grocery store, with chocolate mustaches and cake for dessert.

Mario and Luigi wouldn’t be Mario and Luigi without their giant mustaches, so when I saw these I knew they had to happen. This was my first time working with candy molds and I’m surprised at how relatively easy it was.

To make the tunnels found throughout the Super Mario games, I used green vinyl paper from the scrapbooking section, the kind you would cut with a Cricut or Silhouette, and wrapped it around some highball glasses.

Okay, correction.

Dan wrapped the vinyl. I was having trouble getting things to go on smoothly and I was getting frustrated with it so he took over. Then he showed me a trick! When you have tiny bubbles in your vinyl, pop them with a prick of a razor or straight pin. You can push the air out of the bubble and the hole won’t show up! I stuffed napkins into the bottom of the glasses and filled the top with plain m&ms for stability.

The mustaches were a hit. HUGE.

I think the mustaches were a bigger hit with the kids than the cake. I’ve loved looking at all of the pictures of kids with their mustaches.

My favorite part of the party, however, was the cake!

I normally do cupcakes for birthday parties because they’re easy and single-serve. There’s no cutting and no fuss. But this year, I decided to tackle something new: Fondant.

Marshmallow fondant, specifically.

I used the recipe from that link and tweaked it just a little. The first batch of fondant that I made was too hard and gummy and stuck to everything, including a Silpat mat. When I made the green fondant, I dumped it out of the bowl and started kneading it before it got to the point that I could no longer stir it. I had to knead it for longer, I think, but the texture came out better.

In my hours and hours of searching the internet for ideas, I came across these Super Mario figures on Amazon. (Not an affiliate link.)

I bought multiple packs so that I would have a variety of characters to decorate with and so that Joshua could play with them after the party was over.

He picked which of the characters he wanted on his cake and told me where to put them. I put a little bit of green frosting on their feet and stuck them to the fondant. The yellow star on top is a foam star from the Dollar Spot at Target. I drew some eyes on him and boom! Cake topper.

Jamie also helped me with these. I should’ve taken a picture of the inside, but I was lucky to remember to snap this photo on party day. Party favor buckets contained: a pack of Goldfish crackers, a small bubble wand, a sheet of Super Mario stickers, and a Bob-omb candy.

As for activities, I didn’t really plan any. I don’t usually. There were 13 kids here, so planning activities kind of felt like herding cats. I did clear off the train table and some of the figures I bought were pull back Mario Kart racers. My plan was to put lanes on the train table and let the kids race, but they were having too much fun running around and chasing each other and I’m not one to mess with a good thing.

And it was definitely a good thing.

I love throwing parties. Even if I made myself a little crazy, I had a blast and I know Joshua did, too. Emma loved monstering around and chasing after the big kids. Dan wishes I weren’t insane. After Emma’s party (coming up in two weeks!) he’ll get a whole year off!

Happy 4th birthday, Joshua.

The post Super Mario Super Birthday Party appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

I’ll just go ahead and warn you now, this post involves bodily functions. Mine. They’re only involved because they are the entire context of the story and without them there would BE no story, but I felt I should forewarn you so that those among you who would clutch your pearls at the mention of poop can go ahead and clench and unclench and we can all get moving.

Everybody poops. This mother doesn’t poop alone.

Monday morning there was no coffee in our house. I drudged through the day in a fog. I had a headache. Coffee had to be procured. As did sustenance.

Before heading to the grocery store, I hit up the local Starbucks for a venti Pike’s Peak with a pump of caramel. It was divine. My jaunt through the grocery store with two kids was great. Cheery. There was coffee. Hooray!

But the thing about coffee is that sometimes it makes whatever has gone in come out straightaway.

We got home and I started putting away groceries, haphazardly throwing the cold cuts and cheese into the drawer and shoving the frozen items wherever they would fit. There was a knocking at my back door that had to be answered.

“Joshua, I’m going to potty. You and Emma stay in the living room!” It’s a directive I give at least once a day. A directive that is promptly ignored as soon as I’m pants-down on the pot.

So, here come both of my children while I’m trying to do my business. Joshua being generally insane and Emma carrying a box of cereal bars and doing the scrunchy faced smile she does that says “I HAVE CEREAL BARS AND THIS BOX OF CEREAL BARS IS THE MOST GREATEST THING I HAVE EVER HAD IN MY HANDS IN MY LIFE!”

I heaved a sigh of…defeat.

Can’t a woman poop in peace?

No. No she cannot. Apparently.

Joshua has a hard time keeping things together post-3:00. He’s like a mogwai that has been fed after midnight. He’s erratic. Laughing maniacally one minute and crying the very next.

Emma is, well, Emma. Mostly chipper. Except when she’s not.

There I am, on the toilet, with both of my children spinning in circles and shrieking and giggling and then Emma hurled the cereal bars in my lap.

“She’s trying to put those in your bagina! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

I sighed again. And also maybe chuckled.

I am trying to do my business. WHY do they follow me into the bathroom? All the time? Always? Every single time? Why is this? I do not want to follow myself to the bathroom.

I would like to get us all out of the bathroom because holy hell. This is just stressful.

Except I can’t reach the toilet paper because it’s been put up high and across the room since Emma’s favorite past time is unrolling it like she’s the Queen of England and it’s a red carpet.

And so finally it all makes sense, this following me to the bathroom. It’s an insurance policy against moments like this.

But Joshua can reach the toilet paper. So he does. Such a good little helper.

You can’t always get what you want, people. But if you try, sometimes you’ll find you get what you need.

The post Just Like a Rolling Stone appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

I feel like I lament this at least 17 times a day, but being a mom is hard work. Like, super hard. Mostly because it’s the only job I know where there’s little in the way of training and a whole lot of making it up as you go along.

See also: fake it ’til you make it.

If I tell myself I know what I’m doing and I’m competent and making the right decisions often enough that will eventually be the truth, right?

Isn’t that how it works? Isn’t that how you create a self-fulfilling prophecy?

I’m stuck in this weird headspace right now where I’m questioning myself probably more than I should. My kids are alive and thriving and mostly happy, I think. That should be enough.

But I’ve never been one to rest on my laurels and think that I’ve reached the pinnacle of excellence. There’s always room for improvement.

There’s always room to be a little more this and a little less that. Whatever that is.

I feel like I both need and want to be better, but I constantly feel like life or the weather or the incessant whining of a kid who doesn’t yet understand logical thought just punches me in the gut until I crumple on the floor and scream “uncle” at the top of my lungs while the small creatures in my care dance around like little creatures who like to dance around.

Or that’s what I look like in my head when I’m the floating observer in the room. Probably it’s less dramatic than that.

Probably.

I’m tired of feeling like I’m spinning my wheels. Tired of feeling like I can’t manage to get anything done without first putting out someone else’s fire.

This is the life of a mother, yes?

The post Eternal Flame appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

One of the “perks” of staying at home has been not having to wash my hair every day. It’s a perk because my hair is the healthiest it’s been in a long time.

It’s a not-perk because I’m not washing my hair every day, which sometimes means I’m not showering every day, so I’ve had to come up with creative ways to wear my hair.

Last week I put my hair up in a low tucked bun and Instagram-ed a picture and some people asked how to do it. So I busted out the tripod and remote shutter that I got for Christmas that were still in their original packaging until Friday and here it is.

The tucked bun.

I think I was on Day Two hair here, for the record. A little dry shampoo in my bangs/around my face and pulling the rest of it back and I was good to go to the park and grocery store with the kids. Bonus, it’s out of Emma’s reach!

Here’s the how-to.

Step One: Pull your hair into a low ponytail.

I have a ton of hair. A TON. And this style works for me, so don’t think it won’t work because you have a lot of hair.

Step Two: Make a “nest” for your hair.

Do you remember the Topsy Turvy ponytails that were oh so great in the 90s? This actually starts a bit like that but with no tools necessary.

To make the “nest,” slide the ponytail holder about an inch or an inch and a half down the pony, just enough to loosen it up. Separate your hair right above the ponytail holder.

Step Three: Roll up your hair.

To make the ponytail easier to tuck into the nest, I like to use my index finger as a form to roll the ponytail up into a ball.

(Why yes, that is an Angry Birds temporary tattoo on my hand. *Someone* in this house is a fan of Angry Birds and requires that we both have one so that we can actually be Angry Birds and play real-life Angry Birds. He’s cute. And at least I got to be the about-to-explode Black Bird this time instead of a pig.)

Step Four: Tuck your bun.

Take the ponytail ball you’ve got wrapped around your finger and tuck it into the nest. Push down on the pony tail holder to make sure that the hair is all tucked in.

Then,

Step Five: Start pinning.

I’m usually able to do this with two or three bobby pins placed close to the ponytail holder and it’s always secure enough to stay all day. As you pin, continue to tuck so that the ponytail holder is hidden.

Once your bun is pinned in place, use a fine tooth comb, or even your fingers, and gently comb together the hair that parted when you made the nest.

Boom! A super easy, low tucked bun that’s casual enough for every day but easily transitions into a night-time style.

It can be embellished with bows or clips or flowers, but I think the low tucked bun by itself is quite pretty. Particularly if you’ve tamed your flyaways better than I tame mine for trips to the playground.

Or you can always just embellish it with a cute baby.

The post Everyday Hair: The Tucked Bun appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.

We do not have good luck with shoes in this family. Well, okay. There’s the Shoenicorn and the Shoenicorn’s cousin. And my precious, amazing boots that I meant to write about and didn’t because I got too caught up in wearing them with absolutely everything to take time to write about them.

What I mean is that we do not have good luck–AT ALL–with first shoes.

See this adorable little football bootie? It’s one half of Joshua’s first pair of shoes. He wore these shoes every day. I loved these shoes. And then one day the dog, god love her simple little soul, ate the shoe’s mate. Just because. Leather was on the menu that day.

By the time she ate the shoe, this particular design had been discontinued so I couldn’t replace it. I had Facebook friends looking for another pair. I scoured Target’s website. I contacted an Etsy seller and attempted to have someone make a pair and they wouldn’t do it.

I WOULD HAVE PAID THEM GREAT MONEY. But no. They wouldn’t do it.

So I put his shoe away and cried a little about how there was only one of them for me to save to show him one day.

Then one of his first walking shoes was faux-bronzed and I cried for days. Seriously. Days of tears.

And then Emma came along and I started buying little girl shoes and making sure to put them high up out of the dog’s reach for fear that she would eat another one when I wasn’t looking.

Except Emma and shoes are like oil and water. The second I put them on her feet, she starts trying to take them off. And then she tosses them as far as her little baby arms can throw them. Which admittedly isn’t far, but still. The shoes do not stay on.

It doesn’t help that Ministars (Bobux’ Target line) have inferior elastics to Robeez and basically fly off her of her feet with little effort on her part, but still.

She was getting better about this shoe-wearing business, what with the walking and all, and I was breathing a sigh of relief.

And then Daylight Savings Time screwed up our sleep and I’ve been doing everything in my power to stay awake so staying awake and also paying attention hasn’t really been my strong suite this week.

We went to the grocery store on Thursday. Emma was wearing her shoes when we went inside. When I got her out of the cart to put her back in the car, her shoes were gone.

Like, gone-gone.

Not in the cart. Not in my bag below the cart having fallen through the slats. Gone.

The grocery store found ONE of her shoes.

So the cycle continues with the second child despite my best efforts otherwise.

RIP, pink peace sign shoe. You were awesome while you lasted.

The post Bad Luck Shoes appeared first on Not Super Just Mom.