Complaints

My head hurts. I think it was replaced with a bowling ball.
My sinuses are full.
Yes I'm using the blasted Neti Pot.
And drinking large amounts of Emergen-C.
There is an old fat man sitting on my chest, I'm struggling to get enough air.
My back hurts from all the coughing.
My brain is foggy from lack of sleep.
My feet are wrinkled from the days and days of rain. 
My eyes sting from the long hours in front of the computer.
My head aches from all the information that's being crammed into it. And people yammering away at me. Constant noise. Constant motion. Constant go go go.
My Fitness Pal informs me that if I continue pushing myself this hard, I will drop 8 lbs in the next 5 weeks. That can't be healthy. Of course, I will look good for mom's wedding! Don't worry - I'll post pictures!

Is it Monday yet? Tax season is breaking me once again. It's a common complaint. That and my office manager. (Did I tell you he looked at my belly and asked if I was pregnant? He did, the cad. And this was at the 16 lbs lost stage, too! Mrrrrrrrr.)
On the other hand, it looks like I'm going to win the office pool for correctly guessing the number of returns prepared over the season. Yay me! Money in my pocket!

I'm going to lay down. If I'm not up in a few hours, can someone come prod me with a stick or something? Prop me in front of the computer? Thanks!

19 pounds

Photo from Pound per Pound - go check out her blog for some impressive results!

So. Yep. I'm down 19 lbs total. And would be more if I'd actually exercised over the past month! Shocking, I know. I've been lazy. I've not tracked any of my food. I've pigged out on wine and sweets and huge helpings. But I've made a good dent - almost 2/3 to my goal weight. Eleven pounds left to go. The treadmill arrived and I've been trying to get a run in every other day. But it's stretching out to maybe once a week, especially given the latest run of barfies that have camped out at our place. (Elliot's been battling it out both ends for a week!! Ugh.) But the upside to the barfies is that I've lost another 2 lbs. And that's on top the water-retention week that visits once a month - we'll see what I'm down to in a few more days.

My FitOrbit progress.

I'm feeling good. Energetic. Except for the sleep deprivation and anxiety caused by a deep and frantic need to disinfect the whole house. It's giving me a tic. But I can shake it. I can do it. I also did some fundraising for Bust a Move for breast health over the weekend, about 12 hours before the barfies hit, so I hope I didn't infect everyone. I worked in the morning and went to the event late, but got to do some fabulous work outs (the boxercise one left me wonderfully sore for days). Paula Abdul was the celebrity trainer and she lead us in a choreographed routine. 

Random action shot during Bust A Move

I've made a few life decision changes, too. Remember over the supper when I got that crazy idea to go back to school, get my Bachelor of Commerce and go on to get my accountant designation? Yeah, that was a crazy idea. It was causing me waaaay to much stress. And so I reevaluated. I spent some time with my friend Allison who does life coaching and we tackled a few giant mountains that were blocking me in - mainly, my intense desire to please people and an equally intense fear of failure. The failure thing is a major issue with me. All my life, I've only ever wanted to be a mom. Never had any career plans. Never wanted to work. Just to have lots of babies and stay at home with them.

Well.

Postpartum Depression put a damper on that. I wasn't instantly good at as I'd expected to be, I didn't enjoy it like I figured I would and so I failed. And hated myself for it. And then floundered, wanting to create a new identity for myself but not knowing how to do it. I thought that the accountant designation would give me the confidence to get over that crisis. But that's not realistic. I don't want to be in school for the next 8 years, only to be starting out as a junior accountant. Or whatever.

I'm a bookkeeper. Have been for 10 years. The clients I have now want a bookkeeper, not an accountant. If they wanted an accountant, they wouldn't be my clients. I do need to upgrade my skills, that's a given, but I can do that at the college level. So I am planning to head back to school full time this fall, but in a smaller classroom. In a much more manageable and attainable manner. Now I'm starting to feel smart and back in control.

So things are coming together and melting away, I suppose. I'm holding out buying new clothes until 5 more pounds are gone. Though I'm having a hard time keeping my work pants up. Looks kinda sloppy. Maybe I should spring for one new pair? Could be dangerous, me being let loose in a mall. Still don't have my willpower back under control... one thing at a time....

Mmmmmm pie.

Felix is turning into such a character. I love watching him play - making his stuffed animals or dinky cars or figurines or whatever have conversations and sing and hug. It's adorable. And it's a phase I mostly missed with Elliot, as I was dealing with a new baby at the time.

The power of the Felix compels you...

He has this way of laughing at himself when he knows he's done something cute or silly. It's a self-aware titter, a high pitched nervous giggle that makes me melt. He's always moving, bouncing, dancing, singing, something.  They both are, really, but Elliot has more down time. He's a reader, like me. And he's so incredibly smart. Reading and doing math already. He's going to blow them away at school in the fall.

Self-portrait

It's been hard spending so much of this past week at work. Over 50 hours. I've never been apart from them for so long before. I haven't even worked than many hours since before Felix was born. It was 2 months from now, 3 years ago, when I ended up on bedrest because I pushed myself too hard during the last trimester of his pregnancy. I think I had at least a 45 hour week then, too. Then my water broke 10 weeks early, forcing me to slow the hell down.

My body is taking a beating right now, too. I'm exhausted and bleary eyed. I'm getting sick - a rattling cough that so far isn't settled deep into my chest. I have tomorrow off and then I'm jumping back into another 50 hour week. After that, things should slow down again. I hope. They have to, otherwise I may just have a nervous break down.

I love that I'm so busy at work. This tax season seems to be spectacularly busier than the previous 3 I've worked. I'm senior staff at a brand new location that's already surpassing managements projections for client flow. (And we finally have heat! Sort of. At least when I increase the desired temperature on the thermostat, the room gauge eventually goes up to match - even though it still feels frigid.) I have a lot of prior clients who are making a point of only coming back to see me this year, and they've tracked me down. I think it's actually pissing off my office leader, because whenever he answers a call for me or someone comes in looking for me, he exclaims "Oh, she's soooooo popular!" in a drippy, fake voice. Today, he actually nabbed two of my clients - granted, I don't think they requested me, but they did see me there and got very chatty, until he ushered them into his office and told me to take the other client. Whatever.

So I'm busy, popular and tired. And I'm secretly happy to see that the house is starting to fall into a slight decline again. Hubby hasn't been as on top of the dishes and other house crap as before. I come home late and there are still toys spread from one end of the house to the next. I know how hard it is to wrangle our two feral monkeys and still have energy to clean. Or shower. But it's reassuring to see that he's having difficulty juggling it all, too.

He is trying out a bunch of new meals. Going to the grocery store multiple times per week, so we're always well stocked, which is nice. But I'm having a hard time letting go of the meal & grocery planning. I need to learn to trust that he can make good judgments and will make healthy choices about the family's eating habits.

Banana Brigade

I do miss my boys. But the fatigue is (as always) making it hard for me to enjoy coming home to them. I want to sleep or lose myself in a book for a few hours after working all day. Not pry apart wrestling children or play another round of word bingo or bathe slippery, protesting boys. But it's a different kind of energy suck this time around, not the same sense of being completely drained as I was when my iron levels were low. They've stabilized, but I hope I don't shoot them down to hell by working myself too hard. It's a body fatigue right now, not a mental one. Not as much, anyway!

I need to find balance. The scale is always tipped heavily to one side, no matter what I'm trying to do. Maybe I need a pie chart. Mmmmmmm. Pie.

Or maybe just more sleep. Sleep makes the world function.

Birthday flowers. They make me feel good.

Mr Mom

The house is clean. Dishes are washed on a daily basis, laundry is caught up, floors have been swept regularly - and mopped! The beds are made. Corners full of clutter have been purged and organized. The boys have been doing arts & crafts everyday - Elliot even wrote his own little story. They are happy, energetic, sort of less whiny. I love this transformation!!

And I'm starting to resent it all.

At the end of his first week home with the boys, dear hubby has whipped this place back into shape. He's a better stay-at-home-parent than I am. I always knew that - he spent about 6 weeks home with Elliot when he was 18 months old and they had such fun.

But I'm hurt. He makes it look so easy, effortless. Why can't I? From the time I was a little girl, all I've ever wanted to be was a mom. I never had any serious aspirations for a career. When we started planning a family, the idea was for me to stay home, being the crafty, super-awesome mama I figured I'd be, until the kids (4, if I had my way) went off to school and then maybe I'd get a part time job.

Post partum depression has a way of derailing all that. I never enjoyed staying at home. I never had the creative energy to keep the kids entertained. I never had the desire to keep a clean house. Oh, I wanted all those things, but couldn't find them within myself and it just seemed too hard to keep trying. My favourite part? The snuggling. I'd spend hours cuddling on the couch, napping and nursing all day when they were tiny babies. Ignoring housework and other responsibilities - it felt right. But then I couldn't make the proper transition into wonder-mom when they got older and the situation called for it.

I'm sure it's not the case, but I keep thinking that he's purposely showing me up. That he wants to rub it in that all these things can be done if I only got off my lazy butt and embraced motherhood. That it's his way of showing me what a slack-crappy job I've been doing. He says that's not the case, and Rational Brain knows that's likely true. But then he says he just wants to live in a clean house. ANd while that might not be a direct dig, it feels like it.

But I'm sure I'm just projecting all my self-esteem problem onto the situation.

So I'll keep my head down and keep plugging on at work. The toilet has been fixed! And we have a soap dispenser now. And a first aid kit. And a fire extinguisher. Still need heat, though. *sigh* And I've developed some sort of vertigo. Keep having spinning episodes. Usually happen when I'm sitting down, so that tells me it's probably not blood pressure related. Keeping tabs on this latest development in my health saga.... I need some sunshine. And a beach. With girly drinks. Stat!

Working girl

It's been a week of changes.

On Wednesday, I started back in the tax office. It's a brand new location. The building has wonky heat. That is to say, almost none. It's hard to type and think about the financial situation of others when your hands are numb. That first day, there was no toilet paper for the bathroom. Or soap. We've since got both, but still no soap dispenser. We didn't have basic office supplies like staplers. Or paperclips. There's no kettle, but there is a microwave. My second day there, I brought a mug from home and nuked the water for my tea - classy. But, we're seeing clients and making them happy and in this business, that's what really matters.

On Thursday, we took Elliot to register him for 'big school' in September. Miraculously, he was a little angel while we sat in the principal's office (a remarkably young woman who looked a lot like a dark haired Kim Raver) and he happily drew pictures while we filled out forms. He even left one specifically for her - a really neat stegosaurus car. As we left the school, the whining and protesting and baby talk that had been plaguing us all day returned in full force. Nap skipping sucks. We'll go back for a half-day orientation in June. Eep!

This coming week and for most of the next 3 months, I'll be in the office 5 days, including today. Jay will be home with the boys for about half of it. I'm still, for the moment, doing the meal planning and will be doing suppers when I can (this week, at least, I'm mostly on short days) and hubby will have to sort out the rest. Felix will still have daycare for the rest of February, but Elliot's preschool is closed for the next 2 weeks for the Winter Games. Luckily, Jay's hiatus from work came at the exact same time (but lasts longer) so we don't have to scramble for childcare. Phew!

Monday is Valentine's Day. Since I'm off dairy and caffeine and am counting stupid calories, I'm not looking forward to the big day. And the lead up to it has been torture. But I am happy about the weight I've lost so far - 12 pounds! Though I know if I have even one bite of chocolate, I'll morph into a rabid beast and eat everything for miles around. It also doesn't help that I'm reading Elliot a chapter from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory every night before bed. Poor kid, he's already got my sweet tooth. Oh, we'll make a great team!

Can't I just cut it off?

It might have been in the late spring when I tripped getting off my couch and broke my baby toe and couldn't wear heels to work for 2 months.

Or the time I missed the bottom step on my way to do laundry in the basement and my foot crunched.

Or this summer while running to catch Elliot while he headed down a gentle slope without a helmet, pointed at a chain link fence, on his new trike, peddling excitedly because this was so much funnnnnnnnn! Causing me to wrench my body as I grabbed the handle bar to save us both from going ass over teakettle all the way home.

Each occasion caused great pain and suffering and long healing times for my poor widdle left foot.

This week, it started hurting when I walked. Which is all the time. I probed around on the surface below my ankle bone and found a highly sensitive spot. It doesn't feel broken. Some days I can walk quiet well on it - but apparently not when I'm barefoot. Jay spent some time Tuesday night rubbing it for me. I pretty much screamed as soon as he touched that area, but he was gentle and by the end of the massage it was only mostly painful. The next morning I walked to class and it felt fine. Tender when touched, but fine.

I've been putting soothing creams on it - Pain-a-trate by Melaleuca is a favourite. But tonight. Hooooo-boy. Throbbing pain. Blinding pain. It feels swollen. I expect to see my foot dangling from my ankle, oozing and running and discoloured. But nothing. Nada. Tried to get Jay to rub it again tonight but it wasn't long before I was screaming too much and he was getting mad at me for not going to the doctor already.

Can't get in to see my chiropractor until at least next Wednesday. Might be able to squeeze in to see someone at my dr's office tomorrow - but my dr wont be there. And I'm working all day. Only 2 of us to handle all the clients. And I'm a sucker who can't say no.


Looking at a fun-filled turkey weekend, though. Rented a car - this has the previously unknown advantage of keeping me off that foot. Mostly. It's even an automatic, so no clutching for me! Though, a pain-free foot will come in handy while picking apples. And at the pumpkin patch. Or going through the corn maze. Or jumping on the Jumping Pillow. Or visiting the inlaws.

*sigh*

Off with her... foot?

Dirty little secret

Ok, maybe not so little. And a pretty badly kept secret. But my house is in dire need of a proper housewife. Some of it has been tidied since I snapped these pictures the other night... but most has just morphed and sprouted wings and taken over the next patch of floor.

I'm particularly fond of the random high heel shoe lurking in the middle of the chaos. Lovingly deposited by one of the boys - they like to traipse through the house in them.

All those books on the shelf?  - currently fanned out all over the floor.

More shoes and chaos

The boxes I keep stored under the table. You know, just in case.

Sponge Bob has surrendered. And heeey look - it's the other shoe!

Hellllp! It's taken over! Maybe I'll skip class tomorrow and start shoveling us out.

Insanity

Ok, peeps - I need your advice/suggestions. Or possibly for someone to commit me to the loony bin. Or maybe, simply, just to tell me what to do. Or hold me while I cry.

First thing to get off my chest - which is not what I originally sat down to write about - is an update of sorts. Maybe weaning off my meds just as Felix fully embraced the terrible twos wasn't such a bright idea. Or maybe it was a brilliant one - what better way to test my mental fortitude than by being presented with a child who suddenly won't sleep, who screams when he doesn't get what he wants NOW, and who has multiple and long-lived tantrums every day?

Tonight was no exception. Picture it: our bathroom, 8pm (laaaaate for us). Felix doesn't want to get in the tub: Screams. Thrashes. Limp noodle. Jumping bean - smash goes your face! Felix is in the tub: The water - it burns us! Felix hates it. It is terrible. See how it splashes? This could be fun! Felix loves it! This is the best. thing. ever. Felix doesn't want to get out of the tub: Screams. Thrashes. Wet limp noodle. Jumping bean - smash goes your face! Add in rythmic face/feet pounding. And a diaper. Mama needs a drink.

Anyhoo.... back to the original situation at hand. I've applied to go back to school. In September. In addition to a 12 week course I've already signed up for 2 afternoons per week for work. In addition to working , I dunno, 1-3 days per week. In addition to working on my bookkeeping business. In addition to being a wife, mother and homemaker. In addition to having friends and a (HA!) life.

I'd be starting a Bachelor of Commerce program with a major in accounting. Originally, I planned to go on to get my designation as a Chartered Accountant, specializing in Forensic (Investigative) Accounting. It still interests me, but I'm not as set on it right now. Getting my B.Comm is more important, for the time being. That's what will help my bookkeeping business and open other doors and opportunities for me.

But am I insane to be doing this now? Am I crazy to think I can juggle such a long laundry list of responsibilities? It's not a light commitment, not by any stretch. I wouldn't have to do the program full time, but so far I don't know what is available as far as course load and class schedules. It's a 4 year program that I'm trying to get dropped to at least 3, thanks to transfer credits due to my previous schooling and life/work experiences. I'm not trying to kid myself into believing I can get it done in those 3 years - but hopefully within 5.

Too many decisions. Too many balls in play. Too much room for failure. Tell me what to do!

I want my mama.

Pretty

I was back in the office today. I got to dress up in heels and a fancy blouse. Felt like a totally different person!

Of course, day 1 back after a 9 month absence (I work seasonally) is always nerve-wracking. This is my third season with the company. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, the same spiel to endless clients all day long. But, as always, I stammered through my first client interview. He probably thought I was a newbie fresh off the boat. Of course, we also have new software this year that everyone is getting used to, so we're all sounding a bit like stammering idiots. At least I felt confident in my purple heels.