Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Takin' Care o' Mama

Well! Only two days shy of my two month surgery-anniversary. (I have tried, but cannot embrace the nickname "surgiversary." Even though it is less time-consuming to type than surgery-anniversary. We'll see if it grows on me. I'm all for saving key strokes, right?) I am a bit nervous about it tonight, which is silly. I think because I did not weigh myself today, which is my OCD post-op habit (as opposed to my compulsive scale avoidance pre-op). I filled myself up last night and tonight on, uh, boiled cabbage. I hardly think this is harmful food, but I overfilled nonetheless. That was earlier, and now my tummy is sloshing with diet Snapple ("water" in my world). So I am not especially warm to the idea of thinking about post-op success.

Plus, my bra is tight. I think I must be a little bloaty. The bra? Oh yes, my new size 40 bra, thank you! The old ones were 44, and they were snug as heck when I bought them. And at my highest, my breasts spilleth over from the cup. Woohoo!

The cup size on this one is a 40G (what is that, a 40-quadruple-D?). Mama has some big-ass boobs. I could have probably gone to a 42DDD or something, but I decided that afternoon I was going to try a 40 and fit the cup size around it. I kept going up and up and up.

Rambling. How am I taking care of me? Well - I haven't told you that I am doing my first 5K on Sunday! The Seattle Saint Paddy's Day Dash. No, sillies, I won't be *running* the 5K, I will be walking, but hey, I'm participating! Pictures to follow. Pray it's sunny. Pray the Alaskan Way viaduct doesn't collapse when we walk on it (but hey! if it does, we had the best view in town before we went down - don't cry for me, Argentina.)

Also, this was a big week on the home front. I try to keep this blog about my WLS adventures, but you can tolerate me while I say that I re-hired last summer's nanny, am pulling the boys out of after school daycare (before they throw my youngest out, haha), and I hired a cello instructor/housekeeper.

You heard me right. :) I got a one month membership to looking for 1) a summer nanny, 2) an after school nanny starting immediately, 3) a cadre of occasional babysitters I can call in a pinch, and 4) a hapless victim to help me clean and organize.

What? Did you not know I am made of money? Oh yes, I positively bleed it! BAHAHA. No, we're in code red mode. My five-year-old, a chipper little off-the-charts-ADHD type guy...well, the chaos of the YMCA is not a good fit for him. A quiet, calm, padded-walls-type place would be better, perhaps, but he is stuck with the middle ground: home, with his siblings and a nanny.

Last year's nanny wanted to come back to us, and we are happy to have her. We will have to work with her to tighten up the ship she runs, but she is a wonderfully sweet and reliable girl whom I consider part of the family.

Separately, I planned to interview a music major from the University of Washington who is an experienced nanny (and one of eight kids in her family). Her school schedule doesn't allow nannying right now, but she responded to my housekeeping ad. In her profile about nannying/babysitting, she mentioned she plays cello. Hey! I have a cellist in my house! And she has been b-e-g-g-i-n-g for private lessons.

And thus, I hired the cellist housekeeper. And I invited her to attend the cello concert my daughter and I are going to on Friday night. I think she will be a great role model and inspiration for my daughter, who is in her second year of playing cello, and is quite good, I think.

This all equates to taking care of me because, well, I need some help around here. I hope that by getting the house in order, combined with my continued weight loss and energy recoup, I'll be running a well-organized domestic machine around here in a few months.

In the meantime, I'm glad for the help. Here's to reduced stress!

1 comment:

  1. Ooooooh, a cellist housekeeper. Yeah, that has a nice ring to it. Maybe I can talk to my DH about that, oh wait, I guess I would have to actually have a job to hire a housekeeper. Unless I was one of those "Real Housewives of ________." Dang. It was fun dreamin though.