I Just Want A Bagel

I have two, lovely friends, a couple, who are, how do I put this politely?  Cross-Fit freaks.  Now don't get me wrong, I love them dearly, and I am incredibly impressed with their level of commitment and their ability to essentially dead lift twice my body weight (you think I am exaggerating... I am not.)  However, I'm no cross-fitter.  I go to the gym regularly, it's just that my workouts involve much, much smaller weights, fewer repetitions, and quite frankly less challenge.  One time in a misguided attempt  to keep up with my super-fit friends, I tried a portion of one of their weekend challenges.  I did 300 "air-squats" and felt quite proud of myself. Then I was almost unable to walk for the next four days.  I learned my lesson.

Thus, when our friends suggested that we try a diet they had just completed with their cross-fit brethren, I immediately said "HELL NO."  But the husband for some unknown reason, was insistent that this was something we had to give a chance.  So rather than completing an 8 week challenge, I agreed to four weeks of no bread, cheese, sugar or beer.  Luckily for me the diet does not prohibit wine, although it does caution only one glass per day is permitted. (This rule is one that I openly admitted I would be ignoring, for Christ's sake, I have three kids, you cannot take my wine from me. Ever.)

The diet started two weeks ago, when I loaded up the grocery cart with fresh vegetables, chicken, salmon, low fat yogurt and a variety of other no carb-no-fun foods.  I actually felt a little excited by this challenge and curious about how eating differently would make me feel.

With the exception of wine and a few sour patch kids,  I have done a pretty damn good job of following the diet. Part of the challenge includes "reflection," so I thought I would reflect right here for you, my lucky *three* readers.....



1) IT SUCKS

2) IT SUCKS

3) I miss carbs mostly in the morning, and I struggle to find something that I enjoy for breakfast.  My go-to has always been half a bagel (or a whole if it was a particularly good bagel)  with cream cheese.  Now I am trying to scramble eggs while doing my hair and and screaming at my kids to get ready already,  or else I'm left with a sad bowl of cottage cheese.   One day at the recommendation of my husband, I tried oatmeal ( an option noted as "acceptable" on the holy grail/ cross-fit list of appropriate diet foods.)  I was hopeful that the boost of carbs would give me the energy I needed for a morning run, however one bite of the gelatinous slop and I was back to cottage cheese. God damn, do I miss bagels.

4) IT SUCKS

5) Snacking is really hard, you have to plan, and I am not good at planning.  On a recent afternoon at the office I was starving and scrounging the kitchen for snacks.  Turns out the company's idea of healthy snacks include, pretzels, granola bars, "fun-sized" bags of mini oreos and cheese sticks. All of which are listed as no-no's.  So instead of a snack I sat at my desk and cried into my diet coke. (YES, I know it should have been water.)

6) Holidays are hard.  We had Easter last weekend, and while I am not particularly tempted by jelly beans or Peeps, it was hard creating a dinner that felt special without... carbs and cheese.  We ended up with a ham, some green beans, and some sweet potatoes. MEH.  It didn't feel special. It felt sad.

7) IT SUCKS

8) Most of the best foods have cheese. And I can't eat them, thus, this diet SUCKS.

9) I no longer look forward to meal time, because it's either cottage cheese, or a hunk of meat and some vegetables.  BORING. (Spare me Gwyenth Paltrow and your super healthy recipes, I have no personal chef and I do NOT have the time  to make your marinated-yellowtail-with-plums-fennel-and-pistachio dinner. )


So there you have it folks. Our friends who suggested the diet had tremendous success with it and lost a significant amount of weight. I have a no-weighing-myself rule, so I don't know if eliminating all good foods has made any impact on my body, but so far, my guess is, not really.  But lets be honest, in the end  I am just doubling up on ham and haven't given up my wine.

So friends, two weeks of the sucking diet to go.... and tonight it's veggie chili, which I usually like,(ton top of a glorious pile of noodles, or in a heavenly bread bowl.) But I will persevere. I will not give in to my intense cravings for an everything bagel smothered in cream cheese, I will finish the task, complaining all the way.

Special thanks to my unnamed Cross-Fit-Freak friends (you know who you are.) All I can say is I must really respect you to try this shit.  xoxox

Not giving up my wine, thank you very much.

Growing Up

Last night, due to a faulty smoke alarm, the family was rudely awoken by a shrill beeping noise.  It took approximately .2 seconds for my youngest child, Julian, to sprint into our bedroom and into my arms with tears running down his face.  It took me a bit to calm him, and he decided he wanted to spend the night cuddled up next to me.  It's been a few months since Julian has slept in our bed, he has given it up and now prefers to sleep on the floor of his older brother's room. Julian does have his own bed mind you, but for nearly a year he would wander into our bedroom  in the middle of the night, sleepy-eyed and crawl into my side of the bed. I admit, not only did I not mind it, I liked it.

I remember writing a post about my eldest child, Zack, years ago, when he was small.  I took him to a water park for little kids, and got briefly separated from him.  I saw Zack looking for me, but I could not grab his attention.  He had a look of sheer panic on his little face as I tried to make my way over to him, through a sea of small, splashing children. When I finally got to him he fell into my arms, sobbing with relief, and I thought to myself "I mean everything to this child."

As babies and toddlers, I was everything my children needed.  I still recall picking Zack up from daycare, and seeing his face light up as soon as he spotted me, or the way Evan's arms would reach for me when I came to fetch him from his crib in the morning.   It was an amazing feeling to know that, barring any medical crisis, I could provide for every one of my children's needs. I gave them the attention, the love, the food, the learning and the entertainment they required, their entire lives revolved around me. 

Of course they grow bigger don't they?  Zack is now only one foot shy of matching me in height, and I can wear his shoes. His shoulders are getting broader, and I can see the outlines of his teenage self starting to develop, with only occasional shadows of the little boy he was. Evan, almost 9, was once a little chunk, with a head of floppy blond curls, which would have me stopping to gratefully accept compliments with some frequency.  Today he is skinny and goofy and rather then the angelic look he took on as a baby, he now seems to always have a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes.   Julian, of course is my "baby" though he will be turning six not too long from now. He is shedding his baby fat, but still has the voice of a very small child, though I know that too will fade away soon.

The boys now have entire lives that exists outside of me. They have teachers, friends and coaches who play a big part in their growing up.  I no longer know exactly what they ate each day, or have a daily report card informing me how many times they used the bathroom and how long they napped. (Okay, so even then I that was a little TMI.)  But now, I can no longer meet all of their needs.  I can't teach Zack how to pitch, and don't get me started on algebra.  I can't fix the hurt if they do poorly on a test, or lose a friend who moves away.  I can't be their whole lives anymore, they are becoming their own people.

Helping our children grow up and eventually "leave the nest" is part of our job as parents.  We are successful when our kids can think for themselves, form positive, loving relationships, and frankly, allow themselves to "need" others.   I can't be my child's everything anymore, and though at times I miss that, I know that one the greatest gifts I can give my boys is love and support so that they may have the confidence to "grow-up" and away from me.

And so last night when my littlest came to me knowing I could fix everything for him in an instant, I took that moment and held it in my heart, knowing that soon, a time would come when I couldn't. And I hope (God do I hope) that even though it won't be the way it once was, that part of them will still "need" their mom, as I know I will always need them.

Make Someone's Day

I'll never forget a day about 5 years ago when I was living in Oakland.  I was walking down MacArthur Blvd to the playground so my five year old could meet up with his soccer team.  I had my littlest child, only months old in the front carrier strapped to my chest,  I was pushing my toddler, Evan, in the stroller and calling out after my kindergartner, Zack, to slow down.  I was wearing my usual mama uniform: yoga pants, a hoodie, and baseball cap as I was trying to grow out a pixie cut.  I was exhausted and quite honestly didn't feel like going to the playground for the 353rd time that week.  But as I approached the crosswalk a car slowed to nearly a stop and the driver yelled over at me through her open window "You are the cutest mom I ever saw!"   You should have seen the smile spread across my face as I waved a sincere "thank you!"  My mood was instantly lifted. And I thought about that compliment a lot, feeling good that someone in the world had perceived me as a "cute mom."  For those of you with little ones at home, you know how hard it can be to imagine you have achieved anything resembling "cute" when you are covered in spit up and going on 2 days without washing your hair.


A compliment, from a stranger is sometimes just what is needed.  I don't know why, but sometimes praise seems more valid coming from someone you don't know, someone with no skin in the game.  That isn't to say that kind words coming from a friend, coworker or family member have no value, but I feel that the unexpected no-strings-attached compliment from someone you don't know has a different, special meaning.  Maybe it's because so often in this world when you hear from a stranger, it's a negative experience.  Your kids are too loud, you accidentally parked someone in, you're taking too long with your order, the service was bad, you get the idea.  So when the person standing in line with you at the grocery store turns to you and compliments you on what a good job you are doing with your fussy kids, it's a really welcomed surprise.  It makes you feel good not only about yourself, but about the kind person you are interacting with.

So I'm making a point of giving sincere compliments to strangers in the hopes of brightening someone's day, if only for a moment.  Want to try it too??

New Blog: Happiness

For years I had my beloved getrealmama.blogspot.com blog.  I started writing in 2009 as I was adjusting to my role as a mom of two little boys.  I shared my stories of toddler tantrums, pregnancy, play dates  and preschool drama faithfully through 2015.  It was an outlet for creativity and humor as well as a way to reach out to the larger world when mine felt small, as I was hovering between stay at home and work from home status.  My writing slowly began to taper off, with the addition of my third child, and my eventual return to full time work.  However it wasn't just a lack of time that kept me from blogging, it was... a lack of inspiration.  At the end of a long day of juggling work and kiddos, I didn't have anything left.

I have missed writing. While I know I will likely never be a great author, I enjoy playing with words, and sharing emotion, thoughts and life with others.  I thought about going back to getrealmama, yet it didn't feel right.  Life has changed.  I no longer am immersed in the culture of diaper bags and story time. With older children, I feel a new responsibility to respect my boy's privacy, and I feel that I can no longer share every-little-detail about my growing young men.  So I decided I needed a fresh start, thus, Three Little Birds or, sadly, threelilbirdz since apparently I am not the only one laying claim to the domain.

Why Three Little Birds?  First, the obvious reason:  my three boys, Zachary (11), Evan (8) and Julian (5.) Second, I kind of have a thing for birds, not in the actual bird-watching, interest in the species sort of way, but rather in the symbolic sense.  Birds come in many different shapes, sizes, and colors, and most importantly they have the freedom of flight, taking to the sky, seeing the world from above, covering great distances, all with an elegant grace.  I even have three little birds tattooed on my left shoulder, a physical representation of my children that is far prettier than the deep c-section scar they left behind.

 And finally,  who can forget Bob Marley's cheerful little song, "Three Little Birds?"  In fact the very idea for this blog came to me on a sunny winter day last month.  I was in a particularly bad mood, as I headed to catch the train into work, when that catchy little tune suddenly popped into my head, making me think of sunny beach days, margaritas, and simple happiness.  "Don't worry, about a thing, cause every little thing, is gonna be alright"   And I have decided this is my new mantra.  I have a tendency to be pessimistic, to get stressed out by the little things, to get, dare I say, a little dark from time to time... and I am bound and determined to release some of that heaviness, and focus on the things that make me happy.  Three Little Birds. My  Three Little Birds.  A sunny morning. A pretty latte, a great glass of wine, an afternoon with a friend.  I have found it easy to sweat the small stuff of life, to get wrapped up in the day to day stress of living.  I think in fact, it may be harder work to be happy, to find the good in every day, to move forward when things feel hard.

Thus this blog is my commitment to happiness. I don't expect it to always be easy. And believe me, the last thing I want this blog to become is a site for inspirational quotes.  (There is seriously nothing I dislike more than a sappy, well-meaning inspirational quote.)   What you can expect from me here is honesty, a bit of sarcasm, and a view of a 40-something, working mom of three, working at happiness, because somethings are just worth the effort.