Formation of Me

in which I ask very important questions about my hair

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 23 May 2012 19:43:00 +0000

Is 32 an appropriate age to go through a midlife crisis? Because a few weeks back I was almost half way through my 32nd year and suddenly consumed with the idea that I needed to do something to make myself seem younger. Cooler. Not so mom-to-two-kids-ish. I happened to have a hair appointment that afternoon and I decided to ask my stylist to bleach my tips and dye them purple. I mean, why not? I'd never had purple hair before (Red hair that was probably a bit closer to purple than red, yes. But straight up purple? No.) and figured if not now, when?

So I asked. And she refused.

Turns out you can't go in for a cut and ask for a dye job because there just isn't time for that kind of ridiculousness. But she also refused in general saying that tips were not really what I wanted. She suggested I book another appointment and let her bleach some streaks hidden under a layer of hair which we could then color. I agreed and went back a month later for my dye job.

And again she refused.

Well, she technically only partially refused. She agreed to go ahead with bleaching some streaks but when it was time to add in some dye, she said she felt like I should really skip the dye and live with the blonde for a little bit. Then she dried my hair and handed me a mirror to check it out. I was unimpressed. Sure, the blonde was neat but it was so hidden and not what I had in mind. But you apparently can't make your hairdresser do something she doesn't want to do, so I went on my way.

I've lived with the blonde for about three weeks now and dammit I still want purple. Here's some of the blonde when you lift up the top layer (Please note my bald spot. I lost so much more hair after Pippa than I did after Truman. Thank god it's growing back)

Holy crap, that's blonde. But once that layer is down, the blonde disappears:

So let me ask you, is it worth the begging I will have to do to get my stylist to dye it purple? The blonde layer goes all the way around my head but really isn't that visible as you can see in the picture. When I run and have my hair in a ponytail I have a pretty awesome racing stripe which makes me want to wear a ponytail all the time. In this picture from a previous post, you can see that sometimes the blonde works it way out into daylight:

Do I beg or not? Is this bad idea jeans at their finest? Do I need to forget about the purple and move on with my old lady life?

I'm going to form a Bitch Face Foundation

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 09 May 2012 16:02:00 +0000

I went to Miami over the weekend:

and came home with a series of pictures highlighting a very serious condition I suffer from called Bitch Face.

Bitch Face heading to the white party:

Bitch face wearing new aviator glasses that I'm obsessed with:

And wearing my new favorite dress on Friday night. Perhaps this Bitch Face is because I'm mad that my legs are so white they look like opaque stockings?

Wait, you need a bitch face close up? I can do that!

Bitch face goes to the Versace Mansion:

And finally Bitch Face catches an early morning flight home:

Perhaps the only time I wasn't sporting Bitch Face was when I ordered drinks poolside or when I won a trip to Jamaica. Although I have no pictures to confirm or deny this hypothesis:

Seriously, how do I have any friends when I suffer from such a severe case of bitch face?

(there's a lot of this)

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 20:37:00 +0000

I spend a lot of time running. It's my time to clear my head, leave the kids behind, and (I know this sounds crazy) relax. I used to refuse to listen to music while running because it made me very aware of the amount of time that had passed (3 songs at about 3:30 each equals about 10:30 of running. Why do I feel like I'm dying if it's only been 10:30?) but lately I've abandoned the podcasts and gone back to music. (I've done this because I've also abandoned iTunes and I haven't figured out how to listen to podcasts without it. Am dumb. Very dumb.)

This switch back to music has led me to do some stupid things while I run like randomly shouting out lyrics or going from running to doing some kind of spastic dance/run/strut move. It's really quite embarrassing and yet I continue to do it, sometimes even in busy public places like while running past Whole Foods. Or a packed bar downtown. It's really not good although it seems the drunk frat boys like laughing at me.

And now, in case you want to make an ass of yourself too, here are a few of the songs that make me do stupid things.

Down in the Treme, just me and my baby, we're all going crazy! (insert stupid high knees step/strut thing)

FUUUUUCK!

clapclap clapclap

Not gonna lie, I sing the whole song. The. Whole. Song.

There's plenty more that make me make an ass of myself, but I think you get the idea. Do you have any songs that really put a bit of pep (or a stupid dance move) in your step while running? Share please, I need to grow my playlist!

The Biggest Loser

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Thu, 05 Apr 2012 15:35:00 +0000

"Hey Regan, how's the weight loss going? Also, weren't you doing some kind of Biggest Blogging Loser competition?"

Well friends I'm so glad you asked! (Full disclosure: we're pretending someone asked this. I doubt anyone actually remembers that I'm trying to de-fat myself.)

I was participating in an online competition to lose weight and the whole reason I joined was because I figured having to email my weight to a friend would shame me into being motivated. The competition ended Monday night and, holy crap, I won! Since January I've lost 14% of my body weight and dropped two clothing sizes.

Check it out! (highly unflattering muffin top filled picture ahead)

January 9:

April 2: (equally unflattering but not due to a muffin top, what what!)

It's funny but despite having to buy new clothes and seeing the numbers on the scale go down, I really couldn't see a difference until I went back and looked at my starting picture. If you're going to start a diet, please take a before picture. Also, make sure you have a good picture of your face. I think I've lost some weight there but it's hard for me to tell in either picture. And take your measurements!

I know I have more to lose and thanks to the win, I'm feeling pretty motivated. I'm also starting to shift my focus onto building muscle and toning which means I might not see such a rapid drop on the scale anymore, but that's okay. As long as I'm becoming less fat, I'm fine if the scale moves slowly.

Winning the competition came with a cash prize which I used to sign up for a full marathon training group. And then, because I'm a worrier, I signed up for the San Antonio marathon because holy hell, what if it sells out! (it won't) So I'll be spending the hottest part of the year running long distances and cursing myself. A smaller ass better be worth it.

zooma 2012

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 21:41:00 +0000

Remember that time I "trained" for a half marathon? Yeah, that was a good time. No, really it was such a good time that I signed up for another half marathon and swore this time I was going to train. Hell, the race even had supported training runs, it would be almost impossible for me to not train.

This, of course, means I didn't really train. I went on one long run, 9 miles, and added the other runs to my calendar but didn't actually get up for them. I had my reasons, one time it was raining and I don't run in the rain. One time jparks was out of town and I couldn't leave the kids alone. Another time I was just lazy. While I did skip almost all of the long runs, I did go for a 3 to 5 mile run multiple times each week, so that was more training than before. All of this training led me to think I could easily shave 15 minutes off my half marathon time and finish in 2:30.

Now real runners out there are laughing at me. First, most people don't aim to shave 15 minutes off their PR in one race. Second, real runners aren't stupid and they actually train. To that I say, suck it real runners!

(I don't really mean that real runners! I love you! I want to be you!)

I finished an incredibly hilly course in 2:28:51!

Or 2:28:46 if you want to go by my chip time.

Y'all I was so happy I nearly cried when I got to the finish line. I can't wait to see the race pictures because I know I was smiling like an idiot as I crossed the finish.

Here I am after I collapsed to the ground gripping a Muscle Milk and a bottle of water while I waited for a friend to finish:

Hello boob butt crack, I'm so glad you were able to join us for the race.

I'm pretty sure now I'm going to register for a full marathon. And I pinky swear, this time I'm going to train for real.

what if it laid eggs?

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 20:49:00 +0000

I don't know if you read Hyberbole and a Half (you should) but she did a post one time about spiders and was absolutely, 100% accurate when she said "Spiders are like little pieces of death wrapped in scary." Spiders are the one thing that make me shit my pants and have heart palpitations no matter the situation. I could be receiving a Nobel prize for curing cancer and if a tiny spider crawled out on stage I would drop a load right there. And cry. And then have no idea how to gracefully walk off stage. So yeah, spiders are scary.

Now that you know this little nugget of information about me, I want you to imagine me driving my car when a spider, a large green spider, drops down from the windshield into my line of vision. It is amazing that I am alive right now because no joke, my first thought was this:

Luckily I managed to pull into the parking lot of Truman's My Gym and do a bunch of spastic moves to get the spider out of the car before I went in to grab him. One of those moves included thinking the spider was on me and pitching my wallet, keys, and phone across the parking lot. After a few panicked moments I was satisfied I had removed the beast even though (foreshadowing) I never actually saw it crawl onto the paper I was enticing it with so I went inside to get Truman.

Once we made it back to the car, a smarter woman would have performed a spider check, but I just got in and headed home. Two minutes later the fucking spider dropped down on me again and I had to drive the whole way home with my stomach in my throat and a hand plastered across my mouth so I wouldn't scream and scare my child. I was terrified and the whole time jparks was mocking me as I sent him terrified instant messages. Check it, I couldn't even type coherent words because I was so upset:

Once home jparks did remove the spider and I drove his car for the rest of the afternoon because I couldn't be in mine without feeling spiders crawling on me. Last night I asked him "So, how do you feel about car shopping this weekend?" and he laughed. Thing is I'm not kidding, my Jetta is dead to me now. Fucking spider ruined it.

bouncing forward

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 02:59:00 +0000

Jparks and I are party people. Not "swinging, key party" people, but "let's invite a bunch of people over and have their kids entertain our kids" party people. This combined with how much DST can screw with Truman's bedtime gave me the genius idea to throw a party, complete with bounce house, on the day the clocks sprung forward.

It didn't look promising in the days leading up to the party because all the rain this city has missed for the past year rolled in in giant black waves of lightning and thunder. The bounce house place threatened to cancel and I made a mad dash to Target to buy coloring books and playdoh for the kids. But at the last minute, seriously like an couple of hours before people were set to arrive, the sky turned blue, the temperature quickly rose from 45 to 85, and the bounce house was delivered. We ended up with a packed house and the plan to exhaust the kids so they would pass out at their normal bedtime totally worked. I'm pretty sure we'll be throwing a DST party every year and that it's such a smart idea MENSA will be here begging me to join any minute now.

I was pretty busy during the party with talking and ~~eating all the things~~ setting out food so I managed to not take a single picture but please enjoy these post party pictures.

It wasn't a birthday party, but that doesn't mean cake wasn't present.

People made a big dent in the drinks but we still have enough leftover for another party. Who's free this weekend? Party planning tip: I thought those little cans of soda would be good because I hate 2 liters and no one wants a whole can of coke, they just want a few sips between beers. Turns out those little cans get lost in an ice chest and were not consumed. At least I assume that's the case, but my friends could all just be lushes that stuck to beer and liquor.

Speaking of drinks, we put a hurting on the vodka (this is the second bottle) thanks to this fancy machine.

Check me out getting all crafty and shit, I used jelly beans in my candle holders as a festive spring touch.

I got flowers as a hostess gift! I love flowers!

Our whole house is covered in grass bits and my vacuum is a piece of crap. I want a stick one but not that damn $300 Dyson one. Who has a rec for me?

The bounce house was deflated after everyone left but the company didn't pick it up until late Monday afternoon. Truman managed to have the best first day of Spring Break ever by having a private bounce party this morning. Next year we'll be hosting a very exclusive next day, post party bounce. Bloody Marys and mimosas for parents, more bouncing for the kids. Awesome.

the regan parks' half marathon training plan*

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 17:00:00 +0000

*Not a training plan at all, not even in the slightest. Please be not as dumb as me.

Have friends mention the race and then stupidly sign up before you really think about what training means
Sign up for a training plan. Follow week #1 of it.
Have your youngest child stop sleeping through the night. Realize that holy shitballs, it's hard to get up for a run at 5am when you just managed to get the child back to bed at 4am.
Continue to receive training plan emails, laugh at the distances you're supposed to be running.
Go to the gym, run 20 minutes on the treadmill, feel like you're going to suffer a heart attack.
Sign up for a Turkey Trot thinking a race sooner will motivate you to get out of bed at 5.
It won't
Run the 5 mile Turkey Trot, think "5 miles wasn't so bad," rework your training plan. You have less time but it's still doable!
Sleep in every morning. Go for runs but never ones that are more than 3.1 miles.
Go to Disney World the week before the half marathon. Abandon your diet and stop doing all exercise. Give your mind a workout by coming up with excuses to tell your running partner to get out of the race.
Acknowledge that there is no getting out of the race, pick up your packet
The night before do some carb loading:
Also sleep on the couch the night before to ensure you get a crappy night's sleep
Wake up at 5am on race day, feel like you're going to puke
Drag yourself to the start line, don't look your running partner in the eye for fear she'll know you didn't train and your plan involves dying around mile 6.
Run. Don't die. Walk a couple of the biggest hills (which are all in the final 3 miles, what the hell?)
Cross finish line in 2 hours 40 minutes. Be amazed that your stubbornness just carried you 13.1 miles.

I paid money to run before the sun was even up. Sometimes while I'm doing these races, I look around and realize how stupid us runners are but then I get excited that I've found my people.

sugared

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 02:59:00 +0000

We are currently on vacation in Disney World where there is a lot of this happening:

Followed by a lot of this:

I'm pretty sure that look says he's either about to go into a diabetic coma or hork off the side of the stroller.

Oh, I'm wrong, he's going back for more icing

I hope your Valentine's Day was as sweet as Truman's.

second post, same as the first

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 18:02:00 +0000

When we last discussed the shrinking of my giant ass (and hips and thighs and middle area) I told you about my juice cleanse. I got quite a few emails asking if the juice cleanse made it impossible to leave the bathroom and I am here to tell you that is not the case. It's not a colon cleanse; you aren't told to chug salt water. In fact, the founders of the cleanse urge you to get a colonic because some people tend to get a bit backed up during the process. But, yeah, there wasn't a chance in hell I was going for a colonic.

After my three days of juice I moved into a meal plan from Snap Kitchen. The plan was 1200 calories for 21 days and I was hoping to teach myself some good eating habits and to learn be content on that amount of food. I'm not going to say it was hard because how hard is it to not cook anything, not research nutritional info, not grocery shop, just drive to a store and collect your bag of meals? Not very hard at all. But like any regimented plan, it was hard to resist temptation and not pick at Truman's leftovers or steal a cookie while packing his lunch.

My 21 days have passed and, much like the juice cleanse, I'm surprised by how once I got into the swing of it, the whole thing really flew by. This brings my total weight lost since January 9th to 13.6 pounds. From here I'm moving into a combination Weight Watchers, low calorie, Eating Well diet. I'm working out a lot, like 5 to 6 days a week and I'm literally tracking every step I take with a Fitbit. I've joined an online Blogging Biggest Loser group which really helps keep me motivated. There is nothing like having to email pictures of your scale to someone to make you want to get that number down as fast as possible. I've also developed an addiction to food blogs that focus on low point or healthy recipes. If you have a favorite I would love to hear it so I can bulk up my reader a bit more.

So there you have it, The Most Boring Blog Post Ever®, but what can I say, I'm pretty damn proud of myself. I do expect the weight loss to slow down since I'm on my own now for meal planning. I also figured the first 10 to 15 pounds would come off easily because they were very recently put on. My next immediate goal is to not gain any weight when we go on vacation this weekend. Here's hoping you can eat healthy in Disney World.

losing

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 17:00:00 +0000

In the past I've done the following diets all with moderate, but short term, success: South Beach, The Abs Diet, Weight Watchers, various Spark People plans, and a combination low calorie/insane workout plan created by me so you know it was totally legit. All of these worked in the sense that I dropped about five pounds, maybe ten if I stuck to it for more than two weeks, but in the long term I abandoned ship and gained back more than I lost. I'm not saying those aren't all good diets that can produce real lasting results, hell I'm back on the Weight Watchers bandwagon, but in my case I wasn't mentally ready to diet. Food still ruled this roost and if you're going to have any kind of success that just can't be the case.

After I had Truman I knew there was a very good chance we would have a second kid so why bother to lose any weight (shut up, my logic is flawless). I managed to not put on a lot of weight while pregnant with Pippa (thanks never ending morning sickness!) but once she came out and my hormones went batshit crazy, I ate everything in sight. Seriously, ask jparks, I was a crying mess with tears and chocolate permanently smeared across my face. Once the haze cleared and I got a good look at what I had let myself become I was mad and disappointed. Had I really given up all hope of fitting into my clothes and just bought new ones? Yes. Had I decided that cookies all day long were a good thing? Yes. Had I really let myself get so big that running hurt my knees when that had never been an issue before? Yes.

Once I realized all of that I knew that for the first time I was ready to diet. I was ready to watch the number on the scale drop, ready to pull out all my favorite jeans again, ready to be healthy.

Now here's where I admit that as hormonal crazy as I went post partum, I went just about that crazy this month with diets. First I started a three day juice cleanse on the 10th. Yup, I celebrated my 32nd birthday with a big bottle of beet juice. I don't know how much I buy into the idea of detoxing your body because there was no way I was going to get a colonic; the reason I did the cleanse was to learn how to use my willpower and that I was capable of saying no to things. Because it turns out that what my mind wants (salted caramel nutella brownies and peanut butter sheet cake) are not the same as what my body wants (lean protein and kale). Those three days of juice, juice, and more juice was so shockingly easy that when I opened my last bottle of cashew milk I wished I had opted for a five day cleanse instead of a three. Trust me, I was shocked that I thought that and not "bring me a steak dripping with butter!"

I won't bore you with all the cleanse details, but if you're interested leave me a comment and I'll email you more info about it (trust me, I can talk your ear off regarding this juice cleanse). Not to be overly cheesy but I learned a lot about myself in those three days and that has helped me lay an incredibly solid foundation for the next step of my diet, a 21 day meal plan from Snap Kitchen...

extended

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 19:18:00 +0000

Yesterday I got eyelash extensions. I know, I know, it's totally ridiculous and frivolous and who the hell do I think I am? But I've been addicted to mascara for ages and despite buying just about every one on the market (drug store and department store brands included) I've never found one that truly delivered on all of its promises. I've also considered Latisse, but I honestly have no clue how to ask a doctor for a prescription without feeling like a drug addict. Yes, I realize it's eyelash medicine and not some kind of pain killer but still, the potential to be an eyelash drug addict is there and I'm embarrassed. Don't judge me.

Back in October a Groupon popped up for eyelash extensions and the price was right so I jumped on it. My expectations were low and I figured I would either end up with no noticeable difference (I call it Mascara Let Down Syndrom) or they would be so obviously fake I would be one short step away from feather eyelash extensions. Well color me pleasantly surprised, I love them!

And now onto the uncomfortably close pictures of my eyes!

Before:

And extended!

I told the eyelash tech that I wanted them to look like I was wearing the world's best mascara and not be too obviously fake and I feel like that's exactly what I got. When I got home jparks knew something about my face was different but he couldn't put his finger on what it was.

The actual application was not painful but it was a tiny bit uncomfortable. Mine was an hour and forty-five minutes of having my eyes closed, with my lower lashes gently taped under an aloe pad so they don't get in the way. It's a slow process because they are individually gluing one eyelash at a time to your real lashes. When she was done my eyes were bright red but it went away after about 20 minutes. She also glued my eye shut in one spot, which sounds way worse than it really was. It was just that a lower lash had gotten loose and stuck to a top lash, no biggie. Since this was my first time having it done I'm going back in two weeks to get a fill, where they'll replace any loose lashes or fill in any clumps. If I weren't going to do fill visits they would last anywhere from 60 to 90 days, which is the normal lifespan of your natural eyelashes.

So yes, it's expensive and does require upkeep, but for me it's worth it, especially considering the Groupon made the whole thing more than half off. I don't have to wear mascara now but it is an option if I really want them to have oomph. They are also a tad darker than my natural lashes which darkens my lash line, kind of causing a lined effect replacing the need for an additional eyeliner. The tech told me the less I mess with them the longer they'll last which is perfect since lately I rarely have more than ten minutes to get ready.

Yay for eyelashes!

Things I've learned thanks to running

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 16 Nov 2011 20:04:00 +0000

If a running trail can easily fit six runners across it will only accomodate one mom with a jogging stroller, talking on her cell phone while walking her dog
People that wear those five finger shoes are smug. The looks they give us regular shoe wearing people totally say "Ugh, you are so unevolved with your toes all smooshed together in one compartment."
Austin is hilly. What the hell? How have I never noticed these monster hills before?
Running up hills is hard.
Running down hills is hard too. I nearly faceplanted down one the other day because I had more forward momentum than my legs could keep up with.
Running on the treadmill is the work of Satan. Why can I run 3 miles outside but barely a half mile on the treadmill? Also, why does that half a mile take me 25 minutes on the treadmill when I can do 3 miles in 32 minutes outside? I suck at math but those numbers don't add up.
After running (outside or on the treadmill) I get red faced. I'm not taking a little flushed either. I'm full out cranberry red, looking like any second I'm going to pass out. Angry red face is gonna get'ya!
When faced with a race starting line, I have no idea how to position myself. Too close to the front and I'm in the way of the serious runners. Too far back and people are in my way and I have to bob and weave. Where is the sweet spot? Does the sweet spot even exist?
No matter how much I whine about it, I really like running.

the clouds are parting

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 15:34:00 +0000

Well hello.

I'm here, alive and mostly well. My hair is falling out in large post partum clumps and I'm still eating like a crazed fool who has never encountered a cookie before and therefore must eat all of them before they disappear. I'm still having trouble getting up in the morning to workout thanks to Pippa's new trick of 4:30am wakes up that require me and my boobs. But the crazy feels like it's becoming less of an issue and is now just a small cloud of gloom trailing behind me instead of a storm that's flooding me.

I'm finding that things like this really help:

Truman would really like it if everyday he could go knock on the neighbors' doors and get candy.

Pippa would like to wear a fleecy pumpkin outfit everyday because that shit is warm.

vee-log!

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 17:23:00 +0000

There's this meme going around right now where people talk so you can judge their accents. At first I was all "oh hell no" but then I watched a couple and was shocked by how wrong these people are. People that I know and love, but wrong! I decided it was my job to correct them.

Things I've learned watching this: I do this thing with my bottom lip that is weird. I tend to look up a lot. I don't have the patience to record this more than once.

Welcome to my underwater fish den:

Untitled from regan parks on Vimeo.

Tech types: I can't upload this to youtube because the site doesn't support this type of file. Anyone want to convert it for me?

and so it goes

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Thu, 13 Oct 2011 15:31:00 +0000

Lately I've been feeling kind of like this:

Mouth open, eyes glazed, covered in food

It seems I am experiencing some sort of funk and I'm dealing with it by cramming whatever food is within arm's reach right into my mouth and crying. Basically I cry because I feel out of control and after doing that for a bit I am so upset that I end up cramming food in without thought. This mindless eating makes me feel even more fat and out of control which leads to more tears. It is lovely at my house.

I've found that working out helps keep me in check so I've been throwing myself at any physical activity that crosses my path including boot camps, bar method classes, and running. The problem is that the only time I have for these is 5:45am and this week I've managed to sleep through my alarm every damn day. So when I wake not only am I frazzled because I've got to get Truman dressed and out the door at lightening speed, but I'm also pissed at myself for missing my chance to control the crazy for the day. And when I'm pissed at myself I ease the pain by devouring almost a whole box of these:

That would be a mallomar heated so the chocolate melts and then sprinkled with sea salt. I've never loved and hated something so much all at the same time.

I'm not mentioning this to get people worried about me, in fact I'm mentioning it so people know I'm fine. There's been a few times recently where I've mentioned crying uncontrollably (over a water cooler that Truman broke! The way I cried you would have thought he robbed a bank) and I think I might have worried people a bit. Really, I'm doing okay. Once we move Pippa out of our room I'll feel comfortable setting the alarm clock far enough away that I won't be able to sleep through it and I'll start working out with more regularity. I honestly think that's going to be the key to this. Sweat the fat off and curb the mindless emotional eating. I'm going to reclaim myself one carrot stick at a time.

status: incomplete

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 19:19:00 +0000

We closed on our new house on March 18th, which was the same day we hired the interior designer to help us pick furniture and paint colors. That means we've been here six months and five days which might lead you to believe we are all settled into the house, happy with all our new furniture. Hell, I assumed we would be settled after two months. I mean, how long can it possibly take to get a house furnished? I thought at the very latest we would be wrapping everything up a few weeks before Pippa was born.

God, I was stupid.

This whole process has been one thing going wrong after another, leading to everything taking longer than anyone planned. The most recent errors include the window coverings installer realizing that only two of the four panels ordered arrived with my curtains. But damn those two look good.

Also, these windows are supposed to have roman shades on them but when he unpacked the boxes he couldn't find the hardware needed to hang them. Turns out the hardware was never ordered. Oh naked windows, some day you'll be dressed. Maybe in ten years.

Same to you, other set of naked windows, maybe you'll be dressed before that house behind us sells.

A few of the rooms are almost done, one of them being our bedroom. The only thing missing is our dresser, which has arrived damaged twice. Twice! I can't wait to get this corner done and the dvr off the damn floor.

Today the plumber came to install a couple of faucets and because nothing can go right, he installed one of the new faucets over the wrong sink in the kitchen. By the time I came home he was mostly done with the install and dripping with sweat. I almost didn't say anything because I felt so bad about it. Sorry plumber guy, you're not as close to being done as you thought.

Honestly I don't know why I'm so anxious to get the house done because once everything is in place this is just going to happen to it.

Somewhere under the clothes is a beautiful chair from Design Within Reach. I was able to sit in it for about 10 minutes before all the clothes migrated to it. We fail at living like adults.

here's what 8 minutes gets you

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 01:52:00 +0000

I've given myself eight minutes to crank out something that possibly resembles a blog post, but honestly with that limited time it'll probably look like words spewed out by a drunk hen pecking at seeds scattered on the keyboard. Wheee! Let's go!

Last night Pippa didn't sleep which means my day looked like this:

That would be three kinds of coffee products in my car. Not pictured is the iced coffee I made at home and sucked down before I even walked out the door. The first person to suggest that my caffeine intake is possibly why she didn't sleep gets to come over and bounce her at 3am. Thank god for small miracles, but it seems my body filters the caffeine out of my breastmilk. Or maybe it's just greedy and wants to keep it all for itself. Either way, I fully abuse this and drink more coffee than any one person ever should.

I feel like I've won the lottery thanks to this letter that arrived this weekend!

Free Pre-paid cremation! I love bargains so how can I pass this by? Now to hit up Target's home decorating aisle to find a vase that can double as a urn.

I'm on Weight Watchers because while I'm mostly back to Pre-Pippa weight, I'm not to Pre-Truman weight and holy mother my body is just different and I would like to wear some of the stuff in my closet again. I'd been really good about following the program for a week and a half or so and then BAM, I went off the rails. I needed brownies so I decided to make salted caramel brownies last night thinking I could eat one and be happy but they ended up being a big pan of disappointment.

To make up for this I bought a brownie at Central Market today. I'm pretty sure I put too many expectations onto that brownie. It couldn't carry the weight of the world and totally let me down.

Finally jparks saved the day and walked to a local restarant and bought me a piece of flourless chocolate cake. It was delicious. And now it's time to get back on the diet wagon. The next time I feel tempted to eat a bunch of crap, I'll just remind myself what jparks said about me "Baby, you have birthing hips."

Yes Pippa your look is correct, your father is an idiot.

alive and well

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 03:37:00 +0000

Crap, time really flies when you have a newborn and a toddler and family in town. But as of this morning, we have ditched the family (kidding Mom, we loved having you) and we're starting life as a family of four. So far it's going well, jparks came home from work early to take a nap and after sleeping for a bit declared that he's still so tired he's going to throw up. I called him the weakest link, Truman took note of this and refused to eat dinner for jparks, instead demanding Pirate's Booty for his meal, which the weakest link allowed. Score one for Truman!

Besides the name calling and Pirate's Booty eating we've done many things including celebrating Truman's second birthday with a swim party and a crapton of cupcakes.

I am in shock that my baby is now two and even more in shock that he's not the baby anymore. Waah, my little boy! Related: Stupid post partum hormones. When the hell do they even back out?

I've shared this just about everywhere already but I'm absolutely in love so I'm going to share them here too. When Pippa was a week old we had a newborn/family photo session and I can't even believe how amazing the pictures came out considering I did no prep for them. The morning we were set to have them taken I realized I had no outfits picked out for anyone and five minutes before the photographer was set to arrive I was wearing no makeup. And somehow all of that mess led to this. She must have some freaking amazing photoshop actions to make me look that rested.

And now it's my bedtime but remind me to tell you about the hangnail that almost put me in the hospital. Yeah, because that's not embarrassing at all.

Pippa Wren

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 01:52:00 +0000

As everyone surely knows by now, I've finally had a baby. Last Thursday I checked into the hospital at 8am, started Pitocin at 9am, and at 1:08pm I had a new tiny human with dark hair and jparks' nose.

I won't go into it more than this, but I do want to say that labor was so much easier (although not easy) this time and I'm already feeling more human than I did at a week post partnum with Truman.

Looky, I even discharged early from the hospital:

So now we're a family of four and everyone is adjusting much better than expected. This means that so far Truman hasn't chucked a toy train at Pippa's head, although I've probably just jinxed myself and should go buy an infant helmet tomorrow.

the waiting game

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 22 Jul 2011 19:54:00 +0000

Still pregnant. The new end date is Thursday, meaning I'll be heading to the hospital for an induction if Oprah doesn't make her apparence before then. Maybe she's waiting for someone to announce her the way her namesake was announced at the beginning of each show? I never watched Oprah so can anyone fill me in on how that part of the show went so I can properly set it up? Was it something fun like Ellen's dancing? Does she need the promise of a few of her favorite things in the delivery room? Where is Gayle, is she busy, can she come cut the cord?

Unrelated to my being pregnant, doesn't this toy pig have some massive balls?

I mean, it's obscene! And of course this is one of Truman's favorite toys.

I carried a watermelon

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 13 Jul 2011 00:31:00 +0000

I'm 38 weeks now and according to one website Little Oprah is the size of a watermelon and according to another she is the size of a leek. To me those are vastly different and I can tell you which one I would rather have ripping its way out of me. (hint: it's not the watermelon)

Go ahead and judge me for those shorts if you want. We've had 29 days of 100+ degree weather here in Austin so you're all lucky I'm wearing anything at this point. Speaking of those shorts, I just went to the bathroom and noticed they are splitting at the seam that runs right down the middle of my ass. Thank god I've been wearing them out and about all damn day. Also, my ass needs to stop growing.

Stupidly I was awake for most of last night (no really, I only slept for two hours) because I thought I was in labor. Trust me, I wasn't but thanks to some late night Google searching I was certain my water was going to break at any moment. So I laid, uncomfortably, in bed just waiting for the downpour that never came. You would think based on this behavior I've never birthed a baby before.

Little Oprah Parks

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 15:30:00 +0000

So, about the name. (again. Yes, I know I need to find a new topic.) I really appreciate all your comments and emails about the name that is not Oprah but is kind of like that. What I wasn't expecting was that so many people would say they need to know the name before they could give an honest opinion. I should have seen that coming because it totally makes sense that you would need to know the name/celebrity before you could decide if I'm crazy or not, but still color me surprised.

I've taken a week to think about it and I was certain we weren't going to use the name. I could spill the name beans and we could all openly laugh at me but then jparks announced that he's not ready to let go of Oprah. He has quickly changed from Team "You're Kidding About That Name, Right?" to Team "That's The Only Name In The History Of Names That I Like." I'm still on the fence, leaning more towards the no camp, but the thing is if I tell y'all and you say I'm crazy, Little Oprah is fucked for life, and then we use the name anyway, well, I'll have to leave the internet forever.

I'm not trying to be overly dramatic (it just comes naturally when you're this pregnant) but I just know that I wouldn't be able to look anyone in the eye if you say how awful the name is and then we can't find a suitable replacement. So for now I'm keeping the name under wraps. After the baby is here either we'll use that name or I'll finally tell y'all. Either way, after all this navel gazing I'm sure you won't care anymore.

the trouble with names

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 16:07:00 +0000

We're now a month out from my due date and it seems jparks and I are no closer to picking a name for this kid than we were nine months ago. Technically we are right on track with our naming history as Truman was two days old before he had a name but this time we really wanted to do better. Sadly, we are failing at this endeavor.

Here's the thing: there's a name I really love but I'm torn about using it because it has become very visible and is now associated with a celebrity. And so I'm asking y'all for advice.

Let's pretend the name I love is Bella. (It's not) Would y'all think I'm some nutty Twilight fan (which I suppose I am as I've read all the books and went to a screening of all the movies back to back but that's beside the point) or would you think that I just really like the name Bella? I mean Bella was a legitimate name option for parents before Twilight ever came into existence. It wasn't just an emotionless Kristen Steward fawning over an inappropriately old sparkly vampire; it was a cute name for little girls.

What if we took it a step farther and I said the name I love is Oprah (again, I swear it is not). There is definitely an attachment of the name Oprah to the media proprietor Oprah Winfrey. Like I even needed to say that. Hell, her name didn't exist until she came around because her parents created it by reversing Harpo. But what if I really loved it? What if I could remove the tv personality from the name and see Oprah as the perfect name for my kid? Again, would you think I'm some nutjob that secretly has Oprah's face tattooed on her back?

So what say you dear internet friends? Am I dooming a kid if I use a name that is currently associated with a celebrity? Will everyone think jparks and I spend our spare time stalking said celebrity? Or can people remove the celebrity from the name and accept that we're not crazy? Is it really back to the drawing board for us? Not that we really ever left the drawing board in the first place.

(For the record, even if you say you can all remove the celebrity from the name, it's not certain we'll go with that name. Jparks doesn't love it yet which is how he feels about almost all the names I like.)

but I won't do that

noreply@blogger.com (Regan Parks) — Fri, 17 Jun 2011 15:56:00 +0000

I sort of hate all of y'all for not shaking me really hard when I mentioned I was going to have renovations done on the house while continuing to try to live in it. And while parenting a toddler. And creating another child with my own body. Friends, it is your job to talk me out of stupid decisions. Like if I announced I was going to name New Baby "Strawberry Pie Parks" because that's been what I most want to eat, I fully expect you to say "What the hell lady? Try again!" (Please note, this is not what I expect if I say we've already filled out her birth certificate using the name Strawberry Pie Parks. In that case make fun of me all you want but only silently or behind my back.)

Anyway, here we are 5 days into the estimated 5 week remodel and I'm about to lose my damn mind. Let me take you on a tour so you can also feel my pain.

Here's the master bathroom:

I like to think of the walls as a giant game of Tetris now. Also, you know what's fun? Playing "Shit, I forgot to move my toothbrush off the counter this morning, where did the painters hide it?"

Who doesn't love having a shop vac covered in drywall dust just hanging out in their living room all the time?

or random disassembled ceiling fans hanging out in a corner

Truman views the paper on the floor not as something we need to keep down for protection, but as something to shred and rip apart and sometimes draw on. The dog views it as a convenient place to pee.

While all of this work is enough to send me directly into a mental ward, there have been some nice moments about it. Like the other day when I needed a jar opened and couldn't get it on my own; I had a house full of men to assist me. I did not have to do without my jelly sandwich.

Or today when the whole painting crew broke out into song. What song? My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion. It was truly an awesome moment. They've been really great about asking before they turn on music and I always tell them to go ahead. They spend their day painting to the Spanish radio station and today was no different. I usually zone the music out so I thought for sure I was wrong with I heard that opening flute part, but after a few seconds I knew not only was the station playing Celine but the whole crew was singing along with her. I was in my room really trying hard not to laugh at them. Some of the guys on the crew barely speak English but they knew all the words to the Titanic theme. How is that even possible? Why would the Spanish station play her? Why were the guys so proudly singing along with it? Next week can I expect a rendition of Meat Loaf's "I Would Do Anything For Love" because that might just make all the dust worth it.