Sigh. Scary stuff.

Today, we applied for life insurance. In my mind this is a simple, essential way to take care of my family in the heart-wrenching case that I'm not here to do it myself.

Of course, that's always the reality, no one lives forever, I'm just more aware if it today.

I've never given death much thought. It happens, and I hope mine is as late and dignified as possible.

The difference now is that I have a family I love more than the air I breathe, the ground I walk on. Death doesn't particularly scare me, but not being with my family does.

With a little luck, some smart decisions and being blessed more than I already am, I won't have to worry about that for a long, long, long, long time.

Out with the old, in with the new!

So yesterday One Philly Daddy and I put out 9 (count 'em nine!) bags of clothes and books to be donated to a local charity. And our closets are still remarkably full. But that's a story for another day.

For some reason, donating clothes can sometimes have an emotional component, and it certainly did for me this time. I've been stashing clothes in a bag in the bottom of my closet as I come across thing that don't fit, I don't like, or just don't make me feel great. I got rid of things that just didn't fit my style. I'm a simple gal. Solid T's, an occasional stripe and lots and lots of earthy "grounded" colors, as my style was once described to me. Now, that's not to say that I don't appreciate the look of a nice leopard print or tried on a few occasions to pull off said print or bright color. I admire the look on others, but end up fidgeting and fussing when I try to wear it myself. So I finally am giving up the "maybe I'll like it one day" fantasy, and am just keeping the clothes that I forget I'm wearing. You know, the ones I feel so comfortable in that I forget what I'm wearing. That to me is comfortable and right. If I'm more aware of what I'm wearing that what I'm doing I'm just not comfortable and I'm probably not rocking the look anyway.

So, away go things that don't make me feel grounded, comfortable and happy.

One Philly Daddy's donation style was different, and involved going through each drawer and his closet in one night. Quite the undertaking, and much more observable. Since, you know, it was a giant pile in the middle of the bedroom.

For me, One Philly Daddy's donations were emotional too. A lot of it was stuff he just didn't like anymore, and he often said "I just don't need this much stuff!" A sentiment I support more and more.

But more significant was the fact that most of his single-funny guy-very humorous-occasionally offensive t-shirt collection got donated. (Not sure how that will go over, but hey, maybe they have a young male volunteer just dying for these T's!)

Now these are shirts that I told him would have to go once we started a family. No one wants to see a man at the park with his kid in a shirt about drinking! (Right?!?! Back me up here!!!)

But once they were in the pile to go away, it suddenly felt like the passing of an era, a milestone, a real moment in our lives. Like we were shedding yet another layer of ourselves to become more of what we are now, and to make room for what we will become.

Which makes me so excited! I'm more and more excited and comfortable with our roles and excited for the life we're living and planning.

All that from a donation of our old clothes!

Love, can it ever run out?

I've been thinking a lot lately about a conversation I had shortly after One Philly Son was born. The crux of the issue for the other woman was that she was pregnant with her second child and worried that she wouldn't love her second child as much as she loved her first.

At the time I scoffed at the idea. Love is one of those amazing phenomenon that grows the more you use it or give it away. The more I love the people in my life and the more I love my life, the more love I receive and feel. Ain't that awesome!

But, I've conjured up an alternate Mommy worry. (Which I know is nonsense, but worth voicing.)
What if I love my second (still unconceived) baby MORE than my first baby!?!??

As in, will this amazing, adored, fascinating creature I've been blessed with become old hat? Will he seem droll and boring? Or worse, an irritating distraction from the new and improved amazing creature I hope to be blessed with?

Of course not! I plan/hope to adore all members of my family for their own amazing uniqueness.

But it also seems worthwhile to ackowledge that nonsensical worry, as it will hopefully provide awareness and motivation to make sure amazing baby #1 doesn't feel dumped should amazing baby #2 come along.

Unfortunately this concern did not work for our dog, who definitely got demoted when baby came along! Oh well, we got her another dog to love her!

When I moved to be with One Philly Daddy, I left a town I loved. I had an immediate connection to the town, attended college there, returned there after a few years in Colorado.

I love the town One Philly Daddy and I live in, and have nothing against it, I was just leaving a town that felt so much like home. Many streets had stories, memories of friends, cutting class to eat Ritas Italian Ice in the park, long winding walks home from the neighborhood pub.

The town we live in now has a lot going for it. A train station to the city, lots of restaurants and bars in walking distance, a real town feel with plenty of community activities. But for a time I still missed my old town.

Lately though, this town feels like home. I don't know if it's simply time, or starting a family, or accumulating memories, but I am getting fabulously wonderful warm fuzzy feelings.

I know and love people here. I have taken miles of walks with my dogs, husband, son and friends over the years. I can see the school One Philly Son may go too. I look forward to building more and more of my life here.

It's good to be home.

I think I just caught a glimpse of the side of me that terrifies my husband a bit.

It's just me, the dogs, cat, house and One Philly Son for the time being and I plan to take my time sorting out a good balance of housework, errands, educational field trips, play dates, down time and naps.

Today I changed and washed the sheets and they didn't feel grimy yet, so that was a victorious luxury in itself. The top sheet of the set I washed sat in the dryer too long ages ago and the thick hem at the top edge of the sheet has been a wrinkled mangled mess for years. It's bugged me for ages, but who has time to do anything about that?

Well, said sheets were done in the dryer while One Philly Son napped, so I did something crazy. I ironed that stupid hem!

Which is amazing since I haven't ironed, you know, clothes in months!

Part of me is really excited to not have that wrinkley hem any more and the other part of me is a little afraid of how happy that flat hem makes me!

Don't worry, there's still dust, and toys out in the livingroom. The list of things to fix or mend is long and (like everyone's) ever growing.

Working out is working out!

I've observed this time and time again, in my own life and the lives of friends and family members of mine.

Remove something that is not "working" for you, and SHAZAM! everything else seems to improve as well.

It could be a boyfriend, friend, way of thinking, client, way of life, city, etc, etc, etc. It is almost as if the weight of either trying to be something you're not or the effort of trying to make something work that just isn't holds you back. And once that weight is lifted (sometimes quite literally), the possibilities get greater and greater. The air is cleaner, the sky bluer, the grass greener, well...you get the idea.

I don't know if its spring, or my recent life-change or my recent post on just doing what you know needs to be done, but I attended one of my One Fit Mama classes today...and it ROCKED!

I've only taken a few classes, and while I loved them all and they were all great work outs, I didn't feel like I was leaving it all "on the court", so to speak.

Then there are those days when I can run the stairs, do lunges, push harder and harder, One Philly Son enjoys class (instead of escaping from his stroller), and I feel pumped. Today was one of those days. Yes, I was short of breathe and really felt winded sometimes and didn't love all the stair work...but I did it all. And I didn't hold back, I just kept pushing. Which felt great, since during my first class a few short weeks ago, I felt simultaneously like passing out and throwing up. I love the feeling of feeling powerful, capable, strong. Its addictive. So now rather than thinking the efforts to get in/be in shape are "wasted" if I get pregnant, I'm going to focus on maintaining that feeling THROUGH pregnancy, if and when we're blessed with another.

I know. Duh. So simple. And yet, I was too busy, tired, had too much to do, was stressed about this and that, and holding on to that idea of it being a waste, and I could not do it.

And that's ok. Cause I'm gonna do it now.

Here's an unexpected twist on my first day "officially" home with One Philly Son.

Tough love nap.

Only the second time I've done it, but both times involved less than 10 minutes of half hearted crying followed by, you guessed it, a nap.

When I was working from home, naps were different. When i first started I was still nursing and One Philly Son would fall asleep in my arms. Later, if he was fussy, he'd fall asleep in my arms. If I had to get work done, he'd fall asleep in my arms.

Trust me, I'm fully aware that this was not ideal, but it worked.

I needed him to sleep during conference calls, or at least not be crying himself to sleep when the phone rang, etc, etc, etc... Honestly it probably falls under the topic of my last post - knowing what needs to be done, and still not doing it.

Well here we are, I don't need to work, take a call or get back to my laptop. But One Philly Son does need to nap before a family function tonight. And now, the few minutes of crying no longer feels like something I have to prevent, manage or avoid. It is a temporary part of my son learning to get himself to sleep for a nap. Bed time at night has worked for months without holding or rocking. He goes to bed,occassionally fusses, but goes to sleep. Only for nap time on days I worked from home did he fall asleep in my arms. So I know we both can do it...it was just a matter of doing it.

So now that my primary focus is on being Mom, instead of Worker/Mom, I feel like I'm making better choices already, and it's only the first day.

Weighting to see...

So life is full of dilemmas.

My current one is admittedly laughable, but a dilemma none the less.

Here's the situation: I'm not in as good of shape as I'd like to be. I consider myself moderately healthy, and have been sneaking in WAY more vegetables than I knew possible. My arms and legs remain thin-ish and toned (chasing and carrying a 22 lb bundle of love will do that). BUT my middle keeps getting softer and squishier.

I know exactly how to fix it. Eat less. Move more. It really is that simple. (I'm also hoping that a reduction in my stress level may result in fewer mindless sugary treats - my major weakness- being shoved down my throat).

Here's where it gets tricky, and when I know I'm my own worst enemy. I'd like to have a second child someday, and will obviously gain weight. So I tell myself the effort to get in shape will be "wasted."

Yes, I know that is ridiculous.

Health and saving are two things I feel should always be a priority. If I'm healthy when I get pregnant, my pregnancy, delivery and recovery will be easier. My baby will be healthier. I'll probably be happier and more able to cope witb stress.

And yet...

So my story really isn't about excercising or losing weight, but that fantastic phenomenon when you have all the data, you KNOW the smart thing to do, and you probably want to do it. And yet...you don't.

I'm not sure of the answer or the solution, but it is interesting to ponder. I'm well aware of the roadblocks I put in my own way, while I have many reasonable explanations, I realize they are all junk and if this was really a priority, I'd be doing what needed to be done.

I've felt out of control of many of the details of my day to day life and it fascinates me that my response is to give up further control by losing myself in ice cream and thoughts of "when such and such happens, I'll ...". Even though I've known all along a regular work out would give me greater strength to deal with the uncertainty.

Whatever happens, I'm 1000% (yes 1000) confident I'll be motivated to act before things are too out of hand or there is a real health concern.

I think understanding why I'm acting this way will translate to other moments I find myself paralyzed by my own inaction. So I'm going to give myself just a little more leeway, to see what happens. Will the removal of a major stressor cure my sweet tooth? Will I wake up with energy and the urge to work out?

Who knows? But I'll keep ya posted!

Today was my last day physically going to the job I've gone to for 5 1/2 years in downtown Philadelphia.

I have a few more days of work, but not at the location I called "work" for all those years.

Cleaning out my office, files, and desk filled me with all kinds of emotions and reactions.

I remember moving to the area to be with my then boyfriend of one year (now husband of going on 4 years). We were sure we wanted to be together for the long haul, but this was still a big step. My new job involved supervising, something I'd never done and wasn't sure I could do. The women I had the privilege of working with are some of the finest I've ever known.

I remember planning my wedding from my desk, and the bridal shower my co-workers hosted for me at the office. They gave me white silk roses in a vase that have been in my office since the day of the party. I gave them to our receptionist today.

I remember my sister coming in from Kentucky a few days early to surprise me at my office days before my wedding. She and I ceremoniously changed my nameplate from my maiden name to my married name. It was a moment I'll never forget.

I remember promotions and working harder than I've ever worked for a supervisor who trusted me and empowered me as never before.

I remember being pregnant and working on one of the largest events I've ever had to coordinate professionally. I was trying to convince everyone, including myself, that I could be the same worker I'd always been.

I remember feeling proud, accomplished, overworked, appreciated, special and invisible at various times. This is the longest I've been with any employer and by most standards, I was a success. My achievements were many, and I can be and am proud of my work and accomplishments there.

Life changes, and I am eager and excited for the next chapter, but I'm also happy with and proud of the chapter I'm closing.

Things are changing. In a big way.

By the end of the week I will be laid off.

This is not a financial, career or personal crisis. One Philly Daddy and I have made specific financial decisions regarding the size of our house, newness of car, etc so that his salary is enough to live on. Career-wise I've felt without direction and unsatisfied since my return from maternity leave in November 2009 (which makes
it seem like a really long time). Personally I welcome the opportunity to focus on my family.

But there is the question of my fire, my groove, my zest. By no means has the past year-ish been bad, it's been quite good actually. I've loved being a Mom and growing closer to my husband and growing our family. But I've struggled with my place, my role, trying to make the best of a situation that changed out of my control, and influenced all facets of my life.

I am proud to report One Philly Daddy
seems to be in his groove - working out, eating well, wildly productive. Which I envy since I feel like I've been bounced around a bit with my work situation. I can be strssed, feel pulled in very conflicting directions and unmotivated to focus on eating well, working out, etc. In short, my day to day life hasn't matched up with my vision for my life. And it's been hard.

So I'm hoping I find my groove, my stride, my zest.

Sometimes life's most precious moments are the simple ones, with pajamas instead of fancy dresses, sippy cups instead of steaks and wine, and no photographers, just the mind's eye to preserve the perfect memory.

Tonight my family sat down to do a relatively simple thing - watch a movie, in this case Despicable Me. One Philly Son has never sat through a movie, so the wisdom of this decision was not clear from the beginning.

But he loved it, and it is an adorable movie that One Philly Daddy and I enjoyed as well. It was a perfect evening.

And then it got better. One Philly Daddy said "this is his first movie, so we should buy it, and then we can watch it and Big Fish on Christmas"

The back story is that One Philly Daddy and I do not own movies as we rarely watch them and rarely want to watch a movie twice. But our first date was Big Fish, a kooky movie about love, and when it was clear we wanted to spend our life together, we bought the dvd of Big Fish and occasionally pull it out to watch. Anniversaries and special nights. It always takes us back to the beginning and fills us with excitement for our future.

So when he said we should buy Despicable Me, I saw a family tradition, a future unfold, with visions of loving hours on the couch together, growing children, the passing of time as we grow, learn and love together.

Yes, it was a perfect moment.