I find lately when I am in situations where it is really still and quiet that this Bjork song comes through my head like a montage. I wait patiently for the part in the song where Bjork explodes, but still all is quiet. With an eight month old, two dogs, and a house full of guests until a couple days ago, I forgot what quiet was. Today, my little duffer is at daycare and my hubby is at the junkyard with two of his friends looking for car parts and I am sitting oh so quietly on my couch after a quick hilly run. There are gray clouds in the distance that scream thunderstorm so I know the tweet of the birds and the whistle of the leaves is temporary, but I’ll take it. Of course, in all this quiet, I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to get the laundry cranking, do all the dishes in the sink, vacuum the rug in the living room, but I am actually thinking how nice the quiet is. Plus, I keep waiting for the part of song to get revved up and the dogs to start barking at the neighbor’s truck returning or the phone ringing telling me I need to pick up my son or something that will disrupt the sweet tinkling sound my dog’s bell makes as she checks in with me to make sure all is well. But… for now I’ll take it.
Tag Archives: Guilty Pleasures
Two Versions of Yourself
As my little man finishes up his nap (almost two hours — and I got to sleep for 1 1/2 of them), I am reading about Danica Patrick’s ways in which she stays in shape. She and I are about the same size according to the stats (only she is about four inches taller). She obviously has a much different job than I do in life (driving an Indy race car), although carrying over twenty pounds of baby could qualify as the same I think. She tells of eating breakfasts that consist of egg white omelets and brown rice oatmeal. Her lunches involve lean protein and her big splurge is making some whole wheat pizza that has low fat mozzarella with her husband, who is a physical therapist. Considering I had donuts for breakfast yesterday and a handful of candy after my sandwich at lunch, I don’t think I fall into her category — although I want to. I want to be that healthy all of the time, but wait I am not sponsored or in the public eye so maybe that is why it is really hard to turn down bacon and french toast for breakfast even though I am attempting to work on my post-baby pudge. Instead I think it is okay to relish in the splurges if you do it in moderation. If I had donuts for breakfast everyday or King-Size Fifth Avenue bars daily then we probably would need to talk. The other good thing is summer is on the horizon and for some reason eating carb and fat-filled things seems unsatisfying when it is very humid and warm outside. Those are the days I crave fruit and vegetables. Large glasses of ice cold water instead of lattes (okay, I always crave lattes — nevermind that comparison). I am finishing this post after the delightful breakfast of bacon and french toast. As I finish my cold coffee, I am already thinking about my run this afternoon (three miles of pure hills) and the hike I plan to take with my newly clean dogs (bath time is like a small exercise class) and my 20+ lb baby this afternoon. I am dreaming of American Flatbread for dinner this evening and reminding myself that I need lots of water today — so maybe I won’t be on the cover of Shape magazine, but I know that I will be happy being me.
If I knew Picasso I would buy myself a gray guitar and play…
Vermont is a funny weather state. We don’t take anything for granted. Spring has sprung with weather cresting fifty and the promise of sunshine seeping through the clouds. My son’s trip to the farm was cancelled due to weather, but he was quite content playing with grains, cucumbers, and other farm like stuff at his school. Today, I am sitting on my couch with a delightful cup of coffee contemplating my run. I have run twice in the last five days, which I might add is more than I have run in the entire last year and a half. Pregnancy and a small child had a little to do with that piece. Now, with time on my hands, I should be racing out the door. Only, now I have a moment to breathe since my little man is at daycare and my husband is traveling back from dropping him at daycare. The sun is beginning to outline the trees. The birds are taunting me and calling me a wimp for sitting on my leather sofa watching them hunt for worms in still hardened ground. They are troopers and I am as lame as my dog who has gone back to bed for the eleventh time this morning. But, the coffee is so good and the house so quite. It is a little like the William Carlos Williams’ poem about the plums…
It is funny defining yourself after having a baby. Yesterday, I felt guilty leaving my son at school so I could go to work and get my professional development portfolio done (three hours I will never get back). Today, my husband brought him to play with his friends so we can enjoy a day of what I shall call “life before little man.” A day where I will hopefully go for a run, eat a nice breakfast with both of my hands and at a reasonable pace, go to a movie, and maybe even run an errand without rushing through it. I feel guilty about these things just like I do when I cut the tag off pillows and pieces of furniture even though it clearly says cut off if you are the one who bought it. I think it is healthy to work through this guilt because the reality is my son is learning more about life at school in these social situations than he would if he spent another whole day at home with mom. Although I am the apple of his eye, it is good for him to go and play with his friends. If anything, it is why when I pick him up after a day away he gives me this smile that says thanks for letting me hang with my peeps, but now let’s cuddle.
