staycation

 So I dropped off the face of the blogosphere for a week long "staycation" and it was glorious.

(Dave hates the word "glorious" but sometimes it is just truly the most appropriate adjective.)

My brother and his wife rolled into town last Wednesday.  (Actually, they flew.  Can you imagine how crazy it would be if rolling across country was an actual means of transportation?  I'm getting way off track but this is the direction my mind wanders in when I have been spending a week doing nothing but chilling.  Seriously.  If I get any more chill, my pulse will slow down to a relaxed five beats per minute and I'm pretty sure that's frowned upon medically speaking.)

Dave and Jack are basically BFFLs (Best Friends for Life) so he took not just Thursday, not just Friday, but also Monday off from work!  This has been a long weekend for the record books.

We started things off with a bang.  Thursday is my mom's birthday but we kicked off the celebration on Wednesday with a night in and take out from Chipotle.  This was a wonderful sign of great things to come as we have spent the last several days chillaxing with nothing pressing and nothing scheduled.

On Thursday, we drove off to Quintana Beach where we had rented a cabin on the boardwalk.  It took us a while to realize it, but we were actually sleeping in a historic home from the 1800's.  Apparently, Quintana, as much of a ghost town as it is appears now, was one of the first places in Texas to have been explored by the famous Cabeza de Vaca.  Before hurricanes and disease wiped out most of the town's buildings and population, it was a happening summer destination for plantation owners and fancy people back in the day.  This may not sound like much, but to a history nerd, it just about made my trip.

This is the second time we have taken Katelyn to the beach and, again, she was not a fan.  I think it's the combination of the scratchy sand and the crashing waves that freaked her out.  Either way, she was just not interested, which is a shame because she looked like a legitimate surfer baby.  The Beach Boys song Surfer Girl ran on an infinite loop in my mind the entire weekend.

She spent most of her time on the shore sitting in her special baby beach chair playing with a half empty water bottle.

We celebrated my mom's actual birthday at Long John Silver's.  Things got a little crazy.  It was about an hour past bedtime and some people were getting a little punch drunk.

We spent our time at the Seaburn House playing in the warm waves, napping with the smell of the water still on our clothes, or sitting on the boardwalk in the breeze of ocean air while Kate ran around like a wild woman.

We also went out for late night walks on the beach while my parents stayed behind with sleeping Katelyn.  The breeze at night is refreshing and salty and the sand that just hours ago burned our feet flowed between our toes like a cool liquid.  Dave and I walked along the beach with Jack and Jessica and Lauren to the pier where a family was fishing in the light of the docks.  There will thousands of tiny fish that swarmed around our feet with each wave.  We had so much fun catching them and watching them swim back into the ocean.

On Friday, the air conditioning broke.  (I guess you shouldn't expect much out of a two hundred year old house.)  It took only a few minutes for the humid ocean air to feel overbearing and about an hour before conditions became intolerable.  Luckily, we got our money back and were able to pack up the car in a hurry and drive over to the air conditioned safety of Buccee's.

Sunday dinner was a "Make Your Own Mac and Cheese" Party at my parents' house.  This is a family favorite because who doesn't like pasta and cheese?  Also, even if you didn't care for pasta and cheese, I'm pretty sure you can't turn it down with fix ins like bacon and sausage, goat cheese, freshly grated parmesan, and pepperoni.

Tonight was our last night of "staycation" so we threw ourselves a pool party.  We brought the foil dinner ingredients we had planned to cook during our last night at the beach and threw everything on the grill while we played in the water.

Sitting around the picnic table, enjoying grill roasted veggies and hamburger and the sounds of an evening of family time at the pool, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness as I sensed the sun setting on the last few moments of this year's summer.  It's been a great couple months and a great couple days.  But, as sad as I am about the ending of a blissful time, I'm ready to get back into the swing of things.

And, really, I can't be too sad about everything because after summer comes fall and we all know how I feel about fall.

pool side snacks

Katelyn and I have spent such massive amounts of time at the pool this summer that tan lines crisscross our back and streaks of golden blonde color our hair.  We have a pool bag packed and ready to go at all times and Kate is daily getting into the closet to bring me swim diapers and sunscreen in hopes of a dip in the pool. We meet Lauren and the kids she watches several times a week.  We love to sit at the table under the shade and eat lunch poolside.

I have the pool time prep down to a science.  What once seemed like a tedious process of slathering sunscreen and squeezing into swim suits is now a simple task done in record time.  One of the more difficult things is actually figuring out what to eat for lunch.  It's much easier to pack ready made food like crackers and cookies but that is rarely a diet friendly option.  I saw these cucumber turkey sandwiches on Facebook and tried them last week.  They were delicious.

I partially peeled a cucumber and cut it in half.  I shook my head as I scooped out the seeds because, in my opinion, they are the best part, but I needed room for the turkey and cheese.  Instead of using high calorie, high fat cheese, I used a wedge of spreadable Laughing Cow cheese.  I would recommend drying the cucumbers off with a paper towel to help the cheese stick.  Next I put a few slices of deli sliced turkey over the cheese.  I packed some strawberries and that was that.  Lunch was ready in under five minutes.

At the pool, Kate took one bite of each strawberry and left them sitting on the table in a row.  What's up with that?

princess kate is growing up

When I woke up this morning, I had no idea there would be a major milestone in the Robertson family.

Our church has a nursery for children aged eighteen months to three years.  Nursery takes place the second and third hours of church and when a baby goes to nursery for the first time (especially your first baby) it's kind of a big deal.  Usually it means two hours of freedom for the parents.

Katelyn is just a bit older than fifteen months so we were not expecting to take her to nursery for another three months.  But today after Sacrament meeting, I was asked if I would accept a calling in the nursery.

Which meant Kate went to nursery for the first time today!

I wondered how she would do in there with all the bigger kids but SHE LOVED IT!  We walked into the room and she gave me a look that was if to say, "You mean to tell me that there is a room full of toys and friends and you've been making me go to Sunday School?!?"

I was a little worried about how she would do with some of the more structured times of nursery.  Sitting still isn't something she's known for.  She thought singing time was great though.  After every song, she clapped and clapped and clapped.

Snack time was also a great success.  She loved sitting at a little table in a little chair with all her friends.  She didn't even try to get down or dump out her sippy cup of water.  You could tell that she really thought she was cool stuff sitting at the big kids table.

 I think Kate is going to get used to this kind of Sunday fun.

#tbt in the dark of the night

I am a serious anglophile.  I really, really, really love England and all other British paraphernalia.  I soak up any information on the British Empire and the Royal Family.  I learn about daily life in England from my British pen pals and I stayed home from work to watch the Royal wedding live.  It was three in the morning but I was up glued to the TV.

I'm not really sure where this obsession started.  I know that I have always loved maps and wondering about how other people live.  I think the paradox of the people of the British Isles for me has to do with the fact that we lead such parallel lives.  It's intriguing to me how different and yet the same our lifestyles seem to be.  Like actual parallel lines, we are similar in direction but don't quite intersect.  The time difference also holds some strange allure for me.  I love imagining a world coming to life in the light of day while mine is asleep in the dark of the night.

It seemed natural, then, that my program of choice during late night feedings with Katelyn was BBC News.  I spent the three AM hour in the armchair of my parents' office, bathed in the glow of a nearly silent TV, with a hungrily nursing baby in my arms.  I always fixed myself a cold drink before settling into that familiar chair and Kate and I both enjoyed a beverage while serenaded by the soothing sounds of a British accent while the world around us slept.  I've said it many times but I never fully appreciated the peace and serenity of those quiet moments I was privileged to enjoy every night.

Tonight we spent some time at my parents' house.  My mom and Dave had a show recorded that they were excited to start watching and yesterday I discovered hours of documentaries about Queen Elizabeth that my mom had recorded for me.  We kissed Kate goodnight and put her to bed so that we could all watch our respective programs.

And she cried and she cried and she cried.

At first I thought she was staging a revolt.  We were at Grandma's house after all and she was missing a party.  I let her cry for a while as I settled into that familiar armchair in the office with a drink.  Soon, however, the crying shifted from anger to terror and I started to worry that she was scared alone in that dark room.

So I caved.

I went in and picked her up and she fell asleep slumped on my shoulder with her soft baby hair tickling my face.  I sat still for a while trying to perceive the evidence of a heavy sleep so I could put her down.  When I noticed her breathing becoming heavy and even, I tried gently putting her down in her crib.

And she woke up.

And I figured that we were at Grandma's and if you can't bend the rules at Grandma's house, where can you?

So I fixed her a big giant cup of soft pebbled ice and sat her on my lap in that fluffy office chair and for an hour we watched home videos courtesy of the Royal Family and Her Majesty The Queen.

And sitting there with a content baby in my lap, two cold beverages in my hands, the glow of a TV screen in a darkened office, and the soft sounds of a British accent, I was transported to the vivid memories of those dark precious nights last year.

sitting on the fence

 
I often find myself balanced between two extremes of the weight loss debate.

On the one hand there is the idea that we need to be more accepting of everyone regardless of shape or size.  I read articles that denounce the evils of portraying a picture perfect idea of reality to our children and I raise a fat fist in solidarity as I think to myself, "I'm sick of being vilified as dumb, gross, and lazy because of my weight."  I want Katelyn to grow up loving herself in spite of her body.

And then there is the theory that if only for the sake of our health we all need to eat healthier, cleaner, better, and less.  There is the part of me that takes pride in the way I look when I wear make up and jewelry and am having a particularly good hair day.  I don't think it's evil to want to look good.  This is accompanied by the part of me that wishes I weighed less so that I could feel better about myself both in looks and health.  I want Katelyn to grow up loving herself because of her body.

I am sitting atop a body image fence and depending on my mood, my mindset, or the opinion editorial I have just read I am pitching to one side or the other.

I'm starting to wonder if that's the best place to be though.  If birds can perch on telephone wires, why can't I sit on the fence?  I don't fully identify with either side and on top of the fence I can rise above the noise of everyone's loud opinions.  I can see clearly into the distance and think for myself.

The truth is I think there is truth hidden in the tents of both camps.  I try to peer in long enough to understand the opinions of others but not long enough to get lost in the paradox of it all.  Like a scientist, I can gather the data from everyone and everywhere and use it to construct my own personal reality.  These are the truths I believe.

1. My body is sacred.  It was created by a loving Heavenly Father and He does not make mistakes.  To ridicule one of His precious creations would be wrong and disrespectful.  However, I was given this body with the charge to be a steward and to care for it and treat it with respect.  Hating my body would never be right but allowing myself to destroy is also wrong.

2. I am more than my body.  I have a soul with the drive to feel and to live.  I have a heart beating with the love of my family, my world, and my life.  I have a brain sparking with the energy to learn and to understand and to grow.  I am a whole person inside of my body and my shape does not define me.

3. Moderation is a learned principle and one that I need to acquire.  It is a key to living that I need to cultivate and hone and it will follow me through the eternities.  If I have to learn moderation in work and in leisure and in everything else, why shouldn't I learn moderation in food?

4. I am always changing.  No one is static.  I will change for the better and I will change for the worse.  I will always be faltering, checking my premises, and correcting my course.  This is what life is.  It is meant to test us, teach us, and make us better but it is also meant to be enjoyed.  Sometimes I will be thin.  Sometimes I will be heavy.  Always I will need to find a way to observe and correct while maintaining a respect for myself in the process.

5. Negative energy is never a helpful thing.  Even though I have accepted the fact that I need to be healthy, I should never put myself down.  I would never angrily criticize Kate for stumbling over her clumsy little feet.  She is just learning to walk and falling down is part of the process.  Likewise, it is not acceptable for me to chastise myself for a skill I am only trying to learn.

There is truth in most of what you hear.  There is a lot of good out there but also a lot of bad.  When I was thin, I would have sided with the people who champion weight loss.  Up until a while ago, I would have identified with the opposite.  Now, I see the truth of it all.  I see my truth and that is true enough for me.

saturday stats - the bandwagon story

Once when I was in middle school, one of the principals, in an attempt to quiet a cafeteria full of prepubescent teenagers, warned us not to "fall off the bandwagon."  Of course, few of us understood the reference and was thought she was just babbling crazy talk.

(After teaching high school, I'm pretty convinced that all teenagers are certain that their school leaders spout out crazy talk all day long.)

Anyway, we just thought it was hilarious and we laughed like a pack of hyenas in a lunchroom den.  I came home from school expecting my family to roll on the ground in stitches of laughter when I told my amazing story.

Nobody got it.

I figured that I just needed to repeat the story a few dozen times and let it sink in.  To my dismay, the more I recounted the tale, the less funny it became.  My mom tried to explain that it was a "you had to be there" kind of story and to this day in my family, whenever someone tries to tell a story that just isn't funny anymore we refer to it as "a bandwagon story."

Well, this is kind of like a bandwagon story except that it was never really funny.

I fell off the bandwagon.

I left for my week long vacation with the shaky resolve to stick to my diet completely.  I felt like I was no where near my weight loss goal so why should I take a break?  That quickly turned into, "Well, just a few treats.  It is a vacation after all."

When I passed the fudge counter at the BYU bookstore, all bets were off and I found myself flung from a diet bandwagon speeding out of control.  Luckily a big pile of soft fluffy fudge broke my fall.

It was pretty easy to justify since I was out of town and I don't go on many vacations.  However, when I got home, it was even harder to get back on.  Day after day of the past week, I ran alongside the bandwagon trying to jump back on but my feeble attempts were in vain.

It's really frustrating and disappointing especially since I have no one else to blame but myself.  I wish I could blame that BYU fudge but I'm pretty sure inanimate objects have no control over my actions.

I'm trying to use this as a learning opportunity.  There are two lessons to be learned, I think.  First of all, I think that vacations are a great time to take a little break from the diet.  It's okay to have a pound taste of delicious fudge. (Why am I so hung up on this fudge?)  That being said, I could have been way healthier on my trip.  I could have made my plan of attack ahead of time and simply chosen a few off plan treats to enjoy.

Secondly, and this is the lesson I'm still grappling with, how do you get back on that dumb diet bandwagon?  This is not the first time I have been derailed by a vacation, holiday, or special event.  It seems like nearly every month has some celebration that has to do with eating.  I truly believe that I need to find a balance in life between fasting from all indulgences forever and going absolutely crazy any special occasion that passes my calendar.

What do you do to get back on the bandwagon?

#tbt - better to give

If there's one thing my family has always excelled at, it's a good celebration.  Birthdays often became birthweeks and presents multiplied like bunnies underneath the Christmas tree.  One year there was an actual bunny rabbit.

I remember one Christmas sitting behind the gift wrapped fort I had constructed and peering over at the small piles of presents my parents had at their feet.  Compared to our mounds of gifts, my parents always seemed to have maybe five to six or seven on a big gift year.

At first I assumed it was because their gifts were more expensive.  I figured that the Barbie dolls I was opening were just worth less than the presents they got from Santa.  Eventually, I learned more about budgets and the prices of things and I realized that just wasn't the case.  They were getting more expensive surprises but it's not like they were receiving trips to the Bahamas or anything.  Year after year they opened books and CDs and workshirts and ties and the occasional gift certificate for a massage or tickets to a concert.  If there were dollar signs hovering over our gift piles theirs would be much smaller.

I always felt really bad for them and worried that it was the future waiting for me.  I would recount my shiny wrapped presents and gather them in a little closer.  I had heard that it was better to give than to receive but I wasn't completely convinced.

Our family vacations were spent traveling in the loaded up minivan with child friendly destinations like water parks and Disney World while my parents had to forgo the less family friendly cruises and beach trips to Hawaii.

I was less appreciative for their sacrifices than I should have been and more worried that it would someday happen to me.  I felt sorry for all the people who had whiny sniveling kids who required their parents to give up so much.  I thought spending a Saturday at the pool with a bunch of children seemed like a less fun option than sitting poolside with a magazine and a Diet Coke.  I spent a lot of time watching the time on the clock of my life that counted down to the days when I would be the sorry person stuck in the kiddie pool.

Last week we went to the splash pad at City Creek Mall.  We loaded up in a van that had no air conditioning and drove to downtown Salt Lake City in the heat of the day as I felt the first shocks of an oncoming migraine headache.  By the time we stepped into the oven roasted parking garage I thought to myself, "Well at least if I throw up everywhere it's on pavement and not in the car."

Getting out of the parking garage seemed like it would help but the beating sun on my aching head was worse and I felt trapped in a Catch 22 of bad options.  I couldn't get back into that stale hot car but I couldn't stay sitting in the hot sun either.  I looked down at Katelyn and caught sight of that innocent chubby face and precious toothy grin and realized the only option that motherhood allowed.

I had to get over myself for the sake of my baby.

I got up and changed Kate into her swimsuit and watched as Dave led her to the splash pad.  Soon I found myself standing at the edge of the spray watching her intently at first for safety's sake but eventually out of sheer amusement.

I watched as her stocky little legs carried a tubby little tummy and short little arms joltingly around the fountains.  She squealed with delight when the water shot upward and clapped when it rained back down.  With a scientific precision she studied the mechanics of the fountains around her.  She got down on the ground to get a better view and when the water sprayed in her face she reacted by simply blinking the water out of her eyes.  She had decided that further inspection was required so she got even closer and I watched the fearless daredevil spirit she was born with in action.  She spent the hour toddling around and watching the older children with a toddler's awed curiosity.

She was just having so much fun and within a few minutes I realized I was having fun too.  I almost couldn't believe it but if offered a cozy seat in an air conditioned room with a cold Diet Coke and a pedicure I would have turned it down.  (Well if I'm going to be one hundred percent honest and because I really love pedicures I will say that at the very least I would be really conflicted.)

I realized that I was finding a true sense of satisfaction from providing an environment where my baby could sense the contrast of the warm sunshine on her cheeks and the cold spray of water on her legs, where she could smell the unique scent of highly chlorinated water that is so characteristic of happy summer days, where she could feel the squish of wet shoes between her toes and the surprise of a spray of blue water.

I stood there the whole time with sweat running down the inside of my shirt and plastering my hair to my neck having a motherhood epiphany.  This is living, I thought.  This is the living my parents had been enjoying for years and I had pitied them for.  This was the kind of sacrifice that parents everywhere were enjoying everyday and this was why my parents never seemed to dread a Christmas morning where their piles of gifts were so insignificant compared to ours.  This was the exchange of comfort and fun for pure joy and happiness that you make the day that you leave the hospital with a squirming bundle of love and this was the trade that stretches you, pushes you, and ultimately changes you into a stronger, wiser, and better person with a larger capacity to love and care and feel for others.

Suddenly I wished that the hands of the clock could just take a break for a bit and that my senses could be heightened so that I could smell stronger, hear louder, and feel more distinctly this moment.  I wanted to stay standing at the rim of those fountains for another forever with the sun beating on my face and the sweat running down my back and the water streaking my makeup.  I wanted just another hour, another minute, another second to watch someone I love with an intensity I have only known about for the last fifteen months purely enjoying herself.  But that same sun was beating on her back and face and I worried about her sensitive porcelain skin getting burned so I knew that the moment was ending despite my internal pleading.  Once again, I had to sacrifice my wants.

But when I scooped her up and wrapped her in a soft towel to see two big beautiful eyes and a huge joyful smile I knew it was all totally worth it.