General Life Update: Oz and Granola

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Squirt's in Oz

Mothers aren't built to be away from their children for too long. Don't get me wrong-- we all get desperate for "alone" time, or "grown up" time. A stretch of time where moms can sleep in and get a little break from the responsibilities of child care. Glass of wine? Yes, please. Shot of tequila? Muchas gracias!

I am super lucky in that my parents are local and would take Squirt every weekend if I let them (I don't), so really I don't have much to complain about. I have free baby sitting when I need it, sometimes even with pick-up and drop-off service!

A weekend every now and then without the kids is a beautiful thing. But weeks and weeks at a stretch? Not so much.

Earlier this week, Squirt left to spend time with his father, his stepmom, and two younger half-siblings. In Australia, where Squirt's dad now resides. For those of you who are really, really bad at geography, that's a whole different continent on the other side of the Earth. Right now Squirt is so far away that he is actually experiencing winter in June, and watching his toilet flush in the opposite direction.

He'll be gone till July 20, which is a very long time-- 5 weeks. It's been very quiet. Even the dogs miss him. Whenever they hear the sound of a basketball bouncing up the walk, they run to the door expecting Squirt to bust through any second.

Last year, he was in Australia for an entire summer. THAT was rough. So I'll take 5 weeks over that.

These next 5 weeks I'm devoting to working my tushie off. I finally agreed to co-author that parenting book with a prominent parenting guru in the area, so I'll have time to devote to that exciting project. She's already got pre-orders for it on her website. I'll link it when I feel comfortable with the progress.

Downward Doggy Style

This is humiliating.
And Rugby and I have signed up for... FITNESS YOGA! Those of you who know me are probably stifling giggles right now. I know how much I've resisted this granola-fication, but it's really hard not to cross over to the crunchy side when you're married to a hippie and you work in the niche that I do. I can't wait for the first class-- I suspect that this will be a veritable well of fun, and potentially humiliating, stories for my blog, which I'm sure you all will love.

I don't know if I can ever do that hot yoga though. I really can't imagine anything more unpleasant than being in a hot, humid room with a bunch of other people with questionable hygiene while they contort their bodies in ways I'm not sure God intended. I'm sure it's great, but not just for me right now. Reading this doesn't exactly entice me to do hot yoga either.

I am, however, considering doing a juice cleanse, since I'm having issues with eating solids anyway. I might as well use it to my advantage.

My friend Missy, who lives in Berkeley, aka land of the rich and annoyingly preachy hippie/yuppy hybrid, is always accusing me of becoming a full-on "Granola-Scooper." I assure her that although I may incorporate some new healthier life habits, I will never kick my trash TV-watching, junk food craving ways. This soothes her for some reason.

 The irony is I really enjoy granola. I just can't eat it right now because of my braces.

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