Hello! Happy Wednesday.

Weight: the same.

Not up, not down, just the same. So I am still 4.8 pounds below my starting weight with a BMI of 27.3.

I have to say, the news this morning didn't exactly surprise me. Total number of visits to the gym this week: 0. Whoops. I'm not sure how that happened, but I just kind of forgot about it. I am planning to go to boot camp tonight and even invited a friend, so hopefully one good work-out will jump start another.

As for food, I want to share with you this nummy crock-pot recipe that my friend Courtney told me about. It's the world's easiest recipe with a total of four ingredients. And no cooking, no stirring, no prep.

You will need:

2 (or 4, depending on your crowd) boneless, skinless chicken breasts
1 can of whole kernel corn
1 can of black beans, drained and rinsed
1 jar of your favorite salsa

Dump it all in the crock pot, turn it on low for 6 hours (although you can easily get away with it on high for 4 hours), and viola! Nummy chicken supper, very little fat, good protein and fiber, and it's delicious to boot. If you are so inclined, sprinkle a little cheese on top (or Greek yogurt, my fav) or even serve it on a bed of brown rice (I'm the only person in the world that doesn't like rice, so I don't do this. But I hear others like it). Enjoy!

How are you doing? Stats? Tips?

Sorry, that last post wasn't supposed to turn into a two-parter, but something went wrong with either the website or my computer. Either way...where were we?

When you are done with your cheese...

...play a mean game of peek-a-boo with your plate.

It's almost game time! Next up: make sure Momb has plenty to read.

Have Dad change the channel so you can watch all of the pregame action.

Be sure to text all of your friends about the game. Trash-talking is so much fun.

Grab your pom-poms and make sure the ceiling fan is set at exactly the right speed.

And finally, open the door when your friends arrive!  Monday Night Football is ready to start!

You may find yourself asking, "What does a small bear do on Game Day?" In two words - a lot. Let me show you.

First, you need to wear your favorite team's jersey all day. 

Then you need to make sure you eat plenty, because a hungry Bear is a cranky Bear.

(I have no idea why we were eating on the kitchen floor. It just seemed like a good idea that the time.) 

It's best if you fill up on cheese, since it is the world's greatest food.

Be sure to share your cheese with loved ones.

(quick joke: What do you call cheese that doesn't belong to you?

Answer:  Nacho cheese! (hahaha) )

Discuss politics and the state of this country over lunch.

And then, when you are almost done...

Whoops - to be continued in the next entry (Weebly won't let me add anymore pictures)

With the new school year upon us, I though I would share my knowledge of what I have learned over the past year as a new mom. Aside from the physical requirements of Motherhood (pushing a watermelon out of your body, very little sleep, and the strength to lug around a 10, then 20, now 30 lb child with one arm), there is also a sharp learning curve for language skills in Motherhood. See, I've realized that most things in this abstract and foreign speech are "in code" i.e. pre-kids, you hear it one way, but once you are inducted into the hallowed halls of Parenthood, you realize simple phrases actually mean something else entirely.

Let me illuminate...

When someone says, "Must be a growth spurt," what they are actually saying is, "I have no flipping clue what's going on."

The non-parent is like, "Oh, wow, a growth spurt!" and the parent is like, "Hmmm, they are confused. Sucks to be them."

Another example: 

"His little personality is really coming out!"

Translation:  I forgot that my in-laws contributed 25% to his genetic pool and God help me if he's as crazy as they are. 

And:

"He's really becoming independent."

Translation:  He is a stubborn little bugger.  I blame his father for this.

MomSpeak: "I'm so happy I nursed for 'X' amount of time and he weaned when he was ready."

Translation:  ...and I'm so happy that my body is my own again that I took Advil for no reason today, drank my lunch, and might possibly go smoke crack at the first opportunity.

MomSpeak:  "He eats only organic foods that I prepare."

Translation: Because we are spending a whole paycheck at Whole Foods on a weekly basis, I now eat frozen chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs and Skittles.

MomSpeak: "He's teething."

Translation: Baby for sale.

MomSpeak: "We Ferberized."

Translation: I cried harder than he did.

MomSpeak: "Our lives are so full right now!"

Translation:  My living room is full of toys, my sink is full of dirty bottles, and my brain is full of all of the things I've forgotten to do. The only thing that is empty in our lives right now is the checking account.

And finally, my favorite...

MomSpeak: "We're thinking about adding to our family again."

Translation: Motherhood has left me completely without memory and  I have subsequently forgotten everything that has transpired over the last X amount of time. I'm sorry, who are you again? And how did I get here?

Class dismissed. :-)

Not a whole lot to report here...it's been a good, quiet week. Just some random comments...

I am five books into the week. I love my iPad and the ease in which I can purchase new books. Literally, it takes 3 seconds. I'm not sure Brian contemplated this aspect of the iPad when he bought it for me, but per our friend Uncle Jim, we are slowly going bankrupt, $12.99 at a time.  I can read, check Facebook, and my email all without ever getting off the couch. If only it would text, it would be perfect. (Steve Jobs, are you reading this?)

Brian and I have taken to calling Scotty "FrankenBear" since his walk is more of a lurch. He balls up his arms to his sides when he lurches, and I swear, all he needs are the bolts on the side of his neck and some green paint and he would look exactly like the monster from 'Frankenstein' (a miniature version, at least). (and for all you aspiring English scholars out there, the monster was never actually Frankenstein; that was the name of the doctor who created him. The monster was always just referred to as 'the monster' in the book. See? You just learned something.)

I had to endure yet another session of Paid Humiliation on Thursday afternoon. I'm not sure if it was because the horror of Music Lesson Tuesday was still fresh in my mind, but swimming lessons weren't so bad this time. I was back in the one-piece black suit and managed to secure the boobs prior to the lesson, so that gave me a bit of confidence. Only one Bikini Babe was there, and the other two women were really nice and normal. And -- this is very exciting -- Scotty is actually getting better! Brian and I were debating why we put in him lessons so early, since I'm not sure he even comprehends directions at this point, but seeing actual improvement was very, very exciting. We're not up to laps just yet, but the little Bear managed to kick one leg when I dunked him, and he immediately went into floating position when it was time for that in the class. Progress! Out of the four kids in the class, he was probably second best. Not bad. I mean, one kid was only seven months (and howled the whole time), and the other kid and his mother didn't speak English, but we'll take what we can get.

The weather here continues to hover in the mid-90s, though I'm wearing jeans and drinking hot drinks from Starbucks. Summer, be damned. I am ready for fall. I am getting really anxious to buy some pumpkins and purchase Scotty's Halloween costume (currently, still a secret...). And I am SO ready to not feel like I'm baking every time I go outside, even if it's just for a few minutes. Autumn, where are you?

Well, other than that, things are pretty quiet around here. We have a nice weekend planned. The Packers play on Monday night, which means Brian will be home early. Do I have to dress Scotty in his Packer jersery all day? I don't know the rules on this one. And, the other day, Brian mentioned to me it would "nice" if I "ever wanted to wear [my] Aaron Rodgers' jersey" during a game, as a sign of support. Sigh. It really is football season, isn't it? Brian takes zero interest in my wardrobe until the Packers hit the field.

Some pictures of Scotty lurching around the park this week:

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Down a pound.

Woot!

Super boring though - watched portions, ate healthy, blah, blah. You know the drill. And best of all, this was managed despite the birthday party of last week including cupcakes, cake, dinners out, etc.

(FYI: you don't need to eat an entire cupcake in one sitting. I simply divided my four cupcakes in half, and ate 1/2 whenever I was hungry. Brian ate part of one, too, and I shared some with Scotty. See? Calorie division.)

No, the real interesting part of this week was the start of Music Lessons. I had been anxiously waiting for it to start, since I had heard all kinds of good things. I definitely want Scotty to learn how to read music one day (any kind of language is good, in my opinion, since it gets a different area of your brain working) and early exposure like this was going to be great. Right?

If you've been reading this blog long enough, you know that anytime I ask "Right?" a crash and burn lies ahead. I feel like I am like the Bridget Jones of Motherhood. I try really hard...just things never turn out the I expect.

Anyways, while Brian and I lack some serious dance skills, Scotty does not. This kid has been rocking out since he was in utero. Seriously -- on my way to perinatal appointments, he would move the most whenever I turned on the hip-hop station. I was always more of a Top 40 kind of gal, but hey, whatever the baby wants, the baby gets. So my dial has been permanently parked on hip-hop since last summer, and now that he's an outside baby, Scotty enjoys rocking out in his car seat. His favs?  Katy Perry, Usher, Ke$ha, and Eminem.

I'm not saying we have any street cred, but we can still listen, right? And while I acknowledge that 'Back Dat Azz Up' is probably not the most appropriate music for my one year old, it has a good beat. And he's not listening to the words. Yo.

Back to music lessons.

I should have known it was going to be a bad day when the Bear woke up from his morning nap covered in poo. Poo everywhere. Total diaper blow-out. Poo on the baby, poo in the sleep sack, poo on the mattress cover. It took almost 40 minutes and an entire package of wipes to clean up the crime scene, thus preventing us from going to the park. So we had lunch at home, played, read, etc, and went down for a nap closer to 3 instead of 2 (since he wasn't really that tired.)

Music lessons started at 4:30.

At 3:45, I began to pace.

At 4:00, I started wringing my hands.

At 4:15, I called the office and spoke to a very nice woman who told me to still attend class, even if we are just there for 10 minutes to pick up the paperwork (whatever that was), or I could go to a make-up class next week.

At 4:30, Scotty woke up.

More poo. But I was determined.

By 4:50, we were in the car, flying to music lessons. I could walk in late, right? No problem. It was the first day, I'm sure everyone was late. We were just filing out paperwork or something.

We walked in to find a room full of parents - with kids - trilling. Trilling. As in making "whoooooo!" noises at this high-pitched level. And the kids were all dancing (or just moving) in the middle to the trilling. It sounded a hive of cicadas.

I swear, I know Scotty doesn't understand the word yet, but when he looked at me, I could tell he was thinking, "Momb? Cult?"

And of course, since we were so late, everyone turned to look at us (though the trilling didn't stop). I had spent 10 minutes at the car in the parking lot trying to get Scotty's shoes on his feet only to realize that everyone here was barefoot. And trilling, did I mention that?

They finally, blessedly, stopped. (it felt like it went on for a good ten minutes, though I'm sure it was only probably 30 seconds. I was just so taken aback.) And Scotty and I introduced ourselves (though he was clutching his container of Cheerios with abject fear, I noted), joined the circle of cult members, er, music lesson-goers, and then the teacher passed out scarves. Filmy scarves. And they started singing again, this time about a firetruck. ("Whoo-whoo! Firetrucks....whoo-whooooooo!")

I seriously wanted to cover my ears. And the scarf we were handed was purple. No joke.

I tried trading my scarf with the four-year old girl next to me (she had a lovely deep blue one) but she wouldn't budge. Whatever. I tried to go through the motions with the rest of class (we were now singing about rocket ships - whoo-whoooo!) while fanning the scarves around. Scotty continued to clutch his Cheerios while looking around the room, unsure of what to make of this scene.

I had never wanted to be back in Swim Lessons more than that moment.

I was also having a hard time keeping a straight face. I mean, was this Motherhood? Was I going to have to subject my child to these dorky, geeky classes and pretend that I was enjoying them? Nothing against the music people, but this was just not our bag. I couldn't even look at the other parents because I was afraid I was going to burst into nervous, hysterical giggles.

Ah, but the best was yet to come. The teachers passed out little instruments to all of the kids (holy cacophony) for a song, and then collected them. Scotty, being one of the younger ones, wailed when she took his castanets away. And we suddenly went from being the cool, indifferent pair (in my head, at least) to being the Mother with the Screaming Child.

It took 15 minutes and much walking around to resolve that one.

And then, class blissfully ended. During the last song, fully recovered from his meltdown, Scotty took it upon himself to crawl to the middle of the circle and wave at everyone. For the whole song. He just continued to pivot around the circle, waving, working the room. The Mayor had arrived.

People were smiling at him (thankfully) but I again, was like, "Crap, what do I do?" What is the policy on kids in the middle of the circle? Do I let him stay there? Do I need to keep him by me? Should I get a leash? This Motherhood stuff is harder than it looks.

At the end, I collected my waving, political baby and hustled out the door, but not before the teacher could hand me two CDs for the class with instructions to listen to it "in the car and at home." (that's why they give you two...they are really serious about this.) She told me I need to learn the songs so I can "participate" at the next class. Crap, I was back in high school and they were making me sing.  I managed to smile and thank her, but really? Do I have to come back? I had prepaid for 8 classes, so it looks like my Tuesday afternoons are booked.

::sigh::

We listened to Jay-Z on the ride home. 

Living with a toddler is an interesting experience.

I feel as though it can be summed up by looking at the behaviors of three very different groups of individuals: puppy, frat boy, or rude houseguest. Let me explain...

-- will eat food right out of your hand: puppy

-- exists on a diet heavy on mac n'cheese and very few green veggies:  frat boy

-- needs to be driven everywhere: rude houseguest

See what I mean? I'll keep going...

-- has an overwhelming fascination with his genitals:  frat boy

--  occasionally needs to be hosed off before entering the house:  puppy

-- keeps very strange hours:  frat boy

-- enjoys food fights and flinging food everywhere:  frat boy

-- rarely, if ever, cleans up after himself:  rude houseguest

-- comes when you call:  puppy

-- walks like they are drunk: frat boy

-- drools a lot:  puppy

-- never brings his laundry down on wash day: rude houseguest

Wait! There's more!

-- doesn't like your cooking:  rude houseguest

-- yet eats scraps off the floor, hours later:  puppy

-- gets angry when he doesn't get his way: frat boy

-- would like in a pig sty if you were not there to clean up: frat boy

-- has an opinion even when you don't want to hear it: rude houseguest

-- eats dirt: puppy

-- enjoys breaking stuff: frat boy

It's really amazing when you think about it -- the complicated brain and behavior of a toddler can be broken down into these three groups. No need to buy anymore expensive baby books! Just think about what you know about each of these groups and you, too, can successfully navigate Toddlerville.

Brian sent me this link today:

http://green.yahoo.com/blog/guest_bloggers/69/man-builds-cat-sized-village-for-homeless-cats.html

Check it out -- hilarious. And inspiring. And yes, I 'friend-ed' him on Facebook. (just look up Caboodle Ranch).

I wrote back to Brian, "We are totally doing this in our backyard!"

and he writes back, "Great! Scotty can be the greeter at the Cat-Wal-Mart."

Oh, he's funny.

The week is ::almost:: over and I'm exhausted.

Celebrating one's birthday can really take it out of you.

The party started on Tuesday and involved dinner with Brian and the Bear. We debated all day where to go ("Bear-friendly," if you will) and finally decided on the BBQ place that we always go to. It's safe, it's good, and best of all, we might be able to sit outside and allow our child to not bother other dining patrons while he rubs food in his hair and flings things indiscriminately around the restaurant. Ah, toddlers.

The only problem is that when we arrived, they seated us in the kid section. I know, I know, we have a kid. But our kid is like, a good kid. (forget I just wrote the entire preceding paragraph). Seriously - he's not super mobile yet, and he really can sit still for about 45 minutes, unlike the shrieking, hyperactive monsters at the surrounding tables. It was like dining at a preschool.

Then the service was terrible, the food was bad (and wrong - I had to send mine back twice) and dinner dragged on for almost an hour and fifteen minutes. Well into Scotty's bedtime. It was so irritating that we skipped the free birthday dessert and just tried to get out of there as soon as possible.

I think Scotty knew it was my birthday, as he kept a look-out for the singing wait staff and a flaming pastry. Check out his expressions during dinner -- you can tell he was worried.

And then, just to add insult to injury, we were charged an additional $1.50 for my extra mustard.

Whatever.

On the way home, I was almost run off the road by a crazy driver. In what I can only describe as a few of the scariest seconds of my life, a driver merged into my lane - pinning me directly between his car and a large white van - while going about 70 miles an hour. I have no idea how we didn't end up in a wreck, since I absolutely cut the van off in an attempt to miss being side-swiped by the other guy, but we didn't. Thankfully. But I arrived home (just as Brian got there - we had driven separately since he came straight from work) crying and shaking and went straight to bed.

Fun.

On Wednesday, Part Deux of the Birthday Celebration, Brian and I had plans to go to a nice restaurant. Again, the night started out rather poorly because we had one stop before dinner and it ended up being a total disaster. I'm not going to elaborate on that, since I'm not sure who reads this, but let's just say Brian and I were both extremely unhappy with the way some things turned out, and it left a really bad taste in our mouths.

So by the time we reached dinner, we were ready for a great meal. And it was great - except they forgot the birthday cake. Brian had planned ahead for a nice dessert - and it was nice - but no cake. It was like a frou-frou fancy petit-four creation that I loved, but Brian was a little bummed. I mean, it had my name on it. What more could you ask for?

So yesterday turned into Birthday Celebration, Part III as Brian brought home cupcakes from our favorite bakery in Vegas. I certainly didn't expect this but it was a great surprise AND it completed the final aspect of any good birthday party - the cake.

As to be expected, I am really tired of being feted. I mean, a girl can only take so much. After three celebrations, I now feel like I am 35 instead of 32. Here's hoping next year we can get it right in one shot.

Off to eat my maple-bacon cupcake.