“Gimmie some wheels if I can’t have wings.” – Suzy Boggus

Mim learned to ride a two wheeler last week. Special thanks go to Jeff and the crew at Pediatric Physical Therapy, Inc. Yes, I paid someone to teach my son how to ride a bike.

Fish is quiet, but gutsy. Her ski instructor named her “White Lightening” in honor of her lust for throwing herself down a mountain at full speed. Mim is outgoing, but fearful of trying new things. I’m impatient. I work hard not to force him to do things he can’t do, but I also push him to work through his fears. I do it because I know he can do these things and because when he does push through, his smile could power New York City for a week.

When it came to teaching him to ride a two wheeler, he had multiple willing instructors, me, his dad, his sister and his awesome Auntie Jennie. No go. He’d freeze, his body would go stiff and he’d topple. He’d beg for his training wheels.

When I got wind of bike camp, I was all about signing him up, but only if he was willing. His Dad and I talked to him about it and made the offer to send him. He said yes. We told him he didn’t HAVE to go, but that if he wanted to learn to ride, we’d send him. We also told him that if he did go, we expected him to give it his all. He said yes.

He was nervous, but with Jeff’s help and the help of the other volunteers, he worked through it and by the end of day two, he was riding independently.

YAY MIM!! I am so proud of you, but more importantly, you are proud of yourself.

It was spring break and the kids announced they wanted to make chocolate chip cookies. Who am I to stand in the way of the production of sweets????

A quick inventory of ingredients revealed we were out of eggs. Most normal people would just run to the store and grab a dozen. If you know me or you’ve been reading this blog for any length of time, you know, I’m not “normal people”. I’m an egg snob and I blame my neighbor Cammy. Cammy keeps hens and is very generous with her eggs. It is hard to describe to someone the difference between a mass produced egg and locally raised, fresh egg. A fresh egg is just, well, eggyier, but not in a bad way, it just has a deeper, richer flavor. It is a mild infusion of taste, but once you’ve had it, you’ll never go back to regular eggs. It is sort of like the difference between a handmade chocolate and a Hershey bar.

I could have gotten in the car and taken a ride to Cam’s, but it was a beautiful day and I was looking to get some exercise and spend some time with my daughter. So, we decided to perform and eggsperiment. We hopped on our bikes and pedaled away.

Cammy lives about 2 miles away, and I was looking for a bit more exercise, so we took a roundabout route to her house. Upon arrival at Cammy’s we discovered a dozen eggs wasn’t going to fit in Fish’s bike basket. Carefully I ripped the cardboard container in half and we snuggled the two halves in a dishtowel I’d brought along for padding. Then we were off for the quick two mile ride home.  Or so we thought.

 

Eggcept when we went to turn on our road, we encountered this.

For my city slicker readers, dirt roads are riddled with divots and pot holes eggspecailly during mud season and after days of rain (which we’d recently eggsperienced). The town comes through and turns over the dirt with a tractor pulling a eggceptionally large blade on an angle, then they go back over it with another eggceptionally large rake. The result is a surface that is loosely packed dirt and gravel. Great for cars and trucks, but when you are riding a bike a newly graded road is like slogging through taffy. It is bumpy, large rocks appear out of nowhere and the loose surface makes for slow traveling. It is hard enough on a regular ride, nevermind one involving eggceptionally fragile cargo.

Rather than risk further eggasperation, we turned around and rode back the way we came. Well, we modified the route a little to avoid some hills that were fun as down hills, but looked pretty miserable as up hills.

All was well, until we once again reached the dirt. Half of our passengers decided to make their escape. Ooops. Amazingly, they all survived the drop without a scratch.

So, one hour and 10.5 miles later, I got my eggcercise and we had eggs for cookies. Ah, such is the adventure of life in the country.

 

 

I love this picture. The lighting is poor and it is blurry because they were moving and I took it with my phone, but still, it captures that joy that is my children.

We’d just finished dinner at a local diner and after a quick stop for new sneakers, for the men of the family, the kids were told we could visit the playground at the other end of the mall. They took off squealing.

They like each other. Yes they get on one another’s nerves, but generally, they like each other and play well together. I am blessed. I know it may not last, but I hope it does. This is the reason I wanted two kids.

Sorry to have been absent and a warm welcome to anyone visiting from Parenting New Hampshire. More to come soon!

 

I went to the doctor on Monday. Nothing scary, just an annual check up. The number on the scale was U G L Y, ugly! I never managed to shake the pregnancy weight gain and in the years since the kids were born, I’ve only gone up. I’d been holding steady until recently. I knew I’d gained some weight, but I didn’t think it was THAT much. See, I sort of have this denial thing going on. I look in the mirror and see a woman who is overweight, but doing ok. Then recently I’ve seen myself in pictures and I swear my thought pattern was “wow, the camera really does add 10lbs.” Guess what, it’s not the camera goober! Ooops.

It is time for a change.

Monday was an awful day for eating. It was stressful and I was on the go from 7am to 7pm. In the midst of it all I had 10 minutes before I had to be at my next appointment and I zipped into a shopping center passing the Starbucks and heading to Staples. I bought a funky composition book and some new pens, my new food journalling tools.

See here’s the thing, I don’t DO diets, I like food too much (well DUH!). No, I mean I can’t do boxed meals or canned shakes. A – I’m committed to eating fewer chemicals and B – YUCK!! I am a picky eater. I like full bodied food with flavor. Clearly, I’m just eating too much of it. The whole measuring EVERYTHING and counting points sounds stressful. I don’t want short lived change, I want to make wholesale lifestyle changes.

My hope is to write down everything I eat and how I’m feeling and see where and when I can realistically make cut backs. Let’s face it I am not giving up chocolate forever, but perhaps I can make better choices. Once I have a few weeks recorded, I’m going to make an appointment with a nutritionist to get an expert’s opinion.

Monitoring food intake and cutting down on sweets, are obvious steps but the other component of my plan is to increase my exercise. To that end, my crazy neighbor is already offering her support. She convinced me to sign up for the Renegade Playground 5K Mud Run.  Thus far, the Weasel/Whippet team is fielding 13 contestants and the chatter on Facebook is already beginning as Coach Becky encourages us all to train. There isn’t a description of the course on the site, but as best I can tell it is a 5K combined with mud, tunnels, mud pits, obstacles, mud baths, and did I mention there will be mud? My goal is just to finish. I don’t care if I’m dead last for my wave, if I complete it, I’ll be happy.

I got out today and started Couch to 5K (C25K) a running program that starts slow and builds your endurance until you can run the full 3+ miles. There’s even and app for that :). I grabbed the C25K app from Bluefin software from iTunes. It tells me when to switch from walking to running and allows me to play songs from my iTunes library. I plan to alternate C25K with EA Sports Active on the Wii. I might even throw in a few bike rides just to keep things interesting.

I’m nervous, I’m not a particularly coordinated person but, I need something to work towards because while I’ve been exercising for months, it just hasn’t been enough. It is time to put it all together and get healthy once and for all. I’m excited because most of the others on our team don’t run regularly either and while I’m sure there will eventually be some trash talk, for now, we are all cheering each other on. We have one ex-military guy, so he’ll sail by us, but that’s ok, because someone has to do us proud.

Wish me luck!

photo © 2006 hobvias sudoneighm | more info (via: Wylio)When we lived in Waltham, Mass, we had our milked delivered by Crescent Ridge Farms. When we moved here to New Hampshire, I went back to purchasing my milk at the grocery store.

I was exploring the Concord Farmer’s market last summer, when I found Catamount Farms. Oh to have milk in glass bottles, delivered to my door again. I brought home samples of the 1% and the skim. Heaven. One sip and I was hooked. I was like a junky. I had to have my fix on a weekly basis. Thankfully Catamount farms happily obliges.

Catamount farms is based out of the Chichester Country Store on Route 28 in Chichester, they deliver fresh milk from Sherman Farms Dairy in Conway, NH  along with products from Stonyfield Farms and other New Hampshire companies.

Catamount farms delivers all over central, Southern, and Eastern New Hampshire.

Visit their website to determine if they service your town. Select the products you want delivered and the appropriate interval for your family (weekly, bi-weekly, monthly). You can set up a one time delivery or a standing delivery. During the warmer months, I leave a cooler with icepacks outside. Jerry leaves me a milk crate for my empties and everything is billed to my credit card.

Typically we polish off one and a half to two gallons of milk a week. It helps, that neither my husband or my daughter is able to drink milk (I have to by Lactaid for them). This is a purchase based on value and quality, not price. As of this writing, a half gallon of milk is $3.65 plus a refundable $1.50 bottle deposit plus a $3.50 charge per delivery. That is almost double the cost per gallon of milk bought at a chain grocery store, but there is no comparing when it comes to quality. When most people think of skim milk they think of a blue tinged, watery, tasteless liquid. I even have a friend who refers to skim milk as “jelly bean juice”  Not Sherman Farms skim milk! It is more like a store bought 1%. It has a solid white color and a nice full flavor. The 1% has even more depth oh and the seasonably available egg nog is to die for!! Thick and creamy, it is a dessert unto itself. I’m planning on buying some of their chocolate milk to use as hot cocoa on Christmas morning.

For me, this is about knowing where the milk comes from and making healthy choices for my family. It is about purchasing a quality product, and supporting local businesses.

Try some, you won’t regret it!

These words are my personal opinion. I am not affiliated with Catamount Farms or Sherman Farms Dairy. I did not receive any compensation for this post. I simply want to spread the word about two great companies and a wonderful product.

This post is a follow up to an earlier post I wrote about at Self Magazine article on how isolating infertility can be.  I was blessed to have a circle of friends who had experienced similar situations. NO ONE should feel alone in the infertility process.

photo © 2009 Marty Bonner | more info (via: Wylio) I knew I wanted kids, plural.  I always told my husband, if there was one, there would be two.  I was open to discussing no children, but I was an only child and I really wanted my own kids to have a sibling.

I’d been on and off the pill since I was 17.  Basically when I had insurance or was in a relationship, I was on the pill.  Even on the pill I could go months without a period. I was young and didn’t think much about it.  On occasion, I discussed my lack of menses with my doctors, but none seemed overly concerned, so neither did I.

Fast forward, I’m married to a wonderful man, we have purchased our own home and are looking to start a family.  Suddenly, my lack of periods was an issue.  We “tried” in earnest for while, but it wasn’t long before I started researching fertility issues. What can I say, I am an impatient control freak. I purchased Taking Charge of Your Fertility and set about educating myself.  I tracked my basel temperatures and there was no discernible pattern.  There was no jump in the graph, the temps were all over the place, seemingly random.

I had friends who were facing similar challenges.  One had suffered an ectopic pregnancy that all but ended her hopes of conceiving. She adopted domestically.  Another had a family history of infertility.  She did some initial testing and knew treatment was a futile course. She adopted from Internationally.  I was so blessed to have their counsel.

I sought out an infertility evaluation.  We lived in Massachusetts and were fortunate that insurance covered all the testing. We ruled out male factor immediately so, the problems were mine (Oh, the self imposed guilt!).  The first specialist I saw was a male with a very heavy accent (I can’t even remember where he was from).  He planned a course of treatment that went almost directly to IVF.  I felt intimidated and pulled back sharply.  I opted for a second opinion and was glad I did.  This doctor was in the same practice, but a different office.  Her excellent reputation manifested itself in a ridiculously long wait for an office visit.  A wait that let me get very clear about what I wanted and how far we were willing to go to get it.  My husband was awesomely supportive throughout this.

When we did finally see her, she had a much calmer manor and measured approach.  She did some blood work and ruled out PCOS (this is relevant later), but still there was no cause for my irregular periods that were making it hard to predict ovulation.  She also ordered a hyserosalpingogram or (HSG).  Here is where having the support of friends who have been through the process is invaluable.  My friend J, told me to take ibuprofen before the test. I got the go ahead and took 800mg about an hour a head of time.  An HSG is NEVER fun, but it really didn’t bother me that much.  J took me to the test and was stunned that I wanted to go out shopping afterwards. “I just wanted to curl up in a ball after mine”.  The HSG revealed no blockages, so, we kept on.

We “practiced” regularly, but apparently not at the right time because I still wasn’t pregnant and I was growing more frustrated by the month. I felt like I was failing.  Failing the most basic task for a woman.  I couldn’t even BLEED right for cripes sakes.  My husband was my rock assuring me that he loved me despite my challenges.  My friends were there to lament the arrival of my period AGAIN. Still, it sucked.

By this time, I was taking Clomid and due to my lack of conception, we progressed on to injections.  At one time, I knew this process cold and could have told you want I was injecting, and the dosage, but in the chaos of the last 10 years, that information has completely evaporated from my brain.

So, I went for my daily ultrasounds, the one’s where they stick their “magic wand” in your nether regions and take a peek and what is going on down there.  It was during these fishing expeditions that a cyst was discovered on my left ovary. They were pretty sure it was the left side that was growing the egg, but the cyst made it hard to determine the size of the ovary which made it hard to determine when it was going to expel its precious cargo.

The ultrasound staff and the nursing staff were just amazing.  I rarely spoke with the doctor.  Word came down from on high that this month was a scratch and we’d use it as a practice month for the injections and we’d try again next month.

For the uninitiated, your partner administers the injection in your abdomen.  It is sub-dermal, so it is more of a pinch than a stab.  Then you and your partner *ahem*, practice, do the deed, bump uglys, you get the point. The injection is supposed to encourage ovulation and once ovulation takes place, you want to have the little swimmers in place to greet the freshly hatched egg.

It is such a process it can take the fun out of intimacy. Bless my husband for doing his part to keep things light.  On the occasion of my first injection, he came to our bed room with one of my lipsticks.   He then proceeded to use it to draw a target on my abdomen. “I don’t want to miss.”

I went in for my a blood test 7 days later, and it turns out his aim was dead on.  Much to everyone’s surprise, I was pregnant.

I’ve read so many great stories about how women told their spouses they were pregnant, mine is very utilitarian.  I picked up the phone and called him at work and blurted out the news. His aim was true.  Ahem, a little too true. The next day the nurse called again. My numbers were so high, they were convinced I was pregnant with twins.

OH MAH GOD!!! Anyone who ventures down the road of infertility treatment thinking they are guaranteed a single, healthy birth is naive, but still when you work so hard to get pregnant, you never think you’ll be the one who conceives two at the same time.

In a show of cosmic sense of humor, the second sac, self-terminated, and by 10 days later, we were back to just one baby.  WHEW!

I was fortunate, my pregnancy was uneventful.  I even traveled to Australia three months pregnant.  The delivery was another story, but that’s not tied to my infertility.

Next up, conceiving a second, or not.