BBB Round 2: Week Three.

At long last, my sisters and brothers in weight loss, we've reached the last weigh-in of January. By now, according to all the weight loss "experts," we should all be finding it easier to stick to our healthy (okay, healthier) habits.

After all, three weeks is supposed to be the magic number. That's how long they say it takes to re-train your brain. So, in other words, we should be starting to find it easier to pass up the ice cream in favor of a yogurt by now, and less difficult to haul our butts to the gym instead of to the couch.

How 'bout it? Are you finding this to be true?

I've yet to have three weeks of good health this year, so I'm not really sure it applies in my case. However, I did feel guilty about the ice cream I ate last night (and only had a small bowl). And when picking up a rotisserie chicken for dinner the other night, I got some sweet potatoes and salad stuff to go with it instead of potato salad and cole slaw.

So I guess I'm learning (again).

The scale says I'm doing something right. I was down 3.6 pounds this week. I'm pretty sure that fleeting stomach bug I had was at least partly to blame, but still...it gives me hope. Maybe I really will be back in my skinny jeans by April.

Talk to me, people. How did you do this week?

Writer's Workshop: A Wise Woman Told Me...

“People are going to start pressuring you to have another baby, but don’t rush into anything. Two is way tougher than one.”

My sister-in-law shared those wise words of advice with me during one of the few quiet moments we had together at Christmas. She’s got two girls, born just two years apart, so she knows what she’s talking about.

Truth is, I don’t know if I’ll have another baby. After all, I’m not getting any younger. And as much as I love Tori, she’s a heck of a lot of work. Right now, she demands my attention almost constantly. In fact, if I walk out of the room she’s in, she almost always crawls right after me, crying ”mamamamama.”

I simply can’t imagine juggling the needs of two munchkins at once. How is it possible?

Plus, there’s the money issue. Sure, we have all the gear now, but there’s still daycare to think about. We’d need a bigger car, for sure. We’d also lose our guest room, so we’d have to buy a sleeper sofa. And then there’s college. With my luck, they’d both want to go to expensive liberal arts schools that I’d have to re-mortgage my house to afford (hi mom!).

But then, as I hold her sleepy body in my arms, my heart flips. She’s brought so much joy into our lives. How could we not have another one?

Reading things like this, and seeing pictures like these don’t help matters. To tell the truth, they kind of make my uterus hurt.

But, oh, the work. The not sleeping for months and months and months. The aching joints and constant indigestion and leaking boobs and eight-week C-section recovery and year-long post-pregnancy diet and, and, and…

Yeah. I’m not going to rush into anything.

Now head over to Mama Kat's and see what the other workshoppers have to say!

Wordful Wednesday: A Glimpse of Paradise.

At this time of year in the Midwest, it can be difficult to remember what it feels like to be warm. It's cloudy so often, it's easy to forget what the sun on your face feels like. As you pull on your winter boots and wrap your scarf around your neck, it's almost impossible to imagine wearing shorts and flip flops, or cute little sundresses and strappy little sandals.

So, to all you winter weary souls out there, I give you these:

 

 

 

Remember, the sun is still out there somewhere. And sooner or later, spring will return. I promise.

Seven More Things No One Tells New Moms.

Back before Tori was born, I thought I knew it all. Then, about three weeks in, I realized I knew nothing. At about six months, I started to get a little more confident, and at almost seven months, I thought I knew enough to warn other mothers-in-waiting.

Oh, how naive I was (and still am, I'm sure). It turns out, Tori only had more surprises in store for me. So here they are—seven more things no one dares to tell new moms.

The more your baby eats, the worse her poop will smell. Yeah, I know. Even at the best of times, baby poop isn't an aroma you'd want to bottle and sell as perfume. But once you start in with the "real" foods? Her diaper will begin to smell like trash that's been left too long in the sun. Mmmm, trash.

All those food rules? Aren't worth the paper (or computer screen) they're written on. I know. You're only supposed to introduce one new food every five days. They're only supposed to have fruit after they've eaten vegetables. Sugar is the enemy. Right. There are only so many times you can watch your kid purposely vomit up a food she finds nasty (yes, really) before you start to bend the rules.

You only think you want your baby to crawl.  Sure, it sounds like a good idea. Who wouldn't want their child to be able to move themselves from place to place, grabbing their own toys and making their own fun? Any parent who wants to stay sane, that's who. Once your baby learns to crawl, you will never sit down again. Ever.

Think carefully before teaching her a game. She will want to play it endlessly. Jumping up from behind the couch to play Peekaboo is fun the first 500 times. As is Walk-Around-The-House-Holding-Mommy's-Hands. And Chase the Kitty? Hours of fun. Eventually, though, your body will have had enough. But your baby? Can play these games forever. She doesn't even have kneecaps.

Two years is a looooong time to go without relying on ye old boob tube for some free babysitting. The American Academy of Pediatrics says kids shouldn't see any TV until their second birthday. Supposedly it slows their development and all that. But, you know what? I don't believe those Academics have ever had to take a poo (oh yes I did say it) while alone in the house with a kid who refuses to sit still for more than five seconds. Unless, that is, the digital babysitter is on.

Like a puppy, your baby will chew on anything. Teething infants and teething puppies have a lot in common. They will gnaw on anything they can get their mouths around. Shelves, chairs, molding, shoulders, noses...nothing is safe. Put your antiques away, people.

You will never realize how dirty your house is until your baby starts exploring. I don't care how often how you vacuum, sweep or mop. After a day spent crawling aroound on the floor, your baby will look like a human Swiffer pad. Or is that just me? Don't answer that.

There's more. Oh so much more. But if I spill any more secrets, the lynch moms might come after me. So you'll just have to wait in suspense for the next edition of Things They Don't Tell You. Unless you have your own observations to share?

There's No Escaping the Guilt.

As a working mom, I often feel like I'm shortchanging, well, everyone. I run out of work as fast as I can so I can spend time with my daughter. Then I half-ignore her so I can get some housework done. And my husband? Well, let's just say it's a good thing he's a patient man.

But the one person who almost never gets any attention at all is...me. My hair hasn't been cut in almost three months. My makeup supplies haven't been replenished in six. Since Tori was born, I've been out with friends all of twice. Maybe three times. I'm lucky to get one book read every month, and naps (which used to be a treasured part of my weekends), have gone the way of the dinosaur.

Sometimes, I get to feeling like I'm running on fumes. Like I've got nothing left to give anyone. Like I just. need. a. break. If only for a couple of hours.

Today was one of those days. Tori's teething, or fighting a cold, or possessed by demons, or something (maybe all three). My house is a pigsty. My laundry pile is reaching epic proportions. And my husband was annoying me just by breathing (which does not diminish my love for him, right honey?).

And just to make it worse? There was no fricking coffee. Or tea. Or even coke (the caffeinated beverage. although maybe I need to consider investing in the other kind) anywhere in the house. It was a bad scene.

So, pretending I was heading to the grocery store, I left. And headed directly to Starbucks. Where I ordered a giant vat of caffeinated goodness, plunked myself down at a table and opened my book. It was heaven. Before I knew it, over an hour had passed.

As soon as that realization sunk in, guilt raised its ugly, snaggle-toothed head. How dare I neglect my family this way, it asked. Wasn't I always complaining that I didn't get enough time to spend with my daughter? I was a baaaaaad mom, it asserted.

So I called home and told my already fed-up sounding husband that I had lost track of time and would head to the grocery store immediately.

But I didn't. Instead I went to Kohls. Not looking for anything in particular. Just putting off the inevitable. Because I? Hate grocery shopping. Besides, I wasn't anywhere close to feeling recharged yet.

Unfortunately, Kohls had nothing I wanted to buy. It's that terrible time of year where I can't stand to look at sweaters anymore. But spring? Could very well be years away, so there's no point in buying any cute duds for that supposedly upcoming season.

Finally, I took myself off to Kroger, and after loading up on supplies, headed home. Where Tori was plunked in front of the TV (which she ordinarily is not allowed to watch. ever.) and my frustrated-looking husband was trying to pull a (wickedly delicious) chicken out of the oven.

Oh, the guilt. It hit me like a tsunami. I was asking too much of my husband. Caring too little for my child. How dare I leave them for that long? Bad person! BAAAAD person!

But the guilt was accompanied by a wave of resentment. Why shouldn't  I take some time out for myself? Didn't I count?

The only solution was to pour myself a biiiiig glass of wine. Which I eventually did, and am, in fact, currently sipping. But the frustration hasn't left me yet. It's just been pushed to the back of my mind and put on simmer.

So I'm asking you again, oh wise women of the Internet. Is it possible to find balance? Do I just need to get better at ignoring the guilt? Does it eventually get easier? Enlighten me. Please.

BBB Round 2: Week 2 (Seven Ways To Stay Motivated).

January is winding down to a close. You know what that means, don't you? Most people who made New Year's Resolutions to lose weight and get fit are...losing their resolve.

Not me. I'm still going strong. And the scale rewarded me - I'm two pounds lighter today than I was this time last week (you can all clap now). Those descending numbers are, in and of themselves, motivating, but lord knows, they're not always enough to keep you going.

So I thought I'd take a few minutes to share some of the things that help me stay strong when I want to quit.

Take your measurements - The scale doesn't always give me the positive feedback I need. But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm not slimming down. That's why, at the start of any diet, I take all my measurements: bust, waist, hips, arms and thighs. Sure, the numbers make me want to cringe, but when I slide that tape measurement around my waist and see a smaller number peeking back at me, I can't help but smile.

Track your food - I know, this might seem counter-intuitive. After all, there's nothing more discouraging than realizing that you've blown your calorie budget five days in a row. But, if you keep it up, you'll notice that your habits are getting healthier. That you're learning how to eat better. So, even if you have to admit to eating three pieces of cheesecake, you'll have all that written proof that your dessert overload is an aberration, and not the beginning of a pattern. Sometimes, that's all it takes to stay strong.

Schedule workouts - and tell someone about it  - Penciling a workout in isn't enough for me. Because when I'm tired? I don't really care that my calendar says I'm supposed to get to the gym. My husband is my secret weapon. I tell him I'm going to go, and then I tell him to make me do it. Sometimes, this forces him to call me some fairly nasty names, but in the end, I go.

Every once in a while, slide on those skinny jeans - At first, you may not be able to get them over your thighs, let alone button them up. But over time, they'll get closer and closer to fitting. And that? Is sure to make you feel good.

Set mini-goals, and reward yourself when you reach them - Right now, I'm shooting for a 5 percent loss. When I get there? I'm going to treat myself to a salon color job (instead of reaching for a box). That gives me something to look forward to...and motivation to get there before my roots start showing (Tori's turned me gray!!! But that's a gripe for another post).

Put a picture of your skinny self on the fridge - I have this photo of me in a bikini. An honest to god string bikini. And I look good (which is hard to imagine right now). But proof that I can look that hot will (sometimes) keep me from reaching for the ice cream.

Give yourself a deadline - For me, that's Tori's first birthday. I'm hoping to fit into my pre-preggo jeans by then, but really, my goal is to just not look pregnant anymore. Because on her first birthday? There will be pictures. Lots of pictures. And I don't want to cringe every time I look at them.

Those are my tricks. But I'm sure you guys have your own. So spill it. What keeps you motivated to lose weight?

Love in an Elevator...errr Pitch.

As many of you know, I'm a copywriter. Which means, of course, I sell ideas. And those ideas? Are only good if you can clearly describe them in a sentence or two - fast enough to be sold during an elevator ride.

Oh, the elevator pitch. Many well-loved ideas have died a fast, though not painless, death because of my inability to describe them quickly enough. Over the years, I've gotten better at it. In fact, in my professional life, I try not to present any concept before I give it the elevator test.

But my blog?

My blog has never been subjected to that particular test. So when people ask me what I blog about, I hem and haw and give them a muddled answer. "Well, I blog about my baby and my family, but I'm not a true mommy blogger, because that's not all I talk about. I post videos and write comedy sketches, and write about work..." By this point, most folks get a glazed look in their eyes and I give up.

This lack of focus is probably why publishers and PR folks aren't exactly clamoring for my attention.

So today I spent some time thinking about it. I even took a ride in the elevator at work, looking for inspiration (which is especially dumb, considering I work on the second floor of a two story building).

I came up with a few ideas:

"A cranky copywriter turned mommy writes to keep her sanity."

"A blog all about life, love and the pursuit of advertising."

"The adventures of a clueless new mom struggling to navigate motherhood, wife-hood and person-hood."

I think it's a little bit of all those things.

There are days when I scream my frustrations out into the blogoverse.

And others when I think out loud about the kind of role model I want to be for my daughter.

There have been times when I've talked about my own struggles with depression.

And posts where I've just been plain silly.

I've forced you all to read along as I indulge my inner sketch comedy writer...

And begged you all for advice.

I've lived my life out loud, in public. I've gotten to know myself a little better and made friends with a lot of incredible women. My blog? It's me. The virtual incarnation of Amber Page the writer. Of Red the drama queen. Of Amber the mama, the wife, the daughter, the sister and the friend.

Amber Page Writes is about all the sides of me. And I? Am not that different from hundreds of thousands of other women out there. So, therefore, Amber Page Writes is about all of us ladies struggling to figure out what life's all about.

Who knows. Maybe together we'll get somewhere. You think?

This was written as part of Mama Kat's Writing Workshop. The assignment? Write an elevator pitch for your blog. Now head over to Mama Kat's and read all the other bloggy wonderfulness.